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somedaylazysomeday · 9 months ago

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A Boon - Part Six

A sleepless night looms ahead, but you don't want to fill it with conversation.

Thranduil x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, emotional misunderstanding, emotional vulnerability

Previous | Masterlist

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It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before Thranduil spoke again - minutes and hours meaningless in the darkness of the night.

“Will you still not tell me what steals your slumber?” Thranduil’s low voice rumbled, perfectly fitting the velvet shadows filling the room. “Unburdening yourself may help you sleep.”

You shook your head, knowing he could hear the motion as clearly as speech. “I doubt it. But perhaps you can help in a different way… if you are willing.”

There was a pause in which you prepared to assure him that he was under no obligation to you. But then Thranduil’s hand released yours to grasp your waist instead. In a fluid motion, he had rolled over to loom above you in the darkness.

“I would be a poor lover indeed if I allowed you to suffer when there is hope of providing respite.”

“So magnanimous,” you teased.

“Always,” he agreed, a bare instant before his lips brushed yours once and again, deepening into something tinged with urgency.

You melted eagerly into the kiss and wormed your way closer, welcoming every touch of your body against his. He was big and solid and so wonderfully warm, especially when he cradled your jaw in his hand to deepen the kiss further.

You hadn’t given much thought to where his other hand might be, not until you felt it high on your thigh and moving steadily inward. You gave a pleased little mutter and parted your legs so he could have space to move between them.

Thranduil’s hand was against the very heart of you, cupping your mound, but he had gone still. You could feel the way his middle finger was lying along your seam, but that finger was not pressing into your core and his palm was not pressing against your clit. Still, there was something oddly intense about the way he was holding you, his grip possessive as he claimed your mouth in a leisurely siege.

When his fingers did start moving, they were slow and gentle as they stroked your folds, teasing the most sensitive part of you. You were squirming under that attention, but unwilling to pull your lips from his to make a complaint. Thranduil finally took pity on you, sinking a finger deep into your heat.

Your body parted eagerly around the intrusion, pulling him deeper. The thickness of that single digit simultaneously felt like the greatest relief you had ever felt and not nearly enough for you.

When he stopped moving, your hips lifted to impale yourself more firmly. The heel of his hand was barely short of brushing your clit, and you could feel the heat of him so close… The stimulation it promised stayed tantalizingly out of reach, no matter how hard you tried to get there.

You were pouting into your kiss when Thranduil finally relented. That finger started pushing gently in and out of you, more of a stroking gesture than a true thrust, but it was enough to make your heart race.

Thranduil was a patient lover. He always had been, and it was one of his greatest strengths. He took his time, carefully drawing every bit of pleasure he could possibly plumb from your depth before he allowed either of you to rest. He had teased you in the past about the desperate speed of humans and how they could only hope to achieve the intensity of elven practices. It was maddening.

Fortunately, you had quickly figured out a particular quirk of Thranduil’s: when he was so deeply involved in teasing sensations out of you, he was susceptible to his own needs. He could fight off the draw of pleasure alone, but when that pleasure was dashed with just a hint of pain, it was as if his mind was taken over by the startling contrast.

With the way he was tormenting you, you could hardly be blamed for giving him a long stroke - fingers at the precise level of tightness that made him weak - even as you delivered a sharp nip to his lower lip.

Thranduil pulled away to release a harsh sound, a rough combination of shock and keen interest, and stared down at you with a sharp look in his eyes. Those eyes had a sudden wildness to them, the tremendous sense of age in them edged with something you could only describe as a blunt and determined sort of intensity.

He was going to take you apart, and you could think of nothing you wanted more.

When Thranduil started moving once again, there was nothing soft or gentle about it. His finger pulled free of you only for it to return with another. Those two fingers thrust deep without a moment’s hesitation, stretching you sharply as you gasped and arched helplessly against your pillows.

“Thranduil,” you gasped, clutching at the sheets, his arms… anything within reach that could possibly help you ground yourself against the feeling of his teasing fingers.

He glanced from between your legs and up to your face. His expression was light and joyful, utterly mischievous. “Yes, lover?”

Now that you had his attention, you were uncertain of what you might want with it. The best you could muster was a soft and trembling, “Please.”

Thranduil smiled, drawing another gasp as his fingers twisted inside of you. “Do not worry, little one. I know precisely what you need.”

With that vaguely threatening promise, Thranduil set to work pulling you apart. His fingers pushed and stroked, thumb teasing intermittently against your clit - no rhythm you could decipher with your preoccupied mind. That meant that you could not anticipate his movements, and you were left to Thranduil’s mercy as he worked you steadily toward an orgasm.

And it was no accident that Thranduil was not known for his mercy.

When you fell apart, you arched up off the bed, held in place only by Thranduil’s arm bracing your hips. Your hands were clutching desperately at his forearms, and it was a miracle that he didn’t seemed bothered by the way your nails were biting into his skin. Your legs slammed shut around his hand, holding him in place as your core worked to drag him deeper inside of you.

Thranduil worked you through it, movements steady and inexorable until you were quivering and breathless beneath him. Weakly, you pushed his hand away - though you had to remember to release it from the vice of your thighs first.

“Well, my queen?” Thranduil inquired, leaning over to study you from a closer angle. “Do you find yourself ready for sleep?”

You made a face at his teasing tone, but you did not truly mind it. He was subtly asking whether or not you wished to continue your activities. There were days on which you preferred to orgasm once (or not at all) and be done with things so that you did not become overstimulated. Fortunately, that tended not to happen with Thranduil.

“I am afraid not,” you told him with a sigh. “Though I understand if you are too tired to continue.”

It was a game between the two of you, just as much a part of your relationship as his proposals. Thranduil grinned at you, as delighted to play his part as he ever was. “Not so, little mortal. I am ever ready to ensure your satisfaction.”

You smiled back, but it was halfhearted. The endearment he had chosen struck a little too close to your preoccupied thoughts for comfort, and your urgency was genuine as you pulled him back down for another kiss.

There was a hesitation to Thranduil’s lips and you worried for a moment that he would pull away to ask what was wrong. That was a conversation you had no interest in having with him at that particular moment, so you slipped your tongue between Thranduil’s lips, dueling briefly with his until he seemed utterly distracted.

And then, just to be certain, you slung one of your legs over his narrow hips, repositioning yourself until you were straddling him. His length was pressed against you, insistent and impossible to ignore, but not breaching you.

You intended to fix that.

“Are- Are you ready?” you asked, trying not to openly pant. As was often the case with Thranduil, your orgasm had not quenched your thirst so much as piqued your hunger. The sight of him beneath you, his pretty hair spread across your pillows, made your body tighten with unmistakable need.

“For you?” Thranduil asked, and even in the handful of seconds since you had asked your question, you had already forgotten it. “Always.”

You pulsed your hips forward and back, the movements a mindless mimicry of the way Thranduil’s hips moved when he took you. Thranduil planted his heels on the bed and pushed upward, shoving himself more firmly against you until you remembered precisely what your question had been… and what his answer gave you permission to start doing.

When your hand wrapped around Thranduil’s length, he twitched and thrust into the air at the feeling. It took your full strength to push his hips back to the bed. Even then, you knew it was only because he allowed you to reposition him.

Your fingers around the base of Thranduil’s shaft held him in place as you pressed the broad head to your entrance. As always, he felt impossibly large as you lowered yourself onto him. Perhaps it was the position that always made you feel the burning stretch. More likely, it was that you were unable to slow your pace when you took him this way. You needed him now, not when your body said you could have him.

But he was barely inside of you before he was catching your hips, holding you in place and preventing you from sinking down in one desperate stroke. You made a wordless noise of frustration, opening your eyes to stare at him in confused irritation.

“Slowly, love, slowly,” he urged. “I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.”

You tried to ignore that direction, but Thranduil’s fingers were firm on your hips, guiding you achingly slowly downward. Even as your irritation grew toward the elvenking, you could not argue that this was more intense. Thranduil’s shaft seemed even more impossibly long this way, fed slowly into you bit by bit until it felt like he was stretching up inside your torso, fighting his way toward your heart.

The muscles of your core worked and gripped and twitched around him. Thranduil seemed as entranced as you were, his lips moving as if he was speaking softly, so softly that his words were completely inaudible to you.

When you were finally fully seated on him, feeling utterly impaled on the thick intrusion of his length inside of you, both of you made matching noises of inarticulate pleasure. You were unaware that your hands were braced against his chest until he gently cupped his over the back of one.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you asked.

Thranduil looked at you with confusion, then with dawning delight. “Why, my queen. Are you asking for me to tell you how lovely I find you? Because I am happy to do so, though I will expect you to refrain from implying that I am the egotistical one in our relationship in the future…”

“No, you have full claim over any ego between us,” you countered immediately. It was difficult to think with his hardness buried so deeply inside of you, but this seemed important enough to gather whatever wits remained available to you. “I meant that you were saying something. I could not hear you, but I felt that I needed to.”

A wry expression twisted its way across Thranduil’s face. Worry grew in your stomach, and your voice was quiet when you asked, “Is it something so terrible?”

Thranduil shook his head, fingertips rising to keep your face aimed at his. “Not at all. I simply worry that you will realize that our shared pleasure is weighted in my favor. It is impossible that I can bring you pleasure equal to the pleasure you bring me.”

“Did we not just discuss ego?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I believe you have no concept of the way you make me feel,” Thranduil said solemnly, light eyes locked with yours. You stilled, trying to decipher what he meant with this serious turn. You felt a stab of fear as you wondered whether Storr would be proved correct. This was just abrupt enough to be the start of the end of your relationship with Thranduil.

But then, the elvenking smiled. “Perhaps I am lucky in that. If you knew how utterly entrancing you are, I fear the power you would gain from the revelation.”

You chuckled with him, but you still felt odd. Unbalanced, somehow, by the unexpected gravity of the moment. Then Thranduil’s hand moved to your breast, thumb stroking over your nipple as he smiled gently up at you. “You are so beautiful. And clever enough to rule a kingdom while working on behalf of citizens who adore you. I knew you would be a wonderful queen, but I could never had expected so much.”

Normally, praise made you uncomfortable, particularly when it was as effusive as this. For some reason, you soaked in Thranduil’s words and felt the weight of them impact your soul. You were a wonderful queen. And you were clever and beautiful enough to bring Thranduil to his knees. Proverbially speaking, of course - you liked him exactly where he was at the moment.

The height difference between you could present a challenge in many positions, but you could lean forward at just the right angle to press your lips to his. Thranduil met you on the way, hungrily accepting your kiss and deepening it until you were drinking each other in.

Since you were already leaning toward him, it was simple to lift up on your knees before sinking back down onto Thranduil. In fact, it was almost easier to keep the motion forward-and-back rather than up-and-down.

The feeling of his thickness sliding out of you spurred you on, and the pressure of his pelvis against your clit at the bottom of every stroke urged you to keep that momentum. Your thrusts sped fast and faster until you had to pull away from Thranduil’s mouth so you could catch your breath.

It was satisfying to see that Thranduil was breathing heavily as well. His chest rose and fell under your fingers, and you could almost imagine that you felt his quickened heartbeat beneath the smooth skin. Every few strokes, the head of his shaft would catch at the perfect place inside of you, shocking your system with the sharpness of the sensations. Each time it happened, your body clamped down around Thranduil’s as he gave a low, urgent growl.

When Thranduil caught at your hips, you half-prepared yourself to swat at his hands. He was clearly as close as you were, and you would be forced into violence if he intended to slow your pace once more.

But he only squeezed your hips, stroking over the sensitive skin he found there. “Lovely, lovely human. I shall not last much longer. What can I do to bring you with me?”

Your mouth was dry from all of the panting, and it took you several attempts to force out, “Touch me, Thranduil.”

“With pleasure,” he agreed, a wolfish smile spreading over his face.

This was once of your most treasured traits of Thranduil’s: when you asked him to touch you, he did not simply lunge for your most sensitive places. He knew that you could find pleasure in every sensation. His hands traveled up your arms to your shoulders, then down the sides of your body, your body singing at the simple contact. He caressed your breasts like he had the rest of you, then continued over the flexing muscles of your stomach and down between your legs.

The thrusting pace you had taken up left little space for him to reach your clit, but Thranduil managed, slipping fingers between you. He teased you mercilessly, following the movements of your body to keep the torment ongoing regardless of whether you were rising or falling.

You had been steadily getting closer to the edge of your orgasm, but it had been a distant thing, growing like a cloudbank over the water before a storm. But Thranduil’s touch brought those nebulous sensations to the immediate forefront.

You slammed yourself down on him, hands braced on his shoulders as you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. The chasm of pleasure yawned eagerly before you, and it was only by holding completely still that you could draw back without falling in. Your body relaxed incrementally, half a step back from the cliff.

Thranduil was unwilling to let you, however. He pressed his knuckle firmly against your clit, thrusting up into you at the same time.

And you were gone.

It was something of a miracle that your arms and legs stayed braced enough to support you. You had no feeling left in them, your entire being so consumed by the sensations wracking you that the world narrowed exclusively to the explosions in your body, the twitching pulses of Thranduil’s length inside of you, and the satisfied gleam of Thranduil’s eyes.

As your body’s frantic spasms eventually slowed to soft squeezes around him, Thranduil’s eyes stayed on yours. You could not fault him; yours were just as blatantly locked on his. His hands on your arms kept you upright even when your muscles no longer wished to support you, and he guided you slowly onto the bed beside him.

The room was quiet, the sound of the waves far below only now audible without the grunts and moans and sounds of sex filling the room. You could almost fall asleep, the worries of your relationship pushed from your mind by your recent activities. But the rustle of the Thranduil’s body against the sheets felt purposeful, a way of breaking the silence, and you knew a conversation was incoming.

“Tell me, my queen,” Thranduil said, gently pulling out of you. “When do you intend to accept my proposal?”

“When do you intend to stop asking?” you returned, lazily rolling your head so you could look at him.

He smiled. “I believe I never shall. Some day, you will agree to have me as your husband.”

“Thranduil…” You knew you were meant to find that funny, but you could not quite summon a smile. Yes, there were serious problems that he refused to acknowledge, but you had never stated them as clearly as you should. Perhaps it was time to bring them up directly.

You rolled onto your side, directing your gaze at him rather than the ceiling. “You will outlive me by a number of years. Why would you want to tie yourself to a wife you will have for the equivalent of a few weeks?”

Thranduil looked over at you and found that you were watching him steadily. He returned his gaze to the ceiling rather than hold yours. “Yes, I will outlive you. That much is a certainty, barring anything unforeseen. But I love you. I want to seize our time together, to spend as much of it bound as tightly as we can be. When you are gone, I will mourn you. I would do so if you left me tomorrow.”

You might have teased him for that, asked if he had designs on your safety… but there was a frown on Thranduil’s face that said the thought alone was causing him distress.

“But would you deny me the knowledge that you had belonged to me and I had belonged to you as much as any two can? That we swore before all kingdoms, all rulers, and every one of our subjects that we chose to be together? Not due to politics or trade or any such thing. But because we loved each other too deeply to live any other way but together.”

Thranduil slowly shook his head. “I mourned my first wife for almost a decade and that was with the comfort of knowing we had been together without reservation. I already care too deeply about you to hope for any less grief, but I worry for that lack of solace…”

“So why do I wish to wed you?” he asked, turning to look at you directly. Thranduil’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, though he fought to keep them from falling. “Simply put: because I love you and I want the entirety of the world to know that I would have none other than you for my wife, my partner, and my queen.”

Whatever expression was on your face, Thranduil seemed to find it unbearable. He turned away, his back toward you. “Please save your objections for the morning. I find I am far too weary to defend my desires to you this evening.”

“Thranduil…” you started.

“Yes?” he asked, still facing away.

Your mouth opened, but you found that you could not answer him.

Thranduil turned toward you once more, his hands rising to cup your face. One of his thumbs rubbed the crease between your brows while the other smoothed the corner of your frowning mouth.

“Yes?” he repeated, voice hushed.

You took a breath, and it was shaky when you released it. “Ask me again.”

Thranduil’s hands stilled on your face. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

His eyes widened an instant before he captured your lips with his own. With the activities of the last hour, you were not quite stirred to need, but your body perked with interest at the way he moved close and closer. You were pressed together, utterly entwined, until Thranduil let you go, pulling away only far enough to press his forehead to yours. The brightness of his beaming smile was near-blinding from such a close vantage point, but there was a mischief in it that made you wary.

“You realize, of course, that our people will not be satisfied with a recounted tale of an accepted proposal?”

You groaned. “Please try not to make your staged proposal too inane tomorrow. I don’t want to lose the respect of my subjects.”

“Never,” Thranduil promised. “I shall devote the entire afternoon to composing a proper proposal for their approval.”

“Afternoon?” you asked. “What about the morning?”

His eyes were bright. “I had a rather different idea of how we would spend the morning.”

---

Author's Note - This pair has been a delight to write from the beginning, but these two chapters represent my final ideas for them. If I ever decide to add to their story, I'll make sure to link it here.

Meanwhile, I would love to hear what you thought! Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit thranduil #thranduil #elvenking thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #lemon #spicy #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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ventique18 · 2 years ago

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Dreamlike

Malleus x Yuu♀️ (nameless) short one shot.

⚠️ Suggestive warning!

It's a hot summer. For Lilia, summer always makes him think of very specific things: beaches, watermelons, swimsuits. It's the perfect time to enjoy one's youth. Now, he's not actually young anymore to be bothered by such frivolities, but he is bothered anyway. It's because his young master, who is quite literally young and should, indeed, enjoy his youth, is instead spending time cooped up in his musty old library and eating nuts instead of watermelons or mangoes or coconuts.

That simply won't do. So, with the power vested in him as the boy's guardian, he manages to forc--convince him to join a youth summer camp.

Malleus Draconia isn't particularly pleased. But since he's getting bored of the same tomes and scriptures anyway (the scheduled procurement of new books isn't until a few months more), he accepts and uses it as an excuse to loiter around the mountains by his lonesome.

Until one night he isn't quite alone. He isn't sure if it's good or bad fortune, but for the first time in his traditionalist life, he experiences something truly shocking.

He walks in on a woman bathing. In a river, by the forest. Completely, utterly, naked. He watches her a second too long, he's ashamed to confess.

"Like what you're seeing?"

That snaps him back to reality. Flustered, he blinks and his mouth babbles and his hands shift in many different combinations of poses that he dreads the woman might think he's performing an odd sort of avian mating dance.

"No," He speaks quickly, "What I mean is, please do not misunderstand and think that I find you foul or, unattractive. I don't. I do think you're rather fascinating. But it's not that I'm watching you deliberately, goodness no. Please do not be afraid as I do not plan on doing anything more than look. I mean,"

He sucks in a sharp breath. He's not making any rational sense, and he's sounding like a creep, "I am merely curious."

For all his attempts at sincerity, he's failing horribly as he just cannot take his eyes off her.

But she laughs, and with a shake of her head, asks him playfully, "Alright stranger, can you hand me my towel?"

He does, and he almost stumbles from how shaken he is from this whole ordeal.

Much to his surprise, the woman does not think badly of him at all. She, in fact, asks him to come back tomorrow night. Same place, same time. Now, he's no fool and knows better than to fall for such suspicious traps, so he ignores her request and walks through a different trail the following night.

... Until he circles back and finds his feet perching on a familiar stony path; soles drenched and socks dampened by the moonlit water.

There she is, swaying languidly in the clear river. He can fully see every inch and curve of her alluring body, yet she does not bother to hide herself nor reprimand him for his obviously captivated gaze. And whether by pure curiosity or something else entirely, he finds himself wading through the waters and towards her, when she smiles and gestures for him to come a bit closer.

Nothing much happens that night, except for her asking what kind of flower he likes. He answers and asks her in turn if she likes berries, and if she prefers strawberries or blueberries or any other berry. What's your favorite color? Do you take care of any pet? As odd as the situation is, he catches himself looking less and less at the soft slopes of her womanly body and more on the tugs of emotions at the corners of her mouth.

He finds himself visiting her again the following nights. They talk about anything and everything, and very soon he thinks she knows more about him than anyone else he's ever met in his life. He finds comfort in her, and he wonders if she feels the same. He becomes a bit confident that she does, when she asks to touch him a week later.

For the first time in his life, he undresses in front of another not to dress up, but to... simply undress. He cannot fathom what comes over him. But he lets her roam his body, from the tips of his fingers to the ridges of his peculiar horns. From the slope of his nose to the dip of his hip. She stops before she can cross the boundary of appropriate and inappropriate (though one can argue their circumstance is not a very usual one), but rather than taking a step back, she moves forward and asks him,

"Would you like to touch me too?"

He does not reply. He cannot think. And when the head refuses to function any more, it's the heart that takes over the body. He cannot hear anything but the loud thumping of his chest, but he nervously perseveres and places a palm upon her left breast.

Thump, thump, thump.

Is that the blood that runs through his veins, or is that her heart resonating with his, through the red that dusts her cheeks and the fingers that shakily reaches for his own?

Thump, thump, thump.

He doesn't know. He cannot think. Not when her smaller hands intertwine against his much larger ones. Not when her legs coil around his waist, arms wrapping tightly around his back and nails sinking deep across the skin above his spine. Not when his mind is occupied with the soft enamor of her thighs, his fingers squeezing her tightly as he pushes and pulls her against himself; sinful sweat washed away by the unsullied waters.

What a terrifying feeling. He's never felt so out of control. He knows not what he's doing, he has nothing planned out in his head. All he has is this strange electricity coursing through him-- a magnet that draws him to her. He doesn't want to let go. He cannot let go. Not even when a wave of ecstasy crashes through his entire body and threatens to knock him out cold. Not even when they settle on his lodgings and bury themselves in the warmth of sheets and blankets.

Even then, he buries himself in her warmth.

So when he wakes up to find her nowhere to be seen-- not in bed, not in his immediate surroundings-- he no longer feels out of control. He is not in control. The trip has come to an end, and so did his dreamlike encounter.

Only the wanton marks left on his skin are proof that it was, in fact, not a dream.

---

"Malleus, cheer up a bit, why don't you? You wouldn't want to scare your... let me check my notes... Ah yes, your 57th potential wife away, no?"

"And it's the 50th time I am telling you this: no one would ever want to waste an hour with me. Much less a lifetime. You would think the first seven were proof enough."

"Don't you say that! You're a handsome young man, if you would just learn to smile--"

"Enough, Lilia. This is the last time. If this still doesn't work out, I would rather let my bloodline die with me than suffer through any more humiliation."

*click* *creak*

"Hi there, stranger."

"..."

"Like what you're seeing?"

"... You have a lot of nerve, standing me up like that. And suddenly you show up-- out of nowhere-- with a cheeky little smile? This audacity calls for a fitting punishment, don't you think?"

"Ohh, scary. I like it. Lay it on me. Or would you prefer it in me?"

"Witch. You deserve a life sentence. Lilia, take out the marriage papers."

💖💖💖💖

Notes: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE PARAGRAPH LMAOOO! I just wanted to share that I like cheesy cliche stories with a bit of sensual flavor and was just gonna share a rough plot. Somehow it turned into a short fanfic HAHAHA

I really really like the thought of Malleus catching Yuu bathing and doesn't really do anything to hide his interest. He's an honest man. It's a staple in any of the MalleYuu AUs in my brain.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst fanfic

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delimeful · 1 year ago

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every good intention (4)

warnings: misunderstandings, assumptions, pre-AA, panic attack

Roman had been thinking.

Contemplating, really. There were a surplus of mystifying elements to consider as of late, especially now that he’d found out about Logan and Anxiety’s secret tryst.

(He was fairly certain that platonic cuddling between a repressed nerd and an awkward emo didn’t actually qualify as a tryst, but it sounded much more dramatic that way.)

He was no Logic, but as a charming and exceptional denizen of Thomas’s mind, he naturally had wits aplenty of his own.

And so arrived his realization: When it came to the puzzle that was his interactions with Anxiety the past few weeks, there was a pattern.

When Roman ran into the eyeliner-extraordinaire as himself, he was treated to the same prickly reception as always: Anxiety was a creepy, annoying asshole who loved to undermine Roman’s every idea and probably Thomas’s every happy thought, too.

The few occasions that he’d run into Anxiety in his cursed form, however, told a new story. One Roman had never heard before.

When faced with the tiny fire-breathing lizard version of Roman, Anxiety acted entirely differently. Instead of hunched shoulders and purposefully agitating smirks, he wore a casual, slouched posture and wry amusement— even when Roman was actively antagonizing him.

He didn’t act like a villain. When faced with what he believed to be a small, easily-conquered creature, Anxiety hadn’t taken the opportunity to attack, hurt, or even merely frighten him. Not even after Roman had bitten him.

Roman the Side, on the other hand, was given no such grace. He’d even tried to tone down his usual assertiveness in favor of a careful neutrality when running into Anxiety, curious about the strange truce Logan had formed with him, but to no avail.

Without the barrier of barbed bantering between them, Anxiety only seemed to grow more defensive and on-edge, paradoxically enough.

The answer was obvious: Anxiety must have some strange affinity for dragons.

It was the only possible explanation for Roman’s bizarre undersized form garnering a kinder welcome than Creativity, clearly the optimal being between the two. Anxiety simply had an affection for the sharp and scary, and a disdain for Disney Princes.

Of course, that didn’t explain the way he treated Patton with care when nobody was watching, or the lack of backstabbing he’d brought to the midnight cuddlefest. Thus, it all had to be part of some larger plot!

Roman wasn’t as experienced in predicting plotting, seeing as it wasn’t a particularly heroic activity.

Luckily, he had the perfect spy to send in to uncover the truth behind Anxiety’s more bewildering behavior: himself!

Thus, the next time Roman found himself with wings, scales, and a tail, he strode down the hall towards Anxiety’s room with confidence that was only a little faux.

He’d worried for a bit that it wasn’t a very gentlemanly thing to do, invading one’s privacy, but this particular opportunity had come about after a spectacular tiff between the two of them, and Roman found that his reservations had suddenly vanished.

Anxiety certainly hadn’t been holding back when he’d poked at Roman’s every sore spot in the brainstorming today. Roman wanted— no, needed to uncover the motives of his scheme, so he could go back to giving every argument his all too, without wondering how things might be different between them.

Anxiety’s room was usually sealed up tight, but occasionally he would leave it cracked, presumably because the sight of it sitting just slightly ajar at the shadowed end of the hall prompted exactly the sort of unease that he loved to inspire in everyone.

Fortune must have smiled on Roman today, for when he trotted closer, he found that the door was indeed not fully closed.

Taking a deep breath, Roman steeled himself and then headbutted the door firmly, pushing it the slightest bit further open so that he could wriggle his strange little wyrm-like body through.

It made a horrendous creaking sound, eliciting a wince from Roman but absolutely no response from the figure flopped over on the bed in the middle of the shadowed room.

Wary now, Roman crept forward bit by bit, until he spotted the outline of bulky headphones. So that was why his entrance had gone unnoticed by the twitchiest Side in the Mindscape.

Hesitant to grab Anxiety’s attention right away— he would have to be in a foul mood after their altercation today too, wouldn’t he?— Roman instead clambered up the side of a padded armchair, pausing to glance around at the rest of the room curiously.

For such a grimdark and gloomy guy, Anxiety certainly had excellent taste in Disney decor. He would love something like that Nightmare Before Christmas poster in his own room, perhaps an entire section of the wall dedicated to a collage of the more aesthetically appealing Disney classic poster— no, focus!

Shaking himself out of the theoretical redecorating, Roman leapt nimbly to the bedside table, flaring his wings slightly on instinct to muffle the impact of his landing.

When he turned to check that Anxiety was still unaware, however, the sight that greeted him was shocking enough to strike him dumb.

Anxiety’s eyes weren’t on him, because they were cinched tightly closed. He had both hands wound firmly into his hair, face twisted into a panicked grimace as he struggled to inhale a full lungful of air. His panic was practically tangible in the air— Roman felt his own heart rate begin to rise as though in empathy.

His startled question (“Are you okay?!”) came out as a warbling call, one that didn’t make it through the emo soundtrack blasting from those headphones.

After a brief moment of hesitation— why was he so nervous?— Roman made the short leap to the bed, landing with a slight pressure that instantly made Anxiety’s red-rimmed eyes shoot open.

He backpedaled slightly at the way Anxiety sat bolt upright, but in the next moment, the tension seemed to drain slightly from the other Side.

“Bitey,” he greeted, and the wobble in his voice was so alarming that Roman didn’t even snap his teeth in his usual protest of the nickname. “I don’t think you should— should be in here, bud. You may not be affected by the room itself, but I'm… I’m not great company right now.”

Roman kneaded the comforter beneath his talons for a moment indecisively, earning a shaky half-smile from Anxiety. It could be part of some larger plot, but… Roman was the most dedicated actor out of them all, and he didn’t feel like this was an act.

Carefully, his heart pounding in his ears, he crept forward and butted his head against Anxiety’s knee in a meagre attempt at comfort.

Anxiety let out a stuttering, painfully-shallow sounding exhale, and then reached down and picked him up, supporting him with the curve of one arm as he curled around Roman in an unmistakable hug.

The moment they made contact, Roman felt a burst of all-consuming panic that didn’t belong to him, spiked and piercing into every vulnerable bit until there wasn’t any calm left.

It was an echo, emotional feedback from the panic attack that Anxiety was having, and it was a perfect mirror of every fright and fear he’d faced while this size, all at once.

Oh. Oh.

Anxiety hadn’t been kind to him because of reptilian favoritism, after all. It was because he was more than familiar with the sort of flipped-beetle vulnerability that came with feeling afraid, the defensive bared teeth of the fight bit of fight-or-flight. He wasn’t just the cause of Thomas’s anxiety, he was the experience of anxiety itself.

That put… a lot of things into perspective, actually.

Roman pushed his head against Anxiety’s sternum, returning the hug as best he could.

He had a lot of re-thinking to do.

#egi #every good intention #tiny dragons #ts virgil #ts roman #my writing

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spooky-spextre-arts · 4 months ago

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Encanto Fic RECS (Part I)

(*REPOST due to some unnoticed file errors during first posting)

I've been wanting to do one of these fanfic lists for a while now, but never really got to finishing any. Today, however, will be the time I finally make and post my silly little thoughts on some of my favorite fics in the Encanto fandom.

My personal taste is big ol' mixed bag of different tropes, AUs, and (platonic) relationships. However, I'd say I'm usually geared towards your typical gen, hurt/comfort or angst with a happy ending (most of the time).

(OFFICIAL WARINING: Because this is mostly a recommendation list, there are a few fics that may contain upsetting or triggering subject matter. Those fics have been labeled with a little *** next to the title, followed by a warning of what themes they may contain.)

This is merely a Part I, only covering multi-chapter fics I've read so far. Part 2 will be out shortly, containing one/two-shot fics and the ones I'm currently reading or plan to.

With that said, let's get right into it!

To fall apart, to reunite [T]

- Ongoing | by ADabOfBlessings ( @adabofblessings ) & Wikluk ( @wikluk )

Set in an AU where Mirabel doesn't survive Casita's collapse, Julieta struggles the most in the midst of her youngest’s death, hoping against hope to getting her back. Fortunately, she might just have a chance.

This fic is absolutely heart-wrenching, but in the best way possible. I was never as much of a Julieta fan as so many other people were, but I'm pleasantly surprised how much more I grew invested in her since reading this fic. Reading (mostly) from her perspective really helps enhance her character - especially once the rest of the family and even the townspeople get some time to shine. (Just saying, the characterization of Mariano’s grandmother(?) quickly became one of my favorite details of any background character.

One Step Closer [T]

One Step Beyond [T]

Complete | by Breanna (on AO3)

Part of a Bruno-and-Mirabel-centric series, these two fics explore the (platonic!) relationship these two develop with one another and their family in the time set during All Of You (Closer), and even post-canon (Beyond).

I REALLY love the (second) father-daughter sense Mirabel has with Bruno (it will make a lot of sense later in Closer), which leads to some very well-written wholesome and bittersweet moments parsed throughout.

A Place For Crows (to rest their feet) [G]

Complete | by Acewithapaintbrush ( @acewithapaintbrush )

PEDRO LIVES HALLELUJAH!!

As the note above suggests, Pedro did indeed survive the marauder attack and lived for the past 50 years in a town far, far away from the Encanto. Fortunately, after he discovers the new crack in the mountain, he rediscovers his family and how they've grown without him. This fic also explores how much the family's all grown since All Of You, but where they still struggle in a post-canon world.

I really love this one, even as someone who's… not thaaat much into the ‘[insert dead character] Lives AU’. There are both some wholesome and awkward moments where Pedro re-connects with Alma, his children, and the rest of his family. (Let's just say there's one really funny scene early on involving Mirabel, Bruno, and a classic bloodline misunderstanding.)

Because of how long Pedro's been away from his family, there's obviously a heck of a lot he's unaware of (which the family doesn't seem all too keen on sharing with him hmmmm….?) This leads to quite a bit of delicious angst and hurt/comfort, especially towards the end, but I'm happy to say it all resolves quite nicely by the end.

Mariposa [T] *

- Complete | by cloudyencanto ( @cloudy-encanto )

*(mild cw: brief child abuse and violent moments)*

An Encantober series from 2022, writing (again, mostly) from Alma's POV, with each chapter topic centering around one of the main prompts. Starting from her childhood years as a triplet herself, to meeting Pedro, having the triplets, leading the Encanto, to becoming an Abuela.

All of this really culminates into a vast character exploration showing just how much Alma had grown from a mere Caterpillar to a powerful, headstrong Butterfly.

(**As a bit of forewarning, there are a few moments early on that might be difficult to read. **These include moments where Alma's mother verbally and physically abuses her children, as well as quite a few violent moments once the marauders attack the village, and Pedro and Alma are forced to leave.)

Encanto (Tía Pepa POV) [G]

- Ongoing | by cloudy_encanto

Like Mariposa, this one's told from the POV of another character - being Pepa and her side of the family (and a few others, like Isabela, sprinkled in here and there.)

Because this one's told over the course of the movie, there are a lot of new scenes that feature the warm-colored family and what they were doing when the focus was elsewhere on Mirabel or somewhere else. There are several tooth-achingly sweet scenes that really show how much these characters love and care for one another, as well as several tense, angsty scenes that won't fail in tugging on your heartstrings.

Tremors [T]

- Ongoing | by Missilestorm ( @missilestorms )

A post-canon fic where Mirabel receives a gift after Casita's revival. The downside, however, is that this gift causes literal cracks to form. Bruno acts as a much-needed supporter and anchor for Mirabel, who must learn how to keep her new gift under control.

Each character's emotional struggles are shown incredibly well - particularly that of Mirabel and Bruno. It's heartbreaking to see how much anguish this gift causes Mirabel, especially considering how much she's encouraged her family to see their individual values that are separate from tying back to their gifts. On Bruno's end, it's sweet seeing how much he cares about Mirabel, recognizing her struggles with having a potentially dangerous gift, and consistently providing support or an extra hand to grab on to when it becomes too much. This sentiment is also applied to the family themselves, who also reach out to help in whatever ways they can.

Old Habits Die Hard [M] ***

- Complete | by Missilestorm

**TW for SA/Underage !! **

Set just after Casita’s reconstruction begins, Mirabel is sexually assaulted by a rogue townsperson. With Bruno acting as her main supporter and confidant, this fic explores the trauma of the event itself and how past, unresolved familial trauma bleeds into it.

This fic is honestly one of my favorites. I'd say it's somewhere in my top-five favorites out of all the stories I've read thus far. This story is just so raw and heartbreaking - which always hits harder when it's happening to characters you love. Not to mention, the author's handling of the subject matter is done with as much respect and care as I would hope a story with content matter like this should require. I especially love how each character (except for the villain mf) - particularly in the family - is written and how they react to the devastating events playing out around them. Despite this fic mostly centering around Bruno and Mirabel, the rest of the family have time to shine (some more than others), and man, just reading how much they care and want to help Mirabel is - just -gah! I love it, man.

I definitely recommend checking this one out if you're up to it.

we see how brave you've been [G]

- Complete | by hearth_goddess | (Mirabel & Antonio-centric)

Set in alternating pre-canon and canon, this fic is kind of a character study told through the different perspectives of the triplets. The scenes from the triplets' perspectives are of sweet moments involving Mirabel, Antonio, and their friendship (or short moments of just them with Mirabel or Antonio.) These scenes include moments set pre-canon, in-between, and during canon scenes.

One of my favorite gen pairings in the Encanto fandom is the one shared between Mirabel and Antonio. They share an incredibly sweet, wholesome, and powerful bond, despite the... admittedly little time they actually share together in the movie. But this fic definitely fills in the unseen gaps in their friendship, particularly in the moments preceding Antonio's ceremony. Seeing the triplets' reactions to the loving bond the two youngest grandchildren share is just so sweet and proves that, despite everything that led to the cracks, this family never stopped caring about one another.

Cold and Numb [T] ***

- Complete | by Amisaurus

**TW for Self-Harm and Suicide (Major Character Death) **

This one's just sad. Like - very, very sad. Set sometime after Antonio's gift ceremony (and presumably before the cracks appear), Mirabel struggles a lot with her self-worth, believing she isn't wanted in the slightest. Unfortunately, this isn't helped at all with how terribly Alma treats her in this fic and, despite good intentions, how her parents, sisters, and cousins are unable to understand not having a gift. This leads to a devastating moment in the first chapter, with the second chapter showing just how much this action hurt the family.

(With that said, there is a hopeful moment in the second chapter.)

When The Bell Tolls One [NOT RATED]

- Complete | by BudBrock (Alma-centric)

We got another Alma POV!!

Written a bit like 'A Christmas Carol,' this is an ‘Encanto watches Encanto AU,’ where Alma is shown and reacts to the events of the movie after the scene where she begs Pedro to “open [her] eyes.”

What can I say? I'm a sucker for POV character explorations like these, especially for mixed characters like Alma. Out of any Alma-centric fics, this one's definitely one of my favorites. In between, there are some funny moments reading Alma's reactions to certain scenes. However, there are also several moments where Alma is given a bird’s-eye view into the harm she'd unintentionally caused for her family.

Sound of Silence [T]

- Complete | by JilyFirecracker

Also set in an AU where Mirabel dies in Casita's collapse, with the fallout told from the perspectives of varying characters (Agustín, Pepa, Luisa, Camilo, Antonio, and Julieta.)

Definitely a bit of a sad one, especially during flashbacks of each character's core memories with Mirabel. But I really liked Julieta’s part, especially with the note it ends on.

Shining [G]

- Complete | by Sokkas_First_Fangirl ( @sokkas-first-fangirl )

Since the grandkids (not including Antonio) were young, Bruno and his sisters spent their summers at a lake in the Encanto. After Antonio's birth and Bruno’s return, the family makes a date to spend a day at that same lake for the first time in forever.

SWEET SUMMER FAMILY SHENANIGANS! The entire family is written so well, and there are many scenes that show how much stronger their shared bond has become. This is such a wonderful fic to read at a lake or beach on a hot summer day.

That's that for the recommended multi-chapter fics I've read so far. It goes without saying that all of these authors are so incredibly talented and absolutely deserve all the credit for their incredible stories.

Part II will be out shortly...

#reposting because my laptop shut down while I was just hitting submit - which I'm guessing screwed up the doc or something #encanto #encanto disney #disney encanto #encanto 2021 #encanto fandom #encanto fanfic #encanto fanfiction #encanto fic #encanto movie #la familia madrigal #encanto fan fiction

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mashup-writing · 2 months ago

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Across my Memories; Nadia Satrinava (The Arcana)

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Requested? ❌

"Time, curious time; Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs."

Summary: Nadia is Three when she first experienced walking through her dreams and a long time has passed from her memory of it to the present. There is a realization to be made but she's not there just yet.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

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She doesn't remember leaving the palace, isn't even sure she's left her room at all after closing her eyes in her bed. But somehow she's here, and the sun in out and the winds are gentle.

Her eyes take in the endless grass plains, stunned and disbelieving all at once. She was sure it was nighttime, because it was bedtime.

"Hello!"

Nadia whips around, startled by the sound of a chirpy voice behind her. There stands a child infront of her, posture entirely too relaxed with a beaming smile on their face-

"Would you like a lemon-rind?"

In all her three years of experience with her sisters so far, all Nadia remembers is the frustration of when they'd take things from her- Under the impression she was weak. So when she sees the other child's carefree smile with scrunched eyes, outstreched hands holding a bag of candied lemon-rinds;

"They're my favourite! Maybe they can be yours too?"

Nadia accepts, and she feels happy when the bright smile manages to brighten even more. She sits down on the grass with the other child, happily thinking that she can make a friend now.

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Nadia sighs as she leans back into her chair, a hand coming up to rub at her temple as she scowls at the tax papers infront of her. She is glad that the city is doing well for itself and that the funds are being put to proper use- But that does not mean that she has to enjoy the numbers' penchant to make her feel cross-eyed and nauseated with their presence.

She does not know how long she sits there, zoning out. Only that her shoulders lift in relief when your voice floats from the study's entryway, calling her attention in that soft manner you've always reserved for her when she's at work.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

The Countess smiles at you, a hand outstretched towards you; A beckon for you to come close. You move without needing to think of it, and Nadia smiles at the way your hand fits in hers so perfectly.

"I'm afraid that taxes are indeed important. But fortunately it is the headache they induce which you are currently interrupting, nuri aljamil."

The Prakan nickname softens your heart and you lean down to place a kiss to the top of her head. You let your lips linger as your beloved lets out a sigh of contentment at the gesture.

"Sometimes I find that a snack break is what's needed to get through rigorous work. These aren't very common now that the fruit is out of season, but luckily I've managed to find some out in the market today- Would you like a lemon-rind?"

Nadia's brow furrows as she leans away from you, eyes narrowed but lost as if she's trying to find something she doesn't quite know to look for.

You mistake her reaction for confusion, maybe she thinks you're offering her actual lemon rinds? You hasten to explain the misunderstanding.

"Candied lemon-rinds! Not the lemon rinds of freshly peeled lemons!"

Her expression does not change and her eyes only narrow further, and you're not quite sure it's a misunderstanding of contexts anymore but neither do you know what it is that your Countess is reaching for in that mind of hers- So you continue your explanation.

"They're my favourite, maybe... They can be yours too?"

You smile and bring out your other hand from behind your back, revealing a bag of candied lemon-rinds. Nadia stares at the candies for a moment before she looks back to you with a small smile.

"Thank you, hayati."

You beam at her and take a piece for yourself before earnestly placing it in your mouth.

Nadia doesn't know why it feels as though she's heard those words before. She can't remember when or where and that inability to grasp at a faded memory feels like an uncomfortable itch at her side.

An itch that she cannot reach.

The mystery can wait however, for the moment that she bites down on the lemon-rind you offered her, she finds that these can indeed become her favorites as well.

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A/N: I had an idea that Nadia and MC had met their dreams before The Tower, I wanted to play around with that "Imaginary Friend" trope but with my own spin on it to fit the Arcana storyline.

I'm thinking of making this idea into a multi-part but standalone work, would you guys be interested in seeing it happen? 🤔

#nadia satrinava x mc #nadia satrinava x reader #nadia satrinava #nadia the arcana #the arcane game #the arcana #The Arcana MC #gn reader #gn!reader #gn!mc

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shadowfuka · 3 months ago

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It really is a hot minute since I did write something, so please no big judging I try my best and this is something like the first fanfic I did

It might be only something like I prolog I think? So there might be more later. Oh and it was a prompt from @makedonsgriva uwu

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His birth should go like a whirlwind through the lands, making sure that everyone knows he was here, but instead of a tornado it was rather only a little breeze that couldn’t do more than to get some little leaves to rustle.

Actually the Shi family had planned the birth of their second son differently. After distributing a little meal to the hungry, to gain a little bit of merit wasn’t the worst to do after all, they already had planned to host a grand feast in honor of their newborn son. But the gods apparently had a different plan as among the hungry ones was also a fortune teller, who granted them their services in return for the meal.

Wouldn’t this be a good idea to already know how bright their baby's future would be? Of course they agreed, who wouldn’t like to hear good fortune after all! But well the fortune didn’t sound as bright as hoped.

Something dark was in this little boy's future, something that would cause him a whole life of misfortune. Unless they would hold his profile very low! Raising him like any other child, if not even lesser than this.

The Shi household was shocked. How could one of their children gain such a bad future? It was after this first moment of shock that it was needed to decide how to act now. Of course they would have loved to arrange a feast that was worth the birth of their son, but were the consequences worth enough? Was it really worth to only hope that the fortune they were told was only false at the beginning?

Maybe it was meant for another child and not their little Shi Qingxuan. A lot of childs were, after all, born on the same day, so maybe it was nothing more than a misunderstanding. The fortune of someone else. Things like this happen. Don’t they?

Even if it could be possible, how big was the chance?

One moment for a life of misfortune, this didn’t sound like a good exchange.

Even with a heavy heart they thanked the fortune teller for their services as they made their decision upon what to do next.

But in the end there only was one way to go.

…..

So instead of celebrating the birth of their little Shi Qingxuan, they said as they were told. There was no grand feast and not even a little one only among themself out of fear that even this would cause misfortune to happen.

It wasn’t as they had planned it but it was the best they could do and how they would go on with everything. Because the years would pass and nothing bad happened. Only for the cost of never celebrating any birthday in a big manner. But it was the least evil. After all, how should someone miss something if they didn’t know it? Maybe they sheltered him too much, but it was for his own good.

And so the little baby grew into a young child, with a smile that nearly challenged the sun. Shi Qingxuan was indeed a happy child. Playing as others his age did and not even minding the plain clothes he was wearing, he would dirty them anyway, his mother always said and he was fine by this answer. But most of the time he would follow his Ge everywhere he would go. Expecting as if he would miss something if he wouldn’t. As if it was a game on his own.

It was indeed a good life he had in his eyes. A loving family, his Ge. What else would there be anyway needed? Well on a fateful day Qingxuan should learn that there was actually something that he hadn’t thought about.

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That's it so far! >:3 Hope you enjoyed and others might follow step by step, just have to get back into the grove first.

#tgcf #beefleaf #shi qingxuan #he xuan #fanfic #written stuff

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thewertsearch · 2 years ago

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Asks Comp 15/5

@manorinthewoods submitted: I believe I got confused about the omnipotence thing because I'd talked about it in some Discord server or other. My interpretation of the confusing usage of 'omnipotent' is that it specifically refers to any individual with the ability to exert unlimited power upon at least one individual. This allows for a system where one omnipotent can be more powerful than another, such as a Horrorterror being stronger than a First Guardian. [...] That's all I wanted to say.

The problem is that I don't really understand what it means to exert 'unlimited power' over someone.

Does it mean that you have full control over that person's actions? Or perhaps, the ability to change their nature in any way imaginable? Neither of these traits apply to First Guardians - their powers are centered around controlling space, not people.

Doc Scratch exerts power over Vriska, but his influence isn't absolute. If it was, she wouldn't have been able to use the cueball behind his back. Maybe I'm just misunderstanding what you mean by unlimited power.

Probably! There are already a lot of human/troll interactions going on, so their relationships will inevitably evolve.

I recommended a few webcomics last year. They're all decent theory-fodder, particularly Paranatural.

That said, none of them are as good as Homestuck at doing what Homestuck does. This is a very unique story, and I'm also not sure what, if anything, I'll liveblog after this is done. I'm certainly enjoying liveblogging, so there probably will be a next project - and I remain open to suggestions.

Dang it. Well, I'm still showing up in search, so at least I'm not shadowbanned this time. Maybe a glitch on your end?

I don't think you're wrong, exactly - but to be honest, there seems to be a bigger issue here than unreliable narration. I still have trouble understanding how any kismesissitude can be healthy.

The prophecy is true!

It's kind of cool that the kids' entire fortune is likely seeded from John's original stockpile. All that Grist we picked up in Act 2 actually went somewhere!

Oh, nice! I feel like there'd be too many combinations to effectively crowdsource, though, unless the pool of alchemy ingredients was extremely small. If you really wanted to implement alchemy in a game, it'd probably have to be at least partially procedural.

To be fair, I have to give credit to John on this one. Some of his funniest moments are when he's not trying to be a jokester.

I know! I probably wasn't clear enough about my question.

My question is whether the phrase 'the numerals of the blind prophets' is a reference all on its own. The phrase is a little out of left field, and the comic itself hasn't explained it.

Pretty sure John's has already been explained - he needs to wake his Denizen and save his fireflies!

As for Jade's, it's indeed hard to say. I thought they'd all be about terraforming, but Dave's seems to break this pattern. Maybe his Quest isn't what it seems - or maybe I was just wrong, and a Quest can be just about anything.

I don't think I'll be able to guess Jade's, since it'll involve the features of a Land we haven't yet seen. All I can say for sure is that it'll have something to do with Space.

Hell yes! This blog's hidden objective - to plug The Locked Tomb - is finally bearing fruit.

It's easy for Aradia to do what she does, because she ''knows'' that she could never have done anything else. 'Understanding' this lets her be reckless.

Once you can convince someone their choices don't matter, you can convince them to do whatever you want.

I prefer Prospit's aesthetics, but Derse's vibes. The Horrorterrors are a better suspicious patron than Skaia - at least they'll help me break the game.

That said, the official quiz assigned me Prospit. Maybe I misunderstand the moons - but from where I'm currently sitting, Derse is the better choice.

The question isn't whether Sburb would screw them over - it's how it would.

I like the idea that Sburb started with only Sprites, and slowly assimilated its victors into its later iterations.

Each Sburb species represents a video game trope, so I could see an aggressive species like the trolls as a border patrol. They're angry, aggressive NPCs who fly their warships around the Veil, making sure Players don't leave the session's boundaries. You're meant to avoid them, not fight them, and they're the bane of any Player who tries to get creative with the Furthest Ring.

Now, what kind of NPC would the humans be?

I'm not a fan of jumpscare horror, but psychological horror can be very interesting indeed.

I didn't expect the comedy meme man to be that good at instilling a sense of dread - but I shouldn't have been surprised. Horror and comedy tread a very fine line.

Thank you!!

This frame in particular is pretty unsettling. Jack never usually shows this much emotion, and you have to wonder if the Ring has gone to his head a little.

Anyway, if we're talking about aesthetics, my favorite area so far is the Battlefield. It's like a chessboard mixed with a Windows XP background, and it's gorgeous in Rise Up.

Neither have been used in the comic, so I'm just going with lusi for convenience's sake!

#full liveblog #asks #act 5.2

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xzcopycat · 4 months ago

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Person A: I have come to a conclusion that I have romantic feelings for you.

Person B: What a fortunate coincidence — I too have feelings for you. Would you like to get into a romantic relationship with me?

Person A: Yes, I would very much like that. I am glad we had this conversation right away and were able to avoid misunderstandings and unnecessarily pining.

Person B: Indeed, this was very mature of us.

#couple dynamics #tag your otp

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khapaleaf · 2 years ago

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I do enjoy a good [glare silently] kind of character.

The basics

Name: Melissa Newman // No longer remembered Birthdate: March 8, 1971 // ??? Birthplace: St. Georges, somewhere in the United States // Somewhere in the depths of space unknown to humankind Occupation: Bakery assistant (dough maker in more ways than one, bakery clerk, delivery person, pastry cook and more) // Indescribable Love (?) interest: Jonny

Background

Manifesting into existence beyond the confines of the solar system known to the human species, and having seen entire galaxies change and evolve, the ancient cosmic entity whose name is now lost to the ages has hardly lost any interest in engaging in the ever-repeating pattern of hunting and feasting on other dimensional beings even after aeons of doing so. Over the course of its immeasurably long existence it visited many universes which could only be accessed by transcending matter, time and space, and grew fond of a great many hidden galaxies. It would have continued its journey to further solidify its own position as the ultimate and most voracious predator if it were not for a serious miscalculation that nearly cost it its very existence. In a panicked and injured state, it jumped dimensions hoping to regain the necessary energy to restore itself and become whole again.

The being’s arrival on Earth was marked by another disaster – the flesh bag whose body it attempted to use as a temporary means of settlement was unable to handle the overwhelming nature of the cosmic entity, and perished on the spot. Salvation was not impossible however, as it was able to use its remaining strength to make another jump into a much smaller casket. What it was did not matter, but fortunately for the cosmic being, the tiny body showed no sign of resistance.

Its first few years on Earth were decidedly turbulent, in no small part due to the casket’s physical limitations. Grief-stricken by the loss of its essence and identity, and enraged by the circumstances it had found itself in, it proved itself to be a right handful under the guise of Melissa Newman. To an outside observer, the casket was a quiet but easily agitated child, one that watched her surrounding world warily and threw violent tantrums – sometimes when people prodded too intensely, other times just to see their reaction. All the while, the entity inhabiting the developing human casket preferred to watch, listen, and to take the time to truly see and understand the world, and how to navigate it.

Personality

“Your sister is gone. It’s always been me in here”.

To the uninitiated observer, Melissa is a quiet and guarded woman whose usual repertoire typically ranges from rigid to apathetic to courteous but detached when interacting with others. She is described by many as being closed-off both on an emotional and physical level, and indeed does not like, and shies away from, any unnecessary contact. While reticent, Melissa has a heavy presence and can easily come off as severe owing to her eerie and intense nature. She is often perceived as intimidating (and even actively works towards being seen as such), which can render interaction with others difficult without either causing an unpleasant misunderstanding or a feeling that the other is being pulverised on the spot.

Despite not being particularly adept at communication, she possesses a gift of keen observation, and is usually able to pick up on the underlying mood in a room or sense the emotions of another person. After years of practice, she finds it nearly effortless to work out what kind of emotional response is needed depending on the context and situation – sometimes these responses are genuine and unbidden, other times they are based on unwritten rules of how one should feel and behave. But dealing with her own emotions is trickier. She is easily flustered and overwhelmed when confronted by her own emotions and usually tries to deal with them by either rejecting them completely, or pushing them away to deal with at a later date. Also, she is hilariously bad at “being normal” about romance-related things, but she is trying her best.

Melissa is patiently and constantly surveying her surroundings, and is quick to size up a situation and its potential dangers. On the whole, she is very sceptical of seemingly well-meaning people and peaceful circumstances, and generally does not take anything at face value. However, when her anxiety kicks in, Melissa is prone to acting impulsively, which, more often than not, leads to unfavourable outcomes. Still, she is quite tenacious and stubborn, and refuses to give up and admit defeat even in the bleakest of circumstances. It would be a mistake to believe that she is a fearless individual, however.

For the majority of her time on Earth, she rarely finds causes that she can identify with, or that prompt her empathy outside of her immediate goal of gathering enough energy. If asked, she would likely reply that the food was the one thing that had kept her sane throughout the years. But the truth of the matter is that she is genuinely curious about other people’s stories – at first because she wants to alleviate the boredom of being stuck on Earth, but after a while because she wants to find something to relate to and to understand how others function. This curiosity also played a big part in making her see the possibilities that her new life may bring instead of regretting the choices that brought her there.

Likes: the sky at night, solitude, following a daily routine, comfortable socks, food with lots of spices for extra flavour, the aroma of freshly baked goods, obscure films (listening to Jonny talk about obscure films, more like) Dislikes: dwelling on unpleasant memories, feeling exposed, narrow or tight spaces, talkative customers, “bodily functions”, hospitals, unsolicited opinions

Miscellaneous

She pays little attention to the casket’s gender beyond seeing it as a marker or an anchor similar to her human name – it is something that grounds her in her current reality, but in truth human language is not an adequate tool to express the nuance and extent of her experience. Yet since she does not have strong opinions about it either way, it is very much a “I am a woman sure, but whatever” kind of feeling.

She is generally neutral about sex as a concept, but is completely disinterested in trying it out for herself. There are no conditions that would change her stance on this because she perceives this lack of interest to be an important part of her very being, and going against it for the sake of following some sort of script deemed socially acceptable by humans would be akin to betraying herself.

She does not like looking or shopping for new items of clothing, and has a tendency to wear clothes long after others would discard them. Specifically, she does not like how new clothes feel too restrictive, and is irritated by tags, thick seams, and itchy synthetic materials.

While she finds the buzzed feeling from drinking alcohol to be enjoyable, she lacks the capacity to tell how much alcohol is enough to achieve that state without overindulging. As a result of having had made a fool of herself on several occasions, she typically avoids drinking altogether, unless she finds herself in an environment she can fully control (which usually translates to sipping on an alcoholic beverage in the comfort of her room).

Even though she is able to experience a wide range of emotions, she rarely uses any kind of inflection to express them and speaks in a monotone voice (sounds similar to R. Dorothy Wayneright in the English dub).

Stats!

#the passenger #interactive fiction #gotta have tentacles #not the japanese kind though #anyway i just had to get the parasite out of my system #tried to sketch something out but it was an utter disaster #i'll need to watch some more youtube tutorials before making another attempt lol #but this was very fun to do actually

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sand-seeks-sun · 2 years ago

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Heaven’s Turn Fortunes!

It’s that lovely and renewing time of the year! Let’s see how the sacred lots have shown themselves~

Y’aromirr - Grave Misfortune...

Adventure - Patience is a key word in this; Y’aro has been ramming himself head-first and fast at every obstacle in the way of his revenge lately, and hearing this is... grounding. A reminder to hone himself and look for the right opportunities.

Relationship - This most certainly refers to friend relationships when it comes to Y’aro. Ever since becoming a father his time has been dedicated to family and his own wills, and he would be lying to say that hasn’t strained his friendships - the precipice being committing to losing them or giving that needed attempt.

Prosperity - As an honest patron of Nald’thal, Y’aromirr is no stranger to the vice of greed, nor how to manage it. But, as the new year and new opportunities arise it’s best to remind himself to keep a clear mind.

Conflict - Words he heeds well when assisting another, but struggles to think of when serving his own “trials”. Perhaps this year will bring some balance to that...

Favor - The mention of Nophica and implication towards her cast-aside conflict with Halone is one that strikes all too true in Y’aro’s heart; Both for his knowledge of the story, and himself. This will be something that weighs upon his mind as it strives for resolution through conflict, not from it...

( Others under cut ! )

Siobhahn - Misfortune.

A - Siobhahn hasn’t had the most experience with Namazu, certainly... seems as if some may attempt to make acquaintanceship this year. Unfortunately?

R - They could certainly do to be more forthcoming with information in any of their relationships. The true problem lies in that the misunderstanding is a source of fun for them.

P - Perhaps someone would do well not to steal anything they see on a stranger’s belongings just because it’s shiny...

C - This honestly just rings true to the path their life has followed thus far. They just need to keep the energy to continue pushing on, unfulfilled as their heart may be.

F - With Sio seafaring as their main method of travel, the wording here seems important to it’s meaning all the more; They need to wait through the hard times of their life instead of continuing to set sail to a land far enough from their sources to forget.

Khamgaal - Small Fortune!

A - Horrible. They may as well have suggested that he smith iron this year with no source of heat, because he will abide by this advice just as much.

R - Brusk though he may be, Kham is always very willing and even eager to help those who ask. Friendships that may bloom as a result may also quickly wither under his tendency towards isolation, however... Not that he shows that he minds.

P - As if the man isn’t meticulously organized enough. Next.

C - Complacent is maybe the furthest from a description one could assign Khamgaal and the very sight of or implication he could be would drive him to ignore this completely. Unfortunately for his many, MANY personal conflicts...

F - At last, something he feels like listening to. And it’s really only encouragement to continue being himself; Bullish and stubborn to the end of anything.

Ijsbrand - Grave Misfortune...

A - Incarcerated? Ijsbrand is certainly unfamiliar with the nuances of law in most places, but he’s not generally one to act illegally... Unless this is a precaution against using his water magic with any public fountain or sprinkler system he finds.

R - What greater a precipice in a relationship than being the fresh recipient of a marriage proposal, indeed... There’s more than a lot on his mind right now. He does really need to trust in and listen to all of himself for these life-altering moments.

P - Truthfully, Ijs is still easily fooled by the ways of Eorzea since his arrival across stars, and he could be easily fooled by the allure of treasure from strangers. It’s a good reminder to stick close to those he has already formed a trust with among his company.

C - As a well aged Viera, Ijsbrand as long since learned that the easiest way through a problem is not always the first one thought of. It seems this is a good time for him to remember that in favor of leaning into his immaturity.

F - He is more certainly one to cling to a grudge, once formed... This should be the year Ijs puts focus into bettering himself in that.

#ooc #just for it being character analysis yes yes #its a fun way to dig into where they're all at in their respective stories #fun to think about~#steppe son #muddled & moonlit #Sodden spirits

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merinsedai · 8 months ago

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Chapter 8: Finding purpose

The Earl often discards his paper when he finishes his breakfast, leaving it folded on the table for the servants to dispose of, so it is no difficult thing for Morpheus to acquire it and leaf through the job advertisements. He finds exactly what he is looking for in the very first page he reads: A fortunate stroke of serendipity indeed. Folding the page, he smiles slightly to himself.

Later that morning, he finds his opportunity to talk to Eve. After spying the back of a patterned cotton dress, dark hair spilling out from under a white cap, disappearing around a corner, he lengthens his stride to catch up with the maid.

“Eve!” he calls, and the girl whips round, wide eyed at having been addressed by one of the family.

“Lord Morpheus!” she gasps, bobbing a curtsey. “Can I help you, milord?”

“No, but I am hoping I can help you. Come here,” they step back into the empty drawing room. Eve wrings her hands and glances back over her shoulder, looking ready to bolt.

“I...” she begins

“I was reading the paper today, and I saw this,” Morpheus stops her; he shows Eve the paper, pointing to the job advertisement he has circled. “It came out yesterday, look. It's for a secretary at a new firm in Thirsk. See?”

Eve touches the paper curiously, then draws her hand back as if burned, turning worried green eyes on him. ‘“How did you know?”

“About you wanting to leave service? Cori told my father; he told the rest of us.”

“My Lord!’ Eve looks horrified. “I meant no disrespect! I-I assure you, I am so thankful for this job, please do not think me ungrateful or, or uppity-”

“No,” he puts a placating arm out towards her. “You misunderstand me. I am not here to censure you; I wish to help.”

“I- I don’t understand? You are not angry?”

“Why should I be? I think it's terrific that people make their own lives, especially omegas,” Morpheus hands her the paper. “Write to them today and name me as your reference. I can give it without ever specifying precisely what your work here has been.”

Eve stares at the paper in her hands, then back at him, a look of wonder in her eyes. “Thank you," she says, clutching the paper tight to her chest. Morpheus gives her a small smile and a nod. He hopes this will help. He hopes this will make a difference. He will effect change in someone’s life. Even if it cannot be his own.

—-

Several weeks pass and the world darkens from an Indian summer into the true autumn. Dream sits at his vanity, watching out the window as the strong wind strips dead leaves from the trees and sends them dancing through the sky. His hair is being fixed by O’Brien as poor Jessamy is currently bedridden with heat fever. Morpheus misses her and does not envy her situation, nor that of any of the lower class unmated omegas who simply have to suffer through their quarterly heats unaided. The family physician, Dr Clarkson, visits the Abbey once a month to inject the three Endless omega siblings with a drug that moderates their cycles and staves off their heats, so aside from his first time (a horrible experience), Morpheus has not had to suffer through an unmatched heat. Something for which he is very grateful. Reliable suppressants like these have been readily available for the past half a century, but only for those with a means of paying for them. It could be a great emancipator. It would be, Morpheus hoped, in the very near future.

Still, he misses Jessamy something fierce. Her quiet, friendly presence and her gentle hands. He winces as O’Brien pulls harshly on his hair, braiding a sparkling ribbon tightly around his scalp. O’Brien is a skilled lady’s’ maid for certain, his mother would tolerate nothing less, but she has none of Jessamy’s warmth.

A knock at the door admits Eve and Morpheus can see the look of consternation on O’Brien’s face when she sees a lowly housemaid daring to make their presence known in front of one of the family.

“What do you want?” O’Brien snaps.

“I’ve got a message for Lord Morpheus, from Her Ladyship,” Eve says, hands clenched into fists at her sides, betraying her nervousness. O’Brien turns to look at Morpheus, no doubt thinking he will ask her to take the message and dismiss the uppity maid; he dismisses her instead.

“Thank you, O’Brien, I’ll manage now.” The ladies’ maid gives him a stiff nod, Eve a suspicious look and departs. Eve closes the door behind her.

“Odious woman,” Morpheus sighs, turning back to the mirror to check and adjust his hair. “What does Mama want?”

“I just said that to get rid of her. This came today,” Eve says and scurries forward to hand Morpheus a letter. He opens it and reads it quickly, before looking up with one of his small smiles.

“I knew they would want to see you.”

“Well, it’s your reference what’s done it.” Eve says. “But how am I going to get there? They won’t let me take a day off.” She is fretful and fearful and that simply won’t do. Morpheus stands up and hands her back the letter.

“You’re going to be ill,” he says firmly, and they share a conspiratorial look. “They can’t stop you being ill.”

“What?”

“No one has seen Jessamy for two whole days. They won’t notice if you vanish for a couple of hours.”

—

That evening, Morpheus finds himself in Desire’s rooms as they finish dressing for dinner. He does not often seek out the company of his sibling but it had been a… lonely day full of self-recriminating thoughts and even Desire’s company is better than none. Besides, it is easier for O’Brien to assist them all when they are together. Morpheus is feeling restless, pacing the room as O’Brien puts the finishing touches to Desire’s hair.

“My corset’s too tight,” Morpheus stops and tries to breathe out fully, but he can’t. He leans forward slightly, hands on his hips, to try and take some of the strain off. “O’Brien, when you’ve done that, would you be able to loosen it a bit?”

“The start of the slippery slope,” Desire says from their dressing table. They are delicately adjusting the necklace O’Brien has just put on and twitching the neckline of their peach coloured velvet frock, trying to make them both lie the most pleasingly. Morpheus rolls his eyes.

“Are you suggesting I’m putting on weight?” he says dryly as O’Brien comes to work the laces of his corset, thankfully releasing his ribs enough so that he can breathe.

“Well, it didn’t shrink in the drawer,” Desire snipes, turning from their mirror to look at him. “That blue does nothing for your complexion anyway, Dream dear. Perhaps you should go back to the red? Oh wait…”

Aponoia shuffles in just then, unknowingly forestalling another waspish argument. She is in some cream chiffon ensemble. It is probably meant to be Greek inspired but just looks like a shapeless cloud of lace and silk. Desire, all acid with Morpheus, is warmth and courtesy itself to their twin, complimenting her gown and jewellery. Morpheus hadn’t even noticed the ugly brooch sitting on her right shoulder, nor the diamond clip doing battle with her hair, but he would not have considered them worthy of mention if he had. Appy just shrugs noncommittally at Desire’s praise and twists her large silver ring around on her finger.

“Are you coming down?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know why we bother with corsets,” Morpheus ignores his sister and goes back to his original gripe. The corset is still too tight, really. He has never enjoyed feeling this forced into a posture, sometimes it feels very claustrophobic. “Alphas don’t wear them and they look perfectly normal in their clothes.”

“Not all of them,” Aponoia says; it’s the kind of bitchy comment Morpheus is used to hearing from Desire, not her, and it makes him pause for a moment. Aponoia drifts over to the dressing table and picks up a necklace before morosely dropping it back down and taking another instead.

“Oh, he’s just showing off,” Desire says, patting their hair and glancing slyly at Morpheus through the mirror. “He'll be on about the vote in a minute.”

“If you mean, do I think omegas should have the vote, of course I do.”

“Urgh, I hope you won’t chain yourself to the railings and end up being force fed semolina. What a terrible look.”

“What do you think, Appy?” Morpheus turns the question on his sister, who looks surprised

“I think those people are very brave,” she says quietly.

“Hear, hear,” says Morpheus, noting the sneer on his sibling’s face with satisfaction. It is not often that Aponoia sides with him and not her twin. “Let’s go down.”

—-

October gives way to November and the date of Eve’s interview draws closer. Morpheus will celebrate his 21st birthday at the end of the month and as talk turns to the inevitable festivities: the celebratory ball, the birthday feast with Mrs Patmore’s customary cake, the presents and cards and well-wishes, he thinks of a gift that he can give rather than receive. It seems fitting. Finishing breakfast early one morning, Morpheus slips quietly back up to his room. He is hoping that Eve will not have finished in there, and he is correct. She is just refilling his biscuit jar and water carafe when he enters.

“I’m glad to have caught you," he says as she bobs him a quick curtsey. “I have something for you,” he crosses to his armoire and brings out a fine dress and matching jacket in a deep maroon wool. “I thought this would be suitable for your interview.”

“That’s very kind of you, milord,” Eve says quietly. “But I won’t be wearing it.”

“Of course you will! We have to make you look like a successful professional woman,” Morpheus says, then he looks more closely at the expression on the housemaid’s face. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Well, I won’t wear it because I’m not going,” Eve says despondently, looking down. As she moves, Dream catches her scent, the usually pleasant floral notes she carries soured by disappointment. She pulls a crumpled letter from her apron and hands it to him. “They’ve cancelled the appointment. They’ve found someone ‘more suited for the post and better qualified.’”

Morpheus glances at the letter, then back at Eve’s disappointed face. “This time," he says.

“Let's face it. There will never be anyone less suited for the post or worse qualified than I am.”

“That isn’t true,” Morpheus says firmly, refolding the letter and handing it back to Eve. He takes her arms and guides her gently to sit on the bed. “You’ll see. We’re not giving up. No one hits the bull’s eye with the first arrow.”

Eve does not look convinced, but she does not argue with him. After a moment sitting together, she sighs and goes back to her work, quickly and efficiently finishing her tasks before excusing herself and leaving. Morpheus stares at the door where she exited and taps a finger against his lip in thought. He knows he is using his investment in Eve’s career as a crutch for coping with his own uncertain situation, but he is not going to let this one lie. He is fully prepared to be scouring the papers for job adverts and penning references for as long as it takes: he will see Eve’s dream come true, even if his own life comes crashing down around his ears.

—

“You are very pale dear,” Morpheus’s mother tells him one morning at elevenses. It is early in the New Year, the weather as cold and drab as Morpheus’s soul feels. “And you have been so quiet of late. Has something been troubling you?”

Morpheus thinks of DeVille, whose sinful smile and sharp-eyed gaze still haunt his dreams. He thinks of Gadling, whose knowledge of his greatest secret is a powder keg for which Gadling holds the fuse. When will he make his demands of me? Why does he wait?

He thinks of Eve, and the subterfuge they must undertake to secure her future.

He thinks of Desire and their taunts, of Aponoia and her silences, of his parents and their unending quest to match and dispatch him.

He thinks of himself, a pawn among so many greater pieces.

“No,” he says. “Nothing is troubling me.”

Lady Nyx does not look convinced. “Rosamund writes that she has been feeling quite under the weather recently. She is thinking of spending the rest of the winter in Cannes; coming back in the late spring. You should accompany her.”

“No,” Morpheus does not want to leave Downton. Does not know what will happen in his absence.

“Oh?” his mother says sweetly, adding sugar to her tea. “Is the sea not appealing? Perhaps you would prefer the mountain air?”

Morpheus goes cold. “No.” he says again.

Lady Nyx smiles at him. All teeth and no compassion.

“Choose,” she says.

—-

Hob is the one to drive Morpheus to the station to take the train down to London. His mother accompanies him, as well as a surprising amount of luggage. She keeps up a constant stream of idle chatter on the journey, how jealous she is of his trip; how useful it will be for his French; how the light is perfect for watercolour- won’t he consider doing some painting whilst he’s there? Morpheus remains silent the entire time.

Hob himself wouldn’t mind a sojourn in the South of France but Morpheus looks drawn and ill at the prospect. Then again, from the little Hob has seen of him since their discussion of rewards back in the autumn, he has been looking little different for weeks now.

Hob tries to catch Morpheus’s eye as he hands him down from the motor, but Morpheus resolutely avoids him. Hob suppresses a sigh. He wants to wish him well; to have a safe journey and a restful stay in France. He hopes he comes back restored in mind and body. He wants to tell him that he will be missed. He cannot, so he says nothing. Just watches the young lord leave and wonders how he will return.

Dreamling Abbey

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang !!

No lie, guys: I decided to do this after coming out of a heart scan at the hospital on the sign up deadline. The thinking being: I could have a dicky ticker here, why not try something new? And this was perfect because if there's one thing I know about myself, it's that I need a deadline.

And so here we are.

I am MOST affronted by how hard this was?! And how bloody long it took me (mostly because I spent a lot of time staring into space or relentlessly googling 'did they have xyz in Edwardian England) All you wonderful, talented writers have made it look so easy that all that effort came as somewhat of a shock. Honestly, I am deeply saddened that the copious amount of Dreamling fic I have voraciously consumed in the past 18 months has not magically made a fantastic author out of me. Why does osmosis not work for writing?

If you read, I hope you enjoy!

(The ticker's fine, by the way. Not dicky at all.)

Art by the fabulous @lalaithquetzallicaresi Thanks for squeezing me in there, lovely! ❤

Pairing: Dream/Hob

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 50k

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Downton Abbey Fusion, look it's Downton Abbey but Dreamling omegaverse. Sorta. If you squint, I'm not sure Julian Fellowes would approve, If you haven't seen Downton it definitely won't matter, because I've unashamedly just stolen bits and pieces and thrown the rest to the wind, Attempted Sexual Assault, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Kissing, Pining, period typical attitudes to gender. If you reframe gender to include alpha beta omega dynamics, omega rights paralleling the suffragette movement in England, Minor Violence, lots of vague references to classic cars, mention of unethical medical procedures, Time and Night are bad parents, Omega Dream of the Endless, Alpha Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless│Morpheus Needs a Hug, Unbeta'd

Read chapter 1 on ao3

Fic Summary: Lord Morpheus is the eldest child of the Earl and Countess of Endless, an ancient family hiding huge debts behind a fine name. As an omega, Morpheus cannot inherit his father's title or the family's ancestral home. His function is simple: secure a match that is both socially advantageous and financially viable, thus securing the future of the estate and the title of Earl of Endless for his offspring. The family believe that their troubles are solved when Morpheus dutifully (if reluctantly) becomes engaged to his wealthy cousin, Patrick. However, all their carefully laid plans are thrown into chaos when Patrick drowns on the ill-fated Titianic.

Now Morpheus is navigating treacherous waters of his own and discovering how tight the ties of family loyalty bind him. Will the charming and handsome Duke of Crowborough prove his saviour? Or will the wealthy yet odious Sir Roderick Burgess ensnare Morpheus in plans of his own?

Meanwhile, the family’s new chauffeur, one Robert Gadling, is muddying the waters of Morpheus’s existence even further- where is the line between a servant and a friend? Can Hob help Morpheus see that life exists beyond the confines of family and function?

Chapters below the cuts and in subsequent reblogs, should you wish to read it here on tumblr.

Chapter 1: Complications with the Great Matter.

April 1912.

The papers had been late this morning. Not that Morpheus notices their tardiness. Serious daily newspapers are the preserve of his father and since Morpheus has little interest in the society gossip that proliferated on the pages of The Daily Sketch, the only periodical he is allowed in his room, he rarely bothers to glance at it. However, the large photograph blazing across the front page is so arresting that he finds his eyes drawn to it immediately, ignoring all else on his vanity to take the paper and read. It is bad news of course, the papers rarely print anything but. ‘DISASTER TO TITANIC ON HER MAIDEN VOYAGE’ boldly proclaims the headline, beneath which is black and white image of the doomed liner, adjoined by one of her seemingly also doomed captain, John Smith. Morpheus’s eyebrows draw down as he reads the brief article: so many presumed dead, so few saved. They would know people, of course. His mother knew the Astors, and they had dined with Lady Rothes only last month. Still, the privilege of first class likely meant they would be amongst the survivors. Those below decks… on their way to a better life, well they would not have been so fortunate. What a tragedy, Morpheus sighs and closes the paper. This news rather put his own woes into perspective-

The door bangs open and Desire flounces in without so much as a by your leave, as is their way.

“Dream!” they shout without preamble, then glance at the newspaper in his hands with a slight moue of disappointment. Being the bearer of bad news is something Desire takes a measure of delight in, “Oh, you’ve seen already, Huh,” They shake their head, before bending over Morpheus to look more closely at his paper, hand gripping his shoulder. This close, the smell of the perfume Desire favours- a rich and spicy aroma deliberately chosen to overwhelm their natural omega scent- makes him wrinkle his nose and move his head away. Desire’s fingers tighten on his shoulder and they huff in amusement. They are not strictly allowed to wear perfumes but Desire goes their own way with everything. “When Jessamy told me, I thought she must have dreamt it!” Desire continues in a low tone, meeting Morpheus’s eyes in the mirror. “To think, we were just talking about that ship the other week. Remember how excited old Lucy Rothes was? Supposed to be unsinkable- ha!”

“Every mountain is unclimbable until they climb, so every ship is unsinkable until it sinks,” Morpheus responds neutrally, putting the paper down and shrugging Desire’s hand off to stand. Desire moves with him, smoothing their hands over the non-existent wrinkles on the shoulder of his jacket before adjusting his already meticulously placed tie pin. Morpheus endures the attention for a moment before once again moving away. He does not enjoy this close scrutiny and Desire knows it, but it is always a delight of theirs to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Hm” Desire hums then shrugs, “Come on, now you’re all sorted, lets go to breakfast. Aponoia said she saw the telegram boy come by. I want to find out if there’s any more news. Won’t it be something if someone truly important drowned? Gossip for weeks.”

***

The papers always print bad news. Of course they do. But that news is viewed through a detached lens. Shocking, of course, but not too close to home. Telegrams though- that’s different. They take that news and make it personal.

Breakfast had proven to be a fraught affair. Their father had been away from the room when they first arrived, speaking with their mother so they were to learn, but he had soon been back and imparted the news of their family’s misfortune to his children with unusual brevity. Then he had left without saying anything further, leaving the three of them to process the news alone: the news that Patrick Endless, their wealthy cousin and Morpheus’s fiance, had been aboard the Titanic with his father, James and neither were listed among the names of the survivors. Morpheus had not felt like eating further and had removed himself back to his rooms with his siblings following uninvited (though not strictly unwanted). He had wanted to think but he also knew the danger of getting lost so deeply in his mind, so Desire’s sniping and Aponoia’s quiet presence would be… grounding.

The stupid thing was that Patrick was not even meant to be on that cursed ship; he and his father weren’t expected in New York until May. Why? He thought Why did they go? And without saying anything? Perhaps Patrick had planned to telegram from New York- a boast and a surprise.

“Turns out that the lure of the Titanic’s maiden voyage was too strong.” Desire says as if reading his mind, and with a hint of mischief in their golden eyes. They lounge dramatically against the doorframe whilst Morpheus stands and stares out of his window, gazing at the grounds below. It all looks so quiet, so normal. Why doesn’t he feel sad? Desire continues, “They wanted to be part of history and now they are history.”

“Desire,” Morpheus chides half heartedly. It is a crass statement but he can’t find it in himself to react more strongly. Maybe they are looking for a reaction from him, or maybe this is now how his sibling processes strong emotions. It certainly seems in character. Aponoia has not yet spoken. She just sits unmoving, staring vacantly ahead, toying with the ring on her finger, turning it over and over. He himself feels oddly disconnected from the news. How is one meant to react upon learning that their intended had been so suddenly and shockingly killed- drowned in the icy waters of the North Atlantic, their frozen corpse not even recovered, just left to sink and rot in the sea. Dream blinks slowly, probably not like this, he thinks vaguely. He feels there should be some weeping and wailing involved at the very least.

But there is only numbness.

***

“Uh, I detest black,” Desire flounces into the room the next morning whilst Morpheus is busy writing in his journal. He enjoys writing, it helps to order his often scattered and rebellious thoughts.

Jessamy, the maid he shares with his siblings, has just finished fixing his hair and is busily setting his bed to rights, plumping the pillows and smoothing the coverlets. Desire regards themself critically in Morpheus’ tall mirror, turning this way and that. Aponoia trails after them silently. She is also dressed in black and it makes her look even more wan and washed out than usual. As for Desire, their outfit may have been the requisite black, but it still looked to Morpheus to be sufficiently rakish as to raise their parents’ blood pressure. Hardly proper mourning material. “At least going into mourning won’t ruin your aesthetic, Dream dear,” Desire stretches languidly and collapses back on the just-made bed, smiling thinly. “Always a silver lining somewhere.”

“Full mourning still seems a lot for a cousin,” Morpheus replies vaguely. He tries to pay little attention to his siblings, bent over his journal and writing quickly. The habit of diary writing was born of necessity: a strategy to help quiet his mind, he’d been told, but now it is a pleasure.

“But not for a fiance,” Aponoia’s voice is quiet. There is no accusation in her tone, only the retelling of fact.

Morpheus huffs slightly. “He was not really a fiance.”

“No? I thought that was what you call a man you’re going to marry?”

“I was only going to marry him if nothing better turned up,” he turns the page and continues writing.

“Morpheus! What a dreadful thing to say!” Desire looks simply delighted. “Poor dear Patrick was absolutely besotted with you. It was quite pathetic to witness really- your indifference and his lovelorn obsessiveness,” they shudder theatrically. “Perhaps it’s a good thing he drowned; saved him from a miserable life with you as husband.”

“You dare suggest I would have been a poor husband to him?” Morpheus demands, slamming his diary closed and rounding on his sibling. Desire shrugs insouciantly, fiddling with a diamond earring.

‘“Well you didn’t love him. Barely liked him. And he wasn’t the cleverest where you were concerned, but he would have seen it sooner or later, and hated you for it. Of course, I could wish an unhappy marriage upon you, dearest brother. But Patrick? He deserved better.”

‘Better?’ Morpheus raises his eyebrows. Desire’s words were often full of spite towards him but this was such a quick switch around from mocking Patrick to defending him. Was there something here he had never seen? Never bothered to look for, in truth. “You would have considered yourself a better prospect, my sibling? Taken what I would have discarded?” He raises his eyebrows in challenge and they glare at each other for a moment, then Desire drops their gaze.

‘Yes,’ they say softly, vulnerability etching their features momentarily. “Would that I were eldest and not… as I am. Then I would have taken him like a shot.”

They stand, shields quickly going back up. “Well,” they sniff pointedly, looking away from Morpheus and towards the door, “It’s not so bad I suppose. Mama says we can go into half mourning next month, then full colour by September. A shame we have to spend the summer so drab- and miss the season down in London!- but at least we’ll be ready for shooting parties in the autumn. Come on Appy, let’s leave his lordship alone. He clearly craves solitude. To think,” they sneer, “and write in his stupid diary.” They flow out the room without a backwards glance, Aponoia dutifully trailing in their wake.

Morpheus sighs and turns back to his journal, opening it and staring at the blank page but not picking his pen back up. Desire and Patrick… not that he thought Patrick had returned any sort of affection to his younger sibling but still, had he really been so blind?

“I was so terribly sorry to hear the news, my lord,” Jessamy offers quietly into the silence of the room as she finishes adjusting his bed again. “You say these things but I know you are sad. Whatever you say.” “You are a dear,” Morpheus murmurs. “But I do not feel as badly as I should. I do not really know… what I feel.” That is probably a bad reflection upon me, he thinks. The truth was that beyond the normal amount of grief that came with the sudden and untimely passing of an acquaintance, Dream felt nothing. Patrick had hardly been a grand passion. They had known each other since childhood but had been thrown together through circumstance rather than any actual attraction and they had barely anything in common. So no, he was not as sad as he should be and that was what was really making him sad. This marriage would have been a thing of duty. Their family was old, old enough indeed to have had plenty of time to rack up considerable debts. A lack of money hidden behind a fine name. Morpheus’ marriage to Patrick would have secured the estate’s future, shored up its ailing finances and kept the title very much in the family. As an omega, Morpheus would never have been able to inherit his father’s title but his children could, if they were alphas. And now, there was no marriage, no money and a very uncertain future ahead of them. Morpheus’s one duty, his one function in society, was to secure a good match and that duty lay so heavily upon his shoulders. If only Olly had stayed- but no, there was no use in dealing in ‘if onlies’. Practicalities only, and practicalities meant marriage. And soon.

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winchester-girl67 · 2 years ago

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Don’t Say A Word (Part 2)

Summary: Dean tries to make amends the best way he knows how, with food. But things wind up pretty much how they started out when he's not the only one to mistake her for Auburn.

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,335

Warnings: language, angst, mistaken identity, kidnapping again, arguing, drugged!reader (chloroform), Dean being a bit of a jerk, creepy ending, scary situation, slow burn, fluff if you squint

A/N: For Dean food fixes everything, until it doesn't.

_____

“Are you hungry?” Dean asked, ignoring you and glancing at the diner.

“I’m naked.” You frowned dryly, pronouncing every syllable in the word to make your point.

“I brought you some clothes. I’m not that terrible at my job, despite what you might think.” He said, reaching into the backseat and pulling over a small duffle bag with what you assumed were Auburn’s clothes.

“Despite what I might know.” You corrected, your stomach growling in betrayal and you figured he owed you dinner at the very least. “...Fine.”

“Get dressed and meet me inside, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said, unbuckling yourself from the seat.

Dean climbed out of the car, heading inside the diner without another glance back, taking the keys with him in case you decided to take off without him. Which, it was a good thing he did because you totally would have. You opened the duffle bag and pulled out what were indeed Auburn's clothes. Everything was a size too small for her to begin with and you cursed the green eyed man again as you dug around for the stretchiest things you could find; a pair of leggings and an adjustable sports bra.

You bumped the dashboard a couple of times trying to squeeze into the leggings and awkwardly pulled on the bra whilst trying to keep covered with the towel. Fortunately, it was nightfall already and the darkness worked to your advantage when the towel slipped.

You chose a basic maroon tee that somehow turned into a crop top when you pulled it on and you had to keep tugging it down to cover your midriff as you walked towards the diner. You were thankful that you had found a pair of grey converse that Dean had taken from your apartment, luckily they were yours since Auburn always travelled with her many pairs of more unpractical footwear.

"You actually came," Dean smirked as you weaved your way over to his booth in the corner and sat down opposite him.

"You didn't give me much of a choice. You took the keys and I'm not exactly sure where we are." You said, glancing back at the counter as if there'd be a clue as to where you were.

"We're about a half hour from city limits," he explained, or thought he did.

You didn't get out of the city often and were terrible with directions to begin with. Not to mention, you hadn't been paying attention on the drive up. Having been throwing your efforts into convincing Dean of your story instead.

"Yeah, that doesn't narrow it down. Are we north, south..."

"Are you gonna be this grumpy all through dinner?" He questioned, furrowing his brow with a prominent frown you swore was permanently etched into his face.

"Uh-huh, probably. But, seems how you kidnapped me, you're not allowed to complain about it." You stared, crossing your arms over your chest.

"It was mistaken identity, a simple misunderstanding. Enough now." Dean hissed at you as the waitress made her way over and he put on this truly awful fake smile.

"What can I get you two?" The older woman asked, flipping open a notepad and plucking a pen from behind her ear.

"Cheeseburger and fries."

"Real healthy-" you mumbled.

"Don't start." Dean snipped in front of the waitress.

She seemed to be used to that type of drama though and ignored it altogether; knowing exactly where not to stick her nose. There was probably a story behind that, in a place like this. She probably served loads of unsavoury characters.

"And for you, hun?" She looked at you as you skimmed the short menu quickly with your finger.

"Turkey club, please."

She nodded and you handed her the menu, waiting for her to disappear into the kitchen before shooting Dean a hateful glare. One he returned when he met your eyes.

The two of you didn't say anything more until the food came out. Your sandwich was decent but the fries were lukewarm at best, though you didn't bother to send them back. You couldn't expect much better in a place like this; you counted yourself lucky the food was edible at all.

"You gonna stay mad at me forever?" Dean asked, taking another bite of his cheeseburger and looking at you for a response.

Did he think he could just sweep this under the rug with one mediocre dinner?

"Yes."

"Okay, well how about a little light conversation? That never hurt anyone." He raised his brows and you huffed, setting the rest of your sandwich back down onto the plate.

"Alright, why'd you pick out such crappy clothes? Couldn’t find anything more uncomfortable for me to wear?" You quipped, tugging on the collar of your shirt that, because it was two sizes too small, rode up your breasts and pressed into the base of your neck lightly, just enough to be annoying without actually choking you.

"There wasn't much choice, it was that or sparkly evening gowns. And I didn't think to check your room, just the master bedroom, obviously." He explained simply, offering no remorse which pissed you off to no end.

You had a brief thought of swapping shirts with Dean, forcing him to wear the tight uncomfortable crew neck crop top while you got his black tee. Which, although it wasn't baggy on him, it would be on you and that was your prime comfort zone, oversized anything. The image in your mind brought you some levity and you held back a chuckle, hiding your grin behind another bite of your sandwich.

"Right, because-"

"-I got the ‘wrong girl’. I'm aware now." He sighed, cutting you off. "For the record, I think you look nice.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

"Next time, I’ll leave you in the towel dress then.” He scowled, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Fine by me.” You grinned dryly, shaking your head at him. Dean opened his mouth to show you his half chewed food, “Ew, could you be any more gross.”

“Yes,” he nodded and swallowed, smirking and taking another bite of his burger.

“I’m going to the washroom,” you stated, setting your food down and sliding out of the booth.

“I don’t need the play-by-play, princess.”

“Jerk,” you bit.

“Brat.”

You stepped into the washroom feeling infuriated and hung your head over the sink as you braced yourself on your arms. You took a couple of breaths to calm yourself and settle the blood boiling in your veins. Then, you glanced up, the mirror image reflecting exactly how you felt at the moment, exhausted and ready for bed. You sighed and straightened up, combing through your hair with your fingers and feeling how the strands had dampened the shoulders of your shirt.

You were still cold, not surprising in what you were wearing and punched the button on the hand dryer, angling it up towards your face. You fluffed your hair a bit, hitting the button a few more times until it was dry enough and then did the same with your shirt, tugging it away from your skin so it would dry quickly.

You didn't know how long you spent in front of that dryer, figuring Dean could wait if he finished eating before you returned. But it was a minute too long, if not a second more.

The droning sound of the hand dryer muffled that of your screams and the struggle that ensued when a very tall man in a ski mask grabbed you from behind. You only knew about the mask because you happened to glimpse his reflection before he grabbed you.

And once again in the same night, you found yourself being dragged through a parking lot. Although, this time you didn't fight back. The man had forced a rag over your mouth that smelled sickeningly sweet and all you felt now was tired and weak. You could barely move when he tossed you into the trunk of an SUV and sped off.

_________________________

A/N: Read part 3 here

_________________________   Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks

Don't Say A Word: @lacilou @mlovesstories @spn730015 @hunni-bunny @ria132love @fmstafford @spideysimpossiblegirl @houseforwhores @siospins2 @globetrotter28 @nt-multi-fandom

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chaoticyumelikes · 2 years ago

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Hubert Von Vestra x GN! Reader

You'll meet Hubert just like he meets anyone. Yes, through the Academy. He is fishing out prospects to help Lady Edelgard in every future endeavor. So if he approaches you, he has studied you to a creepy and accurate extent. Yes IF he approaches you. He must make sure first that you are indeed useful.

After he considers your utility to his and most importantly Lady Edelgard's plans, he will keep an eye on you. I am not going to lie he will come off as creepy to you. He only tones down his creepy vibes when Edelgard orders him to so trust me you are getting scared.

Undoubtedly one night when you are walking to your room you come across him.... Bernadetta still considers your screams are like that of a banshee while Lysithea and Ashe still think there's a ghost roaming the academy at night.

His absolute devotion to Edelgard will strain your relationship a bit. On one hand if you are to become friends with the Empire's heir he will become menacingly jealous (he already has to deal with Monica he will be damned if he has to deal with another) on the other hand you may come to the misunderstanding that he is in love with her.

While on the subject of jealousy he will find it curious that he still feels that way when you approach other students and sometimes even teachers.

Prepare to have that weighting feeling of having eyes behind your back. Hubert whether or not in a relationship with you he always has his eyes or some of his trusted associates' on you at all times. You have never felt more uncomfortable and yet safer at the same time. Once Edelgard catches on (often being the victim of Hubert's overzealous nature) she will give you tips on how and when to get some time alone.

Hubert is probably going to be the last person to realize his true feelings for you. The man isn't dense by any means but with all the planning and scheming this man has far too much on his mind. Edelgard probably finds out much faster than him.

Speaking of Edelgard, when she catches on to Hubert's feelings for you and sees how hard he is failing at it, she is on a mission. She invites you often for tea in the hopes to study you, to see if you are a right match for him and to see if you are invested romantically in him as well. Once she gets all the info she needs she goes to the one who will hopefully, due to experience, will be able to help stop all the foolishness Hubert and you are doing by evading each other - none other than Dorothea

Turns out Dorothea already knows and the whole Black Eagles have been placing bets around the subject. Some (Petra) even suggesting force.

All of the Black Eagles are now intent on helping out with varying degrees of ultimate failure (Ferdinand tried to put the two of you together but somehow ended up making you believe that Hubert and him were together). The only success they had was to invoke Hubert's absolute fury. While shielded most of the time by Edelgard, the team decided to give up just in case they were walking towards an early grave like Hubert has detailed in very creative ways.

Fortunately for the team, someone else caught wind of the predicament, the master schemer himself, Claude von Riegan. So it was to everyone's surprise to see Claude one day just openly and loudly flirting with you. Everyone stared at awe at the scene and then stared at the absolutely terrifying dark aura emanating from Hubert. For you see, at that moment, Hubert might have discovered his feelings but as to make the noble sacrifice of not putting you in any danger for the upcoming war he forgot other fools might take you and put you in far more danger for they could not see, treat or protect you the way he could.

So after putting himself between you and Claude he invited you for tea which you accepted. Well, you had tea, he had coffee. You two chatted a bit before Hubert got serious and proposed his feelings in the most business way possible. He highlighted how advantageous it would be for you to be involved with him even going as far as laying the beneficts of your family being aligned with his (should you be noble or not). Before he could extend his monologue any further you interrupted him with the most powerful and yet simple words available to you - "I like you too."

Hubert stopped speaking entirely, the only evidence he was still alive was the blush on his face and ears - "O-oh! T-that's-- Yes... That is very..... Um.... Good!"

You giggle at his reaction but lightly taking his hand in yours you propose you take things lightly, go on a few dates before you even think about "the beneficial sides for the families"

He agrees and then he hears the collective of the student body sigh with relief "FINALLY!". The relief is short lived however as a monster suddenly appears in the depths of the academy. All it was heard was an urgent shout "Dammit Hapi!"

Hubert was now more content to be at your side rather than tailing your shadow. He was still highly devoted to Edelgard and you respected that but now he had you to lovingly be devoted to and having that same devotion back at him. At first he wasn't used to it. Having someone devote themselves to him like you do. But he had to admit it was rather heavenly.

During the war it wasn't easy. Hubert kept trying to take you away. To keep you safe but you stubbornly refused to leave his side. Arguments were frequent about that topic as well. Once he went as far as saying you were distracting him from his duty making you go on the completely different squad than his. Before he could ever apologize your squad had already gone on a recon mission.

Hubert could not sleep for days after that. He always kept his ears out for news from your squad, always on his nerves' end should something happen to you. And one day... his fears came to be. Your squad was attacked suddenly.

At the news he froze till Edelgard snapped his attention back. He got on the first horse he could find and rode to where your squad was seen last. Ferdinand rode with him should he lose himself in his panicked state and made Hubert take breaks for his and the horses' sakes. All he knew was that you were still so far from him, you could be hurt, taken prisoner, dead... He had to get to you as fast as he could before his minds' violent imagination drove him mad.

After days of riding he got to your squads camp. Your squad had been taken by surprise but managed to withstand with the minimal casualties and a few injured. You yourself had been injured but it was just a few cuts and bruises. He spotted you first after looking around desperatly and wrapped his arms around you in an almost suffocating embrace. He cried that day, he didn't care, he had you. He had you. You took him to your tent and after a series of apologies he kissed your every cut, every bruise, every scar and promised himself he would never allow this to happen again.

The ones that attacked your squad and managed to escape were hunted down mercilessly and so were their lords. For Hubert would not suffer any threat to house Vestra and yes, even if not married now, he saw you as his.

From day onward you two were truly inseparable. And soon Edelgard began poking at Hubert to propose to you with her blessing. The day of the Emperor's marriage to Byleth, Edelgard threw the bouquet strategically and aggressively at you (making you fall back at the sheer force of the throw). And yes, when you FINALLY get married, Edelgard had to include in her speech "and they FINALLY proposed! FINALLY got married, in all seriousness I was afraid children would come first than this contract!".

You two did grow inseparable despite it all to the grand relief of all your friends.

#hubert von vestra x reader #hubert x reader #gn!reader #fe hubert #fire emblem three houses x reader #Fire emblem three hopes #Fire emblem three houses #hubert von vestra #My writing

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gravessyard · 2 years ago

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My Boyfriend's Boyfriend

Notes from the crypt: I'm real excited for the Childe rerun, I've got his cage set up and ready, I've got a water bowl, kibble, a wheel for him to run on. If he doesn't come home im bullying him, so I wrote this in hopes I earn his favor

Tags: GN!Reader, established relationship, implied cheating, misunderstanding, Aether is in this and he's STRESSED, headcanons

• Aether knows exactly who you are, in fact he was ecstatic when Zhongli casually mentioned that he wanted the Honorary Knight of Favonius to meet his lover. He's met plenty of people during his travels, mortals and gods alike, but to be personally invited to meet the one that holds the former geo archon's heart, he wonders what kind of soul you must be to fit into that role.

• Are you also a god? Were you maybe an adeptus that struck his fancy? Or were you some witch that has him under a spell? Questions flooded his mind as he silently follows the consultant to a small teahouse, compared to Yangsheng Teahouse, this place was about a third of its size and screamed comfortable atmosphere. He'll shyly admit that he entered your humble shop on high alert, somehow convincing himself that you're a threat and Zhongli may need his help.

• "I can assure you that I am of sound body and mind to engage in this relationship with my dear (y/n), so you need not raise your hackles", Zhongli chuckles beside him, the archon could sense Aether's emotions spiral from the moment they approached the teahouse, and the poor blonde flushes in embarrassment before you made your appearance. The traveler could see the way Zhongli's smile grows fonder as he takes you into his arms, soft greetings exchanged along with a sweet kiss that makes him avert his eyes.

• After introductions are made he learns that you are indeed a witch, but you speciailize in tea readings and remedies, your powers are not strong enough to slip a love spell in anyone's drink, and even if you did, it would be exhausting to keep up the flow of energy. Your day to day life involved long days of tea brewing, serving and readings to help the local populace. People often came to you with questions of their love life, finances and future, and you make sure they leave with answers and a pep in their step. He's pleasantly surprised when you offered to read his tea leaves after enjoying a cup, you managed to detail his latest feats after a couple of minutes of concentration and promised him very good fortune in his upcoming days.

• He often found himself returning to your little shop when he wants to destress, along with your good company you made some damn good tea and other goodies, so he's surprised when you werent there to greet him when he walked in. He was greeted by Zhongli instead, clad in the same uniform he saw on you, turns out the consultant likes to spend his free time helping you and the shop, this time you had to step away to help a client, leaving him in charge. Aether thinks nothing of it, ordering his usual tea and pastry and sitting down at a table to wait. He really appreciates the relaxing atmosphere you offer, it was like coming home after a long hard day of work and being enveloped in a warm blanket, it distracted him enough to not notice the ginger harbinger sitting a few tables away, also relishing in the homey feeling.

• Its like he was pulled from a trance when he saw Zhongli walk past his table, stopping next to Childe to set down his order of tea and a slice of cake before Aether saw something that made his blood run cold: Zhongli leaning down to press his lips against the harbinger's in a kiss eerily similar to the one he shared with you. He couldn't believe the sight, a mix of emotions coursing through him. He feels almost betrayed, seeing someone he considers a friend do something like that, he also feels hurt and angry for you, wondering how long this secret affair was going on behind your back. The revelation sat heavy in his gut, he had to excuse himself before he could receive his order, disappearing from the shop to Zhongli's disappointment.

• He's ashamed to admit that he ghosted Zhongli, finding excuses when the archon would request him in favor of visiting you at your house instead. He was torn, part of him wanted to tell you exactly what he saw, but the other part wasnt ready to witness the inevitable break down you'd have, his heart aches at the very thought of you crying. You seemed none the wiser, inviting him into your home and even cooking for him, confiding with him that you havent been able to spend time with Zhongli lately, so you were beginning to feel lonely. He vowed that he will tell you one day, but for now he needs to protect you.

• From an outsider's perspective it seemed almost comical the way Aether would accompany you when you were running errands in the city and suddenly he'll turn your attention in a different direction when he spots Zhongli or Childe in the crowd. You'll hear a shout of your name at the pier, go to look and all of a sudden the blonde is taking your hand and whisking you away, commenting on some new dish a restaurant is serving on the other side of the city, and if you dont hurry then the line will get too long.

• Unfortunately you two were cornered at Bubu Pharmacy, the place that has only one entrance. You had to go visit Dr Baizhu to pick up some herbs as well as medicine, "for someone special", you smiled at Aether's questioning gaze. It didn't take long for his answer to literally step into the pharmacy, a fake smile on his face to hide the annoyance in his voice. "There you are sweetheart, we've been looking everywhere for you", Childe's voice made the traveler freeze, wide eyes looking towards the two tall men that blocked the entrance. Zhongli's expression was unreadable, yet his crossed arms hinted at the equal annoyance he felt. His stomach dropped, instinctively stepping in front of you before confusion overtook him when you ran towards the two, eagerly showing off the bundles of herbs in your arms. "Huh?"

• "B-But... I saw.... I saw Zhongli kissing Childe in the teahouse! I thought....", Aether's head was starting to hurt, how could you stand in front of them with such a happy look on your face? Were you perhaps already aware of the adultery? Did you not care?? You looked at him quizzically, head tilting before recognition flashed through your eyes and you furrowed your brows at Zhongli, who's cogs seemed to finally turn in his head. "Darling....... Did you forget to tell Aether that we're also dating Childe?"

• Childe was nearly blue in the face from laughing so hard, and Zhongli was coughing awkwardly into his fist, cheeks adorably flushed. You pat Aether's back, comforting him through his internal crisis of finding out that while it was rare, it wasnt unheard of that parties of three or even more would engage in a romantic relationship. He felt like a fool, actively pulling you away from the men who were a deeper part of your life than he realized, and another wave of guilt made him hide his face at the implication that he was hoarding you away all for himself.

• Back at the teahouse, Aether listens to the men gushing about how their infatuation with you came to be. Zhongli appreciates your determination and love of tea, the way you work hard to personally oversee the quality and serve each cup with a smile on your face. In the early stages he was the one silently listening to you drone on about the origins of the tea you used, if it has medicinal qualities and just overall infodumping, he didnt have the heart to tell you that he already knew, he simply enjoyed the way your eyes lit up and how eager you were to share your knowledge. Childe was obsessed with how you made him feel warm and welcomed, even though he was associated with the fatui. You never turned him away, never treated him differently, the moment he stepped into your shop you welcomed him with open arms and a bright smile that had him smitten. He knew you were the one when he stumbles into your shop one rainy night, soaking and bleeding, startling you while you were in the middle of closing up. Luckily there werent any customers, the closed sign long been put up but even as he bled all over your floors and tables, you ushered him deeper into the teahouse, to the back where you kept your supplies and patched him up. He could still remember how warm your hands felt against his skin as you gently rubbed ointment on the sutures you used to close his deeper wounds, the way you hush him softly when he tried to stutter out apologies and promises of buying you new furniture. Neither you or him told Aether of how he cried in your arms that night.

• Aether honestly felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders after the embarrassing ordeal, he could sleep better at night knowing that you were being loved and protected. He still visits your teahouse, even bringing friends from other nations to try your delicacies, one of his friends is already asking if he can serve your tea in his tavern, profits going to you of course, and another is asking for your recipe of the delicious treat he knows a certain commissioner will love.

#tombtales #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #zhongli headcanons #childe headcanons #tartaglia headcanons #aether #genshin aether

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