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aphroditesbaby1616 · 13 days

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Damiana (c.b. oneshot)

♡ O/S Inspo: Damiana (otherwise known as loveseed) is used to increase the intensity of sexual magick, increase magical energy, divination, dreams/clairvoyance, enhance pleasure and increase psychic abilities.

♡ Summary: You & Carmy wake up extra early on your day off for some reason, so he knows a good way to put you both back to sleep.

♡ W/C: 1,737

♡ Posted Date: 04/18/2024

♡ A/N: OMG Thank you all for 100 followers what the actual heck!!! I want to give each and every one of you a forehead smoochin, thank you so much for hanging out with me and supporting my work! As per usual my requests are alwayyys open! For Carmy x Reader & Carmy x Sydney I woke up today at the asscrack of dawn for no reason at all, and was hit with a strike of writing lightning!! Just in time for my 100 follower celebration :D!!! I hope you enjoy this smutty smutty goodness. Sidenote - Taylor is releasing an album tomorrow so I am bouncing off the walls of my iron cage and gnawing at the bars I'M SO READY!!!! ANYWAYS enjoy my friends <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Unedited (we die like men!!!) Breeding kink, swearing, smut smut smut, fluffy needy Carmy, established relationship NO USE OF Y/N

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

Early mornings with Carmy were your favorite. Well - the early mornings that he wasn’t jumping in the shower even before the sun had kissed the horizon. But these mornings.

You woke up this morning at 4:52 - it was Sunday, your favorite day. Carmy & your day. The Bear was closed, the single day a week that it was - so it meant your loving, wonderful husband could stay in bed with you until 3 if he wanted.

He’d told you many times before if you woke before him for some reason on your sacred together day, to wake him because he didn’t want to spend a moment without you - but for now, you watch.

It wasn’t often you saw your beloved man like this, fully at peace. Well, other then when he fucked you - but while awake he never fully looked this peaceful.

You carefully brushed his messy curls off of his forehead, dragging your nails across his scalp gently. You just couldn’t help it, you knew how much he loved it.

‘Mmm?’ He grumbled, his voice thick and low, husky with sleep.

“Sorry” you whispered, smiling a bit. You couldn’t help but think of a grizzly bear when he’d make noises like that. While he was in this half asleep - half awake state, he would grunt and huff and grumble, especially on Sundays.

Just like any other day, his internal clock was on time - and today - he has 0 alarms set.

“No ‘s fine been up” he said softly.

You kissed his forehead tenderly, the faintest bit of mint sticking to his breath from last night when he brushed his teeth before practically crawling to bed since he was so exhausted.

“Bear- it’s Sunday- go to sleep” you said, gently rubbing over his bare chest with your soft palm.

“Damn birds” he grumbled, causing you to giggle.

“Y’know it’s the boys, actually? Because the uh…the moms. They go out before the sun, to find breakfast. And the dads are - well. Scientists theorize - that the dads are calling the moms back to the nest, like an alarm the kids are up and hungry” you said softly.

He hums in interest, rolling on his side with his eyes still closed and gently kissing down your neck as you spoke

“All I heard was a really good reason we don’t have kids yet” he said, voice deep and thick with sleep.

“Yeah yeah ok Mr ‘im gonna make you a mom’ “ you imitated his horny raspy voice and he chuckled, snaking his hand under your shirt and rubbing over your stomach gently

“I am as soon as you take this fuckin thing outta y’r arm” he gently bites down on the inside of your bicep where your implant was, sucking gently, causing you to laugh.

“I swear to god - your hormones Carm, it's like you’re ovulating or something” you teased and he snorts a laugh into your skin

“Not my fault you make me horny in the morning” he reached up, palming your breast and squeezing gently

“You were horny before you woke up fucker, I feel you” you teased, wiggling into his bulge that was pressing into your ass firmly.

He moaned softly, rolling his hips into yours “Y’gonna help me out or do I have to go shower?” He teased with a grin.

You roll your eyes playfully “gonna make me work before the sun is even fully in the sky?” You asked and he chuckled a bit

“No. Just stay right like this. I can play with you, right?” He kissed your jaw gently, nipping at the sensitive part near your ear and soothing the sting with his tongue in a way that made you whine.

“Yes. But I wanna feel good too” you said, voice needy already. It was quite embarrassing the effect he so easily had on you, he barely even had to try.

“Oh of course princess, y’think I’d neglect my favorite toy? When have I ever left you without makin’ sure y’feel good mm?” He kissed the base your neck right at the top of your spine, spreading your thighs with his knee, your bodies flush together.

“Well there was that one time-“ you teased as he pulled his cock out

“Oh the one time I punished you f’r bein’ a brat.” He squeezed your hip and trailed his hand around your stomach, rubbing gently before dipping his fingers in your panties, finding your clit and humming in satisfaction when you whine hotly, arching into his frame further.

“Cause you were wearing those slutty gray sweatpants and every bitch in the grocery store was staring at your dick print” you counter, causing him to chuckle, the vibration coursing through you since you were flush to him like one being.

“mmmm and is that why you’re so wet, cause you’re thinkin’ about me wearing something slutty?” He teased rubbing slow firm circles in the way that made you writhe and squirm.

“Stop teasing before you nut all over my back” you smirk and he gasps, feigning offense.

“Someone is mouthy this morning” he moved the fabric to the left, rubbing his thick cock over your folds easily with your slick aiding him, moaning softly.

“Mmmm thank you” you rest your head back on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Feels soooo nice.” You mumble as he slowly rolls his hips, the head of his cock teasing your clit just enough.

It wasn’t a full rub, not enough to make you cum for a while, but more a pleasant gentle massage. You felt his hand back on your stomach, rubbing short strokes up and down as he pants, in pure quiet bliss. That was something you adored about him- whenever you were in public, he was shy, quiet. So quiet. But when you were alone together- the man didn’t have an off switch.

Neither did you, but yours didn’t shut off in public, either. You did enough talking for the both of you, it was what drew him to you. The only time you made him more quiet, was when he was playing with you this way in the morning. You were pretty sure it was the time, his brain hadn’t fully woken yet - but he had one thought bouncing around like a DVD video logo his cock was achingly hard.

“I’m probably gonna fall asleep but you’ll wake me right?” You asked and all you got in response was a breathy ‘mmhmm’

He gently bit down on your neck, then your shoulder, then your arm, causing you to giggle and look back at him as well as you could “you wanna suck on it. Don’t you.” You teased, referring to your implant.

Another whiny ‘mmhmm’ and he rolls his hips a bit harder, causing you to moan as his tip ruts over your clit firmer

“So sweet.” You smiled lazily, closing your eyes once more and humming “I love this Bear y’make me feel so good” you said softly and he whimpers

“Fuckin’ hell y’too sweet. Lettin’ me play with you like this sweetheart, the sweetest girl” he praises, pushing the hair from your messy sleep off your forehead and kissing your temple.

“Cus’ y’the best husband” you laced your fingers together and held your hands over your stomach.

“Mmmm y’know I fuckin love hearin’ y’say that, right?” He rasps, hips getting sloppier and rougher as he got closer to his high.

“I do every time I say my husband on the phone you blush. It's the cutest thing that you’re still feelin’ like we’re on our honeymoon 2 whole years later” you kissed his hand sweetly.

“Cause I’m so fuckin’ lucky. Can’t fuckin’ believe y’agreed to take my last name babe. The way you say our last name is so fuckin pretty” he said, kissing your shoulder gently

“I feel so fancy with it. Mrs.Berzatto. Berzatto is so much cooler then my maiden name.” you said

“Fuckin hell sweetheart im so close can I please cum in you?” He begged, his voice needy and wanting

“Of course Bear Y’don’t need to ask” you said and he released your hand, placing his palm at the base of your abdomen and slipping in, filling you to the hilt.

You whimper, back arching slightly “mmm feel’so full” you mutter, gasping as he started a quick snap of his hips, jaw falling slack.

“It’s so fuckin hot that I can feel myself fuck you” he pressed his palm firmer into your abdomen, angling himself in a way to both feel himself better, but also slide perfectly against your gspot

“Yeah y’get so deep bear. Y’gonna fill me up? Y’gonna knock me up? Mmm?” You whine, your own orgasm approaching fast

“Fuck yeah I am princess sh-iiit. Fuck gonna make y’a fuckin mom” he grunts, spreading your legs further and reaching down to rub your clit making you clench around him.

He whimpers hips stuttering as he ruts into you, completely bottoming out trying to get as deep as he can as he empty’s his huge load into you, breathing hard and remaining still inside of you while he rubs your clit in quicker circles.

He could tell you were on the edge because of the way you were clenching and unclenching around his now overstimulated cock, he wanted to get you there so he could remain inside of you for a while.

“That’s it, my good girl. Thank you Angel, you took me so well. Y’can always handle whatever I give you it’s so fuckin hot. Now I’m gonna make sure y’re all taken care of, mmm? Just like I promised” he said softly into the shell of your ear before kissing your head gently.

“I’m cumming. I’m fucking cumming - oh- fuck-“ you whine, thighs shaking as some of your mixed arousal drips down his balls to his thigh.

“Gooood. Tha’s it, good girl” he praised, slowing his fingers to a slow rub as he worked you down.

“Mmm that was so nice Carmy” you hummed, looking back and kissing his lips lovingly.

“So nice princess. Thank y’for letting me” he kissed the tip of your nose gently “can I stay in a little longer” he kissed your jaw gently

“Course- I was actually gonna ask you to. I like falling asleep like this” you laced your fingers together holding your interlocked hands over your belly. “Y’so fuckin perfect” he mumbled into the skin of your neck.

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indouloureux · 2 years

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Hello! first off love all your work absolutely amazing!!! Can I please request Eddie x fem reader sex in the bathroom at the hideout before a corroded Coffin show while wearing a skirt and you get to feel his cum slipping out and down your thighs while they play and after their show eddie takes you back to his van and locks you clean

how dare you 🤧

18+ mdni. cw: cum eating, oral (f receiving), anal play, squirting, fingering. fem!reader

although the sight of sweat-doused eddie munson with frenzied adrenaline and wet tattoos was a sight to behold, with a guitar slung over his shoulder and lips swollen from the mic, hair all wild and untamed like a beast — it was incomparable to the beauty he immured when he was in between your legs.

you stood there watching him from the crowd with his warm seed ruining your pretty lace panties as it smeared across your thighs, amalgamated with the never-ending spouting of your arousal from your pussy.

it was exciting and mind-boggling; the longer it went on, insanity drove over each second you watched your beloved boyfriend become an absolute sex-fucking-symbol to the eyes of those scrawny sinners that yelled his name.

had you not wanted to keep his cum right on your folds, you would have joined those people who threw their underwear at him. hell, maybe you might have even pounced on him right on that stage.

fucked him while he played the guitar. fucking him while he sang. would've been controversially iconic.

but hey, you're fucking eddie right now. you're the one who's clenching on his fingers, shoving his face deeper.

right as he pressed the tip of his tongue right at your hole that lets his seed out, dragging it between your petals until he reaches your gummy bud and sucks it in his mouth. you mewl, thighs trapping his face, hands lost in his hair.

his face is covered of his cum, and he looks more handsome than ever.

"oh, fuck yeah. that's it baby–" eddie moans against you, vibrations of pleasure sent up like wildfire. he's slurping you up and it's obscene—anyone could hear you from outside of his van and you don't care. "you taste so- so fucking divine."

you mewl out his name, back arched with your legs shaking around him. eddie unlocks his arms from your legs to push your thighs up, until your knees are on either side of your head.

at this advantage, his head bobs as eddie's tongue drives you wild.

"god," your head lulls back, eyes on the back of your skull at this point. "holy fucking shit. knew your mouth was good at other things,"

eddie laughs, moaning at the sight of his cum dripping down to your asshole. he moves down to prod at your tight rim, your moans turning loud yells when his tongue fucks inside.

his ringed fingers stop clasping your thighs to plunge itself in your fluttering hole, left hand moving faster than he switches chords. the libidinous sound of your wetness and his spent spilling around, even on eddie's face.

"i love your ass," a hand comes down to slap one of your ass cheeks, rippling against his face. "taste so fucking amazing. god i love you."

your toes curl and you start sobbing at his fast fingering, at the exhilarating feeling of his tongue inside your asshole. eddie's wild, fucking hungry and determined. eddie's got more potency than he does on stage and you love it.

eddie's fingers scissor and twist in your hot canal, his hums and loud noises of him eating your ass, your sobs and moans louder than his crowd. he relishes this in. he feeds off of it. he lives off of it.

"i'm gonna cum," you warn him, everything so hot and tight, your body convulsing in rapture. "oh- fuck- shit- i'm gonna fucking cum–ooooohhhh my god, yes!"

eddie shakes his head vigorously, panting against you, the front of his face wet like a sheen layer of sweat. his fingers are fast, too fast like it's a motion-still.

finally, you squirt all over his face, like a fountain exploding. while your opalescent seed spills down on his fingers, it comes with that translucent liquid coating his face.

eddie opens his lips for it to fill his mouth, swallowing it all up. his cheeks are all sticky and slick, and you can't resist the urge to lean down and lick from his neck right at his cheek. he smirks.

"best meal i've ever fucking had," eddie lets you lick his face clean, running his fingers along your sensitive folds. "if you don't mind, i'd like to have some more,"

your legs have never spread faster.

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson #stranger things smut

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firein-thesky · 10 months

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

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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

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

✧ meet fruit collab masterlist ✧

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

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

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

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

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

Has it been so long already?

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

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

You, his god of hunger.

You, his divine wife.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plums always remind him of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bear down into the fruit again.

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

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

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

You perch on the corner of his desk prettily.

“I can’t visit my husband?” You purr.

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

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

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

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

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

Something inside of him yawns open.

You’re toying with him.

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

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

Then you shift slightly, adjust yourself.

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

Heat rips through him like a tearing wound.

His gaze flicks up to yours.

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

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

I always know the moment you come home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t test me.” You snap.

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

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

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

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

He threatened to muzzle you once, long ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This, in the least, you settle into.

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

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

The smoldering turns into a flame.

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

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

He thinks he must know how you feel.

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

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

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

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

To finally kiss you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wishes you inspired patience in him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So impatient.”

“It’s been a long time, my love.”

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

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

“So impatient.” He mocks dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss your sharp teeth,” you admit.

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

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

You don’t go easily, though.

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

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

“Stop squirming,” he commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes flick upwards towards you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To his surprise, that is all it takes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He won’t let you go.

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

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

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

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

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

“Morax—“

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

He takes his time teasing now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time you curse him, hissing through clenched teeth.

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

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

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

Perhaps if he were feeling crueler, he would try.

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

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

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

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

He goes down easily for you.

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

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

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

“Need you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Molten. Fluttering still with sensitivity, with desperation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your hips a little.

“More–” You murmur, “I want more.”

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

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

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

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

You always seem to remind him of his divinity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay for a while.” He demands now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or tried to steal your Gnosis again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Vampire Eddie, Steddie Fic Rec List!!!

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🦇

soundtrack of our summer (side a)

hawkeyedkoi

For over six months, after Hawkins and the Upside Down merge, Steve Harrington is plagued by nightmares. Vines choking him, Eddie dying, and a host of other nighttime horrors. It all changes one night in October 1986 when, instead of the Creel House or the trailer park, Steve dreams about a warm spring day at Skull Rock featuring one very familiar metalhead.

Sure, his subconscious' version of Eddie Munson makes some weird comments about being alive in the Upside Down sometimes, but that's just his brain's way of coping with Eddie's death ... Right?

Words : 100,042 Chapters : 11/11 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Obey

Wrenegade (Wrenegadeone)

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t stop the fact that Eddie–,” Steve threw a hand out, gesturing to Eddie and ignoring the indignant look on Eddie’s face, “--wants to eat me,” Steve’s hand was back at himself, gesturing to his throat with dramatic emphasis.

“Just a little bit,” Eddie found himself saying while making a pinching motion, if only because part of him particularly enjoyed getting a rise out of Steve if given the opportunity.

Words : 65,042 Chapters : 17/17 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Feral

TheDeathsWish

Eddie has turned a bit… feral after coming back to life. It’s understandable, what with the whole being a vampire thing.

What Steve doesn’t expect is the gifts he keeps finding everywhere.

Words : 10,970 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Hunger

Ash_Fountain

When a traumatic truth is revealed at a metal concert in Chicago, Steve decides to reveal his own secret to a distraught Eddie sparking a unique relationship.

Words : 33,265 Chapters : 8/8 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

You're Divine

OonionChiver

Eddie can’t seem to look away, can’t bring his ethereal gaze back up where it belongs. Steve thinks he should run, he should flee. A tiny part of him knows Eddie will chase him. Eddie will catch him, outrun him easily.

It's more than a little fucked up how that thrills him.

Words : 259,574 Chapters : 8/8 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

My Blessing

Undreaming

Back when Eddie was still human, he used to think it would be incredibly cool to be a vampire. Child of the night, Nosferatu, all that stuff from his beloved books. He would be untouchable and the people who wanted to hurt him just for being different would wither away and die of old age while he'd still be the same. But as he's learned during last 80-ish years, being a vampire sucks.

Words : 1,928 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Devour

girafe13

Steve can’t look away. The sounds and voices from the church echo from a distance as the stranger leans in, propping his arm on the doorframe. Steve feels sweat gather on his brow. It’s only after he takes a step towards the stranger that he realizes he’s done so. Steve feels at the very end of a cliff, ready to fall willingly, anything to get closer to the ledge.

“Deputy ,” says the stranger, trailing off, pointing at his chest, not quite touching - oh, Steve wants him to, wants it like he needs air in his lungs - where his badge hangs. "Impressive."

Words : 36,899 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

A Secret In Your Throat

VampireEddie

Eddie returns - only it's not quite Eddie. Created by Vecna, a new being has taken over Eddie's mind - and he has his sights set on Steve Harrington. But what begins as a kidnapping may start to shift as Kas spends more time around Steve, and as Eddie tries to take back control of his body.

Words : 44,540 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

I didn't know that I was starving 'till I tasted you

Lihhelsing, tinkerbclla

Steve Harrington didn't really need much to be happy. He was finally signing divorce papers, ready to be free of his ex-wife. He liked his job at the coffee shop, especially because he got to do it beside his best friend in the whole world. And it didn't hurt that Steve's favorite customer, a guy with dark messy curls and a smile to die for, kept coming back to order his usual.

The only weird thing was that Eddie didn't seem to be drinking his coffee because his cup was always full at the end of the night. So Steve made his mission to find a drink Eddie would like, he just didn't imagine it would be something a little... Different.

Words : 16,063 Chapters : 1/1 Rating. : Explicit

AO3 : x

neighborhood gods

paxlux

It’s a legend. It’s a different kind of fairy tale, who wants to hear it. How one boy became wolf because of his stupid heart and the other became vampire because of his storybook courage. Keep an eye on the woods, there’s something out there.

Words : 13,335 Chapters. : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

How I’d Kill (to See You Again)

morningberries

“Are you going to kill me?” Steve’s voice was small, the question choking out of him without permission.

Did he even want to know the answer? It was probably as obvious as it seemed, as Eddie rose an eyebrow at him.

“Kill you? Oh, Stevie, I would never.” Eddie dropped to one knee by Steve’s side. His head leaned down, so close to Steve’s ear that he could feel his hot breath ticking against his hair. “I like my meals hot.”

Words : 66,826 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire!

inairbinad

Eddie immediately pulled something out of his jacket—was that donated blood?—then tore into the bag and sucked its contents down like, well, water.

Then Steve had questions. The first of which being a hearty, “The fuck?”

Eddie drained the bag and let his head fall back to rest on the seat, exposing the column of his neck. Steve swallowed, cursing his brain to pay attention to what the hell was happening instead of being a slut for once. Eddie lolled his head to look at Steve and gave him a gleaming, bloody smile.

“So, funny story,” he paused. If Steve had to guess it must’ve been for dramatic effect. “I think I’m a vampire.”

Words : 33,485 Chapters : 7/7 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

You and Me (In the Center of the Apocalypse)

novacorpsrecruit

“Not g’na make it,” Eddie said, his voice shaking at the reality they were facing. “Not both of us.”

Steve glanced towards the gate. Eddie’s right. They both can’t make it through. Steve wouldn’t have time to even help Eddie through without the lining closing on him.

If Steve was gonna go through, he had to go now.

He couldn’t leave Eddie here to die.

Steve stepped back, dropping the stick.

“D-dingus?” Robin called. Her voice sounding far away. “No — no, Nancy we gotta — we gotta!”

The mucus lining started to bulge with their attempts to break the seal, the lining growing stronger, thicker, like healing skin. It slowly started to scar over, dark like a scab. It turned dark, hard, and solid. Steve couldn’t hear them anymore.

“You dumbass,” Eddie exhaled sharply. “You’re stuck.”

Words : 58,194 Chapters : 8/8 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

Hbyrde

Steve Harrington is an animator. It’s a job that involves raising the dead; sometimes as a service for mourning relatives looking for closure, often as a tool for the courts to settle disputes.

Steve Harrington is also a licensed vampire hunter.

Two years ago, vampirism became legal in the United States, granting its undead population citizenship. With this new legal status comes a complication for Steve, as he finds himself tasked with helping the very creatures he is accustomed to killing.

Speaking of complications, Steve struggles in more ways than one when he finds himself working closely with none other than Eddie Munson, an undeniably sexy several-hundred-years old master vampire.

Words : 91,810 Chapters : 17/17 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #vampire eddie munson #fic rec #ficrec #very short but also these are my numb 1 faves #my beloveds

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tw1stedthicket · 4 months

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You know what fucking sucks? Religion, particularly Christianity and its many forms, instills in you from birth that you are inherently unworthy, flawed to the point of unlovability, and your natural state is one of sinfulness and offensiveness to God and all that is good. You are systematically taught all your life that your worth comes in your redemption, and in the way you can let shame mold you into someone more subservient, obedient, and loyal to "God's path" or "God's ways". Your worthiness (all your self-worth, that is) is contingent on how much you can make up for the badness inside you, and become a vessel for light and God's power and whatnot. In the Mormon Church, I distinctly remember a leader very beloved by myself and many others, made his personal branding all about healing from your brokenness and how our lives can be meaningfully spent stumbling and stumbling and stumbling our way toward God again, and despite losing our way or even crawling on our hands and knees in despair or frustration, we are redeemed in our consistent "trying" for the right path and to be the right person/saint/disciple.

And then you deconstruct. However that comes about for you. The world opens up more, and you harbor more genuine feelings for others. You comprehend the limits of conditional love and perhaps glimpse at something more unconditional and free in the people who do accept you, and you feel real relief in their patience with you, that now there is so much more out here, and, and, and wow who knew that there could be so much joy in owning your choices and not having to be right and there is so much you were wrong about!! And...

There is so much you were wrong about.

And you see the gate open for you-- stretched wide with newfound possibilities, but surrounding it is so many fences. You have built up conditions around yourself and others your whole life. You still have maligned ways of understanding for some things, because embedded in you is patterns and ways of being from years, and even in your truest expression of who you are, you will find that you have been touched by what you were taught. And you were terribly wrong not in thought or opinion only but in your judgment. Your controlling. Your policing. Your defensiveness. Your need to be right. Your need to correct, to fix, to "save", to convert, even when you thought you were this vessel for light and the highest expression of love was in showing others "the right way to be" under the guise of sharing this love on a mission or unrelenting invitations or even your "example" -- you were enforcing the harshest punishment on others what you received from God: that others were not enough, and broken, and flawed.

And it feels like it was true that you are inherently sinful. That you shouldn't trust yourself. That your intuition is wrong. You are a cruel and uncaring person, and you could be domineering and unempathetic and disingenous even outside of it all, even when belief no longer burdens you, and you are in need of redemption. To fix yourself...to be worthy again.

It's hard to know and feel my way through what I need to do to make things right in a way that is not self-martyrdom, like falling before a cross and admitting your sins and expecting there to be a divine judgment received that may absolve you. The truth is, is people may not forgive you. Or if they do, they might not want you in their life again, or as closely as it was before. But you can't let shame be what motivates you or tempers you into the shape of someone contrite and pure because forgiveness is only as free as your sincere apology is, unconditionally, and...recognition that you had a choice, you are responsible for it even if not responsible for the driving factor behind it in your religious indoctrination, but you have to recognize you are *NOT* inherently flawed and unworthy. It's hard to believe that you are worthy either way of having friends, having trust, having connection, having authenticity. If you are also from a dysfunctional/abusive home, your boundaries and shame are even more blurred.

I wish I had more answers, but I think the truth is in what religion perverted: love can be the solid motivator for your change. My friendships helped me get out, the ones who chose to be patient with me. It's hard for me to not view their patience as generosity, like God's, when I was inherently undeserving of it, but I try to accept that what was more likely is that they had boundaries, and maybe that's more realistic and important than any notion of perfect, 'unconditional' love. I doubt they came to me with everything, all their thoughts or fullest self. I believe they more than likely said and did certain things to assauge me or learned what was off the table and what wasn't to talk about or do. But they also saw that I was lovable despite my flaws in a non-black and white way - holding space for contradictions like that as if it didn't mean damnation. Even the friends I have grown apart with have never treated me like I wasn't enough. That's not a concept to them. They may have drawn stricter boundaries for themselves, but they were kinder than any God I knew to always treat me with respect even in their distance, and in that way, it holds me more accountable because it acknowledges that I am capable of being a good person. An open-minded, nonjudgmental, caring, accepting person, even if imperfectly. But it's up to me and my choices. Maybe it's not about redemption, but trust. I know my deconstruction is going to probably be lifelong. I know I have so much to learn and experience. But I am grateful for the patience and love of people who saw me not through the lens of religion because they were the ones who helped me get out and get free and be the best version of myself. I hope I can rid myself of my shame and rather understand that the most important work in redemption is not about fashioning myself into an un-boundaried, unassuming, self-sacrificing, or overbearing "light" for a deity that cares only about my loyalty, with a kindness that is about changing people more than getting to just be human with them and accept them, with bludgeoning myself with amorphous and nebulous values of goodness and righteousness that have me putting on a mask to diffuse what is actually authentic about connection; that it is more so my duty and my privilege to get to *earn* the *trust* of other people through being the kind of person that I know I have had within me, perhaps not always embodied, but within me, all along -- not inherently bad, but worthy of love and friendship.

#exchristian #exmormon #exmo #exvangelical #ex evangelical #religious deconstruction #deconstruction #vent #ventposting

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aihaitahm · 1 year

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jingyuan with hyrid cat gn! reader

cw reader has trust issues and overthinks.

idk why this didnt appear in the hashtag earlier for no goddamn reason </3 algorithm sucks :(

part 1

“i… like you… a lot!”

“hmm? sorry i didnt get that. could you repeat yourself once more?” the snoozing general teased, as he stares at you, eyes filled with mischief yet with affection. enjoying the small distance between you both, brushing his gloved hand on your cheek. curious enough to touch your ears but of course he didnt have the permission. yet.

“well listen carefully yea? i said i… i like you a lot and i hate how… my tail swings when i get excited to report to you or when my ears perk whenever you call out my name or whenever i see you in a poster or hear someone mention your name. no matter how much i avoid you, you somehow always catch me and i dont know if you… feel the same if you’re just teasing me or if you actually like me.”

jing yuan’s eyes soften. he wasnt sure what made him like you but for sure, he knew you are different, you are you and thats how he started liking you. he starts looking into your widen eyes and just lovingly stares at you. eyes are windows to the soul after all. he loves how you do things, how dedicated you are to everyone around you. he loves your style, how you present yourself, how hardworking you are for xianzhou luofu and especially to master diviner fu xuan.

“(name) i like you because i actually really like you. the moment i saw you, i instantly was intrigued, of course may be it was because you were a hybrid cat and i happen to be a cat person but it is more than that dear. the more we interacted, the more i became continuously surprise on how much i can keep liking you deeper. eventually i started admiring you for… you. these feelings that i hold are only for you, that is if you accept them. have i mentioned that the heaven’s really blessed me to see someone as ethereal as you breathe the same air as me?”

your eyes soften as his confession, quite flustered. ears now relaxed, and tail swinging. you held onto his neck, tiptoeing because this man is literally a giant. no matter how tall you were, he could still tower you.

“i…. accept.” you muttered quietly, fiddling on his collar.

jing yuan smiled. he was about to let go until he was grabbed by the face. he certainly was not expecting you cupping his face and kissing him in the lips. he gladly reciprocated and indulged your beautiful taste.

—

headcanons ! :3

after you both madeout confessed, you both sat quietly, enjoying each others company. tingyun heard the whole thing and was so happy for the both of you.

you would still call him general and keep things professional during the day. even though he insists on you calling him that, you were scared what people would think when you both are dating.

jing yuan reassures you that things will be okay and that he honestly does not care about what others think about. he wants to be seen with you, and he wants them to know that you are his. at the end of the day, you both do your jobs diligently and fairly even though you both are in a relationship.

when the master diviner fu xuan heard about your relationship, she was happy for you though she gave jing yuan a huge talk.

“i swear… jing yuan if you do something to my beloved assistant you will feel my wrath. you better treat them well! they deserve the world. they are dear to me like family. also by the way, you cant always have them assist you during work.”

“you better not steal my assistant and let them help you with all your neglected work. do your own work and dont sleep. not only did you steal my title as general, you are not about to steal my number one assistant.”

notices you get nervous a lot so he settles with light headpats, and hand holding. he will wait for you to initiate and he will ask you what you are okay/not okay with. just to make sure he doesnt make you uncomfortable.

as you slowly got closer, you started being clingy with him and being super gentle with him. he was glad he got that side of you. you would get greedy and ask for his attention. would swing your tail and poke him with it when you want attention. you love headpats and absolutely melt when he pets you. you both can get sassy at each other and would often tease each other. playful remarks until you get flustered and hide your face behind your hands as the general chuckles.

jing yuan knows you are a worried lover and would encourage you to communicate your feelings properly so that he can reassure his darling. if any miscommunication or arguments occur, you both make sure to talk it out. if your jealous because of one his fans talked to him, he would quickly reassure you and say he has his eyes on you only.

loves when mimi and you get along. his favorite cat and their cat parent favorite cats!getting along together makes him feel soft in the inside.

loves to tease you sometimes by playing with your cat ears or tail. when you get slightly annoyed, he just kisses you on the lips and muffles a ‘sorry’ knowing damn well he isnt.

you have met yanqing before and you helped him in one of your commissions. he admired how you fought and would want you to teach him some of your techniques. jing yuan felt himself melt whenever he sees how you gently talk and coach the boy.

overall the general is so happy and thankful to have you. you both are very happy with each other and xianzhou luofu noticed the new cheerful glow on the general’s energy and face, ever since you both got together.

#hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan honkai #honkai star rail #jing yuan fluff

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hoebatos · 1 year

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OLDER VENTI???????????? Oh my god? Ughhhh older Venti knowing that he is your weakness, and teasing you to no end for it....i kind of hc that the archons can change smaller parts of their appearance at will, so maybe he allows himself to age a bit more and to gain a few inches of height? And looooooves teasing you for "how much shorter you are" than him

This ask was sent to me before I even came up with Eye of the Storm!Reader AU and now I can't stop brainrotting about this but with the AU.

Laughing at myself with how so far off the mark the thing I've written for this ask. But it's my birthday today so whateveeerrrr.

Self indulgent.

Minors do not read nor interact.

Please consider buying me a kofi?: anemoarchonhoe

Imagine Venti shifts into an older form, ready to be the tall one for once, but when he pins you to the wall and LOOKS UP at you, he realizes that even though he's now 6-7 foot something, you're still towering over his form.

His smirk falls when he remembers you're standing at 12 foot tall, his jaw falling slightly, and any teasing remarks that he has already formed suddenly vanishes from his mind.

"What's wrong?" you asked him then after a moment of silence, flipping your positions so that now he's the one against the wall. The whimper that came from him is the sexiest sound you've heard out of all the other ones he let out before. "Cat got your tongue?"

You pressed a leg against his now growing hard-on, earning a gasp from him, and he started to grind against you for sweet friction and relief. "Please, please...."

He doesn't know what he is asking for, but at the same time he does. He simply can't form any coherent thought under your intense gaze.

So when you kneel before him, taking off both his pants and underwear at once, he breathes a sigh of relief... that turned into a loud curse when you suddenly swallow his manhood down to your throat whole without warning.

"W-Windblume, wait—" you sucked and he keens, his hand flying to grip your hand. "I-I don't want you to hurt yourself! S-slow... slow down..."

You simply hum as you begin to bob your head. You're a monster, so he really shouldn't worry about your gag reflex. You need air and his cock, but not both at the same time. You can feel yourself becoming aroused yourself, but you forgo your own needs to grip at Venti's waist to pull him closer, and thus shove his cock further down.

Venti sobbed in pleasure as you relentlessly deepthroated him, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. You're an absolute monster, literally and figuratively, and he loves you for it. When you sucked again, he finally loses it and begins to fuck your mouth without mercy, making you moan as you continue to please him.

"So, so good, Windblume. My love, my everything. You take me so well. Aaah..."

You groaned, taking his merciless thrusting. Your beloved archon using you for his own pleasure, you feel fulfilled as both his lover and worshipper, so you double your efforts by meeting his enthusiastic thrusting with harsher sucks and moans.

Venti reaches his peak and howls, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull and he coats your throat with his cum. You eagerly drink and swallow a that he had to offer you, and give him one last suck and a few licks to clean his cock from his cum.

Venti feels his legs shake from the sheer pleasure you graced his with. He looks down at your disheveled appearance and thinks you still look divine.

"Now, I'm not such a cruel god that I'd just leave my beloved to take care of their own needs." He pulls you up and against him, kissing you needily and quietly notes that he can taste himself on your tongue. He's aroused again before he knew it.

"Come now, the night is still young, love. You've done me a great service. Let me return your undying devotion.

...Allow me to love you without restraint tonight."

#ventus.moans #smut #genshin smut #genshin venti x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x reader #mdni #venti x reader smut #genshin venti #genshin impact venti smut #eye of storm au

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sweetsummercourier · 10 months

Text

I finished Tears of the Kingdom, so here are my thoughts

I recently finished Tears of the Kingdom and wow... wow! The game was beautiful all the way through. As such, I'd like to talk about my experience and thoughts.

DISCLAIMER: this post contains spoilers for the game. Read at your own risk.

Additionally, please don't take my opinions too seriously. I'm just someone on the internet. You don't have to agree or disagree but please be respectful.

Without further ado...

Overview:

Tears of the Kingdom is a beautiful game. Absolutely beautiful, from the designs to the scores to the gameplay. All of it, beautiful.

That being said, it took some adjusting. I missed having the convenience of our elemental and bomb arrows, I missed not having to pay for every time I wanted armor upgraded, and I missed not having to fight against the RNG to get items I needed for upgraded armor. The map did have some changes that took getting used to, and some of my favorite ingredient/monster part hunting spots were no longer there, so that sucked.

But it fits the story, I find. I like how the weapons changed due to the Upheaval (though I'm a bit confused as to how bows aren't decayed), how the monsters evolved and the new monsters that came, and how the Great Fairies function — we learned in Breath of the Wild that rupees gave them power, and I found that it made more sense to pay for the upgrades instead of just a one time payment.

That being said, while TOTK takes place some time after the events of BOTW, there were some things that left me feeling empty. What happened to all the guardians? The Divine Beasts? The Sheikah towers and the shrines? The Sheikah Slate? It just seems weird to me that they would just vanish without an explanation... especially the Beasts.

On top of that, I missed the Champions. I was thrilled to see that Mipha was still a big part of Zora's Domain and with Sidon's plotline, and I love her water gardens, but I was so scared when I didn't see her statue at first.

But to continue, while it makes sense for the Zora to keep Mipha very much alive considering how beloved she is, it felt strange that the other three weren't mentioned at all. Teba has a Great Eagle Bow, and Tulin can create gusts of wind, but no concrete to homage to Revali. Riju had dual Scimitar of the Seven, which Urbosa wielded, but she's not mentioned. Heck, Yonobo is the grandchild of Daruk (source is the Creating a Champion artbook), yet Daruk's Protection has disappeared and he's not mentioned at all.

Don't get me wrong, I understand why they wouldn't be prominent. TOTK is not BOTW, and the Champions and Divine Beasts are no longer the center focus. Still, it feels weird that they were expunged entirely. At least we have those cool helms!

Regional Phenomenon Questline:

I'm going to break this down the way I completed them... which was in the exact same way as I did in BOTW! Why not, it was fun. And also, the first region will allow me to address a big elephant in the room...

Zora's Domain and the Water Temple

Zora's Domain was the first region I completed in both games, and I was so happy to be back. I love the score in the Domain, I just find it so soothing... and it's the home of my favorite fish people!

I found it super goofy that Bazz was trapped under sludge. Like sir, you didn't see that falling? You didn't look up? At least he was ok in the end. King Dorephan being alive gave me a lot of relief. Don't get me wrong, in the trailers I was stoked to see Sidon as king, but what happened to his big ol' dad? I also love his new outfit after he gives his son the crown. Also, I love how to reveal the new statue of Sidon and Link, you have to clean it and then boom — Link riding Sidon statue.

Can I just say I love Sidon's new attire? It looks so good on him. I love the little navy blue addition to his ascots and I'm very happy to see they kept the whistle. Sidon is a big comfort character of mine, so reuniting with him first was like chicken soup for the soul. I also love the water manipulation ability. It's a very cool ability to have and it's very fitting for the Zora (naturally). A little sad he doesn't dual wield spears like he had in AOC, but regardless, he's great. He's great. I love Sidon. He's a card.

Now, with the Water Temple, I found it just a bit underwhelming. It's beautifully designed, don't get me wrong, and I love his ancestor and how Sidon gets his secret stone on his glove and he gives Link his vow (I don't ship Sidlink but that was fruity). But what I found underwhelming was the boss. Compared to the others, having the goofy Mucktorok felt a little... hmm... it was a fun fight, however! I did have fun! For my, compared to Waterblight Ganon from BOTW and the Scourges in the other temples, to me, it felt a little subpar.

Now I've addressed this before but now that I've played through and can make a better statement than my previous one a lot better... let's talk about Yona.

I like her! She's super cute! I have grown attached to her style and her character, and she has such a sweet little theme. My only big issue with her is, I find her to be one dimensional. Now, I'm not attacking her or hating on her. I think Yona as a character has an immense amount of potential, the writing for her is just... a little bland. The romantic subplot with her and Sidon and her story feels lackluster. I think, if they wanted to show Sidon's fear of losing someone else, someone he loves, I have the perfect man for the job — King Dorephan. Dorephan is his father, and the last remaining family Sidon has left. With Dorephan actually injured, I find it would make more sense for that subplot to be about their father-son bond. Maybe after finding out Dorephan is injured and in hiding, Sidon goes to find his father and it's Dorephan who tells him to be strong and to help link. In my opinion, that's more plausible.

Back to my original thought, I wish Yona had more development as a character. It's very clear she means a lot to Sidon and vice versa, but I wish there was more instead of her just being thrown in. If she's his dearest friend since childhood, I would have loved to have heard more about her in BOTW. I just want to know more about her. I want to see more character in her. And yes, to address the whole marriage debate — yes, Sidon saw her as a sister, and yes his feelings "became difficult to quantify." Feelings are changing all the time. In my opinion, it feels weird to someone who considers another family to suddenly fall in love with them. But that's just me.

To the Sidona shippers: y'all rock. While I personally don't ship Sidona, I support y'all. I am in love with all the artwork and writing I have found of them, and the way I look at it, it's more art of Sidon I get to enjoy. This is a Yona hate free zone, I will not entertain Yona hate.

To the other shippers, Sidlink and all: it's canon, we cannot change it. But! AUs exist. Headcanons exist. Heck, if Yona bothers you that much, ignore her all together. Nothing is going to stop you from shipping Sidlink and Sidon with ocs, so please be positive and keep doing what you're doing. I myself will continue making art and writing of my oc/canon ship with Sidon and my OC, because that's what makes me happy. I have some art and stories of them I plan to share, and I really hope you like them too :)))

Rito Village and the Wind Temple

Now, back on track after my tangent about Yona. The Rito Village was the second location I tackled and oh my god, I got a kick out of the kids running the village. I love how they tried to help keep the town in order while the adults were trying to find the source of the blizzard and gather supplies.

I was super relieved to find Teba alright, I know we were all afraid that he was dead or something considering he wasn't in the trailer. But I love Teba very much, and I was thrilled to see him again.

Tulin is PRECIOUS. My little nephew. I love how he looks fully-fledged, and he's such a sweet li'l rascal... and the fact his quiver has his parents' feathers on there, it is such a cute gesture.

Quick aside, I love Penn, but I MISS KASS... where did he go... I miss hearing his accordion.

The Wind Temple, I find, was the most challenging to get to. I remember stacking three Zonai springs together at one point just to get to where I needed to go because for the life of me I could not get that one floating rock. I loved the bouncy sails on the ships. It gave me the kinda vibes a bouncy castle does.

The temple being the Stormwind Arc and not an actual building was delicious. A very nice touch. That being said, I love how different all the temples are: we have one in the sky that's actually a temple, the other is a flying ship, there's a temple in the depths, and then one on good ol' terra firma.

I LOVE the design of Colgera. Granted, I did do the temple at night, so it did scare me just a bit. It was a lot of fun to fight, and the cutscene of the sky becoming clear with Teba on Revali's Landing was perfect. It was a very sweet scene to add, when Tulin received his father's bow, the Great Eagle Bow, and the scarf as a nod to Revali. I wish the bow Teba made for me had the scarf...

Goron City and the Fire Temple

I personally miss that region flowing with lava. I felt it really drove home how hot the mountain is and the environment the Goron lived in, but it's much easier to traverse and it's nice to see there's still lava in the deeper caves.

I adore Yunobo, and seeing him become rude made me so sad. That's not my boy! I wanted my boy back! Making me fight him was not cool! He's such a good, kind character that it legit made me so sad to see him possessed by that mask.

I'll admit... I cheated the Fire Temple. I love the music score in that temple, and I had a lot of fun there, but I'll be the first to admit that I did not care for the mine cart system. I just climbed to where I needed to go. I'm sorry, that system really confused me and my ADHD was having none of it. So I figured I'd just cut to the chase and just climb.

I really like how the checkpoints were gongs, and having Yunobo barrel into them was very reminiscent of how we had to launch him to drive off Vah Rudania in BOTW.

The boss for the temple, left me feeling a little underwhelmed like the Mucktorok. Just break Marbled Gohma's legs and then beat the shit out of it. I can't say it wasn't entertaining though use Yunobo like that as if we were bowling.

The fist bump for the vow was such a quirky touch for Yunobo. I love it. It was really so sweet. And I love seeing Yunobo's resolve to become a stronger individual. His character growth from being a timid Goron in BOTW to now, I'm so proud of him. I feel like a proud mom.

Gerudo Town and the Lightning Temple

The gibdos absolutely terrified me. I ran into them not realizing the were there on my first time going to Gerudo town and I did not think to use elemental anything so when my most powerful weapons didn't make a dent, I panicked. Though admittedly, the moth gibdo wings are very pretty... still terrifying. I'm just glad we didn't have redeads.

Riju is SO pretty. I love her new hairstyle. At first I really missed her long hair, but she rocks her new short style. I've always loved Riju, and her reintroduction.

The Lightning Temple had to be one of, if not my favorite temple. I found it had the most difficult puzzles for me to solve, and I enjoyed that. I found I was using my brain a lot more for that temple than the others... and I died in a lot of stupid ways because sometimes the most obvious solution isn't that clear to me.

As someone who is very afraid of bugs, Queen Gibdo did not do it for me. She very much gave me the heebie jeebies... but it was nice to watch the sandstorm fade away from the Gerudo desert, for Riju to return to the throne room in the town, and for the Gerudo to leave the emergency shelter and return to their daily lives.

Overall the Regional Phenomenal questline was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed myself.

The Dragon's Tears Questline:

This fucked me up. Learning about Zelda's time in the past leading up to her becoming the Light Dragon actually made me cry. It was fun to discover the geoglyphs and have them become a permanent part of the map, but oof... my heart.

I cried when Sonia died, and it hurt so much when there was the scene of Rauru at her grave. All of it was just heart wrenching, especially Zelda became a dragon after Mineru "died" and found shelter in the Purah Pad. When Zelda screamed for Link to "protect them all" as her eyes changed... oof... ruin me.

Crisis at Hyrule Castle and the Sixth Sage:

I think it was pretty obvious for me that the Zelda we had been seeing wasn't really Zelda. Running around Hyrule Castle in an attempt to reach her, only to fight monster forces was not a very pleasant affair, and the Phantom Ganon fights were also a bit of a pain, albeit fun nontheless.

I loved how the Sages came to Link's aid in the end. It made the game feel a lot less lonely. It made me very happy to see them there protecting Link. It really gave you a sense of how much they care about him, and what he means to them.

Finding the Sixth Sage was a lot of running around that I made much more difficult because I forgot the mask when I found it, so I had to go all the way back to get it, and I didn't realize I had to put the mask in the construct, so cut to me spending an hour trying to get the limbs for the robot when the depots weren't activated yet... oops.

I absolutely adore Mineru. She is so pretty, and I love her voice. I love how her character ties in the past and present, and how she fits so well in the story. And riding her construct was a lot of fun... the boss fight for her secret stone took me a hot minute to figure out... I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometime, so when I pushed the Ganon-controlled construct into the electric fence, I was legit surprised that that was what I was supposed to do.

Defeating Ganondorf:

First off, I would like to say I miscalculated how thick the pillar was on the way down into the Depths from Hyrule castle and I shattered Link's body on the side of it the first time I dove down. It was honestly really funny. It also was a strange disconnect at first as I made my way down to Ganon, because I did not realize how DEEP underground Zelda and Link went to even find this formerly dehydrated prune to begin with.

I was... SO happy and excited that I got to fight alongside the other Sages before going to fight Ganon. It felt so euphoric, like the culmination of all our efforts was coming to fruition and we were all finally comrades in arms. It felt way more personal than the fight with Calamity Ganon in BOTW.

Being separated from them made me so sad. It felt really helpless, watching Link being trapped in the cave while the others fought. Like no don't leave me!

But the final fight, from the beginning to the end, was STELLAR. For the Sages to rejoin us and we fight him all together?! Yes please! Granted his second form's extended life bar def gave me Dark Souls vibes, which is one of my favorite franchises (including Bloodborne) so that was fitting. Though watching my friends be thrown to the side had me scared there for a second.

Watching him become the Demon Dragon, as an individual who recently graduated with a degree in animation with a specialty in effects, was so tasty. And to watch it emerge from beneath Hyrule castle... I can only imagine what it felt like to watch it like that... and for the clearly much smaller Light Dragon come to rescue us... chills. Literal chills. The score for that cutscene was perfect. And for Link, in the face of dragon, to draw the Master Sword like no big deal? Incredible.

Fighting the Demon Dragon alongside the Light Dragon, and to watch it be destroyed was incredible. And for Link to receive his arm back and Zelda returning to normal, for Link to finally grab Zelda's hand and hold her as they fell into the water only to carry her out again... I'm a huge Zelink fan, so that made my heart soar.

The Ending:

The ending itself was beautiful. I was so moved when the current Sages gave the same pledge to Zelda as their ancestors had to Rauru, and I legit cried when Mineru moved on to the afterlife. It was sentimental, and beautiful. I don't think I could have asked for a better ending.

Final Thoughts:

This game... was stunning. It was everything I could have asked for in a sequel to Breath of the Wild. And sure, there are plenty of things to nitpick about, but I had such a positive experience, I'm not even going to bother with all of that.

It was a thrilling and fresh experience, and I enjoyed myself very much.

With that being said, I know we're all looking for DLC and another game. In my personal opinion, I think Tears of the Kingdom did a very good job of wrapping up this story. I'm all down for DLC, but I personally think BOTW and TOTK doesn't need a third game. I think the story these two games portrayed, from the story of the Champions and Calamity Ganon to the climax of defeating Ganon and saving Hyrule, is completed with the conclusion of TOTK.

Of course, that's all up for Nintendo, but I am satisfied with this. I'm very happy. I could not ask for more.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! I appreciate you sticking it out with my silly little ramblings. I really hope you all enjoy Tears of the Kingdom as much as I did, and I am always down for discussions and stuff in regards to this!

Just a little reminder: I'm just one person on the internet. Please be respectful of my opinions!

And with all that, in mind, I hope you all have a wonderful day. And now, to play both games all over again.

Courier out.

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #botw #totk #totk link #totk sidon #totk yunobo #totk zelda #totk riju #totk tulin #totk spoilers #tears of the kindom spoilers #zelda spoilers

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princessasmosprincess · 10 months

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Lisette Beaufort

I wanted to introduce my OC Lisette. She pops up a couple of times in Charmed, I'm Sure as a side character. The first picture is from 1909 (I did my best) and the second is modern times.

Lisette is a witch and a former high society socialite and heiress. She originally summoned Kallios to help her get out of her engagement to her fiancé whom she didn’t love (he sucked, he only wanted her for her money and how many babies she could give him). She refused to give Kallios her soul in return for their pact, leaving him to figure out some other sort of payment. Along the way she and Kallios fell in love, and she married him and moved to the Devildom where she was able to pursue her dream as a fashion designer. She currently owns and runs Majolish and Devil Style magazine, and has done so for the past 100 years. She's a partier and is good friends with Asmo and Mammon (Mams says she's the only witch he can tolerate, probably because she pays him and not the other way around). She’s not exactly immortal, but her skill in magic combined with her bond with Kallios froze her at the age of 30 and extended her life. She is gifted in divination (mostly through tarot) and she receives prophetic dreams but she can’t control what she sees or when they happen. Kallios's death devastated her and she was only able to get through it because of her dear friends, she cherishes each and every one deeply but she hasn't ever loved anyone else the way she did Kallios.

For her character design I wanted her to be almost "perfect" but just off. She's slim and tall, and always fits the fashionable silhouette. But her hair is light, which wasn't the popular hair color when she was younger, and she has unique amber eyes some might find off putting.

I answered some Get to Know My OC questions too:

1. She likes champagne and overly sweet, fruity cocktails. For non alcoholic drinks, Coca Cola is very nostalgic to her, something that hasn’t changed that much in all the years she’s been alive. She also likes tea.

2. Favorite flavor: Sweet, mostly.

3. Favorite food: She likes food in general so she doesn’t have one set favorite but if you asked her she’d probably say chocolate ice cream.

4. Dinner is her favorite because it’s the best time to dine with her beloved and friends, and after dinner comes dessert.

5. Once again, she’s not too picky about food but she doesn’t like meat that’s too bloody or fish that’s overcooked or too fishy.

6. At first she had difficulty tolerating spicy foods but living in the Devildom for over 100 years has raised her tolerance.

7. Favorite animal: Birds, specifically parrots. Kallios gifted her a hell cockatoo that she named Adonis.

8. She wears a nightgown to bed, usually something silky.

9. She sleeps on her back but sometimes she’ll sleep on her side, clutching a pillow (she really misses sleeping next to Kallios).

10. She’s more of a night owl because she loves to party but once she’s woken up in the morning she becomes alert rather quickly.

11. She’s usually an average sleeper, but on nights she gets prophetic dreams, she sleeps heavy.

12. She likes to sew on rainy days, there’s just something so cozy about the sound of the rain mixed with the clicking of the sewing machine.

13. She loves the smell of white florals and vanilla, also fresh herbs

14. What does she smell like: In the past she would have worn Jicky by Guerlain. Now she still keeps it very classic, she wears Chanel No. 5.

15. If she had the time she would take a leisurely bath every day.

16. Her cooking skills are pretty decent. Not gourmet but she can follow a recipe. She loved cooking together with her husband, it was quality time for them.

17. She loves fall, the weather is perfect.

18. Halloween, but she also loves Jill’s day because that was the first time she visited the Devildom.

19. She prefers making gifts for her loved ones. Usually it’s in the form of clothing she designed just for them, with love in every stitch.

20. She’s 5’7/170 cm

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me oc #charmed i'm sure

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katnissgirlsmakedo · 8 months

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cassie protagonists ranked TO ME

emma..... my most beloved emma.... she's like if a boy was a girl but totally normal about being a girl she just acts weird. that didn't make sense. she's like girl jace basically. which makes her a billion times cooler and deeper than jace could ever try to be. she's like if there was a girl who kind of sucked and was an idiot but she loved her friends so so so much and she was a genius and super cool and awesome and badass but also she's like kind of stupid with emotions and bad at handling personal relationships... and she has a sick ass sword!!! she's like if katniss was a shadowhunter. she's like if a knight from any fairy tale was kind of a loser. she's like if liv moore was monogamous. hard to explain any of that just trust me that emma is cool as hell. and she loves clary sooooo much...

clary. we would be nowhere without the og.... she's literally like if an angel was just some dude. and she had Protagonist Disorder. and she was blessed with divine visions. you know i love clary you know i'm a clary girl do i even need to get into it further...

it hurts me to do this, i didn't want to have to make cordelia number 4 but. ok and rememeber that this is conceptual still because twp doesn't even exist yet it's just well i can't make my special girl number 4 out of 5 i'm not a monster. anyway yeah. dru <3 she is so dear to me even though collectively only like 30 pages have ever been written about her. i just know she's going to slay the house down in the wicked powers is the thing i know it i KNOW it... people are afraid of her slayage and believe it or not she already has haters but they are NOT me and they are NOT welcome here... i don't give a shit if you wanted kit to be the protagonist of twp he's not a girl. being a cassie shadowhunter protagonist is for girls only. he can be second like jace and james and will and jules. kinda crazy how historically all the secondary mains have been the love interest. rip ash lmao. anyway. literally do not care if you wanted kit to be the main main character you will fucking survive and you don't know it yet but it's better this way. dru is taking so many hits for him it's crazy. cassie's gonna make her do love triangle drama and annoying miscommunication and we're all gonna be so pissed off about it like we always are when cassie does this with every single on of her primary couples. and meanwhile kit and ty are gonna be fucking normal in comparasin. say thank you to dru and get over it.... also i literally love her to pieces she's soooo funny and kind and she loves her family more than anything and she hates being the second youngest and she just wants to be included in ty's ridiculous schemes and she loves her silly little horror movies and she has a blue streak in her hair and she wears ironic t shirts and she hates school and she's soooo mad that jules and emma restored their haunted house before she could visit it.... and she's my friend.....

cordelia <3 it's not her fault the final book in her trilogy was kind of a flop. she slayed it though... except for the love triange stuff that pissed me off an unreal amount you guys know you were there. but i love cordelia she's soooo protagonist... she's so remember that you can't save everyone remember that you have to try..... also her gay ally swag is unbeatable. she loves her gay friends more than she loves herself....

tessa sorry girl it's just well i haven't read tid since 2014. you're cool to hang with in sobh tho even though you're cryptic as hell for no fucking reason.... i love it tho she's like hm well things happened in the past that might actually be relevant to your situation emma but i can't tell you about those things because they make me sad. good luck tho! like go girl give us nothing....

#beth.txt #tsc

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veryfruitybrazillian · 1 year

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♡Introduction

● Hello tumblr! I am (kinda) new here and i really want some people to talk to! So if you're interested, stick around!

♡About me

● My name is Twig, but you can also call me Lucy!

● Though i won't say my age, i will say that i am a minor, so keep this in mind!

● As my name says, i am brazillian, with my mother tongue being portuguese - but during the pandemic i learned english and spanish (but i kinda suck at spanish, any help welcome-)

● I'm pansexual and agender and go by all/mirror pronouns

♡Likes

● Okay this will be a long one- i am not gonna list everything bc i think i am a fandom colector at this point-

- Bands & Musical artists in general:

• AJR (i love them with all my heart)

• Lovejoy (literally my wallpaper)

• IDKHOW (YES. JUST YES.)

• MARINA (my first fav artist-)

• Imagine Dragons (i kinda have to balance the weirdness of the others ig)

• Mother Mother (why do i relate to their songs so much? - 2018 me)

- Series, cartoons, animes, etc:

• FNAFHS (Oh, the memories [little me had such a crush on Fred istg])

• The Owl House (I'm the Luz Noceda from my friend group)

• Gravity Falls (how can you forget the thing that got you into creepypastas)

• Witch Hat Atelier (OMGQIFREYKISSMEPLEASE)

• Sailor Moon (whole childhood)

• B99 (thanks uncle)

• LEGO Monkie Kid (perfect)

• Saiki K (i just think is neat)

• Spy X Family (i love romcons)

• Any 1990s-2000s cartoon and anime tbh

- Books:

(I am a bookworm since birth, this was necessary)

• The Folk of Air (i got two editions of the cruel prince for some reason)

• Magisterium (I WANT TO READ IT SOOOOOOOOO BAD)

• Anything written by Holly Black (love her)

• Riordanverse in general (my siblings are mithology nerds, got it from them)

• The divine comedy by Dante (the first self-insert fanfiction of history)

• The school for good and evil (tbh kinda mixed feelings but i love Dot)

• Moomins (be gay do crime, the book series)

- Games:

• Deep Sea Prisioner (thanks online big sis for this trauma)

• Sonic (i fucking love sonic omg)

• Pokémon (i am obsessed with pkmn)

• Every single game the "weird kid" archetype is know for (yeah i was the weird kid)(still am)

• Cookie Run franchise (UNICORN CREAM MY BELOVED)

• Minecraft (thanks to this i am the person i am now)

• Genshin Impact (kinda)(just started playing)(i like kaeya)

♡Tags

● I just discovered that tags help alot so i may be using them-

- #twigtalksdsmp (i watch dsmp but got out of the fandom a long time ago, if you don't like dsmp please just block this tag-)(i will not tag lovejoy posts with this tag tho)

- #twigexplains (i know damn well i will be explaining random theories or facts so i might as well me a tag for it)

- #twighuehue (for when i speak portuguese)

- #twigocs (very self-explanatory)

♡ Finalization

● Well, that should be it. Will be adding more as i travel in this hell site. Thank you for you attention! <3

#spy x family #the owl house #minecraft #witch hat atelier #ajr music #mother mother #lovejoy #pkmn #damn girl thats a lot of tags #fnafhs #fnaf #gravity falls #marina #sailor moon #cookie run #okay i can add the rest later

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ladysolwind · 9 months

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I broke out the 3DS and started playing Echoes a few days ago. Simultaneously, I both really love and am severely irritated by it. Some thoughts about it from someone who has played Gaiden, albeit over a decade ago.

The streamlined gameplay definitely has its benefits. Battles flow really well and it makes combat very easy to plan. The HP based magic can get so broken so fast if you put one mage on attack and one mage on heal. Promotions really feel like an upgrade. The one item system with no durability is different, but not necessarily in a bad way. Like finding a silver bow is a reward and not just like "oh cool free bow." You have to really think about who gets what. Also because this system is so constrictive there are some wild items in there.

The visuals are a glow up. I really like the character designs vs how everyone looks in Gaiden. Compared to Shadow Dragon, I feel like there was a lot of effort and creativity put into the redesigns. Mathilda probably wins as my favorite character design in the game. Hot damn that woman is beautiful.

Like if the girl on the left is just as pretty as the girl on the right.

Shout out to the music, too. Like some of it slapped in 8-Bit Gaiden glory, so it only gets better. With Mila's Divine Protection is probably one of my favorite songs in all of Fire Emblem.

Complaints and my Fire Emblem plans under the cut.

The grinding. Oh lord, the grinding. It's brutal. Going through dungeons and having the tiny three monster fights over and over. It's tedious as all hell and I am not here for it. The DLC helps, but that's not all that much of an option during the first two chapters. And you have to grind. It's unavoidable.

It's also a real pain in the ass to even promote. Like I just finished Chapter 4, and every time I needed to promote, I had to fight this giant hoard of necrodragons to get to the dungeon, then fight an unavoidable encounter in the dungeon, promote, evacuate, and then fight the necrodragons again on the way back to where I was.

Archanea. I get it, it's pronounced to reflect how you pronounce アカネイア but it sounds stupid this way. This is very important to me D:< the Archanea games are very close to my heart. Shadow Dragon was my first. Don't make it stupid.

Yet all of it is still such a step up from Gaiden that I'm not even that pressed about it. Yeah it sucks, but Gaiden was so much worse!

My plan at this point is to go through every Fire Emblem game. I've played Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light, Gaiden, and Mystery of the Emblem. The first two were with a lot of save state abuse rewinding, and fast forwarding, so it wasn't the authentic experience but, I mean, come on. They're clunky Famicom games. This was less of the case with Mystery of the Emblem.

Then I haven't played another game until Shadow Dragon. I've played every game since, including spin offs, except for Tokyo Mirage Sessions. But that leaves a pretty big gap of some really beloved games in this series that I only know through osmosis, Heroes, and Engage.

My plan is to play and rank them as I go. Next on my list is Fates. In order to give it a fair shake I'm playing all three routes, but in order to make it tolerable I'm refusing to make any child units. I'll do it in Awakening where it makes sense, but not in Fates. Maybe I'll marry Corrin off but that's it.

So far this list is:

1. Three Houses

2. Engage

3. Echoes

With Engage beating out Echoes by a smidge solely because of the tedious grinding in the former.

Let's see how long I'll go until I burn out.

#fire emblem #fire emblem echoes #fire emblem echos: shadows of valentia #fe15 #fire emblem gaiden

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quoitanree · 2 years

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I don’t know what I’m doing. This might just be another attempt to speak, to write, to share. An attempt that will have no follow up, that I will neglect as soon as I started it, out of fear perhaps, wondering whether it’s worth it, whether I should be this vulnerable, whether my writing is any good, whether what I do is intelligent enough, refined enough, respectable enough. I’m afraid to be cringe, to be sappy, to be kitsch, to be outright tasteless, or worse to be boring, to say things that have been said before, a thousand times over.

But the thing is: All important things have been said before. All important things have been said, again and again and again and if we haven’t heard them before, they’re still lurking there, somewhere, in a book that we haven’t read yet or in the mouth of a person we will know someday.

The other thing is: Part of me thinks that being cringe is theologically valuable. That embracing the cringe, the kitsch, the pure emotion, the madness and that which has been deemed ‘too much’ perfectly showcases the human relationship to the divine. We are small, insignificant creatures after all and we don’t understand much of what is going on. We all have fears, we all have traumas, we all have weaknesses and problems. And yet some of us are trying to relate to something higher than us. To something that goes beyond our petty human concerns. Something that is beyond all of this, something beyond and yet so close, so visceral, so much more human and so much more real than our day-to-day lives. How on earth are we supposed to relate to something like this and not be cringe, or kitsch or sloppily over-the-top? All our attempts to praise it, to glorify it, to worship it, are bound to end up like this, at least if we’re being honest to ourselves. If we are but children in a cosmic scheme of things, then even our best artistic creations, our greatest thoughts and most beautiful music, will be nothing but child’s play, the cringey art of a teenager perhaps.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

This is the line that always comes to my mind when thinking about Manannán and devotion. It's from Oscar Wilde and in the original context the line is said by someone unhappily in love describing their beloved; And yet, or maybe exactly because of this, the line is so fitting to describe the human relationship to the divine. A drunken, mad love, the type of love teenagers feel, even. Teenagers don’t understand much about love, you might say. And yet – do we really understand much of it either? Not really, in the grand scheme of things. And a lot of us have lost the boldness of teenage love.

Devotion has almost become a dirty word today. People think it has something to do with making yourself little, with being afraid of some higher power. “We don’t bow to our gods, we talk to them as equals”, some Pagans say. Even some Christians don’t seem like the idea of devotion anymore. They think it has something to do with outdated ideas about sin, about a vengeful God. “No”, they say if you talk about the importance of devotion, “God has forgiven you all your sins. He loves you!” Yet devotion has little to do with appeasing a capricious god or with doing good deeds so you’ll be rewarded and not punished once you’re dead. Devotion is the relationship you have to the divine. And like any relationship, it needs to be two-sided. That doesn’t mean it has to be perfect. Human beings are imperfect, the world is imperfect, so why should we expect our devotion to be perfect? The most important thing is that we try. Try and try and try again. That, down here, in the gutter, we do not turn our eyes away from the stars, but keep admiring their beauty.

I’m not equal to Manannán. He is a god. A being beyond petty human notions of personhood, a complex idea perhaps, if you’re feeling more philosophically inclined. He is beauty, he is sorrow, he is the wind that whispers over the endless sea. He is the rain gracing the fields with water, the liberating tears falling from my cheaks, the exuberant laughter of greatest joy, the thundering waves in a storm. He is all that and more, he is so much beyond of what I am, so much greater and yet there is a relationship between me and him. Not a relationship where I'm being pitied as a small human being, not a relationship in which he commands me to do things, no, a relationship that is soft and raw and vunerable and flawed like all things humans do. He loves me. He is there. Even if I suck at devotion, if I don't do anything for ages, he is there, watching me in the corner, with kind eyes.

It is human to fail, it is human to be cringe and admitting to that is not making yourself little. It is embracing your humanity, it is embracing a vunerable, honest and raw relationship to the world and to the divine. Being brave never had anything to do with having no fear. Being brave has something to do with admitting that you're afraid and still going on. Being strong is showing your weakness and devotion means knowing your limits. Knowing your limits, not to stay within a bounded cage, but to transcend them. To trascend them in a love for that which is wholy other, wholy beyond the limits of your own understanding and yet so beautiful, so entracing, so far away and yet so close to our imagination as the glistening stars in the sky. Devotion is a relationship of two, a dialectical embrace of the other, a longing to transcend your own human limitations through the loving union with the divine.

I have been very afraid recently. Afraid to be wrong, to be a fraud, to step out of line, to be ridiculous and stupid. And yet I know that I'm at my best when I embrace being ridiculous. When I embrace being cringe. When I embrace all of my silly ways of showing passion and love and the rawness that is human existence.

If you have read this far and feel the same, please go on if you're afraid. Go on being passionate. Go on with every cringey attempt to show devotion. Not for any reward or purpose, only for a hot date with transcendence. Because, ironically, it is this transcendence, this crossing of the boundaries between the I and the other, that makes us really us, that makes us raw and human and beautiful.

A thousand praises to Manannán, god of boundaries and of transcendence, liminal messenger between the worlds, ruler of the worlds of the dead and the ever-living, god of beauty, loss, pain and the love that keeps us going in the face of tragedy!

#manannán #e shrine #paganism #devotion #celtic

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azimuth-only-one-ill-follow · 1 month

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You Questioned Our Determination

Ri sighed softly and stretched, turning himself over onto his belly and pillowing his head in his arms. Davan chuckled lightly and tucked a blanket around the slighter man in an attempt to keep him warm. Ri huffed and wriggled, working the blanket down to around his hips. He was still quite warm from their very enthusiastic and athletic romp, and for now, the blanket was more suffocating than comforting.

Davan fell silent then, and Ri made a curious noise. It wasn’t like Davan, who was more like his old self in these calm moments. Moments where he didn’t feel the weight of his choices and the prices they took. Moments he could still muster his youthful enthusiasm and exuberance. Moments where they were both too tired and too happy to remember that life had already happened to them, and that the future was no longer infinite.

It wasn’t that Exile’s Rest tied them down, not like their home village had, but it was still a ponderous millstone around Davan’s neck, keeping him firmly anchored in the here-and-now. It was a beloved burden that required careful tending, like a garden too delicate to allow one to travel. Like a sick child, or sheep in wolf country, or a river with beavers. An important and precious blessing that required constant upkeep and commitment.

Cities were not for apathetic dreamers.

Still, these were moments Ri could eke out where Davan would set that burden down. It had near instantly endeared him to Caedecus (so named by the slavers who first discovered his prodigal healing talent and divine favour), who had spent much of the last ten years convinced his liege and dear friend would work himself into an early grave. Caedecus was Ri’s favourite council member for the same reason: no matter how much Davan insisted all of them were his good friends, Caedecus was the only one who seemed to care more about Davan’s physical health than about what he could do for others.

Davan neatly sidetracked that thought by brushing his fingers soothingly over Ri’s back. It was such a nice feeling that it took far longer than it should have to notice Davan was following a pattern. A very clear pattern, now that Ri had noticed it.

Davan’s hand was shaking.

“Azimuth?” Ri questioned, turning slightly so he could see his love. This was likely the sort of conversation he was going to need visual clues to navigate.

Davan ducked down, out of Ri’s line of sight, and pressed a soft kiss to the worst of the raised marks lining his back. He couldn’t help the pleased hum that came from him at that, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely appropriate.

“What happened?” The rumble of his voice was soft in a way that Ri knew was meant to let him know he didn’t have to answer, but this wasn’t a secret. It had never been a secret.

It had been a counterstrike.

“The amount of malice it takes for six grown men to plot the murder of a boy doesn’t just vanish when the target does.” He replied just as softly, though there was steel underlying his words. He knew this would hurt Davan, but also knew he needed to know anyway. “I was… reminded of why it was a poor choice to defy my father.”

Davan sucked in a sharp breath, then gently placed his forehead against Ri’s back in penitence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Ri replied, blunt and calm. “When I said I’d never count the cost, I meant this too. I’d have borne far more than just this momentary pain for your safety, Azimuth. My only regrets are what happened to you, not what happened to me.” He flipped himself over, then grabbed Davan’s startled face in his hands. “This was not your doing. All you did was love me, and I will never allow that to be called a mistake.”

Davan brought his own hand up to cup one of Ri’s, then kissed the palm. “I’m still sorry it happened to you. You deserved more than him.”

Ri smirked up at him. “Everyone deserved more than him. He’s a pathetic waste of time and space who made everyone’s life worse for being in it, and I’m delighted that he’s now facing the decline of his physical prowess, the complete annihilation of his power base, the end of his vaunted lineage, and the fact that he knows I did it to him. That your influence alone was enough to turn his bred and raised perfect lackey into the instrument of his destruction. That your kindness was all it took to turn his attack dog back around to him, and that it was his brutality that destroyed his life in the end.”

Davan smiled down at him, hopelessly fond. “You’re so much more than that, Ri. I’ve always known that.”

“I’m more than that because you rescued me from the cage he was keeping me in.” Ri insisted, knowing it was true. “All of the good in me is simply a reflection of you. Without you, I would be nothing but a weapon.”

Davan shook his head fondly, then grew pensive. “I think you are kinder and more merciful than you believe, but I admit it concerns me that your father and his cronies might make more trouble now that you are not there to oppose them. I know you trust Edith to corral them, but six against one is unfair for anyone.”

Ri blinked at him. “What do you mean, six on one? All I left Edith to contend with was one broken old man, his legacy in ruins and his silver tongue tarnished from the exposure of his evil lies. She is more than a match for him, and even if she wasn’t I have burned too many of his bridges for him to rebuild.”

Now it was Davan’s turn to blink in surprise. “What happened to the rest of them?”

Ri shrugged. “I killed them.”

Sargent Liura strode into the hall, flanked by High Priest Caedecus and Archmage Idala. “This nonsense ends now.” She hissed out, causing Davan’s shoulders to set stubbornly and Derick to turn his big, blue puppy dog eyes her way. This time she had brought reinforcements, as Idala would back Davan even if he were wrong, and Caedecus was Derick’s most vocal supporter in the city. If these two idiots couldn’t get over themselves enough to have a reasonable discussion about this, then Liura would let Idala and Caedecus argue it in proxy. The last time they had let something fester as badly as this was, it had only ended when Derick had nearly died in battle.

No one was dying today, however. Not unless she killed them out of pure frustration.

She gestured around her, and her two chosen seconds moved to flank the men they were there to defend. Derick eyed the High Priest in wary confusion, while Davan smiled easily at one of his closest friends. Liura drew herself up to her full height, demanding all the attention in the room once again. “We are here,” She intoned solemnly, “To sort out the issue that is currently destabilizing the city. The Lord Protector has been distracted and prickly, and his temperament is mirrored by the city as a whole. It needs resolving.”

Derick nodded, his mouth firming with agreement and understanding. It was Davan, of course, who protested. “Liura, really, I am perfectly capable of managing my emotions and my affairs on my own. You don’t need to keep inserting yourself into them.”

It was Caedecus, surprisingly, who spoke up. He was the most mild mannered and easy going of the council, due to his time as a slave making him terrified of even his own authority. “Davan, please. You don’t eat, or sleep, or even train like you usually do. Headaches aren’t unusual for you, but you’ve had one three out of every four days for a fortnight now. The whole city is on edge as ripples of your ill temper and haggard appearance spread to all corners. It’s so clear to us all that you hate arguing with Derick. Please, won’t you let us help?”

Two pairs of beseeching eyes met his, and Davan’s displeasure collapsed like a snow fort in the spring. “Oh, all right. Let’s get this over with.”

Liura turned towards Derick, deciding easily to start with the compliant one. Davan was much more likely to explain his side if he felt like he was rebutting Derick’s explanation than if he was just asked his defence first. She nodded. He shrugged.

“Davan doesn’t like that I murdered five people in cold blood with no trial. No effort was ever made to bring them to justice in a more reasonable manner, and I’m not sorry I did it.” He asserted, blue eyes blazing.

She nodded once, then turned to Davan.

“Ri has admitted to choosing violence as his foremost problem solving technique without a concern for due process, fairness, or consequences. That makes him a dangerous liability, especially when he will not accept that this circumvents all the tenets this city is built on, or promise not to do it again and to allow the law to work as it should.” He rebutted decisively, proving once again that when these two argued this badly it was usually because they were arguing about different things at the same time.

She turned back to Derick, who was now looking just as stubborn as Davan. “Why did you never attempt to solve this through the usual means?”

“They were the source of the corruption in our hometown, and between them held the majority of the power in the town. Besides, I didn’t need a trial to know they were guilty. I heard them plotting to lynch Davan with my own ears. It’s why I falsely accused him of impropriety in the first place.” His voice rang clear, and it was obvious he was proud of his actions, not just accepting of them.

“Ri, that’s exactly the problem.” Davan burst in, frustrated and deeply bothered. “My point is that death should never be the default solution, and that you treat it far too casually.” He reached out to his lover, clearly imploring. “I’ve killed people myself. I know. Every death damages your soul in some way. Sometimes…” He hesitated then, and a dark cloud passed over his own expression. “Sometimes in a way that never heals.”

Derick was up in a heartbeat, crossing the room only to gather the renowned Lord Protector of Exile’s Rest up against his chest like he was comforting a child. It was truly something to see. “I don’t know who you killed that left this mark on your mind, Azimuth, but I am sure they deserved it. I trust your judgement. And as for my own killings… Dear One, I have killed exactly nine people. Most of them I can name, and all of them actively intended to kill you. I do not regret their deaths in the slightest, as killing them made things safer for you. I will not promise to stay my hand if you are in danger, but that has so far been the only thing I have killed for.”

Davan was silent at that, but Liura wanted to dig a little deeper into this. Otherwise it would continue to weigh on her friend’s mind.

“When did you decide to kill the first one? And how did you do it?” She asked, leaning slightly forward in her curiosity.

Derick shrugged. “I didn’t really decide, I just did.” He replied. “I was so very furious with them all for plotting against Davan, and my back was still wrecked, so I snuck out to go down to our hidden spot by the river. Jeremiah followed me, kept trying to feed me the mead he brought, and eventually tried to grope me. I was so disgusted with him I just kicked out his bad knee, grabbed the back of his head, and drowned him. Everyone assumed he got drunk and fell in, even my father. That was when I realized I could get rid of them all in supposed accidents, and the only one that might catch on would be my father. By then, though, I’d already have turned the public opinion tide. It became my purpose in life, as retribution for ever seeking to harm Davan.” He looked down and pulled Davan’s dark head further in, curling about the bigger man in an obviously protective gesture. “I didn’t think he’d ever find out about it, though. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Ri, I…” Davan began, but Liura had heard enough. While Derick might place Davan’s wellbeing too highly, Davan himself most definitely placed it too lowly.

“What if we remove Davan from the question?” She interrupted. Both men turned to look at her.

“It’s a matter of principle, Liura, changing the details doesn’t fix that.”

“Why on earth would we do that?”

They spoke over each other, united in their opinion that the suggestion was a stupid idea.

Liura, however, didn’t care what they thought of her idea. She was going with it anyway. “We remove Davan from the equation. What we’re left with is a traumatized and brutalized adolescent who had saved another youth at great personal cost who was still actively being harmed by the grown adult aggressors. During an attempted rape related to the first attack he defended himself, resulting in the death of the attacker. He then realized that he had the power to prevent them from hurting others, and he used it. Are you really going to stay mad at that child for seeking revenge, Davan? Or at the adult he became for not regretting those deaths? And Derick made a good point as well: His hands are much cleaner than either of ours.”

Davan’s brow creased in contemplation that rapidly shaded to unhappiness as he considered the situation from that point of view. She could almost see the moment he realized he agreed with her.

Derick, on the other hand, immediately and predictably lept to Davan’s defence.. “Don’t you say that about Davan!” He insisted. “His soul is the sort of incandescent that no mortal sin could tarnish. It is definitely brighter than mine.”

“Ri.” Davan whined, burying his face in one hand while the other snuck around to hold his lover close. Liura was sure his ears would be red if she could only see them. “That’s… Entirely incorrect. You have no idea what I’ve done in the years since we were youths. Liura knows that part of me better than you. I’ve killed… many, many more than your nine.”

“You’ve done what you needed to.” Derick insisted, his whole focus back on Davan. “Only what you needed to, with the needs of those around you and the best interests of all involved kept at the forefront of your mind. I know you did, because you could never have done otherwise. Even as a mercenary I know you were never needlessly cruel or gleeful about your skill. You were backed into a corner and did all you could to survive, and to keep those around you alive as well. I need no proof of it, but if you do consider this: Why did you leave the field as soon as you were able? Why found this city? Why fight so hard to give everyone as lost and hurt as you a safe place to heal and grow? When I say mortal sins cannot dull the brilliance of your soul I mean it. This includes the deaths you have dealt.”

“How about we let the Gods worry about their own scales?” Caedecus broke in, beaming at the both of them. “Their ways are not for mortal comprehension, and I feel both of you have no need to worry about that reckoning.” He reached out to lay a gentle hand on Idala’s shoulder, heedless of the sparks the Archmage was throwing out. “Instead, why don’t we head out to the practice field so Idala can let off some of her anger? I would rather not treat anyone for burns if I don’t have to, and now that she’s heard some details about who was targeting Davan when he was young and helpless she’s liable to burn the keep down.”

“An excellent idea.” Liura replied, striding towards the door. “Not you two, though!” She threw back as Davan made a move to stand up. “You stay here and have a moment. I think, after the last few weeks, you need it.”

“Azimuth?” Ri eventually questioned, running his hand through Davan’s hair. Even the echoes of the others had faded long before, but the taller man had made no move to react in any way. “Are you well?”

“I… Don’t like that Idala is upset. She doesn’t need to be. I’m fine.” He replied. Ri sighed, knowing this was going to be an ongoing discussion.

“She’s upset for you because she loves you. Like I do, like Caedecus does, like Liura does, like your whole city does. You’re easy to love, and so, so worth it. Even when it makes us sad or angry.” Ri explained, even though he knew Davan wasn’t ready to accept that truth.

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” He insisted, and Ri couldn’t help but drop a sweet kiss on his head.

“I know you don’t, Azimuth, but we will. We gladly will. You deserve to be part of a better world than anything on this mortal plane can offer. We all know that. And we all love you for trying to make the world become that better version. Even if it fails, that vision is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for. You remind us even on the bad days that things can be better, and you leave them that way in your wake just by touching the lives that you do and changing them for the better. I know you don’t see it as enough, but it’s so much more than anyone else can do.” He kissed him again, then tightened his grip. “Just… let us love you. Even if you can’t accept it for your sake, let us love you for ours. Our lives are so much better for it, even when it hurts.”

#my writing #Ri/Davan #third written part #arguing about Ri's violent tendancies

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