#( crack . ) \ / puny god .

[mischiefmodig]

❝ if you don't have the will to die, how can you possibly expect to have the will to live, either? ❞

[recreationalfanfics]

yandere Buddha, Poseiden, and Thor fall in love with a sea goddess darling that already has a husband.

Maybe add a "please" next time but I get what you mean!

I also decided to make it that the husband is a mortal, just for that extra bit of spice.

Yandere! Buddha:

Before Buddha joined the Valkyrie's side, you were one of the Gods who openly protested against the destruction of humanity. Buddha already had his eye on you but this only confirmed deep in his mind that you...you were absolutely perfect. You were always so graceful and elegant, taking everything in stride. When the God's side jeered and hissed at you, you still kept your head high and winked playfully at the human's side. When Buddha announced he was fighting for humanity, it was you who greeted him first.

"I knew you were different," You smiled kindly, "I'm glad the power of being a God didn't go to your head."

Your praises brought a smile to his face, and he chuckled at your words.

"I could say the exact same to you." He retorted. You shrugged, "I mean, of course I would. My husband is a human after all!"

....H...Had he heard you correctly?

You had a husband? Buddha's heart fell in his chest but his face remained it's usual relaxed expression. You thank him again for his allegiances and leave him standing by himself in the middle of the hallway. He chomped down on the lollipop in his mouth and a small muffled "crack" could be heard, his eyes hardening and brimming with the ugliest emotion a human and a God could have...

Jealousy.

- Buddha isn't against humanity, he's just got a thing against your husband specifically. This is shown whenever you bring him around and such and Buddha will always smile at you and nod his head respectfully to your husband but...something is off about his aura. Something that makes your husband anxious but nod back with a timid smile.

- Pathetic. Puny. Weak. Unfit. Unworthy. UNFAIR. These were all the words that would pop into Buddha's head whenever he saw you with your lover. The way you smiled at him, the way you laughed at his jokes, the affectionate kisses and embraces that he wishes so badly to be his.

- What attracted you to him? What is it that you saw in him? While Buddha appreciates the uniqueness of all mortals, this man was absolutely the most boring and normal person he's ever met. So how...how could he have captured your divine heart?

- Was it just because he was human? If so, Buddha used to be human too! He wonders if he still was one, he would be the one by your side. He would be the one who gets to wake up next to you and hold you tenderly in his arms.

- But he wouldn't be able to protect you, as well. In fact, neither was your husband. The more Buddha thought about it, the more angrier he got. He's glad that you chose to fight for Humanity but if HE were your husband, he wouldn't have made you fight. He would've volunteered himself instead, regardless of his power or strength or not.

- During your match, he glares at your husband as he cheers you on and watches you fight instead of being in your place and doing it himself. Every injury you receive, Buddha blames it on your husband who yelled your name and was clearly concerned...just not concerned enough to switch places with you.

- Buddha would have done so if it wasn't for Brunhilde, who seemed to notice his behavior was rather odd as of late, so she kept near him to keep an eye on him. So instead, Buddha just glares at your so-called "lover" as he silently calls him a coward in his head.

- Buddha would try to break you two up, he knows he shouldn't be meddling in your relationship but he'll try to plant seeds of doubt in both your mind and your husband's until one of you can finally see reason and break it off with the other.

- "Humans don't live as long as we do, you know?"/ "It must be hard being married to a Goddess, it must be hard to understand her at times." are all things he says.

- He wouldn't outright kill your husband, maybe set him up to be killed, but never kill him himself because he knows that if you ever found out, you'd never forgive him and that risk was too great.

- So he'll be patient, manipulating the both of you with doubt and planting new insecurities in hopes to make your relationship crack and crumble. If not, he could always play the long game and wait for your little human to die...wouldn't it be a shame if you expected his puny little soul to come to you, only to find out it mysteriously went to Niflhiem?

- It would be so devastating for you, poor thing. Don't worry, your beloved ally Buddha was here to comfort you and be your shoulder to cry on. Unlike your husband, he has all of eternity to make you his.

Yandere! Poseidon:

You and Poseidon may have been sea gods, but you two were extremely different in how you ruled your shared element. You represented the beauty of water, the elegance of the calm waves splashing along the coast, and the balance between all life and plants that grew. Poseidon was the harsh tidal waves and tsunamis that destroyed everything in sight, the harsh storm that sunk the ships of many, and his love for you was as deep and dark as the trenches that lay at the very bottom.

"Poseidon, I wish to have a word with you." You spoke through gritted teeth. The prideful God only stopped walking away from you but he turned his head to the side to silently let you know he was listening. You cut to the chase, "My husband nearly had another fatal accident when he was sailing. I had made it so the conditions were safe and peaceful for him, but suddenly it all changed without warning. Were you responsible?"

"Yes." He responds truthfully and instantly, unfazed by your irritated expression, "That is the risk you take when you have a mortal lover, humans die everyday."

"So do sudden changes in the sea happen everyday the exact moment my husband is too far from me to help?" You shot back.

Poseidon smirks and then turns his head forward, continuing to walk away from you.

"If you're so concerned about your husband, maybe tell him to avoid the seas." He responds coldly before thinking to himself, and the Goddess that watches over it.

- Poseidon knew about your husband from the start, he was there to witness your disgusting little love story play out in front of him and trust him when he said he tried to stop it. Tried to stop YOU from making the biggest mistake of your life.

- He knew mortals had a short life span and that, in God years, he wouldn't have to wait horribly long for your little human pet to die but it was unbearable. That rotten worm shouldn't even be able to breathe near you, nevermind, share your bed and feel your love.

- The God of the Sea had harbored feelings for you for so long, he did not pine and yearn for you in silence just so some wretched little ant can have you!

- It really is unfortunate for your poor husband that the one God who was practically obsessed with you had a burning hatred for humanity as well and he'd make it known without any shame.

- Everytime you call him out or speak against him for it, he doesn't address you, but your husband as he glares at the trifling little welp and says: "Must you always have her fight your battles, shrimp? You're her husband, aren't you?"/ "Poseidon, I am talking to you."/ "And I am talking to the useless little worm that you chose over me!"

- Poseidon is indeed petty because while he does love you, you've also badly injured his ego. Why not him? He was strong, powerful, and beautiful. You both even ruled over the seas, together, you'd be such a beautiful and powerful couple! But no, you had to be foolish and pick a mortal as your lover.

- Poseidon will end that human's life span whether you like it or not because in his mind, he is not the interloper in the relationship. It is your husband that is standing between him and you and the God of the Sea doesn't take kindly to obstacles that keep him from your side.

- He wasn't surprised like other Gods when you had chosen to defend humanity. He was disgusted and dissapointed, but not surprised.

- He will not interfere in your battle at first. He's rather smug whenever the God you're fighting with lands a hit on you and he shoots your husband a look. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic that the only thing the measly being can do is yell words of encouragement. When an injury seems a little too brutal, Poseidon will then interfere in the fight, DARING the other gods to oppose him.

- "Remember this moment, (Y/n). Remember how it was me who stepped in and not the husband that claims to love you so much. Think about this every night you lay next to him about how I had to save you and he was ready to stay on the sidelines and willing to watch you die."

- You are his. He is yours. This not a delusion that his mind created (even though it is), it is a cold hard fact. One that you and your disgusting cowardly lover need to see. He will not stop until he has you or until your lover is dead, or both.

Yandere! Thor:

Thor always felt his icy indifference melt when it came to you, someone who wasn't easily intimidated by his aloof demeanor and actually seemed to enjoy being around him. Perhaps your conversations where one sided, perhaps he didn't seem as excited to see you as you saw him, but you knew. You knew he had to love you, right?

Apparently not, because you only viewed him as a close friend and as a result, he was invited to your wedding ceremony as a guest of honor. For all those countless centuries of "friendship" you two had shared, centuries that meant more to him than mere friendship. Yet, he still attended your seaside wedding and to at least get a glimpse of the God who had stolen you away. Only to realize it was no God, but a human.

A small insignificant human.

You had the God of Thunder at your feet but you kicked him aside for some weak little human!?

He's cold and icy, per usual from everyone else's perspective, but you sensed something was off about it and how it wasn't his usual behavior. You always knew Thor better than most people. Yet, you brushed it off in favor of getting married to the small insignifact little lover of yours, and Thor watched with rage boiling in him as you both sealed your vows with a kiss.

His kiss.

The one he should've shared with you.

- Unlike the other two who try to interfere with your relationship, Thor will not. He is a man of honor and will respect your marriage...to the best of his ability.

- And unlike the other husband's from the last two scenarios, the one you had was a fighter. A good and strong one at that, a bit reckless for his own good, but it's what balanced you two out. Thor hated to see it but even he couldn't deny that he somewhat the appeal from your perspective.

- This human was better at expressing his emotions, had long winded and endless conversations with you, and was not afraid to show his affection to you. If...If Thor had been a little more like him, a bit more expressive...then would you have chosen him?

- He'd've changed a long time ago if he had known, he would've done anything to go back in time and stop living in this Hell. He so desperately wanted you but he simply couldn't have you, not when your husband was in the picture.

- Yes, he planned on waiting for your husband to die but it felt like every single kiss and every single action of love you two shared made time painfully slow and that his heart wanted to leap out of his chest, to tell you everything in hopes he wouldn't have to wait as long as he has to.

- Thor was not good with his feelings, only able to express them freely on the battlefield. But the battlefield of love was a bit harder for him. His storms were violent and there was a pain no magic or healers could fix, a pain he was convinced would heal if he only heard the words "I love you, Thor" from your lips.

- Loki is no help, because he tries to push Thor into snapping for his own sick amusement. I mean, his own cousin and Prince of Asgard allowing his crush to be stolen away from some human who can fight good? Please, it was hilarious to think about but also, he was curious as to how what Thor would do if he just...gave him a little nudge off the edge.

- Ragnarok's arrival was the perfect time to do so. You opposed humanity's destruction and joined their side, unsurprisingly, but your husband wouldn't fight alone. He presented the idea of being chosen a champion of humanity to Brunhilde and while you were upset he did so behind your back, it was just another reason you loved your stubborn human.

- When Loki found out about this, he presented the idea to Thor who just frowned. Your husband was a man of great bravery, it was no wonder you adored him, but Loki just snickered as his stupid cousin didn't realize this could work out in his favor.

- "After all, you're too much of a goody-goody to ruin their odd little union but...it would truly be a shame if something happened to her husband if he just bit off a bit more than he could chew going against a God. (Y/n) couldn't even blame you, not if she thought you were forced to fight him."

- And he had a point. For once, Loki made sense to Thor, perfect sense. So he managed to convince his father to have him face off against your husband first.

- He stared at you, your face conflicted for it was your dearest friend against your beloved husband. He then looked at your husband, who had a determined look and a sad smile on his face. Thor already can see his soul being sent to Niflhiem, how you'd need someone to comfort you and how Thor would pretend to feel remorse but was only doing what his father expected of him, how you'd be too vulnerable and upset to be angry and collapse in his arms.

- You will finally be mine, he thinks to himself as he charges towards your poor spouse.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Masquerade of the Sinners

pairing: ???!Joshua x fallen angel fem!reader

genre: smut. minors dni.

warnings: praise, dirty talk, mentions of incubus powers, unprotected sex (stay safe), creampie, sub!reader, dom!shua, religious imagery and defilement (again), making out, manhandling, spanking, squirting, overstimulation, hair pulling, mentions of blood and murder

word count: ~1.4k

summary: keeping up the appearances to deceive humans is joshua's expertise. but you have become the perfect apprentice, the mask of innocence bearing no cracks for the humans to gaze upon.

Author's note: hello beloveds <3 had a sudden burst of inspo thanks to the shua pics from the latest fansign and decided to expand a little on Fall From Grace :)

taglist: @junkissed @shuadotcom @bitchlessdino @duhnova

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

Another Sunday, another successful preaching from the altar.

A few months ago, Joshua was gagging at the idea of faking the role of a young and kind priest, devoted to God and His words. 

But now? After exposing himself to you and defiling you in a way only his kin know best, his daily life has become way more interesting.

It’s as if the bells of Apocalypse have rung in the Heavens and the archangels decided to send horde after horde of angels to execute him. Yet every single attempt has proven futile, with the heavenly creatures ending up lifeless in a pile of blood and pearly white feathers or breathless and full of his seed.

What’s even more amusing to him is that none of the puny humans around him have caught wind of his true nature.

“Hm. How foolish.” He chuckles to himself as he closes the small Bible in his hands. He goes to the small room where he keeps his robes and the rest of the books he uses for various ceremonies and other church activities.

Speaking of activities, he still despises the choir sessions. The gospels echoing from the mouths of the choir members and bouncing off the walls of the church always give him a headache, to the point of nosebleeds.

However, seeing some of the girls attend the choir just to ogle at him and purposefully wait during after hours to talk to him in private or for…other matters makes the whole choir experience a little more tolerable.

“Aren’t you tired of fooling around with these human weaklings, Joshua?”

You stand against the closed gates, leaning your back on the heavy wood.

Joshua’s lips curl into a wicked smirk. “Good evening, my dear. What brings you here tonight?”

“You know fully well why I’m here, you demonic creature.” You walk towards the altar and reach in front of him.

“Ah, of course. You want revenge for losing your status, don’t you?”

“Not just that.” You grit your teeth.

“What else then?” He asks, feigning innocence.

You gulp audibly, shame washing over your body when you remember the first time you let him ravage you like prey caught in a trap. 

You lift your shirt and lower your pants just enough to show him the two incubus tattoos engraved on your lower pelvis - a small heart surrounded by thorns and a star underneath their junction, connecting to another, larger heart with horns protruding. 

Joshua licks his lower lip hungrily. “So that is what you’re talking about.”

“You need to remove this, now.” You demand with a steady voice.

“I’m afraid I cannot do this, sweetheart.” He glues his eyes on you, irises glowing red. “The marks of an incubus are permanent once placed upon another body.”

“Liar, you were the one who put those marks in the first place! You must know how to take them away!” You raise your voice at him.

“The only way to not have these marks is to withstand and push away the charms of an incubus, Y/N. And as far as I remember, you did nothing of the aforementioned.” 

You feel your body lighting up on fire all of a sudden, heat starting to pool in your panties. No, he can’t be right.

“That’s the Gaze. Once someone looks at you lustfully, your entire body is immediately aroused.” Joshua explains.

“M-Make it stop.” Your voice comes out weaker than it was supposed to.

“I can make it stop for a while. But are you sure you want me to, pretty angel?”

You barely manage to suppress a whimper before pulling Joshua’s body flush to yours, smashing your lips to his with a carnal fervor. 

The last time you experienced this type of fervor was when he exposed his true nature to you.

Joshua moans in your mouth and wraps his tongue around yours, his arms grabbing your waist to manhandle you towards the altar.

He breaks the kiss and pins you on the sacred place, tracing his fingers over the larger mark.

“The one below is Trigger. There are two phrases I can say to you, each one with different effects.”

“W-What phrases are they?” You ask meekly.

“I already used the first one, angel. It was just to make you a tad bit hornier. The other one will just seal the deal.” He takes off his robes and reveals his chiseled body, along with his demonic horns.

“Joshua, s-stop making me beg already!” You kick your legs at him, but he grabs them by your thighs and reaches for the hem of your pants, pulling them down until they are completely off your body.

“That will happen too, sweetheart. But I wanna have fun with you first.”

He turns you around and pushes your head down on the altar, running his hands over the curve of your ass.

“For a fallen angel, you have an ass that would make even a succubus jealous.” He spanks your ass twice and then runs his hands over your back, raising your shirt to expose the scars on your back, where your wings once existed.

“You have been so good at blending in with the humans here and attending church every Sunday like a good little lamb, listening to my preachings as if I was your God.”

You let out a loud moan as you clench around emptiness, wetness starting to drip down your thighs. Joshua rips them in half with his hands and takes out his cock, rubbing the tip between your folds.

“Shua, please, fuck me, please!” You grip the edge of the altar, begging for something inside you.

Joshua lets out a deep chuckle. “Can’t deny you when you beg so prettily.” 

He slams his cock inside you with one fluid thrust, your thighs shaking from feeling full in a split second.

“You’re taking me even better than last time, little angel. I’m impressed.” He leans his torso on your back, caging you between the cold surface and his body. “You are just so good at everything, aren’t you?”

“T-Thank you, thank you so m-much, Shua.” You answer between short sobs, body jerking forward with each thrust he delivers.

“It’s so rewarding to see you don the pretty mask of the kind newcomer who is so pure and innocent, as if you were the new guardian angel of this town.” He grips your hair and pulls it violently. “Only for me to crush it into millions of pieces every night on this damn altar, like I’ve done with your former brothers and sisters.”

Under different circumstances, you would have driven a blade of Empyrean steel through his skull, but the nearly mind-numbing pleasure has made you a pliant mess in Joshua’s hands.

And you consciously love it.

It could be the marks on your body, but ever since you fell from Heaven, you’ve been craving his touch, his gaze, his voice, his everything.

“There is something about you that makes me want to keep you for myself, away from any living being, be it human, angel or even demon.” He admits between pants, a clear signal of his impending orgasm. 

“S-Shua, I- n-”

“I know, angel, I know.” He pants and lets go of your hair to wrap his arms around your torso and lift it off the altar, flush to his chest.

“I’m cumming!” You scream on top of your lungs, voice echoing in the empty church as you reach your climax and squirt all over the altar. Joshua doesn’t stop pistoning his hips against your ass, overstimulating you on purpose.

“You look so hot when you make a mess in God’s house, little lamb.” He moans in your ear and cums inside you, painting your insides white with his load. His hand caresses the glowing womb tattoos, the red sheen matching the one emitting from his hellish eyes.

You turn your head around and kiss him, teeth and tongue messily clashing with each other.

“I c-cannot see God anymore.” You confess breathlessly.

Joshua gives you a sardonic smile as he slips out of you and rolls you on your back so you can face him in all of his glory, his cum staining your legs.

“Your God stands in front of you, little lamb.”

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 3

Content warnings: MDNI, masterbation, Anakin being a perv, exhibitionism, general sexual content

WC: 1.6k

Yet another Friday night spent home alone in your room, shocker. Your parents were out on a date and Jaden was God knows where, doing God knows who. Usually you’d be bursting at the seams with envy but tonight was different. Tonight, you were sufficiently entertained by just your thoughts- or your memories to be exact. Because yesterday, you had gotten a slice of what you’d spent so long dreaming about and it made you delirious. You paced up and down your room, listening to sickly sweet love songs and jumping around giddily, still in a state of disbelief that he had finally showed you attention.

You ought to know better than to spend hours obsessing over a mere man, but you just couldn’t help it. He had you in a vice and you knew you were willing to do anything to get another hit of him. You repetitively thought back to the way he grabbed your face when he kissed you- oh God his hands. So big and veiny, with fingers so long you were sure they could reach places you couldn’t even attempt to. His fingernails were clean and trimmed, his knuckles lightly bruised and reddened from a skirmish you wouldn’t ask about, and his palms fairly calloused from working out. Oh Lord and the way he smelled! Such a deliciously masculine scent that the bare recollection had you trailing your fingers down to your white cotton panties, pulling the frills to the side to feel your wetness.

A blush spread across your cheeks at the realisation, you’d never had such a reaction to a man, let alone the thought of a man. You didn’t even know you could get so wet, but the sounds of your soaked pussy were confirmation enough. Pulling yourself up to your headboard, you spread your legs further, the heels of your feet touching your butt cheeks. You lowered your panties down to your knees and started indulging in your thoughts. You imagined it was Anakin’s strong fingers dipping in and out of you and you bit your lip to suppress the urge to say his name. If you said it out loud then it would make it real; it would make you his for the taking. “Oh what the hell, no one’s home.” You thought before you increased the speed at which your fingers were working your core.

“Mmm, Ani…yes baby right there.” You squealed. “Fuckk Anakin.” Saying his name turned you on more than anything as you quickly worked towards becoming undone, dreaming that Ani was the one deliciously filling you up instead of it being your puny fingers. All this stimulation made you obliviously unaware to the sound of the front door opening.

Anakins’s POV:

I stepped in somewhat hesitantly with the house keys Jaden handed me: what the hell am I doing here? I should’ve let him retrieve the equipment instead of offering. Goddamn I’m a terrible person, posing as a friend fulfilling a favour when really I’m looking for any excuse to catch a glimpse of his little sister.

Remember: just get in, grab the spare amp and get out. Real simple, no distractions. I peruse through the storage room where he said I’d find the amp and cables but to no avail. Maybe they’re upstairs in his room? My mind instantly started wandering; is she home? Will I find her here in one of her short nighties, nipples glaringly visible through the satin fabric? No, I shouldn’t even be thinking like that. It’s wrong. She’s only 19 and Jaden would absolutely kill me. I reprimand myself as I trudge up the stairs to his room.

I see a faint light shining through an open crack in her door: so she is home. I contemplate whether to make my presence known but before I can reach a conclusion, I hear breathy little sounds escaping her room. Filled with equal amounts concern and curiosity, I sneak up to the top of the landing and press my ear against the wall.

“Mmm, ahh.” She coos. Is she moaning? “Ohh Ani…” And my name no less? I must be fucking hearing things. Against my better judgement, I cock my head to the open crack, still shielded by the cover of darkness and that’s when I see her. Legs spread wide open, her little panties wrapped around her ankles and her fingers playing with her clit. The lewd sounds of how wet she is fill my ears and my boxers instantly feel tighter. I need to leave right now. I need to stop watching, go back downstairs and leave the house immediately. But why are my feet still so firmly planted to the ground? God, I’m such a pervert.

The sight of her sopping wet pussy, slick smeared all over her inner thighs and the glistening reflection of it all under the soft yellow light of the lamp is something I will not soon be forgetting. Poor baby must be so pent up, a whole lifetime of being a good girl and not getting fucked the way she deserves.

Her approach to biting down on her fingers on one hand, pathetically trying to muffle her whines, while sloppily massaging her clit with the other has me contemplating joining her. How would she react? Would she freak out or would she let me help her? My thoughts are cut off by one last long moan:

“Anakin!” She screams, clear as day. There was no mistaking it. The little slut called out my name while she was cumming.

She lays there motionless and I know I should take this opportunity to sneak out now but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her. Her eyes are hazed and she looks totally fucked out; I can tell this is something she doesn’t do often. Good girls don’t touch themselves, do they?

Reader’s POV:

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel a little ashamed- though not enough to wipe the grin off your face. Oh, how good it feels to finally let go- touching yourself was not something you did often, but it was the only way you could think of to quiet your raging, all consuming thoughts about Anakin. They had been screaming at you all day and it was inevitable that it would culminate in you cumming to the thought of him.

Putting a fresh pair of panties on and pulling down your nightie, you hear creaking coming from outside the door. Grabbing your baseball bat from beside the nightstand, you cautiously approach the hallway. Kicking your door open with your foot, you’re greeted with a very startled looking Anakin, standing there with his hands up.

“Woah there! It’s just me. Put that thing down.” He chuckles and you lower your weapon, a wave of calm coming over you.

“God, Ani you scared me! What are you doing here?” You slap his chest playfully.

“Jaden sent me down from the studio to grab a spare amp, our one broke and he couldn’t be bothered to drive.” He replies softly with a knowing smile.

“His laziness reaches new heights every day.” You roll your eyes.

“I don’t mind, I offered.” He smirked and you involuntarily bite your lip. Does that mean he wanted to come see you?

“Well the equipment is all in his room. By the way, did everything go alright with the, uh, guy from yesterday?” You tried to phrase it delicately.

“That’s all been taken care of, don’t you worry your pretty head about it. But I think the better question is what have you been doing, huh? Your cheeks look awfully flushed. Are you coming down with something?” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and rubs your cheek gently.

“Yeah, I, uh think I might have a fever. Been feeling ill so I thought I’d have an early night.” You lie.

“Poor baby.” He coos and rests the back of his hand against your forehead. “You’re burning up. Let me tuck you into bed.” He ushers you back into your room, hand on your lower back, thumb massaging into your hip.

He peels back the frilly covers of your bed and lets you slide in, feigning sickness. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot your ruined panties, laying dangerously close to Anakin at the foot of your bed.

“Come on Ani, tuck me in.” You whine, attempting to get him to move away from the garment.

“Alright princess, hang on I’m getting to it.” He chuckles at your impatience and starts to push in the edges of your duvet until you’re tightly wrapped up in the soft fabric.

“There we go. Snug as a bug.” He smiles as he kisses your forehead. “I’ll grab the amp and be on my way now. Good night sweetheart.”

“Night night Ani.” You chirp sweetly, releasing a sigh of relief as you see him step right over your panties without noticing them.

“Oh, and I’ll put these in the wash yeah?” He steps back, grabbing your underwear and smirking at you before closing the door, leaving you with your mouth gaping open. Fuck. You can only hope he doesn’t inspect them.

Only in that moment does it dawn on you- he didn’t hear you earlier did he? The realisation should fill you with anxiety- and it does to a certain degree- but a far larger part of you burns with excitement. You wanted him to see. He might not know it yet but this was his pussy, after all.

Next Chapter

[winters-mistress]

Cuddle pile

It's cold. It's so fucking cold that Ciri thinks she may honestly ask the gods to take her to the next world, because nothing can be as cold as this. She's got two pairs of leggings on, two pairs of socks, one of Geralt's tunics, her pair of gloves that Eskel had found for her, and she's buried underneath several blankets. Yet, she's so cold. She's so fucking cold.

The door opens, she can hear the squeak of the hinges. Footsteps come towards her, she can tell by the gait that it's Geralt, he's trying to be quiet, but he knows she's awake.

"Ciri?" she peaks out of her cocoon of blankets, one eye blinking up at him. His lip twitches, and he reaches towards her. "Cone here, it's too cold for you to be here alone. Especially with the fire refusing to catch."

She realises that the fireplace and the torches are dead. How many times has somebody came in and tried to warm her, only for the wind to blow it out?

Her thoughts distract her enough that Geralts breath upon her cheeks startle her, but she doesn't jump when his arks finally pick her up, blanket cocoon and all.

She makes a questioning noise, but never says no to Geralt giving her a hug. She's carried like a baby out of her room, out of the wing, down two flights of stairs, down another corridor, a third set of stairs, before they end up at the kitchens.

She makes a confused noise. It can't be breakfast time yet, the keep is pitch black to her puny human eyes.

"Why're we here?" she asks, rubbing her tired eyes.

"It's too cold, even for us. Gotta rest." Geralt says. Ciri blinks at him.

All in all, the witchers are good when it comes to her sleeping. When her nights are plagued with the horrors of her past and future, and she wakes up screaming with wet cheeks, the witchers let her sleep in whenever her rest finally turns peaceful and dark. They allow her afternoon naps after training and chores are done, and send her to bed when she stumbles into the dining hall with dark circles under her eyes. Early nights and late starts aren't punished, and as long as training and chores are completed at some point in the day, the witchers don't particularly care when it happens. Hell, shes been wrapped up like a baby by Lambert of all people when they had determined she needed a sleep.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising when he turns the last corner and finds five Witchers laying a couple feet away from the cracking fireplace underneath the stew pot. They've got blankets and pillows and furs, and look rather comfortable. Laying all over each other, looking rather like a puppy pile. Even Aiden joins in with the snuggling.

"Pups." Vesemir rumbles when he sees them both. Geralt puts her on the floor, kneeling down next to her.

"Come here, girl, get comfortable. Gonna be making camp here for a couple'a days." Coën clarifies when he sees her confused face. Ciri blinks, but nods. These things make sense, and she's seen all the men here hug, but admittedly, this is the first cuddle pile she's been privy to.

She turns upon her side, feeling Geralt curl behind her, trapping her in with his arms, wrapping her in another blanket. She hums, wrapping her hand over his, before Eskel pulls them both close, and she smiles, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth seep into her.

And tonight, she will sleep sweetly indeed.

[watch-read-talk]

The Empyrean Theory

This is a totally random crack theory I have about Violet's father. ***** Spoilers for Iron Flame****

My theory is that Violet's dad is Malek.

I have very flimsy evidence for this but I kinda like as theory.

Evidence #1: Violet seems to have an uncanny ability to avoid death, and those closest to her seem to share. Could it be that Malek has a soft for her? We are constantly told how cruel and unforgiving Malek is and how he does not like souls being stolen from him, and yet Violet escapes death on every turn.

Evidence #2: Speaking of Malek not liking souls being stolen from him, Brennan being resurrected seems strange, unless it was a fathers mercy to his son. Maybe that is why Mr. Sorrengail started having heart problems after Brennan's "death" not because of sorrow from loosing his son but from breaking his own rules and creating some kind break between the world of the living and the dead in order to do that, and that is why he eventually have to "die" because he had to return to the world of the dead and repair the damage his actions caused.

Evidence #3: Liam's appearance in Iron Flame. Liam tells Violet that he is not wandering and that maybe Malek send him as a kindness. Could it be the kindness of a father who wishes to help his daughter in her darkest hour?

Evidence #4: Lilith. We do not know much about what happens after people die other than the fact that Malek owns their souls, yet before Lilith dies she seems very confident that she will see her husband again, one can claim that is is simply blind faith and hope but Lilith doesn't strike me as someone who takes anything on faith. Also, in Iron Flame Lilith says that Mr. Sorrengail was the love of her life, but in Fourth Wing she seems very callous and uncaring when she speaks of her husband, this may be the mask of the hardened General but I would like to think it is because she knows that her husband did not really die but simply returned to his kingdom and that she is guaranteed to see him again.

Evidence#5: Tairn at some point - I think during Threshing when they first bond- tells Violet "I know exactly who and what you are" could the what be that she is the daughter of one of the gods? Tairn later on when Violet offers a prayer to one of the gods, does not dismiss their existence he simply calls them puny. In my opinion from that we can infer that the gods are real.

This is my random crack theory, hope it makes sense the way I explained it.

[alectoperdita]

Another snippet following the preview from Monday. I couldn't resist jumping forward and writing a bit of smut.

Good old-fashioned frottage and dirty talk under the cut.

---

"I want you inside me," Katsuya groaned.

Seto echoed the sentiment. His hips momentarily stuttered.

"In the morning," he promised. "I'll take you. I'll wake you up by stretching you open on my fingers—"

"Yes!" Katsuya writhed.

"—graduate to a toy if you don't loosen up—"

Katsuya bucked up, biting his lips as the length of Seto's cock rubbed his shaft and the head jabbed at his navel.

"—We'll take our time, use as much lube as needed to make your hole wet and sucking," muttered Seto fervently. "Then I'll push into you. I won't stop until you've taken every centimeter."

"Fuck," Katsuya swore, mouth hanging up and his pupils wide and dark. He was beautiful. "Fuck me."

Seto struggled to maintain eye contact. His body shook, racing toward the inevitable end. He sucked in a whistling breath before continuing, "I'll fill you, Katsuya, fill you until you can't take anymore—"

Nails scored down his back. Their sting distilled his pleasure, driving him further to the brink.

"You're so damn hung," growled Katsuya. He almost sounded angry about the fact if not for how he practically salivated. As if he hadn't trained his asshole in secret for weeks to take Seto into him. "God, you touch places no one's ever reached. You fuck my colon into a goddamn gaping hole. It makes me feel insane."

Seto groaned and rocked forward hard. They could both feel the difference in their sizes when they rutted crotch to crotch. Katsuya is by no means small, but Seto still dwarfed him. "But you take it. You take it better than anyone else who's tried."

He longed for Katsuya's tight heat so much it hurt. To feel his silky walls pulsing around his throbbing cock. To have him coming apart with nothing but Seto to fill his ass, mouth, and mind.

"Give it to me."

Unable to hold his head aloft, he dropped it forward to mouth at Katsuya's shoulder. He tasted salt, but underneath that, he fancied there was another layer of iron need. Next, he pushed his mouth against Katsuya's earlobe and spoke as he'd done at the club. In the quiet of his bedroom, he didn't need to shout, though. But Katsuya jolted and shuddered in the exact same way.

"You'll have it. You'll come on nothing but my cock hammering into you. I want you crying and moaning. I want to turn you into a slobbering mess—" He reached under and palmed Katsuya's meaty buttocks, slamming their groins together. "—and make you overflow. You won't be able to get out of bed afterwards."

"Seto! Oh god, Seto!"

"Ah, Katsuya! Almost there."

"Me too. Me too. Hng. M'coming!"

Katsuya beat him there by a heartbeat, spilling his white-hot release over his belly and Seto's cock. Another stuttered thrust and Seto joined him, his cock jerking, decorating their torsos with ropes of semen. A rare whine tore out of Katsuya as his arms and legs tightened around Seto. The mess between them smeared across their clammy skin. Even as their cocks softened, they rocked against each other, causing them both to gasp.

It took a long while for them to catch their breaths. For Katsuya to loosen his vice grip enough for Seto to lift his head and claim a long coveted kiss. Their lips and tongues slid with one another, slow and lazy as the fingers combing through his hair.

Eventually, they broke apart. Seeing Katsuya with his golden hair haloed over the pillow and his tired, satisfied grin left Seto briefly dumbstruck; irrevocably lovesick. Forget puny rivers—Seto would cross oceans and planets for to be with him.

Katsuya cracked a monstrous yawn. The moment passed, but the memory of it was tucked protectively away, same as man in his embrace.

"Man, I am beat."

Katsuya's legs lowered away. While one dropped to the mattress in a limp sprawl, the other was a clingy vine snaked over Seto's left shin.

"We should get some sleep," he agreed.

Katsuya broke into a sly smile. His toes dragged a sensual line along Seto's calf. "We should. Big day tomorrow. We got plans in the morning."

Seto snorted and untangled from his boyfriend, only to abruptly pause. Katsuya was a gorgeously obscene mess. His mesh top sat bunched under his armpits. Their mixed come splattered his toned torso with the finesse of a Jackson Pollock painting, skin dewy from sweat, perky nipples glazed translucent. Catching his eye, Katsuya smirked and stretched, playing up the pose for Seto's admiration.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he teased even as his cock twitched. He got excited so easily.

[mina-scribbles]

of gods & monsters

Summary:

Since the dawn of Olympus, Titans have become nothing more than footnotes in divine history, leaving them to roam the earth with no purpose for eternity.

You are the primordial goddess of love, and in present-day Greece, in the golden time of the Olympians, no one utters your name anymore. But occasionally, someone remembers, or the Fates suddenly decide that you have some purpose left in the threads of your immortal life.

It is one of those occasions where you find yourself called to a cave where a monster lies with his fresh kill.

Forgotten as you are, you are still the goddess of love, and to love is what duty tells you to do.

Notes:

I got the idea from references that say Eros is the primordial god of love, but then replaced him with Aphrodite. Just--y'know, creative liberties, and whatnot.

Hurt/comfort & angst & feels ahead. This is purely self-indulgent faffing as I loved the thought of having someone comfort Seraphim in a non-sexual way, you know? So, nothing spicy at all. Just--softness.

Unbeta'd btw, so yuh. Hope you enjoy !!

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

The sharp tang of blood greeted you the moment you stepped into the cave. 

You’d seen this before - scattered intestines, cracked and jagged parts of a skull, a femur here, an ulna there, a spine torn in two strewn across the cavern floor - yet you still couldn’t hold in a gasp. 

This of course drew seraphim’s attention, who knelt by the mangled remains of his uncle, a puddle of blood under his knees. 

Quicker than any human, he rose to his feet and whirled around, teeth bared and eyes ablaze. In one bloody hand, he clutched his bident, both tips still gleaming crimson.

This should’ve insulted you, made you bristle. Any god, titan or olympian, would have struck him where he stood for even daring to defy powers greater than himself, a puny human desperately trying his hand at godhood. it was pathetic, really. 

But at your core, you were what creation intended; you were the personification of love and all its nuances - the warmth and chaos of it all, the unconditional acceptance of the insanity that came with loving and the loved. this was your essence since you dawned alongside the universe, birthed long before the concept of humanity was even imagined; the primordial goddess of love, a titan of no equal. Even when you’ve been made obscure and obsolete, this was still your duty as divinity. 

And so, standing before seraphim now, soaked in gore with his humanity barely visible anymore, you saw. 

Somehow, he did, too. his features grew less sharp, transforming his snarl into a grimace as he leered at you. “Another god.” He spat the words like a curse. 

“Titan,” you corrected. “And I mean no harm.”

Recognition dawned on his face. But you’d seen this before - recognition for the sword but not its wielder. This time, however, you refused to let disappointment settle in your stomach. It wasn’t his fault.

Neither of you moved. Your gaze darted to his crimson-tipped bident, and he to your form. The questions were easily recognizable in his eyes - who were you? why were you here? 

With a breath, you decided and stepped forward. Seraphim watched you approach. Your dress trailed behind you, red blooming along the white, silken hem.

When you were a foot away from him, you extended a hand between you. “Come,” you said. “You need rest.”

He eyed it like it was a snake about to strike. 

So you tried again. “Take your rest before Hera finds you again.” 

At the mention of the goddess’s name, Seraphim growled, and you gasped when the cold tip of his bident pressed under your chin. This forced you to look up into his red gaze, your stomach churning at the miasma of bitterness and revenge swirling within them. 

“Gods, titans, you’re all the same,” he spat. “We’re nothing more than playthings to you. like pawns on a board that you move and summon to your liking. when have any of you answered our prayers? where are any of you when we beg for your aid, your mercy?”

With a snarl that rivaled his, you answered, “Am I not an answered prayer? Have I not come at a moment of need?”

“You all come when you please.”

“I come when I can,” you hissed, unable to quell your outrage. What do you do when you were nothing but mythos? When the best you got was a passing thought because you were merely a footnote?

When they came, the prayers came few, until eventually there were none.

People had more faith in rocks and earth. You? Your existence was too irrelevant to even question.

Your tongue was a weight of all the spite and bitterness festering within you, the antithesis of your essence.  You could’ve said more, could’ve made him see all that you had seen. But that would shatter him irreparably, and you couldn’t do that. that wouldn’t be very lovely, not when you were love itself. Not when you were supposed to love. 

And you wanted to love in spite of it. 

You were the chaos of it all, and so you understood. And with you, he would, too. In time. 

So for now, quietly, you added, “Trust me, boy, you are not the only one the fates have abandoned.”

This—this broke him. His eyes dimmed and his form slumped, as if the weight of his bident suddenly became too heavy. Then, as if just seeing for the first time, his gaze darted all over himself, at the blood smattered across his chest and over his arms. 

“I—“ he began, features rapidly shifting between grief and anger, and when he couldn’t decide, he finally, finally looked at you. “Hera will come looking for me.”

“She will.”

You read emotions as one would read letters on a page. And with his realization came the brief flash of fear -- bitter and sharp -- before emptiness took its place once more. Beneath it all, however, was the undercurrent of anger, a steady thrum while everything else ebbed and flowed.

A pause, and then, in a whisper, “He’s dead. He’s really dead.”

When you touched his cheek, images played in your mind — a mother and a boy against a world of greedy men, of gods and prayers, of swords and blood, of a yawning hopelessness and a desperation like teeth chewing through flesh.

All these just past a void, a wall of nothingness acting as a barrier between the memories and the red haze of anger facing the world. monsters hiding monsters. 

“I know,” you answered just as softly, pressing closer. seraphim leaned into your touch—not out of want but out of necessity, and oh how your skin tingled. To be wanted. To be needed. And when he stepped further into your space, a soldier laying his burdens as seraphim rested his forehead against your shoulder, your very soul thrummed. Your arms wrapped around him, one hand carding through the hairs in his nape while the other trailed down his arm, to the hand circled loosely around his bident. "you need rest."

Hot breath fanned against your collarbone. "And in exchange for rest?"

Seraphim's muscles grew taught under your touch. A man awaiting judgment.

Skin to skin, the images became clearer, the sensations stronger--of your muscles straining to keep you standing, of hard rock digging into your knees as a force pushed you down.

You grit your teeth. You wanted, yes. But not that. Once, maybe. But not today. Not for a long while.

Cupping his cheek so he gazed up at you, you said, "Nothing you would not wish to give. And I have nothing I wish to take."

With your thumb, you swiped at the blood on his cheek. His skin was warm to the touch. Maybe, maybe, he was human still.

His gaze darted over your features, your eyes, your lips, and you barely stayed the shiver creeping up your spine as you pulled your hand back, allowing him privacy to his thoughts, for here was a man frozen in awe at the face of kindness.

"I will be a better god," you swore to yourself as a fist clenched around your heart.

Seraphim seemed to gather himself as he rose to his full height. His free hand twitched at his side before slowly taking yours.

"Where do we go?" He asked.

"Wherever you wish."

Together, you walked in contemplative silence toward the mouth of the cave. High above, the sun's glare was brilliant. It warmed your skin, and glimpses of a chariot burning across the heavens flashed in your mind. Most knew the sun god by another name. You knew him as a titan. And for him, for them, you would remember.

Seraphim pulled you from your thoughts when he said, "I do not have a place to come home to."

His skin shone like obsidian in the light, the smattered blood gleaming hotly as the red marks along his skin. "There is a wooden hut not far from here. It's not much, but it can be home." If you would like.

It remained unspoken, but when he squeezed your hand, you knew he understood.

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ZHONGLI X FEM READER

At what point had Zhongli, the man, begun to matter to you as much as Rex Lapis, the god?

wc — 3.2k

tags — reader is best friends with Ganyu and Keqing, Zhongli pretending to be playfully jealous of your respect for Ningguang, still dealing with the aftermath of Rex Lapis’ death, nongraphic violence, Zhongli being actually jealous when you meet an old friend, fatui being fatui

glossary | chapter 4 of This Is How We Mourn The Living

Before the sun rises the next day, Ganyu is already dealing with your regrets of the previous day. She’s a wonderful friend - even though she has no idea what has happened, she holds you through your incredulous self flagellation. “Ganyu,” you groan. “What have I done?” 

“Care to fill me in?” Keqing asks, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you accuse. 

“There’s no denying that, but,” she says, “you’ll feel better. Come on, let it all out.” 

“Last night, Zhongli and I got tipsy at Third-Round Knockout-“ 

“Scandalous,” Ganyu interjects, her cheeks colored a light pink.

“And I accidentally got carried away and gave him one of my lectures.” 

Keqing can’t help herself - she bursts out laughing.

“I knew it! I’m never telling you anything again. My only friend is Ganyu,” you wail, nuzzling further against your self-proclaimed only companion. 

“Stop,” Keqing chokes out. “Oh, I can’t breathe. I need a minute. Okay, okay, I’ll be serious now. Does it really matter?”

Just like that, you turn on her. “Are you kidding me? Of course it matters! I lectured a god - our god! The oldest of the Seven and the wisest! He’s probably spent my entire lifetime studying some esoteric craft I couldn’t even hope to know about, and my puny mortal self thought I could educate him. Please, Keqing, end my misery.” 

“Hm,” Ningguang says, and your spine straightens so quickly you hear it crack. No. Not Ningguang, your boss, and the person you look up to the most. You could deal with anyone but her overhearing your embarrassment. She waves off your frantic apologies as you scramble to your feet. 

“In my limited experience with Mr. Zhongli, I think the two of you are quite similar.” There’s a twinkle in her eye you’re familiar with as the look she gets when she’s about to execute a particularly stunning political decision or business partnership, but you have no idea what it means in this particular situation. 

“I’m sure he didn’t mind,” she says. “After all, he goes on similar tangents. I see by the look on your face that you’re familiar with what I mean. In that case, there’s no need to be so sulky about it,” she smiles, but still, you hide your face, thoroughly humiliated.

“No need to be shy about it, either. It’s quite cute. I’m sure someone else thinks so, as well,” she says, as her parting message. The Tianquan is always busy - it’s one of the things you admire about her the most. 

“Why are you so dedicated to Rex Lapis?” Ganyu asks curiously. 

“Aren’t we the same?” You reply, even more confused than she is. “Don’t you also feel it? Just being in his presence feels like some sort of weird compulsion has come over me.” 

“No,” says Keqing. “I don’t feel it.” 

Ganyu, as always, tries for a more diplomatic approach. “No, you’re-“ she winces, clearly trying to find a tactful way to word whatever bomb she’s about to drop on you. “You’re, ah, shall we say different? We’re all devoted to him but you seem to want to…” 

“Die for him,” Keqing supplies. “Or live for him. Whichever one would make his life easier. It’s all very dramatic, and very like you, so I told Ganyu not to worry.” She laughs. “You’ve always been obsessive - first it was Ningguang, now it’s Zhongli. I wonder who it will be next?” 

“Who will be what, next?” Says Zhongli behind you. Ganyu bows, much to his exasperation. Centuries of fighting alongside him have not managed to dim her undying respect. Keqing does not, but you see the tips of her ears turn a pretty pink. 

You yourself are frozen in shock, the gears in your brain turning extra slowly as you connect his presence and the Yuhai Pavilion. They are two worlds you never saw colliding, even if logically, it was just a matter of time, now that he worked for the Qixing. 

Zhongli’s face, as calm as ever, doesn’t match his words as he continues. “So I’m not special? I’m a little displeased, to be honest.” 

Ganyu’s eyes are so wide there’s a strong chance they might pop out of her head. She’s half adepti, you reason. She could probably survive that. You couldn’t, however, so you needed to stop gaping and respond, but you can’t. You’re hoping that if you stay still enough, the ground will open underneath you and swallow you whole so you no longer have to deal with this entire situation.  

Zhongli beats you to it. “No matter. I know you’re busy with other Qixing work, so I’ve prepared our visits for today in your stead. There are several merchants who are causing trouble for the Yuheng.” 

Keqing sniffs. “It can hardly be called trouble. Annoyance is more like it.” 

“Nevertheless, as you are far too busy to handle it, we will go.” 

When you see the first name on the list, you groan out loud. Bolai is a suspicious merchant who, though he sells high quality products, you have always suspected of being a front for the black market. That’s not what has condemned him in your eyes though. After all, Liyue plays fast and loose with morals, as expected of the city of commerce. 

As long as he avoided direct and irreversible harm to the rest of Liyue, and brought in trade, then you looked the other way. If not, well - there were plenty of merchants who had learned the hard way that the Qixing did not look kindly upon those who harmed their fellow citizens. 

No, what irritated you about Bolai was his groveling. You hadn’t always been a member of the Qixing, and so he had ignored you the first few times you had encountered him. Only those of appropriate status, whether socially or intellectually, could approach him, and at the time, he had no way of knowing you would become either. 

When you had met him as a member of the Qixing however, his tune had changed. Gone was the infuriating condescension, the sneers and constant questioning of whether you had to mora to purchase his wares (to be fair, you hadn’t). Instead, he was overly ingratiating. 

He didn’t even remember who you were before, and that, more than anything, had earned him your ire. Yet here you were, standing before him with a bored look in your eyes as he prattled on about Rex Lapis. Such was the duty of a government servant, though Zhongli was thankfully more than willing to take the lead on this one. 

Zhongli, it seemed, had earned Bolai’s respect long ago for his knowledge on esoteric arts. Now they were drawn into deep conversation, heads bowed over a sheet of paper, as they discussed porcelain glazes and the appropriate firing temperatures. Bolai even trusted him enough to show him his prized possession - a teapot stored behind his desk, only taken out for certain meetings. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he preened, “you absolutely must keep this a secret. Every citizen in Liyue would be after my head if they knew about the value of this simple earthen tea pot. You see,” his voice dropped into a whisper. “It was given to my family by Rex Lapis. I only take it out for special meetings that must go well - and every time, it works like a charm. He must have blessed us with luck. Just for you, I’ll let you have a taste.” 

It seemed that every citizen in Liyue had a connection to Rex Lapis somehow. Many foreigners believed that the city was exaggerating it’s claims of divine intervention, but Liyue knew better. From the simple family businesses sequestered into hole in the wall establishments to the lords of commerce that worked out of lavish golden mansions, Rex Lapis governed them all with a gentle but stern hand. 

Everyone with suitable ambition and dedication could find themselves the recipient of his benevolence. Indeed, some families passed down his blessings as heirlooms: pressed glaze lilies delivered from the claws of a dragon, the last mora left of a stash foretold in a dream, the shed scale of a great beast who had saved them from danger. Rex Lapis’ presence permeated all of Liyue. 

It would not be soon forgotten. 

As Bolai poured the tea, he sighed and turned his head away. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I am just remembering that Rex Lapis no longer walks with us. This is all I will have left of him.” 

He soon found another reason for his tears as an armed Millelith soldier burst into the store. One look at the man, splattered with blood, sent his customers scattering. “Just what is the meaning of this?" He snapped, but was completely ignored as the soldier, panting, turned to you. 

“My lady, Captain Cheng requests reinforcements! There are treasure hoarders at the Guizhong Ballista and he fears it’s an organized attack. There’s too many of them - we thought it was just going to be a normal patrol. I don’t think we can hold them off for much longer!” 

Bolai gasped and pressed his teacup to his forehead, hands clasped in prayer. “Rex Lapis deliver us. This would have never happened if he was still watching over us.” 

You had no more time to wait around and listen to his babbling. “Zhongli-“ 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“There’s no need-”

“I can still fight,” he insists. “And this is my city. I owe it.” 

This is no time for arguing. 

One soldier is propped up against the battlements, being guarded by another man, but the rest of the eighteen soldiers are making you proud. This particular regiment, including Captain Cheng, had been trained by you back when you had been in charge of new recruits. 

It’s a light hazing ritual the Qixing do. They’re not the kind to force any kind of real harm on their newest members, but it’s one of the least desirable jobs. New soldiers are whiney and weak-willed. The hardest part of raising an army is always how difficult it is to discipline novices into a real fighting force. When an opportunity comes to push it onto some hapless initiate, they’re more than willing to do so, so it had been pushed on to you.

It had been annoying at first, but Captain Cheng's regiment had earned your respect. They had been some of your first trainees, so in a way, you feel like you've gone through the military together with them. Seeing their resilience in holding off a force that far outnumbered them makes you proud, but you’re still glad you got there when you did. 

You find that Zhongli had sorely understated his abilities in saying, ‘I can still fight.’ Even with his skills restricted in his mortal form and holding back to avoid alerting the Millelith of his true identity, his first blow takes out an entire line of treasure hoarders, shaking them so badly that you can continue punching through the rest of their formation. 

Standing behind him like this, you wonder what it would have been like 2,000 years ago, watching him fight the Archon War. You’re almost a little jealous of Ganyu, having been able to see him in his prime. The view of his broad back is comforting.

It’s a reminder that he will always be able to protect you. The defender of Liyue will never abandon his city. He is eternal. It makes you want to stand at his side all the more. 

“Hold the line,” one treasure hoarder squeaks out, but he doesn’t sound very convincing, especially as Zhongli unleashes a wave of geo energy that petrifies the rest of his foot soldiers. Watching him fight, you realize that he can’t detach himself from Liyue, no matter the fact that he insists he’s no longer a god. When Liyue had need of him, he came running, as if he couldn’t help it. 

There’s a rush of shame in you, too, all at once. Rex Lapis is retired, you remember, as much as you hate to admit it.

There’s a selfish part of you that’s holding onto Zhongli as the last living remnant of your god, but he’s not. It’s unfair to him to treat him like he is. You can’t ask him to fight your battles for you, as he always has. 

Both of you, you realize, are still trapped in the old ways.

In front of you, Zhongli's spear arm falls. Then, he slumps to the side, falling. You barely get there in time to catch him.

Had he overdone it? Frantically, you grasp him around the waist, desperately trying to keep him up as you continue to bulldoze through your enemies, your own vision flickering in it’s little glass encasement on your hip. He’s working with you as best as he can, feet stumbling, but it still takes a little longer than you would like to dispatch the rest of their ranks. 

“Zhongli,” you hiss, as soon as you have done enough for the Millelith to be able to take over. One treasure hoarder stares up at you in terror, a whisper of monster escaping his lips as he looks at you, but you shove his shoulder down with your foot. And stay down, is the unspoken message. You have more important things to take care of. “Are you alright?” 

When he looks up, his gaze is completely clear. Of course - the Millelith were whispering already, about this unknown soldier with shocking capabilities. Zhongli is in retirement. This was the opposite of the low profile he had hoped to keep.

And, says the unwelcome voice in your head, this is your personal failing. If you were better at keeping Liyue safe, Zhongli would be able to live his life in peace. 

But as guilty as you feel, there’s no time to indulge yourself, not when the soldiers are looking at you with curious eyes. 

“Thank goodness you took that Unmoving Essential Oil I gave you before we got here,” you bluff, “though I’m sure it took a toll on you. I will personally reward you for your sacrifice. There will always be honor for those who love Liyue well. Millelith!” 

They snap to attention for you. “I will be taking Mr. Zhongli back to the Yuhai Pavilion. Please, continue as you were. Rest assured that the Qixing will thoroughly investigate this matter.” 

They don’t look reassured. What would Ningguang do? She’s always been the role model for you ever since you joined the Qixing. Then, another voice chimes in your head, with a thought you’ve never had before. 

What would Zhongli do?  

“Fear not,” you add, unsure if this is the right thing to say. “I am with you. No harm will come to you in the service of Liyue as long as I still live.”

At that, a tension goes out of the soldiers, stiff as trees in their armor and unyielding shoulders. They salute you. Captain Cheng comes up to grasp your hand.

“Thank you for coming, my lady,” he says, smiling so wide you can see his dimples. “You’re as good as I remember. Please, allow me to apologize for my gross incompetence. Can I make it up to you with a dinner at-”

Zhongli lets out a soft groan against your neck, breath coming in warm puffs that make you shiver. 

“I’m so sorry Captain, I have to go. Feel free to send me a messenger with whatever you need to say,” you tell him, even as he narrows his eyes. He’s clearly not buying Zhongli’s act, and you wouldn’t either. Zhongli's overdoing it. You need to get him out of here. 

You let go of him in a quiet section of the Qixing’s personal gardens, far away from prying eyes.

“Are you alright?” It comes out drier than you mean it too, but you’re not angry, just confused. 

“They were looking at me suspiciously,” he says. “I thought it wise to get out of there as soon as possible, though I am sorry for cutting your conversation with the captain short. Do you know him?” 

“A little,” you say. “Are you sure it’s not anything else? I need to investigate this further. If you’re not feeling up to it, I can ask someone to bring you back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” 

“I’d rather stay with you,” he says, and that’s that. 

There’s something you’ve been meaning to deal with for a long time, but haven’t been able to. In the light of recent events, that has changed.

Storming into Northland Bank, you demand an audience with the Fatui. They try to put you off, as they have before, but there’s a look in your eye that signals to them how different this is from every other time you’ve approached them before. You’re sick of their meddling in your city, and diplomatic immunity only goes so far. 

Even so, they still do their best to work their way around your demands. All of their high ranking officials, the ones you usually deal with, are conveniently ‘out’. You’re stuck speaking to a random Fatui footsoldier whose insolence is starting to get on your nerves. When you’re finally granted a private room, you’re beyond ready to take these fools apart.

“We had nothing to do with it,” the masked man insists, spreading his hands. “You are being rather rude, my lady-”

That’s the final straw. You have been more than tolerant of the Fatui’s presence in your city, even after they had nearly flooded it, even after all of their missteps. You aren’t even accusing them of being behind the attack, which you had more than ample reason to, considering their long history of working with treasure hoarders and other unsavory individuals, as well as their previous crimes against your cities. 

You were just asking for information that they weren’t giving it to you. On top of that, they had dropped some rather unsubtle hints of how this was Liyue’s fault for being incompetent, not their's, which infuriated you. 

“Enough,” you had snapped at him venomously. “It is in your best interest to be mindful of yourself and your men in the future. I will have order in Liyue, and you are overstaying their welcome. Neither Lady Ningguang nor I will tolerate such uncivilized behavior for much longer.”

ou turn to leave but the man calls after you. 

“Zhongli-xiansheng,” he says. You hadn’t realized he knew the man at your side, as he had given no sign of recognizing him until now. “He’s back in town.”

Zhongli shoots him a cold look, and the man falls silent. Strange. 

As soon as you’re out of the Northland Bank, Zhongli says, casually, “I will have order?” 

Your entire body seizes up, remembering who you’re with. You had thought you were safe - after all, you were with Zhongli, and the two of you had grown close enough to think that he might not mention it. 

Only, you had forgotten that Zhongli was also Rex Lapis, the original speaker of the line you had delivered back there.

You’re trying to think of a way to excuse yourself - how humiliating - when he smiles. “I liked it. It was cute. Do you quote me often?” 

It takes all of your mental strength to answer him and not run away, but finally, he relents and walks you back to your home. For a moment, the two of you just stand at the threshold, him unwilling to leave and you unwilling to go in. 

The arch of the entrance is hung with wisteria flowers Keqing brought back for you on a trip to Inazuma, back when the country had still allowed visitors. It usually attracts geo crystalflies to your door, so it shines with a dim light even at night. One attaches itself to Zhongli, perching on his nose. He goes almost cross eyed trying to look at it. 

Your laughter breaks the silence. A cool breeze stirs his hair, and he smiles at you fondly. The two of you part ways there, though when you turn back to close the door, you almost call out to him. You wanted to ask him if he’d like to stay. But it’s late, and instead, you turn the key. 

[the-snake-and-the-steel]

*loyal anon, as instructed, exits*

The walls shake and tremble as Hexe teleports to the center balcony of the castle. She looks out at the whole world.... the village. The forest. The beach.

It's all hers to use as she pleases..... and now Icia is trying to take it again.

"Puny. Worthless. Selfish. She cannot understand that she has lost..... and now she is trying to 'reclaim' what is rightfully mi-i-i-i-i-ine."

The sky grows dark with black clouds of smog.

Of course, Icia wouldn't be able to defeat Hexe, she's essentially a god. She can manipulate everything to her will. Everything in this kingdom, even those who have left, are all hers.

.... that being said......

"She wants to take over a kingdom. A ki-i-i-i-ingdom she will not get."

"Because If I-I-I-I can't have this....."

"No one can."

Hexe snaps her fingers.

And suddenly, everyone stops what they're doing.

Odette stops running to get to shelter.

The twins stop panicking.

Samuel stops trying to get all the dragons out of the cave.

Achilles hardly feels a difference.

Everyone slowly stands or drops whatever they are holding...... everyone except Slyn. He looks over at the chaos among people stopping while the castle continues to crumble internally, and the ground outside rips open. Several NPCs fall into pools of magma as the world tears itself apart.

One by one, people start marching.

It's a slow, steady beat. Every resident marches in time, synchronized footsteps echoing through the earsplitting cracks and crashes.

Everyone's eyes dart around in terror as rubble and pieces of ceiling barely hit each other. Myau tries to scream as she nearly walks right into one of the pits, though she finds herself unable to do anything but watch, unable to turn or run. Levi finds himself floating through the air in a section of water, as if invisible hands were carrying him along.

One by one, they march single file into the dungeon and pass Slyn, who looks just as confused and almost as horrified. Many people shoot him looks that could kill, although none compare to the hatred on Samuel's face as he follows Switchboard into the dark abyss. Some, like Vaga, stare at him with so much fear he almost feels bad.

Almost.

"Look at this, Slyn," Hexe whispers to him. They both teleport onto the balcony, and Slyn feels his stomach lurch as he sees the scene of what once was a beautiful, mystified kingdom.

"This is all your fault. None of this would have happened if you could control the rebels."

"None of this would have happened if you stopped Icia from leaving.

"None of this would have happened if you told me about the rescue."

His blood runs cold. She knew? Who the fuck told her? What is she doing?

".... Hexe, my queen, what is all this?"

"Icia is coming to 'rescue' the kingdom. She is bringing an army...... but she will fail, just like she did once before. Over 10,000 skilled troops, all died for nothing back then.... and how many more she brings today, they will all die and fail as well."

"But- why destroy the kingdom?!" He protests.

Sharp, searing nails dig into Slyn's shoulder.

"Discouragement. Icia is far too many years late, and she shall see that. The kingdom she once sought to protect will be no more than rubble and dust. And when she is gone, I shall rebuild it all and do what I always should have done to begin with. Clearly, freedoms are dangerous.... there shall be no more freedoms once Icia is gone once again."

Slyn feels his stomach start to churn as fires break out over the forest and village. This wasn't supposed to happen. He didn't know it would be this soon. He can't do anything.

All he can do is watch as his kingdom falls to rubble.

Hexe smiles and rises up, as red whisps surround her body and pool into her golden scales like blood.

"Now Slyn... pay attention. This is how a queen protects her kingdom."

A shockwave emits from Hexe's center, reverberating through the entire kingdom as all floors of the castle except for the first floor collapse.... all except the single highest watch tower, standing tauntingly over the rubble.

Explosions and flames rip through the ground, turning sand into glass, hot springs into clouds, and dragons into corpses.

Hexe cackles maliciously, thrilled by the apocalyptic, destroyed world that, only an hour ago, was thriving.

"We shall let Icia come. We shall let her and her companions have hope that the kingdom is salvageable. We shall let them witness the consequences of their lateness. And we shall watch as they fail to confront me. But still... I feel this is all too easy. There is no fun without a little suffering. Therefore, I implore her, when she arrives...

"Let her and her army TRY and stop me."

[gayhenrycreel]

in the wake of the Abuse in Care report, i want to share my own story

for context, i am a young kiwi. im autistic and adhd, and struggle with violent meltdowns.

tw for all sorts of abuse

a few years ago, my meltdowns got very severe. i was dangerous. i got sent to the psychward 3 times. the first 2 times were scary, but i was okay.

the 3 third time nearly killed me.

i was 13 and they didn't have any spaces left, so they put me in a solitary confinement area of the asylum. yes, modern psychwards are insane asylums. if you had a good experience at one you are an exception. the wall were concrete and my room had a small outdoor area attached that was lined with barbed wire. the toilet did not flush. i was not allowed out, except for a few times when i was allowed to see the other inmates.

i was trapped for 11 days. i still remember exactly what date it was. i called my mum every day. neither of us knew if we would ever see each other again. i had been kidnapped by the state. i was fed green sludge and something that may have been extremely dry and cracked fish or chicken. this was my only meal i regularly got. getting breakfast was a hit n miss.

on day 9 i snapped. i tried to hit a nurse and my punishment was to be strangled half to death. i couldn't breathe. they nearly dislocated my shoulder. my vision turned black. i vaguely recall being injected with a sedative.

when i have flashbacks i can feel the physical pain again. it feels like my arms are being torn off.

i only went back home when my mum showed up, unauthorised, and demanded to bring me home. i never thought i would see my family again.

something i didnt mention earlier, i am medically recognised with a complex dissociative disorder. im not sure if that big traumatic event caused my alters or if Doc had already existed, but it certainly split my sense of self to some degree. Doc saved our life. Daniel, the alter who presents as the original, could not handle existence. after the psychward, my system almost achieved final fusion. Daniel went dormant. Doc was the only alter. later that month a new alter split and it took 4 months for Daniel to return.

afterward my horrible psychiatrist with the tiny shorts decided that my meltdowns were because of my adhd, which has been successfully treated since i was 4. he put me on ritalin, despite my bad history with it. ritalin gave me a panic attack that lasted 3 days without stopping. my mum immediately took me off it as soon as she noticed the heightened anxiety. a microdose of magic mushrooms of all things, cured my anxiety for a week while also treating my adhd while i had no adhd meds, so do with that what you will (mushies may have saved my life).

i already had a traumatic life, and the asylum was the hammer that finally shattered my cracked mind. i never really had a sense of self, no individuality, so its no wonder i have OSDD.

the trauma didn't stop there.

couple years later i ended up in E Puni, a jail for children who cant live with their families. i mean it when say jail. concrete walls and floors, cameras everywhere, doors that cant be opened from inside, stale food. i cant eat a lot of thing due to being autistic, so i starved. they did not not accommodate my needs.

i had another meltdown, so i got violently picked up and literally thrown onto a concrete floor in solidarity confinement. water all over the floor. i dissociated so much i could barely stand. for some reason they didn't take my belt so i tried to hang myself.

they damaged the nerves in my left arm when they threw me. i couldn't use my arm for 3 months, and when i explained why i was struggling with arm strength, they said i was faking nerve damage. i thought i would be permanently disabled. thank god it was temporary. i was forced to participate in being around screaming teenagers who made sounds i cant handle because of sensory processing disorder. some of those poor kids had been there for 5 years.

the only 2 staff there who cared for me left because they couldn't handle seeing the organized abuse the children went through. i couldnt take it either.

im in a different place now, though still in state care. its been rough, but here its only bad if i have meltdowns.

as for the cops, the most notable thing theyve done is tell me that they "can restrain [me] without reason".

if anyone ever asks why i am an anarchist, this is why.

[mischiefmodig]

Pfft. Try having an identity crisis at 1,040

[bobateastay]

soft bodies playing in the street (you've tasted love and it tasted sweet)

choi san & song mingi

cw: childhood friends/sweethearts!au, angst, brief fluff, fighting, blood, first kiss, implied/referenced suicide, last day alive

wc: 1.3k

title from ethel cain's god's country

Mingi is sitting in the road when San comes out of his house looking for him. It’s warm out, the kind of warmth that hasn’t really settled yet and so flits over your exposed skin, scared away by even the slightest of movements or shadow. The asphalt below his palms and butt is slowly warming up to the day. It won’t meet any tires today - the dead of summer rarely brings cars down their quiet street - but it does meet a second pair of feet, then hands, as San makes his way over and sits down beside him.

“Hey,” he greets the other, returning the small smile his neighbour gives him.

“Hey,” he replies, gently bumping shoulders with Mingi.

San sits cross-legged, meek and catlike the way he has been his whole life. He’s only just turned eighteen and is waiting eagerly for Mingi to catch up so they can do grown-up things together. Get beers. Smoke cigarettes. Rent a karaoke room in town. Enter the competitions listed on the back of cereal boxes. He won’t do any of it until Mingi has caught up to him. He won’t do any of it ever, really. He’s not fully aware of that yet, hasn’t quite grasped the concept of permanence and all of its consequences.

“You wanna go to the grocery store later? Yunho was talking about this new soda and I wanna try it,” Mingi says, picking up little pieces of gravel and tossing them across the road. He turns his head to look at San after a while, when the other still hasn’t said anything, and is met with a sight that makes goosebumps rise on his arms, even as the sun rubs its soothing palms over his skin.

San is red in the face from holding back tears, bottom lip quivering and eyes watery. His fists are clenched in his lap, white-knuckled and shaking. Mingi frowns.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks him.

He doesn’t know it yet, but by this time tomorrow San will be dead. There will be no noble cause of death like they’ve discussed on the nights when confronting their mortality seemed like it was light years away, only a stomach full of his mother’s sleeping pills and a once-beloved t-shirt covered in barf. Looking into the eyes of the boy who’s been his neighbour since before he was even born, Mingi doesn’t know this yet.

All he knows is that despite San’s puny limbs and bony structure, it hurts like a bitch when he swings his fist forward to hit him. The punch lands right upon Mingi’s eye and radiates there uncomfortably, hot and throbbing like the beginnings of a fever.

“What the fuck?!” he yells into the quiet of the street. San swings again but fails to connect because Mingi is swinging right back, knocking him back into the asphalt. They’re both scrawny, have been their entire lives, and so they’re evenly matched as they hit and kick and shove each other in the middle of the road.

Sharp elbows dig into temples, knobby knuckles crack as they make contact with rib cages. Mingi grunts and yells and swears, landing a punch square on San’s mouth right as the other yanks on his hair. He yowls like a cat and is pushed backwards onto the road. His head hits the ground and for a moment it hurts enough for him to forget about what is happening - that his best friend has suddenly turned on him. He barely registers the somebody straddling him until something wet lands on his cheek.

He’s quick to assume that it’s spit, but when he opens his eyes he’s met with something else. San’s tears roll quickly down his cheeks, dripping from his nose and chin and eyelashes only to land on Mingi’s face. They come fast, hot, fat tear drops that pull whimpers from San as they make their way down his face. They warm him even more than the sunshine does.

“San,” Mingi manages to choke out, breathless and confused. “What’s wrong? What the hell are you doing?”

San doesn’t answer him, at least not in the way he’d been expecting.

Mingi is still breathless, still confused, as San leans down and presses their lips together. His first thought is that San’s lips feel just as soft as they look (along with that thought comes the sudden realisation that he’s thought about San’s lips before). His second thought is that this is his first kiss. Is this San’s first kiss? He thinks it is. Unless you count that one time he kissed the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth for a dare (it was supposed to be a full kiss but everybody let it slide when they saw how red Wooyoung had gotten). His third thought is that oh, he definitely understands why Wooyoung turned so red.

He parts his lips for a moment, trying his best to follow San’s lead, and tastes metal on his tongue. Just like the tears that are pressed to his cheeks, the metal is warm, coating his lips and tongue in a heady but not unpleasant way. His hands find San’s head, and he strokes San’s hair without really knowing why. He seems to understand less and less of what’s going on by the second.

“I love you,” San says suddenly, breaking the kiss to sit up straight on Mingi. It is revealed that the metal Mingi has swallowed down is blood pouring from a cut in San’s lip. A cut from the punch Mingi landed on his mouth.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” Mingi asks, even though they’ve both done a number on each other.

“Do you love me?” San answers with his own question, voice shaking just as much as his hands are as he laces his fingers with Mingi’s. He kisses down Mingi’s wrists, the cut in his mouth leaving stains of red in its wake.

“‘Course I do,” Mingi says reluctantly, embarrassed by his own feelings and the strength of them. His stomach is warm as he watches San kiss his arms. It’s an intoxicating warmth, nestling around San’s blood that he swallowed from San’s mouth, and floods the rest of his body as he struggles to sit up. Awkwardly, he pulls San to him in a tight hug. “I love you. I thought you knew that, Sannie.”

San noses at the spot where he landed his first punch, breathes on a stinging cut that he left behind by trying to scratch Mingi’s face. Neither of them know it yet, but that cut will leave behind a scar. It will be dark at first but will slowly pale and smooth itself out until it’s practically indistinguishable from the rest of his skin. There will come a day when Mingi will spend hours upon hours looking for it in the mirror, looking for the last gift that San left him. He does not know this yet. San will never know this.

“I’m sorry,” San murmurs. “I forget.”

“Will you tell me one more time?” San asks.

“That’s okay,” Mingi says, even though it isn’t really. He doesn’t like the idea of San not knowing that he loves him. He decides he’ll fix that starting tomorrow, not knowing that tomorrow won’t come for San.

“I love you,” he repeats. He feels San smile against him.

“You wanna go get that soda Yunho talked about?”

The soda doesn’t taste as good as Yunho described, though that might be because of the blood that’s still in Mingi’s mouth. They kiss again and San’s lips taste sweeter than any soda Mingi’s ever tried.

Soon Mingi won’t have a lifelong best friend - someone who was waiting for him before he was even in the world, who has always waited for him through thick and thin. But he will have a scar by his eye, and the blood that he swallowed;

The soda bottle San left behind in his room that he will keep for the rest of his life;

And the memory of kissing his best friend until his lips hurt,

while the asphalt grew hotter

and hotter

and hotter

beneath them.

.

taglist: @i-luvsang @peanutpmingib @sannierio @lokai-fi @w-iill @cutie-wooyo @sanjoongie @songmingisthighs @talkbykhalid @itsjustwinter @aursmrt

[gremlinservant]

The grand hall echoes with the ticking of thousands, maybe millions, of golden clocks.  Glowing eyes watch Forzen from every angle, watching from between the gears of the clocks or in the shadows of the entity sitting on the throne.  The hands of the clock reach out for Forzen.  Shadows reach towards the entity crowned in light.  It’s made of darkness, something that has never seen the stars.

Tommy as Forzen knows him is just a man with odd eyes.  He’d called it scleral icterus, but Dr Freeman, the man in the mixology department, said that it wasn’t.

Now, the entity speaks, and truth molds itself to its words.  Time is guided by its hand, raised in punishment.  The gentle hand of it reaches out to Forzen, pulling him closer.  Eyes once yellow now see through any lie told.  Forzen wants to throw up, to tear out his brain, to wipe any memory of it from his mind.  Forzen wants to kneel before it, to worship it, to stand in its presence until Time finds him.  This must be God.  This must be the Devil.

The entity looks humanoid.  The entity bears no resemblance to anything, living or dead.  The entity loves Forzen.  The entity wants him dead.  The entity has no face.  The entity has the most beautiful face Forzen can imagine.

The man’s life melts away in the presence of this deity, this mind-bending entity.  He has no purpose but to serve it.  He’s always served it.  Whatever it desires, the man will do.  Hands that once were brown reach out, begging to touch the entity for even a brief moment.  Hands that shine with gears and liquid gold fall back upon the entity looking upon the man.  The only thing in this void of ticking and watching is the entity and the man.  He sees through the entity’s eyes, how puny his body is.  How pathetic he is, to think such a beautiful thing would ever want him.  How kind the beast is, to desire his slavery.

They’re part of everything.  They can see through Time’s lies, they can see the world as it should be, they can see what never was.  They don’t want to separate from themselves.  They want to get their freedom back.

The man staggers away from the entity.  It peers down at them.  The man is sick.  The man is lovestruck.  The man is running away.  The man stays still.  The man needs to escape.  The man needs to join the entity again.

Doctor Hayden Bubby laughs as the prone man fights, twitching on the ground.

Professor “Coomer” points his gun at Dr Bubby.

Mr Darnold wants to scream at the two.

Officer Benji Reymond watches as anarchy breaks.

The man is dead.  The man holds a gun to the entity.

Forzen won.  Tommy lays in a growing pool of his own ichor.  Yellow tinted eyes look up at Forzen with a mix of disbelief and sorrow.  A burned hand reaches up to touch the hole in his chest, the hand coming away stained with gold.

“...Tommy?”  Forzen rasps out, dropping to his knees.  He tosses his gun aside in favor of holding his friend close.  Forzen feels numb as he watches ichor drip onto the tiles.

“It’s okay, Mr Forzen!”  Tommy smiles weakly, reaching up to pat his friend’s face.  Gold is smeared across Forzen’s cheek where Tommy touched him.  The military man breaks.

“I-I didn’t mean to!  I, I just thought…”  Forzen’s face feels hot as tears drip down to mix with the ichor.  He holds Tommy close, knowing there’s nothing he can do.  He’s seen too many good men and women die to be fooled.

“It’s okay.”  Tommy repeats.  “You didn’t know.  You never knew.”

As Tommy goes limp, Forzen screams.  He screams until his voice cracks, then screams more.  He calls for whoever made fate to kill him too.  He weeps until his voice is lost as well.  There’s no coming back this time.  The entity known as Tommy isn’t coming back.

@inkzectz here's a poorly made tomzen angst fic because I've hit block in the longer, fluffier one

[toweringboottreads]

"Mmm...I think I'll give you all a sneak peek at what you can expect~"

Second to last part and man i forgot how good these were to look at LOL

anyway uhhh links hi

Art by TheZangzilla Fic by Me And while it is over and u dont have to, if youd like to donate anything to us :3

Fic under cut v

"God look at me, I'm so fucking huge! Look at you! Look at all of you!" Lori's voice boomed across the globe, entire continents hearing her declaration as she went on. "To think I was stuck on such a pathetic little ball of garbage with filth like you. I knew I was special. That I was important, and this just confirms it! I ate the damn Army and I'm going to crush the shit out of you." She pressed her fingers down in individual points on the land, a city in the center where her palm was primed to go as her growth caused slowly increasing gashes to form, the trenches miles deep into the crust of the earth getting further and further away, dozens of cities partially or completely crushed as the example city could do nothing but wait for the hand to drop. "Maybe you should beg and pray to me since I'm basically your goddess now." She said, letting out a show-offy laugh as her palm slammed down, no grinding or sweeping necessary to know how utterly destroyed the country was getting. Her ass hanging in the air and her knees and chest supporting her meant that she was taking up a relatively small amount of space- yet even then her paws were starting to get wet with ocean water, thighs each in different seas as she she sat up once more. The thought occurred to her to sit properly, to grow and grow until the earth went from a boulder she sat on to a seat her legs and hips could easily crush. But that would destroy too much of it, and too quickly. For what she wanted to do, she'd have to have the smallest bit of restraint…

"…But fuck it, that isn't going to save you. It's insane really, my tits are so huge now and half a hemisphere can't even see 'em! But not for long…" She began to stand up, feeling the absolute wonder of her paws smothering entire countries, toes wiggling and causing storms and tremors that made chunks of the planet fly off into orbit. She wanted to lift her heavy paws up and slam them down, she wanted to crack and crumble the planet right then and there, to jump up and crash down with a force no person had ever conceived of being possible by one person. But no, she simply crouched down, and hopped up as high as she could, feeling the gravity of earth lose it's grip on her as she began to float in space. "God this is incredible. I need to get bigger, I need to become stronger. I deserve it. But first… I can't just let you pathetic things go." She spoke softly, as if to give them the smallest bit of respite she could take away. "I'm going to crush you. Eat you. Destroy you. I'm going to devour you so completely that this puny little dirt ball may as well have never existed.and you know what?" Her monologue could only be overshadowed by her increasing size, having grown to rival the planet itself and not coming close to slowing down. The Earth basked in her shadow completely, the sun illuminating her face and body more and more as the world was only as big as her torso, gravity starting to pull it towards her. As her hands reached out, big enough to cover the largest continents, and she dug her fingers into the mantle and crust, she sloooowly brought it forward, smirking at the world held in her grasp so easily. The world stood still at her speech, watching as her slow, evil laugh continued on, her maw opening more and more as the planet was stuck looking up at their soon to be destroyer. The moon itself- a celestial body Pokemon have been looking up to for millennia, began to drift towards her mouth, which caused a smile to creep up the corners of her muzzle. "You'll just be the first of many because as I continue to ascend, I'm going to find more planets. More Civilizations." Her tongue, as the moon came past her fangs, lifted up to grab it, like a predator lying in wait for its prey. The dusty, nearly untouched stone was quickly coated in her saliva before it was moved to the back of her throat, her supreme growth bringing it down to the size of a gumball. And as she swallowed, her tongue coming up to block it from view, the apocalyptic sound of it crushed and crumbling into a mass of magma and stone in her throat, she finally closed her mouth, her tongue coming out for a taunting lick of her snout. "You won't be remembered," She spoke, the world small enough that her fingers pressed down on one half, and her thumbs on the opposite. "but others will join you soon enough, bugs."

[papadoupoulous-lester]

Loneliest person on earth// p1

loneliest person on earth// leo valdez x gn!apollo!reader

summary: when leo's s/o acts distant and doesn't come out of their cabin for meals, he starts to worry.

tw: self deprecating thoughts, suicide, trauma, mental illness

notes: its my first time writing a x reader oneshot so have mercy

(readers pov)

hot tears streamed down my face nonstop as I buried my face in my pillow. I didn't know why I was crying, it was stupid really. One little comment. That's all it took for me to crack. One silly little joke about my appearance caused me to have a full-blown meltdown. all my emotions had been pent up inside me for so long that I just cracked. I hated how sensitive I was. I was ashamed, really. how could a child of Apollo, a deity looked up to and worshipped because of his great beauty be so repulsive? I hate myself. The way I act, the way I look, the way I sound, the way I smile, the way I laugh, the way I walk, the way that I knew I'd never be able to fit in anywhere. In the mortal world, monsters would chase me if I dared come close to technology. In the demigod world, no matter what camp, I'd be thought of as a tool, a piece of equipment. Like a piece of Leo's machinery, not yet perfected. I was a senior camper, head of the Apollo cabin. I had been at camp since I was ten, I was now 16. People look up to Annabeth, as she's been at camp for the longest, being Chiron's favorite and all. But now, with her and Percy gone at college, I was the one that was forced to show around new campers, I was the one that had to help out the little kids, and i was the one that was expected to act PERFECT. like an emotionless ragdoll, hell, I'd kill myself if someone told me to. I felt like I was the one holding up the sky. with the weight of all of these things on my back on top of the fact that my dad was now a puny teenager named Lester and the fact that Julius Ceaser is trying to replace him as the sun god, I could never be okay. I could never be at peace. I always had to do SOMETHING. I wasn't even a social person anyway. I'd rather sit in a corner and wallow up in self pity or read The Song of Achilles than do whatever this was called. it was not ideal. I just wanted to be left alone, to be a normal demigod. I'd trade anything to not be known as the kid that makes hyacinth bloom where they walk. I wish I wasn't so sensitive, I wish I wasn't the way I was. My fatal flaw was fear. I was so afraid to disappoint the people around me, to hurt them, that i put aside my own needs and wants for them. That's why i was like this. I hate myself. I'm the loneliest person on earth. I'm surrounded by those that love me yet i don't feel loved. I'm surrounded by people that care for me and i know it yet I'm like well, this. My sobs grew louder as i removed my head from my pillow as i coughed and hiccupped. I lay flat on my stomach as i close my eyes and hide under the covers. I was freezing cold, yet i couldn't even get the motivation to get up. I hadn't come out of my cabin all day and i knew my siblings were worried. Will had come in about 4 times today to check on me but i acted like i was asleep to avoid conversation. I felt bad, i really did, but i just couldn't bring myself to do anything. I hiccuped and coughed as my cabin door creaked open. I froze in fear as i hold in my coughs, losing oxygen by the second. I heard soft footsteps approaching my bed. It was leo. the rest of my siblings were too loud to go unnoticed. I shivered as the covers were lifted over my head. I squeezed my eyes shut even though i knew it was of no use. "Hermosa?" Leo softly said. I opened my eyes as i sighed in defeat, "h-hi." I stammered, hiccuping. I could see Leo's face fill with concern as he saw my bloodshot eyes and my saddened expression. I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face so i didn't look like such a disaster. I looked at him and saw he was glancing upwards. I followed his glance and saw an entanglement of hyacinth flowers blooming all over my side of the cabin. "oh." i said,as my cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. he glanced down back at me and we made eye contact. "hey, whats wrong?" he softly said, wiping a tear from off my cheek. He sat down on my bed and i practically flew into his lap, head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me gently. I relaxed in his warm, comforting embrace.