#outer wills of the fallen

[cerealbishh]

"I can't leave, Maria."

"... I understand."

[defmaybe]

[AER-698] My Boss(?) Loves My Ass So Much She Puts Her Tongue on It, Then She Fucks Me in the Ass Like I’m Her Cockslut and Make Me Cum!

aespa’s Uchinaga Aeri/Giselle x Male Reader

1.2k words

Sequel to Excel

“G–Giselle, nghh.”

“Shh, call me Aeri, baby. I won’t bite you–and your ass.”

A giggle leaves Aeri’s lips just before her tongue dives right back onto your asshole, leaving you tensed up in the sensations.

Again, you’re caught in this “predicament” of having your collar tugged by someone while walking in the SM building’s hallway—happens to be Aeri this time. 

Should’ve been more careful.

Her hands grip the outer of your thighs ever so tightly, locking your willing, lithe body in place. Her dexterous flesh finds its rhythm in lapping up your rear, having your cock leaking droplets of precum on the tile floor. She doesn’t taste the insides of your body yet, but you’re quite sure that she won’t stop on the outside.

“You know–wait, Yizhuo would probably have told you this, our little rankings, haven’t she?”

“Y–Yes, yes, Aeri. I–I got the best ass for four years straight.” You aren’t certain whether to be proud of it, but it gets you here, bent over a desk to have your asshole licked.

“Yeah, you know, it’s not just the ass. There’s legs, abs, face, and you didn’t do bad in other categories!” she stops the tongue action, but still playing with the rim of your tightness with her deft fingers. The pleasure is still there.

“T–Thanks, hgngnn, Aeri.”

“Anyways, yeah, I’ll go back to eating your ass now.” Aeri chuckles, before placing her tongue on you again, eliciting an inaudible sound from you.

She lets out a quiet, satisfied moan with each swipe of her flesh. How can she be so good at eating ass? God, this woman, she’s making you struggle to stand upright. You would’ve fallen to the ground a long time ago if it’s not for this poor wooden desk.

You swear that your moans keep getting higher and higher with each lick of hers. She does it so, so well, fuck.

And as if she can listen to your body, she starts to invade your butthole—piercing her tongue into your body every two or three swipes. The shocks become stronger now, any contact with your cock and you’ll cum.

“Hmm, baby boy, you taste good,” Aeri says. You can feel your puckered hole clenching in front of her face. You can feel her warm breath on your cheeks. And you can feel the tightening of her hold on your legs. She want you so, so fucking bad.

“T–Thanks, nnhh, A–Aeri, again.” You just can’t form your thoughts with the waves and waves of pleasure surging through you now.

And she stops.

“W–What?” you utter, glancing back to catch her determined eyes.

“Oh, baby boy, my poor baby boy. Just wait a second, okay?” Aeri says with her doe eyes, her hands searching for something within her tote bag.

As she brings the object out, the size of it makes you gawk—a six-inch black strap-on. To be honest, the expectation of it being a dildo plowing your slutty ass isn’t exactly too far. But with the size of it, you won’t be able to walk home properly today.

“A–Aeri? I–I don’t think I–”

“Shhh, baby boy, let me fuck your ass, alright? Be a good boy for me~” Aeri speaks as she’s harnessing the plastic phallus on her waist.

You nod.

She paints lube on her shaft, and she manages to snuck a finger into your tightness to lather her target.

And so it begins.

She slowly pushes her cock into you. The coldness of the lube makes you shiver, and how her length enters your pliant body. You keep your mouth tight shut, unable to make any sound out of this otherworldly sensation. God, she’s fully dominating you.

“C’mon, make some noise, baby.”

And that’s when you let go.

You let out the loudest moan of your life at her command.

“Fuck, ngnghhn, Aeri.”

Her first filling of your snug hole brims with care—the ridges of her cock grazing your inner walls, the gentle hold of her hands on your slutty, slim waist.

“God, you’re well worth the wait, baby boy.”

The tip of her rod sears into your body up to your prostate, sending waves and waves of indescribable ecstasy through your frame. You’re such a slut for her.

“That’s it, baby boy. Take me inside you.”

And with an inch more, she’s buried inside you to the hilt. The edge of her hardness is poking your stomach. It hurts, but it’s also fucking satisfying.

“I wish I could stay like this forever, but unfortunately–” she pulls herself back, leaving some space inside you once again. “–I don’t have all day.”

And she thrusts back into your ass, violently.

“D–Daddy!”

Fuck, where does the moniker come from?

“Yes, yes, moan for me, baby girl. Be my good girl.”

She doesn’t let the slow pace linger for too long, as she starts to up her ante. Any leftovers of the initial gentleness are now replaced by the roughness of her cock ramming into your ass, into your prostate. Each stroke sends you closer and closer to ecstasy.

“Fuck, I wish I could stay soft. But god, fuck, I now know why Yizhuo was smiling that whole damn day.” Her grip on your waist—that slutty, slutty waist—becomes tighter. “Because of a slut like you, baby girl.”

“Ngnh, d–daddy.” You’ve submitted to Yizhuo before, but this is on another level. “Daddy, please use me like your slut. I–I’m your cockslut!”

“Good fucking girl.” And she gives your ass a slap, fuck, leaving you in such pleasurable pain.

Wet squelching sounds vibrate through the room. Aeri is fucking your ass relentlessly. She’s not leaving any room for your breathing. Her plastic phallus hits your prostate again, and again, and again. You’re her fucking dirty cockslut—made to be used and abused.

With each contact, you can feel your release coming in close. It’s building up in your loins, that familiar feeling. The echoing of each “daddy” doesn’t help either, only serves to declare your full submission for Aeri.

“Daddy, I–I’m gonna cum.”

“Fucking cum then, you useless cocksleeve. Cum on the floor!”

It doesn’t take many thrusts into your rearhole for you to lose your hold. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum onto the white tile floor. She doesn’t relent, still ramming her own length into your prostate, so eager to squeeze every drop out of you.

Your cock twitches violently, each spurt descends in its intensity. Still, all of them send the same message: you’re Uchinaga Aeri’s cockslut.

“Yes, just like that, you fucking bitch.” She gives your ass a slap once again. That’s going to leave a mark.

Eventually, you come down from your high, all panting, desperate for air. You’re trying your best to keep hold of the table.

“F–Fuck, that was fun,” Aeri says, also panting.

“Nhgn.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s get some sleep.” And Aeri helps you walking towards the bedroom upstairs, being fucked in the ass and all. You can barely walk.

As you reach her room, she places you into her bed. Before tucking you in, letting you rest after one of the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Good night, baby boy.”

–

[umamaki]

AIRMAN'S TAPOUT

a graduating airman is to remain standing at attention until a loved one taps him on the shoulder and releases him from his instruction.

l&ds caleb x reader

CW big big feelings (of love), fluff comfort all that good stuff. wc 0.7k

NOTE i was scrolling through my notes and found this gem of an idea from 2021. this was initially supposed to be about an mha character. i like to say that it’s divine intervention that i rediscovered it during the caleb renaissance. 

CRED divider by rookthornesartistry, banner by me

Caleb isn’t sure anybody is going to come for him. He tells himself that it’s fine, that one of his flight mates will tap him out if not. He says this to save face in front of his colleagues; he refuses to acknowledge the small part of him that also wants to be convinced that it’ll be fine. As if it changes the fact that it will be just has humiliating in the end. 

He starts giving out the benefit of the doubt. He only thinks of you when he does so. You probably didn’t get his invitation in the mail. It could’ve been lost in transit, delivered to the wrong address. Even so, you had your own busy life to prioritize; you had a career, maybe you’ve even fallen in love by now. He rapidly blinks the last thought away. 

It would probably be selfish of him to want you to drop everything to see him graduate. But god was he willing to accept that he is the most selfish man of all when it comes to you. 

He’ll be fine. He’s been fine for long enough. He had already made it this far, hadn’t he? Yeah. It’s fine, he decides. You’re probably busy. You have your whole futures to be together. He’ll see you then.

“Gege, guess who.” It comes from behind his shoulder, barely a whisper, as if it was uttered for his ears and his alone. He hears your stupid fucking angelic voice from behind him and for a moment, his brain short circuits. 

He considers for a moment that he is simply imagining it, but he would have to be a damn good schizophrenic if he was. The sound of your voice was clear and alluring, tempting him, daring him to just turn and prove to himself that it truly is you behind him. No, his imagination wouldn’t be so cruel.

It’s undeniably you behind him. It couldn’t be anyone else but you. It takes everything in him not to turn around in that exact moment. 

He maintains his outer composure, legs apart and hands still clasped behind his back, but his posture is no longer relaxed, no longer prepared to pathetically stand and watch his mates be released by their own families, no. He’s stiff now, and his brain is working at a million miles per hour, hyper aware of each component of his body, and it takes him every ounce of strength to keep him from falling limp into your arms. 

His jaw is clenched. He’s grinding his teeth together, digging his nails into the palm of his hand to the point of pain because you’ll do anything but just touch him. For god’s sake, you’re even close enough now that he feels the heat radiating off your body and onto his. He notes the aroma of your perfume wafting up to his nose. He remembers it being from the bottle he told you was his favorite; a semi-truth, since everything about you was his favorite anyway. 

You finally circle around him, positioning yourself directly before him, as close as you can be to him without physically touching. He keeps his head tilted upwards and his face stoic, his only give being the slight furrow of his brows and the pure emotion in his eyes that lower to the sight of you.

You’re here. And you’re looking up at him and smiling and crying and still doing everything but free him from his disposition. He thinks in that moment that you’ll be the death of him. 

His eyes are pleading, desperate for your liberation. At last you take the bait, wrapping your arms around his waist. He’s quick to react. Instantly enclosing you into his own embrace. 

“You’re a tease, darling. So mean to me.” His voice breaks when he mumbles the words into your hair. The feeling of you finally back in his arms, your scent, your warmth, it makes him dizzy and weak. You have a tendency to have that affect on him. 

“Can’t help it.” You giggle, it’s only when he pulls away to look into your eyes once more that he notices the tears he left behind in your hair. “Let’s go home.”

[pleistocene-pride]

Antrostomus vociferous, better known as the eastern whip-poor-will or whip o whill, is a species of bird within the nightjar family, Caprimulgidae, which is endemic to the deciduous forests and mixed woodlands of North and Central America from Canada in the north to Costa Rica in the south and from the east coast to the great plains. Often migrating to the north of there range to breed and to the south of there range to overwinter. It is named onomatopoeically after its song as whilst the whip-poor-will is commonly heard within its range, it is rarely seen because of its elaborate camouflage. Eastern whip-poor-whills are a nocturnal species which spends there days resting amongst leaf litter, tree roots, branches, hollows, and fallen logs, emerging at night to feed upon various flying insects such as beetles, flies, mosquitos, and in particular moths. Eastern whip-poor-wills are generally solitary preferring to spend time on their own; however, during migration, they may form loose flocks. Reaching around 8.5 to 10.5 inches (22 to 27cms) in length, 1.5 to 3 ounces (42 to 85grams) in weight with a 17.5 to 19.5 inch (45 to 50cms) wingspan, eastern whip poor whills sport a large head and broad body. They have mottled camoflauged plumage: the upperparts are grey, black and brown; the lower parts are grey and black. They have a very short bill and a black throat. Males have a white patch below the throat and white tips on the outer tail feathers; in the female, these parts are light brown. Breeding often begins in March, with pairs meeting up and building a loose nest on the ground, in shaded locations among dead leaves. Here a female will usually lay 2 eggs at a time. Incubation lasts 19-21 days performed by both parents. Eastern Whip-poor-wills lay their eggs in phase with the lunar cycle, so that they hatch on average 10 days before a full moon. As when the moon is near full, the adults can better forage at night and capture large quantities of insects to feed to their young.The chicks hatch well developed covered in down but with their eyes closed. They are fed and protected by both parents and start to fly at the age of 20 days. Eastern whip-poor-wills usually produce 1 or 2 broods per year and females may lay a second clutch while the male is still caring for chicks from the first brood. Under ideal conditions an eastern whip poor will can live up to 15 years.

[slytherinshua]

♱　SACRIFICE　( 애릭손 )

genre hurt/comfort , futuristic/rebel au , nursing trope , eric x fem!reader , inspired by the vibes of trigger mv   cw injuries involving blood , arguing , not proofread   wc 756   request no   note for @hursheys from the moot fic form <3   net @kstrucknet @deoboyznet

“Why did you abandon the plan?! You weren’t there when Sunwoo sent the signal!” You shouted, running to where Eric had fallen to the ground, propped up by his arm. 

“They were planning to ambush you— they had already caught onto our plan,” Eric stuttered defensively. He gripped his side with the hand that wasn’t holding up his body weight, and you saw him try to hide his grimace.

“Are you injured?” You asked, this time with a little less bite in your voice. Your anger and confusion hadn’t completely subsided. Eric knew your temper was hot, it always had been in the years he had known you. You felt deeply, and he loved that about you, but you also were quick to let your emotions control you— easily drowning in your feelings. 

“It’s not too bad. It can wait until we get back to base,” Eric assured you, a look in his eyes telling you to stop worrying about him. But you couldn’t ignore the blood dripping from his side, and you dropped to your knees in front of him, pulling him up to lean against the wall of a building. 

“Y/n…” The man’s eyebrows fell as he watched you tear your outer garment, gathering a long strip suitable for wrapping his torso. You huffed, looking back up at him— at those pearly eyes that you always got lost in.

“I don’t care if they were trying to ambush me; you should’ve stuck to the plan. We barely made it out of there with what we needed,” You grunted out. Usually Eric was more organised than anyone on the team. It was unlike him to break protocol.

“You really think that I care about some stupid stolen resources over your safety? What if you had gotten attacked? What if they had tried to kidnap you?” Eric had intended to stay calm and diffuse the situation, but he let his brazenness seep into his tone. You heard it loud and clear, the worry his words carried. 

“I can handle myself, you know,” You sighed, pulling the fabric of his shirt up to get access to the wound. You had seen Eric sustain worse, but you hated knowing he had gotten hurt on your behalf. 

“Against multiple grown men? I wasn’t willing to risk that.” 

You knew Eric meant exactly what he said. You couldn’t change his mind on the issue, nor could you go back and stop him from acting brashly. You didn’t try to add anything else to the conversation, focusing all your attention on his bleeding body instead. 

Eric slid the left sleeve of his shirt off, uncovering half of his torso for you to work on. You started by dabbing the excess blood and pouring some of the extra water you had on hand over it. Eric hissed, trying his best to stay still under the sting. You held out your empty hand, slipping Eric’s fingers with yours without saying a word; your face expressionless. 

You worked in silence, the only sound being Eric’s rare whimpers of pain as he squeezed your hand tightly. The wound was wrapped up sufficiently to your liking within a few minutes. You stood up, Eric following suit with your help.

“I know you hate to see me in danger, but you know it goes both ways, right? At least tell me what your plans are beforehand. I don’t want to lose track of you again. If I don’t know where you are—”

Eric cut off your blathering with a mumbled “I know” as he wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close to his chest. You let out a breath, half in frustration, half in relief. From the closeness, you could smell his scent, feel the steady rhythm of his heart in his chest, and feel his warm breath each time he exhaled. It was his way of reminding you that he was still alive and with you, even if he had acted recklessly. 

You let yourself sink in his arms, gripping at his clothes to hold him even closer. Eric wished he could always hold you this close; always have you in his arms, without having to worry everyday about your safety. But, neither of you were allowed that luxury. Instead, you clung to each moment you could safely spare to be in each other’s arms. Holding, kissing, whispering promises of another life together. It was exhausting— grim, at times— but Eric made every hour you sacrificed fighting worth it. You fought for him. 

the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore,, @recordsfilm,, @bananabubble,, @cupidslovearrows,,

@hursheys,, @gong-fourz,, @arafilez

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

I've fallen in love with Fontaine and especially Neuvillete so I had to write my thoughts about him down. I hope you all enjoy my Neuvillette ramblings

CW: None GN Reader

Romantic/ Cute Neuvillette headcanons

Awkward. Neuvillete was so awkward when he first fell for you. He may be a very old dragon but human emotions still often confuse him so suddenly having this warm feeling in his chest whenever he looked at you confused him on what to do.

At first he thinks he is getting sick, not connecting the fact that this weird feeling in his chest and stomach only appears when either you are around or he is thinking about you.

Though Neuvillette finally makes the connection and understands his feeling, when one day you laugh at something he said and he wishes to preserve that laugh, to have it always replaying in his head. It is the most beautiful sound to him and he is willing to do anything just so he can hear it again. You of course laughed around him before but somehow the moment he understood his feelings your laugh became even more special to him.

Furina teases him that it took long enough to realise his feelings for you, and that if he had taken any longer she’d probably have intervened, so let's all be glad Neuvillete realised it on his own. 

Once you two are finally an official couple he is so gentle with you. It's almost as if he is afraid that any touch that may be a bit rougher would hurt you. 

Also he is such a gentleman. He holds the doors open for you, he always makes sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, pulls out your chair for you. He is just the perfect man.

Though if you think his awkwardness stopped once you two became an official couple I have to disappoint you. While he sees many couples near the Fountain of Lucine and sees how they interact with each other he is rather clueless himself on what to do in a Relationship.

He may be over 100 years old but he had never been in a relationship with anyone, yet alone a human so you have to be patient and show him what humans in relationships do.

This is how he learned that he loves cuddling and being physically close to you. Neuvillette enjoys the feeling of having you in his arms and holding you close. If you lay your head on his chest when he holds you close you will be able to hear that his heart is beating faster than normal. This happens regardless of how long you have been dating each other. It’s honestly adorable that even after months and years of dating you still have that effect on him.

Now we all know he is the hydro dragon, and we also all know that it rains when he cries, even if he does try to hide his tears around others, the rain speaks for him.

It almost seems as if he is inconsolable when he cries, seeing as it takes a while for the rain to let up. That is until you are there with Neuvillette when he cries. You hug him and hold him close to you, running your hand through his hair and let him cry it out. Sometimes you repeat one of the many rhymes Fontaines kids speak whenever it rains since it has the ability to make him smile.

“Rain, Rain Go away. Come again another day. Lonely dragon it will be okay. So rain, rain go away.” It may sound childish but he believes it when you say it will be okay, because he knows that as long as he has you close to him, he can get through anything.

Ever since you are there for Neuvillette, the skies appear to be even brighter after it rains, the people of Fontaine joking that the hydro dragon must have found someone who is able to brighten his mood, even after the stormiest days. Oh if they knew how right they are.

Neuvillette was unsure at first how the Melusines would react to you, he was basically their father so what if they for some reason didn't like you? Would he have to choose between you and them? 

Luckily for him (and you) the Melusines love you, and have basically now adopted you as their second parental figure, so congratulations you are now a parent to a bunch of Melusines!

[whywontyoucomeout]

The one with the shadows

————————————-

The full moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the sprawling grounds of Edo Castle. Perched on a nearby hilltop, Akira surveyed her target with keen eyes. The legendary "Shadow Wind" had accepted many challenging contracts, but this one promised to test even her unparalleled skills.

The castle was a formidable fortress. High stone walls surrounded the complex, topped with sharpened bamboo spikes. Akira counted at least twenty guards patrolling the outer perimeter, their armor glinting in the moonlight. Watchtowers stood at regular intervals, manned by alert archers scanning the grounds below.

Akira's lips curved into a small smile. The daimyo's paranoia had turned his home into a veritable prison, but no defense was impenetrable to one with her skills. She began to formulate her plan, analyzing every shadow, every blind spot in the guards' routines.

As silent as a whisper, Akira descended from her vantage point. She approached the castle walls, timing her movements to coincide with the shifting shadows cast by passing clouds. When she reached the base of the wall, she paused, listening intently for any sign that she had been detected.

Satisfied, Akira began her ascent. Her fingers found nearly invisible cracks and crevices in the weathered stone. She scaled the sheer wall with inhuman grace, her body moving with fluid precision honed by years of rigorous training. At the top, she deftly avoided the bamboo spikes, balancing on the narrow edge of the wall like a tightrope walker.

A guard passed directly below her, oblivious to her presence. Akira held her breath, staying perfectly still until he had moved on. Then, in one smooth motion, she leapt from the wall, landing silently in a shadowy corner of the inner courtyard.

Moving from shadow to shadow, Akira made her way towards the main keep. She froze as a pair of samurai rounded a corner, engaging in quiet conversation. Without missing a beat, Akira scaled a nearby tree, concealing herself among its branches until the danger passed.

Finally, she reached the daimyo's private chambers. A quick examination revealed a window left slightly ajar - an oversight that would prove costly for the castle's occupants.

Silently, she slipped into the daimyo's private chambers. The portly noble lay snoring on his opulent futon, oblivious to the intruder. Akira's eyes scanned the room, searching for the hidden compartment containing the scrolls she sought.

As she moved towards a suspicious-looking panel, her loose-fitting garments shifted, revealing the swell of her pregnant belly. Akira paused, placing a gentle hand on her abdomen. In the moonlight filtering through the window, her condition was unmistakable - the feared Shadow Wind was heavily with child.

Just as her fingers found the latch of the hidden compartment, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her. Akira froze, gritting her teeth against the unexpected contraction. She held her breath, willing herself to remain silent, but a small gasp escaped her lips.

The daimyo stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. Akira remained perfectly still, her heart pounding. After what felt like an eternity, the nobleman's breathing deepened once more, indicating he had fallen back into a deep slumber.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Akira gently caressed her swollen belly. "Please, not now, little one," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We're almost done here."

With renewed focus, she retrieved the scrolls and secured them within her garments. Casting one last glance at the sleeping daimyo, Akira slipped out of the room and made her way through the castle grounds, as silent and invisible as a shadow.

Once beyond the castle walls, Akira raced through the surrounding forest. Several more contractions hit her as she ran, causing her to pause momentarily each time. However, she noticed that they were becoming less intense and more irregular.

As she leaped over a small stream, Akira realized with relief that it had been false labor. A small smile played on her lips as she addressed her unborn child, "Trying to keep your mother on her toes, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll have plenty of real adventures soon enough."

The contractions gradually subsided as Akira continued her journey through the night. Her steps were light, buoyed by the successful mission and the knowledge that her child was safe and content within her.

Akira slipped through the shadows of the forest, her breathing steady despite the night's exertions. The stolen scrolls were securely hidden in a secret compartment of her garments. As she neared her isolated mountain hideout, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Another contract completed, another hefty bounty earned.

The false labor pains that had troubled her during the mission had subsided, leaving only the familiar weight of her unborn child. Akira placed a hand on her swollen belly as she approached the hidden entrance to her home, a cave concealed behind a waterfall.

Inside, Akira carefully stored the scrolls in a locked chest before finally allowing herself to relax. She sank onto a pile of soft furs, her back against the cool cave wall.

"We did it, little one," she murmured, caressing her belly. "Your mother's still the best, even with you along for the ride." She felt a strong kick in response and chuckled softly. "Already eager for action, aren't you? You'll be a force to be reckoned with, just like your mother."

As Akira rested, she reflected on the path that had led her to this moment. Orphaned at a young age, she had been taken in by an aging ninja master who recognized her potential. Under his tutelage, Akira had honed her skills to near perfection, surpassing even her mentor's expectations.

By the time she was eighteen, Akira had already made a name for herself in the shadowy world of ninja and assassins. She took on contracts that others deemed impossible, completing them with a level of skill and precision that left even her employers in awe.

Unlike most ninja, Akira chose to work alone. She answered to no clan, no daimyo, no shogun. Her loyalty was to herself alone - and soon, to her child. This independence, combined with her unparalleled skills, had earned her a fearsome reputation.

In the teahouses of Edo, in the war rooms of ambitious daimyo, in the hidden gatherings of rival ninja clans, Akira's name was spoken in hushed tones. Some called her "The Shadow Wind," for her ability to slip in and out of the most secure locations without a trace. Others knew her as "The Silent Blade," a nod to her lethal efficiency.

Most had never seen her face or knew her true identity. But all feared the possibility of becoming her target. Powerful warlords slept uneasily, knowing that their strongest defenses were as paper to Akira's skills. Corrupt merchants and scheming courtiers glanced nervously over their shoulders, wondering if their misdeeds had earned them a place on her list.

Yet for all her notoriety, Akira found a strange sort of peace in her solitude. Here in her hidden home, with only her unborn child for company, she could let down her guard and simply be.

"What do you think, little one?" she asked, running her hand over her belly. "Should we retire after this? Find a quiet village somewhere and live a normal life?" The baby kicked again, and Akira laughed. "No, I didn't think so either. There's too much excitement out there for us to give it up just yet."

As the night deepened, Akira prepared for sleep. She checked her traps and alarms, more out of habit than necessity - few would dare to hunt for her, and fewer still would have the skills to find this place.

Lying down on her bed of furs, Akira continued to talk softly to her child, sharing stories of her adventures and plans for the future. "I'll teach you everything I know," she promised. "And then you'll forge your own path, create your own legend."

With one hand resting protectively on her belly, Akira drifted off to sleep. The most feared ninja in Japan slumbered peacefully, dreaming of the new adventure that awaited her - motherhood.

Here's the continuation of the story with the details you requested, including verbal dialogue:

The following morning, Akira made her way to a nondescript teahouse in a bustling market district. Inside, she found her contact, a middle-aged merchant named Hiroshi, seated in a private booth.

"Ah, the Shadow Wind graces me with her presence," Hiroshi said, his eyes widening as he took in Akira's pregnant form. "I must admit, I had my doubts when I heard of your... condition. But you've proven your reputation once again."

Akira smoothly produced the stolen scrolls. "Your doubts were misplaced. Here's what you requested."

Hiroshi examined the scrolls, nodding with satisfaction. "Exceptional work, as always. Your payment, as agreed." He slid a heavy pouch across the table.

As Akira secured the pouch, Hiroshi cleared his throat. "If I may ask, when do you plan to... rest and welcome your child?"

"Soon," Akira replied, a hand resting on her swollen belly. "This was likely my last job for a while."

Hiroshi nodded, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Well then, I wish you the best of luck with the little one. May your child be as formidable as their mother."

Akira allowed herself a small smile. "Thank you, Hiroshi. Until we meet again."

Leaving the teahouse, Akira felt a wave of relief wash over her. The weight of the coin pouch at her hip assured her that she could provide well for her child's arrival.

Her next stop was the local midwife, an elderly woman named Hana. As Akira lay on the examination mat, Hana's practiced hands moved over her belly.

"My, my," Hana chuckled, "this is quite the impressive little one you're carrying. Strong and healthy, from what I can tell."

Akira couldn't help but smile. "That's wonderful to hear. Though I must admit, the size is a bit... daunting."

Hana nodded sympathetically. "Yes, it's a sizable baby indeed. I won't lie to you, the delivery may be challenging."

Akira looked down at her protruding belly, running a hand over its curve. "I suspected as much. This little one seems determined to make everything a challenge, even before entering the world."

"Just like their mother, I imagine," Hana said with a knowing smile. "But don't worry too much. You're strong and healthy yourself. With proper preparation and care, I'm confident you'll manage the delivery just fine."

As Akira sat up, she felt a powerful kick from within. "Well, little one," she murmured, "it seems you're eager to prove the midwife right about your strength."

Hana laughed. "A spirited child, without a doubt. Now, let's discuss your birthing plan and what you can expect in the coming weeks..."

As Akira left the midwife's house later, she felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The reality of impending motherhood was setting in, but she was determined to face this new challenge with the same courage and skill she brought to her work as the Shadow Wind.

The next morning, Akira rose with the sun, determined to maintain her skills despite her advancing pregnancy. She made her way to a secluded clearing near her hideout, the perfect spot for her daily training regimen.

As she began her warm-up exercises, Akira couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "This would be so much easier without you, little one," she said, patting her swollen belly. "But I suppose you're just helping me stay on my toes."

She moved through a series of stretches, her body still remarkably flexible despite her condition. As she transitioned into more complex movements, Akira marveled at how her center of gravity had shifted. "You're certainly making your presence known," she murmured, looking down at her protruding abdomen. "I've never seen my belly so round and full."

Despite the added challenge, Akira's form remained beautiful and graceful. Her limbs moved with fluid precision as she practiced her katas, each motion a testament to years of rigorous training. Her long, dark hair, tied back in a practical braid, swayed with her movements.

As the morning wore on, Akira focused on exercises designed to strengthen her core and pelvic muscles. "This should help when it's time for you to make your grand entrance," she said, addressing her unborn child.

After a brief rest and light meal, Akira spent the afternoon honing her weapon skills. Though her movements were slightly slower than usual, her accuracy remained impeccable. Shuriken thudded into targets with deadly precision, and her katana flashed in the sunlight as she moved through complex sword forms.

"Not bad," she said, admiring her handiwork. "We make quite the team, you and I."

As the sun began to set, Akira concluded her training with meditation and breathing exercises. These not only centered her mind but also prepared her body for the challenges of childbirth.

Exhausted but satisfied, Akira made her way back to her hideout. She prepared a nourishing meal, eating heartily to replenish her energy and provide for her growing child.

As she settled into bed, Akira ran her hands over her swollen belly one last time. "Rest well, little one," she whispered. "We both need our strength for the adventures ahead."

With a contented sigh, Akira drifted off into a deep, restful sleep. Her body, honed by years of training and now nurturing new life, relaxed completely. Even in sleep, one hand remained protectively over her belly, a silent promise of the fierce love and protection she would provide for her child.

The following day, as Akira was preparing her morning tea, a messenger bird arrived with a note from Hiroshi. Intrigued, she unrolled the small scroll and read its contents.

An hour later, she found herself once again in the secluded booth of the teahouse, facing Hiroshi.

"I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't important," Hiroshi began, his expression grave. "There's a mission. It's dangerous, more so than usual, but the reward is substantial."

Akira raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"It involves threatening a tyrant, a daimyo who's been pushing his weight around. The client wants him... discouraged from certain actions."

Akira's hand instinctively moved to her swollen belly. "Hiroshi, you know I'm close to my due date. I was planning to lay low until the birth."

Hiroshi nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know, and I wouldn't ask if there weren't more at stake. This daimyo, he's planning to impose heavy taxes on a village. Your hometown, Akira."

Akira's eyes widened, her jaw tightening. "What? But they're already struggling as it is."

"Exactly. This could devastate them."

Akira fell silent, her mind racing. After a long moment, she spoke. "I'll do it. Not for the money, but for my people."

Hiroshi handed her a scroll with the details. "Be careful, Akira. And... good luck."

Back in her hideout, Akira spread out the mission details on her table, her mind already formulating plans. As she worked, she found herself talking to her unborn child.

"Well, little one, it seems we have one last mission before you arrive," she said, caressing her belly. "I know it's risky, but I can't let our people suffer. You understand, don't you?"

She felt a strong kick in response and smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. Now, let's see how we can pull this off."

As night fell, Akira finalized her plans. Sitting on her bed, she looked down at her swollen abdomen. "Alright, my child, I need you to do me a favor. This mission is important, and I need to be at my best. So please, wait until after we're done to make your grand entrance, okay? Just a little longer."

She felt another kick, as if in agreement.

"That's my little ninja," Akira chuckled. "Now, let's get some rest. Tomorrow, we show this tyrant why they should fear the Shadow Wind... and why they should never threaten our home."

With that, Akira lay down, one hand protectively over her belly, her mind focused on the challenge ahead. Despite the risks, she felt a sense of purpose. This wasn't just about her anymore; it was about protecting her child's future and the future of her village. With that resolve, she drifted off to sleep, ready to face whatever the next day might bring.

The full moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the tyrant's fortress. From the depths of one such shadow, Akira emerged, her black garb melding seamlessly with the darkness. Her heavily pregnant form was barely discernible, a slight bulge in the night.

With practiced ease, Akira approached the outer wall. Her nimble fingers found purchase in the tiniest cracks, and she began her ascent. Despite her added weight, she moved with fluid grace, each movement calculated and precise. At the top, she paused, scanning the courtyard below.

Guards patrolled in predictable patterns. Akira timed her descent perfectly, landing silently between rotations. She darted from shadow to shadow, her footsteps muffled by years of training.

As she neared the inner keep, voices approached. With no time to retreat, Akira squeezed into a narrow gap between two buildings. Her back pressed against one wall, her swollen belly protruding slightly into the open. A bead of sweat formed on her brow as two guards passed by, engaged in idle chatter. One guard paused, mere inches from her hiding spot. Akira held her breath, willing her child to remain still. After a heart-stopping moment, the guard moved on, none the wiser.

Exhaling silently, Akira continued her infiltration. She scaled the inner walls with the same fluid motions, though her movements were noticeably slower, her body adapting to its new shape.

Finally, she reached the tyrant's chambers. Slipping in through an unlatched window, Akira found herself in a lavishly decorated room. There, on an ornate bed, lay her target, sleeping soundly.

A small, satisfied smile played on Akira's lips. Despite the challenges, she had made it. The Shadow Wind had struck again.

But as she took a step towards the sleeping tyrant, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her abdomen. Akira's hand flew to her belly, her eyes widening in surprise and dawning realization.

"No," she whispered, barely audible. "Not now. Please, not now."

As if in defiance of her plea, another contraction gripped her. Akira's confident smile faded, replaced by a look of concern and disbelief.

The Shadow Wind, master of stealth and timing, found herself facing an adversary she couldn't outmaneuver: the imminent arrival of her child.

Akira gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus through the pain. In the brief respites between contractions, she moved swiftly towards the sleeping tyrant. Despite her condition, her movements were still graceful and silent.

As she approached, the tyrant's eyes snapped open. Before he could cry out, Akira's blade was at his throat.

"Not a sound," she hissed, her voice low and menacing. "Unless you wish to breathe your last."

The tyrant's eyes widened in fear. "W-what do you want?" he stammered.

"The tax on my village. Cancel it. Now." Akira's voice was steel, betraying none of the discomfort she felt.

"I... I can't just-"

"You can, and you will," Akira interrupted, pressing the blade closer.

The tyrant swallowed hard. "Alright, alright! I'll cancel it. Just please, don't-"

Suddenly, the most intense contraction yet wracked Akira's body. A small cry of pain escaped her lips, and her grip on the blade faltered.

The tyrant's eyes narrowed, comprehension dawning. He rolled away, scrambling to a safer distance. "Well, well," he sneered, reaching for a nearby sword. "The feared assassin, brought low by her own womb."

Akira straightened, her face a mask of determination despite the pain. With a flick of her wrist, a hidden blade shot out, knocking the sword from the tyrant's hand.

Enraged, the tyrant lunged at her. Despite her condition, Akira moved with surprising agility. She sidestepped his charge, using his momentum to send him sprawling to the floor.

In moments, she had him pinned, her foot on his chest and her blade once again at his throat. The tyrant's bravado crumbled, replaced by naked fear.

"P-please," he whimpered. "Spare me. I'll do anything."

Akira looked down at him, realizing with a touch of amusement that her swollen belly blocked her view of his face. She had to sway slightly to meet his terrified gaze.

"The tax. Cancel it. And if I hear of any retaliation against the village, I will return. And next time, I won't be so merciful."

"Yes, yes! I swear it! The tax is cancelled!"

Akira stepped back, allowing the tyrant to scramble to his feet. As he fumbled for a quill and parchment to make the decree official, she felt another contraction building. She knew her time was short.

"Remember this night," she warned as she took the signed decree. "Remember the mercy of the Shadow Wind. And the consequences of crossing her."

With that, Akira slipped out of the window, leaving the shaken tyrant behind. As she made her way out of the fortress, moving as swiftly as her condition allowed, one thought dominated her mind: she needed to find a safe place, and fast. Her child was coming, whether she was ready or not.

Akira moved swiftly through the fortress, her steps silent despite her condition. Every few minutes, another contraction would grip her, forcing her to pause and lean against a wall for support.

"Please, little one," she whispered, her hand on her swollen belly. "Just a bit longer. We're almost out."

As she neared her exit point, voices approached. Akira quickly ducked behind a large decorative vase, pressing herself against the wall. Her protruding belly, however, refused to cooperate fully, still visible from certain angles.

Just as the guards were about to pass, another powerful contraction hit. Akira bit her lip to stifle a groan, but couldn't stop her body from tensing. The slight movement caught one guard's attention.

"Hey, did you see that?" he said, gesturing towards Akira's hiding spot.

In an instant, Akira knew her cover was blown. As the three guards approached, weapons drawn, she sprang into action.

The first guard barely had time to register her presence before Akira's foot connected with his solar plexus, sending him stumbling backward, gasping for air.

The second guard swung his sword in a wide arc. Akira ducked under the blade, her pregnant belly making the maneuver more challenging than usual. As she came up, she drove the heel of her hand into the guard's chin, snapping his head back and dazing him.

The third guard, more cautious after seeing his comrades fall, circled Akira warily. He feinted left, then struck right, but Akira read his movements easily. She sidestepped the attack, grabbed his outstretched arm, and used his own momentum to flip him over her hip. The guard hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.

The first guard, having recovered his breath, charged at Akira with a roar. She waited until the last moment, then pivoted, allowing him to rush past her. As he stumbled, off-balance, Akira delivered a precise strike to the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious.

The second guard, still dazed but determined, lunged forward with his sword. Akira parried the blade with her armored gauntlet, then countered with a swift knee to his midsection. As he doubled over, she brought her elbow down on the back of his head, dropping him to the floor.

The third guard, having regained his feet, took one look at his fallen comrades and turned to flee, likely to raise the alarm. Akira couldn't allow that. With practiced aim, she threw a small, weighted cord. It wrapped around the guard's ankles, sending him crashing to the ground.

In moments, all three guards lay incapacitated. Akira stood among them, breathing heavily. The fight had been swift and decisive, but in her condition, it had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.

Knowing that time was of the essence, Akira quickly bound and gagged the guards, hiding them in a nearby storage room. Then, moving as fast as her pregnant body would allow, she made her way to the exit.

With one final look back at the fortress, Akira slipped into the surrounding woods. The dense foliage swallowed her form, the Shadow Wind once again becoming one with the darkness. But as she moved deeper into the forest, seeking a safe haven, she knew her greatest challenge still lay ahead. Her child was coming, and the safety of the woods would have to serve as her birthing chamber

.

As Akira moved deeper into the forest, she placed a gentle hand on her belly. "Thank you, little one, for staying calm during the fight. You truly are a warrior's child."

However, her relief was short-lived as the contractions returned with increasing intensity. Each wave of pain grew stronger, the intervals between them shortening. Akira pressed on, determined to reach her hideout, but fate had other plans.

As a cave came into view, a particularly powerful contraction brought Akira to her knees. She gasped, realizing she wouldn't make it home. "It seems you've chosen your own birthing place, little one," she murmured, making her way to the cave.

Inside, Akira quickly assessed her surroundings. She removed her outer garments, arranging them to create a makeshift mattress on the cave floor. As she shed her constrictive clothing, her belly seemed to expand even further, finally free from its confines.

Akira marveled at the sight of her bare abdomen. Her once toned stomach had transformed into an enormous, perfectly round sphere. It protruded impressively, a testament to the life growing within. "No wonder you were making things difficult, little one," she said with a mixture of awe and amusement. "You've grown so much."

As the sun began to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Akira found herself in the throes of labor. She pushed with all her might, drawing on the same strength and determination that had served her so well as the Shadow Wind. Yet, despite her efforts, progress was slow.

"Come now, my child," Akira coaxed between contractions. "Earlier you were so eager, and now you hesitate? The world awaits you."

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky. Akira continued her labor, her body working tirelessly to bring her child into the world. Though exhausted, she remained focused, her warrior's spirit unbroken.

As midday approached, Akira realized with a mix of frustration and admiration that her child seemed to have taken her earlier pleas to heart. "I asked you to wait until after the mission, and you listened well," she said, a wry smile on her face despite her discomfort. "But now, little one, it's time to join me. Let's meet face to face at last."

And so, in the secluded cave, surrounded by the sounds of the forest, Akira continued her most challenging and rewarding mission yet - bringing new life into the world.

As the labor continued with little progress, Akira found her legendary patience tested. The baby would begin to emerge, only to retreat as she paused to catch her breath. This cycle repeated, wearing down her resolve with each iteration.

Finally, overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, Akira let out a primal scream. The sound echoed through the cave, a stark contrast to her usual silent demeanor. In this moment of vulnerability, several realizations washed over her.

The pain she endured was unlike anything she had experienced before. Her well-honed body, capable of incredible feats, seemed powerless in this situation. The arms and legs that could strike down any foe were now trembling with exertion, unable to hasten this natural process.

Akira reflected on the irony of her situation. She, who had taken lives with ease, now struggled to bring one into the world. This realization brought a newfound appreciation for the sanctity of life and the strength of those who nurture it.

The ninja who prided herself on stealth and silence now found herself vocalizing without restraint. Every grunt, moan, and cry echoed her raw determination and vulnerability.

On her hands and knees, hips raised, Akira pushed with all her might. She, who had always been in control, now felt at the mercy of nature's forces. This position of vulnerability was foreign to her, yet she embraced it, understanding its necessity.

As exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, Akira made one final, desperate plea. "Please, little one," she begged between ragged breaths. "Come out now. Join me in this world."

Just when Akira felt she couldn't endure another moment, she felt a shift. With one last, monumental effort, she pushed, and suddenly, the cave was filled with a new sound – the cry of a newborn.

Panting heavily, Akira turned to see her child for the first time. A wave of emotion unlike anything she had ever experienced washed over her. Love, pride, and a fierce protectiveness consumed her as she gazed at the tiny life she had brought into the world.

As she cradled her newborn, Akira whispered, "Welcome, my little warrior. Our greatest adventure begins now."

In that moment, in a humble cave far from the world of shadows and secrets, the feared Shadow Wind discovered a new identity – that of a mother. And she knew, without a doubt, that this would be her most challenging and rewarding role yet.

[seiya-starsniper]

For the hurt/comfort prompts

I'd like 14 with Morphenne or 4 with Hobrintheus, please. I'm excited to what you would envision for either of them.

14 - "Thank you for sticking by my side." - from the Hurt/Comfort Prompts

This wip is MONTHS in the making, and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it! Big thanks to @sandman-rarepair-fest for giving me the motivation to finish it 😄 Go check out the other fics people are posting for the event!

Rating: General Status: Complete Chapters: 1/1 Words: 2,958 Warnings: No Warnings Apply Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hell Invasion, Post-Battle, Feelings Realization, First Kiss Summary: Hell invades the Dreaming, and in the aftermath, Lucienne is always there for Dream. But who will be there for Lucienne when she needs help?

Read more below, or over on AO3: Hopelessly (I'll love you Endlessly)

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When Hell makes its move on the Dreaming and attacks, aiming for a complete invasion, there are thousands of casualties in the ensuing battle. Some injuries are fatal, and Dream feels each last breath, every agonizing scream, as their brief lives blink in and then out of existence. Each death is a wound, more painful than any direct cut to Dream himself, and Lucifer’s demons know it. So they aim for the weaker dreams first, those easiest to kill, to maximize the quantity of injuries they can inflict on the Dream Lord before they eventually move to target the more powerful dreams who actually have a fighting chance. 

Fiddler’s Green devours a hundred demons before his pastures are burned to ash, Gault’s wings are torn from her back as she takes on a high ranked demon lord, and Cain for once does not get to kill his brother Abel, for another demon guts him first. Cain, in revenge, takes out three upper level demons before he too falls to the rage and brutality of Hell. 

It does not take them long to breach the outer walls of the castle. More dreams and nightmares fall. Dream cries in agony with each new one, and Lucienne grips him tight in her arms, her and Matthew’s presence the only comfort in the otherwise cold emptiness of the throne room.

Dream wants to fight, wants the demons Hell and Lucifer themselves to pay for what they’ve done. And they will. He is ready for them. They are ready for them.

What the demons of Hell do not know, what Dream has been carefully guarding since his return from a hundred years imprisonment is this: that the Dreaming has been refortified so that it may never fall to ruin in Dream’s absence again. Or in an invasion, such that the current situation is.

In each of the denizens of the Dreaming, Dream has placed a small piece of his power within them, effectively turning each and every one into a dreamstone, forever connected to their lord in such a way so that Dream will never be cut off from his realm again. Through this deepened bond with his subjects, they will always know where he is, and he, in turn, will always be able to call on them.

The deepened connection, however, has its drawbacks. Each new death feels like a cut directly to Dream’s body, to his soul, and he cannot help the torrent of grief that engulfs him every moment another dream perishes. But at the same time, their deaths are simultaneously a balm, an injection of power that revitalizes him. Each and every dream fallen in battle has not actually died, but instead, their essences have been called inside his body, providing Dream with a limitless supply of power and energy. Their wills too, lie intact within him, and Dream is filled with their hopes, their pain, their fury.

Only when the doors break down and Lucifer’s army spills into the throne room, does Lucienne release her hold on him. Dream can feel her smile at his back as he transforms into his Nightmare form, channeling the pain and rage of each and every fallen dream into one unrelenting attack after the other. The demons of Hell don’t stand a chance.

Lucifer flees, abandoning their own people to their deaths, when they see what Dream has done. What he has become. Dream chases them as far as the gates, and then roars in victory when the Lord of Hell disappears over the horizon. The message is clear. Dream of the Endless is more powerful than ever, and any that wishes to prove otherwise shall be met with the full strength of his power. 

Invoking such a power, however, has its own set of consequences.

When the last of the demons fall, and the Dreaming is once again safe, Dream collapses onto the floor of the throne room, crying in agony as he tries to soothe the pain of death for more than a thousand different entities residing within him. The dreams are loud in their sorrow, and it is so much grief, so much heartbreak, it is all too much. 

Fiddler’s Green is the first to be resurrected, and then Gault. It is all he can manage before Dream is reduced to a sobbing, useless mess. 

Lucienne holds him throughout the night, whispering words of comfort to Dream, and all that reside within him. It soothes the ache by the tiniest fraction, and he is grateful for her embrace. 

With each day that passes, Dream brings another dream, another nightmare, back to life. With each life revived, the agony fades, but the memories of their deaths, their feelings in those moments do not. Dream had accepted the risk of this when he had asked for the denizens’ permission to imbue himself even further into their lives. Each and every resident had given their consent, some more freely and easily than others, but all had agreed that not knowing where Dream had gone for the last hundred years was worse than what Dream was asking them to give him. 

Lucienne and Matthew stay by his side, holding vigil as Dream wrestles with the tangle of wills raging inside him. 

Eventually, Dream expels the last of the dreams from his body, and soon the only voice residing inside his head is his. He allows himself a short reprieve to rest and recover, then sets to repairing the damage to his castle. 

“No offense, boss,” Mervyn tells him days later, when Dream is feeling more himself, “but I never want to share a body with you and everyone else in here ever again.”

Dream laughs, despite himself, but when Mervyn is gone, he sobs into Lucienne’s arms, unsure why he is still feeling so emotionally fraught.

“You took on a lot to keep us all safe,” Lucienne tells him, her voice soothing and low. “You have never infused yourself so closely with us before. Of course it would overwhelm you.”

Dream knows this, and yet, still he feels like he is drowning in a sea of unending grief.

--------------------------

After he finishes repairing the castle, Dream takes some time to wander the Dreaming to assess the full extent of the damage done by Hell’s forces, Lucienne follows his lead, taking careful notes of all the things that need to be repaired, while also making sure that Dream does not take on too many restoration efforts in one sitting. Mervyn helps with some of the smaller repairs, however the large majority of fixes to the realm still fall to Dream to complete.

Dream expects Lucienne to eventually return to her librarian duties, once Dream is mostly recovered and well enough to fully dedicate himself to restoring the Dreaming to its former glory. But even after the majority of the realm has been recovered, Lucienne does not leave his side. Instead, she continues to keep vigil over Dream, never straying more than a few paces from him, when she can help it. In the days immediately after the attack, Dream had grown so used to her constantly being within his peripheral vision that it takes him some time to remember that this was not always how things had been between them. Even Matthew, who has never been more than breath away since he had become Dream’s raven, does not keep nearly as close of a watch on Dream these days. Because Lucienne is always there. 

“You do not need to be my shadow any longer, Lucienne,” Dream says one afternoon when they are alone together in the throne room and reviewing Mervyn’s latest reports of needed repairs. Most of the remaining items are small, with the exception of the Sea of Nightmares, which seems to have grown quite restless in the past few days. Though Dream would prefer to get the rest of the small repairs over and done with, so he can focus solely on the Sea of Nightmares, Lucienne has forbidden him from exerting any more of his powers for today. 

Lucienne purses her lips at his words, her eyes kind even as she frowns at him.

“I am where I am needed, sire,” she replies. Dream sighs. He had expected this.

“Lucienne, you have many responsibilities to attend to, and I am well enough to hold my own without your aid,” Dream says. 

Lucienne shakes her head. “You may need me, sire,” is all she says in response, before she returns back to reviewing Mervyn’s reports. 

Dream hates himself for not trying harder to keep Lucienne at bay, to insist that he is fine. But the truth of the matter is that Dream is tired. He is tired of his function, tired of having to defend himself and his realm time and time again, tired of carrying the weight of the entire universe and its unconscious minds on his shoulder with no hope for reprieve. 

The only time Dream feels even a modicum of relief is when Lucienne is there. Lucienne, who places his hand in hers and squeezes it to distract him from his maudlin thoughts. Lucienne, who takes stock of all the restored dreams and nightmares, ensuring that they have fully recovered from their ordeal with Hell’s minions. Lucienne, who still hums a lullaby in a long dead language from a long dead planet, in the quiet of the throne room, knowing that the sound soothes Dream’s ever fraying nerves.

So Dream does not press further when Lucienne insists on keeping watch over him, even as he feels as though she is treating him like a piece of fragile glass that could shatter any moment.

--------------------------

When Dream finally ventures out to the Sea of Nightmares to assess the damage Hell’s forces have done to its waters, the waves rush up to meet him, and Dream braces himself to be pulled within their depths. The Sea has been temperamental ever since the battle with Hell, and Dream knows it is likely questioning his competence. It is just another thing he will have to weather, another challenge to be conquered. He is prepared to remind the old nightmares that dwell beneath that he is still their master, that the battle with Hell has only made him stronger, not weaker.

But the waves of the Sea crash just past him, enveloping Lucienne instead and pulling her down into the cold dark depths.

Dream does not think twice before he follows, desperately diving in after her.

The Sea of Nightmares is vast and infinite, containing the collective fears of every being within its waters. Dream feels his own insecurities rise to meet him, threatening to swallow him whole. The Sea recounts each and every death that Dream allowed to happen, all of the pain his subjects had to suffer at the hands of Lucifer and their demons. It reminds Dream of his century long imprisonment, of how he let his realm fall to decay. It recalls how Dream has scorned and hurt those closest to him, from Nada to Hob Gadling. How he continues to hurt those closest to him. Especially Lucienne. 

Lucienne.

Dream’s eyes snap open, clarity piercing through the darkness of the Sea, as he remembers the reason he’d jumped into the water. His goal recalled, Dream starts to swim in the direction of Lucienne. Though he cannot yet see her, he can feel her, and he will not let his rogue creation take her from him.

He spots her not far south from his current location, and Dream dives downwards to reach her. As he swims closer to Lucienne’s location, Dream realizes the Sea has shifted. It is no longer showing him his deepest fears and insecurities.

No, he realizes with a sense of growing dread. It is showing him Lucienne’s.

Lucienne had always been steadfast in her devotion to him, and Dream had always believed they had an easy understanding of one another, a shared goal to keep the Dreaming alive and well, a sense of honor and duty. As Dream reaches out to grasp Lucienne’s hand, however, he realizes the depths of her devotion. Not only to the Dreaming, but to Dream himself.

The Sea shifts again, this time revealing to Dream Lucienne’s deepest fears. It shows him the countless lonely nights spent waiting at the Gates of the Dreaming, waiting, hoping, praying for Dream’s return. Another wave shifts the image to the sight of Dream, bruised and broken, as Lucifer’s minions invade. Yet another shows Dream, alone and surrounded by nothing but death and chaos, clearly prepared to sacrifice himself to some yet unseen force.

What Lucienne fears most, the Sea seems to whisper to him, is losing the one she loves most. Losing Dream.

Dream feels wretched. Undeserving. How had he not noticed that she carried these feelings for him all these years? He had always been perceptive, able to easily glean even the most carefully guarded secrets, and yet, this one has gone beneath his notice.

Or perhaps, he thinks to himself, he had simply refused to see it. 

Dream’s despair threatens to pull them both deeper into the Sea of Nightmares, to drown both he and Lucienne in the cold, cold, dark, but Dream will not let it. The Sea of Nightmares is still his subject after all, and it will heed the call of its master. Of Dream of the Endless. 

The Sea heeds his call and releases them. Dream takes Lucienne and then swims to the surface.

He breaks through to the surface just moments later, gasping for air and clutching Lucienne to his chest. She is unconscious, likely due to the shock of the Sea’s attack on her. With a single thought from Dream’s mind, they are both transported to his private chambers, and he lays her carefully on a wide bed with dark satin sheets, before replacing both of their wet clothes with dry ones. Then he fashions himself a chair to sit in and waits. 

Lucienne gasps as she wakes an undetermined amount of time later, coughing fitfully as if her body were trying to dislodge the water from the Sea of Nightmares from her lungs. But she is a creature of the Dreaming, and so there was never a true risk of her drowning.

“My lord?” Lucienne says once she’s caught her breath, turning to him. “What—what happened?”

“The Sea of Nightmares is still yet unstable,” Dream answers. “It stole you beneath the waters.”

“I—see,” Lucienne replies, her brow furrowing. “And you— you rescued me?” she asks, widening her eyes as shock then worry crosses her features.  “My lord, that was a dangerous maneuver. You could have been greatly hurt.”

“I could not lose you, Lucienne,” Dream says simply. It was true. Lucienne has always been an instrumental part of the Dreaming, of Dream’s function, but she had truly become invaluable to him when he had returned from his imprisonment at the hands of Roderick Burgess. Lucienne had shone a light on Dream’s weaknesses, had helped him see past his own pride as he struggled to adjust himself to a realm that had rotted away in his absence. She had shown Dream that change need not be a terrifying thing, that it could be beautiful, not just in his creations, but in Dream himself.   

“My lord,” Lucienne argues, “it is still not worth the risk—”

“You are worth every risk, Lucienne,” Dream interrupts her, cutting off the thought before she could finish it. “There is no one more valuable to me than you,” he adds, and realizes he means it. Lucienne had become wholly irreplaceable to him, and that could only mean one thing. 

“I have been negligent in saying so in the past,” Dream continues. “But I would like to thank you. For staying by my side for all this time. For believing in me, even when others had given up. For giving me—” he pauses, then takes one of Lucienne’s hands in his, raising it to his lips. She inhales sharply, caught off guard by the intimate gesture. “Something I still do not think I deserve.”

“My lord?” Lucienne asks, breathless.

“Lucienne,” Dream murmurs, his lips ghosting along the knuckles of her fingers. “I do not yet believe I am worthy of your love.” He looks up at her, hoping that she sees that he is serious about his declaration. “But I would like to be, if you’ll allow it.”

Lucienne’s eyes widen, then crinkle as she lets out a small huff of laughter. “I would respectfully disagree with that assessment sire,” she replies, turning her hand in his to squeeze it in return. “You do not see yourself as I do,” she adds, her voice soft and fond.

“Clearly, else I would have noticed your affections sooner,” Dream replies, feeling his own lips quirk upwards as he returns her smile.

“Perhaps that is only a testament to how well I know you, that I kept them hidden for so long,” Lucienne teases. Dream barks out a laugh, and it echoes loudly in his chambers, but he does not care. Lucienne has heard him laugh many times in the past few thousand years, so he is unashamed to let her hear him now. 

“Perhaps,��� he allows. “But now you are no longer permitted to keep those feelings secret. I would have all of them, immediately.”

Lucienne rolls her eyes, but still stares at him, fondness clearly etched across her lovely face. 

“You have always been greedy with your lovers,” Lucienne answers. “But I suppose I do not mind that about you.”

Dream’s only response is to pull Lucienne into a deep, breathtaking kiss. 

[groggygrimalkin]

Fansession rambling time before I go back to sleep!!!

Lusii and Carapacians in my fansession have formed a mutualistic bond on post reckoning Alternia and the two races often aid eachother. My headcannon is that Lusii can project their voices but cannot read minds(save for some species I'd imagine) and most have adapted and learned to speak carapacian!

Lusii on post reckoning Alternia are revered by its Carapacian inhabitants because instead of a desert biome,the land is pretty much the same but overgrown and wild meaning all of the dangerous flora and eventually fauna are deadly to those who don't know their way around. So the lusii guided the Carapacians and in turn both parties gained companionship, protection, and shelter(Example:Surly Milkmaid and Playful Nanny, SM provides shelter and care for PN who provides companionship and milk to sell)

It's not unusual to find carapacians wearing headwear and or armor fashioned after lusii after being on Alternia. Most commonly this is done for good luck but can mean many things(Example: EM in her Derse attire has headwear fashioned after a tiger lusus because she admires their ferocity and cunningness)

But it's also common for headwear and armor to be fashioned after lusii companions past or present! In turn most lusii will adorn themselves in the colors that their carapacian companions wear.(Example:Loyal Steed wearing barding in the Dersite colors that Daring Courier wears)

However not everything is perfect, due to the insane amount of outer god tampering and influence on the session there is the presence of cult activity(these cults are not only on post reckoning Alternia but hold a very real danger for it's unknowing inhabitants.) Lusii will sometimes be coaxed in by cultist who will provide them food and shelter and promises of companionship before sacrificing them to their god of choice. Ectobiology machines in my fansession are almost all infected by fragments of horrorterrors, most of which feed on blood, meat, and negative emotions. So the machine will not work without a blood offering. All of the carapacians generated in this session are sterile so they depend on these machines to keep going when people die, but most people don't know how they really work since the holy machines are protected and hidden by churches away from the public, many of which have fallen into outer god worship.

However some churches don't contain cultist and members will willingly sacrifice themselves in order to create more carapacians. It's a somber event but also a grand celebration is held for the person beforehand. Their favourite music is played, their favourite food cooked, and they are embraced by everyone before leaving. It is seen as honorable and brave that they are willing to give up their live for others to have a chance but the person will not be shamed or judged if they change their mind.

Okay to wrap this up lol many Alternian tech is still present, not all of it works but some are still functional. It's not uncommon to find a radio in someone's home or even TV's and VCR's. These are seen as valuable and groups of carapacian and lusii will venture out together to collect working tech to sell or use. While the setting is medieval its completely normal to spot adventuring parties gathered around tablets for entertainment or Inns and Pubs playing old Troll movies and shows from cd's on refurbished TV sets

[sparklepocalypse]

Thanks to @porcelainmortal, @onthewaytosomewhere, and @thesleepyskipper for today's tags! My tag is, as always, extremely open since, according to my clock, it's nearing the end of today.

If you thought I might post sentences from my upcoming @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic, Meet Me on the Other Side today, you'd be correct! Today, you get a bit of Henry having a minor existential crisis about Alex being hot in a tent in chapter 4.

It has been, Henry reflects as he removes his outer layer of clothing, an age since he’s shared close sleeping quarters with anyone else. As children, he and Pip and Bea had occupied the same nursery for a time. But Pip had aged out, and then it’d been decided that Henry and Bea had been too old to share, and that’d been that until he’d been sent away to school. Even at Eton, he’d been placed in a single room while the majority of his schoolmates had doubled up. At Oxford, he’d been assigned several rooms to himself — far more space than he’d needed — and in the Army, his tent had been better appointed than some commoners’ flats. This tent is… small. Smaller now, he thinks, than when he’d set it up as the first pink and violet and gold fingers of dusk had crept up from the horizon. Smaller now that their belongings are stowed within and night has fallen around them. Certainly smaller now that he’s settled into a bedroll, feet pointed toward the entrance, his jacket pillowed beneath his head. His shirt and trousers are folded neatly atop his rucksack, and he’s almost too warm in his drawers and undershirt beneath a blanket that smells more than a little of horse. The bedroll is comfortable, at least. Henry drums his fingertips lightly on his belly through the woolen blanket and his undershirt and wills sleep to take him. It does not. Alex crawls into the tent beside him. Henry resolutely keeps his gaze fixed on the canvas ceiling as Alex settles into the other bedroll. Alex’s chest and feet are bare, his drawers are rucked up to his knees, revealing finely muscled calves, and he’s holding a pistol. A pistol? Henry rolls to his side on the bedroll to face Alex. In the soft glow of a single lantern, Alex is terribly scrumptious, and Henry looks down at his own hand where it rests on his bedroll and asks, “You’re not planning on using that on me, I hope?” “Depends, you gonna try to murder me in my sleep?” Alex asks with a wink. It’s irritating, Henry decides, how effortlessly attractive the man is. Henry is irritated. So he murmurs, “Now that you mention it…” just to see how Alex will react. Alex snorts in amusement, and Henry feels his lips twitch up into the hint of a smile in response.

[sanjiyue]

law; misguided loyalty 2

previous | next

doflamingo family!reader x law, angst

As a member of the Doflamingo family, you embark on a perilous mission to secure a supposed cure for disease, fervently believing in your dedication to Doflamingo.

Little do you know that Law, is also out seeking control of the cure.

When your paths cross in the New World, tensions arise as Law, aware of the dangers involved with the underground boss, tries to convey the truth about the misleading mission.

Will the ties to the Doflamingo family shatter, allowing both Law and you to find a new understanding, or will the echoes of the past prove too powerful to overcome? Explores the complexities of allegiance, trust, and the consequences of leaving behind a life bound by shadows.

[1.2k wc]

If it wasn’t the heat driving you mad, maybe it was the animals that had grown ten times in size due to the effects of the century fruit.

You had already shed your outer coat, the scrunched fabric just barely showing the Doflamingo's jolly roger.

The sun was just starting its descent from its palace in the heavens, casting orange hues over the viridian scape.

Of all the places it could have appeared, it just had to be a jungle island, teeming with bloodthirsty creatures and hostility.

You annoyingly cut your way through another enlarged python, the halves tearing apart before you, poison hit the ground with a light hiss.

There never seemed to be an end to the slaughter, and you were certain this was the worst way to go about it.

Taking a deep breath, you willed your heartbeat to slow, fluttering your eyelids shut.

The sounds of the jungle dulled in the back, as you extended your perceptual reach.

You could sense a pinpoint of energy just beyond you, something spherical that swirled with a symphony of cords.

It had to be what you were searching for.

You pushed past the fallen serpent, towards the lulling.

A few minutes later, you could feel the air practically electric, humming with the sensation of this century fruit.

It dangled preciously in a tree before you, unassuming and plain.

There was the item to your family’s success. Beyond that, it would be paramount to your success, your achievement.

Securing the century fruit meant cementing your position within the family. With this accomplishment, nobody would ever be able to say anything about you.

You reached for the fruit and--

A crackle of vivacity sang through the air, you whipped your head back to the direction it came from.

There was a subtle shift in the air, the faintest echo of a footstep, and a presence that made your stomach churn.

There was no doubt about it, there was someone else on this island.

You took another step towards the dangled fruit, the leaves quietly shifting underneath.

The spark in the air shifted into curiosity, reaching out to you. The ethereal current of haki rumbled over you.

Whoever it was on the island, whoever you hoped it wasn't, had sensed you.

Your fingers reached for the cooler touch of your sword.

The jungle was once again quiet, as if hushed in reverence.

The brush gently parted its way to reveal a figure bathed in the soft glow of the amber sunlight.

You saw his slender, tattooed fingers first, wrapped tightly around a long black sword.

He moved with palpable confidence, his dark shirt fluttering slightly in the breeze that hit like a held breath.

Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death, scanned his surroundings carefully, a testament to his acute perception.

Strands of black hair fell across his face, partially veiling the contemplative expression that played on his features.

Finally, you caught his golden eyes as they moved from the ground to sweeping over you, almost luminescent as they caught the setting sun within them.

A breath caught in your throat.

His mouth fell slightly open in surprise. Law thought he recognized the faint haki surrounding nature the moment he pushed into the darker jungle.

It was a thought he had abandoned without much thought-- he had buried you deep in his memories with fervor and guilt, one peek could unravel him whole.

His eyes focused, drinking in the sight as if it was his first time, narrowing at the Doflamingo-looking transponder snail strapped to you.

"You want to take the century fruit back to Joker," he started, "is that right?"

You didn't move, your fingers still resting on the scabbard of your sword.

"Not going to happen." He frowned.

"Back off, Law, you don't know what this fruit means for my family," you shot back.

He furrowed his brow in response. Just like he had expected, the family had a death grip on your shoulder, he could almost sense the smiling Doflamingo.

You drew your sword, stretching out your free hand towards him.

The latent energy in the air pricked up, attending to your will. Small smokes of steam reflected smaller rainbows through the slicing sunlight, and it rushed at Law.

"Room," Law produced an unfamiliar blue sphere as his fingers spun in the air. He sliced at the steam with no avail.

How could he slice air?

He stumbled back as he felt a striking in his eyes. His vision clouded, the Surgeon of Death teleported away.

Law stumbled a few feet back, palming his eyes. As his vision slowly grew clearer, he was met with a strange sight.

Instead of on the island, he was back in dreaded Dressrosa palace. He grabbed at a table to steady himself, finding that his fingers would pass right through.

Right. That made him feel a little better.

He ran down the corridor until he reached a room. Passing through the doors, he almost choked at the sight before him, unready and uneasy.

The air suddenly seemed to thicken with a weight only he could feel.

His eyes focused.

Two little children, huddled in the corner of the dark room, whispering amongst themselves.

It was you, looking exactly like he had left you all those years ago. And...himself, comforting your sobbing figure.

The sight of you on the floor, those days of vulnerable innocence, and the remnants of childhood unlocked a cascade of emotions that had been carefully tucked away by Law.

Like a Pandora's Box, he could hardly control the parts of him that demanded acknowledgement and healing.

Law took a small step closer, full panic.

"I wanna go with you," you wailed. "Doffy is scary and I wanna leave with you and Cora," your words were barely understandable through the thick, rolling tears.

Law's breath hitched and he drew a hand through his hair, anxiously.

He could only watch as his young self awkwardly fumbled with the small mess before him. He could hardly believe it.

The scene at which he promised to return for you gnawed at him inside, turning his stomach into tatters. His heart jumped into his throat.

"That's enough."

A sharp voice rang against the dampened sounds in the room, and all faded away gently. The muted scene bled away and slowly turned into hues of orange and green.

The lushness of the jungle reminded Law where he truly was.

You bit your lip fiercely, the century fruit growing warm in your hands as you watched Law recognize his surroundings.

Law's breathing leveled out, and he took a step towards you. "I'm sorry I didn't come back for you."

Confusion flit across your expression, one that Law did not miss. "What are you talking about?" You asked, incredulously.

It didn't matter what this psycho was rambling about. You pulled out your transponder snail.

"Doffy?"

A quick reply came. His voice curled in sweetness as he said your name back.

"I'm done! Come pick me up." You lifted an eyebrow at the Law still struggling to understand, lost in the mire of his own feelings and reality.

"Vergo is closest to you, I'll let him know."

The snail hung up with a quick clack.

You smiled sweetly down at Law Trafalgar, "it'll be nice to have a gift to bring Doffy!"

Your excitedness was spilling over the edge. You could hardly contain yourself.

"Room."

Not so fast, you grabbed onto his arm before he could slip away. At the last second, his gaze met yours, and he smiled a little.

His other hand latched onto your arm, digging slightly into your skin. "Guess we'll both go, then."

Jerking back your body, your hand flew to your sword.

The lull of jungle faded into a low hum, dirt into wood, and the setting sunset into bright overhead lights.

"Captain!!"

Before you could strike, your whole body felt heavier, and you staggered to your knees.

A pair of gray handcuffs snapped around your wrists as you held yourself up with your arms, leaning over the floor, feeling sick.

You heard Law take a fast impact, and falling to the ground beneath you.

"Bepo stop, do you want to crush him?" An exasperated voice followed.

"Huh? Who's this?"

You couldn't bring your eyes off the floor. Overconfident with your own devil fruit powers, you had neglected considering Law's.

The century fruit's heat reminded you of its presence. At last resort, at least you could eat it, to save it from Law's hands.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Tieflings

Link to Disclaimer and other lore babblings

Featuring: The two types of tiefling (Orin belongs to one of them, actually) The other races' equivalents to tieflings Various ancestors of tieflings The 2e tiefling trait chart that I miss with all my soul My inability to be 100% neutral about certain 4e changes Tiefling Homelands, such as they are

---

Tieflings belong to a category known as the Planetouched; mortals descended from beings native to the outer planes. TIeflings are descended from the evil-aligned Lower Planes and at this point can be split into the newer Asmodeus tieflings and the original "generic" tieflings. (Other races have produced fiendish planetouched. Tanarukk are orcs of fiendish descent; Elven-demon hybrids called the fey'ri, or daemonfey; Dwarven descendants of the offspring of devils are maeluth; and wisplings are halflings of demonic descent.)

The original, generic tieflings are humans with a fiend or an evil deity from one of the Lower Planes in their family tree.

They appear as regular humans, usually with only one or two odd traits giving away their ancestry. Black feathers growing from their shoulders, glowing red eyes, a tail, making plants decay in their presence... wings...

The bloodline begins with the half-mortal child of a fiend or deity (a cambion, or a bhaalspawn, for example). They go on to have offspring with mortals and the child is a tiefling. The tiefling grandchild's line may continue to dilute with human blood until it seemingly disappears...

...until suddenly, possibly hundreds of years later, a family's new baby is born with six fingers or a tail or something and the village is talking about drowning the "devil" in the village stream. With a lack of understanding of what's happening, and a lot of fear, the family themselves usually reject their own child. There are only a few places in the Realms where a planetouched birth isn't considered an aberration (I'll talk about them towards the end).

The outlook for tieflings is... not good.

"Occasionally a tiefling is born to someone indifferent to its appearance, determined to redeem it, willing to exploit it, or evil enough not to care about its nature, and these tieflings are most likely to survive to adulthood." - Races of Faerûn

Even if their physical traits are not obvious, tieflings become aware from an early age that they are different, as the essence of the Lower Planes in their blood tries to compel them and they often have "strange needs, desires or urges." They can ignore these urges to be any alignment they so chose. Unfortunately, as the world around them hates them, they tend to grow up to be bitter and mistrustful; they're not terribly inclined to help people they expect to run them off in an angry mob. Some of them embrace their impulses, seeing as they're just going to be seen as monsters anyway.

Their ancestry can be from various categories:

Deities: Beshaba, goddess of misfortune is one of the more known ancestors of tieflings. Her descendants are marked by white hair and deer antlers growing from their heads. Mask, god of thieves is another ancestor; Maskarian tieflings cast no reflections. Bhaal's tieflings show no outward signs, but have inclinations towards violence and an obsession with death.

Baatezu; Devils, the Lawful Evil fiends of the Nine Hells. Erinyes (fallen angels with black wings), gelugons (ice insects) and pit fiends (giant scaly red monsters with horns) are the most common ancestors. They enjoy strict hierarchies, complicated plots, rules and contracts with lots of smallprint.

Tanar'ri: Demons, the Chaotic Evil fiends of the Infinite Layers of the Abyss ("If there's anything you don't like, you'll find it here."). The most common demonic ancestors are Mariliths (giant sexy snake warrior ladies with six arms and swords) and Succubi (who were strictly demons, until 5e decided the devils needed a soul-stealing sex monster even though they already had those and they were the exact same thing as a succubus (Brachina)). Where devils enjoy playing with contracts and mind games and the slow descent into corruption, demons are pure hunger/lust and chaos and usually go for the fast track to corruption. Orgies and mindless over-the-top violence, both at the same time, if possible. ["Devils and demons hate each other" is the biggest understatement the universe knows, and the two have been at war since basically the dawn of time. It's called the Blood War and it will never end. They are instinctually driven to destroy each other, and this is also built into their tiefling descendants.]

Other: Fiends who fall into no other category. There is actually a third category - Yugoloths, the Neutral Evil fiends, but they don't seem to make tieflings that I've seen. Night Hags are a common enough ancestor, and tieflings descended from them often have blue/violet skin, likened to the colour of bruises. Rakshasa are another one; cat eyes and occasionally fur turning up on them.

3.5e gave them a set of traits they all shared: higher reflexes; a boost to their intelligence stat (for some reason?); the ability to see in total darkness; to create areas of pitch black supernatural darkness; they were less affected by the cold and electric shocks, and their flesh and skin was slightly fire retardant. Sometimes they had an affinity for certain animals, or had wings.

Back in 2e, Tieflings were all unique and could manifest some of any number of random traits. Behold! The chart!

And then, amongst the various shit that went down as the setting was burned down around us all in 4e, Asmodeus - Archdevil of the Ninth Hell, Ruler of the Nine Hells - killed the god Azuth and elevated himself to godhood. He "defeated" the Tanar'ri in the (eternal!) Blood War and celebrated by having a circle of warlocks known as "the Toril Thirteen" to create a new strain of tieflings descended from him to remind the world to fear him. This would be fine, except he did this by ruining overwriting all the pre-existing tieflings so that they would now all be descended from him and ALL have their varied, often subtle, appearances be changed to be red skinned people with goat horns and tails regardless of if that made any FUCKIGN sense. How do you overwrite a Night Hag or Mask or.the goddamn Mulhorandi pantheon The hells and Asmodeus have zero - ZERO, connection! He has no claim-.

*ahem*

Asmodeus exerts no control over "his" tieflings, however, they are simply marked by his power. People do not like them any better than the originals, but less of them are getting killed at birth now due to being born into families of other tieflings.

The ancestry of these tieflings does not dilute over time. The child of an Asmodeus tiefling is another tiefling.

By 15th century DR (5e) the Blood War is back on and the original tieflings have begun to re-emerge in Toril, but the majority are still the Asmodeus type.

-

The generic tieflings are rare enough that the majority can go their entire lives without meeting another of their kind. Asmodeus' tieflings are uncommon, but prone to being found in small groups.

Tieflings are "persecuted and feared in most of Faerûn." (Though the gods don't give a damn, and are happy enough to manifest to them in dreams in tiefling form to the delight of the religiously inclined)

There are, however, places where they are more common.

Back before it blew up (4e!) Thay had an unusually high tiefling population. "Thayan tieflings [were] usually the grandchildren of powerful wizards, birthed as part of some power scheme, and usually [spent] their lives as slaves or pawns to both sides of the family." Obviously, these tieflings became Asmodeus tieflings due to the ritual. Afterwards the lich Szass Tam decided to turn everybody undead. Some living people returned to Thay, once it was habitable again post-Spellplague (despite still being full of liches and vampires), so there may be some Thayan tieflings remaining. TIefling descendants of the refugees of Thay can also be found in the surrounding countries. Aglarond, mostly, since Rashamen has a decidedly negative history with Thay. Mulhorand is another land with a tiefling population. Mulhorand is Ancient Egypt. Not like fantasy-equivalent to Ancient Egypt, like they're actually the descendants of Ancient Egyptians who ended up in Toril (side effect of ancient wizards kidnapping people from other worlds to enslave). Mulhorandi planetouched are the descendants of the local gods, who once ruled the country themselves when it was first founded, and the mixture of aasmiar, genasi and tieflings is significant enough to make up 2% of the total population. In the case of tieflings, that usually means their grandfather/ancestor is Set, Anhur or Sobek. Historically the priesthoods of Mulhorand enjoyed bickering, which would've been annoying as the descendant of their god/their god's enemy, but the pantheon has told them to knock it off nowadays.

Mulhorandi tieflings have their own naming conventions, taking surnames based on their ancestor; Zia or Sia preceding the god's name. Ziasobek or Sianhur, for example. In the North, Neverwinter was once host to a cult dedicated to Asmodeus (the Ashmadai) that lead to a rise in tieflings, and since that offers an opportunity to blend in with their own kind the city attracted more tiefling immigrants, and as such has a fair sized population now.

I'm also taking a third option: immigrants from the outer planes would be unusual, but tieflings are out there and some of them may decide to move to Faerûn for some reason.

Sigil is a city at the centre of the universe built into the inside of a giant ring at the top of an infinite spire that has no beginning or end. It's also the nexus point of the universe, is covered in portals and its markets have goods from everywhere in known existence. It's population also comes from everywhere in existence, so tieflings are not such an oddity. Culturally it's rather like a fantasy parody of corrupt cockney Victorianesque(?) London, if the entirety of D&D moved there.

Tieflings can also be found living in the Lower Planes themselves, usually as canon fodder in the Blood Wars.

[day-drawn-blog]

Epilogue 1 : Just leave the flames and take a chance

To be with me tonight - Take my hand and hold it tight - Down by the River.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. This is set in Act I.

Tags: angst/fluff some smut later

Part I : The outer layer. Mostly angst and jealousy.

Part II : Where you try to find meaning or draw boundaries.

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace.

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live.

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known.

Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.

Part VIII : Your blood like wine, invites me in.

Part IX : I welcome my sentence, to give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

Epilogue II : Moonlight burning the Flower

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you walked out of your tent to find Astarion pouring over his book of necromancy. Not yet in armor, his casual clothes showed a bit of his chest. You were tempted to unbutton him a bit further, but reminded yourself not to take advantage of him.

You turned, and met Shadowheart.

"Good morning" she said. "I wonder what's in store for us today" she said in her usual tone of voice. You noticed no bitterness. Reassured, you broached ... "Shadowheart, I am sorry, for not telling you... about him... " - "Oh, it's alright. It wasn't your secret to tell. If anyone it should have been him. I can't say I am not disappointed in him."

You were silent. You didn't know what to say.

"But no matter. I am willing to let bygones be bygones. Bury the hatchet, so to speak" said Shadowheart, graciously. Before you could reply - Laezel cut in. "Why would you bury a weapon? I do not understand your kind or your ways, Shadowheart,". She rolled her eyes. "It's a phrase, Laezel". They both started bantering, leaving you to quietly walk away, in relief.

Everyone started on their way.

Astarion seemed really preoccupied and walked along with Gale in the back, talking about something. The party succeeded in defeating a Drow in the underdark that had yielded a bunch of precious magical items for everyone. The Myconid colony was celebrating that night. Everyone at camp was happy. The mushrooms were ... funny.

You were feeling quite happy and light hearted that night.

The warm glow of the fire, alcohol, laughter, music. All of your favorite things mixed together. You got ready for a night of merriment and walked to the crowd, joining Karlach and Laezel. They seemed to be relishing the battle they had that day, going over all the fun details together and exchanging their favorite bits.

Your eyes searched for Astarion.

Then you saw him and wished you hadn't looked for him. On the other side of the fire, he was busy talking to ... Shadowheart! Not just talking, but smiling. Conversing, drinking. You heard him laugh. You couldn't look away, because you couldn't believe what you saw. You thought they had fallen apart.

You thought he pledged himself to you.

Why then. What was the lie? Because there most definitely was one. So he still wanted her? Or he didn't want ... you .... and then you realized. Yes he had said he was yours. He was your ally, your friend. He was loyal to you ... but never once had he said he loved you! He had said his body belonged to you, but never his heart! His loyalty was yours, but not his feelings ...

You stared at him in disbelief of your own stupidity.

You had misunderstood everything he had said, and heard what you wanted to hear, what you hoped to hear. Your heart cried out in pain. You were happy in so long, but it was all made up. By you! You lied to yourself! You wove an intricate web of lies ...for yourself. Astarion met your eyes. You didn't look away. You looked at him, in anger, in hurt. Hoping to convey the betrayal you felt...

He smiled at you, and raised his glass.

Dig the dagger in deeper, why don't you, you thought. You looked away, and considered walking away to a desolate place. And then you stopped yourself. Enough running away. You deserve to be happy too. You decided to stay. You sought out some companions. Karlach and Laezel looked fun. Lets go join them. You walked to them and asked to partake of some alcohol. They gladly obliged.

You were determined to be happy.

Soon enough, you felt good. you felt even better when Laezel kissed you. You couldn't get away in time, but it felt hilarious. You did manage to stop her from any further advances though, to her slight disappointment, but she took it well. You cheeks flushed, you found yourself laughing a lot. At things that were not even that funny. You were happy. You felt grateful. You hoped he saw you.

Then you saw Wyll.

You went up to him, and asked for a dance, in your drunken state, and he obliged. He took your hands and gave you a twirl before leading you around putting your dancing skills to the test. Had you not been drunk you could have held your own, but now, drunk himself Wyll had to hold you by the waist many times to prevent you from falling over. Karlach wanted to join in, and pulled in Gale much to his awkwardness.

May I have a dance as well?

Was that Astarion you heard? Yes. He had walked up to you both. He was, obviously talking to you, trying to break you and Wyll up, maybe. But you were having none of that. "Yes, of course" you said, before pushing him to Wyll. "Here you go" and then walked off. Being drunk had its advantages, you could act outrageous and not have to face the responsibility. You did not look back to see what they did after.

Time to find the next object of interest.

Halsin! Ah, Halsin and his big strong arms. You felt like squeezing them. And you did. Somehow Shadowheart was around. And she said something in admiration of his big strong arms as well. Was she drunk too? Oh well, no matter. You giggled with her, as you both hung over Halsin's arms and found it ridiculously entertaining. Laezel quipped something funny but you couldn't hear her well.

Your eyes met Astarion across the fire.

Dammit. You didn't intent to do that. He was sitting down, keenly watching you. Had he finished dancing with Wyll? You wondered. None of your concern you thought and returned your attention to your drunken shenanigans. You decided to pester Gale after that. So you sat down next to him, and asked him about his former lover. You barely heard what he was saying. But you pretended to pay attention. Every now and your eyes wandered to Astarion, against your will.

He was looking at you, every single time.

Across the flickering flame. As he drunk from his cup every now and then. You looked at his handsome face. Having forgotten your resolve, as you rested your head on Gale's knees. Or was it Karlach's? Was Laezel trying to get her arms around you again, or was that Wyll. Your vision was a bit blurry at this point. You felt you could drift off to sleep. You didn't care who it was that would take you back to their tent that night. The more the merrier you thought and giggled.

It was hot. You should take your shirt off, you thought.

You proceeded to do just that. "Let me help you" - you heard a voice. Yes please, you felt a hand, "Alright - enough of that" you heard another pushing the first hand away. Why? It was hot. You tried taking your shirt off again. Then you felt being picked up. Oh good, someone is carrying you to bed, just as you had hoped. The night had proceeded just as you had hoped and wished.

"I got her" you heard a voice, possibly of the one carrying you.

----------------------

[flusteredfools]

Do you happen to have any art/tidbits you're willing to share for the How to Train Your Familiars AU? Very excited to learn more! 💙

I only have some very very rough concept sketches (not super proud of them lol)

I don't have a Y/N design yet, but there's the really rough Sun Griffon and Dragon Moon; and their shared egg.

Though this is their older form and they will have a younger form when they first hatch from the egg with Y/N. I want it to feel very Studio Ghibli and game like; a world of magic and wonder. So combining mythical creatures that I think would be fun to merge was the base idea for my lil demon boys.

If you want to read the longer gist of the idea I'll put it below

As for most of my stories, Sun and Moon are partners, soulmates if you will, and both reincarnate into new bodies and seek each other out again and again. The magic of the world is becoming less common and losing strength as technology develops, and humans who can use it become quite rare and usually feared.

The time it takes for either Sun or Moon to be reborn from their egg becomes longer and longer. Before if one would pass before the other they would guard the others egg until it hatches, and then the newly born mate would guard the other until they both could continue their lives as before.

But this time when Sun passed and Moon had been guarding his egg, Sun wasn't able to hatch from his phoenix egg before Moon had passed as well; instead, turning to stone while wrapped around it and seemingly merging their eggs into one while they both regained the magic needed to be reborn.

Time continues to pass while they rest dormant in their eggs, unguarded but fairly safe in the cave they had called their home. Moon's more rock like shell camouflaged them well and kept them safe; where they would have stayed unnoticed if the children of the village above their cave had not chased and bullied Y/N over the mountain ledge.

Y/N is the child of a traveling witch, who specialized in healing and wellness and was taken advantaged of more often than not. After healing the sick the village turned on the healer once they found out about their magic abilities and had her imprisoned to be sent of to the capital.

At the time Y/N had been staying in the outer woods, so as not to bother their mother's work. After days go by and the little one hasn't heard from them, instead the children of the village found the small camp and chase and throw stones at Y/N, chasing them out of the woods towards the mountain's edge.

Cornered against the end of the path, a stone hits its mark, sending Y/N falling back off the ledge and tumbling down the mountainside while the children laugh and feel joy at ridding their village of evil.

Y/N wakes up after having fallen into a cave, bloody and bruised, crying over everything and trying their best to use the little magic their parent had taught them to heal some of their wounds.

The demons' egg starts to call out for the magic, wanting to absorb everything it can. Know it must be something special Y/N takes the egg with them as they make their way back up to the camp.

The journey wasn't easy on their own but they knew enough from their mother to make it, and they kept themselves company by talking and feeding the weird egg small bits of their magic; taking comfort in knowing they weren't truly alone right now.

Once they reach the village, the guards blocking the path demand the egg be destroyed before entering once they discovered it. Y/N refuses and runs away, conflicted about losing their chance to see their parent but not willing to give up their only friend, let alone one that seems to be in need and unable to defend itself.

They'll find another way into the village to discovered what happened.

And that's probably all I'll share for now, don't want to spoil too much! XD The story itself will cover Sun and Moon's bond with each other as well as the growing bond with their little witch. The two learning about what has changed in the world, while also helping their Witch learn more magic as well as the main goal of finding (saving) their mother.

It will start as a more platonic kind of love while all three are growing but it will switch to romantic once Y/N is no longer a child.

Gonna cuddle and smooch the monsters kind of fic XD

[aladaylessecondblog]

Fallen Star omegaverse au where Sadara manages to snatch Nerevar's bones and is looking mainly for answers and not much else when she goes to Red Mountain

maybe this is one of those 'the good three want Lorkhan back so are willing to assist making voryn saner' timelines

But she's welcomed and starts taking off her outer layers because she doesn't need blight storm protection indoors

Gilvoth gets one whiff of her scent and makes himself scarce. she's confused but goes ahead.

anyway Nerevar is revived and his scent and hers are identical and Voryn has a VERY pleasant evening

[zirkkun]

Reading ULR and I'm assuming that Chara has a Lust soul type because of their bloodlust; so how come Ace didn't become a murderous fellow when given the lust serum?

Because that's not quite how the Lust SOUL works! It's not related to bloodlust at all actually, but I suppose it can evolve into that if the owner of the Lust-trait SOUL has gained enough LV, now that you bring it up 👀 but that's for another time...

Each of the SOUL traits in ULR gives the owner a specific asset to their overall person that is intended to help them in life (but might not always do so depending on the person, their situation, and their relationship with said trait). Patience, for example, makes the owner willing to put up with a lot more than the other SOULs, whether it be wasted time, annoyances, being ignored, or even so far as consistent abuse without argument. This can be both an asset if they need to be in a place where patience is a virture, but it can also be a liability if they need to act immediately lest their life be in danger. It also tends to allow the owner to negate their emotions more easily and let them calm down faster.

For Lust SOULs, they tend to find themselves more attached to folks more quickly, not necessarily in a sexual or even romantic way, but more like how Asriel explains at the end of Undertale that you seem so quickly attached to the people of the Underground despite not knowing them for very long. Their added asset is having better fertility than other SOUL types, which is why Sage (Gaster) ended up being so exited about the fallen human possessing a Lust SOUL. Additionally, Myriad (Asgore)'s SOUL is attributed to Lust, so when even he and Ash (Toriel) couldn't bare a child, the whole of the ULR Underground began to lose hope for their future. (comic part where these are both mentioned)

The Lust serum was developed in order to restore the magic of the ULR Underground, because aside from not being able to have children anymore, they also are struggling to communicate, eat, and just generally survive. I guess you could think of it being one step away from a Horrortale situation, but that wasn't entirely my thought process while making the AU since I didn't know shit about Horrortale until recently. Sage wouldn't have developed the serum, though, if he thought it would make anyone go crazy and murderous since their species is already dying. If that happened, it would be entirely unintentional results. He sincerely wants to help.

When Ace took the Lust serum sample, the dosage was too high, causing his SOUL to possess more magic than it's supposed to and dyeing it red. As a result, he's overall having similar symptoms to monsters' heat cycles in this AU, which functions similarly to human menstrual periods but shows up differently due to monsters being made of magic instead of physical material. It didn't make him bloodthirsty more than it made his body overheat, bones become hypersensitive, and constantly trying to dispell the excess magic. He can only temporarily relieve this with various, as they say in the Sims, woohoo-ing acts, but again it is merely temporary. It also made him more emotional than before, since his normal assigned SOUL trait is actually Patience, and despite his grouchy outer surface he gets attached to people at the slightest bit of affection. And I mean attached, you are gonna want to do anything you can to get this lost puppy from clinging to you all the time if he gets to that point. (Not in a yandere way, he's not super jealous and more often than not doesn't like it when he gets jealous; but he will throw everything else away.)

I feel like I might have tangented a little from your question so if I missed something feel free to send an ask again, I'm more than happy to answer 😂 but I hope this explanation makes sense!