#but internally i am A Mess

[bibleofficial]

this is so ???

[generalsdiary]

drunk alhaitham who yaps about the improvements the sumeru education system should make & kaveh, also drunk, attentively listening- the literal most beautiful man in whole of sumeru, with sparkly red eyes, messy blond hair, and a soft blush across his cheeks, with his full attention on the autistic scribe. flustering alhaitham to the point he stops mid sentence, averting his eyes, "oh fuck."

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

How did Xaden react when Violet left without saying goodbye?

Not well! He wakes up alone, but he assumes she's not GONE gone. Part of this is the type of relationship they have, and part of this is the power of delusion (which he excels at, in all universes). He then immediately breaks off his betrothal with Cat, because he meant what he said! Of course, he gets back to their room, realizes she's really actually gone gone, and is in the trenches from then on! A lot of this is going to be elaborated on in II4 "War Games", but for now: (snippet below the cut bc there's a bit of nsfw content, you have been warned)

“Violence,” he says, slowly. “Why do you think I always say yes to the terms when you’re here?” 

“You have—your country has needs,” she says, though she feels like she’s scrambling for the answer, despite the fact that it should come fairly easily. She knows what sorts of deals her mother had come to Tyrrendor to negotiate, and she knows what Tauri had asked of her in his missive. The Tyrrs need weapons, a specific type of dagger. There’s debates, too, regarding support of the Poromish. Whenever Violet reads those reports, however, she’s always felt like she was missing something.

But the daggers make sense. Xaden has to accept some of Navarre’s terms because Tyrrendor needs daggers.  He stares at her, intently. Inside of her, she feels his cock, hard for her. “I have needs, Violence.���

So yeah! He was Miserable, and then went on to refuse to negotiate with Tauri until he sent Violet back <3. I like to picture him doing the Empyrean equivalent of checking your phone ever five seconds for a text back and harassing whoever brings the mail into Riorson House every day for a year and a half. Beyond that, I think most people have caught this, but Foreign Affairs is their last meeting before Diplomatic Visit. So, how angry he is in that fic? Yeah! That's his reaction, really.

I've thought about expanding the fic beyond Kinktober and going back in time (so I'd start with their first meeting and then write up to Foreign Affairs) but if I DID do that, it would be super sporadically updated, so I'm not entirely sure?

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[jovieinramshackle]

I always try to not be shy about the fact Pio does not pass as a man at all, and that he is in a situation where he cannot take the steps to do so (medically transitioning basically)— not just financially, but mentally too.

He hates his chest, his private parts and the fact they cause hin extreme dysphoria once a month from his period, his voice is audibly feminine, he even has very "soft feminine" features, he is often mistaken for a butch woman and misgendered a lot (he's also very anxious about correcting people, since he's afraid of how they'll react).

And I feel it's important from me to showcase these features, because they’re part of a realty many transmasc/guys/men like me go through.

The thing about Pio is that he has an extremely hard time believing he's a "real man". Almost everything in his life is an active reminder that society does not see him as a man, and he has internalised it. He is happy the people close to him (his father, Chris and his family) confirm they see him as a man, but he has a hard time genuinely believing they actually do, because he can't possibly say the same about himself.

He's on the verge of giving up sometimes, to detransition, to go back being [REDACTED] and be a woman again. He thinks it will make life easier. After all, it'll be easier to socialise, talk to people, and even find a partner. Pio is gay after all, but what gay man would love a "woman," right? Straight men must be his only option, right?

But it won't be easier, it will outright kill.

And this is why his relationship with Fellow is so crucial to him. For all his faults, the fox did one very important thing right in the relationship— love Pio for the man that he is.

Fellow didn't always have the right words, but he knew words weren't really gonna help such a dysphoric person like Pio. The constant and consistent love and support over time was what made Pio realise how genuine Fellow was with him.

Intimacy felt less uncomfortable, it actually became enjoyable. He could actually bare his features, even if a little. He actually grow to like his voice a little, even if he's fine with it changing. Everything just became a little easier when he was with Fellow, he could actually see himself as desirable, to an other queer man no less.

He began thinking that perhaps he is a man, regardless of everything. This reduction of his dysphoria was what made him more motivated to seek medical transition later one, as he finally could think to himself, "this isn't pointless." He realised nothing can stop him from being the man that he is.

Even after their falling out during their work in Playful Land, Pio still had this drive in him. He went back to his father and started working, slowly saving up to seek a way to get his hands on HRT. And although he has a long way to go, he is for once finally determined to do what he must do for his well being.

He kinda spiralled for a while because of the falling out. He even began relying on alcohol for a bit. But this new profound drive carried him every day and kept him alive.

So basically, as angry as he is with Fellow, he will always be grateful for all the genuine love and desire he was given. It, quite literally, saved his life.

So yeah ofc they make up in the end, what did you expect, to not give them a happy ending? Poser./j

@sunnysidesevenup @theolivetree123 tagging you two cuz...Pio Lore....heh....<3

tag list : @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk

@cyanide-latte @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @oya-oya-okay @viperbunnies @jadelover69

@twsted-void @lallopsyou (lmk/dm if you wanna be added)

[itspileofgoodthings]

had a very nice realization about peace, especially spiritual peace, the other day. (Been brewing for a while.) and it’s just: peace is for the non-peaceful.

[yallemagne]

Thinking about t4t Romy. Whether they simply exist as trans drama-free (Remy being very proud of his voice since he's worked a long time to get it to this point, Rogue sneaking glances in the mirror and hugging herself, proud of how far she's come) or if it contributes to their dynamic of mutually feeling unworthy of each other.

Remy has a lot of secrets from his past, being trans is just one of them. It's certainly not the most pressing or shameful of all of them, but it's one of those things he fears might come back to bite him one day. And when the details of his past aren't bothering him, he's wondering in the present if he'll ever be "man enough" for Rogue. They've never slept with each other, he doesn't know if they ever will, but he does have a creeping worry that his body might be a deal breaker for her.

Rogue wants desperately to feel like a lady, and one thing she's had ingrained in her since childhood is that a lady puts out for her man. With her powers denying her physical touch, she feels like that's just one more thing preventing her from being a proper lady. But then, what would she do if she could touch a man? Could she ever let herself go all the way? How would she explain that she couldn't give him children: another thing she's been taught is expected?

Everyone is looking at these two flittering about each other like "is someone gonna tell them??"

[diathadevil]

Do you ever think about how Fakir, after him and Ahiru finally broke everything that kept the town of Goldkröne in the ghostly hands of its writer, after they finally have some air of peace over the town finally being able to live in its intended early 2000s environment, that Fakir still feels at times like it's not real and that for a while he fears that if he closes his eyes it'll be back in Drosselmeyer's control. Like it just doesn't feel real to him during that first year of calm, until he feels the dull pain on his recovering hand injury and Ahiru who follows him without a pendant anywhere to be found.

He doesn't feel it's real, the calm finality of this town, but he makes sure to feel the scar on his hand. And he makes sure to hold the little duck and realize that she is who she has always been. Him and the town are finally living peacefully.

[muirmarie]

.

[heybaetae]

hi

[6-2-aestheticsofhate]

I keep forgetting that Gluttony is technically inside Minos. The way the door to Gluttony is positioned never (to me) made it seem like we were going inside him. Just kind of looked like his corpse flopped over and you found the door closer to his chest area. I think Hakita said something about Gluttony being inside Minos and not at the same time and Hell isn't really a physical location rather than a stream of consciousness thing and nothing is set in stone because if it was a concrete location sinners could just leave.

(Tracked down the scresnshots midway through writing this)

It being more like a dreamstate where it's not static and it's both inside Minos and not makes a lot of sense. Especially because if it was more literal that would mean Minos has eyes near his heart, teeth embedded in his flesh nowhere near his mouth, and mindflayers running around. And stomach acid strong enough to melt said mindflayers.

[ariquar]

young, impressionable recruit

[beanghostprincess]

They've been drinking for a while, and Usopp, surprisingly, isn't drunk enough to handle what's happening. Usually, he's the first one to not be able to stand, but for some reason, he has decided to control himself a little bit today. First mistake, he thinks.

Because Sanji is clingier than usual. And Usopp isn't really bothered by that, exactly, he's now used to Sanji laying his head down on his lap while he plays with the sniper's undone, messy hair. And not exclusively when they're drunk. They're just like that, now. Apparently? Usopp isn't sure how their relationship has reached this point, but he would never be bothered by his crush stroking his hair with a lovesick smile. He would have to be stupid for that to happen.

And he's the stupidest man alive.

Usopp feels his heart aching every time his eyes meet blue, and he can't help but fake a smile whenever Sanji grins at him. They're partying on the ship just because Luffy said so. Because pirates don't really need a reason to do this sort of thing. And the others are too far forgotten on the other side of the deck for Sanji to give a fuck about them seeing him like this. Usually, the cook's caresses are hidden from the rest. Usually, whenever he acts like this, he tries hard for people not to see. As if he didn't want them to know he feels something for Usopp.

The sniper knows there's something between them. Sanji does too. It's just something hard to accept when the cook seems like he's going to throw up whenever somebody sees him with Usopp. With a man.

And, you know, the sniper feels selfish for wanting to ask more from Sanji. But he wishes- He sometimes wishes they could be more than this. He wishes Sanji acted this way around others too, not only when he has chugged like five glasses of wine and a couple of shots of whisky.

Sanji keeps playing with a strand of his hair, and Usopp is lost in his thoughts when the cook speaks. "Did you know I love your hair? It's- It's pretty."

Usopp can only laugh, but Sanji's soft voice makes him want to die. "I know. You've told me already." Like five seconds ago.

The cook nods, as if he was trying to understand a very complex situation. And then his laughter fills the little corner they're at. "I guess I just..." Then Sanji looks up, and his laughter turns into a trembling sigh. "You're beautiful, ma moitié."

Usopp feels like crying. He can't- He can't do this right now. "Sanji-" He tries to warn him. Because he knows what comes next. He knows what's going to happen and he knows the cook will act like nothing is going on the next day. Usopp can't have that. "I think we should-"

But the cook turns his head around and rests it closer to Usopp's chest as quickly as he can. Scared. Hugging him. Placing both of his arms around Usopp, with the fear he might go away. He buries his face there, and his insecure, drunken voice is muffled by the embrace. "Don't leave me." Usopp holds back the urge to hug him back, his hands shaking on either side of his body. "Don't- Please. I'm sorry." His voice breaks. He's begging, and Usopp has always been too weak to deny him these nights. "I think-"

He can't deal with this.

"Sanji, please." He tries to push him away, but Sanji keeps holding onto him with a strength he only uses with Usopp when it comes to never letting him go. The strength of two thousand men and the passion of a broken heart. Usopp feels his throat closing with every word. "Don't do this to me."

"I'm in love with you."

Usopp gives up after hearing that, because there's no going back from this. He lets Sanji hug him through the night, whispering sweet nothings that carry the weight of the world on Usopp's shoulders, and placing tender kisses on his skin that probably taste horribly to alcohol.

The sniper gives him this night, too, saying it's the last one before they actually talk things out properly.

But he knows it's a lie.

[generationa1trauma]

I am kissing u all on the forehead

[protect-namine]

I actually have a fic idea but lc is a show that's like. you will never ever have all the information and context until the end. and I am a writer who writes best and more confidently when I have all the info and context at my fingertips. so now I'm just like 🧍‍♂️

anyway. ramble in the tags

[art-from-the-juice-box]

sorry for the lighting but i feel like you can still tell what’s going on and it’s not like a portfolio picture so yay ya yay stuff from school now that it’s properly started :) we were doing self portraits inspired by books from the library and mine was a collection of sci fi movie posters which is something i’ve never done before :]