#And the grace you all are giving me because that is so special I shouldn't let it go to waste | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aimfor-theheart · 1 year ago

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|| zhongli x afab!reader || E/18+ || smut/a touch of angst/comfort || wc: 7k || ao3 ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

You have never been patient enough for worship. Sometimes, he thinks you always expect to be scorned or feared or hated. As a god of hunger, you are not beloved or worshiped by many, if any at all.

You’ve never known the sort of worship that he gives you.

✧ meet fruit collab masterlist ✧

a/n: this is apart of @willowser 's house server summer collab, meet fruit!! i took plums as my prompt!! this really got away from me and i had a lot of fun with this dynamic and i WILL be writing more of godly wife!reader and zhongli. i have a whole backstory. a huge massive fic i shouldn't work on but will fjdkslfdk i also need to give a special thanks to @itoshisoup , @lorelune , and @petrichorium for helping me with brainstorming and riffing earlier! also finding some godly names for the reader! in particular, mao came up with the name Tanai Zhenjun, which i will leave a note at the end about!! i hope you enjoy this sweet taste!! thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts <333

tags: afab!reader referred to as wife, and has several godly titles that mortals have called her, etc., a complicated relationship between zhongli and reader, mentions of past fights/canon typical violence, erotic fruit eating and feeding, finger sucking, biting, oral sex (f!recieving), some over stimulation, praise, maybe a little sex pollen because the reader causes feelings of hunger/lust/etc. but its consensual and zhongli can withstand it if he wanted, scratching, unhealthy godly dynamics, let me know if i missed anything!

In the shadows of his home, he would know you anywhere.

(He would know you even if you didn’t appear to him like this, fully formed, and in the visage of mortals. He’d know you in the thunder and the wolves’ howl. He’d know you in autumn’s bitter wind and the fox’s cry. Across all of time, he’d know you.)

You slip, serpentine, slow and with the easy grace of a predator into the last falling light of the sun; bronzed, honeyed, and appearing before him like you did decades ago, perhaps a hundred of years ago.

Has it been so long already?

The sight of you–perhaps simply you, yourself, spark an ache in his chest. Fierce. Hunger pains.

And after all these years, he welcomes it, savors the pit in his stomach like a sweet fruit.

You, his god of hunger.

You, his divine wife.

He tips his head back, leaning further into the chair at his deep, mahogany desk, as if he could fix his eyes to better see you. As if he could take in more of you, somehow, greedily, hungirly.

“Hello, my Morax.” You hum and the sun catches in your eye as you step into his life again, after so long without.

“Hello, my love.” He responds, as if it could’ve just been yesterday.

As if you are his wife and you’ve come home to greet him. As if he is your husband and he’s been working all day without you.

“It’s been a long time,” he says then, “you’ve been away a long time.”

You meander closer, on the other side of his desk, peering at the scrolls and papers there. His hands are stained in ink. He catches the downturn of your lips, the small quirking of them in displeasure. Such mortal things, he can hear your voice, the little hiss you get when you dislike something.

But then your eyes roam to the bowl of fruit, now untouched, that had been brought to him in hopes of eating;

Slices of plum, gold and orange and tender on the inside, their moon-dark skins still curved to them. One still has the pit attached to it, carefully nestled within its flesh.

Plums always remind him of you.

(In truth, anything with pits, with bones, with something that can be picked clean and left behind reminds him of you.)

In an instant, your fingers, nimble–adorned with his jewels, the jewels of his earth, snag a slice.

He watches as you sink your teeth into it, juice bursting, caught on your lip.

You chew only a moment, swallow slowly as you watch him.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed around Liyue Harbor,” you begin, “I thought I wasn’t allowed around your precious mortals.”

His voice, low and soft, rumbles in affirmation. “Yes, that is true.”

“And yet you speak to me like I’m welcome.” You hold the last bite of your slice to your lips, speaking against it, “like I should’ve visited sooner.”

You bear down into the fruit again.

“You’ve come to pick a fight?” He asks, “I can feel you’re trying to stir trouble.”

And it's true; your ability as a god of hunger, to spark it in others. To sharpen and change it from starvation to bloodlust to desire to despair to greed–to any form of hunger.

You caused whole towns to be decimated, driven mad with just the residuals of you, the feeling of you too near, like a wraith haunting their doorway. You turned tides in the Archon war for him and against him. You have always been one of the biggest threats to Liyue’s peace—to the world. Perhaps even beyond.

You perch on the corner of his desk prettily.

“I can’t visit my husband?” You purr.

He quirks a brow, “you only ever call me husband when you’re trying to kill me.”

Your grin is a wild slip of excitement, a fissure of heat in the clash of your gazes.

“I am trying to kill you,” you agree, but perhaps you have always been trying to kill him. The battles between you two carved the very land of Liyue and at the end of them, no matter what had transpired, he was still your husband. And you, his wife. “But I don’t feel like fighting tonight.”

You pluck another slice of plum from the bowl and bring it to your mouth. He watches your lips part to take the fruit in again.

He thinks of replacing your hand with his own. He thinks of the sticky sweet taste he would find if he licked into your mouth, he thinks of being between your teeth again like the little piece of plum.

Something inside of him yawns open.

You’re toying with him.

“You’re in rare form, then.” he hums and does not deny your draw. He has long since stopped trying not to be swept up in you–he realized it was inevitable at some point. You would always pull at parts of him none of the world had, and like a puppeteer did you play with those strings. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You gaze down at him, almost lovingly, if he didn’t know better.

Then you shift slightly, adjust yourself.

And the first touch he has of you in decades, perhaps a century, is just a brushing of your calf against his forearm from where you sit atop his desk. Your bare skin beneath the pooling silks of your skirts.

Heat rips through him like a tearing wound.

His gaze flicks up to yours.

“Did you know I was in Liyue?” You ask.

“I always know the moment you enter my land again.”

I always know the moment you come home.

You shift your leg again, this time, a steadier press to his arm.

He can’t help himself–he shifts his arm, opens his palm up against the curve of your bare calf to fully feel you, to hold you, in any minute way you might let him. Rough calluses scrape up against the soft skin of your leg, the silk of your dress pooling around his arm, cool and like spun moonlight.

You let him hold you like this, curl against the contour of you. His hand moves, dips down almost to your ankle, and back up to the bend of your knee.

“You missed me,” you accuse, your voice a teasing lilt.

Perhaps it’s you and the heady rush you cast on a room, on him, “yes,” he agrees honestly, “I always do.”

“So sentimental in your old age. You’ve spent too long around these mortals.” You tell him, looking away so all you give him is the profile of your lovely face. The upward tilt of your chin, the haughty way you look down your nose.

“Did you miss me?” He asks and he isn’t looking for you to placate him, but his hand is broad and inching up the back of your thigh. He pulls at you, urges you to the edge of the desk, where his other hand fits around the curve of your waist.

“Don’t get greedy,” you chastise gently, but you still go with the pull of his hold.

You slip into his lap like you were always meant to be there, fitting to him the way the moon fits into the sky, or the land against the sea. It’s an ancient feeling, bone deep, soul-cut.

You let your arms fall around his neck loosely and to have you again in his embrace, after so long, does in fact, make him feel greedy.

“I can feel it,” he says instead, perhaps just to spite you a little–to move another piece in this eternal chess game with you. “I can feel how you ache. I can feel the way you missed me.”

“I always feel like that,” you snip, deft fingers slipping the band in his hair out so that it all falls free, loose and flowing over his shoulders in a wave of inky black. “I am always hungry like that.”

“No,” he says and his voice is low like a wolf’s growling, a tiger’s purr, “I know your hunger. And I know this hunger of yours. You missed me.”

“If you’re looking for a heartfelt confession, you won’t find it in me.” You tell him, proud little god that you’ve always been, “perhaps you’ll find it in your precious mortals.”

Your voice takes on an edge, just shy of a sneer.

He laughs, a low rumble from his chest, amused, and pleased.

“Oh, that jealousy of yours. I missed that, too.”

“Don’t get full of yourself,” you hiss like an asp and now, he worries you’ll bring your claws out. Your eyes glint in the last rays of light, like a bolt of lightning, like a spark of flame in a cold night.

He reaches up to touch your face, thumb sweeping over the arc of your jaw bone in a possessive hold. He forces you to look at him. “Come now, I thought you said you weren’t in the mood for a fight.”

“Then don’t test me.” You snap.

He fights back another fond smile in order to not test you further than he already has.

He leans closer, his nose almost nudging against yours, “if you’re not here to fight. What are you here for?”

“To eat through all your land until it is barren again.” You murmur and he knows it is just to pester him. Your fingers are winding in his long, silky hair and your eyes have gone half-lidded, so he knows you are not nearly as waspish as you’re pretending to be.

“If I could satiate your hunger, I would.” He murmurs darkly, lips brushing against yours as you carefully hold yourself back, a dog on a strained leash. At your best, you have always been a caged beast, pacing and desperate for escape. At your worst, you have been nothing short of desolation, teeth upon the earth in a vicious grasp, shaking hard, tearing it to shreds. Your bite never compared to your bark. You’d threaten destruction and deliver devastation; even you, surprised with your own vitriol, your own capability for demolition.

He threatened to muzzle you once, long ago.

You rear back slightly to look at him, “no, you wouldn’t. What would you have me be? Content?”

He laughs softly again, low and warm, terribly fond of you despite it all, “yes,” he says very frankly, and then, “soothed, for once in your life.”

“I won’t ever be soothed while you walk this earth.” You tell him and he cannot tell if you mean it with vengeance or with love. Are you being romantic? Or threatening him? Sometimes, he felt that your violence was supposed to be more like a kiss, and your kiss the type of violence that leaves him ruined for decades after.

“And you would be after?” He asks, “I don’t think you’d know what to do if you finally managed to kill me in a meaningful capacity. You’d be bored.”

You move to pull away from him with a snarl but he fastens his hold onto you tighter to get you to stay, he touches your face again, coaxing. “I only tease you.”

“I said don’t test me.” You respond, but again, there is nothing nearly so vicious in you tonight.

No, he knows the hunger in you tonight is a soft creature, a warbling, tender one. He’ll be kind to it, he will feed it and tend to it, even if he knows it will only grow larger still. Like caring for a tiger cub, only for it to grow into all those teeth and muscles, to bite the hand that fed it.

“Forgive me,” he rumbles, and this time, he angles your head so that he can skim the strong line of his nose against your jaw, “let me make it up to you.”

“You will not be able to,” you say indignantly and his own smile now feels sharper with the challenge, with your throat so near. He settles himself into a burning kiss against your pulse. Inside of him, something catches and sparks. Your hands curl around the muscles of his shoulders.

“I know,” he coos, low and soft, almost sympathetic. “Then at least indulge the hunger you’ve caused in me.”

This, in the least, you settle into.

He pulls away barely to sit back, to look at you fully in all of your glory a moment.

You look back at him, perhaps taking him in as well.

The smoldering turns into a flame.

The decades of years unspool inside of him and give way to a racing mind, images of what he wants, how he wants you.

It is always like this, he thinks, eternally, desiring you, and never getting enough.

He thinks he must know how you feel.

And then he gives into one of several of his desires that are rearing their large, horned heads inside of him. The beasts of his desire are all chained to you, he thinks. He reaches for the bowl of fruit.

Perhaps it's your turn to be amused as he brings a slice of plum to your lips. You must know how he was looking at you earlier, you must know his desires if you are the one to stoke them.

Still, you accept the fruit easily, minding your teeth as his finger slips against your lips. Sticky and soft and warm. You draw his finger into your mouth briefly, closing around it. He can feel the edges of your teeth as he pulls it out.

The moment you swallow around the piece, he surges up to kiss you.

To finally kiss you.

He wishes he could call it something of a greeting or reunion, but it is too desperate and too vicious for that. Your teeth click together, coming up against one another, like an old key coming up against a lock.

He tastes the plum in your mouth, sweet and a little tart, and can’t help the groan that rumbles out of him.

Your hands disappear into his hair, tangle in the strands so that he can feel the press of your nails against his scalp. He feels the way you arch into the slide of his hands along your torso, bending to them, as if he is a sculptor. It pulls you closer, opens your hips wider in his lap in a way that makes heat rip through him.

When he pulls away, you’re already hazy-eyed, heady with the quick-burn of this sort of hunger, this lust.

It pulls at him like the tide on the shore to drag him under.

This time, when he places his lips to your throat, he sinks into a bite at the tender flesh there.

Sometimes, he wishes he’d treat you more tenderly. As if that might be all you ever needed; more gentleness, and less teeth at your throat.

But you arch and from your mouth spills your own moan finally, fingers tightening in his hair as if to hold him there. He feels your hips twitch forward, into him, an aborted rock of them, perhaps unknowingly or subconscious.

He wishes you inspired patience in him.

(Usually, he claims to have a great deal. Unfortunately, he cannot claim the same with you in his arms again. Forgive me, he thinks again, but I haven’t seen you in nearly a century.)

He stands suddenly with you still wrapped around his waist, hands fit beneath your thighs to lift you and place you on the broad expanse of his desk. Papers get pushed aside, some topple onto the floor in a fluttering mess. You laugh when the bowl of plums rattle precariously, but his mouth covers yours again, and he swallows the sound eagerly.

He kisses you hard again, hitching your hips up to fit snugly to his, fitting his broad hands over the curves of your waist. You respond in kind, though, and twine your leg around his waist to pull him closer, arch your back to press your chest up to his.

When he pulls away this time, he takes you in, splayed out beneath him.

“I did miss you,” he gets out roughly.

“Then show me,” you respond, stretching out beneath him, as if to tempt him.

His hands move over the silk of your dress, bunching parts of it, tangling it. He decides in an instant that he doesn’t actually wish to deal with it, so he sets his hands on the bust and simply pulls. It tears like paper beneath him. And again, you laugh, amused with him now, with what you do to him.

“So impatient.”

“It’s been a long time, my love.”

And this time when he kisses you, perhaps you give into him more, feed what he wants. You mewl into his mouth, arch against him, drag your nails down his covered back.

“Touch me,” you get out, demanding, a little fussy.

“So impatient.” He mocks dryly.

For his trouble, you pull harshly on the hair at the nape of his neck, baring his throat to you.

His broad palm roams up the expanse of your side, your bare stomach, and to your chest. He cups your breast, thumb brushing against the peak in a way that makes you hum and squirm beneath him eagerly.

You bury your face in his now exposed neck, nudge your nose there, which turns into your warm, open mouth.

For a moment, surprisingly gentle, until he feels the quick flash of pain from your teeth. He rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger with a little more pressure than necessary, just to hear the little noise of pain you make.

He drops his face to the crux of your chest, lips dragging along the skin there, above your beating heart. And for all your bite and bark, you still offer yourself up to him for the taking. You still draw your hands over his shoulders, pushing at the clothes still on him. He doesn’t indulge you, but draws lower, hair spilling over your chest as his mouth opens against your breast.

He nips and marks, sets his teeth against the tender flesh and sucks a bruise into you.

“I miss your sharp teeth,” you admit.

He huffs, breath fanning against your skin. He raises his eyes, molten gold, to meet your own, “there’s no pleasing you.”

And then he captures the bud of your breast in his mouth and at least manages to pull another sound from you, meandering, growing in your own desire. You squirm beneath him again but something inside of him (old and draconic) blinks its eyes open and he seizes your waist to still you the way a predator subdues their prey, sharply, and with a slow rolling of muscle, a flex of their strength. A serpent squeezing down around a mouse. A tiger bearing down on the deer.

You don’t go easily, though.

And the moment you feel his resistance, you squirm and push harder, straining. Arching and impatient.

He nips, he fights back the more base urge to growl, and readjusts his hold on you.

“Stop squirming,” he commands.

“Stop teasing,” you reply, stubborn, and disobedient.

“Let me enjoy you.” Zhongli responds, watching his own hand sweep over your breast, cover it, and toy with you.

“Enjoy me later.” You snip, fastening your legs tighter to his waist, hitching him closer.

And he feels a head rush of your ability pour through him, the tightening of your desire and lust, of your hunger spilling from you. It’s purposeful. He feels the dull thud of his heart kick upwards, the warmth that simmers beneath his skin. He blinks hard with it, but does not succumb.

“You’re so insolent.” He finally gets out, just shy of a growl, “now hold still for me.”

His lips skim the top of your stomach as he lowers himself to his knees in front of you.

You sit up onto your elbows, eyeing him, inching your hips to the edge of the desk eagerly.

“I’ve always liked you best on your knees, Morax.”

He sinks his teeth into your inner thigh in a more ruthless bite, forcing your legs open even as they threaten to close with the sudden jolt of pain. Hard enough that you hiss through your teeth, twitching towards or away from him, he can’t tell.

(Images of days long past flash hotly in his mind, in another form, with those sharper teeth you’d said you missed.)

He feels your hunger burst open like a ripe fruit, like the plum between your teeth.

He soothes the bite with a slow, lingering pass of his tongue.

His eyes flick upwards towards you.

You look a little shaken finally, eyes glassy, teeth stuck in your bottom lip.

He drags you closer, pulls you flush so that your hips are almost off the edge. You fall back with the movement and he doesn’t give you a moment. He isn’t feeling generous or very kind anymore.

His mouth opens against you in a crush of heat, eager, perhaps impatient himself.

A groan, low, from the back of his throat, works out of him at the first taste of you.

Again, you try to squirm, and something ancient and vicious in him squeezes hard enough on your waist that if you were a mortal, he might sincerely hurt you. He doesn’t care if you’re trying to squirm closer or away, he realizes, he doesn’t care if it hurts a little, as long as he can have you like this. Open. His.

Ah, he realizes, perhaps he isn’t ignoring your sway as well as he thought he was.

He delves between soft folds, already slick, but he’ll make it worse still.

(Perhaps, at one point, he had ideas of being a gentleman of some kind with you. Perhaps, at some point, he thought he would carefully work you open with mouth and soft tongue. He’d be loving and gentle with you. But you’ve always done something horrible to him, something he can’t tame, something he wishes he feared more.)

You whine a little and the sound pools straight into his own desire for you.

He fits himself closer, keeps your legs wider apart with his shoulders.

“Morax,” you gasp and it’s with more heat and desperation than he is anticipating.

His eyes, heavy and gold, flick up towards your face, looking up at you beneath the dark fan of his lashes.

Oh, you’re closer than he thought, he realizes.

He doesn’t slow or stop or lessen himself, groans a little, and fits himself tighter to you. He digs his fingers into your skin and keeps you close.

To his surprise, that is all it takes.

Your gasp is strangled, perhaps a little surprised, as you arch off the desk in a bow-curve, poised to snap.

You fall to pieces as a cry loosens from your throat.

He feels you pulse against his tongue and without thinking, he growls a little, a pleased rumble, and doesn’t stop.

He tastes you, savors it, and doesn’t let you hide or pull away from him.

Your hips twist and he follows the movement, wrestling you still, so that he can still enjoy you.

You’re out of breath, hiccuping a little, trying to squirm away from him but there’s nowhere to go.

He won’t let you go.

He pulls away to rest his head on your inner thigh a moment, “so quick.” He teases, “you must’ve been pent up for it to be that easy.”

He thinks, I wasn’t even doing that for you yet—I was still enjoying myself. I was being greedy. Hungry in my own way, in the way that you inspire.

“I should leave you now.” You huff, picking yourself up on your elbows to gaze down at him, but your eyes are simmering.

He squeezes at your thighs, “you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

And before he can hear your protests, he dips forward again and flattens his tongue against your folds. Slow, broad licks that make you twist and twitch.

“Morax—“

“I’m not finished with you yet, my love.” He says lowly, somewhere against where you’re most tender and sensitive.

He takes his time teasing now.

Enjoy me later, you’d said, and he doesn’t think this is what you meant.

You have never been patient enough for teasing–for worship. Sometimes he thinks you always expect to be scorned or feared. You were always Deus Inanis, Tanai Zhenjun, and later, Rapax Regina to the people. You have many names from them, none particularly kind or cherished. You were always the ghoulish god, the bad omen, the drooling maw of a starved predator. Your myth is not a beloved one by most.

And some dare not even speak your name at all, for fear of inviting you.

You are not a welcome god in the home and hearth, you are not for protection or courage. You are feared and warded off. You are, at best, used as a condemnation.

(To him you were always softened with affection, even at your worst; little god, my curse, my love, keeper of my heart.)

You’ve never known the sort of worship he gives you.

You struggle with it, keen sharp and broken when he gives it to you.

Sometimes you have all-out tried to refuse him or hasten him, poured your lust and impatience into him to get your way, to sway him to your own will. He can feel it again now but it never manifests in him the way you’d like it to. You assume his desire is one of his own pleasure. But it has always been this;

You, belly-up and vulnerable, only for him, delicate in a way the rest of the world will never know. Pleasure-drunk and hazy. Lost to what he can give you–he wants to gorge you. He wishes he could fill the empty place inside of you.

He’s spent an eternity trying. He’ll spend an eternity more.

He focuses his intentions, strengthens the pass of his tongue with what he wants. He wants your pleasure. He wants it again and again.

You curse a little, an ancient word, from when the land was Archon-less and free.

He lifts his mouth from you briefly, “you are already cursing like that? This will be a long night for you then.”

He opens his mouth again to taste you, to suck gently, your legs twitching over his shoulders as your breath hitches.

This time you curse him, hissing through clenched teeth.

He laughs against you in amusement, low and dark, and smooths a broad hand over the soft plain of your tensing stomach. As if he might soothe you, or perhaps because he wants to feel all of you, have you in his palms, in his arms. Against his mouth.

The next time you fall apart, he doesn’t let up once. His eyes have gone half-lidded and burning, a flint-strike of amber. You try to fight him again, wrestle out of his hold, but he strengthens himself. He steels himself, even, to your pulling of his hair, to your fussing and snapping–all of that melts to whining, to near-crying, as he continues.

You’re too stubborn to cry for him now–there have been only a handful of times he’s broken you down that much.

Perhaps if he were feeling crueler, he would try.

(These instances have always come in the wake of something worse; your largest fights, or worst transgressions where he felt the need to punish. To strip you bare. These are saved, not for his desires, but for your catharsis after all your grief.)

But your voice has gone higher with desperation, more broken, and he is pleased with that.

Pleased enough that when you burst on his tongue again, your nails digging into the back of his hand as he holds you, he finally rises.

Instantly, you twine yourself around him, legs around his waist, arms pulling at the front of his clothes to drag him down into your arms. You are always more desperate for affection like this, softened by pleasure, hungry for more.

He goes down easily for you.

Kisses you hard and open, so that you’ll taste yourself from his mouth, the way he tasted the plum from yours.

You groan weakly and manage to gasp when he pulls away, “please–more. I need more. Need–”

Always need, you say, when you get like this. Never want.

“Need you.”

He hums, the noise lumbering from his chest in a pleased, dark sound.

“You have me,” he soothes, even as he feels dizzy with your own desire, a headrush of desperation–of need that rushes from you to him.

Feed me, need me, fill me, possess me, take, take, take me. Fill. Aching–so empty, I’m so empty. Please, please, it hurts– please, I need more, need, need, need–

He lets out a harsh breath. It aches, almost sharply, almost on the wrong side of pain and pleasure.

He does not torment you any longer. He does not torment himself, either.

With fingers far more nimble than he feels, he loosens his slacks, he pushes his clothes out of the way just enough, enough to take himself in hand and hiss through his teeth as the head of his cock touches your slick folds.

Molten. Fluttering still with sensitivity, with desperation.

Your hips roll, eager, trying to urge him closer, inside–

“Morax–” you cry and the sound twists something in his chest, blooms like a bruise being pressed on.

He presses inside you and fills you in one, deep thrust.

You gasp sharply, you pull at him, force him to collapse over you nearly, cover you completely. You cling to him, you wrap yourself around him like a serpent, now constricting him–

(He’s never been able to tell who is the serpent and who is the mouse, anyways. Who is the tiger or the deer? Was he capturing you? Or were you always capturing him?)

You hold him so tightly, calves flexing around his back, that he can hardly pull out from you to thrust.

He groans, almost in frustration, or maybe some form of defeat.

“Darling,” he gets out roughly, “my love. My little god.”

The old, affectionate nickname burns through you and he can feel the desire like a knife’s blade in his own stomach. You moan– a soft, warbling sound.

He manages to move his hips, barely leaving the hot clutch of you, to push back in deeper, harder.

“Please–” you gasp, “more–kiss me. Touch me.”

“So demanding,” he scolds, but he kisses you hard, with too much teeth and roughness, and fits his palms over the sides of your body. He takes handfuls of curves, of your waist and your breasts, rough hands bending over the lines of you the way the light of the moon bends over the hills and valleys of his land.

His next thrust is harder, a little rougher. You turn your face into his throat after you break the kiss and your teeth sink down into him hard.

You always draw blood. You always have to leave your mark on him, on all that you’ve touched.

But then you draw your tongue over the wound, licking softly, perhaps in apology. Perhaps to satiate another need that winds around inside you.

Your hand tangles in his hair again and he bites back another raw groan as he thrusts, in and out, on a slow, rough drag. You’re clinging to him, tight and so wet that it’s making his thoughts bleary and clouded. Your lust shadows any rationality; your hunger possesses him.

“Harder,” you gasp, you beg, you plead.

And he thinks who am I to deny you? Who am I to deny the god of my hunger?

His hand slips over your arm, your free one clawing at his clothed back still. He knows you will mourn not getting your nails into his skin after, but he will let you satiate the need all you like later. He’ll savor the way you try to tear him apart, like he always does.

(And sometimes, he swears, you’re just trying to tear down his skin to be closer. Deeper in him. Scratching at his ribs and his sides like you want in, in, in. A bad dog at his door. A wraith that claws at his soul.)

As he pulls at your forearm, flattening it out against the desk beneath you to pin you beneath him, he knocks into the bowl of fruit.

The last of the plum slices tip out onto the desk and the remaining juice at the bottom of the bowl pools in a sticky mess over the wood, some over your forearm and wrist, over his own, too.

He thinks you move without thinking, bringing his wrist up to your lips where you lick up a stripe up into his palm, against his thumb.

You take his thumb into your mouth with ease and he cups your cheek in a possessive hold as he lets you suckle, tongue soft and warm and gentle against the pad of it. You groan, lashes fluttering, and this seems to please some part of you.

His thumb in your mouth, cock lodged deep inside you.

He pushes himself deeper on his next thrust, enough that you whine a little, eyes going glassy, cheeks hollowing around his thumb.

He can feel the spit pooling in your mouth, wet and slick, can feel the way your walls squeeze and flutter around him desperately.

He presses on your tongue, thrust growing a little faster, but still hard, deep–a little ruthless.

But it’s what you need–so it’s what he gives you.

You hold his wrist, little nails digging into his skin, desperate to keep his thumb between your lips. He can feel the press of your teeth in the meat of his hand.

He readjusts, tries to draw his thumb out barely, only for you to latch down tighter on his wrist, and slide it back into your mouth with a noise of protest. Saliva spills a little, slick and messy against your bottom lip, against his hand.

He coos, but it’s too dark to sound reassuring, and sounds more like a rough purr, just shy of a pleased growl.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he soothes lowly, but it sounds like less of a comfort from a husband, and more of a promise from the beast you shouldn’t have let in in the first place. It’s loving in the same way a possession is. “My little god, I have you now.”

Your peak this time makes something inside of him roar open. He feels your inner muscles bear down on him, fluttering desperately.

Your eyes tip behind your eyelids, hiccuped breath against his hand as it twists into a guttural sound that he feels against his palm.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, turning your face so that he can press open mouthed kisses against your throat, suck a bruise there, turn the flesh tender, “I’ve got you. Good girl–that’s it.”

Perhaps he draws blood when he bites you this time, too. Tastes it sharp on his tongue, the blood of a god. He lifts his head from your neck and finally draws his thumb from your mouth, spit slick as he traces your bottom lip. He pulls himself up from you to gaze down at you, slack jawed and messy, near feverish with your lust.

His hips quicken, harder, and you reach out to splay your hand out against his tensing stomach, to push at him a little.

But he doesn’t stop, feels you nip at his thumb, still making a mess of your lips and chin.

Your legs are still hitched tight around him, drawing him in, keeping him close.

He squeezes your hip with his free hand, he loses his rhythm when you draw his thumb back into your mouth, suckling softly on it.

He groans, feels his own pleasure in a rush down his spine, a burst of heat that unfurls like a supernova. Collapses inward. Expands outwards. He buries himself inside of you, as deep as he can manage, deep enough that you make a little noise of pain maybe, but you hold him tight to you. Again, you constrict around him, dragging him back down by his clothes to slot your mouth against his as he fills you.

It’s your turn to hum, pleased, almost purring, tightening your hold around him, locking him against you.

The kiss this time is slower, but dirtier, all tongue, open and messy. He groans into it, holding your jaw, feeling himself twitch inside of you, his own eyes fluttering with pleasure, lashes against your cheek.

When you both pull away, you’re out of breath. Chests rising and falling against each other.

You seem subdued now, heavy-lidded, but your lips drag to his cheek, down to the curve of his jaw.

You roll your hips a little.

“More–” You murmur, “I want more.”

His laugh tapers into a moan. He flexes his hips a little, heat simmering beneath his own skin.

Your hands pull at his clothes finally, tugging at them, pulling at buttons until they snap and burst beneath your fingers, until you reveal bare skin. Instantly, your hands are on him, nails scratching into his chest gently, over his shoulders.

(He’s going to take you to bed after this and he’ll rid you of the scraps of your clothes and the rest of his. He'll get rid of anything between you.)

The ache in him builds again and suddenly he’s rocking into you again, deep and slow, watching the way he disappears inside of you. The mess he’s already made of you, the way he wants to make it all worse. He feels feverish himself now, a little lost to the sight– his desire suddenly feels inhuman. Monstrous. Too big for his own skin.

You always seem to remind him of his divinity.

“Hold me,” you demand now and as if commanded, he goes to you.

He gets his arms around you and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. His desire unwinds. Time unspools from him. He loses himself in the pull of you, in the undertow of desire and hunger. He tries to satiate the ache you have carved in him. The ache you always have nestled inside of you.

You beg him of more–more pain and more pleasure and more of him–until he feels near mindless with it. Gone with it.

Shuddering with sensitivity and feeling you tremble with it, too.

He doesn’t regain himself until another peak has been reached and fallen from, until he realizes the hour; the moon hanging in the window of his study like a copper penny. He forces himself to slow. To lodge himself deep and go still inside of you and let his head fall to your chest.

You cradle his skull, fingers slipping into his hair, catching your breath as the haze fades for a moment.

He picks his head up barely, shifts only so he can catch your gaze.

“Stay for a while.” He demands now.

You let go of a sigh, deep, perhaps tired.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed.” You hum softly.

“Will you behave?” He asks and you lean down to kiss him–sweeter now. Perhaps apologizing. He accepts your affection with warmth, though.

“You know how I get restless.” You respond, fingers tracing along the nape of his neck, one of them trailing down the bend of his jaw.

You are softest now, like this. It’s a rare sight; one he savors, one he will stay hungry for his whole life, he thinks.

“Yes,” he agrees, perhaps fondly, perhaps sadly. “If you could keep mortals out of it, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Even if I tried to kill you again?” You ask, finger tracing the bow of his upper lip.

He smiles faintly and you touch the corner of his mouth, “yes,” he agrees, “even then.”

“Or tried to steal your Gnosis again?”

He snorts softly, picking himself up further to hover over you, to gaze down at you with more love than you have ever known what to do with. “You can certainly try again.”

“Perhaps I should try harder this time.” The threat is fangless this time and you are at least soothed somewhat for now. He knows it won’t last long.

But for now, he takes advantage of it. He cups your cheek, brushes his thumb along your jaw affectionately, and for once, you nuzzle into the touch. You rub your cheek into his palm like a cat.

A flash of your teeth. You bite down into his hand.

He laughs softly, but pulls his hand from you, dislodges your teeth from his flesh.

Slowly, he tries to detangle himself from you. You are reluctant, but he appeases you with promises of more, of his bedroom. Of a bath and whatever you want.

“More plums,” you say, letting him carry you to his bedroom like a young bride, cradled in his arms. “I’ve always loved plums.”

He smiles, “I know. They remind me of you.”

The admittance is a tender one, one that he has held for centuries that has finally loosened from his mouth like a bird taking to flight.

In the morning, when you have slipped from him and his bed and his life once more, all that’s left are the marks you left on him, the deep scratches and latches of your teeth on tan skin–

And the pits of plums you devoured before you left. Not one is spared and he thinks his heart never has been, either.

Not from you, his wife, his curse, his love–not from his god of hunger.

***

a/n part ii: thank you for reading!! here are those notes on the reader's godly names:

There are three titles the reader is referred to. Two of them are latin, similar to Rex Lapis, and the third is from @itoshisoup, and is Tanai Zhenjun, which mao explained as such: "贪爱 (tanai) is a Buddhist term that is often translated as "craving", and refers to desire for both physical and mental things. From my understanding, tanai is sometimes considered a cause of suffering (苦 or ku), but is sometimes considered closely related to suffering in other ways. Given the motif of hunger, I would name the god Tanai, and additionally give them the honorific "Zhenjun" (a title associated with Taoist gods - much like "Dijun", which is the honorific in Zhongli's Chinese title, Yanwang Dijun; however, it is a lesser title than Dijun). Tanai Zhenjun is therefore what I'd call them."

The other two are Deus Inanis and Rapax Regina, which mean "empty god" and "rapacious/ravenous queen" in Latin.

i plan to write more of this reader and use these godly names again soon <3

#zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #cielo collabs!#cielo writes!#cielo's writing!#god of my hunger

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nicoline1998enilocin · 3 months ago

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Summer Drabble Request: Robert Downey Jr x fem!Reader, established relationship (married), with Prompt 6. "Can I kiss you?" from Fluff List 2 please?

Showing off our love

PAIRING || Husband!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Pregnant!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 750 words

SUMMARY || Tonight, you'll grace the red carpet for the first time since you and Robert got the great news about your pregnancy, and he will make sure to make it a night everyone will remember for the rest of your life together.

RATING || Mature (M)

TAGS || RPF. Established relationship. Pregnancy fic. Age gap. Referenced difficulty with conception.

A/N || This is written for my Summer of Drabbles. Thank you for this fantastic prompt, Sage, because it has sparked something beautiful if you ask me! I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when writing it! This is not proofread; any and all mistakes are my own. 🤍

Photo: @ccbsrmsf1 || Other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Robert Downey Jr. || Summer of Drabbles

Each time you and Robert are invited to an event that includes a red carpet, he makes sure to pull out all the stops for you, as he wants you to feel like the queen you are in his eyes. From the most beautiful of dresses to the best of make-up and hair, everything is taken care of without you having to lift a single finger.

Today, you are invited to a movie premiere, and you're looking forward to it. You'll be able to catch up with some people you haven't seen in a while like his Marvel co-stars Scarlett and Sebastian, who have also been confirmed to visit.

"How're you feeling about tonight, Gorgeous?" Robert asks, smirking as he meets your gaze in the mirror while the hairstylist takes care of your hair.

"Good, I'm really excited to show off our little guy tonight," you say as you let your hand rest on your belly. You're nearing the seventh month of your pregnancy, which you have been able to keep a secret for this long because you're not in the public eye often.

You may have married one of Hollywood's most famous men, but that doesn't mean you always want to be in the spotlight. You're looking forward to it tonight, as it'll be your first appearance since finding out about the little boy growing in your belly.

"So am I; it'll be amazing to finally share our secret," he says as he bends down to kiss you on your cheek, heat radiating through his soft lips as they touch your heated skin.

Then, he walks over to the closet, where your gown for the night is displayed; it's a simple black gown that has been fitted to perfection to accommodate your growing belly, letting the world know about the miracle growing in your belly.

The road to becoming pregnant has been challenging for you both, which has made the fact that it finally happened even more special. You're enjoying every moment of it while you can because it'll be over before you know it.

After he has admired your dress for a few moments, he is called in to get his outfit and hair done so that you and your husband will be done simultaneously and ready to leave right after. Once that time has arrived, your husband has to take a moment to pick his jaw off the floor from the sight of you, blood suddenly rushing everywhere; it shouldn't be right now.

"I- wow, fuck! I'm speechless, Gorgeous; you're even more beautiful than I thought you would be," he whispers as he pulls you close, gently caressing your belly before he takes the hand with your ring, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. The smile you're wearing now has not left your lips the entire evening, as he truly knows how to make you feel like the most beautiful, loved, and cherished woman on earth.

The ride to the movie premiere is quick, but before you get out of the car, you take a few deep breaths to prepare yourself for what's about to happen. Robert gives you a reassuring look as he grabs your hand, and then it's time.

Photographers and journalists are all over you when you leave the car. A loud cheer is heard for Robert's arrival and your pregnancy, which will be the talk of the town for the next few weeks. Your hand is firmly held by your husband's, letting you know he's not going anywhere without you.

Once you're on the carpet, your hand lying on your belly and your husband pulling you into his side, he moves to whisper something in your ear.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, and it heats your cheeks once again. You nod before moving your head to meet his gaze, a soft look on his features. Robert gently lays his hand on your belly alongside yours before leaning in and capturing your lips softly, giving everyone a moment never to forget.

"I love you so much, Gorgeous, and I love our little Nugget as well," he whispers, making you smile wide. Your secret is finally revealed to the world, and you can't wait to meet the little feet that have been kicking you for almost seven months.

"I love you too, Robert; I couldn't have done any of this without you," you tell him before pecking his lips a few times. The love between you two is visible in every single moment that passes, proving exactly why you are Hollywood's power couple.

#rpf #robert downey jr #robert downey jr one shot #robert downey jr fanfiction #robert downey jr fanfic #robert downey jr x female reader #robert downey jr x reader #robert downey jr fluff #rdj #rdj one shot #rdj fanfiction #rdj fanfic #rdj x female reader #rdj x reader #rdj fluff

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sourbinnie · 2 years ago

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title -> take me back (take me back literally) genre -> angst (oh my god, is that all i write) + hopeful ending plot -> your relationship fell apart with minho but he still remembers everything about you, especially that one trip to monaco. warnings -> minho sometimes curses a bit too much + implied sexual content (one unholy night that's it but no explicit stuff) pair -> ex!minho x gn!reader words -> 1572 lowercase intended a/n -> this one's kinda bad but eh, i wanted to publish it anyways bc this song is my boo

las luces, las noches que fuimos de bares las vez que peleamos y perdiste las llaves se extraña todo lo que fue tenerte haría todo por volver a verte mirar tus ojos y esta vez perderme

monaco / lagos & danny ocean

every time i thought about them it was as if flashbacks came rushing through me. the wind hitting me in the face, the bright sunny day, the music that the radio played, the long car drives that never ended, everything felt too familiar yet so distant. as if you were nothing but a lost memory that i left on a vacation in monaco.

if i told anyone why we split up, they wouldn't believe me.

everyone would say that we were the perfect couple, the combination that came once in a lifetime and then you stayed with that special someone till the end of time. i beg to differ that we weren't perfect at all, we just showed a version of ourselves in front of people and in the more intimate moments everything would collapse slowly. it wasn't toxic but it wasn't healthy either. yet if i knew that what we had wasn't good, why am i missing you so much? why do i wake up everyday wishing you were by my side? why do i want our first vacation back in monaco to grace me back? just let me repeat it one more time before i go to sleep and keep dreaming of you.

why do i keep saying this place? this country? 'cause i know what we had was special. i know that what we lived there was out of this world even if it was my vacation with the boys and i brought you along, and literally everyone called me a simp, i did not care.

we explored so much, drank way too much and did unholy things but i wouldn't change that for the world. you taking my hand as the sunshine would reflect our shadows on the pavement. you bringing me closer and giving me the sweetest kiss for the world to see. you saying that you didn't wanna leave, you didn't wanna go back because you would miss me when i would go back to work, broke my heart and as much as i wanted to say "let's stay here forever", it was just an illusion and nothing else.

i know you (y/n), i know you're probably thinking that i don't miss you, that those words said to me that night are just a reflection of what i feel. i would do anything right now to see you, i miss everything you gave me, everything you were. even if it brought some of the saddest moments, i do not care, i am so fucking in love that i will go to couple's therapy with you if it's a way to fix us. i would quit my job, move to monaco for fuck's sake, i just want you back.

i shouldn't be reaching for my phone right now like i knew exactly what i was gonna say 'cause i did not have a fucking idea of what i'm doing. i needed to hear your voice, everyone around me knew i needed you, the boys, my parents, even the staff and jyp himself knew that i wasn't acting the same way since the break up.

since we split ways and decided to let our relationship die, i've been dead myself. trying to hold on, trying to put a fake smile, trying to just not fall apart in front of everyone. when they asked me why, i just said things weren't "working out" which is partially true but maybe i'm realizing now that if i put more effort and didn't let go like i did that night, we would've ended up in a better place.

i dialed your number, i prayed to everything & everyone that you didn't block me. and in fact you didn't...

maybe you were waiting for this as much as i was?

maybe you just needed me to call.

or maybe i should hang up and pretend this never happened in the first place.

"hello? minho?" your voice caught me off guard. i haven't heard it in a while and i've been processing in my head way too much. panicking as anxiety settles in and just knowing that i have to keep this conversation up, not wanting to let you go again.

"hey (y/n) i'm sorry, this is way out of nowhere and i-i needed to talk to you." voice crack and everything, good job minho. "i know you probably don't wanna talk to me right now but-."

"i did wanna talk to you, you know i'm always waiting for you to come back right?" what? did they actually say that or am i hallucinating again?

"what do you mean?" what the hell would it mean minho!? why am i so goddamn awful at speaking, jesus christ. "i just, i didn't expect you to be waiting after what happened that night."

i was invaded by awful memories. no more monaco, no more sunshine, no more petals, just a cold rainy night in seoul in our shared apartment that now only belongs to me. i said some fucked up things, i destroyed everything we built with just words, i regretted every single night since then. i know they were also wrong in some things but it's nothing compared to the things i've said out of pure anger, fear and disappointment.

i didn't want that but i also knew i couldn't keep living like this, thinking that there was a chance that we could go back and fix the mess we made.

"i know, i thought so too and it wasn't fair to me what you decided to do that night." you said calmly and i understood, i wasn't an idiot, i wasn't angry or throwing things thinking you were in the wrong. i took it because i know i hurt you and i'm...

"sorry, i'm always gonna be sorry for what i said, for what i did and for all the things that happened." i was feeling the tears and it was rare, i didn't like to cry. i've been told i don't cry at all even when sad moments happen, i just don't have the strength to do so when usually it's the opposite for most people. "i know you know that we were both in the wrong, we fought endlessly and i needed to let you go somehow and i chose the worst way, i will always be sorry."

"it's okay, i don't blame you even if it hurt me, even if it stings sometimes, i know it wasn't you talking and i know my minho way better than that." my minho...

my minho was gonna kill me and bury me for god's sake, i'm losing my mind. the tears, the dizziness, everything was falling in it's place and i still didn't know what to do. i didn't expect things to go like this but i knew it was my chance to make it better.

"(y/n) i'm gonna make it simple, you know i'm not good with words, in fact i've been panicking trying to think of what to say to you." i laughed but it wasn't the laughter that they knew, it was more of a choked up kind, one that was desperate to be told what to do in this situation. "i haven't been the same since you left, i can barely function, i don't know what i'm doing most of the time as i wait for you (and it looks like you've been waiting for me too), hoping you'll return."

speaking as you're crying is probably the worst way of communicating but i was taking this like my last opportunity to mend everything.

"i want you back, i'll do anything to be with you again." i said lightly and softly 'cause words were barely coming out of me. "i love you, i will never stop loving you and i've been remembering so much of our history but mostly that specific vacation we had with the boys..."

"oh so you're also thinking in monaco? the promise we made right?"

how could i forget the most important part? as we stared at the sunset, you held your pinky finger and i thought it was dumb and childish but when we intertwined them and promised to never let go, to always hold on to what we had even in our darkest times, even if the skies were no longer blue but gray & dull, i would have your back and you would have mine. i broke it somehow and in some way but i didn't mean to, i never let go, i never wanted to end things and i was hoping, praying, you didn't either.

"i'm always thinking about it, i'm always thinking about you, about us..." i said and sighed. i gave it all and somehow it still felt like a weight when i heard their voice, because i had to make up for so many tears. "please give me another chance, i won't promise because i know you're probably thinking that i'll break it but i need you back in my life, i love you."

as sincere as i got and as cliche as it was, i just couldn't contain it anymore.

"i love you too but we have to talk about it in person okay? can you hold on a bit for me min?" you said, this time tenderly and softly. i nodded even though you couldn't see it and that's when i said...

"anything for you jagi".

#skz drabbles #skz imagines #minho x reader #skz minho #skz lee know #skz short imagines #skz songfics #songfics #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz scenarios #minho imagines #minho drabbles #sourbinnie #minho angst

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apomaro-mellow · 2 years ago

Text

Part 1

Steve's head whipped up so quick he thought he might break his neck.

"A ride?", he followed Eddie's eyes back to Honey. "On your bee?"

Honey vibrated a little like they knew they were being talked about.

"I promise it's a smooth ride." Eddie petted the fuzz on Honey and grabbed Steve's hand to do the same. "See? Honey likes you." Sweet likes sweet he supposed.

Part of Steve thought he should be cautious. That he shouldn't just go riding out into the night with someone he had just met. But also, Eddie wasn't actually a stranger at this point anymore, right? And there was a chance he could introduce him to other fairies too. And most importantly, he had the opportunity to actually get out and see the world, if only for an evening.

"One ride. And you bring me back home before sunrise."

Steve had read enough fae tales to know they could play tricks sometimes. He didn't want his mother to worry just in case Eddie was the type to take and keep.

"You have my word. I'll return you before dawn." Eddie mounted Honey and then gently patted the space behind him.

Carefully, Steve got on, not wanting to hurt the bee. For a moment he faltered on a hold and then Eddie grabbed his hands and pulled them around himself.

"You're gonna have to hold on tight. Honey can be kinda wild."

Steve was about to make a quip when Honey took off and zipped around. At first, he was just bracing himself, holding onto Eddie tightly and burying his face in his back against the wind. But as he got used to it, he slowly opened his eyes. His vision was mostly obscured by Eddie's long hair whipping around, but once he pulled it away (getting to touch the soft locks as he kept them pinned to Eddie's back) he finally got a clear look.

Trees and flowerbeds came by in a rush as they flitted through the forest. Then they were rising about the trees and Steve's home was but a small beacon of light in the dark night.

Honey slowed a bit, bobbing around and the rush of wind became a breeze.

"You get to see things like this all the time?"

"Nice view, huh?", Eddie grinned. "You can see it too, whenever you're with me."

Eddie didn't know by what grace he was able to find Steve, but now that he had him he would show him the world. He never wanted those arms to unwrap from him.

He took Steve to all of the good spots nearby. To a small stream where more than one creature caught a glimpse of the fairy prince with someone they didn't recognize. To a pumpkin patch where Eddie was so lost in adoration that he and Steve danced to music only they could hear.

To a field of flowers that was very special indeed, for it was where the first frost would happen.

"I do really like fall", Steve said when they landed on a tree stump. "My mother gets really, busy, making new dresses for the festival. But when she's done there's dancing and singing..." Steve pulled his knees up to his chest, suddenly withdrawing.

"What are you thinking about?", Eddie asked, seeing the mood change on his face.

"I'm too small to join everyone. I have to dance on a table or somewhere high up on my own. And in the crowd, no one can really hear me sing. It's still fun though, I just wish I could really be a part of it."

Eddie felt his heart movie in a hundred ways. He had so many things he wanted to say but what came out was "You sing?"

"Just the songs with the people of the town. The ones that herald in the seasons."

Steve looked up and Eddie had pulled out a lute from somewhere. Had Honey been carrying it? Eddie began to strum a familiar tune.

"Autumn will be here before you know it", Eddie said. And as if cued in, a slightly chilly breeze blew. Steve smiled and started to sing. As he did, he imagined the vivid rainbow of flowers giving way to the yellows and oranges of fallen leaves.

Maybe it was because it was the dead of night, and most everything was asleep, maybe because he was the only one making a sound, or maybe it was because he had an enraptured audience. Whatever the reason, Steve truly felt like he was being heard.

Eddie was seeing stars. Perhaps they were actually fireflies but that was just as magical. The two of them were so caught in their own world, they didn't notice a couple of toads spying on them from the bushes. They had been lured by the sound of Steve's voice.

"Can I see you again tomorrow?", Eddie asked as the song ended.

"Yes", Steve answered without hesitation. Suddenly being taken by a mysterious fae didn't seem so bad.

On the way home, Eddie asked him a bunch of questions like he couldn't get enough of him. Spring or summer? What kind of apple is your favorite? And since he knew of his mother's work now - silk or satin? Was embroidery hard?

"Alright, alright, last one", Eddie said as Honey landed on the window sill. "Something everyone likes but you hate."

Steve wrinkled his nose, having one ready. "Blue cheese."

"....Blue cheese? That's it?"

"Eddie, it's a mold. And people are just eating it."

"It's a safe mold though, right?" Eddie dismounted first and then helped Steve off and onto his feet. He probably held his hips for a little longer than was proper.

"It's mold. There are perfectly fine unmolded cheeses around."

"So, do you not eat anything even slightly fermented?"

Steve considered the question for a moment. "I like sweet pickles."

Eddie made a face and stuck out his tongue. "The sweet ones? And here I thought I was falling for you. You've got the face of an angel and the voice of a siren but your food opinions might be a deal breaker."

Steve was smiling so silly he felt like his face might break. "This coming from the fairy who didn't know the difference between a string and a thread."

"What you call a gap in knowledge I call super specific job-related expertise."

Steve was still smiling and Eddie was smiling back at him. And they probably would've spent hours just staring at each other fondly if there wasn't a voice out in the distance calling Eddie's name.

"Oh shit!", Eddie hissed before pulling Steve through the other side of the window.

"Who is that?", Steve asked, trying to get a peek. He only saw the smallest bit of glowing dust off in the distance before Eddie pulled him down.

"That would be uh, okay, first, let me tell you something. I'm...I'm actually the prince. Of the fairies...Ta-daa~"

"You're a prince? For how long?!", Steve asked.

Eddie stared at him blankly, unsure of how to answer that. "Uhh, for a while now...?"

"You're the prince", Steve began to pace around. "I just spent the night with a prince."

"And also Eddie."

That got Steve to pause. "Yeah, I did. And he still wants to see me tomorrow?", he asked, voice hopeful. As if there was any universe where Eddie didn't drop everything to come and see him.

"He does. More than anything." Eddie took both of Steve's hands and kissed his knuckles. "So am I still welcome here?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'll be waiting." Steve wanted this. He wanted more than one night.

Eddie wanted to kiss Steve and give him every night for the rest of their lives. But it was still too early for both, so he just kissed his fingertips this time, and then reluctantly pulled away.

"Tomorrow", he promised. It was only a few hours away and yet it felt like forever.

"Tomorrow", Steve echoed.

The voice shouting for Eddie sounded closer, so he got on Honey and flew away. With the magnetic pull of that whirlwind of a fairy gone, Steve fell to his knees. What a night.

What a night.

When he laid down to sleep (in a case for glasses that his mother had refurbished) he was dead to the world until morning.

Imagine his shock when he awakened only to find that the top had been closed on him, which was peculiar on its own. And then when he opened he saw not his room, but that he was on a small boat, moored on a river bank. Then he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Hey Tommy, come quick! Pretty boy's awake."

A/N: Imma need all my fellow Thumbelina fans to re-watch that scene where she meets Cornelius because he is so gone for her with the first ten seconds and is just itchin to touch her the whole time and all the little details they do with these 2 just adds to the romance.

Part 3

Tag team

@telidina

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #thumbelina au #enter: tommy and carol as the toads

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verrerdises · 5 months ago

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adore u | kangmin x reader

Summary || You were dragged by your friends to some guy's birthday party. Bored, you made the choice to walk around the overly grand ballroom, only to bump into a flustered young man who dropped his wallet.

Word count || 2.4k

"Aw, sorry, Kangmin, but I'm with my boyfriend,"

"Haha, you're so cute! Maybe next time, 'kay?"

"You're a bit on the younger side for me..."

Kangmin rested his face between his fists and huffed as the conversations replayed in his head. What's wrong with trying to pursue a relationship? He simply wanted to go on cute little dates, hold someone's hand, pepper them with kisses! But everyone around him still viewed him as some dumb little kid!

Sure, he's only 21, but that shouldn't hinder his potential so much. Or maybe it's because some believe he's not mature enough for a serious relationship. Minchan even told him others might see him as some kind of heart breaker or player.

But Kangmin's intentions were pure! Honest...

The young man eyes wandered around the ball room. It was Dongheon's birthday, and he believed there may be a person or two that could catch Kangmin's eye. At least someone was holding out hope for him. He quietly watched as couples around him formed. Hell, he even helped the birthday boy find his special someone just a moment ago, so why couldn't he be given some grace?

Another defeated pout left him and his head sank into his arms. All of these people, and not a single person tried to approach him.

"Hey, did you drop this?"

He slowly rose his head to meet the gaze of a stranger. A well-dressed stranger. A... really cute stranger... His eyes glanced down at the wallet they held out. "Oh! Wow, I didn't even notice," he smiled brightly at them and took it. "Thanks."

A gentle smile spread across their lips in response. "Yeah, no problem." In no time, they turned around and walked off. He wasn't sure why it took him so long to react; he jumped out of his seat. "Wait!" he tried to call out to them, but by the time he reached where he last saw them, they had disappeared into the crowd.

He scowled to himself. Agh, how could he be so...? Oh, he hoped they hadn't went too far. He couldn't help it now; he had to find them.

Kangmin walked around the crowd and stood on his tip-toes to try and spot them. He thought he noticed the familiar outfit, so he chased after it. He had to give a few pardons and excuses as he pushed through. He would call out, but he didn't want to embarrass himself any further.

Just as he freed himself from the crowd, who else but Minchan stepped in front of him. "Minchan! Come on, I'm a little busy right now-"

"Whoaaa, busy with what?" Minchan showed that stupid grin. The one that says he was well aware of what's going on. "Never seen you in such a rush." He laughed. But Kangmin tsked and tried to push past him, only for Minchan to hold an arm out and pull him right back.

"Hey!" Kangmin's smaller self barely managed to nudge the other. "I don't have time to play right now. They could be leaving-!"

"They?" The other rose a brow. "Aww, did our baby Kangmin finally find someone?" He tapped his chin, "A mysterious figure who caught your eye that you are now trying to chase." He sighed and shook his head, "Acting like a lovesick puppy."

Kangmin glared up at him. "I am not! I'm old enough now!"

"Ah," Minchan held a finger up, "actions speak louder than words. And you know better than to yell at your elders."

"Then let me go." Kangmin frowned. "... Please."

Minchan examined him carefully then slowly lowered his arm. "Huh. Guess you are growing up." His annoyingly cheerful smile returned. "Okaaay, I'll help the little man out. You talking about the one who just walked past?" He then briefly described the stranger.

Kangmin's eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"I think they went to talk to their friends. I was about to bring them drinks." He nonchalantly explained.

The little man's brow furrowed. "You? Bringing people drinks?"

"Well," Minchan's smile turned sheepish; a first for him, "I kinda talked with one of their friends. And, funnily enough, Dongheon was dancing with the other. Odd how connected we are, like a perfectly written plot of a novel..."

Kangmin stared unamused at them. "Anyway, thanks for telling me." He quickly brushed past him, except Minchan continued to call out to him. "Hey! What're you even gonna say to 'em? You're not exactly an expert..."

The other huffed and answered over his shoulder, "I'll... think of something..." Oh, great. That didn't exactly scream confident. When he spotted the same stranger at the table with their friends, his feet suddenly froze. Damn, Minchan was right... He doesn't have any experience in this field like he does. And he can't exactly go up there and potentially embarrass himself in front of their friends! Even worse, in front of Minchan.

He clenched his fists together and began to take some steps forward. Unfortunately, Dongheon arrived at the table with the remaining friend. Kangmin quickly stepped aside and hid behind a pillar. Nope. No way. Publicly embarrassing himself is bad enough, but if he did it in front of Dongheon?? Having the most awkward one out of their group tease him is a death sentence.

He'll... just have to find a way to get that stranger by themselves. Somehow.

He sighed heavily and rested his head against the marble. His brain was trying to come up with solid ideas, but all of them sounded either pathetic or stupid. Man, maybe he is a little hopeless.

"Oh yeah, where did you go?"

"Huh? Oh, I just walked around. This guy dropped his wallet, so I gave it back. That's about it."

"... Was the guy cute?"

"I mean-"

"Drinks are here!"

Kangmin peered around the pillar as Minchan announced himself before he took a seat. The stranger, they mentioned him! But they only referred to him as "this guy". He pouted silently to himself. Maybe he should listen in a little and see if he can find a way to insert himself naturally.

"Guy dropped his wallet? Sounds like something Kangmin would do," Minchan snorted. The guy who dropped his wallet immediately frowned.

"It... might've been him," the stranger pointed out. "He was a bit taller than me. Dark hair, long-ish bangs."

"Hm, did he have this lost look in his eyes?" Dongheon asked. "Like a lost puppy?"

He felt himself warm up at the sound of giggling. He doesn't look like some lost puppy...

"Y'know what, yeah," the stranger laughed lightly, "but I thought it was cute."

Kangmin's ears perked up. He readjusted himself to take a better look at them. They held that same gentle smile. His posture relaxed. At least the giggling didn't hold any malice behind it. And, well, if they think it's cute, then... maybe there's nothing wrong with it.

"Ohh, be careful," Dongheon chuckled. "That's how he gets you."

"Yeah," Minchan interjected, "he wants to be a little man now. The guy's been getting rejected left and right all night though. Honestly, I thought that'd be happening to Dongheon-"

"Hey!" Dongheon frowned.

"What?" Minchan laughed behind his glass. "You were the one with this super specific fantasy in your head."

"And it worked out, didn't it?" The other grabbed his partner's hand. "Maybe it was like a prophecy and not some fantasy."

Minchan snorted. "Okay, That's So Raven, settle down." His partner sitting beside him had to put her drink down, shaking her head and attempting to swallow before she started choking from laughter. Dongheon's ears burned red, but his partner gave him a few sympathetic pats against his hand as she bit back her own laughs.

Kangmin continued to watch and listen for a while. It... sounded like they were having a lot of fun. But what would happen if he were to join it? Wouldn't it become awkward?

"... In all seriousness though," Dongheon's voice softened, "Kangmin's a good ki- guy. Good guy."

Minchan nodded then pointed at the stranger, "Aren't you single? Looking for somebody- ow!" He frowned as Dongheon reached over to lightly bop his head. "I didn't even hit you that hard. And you can't just ask people that!"

"Whaaat? I was curious! And trying to set Kangmin up. Poor kid can't do it all by himself."

The stranger awkwardly shifted in their seat. "Y...Yeah, technically speaking. I dunno if I'm ready for a relationship though."

Minchan waved his hand in dismissal. "It doesn't have to turn serious. For real, he's really nice. A little confused but got the spirit. He... should be around here somewhere, actually-"

Kangmin ducked once more as the other started to scan the area. His heart rate picked up. This is all too soon! He's nowhere near ready. God, his worst fear right now is one of them finding him and dragging him out. It's too many expectations set for him!

Since he was caught up in his own head, he hadn't realized his stranger had gotten up and left the table. Something told him to open his frustrated eyes. He tensed up as he caught them walking past. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Curious eyes watched as they turned and walked out to one of the large balconies.

His feet moved for him as he silently followed behind.

Once again, he found himself peeking around the corner. They stood alone, arms resting on the railing of the balcony as they took some deep breaths. The opportunity basically presented itself. And... if they needed some space, he was understanding enough to know when to bow out. Okay. You can do this, Kangmin. Just... talk to them as a normal person would.

He took in a big breath then sighed. Quietly, he approached from behind.

"I was wondering when you'd show your face again,"

He stiffened at their voice. After taking a peek behind him, he realized that there was no one else they could possibly be referring to. He turned back from hearing them laugh, and they moved to face him. "Yeah, I'm talking to you. Who else?" There was that smile again.

A nervous laugh blurted out of him. "Right! Yeah. Who else but me?" He cleared his throat then joined them in leaning against the railing.

"You're Kangmin, right?" they asked. He silently nodded.

"(y/n)." They introduced themselves. "... Don't talk much, do you?"

The realization hit him. "Oh! Sorry, I was just... yes! I talk a lot - wait no, that's a bad thing-" His ears began to burn red when they started giggling. "Sorry... I don't... do this often." he sighed, "Most people turn me away the second they see me."

"Why?" They rose a brow. "You're pretty cute. And funny."

The heat spread to the rest of his face. He awkwardly rubbed his neck. "I guess my age? I'm 21, but everyone treats me like a kid." His gaze shifted to the scenery in front of him. "I just wanna know what it's like. To have someone."

"Huh. Didn't peg you as the romantic type." They follow his gaze. "But yeah, I see it. Kinda scary though, isn't it? I mean, if you get into a relationship, it's either gonna work out and you'll get married, or it'll end in heart break and you start back at square one."

"Maybe..." Kangmin answered, "But I wanna experience that kind of love, even at the risk of heartbreak. High risk, high reward, right?"

They become silent for a moment. He worried he may have said something wrong. "You make a good point," they finally responded. "I guess I'm a bit... scared of going through that heartbreak. Just sounds like too much."

He quietly observed them. He could spot the twinkle of eagerness in their eyes. He found himself shuffling a bit closer. "Won't know until you try." His voice came out in a murmur. His attention was briefly drawn to the dancing crowd inside. He returned to (y/n) and leaned down in an attempt to get a look of their face. "Hey... have you been asked to dance yet?"

He spotted their eyes flickering to him then back to the scenery. "...No."

"Would you..."

"Yes."

He blinked feverishly at their sudden response, otherwise, a soft smile emerged. A hand was held out to them, one they stared at for a second before cautiously taking. He made sure to be gentle in pulling them towards the center of the wide balcony floor. Luckily, the music was loud enough to reach the outside, so he quietly followed along.

Although there was silence between them, he didn't mind it. He could tell this was their first dance, and he patiently fixed the positioning of their hands. His fingers found themselves interlacing with theirs at some point. His smile turned into a gently amused one at their refusal to make eye contact.

He's not sure what came over him, but he leaned in to whisper in their ear, "Why hide your beautiful face?" As he pulled back, it was hard to suppress a laugh at their flustered expression, but it allowed him a chance to see them. It felt like his heart melted at the sight. Perfectly illuminated by the moonlight.

He found himself leaning in again, but their voice stopped him. "What are you doing?" they whispered frantically. He pulled back some, earnestly replying, "Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Well, n... no..." They stumbled through an answer. "No, you're not. I... also don't do this often." He exhaled softly but gave a nod of understanding. "Okay, I won't do anything else without your permission." His heart beat picked up as a sudden thought came through. "(y/n)...?" They anxiously focused on him.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

Their grip on his hand and shoulder tightened. They stopped their swaying, but their eyes refused to leave his gaze. He swallowed a small lump forming, fearing he may have pushed his luck. But, to his amazement, they gave a few nods. "Yeah... Yeah, it's okay."

A wide smile quickly spread, but he doesn't let his excitement take over completely. Their comfort was his number one priority. He tilted his head and slowly leaned in until he felt soft lips brush against his own. The contact sent butterflies through his stomach. He pressed forward slightly; his hands silently moving to link their fingers together.

Honestly, he thought it'd only be a quick little kiss. They surprised him by returning the favor, tilting their head up to continue. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, all he knew was that they eventually had to pull back for air.

Kangmin let out a small, breathless laugh. He even hopped a little in glee. Just like a dumb little kid. (y/n)'s blush hardly faded. If anything, it may have gotten worse. They squeeze his hands. "How am I supposed to go back and face my friends like this?" They mumbled.

"If it helps," he chuckled, "my friends are there too. I'll get teased regardless."

They hummed in response, took a deep breath, then sighed. "Okay. Then... let's go face them together."

Together...

That sounded awfully nice.

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nalyra-dreaming · 2 years ago

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soooo, how about that meta post re: soldiers scene..? 👀

Alright :) here goes - long post! My take, obviously.... - I'm adding here this ask as well:

So, this is the evening after Jonah, right.

Louis goes to Grace and the twins, Lestat goes to the Azalea.

There he encounters Miss Bricktop, who not only gives him the letter of the Azalea being closed down for Louis, but obviously made a remark (or a thought) in regards to their relationship.

Now, I love her. Hope we get to see her again in Paris. But she is also the one with the "shitbox" comment in the first episode... without wanting to infer too much (because that was a very special situation, too!!), but something about the remark or thought at the Azalea must have been sharp enough for Lestat to go "I think she's onto us" (and in that rather biting tone) later.

There's a whole bunch of soldiers in front of or at the Azalea, protesting it closing, and Lestat invites them back to Rue Royale.

@ the nonny here: Battalions are made up by officers. In those times it is not surprising that only one skin color would be in a group. Jonah even says it when he visits Louis, he and his squad are apart from others. So there's no preference or bias of Lestat in that, imho.

EDIT: @cbrownjc noted that US Armed Forces were segregated until the mid 40s. TY for the info!

Lestat likely brought the soldiers back for a couple of reasons:

a) He's pissed and likely hungry, and his favorite entertainment place was shut down and now he needs other entertainment

and

b) I'm very sure he didn't want those soldiers to go across the street to Finn O'Shea's establishment. He didn't care for that man's way of doing things from the beginning, and just because he doesn't actively endorse Louis meddling in human affairs doesn't mean he likes the man or would help that guy in any way.

and

c) Jonah, of course. He wants to see if what he perceived, and heard, and... felt holds true. If it is a kink - or if it was Jonah. If Louis needs a variation - or if it was Jonah.

And those soldiers are perfect for all of that.

So, roughly 24 soldiers at Rue Royale.

You do have to wonder what he did to make them follow him, since the actual influencing later on takes a lot out of him, but that just as a note :)

They raid the wine cellar.

The fact that they have one is definitely interesting in and by itself, and later on we see bottles laying around while they lay low, so they drink it, too. Do they have some mixed with blood? We don't know, but it seems drinkable enough. The soldiers go through the alcohol, both the wine cellar and the bar, and Lestat just lets them.

And he lets them do what they want to their home. He lets them upstairs. AND into the bedroom.

With the single bed.

He entertains them, even. And he doesn't touch them, because he is waiting for Louis. Is waiting to see what Louis will do.

And Louis comes home - which in and by itself is interesting, because shouldn't he have gone to the Azalea? But he comes home (which tells me that he trusted Lestat enough with the Azalea to leave it to him for this night, with the aftermath of Grace etc) and finds the house full.

(Lestat sings "Where do we go from here", a truly rather fitting song...)

And - he gets up from the piano while Louis is still approaching, because he anticipates what Louis is about to do. And when Louis is there he is already up and ready to be "picked up".

twirl, twirl, hop, twirl. Others have said it, but they've done this before :))

Louis' questions when entering this scene are "What is this?" and "What are you thinking?" to which Lestat answers the infamous "Well, I thought we could have an orgy, you can fuck them and I can eat them." And then... "What about the coffin room?"

...

Let's unpack this.

"What is this?" Expected, pretty normal reaction. What the fuck is Lestat doing there. And then... Picking Lestat up, collecting him, twirl, twirl, hop, twirl while obviously annoyed. Check.

"What are you thinking?" Here it starts to become interesting, imho, because... what is Louis referring to? The upstairs, their bedroom? The soldiers themselves? The piano singing, wine, etc? Probably all of it, but... Still. Always a good line of question for Lestat, because, well, Lestat. Check.

Andn then ... Lestat's remark in regards to fucking, eating and an orgy are met with a "What about the coffin room?"

And, I, personally... find that the most interesting part of the whole scene.

What do you mean, Louis?!

Is fucking, eating (killing) and an orgy okay while downstairs? Or in a hotel? How often did they use the Azalea like that? (We see Lestat escort someone in who will obviously be a victim in their good times, so this more than likely happened, the only question is the extent and if or how often Louis joined in imho.)

The whole fucking, eating, orgy AND their single bed do not blip in that moment - the coffin room does. I always find that hugely interesting, to be honest?

They are standing in their bedroom, in front of their single bed, with soldiers milling about.

And Louis does not care about that.

And... Louis "only" wants them out (now) when he has heard/read the news about the Azalea. Granted, this happens right after, but still... I remember anticipating a very different reaction to the soldiers. And their bed, given his reaction to Antoinette. Which to me seems like Louis does not see those soldiers as any kind of threat to them - or indeed, as food.

And then Louis demands that Lestat gets them out of there, now.

And Lestat complies.

To an extent that has him bleeding out his ears, and visibly weakened, and that has Louis staring in weirded out astonishment.

And the soldiers... leave. Obviously dazzled. Obviously still in that daze outside.

Lestat must've wiped their short-time memories at least. Or he needed to go after them to kill them, later. Single bed and all that.

And then... of course, that infamous scene.

I heard your hearts dancing.

What a statement.

And what a makeup.

They actually managed to make him look like shit there. That's a feat.

So yeah, the soldiers.

A lot of small things that are implied here once more. Hinted at. Their shared history, what they might have gotten up to in their good times. Louis isn't scandalized by the offer of an orgy, and to me it seems as if they might have (possibly) had other men in their bedroom before, if his response/focus is anything to go by.

And he knew that after they left they would not pose a threat.

And Louis trusted Lestat with the Azalea is somewhere in there, too. And in the fact that Miss Bricktop gave that letter to Lestat and did not wait for Louis.

I know that can be taken as a sign for their couple status, but... Louis takes Lestat along to his business meeting (right) after that fight. And that is very interesting, too.

#alcassin #anonymous #asks #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #soldiers #azalea #iwtv meta #ask nalyra

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good-grade-in-cleric · 5 months ago

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Ulder Ravengard is getting added to Idle Champions in the upcoming Dragondown event

Stats seem to be pulling from DiA (left) rather than BG3 (right). He also goes from Neutral to Lawful Neutral, but i don't disagree with that decision

I think pure Support does make the most sense. A Grand Duke and Marshal of the Flaming Fist better serves as a motivational and tactical force than as one driving their sword through the horde or, even worse, absorbing the many swords of the horde

"Do you have melee base attacks on your phone? OuO"

Critical Teamwork is going to synergize well with the Companions of the Hall. Of them, only Catti-brie is not a melee champion, and none would be competing with him for Seat 8

Obviously, as he's not part of the Absolute Adversaries affiliation, he doesn't have anything that affects or is affected by their Ceremorphosis stacks, but i predict he'll have access to the Illithid Tadpole feat. He's in the same boat as Minsc, and he has that feat as well as Jaheira (pointedly does not have a tadpole), Imoen (hopefully does not have a tadpole if she's even still alive by BG3), Dynaheir (very definitely not still alive by BG3), Nrakk (i'm under the impression he's original to Idle Champions so he can do whatever he wants). Viconia also has a feat that interacts with Ceremorphosis, but hers is called Mother Superior, so i'm pretty sure that's just her being manipulative

It is admittedly very sweet that one of his specializations synergizes with Wyll. I do like when they do that

All of his event variants (not pictured because it's a little awkward trying to get those screenshots orderly, you can read the blog post yourself) stipulate only melee champions may join the formation. He focuses heavily on synergy with melee, but that's going to make him an okay match (although probably not the best) for formations centering the Absolute Adversaries or Heroes of Baldur's Gate. AA are 4/7 melee including all 3 of their DPS units, so you aren't short on damage options there. One of Lae'zel's specializations even increases her crit chance + damage. The fourth is, of course, Wyll. HoBG are 4/10 melee including 2/3 of their DPS units, and the only other DPS is Delina who shares a seat with Ulder anyway. Like i said, probably not the best, but good enough that i can justify the choice on the easier adventures for the sake of playing dolls. Otherwise, i probably wouldn't put him in any affiliation-based formation besides maybe the Companions of the Hall

My live reaction: "Well maybe you shouldn't listen to whoever said that. You've got the emblem of the Fists on there, and i'm pretty sure there were a couple hundred years between the founding of the Flaming Fist and Balduran's disappearance– Wait, Baldur?"

Didn't even give me time to give them the grace to assume they just defaced a shield of his after his presumed death. It's a silly mistake to make fun of which is why i made the rest of this post around it because i am more than just a hater. I am also an enjoyer and a haver of surface level thoughts

#idle champions of the forgotten realms #ulder ravengard

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sparkedblaze · 1 year ago

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“Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed.” -G.K. Chesterton

⚡️Hey! I'm Sparky or Blaze or any number of nicknames you wanna give me, I'm not really particular

🏳️‍⚧️My pronouns are he/they/it, but idrc as long as you don't call me she/her ♋18+ 👍🏼Writing, math, escape rooms, logic puzzles, movies, youtube, Dr. Pepper (I have an addiction to the stuff) 👎🏼Rootbeer, bugs, slimy things, loud noises, crowds, going out in public, getting wet 💔Triggers: S/A, S/H, bugs, clowns, SPIDERS (anything with more than 6 legs shouldn't exist, and 6 is already pushing it)

🤬I curse so please use caution

Newsies Discord Server

Ask Me About X

✍🏼What/where I write: Newsies on AO3 Harry Potter Mauraders on Instagram

🎨More arty things: LinkTree Omg Newsies as Vines

🚫DNI: TERFs, -phobes, racists, anti-, yk this list could go on forever just don't be an asshole

🪭Fandoms: Newsies (1992, Live, and UKsies), Harry Potter (fuck jkr), Percy Jackson, My Hero Academia, Haikyu!!, Sk8 the Infinity, Hamilton, In the Heights, Heathers, Be More Chill, Six, 21 Chump Street, Legally Blonde the Musical, Mean Girls the Musical, 9-1-1, West Side Story, Cats the Musical, Panic There are probably more

🎶Favorite music: Age of Madness, Newsies, In the Heights, Alec Benjamin, DCOM soundtracks

🗣️Characters I can and will talk about for hours: Any newsie (but especially Albert, Elmer, Jack, Davey, Les, Mush, the Delanceys), Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, Sturgis Podmore, Pandora Lovegood, Leo Valdez, Luke Castellan, Frank Zhang, Dabi, Shoto Todoroki, Iwaizumi Hajime, Nishinoya Yuu, Kojiro Nanjo (Joe), John Laurens, Pip Hamilton, Usnavi, Benny, JD, Heather Chandler, Michael Mell, Katherine Howard, Anne of Cleves, Justin Laboy, Emmett Forrest, Janis, Christopher Diaz, Athena Grant, Mouthpiece, Balkan, Baby John, Pouncival, Tumblebrutus, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, Ray Hall, Heather Nill

🎙️Relationships you couldn't get me to stop talking about if you tried: Spralbert, Javey, Blush, Pink Flowerpatch, Xenora, Percabeth, Frazel, Hot Wings, MatchaBlossom, Lams, Boyf Riends, Buddie, NillHall

🫶🏻Mutuals:

@caw-salem Fuck u roomie 🥰

@the-lavender-lapin My babyyyyyy🩵

@noxexistant thank you for gracing my pfp with gay pryder 😭🙌🏼

@raggedy-albert My fellow Albert enthusiast 🧑🏻‍🦰

@kellyscowboy UR HCS ARE SO GOOOOOD 😍

@hexmari LOML IM GROVELING AT YOUR FEET 🙏🏼

🧐Special interests: Newsies, dinosaurs, DND

🎉Fun facts:

I play DND

I like math because I understand it almost all the time (and if I don't I can usually look it up and figure it out), words are hard

I'm in PST

I have a dog that only has 3 legs, his name is Porch

I have anxiety, depression, bipolar II

I have a lot of the symptoms of autism, but am not formally diagnosed bc I can't currently afford a therapist

🕳️Current hyperfixation: ——————————

#intro post #sparkedblaze

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sunstranded · 5 months ago

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INTJ: Accused of Arrogance

I enjoy intellectual conversations and socratic-esque discussions so much more than small talk and aimless conversations. Despite my preference, I am capable of small talk— I just slowly die inside. Yet I am cursed with being called arrogant. No matter what intricate string of words I craft, no matter how docile my question sounds, the moment I critically challenge someone is the same moment a logical conversation becomes personal? Good heavens isn't this a special kind of hell.

I am, once again, gracing my grievances with a post full of complaints.

People find me arrogant. I can be proven wrong; I can make mistakes; and I can recognize this margin of error. If anything, I seek to make it as small as possible. This is why I always seek that challenge that sharpens my thinking and points out things I failed to see or establish.

People always argue that I need to know when I should criticize and when I shouldn't. I also learned from my rookie mistakes that being the first shot doesn't guarantee the blow. If anything, it is an announcement— a blowhorn of your own progress. Among other things, this is why I keep to myself.

Hence, when people start asking for me to speak only to be on the receiving end of an accusation less based on reality and appropriate context, I am absolutely and utterly pissed about it. As much as I am pissed with yes-men and sorry-men.

Do not apologize for learning when someone critiques you with something you can work on. Do not just agree and say yes to every information. Moreover, do not use your feelings and personal matter as a shield for everything— even deflecting the good things.

But let me define arrogance as I have defined humility. Arrogance is dominating over someone else with non-substantial or fabricated claims or putting one's self-importance and impact above others by means of overestimation.

I am the person who tends to be precise to a fault. Even my goals, my present moment skills, and the orchestration of my forward life plan are precise in respect of what I want to be and what I am now. So when I am called arrogant and I, like any accused, would ask for evidence only to find irrelevant emotions.

I acknowledge the chances of people losing their cool and/or having an off-day. I understand this, and I also have such chances. If anything, those are what I usually apologize for. Forcing myself when I am not in a good state of mind; letting my restraint loose; all of which, I would understand.

However, in the interest of my complaints, I highlight the people those individuals that have the gall— the audacity— to call me arrogant for giving constructive criticism, for answeing their question, and for defending someone who is unjustly accused.

That is the aggravating part. If you are butthurt for being proven wrong, if you had no clapback after a retaliation to your challenge, do not start appealing to pity. It's not going to work on me, and I have been used to social exile because of my coldness and cruelty. I keep my principles, I will not fall for an informal fallacy, nor will I fall for weaponization of emotions.

I can apologize for maybe losing my cool and having raised my voice, but I will not apologize because I made someone cry. Truth hurts, I cry about it too, but I am not so shameless to solicit pity, so my mistake would be excused. Like everyone, I seek to be understood; but unlike everyone, I only seek to be understood by those who want to do so.

#mbti #intj

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inthefallofasparrow · 1 year ago

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So, I finally watched Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1 and while the stunts, action and chase scenes etc were basically on par, I've got to say, the writing and the rest of the plot was all over the place and I'm trying to articulate what the problem was exactly. Tonally, they've started leaning more on the humour, to the point that at times it feels like a tongue-in-cheek parody of itself; lampshading the franchise's over-the-top ridiculousness and storyline repetition. But the problem was more that there were just far too many scenes and characters that only existed for exposition, which then ended up being both unnecessarily convoluted and vague at the same time. The whole enemy sentient AI thing has already been done to death, and that doesn't mean the MI universe shouldn't have attempted it, but they didn't do it well at all. You could see the potential for an excellent threat in the premise, but they just bungled it. I feel like maybe the core of the issue was that while Ethan and team have no idea about the submarine and what the key is for, the audience knows that from the start, so they just spend the whole movie catching up to us, rather than us learning as we go along. Various little mini twist reveals as we go were either predictable or meaningless. Gabriel is a nothing villain (especially after Solomon Lane), because the film does next to nothing to explain his history with Ethan, and he's basically just some guy. Paris has even less explanation, and the whole thing just feels very 'tropey'. Killing Ilsa only because Ethan cares about her, in order to save someone she has no connection to whatsoever really undermines Ilsa of her independent character development from prior films. And doing it in the middle of the film, just to give Ethan an unnecessary kick forward, was a particularly bizarre way to fridge her.

Also when Ethan says his special line about not being able to promise he will protect Grace, but that she can be certain that he cares more about her life, than his own (or whatever it was), that really doesn't sound heroic to me. If someone said that to me, my response wouldn't be 'oh, they're so selfless that I feel safer', it would be 'you need to work on your self-worth, dude, that's really sad'.

#mission impossible #dead reckoning #spoilers #MI:7

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v1nsmoke · 1 year ago

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PRINCE // VINSMOKE SANJI

prince!vinsmoke sanji x princess!reader

Chapters are out earlier on wattpad, I recommend checking it out!!

made by v1nsmokes

chapter nine

"Afraid to go inside, ma chére?" My eyes widen as I hear the familiar voice behind me.

"Prince Sanji! Glad to see you. I..." I reply, eyes fixed on the floor, shame lacing my tone. I am a princess, I shouldn't be afraid of this!

"Come on. The others are likely anticipating your presence down there. You can not miss this out." He warmly smiles and holds out his hand for me. I hesitate for a moment, but place my palm into his.

"Thank you" I quietly thank the man, my face flushed at the contact.

I take a deep breath as he opens the door, leading us to the top of the staircase above the ballroom. A few guests notice us, while others are merrily dancing around, or are already under the influence of the wine. My heart starts beating faster at the sight of the amount of guests as we walk down the stairs.

When we get to the bottom of the stairs, Sanji lets go of my hand as he sees his siblings waving for him to go over to them.

"Excuse me lady Y/N, but I have to go now. I will return, I promise." He kisses my hand and approaches his brothers, leaving me speechless, standing alone.

"Sister! We were afraid you would not come!" Cassandra pops up from the crowd of people, Daniela not far behind her.

"I am terribly sorry for making you worry." I apologise.

"No need for this, at least you are here now. You missed out father's usual speech, but nothing else so far." Daniela joins the conversation.

A man appears, and asks Cassandra for a dance, which she accepts, leaving me and Dani alone.

"Where have you been all day? I looked in your room but no sign of you!" She worries.

"I was just in the garden, I thought I would not be in the way there." I reply while looking at the dancing crowd.

"Really? Mother told you not to stay there for a longer period alone!"

"I was not alone, the prince was with me!" I say, a small smile making its way to my face.

"Which one? They were all here! Wait... don't tell me... that you were out with him!" Her eyes widen in realisation.

"You mean Sanji? He was very nice! We did not do anything you were likely thinking of, do not worry." I give her a side eye and reassured her that nothing happened between us in the forest.

"I hope so... I need to go, I'll inform mother that you are here if I meet her. Have fun, sister!" She waves as she walks away. I watch her as she dissapears into the crowd.

"May I you to a dance, ma'am?" A hand appears before me. I look up, and see the same blonde prince from before, a warm smile gracing his lips.

"I would love to, but I can not dance well. I fear I would just step on your feet. And I mostly forgot about the moves, I might just embarass you." I admit. He chuckles and replies.

"Have no fear, princess. I would gladly accept the embarassment if it is because of you. I'll lead the way. They call me Black Leg Sanji for a reason." He smirks and looks down at his hand as a sign for me to take it. I smile as I put one of my hands in his, the other resting on his shoulder. He gently places his other hand on my waist, and slowly takes us to the side of the dance floor. I try with every fibre of my being not to step on him, trying to recall what Donna taught me years ago in hopes of not damaging the prince's feet.

"They told me that there will be big names here, but I did not expect it to be these people. There are some really high-rank guests." He quietly says, still swaying with me.

"Donna said the same, but I can not recognise anybody here." I tell him.

"Hm... See that man over there? Black hair, goatee, strange hat." He describes a man and turns us around, now me being able to see the man he talked about.

"I do. Is he really special?" I ask curiously and look back at Sanji after a quick glance at the black haired man, not wanting to seem rude for staring.

"He is. People say he is the strongest swordsman in the entire world, and that nobody has ever beaten him! His name is Hawk-eyes Mihawk." He explains, looking at Mihawk from the corner of his eye.

"And do you believe them?" I make eye contact with Sanji. I didn't doubt the people, I had a feeling they were right. He did seem strong.

"I think they are telling the truth. We were once invited to their kingdom. There, I went into a match against his son, who is also a swordsman. He's right next to Mihawk right now. Stupid green hair, scar over one of his eye. I think his name was Zoro. As much as I hate to admit it, that mosshead was actually strong. Imagine what his father, who not even Mosshead can defeat, could do!"

"Wait, you went up against Zoro? I take it that you are good in swordsmanship, then?"

"No, not exactly. The chef in our castle, Zeff taught me how to fight using my legs. As a cook, I can not risk losing my hands. But I think I would be a good swordsman, I tend to work a lot with knives in the kitchen." Sanji explains. "Is there any type of self defense you were taught, princess?"

"I asked my mother if I could learn swordsmanship too, but she got furious, saying that a princess should not even think about it. But luckily one of our maids, Angie overheard the conversation and agreed to teach me in secret. Her father was really good at it, and taught her everything. So now I know it too"

"Woah, I did not expect to hear this, princess. But you are an artist, is that right? Losing your hands would be drastic, you are in a similar situation to mine. I could teach you my kicking techniques if you wish."

The night passed quickly in Sanji's company, he had manners and a good humour, told me a few fun facts about guests I did not know, and listened to whatever I said with all his attention. The guests started leaving one by one, and Sanji had to go back to his room too with his family.

When I open my door, I see Donna, who greets me with a warm smile.

"Lady Y/N, I am glad you are back! How was it?" She excitedly asks, wanting to hear the details of the gala.

"It was amazing! I was afraid to go inside after you left me there, but Sanji was there, and offered his hand and we walked inside together! He was such a good company, I wish I could spend more time with him! Oh, did you know the world's strongest swordsman was here?" I tell her tonight's events with a huge smile on my face, the maid patiently waiting for me to finish whatever I had to say.

created by v1nsmokes

#one piece #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #vinsmoke sanji #v1nsmoke #prince au #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #wattpad #eiichiro oda #sanji #vinsmoke sanji fanart #fanfiction

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sofipitch · 2 years ago

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something that confuses me about louis/i dont have a concrete conclusion on is the fact that he is so proud of his abstinence as a vampire and moralises it constantly but when he was human he was literally the most hedonistic mf. why do you think that is?

Okay this one took me a bit to get too bc the way Louis frames it in IWTV is so insane I would look at this passage and think "Am I stupid this makes no sense" but it actually doesn't:

My thirst rose in me like fever, and I followed him. My desire to die was constant, like a pure thought in the mind, devoid of emotion. Yet I needed to feed. I’ve indicated to you I would not then kill people. I moved along the rooftop in search of rats.”

“But why…you’ve said Lestat shouldn’t have made you start with people. Did you mean…do you mean for you it was an aesthetic choice, not a moral one?”

“Had you asked me then, I would have told you it was aesthetic, that I wished to understand death in stages. That the death of an animal yielded such pleasure and experience to me that I had only begun to understand it, and wished to save the experience of human death for my mature understanding. But it was moral. Because all aesthetic decisions are moral, really.”

“I don’t understand,” said the boy. “I thought aesthetic decisions could be completely immoral. What about the cliché of the artist who leaves his wife and children so he can paint? Or Nero playing the harp while Rome burned?”

“Both were moral decisions. Both served a higher good, in the mind of the artist. The conflict lies between the morals of the artist and the morals of society, not between aesthetics and morality. But often this isn’t understood; and here comes the waste, the tragedy. An artist, stealing paints from a store, for example, imagines himself to have made an inevitable but immoral decision, and then he sees himself as fallen from grace; what follows is despair and petty irresponsibility, as if morality were a great glass world which can be utterly shattered by one act. But this was not my great concern then. I did not know these things then. I believed I killed animals for aesthetic reasons only, and I hedged against the great moral question of whether or not by my very nature I was damned.

Louis abstains from killing people in the beginning because he thinks he derives such pleasure from it that it is something he shouldn't indulge in often. For him killing humans and drinking their blood is the bottle of champagne only opened on a special occasion, the perfume you only wear on fancy occasions, etc etc. The idea of luxury, to Louis, means that it is something you shouldn't have often, and thus he abstains from killing humans. He thinks he should eat rats and work his way up the scala naturae so that he tastes the difference between a rat and cat, or a cat and horse, and finally a horse and human.

Part of why he hates Lestat is bc he sees Lestat as naturally wasteful, he doesn't savor the finer things in life, bc Lestat is ravenous after so many years without. Lestat died starving. Lestat did not have the luxury of hoping for a better tomorrow at a lot of points in his life, because of his past Lestat lives perpetually in the now bc that is all he can guarantee. So Lestat does things like kill "important" people, or order champagne in their hotel room just to look at and never drink.

However, Louis eventually gives in to drinking from and killing humans. So to justify this he makes up a new moral code to fit his own deeds. He says anything that creates pleasure/beauty is good. This is blatantly not true when you consider to him pleasure is killing people. The example he gives, an artist stealing supplies, is so low stakes he must know he is warping the situation in his favor. Even right now, what immediately comes to mind is diamonds. Yes a large mined diamond is gorgeous, but when you know people and especially children mine them in slave like conditions, how can a small beauty ever be worth the cost of suffering?

So yeah Louis is aware he is a hypocrite, he had to come up with his own new morality to justify his actions. He's the millionaire justifying jetting everywhere with "there's no ethical consumption under capitalism"

I think both the movie and TV show have individual scenes that let you glimpse this but I would have loved to hear him say this convo with Daniel out loud bc it's so insane and it would have been fun to as a fandom tear him to shreds for it

#vc #asks #louis de pointe du lac

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im-no-jedi · 1 year ago

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3, 6, 13, 15, 16, 24, 29, 33, 39 for the Star Wars ask meme! GIVE ME ALL OF THE INFORMATION~!

aaaaaaaah so many numbers!! but I will GLADLY answer everything! 😁

3. Favorite character from the prequels: ANAKIN OF COURSE. I had a HUGE crush on him (and both of his actors) when I was younger. he quite quickly became my favorite character of all time after watching the original trilogy, so I have to say him for this 💙

6. Do you have any ships?: a few, yes!! mainly the ones that are canon, like Han/Leia, Cut/Suu, and Anakin/Padme, or ones that were semi-canon like Obi-Wan/Satine and Rey/Finn (despite what anyone says otherwise!!). there's also some that I wouldn't be mad about like Fennec/Boba and Din/Bo-Katan. my OTP though? Kanan/Hera. by FAR. like legit, that is one of my top OTPs in general. I love them so much 🥺💙

13. Would you want to be a Force user?: YES. VERY MUCH SO. being an empathetic and neurodivergent person, I often feel like I have "special powers" like Force users do. and who wouldn't want to be able to make stuff float all the time? (also, just sayin', if anyone has read any recent MLWTBB stuff, then this answer shouldn't be any surprise 😜)

15. Did you play any Star Wars video games?: yes!! I've played all the LEGO games and still play the newest one to this day 😁 also, the Podracer game for N64, Rogue Squadron for Gamecube (didn't care for that one though 😝), Battlefront 1&2 (2 is better!! and I LOVE the story for that one!!), and Squadrons! we owned both of the Force Unleashed games at one point, but I never tried playing them cause my bro said they were bad LOL. also, we own Fallen Order, but my bro said it's basically unplayable due to loading times, even on our PS5 😩

16. Have you read any Star Wars books?: only a few. I've read Phasma (my longest sigh ever 😞), Before The Awakening (the Poe story is the best!!), and some of the Breakout Squad books! I also have the first Poe Dameron comic, and LOTS of visual guides 😌

24. Would you want to be human, or from another species?: well I kept myself as human in MLWTBB so 😬 my favorite species are Devaronians though, so if I could be anything else, it would be that 😋

29. Which character doesn't get enough credit or screentime?: there's honestly a lot of characters I could put here, but I'm going to be completely biased and say Phasma and Crosshair. as much as I had... feelings about the Phasma book, herself as a character was one of the only interesting things in that entire story. she absolutely fascinates me and is such an interesting villain; that story really drives home just how cruel and selfish she is. also I just adore her and want to see more of her 😩🙏🏻 and I shouldn't even have to explain myself for Crosshair. he's one of the most interesting characters EVER created for SW. I want an entire series about that man. GIVE ME MORE OF HIM DANG IT 😤

33. Which movie have you watched the most?: honestly? it's probably The Phantom Menace. I've watched the original trilogy several times, but overall I'd say TPM has all three of those movies beat. mainly cause my bro liked to watch it as a kid haha

39. If you wrote a 'fix-it fic', what would you write about?: funny you should ask! I actually already am writing a fix-it fic! 😌 this isn't spoilers cause I've already talked about it before, but I'm changing Plan 99 for MLWTBB. despite wanting to keep that series as close to the show as possible, I simply can't remove Tech from the story. despite whatever might happen in season 3, Tech is making it out of Plan 99 in one piece. I've actually already written several chapters in this far-off future fic and have most of the rest of it planned out. idc if I have to completely alter the events of season 3 because of this, I refuse to lose my favorite nerd tyvm 😤 honestly, at this point, it's not even so much me condemning the choices of the writers, it's me showing grace and love to the character. Tech literally changed my life in the absolute best way possible, and I can't let anything bad happen to him because of that 🥺💙

#thank you for asking friend! 💙#this was fun 😁#star warz #powerovernothing #ask

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northwest-cryptid · 1 year ago

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I found this image on my computer, which; without context is probably EXTREMELY confusing but it kills me every time I see it

I cannot tell you how badly I wish I could explain this game to you all, more specifically the adventure I went on with Chester but all I have left from the streams is this recap, which if you can forgive my god awful voice/audio summarizes exactly nothing everything and shows just how often my audience abuses the sound/music alerts video below the read more so it shouldn't randomly auto-play for anyone:

So, right off the bat horribly sorry for my god awful voice gracing your ears.

Other than that, for people who don't know; Kenshi is possibly my favorite open world sandbox game because it genuinely has so much to offer. It has no goals, it has no morality system nor does it try to tell you what is right and wrong. Kenshi just puts you in the world and asks you to survive however you want.

In the playthrough I'm doing on my streams I am playing as Chester, who's literally an old man who was a slave, escaped slavery, and lost all of his limbs; he has since been re-enslaved but broken out several times. I've decided that since he has been mistreated directly by slavers he would seek to rid the world of the two factions in the game that heavily support slavery, those being The Holy Nation (who are essentially a parody of Extremist Christians with their sexist and racist beliefs that anyone who isn't a Greenlander Male needs to be someone else's slave, or be killed) and The United Cities (who are basically Capitalism, I would say "Capitalism to the extreme" but no that's implied by saying Capitalism in the first place. Wealth is everything to them, how you get it doesn't matter; sell drugs, sell people; who cares as long as you make money in the end) as a result his journey has taken him all over the world.

Now normally in Kenshi you play as a group of characters you can set up a base somewhere, start up productions and do whatever. Kenshi is really well designed in that the world will come to you and happen at you but it will never treat you like anyone special even if you become a big shot. Taking out a few Holy Nation Paladins will get you a bad rep with the Holy Nation but no one is going to call you an Anti-Slaver hero, but if you take down Holy Lord Phoenix himself, you'll start to get a name for yourself both good and bad depending on who you ask. For every ally you make you make an enemy of someone else. If you build in bandit territory they will demand food to not launch raids, if you build in Shek lands they want their tribute for your colonization, if you build in the United Cities you better be ready to pay taxes. The world feels alive no matter how you play, and Chester is something of a nomad who just wants to explore the world and have one last adventure while leaving the wastelands a more peaceful place than he came into it as.

My current playthrough off stream is actually 100% different, I'm a lone barkeeper who set up shop in one of the towns of the United Cities, I would buy slaves and release them if they chose to stay with me I'd give them a job working at my pub. I was literally just a humble barkeep. Eventually I had the whole situation automated, we have robots manning everything, one running well water to the farmer, one working the farms harvesting crops and turning them into usable ingredients, another taking the ingredients and preparing food, another running that food to the front desk for sales, it was an elaborate and beautiful pipeline delivering grog, sake, and plenty of rice to the fine people of Stoat while simultaneously ridding the UC (United Cities) of their slaves, with the money lining my pockets it wasn't hard to buy out every slave shop I came across, and just release the slaves.

Oh yea and I have modded the game to all hell without a care as to what I was actually modding in, which means everything from vroid models to dinosaurs to uh... warframe grineer? For some reason?

So my playthrough kinda looks like this:

I kinda want to run you through this playthrough in hopes it will share some of why I love Kenshi with you. See the stats in this game are brutal and they only get better by being used. If you want to get tougher you need to be beaten, if you want to run faster you need to travel, if you want to make better clothing you need to do a lot of crafting. So with only 6 Athletics (which is nothing) and a dream, I took off to go get my Skeleton crew (Skeletons are the name for robots in this game) which are out in the Black Desert which suffers from constant acid rain and lightning storms... which are a slight problem, however that's not as much of a problem when I didn't even make it 5 minutes out the door before some bandits launched an assault on me because I happened to have a loaf of bread in my pocket, yea this game is UNFAIR and it's great but we'll get to why later.

^ See this in the bottom left? Those are your health bars, you don't get HP in this game you get values for your limbs. Your VITAL limbs are things like your head, chest, stomach, and obviously blood. The higher your toughness stat the lower those can go before you fall unconscious/die. However you can entirely lose arms and legs and still be okay, you can even craft your own limbs (or steal them in the case of Chester :P) to replace them, and in a lot of cases limbs are a trade off, maybe you're really strong but that strength means you don't have good finger dexterity so you can't pick locks or steal very well but you can bust open a door or hit someone really hard, scout legs for example give you a ton of movement speed as they're basically springs on your feet, but they don't have a lot of health value so if you get hit in the leg you're probably going down quick, not to mention you can't swim very well with large pieces of metal for legs. These trade offs are really fun and the way health values work in this game is something I hated at first but came to love as I played more.

Everything you survive in Kenshi literally makes you stronger, it's that age old saying "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" yea it's that cranked up to 11, because wouldn't you know it after hiring some robots at a pub (they can only drink grog because it's basically oil to them, and yes they have oil not blood as a stat; man the devs really put so much detail into this game it's so cute) I got struck by lightning and left out in acid rain... with literally no protection from it.

However if you notice most of my stats are in the green minus stomach and chest... and my left arm but my VITALS are doing better because I already took a beating getting here, and I got tougher for it! God I love that shit so much it's such a cool concept because it means you organically grow over the course of the game!

So anyways we get back to Stoat eventually (I had to get one of the robots to carry me) and we begin to properly set up shop, it's real cozy since there's no real conflict and I have plenty of money (called Cats) to spend on resources right now

I even started making and selling weapons and stuff! I eventually had enough money I bought ANOTHER building and decided to turn this one into a big farm, we'd use moister farming to condense water in the air since we're in the middle of the desert and wells out here kinda suck for consistent water supply, we'll continue the use of hydroponic farming and start bread production from grain silos, yes all of this shit matters; Kenshi is a complex game with lots of moving parts, I mean hell there's a whole graph for making robotic limbs and it's fantastic, you have to know what to make at what crafting station and where it all needs to go, and what research you need to do to unlock it all. This game makes you work for your reward and then properly gives you a fitting reward when you can make shit like this:

This whole thing is a blueprint that contains 3 different types of farms (Vegetables, Rice, and Wheat) a grain silo to turn the wheat to flour, then an oven for baking that flour to bread, as well as Grog, Rum, and Sake distilleries, storage for it all, as well as 4 stoves all set to make various foods from the farms, the floor above this houses 6 water condensers that will generate passive water for us so the farms won't dry out, and you know what? This all pays off, we make literally over 100k just selling various foods and drink that cost nothing for us to make since we can now grow it all in house!

Just to give you an idea, there was a moment like this for Chester too, except Chester's moment was when he tracked down a tyrannical Skeleton warlord who had been literally making skeletons go haywire so he could have an army to commit genocide on anyone and everyone, Chester couldn't fight through the literal hundreds of thralled skeletons so instead we used stealth which we had been training for a good while now; and snuck into his throne room before carefully sneaking up and assassinating him. It turns out he has one of the strongest weapons in the game, something called a "Meitou Falling Sun" which is actually really important because the "Meitou" in that name is the weapon's grade, Meitou is a grade only given to 1 of each class of weapon, forged by an ancient blacksmith named Cross who was renowned as a legendary blacksmith who made top tier weapons. Now the Falling Sun is still WAY too heavy for Chester to use properly, but he was able to grab the warlord and turn him in to an anti-slaver group for a bounty, fun fact about that the anti-slaver group is ran by another Skeleton who used to be friends with said warlord but didn't agree with his system of going to war, and instead became an anti-slaver gigachad who doesn't even fight with a weapon.

Notice how in my Barkeeper run my big moment was automating a farm + kitchen combo and decorating my bar to be nice and fancy; but for Chester it was basically an elaborate stealth mission to assassinate/Stealth KO a warlord and change the global politics of the game entirely? Yea that's the freedom this game gives you, you will get these big rewarding moments no matter how you play. In one of my playthroughs that rewarding moment was hunting down a slaver group who had taken one of my characters and enslaved them, I broke everyone out of the camp including my old team member and despite effectively only getting back to square 1 (having both my party members in the party again) it felt super cool and rewarding to break them out of this elaborate slave prison and set everyone free to help me fight off the guards, because my whole playthrough changed when they got captured, suddenly I cared a lot more about lock picking and stealth and everything else took a backseat, I joined a group of ninjas and had them train me so I could sneak in and pick all the locks before opening all the cages and arming all the slaves with weapons from the storage rooms. Kenshi is an entirely unique experience every playthrough and speaking of playthroughs after I upgraded my bar I decided to take a little vacation out of the desert to go pick up some more friends, this time I figured I'd get some fleshy new hires since I want to diversify a little bit. While I was out, this Beak Thing (large carnivore creatures who when the game was released, could accidentally talk and would absolutely destroy you before saying "relax, enjoy death" which is the most terrifying shit) got stuck in our grog room

But he's still only a pup so we can't legally give him any alcohol, don't worry; he still hasn't left and he's now an Elder. I am trying to find the guy who will sell him to me because he's become something of a mascot for the bar. He also doesn't fit anymore...

So you may be wondering if there's plot or anything and well, there kinda is; and it's super organic and I love it to death. Okay so let's back up, now that I have an automated system I've begun going town to town and buying a bar in each major town in the UC this allows me to make money in town and then buy out the slave market freeing any slaves and hiring any who want to stick around giving them a weapon more powerful than a sword in the UC; money. In doing so I wound up in a coastal town called Bark where I was approached by a young woman and this dialogue happend:

It's a little hard to read but I'll summarize if you're not able to read it; essentially she asks if I'm from around here and when I ask if there's a problem by any chance she tells me she somehow fucked up with nobility, which in the UC is a big deal; like a "they will kill you" big deal. She tells me she NEEDS to get out of town, so I ask her what she was involved in; remember that if I get a bad rep with the UC my bars will be raided, all the slaves I have employed will be killed, I won't be able to fight the system so for now I have to play nice and that means I can't be helping anyone out if it costs me my own skin; plus I'm not some super strong anime protagonist, I'm a fucking barkeeper! I have no stats for fighting at this point and can't very well go to war with the UC over one person as much as I may want to help everyone. She tells me it's all a conspiracy and someone ratted her out, she needs to be gone by the morning so I tell her I'll see what I can do; yes you can actually disguise people and sneak them over boarders in this game it's incredible. However she tells me she only needs about 3k to bribe the guards to look the other way, 3k is pretty much nothing to me at this point so I say sure. After which point she joins our squad, I am then approached by another young lady looking to join up and get out of town; sounds good to me but I kinda need people here to run the shop in this town so I attempted to have a bit of dialogue to figure out why she wanted out so bad;

But she's an absolute riot, she tells me she has a pet Gutter (a species of Beak Thing) named Grimes and how she apparently has had a steamy affair with the barman's daughter and then even goes so far as to try to show me her weird rash but I figured we knew enough and you know we stan a lesbian with a weird rash.

But I couldn't just leave them here if they weren't well protected; so I set up a small fishing camp, and taught them how to farm, I even bought them a house and made good sure Khida was safe to leave town if needed.

I even installed a little Gutter weathervane for Ojillo on their farm

This game just has so much charm! Though I really need to get these two some clothes, most characters spawn with pants but not shirts; but the game is never weird about it so meh I'll pick them up some leather jackets from the shop down the road from my pub.

Now remember how I said I'm physically pretty weak? And how I can't really fight yet? Well to fix that I went ahead and used the skills I do have (in crafting) to make myself some martial arts gear, in this case this absolute insanely modded mess of a game showed me I could make Goku's gi and you know I have never seen Dragon Ball but that wasn't going to stop me, I even found a guy selling some weird robotic enhancements and bought that to go with it.

I essentially waited around at the gates of Stoat for wildlife, bandits, or threats of any nature to attack the town and when the guards would get involved I'd just back them up, it was pretty safe and if I was knocked out I had my pub staff nearby with medkits to pick me up and haul my ass back to bed. After a LONG time of this I was finally skilled enough at dodging, tough enough to take hits when I couldn't dodge, and actually skilled enough with martial arts; to explore the wilds out by where Beak Things live, I was hoping to get some beak thing eggs since they sell for a good price and I could use them in cooking some really nice stuff to sell at my pub, would absolutely bring in higher paying clientele and I'm all about that.

Oh and while I was doing all of this, the rest of the world was still actively going on around me, remember how I said I was freeing slaves? They were starting to take notice of this, and one of my ex-slave employee's Frump went by the slave yard to free some more people when this really wholesome interaction happened:

Kenshi really does a great job of making the world feel like it's happening around you but at the same time, taking notice of you. I love stuff like this, it's genuinely cool to see slaves notice my faction and know they have a chance of escaping because I set slaves free; and yet they don't immediately trust me just off my reputation because that's the kind of world Kenshi is, it's a world where for all they know I "free" slaves and then shoot them for sport, or feed them to my pet dinosaur for fun. Oh yeah my pet dinosaur, about that.

So remember how I said I was going to go get beak thing eggs for profit and money? I found a Western Tyrant instead, or at least a Juvenile one; a quick fight later and it was knocked out, I patched it up and dragged it's ass back to my house in The Hub where I was greeted by none other than Elma from Xenoblade Chronicles X and 2b from NieR; why? Because MODS BAY-BEE WOOOO!

ANYWAYS we put it in a cage so it can't kill us and we feed it until it trusts us, we name it Gura because it will become an Apex Predator, and now we are best friends :D

Look at it! I love this thing! It's so cute! It's still a baby so I have to be careful not to let it get into fights with things that could easily kill it but it's a tanky beast and I'm keeping it safe. Well...

OKAY LISTEN IT'S OKAY! THE RAGDOLL PHYSICS ARE JUST HILARIOUSLY WEIRD IN THIS GAME BUT I PROMISE IT'S OKAY!

On my way back to Stoat I found a group of nomads who were also traveling with animals and I decided to follow them, strength in numbers and all that; we're all friends here.

This game is honestly beautiful to me even on low settings; I love looking up from the desert wasteland and seeing huge planets floating over the horizon it really sells me on the scale of this world.

Eventually we got to a town where I hadn't had a chance to set up a shop, the Nomads just brought me to an entirely new place; so I ran by the local bar to pick up a new hire and well, interview went great!

I literally asked if they had any potential skills they said no, and I hired them on the spot!

Oh yea I also found a guy getting chased around by a "processor unit" which are basically robotic vulture raptors that eat dying things; he was beat up pretty bad in a fight and woke up from his recovery coma because the unit was eating his flesh, and then the pathfinding decided he should RUN IN CIRCLES

So I see this looney tunes bullshit off in the distance while I'm traveling; gotta love it. Good luck dude! Some say he's still out there running in circles to this day.

This happened by the way because he was trying to attack the unit, and the unit was trying to attack him and the pathfinding wouldn't just let him turn around, and dear lord it was hilarious.

I was also laughing really hard because I sent my friends THIS picture which looks like the most generic youtube clickbait thumbnail, but was meant to express how much hell I was going through trying to transport all my goods over to the next town which was so heavy I couldn't move faster than 4 mph but of course there were a ton of things in the desert at this exact time of day, that want me dead:

I guess what I'm trying to say with this extremely long rambling, is that I genuinely love Kenshi for how much love and care and soul it has. Every character I encounter has a story, something to say, something to do. I wander into a town and someone tells me about this legend they heard and they want to join me to go hunt down some treasure somewhere, or I'll stumble into a pirate town where anyone who doesn't know the pirate code is immediately taken in to become a slave and work your way up through the ranks because you're an obvious outsider; but you can buy a pirate code book off a drunk guy super cheap at a bar and then pretend to know enough to not get caught. Sometimes I'm running through a place just for travel and stumble upon "Skin Bandits" who are Skeletons who think they're human, and they're all friends with a human who's their leader; and made them "peeler machines" to peel the flesh off their "flesh brothers" and wear the skin as a suit; genuine horror shit right there and I love it. Kenshi has so much packed into it, you could be a leviathan hunter seeking riches from battling behemoths that roam the land, or you could be a barkeeper who just wants to settle down in a quiet town and run a shop, or you could be an anti-slaver and free the oppressed people of the world; and hell there's nothing saying you have to play this way. If you prefer to be a morally bad person in games you can join the Holy Nation, you can become a slave trader; you can steal and kill to your hearts content because the game will never point a finger at you and say "you're being morally bad and mean and rude!" Instead you are chased down by the police, you might have to break out of jail, you might have to fight and die to get out of prison or to get away because you may get caught trying to rob people. Kenshi is immersive because it never tells you "no" outright, it plays like a huge game of D&D where everything is fair to the point of being brutal and unfair. Like the game doesn't deem you anyone important, you're just another person; so every choice you make matters but not in some grand scheme kind of way.

And what's really cool about it is, if you do want to be some important person, you can do that too! If you take out a big political name, someone else will make moves to take their place; other factions will move into the land and take up residency and you can sway how the game map will turn out. You can help the Shek reclaim their land, you can help the Holy Nation colonize everything, you can help the United Cities get even richer, or you can hang out in the swamps with the turtles; they're cute as fuck dude I love those little guys.

Yes the game is buggy, and yes you should probably mod the fuck out of it because there's a ton of ways to cheese it and honestly sometimes a bit of quality of life mods can go a long ways toward making a game more fun.

But I ultimately think this game deserves a look if you're into these sort of genres; explore the world, see what it has to offer; and just have fun with it. If you're curious and don't wanna play it yourself you're always welcome to check out my streams, Chester's quest to get all his stats to 100 is about to start back up again, we still need to put an end to the Holy Nation and make Chester the gigachad he deserves to be; so if you can handle my absolutely aggravating voice come hang out if you feel inclined.

Anyhow thanks for reading all of this, hope you enjoyed it; I could gush about Kenshi and it's little details all day but I'll spare you since this post is long enough as it is.

#long post sorry #oh god theres a really dumb 6 minute video under the cut #and you can hear my dumbass voice sorry about that lol #i love this dumb game so much

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