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gingermintpepper · 4 months ago

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Attaching one of my favourite little dialogues to this because I'll never get to use it anywhere and I love it so, so much.

Apollo: Why did you ask to be free? Father would have granted you the sky and all its stars and yet, you chose that. Why?

Artemis: You wouldn't understand. You weren't there.

Apollo: I am asking you because I do not understand. Because I will never understand. I am not you.

Artemis: ...

Artemis: ... I asked because I knew I had to. For every pair joined together in love, for every work of Hera or Aphrodite there are twice as many like Mother - violent, anguished, ashamed. Alone. The pain of childbirth, the emptiness of rejection, the slow suffocation of death promised to any woman left behind by man and any women who wish to reject their fates as wives, as mothers - I wanted to be that different path. I knew I was destined to carve a different path.

Apollo: Then you know what I felt when I saw them. Those people dying in the streets, their bodies piled high in their shallow graves.

Artemis: Apollo...

Apollo: I am not Prometheus, Artemis. I did not create humans. My instrument is not the needle or the hammer, it is the bow. If clever Prometheus were still afoot, perhaps he could cast a glance at a human and tell him what was wrong and know exactly how to fix it. But I cannot. And humans cannot either. So we must learn. Even if it means breaking a body down one drop of blood at a time, I must learn.

Artemis: And why must it be you?! You who are already set to master so many heavy things - Ares is the Lord of Blood, let him do it!

Apollo: If Ares sheds blood, someone must be there to replenish it. And if I alone can See the disasters that will befall us, who better to learn what must be done to heal the damages they will cause?

Artemis: ...I don't like this.

Apollo: I know.

Artemis: I don't want you in anymore pain, Apollo.

Apollo: I know.

Artemis: But you will do it anyway, won't you?

Apollo: I must.

So, one of the most interesting things that's come from my recent exercises in writing the Olympians as young deities is all of the very fun and somewhat painful conversations that come from the young deities acquiring and consequently settling into their domains.

Apollo and Artemis especially have been really fascinating under the microscope. They start off identically, with extremely similar interests and similar domains over the hunt and wilderness. They spend their days under the stars and foraging for fruit and dancing and singing in the fields, two rustic god-children exploring and learning together. Then Apollo goes off on his own to slay Python.

Now, a lot of things change when Apollo kills Python. That is the act which transforms the bow from a tool of survival and sport to an instrument of murder, bloodshed and ultimately war. It is Apollo's first act of wrath which separates him from Artemis - both spiritually because she has not yet shed blood herself as a goddess and physically because it leads to his exile. Most importantly however, the slaying of Python is the act that grants Apollo his knowledge.

If violence is what first separates Apollo from Artemis then it is knowledge which keeps them apart.

This can refer to a lot of things; that Artemis continued to be at home with the wild beasts of the forests and mountains while Apollo grew to prefer the domesticated sheep and cattle, that Artemis continued to avoid mortals while Apollo grew to know their ways and endeavoured to teach them more. The point that has been the most interesting to me however has been Artemis, who remains free of slaughter, and thus remains pure and Apollo, who becomes acutely and entirely too aware of it, and thus must be constantly purified.

Apollo's infatuation with medicine specifically is the place where this becomes most apparent. When he leaves for his exile to travel as a mortal, without nectar or ambrosia, without power, Apollo is without the privileges of the divine for the very first time. He sweats, he smells, he grows weary when he travels, he grows hungry and thirsty. He experiences fatigue and nausea, the fever of sickness, the chill of infection, the delirium of poison. The blood Apollo shed does not only make him impure spiritually, it strips him of the purity of his birth and station. Likewise, medicine is not a divine practice. What use do the unkillable immortals have for something as finicky as medicine when they have nectar and ambrosia? Apollo however, knows of the pains of the flesh and the suffering of the mortal coil. He pursues medicine in all its horrors and difficulties because of the knowledge he gained with blood.

Artemis then, cannot understand the medical Apollo. When her brother returns possessed by this spectre of ill-gained knowledge, she does not recognise him. Who is this boy who scores the deer and studies the shape of their intestines before he cooks them? What good is there in rescuing a chick with a broken wing? The Apollo-of-the-Wild in her memories would have done the correct thing and left the thing for dead - let the forest take what is its due. Who is this Apollo whose hands are always stained to the wrist in the blood and gore of the living? What is his fascination with the mechanics of mortal bodies? Artemis does not know and Apollo does not tell her.

That has, by far, been my favourite effect of the whole Python watershed moment to explore recently.

#ginger rambles #No because I'm genuinely so insane over Apollo and Artemis' constant disagreement with how he approaches medicine #The way he does things is dangerous but he doesn't really have any alternatives #Also I have put SO much thought into how Apollo labels his findings and research tbh #Him adopting Chiron was an act of providence because he was running out of space to put his medical volumes LMFAO #Tying this back to the first half though - yeah Apollo obsessively purifies himself #because he's constantly dealing with blood and gore - unclean elements from mortal things #I imagine one of the duties of the Muses when he begins collecting them is for them to bathe and anoint him regularly #He shouldn't be touching his kithara/armaments of order with his blood-stained hands after all #Not because they're antithetical to each other but more because it would mean something different altogether #Apollo handshake Dionysus 'Blood is great actually everyone should be stained to the elbow in blood at least once in their lives'#Apollo shared Delphi with Dionysus because Dionysus is the only other family member who appreciates a good butchering #LMAO

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eluxcastar · 9 months ago

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Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat.

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it.

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

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chirpycloudyrobin · 6 months ago

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im just thinking abt an au where wwx actually did die at the burial mounds but him surviving long enough there and even pioneering a new branch of cultivation to do so was enough to punt his ghost straight up to wrath rank. however he is unaware that hes actually dead since hes too focused on his goal to absolutely decimate wen chao to pay attention to his bodily functions/needs or lack thereof.

everyone else gets this feeling that something is off with wwx but they figure its just heebie jeebies from the demonic cultivation. it's only until wwx went back to the burial mounds with the wen remnants that it sinks in that hes dead. but then he realises that if this gets out, the cultivation world will be hunting for his head more viciously so he keeps this very tightly under wraps. all this secret keeping and exhaustion and starvation just makes wwx a teensy bit more volatile but at least he has his own little family to keep him sane.

until shit starts to go downhill. and it just keeps on going. until everyone is gone and hes the only one left standing and he needs to destroy the stupid fucking seal and keep the others from discovering where he hid a-yuan so he takes his chances and pours his everything into destroying the seal. except this time hes a little more powerful than he wouldve been if he was mortal and he levels part of the burial mounds before he went. and thus was the last of wwx.

or was it ?

the world believes wwx to be dead ("good riddance") but actually hes still kicking and in a more incorporeal form. he had to retreat somewhere deep in the burial mounds to recover and thus was unable to see that lwj had come back and taken a severely feverish a-yuan with him. wwx thinks everyone is dead and gone and everything was all for naught so he stews in his mistakes and tries to repent while stitching himself back together.

sometime after, he ends up in mount tonglu which was reopened because the aftershocks of the destruction of the stygian tiger seal were strong enough to disturb mount tonglu's magma chamber of resentment basically. so for ~12 years wwx was in there fighting his way thru which was why he didnt answer to lwj's calls

wwx survives as the last standing ghost after the slaughter and stews in the kiln for another month and a half or so. this would be around the time mxy is preparing to summon wwx's ghost for the summoning.

so imagine wwx just came out of the thing as a newly minted supreme/ghost king and hes immediately yanked to where mxy is. wwx's soul isnt stuffed into mxy's newly-emptied physical body since hes a ghost king this time around. still, he helps mxy but in the shadows bc hes still not keen on getting yoinked just when he returned to the mortal world.

everything proceeds as canon, with wwx sharing mxy's body via possession at some points for the comedy gold and the bit (because he would !! let the man be silly)

after that he absolutely yanks mxy outta there after lwj arrives (just after he spends like 5 minutes staring at lwj's beauty of course) and decides hes gonna adopt this sad little wet cat and teach him the actual proper ways of cultivation and steer him away from demonic cultivation bc tbh it's just not worth it esp since mxy has a golden core and who knows how demonic cultivation will affect a golden core-

anyways

wwx decides to do a silly little makeover so he wouldnt be recognised by any of his old acquaintances. his new appearance ends up a weird lil mix between himself and mxy, enough to claim that theyre distant cousins and normal rogue cultivators just starting out. wwx plans on taking his new charge around the country and away from the sects after he learned the godawful way the lanling jin have treated mxy

"single parenthood will be hard, but this father will make sure you get the best life on the road, my sweet little loquat." "you barely look older than me to be my father, wei-qianbei" "shush let me have this"

their traveling is off to a good start. but then dafan mountain happens and holy shit wen ning is still alive(?? technically ??) and holy shit why the fuck is everyone from wwx's previous life gathering here and holy shit did he just insult his shijie's son and-

why the fuck are they going with the gusu lan cultivators

what the fuck just happened

what

anyways

wwx introduces himself as a golden core-less distant mo cousin ("had an unfortunate run-in with the core melting hand back then") who used to be a rogue cultivator back in the day and is now dabbling with the art of talisman making and definitely isnt practicing demonic cultivation no siree

somehow he and mxy end up separated as lwj and wwx go to investigate the severed arm together and mxy ends up going w the juniors with a lil encouragement from wwx

"youll have a better time socialising with people your age, little loquat" "wei-qianbei plz ,,, u just want to go w hanguang-jun alone dont u" "lmao hahahahah who said that"

wwx is absolutely having the time of his life roleplaying a damsel in distress while being completely oblivious to the bone chilling fear he induces in their undead opponents. he invents silly little talismans to help hanguang-jun in battle. hes a little perplexed at how much shit lwj is letting him get away with.

hes also 90% sure lwj has figured out that hes a ghost and hes sweating like a sinner in church deep inside

i havent thought of much past this but heres some more tidbits of info that i thought about

at some point wwx is made aware of his infamy as the "Devil Flute Upon Graves". his self destruction at the burial mounds wiped out most of the vengeful ghosts in that area and, as mentioned before, shook mount tonglu w enough resentful energy to bust it open

wwx has an army of ghostly corvids that are essentially made of condensed resentful energy. they are also sort of empathetically connected to him ??? so theyre also chatty, yappy things who are extra fond of lwj and the junior ducklings

actually wwx's entire being post-supreme promotion is just condensed resentful/yin energy and being in his presence should be dangerous for regular ppl and cultivators alike but (a) he has mastered the art of keeping the effects contained within himself and (b) existing within the same space as lwj and doing their everyday means that their yin and yang energy are constantly balancing each other out to the point where it just naturally and passively happens. lwj literally dampens wwx's natural heebie jeebie vibes bc of good dick

because hes made up of yin energy, this does mean that it's ridiculously easy for him to switch back and forth between a male and female form. he usually ends up walking around in an androgynous form that leans towards a healthier, happier looking yiling laozu

VERY IMPORTANT ADDITION: yes ofc wwx gives lwj his ashes. it's in the form of an ornament. idk where to hang it tho. maybe wangji-guqin ? or his belt ? still debating on it for sure

the burial mounds are regarded in the ghost realm as his territory now and the ghost realm and heavenly court wait w baited breath to see what this new ghost king would do

the answer is he gallivants all over the damn continent with his new cultivator husband and their gaggle of children. wwx really dgaf about anything else really, he just wants to be Wife and Teacher

the wen remnants are given a second chance at life by wwx himself after the second siege of the burial mounds and they now live a happy afterlife at wwx's new ghost town where their old settlement used to be

he and hua cheng get along by virtue of being former street kids who just want to hang out w their godly spouses and their conversations together are just praise after praise for said godly spouses

wwx's birbs do eat hua cheng's butterflies and it's a frequent point of contention. no harm is done to the butterflies tho, the birbs just spit them out whole bc they taste absolutely nasty/poisonous

wwx 🤝 xie lian : little to no self-preservation instincts. they just want to help people okay !!

after the entire guanyin temple ordeal wwx ends up with a worshipped godly aspect whose primary place of worship is in yiling, who still remember the yiling laozu who just wanted to help his little family survive to the next day. to them, wwx became the god of innovation, ingenuity, and protection

he also becomes the patron god of street children ??? he just finds himself helping street kiddos and taking in vengeful ghost children because it was what he needed back when he was a kid okay ??? hes just using his powers for good, thats all

mxy is taken in by the gusu lan clan where he ends up become a promising candidate as a talisman master, thanks to wwx's encouragement and guidance

also !! it turns out more than a couple of other ppl ascended into the heavenly court, namely:

- jiang yanli ascended as the new water master, while jin zixuan became a martial god. shes a goddess of abundance, the home, and reconciliation. hes a god of wealth, fortune, and justice - nie mingjue also ascended to become a martial god after his spirit was laid to rest. he was supposed to ascend naturally but jin guangyao's bullshit derailed his fate. - wen qing ascended to become a medical master/goddess of medicine and sacrifice tho shes also kind of infamous for her friendship with devil flute upon graves. but nobody can say shit cz if they do say shit then they wld also be saying shit abt hualian and they dont want to deal with two calamities up their ass

thats all i can yap abt rn but i might add more we dunno

#mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #wangxian #calamity wei wuxian #ghost king wei wuxian #mine : devil flute upon graves au #mdzs au

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littlejuicebox · 10 months ago

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Dadstarion prompt (sorry if I missed the boat on this!) - insecure postpartum Tav, struggling with their new body. Maybe some body worship from Astarion 👀? (Personal experience - I really struggled postpartum with adjusting to my new body, it changed in ways I never even imagined). Thank you and just want to say I love your Astarion 🥰

Adore You

Thanks for your request! Not 100% sure this is what you were looking for, but I already had a mostly finished piece I was working on that definitely fits the body-worship and Tav struggling with her body parts of this prompt. It's smut, though, and when the smut gods bless, I cannot deny their gifts.

Glad you love my Astarion! I adore him. And he adores his Tav. ;)

Summary: You are struggling with your post-partum body. Astarion is here to remind you that he still adores you.

This follows my Dadstarion section of my AstarionxReader series. But no worries, you can read it as a OneShot. Here’s the gist: Astarion is mortal and you have three children together. Gale, named after the Wizard of Waterdeep and the twins. That’s about all you need to know! See my other fics for more info and storylines.

Tags/Warnings: smut with a plot, body image issues, angst w/ comfort, PiV, fingering, oral, light overstim, light daddy kink, breast milk, breast milk drinking, all the depravity i'm generally known for tbh, light creampie kinda?

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I'm an unhinged degenerate and no I won't apologize. Also women’s bodies are amazing and can produce life and are beautiful and my Astarion appreciates that about his Tav okay?

“Thank the gods for the nanny,” Astarion says with a dramatic sigh as he enters the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, “Gale was about to make me read ‘P is for Peacock’ a third time and I was close to ripping my hair out, darling.”

You chuckle softly as your husband greets you from where you’re seated at the vanity with a brief kiss and then moves to the small table in the corner of your bedroom to pour himself a goblet of wine.

“And the twins?” He asks as his eyes watch the red liquid fall into the cup beneath it. He takes a few sips as you speak before setting the cup back down on the table.

“I’ve just fed them not too long ago and now they’re both asleep. Having Winifred to help me get them on the same schedule has been wonderful.” You respond as your husband nods and prepares a second, smaller goblet of wine, which he brings to you.

He settles himself beside you while you finish braiding your hair for bed and hums contentedly, “Perfect.”

Astarion’s hands wrap around your midsection and before you can stop yourself, you feel your body tense under his touch. The silver-haired elf pauses and frowns before retracting his hands, “Do you not want me to touch you, darling? You need only tell me.”

You sigh and shrug as you finish off the half-portioned goblet in one long drink, mostly to avoid your husband’s gaze, “It’s not that, it’s— it’s stupid.”

“Look at me, little love.” He whispers, his fingers coming under your chin as they gently coax you to face him and meet his gaze. He moves forward and presses a soft kiss against your lips before continuing, “I love you. More than anything. You know this. Now, won’t you tell me whatever is the matter so that I can help?”

Your husband waits as you gather your thoughts. It’s complicated, it’s embarrassing. You know it’s silly, and vain, and yet you can’t help yourself. And you aren’t quite sure how to verbalize it all.

“I hate my body.” You finally say, your voice cracking as you speak, and something about finally saying that evil little thought aloud causes tears to spring in your eyes.

Astarion’s mouth falls open in surprise and then he furrows his brows and quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, not knowing what to say or do apart from physically enveloping you in his love.

You continue on, speaking into his neck, sniffling as a few more tears run down your cheeks, “After Gale, I quickly returned to my previous weight. I hadn’t had any stretch marks. But carrying the twins— it’s different, Astarion. And I was expecting it to an extent but I just— I hate my body and I hate the way I look.”

There is a moment of silence as your husband simply holds you against him, allowing space for your tears. When he speaks, his voice is a soft murmur into your hair, “Not that you should care what I think, but I adore your body, darling. And I love everything about the way you look.”

You scoff and withdraw from your husband with teary, reddened eyes narrowed at him, “You have to say that.”

“I do not have to do anything,” He retorts, arching his eyebrow in a challenge, “Weren’t you the one that taught me that?”

When you don’t respond, Astarion continues on, knowing he’s won. He takes your hand in his, gently lifting it to press a kiss against your knuckle.

“I adore your hands. Which have both slain monsters and soothed our children,” He whispers before trailing kisses up your arm and to your neck where he presses another reverent kiss against those little fang scars.

“I adore your neck, which once provided me with sustenance I hadn’t known in centuries.”

Your face is beginning to grow hot under his devoted attention and compliments, and you move to shrink away from your husband, but he gently grabs you by the waist. He leans into you and brushes his nose at the meeting point between your ear and neck as he inhales the smell of your skin.

“Why are you trying to hide from me, darling?” He asks with a little sulky pout, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m not, I—“ You begin, but Astarion quickly shushes you.

“Then just be quiet and let me adore you, hm?” He asks before running his tongue against those fang marks, making you shiver.

You nod slightly and your husband grins, “Good girl. Now, come here.”

Astarion pats his lap and you slide to sit upon his thighs, forgetting your finished goblet on the floor underneath your vanity stool. He rests his chin upon your shoulder as the two of you gaze in the mirror together.

“Do you remember when I used to do this all the time?” Astarion asks, not truly waiting for a response before his long fingers trace down the side of your neck, brush along your collarbone, and then wander toward your waist, aiming to untie your dressing gown. He moves slowly and watches your expression in the mirror, waiting for you to give him any indication to stop.

But you didn’t want him to stop. Despite your feelings about your body, you still deeply crave your husband’s comforting touch.

The silky fabric slips down your shoulders and pools around your waist, baring you before his adoring eyes. The elf smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, still watching the two of you in the mirror.

“Beautiful,” He whispers as he peppers a few kisses up your shoulder and the back of your neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

Astarion slowly drifts his hands up your sides before moving to cup a heavy, milk-stretched tit in each hand. The sensation causes you to wriggle.

His tone is reverent, almost a whisper as he turns his head just slightly and flashes a toothy grin, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, “I adore your breasts, which have fed our eldest and now feed our twins.”

He chuckles salaciously before saying the next part, “And which, on more than one delicious occasion, have also fed me.”

Your husband lightly teases circles around your nipples as he finishes the line that he knows will cause you to blush and then gently nips at your ear lobe, earning him a gasp. You feel Astarion’s arousal pressing into your backside as he continues to caress your breasts and uses two fingers from each hand to tease and stimulate your nipples. You arch into his touch and your thighs press together as you feel a growing slickness between your legs from his attentions.

One of your breasts begins to leak milk, and when your husband feels the warm liquid dripping onto his fingers he hums and brings the digits to his lips. You watch in the mirror as Astarion dips the two fingers into his own mouth and licks them clean while continuing to tease your other breast.

It isn’t long before that one begins leaking, too, and your lover chuckles in delight as he watches the liquid gold trail down the bottom of your breast and languidly drip down your stomach.

The elf brings two fingers to slowly swipe up the stream of white liquid. Then he brings those same fingers to your lips, prompting you to open your mouth.

“Good girl,” He purrs before pressing those two digits against your tongue. Astarion lingers for a moment and you shut your eyes as you eagerly wrap your lips around his slender fingers and suck. You hear a little hum by your ear and feel your lover’s cock twitch in delight underneath you as he observes the scene.

“You are a vision, love.” He murmurs, as he slides his hand away from your lips, “Now, let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

The elf gestures for you to stand, causing your robe to completely slide off your body into a pool on the floor, before he quickly spins you and then hoists you onto the vanity desk. The smallest flicker of that arrogant rogue dances across his face as Astarion moves forward to dip his tongue into your mouth. He unhurriedly teases your tongue against his as he roams his hands up and down your torso until you're panting and moaning softly into his mouth.

When he retracts, his pupils are filled with lust. His hands come to quickly pull his shirt over his head and then undo the laces of his trousers. Before long he’s standing in front of you in only his small clothes.

Astarion grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge straining between his legs as he asks, “Do you feel what that divine body of yours does to me, little love?”

“Yes– my love, I want–” You begin as you eagerly try to delve your hand inside your husband’s undergarments, desperate to free his gorgeous cock. But he catches your wrist and stops you with a soft tut and a playful glint in his eyes.

“Soon. But not yet, darling. I haven’t quite finished adoring you yet. And I’ve got the best seat in the house.” He teases, before settling himself back onto the vanity bench and grinning mischievously up at you, “Now, be a good girl and open those beautiful, plush thighs of yours for me, won’t you?”

You oblige, and Astarion takes a moment to admire you, fully barren to him and already soaked with arousal. His arms come under your knees, spreading you wider for him, as he grips your thighs with his hands. Then he turns and begins pressing tender kisses up your thigh. He makes slow work of the task, humming contentedly on his journey toward your sex and always lingering longer in the spots where you’ve developed stretch marks.

By the time his face is right in front of your mound, you’re positively leaking for Astarion and he groans appreciatively at the sight.

“Beautiful. I will never tire of seeing that gorgeous cunt dripping for me, darling,” He murmurs and before you can respond, your husband is delving his tongue between your folds and eagerly feasting upon your juices.

You moan in delight when Astarion brings his tongue to trace around your clit, so familiar with your preferences that it doesn’t take long for him to coax you toward your peak. His tongue dances expertly around the swollen nub, each pass causing your pleasure to build. Two of his long, pale fingers slide into you, meeting no resistance, and he slowly pumps the digits in and out of your walls.

You grasp onto Astarion’s curls and whine when he adds a third finger, and he knows you’re close, so he continues his ministrations and adds more pressure as he curls his fingers just so. His other hand comes up to find your nipple and tease it between his fingers as you climb the final steps toward your climax.

A final flick of Astarion’s tongue, a final stroke of his fingers, and you burst with pleasure, whining in delight as your thighs tremble on either side of his head. Your walls spasm and send another gush of arousal onto the elf’s face. You begin leaking breast milk once again.

“Delicious,” Your husband murmurs as he pulls back slightly to admire the glistening of your sex and then presses forward and takes one more lap of your sensitive folds, causing you to buck into his mouth as he chuckles against you. Astarion languidly runs his tongue up to your stomach, lapping at the thin rivulets of milk running down your torso and covering his face in a shiny layer of your juices and breast milk.

Then he stands to his full height and finally— finally— steps out of his small clothes. His pale cock springs proudly from its confinement, dripping thin strings of pre-come from the reddened tip, just for you.

“Get over here, Astarion,” You eagerly demand, voice hoarse from your cries as you hook your legs around his torso and pull him against you.

“Anything for my little love,” Your husband responds, voice full of gravel as he runs the underside of his cock against your slit, using it to lubricate his length.

And then the head of his cock presses into you and your mouth falls open as Astarion buries himself to the hilt. His thumb comes to lightly tease your still-tender clit as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. He’s watching your face intently as he thumbs circles around that needy, engorged bundle of nerves.

You use your legs to pull the elf deeper and he grins before lowering his head so that it’s right by your ear. He takes the lobe in his mouth and suckles gently, causing you to whimper.

“You’ll do one more for me, won’t you darling? You always look so gorgeous when you do.” He coaxes, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles the sensitive flesh. And then he’s pitching his hips just slightly, aiming to hit your favorite spot with the tip of his cock. He’s gasping and grunting now as his own need for release starts to overpower him.

You’re almost there. You’re keening with each thrust from Astarion and your walls are clenching tighter and tighter around his cock.

He moans in response at the sensation before pressing his thumb harder against your clit and rubbing it with single-minded intensity, working you toward release. You begin to relentlessly whimper again and Astarion smiles, his eyes locked onto yours as he watches your face contort in the feeling of immense pleasure.

“There you go, little love. Let go for daddy.” He whispers, bringing his other hand to palm the ample flesh of your ass.

And gods, you do.

The second orgasm ripples through you harder than the first, and you have to clasp your hand around your mouth to stifle your moan. Your walls are pulsing around your lover’s cock as you ride the wave of ecstasy.

You go almost slack and before long Astarion is ripping your hand away from your face and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss as he begins to rut wildly into you, shaking the vanity with every thrust.

“Gods, the things your body does to me,” He growls as he pulls away from your lips, snapping his hips at a punishing pace as he chases his own release. Astarion’s hand is clutching firmly into your bottom, gripping so tightly there’s sure to be bruising tomorrow. His curls fall in front of his face and his ears begin to turn red as he continues to fuck you into oblivion.

Your husband is trying with every fiber of his being to hold on, to stretch out the delicious sensation of his cock plunging in and out of your walls, but every stroke into your tightness is pushing him further and further towards his peak. He snaps his eyes shut, shaking with the effort it’s taking him to restrain himself, to continue enjoying the feeling of your flesh gripping around his.

You are so thoroughly fucked that you cannot do anything but hold onto your lover and keen underneath him as he continues pounding into you.

“Darling— hells — my love, you’re so tight, I can’t— I’m—“

And then with a sudden, sharp inhale of breath, Astarion is burying his thick length inside your walls and trembling as his cock twitches, relentlessly releasing its spend. He gasps into your ear as he slows his hips, but continues to rut, using his still-hard length to press his seed deeper into you.

His praises come out in an incoherent string as he continues to languidly rock his hips back and forth. You cup his face in your hands as you kiss him, and Astarion smiles into the kiss, finally stilling his hips as his cock softens between you two.

“Come here, little love.” He whispers, hooking his arms underneath you. You intuitively wrap your legs around your husband’s torso and he easily carries you to the bathroom. When he finally places you down, he brushes a few strands of hair from your face and then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He says, turning to start the tap before tossing a glance over his shoulder and chuckling lightly, “And then I have to fix your braid, dear… I’m sorry to tell you that I ruined it.”

“I think you might have also bruised my ass,” You respond, turning to flash your bottom at Astarion.

He drops down on his knees to examine the curve of your ass, one nimble finger brushing against the blooming blue marks. You let out a little whine in response, the flesh still tender.

Astarion presses his lips onto the bruise and lingers for a moment. Then he pulls away and frowns slightly, eyes glossing across the marks before he looks up at you and says, “I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay,” You respond, glancing back to grin over your shoulder. You see your husband peering up at you, the picture of devotion, “I enjoyed it.”

“Did you, now?” He asks with an amused smirk, his eyebrow cocking in that signature arrogant way of his.

You nod just slightly as he places another kiss against those little bruises. His hands travel up your thighs, brushing against the wetness dripping from your sex and onto your legs. Two fingers tenderly stroke between your drenched slit.

“Hmm, and what do we have here, little love? Is this something else that needs cleaning? Won’t you let me take a look?”

You blush but oblige anyway, leaning forward over the counter and exposing your sex, leaking with Astarion’s seed and your arousal.

He grins and licks a long strip between your folds, causing you to buck slightly and whimper at the stimulation on your still-sensitive cunt.

“Too sensitive? Want me to stop?” He asks gently from behind you, one hand wrapped around your thigh.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, bending forward to further reveal yourself to him, eager to feel his skilled tongue pressed into you once more.

A small groan of appreciation from your husband is all you hear before he delves his tongue back between your legs, working to clean up the mess he made.

The bathtub overflows and spills water onto the floor before he’s done adoring you. At least for tonight.

#astarion fanfic #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #smut #bg3 smut #romantic smut #soft astarion #soft dom astarion #dadstarion #dadstarion fic #astarion reader insert

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redr0sewrites · 1 year ago

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Blade x reader General Headcanons (sfw + nsfw)

*gently hands this to you and then scuttles away like a large cockroach* not proofread so yea <\\\3 u can tell i have a blade bias <3

🥀CW: a little angst, blade is Bad At Feelings ™️, reader is sorta assumed to be a stellaron hunter, dom/sub dynamics in the nsfw, switch!blade, knife kink/pain kink, just filth tbh

🥀 minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw!

we all know bladie is RIDICULOUSLY emotionally constipated- if he likes you, he is in COMPLETE AND UTTER DENIAL

he will be staring into ur soul like he hates ur guts but the whole time his heart is pounding out of his chest

he has a very stoic face, it takes a while for u to learn to read him 😭

tbh ud prob think that he hates u for a while cuz he just stares at u

once u both get over the initial awkwardness of him constantly looming over u and hovering around u and staring at u, and once u realized that no, hes not creepy or insane he just wants to be around u, u guys would probably become close friends pretty quickly!

i dont think hes the type to jump into a relationship, his commitment issues get in the way

u would DEF have to be friends first, but he would still be enamoured with u

very observant, he notices all of the little things u do

one of the very first things that tips u off to the fact that he has romantic feelings towards u would probably simply be the fact that he literally cares SO MUCH about ur life and routine

hes memorized ur schedule, how u make ur coffee/tea, what ur favorite movies and shows are, he can tell when ur sad or stressed, he just finds comfort in learning details about u

he prefers to listen in conversation rather than speak, he can listen to u for hours

if u like something or are interested in something, suddenly he is too and he wants to learn all about it

at this point all the other stellaron hunters are rooting for u two to get together

kafka would try to set u both up like all the time

shes never seen blade so devoted to someone

whenever u walk in the room, he always seems to light up a little in excitement

i honestly feel like he would confess first but only for the sake of kafka not telling u before he does💀

it would probably be after an especially tiring or exhausting mission, after the maras been making him feel shitty

blade always feels so safe around u and he would just suddenly blurt out the fact that hes in love with u

after the initial shock, when u tell him the feelings are reciprocated hes ECSTATIC

but wont show it

he'll just let out a small (but cute): smile and nod

kafka, sam, and silverwolf are in the background recording the whole thing 💀

hes awkward at first

SUCKS AT PHYSICAL CONTACT TBH

blade's love language is def acts of service

he loves doing things for you and he loves helping u, it makes him proud to know that he can help make u feel safe

will fucking destroy anyone who hurts u

like actually destroy

nobody had ever seen blade so angry or ruthless as the day u were hurt on a mission

afterwords hes cradling u in his arms, clinging to u like ur gonna disappear😭

he knows how fleeting mortal lives are and hes genuinely so afraid of losing u

hes not good at talking things out or expressing his feelings

hes also not great at apologizing but he will try for u and only for u

arguments with him kinda suck cuz he can be stubborn and doesn't understand emotions

blade would feel terrible afterwards tho

would probably sit next to u and just take ur hands in a silent apology and gently run his thumb in a soft circle on ur palm

he likes it when u wear his clothes, he can be possessive and seeing u in his (probably much larger) clothes makes him a little feral

overall, u guys have ur ups and downs, but are ultimately a power couple and he loves u sm what can i do to find me a blade smh

nsfw!

SWITCH ENERGY‼️

when hes dom, hes MEAN

blade can talk so filthy sometimes, his voice is so deep and rough and when hes got you folded in half, ruthlessly pounding into u theres nothing u love to hear more than his scornful voice switching from degradation to praise <3

into marking on both ends, he loves seeing u covered in hickeys and scratches but also enjoys being littered in stinging marks for him to admire later

i feel like blade would like positions where he can be close to u when hes dominant, such as mating press or missionary

SIZE KINK! if ur smaller thank him, he love love LOVES to use his larger stature and weight to pin u down

seeing u squirm and writhe helplessly beneath him turns him on

will pin ur wrists above ur head, leaning down to whisper the filthiest words in ur ear, the entire time his cock is thrusting so fast in and out of ur leaking hole, ur mind is melting to mush at the stimulation. on top of that, his free hand is roughly playing with ur cock/clit, while he nips and bites roughly at ur neck. its all so much, too much...

rahh i went off there for a sec

anyways <3

blade wouldn't understand the hype to exhibitionism until the both of u got together

the two of u r fucking in a storage closet while people outside r just continuing their everyday lives, his hand clamped roughly over ur mouth to silence u, but that doesnt stop his own breathy moans and growls from slipping through

i also think blade would have a knife kink, hed find sick, twisted pleasure in running a knife over ur soft skin as u squirm

hed never actually hurt u, he could never do that

u both def have a safeword

but the idea is still arousing

he isnt as vocal when dom when hes sub, when hes dom its more low growls and groans and moans while when hes sub its more moaning and whimpers and whines

when hes sub, hes so into pain

if u pull his hair, this man will immediately submit

HE HAS AN ORAL FIXATION IF U HAVE A COCK HE WOULD ADORE TO SPEND EVERY WAKING HOUR SUCKING ON IT. if ur exhausted and want to keep blade occupied (cuz his stamjna is INSANE), give him two of ur fingers to suck on<3

he just looks so pretty with ur fingers in his mouth, a small trickle of drool leaking past his parted lips as he stares up at u in utter adoration with lust filled eyes

blade is SO LOUD when u fuck him from behind, he doesnt know why he just finds it so hot

he also has a reverse size kink, someone as small as u taking control of him and using him for ur own pleasure is such a turn on

he has such insane stamina, he could have u fucking him for literal hours and still want more

esp when hes sub, there needs to be a lot of foreplay leading up to the actual sex or else he will be needy for like ever

is actually so touch starved its funny, when the two of u had ur first time where he was sub he came in under a minute

he was super embarrassed, even tho u found it super hot

blade can be a tease if he wants to be, sending u photos of him naked with his hand wrapped around his aching cock, eyes blown wide with lust<3

he thinks punishments are hot, but prefers to be praised and pampered

call him a good boy, he will MELT

he wants to be good for u so much, he needs u to get himself off its almost pathetic :( he cant cum without u there helping him, whenever hes needy and ur not around he always ends up in a puddle of his own arousal, his release slipping away as soon as it begins to build. his cock is aching, he needs u, he cant even get off alone

after sex is when hes most vulnerable, blade is very kinky and mellow after sex esp when he was sub

big on aftercare, deep down he wants to be taken care of and held

he also loves taking care of u, loves washing u as u bathe together after a rough night of lovemaking

he loves it when u mark his chest cuz he can show it off the next day

blade wants everyone to know ur his, and vice versa

THIS GOT SO LONG WTF???

BARK BARK BARK can u tell i have such a big fat stupid fucking blade bias hes so silly i love this goofy man sm i need to pepper him with kisses and then fuck him senseless 😔

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thoughtsfromlayla · 3 months ago

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26 Ways of Taking You: J for Joyride

Summary: You meet an absolute dream boat after coming out of the theaters with your friends. He promises you the ride of your life.

Notes: ~ 1.6k words, best read if listening to Joyride by Kesha tbh, I don't know how the positioning works but I just make it work ok, it's diabolical

Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, Biker!Dream x Fem!Reader, unprotected sex on said bike, while going at dangerous speeds down the highway, fingering, p in v, cummies!, use of pet name (princess)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

I for Incubus ⇆ K for Kleptomaniac

Every decade or so, Morpheus loves to visit the waking world to see what the mortals are up to. The 80s are starting to look promising and he watches with a careful eye as a group of young college students come barging out of the cinema with half-eaten bags of popcorn and giggles tumbling out of their mouths.

You should have known better, just looking at him from across the theater parking lot would’ve told you that he was trouble. His fresh leather jacket, the large sleek beauty of a motorcycle, and the way he drew the smoke out of that cigarette were everything you needed to know.

But sweet, naive, little you. Daddy’s good girl and high school valedictorian turned perfect college student. But every good girl needs a release, an adrenaline rush to feel something, and against the betterment of your judgment you find yourself in front of him.

“Want a ride?” Morpheus asks as you basically skip over to him.

“I love joyrides,” you say with a suppressed smile.

You don’t bother to wait for his response, already finding yourself straddling the front seat of his ride. Your shorter-than-appropriate skirt flares around your thighs as you part your legs, something that Morpheus eyes with a knowing smile.

His warmth encompasses your back as he straddles in behind you. The smell of nicotine envelopes your senses and you’re left dizzy. Morpheus revs the engine once and the bike comes to life underneath you. You watch as your mystery rider flicks the burnt-out nicotine stick to some unknown shadow in the parking lot before kicking the stand that parked the bike.

His arms come around you as he grabs onto the handles and before you can blink, you’re already out of the theater parking lot and onto the open road.

A thrilled squeal leaves your lips as the wind caresses every strand of your hair, the chill filling your clothes and lifting your skirt as you leave your worries behind you. Morpheus chuckles slowly in your ear as he turns onto the interstate.

The late night leaves the two of you alone on the interstate, the only thing between you and eternal darkness is the occasional old street lamp. The faster the bike goes, the further you slide against Morpheus’ front, the loud hum of the bike shaking your core unintentionally making you wet. Your teeth sink into your lips as you realize the buzzing sensation was slowly starting to turn you on and the adrenaline certainly didn’t help.

But Morpheus knew.

He feels the way your body starts to pant against him and your head falls back against his shoulder as your eyes roll to the back of your head. He lowers his head, pressing his lips to your ear and exhales hotly. He can see his breath for a moment in the cold weather before it’s quickly whisked away at high speeds. More importantly, he can see the goosebumps that rise over your neck and exposed chest when he does so.

“You like joyrides?” He asks slowly in your ear, repeating what you said to him earlier in the night.

You nod against his chest and he chuckles again. Like a mist over a morning horizon, you feel one of his hands ghost over the curve of your hips and he groans as he feels his cock begin to harden against the plumpness of your ass.

You squirm in your seat, having nowhere else to go other than forward, but why would you do that when it was so cold going 90 on the interstate? You feel his hands grip tighter on your hips and they follow the natural path down your thighs to your pulsing heat, completely ignoring your skirt.

“I’ll give you a good time tonight,” Morpheus promises in your ear, his fingers toy at the seams of your underwear. “Want that, princess?”

“Oh, my god, yes,” you practically moan out to him.

The first run of his fingers between your walls has you gasping. He loops his finger around your clit ever so gently, just enough for you to grab onto his wrist in a silent plea, but nothing more. Morpheus revels in the way you try to take control, how you try to move his fingers in the way you need him, but he never lets you.

His fingers tease at your arousal and presses two fingers against you, feeling the way you try to clench around him without his fingers in you. Your arousal was drenching his fingers in a thick slickness as he pressed his palm onto your clit.

“F-fuck…” You whine, jerking your hips forward to chase the fleeting moment.

“Such dirty words,” Morpheus scolds but they fall on deaf ears.

He palms at you again, and when he decides that he needs to feel you clench around him does he inserts his fingers. The first one went in easily, your body practically sucking it into your greedy cunt. He groans into your ears, a low reverting sound that can barely be heard over the roar of the engine.

Morpheus gives a few experimental pumps before he uses your wetness to add another one of his fingers. Your nails dig into his wrist, imprinting angry, red, crescent shapes into his skin but neither of you gave a shit. His fingers spread you apart with the intention of fitting something much larger later.

You're losing yourself to the pleasure in how he pumps his fingers in you, the promise of his cock is close as you feel his hardness pressing into your lower back. Morpheus’ fingers curl in a way that has your moans echo across the interstate.

Morpheus watches closely as your pleasure starts to overtake you, pushing the bike harder across the road as your cunt begins to grip his fingers with a vice. Just before it consumes you, he takes out his fingers, the digits drying immediately in the high winds.

“What is wrong with you?!” You turn your head when you realize that he denied you your orgasm.

“Your pretty little cunt is going to cum on this dick before it cums on anything else. Got that, princess?” He asks in a low growl.

Morpheus gives a sly smile when you nod at him with wide eyes. His hands leave you to unbutton his pants, unzipping himself out of the shrinking confinement of his jeans. Under his instructions, he guides you carefully so that you are turned towards him.

Your heart is in your throat as the bike doesn’t slow, but you manage to swivel in the limited space until you’re chest to chest with him. Your legs dangle over his thighs as he leans closer to you. Morpheus invades your space like a ghost, the smell of nicotine follows him wherever he goes.

When he smashes his lips onto you, you can taste the addiction hot and heavy on his tongue. Your hands grab at his leather jacket, knuckles turning white as he pushes you down onto your back. You’re sure you’re going to fall and your future is going to look like nothing except road kill. But, Morpheus holds onto you, he’s determined to keep the bike upright while giving you the ride of your life.

He slips into you easily, your only indication a sharp gasp as you throw your head back and come in contact with the fuel tank. Your legs wrap around his slim waist and you give an experimental roll of your hips.

Morpheus watches from above you as you fuck yourself on him, your mouth agape and gasping, your hair a beautiful mess in the wind. His hands roam between the valley of your breasts, feeling your heartbeat’s erratic pumping as you moan out in ecstasy. Your back arches higher and higher as you use him to chase your own pleasure.

The engine revs harder as he feels your sopping cunt clench around his cock, a gritted groan leaves him and he shuts his eyes to regain what little composure he had left.

You’re back at grabbing at him, wanting to taste him on your tongue again and he happily obliges. Morpheus moves his hips subtly to meet your desperate humps.

“Please?” You ask when you pull away for a moment.

“Yeah, princess, whatever you want,” He agrees before his lips are on yours again.

Morpheus’ hands are back on you again, his palm cupping around a perk nipple that has you smiling into the sloppy makeout session. And when you pull away to take a breath, he doesn’t have the will to leave your skin.

He continues as far as he can, leaving bite marks down the center of your neck, inhaling the dizzying scent of your perfume and movie theater popcorn.

“I said, please,” You repeat, gasping and needy.

“I heard you,” he says in that low voice of his.

His hands once again travel down until his finger is tapping impatiently on your engorged clit. A whine from your lips was all it took for him to press down on the nerve, circling it slowly in tandem with the movement of your hips.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your mouth agape again with nothing but whimpers and prayers on your lips. The heat warms your body and the cold is long forgotten, the sensation of unearthly pleasure easy to lose yourself in.

Your orgasm comes slowly, shimmering just below the surface before it becomes a raging boil of ecstasy.

“Please, please, please. I’m gunna—” With gasping breath, you pussy clenches and spasms around his cock as you unravel yourself on his bike. Morpheus slams his mouth over yours again, wanting to taste your orgasmic moans on his tongue. His own orgasm follows soon after, the slickness of your release enough to push him over the edge.

You’re a hundred miles away from your home, and it’s with a daunting realization that you just let a stranger cum in you.

Your dad’s going to be pissed.

Wasn't that beautiful, I thought it was beautiful. What's that? How did Dream drive and have a heavy make-out session while driving?

... ... ... ... Go stand in the corner and don't ask plot hole related questions.

Also, I want to say that Dream stood in front of a mirror and applied/smudged eyeliner before going to the waking world, maybe accidentally stabbing himself in the eye with the pencil or something idk.

Thanks for reading and your support as always!

♡ Yours, Layla

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

I for Incubus ⇆ K for Kleptomaniac

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader smut #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader smut #dream of the endless imagine #smut #dream the endless x reader #dream the endless #dream imagine #dream smut #26 ways of taking you

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mmmelahii · 2 months ago

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Mel audiodrama rec list!

I'm gay sad and picky, read into that how you may - in no real order - heed each show's TWs

RED VALLEY!! LOVE THIS SHOW TO DEATH. Great beginner audiodrama, such excellent audio and writing and chemistry and woayfhhtm. Cried a lot. A good amount of existential dread. Ough

Woe.begone: lots of wbg brainrot as of late. Genuinely the most scary podcast ever to me - but only if you think about it. Don't get too attached to the ARG format of the first season. Its long, a mind fuck, and not for everyone. It took me 2 tries over a year and a half to lock in properly. Best consumed in a binge as to keep the plot threads fresh in mind. Great discord server <3 cried a lot too

The Grotto: Wbg has great music but Grottos hits different. It makes me want to teeth. I adore the writing personally, but be OK with your pov character sort of being a toxic person. He's trying he really is. This show portrays nuances of grief and mental health issues so well imo. Also great discord server <3

The Kingmaker Histories: Very very charming writing and world building. The world building is alternate history in a way that the fantastical elements occur to you naturalistically as you listen. Lovely lovely cast. Self aware about its tropes and excellently uses em to their advantage. Acknowledges a lot of the darker facets of history in an almost satirical manner to its absolute benefit

The Bright Sessions: Was actually my first full audiodrama! Was obsessed with it for a while. A good comfort listen imo, it's character chemistry is definitely a strong suit; a very human look at fantastical people

Fawx & Stallion: Narm-y but so genuinely charming. I absolutely love the casting choices, I think they're all so perfect for the characters. I'd almost call it a satire played straight, where the main characters behave in nearly caricature levels of eccentricity, but their consequences are shockingly grounded. It's pleasant! Can't wait for the next season

Ethics Town: I'm a philosophy sociology student, legally cannot not recommend. It subverted my expectations for what the format of the story would be tbh! In a neutral way, it just took me by surprise the first time. The world building is very fun and relatively unique, it gets you attached in a way that can really make your stomach drop

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: SO GOOD AND SO SLEPT ON!! I loved this show so much, its one of those that leave you craving for something to hit you the same way it did. One of my favourite anthology shows, mainly because of how interlinked the over all plot is to all of it, all while keeping the stories so fresh and invigorating. Listen to it!!!

SCP: Find Us Alive: The characters and cast are excellent; and I like how strained and tense the relationships between them get! It's not necessarily comfortable to listen to, but it's investing and leaves you on edge just like the characters would be. I like their personal lives breaching the strict professionalism of their work gradually. No prior knowledge of SCP really necessary

Jar of Rebuke: Really poignant in the alienation it portrays. I love the way Jared experiences the world and himself; his understanding of his own gender, the way that his innate abilities don't correlate to those of others, the way that he never feels quite like he's saying the right thing, it's all such mfmfjdndmdm good show. Unfortunately audio does sometimes tick off my sensory issues

Neighborly: I LOVE GOTHIC HORROR SO MUCH OH MY GOD. I love the narrative structure and the domestic horror of this show. The ambiance and the dreamy story telling all excellent. The one issue I have is that listening to it with headphones REALLY fuck with my sensory issues :((

Blake Skye Private Eye: Really slept on imo! The exaggerated noir setting and pacing are great, unfortunately the audio leveling does mess with my sensory issues :( is someone willing to lend me a better auditory system

Shelterwood: As aforementioned I LOVE GOTHIC HORROR SO MUCH. THE SUBLIME. THE DOMESTIC SUSPENCE. LOVE THAT SHIT. I really love the sound design here. Characters are so so real. Love them. Can't wait for more

Keep it Steady: Fuck fuck fuck man. I cried most of the way through heart brockoken this is so good I love it cant wait for more.

Speed round for podcasts I like to throw on for light hearted (to me) quick, queer fluff

- Love and Luck

- Kaleidotrope

- The Two Princes

- The Lavender Tavern

- Tales from the Low City

- Monstrous Agonies

#If you've got any to share PLEASE DO!!!#podcast recommendations #lgbtqia #Red Valley #woe.begone #the grotto podcast #the kingmaker histories #the bright sessions #fawx & stallion #ethics town #the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality #scp find us alive #jar of rebuke #neighborly #shelterwood #Blake skye private Eye #keep it steady

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d-z20 · 26 days ago

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The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 3

Summary: Agatha's brutal lessons continue but she has discovered something - or someone - to comfort her.

Warnings: slight physical (with magic)/mental/emotional abuse

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: The mommy issues becoming very clear now and tbh I can't blame her. I think we're all in agreement that we hate Evanora. Next chapter is where it starts getting real gay folks

Read the story on AO3 | Master List

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Sorrow and Solace

The air was thick with the chill of early autumn, the kind that burrowed under skin and nestled deep in your bones. The coven’s central hall sat half-hidden under the long-reaching branches of an old oak tree, its roots like gnarled fingers clawing at the earth. The building was humble - rough-hewn logs held together by magic woven with necessity and silent resolve - but within its walls, power pulsed and tension coiled like a serpent ready to strike. The smell of the damp earth mingled with the sharp tang of herbs drying in bundles over the hearth, filling the space with a soothing musk. Shadows flickered on the rough, wooden walls as blue-flamed candles sputtered in their sconces, illuminating the hardened faces of witches whose loyalty was stitched with threads of fear and ambition.

Among the coven, there were those who watched Agatha with awe and those who watched her with suspicion. Isobel, a witch with dark curls and a voice that could enchant an entire village, saw potential in Agatha but feared the shadow she cast. Greta, an older witch whose loyalty to Evanora was absolute, marked every sign of defiance with thin-lipped disapproval. Agatha Harkness was not yet a woman, but neither was she the child who once stared wide-eyed at the world. She was no more than twelve, but her eyes held a storm that belied her years. She sat rigid on the cold floor, heart thumping in anticipation and dread as her mother, Evanora Harkness, moved to the centre of the room.

Agatha’s gaze flickered for a moment, a habit born from years of reading her mother’s expressions as one reads a cipher. Evanora’s presence commanded silence; she wore power the way others wore cloaks. Her fingers, long and pale, seemed to weave invisible threads as she spoke, each word binding the coven in a spell of obedience. She stood at the head of the gathering, eyes sharp as a hawk’s, scanning the room for any sign of weakness.

“Today,” Evanora began, her voice slicing through the low murmurs, “we will push beyond the ordinary incantations. You will learn what it means to wield power that breaks the chains of mortal restraint.”

The room remained still, hanging on the edge of Evanora’s every word. The witch turned her cold eyes on Agatha, a look that demanded not only attention but compliance. Agatha’s stomach churned, not from fear alone but from the gnawing need to earn even the faintest flicker of approval from her mother.

“Magic is not kind. Magic is not gentle. Those who wield it must be harder that the iron at a blacksmith’s forge,” she continued.

This was not an invitation; it was an ultimatum. She would master this lesson, or the consequences would etch themselves into her skin like scars.

The witches gathered there glanced at each other, some eager, others masking their trepidation. Isobel kept her eyes fixed on the floor, lips pressed together tightly. Greta, her sharp nose tilted upward, shot a glare at Agatha - a look brimming with distrust and scorn. Greta’s loyalty to Evanora was not born from admiration but from fear; she had no space for rivals, least of all ones that came from within their ranks

Evanora’s eyes bore into her child. “Stand, Agatha.”

The young girl rose slowly, the old floor creaking under her weight. Agatha’s heart thudded with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The flame of a candle sputtered as if sensing the tension. For a split second, she almost glanced at Isobel, seeking an assurance she would never allow herself to need. Evanora raised her arms and a blast seared through the air, hitting Agatha square in the chest. A collective gasp swept through the coven; only Agatha and Evanora stood unmoved.

Pain exploded in Agatha’s limbs, sharp and fierce, but she locked her knees and forced herself not to tremble. The air grew even thicker with the scent of burning wax and something more acidic. A sharp, echoing voice in her mind, one that sounded like her mother’s yet twisted with her own doubt: This is how you prove yourself. Do not falter. Do not fail.

Agatha’s fingers curled as she reached out instinctively, a violet shimmer appearing between her palms. Evanora’s expression twitched, not with pride but with calculation, a fleeting assessment of the threat this child might one day pose.

“Hold it,” Evanora ordered, eyes narrowing. “Do not let it shatter you.”

The room darkened at the edges as Agatha’s vision tunnelled, the force pressing down on her like a weight that threatened to crush her. Panic started to bubble up, but then came that whisper - a whisper carried through the void with a familiarity that made her heart lurch.

“You are more than their fear Agatha. Take it. Control it.” Rio said.

The voice reached inside Agatha and pulled her back from the brink. The words were a lifeline, wrapping around Agatha’s fragile confidence and bolstering it against the storm. Her panic dissipated, replaced by a spark of defiance unfurling within her, mingled with the aching need for approval that had anchored her since she could remember. The voice seemed to embolden the very core of her that had learned to crave validation, to chase it like a hound after a rabbit.

Agatha felt a surge of power, hot and wild, twisting through her veins. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her lips parted in a silent gasp. Agatha’s eyes flashed violet, just for a moment, as her fingers tightened and the violet shimmer grew brighter and sharper cutting through the blue that held her captive. The tensions snapped like a taut rope, and the force shattered outward in a shockwave that extinguished every candle in the room

Darkness reigned for a heartbeat. The witches around her shifted uneasily, their breaths shallow. When the first candle flickered back to life, it revealed Evanora’s expression. Evanora’s eyes were wide, a flicker of surprise that quickly hardened into a glare. The moment of silence was suffocating. Agatha resisted the instinct to shrink under the weight of her mother’s scrutiny, the learned fear pressing against the edges of her resolve.

The coven remained silent, eyes darting between mother and daughter. For a moment, a spark kindled in Agatha’s chest, a taste of something sweet and forbidden. It was fleeting, but there - perhaps her mother would finally see her as enough.

Evanora lowered her hands, the blue dissipating into the air with a hiss.

“That was satisfactory,” she said. Though her expression was anything but approving. “But control is nothing without understanding. Practice until you bleed if you must.”

She turned on her heel and swept out of the room, calling one last remark over her shoulder. “You should be good at this by now Agatha.”

In the lingering silence, Agatha’s gaze drifted to the smouldering wick of a candle, the flame stubbornly refusing to die. A silent promise formed in her mind: I can be good Mother. I will be good.

When night fell and the wind sang mournful songs through the branches of the forest, Agatha slipped away from the cabin, careful not to leave tracks that might be discovered come morning. She reached the hollowed tree at the forest’s edge, a place where no one followed and no one dared to look too closely. The tree’s interior, lined with the faint ghostly glow of fungi, held secrets that no other witch in the coven would touch.

Agatha’s hands were still trembling from the lesson in the coven hall, her mother’s words echoing in her mind: You should be good at this by now. Here, in the quiet of her sanctuary, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. The ache in her chest was a familiar one - the endless chasm of trying to earn a nod of approval, the constant fear of never measuring up.

Her voice small and wavering broke the silence. “What did she see?” she wondered aloud, tracing the cover of an ancient tome with shaking fingers.

It was a question that clawed at her heart, an echo of her need for approval tangled with her fear of becoming something monstrous.

“She saw a rival, m’lady,” came a voice, soft as moonlight filtering through the leaves.

Agatha’s breath caught, and she swallowed hard. The voice had been with her as long as she could remember, an unseen presence that seemed to know her heart’s deepest secrets. She didn’t know who it belonged to or where it came from - only that it arrived when she felt most alone, a whisper that always seemed to answer the questions no else dared acknowledge. And so that is what she called them: the Whisper - her Whisper.

Agatha had bitten back a smile at the pet name. It seemed every time her mother found a new way to tell her she was no good, her Whisper countered it with names that made her feel cherished, if only for a little moment: My Wildflower, My Whisperling, My Lady of Shadows. Each one soothed the sting of her mother’s cruel words, weaving a thin thread of comfort through her otherwise cold world. They made her feel seen in a way that the coven never had.

“Back again so soon?” Rio teased, gentler this time, as she knew this moment was sacred.

Agatha nodded, eyes glassy with determination. “I have to be better. I have to be enough,” she thought aloud. It was a mantra born from years of watching her mother’s eyes search for flaws.

The hollowed tree was more than a sanctuary; it was a repository of forbidden knowledge. Illuminated by the faint glow of phosphorescent fungi, an assortment of ancient tomes and scrolls rested within. Forgotten text, deemed too dangerous even for the coven, lined the hollow’s hidden walls. Agatha reached out and ran her fingers over the cracked leather binding of one such book, its title written in runes that spoke of necromancy and ancient, shadowy arts. It called out to her, not with the urgency of her mother’s demand but with a quiet promise of understanding, of power that could be her own.

“You seek what others fear,” Rio observed, a note of caution lacing her tone.

Agatha’s jaw tightened.

“I need her to see me,” she whispered, feeling the familiar burn of unshed tears from wanting to be seen not as a threat or a failure, but as something worthy.

“Knowledge comes at a price,” Rio had interrupted Agatha’s thoughts, her voice neither condemning nor approving, simply aware.

“Then let it be paid,” Agatha replied, a hint of defiance in her voice as she opened the book and traced her fingers over the symbols within. The rush of ancient power skimmed beneath her skin like a hidden river, dark and eager. She could almost hear her mother’s voice warning her against the dangers of power untamed, yet she pushed it aside. This was hers.

The memory of how she’d first found the hollow crept into her mind. It had been an accident, led by an inexplicable trail of flowers that wound through the forest, their petals whispering secrets to those who dared to listen. Agatha had followed, captivated, until she found the hollowed tree and its trove of forgotten magic. Rio often guided her here, nudging her to find what she needed to become more than the sum of her fears.

Yet not everyone was blind to her shifting power. Greta’s voice sharp and unforgiving, had recently cut through the din of the coven hall as she spoke to those willing to listen.

“She is not like us,” Greta had said, her eyes following Agatha with a narrowed glare. “Too much power, too much ambition. That girl will be the undoing of us all.”

The words reached Agatha, though she pretended not to hear. They pricked at the fragile shield she’d built, reminding her of the eyes that watched, wary and resentful. But here, within her sanctuary, those whispers dissolved, drowned out by the quiet, conspiratorial glow of the forbidden. Rio’s unseen presence encouraged her and the forbidden tomes yielded their secrets willingly. Each word of incantation was another step toward something greater, something that might one day earn her the pride in her mother’s eyes that she so desperately sought.

For the first time, Agatha felt the raw, untamed potential within her grow, not under the glare of her mother’s scorn, but in the quiet refuge of the hollow. The coven could think what they liked; Greta could mutter her fears. Here, where the moon rose higher and spilled its silver light through the cracks in the tree’s bark. Agatha whispered an incantation that hummed with dark promise.

The road ahead was uncertain, paved with whispers and shadows. But it was hers.

Next Chapter >

#agatha x rio fanfic #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha x rio #fanfic #fanfiction #agathario fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha backstory #evanora harkness #agatha all along backstory #agathario fic #rio x agatha #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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eggroll-sama · 8 months ago

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Heyyyoooo

Just a thought, how long do you think mc was asleep/unconscious in kuras' clinic?

They couldn't have been out in the fogfall for too long since they didn't die of blood loss (or maybe they just can't 👀)

I just found your acc and I can't wait to binge read your masterlist :)

-egg anon

Hi egg anon! AHHH, thanks for your ask, it’s my first ask I’ve ever gotten for Touchstarved ToT. I hope more people would slide into my DMs, I really don’t mind since I’m in a massive TS brainrot at the current moment. Now then, let's get right into it. Btw I don't have any credentials to show for the research, all from Google baby.

Warning: Mentions of blood, graphic violence

I’m going to say that MC was roughly out of commission for 10-12 hours.

When MC gets their first look at the city of Eridia, it's dusk, stars in the sky, the moon rising from the east, and the horizon a reddish glow. It can't be sunrise because scientifically colder temperatures make the sky less red and orangey during sunrises. There isn't any verbal indication what time it is, but we can predict it was 6-8PM when the caravan was attacked by the Soulless. Eridia seems to have a maritime climates: cloudy weather, frequent rainfall/precipitation, and mild temperatures, like IRL Ireland, Scandinavia, Belgium, and the 6-8 PM time frame is usually when the sunsets for those regions. Let’s choose 8 PM.

Now as for how long MC was in this position is interesting. When Kuras found us, we were barely clinging to life, face-down in "murky, shallow water." MC is really lucky that they survived because an infection in the wilderness greatly increases your mortality rates. We can at least thank the Soulless' sharp claws for slicing the arm clean off since if it was an angled, ragged cut would increase blood loss. I have heard of survival stories of people angling their arms towards the sky to decrease blood loss, but no, MC's body was half-submerged in water. If MC is really a half-Monster like some theories suggest, than there's a possibility they are more resilient, lasting one to two more hours, compared to the avg humans that can die in less than five minutes. That could be why Kuras is so fascinated with you too, not just for the cursed arms, but there was almost no way you could've survived with all the odds against you. I also don't think we stayed out there longer than one to two hours because an amputated arm is only good for four to six hours before you can reattach them. And considering Kuras' eldritch instincts, I can't see being out there for longer than two hours max.

So let's say Kuras finds MC around 9-10 PM at the wastes. He takes them to the clinic and reattaches the arm using his magic. We are then asleep overnight, approximately 10 hours, naked with only a cold linen sheet on a cot, before we wake up. Tbh I don't know which is worse: if Kuras left us there while we were asleep or just did paperwork while we were lying practically naked right next to him till we woke up the next morning. Good thing Kuras isn't a pervert (?)

(A/N: also not even a blanket??? Unless he was keeping the room toasty with his powers, thanks I guess, Mr Sunny D)

Why I think we were down for around 10 hours is for a few reasons.

Most obvious one: When we went inside the Wet Wick, MC mentions they were surprised at the amount of people when it wasn't even mid-day (12 PM). So maybe it's around 10 AM, maybe even earlier than that.

The impatient knock from the front door is an indicator that Kuras was taking longer than he usually did, but not too long for people to start yelling. Maybe his clinic has an official starting time, and so citizens wake up early to wait in line outside till it officially starts. But with MC taking up the only cot in the clinic and sleeping there for the entire night, he had to start a little later, hence people getting annoyed cuz they woke up super early to wait in line, but Kuras hasn't let people in yet.

MC got super hungry at the vendors, which makes sense since they haven't eaten for so long.

So yeah, this is all I've got for MC's timeline from when the Soulless attacked and when they woke up. I have read other theories saying it was Ais' who found us and brought us to Kuras' clinic which is an interesting take, but for the sake with what we are given for now Kuras was the one that saved you.

#touchstarved game #kuras #touchstarved kuras #kuras touchstarved #touchstarved theory

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wetcatspellcaster · 8 months ago

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I saw you respond that you a very much not an SJM fan 😅 fair enough but I did want to ask what books/series you did like or would recommend that are of a fantasy/romantasy vibe!

lmfao, i am destined to become known for my parasocial enmity with the wingspan lady on this hellsite.

I don't read stuff with the same vibe as SJM all that often anymore. I used to read a lot of paranormal romance but the heteronormativity of SJM clones was upsetting me, so I've turned more towards the romance genre or just straight up fanfic these days.

So these recommendations might not be the perfect overlap but-!

Books with Fey Romances that are good

Holly Black, for all your fey needs. Tithe is the OG (and if you like sad men with white hair, have I got a blorbo for you!) but The Cruel Prince is her most popular series, that most people have read. The Darkest Part of the Forest is also an amazing standalone novel with a bit more creepiness than the other two. Not very explicit sex.

Olivia Atwater's Half A Soul and Ten Thousand Stitches are regency romance novels with fey associations, the first book is about a girl under a fairy curse and the second is about a fairy himbo trying his best at being a fairy godmother. No sex, that I can remember.

Heather Fawcett's Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Fairies. I've talked about this book a lot. If you like my fanfic, you will like this book, because this book was written for Me specifically. Not very explicit sex.

The Falconer series by Elizabeth May. This is the closest in this list to what SJM writes, only this is. um. better. Much sex, but also just... 'what if we started an apocalypse together, and the guilt meant I was scared to touch you, but we've got nothing else to live for now so why shouldn't I just do it?'

Fantasy Books with Good Romance

T Kingfisher's Swordheart and Nettle & Bone - both standalone novels. Swordheart is just Howl x Sophie dynamics, if Howl was a martial class, and also. A sword. Some sexiness.

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (if we count the love interests as both the hot sexy wizard man AND the protagonist's gal pal). Some sexiness.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. If you like your immortal/mortal romances, this is a pretty stellar read tbh. Some sexiness.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan. This is such a fun book just generally but the slowburn of a 7 year high school romance sent me a little feral actually. Some sexiness.

Daevabad trilogy by S.A. Chakraborty. Now, this one is a little bit evil bc its an epic fantasy trilogy that is quite dense, and the romance is amazing but it takes a WHILE. *I* can write an evil slowburn, but there is nothing more evil than what happened in these books bc everyone is so fucking repressed. Alternatively, The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by the same author, which cut to the chase a lot quicker, romance-wise.

Fantasy Books that are 😌😌 sexy 😌😌

The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman. This is my favourite paranormal romance I've read in recent years, and they don't even have sex but I'm putting it here because um. they did. to me. That's what happens when you write a regency romance where if a woman takes of a man's coat they have 37 horny thoughts about it in real time. Imagine if Darcy and Elizabeth for P&P were also fighting demons at the same time as falling in love (not metaphorically. literal demons.)

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert. Talia Hibbert's books in general fucking slap but I wish she'd written more paranormal romance than just this ONE story bc um. This was. um. Good.✌️

A Marvellous Light and A Restless Truth by Freya Marske. Freya Marske is also a popular fanfic author, and it shows with the way she writes sex.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming. This author is the one who went briefly viral bc she accidentally has a book cover with Astarion on it lmao. This book was the first in that series, and unfortunately it wasn't for me (dragon shifter porn, I did *not* know going in) but the sex was really, really well-written, if that's something you could be into.

#asks #anons #book recs #look i say this with full acceptance that she is popular and i'll never win. but i don't even consider SJM fantasy.

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worldruins · 11 months ago

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It's bib time baybee

Blessings In Bloodshed (a self-given name, though not far from the original) is a reserved but stubborn iterator. They've made easing the pains and ailments of their own kind their life's work- or rather, the work of their second.. and third.. chances at life.

Built right around the time of the Great Equalizer, she was originally made to preserve and elevate an old pilgrimage site that would have been lost to the floods and changing landscape. It's a similar situation to the True Anointed Citadel, but BIB's monks were considerably more welcoming to them, and much of the original construction as well as many sacred artifacts were successfully disassembled and relocated to a new home atop the superstructure. Blessings was regularly in contact with the mortal sick and dying, and took on the role of endorsing a freshly-deceased individual's safe and fortunate passage to the next cycle. Even when he no longer does that sort of work, Blessings remains personally spiritual. He believes in the void as a conscious force acting upon the world, a benevolent but mercurial actor in the great forces of the universe.

BIB shares a group with True Accord, Uncast Shadows, Six Stunned Silences and (unofficially) Twelve Bound Hands. They consider all their groupmates siblings; TA and US are older than them, SSS and TBH are younger. The five of them have grown closer over time, connected by circumstance, need and the desire for family. That was not the case back when the creators of the iterators left their creations behind, and Blessings found herself profoundly alone. They were distraught, and felt that they had failed in their duties to their people. They tried to focus on their work, on the Big Problem they had been created for, but found themself unable to cope with the frustration and failures that felt more humiliating every time. Their chosen path forward was bioengineering, and they did grow skilled at working with biological materials, though they hardly felt accomplished.

Blessings In Bloodshed did not tell his groupmates when he decided to turn some of his resources towards figuring out how to destroy himself. She did not think she'd be able to ascend, or even to reverse their creators' very thorough work ensuring true death would not come for iterators like her. They just had to get close enough. They made a few attempts, none of them successful, all of them leaving a different sort of damage (physical or otherwise) behind. He might have been desperate, but when the rot came as a result of their final attempt at self-elimination, it was not welcomed. The despondent BIB finally reopened communications with the group to warn them of her condition. The disease was highly aggressive, and he predicted he only had some tens of thousands of days left before her structural integrity would fail.

With help from her group, Blessings survived the illness, though not before it had claimed more than half her structure- half her body, half her mind. He was surprised by the concern he received alongside the frustration that she hadn't reached out earlier. Their siblings- the iterators they would come to consider siblings- had been concerned and were now shocked by the state of their mild-mannered neighbor. They were a reason for Blessings to keep fighting. In the end, it was her own work that proved fruitful in treating and finally curing their own case of rot. That didn't mean reversing the damage, though- only that the cysts were dead and wouldn't spread or pose an active risk. It left him covered in scars, pockmarked metal and components rendered useless. Repairing themself involved creating organisms and constructs to carve them back into their original shape and break the dead rot back down into the materials they need.

Blessings had always been interested in medicine. It was not what her creators and residents asked of her, so her attention had never been devoted to it as a younger iterator. At most, they idly considered examining and treating mortals ("mortals" being the respectful name for the people who built iterators as a whole, in comparison to their towering creations), allowing the daydream some space in the back of their mind. He considered it something of a bitter irony when he wound up caring for himself in his own severe illness. Once the rot was under control and BIB had some space to breathe, though, they couldn't help wondering how effectively an iterator could act as a physician to other iterators. With their preexisting knowledge and everything they learned trying to save their own life, they were the best equipped to address their own group's ailments, from True Accord's widespread rust to Twelve Bound Hands, an illicit construction, literally falling apart. As their skills and confidence grew, they started looking outside their local group. They know the fate of their kind is inevitable, but their hope is to minimize suffering and stop other iterators from becoming insensate or nonfunctional before they're ready to be. It's a difficult, sometimes insurmountable task and their scope is very limited. That's not stopping them from trying.

BIB would never be the same as they were before their illness, and they're not really trying to be. He's forgetful, and easily baited. They were always something of a bleeding heart- pun intended-even more so after the rot. Their chosen "job" comes as a surprise with how sensitive they can be, but their friends know them as The Doc all the same.

The cracks all across Blessings' puppet aren't from the rot and they aren't self-inflicted- not really. But that's a whole other story. Thank you for reading about my bibby <3

#ruinart #rain world #iterator oc #rw #rain world oc #mine #oc: blessings in bloodshed #and of course the cws #suicide #as always feel free to ask me about bib i LOVE bib im normal about them

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dreamwreaver · 25 days ago

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Vaggie would really benefit from having a long break from being Charlie's girlfriend and take the screentime for herself WITHOUT involving Charlie. Honestly, for the sake of keeping her a compelling character, they should have focused on her past as an exorcist and had her reflect on her actions, having an identity crisis because all she was made for was war and now that she's left that behind, what else is there for her? Who is she? Too bad she's designated as the love interest and nothing more.

Though I wonder what's your full thoughts on Vaggie since you seem to have a lot of valid arguments to say about her. Is it okay to ask for a critique on her character, if it's not too much trouble?

I couldn't resist lol.

No but for real, Vaggie could be such an interesting character on her own. She was an Angel created by the first man who ascended and proceeded to become a massive fucking dick. Her whole purpose is to be a weapon. From the way adam talks vaggie was possibly only second to lute. So what could have changed; we see the exorcists can go out and about in heaven proper without issue. They have normal lives. Heaven is allegedly perfect; so why did Vaggie change? Is it possible that (solely from a callous perspective) there was some inherent defect in her design? Like, it's very weird and considering we don't really know the strict parameters of the extermination it's cause for concern.

My basic knowledge is that so long as Lucifer allows them to come and purge sinners the rest of hell will remain untouched, including his family. That may in fact be why he showed up in the final battle. Adam was going to kill Charlie, we see his mask glitch which might have been a visual cue for the audience that the deal was broken. But back to Vaggie; without going on a whole other tangent about the possible classification of Rosie and the rest of her cannibals Vaggie spared someone and was mutilated and left for dead because of it. Why? Honestly the issue could really just be that Lute and Adam are dicks and saw this one act of mercy as weakness that needed to be culled. Whatever the reason, vaggie lost her halo, her wings, and her eye and was left to bleed out in an alley.

All of that is honestly a good setup for Vaggie wanting vengeance on those that abandoned her. But it really doesn't mesh with her being around Charlie if it is. We know from dialogue in the show Vaggie still has a lot of bloodlust in her heart and I don't think that's necessarily bad since it's all part of her makeup. But why, then, go along with a hotel to rehabilitate sinners? Honestly most of the things Vaggie does seem to be just because she's going along with what Charlie wants. Very much like Lucifer even in her "disgraced" state lets say, she still clearly sees herself as above the other sinners around her. She doesn't really do most of the hotel activities aimed at self improvement, she made 1 commercial to try and promote the thing, mostly she tends to just sit around and frown or threaten people with her spear. Again, not a bad character in and of herself but when paired with Charlie the energy is just completely antithetical to one another.

And again notice how the fallen Angel who doesn't seem to care for sinners ended up with someone half angel and half demon. Isn't that just... so convenient? And sure, it could be paralleling Charlie's parents as so many chaggie shippers are wont to claim. But tbh? Charlastor fits that bill more. A divine being falling for a mortal and willing to face down their own creator to be with this person.

I think my biggest issue is that shippers treat it like peak wlw rep. In an adult animated show? In 2024? No. You could replace most of Vaggie's scenes with a lamp and it wouldn't change a thing. The very fact that so many casual people who joined when the finished series aired had NO IDEA they were a couple until episode 5? Right, meanwhile Rebecca sugar in 2015 on Cartoon Network had an episode of steven universe where ruby and sapphire couldn't stop being gay long enough to not sabotage a mission. We got lesbian softball, we got neck kisses, we got a goddamn marriage proposal and this was at a time where the gayest rep we'd gotten before that was the korrasami handhold as they wandered into the spirit dimension.

In your ask you mentioned a really good question nonny; who is vaggie without being an exorcist? What are her goals, her ambitions, her hobbies, ANYTHING? What does she like to do in her spare time? What secret love does she have that she'd be mortified if anyone found out about? What food can she not stand? And no amount of "sexy songs" in future seasons will fix the fundamental thing broken in this relationship; vaggie is an object, not a partner.

Even if I don't ship it personally I see the appeal of ships like cherrimoth or velvette moth. They pair vaggie with strong personalities who would take serious offense to anyone thinking they're too fragile to handle a harsh truth. They don't want someone to be their armor, they want a partner.

And honestly, that's why I like Emily for Vaggie. Yes, she's basically Charlie in true angel form, but think about what she said when Sera tried to gaslight her about why she kept Emily in the dark about the exorcisms;

"I don't need your condescension, I'm not a child to protect"

And that right there is the same thing Vaggie needs to hear. Charlie is a grown ass woman hundreds of human years old. The notion that just because she's an optimist, just because she's positive and emotionally sensitive doesn't mean she couldn't handle something that weighed on her partner like this. But truthfully? Vaggie might have never let Charlie in, but Charlie never really thought to knock, now did she?

But that's a discussion for another ask, now isn't it? ;)

#charlastor #radiobelle #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #hazbin emily #blackhalo

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lace4forest · 6 months ago

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The Legend of Zelda Forgotten Songs

We've recently been drawing on Stream, so we ended up making a Legend of Zelda AU. (I'll post the stream vods on my channel later)

Basically Din and Farore decide to mess with Nayru, and shuffled the Triforce pieces.

Anyway! Zelda, the Hero of Songs, needs to search for the Forgotten Songs lost to Hyrule, to bring light back to the Kingdom. She teams up with Link the bard and the two travel together. The Scholar King Ganondorf of the Gorudo is trying to take over the Kingdom of Hyrule and bring silence and darkness to keep the Kingdom under his control.

The Nicknames Zelda - Song (Songs) Link - Lute Ganondorf - Cacophony

Rabbit hole time!

Zelda is the Hero of Songs. She has the Hero's Spirit, and was given the Triforce of Courage!

Zelda is a menace to society. Yes. She fights in this dress, and she is GOOD AT IT. Her "Roll" is a little jump and spin. She also is a very physical character, she doesn't use a lot of magic Items, and don't let her looking frail fool you, she is very strong. (Yes Zelda has the Master Sword)

Link has been nicknamed Lute. He isn't fully Hylian, he is only half! The other half is Siren! He is a Bard. He also has the Triforce of Power! (Think of Zelda 2 btw) So the Northern Palace? Everyone remember that place? Yeah, Link's house is on the beach north of there, he has a cute little beach house, and also has an under water one (Because Siren/mer fun stuff)

Now Link here is a little Uncanny, right? Well, literally EVERYONE in town think's that. That's why he lives out by himself on the beach. He does go into town and play music for money, and he's really good! (Because Siren) and people ALWAYS PAY HIM- (Because SIREN) He doesn't do anything bad tbh. Lastly, Link uses the magic Items here, he is also holding onto the Interments and sheet music they get from the Dungeons! (Looking for the Forgotten Songs of old to save Hyrule)

Now, Link and Zelda are besties, Zelda was traveling past his house, and she just wanted to see who lived there, met Link, liked his weird vibes (Literally all her guards were like NOOOOO SIREN BOY- But Zelda doesn't know) Also, Zelda gave Link Anxiety. (Zelda "No Fear" Hero of Songs traveling with the Siren Bard Link the Lute player)

OH! One last thing, Zelda doesn't know Link is half Siren. She just knows he has funky vibes and she likes the funky vibes. Someone (Villager) will be like "That is a Monster" and Zelda will be like "THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND" (Holds Link's face) "NOW SAY SORRY TO HIM" Villager - "....sorry" Zelda doesn't care.

(another link thing, sorry, that hair? that short hair? Yeah, No. That's an under cut, he has long hair, its just brained and stuffed into the hat)

LASTLY we have Ganondorf! He is cousins with Zelda, and he holds the Triforce of Wisdom! Ganondorf want's to take Hyrule, and he knows he is right behind Zelda for the throne, so all he needs to do is Kill Zelda! (He tried to just hire a guy to shoot her with a cross bow, the guy shot, Zelda cause the arrow, AND THREW IT BACK- NO BOW- and Killed that man.) Ganondorf had to think a little outside the box. His list of Priorities goes 1) Kill Zelda, 2) Kill Link and 3) Take over Hyrule.

Now, Ganondorf here is SMART. (Nicknamed Cacophony) Ganondorf and Zelda are Cousins, and they are pretty close. Their relationship is VERY complicated. Like - Someone talking crap about Zelda in front of Ganondorf "HOW DARE YOU SAY THOSE THINGS!" Person - "That is your Mortal Enemy!" Ganon - "THAT IS MY COUSIN!" (Zelda does the same thing)

Link and Ganondorf also have a complex relationship, they have an emotional support group for talking about the crazy things Zelda did and the two just need a moment to reassure they are normal and it's just Zelda being weird.

Also Ganondorf is a magic user in this AU. He tries to outsmart his opponents when need be. And in this game he is fighting Zelda and Link, who share a single braincell. (I love those two so much oh my gosh XD)

The Dungeon's in the game would be actually kinda hard, relying on your ability to remember things and a LOT of Puzzles. The beginning you can just switch between Link and Zelda to figure stuff out, one being in another room and yelling the answers to the other type of thing. But as the game goes on (After Dungeon 3) Link will become unable to get into the Dungeon without Zelda finding the Interment inside and summoning him inside. (There will also be a Dungeon where you do mainly play as Link in, it's the water temple.)

Now, Dungeon's 1 through 6 you can get Link inside to help, but less and less. By Dungeon 7 Link is unable to be summoned inside. Again, you would need the Dungeon Item to summon Link, BUT Ganondorf is SMART. He figured this out, and went and TOOK THE ITEMS OUT- They are now in other Dungeons (You may find 2 Items inside one dungeon) You might need to return to a Dungeon for a Door you were unable to unlock with a new Item/song/sheet music.

But During Dungeon 7, when Zelda leaves she can tell a fight happened, the area is destroyed, and Link is nowhere to be seen. Ganondorf and his men ambushed Link, and Kidnapped him. (Along with all your stuff.) Zelda heads to Dungeon 8, learning that Link is somewhere inside.

(Our reasoning on why Link get's Kidnapped- "WELL ZELDA GETS KIDNAPPED ALL THE TIME! IT'S LINK'S TURN!")

Now Dungeon 8. Ganondorf is Smart. Zelda and Link Share a SINGLE Braincell. Each room is one of three things. 1) A previous Mini Boss (Link Dungeon 8(?) in Link's Awakening) 2) A Puzzle to get a key or something (Normal Dungeon stuff) OR 3) A Puzzle from a previous Dungeon, but the hint isn't in the Dungeon and Link isn't here to yell the answers for you.

So you will have to do one of three things for those rooms, Look up a guide online, Have a good memory and know what to do, Or go back to the Dungeon it was in, and write it down.

But if you leave you'll have to restart/run through the Dungeon again! AND THIS ONE DOESN'T HAVE A MAP- HAHAHA-

WELCOME TO DUNGEON 8 HELL.

We wanted to create the hardest/funnest Dungeon. (Ganondorf is SMART, HE WANT'S ZELDA DEAD.)

Also, Ganondorf convinces the King to send Gaurds after Zelda and Link. (Kinda like Lttp, but instead of "YOU KIDNAPPED THE PRINCESS" It's more like "Zelda Please, You Need To Come Home!" and Zelda is like "GANONDORF IS EVIL" "No HE ISN'T!" "HIS VIBES ARE RANK!")

I might draw some short comics of them later tbh! (I think it's fun to make stories with everyone on stream, it was good, 10/10 will draw on stream again XD)

If you have any questions, just ask.

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