#i need this out of my brain before bed

[emjiroki]

Back to arranged marriage! Gojo

As much as he might be overly confident and unfairly handsome, he's completely out of his element on your wedding night. Even though he was in his twenties, he had yet to be with anyone the way he was going to be with you now. The vow to "stay pure until your marriage" didn't really mean much to him but it's the fact that he had made a promise to you that made him stick to it.

So when the wedding night comes and he's got you spread out under him on the bed, the sight of your naked body sending fire burning through his veins, he's unsure of himself for probably the first time in his life. And you know the moment he casts his ethereal blue eyes to you in an almost pleading manner, so you shift your legs up around his waist and lay a soft hand against his cheek.

"Just take it slow".

He nods with a deep breath, positioning himself before popping the head past your entrance. It's a snug fit that nearly sends all of the air rushing from his lungs as you dig your nails into his shoulders, whining and squirming as his hands held your hips.

You gave a quiet shriek as he tore through your virgin wall, his hips stilling as you adjust to the intrusion and he kisses away the tears leaking down your cheeks. But he can't help but feel... prideful? Victorious? Triumphant? All of those wrapped into one as your blood stains his cock. You're his. Only his. No one would ever be with you like this, feel connecting to you like this. That was a high he could ride for the rest of his life. Along with the high of feeling your tight cunt fully squeeze around him for the first time.

Satoru barely recognized his own voice as he wreathed and panted and cried out for you, drool running from his lips as he fucked into you. God he was trying to go slow, he really was, but when you were sucking him in like that and practically milking his cock it was impossible. He'd never felt anything as incredible as you cumming around his sensitive dick before and it was more than enough to drag a strangled moan from his chest as he pumped you full, thick spurts of virgin cum filling your insides to the brim. Before you know it he's got you on top of him, your nipple in his mouth as he thrusts his still leaking cock up against your sensitive pussy as he whines.

"Can we go again? Please?"

[ghost-proofbaby]

15 with Eddie? :)

i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) <3

15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."

warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader

wc: 2.9k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene. 

It’s nice — it’s serene.

You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.

But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.

It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.

“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.

You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with. 

“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.” 

“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.

He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.

“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene. 

You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”

He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.

It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates  his left dimple. 

He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.

“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?” 

The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings. 

You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.

“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.” 

He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours. 

You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.

The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him. 

“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.” 

Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before. 

It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck. 

The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.

A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park. 

Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you. 

Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.

“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.

His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually. 

Eventually. There’s no rush.

Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”

“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.” 

The night before, he would have teased your desperation. 

But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting. 

He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions. 

Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further. 

But today? In this moment? The two of you have time. 

A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs. 

When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls. 

You need him closer.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.” 

The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.” 

You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion. 

His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.” 

His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis. 

You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun. 

And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.

“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance. 

He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.

Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.

When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.” 

Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it. 

He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair. 

And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process. 

You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.

And just as he knows you, you know him.

You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.

“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue. 

His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had. 

Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.

“I love you more.” 

You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.

But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually. 

The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air. 

Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips. 

And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.

“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.” 

You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter. 

“Look at me when you cum.” 

He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his. 

It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.

He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other. 

You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be. 

Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones. 

There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you. 

“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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[gophergal]

jumping on the trend. I have never felt so mainstream in my picks

[tetzoro]

happy sunday friendz ෆ may you rest up today ! drink lots of water, unclench your jaws, & be gentle with yourself as this week comes to a close (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾

[scattered-under-moonlight]

[worldsokayestdragon]

GreedxLing Week Day 1: Love Language

Read on AO3

Returning to Xing wasn't what Ling had expected when he'd left home all those months ago. So much had changed, it was hard to believe it had been less than a year since the first time he'd trekked through the desert with Lan Fan and Fu in tow, planning out his first steps for finding the philosopher’s stone and considering the best way to trick the emperor into believing he held the key to immortality for long enough for Ling to maneuver himself into power. Fu had advised him not to get too far ahead of himself, but Ling had refused to even entertain the notion that he might return empty handed. His clan was counting on him. Failure wasn't an option.

Now they were making the return trip with the Chang Clan heiress and a homunculus who until very recently had been coinhabiting Ling’s body. 

Lan Fan had lost her arm, and as guilty as Ling felt for dragging her into the fight that had claimed it, she wouldn’t let him apologize. She insisted it was her choice, and one she’d gladly make again, and he knew her well enough to recognize that if he kept feeling sorry for her she…probably wouldn’t actually punch him in the face–because that would be improper and against her vow to protect him–but she would be seriously tempted to do so. He didn’t mention it again.

And they were returning without Fu.

They were bringing him home, of course they were. They could hardly do otherwise. But it was only his remains making the journey in the urn Lan Fan insisted on carrying herself, carefully checking and repacking it every time they stopped to rest. The old man himself would never again walk at Ling’s shoulder and offer advice that Ling was often too stubborn and foolish to take.

Ling wished they could have stayed in Amestris a bit longer. Just to take some time to heal and rest, to adjust to everything. But the emperor’s health wouldn’t hold forever, and if one of his siblings ascended to the throne before Ling’s return then everything would be for nothing. And Lan Fan’s new automail made it crucial to get across the desert before the summer heat could settle in and threaten to burn her. 

Most importantly, Fu needed to be laid to rest properly, with full rites instead of the stopgap cremation ritual that Lan Fan had been taught as a child–because the life of a royal bodyguard was dangerous and often took one far from home to die. To truly let his spirit rest, Fu needed a real funeral. Getting that done as soon as possible was the least Ling owed to the man who had been like family to him, closer and more beloved than most of his blood relatives.

If Ling thought about that for too long he’d break down, and then Lan Fan would feel obligated to try and comfort him even though she’d lost so much more than he had. He couldn’t do that to her. He had to stay strong.

So he focused on easier things, like getting to know Mei Chang, and adjusting to Greed having a separate body.

The fact that bonding with the little sister he’d been raised to regard as an annoying obstacle at best, and a credible threat to his life at worst, qualified as “easier” was a testament to how out of control his life had gotten.

The fact that he felt the need to adjust to not sharing his body with the personification of a deadly sin was probably evidence that he’d gone completely insane.

He didn’t really know how to interact with either of them.

Mei didn’t seem to know how to interact with him either. She switched between regarding him with a suspicion that bordered on outright hostility, as she’d no doubt been taught to act around any competing heir, and a starry eyed admiration that came with repeated thanks for promising to protect her clan and offers to help him with anything he needed that frankly made Ling more uncomfortable than when she looked like she wanted to stab him. He didn’t know how to convince her that his commitment to bringing together all the clans was genuine and not dependent on her sucking up to him.

Also her tiny panda had bitten him like five times, and he didn’t heal as quickly as he used to.

And Greed. Greed was the same as he’d always been, probably, but Ling wasn’t used to observing him from the outside. He knew what the homunculus was thinking and feeling in any situation still, could make his stupid sarcastic jokes in unison with him most of the time, but that was just the knowledge of familiarity. He couldn’t hear the outline of Greed’s thoughts the way he used to, or feel the echoes of his emotions. And Ling was starting to realize that for as good as they’d gotten at communicating, their mental conversations maybe hadn’t been much like talking, because he found it difficult to put anything he wanted to say to Greed into words.

He wanted to say so much to Greed. He wanted to reassure him that they could still rule Xing together even if they were separate people now. Wanted to ask if Greed still wanted that, or if he’d rather find something of his own, even if Ling was scared of the answer to that question. He wanted to scream at Greed for being an idiot and trying to sacrifice himself, for lying to him, for almost leaving him behind. He wanted to beg Greed to never do that again, because Ling needed him, and missed him even when he was still here, and he didn’t know how he’d ever recover if Greed left him entirely.

Ling wanted to tell Greed he loved him, and that he thought Greed loved him too, thought he had felt it when Greed shoved Ling away to protect him at the cost of his own life.

But now that Greed was in his own body, looking like his old self and also an entirely new person to Ling, it was hard to be confident that he still felt the same, or even that he’d ever felt that way at all. Maybe Ling had been projecting, the confusion and emotion of that moment overwhelming him and making him feel what he wanted to feel from Greed. 

Certainly Greed hadn’t said anything to indicate he felt that way toward Ling since Lan Fan had flung the philosopher’s stone she’d been carrying into the homunculus’s dissipating form and–in an alchemic reaction that Ed said “made no sense” and “gave him a headache”–Greed’s body from before he’d been merged with Ling reformed around him.

Greed had let Ling scream at him for lying, and being a self sacrificing idiot, and scaring him, had let shove him and also let Ling cling to him and tell him to never do anything like that again. 

He’d apologized for hurting Ling, but notably didn’t say he was sorry for what he’d done or promise not to do it again. Ling had been a little tempted to stab him then, but he wasn’t sure how many times the incomplete philosopher’s stone inside him could heal him back up. He didn’t want to risk losing him again. (And, Greed had pointed out later, they’d need to “do the hammer trick” at least once to prove to the emperor that Greed was immortal. Ling had vague, second hand memories of “the hammer trick,” and he was sure they could come up with something a little less traumatizing.)

But other than the apology, Greed hadn’t really talked much to Ling after coming back to life. He didn’t even say that he planned to come back with them, just fell in step beside Ling as they headed out and asked how long it would take to get to Xing.

So Ling couldn’t know if Greed felt the way he did, and the thought of being wrong, of ruining the relationship they did have, kept him from asking. Every big, important thing Ling wanted to say to Greed got caught in his throat. 

Greed didn’t say anything either. Sometimes it seemed like he was about to. Ling knew him well enough to tell when he was working up to being honest in a way that wasn’t just not telling a lie, a way that was hard for him, but he never followed through. 

But even though they were completely failing to talk to each other, even though the silence was awkward and painful at times when Ling thought about how easily they’d talked and joked before, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Greed’s side for long. They were rarely out of arm’s reach of each other. Most often they stayed so close that Ling thought if it was anyone else he’d be freaked out by the invasion of his personal space.

It never felt like an invasion when it was Greed literally breathing down Ling’s neck, walking so close to each other it was frankly a miracle they didn’t trip over each other’s feet, sitting practically in each other’s laps by the campfire when the chill of the desert night set in. They’d given up the pretense of settling into separate bedrolls after the second time they’d woken up wrapped around each other in the sand between two unused piles of blankets. 

But for all that easy closeness, they still barely talked.

Ling couldn’t bring himself to talk to Greed, and he didn’t know how to talk to Mei, and Lan Fan never liked to talk about things before she’d had a chance to process them on her own, so Ling hardly dared to interrupt her grief with conversation. It was shaping up to be the most awkwardly silent trip in history.

Except actually Greed and Mei seemed to have no trouble talking to each other. Half the time the homunculus wasn’t right beside Ling it was because he’d walked off to talk to his little sister. She wasn’t nearly as standoffish with Greed, and he apparently had plenty to say to her. They got along great, other than the first time they’d talked, when Mei had squealed “Mister Greed, that’s so—” and Ling had never found out what that was so because Greed had clapped a hand over the girl’s mouth and hissed something at her, ignoring Xiao-Mei biting his hand in retaliation. 

Since then they had quiet conversations that cut off when Ling approached basically every day, and any time Ling asked Greed what they were talking about he just said “don’t worry about it,” or sometimes “wouldn’t you like to know,” which was the type of nonanswer he only gave when he wanted to keep something to himself without technically lying.

Ling watched the two of them conspiring or plotting or whatever it was they were doing, and had to firmly remind himself that he was not jealous of a thirteen-year-old who’d been forced to travel to a foreign country alone in a desperate bid to save the clan she was too young to bear responsibility for.

No matter how easily she got to talk to Greed.

Other than talking to Mei, the only times Greed left Ling’s side was when he’d seen something on the ground he wanted to investigate.

That at least was familiar. Ling remembered spending the winter trekking through Amestris, and how often Greed wandered off the trail to pick up a shiny rock or a weird shaped stick or a bottle cap with an interesting logo to shove in their pocket. Ed griped at him constantly for wasting time picking up trash, but that had never stopped Greed.

What was weird now was that Greed always looked at whatever he picked up critically instead of pocketing it and rejoining the group immediately. He twisted the objects this way and that, examined them in the light, and most of the time he dropped them again as if he’d found them lacking. 

Maybe admitting to himself that what he really wanted was people to care for had eased his compulsion to collect whatever caught his eye.

(Maybe having Ling around was enough, even if it wasn’t the same as it had been. Maybe he was satisfied to have a friend, and Ling could be satisfied with that too, even if neither of them ever made a move to make it something more. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.)

The first time Greed found something that met his new standards, it was nearing sunset on their first day in the desert between Amestris and Xing. Greed split off from the group and came back with a rock worn smooth by the blowing sands. The sunlight shone on the rock’s surface, and revealed little clusters of sparkles when Greed twisted it at the right angle. In different lighting it would probably look like an unremarkable gray lump, but it was beautiful in the moment. Ling understood why Greed decided to pick it up.

He didn’t understand why, instead of shoving it in his own pocket as usual, Greed held it out for Ling.

“Here,” he said, looking at Ling expectantly. “Take it.”

“Um, okay?”

Ling held out his hand and Greed tipped the rock into it. It was smooth as marble, and warm from lying in the sun. It fit perfectly in Ling’s palm. He absently ran his thumb over the surface as he looked back at Greed.

Greed had a concerningly smug look on his face. 

Suddenly suspicious, Ling asked, “Are you trying to make me carry your stuff so you can pick up even more rocks?”

The smug smile disappeared from Greed’s face. 

“No, It’s–ugh nevermind!”

Ling watched, bemused, as Greed stomped away, as much as anyone could stomp over shifting sand, to talk to Mei. The girl patted him comfortingly on the arm and shot Ling a dirty look that he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve.

Ling tucked the rock carefully into his pocket for safekeeping, and then hurried to catch up with Lan Fan and offer to help her find a good campsite.

A few days later, as they were approaching an oasis midway between the Amestran border and the ruins of Xerxes, Greed once again found something he deemed worthy of hanging on to. 

The oasis was one of the better documented sources of water on the journey through the desert and trade caravans came through the area regularly. They’d been seeing little bits and bobs that must have fallen off a wagon throughout the day. Greed had stopped to investigate most of it, but only found one thing he actually liked. 

Once again, Greed carried his find over to Ling, this time keeping whatever it was closed in his fist as he offered it.

“Here. I want you to keep this. Not carry it for me.”

“...Right.” Ling decided not to comment on Greed’s weird behavior, instead just holding out his hand under Greed’s

A ring dropped into Ling’s palm, a black band set with a purple gemstone almost the exact color of Greed’s eyes. 

The stone was fake, Ling could tell right away. He didn’t know if Greed couldn’t tell or just didn’t care. For all his talk about appreciating the finer things, Greed didn’t actually put much stock into how expensive or high quality anything was, perfectly content with costume jewelry as long as it was suitably flashy. 

This ring actually wasn’t nearly as gaudy as Greed’s tastes normally ran. It black band was simple, etched with a subtle geometric pattern that was only visible up close. The single stone was large, but not ridiculously so, not something that was deliberately ostentatious.  

Ling actually liked it, and maybe it was unbecoming of a future Emperor of Xing, but Ling found he didn’t care much more than Greed did about having only expensive belongings just to prove he could afford them.

Greed shifted anxiously, and Ling realized he’d been silently staring at the ring for long enough for it to get uncomfortable.

“Thank yo–”

“We must hurry, my lord.” Lan Fan called, interrupting Ling’s thanks. “We need to reach the oasis before sundown if we hope to replenish our supplies tonight and get an early start tomorrow.”

Ling knew most people would think she sounded perfectly respectful, as befitted a bodyguard speaking to her master. But he also knew her well enough to hear how annoyed she was getting with the hold up.

“Coming Lan Fan!” he called. Turning to Greed he added, “We’d better go before she decides to stab you.”

Greed looked a little disappointed, but nodded, easily matching Ling’s pace as they began to walk again. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t really want to fight her.”

“Because you don’t fight women?” Ling asked.

Greed hummed in agreement and Ling rolled his eyes.

“That’s such an old fashioned attitude. She could beat you easily, especially if you do that thing where you refuse to use your full shield until you’re already losing.”

Greed looked at Ling like he was stupid. 

“Of course she could. She’s insane. I guess you never met my ‘sister’ before she bit the dust, but she was fucking terrifying. And Martel was–” Greed cut himself off, looked away for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “Ed’s teacher took out my whole crew single handedly once. That Winry girl’s not even a fighter and she tossed us and Darius and Heinkel and those two Briggs guys out of her room like it was nothing. Not to mention your little sister being–”

“Wait,” Ling interrupted Greed’s list. “Are you saying you’re ‘not the kind of guy who fights women’ because you think all women can kick your ass?”

“I don’t think all women can kick my ass,” Greed argued. “I just think women who like to fight are more likely to kick my ass than men, which is not fun for me, and women who don’t fight probably have no idea how to because of stupid human gender rolls, so I’d feel shitty for beating them up. Also the one time I tried to fight Lust she backed me into a corner and slashed my arms off like ten times in a row while saying I should never hit a lady, so. Don’t really want to do that again.”

Ling burst out laughing as they hurried to catch up with Lan Fan, and ignored Greed’s protests about his reasoning making perfect sense.

He slipped the ring onto his finger as they walked.

He didn’t miss Greed’s pleased smile.

They reached Xerxes before midday, and decided to rest there and head out again the next morning. 

Greed announced that he was going to take a look around the place. When Ling stood to go with him he added that he wanted to go alone.

Ling tried to hide his hurt and disappointment at that. He had thought they’d been getting a little more comfortable around each other the last few days.

He must not have succeeded, because Greed suddenly looked panicked and added, “I mean alone for now! We can go together later, that would be cool. But you should…rest! Because you need more of that than me. And you should let me find places that are safe to explore first since you’re all human now and…squishy.” He winced at his own word choice. “Okay, see you later, bye!” 

Greed all but fled from where they’d settled in the shade of a ruined building, and Ling watched him go.

Greed was being very weird since the Promised Day. Well, he was always weird, but now it was obvious even to Ling, who’d mostly gotten used to his baseline bizarre behavior. 

Greed almost never said what he meant, for all that he didn’t lie, but he was normally way smoother at talking his way around things. Smooth enough that he could even fool himself into believing his bullshit.

And Ling couldn’t figure out why Greed kept giving him stuff. Sure, his whole “I want everything” routine was just a cover for the fact that he couldn’t even admit to himself that he just wanted friends. Ling was able to tell that almost right away, once they joined up with Ed and he let himself think of Greed as something other than an enemy he had to resist. 

But he’d never picked up on any real inclination to give things away, no matter how much he cared about the people around him more than he’d ever let on. He also liked having stuff. And yet he hadn’t kept any of the things he’d picked up on their journey.

Ling could hear Greed make his way through the ruined city streets. He was not gifted in stealth, much to the dismay of their traveling companions when they’d been trying to evade the Amestran military over the long months of winter. 

It sounded like he was digging through the rubble and flipping stones too big for a human hands to easily move. Ling wondered what he hoped to find. The place had been abandoned for generations. Then again, most people left it alone rather than ransacking it, out of respect for the terrible tragedy that had happened here, so maybe there was something worth finding. 

Ling was considering whether he should tell Greed to stop rifling through the remains of a dead civilization when Greed made a triumphant noise and the sounds of digging through rubble stopped, replaced by the sounds of sprinting back towards the rest of them.

Greed audibly stopped running just around the corner of their makeshift shelter and then strolled casually into sight. Ling very kindly refrained from laughing at the terrible attempt at acting like he hadn’t been rushing back. Mei had to turn away and disguise her giggles as a cough, and Lan Fan didn’t bother to hide her judgemental stare. 

Greed looked a little excited and a little nervous as he walked over to Ling, though Ling wasn’t sure if someone who hadn’t spent a few months inside Greed’s head would be able to see that through the false air of confidence he’d put on. He was holding something behind his back.

Greed stopped directly in front of Ling and said, “I found this for you,” before all but shoving the hidden object into Ling’s hands.

It was a dagger in a sheath that had maybe once been brightly painted but had long since faded to the barest hints of a pattern. The hilt and cross guards formed elegant curves,  and there was a blue jewel inset in the pommel. Ling drew the blade, and though it had long lost its edge, it must have been well made and also incredibly sheltered from the elements wherever Greed had dug it out from, because it was in remarkable condition for how old it must have been. It would probably only need a little bit of maintenance to be usable. 

It was a beautiful weapon, but also a practical one, lacking in the tacky extra spikes and jagged edges that Ed liked to give things, and that Greed had often praised as looking “pretty sweet.” It was obvious that Greed had picked it with Ling’s tastes in mind.

“Thank you,” Ling breathed. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

He looked up from the blade to find Greed grinning at him, somewhere between elated and self satisfied.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Ling added, suddenly feeling guilty for taking so many gifts from Greed without offering something in return. “I could go find–”

“You don’t have to,” Greed interrupted, still smiling. “I mean, you can if you want. You know I’ll never say no to a present. But you don’t have to. I didn’t give it to you so you’d give me something.”

“Why did you, then?” Ling asked.

The smile slipped off of Greed’s face, but before Ling could freak out about making him sad, Lan Fan and Mei both groaned in frustration, in a display of synchronicity that Ling didn’t think boded well for his future well being.

“Ling Yao, you are so stupid!” Mei exclaimed. She sounded less hostile than he might have expected with that statement. Her tone almost reminded him of when Al would sometimes despair over what an idiot his big brother was.

“He’s not the only problem,” Lan Fan argued. “Greed, you need to stop acting like a child and use your words.”

Ling was officially lost. He looked between his three companions in hopes of finding a clue to what was happening, and was completely disappointed in that hope. 

“Lan Fan, do you know what’s going on?” Ling asked. 

“Of course I do!” she snapped before taking a deliberate breath and continuing in something closer to her normal calm and respectful way of speaking to him. Ling could still clearly hear her holding herself back from calling him an idiot.

“Ling, you are my prince, my lord, my future emperor. I would follow you anywhere, I would kill and die for you, and I know you will be a good king to our people. But I cannot deal with this foolishness another second. It was a nice distraction at first, but it’s gone on for far too long.”

She turned away from him to speak to Mei. “I'm going for a walk. Would you like to join me, Princess?”

“Yes, actually,” Mei chirped, hopping to her feet. “ I wanted to take a look around and see if I could find any surviving records of the types of alchemy that were studied here. Hopefully something that doesn’t involve human sacrifice for a change.”

“Wait,” Greed said, sounding slightly panicked. “Mei, you said you wanted to help me.”

“I did want to help you, mister Greed, but Lan Fan’s right. This is taking too long. You two need to sort this out before we get back, or we’re kicking both of your butts, okay?”

Lan Fan, alarmingly, did not object to the idea of Mei kicking Ling’s butt, and instead calmly walked away with the younger girl.

Ling looked back at Greed, who was staring after Mei like a man lost at sea watching his last hope of rescue disappear over the horizon.

“Do you know what we're supposed to be working out?” Ling asked, watching Greed's attention snap to him in a wide eyed stare. “Because I really don't want to get beat up by my little sister and my best friend. Actually, I think I liked it better when they hated each other.”

“Right,” Greed said. He took a deep breath and shook his arms out, his expression settling into something more calm and confident that was almost convincing. “I can use my words, no problem. I don't act like a child.”

“Of course,” Ling agreed, trying to sound encouraging. 

Privately he had his doubts. This sounded like it was going to be a serious conversation, and while Greed has many strengths and good qualities, the ability to talk about serious things–or gods forbid his own emotions–was not one of them. He hadn't even been able to tell the difference between wanting world domination and wanting friends until Ling spelled it out for him.

Ling thought he might know what this was about, or hoped he did anyway. But he wouldn't push. If he was wrong it would be awful, and if he was right then it was best to let Greed try and get it out on his own time.

“I want–I mean I–you’re so–” Greed cut himself with a muttered curse. “Let me start over?”

“Sure. Take your time.”

Greed took a few more breaths, looking everywhere but at Ling, before seeming to gather the nerve to continue.

“I want to rule Xing with you,” Greed said in a rush, so fast Ling could hardly make out the words. “I mean, if that offer's still on the table. If I didn't screw it up forever with the lying to you and almost dying and making you waste that philosopher's stone to save my ass. I really hope I didn't screw it up?”

That wasn't exactly what Ling had wanted to hear, but it was still good. It meant Greed wanted to stay with him, and Ling wanted to rule Xing together too. That could be enough. It really could.

He refused to let himself be disappointed.

“You didn't screw anything up,” he reassured. “Of course the offer still stands. I thought that was obvious when you decided to come back with us.”

Greed shook his head. “No–well yes, but. What I mean is…we aren't sharing the same body anymore.”

“Yes, I've noticed that.” Ling agreed slowly, once again lost as to what Greed was even talking about.

“Right. Of course you have. Obviously.”  Greed waved his hand vaguely, as if shooing away Ling’s comment. “So, now we’re two different people. I mean we always were, but like, legally or whatever. And, you know, normally if two different people are ruling a country together it’s because they’re together. I guess usually married, technically.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

That was actually a bit more than Ling had been hoping for, to be honest. But Greed never did anything halfway.

Before Ling could say anything, Greed’s mind visibly caught up with his mouth. His face turned a very interesting shade of red.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I–” Greed waved both hands in the space between them, like he could maybe catch and take back the words. “I don’t mean we should get married right now! Or ever, if you don’t want. We really haven’t known each other that long, even if it feels like I’ve known you forever. I just meant–I really want to stay with you, and not just because I want to rule a country. So maybe we could date? Or something? God, I sound like an idiot! Forget I said anything, I’m just gonna go dig a hole and bury myself for a few hours. Or years.”

Greed turned away, and Ling just managed to shake himself out of his shock in time to catch his hand before he could make a break for it. 

Greed could have pulled away easily. There was no way Ling, who was back to being an ordinary human, could have held a homunculus who really didn’t want to stay put. But Greed didn’t pull away. Instead he stopped like he was rooted to the ground. He looked down at where their hands were joined between them, then twisted his so he could interlock their fingers.

Ling couldn’t stop the huge smile growing across his face, no doubt completely goofy and undignified, and not even serving a purpose like the ones he used to put on for his airheaded prince act. He didn’t really care.

“I don’t think you sound like an idiot,” Ling said. “I want to stay with you not just to rule a country too.”

Greed eyes darted up from their hands to look searchingly at Ling’s face. “Really?” He asked.

Of course, for all Greed’s blustering self aggrandizement, he really didn’t think very highly of himself. Ling might be the only one to know the truth of that, so he knew how hard it must have been for Greed to come out and say that he wanted to be with Ling, without even hiding behind some convoluted speech about wanting to own him.

It gave Ling the courage to do something hard himself.

“Yes, really. Couldn’t you feel it when we were sharing a body?” Ling really hadn’t thought he’d been subtle, but Greed just tilted his head in question. “Greed, I love you.”

Greed gasped, looking at Ling like he’d just performed a miracle. He raised his free hand and gently, almost hesitanty, cupped the side of Ling’s face. 

“I–” Greed started, and then gave up trying to talk in favor of leaning forward and kissing Ling.

It was a chaste kiss, just a brush of their lips really, and Ling wasn’t sure if Greed was being considerate for his comparative lack of experience, or if the vulnerability of the moment had made the homunculus feel uncertain in the action himself. 

Either way, that simple press of lips felt amazing, electric in a way it maybe didn’t have any right to. A part of Ling would probably always miss the closeness of sharing his body with Greed, but now he realized that having their own bodies opened up a lot of exciting new possibilities.

All too soon, Greed pulled away again. He stared into Ling’s eyes, looking every bit as dazed and happy as Ling felt.

“I love you too,” Greed said, his voice barely above a whisper but the only thing Ling could hear. 

Greed’s new old body was taller, and Ling had to reach up to wrap a hand around the back of his head and tug him down into another, deeper kiss. But Greed leaned back in so easily he barely had to pull, so that was okay.

Eventually they’d need to talk more, about what they both wanted, about how to frame their relationship to the emperor and the people of Xing so it wouldn’t hurt their chances at the throne. But all of that could wait. For now, Ling was more than happy to let the world fall away as he stood in the ruined city and kissed the man he loved.

When the girls returned to find them like that, Mei seemed torn between finding the romance sweet and being disgusted by her brother kissing someone. She landed on disgusted, sticking her tongue out and saying, “Blech! Do that somewhere else!” before flopping down next to her bags and pulling out a notebook, presumably to take note of whatever alchemical oddities she’d spotted on her walk.

Lan Fan still looked tired and sad, and probably would for a long time yet, but when she smiled at Ling he could tell it was genuine. “I’m happy for you, young lord,” she said, and her voice sounded lighter than he’d heard it since before she cut off her arm.

So much had changed since he’d set off for Amestris nearly a year ago, and Ling had lost things he would never get back. But he’d gained more than he’d ever thought to dream as well. 

As he sat in the ruins of the city whose destroyer they had helped defeat, with his best friend, the little sister he never thought he’d be allowed to care for, and the love of his life by his side, Ling thought he’d be ready for whatever changes the future might hold.

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

okay tomorrow i'm really gonna DO IT, i'm gonna TRY the THREE SENTENCES CHALLENGE that cee polk told us about, i will REPORT BACK ON HOW IT GOES

[cuteniaarts]

Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3

[reitziluz]

mogh's theme is in my top three for the entire elden ring ost and it's one of the few songs i risk my eardrums for because it needs to be blasted real loud to properly hit.

there's basically a single word sung in it that kills me. in second phase, when after the drop it goes quiet, instruments drawing back and the low voices reducing in number (maybe there's only one mainly heard?) and sounding personal and up close instead of grand and ceremonial and preaching.

and then at the end of a line there's a word that kinda sounds like "praetori" and the lilt of it. sounds like such adoration. disney princess lifts a forest critter on her palm and nuzzles it to her cheek.

combine that with how the low and high voices interact, what the bells are doing. it's so rich in implications.

idk man. the whole thing sounds so much like a monologue (switching to a dialogue, or asides responding to commentary at times) and i keep hearing so many different types of speech in it. makes me want to use words like implore and beseech.

and then the ending is like hands reaching toward the light only for it to cut off.

no amount of pomp nor fervor could save mogh from being an omen.

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[rainbun]

My creative process in a nutshell

[ueritas]

speaking  of  parents,  i  personally  doubt  that  ratio's  parents  were  around  when  he  was  a  child.  i  see  them  being  great  minds  just  like  their  son,  travelling  the  galaxy  to  gather  even  more  knowledge.  why  travel  instead  of  staying?  well,  what  do  you  do  with  a  book  you've  already  read  several  times?  what  do  you  do  if  there  is  nothing  new  to  learn?  you  pick  up  a  new  book.  and  if  you're  out  of  books  you  leave  and  go  out  to  a  book  store  or  library.  knowledge  is  everywhere,  you  just  have  to  take  the  leap  and  find  it,  and  i  think  that's  exactly  what  they  did.  a  mind  craving  information, to  learn new things,  to  explore  whatever  is  beyond  the  horizon,  cannot  be  confined.  also,  they're  not  even  being  mentioned  in  his  lore,  nor  is  there  any  mention  of  possible  family  members  in  general,  which  makes  me  wonder  if  they  were  even  an  important  part  of  his  life.  so  they're  either  dead  or  they  disappeared one day  due  to  their  thirst  for  knowledge.  which  means  they  left  ratio  with  someone  they  could  trust  and  i  believe  that  someone  is  no  other  but  professor  rond,  because  unlike  his  parents,  rond  seems  to  have  an  important  role  in  his  past.  perhaps  he's  a  family  friend,  or  at  the  very  least  was  aware  of  ratio's  situation and decided to take him in.  according  to  ratio's  lore  rond  had  a  "significant  influence  on  his  upbringing"  and  he  got  super  excited  when  ratio's  name  was  mentioned.  sounds  like  a  proud  mentor/guardian  figure  to  me.

[trekkiehood]

.

[pyreflydust]

"We're going to start making obnoxious noise at 10am. Sorry for the short notice."

-- email received at 10:22am

[1o1percentmilk]

[ID: Doodle of Xavier from Xavier: Renegade Angel and his Snake Hand looking disappointedly at the viewer. End ID.]

damn u got the whole club laughing