#im aware this is stupid

[calamitoustide]

suicidal james and serial killer regulus... and they fall in love

[cthulhum]

does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship

[puppyeared]

(guy who has never played cotl) haha au time

[nic-coughlan]

when you're quite happy with the season overall, content with the resolution of a happily married couple who are now an author, a column writer, and are parents to a baby boy, enjoyed the romance, the angst of LW, the love confessions from both, the epilogue, the trials of married life, but you're in a fandom of millions and millions so going onto twitter, instagram, tiktok is like...

[minmtys]

Hi hlvrai fandom

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[lazycranberrydoodles]

oooooh you want to read my huaxuan hookup fic sooooo bad

bonus :P

[wittyworm]

Going to be making stickers and posters and spreading this around my town hopefully soon. the green square is going to have a QR code that will have a bunch of resources and ways to help. Iv gathered some of my own but if anyone has resources they think would be helpful or have suggestions on ways to best do this (its just me and my sister) id really appreciate the help.

[mikashisus]

connections between venti and arlecchino that i found particularly interesting, a rambling 🗣️

ARLECCHINO STORY QUEST SPOILERS‼️‼️

(these r just some cool things i found kinda sus and interesting. this was for fun.)

1. first, my thoughts on clervie — specifically what she says in response to learning about mondstadt:

2. the similarities between arlecchino and venti regarding “freedom”:

venti fought for freedom that was earned, and eventually became the god of freedom shortly after he earned said freedom.

he also tested vennessa. he tested her by saying he could grant her freedom and waited to see if she would leave the cell with him, but she didn’t. she stayed and showed him how freedom was meant to be earned, not given. venti was more than satisfied with her answer and left.

venti has shown time and time again that he believes freedom is meant to be earned. at least, that’s how i see his character and his ideals.

now i want to bring up what arlecchino said towards the end of her story quest. i find it interesting how she also believes that freedom is meant to be earned, not given.

pretty interesting.

3. now for my own personal rant and theories:

“freedom” itself is always being mentioned in this game. it started in mondstadt, the nation embodying freedom. the god of freedom himself entered the fray and showed us what freedom truly meant.

liyue was “freed” from their own god, who saw it time to step down from his position as archon and left the task of ruling & protecting liyue to the humans.

wouldn’t say there’s much freedom in inazuma tbh. unless you count the people being “freed” from the vision hunt decree and the sakoku decree.

nahida being freed from the hands of the sages/akademiya.

furina being freed from her curse and the act she played out for 500 years.

i wonder if we’ll see any freedom in natlan too.

ANYWAYS, ALL THIS TO SAY (i didnt mean for this to become a venti rant, i have constant venti brainrot) — i believe that venti and freedom play an ENORMOUS part in the lore of the game and we haven’t seen anything yet.

i am a firm believer that venti is one of the most important characters in this game. bro has lore in literally every nation, maybe with the exception of fontaine (iirc, there hasn’t been anything in fontaine calling back to barbatos).

he even has lore in the chasm and enkanomiya, which says A LOT. i haven’t finished the remuria world quest yet, so idk if there’s any lore about him or istaroth sprinkled there too. tbh i wouldn’t be surprised if there was.

everything always comes full circle when it comes to venti. he’s everywhere, which is pretty cool to think about when you realize that he’s supposed to be the embodiment of the wind, which is everywhere all at once and can hear everything.

which brings me to my last point —

4. this voiceline from arlecchino about the wind.

hmmm.. 🤨

[pseudophan]

i'm so extremely irrationally annoyed by people not knowing what various terms mean and using them incorrectly like i feel like that's such an asshole thing to care about but oh my god stop

[arthmis]

SOME redesigns of assassin's creed women in more historical clothing :> left to right: claudia + sofia from ac 2 and revelations respectively, lucrezia borgia in brotherhood sans 2010s makeup and hair (and cleavage -_-), elise de la serre from unity (the court dress and some other outfit concepts) and caroline from black flag :)

[arsenicflame]

absolutely delicious flavour of edizzy is where theyre Actually Married but neither of them know it, while also being acutely aware of everything-

they celebrated 25 years of their matelotage. they are having sex on the regular. both of them think the other thinks their contract is purely for financial reasons and the sex is just fun + convenience.

[martyrbat]

for when dc releases a new comic that mischaracterizes him again AND the humiliating ordeal of telling ppl that arent your mutuals that bruce fucking wayne aka mr cashcow is your favorite character

[inkcovens]

does sophie just make a point to describe everyone as beautiful upon first notice or is it just the girls lmao

[junglejim4322]

I had a fuckton of followers on my old account when I was 15/16 sometimes I wonder how many of you have no idea you used to follow me or were friends with me back then. alas I remain a mystery

[hiemaldesirae]

picked up this book called 'murder your employee: the mcmasters guide to homicide vol 1' from my local bookstore and . Hmmm. am i hearing murder academy radiostatic au... (<- delusional)

quick rundown of the books setting (time period vaguely 1950s, before 1962 at the latest) is that there's this murder academy (i say that but its closer to a uni than a boarding school which is typically what i think of when i read academy) open to applicants of all ages to train their students to murder. the admissions fee is an extremely high price, but regular people can enter in via sponsorships (like scholarships, sort of, but its more like a specific rich person sponsoring the candidate). the students don't operate on a regular year by year schedule because 1) no one knows where the school is and thus cannot always tell even what season it is much less the month 2) students are informed of their graduation basically the day of, when the faculty decides theyre ready to leave and complete their thesis project (AKA the murder). anyway its a very fun book and so of course i had to be insane about its premise

For what it was worth, Alastor hadn't meant at all to end up studying at the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners.

Which, in fairness, was just a fancier way of saying that he hadn't meant to get caught.

It had been a situation entirely out of his control. For whatever reason, that night, the swamp had been especially difficult to navigate- even alone, much less with a bloodied and battered body slung over his shoulder, he's quite certain it would have been a struggle to work his way around the place. And while that had never been a problem the few dozen or so times he'd made the trek before (granted, they were without the actual body in his hands, but it didn't make much of a difference when he'd been carrying heavy sacks of sand to offset the weight), there was an unfortunate caveat in his plan.

He hadn't banked on being seen and followed by a truly infuriating pair of 'detectives' (though surely whatever idea they'd held of a detective was truly and fully siphoned from one of those insipid moving pictures his dear Mimzy was ever so obsessed with), and he hadn't expected to be offered a spot as a student at this... interesting facility.

The smiley man sitting in front of him nods emphatically as Alastor finishes his little cajoling speech. The nametag on his black and red suitjacket reads Dean Morningstar, and a half-poured cup of brandy sits on the side of his table. Alastor eyes the alcohol with interest, if only because looking anywhere else in the room might make him lose composure and attack the bothersome man sitting across from him.

"So, then... Mr. Hartfelt, is it true that your next target was to be your father?"

Alastor narrows his eyes at the dean. The room's atmosphere seems to drop as he holds his gaze, both of them wearing smiles that convey vastly different emotions. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

Of course, such a lousy comeback isn't tantamount to a proper argument (unless you're the type who enjoys messing with people, which Alastor is in all moments except this one) and the dean smiles when he realizes Alastor's slip up.

"See, you have an extremely generous patron backing you on your goal... not only to take down your father, who, by the way, seems to owe you quite a lot, considering your less than stellar upbringing and childhood, so good luck with that one, but also in relation to the other bodies that have been found half-submerged in the swamp." The little devil smiles merrily. "Sorry about that one, by the way. But we had to be sure you were a good candidate for our very highly revered course list. I mean... your sponsor is paying a lot of money to see you succeed, so... we had to be pretty thorough. Again, sorry, but it's just standard protocol."

Alastor clenches his jaw, feeling his eye twitch. He'd more or less tuned out whatever else Dean Morningstar had said after he admitted to resurfacing the already weeks old bodies in the swamp- Alastor's very first targets- as a means of... assessing him, apparently. "So you're the reason the bodies have started turning up in the bayou...?"

"Not entirely," Dean Morningstar shrugs, providing no further context. "In any case, this is sort-of a caught with pants down situation, I think. You don't have many options, Mr. Hartfelt. Either you stay as a student, or we let the truth out- and let your mother know first, before getting rid of you."

He grins sunnily at Alastor. "What will it be, young man?"

So, that was that.

Following that conversation (blackmailing session) Alastor finds himself being the unwitting recipient of a campus guide by the dean himself, who, despite his short stature and seemingly accomodating personality, had already managed to make himself an enemy in the form of one (1) incredibly vexed young radio host slash serial killer in the making.

"...And that's the Music Hall, where my vice-dean and most beloved wife holds her concerts and lectures on Murder, as a Fine Arts- you may notice the ingenious references there to one Mr. Thomas De Quincey, the famed opium eater of the 1800s London..." Alastor turns a blind eye to the dean as the man just kept on talking, choosing instead to focus on the surroundings instead of the urge to strangle the annoyance beside him.

The trip to the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners- a mouthful and an incredibly unnecessary one at that- had been less a trip to a school and more like a kidnapping, in which Alastor had been more or less blackmailed into going with the two detectives who'd found him in the bayou that day and then drugged to high hell from some sort of tampered liquor, then promptly deposited in front of the school gates and almost fed broken glass twice before nearly being poisoned and then having to sit through another blackmailing session with the Dean (the guy who'd tried to poison him in the first place). So... all in all, a rather unpleasant experience on his end.

Still, the scenery almost made up for it.

The campus was almost the size of his town back home, and towering gothic buildings from before his time populated the grounds. Signs in different languages were littered around the campus grounds, and exotic foliage grew in just the right places to make the patchwork of cobbled streets and oddly vintage buildings look uniform.

"Oh, Vox! How are you this afternoon?"

Alastor's attention is drawn back to the dean as the man greets a young man dressed in formal evening attire, complete with a pocket square boutonniere and sleek black gloves. The man in question has short-ish black hair, tied back into a small ponytail with a deep blue ribbon, and two striking eyes: one a glassy larimar blue and the other the deep brown of axinite gems. Alastor finds himself regarding the other while he and the dean make simple conversation. Something about him strikes him as familiar, though he can't quite put a finger on it exactly. "Going to the Music Hall, I presume?"

"That would be correct, Sir," Vox inclines his head respectfully. "Professor Leviathan asked us to dress for the occasion, since we would be doing another ballroom class."

"Ballroom class?" Alastor raises an eyebrow, and the man startles, seemingly not having noticed he was there. Rather inept for an assassin-to-be, Alastor frowns. Were these really the sorts of students they were training? Pretty-faced civilians knowing nothing of killing, who dressed up in evening gather for afternoon classes?

"A-ah, yes..." Vox looks off to the side, seemingly nervous. His cheeks redden slightly, like a child caught in the act of stealing candy. "Uh. You're new here, right? I haven't seen you around before..."

"He is," Dean Morningstar confirms, beaming. "Just arrived this morning, with a very generous sponsor backing him. In fact, he's going to be rooming at Pride House because of the sponsor!"

"Oh, is that so?"

Vox's easy confidence seems to come back to him as he turns to Alastor, seemingly mollified by the Dean's interference. Something inside of Alastor wants to see the man nervous again, if only because the uneasy approach of the man with the gemstone eyes reminded him of the shaky-footed does he would fake out during hunts. "Well, in that case, we might be roommates. It's nice to meet you, Mister...?"

"Hartfelt. Alastor Hartfelt," Dean Morningstar says before Alastor can introduce himself, smiling even when Alastor directs a glare at the man. "He's quite the upstart, I'll have you know- Hell, I think he may have set more fires on his first day here than you did!"

Vox chuckles awkwardly, a reaction that has Alastor's eyebrows raising with curiosity. "Well, I'd sure hope not. I really wouldn't want to cause Professor Leviathan any more trouble than we already have. He deserves a bit of a break from troublemakers like us, I'd say."

While Alastor is... okay, not really all that sure what exactly Dean Morningstar was referring to with 'fires started'- in his case, they were all non literal, considering his first arrival here had ended with him on the wrong end of a shotgun (its irony was not lost to him now, three hours later and standing in the middle of what looked to be a town square plucked straight out of Vienna's bustling populace despite the fact that they were in a location completely unknown to the rest of the world)... but whatever this man had done... it intrigued him, especially given Vox's reaction to it.

"Anyway..." Vox smiles once more, inclining his head in a bow. "I really do have to get going now. If I don't, I'm afraid I may be late, and Professor Asmodeus always picks on the latecomers to answer questions first."

"Ah, we won't keep you any longer, then," Dean Morningstar agrees genially. "Have a good afternoon, Mister Vanhal!"

"You too, Dean Morningstar, Mister Hartfelt," Vox bows once more, before turning off and heading in the direction of the Music Hall. Alastor regards the other man's retreating silhouette carefully.

"Is there something you want to say, young man?" Dean Morningstar snaps him out of his reverie, covering the faint smirk on his face with a gloved hand.

While Alastor wishes he could simply meet the other with simple derision, there is a question he had been meaning to ask. "What was the evening get up for?"

Dean Morningstar shrugs, but there's a glint of something Alastor doesn't quite like in his eyes. "Why don't you go and ask Vox yourself, if you're so interested?"

"...I'm surprised your staff haven't tried to murder you yet," Alastor responds shortly. He's much too tired and frustrated to entertain the man, and- well, frankly put, his mind is a little distracted at the moment at the thought of the man with the mismatched eyes.

Dean Morningstar laughs. "They're certainly welcome to try, as are you. After all, you're now a student of the Hazbin Instution for Homicide Practitioners- and we pride ourselves on our hands-on, engaging curriculum. Hopefully, your sponsor finds what they're looking for by sending you here."

"Hopefully," Alastor agrees. After all, there's nothing else to say: from here on out, it seems to be do or die.

Student Report written with input and conference from Dean Lucifer Morningstar

Student: Alastor Hartfelt, 29 years old, Sponsor

Sponsor: [REDACTED]

To the esteemed and generous sponsor of one Mister Alastor Hartfelt,

Enclosed is a report of your charge's first day at our esteemed institution. Please dispose of this report as soon as you are finished reading it for privacy insurances. We at the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners thank you for your interest and your patronage.

Sincerely, Dean Lucifer Morningstar.