#YES THOSE ARE REAL AND ARE HORRIFYING TO KNOW ABOUT

[cosmicwhoreo]

Maybe Grand Reef Cookie shouldn't always try to make the things he finds into some sort of tea or meal....

[musical-chick-13]

Okay, no, sorry, I’m still mad about this. “Be critical of the media you consume and examine why you react to it in the way that you do, support marginalized and stigmatized identities.” Yeah, until it’s about mental illness.

A woman (or even man, if he’s deemed over-emotional) makes music about suffering from mental illness and people just go, “What are they complaining about, that’s so immature, hashtag wangst.” (And then, sometimes, inexplicably, if the mentally ill woman gets better and writes happier music, they then talk about how artistically bankrupt she is now and that she should go back to hating herself.) People LOVE cis white pRoBLeMaTiC (straight) fictional men until they are realistically mentally ill, in which case they’re “whiny” and “insufferable” and deserve to die violently, apparently (or, if fandom is merciful, they’re ignored). (And then they celebrate when they DO inevitably get killed off.) “Do your duty and watch [thing I, mc13, personally find insufferable] For The (white) Gays because it has Gays.” Sure, will you watch c4 Pure, the ONLY show specifically about OCD, then? (No, the answer is no, it’s always no.)

I can’t get anyone to watch Doom Patrol. I couldn’t get people (in general-I did convince a few irl friends thank GOD) to watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. One of the most popular and acclaimed shows right now has a character with schizophrenia who was turned into the Big Bad Villain for no fucking reason. One of the most commonly-cited examples of Iconic™ queer media involves a mentally ill man being broken over and over and over again before The Ship™ can reasonably happen. DW introduced a major character who was at one point suffering from mental illness in her past, AND THEN ALL MENTION OF THIS WAS COMPLETELY DROPPED IN THE FUTURE, WITH NO BEARING ON ANYTHING TO THE POINT WHERE I FORGOT IT EVEN EXISTED??!?!? R*tched was a thing that existed despite the Sad Sympathetic Backstory treatment being IN DIRECT CONTRADICTION OF WHAT PURPOSE THIS CHARACTER SERVED IN One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. THEY GAVE. A SAD WOOBIE VILLAIN TREATMENT. TO THE /LITERAL PERSONIFICATION/ OF ABLEISM. THAT IS HER FUNCTION. TO EXIST AS A SYMBOL OF ALL THE WAYS SOCIETY OPPRESSES THE DISABLED AND MENTALLY ILL.

I am!!! Literally!!!!! The only one!!!!!!!!! Complaining about these things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE ONLY ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one else has said ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one is talking about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so tired!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

[mr-ribbit]

this isn't meant to soften or reduce the objective transmisogyny + additional hate action going into this, but since the people running these harassment campaigns are acting like they're literal baby children who need their hands held to understand anything, maybe this needs to be said:

what you're doing and how you treat trans women on this website is fucking MEAN. if you want to sit there and honestly convince yourself that you're *not* a transmisogynist or a transphobe or a misogynist or any other type of bigot - like if you genuinely believe that and are confused why people are calling you these things - then maybe we need to start from little primary colored building blocks and tell you that you're being fucking mean and rude and actively harmful to real people who read the things you say. im not sure why we need to start off with "trans women have feelings" - just kidding I know exactly why we need to - but maybe you don't.

no matter who you're talking to, do you honestly think accusing someone you do not know of being a pedophile, en masse, behind their back /and/ in a public forum, is a reasonable way to treat someone for making a tumblr post about video games or political opinions? even if you strongly disagree with the post, you think someone deserves to be treated like that by people they don't know? take a second please and sincerely imagine how that would feel. wouldn't it be scary? wouldn't you wonder who the people were who thought this about you - if they're people you know - if they're just a few people that will continue saying mean things to you forever or if there are thousands of people who choose to dedicate their time and energy specifically to making you feel bad? if you accidentally write a post in the wrong tone or unknowingly interact with a shitty person, that there are uncountable people that will keep track of that just to hurt you later? that's fucking horrifying

and to zone in on what's specifically happening here: do you think randomly accusing people of being pedophiles or sexual abusers has no effect on them? like a lot of you tend to excuse yourself in these discussions by saying "I didn't actually see the context of what they were saying" or "I didn't see that they apologized already" or "I didn't actually understand the post was a joke" or whatever other kneejerk response to make sure *you* aren't seen as a bad person. do you realize that makes you look even meaner? you didn't bother to actually follow up on a thought you had about someone before sending them hateful messages or making public accusations about them? those actions are harmful whether or not you like the victim at the end of the day.

believe it or not some people you send this shit to are survivors of abuse themselves, or have their own historical personal reasons to be weighing in on a touchy subject. when you baselessly decide it's ok to call someone an abuser of any type, that person is probably *also* disgusted by whatever horrible shit you're accusing them of. as someone that hates these things as much as you do in order to attack someone for them: what do you think it's like to have complete strangers think that about you? how many eggshells would you walk on if random people thought so little of you that they were ok doing this?

it's mean. it's heinous, cruel bullying, and if you genuinely think you are not doing it from a place of transmisogyny or hatefuk bias over the victims' identity, then you need to understand that that's not an excuse. "i didn't even know she was trans" ok, it was still mean to call her a pedophile with 200 of your closest friends in public. "im trans so it can't be transphobia" ok it was still mean to assume someone was endorsing abuse when they were talking about being accused of abuse. "i didn't see the post where she said it was a joke" ok it was still mean to actively harass someone without bothering to look into the full context.

at the end of the day, yes, obviously I still think you're all transmisogynist assholes who are clearly willing to gang up on a woman who has nothing to do with your problems simply because she dared to speak on them. i think you're bigoted and unwilling to examine that if it means giving up your vitriol against someone who doesn't like your favorite video game or whatever excuse of the week. but like even if you were just doing it for love of the hate game, it's fucking weird heinous shit and i hope you're happy having that be a central part of your life

to be clear: im not transfemme and if I'm overstepping or talking over anyone please let me know. im not speaking for anyone's actual experiences except my own, which is the experience of being angry at how much literal bullying and harassment I see excused on this so-called progressive queer blogging website

[astaroth1357]

The MC Meeting the Brothers' (+Dia & Barbs) Cults

So like. Imagine the Brother's Fanclubs + Witchy Requests. That's this.

Contents: Satanic themes, demon stuff, witchy inspirations

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

Lucifer's cults take this shit SERIOUSLY. They're not just fooling around with the occult, they live and breathe it.

I'm talking dark robes, goats heads, bonfires, animal blood, ritual dances- You know. The works.

Definitely the sort of occultists who gatekeep other occultists. They want the world to think of THEM, the followers of the mighty Lucifer, as THE quintessential demonic cult to model all others after. He (and by that they mean they) deserves no less.

Oh yes, they are a very prideful and obnoxious bunch... Completely void of self-awareness too. Try to point out how arrogant they're being and they'll call you crazy.

Lucifer openly despises most of them and possesses a quiet distain for the rest. He doesn't think they're nearly as competent and useful as they claim to be and would rather they simply butt out of his affairs.

He doesn't visit them much nor allow them to summon him unless it is a world-ending emergency (so never). A former past leader thought he was beyond those rules and paid for his hubris with his spine...

Lucifer will do all in his power to convince MC that his cult isn't even worth visiting. They'll annoy them to death... And even if they do go, the self-absorbed members won't exactly roll out the red carpet.

Just take down any names of the most irritating ones and Lucifer will take care of it. The dungeon rats could use some company.

Mammon

Mammon's cult kind of feels like a mix between a tech startup and Gambler's Anonymous at times. Money is the goal, babes. Everybody there is some kind of slave to the grind and they hustle like the goddamn NFL.

Funny enough, it usually isn't the already rich and successful who find themselves in Mammon's orbit, but those who are close to, if not in, poverty and looking to turn things around.... in less than stellar ways.

What I'm saying is, most are either casino regulars, scam artists, or buy into crypto.

That said, unlike most of his brothers, Mammon actually has a pretty deep soft spot for his followers. He puts on the "callous demon" act when he's brought out, but generally, he never cruel to them. He may even throw in an extra bit of help for free if he sees someone is struggling.

When they first met the MC, they really went out of their way to be sure MC was safe, pampered, and satisfied. This was Mammon's favorite human, after all! He talks about them constantly...

It's pretty humorous because most of them already know what kind of food MC likes, what their sense of style is, their favorite colors, and the like from just listening to Mammon's rambles. Or because he'll send one of them to fetch him some kind of present when he's visiting.

Admittedly, they're all kinda scummy and insufferable at times. But endearing in the same way Mammon can be so hanging out with them can still be a good time. MC just have to keep an eye on their wallet.

Leviathan

Levi's cult feels like a bunch of teens who read a creepypasta once, tested it out as a joke but found out it was all real. Thankfully, instead of being horrified, they were actually psyched!

They kind of take to devil worship with a DnD-like enthusiasm. They all have code names like, "Grimshadow" or "Evergloom," each owns a black cloak that they MUST wear to all meetings, and they all have incredibly embellished and extensive backstories for their "darkside" personas. Levi is very proud of their commitment to it all.

That being said, they do take to their found family, counterculture thing with a good dash of humor. They once all attended their local aquarium in full robes and linked hands around the jellyfish tank for shits and giggles.

Levi's followers rarely summon him, but he stays in regular contact with the group through chatrooms and messengers. They love to report on the fun "campaigns" they're building on or when they pull some kind of silly stunt to scare the normies.

When MC visits them, they've long since built up this prince/ss persona for them and treat them like the defacto second-in-command. (Partially because they know Levi would flip out if they upset MC in any way).

If MC enjoys a bit of LARPing, they're the most dedicated group they'll ever find! If they're not willing to play act royalty for a few hours...? Steer clear.

Satan

Satan has a ton of cults so they come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors. MC will certainly find one for them!

... The catch is that very few of them actually have a good idea of who Satan really is. It's pretty common to mistake him for Lucifer still, to the point that some cults use their names interchangeably, and THOSE cults better not try contact him personally.

If MC manages to uncover more updated following of Satan's, they'll feel like they walked into a "National Treasure"-style bookclub. These guys are looking for the secrets of the universe, never mind anything else.

Meeting with Satan's inner circle usually feature the search, collection, curation of old esoteric tomes or lost artifacts from the distant realms. The majority of the participants are scholars, academics, and the odd cooky conspiracy theorist who just happened to be right.

Also. Cats. Soooo many cats... The cultists are VERY aware of Satan's volatile temper, so they take pains to keep as many cats present as they can whenever they summon him. Their meeting house is just full of them...

Satan's cult gives MC the real VIP treatment because NO ONE wants to the one to tell the Avatar of Wrath that they disrespected his loved one... If MC were walking barefoot, they'd be laying pillows beneath their every step. The only things treated better are the clubhouse cats.

Asmodeus

Asmo's cult is basically one big family. Very enmeshed and a lot of history, but also soooo fascinating to be around.

If MC wanted to keep track of every person in Asmo's following, they would have to make a chart that could expand the length of an entire wall and, in some cases, go back generations if not centuries.

Followers of Asmo have historically ranged everywhere from sex workers to concubines and even members of the aristocracy looking increase their social capital. Being under his cult provided protection and refuge for the most derided of society, no matter orientation or background. A good portion of his modern following are actually members who've been grandfatherd in from parents or siblings who have joined.

And, of course, Asmo maintains a very close and personal relationship with almost all of them. He's always invited to attend baby showers, weddings, graduations, birthdays, what have you and he makes it to a good deal of them, even if only for a few minutes.

Because of its sheer size and unorthodox structure, Asmo's following almost seems like a "cult" in the loosest sense. They have rituals, spells, and meetings but it all looks SO much different than the others. Get-togthers among the adults are practically just parties and maybe you summon some succubi with goat's blood and glitter glue.

Asmo's cult can be kinda catty, but generally very supportive and they LOVE having MC around. Big gossips with a lot of questions. If they love a party, then they can't go wrong!

Beelzebub

Beel's cult takes self-indulgence to a whole new level. These guys LOVE their vices and find a little demonic touch is the best way to keep the indulgence going.

Belphegor

It's amazing that for such a sweet demon, his cult is some of the scummiest people on the planet. We're talking riding yachts on your mega-yacht levels of excess. "Too much of a good thing" taken to the extreme.

The thing is, as long as you have the money to feed Beel then he's really agreeable and kind. So wealthy assholes take advantage of his generosity all the time...

That said, don't feel too bad for Beel just yet because they ARE scumbags, but Beel is in charge and he has his limits.

One old billionaire kept summoning him during his fangol matches. The guy's maids found his nightrobe ripped to shreds and bite marks in the furniture.

Another one made a passing insult about Mammon and Beel came home to give his brother the lady's jewelry... after he washed them off, of course.

He discourages MC from meeting them even harder than Lucifer, and if they insist, he'll go with them and loom over their shoulder like a round-the-clock bodyguard. He doesn't need to tell his followers to treat MC nicely... he'll make them.

Absolutely those edgy kids who dress in all black and SAY that yeah, they've totally met Belphegor. But they really haven't, and it shows.

Remember, Belphie is on the blacklist so most witches who say they've met him are fucking liars. However, that doesn't stop novice covens searching for a little respect from claiming they're in good with the guy.

Since the group doesn't really know what Belphegor is about, they most just use their little club as an excuse to grief others and claim undue superiority. They pull a lot of pranks though, so they at least have some parts right.

Belphie has a vague awareness of their existence, but couldn't be bothered to contact them or set the record straight. What's it matter to him if a bunch of humans want to make a fool of themselves? He doesn't care that much about his reputation.

If MC were actually summon Belphegor themselves in front of them, the entire group would shit their pants immediately then cry and beg for forgiveness. Again, Belphie doesn't care, but he likes toying with fools so he'd play the part of the "Angry Master" long enough to make them run for their lives.

Needless to say, if MC wants there to be no Belphie-cult, no more Belphie cult there will be.

Diavolo

Actually a very small group since it's not super widespread that the Demon King is out of commission. But those who are there are a real who's-who of the witching world.

Dia doesn't actually interact with his cult very much, despite their combined influence, because he finds them very off-putting. Most of them are just "yes men" or social climbers wanting to get in good with royal bloodline, so he doesn't put much stock in what they do or say.

If he does contact them, it's for his "Bring Harmony" plans and they do come in handy as envoys in the human realm. He keeps the interactions brief though.

Several of his number have attempted to get into contact with MC before, but Solomon usually wards them off for much the same reason Dia does. They all just want something from them, so why let them bother his sweet little apprentice?

Those who slip through the cracks get shut down immediately by an impromptu visit from the friendly neighborhood sorcerer who seems to have some of charm in place for just such occasion. It's pretty confusing for MC to watch Solomon drag some big politican out of the house by the scruff of the neck, but it's probably better that they just don't ask and move on.

Barbatos

An even smaller group than Dia's and even more secretive. You basically have to be invited in by Barb's himself so a new member gets added every half century or so...

Nobody is quite sure what spurs Barbs to select someone into his cult... Maybe they make a good first impression when summoning him or he sees that they're important for the future? Sometimes, he'll even induct complete normal humans who weren't even witches to start with so it's anybody's guess.

Due to its small size and, frankly, years of even centuries worth of distance between members there's a lot less meetings and more just doing what Barbs says.

For instance, he may instruct a member to bury a particular message on a hill to then tell a different member to go find 60 years later... Or he'll have another member set into motion a chain of events that won't actually be felt for decades to come.

The cult members don't know about MC unless Barbs NEEDS them to know about MC. He keeps a lot in the dark. If they do, he takes pains to stress that he admires MC quite a bit and to not upset them...

When Barbatos tells you not to do something, you don't fucking do it, so they are VERY kind to MC. Just in that "I feel like there's a gun to my head"- kind of way...

[angelltheninth]

HSR men and the romance cliche where they wake up married after a night of drinks and partying

Ah, the premise of so many enemies to lovers movies.

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luka, Luocha, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, accidental marriage, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, confession, angry make outs, fake/pretend relationship to real relationship

A/N: Its funny that as much as I hate romance movies I'm a sucker for so many of their tropes.

Blade takes a lot of delight in this situation because he thinks its funny that you claim to hate his guts but a little drinking, some kisses and one wild night in bed and you're marrying him. Oh this is too good for him to let go of. You can deny it all you want but you're attracted to him on some level, these scratch marks on his back and the rings on your fingers are proof. You can make this easy by admitting it, just a simple "yes" will do.

Dan Heng is confused how you even got to this phase. Yes you like each other to some degree but it's never been like this. When you're at work you have lots of playful banter, it never went much farther. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings because he can see that as much as you're freaking out you want his support too and maybe give this a try? Just for a little while cause it might look bad if got divorced right away. When he sees you looking at the ring with that little smile on your face he starts to wonder if this was something he's always wanted, but was too afraid to ask for.

Gepard is horrified that he allowed himself to get so under the influence that he would marry one of his fellow knights. And you... slept together too... oh... what if... are you pregnant? Right, right you don't know yet, of course. But if you are then he's ready to support you! He's getting a little ahead of things isn't he? It's not as if he doesn't like you or enjoys your company, he wouldn't call it love but would seem odd for him to have a secret wife. So why not start small, you'll get washed up and then he'll take you to breakfast. Who knows maybe you can work your way up to a wedding.

Jing Yuan doesn't think its a big deal, it was just a spur of the moment decision and if he was being honest one that doesn't bother him at all. Everyone's been telling him its time to settle down, why not with his secretary? You've had a friends with benefits relationship for a while and you've both shown no intent in seeing other people. That may be true but this means you'll have to come out about your previous relationship as well. Don't worry, if anything has any objections they can say it to him, if they dare.

Luka hates this as much as you do. You're his rival, you trade blows in the ring, not kisses in the sheets. Although you've both had those dreams too, he himself needed many cold showers because of it. Being forced to endure this for a few months won't be easy, not with the press asking questions, how long you've been dating, why did you act like you hated each other. It wasn't an act, but your happy lovey-dovey attitude sure is. When the doors close behind you all you can do is take out your anger on each other via kisses, trading them as you move to the bedroom to get the frustrations out.

Luocha thought about breaking things off right away but couldn't bring himself too when he saw the lovestruck look on your face when you looked at him. This marriage needs to end sooner or later, unless you plan to follow him to the road, which he doesn't want to do to you. Your life is here, not out there. But he will, at least for a little while be the best husband you could hope for. He never thought he would find himself falling in love and opening a clinic in the process.

Welt kind of wants to give this a shot. Sure he doesn't know you that well yet but from what he has seen of you, you're a very hard worker, you keep a calm head on your shoulders and you look very cute when shy, he remembers that from last night very well. He's never been married before so this will be a learning experience for you both, one that will go from pretending to be in love, to longing glances, to good night kisses just because it feels right, to cuddling on the couch every day, and finally to confessing your love to each other.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Fair Few Questions

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader

In which the Reader finds out Aziraphale and Crowley are Supernatural entities and has a fair few questions for them.

Requests are: OPEN

“So… let me get this straight,” you say, “those are not coloured contacts… Zira, you’re an Angel, and Crowley is a Demon.” You blink as though it will clear the shock and confusion from your system. “And not as in cutesy pet names ‘Angels’ and ‘Demons.’ Real, biblical, Heaven and Hell ‘Angels and Demons.’” Oh, you might just faint if you weren’t careful.

Crowley sticks his bottom lip out thoughtfully for a moment, swishing his wine around in his glass. “‘Bout sums it up, yeah.” 

You let out an exasperated sound that’s not quite a word but not quite a formless sound either. Your hand comes up to rub at your forehead. A habit you’ve grown into. You were going to get wrinkles if you weren’t careful.

“I don’t- what do you mean,” you reply, frustration eating at your brain. “I have so many questions.” 

Aziraphale smiles comfortingly, patting his lap. They’re both sitting on a two seater lounge next to each other- Crowley splayed out in his usual fashion. You let out a little noise of protestion before immediately caving and going to lay across the two of them, head in Aziraphale’s lap. 

The headache immediately eases, and you wonder just how much Aziraphale had to do with it. Anything was possible, right? And now you were thinking about it, all of your aches and pains mysteriously disappeared when he was near. Odd, but suddenly making a whole lot more sense.

“Oh, my dear,” he coos, one hand coming up to play with your hair softly. “I know it’s hard to understand. Humans aren’t quite as aware of us as they used to be.” He looked to Crowley, who was downing some more of his wine ever-so-helpfully. “Crowley, love, do you remember back at the beginning- the Human’s recognised us as Angels and Demons by sight? It’s certainly not like that anymore.” 

“Mm, right,” Crowley replied, laying a hand over your legs and shifting them more comfortably for you onto his lap and not seeming a might bit bothered by the idea that humans did not recognise him by sight anymore. “You have questions, then?” 

You flustered for a moment, looking between the two of them. 

“Are you allowed to answer things?” You ask cautiously. You didn’t want to get them in trouble. Could they get in trouble?

“Uh, sure,” Crowley shrugged, setting his empty glass down on the side table. He propped his elbow on the back of the lounge so he could face towards you. 

“Is… God real?” You asked with another moments hesitation. 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale replied, a reverent look on his face. “Most definitely, I’ve spoken with her once or twice.” 

You swallowed thickly and thought you might just move on from that line of questioning. The implications of what that meant were astronomical and way too much to focus on right now. 

“Do pets go to Heavan? Oh, please say yes.” 

Crowley chuckled and gave the outside of your thigh a comforting pat. 

“Yes, love, pets go to Heavan. I believe they have a rather nice park, too,” Aziraphale smiled, brushing his thumb between your eyebrows to ease the tension there.

“And- how old are you, really, then?” 

“Oh, we’re about six thousand years old,” Crowley says tiredly. You can empathise. Six thousand years is a long time. You’d be tired, too. You rub a hand down across your face, snuggling into Aziraphale’s tummy a little. “We’ve been here since the beginning.” 

“Since the beginning? Wait- does that mean- what about the Dinosaurs?” 

Crowley looks at you with a sly grin.

“That might’ve been us, I’m afraid, love.” You eye him in a way that says what-exactly-does-that-mean? To which he laughs, and replies, “it’s a joke Humanity hasn’t got yet.” 

You groan and cover your eyes, horrified by the information that has now been shoved at you. You don’t know what to do about any of this information. 

“Oh, dear, Crowley,” Aziraphale chuckles, looking down at you with such love. “I think we might have broke our favourite human.” 

Crowley squeezes your thigh and chuckles. “Mm, unfortunate. Might have to get a new one, eh, Angel? What do you think?”

“I rather think you might be right,” the literal Angel replies softly. You glare up at the two of them between your fingers, “but I do quite like this one.”

Crowley reaches over to pull one hand away from your face, bringing it to his lips to kiss softly. You cheeks heat at the intimate look in his eyes. His, you now realise- entirely real eyes and not at all contact covered. You lose yourself in them for a moment as he rubs your knuckles, lips pressing into the skin.

“Will you tell me something?” You ask, brushing a finger over Crowley’s cheek. “Something interesting you’ve done. I’m sure six thousand years worth of stories is a lot.” 

“Mm,” Crowley replied thoughtfully. “I suppose we do. As long as it’s not the fourteenth century. I hated the fourteenth century,” he makes a face. You filed that away to ask about another time.

“Oh, I know,” Aziraphale said, cheeks about to burst with the strength of his smile. “Shall we talk about the court of Henry the eighth?”

Crowley lets out a barely contained bark of a laugh. “Oh, yes. Now that was an interesting assignment. Bit close to the fourteenth, though,” he added with a hint of a warning.

“You’ll live,” Aziraphale brushed him off as he began to tell you all the interesting tid-bits that only someone who was there at the time could tell you about. 

The three of you talked for several hours about different eras of history. You asking questions, Aziraphale being quite factual, and Crowley adding all the juicy facts and drama into the mix to keep things interesting. 

As it turned out, they had a lot of information about a lot of things, and you were looking forward to asking them questions about everything under the sun, before the sun, and everything in between. 

Heavens, you really did love them. 

And they loved you too.

[actiniumwrites]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

synopsis: in which you find out the truth about lyney’s identity

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 695

warnings: pure angst, established relationships, breakups, reader has a past with the fatui, mentions of physical harm and death, major spoilers for the 4.0 archon quest

notes: i am officially in writers block and want to die because of it. also, i know this idea is a little old since the quest came out a few weeks ago, but i still wanted to write something about his identity. also, yes, i would forgive lyney, but this blog has not seen pure angst in awhile so…🙂

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you finally break the silence. Your arms are crossed as you lean back against one of the brick walls of the Opera Epiclese. Lyney stands approximately three feet away from you.

He’s silent, unable to answer the burning question. It’s been on your mind all night ever since Furina had so proudly announced it to all of the court. Lyney was a part of the House of the Hearth. Part of the Fatui.

“I can’t lie to you,” he carefully picks his words, terrified of further upsetting you.

Cutting him off, you scoff and turn away from him further than you already had, “What? Like you haven’t been lying to me this entire time? Real funny.”

Lyney takes a single step closer to you.

You take one back.

“Please, I wasn’t lying to you. I just left out some parts of the truth, that’s all, I swear!”

“You are part of the Fatui, Lyney. The Fatui! How can I trust you when you’re part of an organization who hurts people, kills people, even,” you frown. Not a single part of you isn’t affected by the hurt you feel. He hears the way your voice is beginning to break too, like the truth of it all is finally beginning to set in.

His hands come together as he pleads, “I promise I’ve never hurt anyone, not ever! Not everyone and everything in the Fatui is evil.”

For the first time tonight, you turn toward him and look him in the eyes. Your arms become uncrossed as you feel anger fuel your every action, every thought, every feeling. Walking toward him step by step, you hold out a finger, digging it into his chest as you speak, “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a part of something dangerous, Lyney! I don’t care if you aren’t the one doing the killing or the hurting, you still help them. What about all those people I told you about? My friends and family who got hurt by the Fatui? Did that mean nothing to you?”

He watches as tears form in your eyes at the mention of them. Of course he remembered, how could he not? The day you confided in him about your past and all the misfortune that you were dealt by the Fatui was eternally engraved in his mind. The organization who had taken so much from you that you swore you would find a way to end it one day, even if it meant dying. You had laid everything out to him and the entire time he was on their side.

You take two more steps back from him, voice shaking as cave in on yourself, “No wonder you were so quiet that day. God, and here I was thinking you actually cared.”

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, tempted to reach a hand out to you, but not willing to scare you off. For all he knows, this could be the last time he ever sees you, “I care about you so much it hurts me. I really was horrified by the things you told me, I promise you that. Understand that I’ve only ever been talking to you as just Lyney. Your Lyney.”

It takes everything in you not to run into his arms and forget all of this is even happening. Give into his pleading words and return to who you thought was the only person who had ever really loved you. You want to pinch your arm to wake yourself up from the cruel nightmare, but somewhere deep inside, part of you has already accepted the truth and the fact that there is no universe in which you could accept his true identity. And so you take one final look at him before you take your final step, allowing the tears to fall from your eyes as you bid him a permanent farewell.

Lyney would never forget the final words you spoke to him. Four words that managed to break both your hearts more than the truth had.

“You’re not my Lyney.”

[mystoriaaa]

FakeCreator!Reader

SAGAU but reader becomes the tyrant imposter who pretends to be the creator. Also has a game system in place because I'm a sucker for those lol

“How about we play a game?” 

“A game?”

“Yes. It'll be a fun, simple game. Just how you like it. It'll even involve that Genshin Impact game you're currently playing.” The person smiles, “I just need you to…”

—

You open your eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. And suddenly every sense of yours sharpens.

You feel the mattress you're laying down on, it's too soft. You jolt upright at the thought you possibly got kidnapped, looking around the new environment.

It's…fancy. You look down at what you are wearing and… it certainly fits the place you’re in. It feels smooth, something a rich aristocrat person would wear in the past. But that's the thing, you are broke as hell and you certainly aren't that old.

So what is this? Is this some kind of new sick joke kidnappers do nowadays?

A ping from a hologram accompanied by a robotic voice reading it out appears right in front of your dumbfounded face, cutting you off your thoughts. 

[Welcome to the World of Teyvat, player!]

What?

[You are currently inhabiting the body of the so-called “Creator” of Teyvat but the body is actually a fake!] The hologram fakes a gasping sound.

What. 

[Now, you have no choice but to pretend to be the real Creator or else…] It pauses for dramatic effect to reveal horrifying news that you'll definitely not like.

[You’ll be executed! Oh no!]

“WHAT?!” You yell in shock, at the absolute absurdity of it all. Not knowing that it would alarm the people guarding outside the door.

“Your grace?! Are you okay?!” The door slams open, and that's when you know, you are fucked.

Your grace. You internally curse that title, the one commonly used for the Creator. Towards the imposter that was actually the real one or to the fake pretending to be one. Which you are supposedly the latter.

Two people entered the room, and you felt the sudden movement of the wind despite the closed room. But that's just your imagination, right? Is what you would like to believe but…

A familiar yet foreign appearance appeared. That– That shouldn't even be real. You dig your nails into your palm, hoping the pain will wake you up.

Yet you feel fully awake as Venti, a game character, goes to you. Looking all over your body for non-existent injuries while your mind breaks down, crumbling at the horrid realization. 

His brows furrowed, gently prying your hand open, “Your grace? Is something wrong?” He asked in a worried tone.

You look at him, you don't know what expression you have but Venti flinches and ask again, “What’s wrong, your grace?” 

You take away your hand that Venti was caressing, hugging yourself as you close your eyes to process what was happening. 

You’ve— you’ve just somehow isekai’d like in those shows you watch. And not just any normal isekai, but in the body of the fake Creator of those SAGAU fanfictions you read.

“Your grace, may I ask what happened?” A deep, smooth voice filled with concern but all it does is make your face pale.

Oh. You are absolutely doomed.

Warning bells ring in your head, the two’s voices blurring yet the words of the hologram echoes clearly. 

If they discover you're the imposter, you will die.

The world becomes distant as your chest tightens, everything feels real and not at the same time. You don't remember when you fainted, but all you wanted was for this to be a dream and wake up in your world again.

The last thing you see is the blue screen, with words that feel like it's mocking you.

[We hope you enjoy your experience and live to see another day!]

—

[Congratulations! You received a Memory Fragment from earning the achievement: <Trapped in another world?! The life of a Creator Imposter starts now!> Obtained from a successful transmigration.]

[Accessing Memory Fragment… Success!] 

[Memory Fragment playing now.]

“How dare you?! You dare to question me?!” Someone yells in anger. A voice so strangely familiar to you.

You try to remember whose voice it is, it almost comes to you but leaves when you come close to remembering. You know it's someone you know very well yet you can't put your finger on it. 

“P-Please, your grace… I did not mean to—” A different person’s voice, someone unfamiliar this time, begs desperately but was cut off by another angry yell.

“You dare to talk back to me?! Morax! Barbatos! What are you doing, you slow and incompetent acolytes! Bring death to this man right this instant!”

You flinch at the names spoken out, so so familiar but you just can't seem to remember. Your head hurts as you try to force yourself to recall what you forgot.

A clear, low voice void of emotions speaks, “We apologize for being late, your grace. We will do as you command.” 

A slap echoes loudly. 

Weird enough, you faintly felt the contact. As if you were the one that hit someone. But that can't be? You can't even see, let alone move…

“Useless. Useless, I say!” 

All of a sudden, your vision comes back to you slowly. Your senses are getting clearer and clearer.

Then, you feel your mouth speaking, your body moving even as you try to fight against it. You start to panic when you can't control your own body.

“It is an honor for you to be personally serving me. Yet you dare to treat me like this?” 

You try to scream, try to take back control of your body but all you do is point at someone kneeling before you.

“You seem to forget, you wretched Archon. But I am your—”

Suddenly, it comes back to you. Your mind momentarily freezes at you remembering everything. You somehow got put into the game you were playing and became someone you did not want to.

That's right, you are now the… 

“—Creator! The Creator of Teyvat! The ruler of this world! And you will respect me, worship me as I deserve.”

[Memory Fragment finished! Collect Memory Fragment to access more of the Imposter’s memories! It will surely help your survival. You can do it, player!]

—

You open your eyes. And once again, you see that unfamiliar ceiling. You close it one more time, just in case.

To your absolute dismay, it does not work.

You pinch yourself once, twice yet nothing happens, you stay in this dream-like place.

You sit upright with a headache from the imposter’s memories you received. Massaging your forehead as you try to calm down.

“Your grace?” Ugh, that cursed title. The proof of your annoying situation. “Does your head hurt? Would you like me to get you medicine?”

You look at the source of that voice and lo and behold, it's Zhongli from the hit game Genshin Impact. Sitting at the seat beside the bed.

If it was in any other situation, you would cry from joy meeting one of your characters. But now, you want to cry for a different reason.

“No. I am alright.” You say rather stiffly, you weren't sure how you should be speaking. Should you be screaming insults everywhere like the imposter you saw in the memory or something?

“I understand. I brought you lunch, would you like to eat?” Oh, the beautiful voice you love to hear whenever he was on screen. Yet it chills your spine, scared at what he might do when he finds the truth.

This would have been much, much better if this was all a dream. But noo, you stare at the hologram over Zhongli's face, this is unfortunately the reality. 

You sigh, “Give it to me.” Zhongli obliges. 

Well, at least the food is good. Even better than what you have in the previous world, you won't lie. Makes your remaining time alive better at least.

…You mentally slap yourself to stop these thoughts or else you might throw up.

After you finish eating, Zhongli takes the tray and says, “Dr. Baizhu said you fainted from feeling overwhelmed. Is there something troubling you?” 

You would feel bad at his worried tone if not for the fact you want to run away at the moment.

“It was nothing, you do not need to worry about it. I will be fine after resting.” You say with a fake calmness you did not feel, and hope it sounds like the real owner of this body despite the lack of yelling.

But then his eyes glint, piercing at you, looking like he just found the answer to his questions. And all you can think is that you already failed.

Standing from his seat, “I will be leaving then. Rest well, your grace.” Bringing the tray with him, the sound of the door closing made you slumped to the bed. 

That was so stressful…! Silently groaning to yourself, and looking at the annoying blue hologram box in front of you.

“You! Bring me back home right this instant!” You tried not to yell loudly, fearing that someone might hear you and come in. 

[Sorry to disappoint, player! But I cannot do that!]

“And why not?!” 

[Your original body has died, no medium can be used for you to access the previous world. Would you still like to proceed?]

A yes or no appears, and you ask in distraught. “I’m– I’m dead..?” 

[Yes. Returning would permanently make you disappear. Would you like to proceed?] The monotone voice irritates you to no end, it felt like it was mocking you.

“I— Why?” Your voice comes out quivering. You don't know what you are trying to ask, you just wanted answers.

[Please calm down, player! At the end of the day, this is all just a game.]

A game. 

A game. 

JUST A FUCKING GAME?!

You throw the nearest thing near you, the pillows passing through the holographic screen. “You brought me to this world and you say it is just a game?!”

Being quiet be damned. Fearing someone entering be double damned. You have to somehow make this screen pay for what they said.

You didn't want to be in this situation! This place where powerful people from fiction can hurt you in the most painful way possible before killing you. Even if you died and couldn't go back, you still wanted to return home because it's better than being here.

But this annoying blue box telling you it is just a game felt like it was trampling over all the fear and desperation you had. 

When you run out of pillows, you go for the glass of water at your bedside table and throw it. It shatters and the water gets everywhere on the floor. With nothing else to throw, you attempt to throw the big fluffy blankets too—

Venti enters the room and sees you trying to lift a clumsily folded blanket but it keeps falling off. You complain the third time it falls off again, “This stupid blanket!” 

Venti gets near you, holding you as you shake him off. “Your grace, what is the matter?” You keep thrashing around until you accidentally hit him. 

All of a sudden, your anxiety spikes and anger gone. You almost forgot that this is someone who could kill you, and you just hit him. You immediately try to apologize, “S-Sorry—” 

But you stop at Venti’s look of confusion and disbelief. What? Why is he... You rack your brain at the expression until you realize. 

The one you're right now is the imposter who's pretending to be the creator. The one who acted like a tyrant in that memory you received. You panic, you're already acting so out of character already.

You try to think of a way to fix it so they won't get suspicious until Venti brings your hand to his cheeks, smiling almost crazily, “It’s okay, your grace. This body is your creation, you have the right to do anything to me as you wish.” He lets go of your hand, but he waits. As if encouraging you to hit him.

Chills went down your spine, you remember how insane the behavior the playable characters have towards the Creator. It was all for fun when you read them, because it was fiction. But actually experiencing it yourself now scares you. 

Especially when you're just an imposter.

Swallowing the lump from your throat, you summon all the little courage you have left and say, “...Leave, Barbatos. I wish to be alone right now.” 

He looks at you, the same way Zhongli was looking earlier and you clench your clothes, trying to stop yourself from trembling.

“...Of course, your grace.” It feels like forever until he finally shuts the door, leaving you alone to yourself. But you are also left with a sense of foreboding.

You lay down on the messy bed, closing yourself off from the world. Comforting yourself that everything will be fine.

But a ping from that grating system comes, along with it emotionlessly reading a new notification that makes you fear for your life even more.

—

Venti closed the door behind him. He looked at the other archon standing guard at the door of the Creator’s room.

“Barbatos.”

“Morax.”

Silence echoed until the Geo Archon spoke.

“Did you notice it, bard?”

“Ehe~ Of course I did, why wouldn't a super devoted acolyte like me notice?”

The Anemo Archon replied lightheartedly, but his gaze intense as he stared at the taller god.

“Indeed. It would be quite shameful if us two, the last remaining of the original Seven, did not realize this.” 

The bard chuckled, “You’re right!” with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “Wanna say it at the same time then? 3…”

The Geo Archon sighed tiredly yet complied nonetheless. 

At the end of the count, the two’s expressions turned serious. 

And spoke of the truth that could change everything.

“The Creator has changed.”

—

[Warning! Warning! The playable characters are starting to suspect you!]

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Rough Winter | Yandere Polar-Bear Hybrid Pirate

There was something oddly eerie about the stillness of a biome meant to remain frozen. It was far too cold to hear the screech of even the most resilient birds; who wouldn’t migrate here if they could. Far too frigid for the reaching branches of any tree, with no soil beds for any determined sprout. 

No. 

No natural force would stay in the Arctic Wastelands. 

No one but Captain Poal.

Captain Poal and the crew he’d chained to his cursed vessel. 

“Land-Ho! We’re home, boys!”

The word felt like salt in the wound. You hadn’t been able to go to your home…your real home in what felt like ages. But what would be left? For a crew from a frigid biome, they had quite the fascination with fire. 

“Aw is the pup getting homesick?” 

Sen had a cruel and broad smile across his face as the ship sped forward to the floating fortress. The boat rocked with the jostling waves. You no longer needed to clutch the sides, easily maintaining your balance. It hurt to know this was no longer foreign to you.

“Senfried! Don’t be so rude. (Y/n)’s never been to this home before. This will be their first real welcome home.”

“Ooops~I forgot~”

Sen didn’t forget. He was just cruel like that. 

Despite his cruelness, he didn’t strike you as a kindred spirit to Poal. You wondered if he would have said the same if he had been there. Feeling the alcoholic buzz of the Summer festival, the sauntering joy of many living beings. Only for it all to dissipate in the suffocating haze of a burning inferno. And if it wasn’t enough that the sound of your home caving in on itself wasn’t enough then the helpless screams of all of those trapped inside would do it for you. 

The enflamed ashes skim your face as your eyes fight the smoke to burn the images of the late escapees into your mind's eye. Burning bodies both sprinting for water and falling out in a desperate call for death; it was a horrifying scene. 

Would he still be laughing then? 

Laughing as he watched the melting hands reach out to you one last time. 

Would he do that?

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?”

You let yourself return to the present, to Flynn placing a large hand on your back. The comforting gesture does the opposite, as you recall the same action being done that same night. You stepped away, ignoring those downcast expressions behind his glasses. Even Sen seemed to hesitate as you turned to woefully look at the rushing, raging waters.

Sen opened his mouth to speak, closing it as the Captain’s presence appeared with a thud. Booming footsteps commanded their attention and should have garnered yours. There wasn’t a need to look up when you already memorized the clinking seal-skinned boots. 

“Oi Oi is there an issue over here?”

Sen scrambled with a quick response. 

“Yes, Cap’n we’re all good here! Just excited to be home is all!”

His tone was light as usual, with no evidence of his previous pestering. Flynn on the other hand didn’t bother to let his hazel gaze point to you, before discretely pushing his spectacles up his nose. 

“Yes, we are all…ecstatic. ”

The Captain’s round and furry ears flicked in annoyance; silently communicating with his trusted first mate. Who nodded with the bow of his head. The Captain nodded upwards–a proper dismissal among friends.

“Well me and Senfield will prepare the rest of the crew. While our treasures may be compartmentalized they have yet to be moved.”

“Wait why do I have to come?”

“Senfield.”

“Don’t Senfield me! You always ack–! Hey”

Flynn dragged the hybrid by the stump of a tail before shifting to simply nudge him forward; effortlessly launching Sen ahead. Sen wasn’t a particularly big guy, given his species but not many could hold the line against a walrus hybrid. Especially not one as big as Flynn was.

Needless to say, your privacy was gifted by their absence.

Leaving you and the Captain alone on the deck of the ship. 

“What’s the problem, Snowball?”

You snarled at the nickname refusing to look up at him. He was probably smiling; casually flaunting the pearly razors so often stained with blood. 

“Don’t call me that!”

His fishy and sweltering breath fanned against your ear. When he had moved closer you’d never know. Speed and strength weren’t the traits he was lacking; that title belonged to his emotions. His sense of empathy and compassion was either nonexistent or skewed so much that it didn’t matter. 

“I’ll call you whatever I want.”

It wasn’t cold anymore. It was hot. Suffocating. 

His unclothed front was pressed into your back, his jacket-covered arms trapping your front. He was so insatiably warm. It felt like a fever had taken hold of you—an unnatural heat incurred by the chilling atmosphere.

“This is all your fault…I hate you Poal.”

The heat shook behind you. Vibrating with his stifled giggle. He clutched onto you tighter; muscles constricting you into his shaking embrace. His pointy nose dug into the top of your head, nuzzling into the woolen hat he gifted you before. 

“No, you don’t.” 

He let a steaming hand into your coat, shoving past the layers of cloth you’d put in place. You didn’t fight him, you couldn’t stop him as he reached for the skin above your heart. 

“You’re just mad that you lost.”

Retreating his hand from your protective layers he let you weakly cover up; before holding you by your cheeks. Turning your head to look up at the increasing size of the pirate’s fortress he squeezed at the resistance of your frown.

“Look at it. It’ll be one of your homes.”

“It will never be.”

“Don’t be coy. You’ll have a favorite eventually.”

“And you think it will be here?”

He turned you to him, pressing you into the side of the boat, clutching your face with a new ferocity. His head was already leveled above you coming closer to cast a shadow on his pale face framed by his unruly white locks as he looked down at you. In a fierce aquamarine glare, he doesn’t smile, looking as desperate as he is frustrated.

“I think it will be me.”

It wouldn’t help to struggle against his grip risking the pricking of his claws. So you simply returned his gaze knowing full well that backing down now would be your downfall. He backed his head away letting the light of the sun illuminate his face as he spread his mouth into a dastardly grin.

“You’re such a hurricane!”

He smashed his lips against yours. Quickly sucking on your pouting lips just barely nibbling before pulling away. He released you,  giggling to himself once more as he watched you recover. You rubbed your hand over your lip checking for any punctures glaring at him nonetheless. That seemed to make him smile wider, dashing away to knock on the door to the ship’s hold. 

“Buckle up Baby! We’re headed home to the fortress!”

Muffled shouts and hollers sounded from below. This would be your roughest Winter yet.

[cosmerelists]

Favorite Musicals of Each Order of the Knights Radiant

We’ve already considered their favorite boardgames. But what about when it’s time to go to a musical? Which musical is preferred by each order?

1. Skybreakers: Les Misérables

They think Javert is the protagonist.

Szeth: Is it not strange that the musical continues for so long after the death of the protagonist?

Nale: Ah, but it is only thus that we see the real tragedy.

Nale: As all of the lawbreakers go on living, without punishment, due the the lawman not being willing to fulfill his duty.

Joret: It’s so horrifying.

Cali: Yes, hence the title.

2. Bondsmiths: West Side Story

It’s about two warring gangs being brought together.

Dalinar: Although it is sad, it is nice that it ends with all of the previously estranged people bonding over their loss.

Navani: And it really is through music that two warring sides can be brought together--perhaps even feel love for each other.

Dalinar: Yes. 

Dalinar: Wait, what? 

3. Edgedancers: Little Shop of Horrors

Or at least, it’s Lift’s favorite.

Lift: I dunno why Wyndle doesn’t like it--it’s about a plant!

Lift: A hungry plant too, so it has something in common with both of us!

Wyndle: I--

Wyndle: Never--

Wyndle: That--

Wynde: IT WAS SO HORRIFYING, MISTRESS!!!

Lift: It’s kinda in the title, dude.

4. Stonewards: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

They were surprised at how invested they got.

Badali: It may not be warfare, yet the efforts of these children are so inspiring.

Zu: They truly do fight until there is only one standing.

5. Elsecallers: A Little Night Music

Jasnah just thinks it’s neat.

Jasnah: I have to respect the effort of composing each song in 3/4 time.

6. Lightweavers: Phantom of the Opera

It’s about art, tortured souls, disguises...

Gaz: I gotta feel bad for the Phantom.

Shallan: What, because his love for Christine is doomed?

Vathah: Because it would suck to live in a sewer?

Gaz: Well sure.

Gaz: But also that one-sided mask.

Gaz: He must always feel like there’s something there in the darkness, something just out of his sight.

Shallan: ...

Vathah: ...

Gaz: N-Not that I would know anything about that, ha ha!

7. Truthwatchers: Lion King

They went for the costumes and ended up being  blown away by the story.

Rlain: If Simba had just told the truth about his father’s death, all of that could have been avoided.

Stump: Yeah, well, kids are pretty stupid sometimes.

Renarin: Although by running away, Simba did get to be raised by two awesome gay dads, so that’s nice!

Stump: ...

Renarin: What?

8. Willshapers: Scarlet Pimpernel

It’s about rescuing innocent (?) aristocrats from being imprisoned and guillotined!  

Eshonai: It is truly inspiring to see a group of humans working so hard to free other humans before their unjustified deaths.

Venli: That Madame Guillotine song is really catchy though.

Eshonai: Yeah, you almost can almost understand the killing there.

9. Dustbringers: Wicked

They appreciate the overall message.

Malata: Yeah, there really are two sides to every story!

Ral-na: And just because a power is popularly deemed destructive, that does not mean it is so.

10. Windrunners: Also Wicked

Although their reasoning is...different.

Bridge Four, in their barracks: SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME / LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY

Bridge Four: AS SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY / EVERYONE DESERVES THE CHANCE TO FLY!

Bridge Four: AND IF I’M FLYING SOLO / AT LEAST I’M FLYING FREEEE

Bridge Four: TO THOSE WHO’D GROUND ME / TAKE A MESSAGE BACK FROM MEEEEE

Bridge Four: TELL THEM HOW I AM DEFYING GRAVITY / I’M FLYING HIGH, DEFYING GRAVITY!

Kaladin (wiping away a tear): It’s just such a good song.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 408: Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain

Previously on BnHA: HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi decides he’s going to cover the rest of the AFO/OFA saga in the span of just seven pages, the majority of which are mostly just filled with lovingly detailed closeups of AFO and Kudou’s eyes. Back in the present day, Kid For One takes a couple of seconds to trample the last of the “Kacchan is OFA II or is related to OFA II” theories into the dust, and is then all “fuck it, I’ll just take him out with one last spectacularly grotesque supermove.” Kacchan is all “lol you fucking dipshit”, and he says it with such confidence that it truly makes me believe he can defeat AFO’s “ALL THE QUIRKS EVER!!” attack with his piddly little exploding bloodsweat quirk. AND IT WILL BE A SIGHT TO SEE.

interesting!

Yoichi’s name btw is written with the kanji 与 which means “bestow” or “give”, and 一 which means “one.” so basically “one who gives”, which is fitting as the creator of OFA, but also fits in with this new context of being the first “possession” bestowed upon AFO

oh yes and also AFO I guess has just torn his brother to shreds or something too. idk. I’m going to be honest with you guys, this panel has such a surreal vibe that I just sat here blinking stupidly at it and wasn’t even shocked or anything. like what. is he dreaming this?? or did he really just make a “STOP! IN THE NAAAAME OF LOVE” gesture and in doing so remove half of his brother’s jaw

ewww

idk what’s wrong with me today guys. AFO just disintegrated Yoichi, and Kudou and and OFA Tres (who apparently still doesn’t have a name???? freaking Kudou got named before you??) are literally RIGHT THERE and presumably horrified, and all I can think about is how fucking gross it is that they’re all hanging out in a fucking sewer

oh shit y’all it’s about to go down

he can’t kill Kudou right off the bat can he? does Kudou even know he has OFA yet? are we going to see him transfer it to OFA III? I’m so fucking excited omg

LOL WHAT

“weirdly matte” omg. so apparently he’s like All Might, where the “he’s just drawn differently” thing is something people actually acknowledge in-story. “yeah he actually has no pupils. that’s a real thing. technically that should mean he can’t see since pupils are what let light into your eyes, but don’t worry about that part. just know that his eyes canonically look weird to the story people as well, and everyone is creeped out by it, not just you”

yeah he’s actually blind

so he literally can’t see outside himself. way to lay those metaphors on thick, Horikoshi

(ETA: this is my “just in case my impeccably dry wit doesn’t translate well across the internet” ETA to assure everyone I know he’s not actually blind lol.)

now we’re cutting to some random city where AFO is broodingly staring at Yoichi’s severed hand because he’s perfected the art of always doing incredibly unsettling things

I cannot believe the fucking hands thing has an actual origin story. of course it does. this man has never done a single hinged thing in his life. it’s all unhinged or bust. am I talking about AFO or Horikoshi? YOU DECIDE

he’s sitting at a table with a bottle of wine holding his dead brother’s embalmed severed limb and thinking about fucking quirk shit

so your transformation from Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain happened almost completely offscreen huh. I’m kinda disappointed, ngl. I could have read a few more chapters about that. maybe a spinoff miniseries

WAIT WHAT

are you serious. we finally get a panel that’s INCREDIBLY RELEVANT to pretty much ALL OF MY BNHA THEORIES, only for that same panel to contradict itself ONE SPEECH BUBBLE LATER?? so what is the truth???

omg omg omg

so many fucking questions, omg. what the hell does “through research” even mean. how did he confirm Yoichi’s quirklessness, and why did he later change his mind? how the fuck can Yoichi have a quirk factor and yet not have an actual quirk. “it was just so weak it didn’t count or something I guess” okay??? how much of this is unreliable narrator vs. the word of god? how is it we’re getting so many answers and yet all I have is more fucking questions you guys

BRUE?CE?CEE??!

bruce

Kudou is so goddamned hot. I hope you washed the hell out of that arm wound after getting it all covered in sewage you stupid sexy man

I can’t get over Three’s name. “idk if anyone noticed, but it’s kind of a subtle homage to another very famous superhero” Horikoshi your nap wasn’t long enough, please go home

also love how Bruce is talking shit about OFA being a puny loser quirk for wimps. how the fuck do they even know what’s going on, anyway? was there a tutorial???

oh you just had a feeling huh??? that it was “something like this”, huh??? how is it that I, who knows all about OFA because I’m from the future and have read 408 chapters of this nonsense, am somehow still less in the know than this handsome clown who doesn’t know shit but just “had a feeling”

(ETA: while editing this post I noted that Bruce is sitting in front of a computer in what seems to be some sort of medical lab, so maybe they ran some tests or something? except that only makes me more confused, because it implies they didn’t actually figure out OFA’s workings via convenient plot instincts. so then how the fuck did they figure out the transfer process?? questions)

meanwhile AFO is sitting in the panel next to him whining about how someone stole Yoichi’s quirk. excuse you. he did not steal it. it was in fact a gift

these flashbacks are all jumbled up and it’s unexpectedly fun to read, but also really chaotic

I guess he’s talking to Kudou on the right and AFO on the left

so many intense closeups of eyes in this chapter oh my goodness

Horikoshi even drew the individual goddamn eyelashes. this looks like the margins of someone’s notebook from when they were really bored in middle school

oh my god the information overload!!!

so much for AFO actually feeling emotions lol. or is he just lying to himself about why he cried. that delicious ambiguity

so we don’t even get a flashback explaining how the transfer actually happened?? to either Kudou OR my beloved Bruce?? goddamn you Horikoshi. omg I would seriously kill for more of this. make a movie about it. I want the OFA origin story prequel movie damn it

I like how AFO just sits there on a throne holding court with a single tiki torch beside him for aesthetic reasons

I can’t quite figure out how he killed Banjou and I’m not sure I really want to know. it looks very violent

friendly reminder that Shinomori is Sir Not Appearing In This Flashback because he’s the only OFA user who died of natural causes! good for you Shinomori. En probably wishes he was more like you

poor En

was Nana just taking a stroll or something one day and stumbled across this epic fight with the evilest man on the planet vs some kid in a trenchcoat, and then the poor kid got bisected and he looked at her and he was all “please eat my hair” and she was just like “ok”?

OH WOW

what a transition omg

LOLLLLLLLL

you know, part of me always wondered how All Might was so certain he’d killed AFO that he apparently never bothered to confirm it. but looking at this panel now, I can understand

fjjfdzjgf

he’s sweating so much. like “okay yeah he punched the top of his face off, this is pretty bad but I’LL DO MY BEST”

BACK TO THE PRESENT DAY AWW SHUCKS

so let’s recap. over on Kacchan’s side we have “GOTTA USE THE PAIN TO WIN!!!” haha ouch. and then over here on KFO’s side we have. whatever the fuck we just experienced over these past two chapters. so basically it’s a battle between the two most deranged characters in the entire series. glorious sweet chaos

DSFJKSLDKGJL he’s now trying to figure out how the fuck they look so much alike and whether they’re actually related

“no, that can’t be it. so then maybe... this kid grows up and then somehow travels back in time...?!” HE’S JUST LIKE US FR

so now he’s saying it’s because Kacchan didn’t have character development yet the last time, but now that he does his eyes are all Full Of Determination just like Kudou’s and so we’ve basically come full circle!

transcended WHAT? :O :D :D omg I’m kidding you guys please don’t hurt me

lol

actually the more we learn about Kudou the less I personally see the resemblance now lol. because Kudou seems so calm and collected, but Kacchan is just... [gestures to literally everything about Kacchan]

so AFO’s trying to strategize, but he can’t warp Kacchan away because the only available targets are too close and he’s still got that SUPERSPEED, BOYO so it wouldn’t make a difference. lol but if you kept doing it repeatedly it might be kind of funny though

and he can’t keep fighting him either because he’s getting his ass whooped and it’s speeding up his de-aging or whatever. well you could just give up then I guess. your call, AFO

oh was that your plan?

spoiler alert for me lol. but it’s not exactly shocking or anything since he’s dying, guess he wants to abandon ship

(ETA: just FYI for anyone reading this who’s not familiar with my dumbassery, I have currently only read chapters 1 through 374 at this point in time, before skipping ahead to 403 because Kacchan came back and I lost all willpower. I am working on catching up with the rest!)

oh so now you did come up with a strategy?

lmao what the FUCK

how much of this is going to be clearer to me once I finish the chapters that I missed, and how much of it is just plain old “nope this is all brand new zero-context BnHA bullshit” lol. this looks like every single quirk AFO ever absorbed combined into one gigantic horrifying blob that forced Horikoshi to take an extra week just to draw it

oh my god!?

Kacchan hovering there bravely facing all this is giving me Gandalf “you shall not pass” vibes and I’m LIVING FOR IT

so either AFO is going to kill Kacchan for the second time right here and now, or he’s going to fail and turn back into a squishy evil baby fdslfjkls

love how All Might is all “DODGE IT YOUNG BAKUGOU!” thanks for the warning, champ. doing his part

more exploding bloodsweat closeups. are these just going to be a mainstay of Kacchan fights from now on

“are you stupid?”, when faced with [gestures to the entirety of the previous page], is possibly the best line ever uttered by anyone in the series. even better than the polite “coming through” uttered only seconds before it

ah man. you love to see it. he literally doesn’t even care. HE ALREADY DIED ONCE TODAY, AND IT CLUED HIM IN TO THE FACT THAT HE’S A MAIN CHARACTER AND ACTUALLY IMMUNE TO DEATH. sorry AFO it’s curtains for you. CURTAINS

[nevertheless-moving]

Hesina Willshaper AU

Step one canon divergence: Amaram's army doesn't do the kind thing. Kaladin's listed next of kin are sent a letter stiffly informing them that their son is a deserter and, thanks to the highmarshall's mercy, has been sold into slavery.

Step two canon divergence: a light spren has started following Hesina around.

The letter reaches hearthstone.

Hesina cries the bones of the first ideal through labor pangs. Their wretched diamond lamp grows slightly dimmer during childbirth.

Hesina and Lirin discuss if there's anyway they could possibly find their son and pay his slave debt. They're not optimistic.

Hesina talks with her lightspren.

Lirin and Hesina talk again about trying to find their son, now that Oroden is starting to be weaned.

Hesina appears to have grown taller. No one but the two of them seem to be aware but they're worried other future changes might be more noticeable.

Hesina and Lirin realize that she can mold rock as if it was clay with stormlight. A spark of hope for freeing their son emerges.

The two leave town.

They find a slave market in the nearest city. They see other parent's sons, but not their own.

Hesina swears to free those in bondage. Stormlight starts coming easier.

They make a tunnel. Rebellion follows. Lirin is horrified by the violence (the violence is not actually that bad all things considered. a couple guards dead. some bystanders frightened. Fair amount of property damage as they rob the military barracks food supply, steal every sphere that's not nailed down. and also steal the spheres that are nailed down. (Lirin won't admit it but the stealing from lamps part is kindof fun.)).

Many of those they freed flee. Some return to slavery willingly, scared of retribution. Many decide to follow the Radiant woman who has vowed to see others like them freed.

The group proceed to the next town. They find another slave market. They make a tunnel. There is more resistance than last time, clearly they were warned something might happened. Hesina kills a man.

Lirin is terrified by what his wife is becoming.

Hesina swears to shelter those without homes. The lightspren forms an unbreakable hammer, perfect for knocking crem free from buildings. And for knocking down men.

A now larger motley group seeks shelter in a mountain town razed in one of Alethkar's many skirmishes over the last decades. Hesina builds homes. Lirin begs her to stay here, to stop fighting before she goes to far down this path, not to go to war. The slaves they've freed are split, many wanting to stay, hide, some wanting to fight and free more, with a radiant at their head, there's a real chance to change things. Hesina lingers, practicing, spends some time falling in and out of shadesmar.

Lirin and Hesina separate.

Lirin stays with Oroden and the noncombatants. Hesina leads those who want to fight to another city, still trying to find their son, still trying to free everyone's children.

The town settles into a routine. Hesina and Lirin miss one another. This is the first time they've gone longer than two days without seeing each other in the last 25 years, and the two days was only when Lirin had to travel to where someone had overturned a cart on the road nearby and Hesina had to stay and watch the children, too young to travel. besides that, it had been every day. they keep turning to talk to each other.

While the army is gone, the free town is attacked by those trying to reclaim her property.

Hesina swims deliberately through shadesmar for the first time. reaches lirin just in time.

Lirin accepts that not fighting won't stop the violence. (It breaks him just a little bit)

Hesina shouts that one person's freedom ends where another's begins. She vows to fight against powers which would rather see their people in cages then homes. A thousand light spren rise up to grant her strength.

(yes I know she's moving fast through the oaths. but she's always been a thoughtful woman and she raised two children who asked difficult questions and now shes mother to another several hundred. honestly she had already worked through some of these concepts before they became actionable on such a grand scale.)

Lirin vows to support his wife through whatever trials the Almighty seems inclined to put her through.

The lightspren, who has started to get some memories back, remembers Oathgate Spren not terribly far from here by physical realm measurements, guarding a hidden human city

the stone remembers the way the radiants once traveled.

The path to a kingdom in the sky is slow — there are many cages to break on the way.

Kaladin doesn't know it right away, because people weren't exactly telling slaves about the freedom riots, but slave wagons start having harder and harder times reaching the shattered planes after him.

Someone mocks Lirin for having a wife so determined to pursue the masculine art of war. Lirin gets pissy and decides to show them by learning to read and write to help support the administrative side of his wife's kingdom wide asskicking.

The highprinces lead a fairly successful misinformation campaign about the slave riots, lots of accusations of rampant violence, the dregs of society lashing out, you can probably imagine

The ongoing rebellion is large enough that word trickles to the bridge crews, encouraging bridge four's hope for escaping, while also making it substantially more daunting, as the crews are even better guarded than canon.

Rumors of a female radiant swirl around. Most people assume it's a woman in shardplate with some sort of tunneling fabrial, which is still pretty crazy, but several major players Take Note

A very large and tired huddled mass of people reach Urithiru. there's just enough squires, and two new willshapers with their own oaths, to make tunnels through the shattered planes and reach the oathgate without being seen by the alethi armies

the parshendi army is another story, but some are willing to take a chance listening to the neshua kadal, and come with them.

The political implications of Dalinar freeing 1000 slaves is slightly more complex, especially considering the rebellions have been impacting Sadeas the hardest

About a week after being freed, Kaladin hires a spanreed intermediary to write home and find out if his hometown is alright (again, a lot of misinformation and rumors about the violence of the riots)

Is informed by Laral that his family left town looking for him shortly before the riots started, were presumed dead

Kaladin is under the impression that 1) his parents are dead because of him 2) the Rebellion is not the righteous fallback plan that he and the men were hoping it was.

Hesina has many reasons to go to the shattered planes. Nearest part of the trade network for food and necessary goods. Many slaves to be freed from there, and a part of her still hopes to find her son, even thought its been so long. Home of Alethkar's political leaders, the source of Alethkar's slavery.

I have spent. A LOT of time imagining many possible reunions between kaladin and his mom in my highly specific high oath hesenia au. She has a couple faces she could wear when visiting the planes. Brightlady. Radiant. Cagebreaker. Queen of Urithiru (not her real title, they're tentatively trying the Listener council model, but they know what the Alethi will understand). Even darkeyed mother, if she and Lirin approach slowly from a different direction. Honestly, pleased as I am with all of the above, a lot is flexible, the key here is kaladin going "MOM??" In some fashion

Thank you @sorchasolas for conversation and the urithiru ideas and for leading me to actually write all this down <3

[fan-goddess]

Two accidents and a coincidence

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x reader

Summary: Aegon always saw you as the same. Though certain events seem to change that view on its head…

Warnings: pervert!aegon, masturbating, kind of dom and sub talk with both Aegon and the reader, talk of sex, a hint of a corruption kink, exhibitionism if you squint? unconsensual mutual masterbation and just +18 content

Other links: My masterlist with Aegon content. Requests are appreciated!

1. The underwear

The first time Aegon cummed to the thought of you was after you accidentally flashed him. You still don’t know you did it. It was a perfectly innocent thing.

Aegon remembers perfectly though. He was coming in late to a lecture. 40 minutes late but whose really counting? He gave a lame excuse to the teacher and when he looked up to you he noticed you were wearing a skirt, and it just so happened when he was walking to you your legs were uncrossed, he could see your underwear perfectly. No tights, no shorts for an extra layer on, just a skirt and underwear. The underwear itself was branded into Aegons mind. It was a light blue, the kind you’d call baby blue or something weird like that. Still, it didn’t have any kind of printing on it but he saw a little lace round the edges.

It was what all he thought about when he next decided to make himself cum.

“Such a good slut for me! F-fuck yes little one, you ready to take all my cum like the good girl you are? Of course you are little baby!” He moaned as he felt himself nearing his end. All it took was the image of you bent over for him on his bed, still wearing those baby blue underwear and moaning loudly for him and only him. It took him three more tugs of his hand before his hot cum shot itself onto his stomach and hand.

He never felt guilty about the possible horror you could feel if you ever found that he was pervering on you. If anything it kind of encouraged him further. The idea of you, the innocent good girl whose never had a drink before being horrified by sight him jerking off to you, is something that got his dick more harder and much more quicker than at least half of the girls on the campus.

Maybe you’d even be turned on by it? He did sometimes ponder it, would your blue underwear be soaked at the idea of him pounding into your soaking pussy? Or would you be horrified and vow to never speak to him ever again? It was a risk he was willing to take, he thought as he found his dick growing hard once more.

2. The bra strap

The second time Aegon came involved another thing he found out about you by pure accident. Aegon nearly began praying to the seven when this one happened, he was hanging out with Erykk (or Arryk he could still never tell no matter how long he spent with them) in a random coffee house, but then you burst in wearing your bright orange coat Aegon can never help but mock just for the pure fashion horror of it. He did it this time, only smirking in the return when you roll of your eyes at the common now practically meaningless insult.

His eyes though were soon the ones widening, as when you took off your coat, your shirt came down on your shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. This mere coincidence nearly made him praise the seven then and there. Not only could you dress like a pretty submissive princess, a nickname he frequently gave you for your almost prudish nature he so secretly adores about you, but you could also dress like a real life whore. It instantly sent the blood straight to his cock, much to his dismay. It again didn’t matter that this was a once in a lifetime thing, many girls had accidentally revealed a bra strap before in their time no doubt. Yet this was you, the girl Aegon couldn’t take out of his mind for no longer than 10 minutes, and the one who made him cum like three times last night with the thought of your underwear alone.

Though while he had to awkwardly get out of the coffee shop hiding his erection which soon began to turn painful, he cherished the view nearly as much as the blue underwear one. He soon got home though , and even though he knows he could’ve picked up a random girl from campus to quickly fuck, there was no way they could’ve made him cum as hard he did did to the thought of you and the thought of your black bra.

Aegon groaned as the thoughts from earlier played in his mind on a permanent loop. Yes it was nice to think of you as his precious princess, being his good little girl. But there was the image of you in a black bra, just taking your pleasure from him and only him that stole his breath away in a unique way.

“F-fuck yes my lady just like that!”

It was strange to think of a woman dominating him, but definitely not an unwelcomed thought process. It was definitely working though, as the mere thought of you with your hand around his throat as you took your pleasure and bouncing on his cock made him cum faster than ever. It didn’t take him long to release all over him self, the clean up process taking longer considering how much he came. Though when he was down he realised just how bad he wanted to have you. How much he wanted to actually be with you. How much he wanted to see you cum on his cock and chant only his name. It was terrifying…

3. The voice

The final time Aegon found himself needing to masterbating and cumming to the thought of you was when he was staying over round your house for the night. One thing that made you one of the good friends was that you never hesitated to allow him to come into your apartment when he needed somewhere to sober up.

It was one of the things he really liked about you. You never tried to give him the whole, ‘you’re gonna become an alcoholic’ speech and telling him to quit it all together, instead you helped him to just instead cut back instead of cutting off altogether. It was like you were a simple breath of fresh air in a greenhouse where the door hadn’t been opened in hours.

Still, Aegon was lying on your couch sporting a massive hangover. He’d only been asleep like an hour or two, finding himself waking up with a weird craving for milk so he walked to the kitchen to get him a drink. The thing is though, is that your room is between the living room and the kitchen. So when he walked past your room and hears noises from inside, his sudden craving for milk goes away in an instant.

“F-f-fuck Aegon!” The words make him stop in his tracks. “Oh fuck yes please sir please!” Aegons hands almost instinctively go to his rapidly hardening cock and begin to palm his erection. His heart only beats faster when he sees a crack in the door and peaks in and sees you, with your pyjama shirt unbuttoned and one of your hands palming your own perky tits, and your other hand inside the layer of your pyjama shorts.

Aegon again nearly finds himself praying for the seven in that moment. The last couple of weeks have been filled with views aegon never would’ve seen nor appreciated if it hadn’t have been for those two small accidental moments, yet here he is palming himself off to the view of you making yourself cum to the thought of him fucking you. It was a dream come true.

His hands soon grow tired of just palming himself, so they venture into the tent that’s become his boxers. His trousers flung somewhere while he was undressing in his drunk escapade. He nearly hisses out loud when his thumb picks up his precum and uses it as a lube to thrust into his hand more efficiently.

Though as he listens more to your moans both of pleasure and of his name his dick is soon throbbing in pleasure and in need of release. He knows he can’t cum there cause other wise it’ll make a stain in his boxers, but at that moment he’s too far gone to actually give a shit. His hands go faster as your moans go more high pitch and the hand covers by your shorts seem to go faster. He likes to imagine it’s you whose jerking him off, though he knows his hand could never compare to what yours would feel like. Still at that moment his would have to make do…

Eventually Aegon drives himself over the edge, his free hand desperately covering his mouth in order to keep the deep moan of your name in as he came in his boxers. He almost has a panic attack when you moan his name a second later in a high pitch, thinking you’d heard him moan your name. Though when you simply just sigh after a minute and curl up back into bed, Aegon can’t find himself from sighing in contempt and going back onto the couch to head back to sleep, the hangover long forgotten about.

It’s amusing how in the morning when aegon is already dressed in his jeans to hide the cum stain in his pants you seem to almost be nervous that mourning. Maybe last night was your first time cumming to the though of him? A thought that seemed to spark a kind of possession in him Aegon never really expected. Or maybe you’d done it many times but it was the first time you’d done it when someone was here? Which if that was the case, maybe you’d left the door open? In a way to invite him in and let him know you wanted to be ravaged like a little slut. It was making him smile widely as he saw you ask nicely why he was smiling.

It nearly made him burst out laughing when you begged to know what was so funny to make him smile. He kept the whole thing from you though, finding pleasure in your confusion. Though after the show from last night and the small accidents that have been happening, Aegon knows one thing for sure. He’s gonna take what he’s owed.

[sg-l]

👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻 Curse!Gojo 👏🏻

What's his way of showing you affection in this new cursed form? We talked about how he'd be a lap dog but like....is he just laying on top of you from time to time bc he loves you and needs to see your face??

Elaborate for the peeps in the back ☺️

- 🦦

・curse!Satoru Gojo Headcanons・

a/n・I'm so bad at formulating headcanons you know this?? also how did you find an otter emoji?? Fandom・Jujutsu Kaisen Character(s)・Satoru Gojo Tags・sloppy headcanons, curse!Gojo AU, fluff, unedited

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

curse!Gojo is...enormous

lets just get the physical implications of cursing the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world because curse!Gojo is...a lot

both in personality as well as sheer size and monstrous appearance

think...cursed Howl Pendragon, meets gluttonous No Face's limbs, owlbeast Eda Clawthorn shape with owlbeast Lilth Clawthron color palette and retractable neck

and I fully headcanon him as having no physical appearance of eyes/nose etc but a black banding around where his eyes should be and the rest of his faceless head is a very large un-hingable jaw with the rest of his face being "splashed" in white before transitioning to the bulk of his dark body

ok ok ok enough about the way the curse looks; and more about the way he acts!

like most cursed souls curse!Gojo is dangerously obsessed with you

you are his only purpose in life as well as the only thing tying him to a physical "life" and his animal instinct will not let that bond be broken no matter the cost

curse!Gojo basically feels no pain and it's scarier to see in action than it is to just think he's a stubborn fighter

he is insanely affectionate; to the point it's smothering

ideally he'd be sealed away in a cursed object but nothing can hold all of him (to no one's surprise)

so that being said curse!Gojo does at time have the annoying nuances of a shikigami or a familiar but make it 1000x worse

giant lap dog 🤝 pissy cat 🤝 needy brat

curse!Gojo likes to show his affection by planting himself right behind you and more times than not laying a part of his grotesques form on you

no idea about his actual size nor would he care if you tried to explain it to him because he just won't listen

curse!Gojo wants to be touching you at some point all the time or else he does get practically...antsy

not a good idea for him to be restless, it's in everyone's best interest for curse!Gojo to remain calm as long as possible

brings you dead curses and to no one surprise, likes to play with them! he will make it a point to have you watch him disembody things.

People, curses, animals...the only thing curse!Gojo will not touch is young individuals

that's a post for later

his ideal way to have your attention is to absolutely maul your target into a pulp right in front of you and frankly there's no other way for him to kill besides over the top right in front of you

on a less gruesome note, yes, he insists on sleeping with you

curse!Gojo thankfully has very little intention of suffocating you so he's happy to have you lay on top of him or curls up around you as the biggest spoon in the world

regretfully curse!Gojo does lick and drool when overtly excited and talks in the fastest string of broken sentences any being could

you get real good at understanding the gibberish don't worry

curse!Gojo loves "self care" and by that it means he loves having you hold his face, pick things out of his teeth, booping his non existent nose and giving him forehead kisses

exceptionally fond of carrying you and pouts when you don't let him hold you 24/7

and the most horrifying thing curse!Gojo loves to show his affection is...play wrestling

don't worry he basically just wants to engulf you in a hug and roll around with you but it can be off putting to those who are not familiar with either of you two yet

[pippytmi]

For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?” 

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint. 

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.