#tales from the dawn i think about it often

[noxtivagus]

thinking about hermes again. ffxiv is just so. 🥹🤍

[vivalabunbun]

Sweet Sweet Nothings

Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage

Word Count: 7K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham

Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!

Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office. 

“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”

“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior. 

A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp. 

“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”

“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters. 

–

“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side. 

Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands. 

Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four. 

“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow. 

“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand. 

“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else. 

“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed. 

Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing. 

There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you. 

His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets. 

The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule. 

The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy. 

–

“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup. 

“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape. 

His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham. 

Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite. 

The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets. 

How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand. 

“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body. 

“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip. 

From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for. 

You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by. 

“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him. 

“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit. 

“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest. 

“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours. 

“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed. 

Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep. 

His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within. 

“Mmm… More…” 

“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit. 

The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more. 

“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair. 

Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted. 

Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all. 

In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it. 

Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering. 

“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle. 

You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines. 

“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you. 

At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features. 

“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully. 

Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl. 

“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his. 

“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear. 

He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process. 

“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue. 

You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight. 

He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release. 

Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close. 

“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.

“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck. 

Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest. 

“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face. 

You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least. 

“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose. 

You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back. 

The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off. 

“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted. 

Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs. 

“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in. 

Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details. 

The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage. 

–

You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times. 

At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. 

“Haitham.” You began. 

“Mm?”

“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring. 

“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up. 

“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band. 

You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore. 

He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness. 

The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you. 

“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you. 

You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring. 

“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile. 

“Did you want me to?” 

“No.” 

You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond. 

Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores. 

“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?” 

“...” 

“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face. 

You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper. 

As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed. 

“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable. 

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them. 

“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought. 

The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk. 

Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently. 

The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind. 

Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you. 

“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back. 

You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight. 

–

It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall. 

Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer. 

“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck. 

Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture. 

Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes. 

“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.” 

If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs. 

Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them. 

The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would  place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit. 

Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them. 

The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable. 

–

Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out? 

“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?���

“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile. 

That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy. 

Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant. 

One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets. 

By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns. 

At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.

Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you. 

Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise. 

You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt. 

Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture. 

“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.” 

Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband. 

“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe. 

Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment. 

“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”

The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture. 

“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.” 

Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome. 

The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor. 

“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”

Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you. 

–

Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.

“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk. 

“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents. 

His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information. 

“Is there any more you would like to discuss?” 

“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket. 

Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor. 

Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy. 

“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.

Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game. 

“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand. 

“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t. 

“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket. 

This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.

“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.” 

Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk. 

“It’s unnecessary.” 

“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.” 

“...”

“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”

“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”  

 Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough. 

You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.

 Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.

However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either. 

“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly. 

“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top. 

“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh. 

“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure. 

“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile. 

“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump. 

Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises. 

–

“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily. 

Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room. 

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves. 

“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.” 

“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.” 

“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.” 

“Haitham-”

“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.” 

“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.” 

“Of course.” 

There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore. 

“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin. 

“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud. 

“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head. 

“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing. 

Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied. 

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible. 

“Haitham, I think my water broke.” 

Nevermind. 

–

 You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself. 

However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you. 

You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all. 

--

“WWAAHHHHH!” 

A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls. 

“It's a boy!” The doctors announced. 

--

“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn. 

Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly? 

“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle. 

Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you. 

To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance. 

“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back. 

“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks. 

Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily. 

“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”

“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”

“I never scowl at you.”

“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”

“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him. 

The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest. 

“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”

“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.” 

Fin~

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Sebek Zigvolt - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: That pedestal there is a reproduction from the King of Beasts' bedchamber, and that teacup yonder is ceramic wear with a Queen of Hearts motif.

Sebek: Heheh… That's right, my preparatory research is completely perfect. With this, there shall be no opportunity for me to embarrass myself due to a lack of artistic knowledge.

Sebek: There is no way I can allow myself to appear unsightly now that I've been appointed a supporter of the Land of Dawning National Museum of Art.

???: Hm? What's with this green light in the middle of the painting…? Oh, it's just a bonfire flame.

???: Those fairies look like they're having a blast partyin' like that, I wonder if something good happened.

Sebek: How dare you claim them to be "partying." This is a painting depicting the Thorn Fairy's men extolling her grand exploits!

Ace: Ack, Sebek… Looks like I got caught by an annoying one. So what, you're tellin' me this painting's got something to do with the Thorn Fairy?

Sebek: Exactly. It is often said that these men were as proud of the Thorn Fairy's achievements as if it were their own, and would express their joy with their whole body and soul.

Sebek: Anyone should be able to infer how magnificent the Thorn Fairy was just from witnessing these men's unwavering loyalty.

Ace: Uh-huh, okay. Kinda just looks to me like they're just partyin', maybe masking it as a celebration for the Thorn Fairy.

Sebek: Don't you dare liken them to superficial humans like yourself. Each one of those fae that appear in this tale are all diligent folk.

Sebek: Back in my hometown there are many stories of the Thorn Fairy and other fae passed down for generations. We even have special functions held to emulate their greatness.

Ace: Sure. Can't see those functions as being anything other than boring, though, if it's attended by lame, "diligent" faes～

Sebek: Heh, curious, are you? One such event that has been around for a long while now is a dress color changing competition. Whosoever is able to magically dye the dress to the color closest to the provided example is the victor.

Ace: Ugh, that pisses me off that it's actually kinda cool-soundin'…

Ace: But I guess the whole having to use magic for it just shows it really is an event in the fae-rich lands of Briar Valley.

Sebek: …In my youth, my elder brother and sister took me to witness one such competition and I was struck with amazement.

Sebek: I was completely taken in by everyone's astounding magical prowess to turn a dress vivid blue or pink in the blink of an eye…

Sebek: I remember how excited I was to learn magic as soon as possible so I may also take part in this contest.

Ace: Guess even you have adorable moments. So, what place in the competition did you get once your long-awaited magic finally manifested?

Sebek: Don't be absurd. Color changing magic is a course of study that human mages only learn in their courses at an arcane academy.

Sebek: This was merely something I found enchanting as a mere child. Obviously I would not take part in such a contest now.

Ace: You suuure? Sounds pretty fun to me. Oh hey, then how about you and me have our own little contest with color changing magic back at my dorm sometime.

Sebek: Why would I set foot in Heartslabyul…? Wait.

Sebek: Surely I am mistaken, but… Were you intending on shoving your rose-dying tasks onto my shoulders?

Ace: No way, I wasn't saying that at all! C'mon, don't you think it'd be a great little competition to have with a fellow freshman?

Sebek: Your excuses will not work on me! I know for a fact that you constantly complain over having to paint the roses.

Sebek: The only contest I had any interest in attempting was the dress color changing competition in Briary Valley. Do the tasks assigned to you on your own!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ace: Oh hey, I know this one. It's a painting of a girl and some talking flowers.

Sebek: According to the legends, the flowers native to the country the Queen of Hearts' presided over had the ability to speak.

Sebek: Who would have thought that the flowers cultivated there would be able to speak or sing as such. I'm sure it was disturbingly loud in the Queen's country.

Ace: Sure, probably. But hey, probably a lot less loud than your voice can get.

Sebek: …Perhaps if you were to cease your own impudent retorts, I wouldn't have a need to raise my voice.

Ace: Reeeaaally, you think? 'Cause to me it feels like you're always angry about something.

Sebek: Of course not. I simply find the uncouth antics of you humans to be utterly aggravating.

Sebek: I know there is a time and place for everything. I myself would never do something as rude as to throw a damper on enthusiastic festivities.

Sebek: In fact, I attended a performance at a live music club just the other day and I did not chide the audience for their overjoyed shouting one bit.

Ace: …Eh. What did you just say? YOU WENT TO SEE A LIVE MUSIC PERFORMANCE!!!???

Sebek: Why would you react as such?

Ace: I mean, come on, didn't strike you as someone who'd go to something like that. So, like, what was the live show you went to go see?

Sebek: My latest venture brought me to attend a small show that showcased a collaboration between bands that primarily performed heavy metal music.

Sebek: This was all due to Lilia-sama, who imparted on me that this was the best way to train my imagination, and that listening to live music is an important part of life.

Ace: Aaah, that makes sense now. But hey, do you even listen to heavy metal?

Ace: I mean sure, you can kinda get into it once you're at the concert even if you don't know the songs, but if you don't even like that kinda stuff in the first place, ain't it tough to actually take in?

Sebek: "Get into it once you're at the concert"? Don't liken me to someone like you. Of course I went to the show after doing my due diligence in research.

Sebek: If I were to attend the show without a full understand of what I am to partake in, it would be an absolute disservice to Lilia-sama's recommendation.

Sebek: I studied everything from the exact times the music club opened their doors and how the audience would be filed into the venue, to the established rules on refreshments, to the proper cheering behavior utilized by the crowd near the front of the house…

Sebek: I believe it is called a "mosh pit." Prior to attending the performance, I made sure to carve into my body and soul the different techniques and proper etiquette as well.

Sebek: On that day, I purport that I banged my head back and forth much harder than anyone else there, shouting and cheering alongside them.

Ace: Don't think I've ever heard of someone practicing to mosh before. But I guess it sounds like you had a pretty fun time, though.

Sebek: Indeed. Although, I did run into slight trouble.

Ace: Huh, what kind of trouble? Cause some mischief, did ya?

Sebek: Absolutely not! I'm not sure if they lost their footing during the show or what, but the performer fell forward towards the audience.

Sebek: I immediately caught the performer and returned them to the stage. After that, the show continued smoothly until the end.

Ace: PFFT! You seriously returned the performer to the stage!?

Sebek: Obviously. I could not allow this concert that Lilia-sama had recommended to me be cancelled merely because the performer had become injured!

Ace: Bwahahaha! Looks like all that prepping you went through didn't help at all. All they wanted to do was stage dive, too.

Sebek: A stage dive…? Hold on now, don't tell me that was part of the performance!?

Sebek: I suppose the performer did look rather stunned when I returned them to the stage… Ghurk, what a blunder…!

Ace: Oh man, that's so hilarious. Wish I was there to see it. Hey, let's hit up a show together next time.

Sebek: SHUT IT! WHO WOULD EVER GO ANYWHERE WITH YOU!?

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: This is a painting of the hyenas who served the King of Beasts, I see. Their countenance depicts an atmosphere overflowing with trust from their liege and confidence in their own abilities.

Ace: Yeah? To me it just looks like they're up to something.

Sebek: Isn't that due to your own wily tendencies?

Sebek: I have seen you multiple times in locations outside the gymnasium during what should be basketball club hours.

Ace: Hey, it's not like I'm slacking off or anything. C'mon, I'm a freshman, right? Sometimes I get saddled with odd jobs from the upperclassmen.

Ace: But, man… Sometimes I do want to skip morning lessons on cold days. Hey, aren't there times you don't want to get out of bed when it's way too cold out, too?

Sebek: It's true that back home it has happened that I couldn't get out of bed in the morning. However, that was not because I wished to skip my training!

Ace: W-Woah, really? I thought you woulda hit me back with another "Don't liken me to you!" or something.

Sebek: I could not help it. I was thoroughly chilled to the bone that morning. It was so cold that there were numerous icicles dangling from our roof, as well.

Sebek: I did not even wish to fathom the temperature outside, but… I somehow forced myself out of bed to begin my morning training.

Sebek: Perhaps it was due to not having slept well, but I could feel my eyelids start to droop. So I decided then to attempt to wake myself up further with the bitter taste of coffee.

Sebek: I swallowed down the strong black coffee and believed myself ready to go. But that was the last thing I remembered.

Sebek: I ended up falling back asleep on the couch and when I finally woke up, it was past noon… An absolute blunder. This is a blot that I will carry with me forever.

Ace: Hey now, that's pretty normal, c'mon. Pretty steep to say you'll carry that forever.

Sebek: No, you are just weak-willed. I, however, strived through trials and tribulations to overcome the bitter cold of mornings and finally found "that" thing.

Ace: What're you acting so pompous about now?

Sebek: Heh, of course you'd be curious. I suppose I can tell you. The thing I am talking about is… A HOT WATER BOTTLE!

Ace: A hot water bottle…? You're seriously using a hot water bottle? Even in this day and age when we have air conditioners and heaters!?

Sebek: Do you seriously not understand? That thing is a fantastic item that warms your entire body without fear of causing a fire or desiccation.

Sebek: Cold winter nights not only diminishes my ability to fall asleep, but also affects the quality of sleep I am able to get. In turn, that makes it difficult to rise from bed…

Sebek: However, a simple hot water bottle prepared at bedtime can warm my body and lull me to sleep even in the coldest winters!

Sebek: The temperature can even be easily adjusted by wrapping it in a towel, or adding water to the bottle. A very convenient item.

Ace: Huh, interesting. I mean, sure, it might not use electricity, but I'm surprised you're using a "human" item.

Sebek: I received this hot water bottle from my father. Back when he had just arrived in Briar Valley, it apparently was very useful in keeping him warm even without magic.

Ace: Oh, so it's a hand-me-down, huh. And here I thought I'd get to hear another hilarious story or something～

Ace: Since it sounds like there ain't gonna be a punchline anymore, I think I'll go check out the shop. Byeee―

Sebek: YOU ASKED THE QUESTION, HEAR ME OUT UNTIL THE END! Good grief, I can't stand that human. …Hm?

Sebek: This is… A painting depicting a the human chattering along with animals. I've read this story in a book my grandfather gifted me.

Sebek: This young lady speaks of her dreams to these critters… Does she truly believe that her wish will come true without any effort on her part? What a lazy creature.

Requested by Anonymous.

[whoistartaglia]

Hi I’m kinda a boomer on tumblr so srry if I do this wrong or something

can I request a diluc taking care of injured reader (broken ribs, bones, yk the usual). He spends more time w/ you, buys you things to make u feel better, just him being the gentleman that he is ^^. And then when your injuries heal more, he helps you get used to physical activities and stuff like that.

Thank you! Have a great day

in sickness and in health

genshin men helping you recovery after an injury

diluc had to fight the urge to tell you he “told you so” after you returned home from a particularly dangerous adventure with quite a few bruises and fractures. he went white as a ghost when he saw you drag yourself back to the dawn winery, and even paler so when you nearly collasped in the doorway. needless to say, he spent the next few days right at your bedside—dressing your wounds, helping you take your medicines and healing salves. during this time, if you ask him if he’s been sleeping, he’ll look you dead in the eyes and tell you “you don’t want to know the answer.” when you do start to improve, diluc will actually leave your bedside for more than an hour. you’ll take a nap and wake up to an abundance of gifts and presents, and a bashful diluc explaining what each one is for. he’ll help you get back on your feet too, but is naturally weary if you want to go on another adventure right away—you just got better! what do you mean you want to go back out fighting and exploring? protest against this, and he might just need to drop the “i told you so” bomb.

childe makes himself nurse you back to health before hunting down the poor souls that did this to you. if you think you feel extra bloodlust radiating off of him at this time, you’d be right. he’s livid, truthfully, but he’s pushing that aside to be a good and caring partner to you. he’s unsurprisingly talented at bandaging your cuts and applying creams and salves—after all, he’s had a plethora of injuries of his own of which to take care. childe will feed you meals in bed and act as a crutch should you have difficulty moving about. growing up with siblings, he’s naturally adept at feeding you in bed and taking care of you in general. once you are back on your feet and kicking, and childe deems you can, in his words, “survive a couple days without his illustrious care,” he’s going to go out and find whoever did this to you. there’s a glint in his eyes that spells trouble, but he did just help you recover some rather nasty injuries, so you give him a pass.

kazuha will halt all his travels, cancel all his plans, stop anything and everything, when you get injured. it doesn’t really matter if it’s a papercut or broken bones; his care is always attentive and efficient. having traveled around the world, kazuha is rather knowledgeable about natural medicine and different healing practices from different cultures. he has an innate ability to care for you, and you’ll find yourself getting better within days, if not hours, depending on the injury. during this time, kazuha will remain at one location, and regale you with tales and stories of his previous travels as you recover. what helps is that he’s so gentle when tending to you and your wounds. this calm nature is even more reassuring once you do start to get moving again; his soft encouragement does wonders for sore muscles and lingering doubts. kazuha will never push you too hard, and for that your grateful. when you are fully recovered, you’ll resume your travels, though may hear kazuha call “be careful dear!” every so often.

dottore might groan and grumble when you show up at his office, scratches and bruised and broken, but he’s truly worried in his own way. he’ll take care of you by the books—medicine at this time every day, bandages changed every hour, three meals on rotation. if you ever complain about bitter medicine or him insiting you need rest, the most you’ll get out of him is a pointed glare and raised eyebrow. he’s basically telling you to suck it up without outright telling you (though he’s not terribly opposed to the idea). if you really don’t like it, he’ll experiment with trying to make it better, or at the very least, mix it with sweet tea or honey. as for rest, dottore won’t budge. he’ll explain in medicinal terms you can’t quite wrap your head around why you need sleep and use big words about why your body heals more when you’re asleep. when he finishes this lengthy explanation, he’ll find you actually fell asleep, which hurt his feelings, but got the job done, at least. the only practice not by the books is dottore laying down next to you and pulling you in his arms, but looking back on it, you think this made you feel best most of all.

[starlightingsss]

the story of us (laxus x reader)

angst no comfort oneshot for laxus dreyar bcs i 🫶 hurting my own feelings!!

wait but like to elaborate on the story! reader and laxus traveled tgth while he was exiled from the guild then they fell in love and did all the in love things u do!

as he rang the doorbell of the house - her house, he couldn't help but wonder what she had done with herself and her life since.

she definitely would look different - it had been 7 years, maybe she would act different? the house was pretty big, she was definitely well off. but other than that, he wasn't sure. he saw the tulips and rosebushes planted all around - her favorites, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

he felt like a silly teenager in love looking to get his dare for a school dance or something, maybe he should have brought her flowers.

as the door opened, he was brought out of his thoughts.

and there she was, in the doorframe, 7 years older and just as perfect as she was the day he left for tenrou.

she froze. he was dead, he had to be dead. but he wasnt, he was standing in her doorway - exactly as he was when he took off.

he opened his mouth to speak but she didn't gear any sound, her heartbeat sped up.

her wide eyes brimmed with tears at the sight of the man, he was there. he was alive, he was well - but he was late. too late. 4 years too late.

it was horrible when she thought she lost him, but it was worse now that he was back. it seemed as if her world came crashing down at that moment, the choice she knew she would have to make daunting and horrifying.

she loved him, so deeply. but she had missed him for longer than she had loved him, she had comforted herself with fantasy scenarios regarding him more often than he had comforted her, she had dreamed about him longer than she had lived in reality - running from what she thought was the truth, that a giant oversized lizard wiped out the love of her life and everyone else he cared about.

she had moved on, the original pain that plagued her heart had calmed to an ache in the back of her mind, but now it was back.

the inevitable choice, her husband or the man she told herself she would love for eternity? the man she vowed herself to under the watchful eyes of god or the man she had spent nights stargazing with, while daring to dream about their futures. the man who had picked her up and fixed her after she was shattered into a million pieces or the man who held her so tightly while her whole world flipped upside down and she was forced into his arms? fate seemed to be playing a cruel game, never letting her fully rid herself of him, bringing them back together at this time.

she was snapped out of her thoughtd at laxus's warm hand against her cheek, concern etched onto his face.

"oi, y/n?" he mumbled, caring - like he always was with her.

her tears fell over his hand as she wrapped hers around his wrist, removing it from her face.

then he saw it. her wedding band. snugly fit around her pretty fingers, as her tears started to make sense.

the realization that he shouldn't have come dawned onto him, his unwanted prescence doing nothing but bringing back pain filled memories for her.

it felt like a stab to his heart, he didn't blame her. he wasn't even really mad, nothing seemed to compare to the sadness that blurred his vision and filled his eyes with tears. as they both cried, yearning for the youthful freedom they had before this mess. before he was gone, before she was married, before it all when they were just 2 kids in love. before, when they had the audacity to dream, to dream of a fairy tale life, a perfect life with one other.

laxus plastered a smile onto his face, before asking "how have you been, n/n?"

his words rung through her ears, repeating a million times, as she couldn't think of an answer. she couldn't help it as she sobbed, leaning backwards into the doorframe, away from him.

his hand raised again, wiping her tears as they fell.

when she finally seemed to get a hold of herself, they had a conversation.

it wasn't long, she wasn't sobbing but her tears were still flowing. the kind of conversation between ex lovers, the "could'ves", reminiscent of their past, sadness in their tones. their conversation fizzled out, as their time ran out.

"my husband.. gets home in 15 minutes." she told him, hesitant. the whole inreraction felt like a fever dream, the worst.

"it was good to talk," laxus said, curtly as he plastered another smile onto his face - the kind that was so desperately. "goodbye, n/n."

"you know i hate goodbyes.." she mumbled, before leaning in for a hug.

"because 'goodbyes' are forever, like you'll never see them again." laxus whispered into her ear, as they hugged. in that moment, it was perfect, their bodies molded to each other, a perfect that she didn't want to lose. he pulled away, smiling at her one last time - geniunely this time, not a smirk, not one of those fake smiles, but one founded by his love for her, one for the love they lost. and she returned it, an "i'll love you until the stars stop shining, and the earth stops spinning," kind of smile, so genuine and so pure.

but she knew, it didn't matter. as he made his way down her front lawn, she knew the moment he left her driveway it was over. the greatest love she could possibly experience would be gone, the love of her life a stranger once again.

as he was about to leave, he turned, smiling at her again. she returned it, standing in the doorway of a house they used to dream of owning together, ready to go back to serving her husband the moment laxus left, their "childlish" love dead and gone for eternity.

how deeply she wanted to run, to sprint across her lawn into his arms, to scream to the world that she loved him and that she was his - forever, and endlessly. how she wanted to fix it, to hold him until she fell asleep and to laugh with him until her sides ahced, the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, that she was about to let go. no matter how deeply she wanted to chase him, to run into his arms, she couldn't. because they weren't just kids anymore. they were adults with lives, she was married.

[artificial-transmutations]

Closer Than Flesh - Names

The presence of the demon fades, while Jake watches his body change again. He hopes that he will return to his original body now, and that all of this is nothing but a weird and bad dream.

And really, his skin takes on a lighter color again, filling him with hope for a moment before he notices that the rest of his features don't match the body he has grown up with. The dusting of light hair on his chest, leading down his belly to his groin doesn't disappear. Instead, it even grows a tiny bit denser. However, while the short black hairs were clearly visible against his previous skin, it becomes less obvious by the second, as his body hair color changes to a wheaty blond. Jake can only suspect his main hair doing the same.

While the Arab body he was in before had the toned physique of someone working out in the gym, his new one seems to possess a more practical kind of fitness. His arm muscles grow, as if they are used to lift heavy weights on a daily basis. His abdomen on the other hand gets less pronounced, even taking on a light layer of fat.

Some slight scars form on his arms and chest, while his shoulders broaden. Not enough to tell a tale of battles or combats, but definitely enough to make clear that this body's profession is more physical and less mental. His legs and feet quickly fall into place as well: sturdy and male, with a light coating of wheat colored hair and hard earned firm muscles. His cock stays just as big as it was, but also changes to fit in with his new body. The hefty shaft is now residing on a badly groomed blond bush.

Unlike his last change, though, the magic doesn't stop at Jake's body. First, a layer of dirt appears all over him, a stark contrast to the clean guy he was before. It's mainly mud and dust, but clings to him easily because of the damp layer of sweat pouring out of his skin, even dripping from his brow.

Next, clothing starts to materialize. His cock is wrapped into a jock strap that has seen better days for sure. Before Jake can think about just how often the piece of clothing probably had been worn, soaked up sweat and has been washed, only to be worn again, a pair of khaki work pants forms over the piece of underwear, encrusted with dried up mud and various stains. His torso is covered by a wife beater that is in a similar state as the jock strap now hidden from sight.

That seems to conclude the changes to Jake and the world pours in again, filling the empty void around him.

Jake finds himself still outside, but the scene couldn't have been less similar to the one he had just left. He is standing in bright sunlight, on a busy construction site. People are yelling at each other and are generally busy. Jake takes a moment to just feel the warm sunlight on his skin, which is a welcome change from the wet darkness he was in just a little bit ago.

Jake is so lost in his observations that he only notices the other man as he snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face.

"Hello, Marcel! Anyone home?"

Jake looks confused for a moment. What Marcel? Then it dawns on him that it comes as no surprise that this body probably has another name than Jake.

He shakes his head slightly and looks at the other man. It's a construction worker, but half a head smaller than Jake is now and with a black pony tail.

"Sorry, I was..." Jake answers, trying not to show too much confusion about the new baritone voice with a slight rasp to it.

"Dreaming? I can see that. You can dream on your own time, Marcel. Get back to work!"

The other man, who Jake assumes is this body's boss points at a pile of heavy concrete sacks on a truck. Several more men are currently unloading them, so at least it's clear to Jake what he has to do.

As he picks up a sack and puts it on his shoulder, Jake is amazed at how strong he is. In his own body, he probably wouldn't even have been able to lift it, but this Marcel body can shoulder it like it's not heavier than a six pack of cola.

Jake tries his best not to fall out of place. As long as there are things to carry, he gladly takes the job, fearing the moment it is actually expected of him to start working on anything he doesn't know how to do, which includes everything even remotely connected to a construction site.

He is too afraid to speak much, fearing his colleagues might notice something out of the ordinary. He does notice a curious fact, though. Whenever people speak to each other, including the few sentences he has exchanged, they are not speaking English! Jake doesn't have the slightest idea which language it is, and when he concentrates on it, he would not be able to speak it, but as long as he doesn't think about it, he understands and speaks it just fine. However, trying to speak English is exactly the opposite. He can easily form sentences when he focuses on it. Just trying to say something in English casually, however, produces a horrible mess of heavily accented language, like someone with only the most basic proficiency would produce.

Regardless of the language however, whenever Jake tries to quietly call Skyler, his friend turned cock doesn't respond. Jake doesn't know if he simply can't hear him below the multiple layers of cloth (as he only dares to whisper), is resting again or if there is something wrong.

As the time goes on and the sun slowly climbs, the temperature on the site rises even higher. All of the men, Jake included, start to sweat heavily, and soon the air is filled with a mix of dust, concrete and the musk of unwashed men.

Just as his worries are about to get the better of him, Jake hears a voice in his head, the voice of Skyler.

"Jake? What happened?"

Thank God, Skyler is okay!

"Skyler! I was getting worried!"

"What did you say, Marcel?" another one of the workers looks up.

"Eh nothing. Just thinking loudly."

"Ha, don't strain your brain trying to think!" the other man laughs and gets back to his work.

Jake quickly looks around and sees a good opportunity to speak to his friend. He quickly makes his way to the grimy blue Porta potty and gets inside, ignoring the stench as well as he can.

Once inside he unzips his pants and takes Skyler out of his jock strap, now daring to speak to him in a hushed tone.

"I was getting worried dude! You were out for a few hours!"

"Yes, I feel like shit, too. I don't know if I remember all of our encounter with the demon, it was... Hey, what are you doing?"

Skyler feels himself being handled by Jake's big hands while he talks, being pointed down into the disgusting toilet.

"What do you mean? I'm taking a piss."

With that, Jake lets go, pumping his urine through Skyler's shaft body.

"Listen, I don't have much time, I need to get back to work soon if I don't want the other guys to become suspicious." Jake explains while his pee splashes into the plastic tank.

Skyler can't believe it. Jake just uses him like he is a real dick, no trace of the careful handling or asking of the beginning. Jake has decided that he wants to pee and just does so, no matter what Skyler thinks about it. It doesn't even seem to cross his mind that this is something to consider!

Skyler really wants to complain, really wants to find this outrageous, but... the truth is that there is a growing part of him that finds it ridiculous to complain. He is Jake's penis for the time being and those are used for peeing. Jake can't very well ask his dick every time he wants to empty his bladder, right? In that regard, perhaps it's best just to be a good dick and let Jake handle it, Skyler rationalizes.

So, he doesn't mention it and instead answers: "The other guys?"

"Yeah, apparently I'm a construction worker named Marcel now, and I'm on site with colleagues. It would be weird if I spoke to you out there. Which reminds me: Can you identify what language everyone is speaking?"

"I think it's Polish, judging from what the other guy said. I couldn't understand him, but I can understand you just fine, and I think you're speaking the same language. Weird!" Skyler replies.

"Yes, and I don't know a word in Polish, yet I can speak it fine as long as I don't think about it. Perhaps it comes with the body." Jake shakes off the last drops of piss and shoves Skyler back into the jock strap.

"Listen, we can talk after I'm off work. Until then, I can't answer at least." Jake explains.

"Okay, let's talk then! I'll try to be quiet as well in order not to confuse you too much."

Skyler can hear Jake zipping up and exit the Porta potty. Inside the confines of his jock strap, that eagerly absorbs the last traces of piss on Skyler's tip, it's hot and damp.

Jake moves around a lot, so Skyler's world is in constant motion. The balls beneath him shift and move along with the legs left and right, even though those are separated from him by the jock's fabric. There is not much space, on the contrary. Skyler's ample length is pressed against the balls underneath, probably forming a beautiful firm and large package if seen from the outside.

Because of the temperature and the work, Jake sweats a lot, even down here. The humidity quickly increases to the point that the surrounding fabric is more of a damp cloth around him, covering Skyler in slick sweat from tip to base.

This is a new experience for him, at least in this intensity. He doesn't mind it, though. This gives him the opportunity to get used to the smell and taste of this new body. It's different from Jake's original body and the one before this, but it's good, nevertheless. It's not like Skyler would have much options if he doesn't like it, but as of now, every body odor or -taste was agreeable to him. Perhaps it's a thing that comes with being a dick, he muses.

Skyler hangs around in the hot damp darkness for a while, until something changes. At first, he thinks that Jake has taken him out again, since he can see the bright sunlight again, but it's subtly different. Right, he has the perspective of a full human being again! Skyler hardly has time to think about that, though because of what he sees. In front of him, there is another construction worker. He has taken his shirt off because of the heat and uses it to wipe away sweat from his face. The short brown hair and beard look really good on him and...

No, why is the view turning away from the dude? Skyler wants to look at him some more!

Suddenly, the field of view turns back, so Skyler can see more. There is sweat running down the shaved muscular chest of the worker. Skyler (and the focus of the view) follows a drop of liquid that is running down between the slabs of pecs, over the toned stomach before it reaches the seam of the man's work pants. Damn, that guy is packing. He can't decide if he wants to stare at the sculpted ass or the considerable bulge at the front, so he just focuses on the general area.

Skyler doesn't even notice his confines becoming even closer until he lifts up the damp jock and strains against the front of Jake's work pants, harder and stiffer by the second. His tip becomes even wetter as he drools precum into the strained fabric before him.

Damn, that is one hot guy. If only Jake would take him out and...

"Yo, Marcel, what are you staring at?"

The view snaps back to the other guy's face that is looking questioning.

"I uhm eh..." Skyler can hear Jake's new voice stammer and only now it dawns on him that he is seeing what Jake sees.

"You have dirt on your knee." finally comes the weak apology, and Jake quickly turns away, trying to adjust his boner, Skyler, without anyone noticing. As he turns away, the vision ends, and Skyler can once again only see the darkness of his surroundings.

"Try to keep your act together!" Jake whispers nervously. Skyler doesn't answer. It was hardly his fault that there was this ridiculously good looking guy. Perhaps it was his fault that Jake stopped to stare at him, but right now, Skyler doesn't understand the how and why. Only slowly, Skyler can feel Jake's blood rushing out of him again, until he deflates to his earlier position.

Time passes, until, finally, Jake says in a low voice: "Okay, we're finished for the day. I don't think I have ever worked so hard in my entire life."

"Great! Let's go somewhere we can talk. This Marcel guy surely has a home.", Skyler replies.

"Probably, but how do we find it? I mean it's not that I know anything except how to speak his language."

Skyler thinks for a moment before he answers. "Does he have a phone?"

Jake looks through his pockets and really finds a cell phone. It's a rather old model and there are several cracks in the display, but it's a phone. "Yep."

"Try to unlock it with your finger or face!" Skyler suggests.

Apparently, the phone is too old to support face unlock, but it has a fingerprint sensor - and really, it unlocks to Jake's right thumb. "Got it! Good idea Sky! Now let's see if that guy has saved his home location in the maps app... Yes!"

The way is twenty minutes by foot. It would probably be faster if he took another vehicle, perhaps Marcel even had a car or a bike. However, since neither Skyler nor Jake know for sure and they aren't familiar with the public transport system in a polish town, either, Jake decides to just walk.

"So, what happened with the demon guy?", Skyler begins the conversation.

"Well, he wasn't all that talkative, but what he said was really bad. He said that he was a demon lord from hell and that his name is Baelnath. And he wants to eat my soul." Jake swallows, as he remembers the frightening scene again.

"Sky, do you understand what this means? Demons, hell, souls... All that stuff really exists! Does that mean there is a God as well?"

"I don't know Jake, but let's not jump to conclusions. We don't even know if he told you the truth. But what did you know he was called again?" Skyler's voice sounds thoughtful in Jake's head.

"He said his name is Baelnath.", Jake repeats.

"Okay, this is creepy. After you used the stone, I had a weird dream. I was some other guy and there was a circle of people around me."

"You were some other guys cock?" Jake asks, confused.

"No, I was some other guy, not his cock!" Skyler is a bit irritated that Jake would think of him as another man's penis before considering him as a person by default. "Anyway, I was in some sort of cellar, and it was really dark, only a few candles were on, so I couldn't see much. But those people around me were chanting in some weird language that I couldn't understand. But one word that kept repeating was 'Baelnath'. For some reason, which made me really angry."

"Perhaps you heard the name during my encounter with the demon and just dreamed up the rest?" Jake offers.

"Possible. But it just felt so real."

"Then it could be the demon trying to get to us."

"Maybe. The thing is, besides eating our souls, Baelnath obviously wants to get hold of the sigil stone. And when you tried to use it, it felt somehow similar to his presence. I think it's fair to assume that the two are connected."

"So, you're saying that when I use the stone, I might lure the demon right to us? Kurwa! How am I supposed to get us out of this, then!" Jake exclaims, louder than he intended. Luckily, there is nobody on the street right now.

"We'll have to wait until we can figure out what to do. But you still have the stone?" Skyler replies.

"Yes. I still had it in my hand after I changed."

"Good. If things get worse, we can still do the same trick again."

"Probably, but this means getting near the demon again." Jake shakes his head. "And at some point, he will learn. Also, he has some kind of influence over me. I almost handed him the stone the last time, I don't know why I didn't. It was like I really wanted to give up then."

Skyler keeps quiet. These are troubling news, and he doesn't have a good answer for Jake. Finally, he says:

"Well, at least for the moment, it seems that just not using the stone and keeping low is our best option. Perhaps, we can find out more while you pretend to be Marcel. Perhaps we can look stuff up in the internet, now that we have a name."

"Good idea. Well, looks like we have arrived."

Before Jake stands a run-down apartment building in probably the cheapest part of town. Jake finds a set of keys in his pockets and unlocks the door. Luckily, there is only one Marcel on the door bell labels. If he assumes that this is him, then his last name is Guzek. Marcel Guzek. Could be worse, at least he will be able to write the name without some crazy accents or signs that this language seems to have. Climbing up the stairs reminds Jake of his long and exhausting day at work. Finally, he unlocks the door to a modest apartment, a very long way from his previous body's one and even his own. There are just two rooms and a small bathroom that doesn't even have a separate shower, just a bathtub with a cheap plastic shower curtain around it.

It is clear that Marcel lives alone. Besides the obvious fact that nobody is home when Jake opens the door, the rooms are untidy, and dishes are piling up in the sink. It's not filthy or messy, but Jake suspects that the apartment is not cleaned more often than once every two weeks. Given the size of the place, it probably won't even take long to do so, but right now, Jake is much too exhausted to clean up some other guy's home. Perhaps that's how Marcel usually feels, too, which would explain the state of the place.

There is a cheap double bed in the tiny bedroom, but it's clear that only one side is used regularly. Besides a small wardrobe and a washing basket, there is not much more in the room.

The other room is crammed full of all the rest. There is a kitchen corner with a microwave oven, a stove and the sink. Next to the sink stands an old refrigerator that hums audibly. There is an erotic poster of a half-dressed woman on the other wall, and a small TV with a worn down two seater couch and a small table in front of it. A cupboard holding the clean plates and cups fills the rest of space this room has to offer and acts as a separation at the same time.

"Wow, this Marcel guy really lives like a king." Jake comments.

"Take me out and let me see!" Skyler asks, and, as Jake fishes him out of the jock and lets him dangle in front of his pants, adds: "That's really... not a lot. He doesn't even have a computer."

"At least he has a phone." Jake agrees. "Okay, I'm starving. Let's see if there is anything to eat."

In the fridge, Jake finds a small stack of peperoni pizza and several cans of beer. He quickly takes one of the former and puts it in the microwave oven, waiting impatiently until it's done. After that, he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and sits down on the couch.

"I'm gonna put you back into my pants now, I don't want to drop hot pizza on you. Besides, it's more comfortable if I lean forward." Jake informs Skyler and immediately does as he said. He shifts around a bit, finally getting rid of his pants before he starts to eat his food in just his jock strap and wife beater.

Skyler can hear the TV being turned on, apparently some kind of sports game with a Polish commentor. He actually doesn't mind the short break and waits until Jake leans back on the couch, occasionally taking a sip of his beer. Since Jake doesn't start the conversation again, Skyler says: "So, where do we start our research?"

Jake sighs and responds: "I'm just too tired to think about this now, Sky. Let's just chill this evening and we can start tomorrow after work."

Skyler recons that there is really no rush. As long as they don't use the stone, they should be safe, right?

So, he just relaxes in the soft confines of his underwear home, only occasionally being readjusted by Jake's giant hand.

After some time in silence has passed, Jake suddenly addresses Skyler:

"God, Sky, you're really gay, aren't you?"

Skyler is confused but answers truthfully: "Yeah, that's what I told you. Why are you asking?"

Jake gives a short chuckle in Marcel's baritone voice.

"Cause I'm looking at some Polish porn with really hot chicks for ten minutes now and my kutas doesn't react the slightest."

Skyler is surprised by the sudden openness. Usually, they don't discuss these kind of topics much, but then again, he started it with his confession of being gay. Also, he was his dick right now, so these topics probably came naturally.

"You could try looking at men instead", Skyler suggested.

"Might as well try that..." Jake responds. Suddenly, Skyler's vision shifts again. Now he is looking at the cracked display of a phone, held by the rough hands of Marcel. On the screen, there is a polish porn site, with two men on it who are kissing and slowly undress.

" Yeah... That's more exciting for you, isn't it?" Jake states as Skyler feels himself plumb up somewhat and be readjusted by Jake. Although Skyler can't read the description of the page, another thumbnail grabs his interest, of a juicy male ass. Without exchanging a word, Jake taps the thumbnail, and another video starts playing.

A rush of joy goes through Skyler, as he begins to tent the jock strap. He can feel Jake grabbing his stiffening form beneath the fabric and stimulate him further with his fingers.

It feels weird at first, like having sex with his best friend. On the other hand, he wanted to get into Jake's pants for so long now and now he even started the encounter, regardless of the strange situation.

Skyler is far too horny to think about it further. He soaks up the porn vid until he sees another thumbnail, this time a muscular guy with a huge cock.

Automatically, Skyler taps on it, or was it, Jake? Marcel's hand now starts to jerk his fully erect cock in earnest, every pump sending waves of pleasure down Skyler's shaft and into Jake's system. Skyler moans from the pleasure, Marcel's baritone voice turning him on even more. Jake only stops his jerking shortly to pull up his wife beater and put it behind his head, before Skyler resumes thrusting into Marcel's rough hand.

God, he *needs* this. Why didn't he jerk off sooner? The previous body has been hot too, just imagining cumming onto the brown skin with black hair almost sends him over the edge. But this body here... Oh boy. It is like a walking wet dream. He can't believe that he is actually using someone else's hand to jerk his cock that is a person of his own!

With a cry, Skyler/Jake comes all over himself, splattering the muscled torso with white cum in multiple spurts before relaxing, spent from the experience.

Both Jake and Skyler drift off into a slumber, while Skyler shrinks flaccid again and their cum begins to dry.

Jake has the wildest dreams, from red demons and him running away, to hot men on the construction site. He wakes up half way in the morning by Skyler stiffening up again, perhaps from his dream or perhaps just without any more reason than a morning wood.

"Not yet, dick, just five more minutes..." he says, sleepily.

"Skyler" comes the answer, sharper than expected.

"Huh?" Jake asks, still not entirely awake.

"My name is still Skyler, or Sky, even though I am your dick right now."

"Yeah, that's what I said, what are you going on about", Jake answers confused.

Before Skyler can answer however, the phone alarm goes off.

"Kurwa! I think this means I need to get to work!"

Jake rushes to the bathroom and quickly takes a shower in the bathtub, getting rid of the worst dried up cum in the process. He finds another jock strap and wife beater (apparently, Marcel has plenty of those) and throws them on, along with the pair of work pants from yesterday.

As he retrieves them, Jake catches a look of the poster on the wall. He could have sworn it was an erotic poster of a hot woman yesterday, but this one clearly showed a man in a tight thong. Weird. He should discuss this with Skyler later.

Before he leaves the apartment, he says: "Sorry, Sky. Let's start our research this evening."

"Okay", Skyler answers - it's not like he has much of a choice in this matter.

As Jake hurries along to the construction site, he notices that some of the people he meets give him weird glances. Perhaps it's just because he is jogging the way, or perhaps there is a spot on his clothing he didn't notice, but Jake feels their gazes following him, as he jogs along the road.

Apparently, he has arrived at the site just in time, among the last of the workers to arrive. As he starts to unload another truck of material, though, the hot guy he stared at yesterday addresses him.

"Yo, Marcel! We're still good for this afternoon?"

Shit. He doesn't even know this guy. Had they planned something? It is not helping that Skyler is twitching in his pants again, as Jake looks at the other guy.

Apparently, his confusion is all too visible on his face, since the other man laughs.

"Man, Marcel, you need to start writing down stuff! We wanted to go to the pool Friday after work. And it's Friday."

"Shit, yeah, man, I remember now, but I didn't bring my swim trunks..." Jake tried to squirm out, but that only earned him a rough poke to the shoulder from the other man.

"Ha! I knew you'd forget. Luckily, old Piotr here got you covered and brought one extra. So, no more excuses my friend!"

Jake fakes a smile and nods. "Great! I guess I'll see you after work then."

Meeting this guy, who is apparently entirely Skyler's type has a high potential of becoming a very embarrassing experience, so the first chance he gets, Jake flees to the Porta potty and fishes out Skyler to do his business again. To the background of his pee splashing, he says:

"So, listen, Sky. You remember the guy you got a boner to yesterday?"

"Yeah, you too were speaking. What did he say?"

"It seems we have an appointment today after work to go swimming together. Can you do that? I mean without getting hard and all railed up."

It takes a while for Skyler to answer. Sometimes, Jake would be really interested in what his dick is thinking.

"Yes, I think I can try. Just focus on swimming, don't ogle his package too much, okay?"

"Sure. Why would I do that? I'm straight, remember?" Jake answers, even though he jerked off to gay porn yesterday. The poster in Marcel's flat comes to mind - perhaps he shouldn't be too sure about anything 'he is' in these strange times.

Skyler doesn't answer, not even with a snarky remark - perhaps he doesn't want to insult Jake. Jake shakes him off and puts him back into his underwear, before continuing to work.

During the day, Jake has the same uneasy feeling as before. His coworkers give him weird glances from time to time, that Jake can't really interpret well.

End of work comes quickly, as it is Friday and there seems to be the unwritten law that construction workers only work until noon on Fridays. Jake can't complain, since that might give him the chance to actually do some research this evening, as he had promised. At least if he manages to cut the swim session short.

As expected, Piotr expects him after work and throws a rolled up towel at him.

"I want those back, washed, you hear me?" he says laughing. Jake nods and gets into the car with the other man. Okay, how would Marcel behave? Jake realizes he knows exactly nothing about the body he is in.

"So, what's new? Met anyone interesting?"

Jake guesses he means romantically. Does Piotr know Marcel is gay? Is Marcel even gay? The whole poster situation is very confusing. Jake just hopes he doesn't have to go into more detail as he answers a vague: "Nah, no one. Too much work." That always works.

Piotr just nods. Jake manages to get through the car drive by giving non committed answers and asking superficial questions. Finally, they arrive at the public pool and get changed. Wearing only the borrowed swim trunks, Jake meets Piotr again under the shower. As instructed, he tries to look strictly at Piotr's face, not his chiseled chest, abs or... anything below that.

As the two men are showering away the dust and dirt of the work site, however, Piotr comments: "You got a new tattoo? Looks cool!"

Tattoo? Right, the heart shaped thing that appeared. Seems like this body has it, too. "Yes, it's new" Jake says, not even lying. "Do you like it?"

"I do! I told you, you can't run", says the other man, laughing.

"What did you say?" Jake asks, confused, while at the same time, Skyler is screaming inside his head: "Jake, watch out!"

"I said: I told you, you can't run." During the sentence, Piotr's voice drops an octave and at the end, Jake has the feeling of hot nails puncturing his brain. Horrified, he turns around, only to see Piotr changing rapidly. His skin turns crimson, and horns break their way through his skull. The mist of the showers suddenly becomes black.

Jake is paralyzed. What should he do?

"The stone, where is the stone?"

Before Piotr can finish changing into the horrifying demonic form of Baelnath, Jake begins to run. He almost slips on the wet tiles, but somehow manages to scramble back to his feet. He just needs to get back to his pants. The sigil stone is in his right pocket, he knows that for sure.

This time, the demon doesn't seem to have the decadence to walk but runs after him before he is even finished changing. It might be the missing control of Marcel's body or the influence of the demon, but the lead Jake has is shortening in an alarming rate. Finally. The locker. Jake fumbles with the key, while the demon closes in. Finally, the door opens. There are the pants. Jake wants to grab into the right pocket, he really does - but his hand doesn't do what it's told. Instead, he reaches into the left pocket... only to find the stone in it, already humming with power.

Jake's heart skips a beat. He had been wrong. If he had tried the right pocket, he might not have been able to get the stone in time. He doesn't know why he took the left one, but there was no time to think about it now. Just as the demon's claws grabbed his shoulder, the stone's magic unraveled the world around him.

I think that is my longest story episode yet! If you want to read the story from the beginning, just click here. If you just want to re-read the last episode, it can be found here. The next episode waits for you here.

[tswaney17]

A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You - Part 1

Don't even ask me what's going on. I'm still figuring this mess out. I wrote a handful of fics that somehow can go together. So, here we are. The first fic of @elainarcheronweek. 💕 Huge thanks to @duskwhisperer for sending me the prompt idea. 🫶

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Credit to @nikethestatue for Elain's nickname, Petal. 😘

Trigger warnings: None (I think)

Word Count: 2,599

Read on AO3. Snippet Below

Elain was sitting at the rod-iron table in the Townhouse garden, enjoying her morning cup of tea while basking in the golden rays of the beautiful sunrise. She brought the steaming mug to her lips, sipping the liquid and savoring how it warmed her from the inside out.

A shawl was draped over her shoulders, lips pressing to her cheek, flushed pink from the cool air. “Good morning, my love.” His voice was always huskier in the earlier hours of the day. Scarred fingers gripped her, massaging the tender spots on her back. “It’s chilly this morning.” He always did this, always took care of her, bringing out something warm to wrap around her because he knew she got cold easily but enjoyed the fresh air too much to not sit outside.

She tipped her head back, inviting him to kiss her properly. “Good morning,” she breathed against his mouth. “How’d you sleep?”

“Always better when you’re next to me,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss her again.

Azriel had been gone on a week-long mission, only having returned late the previous evening. They had spent the night making up for lost time, finally falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning before dawn. Elain knew he didn’t sleep much while out on his missions and didn’t wake him when she rose to begin her first batch of pastries for the day.

He settled in the chair next to hers, clasping her hand in his large, warm one. Azriel always joined her in the mornings for tea. Sometimes they shared breakfast together if they were hungry. He often brought food out for her if she was enjoying the fresh air. It was just a simple, domestic moment together, where they enjoyed each other’s company and discussed what the day entailed for them. Elain truly loved sharing them with him.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 23/02/2024

Through the F​-​F​-​Fire and the F​-​F​-​Flames

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume D

Ripped by R.L.99

In my excitement leading up to February 22nd and to finally get to write more in-depth about Kara's Flowers' meaning to the SiIvaGunner channel...it dawned on me a bit too late that I was ignoring another meaning to the very date before it. I'm still very proud of how the post on As Miku Collides connects together with Collision Clouds, but there was something far more important to remember from February 21st. The birthday of late ripper R.L.99.

R.L.99 is the second known SiIvaGunner team member to have left us in tragedy, and its always going to be a very difficult topic for someone like me, effectively an outsider, to approach. The first was Marrow, who I've written about thrice now with Telling Fish Tales, Turnabout Fishters and 8​-​bit Fish With Dreams - a true friend to the SiIvaGunner team whose contributions are too many to list, but had been present since the very early days of Season 1. I can't claim to have known the guy, nor ever claim to have felt the same grief that his friends did upon his passing - yet althesame, through how recognizable and frequent his contributions were, losing him did hurt. Yet with R.L.99, my heart sank for a somewhat different reason. I'd barely had the time to truly appreciate him before he was gone.

As a ripper, R.L.99's most defining trait lay in his ambition - he was always seeking to outdo his last work, always shooting higher, yet higher. Joining the team early into Season 5, his twenty-one contributions across the year, ambitious or not, all feel crafted to a sheen. In a Season that already had some of the strongest output in the channel's life, his rips often still managed to impress beyond those expectations. I described one instance of this occurring on my one prior post on the ripper, One Winged PSYcho - V​.​S. Sepsyrop, but it needs to be reiterated that this was effectively standard procedure for each of his big projects. But despite the reverence I hold for him now, I'd chosen the worst possible timeframe to begin distancing myself from SiIvaGunner - during Season 5, I was at my most disinterested in the channel's goings-on, and thus paid far too little mind to the incredible efforts the entire team were making during the year. I'd check in, add some rips to playlists, and check out.

When the news of R.L.99 broke early in Season 6, I didn't know what to think, because...I didn't know R.L.99. But as I looked through my own playlists, looked through his list of contributions - I realized that just about everything he had ever made had found its way into my list of all-time favorite rips. I'd loved his work without ever truly acknowledging or understanding who made it. Without ever having had the chance to truly show my appreciation, until it was too late.

Linked under his username credit at the start of this post, you'll find a Twitter thread I made two years ago now, the day the announcement was made. I wasn't able to appreciate him during his time, but on that day I wanted more than anything else for other people still like what I once was, people far too blind to the talent and care individual rippers put into their work, to know exactly what kind of legacy he left. And so, I put the thread together as one of my first-ever forms of written SiIvaGunner analysis, trying to concisely convey all the ways that R.L.99's work truly was unique - in all the ways I'd failed to pick up on before it was all too late. There was, of course, a lot missing from that thread - notably the as-of-then unreleased rips he'd made that would be uploaded the day after in his memory, culminating in the downright breathtaking Dancing Masked. Yet, I still want to dedicate todays post to a rip I'd heard from before that day, one of those rips I'd loved for so long without knowing the man behind it. A rip like Through the F​-​F​-​Fire and the F​-​F​-​Flames.

A hugely ambitious project, it feels difficult to find one rip that quite so concisely encapsulates all the qualities of R.L.99's work. A distinct love for the MOTHER series, a love for rip arrangements of popular music, a love for Rock music, and the aforementioned scope - it all culminates in a nearly 8-minute long tribute to the legendary Through the Fire and Flames by Dragonforce. Althewhile, it adheres incredibly well to the expected restrictions of a Game Boy Advance game, each of the shredding guitar samples used being from MOTHER 3 itself, with vocals authentically bit-crushed to match. It manages to rock out incredibly on its own, and that's without mentioning the insane details strewn throughout, such as the song's occasional bumps in tempo to match other boss music within MOTHER 3, or the other songs from MOTHER 3 that become referenced throughout the arrangement. Released on the date of MOTHER 3's birthday, much like Jesus of the Underground - it's a beyond impressive tribute, with love shown in every second of its runtime.

The fact remains, though, that I never knew R.L.99, and never knew Marrow either for that matter. There's far, far too many rippers that I've still not been able to express my full gratitude and affection toward, and many of which I'll likely never be able to reach. But that's part of why I want to run this blog in the first place - to give myself, and other SiIvaGunner fans that chance to show genuine, outspoken love for rips and the people behind them while we all can.

Rest well, R.L.99.

[aerltarg]

thinking again about my sad boys, aegon and rhaegar, the dragonbane and the last dragon, being depressed since childhood, finding solace in their happy ladies, daenaera and lyanna. but while aegon's older siblings died, rhaegar lost his younger ones. but hey, at least aegon got to be close to his dear younger bro viserys! meanwhile, rhaegar just couldn't have a chance to build any proper relationship with his younger bro viserys, with everything between them. also to think that daeron the young dragon was aegon and daenaera's son and jon, rhaegar and lyanna's son, admired him and considered him one of his heroes... oh bless them, i love them so much

[...] As she stood before the king that Maiden’s Day, clad in pale white silk, Myrish lace, and pearls, her long hair shining in the torchlight and her cheeks flush with excitement, Daenaera was but six years old, yet so beautiful she took the breath away. The blood of Old Valyria was strong in her, as is oft seen in the sons and daughters of the seahorse; her hair was silver laced with gold, her eyes as blue as a summer sea, her skin as smooth and pale as winter snow. “She sparkled,” Mushroom says, “and when she smiled, the singers in the galley rejoiced, for they knew that here at last was a maid worthy of a song.” Daenaera’s smile transformed her face, men agreed; it was sweet and bold and mischievious, all at once. Those who saw it could not fail to think, “Here is a bright, sweet, happy little girl, the perfect antidote to the young king’s gloom.” (Fire & Blood)

When Aegon III returned her smile and said, “Thank you for coming, my lady, you look very pretty,” even Lord Unwin Peake surely must have known that the game was lost. (Fire & Blood)

[...] Hope and good feeling reigned over the Red Keep as the new year dawned. Though younger than her predecessor, Queen Daenaera was a happier child, and her sunny nature did much to lighten the king’s gloom…for a while, at the least. Aegon III was seen about the court more often than had been his wont, and even left the castle on three occasions to show his bride such sights as the city offered (though he refused to take her to the Dragonpit, where Lady Rhaena’s young dragon, Morning, made her lair). His Grace seemed to take a new interest in his studies, and Mushroom was oft summoned to entertain the king and queen at supper (“The sound of the queen’s laughter was like music to this fool, so sweet that even the king was known to smile”). (Fire & Blood)

[...] “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.” “You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested. “Not sour, no, but… there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense…” The old man hesitated again. “Say it,” she urged. “A sense…?” “…of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.” Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar's birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. “It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?” “Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

“At the welcoming feast, the prince had taken up his silver-stringed harp and played for them. A song of love and doom, Jon Connington recalled, and every woman in the hall was weeping when he put down the harp.” (ADWD, The Griffin Reborn)

“The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle.” (ASOS, Bran II)

“By night the prince played his silver harp and made her weep. When she had been presented to him, Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes.” (AFFC, Cersei V)

“No one knew,” said Meera, “but the mystery knight was short of stature, and clad in ill-fitting armor made up of bits and pieces. The device upon his shield was a heart tree of the old gods, a white weirwood with a laughing red face.” (ASOS, Bran II)

“Whoever he was, the old gods gave strength to his arm. [...] the common folk cheered lustily for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the new champion soon was called. When his fallen foes sought to ransom horse and armor, the Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying, 'Teach your squires honor, that shall be ransom enough.'” (ASOS, Bran II)

“He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister’s eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black.” (AGOT, Eddard I)

“Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature. (AGOT, Eddard IX)

“It was said that Rhaegar had named that place the tower of joy.” (AGOT, Eddard X)

[noxtivagus]

ERENVILLE FINAL FANTASY XIV

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Arthur Be Damned

Pairing: Orm Marius x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut

Summary: Orm has the hots for Arthur's big sister, and it looks like she's got the hots for him too.

She was Arthur's big sister, and Arthur was doing his big brother duty by ordering Orm to stay away from her. Orm agreed entirely. Getting together with his brother’s older sister would be messy, to say the least. It started as nothing more than a silly little crush. A pretty girl flashed a brilliant smile towards him, patched him up and fed him because he and Arthur had to hide out for a while. He would get over it soon enough. Six months had passed since the initial agreement that Orm would stay away from her, and he was more in love with the woman now than he ever dreamed he could be. 

She was nothing like Arthur. She was quiet, introspective. Having had a hard life living with her mother, her smiles didn't come easily. When she spoke, Arthur listened and did what he was told. There was a deep sense of respect on Arthur's part for his big sister that Orm admired. She was neat, orderly, efficient. When Orm fantasized about being king, she was his queen. Regal and unwavering. He was desperate for her attention.

He did menial chores to compensate. He was bad at it at first, but he picked it up quick enough. He always went grocery shopping with her. She was on the shorter side, so getting items on higher shelves was an issue. Not to mention feeding two grown Atlanteans in their prime required a lot of food. He made sure to wear tighter, more flattering shirts to show off his muscles as he hauled bags upon bags up the driveway to the kitchen. He thanked her, complimented her, and anything else he could think of just to get her to look his way.

The benefits of being stuck in a small home with the woman of his dreams every day for six months were numerous. The one he liked best was the fact that he could observe her in silence. He spent an unabashed amount of time watching her. She noticed him doing it to. She made snide comments before when Arthur snapped at her for wearing revealing clothing. She simply laughed in Arthur’s face and said, “I have to make sure to put on a show for Orm. He’s always staring.” If his staring bothered her, she hadn’t said anything.

He learned so many things about her in such a short amount of time he felt like his head was stuffed full. In fact, despite the desperate circumstances he and Arthur were in, all he thought about was Arthur’s sister. She had a matcha latte and a bagel every morning. The topping on the bagel were different day to day but often it was peanut butter and banana. She was a university student in her last years of school, what she studied he couldn’t make heads or tales of . He just understood that it was frustrating. He also knew, the more frustrated she was, the more likely she was to play loud “nasty” music just liked the music coming from her room now.          

Orm looked up the stairs, wondering if he should try and comfort her. She didn’t seem a woman that would enjoy his company when stressed, but he hadn’t seen her at all that day. She had been up since before the break of dawn and remained shut in her room the rest of the day. He would die if he didn’t at least tell her good night. What if she didn’t like him though? He couldn’t just go up there and knock on her door to say goodnight, sleep well…could he? She had to like him just a little. Arthur was her brother, but she spent less time with him than she did with Orm. She smiled at him more, sought him out first after missions to make sure he was ok. It felt like she was choosing him. She could just be trying to be nice; he reasons. On the other hand, if she was trying to be nice, why didn’t she ever comfort Arthur the way she comforted him?

He isn’t sure how long he stares up, but when he hears a thump, he’s running to the second floor, two steps at a time. He calls her name, panicked. Banging on her bright yellow door, he calls for her again. “I’m ok!” She calls to him, sounding just as panicked as he feels. “I’m fine.” He hears scrambling and another thump; the music cuts off abruptly. She opens the door, flashing him a ‘see I’m fine smile’. She looks in disarray. Her hair fluffier, as if she’d been sleeping, her tight shirt slightly raised to show the chub of her belly, her shorts showing her meaty things. Once again, he’s plagued by thoughts of being squeezed by those thighs. “I heard a bang,” he says, looking past her and into the room. “Are you alright, did you trip?” She was a woman of poise, rarely tripping over herself. “I’m alright,” She reiterates, “I just knocked something over, that’s all.” Orm’s blue eyes snap back to her, she gives him another smile, sheepish, telling him to go away, everything is fine, just fine. That’s when the smell hits him.

Orm understood that surface people went through a mating season, not unlike Atlanteans. A human female’s season was short, about a week. They made up for the short season by going through it once a month. He took her appearance in again, and somehow managed to leap to a conclusion. She was relieving her heat herself. That thump must have been a tool of some kind, and she dropped it in the throws of passion. Orm felt himself harden instantly at the thought, he wanted to know what tool it was that had her so flushed with pleasure, he wanted to use it on her. Her sheepish smile falters as his stare becomes intense. `

“Orm are you ok?” She reaches out to him, grabs his arm, he can’t help but to step inside her room, pull her close to him and take a deep breath. Damn, that sent short circuited his brain. “Orm?” Her voice is soft, laced with confusion, but not alarm. “Arthur doesn’t like the thought of us being together,” Orm tells her, unwilling to stop the confession about to pour forth from him “But Arthur be damned. I want you; I’ve wanted you since the first moment I met you, more than I’ve ever wanted another.” She squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t let go, can’t let go, not yet. “These past six months have been nothing but a fever dream of yearning. I don’t just want to fuck you on every available surface, I want to kiss you, hold your hand. I want to take you to Atlantis and show you all its wonders. I want you to explain the surface world to me. I want to get lost in you until the end of our days.”

“Orm-” he cuts her off, “But I understand our dynamic is strange,” Orm finds the strength to let go of her. He feels stupid, weak, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to lay his soul bear to her, but she just brought it out of him. He was madly in love with her. “We share a brother, and he’s uncomfortable with the thought of us together. I only needed you to know I have strong feelings for you. If you reject me, I accept. I want nothing more than for you to be happy.” He feels his heart give a painful squeeze. He knows there’s no way she’d accept him. Arthur was her brother, Orm was nothing less than a disgraced prince. But he had to tell her, he couldn’t go on living without at least telling her his secret. Damn her for making him so weak.    

She reaches for him, takes his hand in hers, tugs him closer. It’s the most natural thing in the world, bending down to kiss her. He’s thrilled when she wraps her arms around his neck and receives him. He takes his time kissing her, exploring her soft lips, playfully nibbling, and nipping, enjoying her girlish giggling. When they finally pull back, both are smiling stupidly at the other. “What about Arthur?” Orm asks, the king of Atlantis is going to be pissed at this new development. “It’s like you said, Arthur be damned.” Orm took it as permission to dip down and kiss her again.            

Somewhere in the haze Orm manages to close the door, walk her across the room, and get her on the bed. He hovers over her, unwilling to move too far from her lips. He spends eternity kissing her, wanting to tell her how much he loves her. It’s too early for that, he thinks, I don’t want to seem desperate. In a shocking turn of events, she flips him over onto his back, settles herself on his hips, both letting out gasps when she brushes his erection. He rests his hands on her hips as she regards him. Her wild hair seems wilder now, her eyes glimmering with mirth. She’s smirking down at him, and he swears he’s died on gone to paradise. 

It’s strange how little she looks like Arthur. Arthur was tall, tan with brown hair, green eyes, and a shit eating grin. She was much shorter, reaching the bottom of Orm’s sternum. Steady and solidly built, her skin was darker by a few shades than Arhtur’s, she had brown eyes, and her hair was black, curly, and wild.

She finds the hem of his shirt and starts to tug it up, he sits up and raises his arms. The shirt goes up and over his head. When she presses him back down, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes roam up and down his body. He knew he was fit, he spent all his life training and fighting. He had a few scars here and there. Shockingly he starts feeling self-conscious. He forces himself to stay still for her. He wants to flex, to tell her in the right lighting, he looks like a god, honest he does. She rakes her nails down his chest, catching a nipple in the progress. He damn near loses his mind. The term ‘monkey brain’ suddenly begins to make sense. Rational thought is slowly leaving him as his desire to put his cock in her nearly takes over. It’s her contented sigh and the “You’re so handsome Orm,” that brings him crashing back into himself. Handsome! He’s so handsome at that. She leans over him pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, his chin. Things get a little naughty when she reaches his neck.

He grunts at the sudden pleasure over her teeth nipping at his skin. He turns his head for her, and she manages to find a place at the junction of his jaw and behind his ear that has him fisting the sheets. He rolls his hips upward involuntarily, seeking any kind of friction. She giggles and laves attention on the spot, sucking a dark mark onto his skin. He’s so wrapped up in what her mouth is doing he isn’t aware that a hand slips beneath the band of his pants until he feels her fingers on his cock. He must let out a strange noise when she squeezes the middle of his member because she immediately removes her hand, much to his displeasure, and pops up looking panicked. “I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head, too confused to answer her. She gets off him, but before she can get too far from him, he grabs her hand. All he can manage is a strained, “Continue.” Her brows furrow, unsure if she should listen. He swallows thickly, “Please,” He manages, “Please, I need you. I was just shocked, that’s all.”

“You sounded like I stabbed you Orm,” He shakes his head. “I don-, I don’t know what sound I made, but I can assure you, it was one of pleasure. I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity to…to do this kind of thing with you. I’m a little overwhelmed.”  He runs his thumb across the back of her hand in reassurance. She hesitates a little too long for his liking. “Do you not want this?” He asks, perhaps he’d read the situation wrong and she was having second thoughts. “I do.” She tells him, finally relaxing, he relaxes as well, flopping back down on the bed with a sigh of relief. “Please,” he begs her, “Please.”

She does as he asks, hooks her fingers underneath the band of his pants and, with his help, shimmies them down his hips. Flinging them somewhere in her room, she has a full view of him. He wants nothing more than to shy away from her, to cover himself up from her piercing gaze. He shouldn’t have initiated such an intimate moment so quickly. “Jesus Orm, you’re perfect.” Perfect, the word echoes around in his skull as she kneels before him. Jesus, a deity surface people call out, as a curse or a prayer. Orm, his name. Perfect, a reference to him. When she thinks of perfection, she thinks of him, his nakedness, his body. He’s satisfactory looking to her, more than that, he’s perfect. All the incoherent ramblings going on in his skull cease the moment she grabs his cock once again. He makes the same strangled sound, but this time, she simply pauses instead of moving away from him.

Her clasped hand moves up his cock, down, and up once more. He can no longer force himself to stay still, fuck he couldn’t even force himself to stay quiet. “Oh, now you see, that sounds better.” She teases him. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows to look at her. She’s smiling at him. She stops again, and he wants to curse, but she rests her cheek on his knee a look overcoming her features. He can’t tell what it is, but he never wants her to stop. Lazily she squeezes him, begins pumping slowly as she looks into his eyes. There’s something there, something more than lust, something…loving. I’m going to do it; I’m going to tell her I love her. He doesn’t get the chance. She presses a kiss to his knee, then further up his thigh, then a little further up. Yes, his monkey brain screams, understanding what’s happening before he does. Yes, put it in your mouth, oh Poseidon, put my cock in your mouth.

She works her way to the base of his cock, head an angry scarlet, weeping with precum. She licks a stripe from base to tip, catching a bead of white on her tongue. He’s fascinated by the sight, watches her swallow then pop the tip in her mouth and give a strong suck. His hips jerk upwards involuntarily. She merely giggles and continues to suck him. He watches as she moves herself into a better position over him, free hand resting on his hip. He immediately takes it, entwines their fingers, settling onto his back for a third time. His mind clears as she continues her ministrations, getting lower and lower on his cock as time goes by.

What she can’t reach with her mouth, she reaches with her hand. Orm’s head, for once in his life, is completely empty. There are no duties he has to attend to, no imagined slights he has to nurse an injury for, no jealousies to consider. It’s just him, the women between his knees, and the unceasing waves of pleasure. He’s vocal, calling out her name, begging her not to stop, oh please, he needs this, please, pretty please, oh please, ohpleaseohpleASEOHPLEASE. Yes. The tight coil in his gut snaps as his orgasm rips through him. He’s aware of the noises he makes, of the giggles, of his hips jerking hard. He relaxes, lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, then finally opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

She moves again to straddle him. Brushing a heated cheek with her thumb he finally as the courage to look at her. “You ok?” She asks, “That seemed a little intense.” He wants to snap back at her, ask her how she would feel if the woman she was lusting after just gave her the best head she’d ever had. Instead, he sits up and kisses her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue. That’s when the scent hits him again, her arousal. It seems more intense now, sweeter than anything he’s ever smelled. He helps her get rid of her clothes in a quick fashion, pushes her on her back and stares open at her nakedness. If she had any reservations, hesitations, or anything else, she didn’t show it.

Orm understood that, whether for aesthetic purposes or cultural purposes, humans took their body modifications personally. Arthur had tattoos that represented his culture through his father’s line, Arthur’s sister didn’t have ink, she had jewels. He allows his eyes to roam her body freely, tracing a path from her chin, down her neck, to a nipple. Two little balls rested on either side, he tugged gently, curious as to the meaning of such a thing. He doesn’t linger, there’s too much of her he wants to explore and he’s reasonably confident he’ll have time to stare at her all he wants in the future. His hand trails downward to the shiny green piercing that rested in her belly button. He glosses over it, a half though forming in his mind that a pearl should be nestled there. As his hands travel lower, she adjusts herself, opening her legs to him. She’s got nothing to hide, and he loves her all the more for it.

His fingers slip past the curls of her pussy and plunge inside, eager to see her come undone just as quickly as she’d undid him. She’s wet. His ego takes a hit when he realizes she’s wet because of what she was doing before he interrupted her, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He pumps two fingers in and out experimentally, knowing the basics of what he was doing. She was quick to correct him. “Angle them upwards more.” He does so. That first little whimper damn near does him in. “Your thumb.” She breathes, He looks down at his hand, what about it? Was it in the way. “Use it.” He has to pause and think, how did he use his thumb?

“Have you never fingered a girl before?” Her question is gentle, unjudgmental. “I haven’t exactly had time to practice.” He admits, flushing red for different reasons now. “Here, let me.” She maneuvers his hand the way she wants it, two fingers angled up, his thumb on another piece of jewelry. “That’s my clit,” She explains when she places his thumb there. “It’s a very important piece of anatomy. Makes a woman see stars. If ever you’re with someone, and they aren’t getting there in a timely manner, I can say with much confidence if you put some sort of stimulation on it, they’ll cum in a few moments.” He wants to make a cute retort that she’s ruined all others for him, but he’s eager to absorb the lesson she’s trying to teach him. “If you ever eat a girl out, that’s where you’ll want to focus your mouth. Now, go ahead and move your fingers in and out, making sure to apply pressure upwards, and use your thumb as leverage on my clit when you move out. If you can remember, move it up and down or in circles while moving in an out.”

It’s all so clinical, he thinks, so impersonal. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. She knew exactly how to please him without so much as an utterance from him. Here he was receiving an entire lecture. But you’ll be better for it, he tells himself, you’re learning how to please her directly from the source. She isn’t letting you fumble through it, she’s giving you direction, that way next time you know what the hell you’re doing. A smaller voice he chose to beat back asked him if he was so sure there would be a next time. He starts over, doing as she instructed. Pressure in two places, nice and easy, in and out. This time, she reacts, groaning and rolling her hips to meet his fingers.

He falls into a steady rhythm. She wriggles beneath him, and he watches intently as she moves. Her walls flutter around his fingers and he feels himself harden and begin to leak once more. He’s enraptured by the vision beneath him. Eventually a sheen of sweat forms on her skin, making her glow in the light that filled the room. He leans forward, unable to resist kissing her any longer. She tries to kiss him back, but she’s too busy chasing her release, so he opts for open mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach, cheek, shoulder, anywhere. Before long, her hips begin to stutter, her walls clamp down on his fingers in a rhythm all their own. She calls his name over and over, like a prayer. It soothes the hit his ego took earlier. When she’s finished, she pushes his hand away, the sensation becoming too much. His hand is soaked in her slick, that wonderful smell overwhelming him once more.

Unsure of how to proceed, he wipes his hand on his leg as best he could and lays next to her, watching her heavy breathing become normal once more. His cock aches with the want to enter her, but she made no moves to take things that far. Eventually she steadies, and he begins to press kisses to her skin once more. She turns her head to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s lazy, unchaste, all tongues and nips and nibbles. He could spend an eternity there, but she begins to cling to him in a way his subconscious understands as her wanting more. He dares to roll on top of her and settle between her legs.

He manages to pull away from her and trail kisses down her neck as she’d done before. He tries desperately to find that magical spot on her neck that she found on him but couldn’t do it before she called his name. He stops immediately. It’s time to go, their little tryst has come to an end. Arhtur is going to be home any second and they have to compose themselves, no matter how much his balls ached to be emptied again. “Please,” she says, bringing him in for another scorching kiss. “Please, I want you.” The desperation behind her words almost kills him. He pulls back, not to be a tease, but he wanted to get something straight. In his mind, it was one thing to pleasure each other using mouths and hands, it was a different thing entirely to be joined so intimately. He beings his final confession.

“I love you,” He says, “In all the Seven Kingdoms, in all the world, there’s no one I want more than you. No one I desire to be with more. I’ll only continue if you feel the same way.”

“I love you too, Orm.” It’s the way it falls from her lips without hesitation, the earnestness in her tone, the softness of her smile. This was what made him believe her. His face breaks out into the biggest smile he ever managed. “Yeah?” She nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, kissing him for the umpteenth time. He wriggles around for a few moments, using a free hand to slide effortlessly into her. They both groan as he slides all the way in. He can’t explain it, but he’s weak in the best way possible. He wants to collapse on top of her and remain sheathed inside her for eternity. This is right. He belongs with this woman. The universe aligned everything just so he could meet this woman and love her.

His pace is slow to start. He doesn’t want things to end too quickly, but it seems she has other plans. She begins to match his easy pace thrust for thrust. Both of their grunts and whimpers got lost in the others’. An ‘oh Orm,’ was coupled with an ‘oh yes,’ which in turn was followed by ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’. All too soon Orm found himself speeding up, just a little, chasing that release. From the way her walls fluttered around his cock, he hoped she was close too. “Orm, thumb, please.” She whispers, clinging to him. Through the haze of pleasure, he manages to find enough wits to place his thumb on her clit and began to rub. Her legs wrap around his waist, bringing him impossibly deeper. By this time neither could tell which grunt belonged to who, who was begging for the other harder. They were lost in each other, and when they climaxed, it was together. Both their hips jerked erratically, each chasing their release, lamenting that the pleasure was over too soon.

Orm collapses on top of her. She brings her arms around him, scraping her fingers over the back of his scalp with one hand, and running the other up and down his back. He softened slowly inside her as they both bask in the afterglow. In the back of his mind, Orm knows Arthur is going to be pissed. But it’s like he said in the beginning, Arthur be damned.

[nirikeehan]

Happy DADWC! Let's have some Thalia/Cullen, with "Reunion x Defying prophecies" from your Fun Trope Combos list!

Hi Duchess!! Perfect prompt for some post-Battle of Haven early Thalia/Cullen character study, I think.

Also had to add these prompts from @breninarthur and @wolfs-dawn:

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1289

---

Now that Lady Thalia Trevelyan had returned from the dead, Cullen did not know how to speak to her. 

It had been easy at first. The scrappy red-haired mage had looked to him for guidance those months in Haven. Uncertain of the moniker bestowed upon her by the masses, she had peppered him with questions — about leadership, philosophy, religion, and listened with earnest fervor to what he had to say about them. She was young, certainly, but Cullen had every confidence she could grow into the role presented to her. Had been flattered, even, to mold her for command. 

Then everything came crashing down, and Cullen, acting as her commander, sent Thalia off to die. 

He replayed the moves of the battle through his head as the stragglers that called themselves the Inquisition trudged through snow and mountain. The days were brutal and the nights were worse, with ice winds howling down into the narrow rocky passes, and Cullen thought he might freeze a thousand times over. Only the rage boiling in his gut keep his blood pumping, as he ran the plays again and again. In chess, there were times when one must sacrifice a piece, even an important one, but the risks so often outweighed the reward. Try as he might, he didn’t see an outcome that saved her from destruction. He would have to live with that for the rest of his days. 

Maker guide her, she went willingly.

The burden of the march had eased. The train moved with lighter steps, their Herald restored to them. They had a destination, a goal to picture in their minds. Still, Cullen found it difficult to approach her. It was he who had found her, on her knees in the snow. When her lips were blue, he cradled her fragile body to his chest, trying to bring some warmth back into her. He flushed with the memory, in turns frightened, relieved, and… something else. 

Tonight, the cook fires burned brighter, it seemed, after the skies had cleared. He saw her, sitting on the cot in the healer’s tent, where her condition was being monitored, nose in a book. Her hair, auburn and incredibly long, she had coiled around her head in one long plait. She seemed stronger, the color starting to come back to her oval face. For days she had been white as the snow around them, offset only by the spiked tattoo ringing one eye. An extra security measure, Cullen had learned, devised by templars at the Ostwick Circle. It made him vaguely uneasy to behold, but he often found other parts of her face more pleasing  — her bright blue eyes, for instance, or her heart-shaped lips. 

She looked up and spied him, and Cullen’s heart thudded. She smiled at him shyly over the rim of the book, and his feet moved toward her of their own accord. 

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said as he approached. 

Thalia glanced around the empty tent and back to him. “Oh, Commander, as you can see, there’s nothing to intrude upon. I’m alone.” 

“Yes, but you seemed so engrossed.” Cullen motioned to the book.

 Thalia cleared her throat and set it aside. “Just something Mother Giselle lent me. I guess she was conscientious enough to salvage several books from the Chantry before the evacuation of Haven. I wish I’d had that level of foresight.” 

Cullen glanced at the title. The Holy Mysteries of Andraste and Her Disciples. “Ah. I read that one in templar training.” 

“You did?” Thalia’s pale gaze was upon him. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold wind. “What did you think of it?” 

Cullen chuckled. “A touch… fanciful, perhaps.” 

“What? You don’t believe the story of Saint Sylvester slaying the dragon on New Year’s Eve?” The corner of Thalia’s mouth quirked upward. It was nice to see her smile again. 

“Some of the tales are apocryphal at best, if I recall,” Cullen said. Then, he blurted, “You look good.” 

Thalia blinked in surprise. 

“Better, I mean,” Cullen cried, backpedaling. “Healthier. When I saw you in the snow, I feared for the worst.”

Thalia ducked her head shyly. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to scare you then; I was just… very tired.” 

“No need to apologize,” Cullen said quickly, leaning on the hilt of his sword to regain some dignity. “I’m just relieved to see you on the road to recovery.” 

“After rising from the grave, you mean,” Thalia quipped. 

Cullen felt sheepish. “I don’t really believe—” 

“No, I know,” Thalia cut in, laughing nervously. “I already gave my report. It’s very unlikely I was truly dead at any point.” She sighed, glancing at the book. “I am not so sure that’s what the masses think. That’s why Mother Giselle lent me the book. She thought stories of other religious figures might… inspire me, I suppose.” 

“And do they?” Cullen asked softly. He could sense the conflict in her, but didn’t want to push her in one direction or another. Being looked to for leadership was an immense, painful thing, whatever the reason. 

Thalia shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re right, they sound like fictional characters, most of them. Do you think there’s truly been a secret Chantry in Par Vollen for centuries that no one has been able to find, run by an knight-errant Chantry mother?” 

“I suppose stranger things have happened,” Cullen conceded, “but no, I found the accounts of Prester Johanna far-fetched, as well.” 

“As far-fetched as being the Herald of Andraste,” Thalia huffed. “Is this how I’m going to be remembered in the history books? Some mythical figure no one can believe in?” 

“I think that may depend on you,” Cullen said carefully. “We have ways of crafting the narrative around you, but your own deeds and decrees, how you treat others… that’s as telling as the rest.” He smiled in spite of himself. “I think so far, most have wanted to follow you because you give them something to believe in. Your compassion and drive inspire them. Tales of defying death, or slaying dragons, that may come later, but… it’s who you are that makes the most impact.” 

Thalia was looking at him curiously as he spoke. Cullen cut himself off with an embarrassed sigh. “Forgive me, sometimes I do think I like to pontificate a touch too—” 

“No, no, it’s all right. I like listening to you.” Thalia chewed her bottom lip and looked down. “Thank you, Commander. That’s good food for thought.” 

“Right.” Why was Cullen’s heart thumping like that? She didn’t seem to think him a fool, though he certainly felt like one. “I’ll leave you to your convalescence.” 

“You could stay, if you like,” Thalia suggested brightly. “I could read to you. Saint Sylvester was just about to team up with two elven apostates to fight the dragon terrorizing Vyrantium.” 

Cullen hesitated. He had maps to pour over, losses to calculate, casualties to report to Knight-Captain Rylen. As of late, however, when it became difficult to concentrate, he dug through the trunk of his that had survived the Haven onslaught. He sat on the floor of his tent and, with trembling hands, contemplated the one vial of glowing cerulean that sang to him under tunics and greaves and letters from home. He’d been so parched lately, and no amount of mountain fresh ice water could quench it. 

“You’re busy,” Thalia decided, before he could answer. “I understand.” 

Cullen swallowed thickly. “Sometime soon, perhaps. Once we’ve reached this castle Solas has promised us.” 

“Of course.” The book was back in her lap, her eyes straying from his. “Have a good night, Commander.” 

“Yes.” He stifled a sigh, turning to leave. He felt more stupid than ever. “You as well, Lady Thalia.” 

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #82: The Chronicles of Narnia, but make it ASOIAF

@kyuremking recently asked me how I would go about combining Game of Thrones with The Chronicles of Narnia - and admittedly I was a bit baffled at first. Narnia has never been one of my go-to fandoms - I never liked how CS Lewis handled Susan, as if growing up was a crime worthy of exclusion from paradise, and the religious imagery feels quite heavy-handed considering the century in which they were published.

But I thought. And I mused. And I turned the idea over in my mind. And this is what I came up with: What if the Stark siblings fell into an Old Gods-analog of Narnia?

Just imagine it:

One day while exploring beneath the catacombs, young Arya Stark falls into Narnia. It is not quite the Narnia we know, with most of the heavy Christian symbolism of the books being replaced by the beliefs and mythology of the Old Gods.

As the religion of the Old Gods is not overly expanded upon in canon, let's imagine it here as something of a cross between shintoism and folk orthodoxy - polytheist and heavily animist with a notion of "pollution vs purity" and an un-codified moral code, but with localized cults of anthropomorphized saints which over the centuries have picked up certain aspects of certain of the New Gods. The details don't really matter so long as the two most important of these saints, which have taken on aspects of the Smith and the Mother, can be used to replicate the Narnian idea of son of Adam and daughter of Eve.

Arya falls into Narnia. Bran tentatively believes her, but the rest of her siblings think she's telling tales. This leads to some back and forth before Jon and Sansa are separately tasked to pull Bran and Arya out of the catacombs - and end up falling into Narnia after them.

Jon, Sansa, Bran, and Arya free Narnia from an endless winter at the hands of the Corpse Queen, who was trapped there by the Children of the Forest, which weakened the Others enough that the Last Hero was able win the Battle for the Dawn. They then rule Narina as Kings and Queens for forty years, eventually falling back into Winterfell while hunting the White Stag.

The exact details of the Narnia interlude are unimportant, as our story picks up literally the minute they find themselves all in a heap back in the catacombs, child-sized once more.

The rest of their family immediately notices the difference, but has no idea what to make of it. All of a sudden the four middle Stark children seem to have overcome all of their differences. They're not just acting like miniature adults, they're acting like proper lords and ladies - used to commanding and their orders being followed.

The difference is starkest with Arya - who seems have mellowed in the course of a day to warrior queen out of legend - and Sansa - who is no longer dreamy but dangerous in the way all Queens of Winter have always been. But it's there with Jon - who seems surer, steadier, and more comfortable in his own skin even as he looks at Ned with betrayal in his eyes - and Bran - who has gone from wanting to be a storybook knight to being the gallant knight he's always wanted to be.

Additionally, all four seem unspeakably close these days and can often be found whispering together - and slowly going silent when anyone else draws near. They're in and out of each other's chambers to the point where it's honestly strange to find one of them alone.

There's no time to ponder these changes, as the royal party is on their way North.

Ned will regret not paying closer attention for the rest of his life.

For while in Narnia, the Stark children learned two things: 1) That Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife, Lyanna Stark. Though it's never outright stated, it's heavily implied that while Lyanna's abduction was willing, her imprisonment in a tower was not, and by the end of it hated her husband more than anyone. Jon will never, ever be sure where his conception fell on the spectrum; and 2) that the Long Night is coming. It may be in their generation, it may be in the next, but Westeros must be strong to ensure the Dawn will come. Everything they've learned about Robert Baratheon suggests that he will not - cannot - be the king Westeros needs. And so Jon, Arya, Bran, and Sansa plot, and scheme in preparation for Jon to take the throne himself.

They're prepared to play the long game - but don't have to after Bran spies Jamie and Cersei in the First Keep. He arranges for the pair to be discovered in a way that is utterly undeniable. The twins are tried, found guilty, and beheaded in short order. Cersei's children are declared bastards - and, after Joffrey draws a sword in protest of this, Joffrey is slain as well. Myrcella and Tommen are remanded to Ned's care until they are old enough to join the Faith, enter the Citadel, or take the Black.

And then Robert does what he does best: drinks and whores, seemingly uncaring that his rule is hanging by a thread.

And so Jon acts - or rather, Jon and Sansa go to Ned so that he can act. They sit him down, explain that they know Jon is the rightful Targaryen heir, and state that if Ned does not declare for Jon now, he is dooming Westeros to a bloody civil war. It is best to act decisively now rather than wait for Robert's vices to kill him.

This conversation takes the better part of the night, but eventually Ned is convinced. When morning comes, Ned orders his guards put the few royal guards not already under watch (the majority Lannister men-at-arms having been imprisoned for rioting after Jamie and Cersei's deaths) and takes Robert hostage.

Jon is named King Jaehaerys III.

A great host marches south to King's Landing, picking up the lords of the Riverlands while fighting off Lannister forces, and takes King's Landing quickly, despite Renly's spirited defense of the city. Forces are sent to mop up Stannis at Dragonstone in echo of the Rebellion and in short order Jon is King of Westeros in truth.

What follows is a montage of Jon doing is best to strengthen the kingdom, put down rebellions, and make Westeros ready for the Long Night.

Bran marries Shireen Baratheon, who is named Lady Paramount of the Stormlands in her own right. Their marriage is one of surprising affection - and one which seems determined to restore House Baratheon to its greatest number through their own efforts. Bran is known as The Noble Wolf, and earns a reputation equal to that of the Dragonknight or Duncan the Tall.

Arya marries Robin Arryn, but it's doubtful they ever consummate the marriage. When he dies two years later, she claims the Vale by right of widowhood, and has already been doing such a good job ruling in his stead that few protest when there are no viable alternatives. No one ever quite knows who fathers her heir, but by that point the Long Night is in full swing and few take issue with it.

Robb marries Margery Tyrell, the closest the Tyrells can get to the crown. It's a successful marriage, if not one of deep affection, and ensures the North is well-fed when the Long Night comes.

Jon marries Sansa, with whom he'd had a relationship in Narnia and who he'd been dancing around after their return to adolescence. They often wonder about the children they left behind in Narnia, which causes some angst when they start having children in Westeros, but are undeniably the happiest royal couple in 200 years.

There are other efforts beyond marriage in the background, including 1) a long sequence during which Theon Greyjoy is installed as Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands after his father rebels. He proves to be remarkably loyal to the crown, marries Lyra Mormont, and turns the Ironborn from pirates into a royal navy in one generation; 2) Rickon is sent to foster in Dorne, which he takes to in a way no one could have predicted. He ends up staying in Dorne for most his life and becomes known as The Desert Wolf - a wilder, fiercer knight than his brother Bran. He never marries, but fathers a bevy of bastards to rival Oberyn Martell - at least half of them with Oberyn's daughter Loreza; and 3) Tywin being in open rebellion for years before Tyrion, in a desperate attempt to ensure a Lannister stays Lord of the Rock after they're assuredly defeated by the combined strength of the rest of Westeros, kills his father, takes his place, and swears his fidelity - just in time for the Long Night to descend.

With their preplanning, the Long Night is not half as bad as it was in canon - but it's still war. Sansa rules in King's Landing while Jon, Arya, and Bran lead the fighting to the north.

The situation goes poorly at first, with royal forces able to hold The Others off long enough for the Free Folk to to safety - but it's still a retreat, with each loss to the living strengthening the dead. The situation is starting to seem desperate by the time the Others reach the Wall.

In the darkest moment of the Battle of the Wall, the dragon Cannibal arrives at Castle Black to aid Jon, while two of his kin go to help Arya and Bran at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the Sea. (These dragons being ice dragon cousins of the Targaryen fire dragons of the east, and thus drawn to the Stark bloodline when they bother to take riders at all.) Together they are the three heads of the dragon...

...and they start pushing the Others back. Within two years, they have won and the Night King is destroyed.

Jon goes on to rule for several more decades, beloved and capable in a way that no Targaryen ruler before him has ever been. (His few detractors are quick to point out he's more Stark than Targaryen, but Jon takes that as a compliment.) His queen, Sansa, seems less a consort and more a co-ruler, and is possibly more beloved than her husband. Their rule is one of peace and growing prosperity throughout the Seven Kingdoms and takes up an almost Arthurian place in the later history and mythology of Westeros.

They never speak of their experiences in Narnia to anyone - save Jon and Sansa's eldest son, Robb and Margery's eldest daughter, Arya's heir, and one of Bran and Shireen's middle children, who fall into Narnia themselves while exploring the Red Keep, who help the rightful king retake his throne...

Bonuses include: 1) The relationship between Robb and Jon never quite getting back to where it was before the Narnia interlude. As a result, Robb and Theon become even closer - which may have a strong role in Theon's efforts to turn the Iron Islands away from raiding. Dealer's choice if this relationship is bromance or romance; 2) A revival of the Old Gods and their religion following in the wake of the Targaryen Restoration. They win many converts everywhere the Stark family gains a foothold and godswoods are restored throughout the Seven Kingdoms; 3) A projection of Westerosi power into the lands beyond the Wall. At first this is nominal, but as parts of Beyond The Wall start to build villages and keeps similar to those in the North, things begin to change. Within 100 years most of the area capable of being settled this way is under control of their own Lord Paramount descended from a marriage between Robb and Theon's lines. The lands further north continue their pre-War lifestyles, but are nominally part of Westeros as well; and 4) Daenerys lives a happy life with Drogo in Essos. She watches with pleasure as her son Rhaego forms the largest land empire the world of ice and fire has ever seen - and lives just long enough to see that empire collapse after his death as his heirs scrabble for power. One of her great-grandsons, however, does end up on the throne of Yi Ti. His dynasty will eventually rise to be Westeros' great eastern rivals.

And that is surprisingly more than I thought'd I'd have. @kyuremking, IDK if this is quite what you were looking for, but it's the best I could come up with. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[bimboficationblues]

One Piece in Review, Part 1: Break of Romance Dawn! (Ch. 1-41)

Welcome to my One Piece reread review! In each part I’m gonna take a close look at each arc of the manga, what works, what doesn’t, how it relates to the work as a “whole" (such as it is).

First up: Romance Dawn [chapters 1-7], followed by two story arcs which I think follow enough of a similar pattern that they can all be understood as a unit: Orange Town [chapters 8-21] and Syrup Village [chapters 22-41]. Where the grand adventure begins! These make up the first half of the "East Blue" saga, a series of arcs that all take place in the "East Blue" sea.

The first three arcs of One Piece follow a very simple formula: our protagonist, Monkey D. Luffy, is in need of members for his pirate crew and a ship. This is part of his ambition to become "King of the Pirates," which requires finding the treasure of previous Pirate King Gold Roger. He shows up in a small village or town, often by contrivance, and confronts a local villain who is menacing the locals in one form or another: an authoritarian Marine captain, a ransacking materialistic clown pirate, and a scheming ex-pirate trying to pull off one last job, respectively. Luffy gets involved not out of a desire to be heroic, but usually out of self-interest (such as acquiring a ship or a map of his destination) or to help an interpersonal connection he's made in the area. Along the way he meets an oddball with some special talent or skill who he invites to join his crew, and they eventually agree to join in pursuit of their own personal dream. In this series of arcs, he recruits powerful and stoic swordsman Roronoa Zoro, kleptomaniac and pirate-hating navigator Nami, and inventive but cowardly sharpshooter Usopp.

@canmom recently read through this segment of the story and posted what I think is an insightful perspective about the series’ beginnings, from the viewpoint of someone approaching the series for (approximately) the first time in its twenty-six year history. Her perspective is, I think it's fair to say, a little mixed, both because of the art style's notoriously divisive quality as well as the tone and content of this first part of the story.

These first three arcs kind of wear author Eiichiro Oda’s influences on their sleeve both narratively and visually, especially that of Akira Toriyama's Dr. Slump and Dragon Ball. I also think that some of the concepts are probably inspired (directly or not) by series like JoJo's Bizarre Adventure and Outlaw Star, such as the "Devil Fruit" (which resemble JJBA's Stands as a way to give characters unique and wacky powers, though simpler than Stands in general). The linework for characters is generally rounder and softer in shape, a little "cartoony," and it's not always consistent. There's a lot of visual gags, puns, and big reaction faces, though mercifully few lame sex jokes relative to the early portions of Dragon Ball. The strongest visual moments are in the action sequences and spreads (see below).

Similar to Dragon Ball, One Piece draws a lot on folk tales, fables, mythology, and fantasy literature, sometimes subtly and sometimes not so much (as is the case with the introduction of Usopp, a character who is initially both a variant on Pinocchio and the Boy Who Cried Wolf). And yet, Dragon Ball doesn’t really confront the grimmer sides of its story and world until fairly late into the “non-Z” portion. Within the first chapter of One Piece: a child cuts his face open with a large knife to prove his courage, a bandit gets shot in the head by a pirate, and another man has his arm torn off by a sea monster. (All of these are obfuscated in some way in the Toei anime.) None of this gets an especially graphic treatment visually, but combined with the apparent silliness of the power system and visual design, plus some of the more interesting setting details, it definitely establishes that this is a world full of both awe-inspiring wonder AND genuine danger.

And, unlike something like Dragon Ball or JoJo's where a lot of the writing is (self-admittedly) done by the seat of the author's pants, there's definitely a real effort to maintain something like a consistent world-logic - which isn't to say Oda doesn't sometimes abruptly change course. But concepts like the "Grand Line" or the Devil Fruit surface repeatedly, baiting readers to follow and learn more if they keep coming back. Below, Chapter 8 (an early mention of the Grand Line) and Chapter 22 (where it's actually explained in detail):

The settings and backgrounds of these early arcs tend to be sparse, minimal, and rustic: small houses, quiet taverns, little rickety boats, and tamed greenery. This, too, is a tradeoff. On the one hand, it effectively communicates how small this part of the world is, and on re-read this makes these early islands really stand out compared to the kinds of weird or grandiose places that the Straw Hat Pirates will visit later in the manga. It paints a picture of small communities and everyday people trying to eke out a stable existence on the periphery of the world, threatened by a mix of local crime and corrupt authority, which in turn point towards the existence of much larger forces.

On the other hand, those first forty chapters can feel a little drab because of this somewhat underwhelming aesthetic. Once the series starts to really hit its stride in the following saga, I think this is much less of a problem. And, just to defend the thing I just critiqued, @opbackgrounds has a cool write-up noting the differences between the architecture in the different villages, so although the settings aren't the most thrilling, their designs do still communicate distinct class and cultural differences, like Orange Town's obviously greater wealth communicated below, which corresponds to its success as a port town:

This same limitation of scope extends into the main conflicts. They skew small, with relatively minor pirate crews menacing the small towns that I described above. Unlike the antagonists of the "Paradise" [Ch. 101-597] and "New World" [Ch. 598-ongoing] portions of the story, who are admirals, warlords, emperors, and even a self-proclaimed god-king, the antagonists in these first three arcs are trying to acquire petty personal fiefdoms or fulfill private schemes, or in the case of that clown everyone was upset about a while back, reach *well* outside his grasp. It can feel a little "villain of the week," and in at least two out of four cases, with one edge case, that's an accurate label.

The two villains of Romance Dawn, for instance, are completely outclassed by our protagonists. "Iron Mace" Alvida and "Axe-Hand" Morgan never pose a serious threat to our heroes, they're largely vessels for Luffy and Zoro to display what they can do. They have two other useful qualities, though. First, they immediately set the tone for who the antagonists are generally going to be, a mix of Marines or government authorities, and other pirates with alternative worldviews to Luffy and the crew's. Second, they introduce some of the series' basic themes.

Both Morgan and Alvida rule by fear, with the former in particular demanding complete obedience, and using his rank in the Marines as proof of his own superiority and a means to personally enrich himself. By putting Luffy in conflict with these two, it suggests that the status of "Pirate King" maybe doesn't inherently carry the kind of connotation of superiority and command, or control over wealth, that you might assume. In the first chapter, we've seen Luffy glow with delight at the claim that "pirates have freedom." While the themes are a little embryonic at this point, it's clear from the start what direction the series is going.

In this way, most of the villains are direct foils for Luffy and the crew member being recruited in each arc. For example, Captain Kuro "of a Thousand Plans," the villain of the "Syrup Village" arc, is both a foil for Luffy and Usopp, willing to abandon his crew in pursuit of a quiet, shamed life as an ex-pirate rather than live loudly and proudly, and who relies on deception to advance his goals. Buggy the Clown, the villain of "Orange Town," has a boundless ambition for treasure that parallels both Luffy and Nami's aspirations, but while Luffy sees treasure in the variety of places and things that people value because of their history and connections to important people (like his own straw hat), and Nami's money-lust stems from a complicated history of hurt (which is only foreshadowed in this section), Buggy is simplistic and sadistic, incapable of seeing beyond himself.

A random aside: Buggy is an all-time gag antagonist, and unlike the other three, he will repeatedly resurface throughout the narrative. This is part of the core appeal of One Piece, imo. What seem like villains of the week or background characters often end up coming back, often in new roles. In Buggy's case, while he returns first as a minor villain and later an ally, above all he is essentially the series' longest-running gag: a man who is basically incompetent but keeps failing upwards largely through the misunderstandings of others.

This use of narrative foils to push specific ideas within each arc, which then form a web of interrelated themes throughout the whole saga or series, is a common feature of One Piece antagonists, but they get meatier and gain greater emotional complexity or thematic weight as the story goes on.

You might have noticed I've been quiet about the core cast so far, but now that I've touched on antagonists, it seems appropriate to say some words about them. But also, that's partly intentional because in the early days the information about our protagonists is relayed in a piecemeal way. We get basic backgrounds for Usopp, Luffy, and Zoro, but a better sense of who they are unfolds over time rather than in single chapters or arcs: how they behave with each other, the choices they make, what their personalities are like. This lack of instant information is deliberate on Oda's part. Luffy (after learning that Nami lost someone to pirates) expresses that he understands, but also indicates that he doesn't necessarily need to hear about it. These people aren't connected because they share intimate details of their histories with each other but because they have shared values and aspirations, and they inspire one another to pursue their goals.

The way Luffy is written, for example, leaves open a lot of questions around his familial and early life until they suddenly come roaring back into the story way later. But we do learn a decent amount about him in this arc: he's a bit of a dope and not a great sailor, but he's a strong fighter, he has some sense of honor and bravery but isn't above being underhanded, and despite his lack of intellect he has a fair amount of tactical and emotional intelligence.

While he hasn't quite figured out to be the best possible leader yet, Luffy has a sort of natural charisma by virtue of his sheer unblinking willpower. His dreams and aspirations inspire others around him to pursue their own, seemingly unachievable goals. So far, so shonen. But where he stands out from other shonen heroes is that his goals are so defiant of how the world "should" work - a young kid who can't swim, with the silly power of "stretching," from a backwater village in the "weakest" sea in the One Piece world - that it naturally brings him into conflict with that world's social and political order. It'll be interesting to observe how Luffy develops as a character and a leader as the series continues.

Each of the main cast is, fittingly for pirates, atypically heroic or arguably non-heroic. In spite of their position as protagonists, each one has an idiosyncratic personality, a self-interested goal, and a hoard of vices, and what's more is that these vices often aren't always positioned as things they need to overcome. Zoro is incredibly prideful to the point of putting himself in unnecessary danger, indulgent in alcohol, and easily gets lost. Nami is obsessed with making money and has an especially short fuse. Usopp is easily frightened and falls back on deception as a way to puff himself up.

And yet these are the things that endear the characters to each other, and us to them: Usopp uses lies not just to inflate his own ego but to make others feel better or to distract an enemy at critical moments; Zoro's prideful determination to basically defy all medical wisdom has saved the crew's life multiple times, as early as Orange Town; Nami's knack for stealing makes her a valuable asset under pressure, and her short fuse is because she often has to play the clever and rational member of the group.

I'm gonna decline to comment further on the remaining three characters, because I think while each of them gets time to shine in this section of the story, it'll be better to look at how they take shape in the context of the next string of arcs. Which means, once again, I find myself pointing to the long game as justification for what makes this section of the story work.

I think taken together, these qualities of the early series make it easy to see why One Piece is massively successful AND has something of a mixed reputation among non-readers, or people who pick up the first volume or two and then drop it.

My feelings on this earliest segment of One Piece are a bit mixed, myself. What makes it work for me is viewing it as part of an unfolding process, with the knowledge of what's to come and how the seemingly small and less exciting characters or concepts eventually swell in scope and emotional weight. But some of the emotional moments in this early section land with a bit of a thud for me (I've never been a huge fan of Zoro's backstory for instance), and the conflicts and characterization are hit or miss. But, considering the manga I've read that have stronger starting points but ultimately drown as they continue, there's a compelling case to be made that One Piece is a great example of manga-as-process rather than just a series of parts. It benefits from a long-term, serialized format in a way that not all works actually do.

Overall I'd say Romance Dawn is a little wobbly, while Orange Town and Syrup Village polish up the basic formula before it starts to get more complex in the next few arcs.

Next up, Baratie, Arlong Park, and Loguetown (ch. 42-100)!

[prerodinu]

New Muses: The Bunnies

The Bunnies are one organism. They are one whole entity made up of several components.

The Bunnies were created by a witch (her lore is here when I make it) who was created as a manifestation of friends for her for a time. Little bunnies she had found and then changed into humans by a process that only she knows. That only she can do.

The Bunnies changed with time as she grew. Sometimes the Bunnies would freak out and other times they would be too docile for her. Sometimes The Bunnies would be her lovers, while she couldn't get the downstairs to work, she was trying to figure that out.

Until she came across a witch beating her familiar. Something she deemed punishable by not only death but a very very slow one.

Thus this current Managiarie of The Bunnies was born.

These Bunnies changed from the animals that she took from witches who abused them and changed them. Changed them into men.

Fully functional men.

Which was the difference between The Bunnies before and the Bunnies now.

For her transformation process, the witch picked out different literature that best matched them. This was also designed to make sure that anyone who came upon them, female or male, would want them. Would desire their sweet words or their surly attitudes.

The Bunnies themselves have different supernatural features, designed to be alluring like vampires are to drag you closer to them. And when you do get closer to them, they morph into your every desire. Every want.

The Bunnies although loved by the with (who is named Bunny) she never actually gave them names. She didn't feel it was right to do so. Especially since so many people could come upon them and the desired name for said Bunnies might differ from person to person.

So when you ask your Bunnies their name. They will ask YOU what you think their name is. They will make you guess so many names until your eyes dilate and you find one that brings you lust, joy, or pleasure and that is the one that they pick.

Each Bunnie has a different personality, each made with a different piece of literature that makes up their core, their middle, and their outside.

Their core is the spark that brought them to life. Their middle is the deeper things, not surface level but slightly more into them. Their outside is the surface level. The things they seem like but change when you get to know them more.

The Bunnies are as follows.

Made from: A Miniature Lop Bunny.

Core: A poem called 56 by Dawn Lanuza (find it here) Middle: A poem by Louise Kaufmann ( find it here) Outside: Pieces of him scattered across every gym you have ever seen a himbo at heart a dazed expression on his face whenever he sees you. The Mark: Their eyes. Both of them are a milky blue-green swirl, often you won't see them and it's covered by their hair.

Made from: A Carrion Crow

Core: A poem by Edgar Allen Poe (find it here) Middle: A piece of the Poem a Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe (find it here) Outside: Every man you see walking past you with a scar you wish to trace with your finger-tips. Every man in a mask you wish to uncover but find you don't want to ruin the surprise for yourself. The mark: their wrist, always has their wrist covered and or very long sleeves.

Made from: A D'Albertis/White Lipped Python

Core: Apollo to Icarus by Nikita Gill (find it here) Middle: A poem by Atticus (find it here) Outside: The man who stands up for you in a bar, who smiles that fanged smile before disappearing off into the night. The man you dream about with jawbones and you joke to friends he just might have pointed ears but you are unsure. He is the man from every Fae movie and tv show you can't help but fall in love with. The Mark: their thighs, the back specifically. They are always going to wear pants or shorts to cover it.

Made from: An Arctic Wolf

Core: Hades to Persephone by Nikita Gill (find it here) Middle: A quote from Kurt Kobane (find it here) Outside: Every male lead in the 90's who wasn't good enough for the main lead. Think Dean from Heathers. A man you want to want but find him scary. Who smells of blood, incense, and forest. He scares you with his grin but you want him nonetheless. The Mark: the inside of their palms. They are almost always wearing gloves or covering their palms from view.

Made from: A Artic Fox

Core: every time you take a breath of cold air and feel it solidify in your lungs as you move through the forest. Blood of a fresh kill and the soft northern lights. The softness of watching the snow fall from inside as you snuggle up with someone. Middle: A Poem by Perry Poetry (find it here) Outside: Introvert by Ritika Jain (find it here) Their Mark: their right ear is scared, they always have their hair to cover it.

Please know that these Bunnies will act differently with everyone. They are going to try to be everything you want at their core. They need it to survive. If you do not give them or feed them what they need. They will leave.

Each bunny also has a part of them they always keep covered. A mark of their transformation. Some it's their hands. Other's its their wrist or neck. Sometimes it can even be an eye. Most likely they will never show you and if you go to touch it. They will back away.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 18

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Katara returned to the village, doing her best to breath.

She had found the Avatar. The Avatar, the best hope for the world, had been in the South for a hundred years, hidden in an iceberg. He had been right under their noses. And, he was a little boy.

She tried not to think about what would happen if Zuko found him. While the prince had seemed to of given up on finding the Avatar, she hated to think of what he would do if the opportunity was waved under his nose.

She got Sokka to agree to keep it a secret. It took some effort, and deflecting suggestions that Zuko was still evil. Her brother eventually agreed, since word getting out could bring more Fire Nation ships to their door.

They returned to find their mother fretting, and the two crewmen having taken defensive positions at the entrance of the village. It was Taka who ran forward first, his sharp eyes finding them first.

"Princess Katara!" He shouted. She hated it when he called her that. "And Prince Sokka! We saw the light, and feared something may have happened to you! Are you alright?"

"We're fine," she said, elbowing Sokka before he could let anything slip. "Just a problem with our canoe. Is everyone alright?"

Immediately, Taka snapped to attention. "No injuries! For the most part, everyone is calm. There are a few murmurs of dark spirits, concern from old tales."

Katara nodded, turning to her brother. "Think you can handle calming everyone down? I need to talk to mom about... the 'canoe'?"

For a minute, Sokka looked at her like she was a mystery. Then, it dawned on him, and he started nodding. She flicked her eyes to Rinzo, and Sokka groaned as he caught on. Distract the other soldier.

Sokka moved forward, snapping at Rinzo to follow. The man blinked, looking at Katara for confirmation, before following Sokka inside. Katara, meanwhile, made her way towards her family's hut. Her mother was outside, and frowned when Katara motioned her to follow.

"Wait outside," Katara told Taka, who frowned. Still, the man remained behind as Katara ducked inside with her mother.

She explained what had happened, explained her concerns about Zuko returning to his vicious hunt. Her mother listened, thought, and could offer little advice.

"If you really did find the Avatar, it's for the best that he goes to the North. We can only hope that Zuko will remain..."

They were interrupted by Taka pulling the door open. "Princess, Ma'am. Prince Zuko is entering port."

Once again, Katara's stomach rolled. Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder, a little smile on her lips. Hope. They had to have hope.

Getting up, Katara followed her mother out. Taka stood beside her, Rinzo moving to join him. They flanked her, as they always did when Zuko arrived. She moved to their meeting spot, watching Zuko step off the ramp. Her heart dropped to see him and a squad of firebenders dressed in full armor.

"Katara," Zuko said, voice sharp. "We saw the light. Are you alright?"

She swollowed thickly, her heart pounding. "We're fine," she said, wincing at how stiff she sounded. "I'm sure it was just a trick of the southern light."

He released a breath, and reached forward, towards her arm. It was a familiar gesture. They did it often. A squeeze of the bicep, an assurance that they were real and there.

Only, just before his hand could touch her, there was a roar of wind. She could feel it twirling around her, pushing out and away. Zuko and her two guards were thrown back, as a figure in orange and tan landed in front of her.

Aang stood in a fighting stance, his staff raised and ready to strike. Soldiers behind Zuko cried out, moving forward. Katara couldn't hear, her heart pounding to loudly. There was a thud behind her, and Appa's roar overlapped with the ringing in her ears.

Zuko scrambled up, his hands moving in an instant. Flames burst out, shooting towards Aang. Katara yelped, and Aang swung the staff to send air to block the fire. Zuko stared, and she could see the gears working in his brain. She could see him make the same leaps of logic as she had. An airbender. Likely the last. And the last Avatar had been an airbender.

She was moving before she could think. Her arms whirled, grabbing snow, and hurling towards Zuko. He ducked, forced into a defensive position. His eyes widened, the soldiers calling out in shock. She didn't let up, doing her best to whirl the snow under their feet into a blinding flurry keep pushing Zuko back. Aang, seeming to understand her strategy, began to whip the winds into a frenzy.

"Katara!" She heard Sokka shout behind her. There was a distinct thuck of his club hitting someone's head. Turning, she found him shielding his eyes, stepping over Rinzo and Taka's prone forms. "If they want Aang, we have to get him out of here! They'll have to follow!"

Katara grit her teeth, backing up with Aang. She could hear Zuko calling her name, muffled by the bending induced storm. Flickers of light shined through.

"Onto Appa!" Aang called, using his bending to launch himself up to the bisons head. "If you're sure they'll follow, then we'll run!"

Sokka scrambled up Appa's tail, Katara dropping the storm to follow. With a sharp 'yip yip', the bison began to lift. She clung to the saddle as the storm began to dissipate, letting her catch sight of Zuko. The prince was staring at her with a look she could only discribe as shock and betrayal.

It shrank and shrank, until all he was was a speck running towards his ship.

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