#ndad is my acest wip because it honestly took me way too long to get over the idea that writing ace people was cringe

[mjulianwrites]

happy international asexuality day from the next day after dawn gang!

featuring prince cyrus (my cringefail het ace poor little meow meow whose repulsion is intersecting terribly with his religious issues), helios (the definition of aroace trans swag), and austra (sex-neutral unfuckable milf who wrote "conceive second child" in her planner)

transcripts below the cut (and in the image descriptions!)

“Ha!” A laugh like a slap. Cyrus bit into his cheek and barely managed not to look away. “Someone’s eager.” Which didn’t make sense to him at first, because yes, he was eager to leave, but he couldn’t think of a reason why that would be funny. It clicked several seconds too late—that leaving and going to bed on your wedding night didn’t mean sleeping, it meant—and no, no, no, he wasn’t eager for that, because— Well. Because it was wrong. Or because it had been wrong, it had been immoral, not the way of the light, and the dread he felt when he thought about it was a holy feeling, making sure he didn’t stray. There was a path written in the stars for him. He knew that. It had been good not to want that when it wasn’t the right thing to want, only now he was married and it was different, but—

If the Church of Siderum had ever done the world one service, it was letting Helios keep his new clothes. He indicated his outfit with a flourishy gesture—his suit today was a glossy midnight purple with gold lining, and not being in court gave him an excuse to wear his shirt with even more buttons undone than usual, so people could stare at his lack of cleavage all they wanted. Oh-so-chastely, of course, but he didn’t care that much if anyone had less than respectable intentions; that was their problem, and also very funny. Now that he liked how he looked, he minded being looked at considerably less.

You’re not particularly enamoured with Tristan Lunares, physically speaking. Then again, you’re not prone to being that sort of enamoured with anyone, so you’re hardly surprised. The wedding is tolerable. So, in the end, is your first night together; if anything, you somewhat appreciate his utter self-centeredness, because you’d really rather not waste your energy on feigning enthusiasm. But you need heirs, of course, and the logistics of that are rather non-negotiable. You don’t mind, really. You’re much more averse to your particular marriage than you are to the idea of motherhood.