No You Didn't - Tumblr Posts

You have ruined my day

What do you think of this

I am broken hearted by this text tbh 💔💔💔💔 /silly

I am at this man's waist

I'm not even eye level with his fucking bellybutton

He could bowl me over on accident

Or punt me into the fucking stratosphere

Guys did y'all know what Whitty is literally 8'11 ft tall?...

Now you know!

Shitpost

he's your boyfriend, I think he WANTS to deal with you

"I can't do this today... someone hit me over the head please..."

Fates of the Fateless Ch. 4: Suspicions in Sarsaparilla

ao3

wattpad

When Grimshaw said she’d put you to work, she really meant ring you of every ounce of energy you have to offer. You were starting to think you and Tilly were the only ones actually doing anything with the amount of work that piled up. Sewing, cooking and prepping food, cleaning, ironing, grooming and feeding the horses, getting clean water from the stream half a mile away, you even had to babysit the Reverend at one point. Oh, and you better believe the second she found out you could read and write, even MORE work was put onto your plate.

We need more of this and that, but we don’t have the funds for this so we need to compensate for that. You’re doing this wrong and that wrong. No don’t do that right now I need you doing this!

It. Was. Constant. She would get so frustrated with you at times you wondered if she would pop a blood vessel. If it wasn’t for the company of the other girls pitching in on the workload, coming to your defense, and easing the tension you’re pretty sure you would’ve pulled a knife on the old crone. Or maybe on yourself with all things considered.

“Can’t you scrub any faster?”

“They’ll be clean when they’re clean, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Well, we want them cleaned by today, missy!”

Today was no different. You found yourself all by your lonesome on laundry duty while the others took care of more in camp activities. Seated by the creek, given a washing board, a bar of soap, and a mountain of dirty laundry. Miss Grimshaw making her routine trip back to you every hour or so to collect the clean batches. Looking forward to every precious moment you got to yourself.

“Stupid!” *scrub* “Grimshaw!” *scrub* “Such a!” *scrub* “BITCH!” Throwing down the unfortunate garment you inflicted your wrath upon in the sudsy wooden bucket. Straightening your back out with audible creeks from your poor spine having hunched for so long. “Ahhh… fucking hell…” your sinuses began to burn and your throat tightened painfully, emotions you’ve been suppressing bubbling up and overflowing. The beginning of what’s become a routine grieving.

“Fucking… Damn it!” a huff of restrained air, the constant dabbing away of tears. At least no one was around to see you cry your eyes out.

It wasn’t as hot in the early mornings, still cool from the freezing nights. A soft dry breeze would occasionally weave its fingers through your hair with it the distant call of a quail could be heard serenading his territory. Your pretty sure you’ve been with the group for just a little over three weeks now, it’s amazing to even think you’ve lasted this long. Even more amazing to think about how you somehow, by some miracle managed to travel into the past. Well… your pretty sure that’s what this is. Maybe you’re in a coma right now having a trippy dream sequence as you slowly decay in a hospital bed. Or maybe it’s like those comic books with alternate universes.

Whatever it is, it’s bullshit. What the hell are you supposed to do now?

Work, work so you don’t have to think. You make a grab at the pile of soiled clothes, a green button-down shirt this time. Undoing any buttons and turning out pockets before making the sudsy plunge. Pausing to take in a stain. It was dark. A reddish brown, splattered on the left side and across the front. You almost wouldn’t have seen it had the light not caught it at just the right angle. The way it was thrown against the fabric like the wearer was caught in a liquid explosion. Too dark to be a whiskey stain, lacked the smell of any type of food or drink.  It almost looked like…

Blood

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

Annabelle had been working on the same stubborn stitch work since the morning began. Course the little breaks to sneak a quick kiss and sweet whispers with Dutch certainly hasn’t made the process any faster. But he’d been out of camp for a couple days and she’d missed his warmth every second he was gone.

“What do you think of the new girl?” Bessie was at work putting the freshly cleaned clothes that Susan would drop off onto the line to dry, strung up between the extended branches of the mature Junipers. “She’s awfully quiet.” The new girl, (y/n), had only been with them for a few weeks now. It had been an interesting ordeal to teach her so much in such a short amount of time. It was a bit baffling at how little she knew. Like she’d never done a day’s work in her life.

“I don’t blame her for her shy demeanor. I certainly wasn’t very keen on gossipin’ when my mother died.” Her thin fingers weaved the needles back and forth swiftly, dancing across the worn fabric. “She’s awfully naïve, even for her age.”

“I’m guessin’ she came from quite the wealthy family. Her hands are too soft and delicate to be a workin’ man’s daughter. And have you seen her teeth? Beautiful!”

“I have to wonder how she came to us in such a state. She hasn’t talked about it, at all.”

“I did try to get her to talk a couple times, but she’d always find an excuse to change the subject. I’ve dropped it since.” Bessie left the damp clothes to dry and now turned her efforts to folding the finished ones. Finding her place next to Annabelle. “I figure she’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Making the final stitch before the thread became too short to continue, Annabelle reached for another spool from her kit. “Damn! I’m outta thread.” She’d been working on one of Dutch’s more pristine shirts, now missing the necessary shade of white thread to properly repair it. “Looks like I’ll be runnin’ into town.”

“Oh, what a shame! Clearly, you’ll need me to make sure you don’t get caught up in a shoppin’ spree.” Bessie settled a hand on her chest, eyes cast over at Annabelle in a sarcastic manner.

“It’ll feel good just to get outta camp for a moment. Been stuck here too long!” With a groan and a stretch of her arms, Annabelle stood surveying the other residents in camp. “You know what, let’s bring some of the others with us, no doubt it’ll perk up their spirits.”

“Arthur! Oh Arthur!” Bessie called to the young man who sat upon his old worn cot, scribbling away in that precious book of his. “Would you be a dear and go retrieve little miss (y/n) down by the creek? Poor thing’s been cooped up for too long.”

“Alright, but Grimshaw better not have my head for taking away her best worker.” Shuffling to his feet stuffing his journal into the safety of his bag, away from prying eyes. Approaching his trusted and actively excited mare, her dark brown eyes focused on his every step, ears perked and alert. “Hey there girl, you gettin’ antsy?” He received a soft whinny in response, her soft lips nibbling at his hand while his other was preoccupied at patting her long nose adorned by a white stripe that contrasted with her lovely dark rusty hair. “Aww me too, come on let’s go!”

The distance to the creek wasn’t far, but it was certainly a lot faster and easier by horse back. Arthur hadn’t really had a lot of encounters with the new girl, and when he did, they were short and not all that verbal. A soft hello or good morning, but it usually ended there. Whether from shyness or being too busy to really have a conversation, he wasn’t sure. She looked to be about the same age as him, give or take a couple years. Thinking back to the tidbits he over heard from Bessie and Annabelle, she was a little odd. Beyond that of a potential rich girl, he had his doubts about that. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but there was something different about her. A feeling in the back recesses of his mind and in his gut that caused him to feel a certain curiosity about her. Something… foreign.

Eventually his eyes found themselves on said woman, crouched and unmoving from her place by the creek. The sun’s rays reflecting off the shimmering colors hidden in strands of her hair.

He was unsure of how to approach her, someone so quiet and mysterious. “Uh… Miss (y/n)? The girls want to head into town if you’d like to join them-” She jumped a considerable amount, nearly made him flinch a bit himself. Eyes turned to him warily and wide over her shoulder. She’d been crying again. “Are you alright?”

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

“Are you alright?”

It was Arthur. The muscle, the young buck, a potential danger. A top a tall rusty red horse that towered above you, calm and curious at your personage. You realize you’ve been staring at him silently for a little too long.

“Yes.” You squeak out a reply, obviously anything but alright. Your eyes snap back to the bloody garment still in your grasp, tight and taught between strained fingers. This looks like it would fit Arthur. “That would be lovely actually…”

Arthur remained silent a spell. The babbling creek the only sound to fill the space before he spoke again.

“Alright well… hop on up and I’ll give you a ride.” His hand extended for your own, rough and calloused. Some red dirt colored the underside of his nails. Yet, his touch was gentle as he lifted you just behind him. Gripping the very edges of his shirt with your fingers tips for balance trying desperately to keep from touching him. His pistol seemingly glowed in your peripheral.

Shoot fellas as need shootin’

Dutch’s words echo in your head. Your mind wonders to how often you’ve observed the men leave camp, sometimes for days at a time. The quiet whispers between one another quickly silenced as you come within ear shot. Subtle glances over their shoulders to watch for you, only for you. You always felt there was something suspicious about these people.

“Ah there she is!” Annabelle’s dimples became extra pronounced as she smiled. She’d always been so kind to you. They’d all been so kind to you. Fed you, clothed you, sheltered you. Welcoming you into their family. “We’re all saddled up and ready to go.” She and Bessie were sat upon their horses, alongside them upon their own steeds were Tilly, Uncle, and to your surprise Swanson. “Considerin’ she don’t got a horse, would you mind comin’ to town with us too Arthur?”

“Sure, wouldn’t be a problem.” His sure coming out more like ‘shoa’, “figure Dutch would want me to keep an eye on you lot anyhow.”

“Wonderful! Let’s be off!” They quickly formed a line, leaving you and Arthur to follow from the rear, just behind Swanson. “My poor girl Peach here’s been just achin’ to stretch her legs,” Annabelle patted the neck of her orange tan looking palomino, “I’mma buy you extra treats.” She pressed a kiss to Peach’s head.

“You spoil that horse, Annabelle. She’s gonna be expectin’ bubble baths and chocolates if you keep this up.” Bessie’s horse was a dappled grey horse, his legs were a much darker shade that bled into his ashy torso.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think Arthur spoils Boadicea more than Annabelle.” Tilly’s was a rosy blonde, a white sock on each foot.

“Boadicea puts in a lot of work, she deserves it.” Arthur replied in a semi embarrassed tone.

“Have you boys been prospectin’ work in town?” Annabelle pipes up again.

“Sort of, we’ve been...” he pauses, you get the feeling he’s choosing his next words carefully, “picking up odd jobs here and there. Dutch wants to look into a nearby copper mine to the north west to see if the men there need extra hands.”

Suspicious

“Oh yes, he’s been talking about that for the past couple nights now. He seems awful excited about it.” Annabelle peaks her head towards the back.

“Cause he’s been ahead of the game with Colm and his brother. Apparently, they haven’t been all that happy with his meddlin’ in their affairs.” Arthur chuckles. “All the more reason for him to meddle.”

Suspicious

Uncle pipes up this time. “He won’t be so high and mighty if those two idiots decide they’ve had enough of his meddlin’.” Uncle’s horse was unique in the fact that it donned a lovely mustache upon its lip. “Our line of work ain’t exactly known for friendly competition.”

Suspicious

“And we’ve gotten into enough fights to know they let their pistols do the talkin’.” There’s a level of concern in Uncle’s voice, one you haven’t heard before.

“Ain’t much different from everyone else then.” Arthur sighs.

They’re being careful, you can tell. Deliberately stuffing the words they want to say back down their throats to keep you in the dark. You just know it.  Your curiosity gnawing at you, barely registering the next words spoken are your own.

“What kind of work do you guys do?” You can tell you’ve caught them off guard by the span of time it takes for Bessie to speak up.

“We have many trades, but I suppose you could call my Hosea an entrepreneur.” She emphasizes the last word with a little flare of the tongue.

“An entrepreneur in what?” you’ve caught them off guard again.

“Everything and anything! He’s really quite poor at setting his mind to one occupation.”

Annabelle quickly jumps into the conversation, a bit too eager to reassure the situation. “Dutch is the same way! It’s why they work so well together.” Well shit, that doesn’t really tell you anything.

You were so tempted to dig at them some more, maybe just dump the knowledge of the bloody shirt on them to see how they’d react. Maybe with the girls here, it would be less likely you’d be shot in the head for asking too many questions. But the sight of the town finally within reach caused you to hold your tongue for a little longer.

This town was bigger than Sandy Hollow, not by much but it had a lot more to offer in both people and shops. The heat from a forge blasted your right side as you passed a black smith, one man hammering away at his next project, surrounded by mining gear. An information desk could to seen with big bold letters that read Workers Wanted, inquire within, and with it a long line of men that trailed out the door and into the street. A saloon with a boisterous amount of laughter and music traveled down the street, women could be seen chatting it up with a good group of men, Uncle quickly became one of them. And of course, a general store that the rest of you came to a halt just outside of its busy opening.

“Ooo! I can see some lovely fabrics in the window!” Annabelle excitedly hitched peach before she quickly trotted up the wooden stairs. Bessie and Tilly followed in haste.

Swanson, who was ever so quiet the entirety of the trip down here timidly announced his plans, “I’ll be over at the Doctor’s office next door.”

“Back still givin’ you trouble?” Arthur inquired as he helped you down to the ground.

“More often than not, ugh!” He let out a grunt as he ungracefully dismounted his horse, stumbling a bit before he waddled off. His hand cradling his lower back.

A soft bell chimed as you and Arthur entered the store, a mixture of smells hit you the second you bypassed the doorway. Coffee, cheese, bread, tobacco. You list off everything that comes into your sight. Penny candy, chocolate, alcohol, cigarettes. Tilly was looking at a book that sat on the counter and Arthur could be seen observing the different kinds of coffee they had on display. You caught sight of Bessie and Annabelle chatting it up with the shop keeper whose arms were already overflowing with fabric spools to show the two ladies. An array of patterns unraveled and laid out as they smiled and pointed. I should buy some new clothes.  

“Um excuse me sir, but do you have any clothes I can look at?” God you’re hoping they have pre-made outfits here.

“Just take a look in the catalogue.” He was pretty monotone about it. Throwing his head in the direction of Tilly who in turn looked at you, a small smile on her face as she scooted over to make room for you.

“Gettin’ tired of the hand me downs?” After your horrifying first meeting and an array of apologies on your part, she’s been a lot more comfortable around you.

“Well, I feel bad having to borrow so much from you all.” Each turn of a page only showcasing more men’s wear. “I’d also like to have something of my own for once.” Finally, you came upon a small section of women’s clothing modeled by cute little drawings.

“What in the hell is a frock?” you whisper to yourself.

“It’s a dress.” she scoffs a bit “How in the world did you manage to survive before we took you in?” While you appreciated the tenderness the others had with you, you just couldn’t help appreciating Tilly’s nonchalant attitude with you even more.

“I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you all.” You smirk, “I wasn’t exactly raised to live outside. Or how to do…” you wave your hand in the air. “Any of this.” You remember the look you got from Tilly the first time you had to ask how to take a shit in the wilderness. Or the ridicule you got from William for not knowing how to ride a horse. “It’s incredibly frustrating to be so helpless and… pathetic.” Your eyes catch a simple dark blouse that looked the least confining.

Tilly’s voice comes out a lot softer and quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. “I hear you crying sometimes.” Damn, and you thought you were being so sneaky about it. “More often than not.” You wonder if your eyes were still puffy from earlier. “Whatchu been through isn’t something you can just move on from so easily.” If only she knew how right she was. “If you ever wanna talk about it, I’m willin’ to listen.”

You keep your eyes glued to the page for a moment before meeting hers, despite her comforting words, the feeling in your gut is relentless. You’re not sure you can trust these people. Not even Tilly.

“Thank you, Tilly, I really appreciate that.” You flash her a small smile, “If and when that day comes, I’ll take you up on that offer. For now… Can you help me with sizing?”

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

Arthur didn’t really need anything in shop, he did however give into the more expensive coffee. Curious to see if it’s worth the extra quarter. Now hunkered down on the outside bench reading the paper as the rest of the women went about their shopping. The occasional patron coming and going as he was caught up in the relatively obscure news of the somehow even wilder wild west.

Strange lights seen over the Clifton ranch followed by cattle mutilations, “not of this world” states Ashton Clifton.

A mysterious naked woman suspected to be in cahoots with string of robberies. “She hypnotized me with her bosom” claims deputy Alden.

Guardsman pass hotspot for local disappearances.

Collapse of tunnel traps 15 men at Bingham copper mine, “nothing we can do except pray they depart peacefully” Foreman Albertson to crack down on safety regulations.

Seems he and the gang managed to keep their name out of the infamous spotlight this time, over shadowed by some of the most entertaining and batshit crazy news he’s seen in a long time. Come to think of it, he recalls a real nasty looking storm passing over them at some point. Something unnatural about those pitch-black clouds.

Strange times indeed.

Folding the paper to rest on his leg to light a fresh cigarette a bustle of noise drew his eye to the saloon. A man had been tossed out into the dust, clearly beyond buzzed and stumbling to his feet angrily. The man hobbled toward his direction before struggling a bit to not fall down the wooden stairs that led to the General store. He reeked of booze and the sour acidic traces of vomit. Mumbling to himself as he managed to make it to the door. Arthur simply side eyed him as he sucked in a drag of the sweet earthy tobacco. The warmth filling his lungs a moment before he let out the euphoric exhale that seemed to melt the stress off his shoulders. Closing his eyes to relish in the moment.

“You mind if I join you Mr. Morgan?” A flutter of his lashes revealed the sad visage of Swanson back from his trip to the doctor. His eyes glazed and dazed. No doubt with a new prescription of morphine. Arthur simply nodded his head to the empty space next to him. Swanson took the invitation.

“I see you’ve taken a liking to morphine.” Arthur closed his eyes again, breathing in another drag.

The Reverend had the unfortunate habit of getting stuck in dangerous situations. Usually with bad people looking to take advantage of his naïve thinking. Other times it was himself that put him in terrible situations. A pattern of impulsive acts as a result of some sort of panic induced overthinking. But he always managed to get out relatively unharmed. Usually, the result of Arthur or the other members intervening in a violent way.

“It’s the only thing to relieve me of this pain.” The Reverend lets out a long sigh of relief, seemingly melting into his seat. Arthur suspects he’s talking about more than just his back.

“Hm… Just don’t make it a habit.” Arthur mutters out halfheartedly. The sound of muffled voices behind glass could be heard raising in volume. Just enough to cause the glass to slightly vibrate. Turning his gaze to the inside of the store he could spot the store owner panicked and nervous, his hands up, slightly hunched over trying to coax the drunk he’d seen earlier to put his gun down. “Goddammit…” Quickly snuffing out his cigarette under his boot he stood quickly. “You stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Just put the gun down Philip! There’s no need for that!”

“Shuddup yew-yew-yew basterd! If I wanna drink it’s my right!” The drunk by the name of Philip didn’t notice Arthur’s entrance, tall, broad, and angry. Bessie and Annabelle were huddled in the corner wide eyed and unsure of what to do. The new girl huddled Tilly behind her taking cover behind the counter, peaking out over the top shaking like a leaf.

“They cut you off because yer gonna drink yerself to death!”

“Hey!” Arthur roared everyone’s heads turned towards him, “If you don’t put the gun down it ain’t gonna be drinkin’ that kills you.” His voice low and gravelly.

“Shuddup yew dum-dumb sonnavabitch!” Philip turns his gun towards Arthur, swaying a bit as his glazed over eyes struggled to focus on him. It only took Arthur three good strides before he smacked the gun out of his hands clattering to the ground loudly before sliding out of view, swinging his arm back around to back hand the man who stumbled a few steps. The guy was big, fat and bulky. He had to of been drinking an excessive amount to get this drunk.

“I-I’ll show yew-yew-yew fucker!” he swung back, narrowly missing Arthur as the young man retaliated with a quick upper cut to the jaw. It was amazing to see just how smooth Arthur danced around each bulky swipe, jabbing and winding with such grace and professionalism before he landed one final shot to Philip’s nose bridge knocking him clean out with a loud thud.

“Holy shit!” (y/n) blurted.

“Well-I-I—Thank you so much sir!” The shopkeeper’s eyes flit back and forth from Arthur to the body now slumbering on his floor, unsure of what to do with himself before he visibly relaxes. Finally collecting himself to shake Arthur’s hand. “You saved our lives!”

“Naw, I just put a drunk in his place.” Arthur brought his eyes back to the lump of lard that snored on the wooden floor. “You girls alright?” Bessie and Annabelle quickly swarmed him gushing praise.

“Arthur you’re our hero!” Bessie planted a big smooch to his cheek before pinching them with a big proud smile on her face. “Hosea’s gonna be so proud of you!”

“Oh, we would’ve been full a holes without you Arthur!” Annabelle had a hand over her heart, cheeks flushed red from the excitement and pupils blown wide.

He could feel the rush of blood fill his face in embarrassment, “I-I was just protectin’ our own.” he cleared his throat averting his eyes to his shoes. Tilly’s feet came into view.

“You’re a real hero, Arthur!” she squeezes his arm in appreciation.

“Alright alright! If yer done shoppin’ let’s get outta here before I leave you all behind.” All this praise is suffocating. “How much we owe ya.” He asked the storekeeper.

“Nothing! Everything you need is on the house.” He was quick to wrap up everything up in neat piles tied with twine, the girls each carrying their respective packages out the door. Chatting away while (y/n) ever quiet seemed especially careful with her bundle, arms encasing it tight and close to her chest. Arthur followed her out last.

“Well damn! What did you idiots do?” Uncle managed to make his way over, of course only when the trouble has already been dealt with.

“Shut up old man, we’re leavin’.”

“Already? I was just startin’ to have fun.”

A close relative of the Osprey, the Sassprey hunts by the novel method of witty cutdowns and biting sarcasm in order to thoroughly demoralize their prey. While ordinarily this would not be so unusual, what sets the Sassprey apart is the choice of prey: they only hunt animals with inflated egos and undeserved authority.

no way i went from being in my dom bag an hour ago to immediately folding and getting into my subby bag as soon as i get on here

pro tip: when dealing with the fae, put on a weird ass accent

"i owe you my life"

should sound the same as

"A oh yuu mee leaf"

so when the fae tries to collect the debt... you can just reach into your pocket and offer a nice and crunchy leaf. Just As Promised. (:

The king (Mo’s dad): That sound is so awful, it makes me want to kill someone but I can’t tell if it makes me want to commit suicide, homocide or both.

The trumptus. bwaaah

*panthea explodes*

Forever

(picture does not belong to me)

Forever is a long, long time away, Where rainbows dance and dandelions sway, In a far unfound land of joy unknown, A place I wish to call home.

Forever is the time you look into me, A moment, a glance, but forever seems To pass as untold words dance in your eyes, Will I hear them all before I die?

Forever is the song that played in the room, I danced and twirled and my eyes fell on you, Were you watching me sway, did you enjoy the view? Did you know I was watching you too?

Forever is a blue moon, I'm waiting to see, It's the time I want you to spend with me, It's the number of words I want to hear you say, Forever is how long I'll to wait.

Forever is a memory, blurred on the edge, Back when we were only friends, A time of laughter I'll never regret, Did you know I'd love you back then?

Forever is a confession whispered to the dark, The anxious fears that Cupid missed his mark, Dreams of a life I know not to expect, Yet still hoping for the best.

Forever are fingers pressed close, A silent thrill, a mental boast, A giddy giggle to my nearest friend, a feeling I never want to end.

Forever is trying to take the next step, But too scared to jump off this ledge, Freefalling down to drunk cloud nine, To rooted on the ground, too scared to fly.

Forever is a smile that never quite disappears, A bad joke that chases away my tears, It's doing everything I can do, To spend the rest of my forever with you.

me, listening to music: ah man I need to think about my characters to this

Did you know that that Wolfgang Chotek shares a birthday with Napoleon Bonaparte?!

his eyes are actually so round and soft I’ll die

based off a dumb discord conversation

We need to talk about the men in MK1

Wow.

WOW.

I really don't understand how they managed to make everybody SO BLOODY ATTRACTIVE?!

Even characters like Reptile were made into Boyfriend material.

Kenshi is a babe. That's it. That's the statement - he's a babe. His attractiveness ascends my language abilities to articulate how attracted I am to him in this game.

And Johnny - SO DAMN FINE! They struck the perfect balance of all Johnny's qualities with the features of a young Harrison Ford (which my followers will know has a certain power over me). Also I love that they made Johnny a hot nerd - who doesn't love a man that was ready to just dive into ancient Japanese history during a conversation.

And of course my dear Kuai Liang SERVED LOOKS in this game - I could cut my hand on his jawline...

This game has made me PRIMAL in ways that are dangerous to my psyche... but am I going to stop panting over the thirst traps that are Kenshi Takahashi and Johnny Cage? No.

Under the cut, I'm going to put more details reason's about why and how I want these fictional men to rail me which will probably make more sense to me followers but by all means, feel free to read! (But I will warn, it gets explicit so reader discretion is advised)

The amount I desire these men to dominate me is just unhealthy but let's get back to basics.

So those of you who have followed me for a bit (or I guess just looked at my page) will know that I have loved Kuai Liang and Hanzo since MKX. In MKX, I also had the hots for Kenshi and Johnny but not to the same degree. Then MK11 came out, obviously Kenshi isn't in it. I liked Older Johnny but not younger Johnny. As for Liang and Hanzo, I liked them a lot but not as much as MKX.

Then this DAMN game was released and like the timeline, the whole playing field was reset.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Kuai Liang in this game: he gives off such tender Lover vibes that I just want to stay in his arms ALL DAY. I mentioned that jawline right? I loved him and I love what they did with the familial relationships between him, Bihan and Tomas. When it was first announced that Kuai Liang was going to be Scorpion, I wasn't thrilled since, in my heart, that will always belong to Hanzo. They landed it tastefully but I still miss him as Sub Zero. Overall, I loved Kuai Liang in this game but Kenshi and Johnny were on another level.

Kenshi. KENSHI. The hold this man has over me. I can't tell if I want to be tender with him or animalistic: I genuinely go from "I want to remove his blindfold and kiss his scarred eyes, reminding him how much I love him while softly running my fingers through his hair" to "I want Kenshi to remove his blindfold and tie me to the bed, reminding me that I'm his toy to play with in any way he sees fit while fingering me with his tattooed hands- OH. HIS HANDS. I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I WANT TO SUCH ON HIS FINGERS WHILE HE CALLS ME A GOOD GIRL. I AM SO SUBMISSIVE TO THIS MAN THAT IT'S NOT HEALTHY.

I think out of all the characters, I was most impressed by the characterisation of Johnny. Don't get me wrong, Mileena, Sindel, Baraka, Syzoth all got the storylines and re-characterisation they deserve but with Johnny I was more impressed because less changed about him. Like I said, I've always been a bit hit-or-miss with Johnny but this Johnny was perfection. Immediately making him a hot history nerd rather than an airhead was brilliant, it gave a depth to Johnny that I've never seen and it played off Kenshi perfectly. It's kind of like when you're with a group of people and a random topic you love comes up and suddenly you go on a 10 minute rant about why it's fascinating before realising everyone is just staring at you in confusion: it made Johnny so much more relatable. Also I love the sense of humour they went for in this game with Johnny. In prior games, I sometimes felt like Johnny was trying too hard to be funny for other people but in this game, Johnny is unintentionally hilarious and his jokes are mostly for himself and I love it. The first time I saw "Ripley!" I genuinely couldn't stop laughing for like 5 minutes. Also his beloved Hichulli, peak comedy. But let's get to the juicy stuff: HIS DESIGN. YES PLEASE, SIGN ME THE HELL UP FOR IT. I want to just cover his face in kisses. I want him to cover my face is kisses. Also his nose... I mean, I'm sure you guys have noticed that I like prominent noses and Johnny's when I saw his made me go red. MK1 Johnny going down on someone would be an ethereal experience (especially since he never stops talking which I might request a fic for) and part of that experience would be the nose. Just general though, the facial shape, the hair, the nose, the jawline: it all slays, just like Johnny.

So now having read all this, you can see why I don't let myself talk about the men of MK1: I just become a whore. This game opened my eyes to kinks I have NEVER been into cough cough threesome with Johnny and Kenshi cough cough blade play using Sento with Kenshi cough cough recorded sex with Johnny cough cough... In summation: this game has reduced me from a somewhat mentally adjusted young woman to a neanderthal that wants to be breeded by two fictional men called Kenshi Takahashi and Johnny Cage.

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO BANGCHAN and my baby brother

gosh i love getting asks (pls fill up my mailbox T-T)

Anyways, I'm writing a Michael Jackson fanfic. =3 With him pairing with an oc of mine. =3 And I'll be posting it on ao3, since I'm scared to post it on wattpad because the oc is a transfem oc. =3 And it's a smut. =333 I don't know what I'm doing with my life. =3

Posted it. =3

Anyways, I'm writing a Michael Jackson fanfic. =3 With him pairing with an oc of mine. =3 And I'll be posting it on ao3, since I'm scared to post it on wattpad because the oc is a transfem oc. =3 And it's a smut. =333 I don't know what I'm doing with my life. =3

man, the desire to rail someone is strong tonight.

time to make a playlist and lose myself in my imagination