#marwyd

[friesian]

some human mar practice :)

[kamiporterbridges]

OC Kiss Week 2026 day 4: Wedding

Seven stories about love and kisses; first kisses, long-awaited kisses, impulse kisses, premeditated kisses. Art by @friesian

In this one Elf and I came back to Johnny and Marwyd's little ranch in Harvest Den, their post-Dragon saga relationship, and what's gonna be of them in the future.

Read&Comment on Ao3!

--

The one true way to make sure spring had finally arrived to Harvest Den was the town coming alive with dance and song. The market was, finally, lively with chatty Kodan sharing the news of their hibernation; how the provisions had lasted, who was the first to awaken, what had been the first songbird to pierce the drowsiness and call them all back home, to the surface. And, especially, who had found their way to who's room in the meantime.

Johnny didn't understand hibernating — the idea of napping for days was tempting, but being unable to move, to walk around the forest on his now elder raptor Slow Dancer, to chop wood and to have a comfy stew in front of the fire after a day of scampering around was terrifying to him. But he did understand a thing or two about sneaking inside someone's bed, hoping for warmth, for companionship, and maybe something else.

Stoic and Poky had been clear; Harvest Den was changing, and so were the Lowland Kodan. Opening up to strangers in times of war was one thing, and opening up the doors of their homes to some faraway heroes who found themselves their neighbors was something completely different. And yet, Johnny and Marwyd had made both, and the Kodan found that they fit with each other better than they might've expected.

"It is a sight to behold," Stoic had said, glancing at Late Spring and Contemplative Dusk walk arm in arm across the market, with the seemingly permanent band playing at the center of town as a backdrop. "The winds of change arrive every season, but never seemed to touch bearkin's hearts the way they did with mountain and forest, with river and cloud. But now, some eternal frost has melted. The seasons are changing."

Johnny had met Contemplative Dusk before he had met Late Spring. A large black bear with a scarred maw, terrifying with a lance and, honestly, also without it. They had sparred on the arena a couple of times, finishing up on a technical draw before someone could get hurt forreal. They had hunted on the backs of journeykin shortly after (sorry, warclaws for the foreign people), and had become fast friends upon realizing they had a taste for fire, meat, and riding.

And then there was Late Spring. A singer, kinda like the skaalds of the Norn, delivering news and regaling congregations with her tales and her voice, deep as the thunder over the mountains. Johnny found her performances relaxing, and found himself drifting away, remembering lazy evenings beside Lake Doric, at the tavern over a jar of honebrew.

But not Contemplative Dusk. Her brown eyes lit up like embers upon gazing over the brunette fur of the bear-skaald, as her ears wiggled with delight at every melody, every note.

He should've seen it coming, them spending the winter together. But somehow it had caught him fully by surprise.

"The elders told me once that people like Spring and Dusk used to hide, they told me," Poky said, as they tended to the baby journeykin at the stable to give their mommas a rest. "I don't know why. Just seems silly to drive our best fighters away just because of whom they decide to knit their marital bedspread with."

Stoic chuckled with a deep nod, satisfied. Poky was a good kid, and a sign of things to come. Good things.

"Which is why I am not surprised you have been requested," he rumbled, quirking a brow at Johnny as he whipped his head around towards him.

"Who? Me? Ow!" he said; too bewildered to avoid a journeykin kitten's bite on his finger. "Fer what?"

"Marriage speech!" Poky explained — a smirk showing more fang than intended, earning him a hiss and a swipe by a troublemaking journeykin. "Ow! Hey."

"Marriage ceremonies occur on spring," Stoic Adler explained, snorting softly at their struggle with a bunch of unruly kittens with knifes strapped to their soft, cuddly mittens. "And it is custom that the community decides who should give a rousing speech to celebrate the happy couple. And your name has come up very often."

"Why me? Ow. Stop."

Johnny missed the complicit glance Poky and Stoic gave each other, too busy flicking a kitten on the nose.

"You arrived with the fallen star," Stoic explained, evading the dolyak in the room more gracefully than Poky, who glanced directly at Marwyd from across the market at a veggies stall — always so distinct to the different colors of toasted fur with his sylvari features. "You drove the shadow from our lands for good. This long suffering people has accepted you and your partner into our fold; not because you had power, like those so-called wizards. But because, like our dear Sorrow, you decided to embrace us first. There is no other way for the bearkin. And so, you would do good to prepare. Not to disappoint them."

The sensation that the last remnants of winter lived inside his belly now didn't left Johnny for the rest of the evening. And no matter how many times Marwyd had asked what was wrong —and he did so quite often; when they rode back home on their journeykin Princess and Ajee, on the kitchen counter while they made dinner, at the table while they ate, and late at night while they snuggled up to beat the cold and nothing else under that marital spread that Johnny had ordered on a whim—, all he could come up was a kinda unconvincing I don't know, man.

And now, as the sun began to set the day before Spring and Dusk's big day, panic bubbled inside of Johnny's gut as he stared at a horribly blank page. It had been almost 20 years since he had left school at the demand of his father, and he was still just as bad at completing assignments on time.

He had asked everyone; Caithe had sent a whole ass speech prepared, but it seemed a bit too impassioned and personal for Johnny's taste. Taimi, Rama, Waiting Sorrow and even Frode had said something similar to follow your heart, but Johnny seldom knew what his heart could tell him about two other people's relationship. Above all, his heart was simple, uncomplicated, if a bit superficial. Not the most adequate for when it came to capture the flash of Dusk's eyes when she saw Spring sing, but rather to sing a dirty tavern song when everyone is already too drunk to care. Everyone except Marwyd, of course, with his booze allergy and all.

Marriage wasn't for him, for fuck's sake. He had sworn it off one fateful dinner back in Doric, back when he still had the farm and his father wasn't a dragon magic-bound popsicle. When George had made an off-hand comment about his future descendants, and Johnny had decided that the perfect punishment for him would be for him to have none. No blonde country girl with flowers on her braids walking to the altar of the Six, nor 2.5 brats running around a dilapidated house while they pretended to be happy under his father's still disapproving gaze. He would have nothing, Johnny would have nothing, and they could both stare at each other with hatred until one dropped dead.

But now George was in the Priory halls, with Braham working on reverting Jormag's curse. None of them had died. And Johnny still had a blank page in front of him, trying to imagine how it would feel to want this so bad not even the frozen winter could stop love from blooming inside a damp cave.

Thing is, he had lied to himself. He hadn't asked everyone. There was one person, one who composed songs in that rumbling language of the dunes and secret oasis in the sands, he hadn't consulted about his predicament.

Johnny turned on his chair, looking at Marwyd preparing coffee in the kitchen, across the woven divider separating their living space. Feeling more than listening to his rumbling voice as he hummed a little melody to himself, as relaxed as he could be, which wasn't much but was miles and miles from where they had started.

It just felt wrong to ask for some reason.

But the sun hurried to hide as if it knew Johnny had a deadline to meet, and the fire burned brighter than anything, except Marwyd's eyes when he glanced up his cup of coffee, frowning like he was wondering where the day had run out to. He looked beautiful in the shadows. He looked beautiful in most places and light conditions, actually.

"Hey Mar," he found himself saying, unable to stop himself. And those eyes met his, and it was like the first time; feeling a bit nervous, a bit willing to puff up and meet him head on, and a bit flustered all at the same time.

"Hmm?"

"I need help," he said, glancing away from a moment before whipping his head back up once more. "And don't tell me to follow my heart or some bullshit or I'll bite ya."

The wrongness felt even worse when trying to put his issue into words. It was cheesy. It was vulnerable. It was a lot of responsibility. And he wasn't a good public speaker. And what did he know about love, anyway.

Marwyd cut his diatribe with a huff. A frustrated one.

"What!" Johnny protested, pouting ever so slightly.

"Y'ain't bad at speakin' in public, Johnny," Marwyd said with a scowl. "Yer just convinced you are."

And just to flex his might as a scholar, Marwyd proceeded to cite Johnny's multiple stirring speeches. Ever since they had started, way back when, when they weren't even friends and Johnny was 17 and everything was messy and complicated about them both. When the people of Elona needed hope, and when Taimi needed a shoulder to cry on, and when Kasmeer needed reassurance after their God rampaged and the Five had left, and when Braham mourned so hard they went from a fistfight to understanding each other, out beyond the end of the world.

When a demon had wanted to make a prey of Marwyd, and he had said, without saying, that they'd be together no matter what. He had said, without saying it, that their love was stronger than whatever shameful secrets they kept from each other.

And none of them mentioned the night at the big bridge over Harvest Den, where Johnny had announced he'd sold the farm in Doric, because his home was here, amongst the bearkin. Here, beside Marwyd. Because they both had to give something up for each other, and they had done it. Even if Marwyd was the banjo player, Johnny had plucked at his heartstrings like a master musician, weaving the story of them both.

"This ain't about no hearts speakin'," Marwyd insisted, lighting up a candle over the coffee table, beside Johnny's blank page. "Is about doin' what you know. And you know plenty 'bout joinin' people together."

He then gave Johnny a glance; a glance that maybe underlined that night at the bridge, where they had touched foreheads first, leaning on each other, before finally, finally kissing in what felt like the culmination of a lifetime. So natural, yet so earth-shattering, like the seasons passing by, relentless. Or maybe it didn't mean anything, and Marwyd was just being stoic and practical, as usual.

Johnny sighed, maybe enchanted, maybe desperate. And Marwyd simply ruffled his hair, big, warm, calloused hand sliding down the nape of his neck, claws drawing the lines of his shoulder, and leaving with a soft, almost reluctant snag on his shirt before lighting a candle and leaving it beside him.

Their contact was electric. Johnny needed to kiss him again, badly.

He jumped with a start. Of course.

Leaning over the page, he started writing. About a lifetime of searching and one thousand findings, followed by more searching. About the joys of a warm home and a warm dinner and a warm bed, followed by a warm embrace. Of silly intimacies, of knowing the sound of one's breathing and replying with a soft all good, darlin'? upon hearing a discordant note. About staring at each other until being able to evoke each other's face from memory, and being just as taken aback about being so dang lucky to be able to hold their hand.

"Guess I never really paid much mind to forever, y'know?" Johnny said, looking slightly haggard for a night's last minute work, but still a complicit smile flustered his cheeks ever so slightly. "People often don't. 'Till forever stares back to their face, sometimes in someone else's eyes. And then it hits ya: you got gotten, pardner!"

Chuckles replied to his joke, as Spring and Dusk held hands and grinned and stole glances from each other. Johnny smiled at them, nodding as Spring gave him a wink, before glancing back at her beloved; ursine joy on every flash of fangs and glint of eyes.

"And now y'all give us all one more reason to be happy, and to celebrate and keep the Den safe," Johnny continued, some deep emotion seeping into his words. Like a flowery taste on honeymead. "Spring ain't comin' early, but rather came just when it was supposed to. Life's like that — we just ride through it. And sometimes—…"

His eyes left the happy couple for a second, meeting a silhouette that was as tall as the Kodan beside him, and yet so different from all of them. Arms crossed and hat casting a shadow over his eyes, glowing softly in yellow and green, Marwyd observed him with his usual frown, eyes perking up upon meeting his gaze so suddenly. Johnny hesitated, once again a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Sometimes you find someone who's itchin' to ride beside you."

"The words have been spoken," Stoic Adler, the officiant, intervened, as Johnny meekly looked away and played with a strand of golden, curly hair. "Do they ring true?"

Spring and Dusk exchanged one last glance.

"They do."

"So be it. We welcome a new family into Harvest Den."

Lances pounded at the ground, as the Kodan roared and, as if they needed to kiss each other, badly, Spring and Dusk bumped foreheads, then noses, then maws as they kissed and held each other; a promise to never let go.

And as Johnny nodded and raised his honeymead cup, eager to take a sip, it dawned on him. It wasn't casual what had inspired him to write about eternity, and love, and marriage like that. He managed to mask his choking with a firm clearing of his throat, but still his eyes met Marwyd's, still frowning at him as he clapped for the happy couple.

He wasn't ready to explain. He had sworn it off. But with nothing to prove, no one to impress, and no one to spite, Johnny realize he had been gotten, pardner!

[godkiller-sinead]

Every god needs its herald.

This year's outlaws halloween costume! @friesian and I got inspired by our pet story about the Elona fractal, reimagined as one of 2 high risk fractals that the wizards kept stashed away in the depths of the mists... until the dragon cycle ended and brought them all forth.

In this fractal, Marwyd never came back from death after fighting Balthazar, and a grief-striken Johnny hunted the rogue god down and killed him. However, without Marwyd to interrupt the process, Johnny's ascension was complete and he became the God of War and Fire.

His first godly act was trying to bring Marwyd back, attempting to turn him into his first forged. However, being new to his powers, something went terribly wrong. The God of War and his Bull from Hell 🔥

[commanderfloppy]

Did some sketches based on highlights from the Open rp night, had some great moments!

Ft: Marwyd @kralkatorrik , Zheng Hau @zhenghuaz , Sparrow Tail @sparrowchute and Niddhil @herrejorn (hope it's ok to tag y'all <3)

[mystery-salad]

HI I WANTED TO ASK!! in your humble opinion, do you think marwyd and matthias would get along?? i feel as if they both come from similar angles when it comes to "guy i like??? KILL." but i wanted to hear your two cents on it 👀

Flsjvslfjwvsaljfhsl LYS IM NOT GONNA LIE IM RIGHT THERE WITH U ON ROLLING THEM AROUND IN MY HEAD TOGETHER FOR THAT REASON

I do absolutely think in theory they could get along great, but also their angles for coming at the Commander title are so starkly different I think they would clash horribly in that regard. And I think the big defining difference is the fact that Matthias doesn't just have a criminal past, his criminal past is actively hunting him with a large bounty on his head, and he's fabricated an entire nobleman false identity to hide in the very visible and thus well-protected role of Commander.

Before Aildyn knew about his past, they didn't really like him and for Very Good Reason. @ascalonianpicnic 's Aildyn is also an ex-criminal, but a known one after the end of Personal Story when their own past as a Courtier gets out. Truly, I think Marwyd could hit it off far easier with Socks' side of this duo because Aildyn isn't really hiding behind a huge lie and having to put in the work to be an insufferable human noble. It wasn't until PoF when both Aildyn and Matthias died that they finally realized they had some level of common ground, and even afterward while Aildyn went on to treasure that connection Matthias tried to ignore it entirely despite starting to grow Feelings.

I think, before he ever became Commander, Marwyd and Matthias could've totally hit it off. I think if he never became Commander they might've been able to as well! I think as Commander on his end, the two would end up at each others' throats just as much as he and Aildyn started.

But yes, he absolutely shares the "can't let anyone know I have FEELINGS" angle. Before he realized he had feelings for then the two fought OFTEN, he left them to die once in the desert, the two are known for being at each others' throats constantly and medics are so damn TIRED of the pair. Once he realized he had feelings? Fights stopped all together. Outside of work he never even acknowledged them, he avoided aildyn completely. He'd still argue during work for appearances of course, he can't Ever drop appearances, he needs that to survive here. So he also does avoid love very much like Marwyd in the "gotta leave the room now k bye" method.

Aildyn had to actively get in a huge fucking fight with him and literally corner him before they even had a chance to admit their own feelings and forcefully confront him with their confession. It was a very very violent confession of love lmao

I desperately want Marwyd and Matthias to like. Have a couple beers leaning on the railing of a porch looking out endlessly into the distance while they both think about the salad they can't eat, but also it'd 100% have to happen in a world where Matthias never took on his false identity and he really could just be a bit of a bitter ex-bandit asshole in the open

[friesian]

FINALLY mar reference 2026. i started this in 2025 but we stay silly.

[kamiporterbridges]

OC Kiss Week 2026 day 5: Heated

Seven stories about love and kisses; first kisses, long-awaited kisses, impulse kisses, premeditated kisses. Art by @friesian

This is the reason why this work has the "mature" tag. I love writing Elf's Marwyd's complex relationship with desire so much. Me too man, the fuck.

Read&Comment on Ao3!

--

Heels bumping on the counter below, sunny hair and even sunnier smile bouncing in the waves of his conversation, Johnny was busy recounting this and that in one of his endless diatribes, changing topics just as fast as Marwyd swapped ingredients beside him. The first pieces of what would become a stew bubbled already over the fire, with only the ingredients that needed less cooking time being chopped under a recently sharp knife, and Johnny had declared that he wanted to help.

Marwyd knew that "help" from Johnny in the kitchen would mean his endless stream of thought being delivered directly into his ears, making them perk up every so often. And that was, in all honesty, all Marwyd would ever ask from Johnny.

Sunny locks, sunny smile, and even sunnier conversation up in the crown of the world, where days were sometimes short and warmth was in demand.

"Green Bean ain't bein' too nice to me I tell ya," Johnny said, the thud, thud, thud of his heels against the counter harmonizing with the chop, chop, chop of Marwyd's knife.

"Augur," his voice rumbled, as he moved to toss some northern tubers into the boiling concoction of slow-cooking meat.

"Whah— yeah! S'what I said!" Johnny replied, the constant thud pausing for a moment.

"Ain't what you said."

"Whatever, man." Johnny waved his hand in the air, blowing such concerns away. "What I'm sayin' is he tried to bite me, the mean bastard!"

"Maybe cuz yer callin' him Green Bean," Marwyd then pointed out, grabbing a Canthan cabbage and roughly chopping it. "He don't like it. And it ain't his name."

Johnny simply blew a raspberry at him. Marwyd rolled his eyes, biting down a smile but chuffing all the same as he grabbed some mushrooms to stir-fry.

It took but a moment of sizzling and the smell of caramelizing butter for Marwyd to realize Johnny was suddenly quiet. Way too quiet, even — never a good sign. He whipped his head around, nubby braids swinging as he caught Johnny sticking his grubby little finger inside the sugar. Not the sugar flask, no, of course not. The sugar sitting in a bowl on the counter, ready to be assembled into banana bread as soon as he was done with the stew.

"Hey!" he barked. Johnny jumped, still quickly putting his finger inside his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Stop that."

"What! What did I do now!" Johnny said; licking his lips despite his big, pleading eyes. Marwyd grumbled.

"Stop eatin' my ingredients, boy," he warned, before taking the mushrooms out of the pan and tossing them in the pot over the fire.

When he turned around, Johnny was eating— no. He was swallowing a whole banana. One of the five small bananas he managed to scrounge from the market, in a place where no banana trees could hope to grow. He was swallowing with the gusto of a cat escaping with a fish from a fisherman's bucket, stealing his bounty from the pile of ingredients he had no business getting into, across from the cutting board and the pile of vegetables Marwyd knew all-too well he found not appetizing at all.

"Johnny!" he barked once more, making Johnny choke slightly on the banana (full, intact) inside his throat.

"Whah!" he struggled to spell out, hitting his chest as Marwyd gave him a hearty pat on the back, spraying banana in front of him.

"Told ya to cut it off!" he said, claw stabbing Johnny's chest and knife on the other hand.

"I'm hungry!" Johnny protested, holding his gaze even if he had to crane up to do so.

"I'm makin' dinner right now!" Marwyd pointed at the boiling pot, happily bubbling on the fire. Johnny groaned.

"S'takin' too long!"

Johnny pouted — that youthful face of his looking soft under the lights of the kitchen. Marwyd sighed.

"Be patient."

He chopped more veggies, evaluating the quantities and flavors as he went, as his ears wiggled at every rustle of clothes, at every creak of the counter. Huffing, Marwyd closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and suddenly caught Johnny by the scruff of the neck, pulling him away from the second banana he was, still, trying to grasp at.

"Aw, c'mon!"

"They're for banana bread!" Marwyd said, sitting Johnny back down at the counter and leaning over him with a scowl.

"I'm so hungry and yer bein' mean!"

"Yer bored," Marwyd grumbled, leaning even closer. "Cuz yer idle. And when yer idle, you eat. Stop that or I'm kickin' you out."

"No y'ain't," Johnny retorted, puffing up slightly. "I'm literally helpin'."

Marwyd quirked a brow.

"Stop eatin'."

"Make me."

They stared deep into each other's eyes for a moment, with only the happy boiling of the stew in the background. Then, Marwyd rolled his eyes, and shoved Johnny against the wall with a hand flat on his chest.

Johnny's eyes got big as he loomed closer, then softly lidded as he felt Marwyd's breath on his face. He even parted his lips in anticipation, wondering how, or when, or if he had brushed his teeth that day, or if he could smell the sweet feed and cologne seeping into his clothes.

But the knife in Marwyd's hand was cumbersome. He needed somewhere to drop it— no, too dangerous. It needed to stay put for what was about to happen (it could get a little rackety with them both pushing and pulling and struggling). So he simply stabbed it deep against the wall, sinking its metal point firmly into the wooden beams, a bit too close to Johnny's face, probably, as he gasped and jumped slightly.

"Whuh—"

No more words. His lips and Marwyd's clashed, and everything else was superfluous.

Huming and gasping, overwhelmed by Marwyd's size, newly impressed by Johnny's eagerness, tugging at his clothes and all, they kissed. Merely lip against lip, gliding over each other, before Johnny sighed and pulled him in deeper, which Marwyd found surprisingly easy to comply to. Johnny's quiet gasps were curious— no, not curious. They were warm, deeper than his usual nasally voice, coming from somewhere deeper, perhaps. Somewhere he could feel rumbling under his hand, still pushing against his chest before sliding down somewhere more comfortable, like his narrow waist. Was it the knife? Was he really into that?

No time to formulate questions when Johnny's tongue threatened to drink his breath away. He needed to pull back for a moment, catching a split-second of hazy blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and plump lips as he readjusted, hand squeezing at that waist, feeling muscles contracting and tensing under his fingers, and—

"Ah, Mar…"

His ears twitched. Some liquid weight pooled inside his stomach, feeling at the same time too full and completely empty. Some sort of vertigo, perhaps, like walking a narrow trail overlooking a cliff. He should stop. Too dangerous. The stew was boiling. His hand strained holding onto Johnny's wrists.

Johnny gave him a wanton lick, inviting him back in. And Marwyd was too stupid, reckless, stunned, pick one, to deny him.

"C'mon," Johnny whispered on his lips — that same surprisingly deep, rough voice again. Manly, maybe, reminding Marwyd that he was but flesh and sap and a beating heart.

Their kiss took a turn. All strategy melted in blissful confusion; Johnny's soft struggle to touch him, his small, frustrated groans, his deep —why were they so deep— sighs of content. His smell of hay left in the sun, sweet and earthy, reminding him of golden fields and his smile from across the grasslands. A beast stirred inside his chest; a hungry beast too often neglected, as his grip tightened, and he drew closer, and Johnny locked his legs behind his back, offering himself whole because whatever happens, happens, and he would welcome it joyfully if it was Marwyd giving it to him.

His closeness was maddening. His voice made Marwyd's ears twitch and perk up. He could pick him up, with one arm, even, and he could keep squeezing his waist with the other one. He could keep squeezing him, pushing into him, making him sigh deeper, more throaty —was that a moan?— and push his hips up against him.

He could do so again, he could make Johnny break the kiss for a second to sigh his name out into nothing, before trapping him back in a turbulent kiss with no ending in sight.

He could. He could feel something awakening inside of Johnny's pants, too, almost in response to the beast stirring up inside of himself. Wanting to meet it, to clash with it, to lay in a heap after their struggle had ended.

The perspective was exhilarating.

Enough to make him break the kiss and walk away.

Johnny blinked, pinned against the wall as if he was still struggling against Marwyd's grip.

"Um," he hummed, blinking and sitting up. "The hell you think yer goin'?"

"I'm cookin'," Marwyd reminded him, tossing the veggies into the pot without a glance. Johnny stammered, gesturing wildly in the air.

"The hell you mean yer cookin'?!" He glanced down at his crotch, where a bulge strained against the stiff fabric of his jeans. "I'm hard as fuck!"

"Better take care of that."

Johnny groaned —a genuine, frustrated, flustered groan this time— before jumping off the counter and stomping to the bathroom, murmuring insults all the way.

Marwyd sipped on the soup, beating the beast back into submission. It was missing salt and spice. But it was most definitely not lacking in warmth.

[friesian]

first art of the year. get that blonde beast off that man.

blondie is @kamiporterbridges