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#a return to the days of youth

journey-to-the-attic · 3 months

Note

bold of you to assume we (or atleast i) dont want to read paragraphs about ik's and belphie's dynamic 😈😈

if you feel like writing that, i'd absolutely love to read about it!!! ^^

RIGHT YES this took me a hot minute but let's go!!!!

so the main points that this is all built around:

belphie is someone who is absolutely shit at understanding himself

ik is someone who has a knack for understanding anyone she talks to for long enough

belphie's first resort is usually to leave things to someone else, but easily asserts the things he wants

ik will actively pursue you if she thinks she can help, despite usually feeling guilty about requesting anything

they both have very simple views of very complicated things

building from point 1: this is not entirely belphie's fault - i've talked about this before, so i'll just paste the pertinent bits here:

belphie, as the youngest brother, has been detrimentally coddled in regards to these things, and has NO fucking idea how to properly deal with loss the others haven't tried to talk to him about his grief for lilith, nor about their experiences during the celestial war; when they all had to support each other after the fall, they comforted him, but never ever discussed the pain of it all it's like the doctor refusing to talk about your actual symptoms because they're afraid of making you uncomfortable, and instead just soothingly going "it's okay, just take some ibuprofen and see me in the morning"

belphie underestimates himself and, at the start of the year, is convinced that there's no way forward - 1. he feels he's left it too late, 2. he feels he's the only one still hung up on lilith's death, which only makes him more bitter, and 3. he thinks that the hatred and grief is just who he is now

now take ik, who finds him in the attic and takes worryingly little convincing to help him - even more concerningly, she decides to go through with it even upon finding out he was lying about his identity. this is a direct contradiction to his conviction that humanity is selfish and cruel - more than that, the more ik visits and chats with him, the more he remembers why he'd been so fascinated by humans as an angel

except it also reminds him of how much lilith loved humanity. belphie doesn't think he's capable of letting go - he doesn't think he's allowed to, and to him befriending a human and moving on is the same as betraying his sister's memory. so he represses any feelings of good-will and continues to nurse his hatred

i think it's important to note that belphie's hang-ups have always been self-destructive before this, but the more he lets his own grief fester, the more it threatens to burst. his threat to lucifer about destroying humanity is an early indicator of this, and it culminates in a moment of extreme emotional distress where it finally all implodes

so ik - in the wrong place and the wrong time (in the literal sense) - finds him in the middle of a nightmare, wakes him up, and gets murdered for her troubles

belphie shuts down immediately after, because to him this is a point of no return. he's already convinced himself that nothing can be done for him, and this is the proof. except then everyone else forgets what's happened, and, panicking, he goes along with it - out of fear of losing his family if he comes clean.

so: point 2 - consider that a big thing with ik is that she just doesn't get why belphie acts the way he does after killing her. she's been able to get into the heads of his brothers before him, and even now can somewhat rationalise them forgetting, but she has no idea why belphie - who first killed her and then acted like he'd forgotten about it - would suddenly seem so wracked with guilt upon finding him in the dreamscape

belphie does not think he is strong enough to move on. ik, somehow, intrinsically, already knows this is not true. this is why she's so bewildered by belphie telling her lilith's story. he's convinced this is some kind of damning evidence, but ik doesn't get how this explains anything. and because she doesn't understand, she seeks answers.

now take point 3 and 4. belphie does not attempt to seek forgiveness - he just sits in the cell solomon locks him in. he doesn't try to get out, he doesn't attempt to repent, and he doesn't want to, because as far as he's concerned there's nothing to be done

ik, on the other hand, is going to put her home back together by force if necessary, so she goes to find him. multiple times, she climbs up the tower stairs to rescue him from a waking nightmare - the same thing that killed her - because her family is still his family, and she knows too well what it's like when you go without.

belphie has been sitting stagnant for millennia on end, and now ik has decided that she is going to KICK him along until he figures out that he can stand on his own two feet and keep going. and it works, because for some reason digging demons out of emotional pits of their own creation is ik's specialty

and now point 5: ik and belphie fall quite easily into a typical sibling dynamic of the "i'll make fun of you constantly, but if anyone messes with you they're dead" kind. they never really sit down to talk out all the residual Baggage of everything, because neither of them are the type to overthink these things

but EVEN THEN. they may be simple-minded but the complication of the everything that led up to this means there's little hidden meanings even in the normalcy of their behaviour, and neither of them ever register it

for belphie it's "i'll never understand you. thank you for understanding me. i don't know what to say, so i'll tease you for tripping on your laces instead. i'd throw someone down a gorge if they made you cry. let's go shopping. i think i'll spend the rest of my life wondering if i can ever close the wound i tore in your soul."

for ik it's "i'll never forget what you did to me. i see you in my nightmares sometimes. thanks for waiting for me after school. quit making a show out of helping me reach the top shelf. sometimes i'm glad you regret things so much. can you help me with this homework? i think we're alright."

and for both of them it's "i like hanging out with you. sleep well. i'm glad we're home."

in conclusion,

i am crazy about things i made up entirely. perhaps i am cringe but i am free

#answering asks #valenrien #and also #anon asks #i meant to write this out like two days ago but i got Super Invested out of nowhere #in drawing this one thing of solomon and mephisto #idk if i'll get around to fully finishing it so like 75/25 whether i'll ever post it #but it's been very fun. i finish my work and then get to go 'hehehe time to go draw gay people'#for brief moments my youth was returned to me and i was fifteen years old #and drawing godzilla going on dates with various dinosaur and dragon ocs again #i haven't drawn godzilla in years. i used to be so good at it. i should draw him hanging out with ik #but anyway. in conclusion #belphie is a wounded animal in a beartrap and ik is the farmer's boy who loses a finger trying to prise it open #ik's unrelenting and fierce campaign for everyone she loves to just be NICE to themselves is almost frightening to belphie #who doesn't quite comprehend how she does it and doesn't feel he's quite earned forgiveness #except what ik's forgiveness forces him to confront is exactly what he deserves

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sbnkalny · 30 days

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Sorry Yenk the facts dont lie to lie low, like brer Fox, just before dinner, he returned and told me to ignore history

has

#QUOTE #DAY 1 #And a chief pleasure #in those early days of its irresponsible youth #was to lie low #like brer fox #just before dinner #he returned and told me to ignore them

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thethief1996 · 6 months

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700 Palestinians were killed in the last 24 hours and the airstrikes are more violent each night. Gaza's hospitals have fuel left for two more days. Israel only allowed aid into Gaza on the condition they didn't carry fuel. The Indonesian hospital has shut down already, because doctors have no supplies and no choice but to let the wounded die. They're calling it a collapse but the term doesn't do it justice.

Over a 100 incubator babies are at risk. There are 50.000 pregnant women in Gaza right now, and 5.500 due to give birth this month. Menstruating people are taking pills in order to stop their periods, because they do not have pads or water to maintain hygiene. Surgeons are operating without anesthesia. Water is not reaching Gazans because there's no electricity or fuel for water pumps.

There's no excuse for this. Israel justifies the airstrikes by saying they want to destroy Hamas infrastructure and release the hostages, but they have refused to negotiate for their release. Hamas informed Israel they wanted to release two elderly women without anything in return, and Israel refused. Netanyahu said they wouldn't take their own civilians back because it was "mendacious propaganda." When the hostages were finally released, Netanyahu prohibited the hospital from giving press releases. Yocheved Lifshitz went behind their backs and talked to the press anyway, saying she was treated very well by Hamas, but the government abandoned them. They're being used as straw men. Israel is conditioning the entry of fuel to the release of hostages and yet, according to The Wall Street Journal, when Hamas proposed to exchange 50 hostages for fuel they denied. IDF officials have said they fear the release of more hostages because that might withhold the order to their ground invasion. They do not care as long as they can use the hostages as a pretext for their slaughtering.

There's a turning tide for Palestine in public support. Support for Israel was built through decades of propaganda and we are making a dent into it. Zionists are desperate, holding zoom meetings to promote zionism, but we have to do so much more. We have to shame people in power into supporting the Palestinian cause.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices, looking to inform yourself from the sources. Palestinians have asked of us only that we share, tweet and post, over and over. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera

Anadolu Agency

Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Al-Shabaka (twitter / instagram)

Mariam Barghouti (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza

Take action. You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting (don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. Only boycott additional brands if you can):

Carrefour

Puma

Sabra

Sodastream

Ahava cosmetics

Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate. Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London. Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN GERMANY: Here's a toolkit to contact your representatives by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN IRELAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN POLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN DENMARK: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SWEDEN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Here are upcoming events:

CANBERRA/NGUNNAWAL, AUSTRALIA – Wed Oct 25, 11 am, National Press Club. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cyh1xy1BMrU/

OXFORD, ENGLAND – Wed Oct 25, 12:15 pm, Cornmarket. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CykroKeInz3/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

SMITH COLLEGE (US) – Wed Oct 25, 12 pm, Chapin Lawn. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CymT8f5vnHN/?img_index=1

ST CATHERINES, ON ( CANADA) – Wed Oct 25, 6 pm, 61 Geneva St Info: https://www.facebook.com/events/889319005528757/

TORONTO, CANADA – Wed Oct 25, 5 pm, Sidney Smith Hall. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyjVbpGvva8/

SANT CUGAT, CATALONIA, SPAIN – Thurs Oct 26, 6 pm, Davant l’Ajuntament. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CynL834tgg9/?img_index=4

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 27, 7 pm, Federation Square. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cyhyd0vhP8t/

LIVORNO, ITALY – Sat Oct 28, 2:30 pm, Piazza Cavour. Info https://www.instagram.com/p/CyiWJ06MXpM/

MINNEAPOLIS, MN (US) – Sat Oct 28, 1 pm, Lake Street and Minnehaha.

ROME, ITALY – Sat Oct 28, Rome. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cyi7ey-MMs1/?img_index=1

ROME, ITALY – Sat Nov 4, Rome. Info TBA: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyndKUitnMU/

WASHINGTON, DC (USA) – Sat Nov 4, 12 pm, White House. Info: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyiecRtr9-B/

Wollongong: Rally at Crown Street Mall Amphitheatre on 21 Oct at 1 PM

Melbourne: Blak and Palestinian Solidarity Rally at Victorian Parliament House Steps on 25 Oct at 6 PM

HOUSTON: Thursday, October 26th, 5:45PM, Rice University, Central Quad

VANCOUVER: OCT 28 at 2PM, Vancouver Art Gallery

KITCHENER: Wednesday October 25th at 5 PM at CBC Kitchener

SANTA ANA: 20 Civic Center Plaza, Santa Ana, CA 92701, October 25th at 5:30 pm

TORONTO: WED. OCT 25 at 7PM at Queen's Park

[CAR RALLY] WASHINGTON D.C: Wednesday 10/25 outside the US State Department on the 23rd Street side

Feel free to add more.

#save gaza #free palestine #gaza under attack #palestine

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wilwheaton · 1 year

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The GOP wonders why young people (and others) don't want to vote for them. Some wise scribe assembled this list.

1.) Your Reagan-era “trickle-down economics” strategy of tax breaks for billionaires that you continue to employ to this day has widened the gap between rich and poor so much that most of them will never be able to own a home, much less earn a living wage.

2.) You refuse to increase the federal minimum wage, which is still $7.25 an hour (since 2009). Even if it had just kept up with inflation, it would be $27 now. You’re forcing people of all ages but especially young people to work multiple jobs just to afford basic necessities.

3.) You fundamentally oppose and want to kill democracy; have done everything in your power to restrict access to the ballot box, particularly in areas with demographics that tend to vote Democratic (like young people and POC). You staged a fucking coup the last time you lost.

4.) You have abused your disproportionate senate control over the last three decades to pack the courts with religious extremists and idealogues, including SCOTUS—which has rolled back rights for women in ways that do nothing but kill more women and children and expand poverty.

5.) You refuse to enact common sense gun control laws to curb mass shootings like universal background checks and banning assault weapons; subjecting their entire generation to school shootings and drills that are traumatizing in and of themselves. You are owned by the NRA.

6.) You are unequivocally against combatting climate change to the extent that it’s as if you’ve made it your personal mission to ensure they inherit a planet that is beyond the point of no return in terms of remaining habitable for the human race beyond the next few generations.

7.) You oppose all programs that provide assistance to those who need it most. Your governors refused to expand Medicaid even during A PANDEMIC. You are against free school lunches, despite it being the only meal that millions of children can count on to actually receive each day

8.) You are banning books, defunding libraries, barring subject matter, and whitewashing history even more in a fascistic attempt to keep them ignorant of the systemic racism that this nation was literally founded upon and continues to this day in every action your party takes.

9.) You oppose universal healthcare and are still trying to repeal the ACA and rip healthcare from tens of millions of Americans and replace it with nothing. You are against lowering the cost of insulin and prescription drugs that millions need simply to LIVE/FUNCTION in society.

10.) You embrace white nationalists, Neo-Nazis, and other groups that are defined by their intractable racism, xenophobia, bigotry, and intolerance. You conspired with these groups on January 6th to try to overthrow the U.S. government via domestic terrorism that KILLED PEOPLE.

11.) You oppose every bill aimed at making life better for our nation’s youth; from education to extracurricular and financial/nutritional assistance programs. You say you want to “protect the children” while you elect/nominate pedophiles and attack trans youth and drag queens.

12.) You pretend to be offended by “anti-semitism” while literally supporting, electing, and speaking at events organized by Nazis. You pretend to hate “cancel culture” despite the fact that you invented it and it’s basically all you do.

13.) Every word you utter is a lie. You are the party of treason, hypocrisy, crime, and authoritarianism. You want to entrench rule by your aging minority because you know that you have nothing to offer young voters and they will never support you for all these reasons and more.

14.) You’re so hostile to even the notion of helping us overcome the mountain of debt that millions of us are forced to take on just to pay for our post K-12 education that you are suing to try to prevent a small fraction of us from getting even $10,000 in loan forgiveness.

15.) You opened the floodgates of money into politics via Citizens United; allowing our entire system of government to become a cesspool of corruption, crime, and greed. You are supposed to represent the American people whose taxes pay your salary but instead cater to rich donors.

16.) You respond to elected representatives standing in solidarity with their constituents to protest the ONGOING SLAUGHTER of children in schools via shootings by EXPELLING THEM FROM OFFICE & respond to your lack of popularity among young people by trying to raise the voting age.

17.) You impeach Democratic presidents over lying about a BJ but refuse to impeach (then vote twice to acquit) a guy whose entire “administration” was an international crime syndicate being run out of the WH who incited an insurrection to have you killed.

18.) You steal Supreme Court seats from democrats to prevent the only black POTUS we’ve ever had from appointing one and invent fake precedents that you later ignore all to take fundamental rights from Americans; and even your “legitimate” appointments consist of people like THIS (sub-thread refuting CJ Roberts criticisms of people attacking SCOTUS' legitimacy).

19.) You support mass incarceration even for innocuous offenses or execution by cop for POC while doing nothing but protect rich white criminals who engage in such things as tax fraud, money laundering, sex trafficking, rape/sexual assault, falsifying business records, etc.

20.) You are the reason we can’t pass:—Universal background checks—An assault weapons ban—The ‘For the People/Freedom to vote’ Act or John Lewis Voting Rights Act—The ERA & Equality Act—The Climate Action Now Act—The (Stopping) Violence Against Women Act—SCOTUS expansion.

21.) You do not seek office to govern, represent, or serve the American people. You seek power solely for its own sake so you can impose your narrow-minded puritanical will on others at the expense of their most fundamental rights and freedoms like voting and bodily autonomy.

22.) Ok, last one. You are trying to eliminate social security and Medicare that tens of millions of our parents rely on and paid into their entire lives. And you did everything to maximize preventable deaths from COVID leaving millions of us in mourning.

Source: https://imgur.com/gallery/e8DBZLH

#republicans are garbage #uspol

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

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DCXDP FIC IDEA: The Dauntless Matchmaker

Danny Fenton is short on cash. He has been short on cash almost all his adult life, but usually, he can pull through untill the last minute before breaking and asking his family for help.

It's a pain in a half trying to find a job that is flexible enough to accommodate his "Health" issues.

He needs time off to keep his agreement. See back when he was sixteen, he realized that the ghosts that had been bothering him were all trying to challenge him for his power.

At first he looked like easy prey- being new and all- but the more fights he won the more his reputation rose and that made the ghosts attack less frequently.

They just became harder since the big guns wanted a crack at him. Danny proposed that the fights be in neutral grounds- the ghost zone- since fights in Amity Park were ruining his haunt.

Haunt Rights were highly protected and respected in the Infinite Releams.

His adversaries agreed under the condition that Danny responded to the battles within two hours; otherwise, they would haunt him in the human world.

Ghost fighting in the Infinite Releams to keep the ghosts busy, and nowadays, only the strongest bothered him like a bi-weekly challenge from dead beings that don't understand scheduling.

It worked out.....until he couldn't explain why he was missing so often in the human world. With the help of some friendly ghosts, he was able to fake a diagnosis of some muscle disorder and has been living with the excuse that he would go MIA because of it. He missed a lot.

Often enough to have almost every job he's gotten to fire him.

This brings him to his current problem. Yes, Danny can argue that he has a disability but to do so would mean having someone look into it and realize it's not real.

So when Charlie from the Tea MadHouse tells him not to bother returning tomorrow after a four-day-long battle, he can only sigh and turn in his tea maker apron.

He might have to call his parents to ask for help on this month's rent. That's a bitter pill to swallow.

If only there was a job that he could do that had no problem with him taking multiple days off without notice.

"Pardon me. I need a moment of your time." a voice calls out. Danny twists around, turning his neck slightly downwards to meet the green-eyed stare of a young boy.

"I have a proposition for you. My elder brother requires a fake lover to fool our family butler into thinking that he has moved on from the heartbreak of his last disastrous relationship. Not that anyone could blame Dowd for ending things with Drake. In any case, seeing as I have witnessed your unemployment, I figured you would do well for the job."

Danny blinks "I'm sorry?"

The kid pulls out a wad of cash. Danny can practically hear the ca-ching sound surrounding the boy as he raises a brow.

He gapes as the youth slaps the cash into his hand without so much as a blink.

"Do we have an accord?" The boy asks while Danny slowly turns the money in his hand.

"Whatever you say, temporary in-law," He says after flipping through the bills only to realize it's a hundred-dollars. A quick count of how many he's been handed causes his eyes to almost pop out of thier socket.

It's more then enough for this month's rent-hell he has some left over for at least four months!

"Excellent, we are expected at dinner. If Drake acts surprised to see you merely tap the table six times, then four. He shall fall into line and build off our lie."

Danny scrambles after the kid, nodding to himself. "Six, then four. Got it. Ugh, does the dinner have a dress code?"

It sounds like it would since a young boy just gave out hundreds like it was nothing. Danny would feel bad showing up in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Maybe he has a formal shirt somewhere.

The boy's green eyes flickered to him, then his watch on his wrist. "An impressive observation. Pennyworth will not be impressed by a poorly dressed paramour. We have time to purchase a suit. Come along."

Danny has no idea how someone so small can walk so fast. He feels his breathing is coming in quick bursts, but the boy doesn't seem winded at all. He winces when the boy enters a well-known suit place that is very pricey. "Is this coming out of my pay?"

"No. This shall be covered by the company card," The strange child says, holding up a black card with a quick flick of his wrist. At the sight of it, two store attendants appear at their side, offering assistance. Danny has never seen such power.

"W-wait we have a company card?" He shutters, overwhelmed by the attendant pushing him into a changing room and a light blue suit in his arms.

"Yes. However, you have a limit on what can be spent with it. I shall review the details later regarding your medical, dental, and vision benefits."

"I GET DENTAL?!"

"Of course. America's ridiculous health programs will mistreat no employee of mine simply due to lack of funds. " The boy scoffed, sounding offended by the very idea.

Danny doesn't care how long he needs to pretend to be this boy's boyfriend, and he'll sign a contract right now.

_______________________________________

Damian waited for Fenton to finish trying on all the suits the personal sellers had pushed onto him. He personally thinks the light blue was the best but it doesn't hurt to try other options.

They need Fenton to look his best to woo Drake and get him to stop acting so pathetic.

Yes, Dowd had broken up with him for reasons Damian is unaware of, nor does he care enough to find them, but Drake has had plenty of people break up with him before and remain on good terms with him.

Just look at Brown.

Drake had also always bounced right back after the breakup, usually because he would get tied up in either work at Wayne Industries or Red Robin.

Yet, for some reason, unlike all the others, Dowd leaving has not only been messy it also threw Drake into a downwards spiral.

He has refused even to get dress- walking around in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers- eating ice cream and sobbing over photos of Dowd for hours on end. He taken a leave from Wayne Industries and mostly stayed on monitor duty as Red Robin.

At other times, he plays sad songs and watches romance movies with a dead look in his eyes. Usually there were crumbs of some unknown spicy chips all over his face too.

Really it was unseemly.

It's been four months of this, and Drake does not seem to be getting it together. Damian had researched online, and all of the articles indicate that he should have felt better by the third-month mark.

He would have left the fool well alone only Pennyworth is beginning to worry. And Damian refuses to let Pennyworth worry over something fixable.

His research showed that a "rebound" was highly recommended (if done correctly), in the healing process of a breakup. Drake refused to find one, so Damian assigned himself the task of finding one for him instead.

He considered Drake's past lovers' looks, interests, and personalities. Then creating a list of what was considered a good candidate he wandered around Gotham in search of someone who would be a perfect rebound.

His efforts led him to Tea MadHouse- a tea shop with a surprisingly good coffee menu- where Daniel Fenton worked. Over three weeks, Damian had watched him, categorizing the pros and cons that Drake would find within Fenton, and concluded that he would be perfect.

The fact Fenton has lost his job now only worked in his favor. He'll convince Drake that Fenton is a decoy for Pennyworth - since Drake was getting fed up with all the hovering- and he would never notice that the real target of this fake relationship would be Drake himself all along.

Fenton will woo him, sweep him off his feet, make him forget Dowd and ride off into the sunset with Drake none the wiser. It was full-proof.

Damian will make Drake rebound on Fenton, even if he has to throw the idiot at the other teen. He is getting awful tired of the concerned glances whenever Drake slumps his way into a room.

No other reason. He certainly didn't care about Drake that much nor did does he lay awake at night wondering how Drake is doing now that he does not have someone to hold him.

Drake doesn't sleep well alone.

"How do I look?" Fenton stepped out of the booth wearing the light blue suit. It made his eyes pop and framed his body well.

Yes, muscular. The body of a boxer. Drake will lose his mind over those biceps.

"Ravishing." He tells the nineteen-year-old. Damian barely bites back a smirk as Fenton flushed, painting a pretty picture. Drake enjoys talking his lovers up, and Fenton will do well to receive plenty of compliments. "Let us be off."

Drake won't know what hit him.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #The Dauntless Matchmaker #Damian Wayne really said if you want something done right do it your self #Danny went along cause Damian has that much of a commanding presence #hes also poor and needs the job #Tim is in the trenches from Bernard leaving him

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vivalabunbun · 2 months

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As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment.

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe.

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined.

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces.

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them?

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out?

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear.

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags.

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different.

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband.

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow.

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest.

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.”

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.”

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.”

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion.

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people.

Leaving you with your unresolved musings.

“Is there anything else we need for the week?”

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters.

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket.

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands.

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps.

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique.

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum.

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well.

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve.

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon.

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering.

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old.

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here.

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you.

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted?

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry.

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window.

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his.

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body.

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams.

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps.

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by.

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research.

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit.

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep.

“You really are like an old man.”

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions.

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker.

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears.

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored.

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this?

Would yours mirror the same?

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift.

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth.

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

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves.

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky.

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind.

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape.

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his.

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom.

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice.

“It’s going to rain.”

“Less than a 30% chance.”

“Haitham…”

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again.

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today?

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering.

“Release me, don’t you dare-”

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness.

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest.

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you?

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further.

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber.

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency.

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified.

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors:

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100.

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon.

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed.

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action.

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient.

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case.

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be?

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air.

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor.

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences.

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice.

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time.

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.”

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you.

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove.

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply.

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?”

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist.

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky.

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face.

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove.

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins.

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement.

“Hm?” You hum expectantly.

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight.

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.”

“Hmph.”

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale.

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side.

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential.

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky.

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow.

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream.

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today.

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist.

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for.

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep.

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress.

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless.

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more.

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess.

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him.

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants.

‘Serves him right.’

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips.

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold.

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours.

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity.

“I can say the same to you.”

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips.

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination.

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks.

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck.

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours.

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow.

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket.

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed.

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin.

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens.

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot.

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea.

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull.

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within.

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit.

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed.

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within.

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being.

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations.

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud.

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them.

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there.

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself.

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm.

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent.

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis.

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling.

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady.

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more.

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs.

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation.

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length.

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable.

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder.

“You sure do know how to test my patience.”

“Hmm?” You feign innocence.

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten.

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin.

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along.

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop.

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast.

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his.

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied.

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive.

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part.

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls.

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper.

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls.

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.”

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds.

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much.

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses.

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his.

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs.

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself.

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated.

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun.

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window.

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd?

What is the likelihood of those odds?

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face.

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now.

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess.

Alhaitham hums in curiosity.

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?”

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face.

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings.

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night.

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared?

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber.

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult?

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality.

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles.

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours.

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory.

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones.

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.”

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there.

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left.

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape.

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window.

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back.

You hum in response.

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours.

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks.

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes.

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.”

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow.

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask.

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis.

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest.

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them.

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his.

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters.

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles.

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him.

“Then I won’t,” he promises back.

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control.

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes.

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him.

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.”

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods.

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines.

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation.

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?”

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects.

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff.

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement.

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer.

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours.

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.”

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his.

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies.

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too.

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them.

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany.

Fin~

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sapphire-writes · 10 months

Text

My Dragon ~ Aemond x wife!Reader

warnings: mentions of Aemond's eye injury, some angst & fluff

word count: 1.0k

note: pure fluffy dad!Aemond goodness! was stuck on this idea for a while, hope you enjoy this little piece!

masterlist

You returned to your chambers after a long day, desperate for nothing more than a long, hot bath and the soft furs of the bed you shared with your husband. You had spent the day with your good sister Helaena. Though once only sisters through friendship, you were truly sisters now after the marriage to her younger brother.

As you opened the doors to your chambers, it was unusually quiet. You closed the door behind you, listening to the crackling of the hearth. You spot the back of Aemond’s head, seated on the settee facing the dancing flames. His head is angled downwards; no doubt he has stayed up late with his nose in a book as you often find him.

Though he never admits it after the fact, you’d caught him on more than one occasion fast asleep on the settee or in his chair, a book open-faced in his lap.

You smile softly as you approach, careful not to startle him.

“My love…” you call softly, to which Aemond turns his head.

He purses his lips slightly, bringing a hand to his mouth shushing you. Your eyebrows concave together in confusion, which ebbs as you walk closer. Aemond has forgotten his usual book this evening; instead, your sleeping daughter rests her head on his lap, fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling with each breath.

Her silver curls are splayed every which way, her nose whistling with every breath she exhales.

“It is late my love,” you playfully tease, keeping your voice a low whisper so as not to wake her.

“I know,” Aemond says, his voice just as soft, “We lost track of time.”

You smile, walking behind him to place your hands on his shoulders. Though only in her fourth year of life, your little dragon has the Targaryen prince wrapped around her little finger. Aemond brings a hand to rest on top of yours, pulling it from his shoulder and pressing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

“Did you have a nice time?” he murmurs against the back of your hand, his breath causing gooseflesh to appear.

You hum in response. “I did. You know how I enjoy spending time with Helaena. Though I must admit, my legs do ache.”

You had spent most of the day walking through the gardens with the princess, helping her add to her collection of curious creatures and oddities. You loved Helaena’s hobbies and were more than happy to indulge her. But the day was long under the hot summer sun, and it left you eager for bed.

“Shall I call for someone to draw you a bath?” Aemond asks as you lean to rest your chin on his shoulder.

“It tis alright,” you assure him, “Do not trouble yourself.”

“It is no trouble, you know this,” he insists, glancing at you sideways. You made sure to rest upon the shoulder where he can see you with his functioning eye.

You remove your hand from him, caressing the leather eyepatch he wears.

“You must be uncomfortable,” you tell him softly, stroking the worn leather. It begins to irritate him on days such as this one when the heat causes the leather to chafe the skin of his cheek.

The weather is strange these days, getting so hot during the day and then dropping significantly during the night. Aemond’s violet eye flickers down at your sleeping child. How perfect she looks, the perfect combination of both of you. A miracle made of your love. You sense his hesitation.

“She shall not be afraid, my love,” you assure him.

“How can you know?” he says, looking down away from your comforting gaze.

Aemond had always been fearful of how others reacted to his injury. You remembered in your youth before he had begun courting you, how you’d learned of why he wore the patch. It was Helaena who informed you that Aemond wished to not frighten the ladies of the court.

“Prince Aemond should not wish for a weak stomached woman anyhow,” you had snapped, as other ladies had snickered at his injury. “Women say they wish to marry a warrior, then faint at the scars from battle. How distasteful.”

Helaena had told Aemond how you’d come to his defense. You’d been the apple of the Prince’s eye ever since. Well, until the birth of your little one. Two women now completely owned the dragon prince’s heart.

“A mother’s intuition,” you assure him, moving to remove the patch. Aemond freezes for a moment but relaxes into your touch as you place the eyepatch on the table, revealing his magnificent sapphire.

You stroke your finger along the scar, admiring how the sapphire reflects the light from the hearth.

“My dragon,” you murmur, cupping his sharp chin in your hand, and pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred tissue.

Aemond sighs, his chest rumbling. You can see a flicker of desire in his violet eye at your praise. Your daughter stirs then, perfect face scrunching as her pale lashes flutter open. She looks up at you with wide violet eyes before throwing her small arms around your neck.

“Muña!” she says sleepily, arms heavy around your neck.

“Hello my love,” you softly croon, pulling her completely into your arms, “How was your day?”

She buries her face into the crook of your neck and you inhale the lilac scent of her hair. How you enjoy the moments with your companions, but oh how you miss your daughter by the end.

“We went exploring all day! And we went flying on Vhagar,” she chatters away, “Sunfyre even joined us! Kepus flew right next to us!”

“Did he now?” you ask with a chuckle. Aegon was a surprisingly delightful uncle.

Aemond stands then, still facing slightly away. You reach for his hand, pulling him closer. Your daughter looks at him, the smile never leaving her face. Aemond turns his head slowly, revealing the scarred tissue and brilliant sapphire. You hold your breath, waiting for your little girl’s reaction.

She stares, unblinking, before reaching out to touch his face.

“Blue is my favorite color,” she informs, turning back to you, “Did you know Sunfyre likes to sing? I don’t think Vhagar enjoys singing, her songs are rather deep. It shakes the windows of the Keep! Muñāzma was quite cross with her!”

You glance at your husband, watching his cheeks turn red. You smile so brightly that your cheeks begin to ache. There was never anything for him to fear. She adores him all the same.

As do you.

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hwasoup · 3 months

Text

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs used for inspo: Prologue (the enchantress), Main Title: Prologue, Act 1 Pas d'action rose adage

art credit goes to Marbipa

Warnings: none for now

words: 518

chapter 1>>

Prologue

Once upon a time… in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a beautiful castle...

The prince was spoiled, foolish, arrogant, and unkind. He exploited the nearby villages to fill his castle with the most beautiful things whether that would be jewelry, furniture, and women. He would have extravagant balls in his castle and even mistreated the servants who served him…

It was a cold and snowy night. It was the prince’s 20th birthday; he held a party with all the riches anyone could imagine. He danced, wined, and played around with his objects. The prince enjoyed his birthday lavishly while not caring that his servants were being almost trampled on. The party continued on for hours until there was a knock on the castle doors, he opened the door and looked down to see a poor beggar woman. “Please sir…accept this single rose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold” she weakly said. The prince huffed and laughed in her face “As if, I don't need a rose from such an old woman from you…besides I have all the roses that I could ever have...”

The guests in the party laughed along as well as they mocked the beggar woman. Before the prince was even able to close the door on her, she muttered something softly “do not be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within...” The prince looks at her annoyed and dismisses her again. Then all of a sudden, a bright light emanated from the old woman, her ugliness melting away, her form changing, her appearance suddenly becoming more youthful to reveal a beautiful, giant, and terrifying enchantress. The prince in shock fell on his knees and stared in awe as all of his guests screamed and ran away from the castle, away from what the enchantress might do. “NO, NO... Please… HAVE MERCY ON ME... I WAS WRONG” the prince said, as he wept and begged for forgiveness. However, it was too late…the enchantress could see that there was no love in his heart, she pointed the rose at him and as punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast. The prince cried in agony as his limbs and appearance changed, he became larger, furrier, his hands became paws, his crimson eyes became red, his cries became roars. The enchantress also placed a powerful spell on the castle and on all who lived there.

Ashamed of his horrid appearance, the prince shunned himself inside the castle with only a magic mirror as his only way to peer into the world outside the castle. The rose that the enchantress offered, was in actuality an enchanted rose which would bloom for many years. If the prince learned how to love someone and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell from the rose, the spell would be broken. If not…he would be doomed to become a beast for all eternity. As the days turned into months and eventually years… the prince fell into a deep despair and lost all hope

.....For whom could ever learn…to love a beast?