#my favorite chew toy

[shellem15]

One thing that bothers me in a lot of Shen Jiu fics is that they often make him too repentant. Like my man canonically would rather get turned into a human stick than apologize for his actions. This man has never said "sorry" in his life.

And you know what? His unrepentantness is what makes him such a good character! He knows he's doing wrong. He knows he's a terrible person. And he continues to be horrible, not because he doesn't think it's wrong or even because he doesn't care, but because he believes himself to be, on the most basic and fundamental level, a monster. (Also, that whole "only the stong survive and if you're weak you deserve it" thing he's got going on)

Why bother pretending to be something you aren't? When people will always see the rot within you no matter how high you rise, no matter how hard you try to hide it. Apologies have never gotten Shen Jiu anywhere; people assume the worst of him no matter what he does.

And I don't think SJ is incapable of feeling sorry for his actions, it's that he can never express that regret! In words, at the very least. If he lets go of his pride to genuinely, verbally apologize, the rest of him would crumble. He physically cannot, he would not survive going back to (what he sees as) begging for forgiveness.

I think if he ever did try to "make amends," it could not be in the form of a verbal apology. It would be through actions, most likely subtle actions at that (remember he will never willingly explain himself to anyone ever). He will never admit regret. That would be akin to giving in and rolling over like a dog (and he will never let himself be a dog again).

[moviebunny]

Jax is a prideful control freak asshole. No matter what happens he wants to preserve his pride (if he feels it’s being threatened) or reclaim it. If he can’t change the situation to put himself on top, he’ll try to drag someone, ANYONE down to his level. So, anytime you see him trying to reassert himself you also know deep down he’s freaking out. This kind of contrast between the actions and mental interior of the character makes me so excited I want to cry. I love Jax. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

^^^^ me

[jinouchibhue]

Sometimes, I think back to that period of time where I did nothing but reblog James McAvoy and watch his movies. Like I truly had hysteria, there was no other explanation for that.

[classical-bluess]

He's stimming

[m1d-45]

bloodletting

summary: a budding god needs a place to test their new powers, and childe was always a little too eager to lose a fight... a match made in heaven!

word count: 1.7k

-> warnings : minor AQ spoilers ? just like, general gi plot.. fairly graphic depiction of blood + other injuries (might be classed as body horror???). generally obsessive tendencies (childe <--> you). i cannot stress this enough, reader is 110% a sadist.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

power was not something that came easy. it was fought over, stolen, defended with teeth and claw, tides of blood shed just so one could have power over another. social, physical, financial; no matter the leverage it provided, power was hard won. to give someone power was to admit defeat, a certain death that tartaglia had learned and taught more than his fair share of times. nobody undeserving of power ever held onto it for long; it was an acknowledgement that you were better, that you deserved it, that you’d won. power was a fickle resource that childe would kill to keep, only ever laying down his blade for a precious few.

the tsaritsa, of course. his fellow harbingers, skilled both on and off-field, who themselves could rival the archons. his family, for whom he’d happily give the world.

and naturally, who would be more worthy to hold power than you?

you, not just a god but the, the highest authority across all of teyvat. you bore a hundred names and a thousand monikers, your worship the one thing the world could agree on. granted, nobody could quite agree on how, but that was fine. childe did not need external powers to tell him what to do. he knew, in his deepest heart, that he had gotten it right.

he knew—and, on occasion, flaunted—that he was your favorite. of all the vessels you had chosen, you returned to him time and time again, wishing on his stars until his vision gleamed. his bow shone with power, even his weakest weapon more than enough to push his strength to new heights. part of him wondered what he could do if you’d granted him swords, or a claymore… but that was speculation for another time. didn’t it say something that you had still chosen him at his weakest?

the thought always made him smile. thick in the heat of puppeteered battle, before the sun to after dark, your presence was a constant in his life. at every altar, with every offering, when his hands stung from the rash of leather and his blade was covered in rust, your name a prayer behind blood-soaked teeth. he could not remember a time when his pocket was not weighted with a charm.

his devotion was no secret. he wore your bow with pride, entirely phasing out his other weapons. it didn’t matter that he was technically more controlled with them, for you had chosen this path for him. your word was his guide, a polar star through bitter nights.

he did not doubt when your presence ebbed or flowed. who was he to dictate when or where you spent your attention? no, his faith did not waver. it had no reason to. he waited patiently, going about his regular duties, lingering in snezhnaya for no other reason that he just felt like he had to.

who was he to question to buzzing in the back of his head? who was he to decline when he felt an instinct to leave, to go for a trip far past the city gates? who was he to think himself better than the guiding light that had never led him astray?

for you, he was whatever you needed. and so he went, armed with a thick coat and snowboots, hands shoved deep in the pockets to hide the slight shake. down the main road, an arbitrary turn into an alley and down an abandoned path, into a part of the city he’d never traveled. but a golden thread had tied itself around his heart, pulling without hesitation. he easily hopped over the fence gate, not bothering with hauling it open through the snow. the path beyond was covered in a thick layer of powder, his foot crunching through a foot of it before hitting solid ground. still, he continued.

snezhnayan winters were not warm. they bit and dug into every gap in your clothes, stealing away the precious warmth within. and yet, with his half-done coat and incomplete guard, he was not cold. or, rather, he couldn’t feel it. his hands were pink with frost, stiff at the knuckles, but he couldn’t feel the resistance. his body was not important, not now.

the snow began to thin. it fell from his knees to his shins to his ankles to his toes, until he was face to face with a thick wall of bramble, impossibly overgrown. he was beginning to overheat in his jacket. twin blades made quick work of the wall, and the sight behind it easily dispelled any breath left in his lungs.

the air that washed out of the bubble was thick and heavy, like a humid spring instead of snezhnayan woods. his breath came in short gasps, a shameful wheeze that he hoped was missed beneath the howling snow. he didn’t want you to see him as weak, as someone so easily tired by a short trip to a falling star; he didn’t want you to think of him as anything other than his best.

but you didn’t push him away. you helped him up—his head was buzzing with delusion, he could hardly see, when had he fallen to his knees?—and brushed the snow off his hair, not pushing him away when he leaned into your touch. he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could barely collect himself enough to recognize that he needed to get you inside, away from the wilds.

that was power. to so effortlessly take over every thought in his head, to hold his mind in your hands and pull it into your liking, that was the power he adored you for. gods were figureheads of power, a physical incarnation of their dominion. a god of the entire world would only naturally have power to manipulate that world to their liking. how blessed was he, that he could be the first you made yours.

he was with you when you first stepped into zapolyarny palace, looking around at the chandeliers and fine tile. he opened the door for you to her majesty’s throne room, sucking in a sharp breath as you brushed by. he was by your side when the tsaritsa swore you her fealty, delicately placing the gnoses in your hands.

and oh, how he’d fallen to the floor right then and there, dizzy from the wash of power that rolled off you in waves, an ocean that he willingly dove into. the floor was cool beneath his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin as sweat quickly began to bead. he didn’t bother pushing himself up on his hands, teeth sinking deep into his lip again to control his panting breath. copper bloomed over his tongue, filling his mouth and clogging what remained of his senses.

dimly, he was aware that he was being pathetic, that this would surely change your mind about him. he heard your voice, faint through the fog of his mind, your wisdom lost to his own inadequacy. and yet, despite his weakness, every part of him was tuned into you. he knew it was your hand whispering across his shoulders, he knew it was your influence that stole the breath from his lungs. he knew it was you, because it was always you. you were all he could think of, and now you were finally able to leverage your full power over his self.

he’d woken up in a hospital bed. saline dripped into his arm and the lights pierced his eyes, his head full of snow and iced over. and yet, the moment he was cleared for release, he found himself desperate to be back to your side, racing through the tiled halls of the palace and following the urgent burn in his chest. you would have been right to turn him away, to deem him too weak to stay by your side, but you didn’t. you smiled when he lost his breath and laughed when he wavered, brushing off his concern. you invited him with you—his lungs burned with the need for oxygen—as you twirled the gnoses between your fingers, as if they were toys or paperweights rather than objects of divine power.

divine to him. child’s play to you. a courtyard of snow was cleared in an instant, ripples of pyro melting permafrost while keeping the flora beneath intact, a lazy show of power that pulled little more than a slight hum from you in response.

he wasn’t so much a fool as to think he could teach you everything, or even something, about being divine. and yet he clung to your side like a sailor in a storm, watching as you grew familiar with the elements. he watched, stubborn and weak, as you stopped hesitating.

flowers bloomed as you walked by, crumbling to ash with the slightest look. electro jumped from your skin to his, a painful spark that drew his mind from his head, finally seeing your amused eyes instead of just mindlessly staring. you could—should—have just left him behind, but you didn’t. you instead asked for his help, taking his hand in yours and leading him to a quieter hallway of the palace. you didn’t comment on his thundering pulse despite the fact that you could certainly feel it, tracing a finger along the crease of his palm.

“i wonder…”

a claw of geo cut across his skin, a sharp sting that quickly welled with blood. he barely felt it, watching with detached awe as it filled up his hand, sliding over the edge and dripping to the floor. you didn’t show any emotion, just… watching. his heart beat in his hands, a pool collecting on the floor, and still, you just watched. your other hand moved over the surface, barely an inch away, the blood collecting in a bubble beneath it. with a hum, your fist tightened, pain lighting up his arm. a strained grunt slipped between his teeth, hand flinching closed, brushing against the ball of his blood you had pulled from his veins. his hand was stained red, shaking in your grasp, minutes stretched into hours.

all at once, it dropped, forced back into his body as forcefully as it was removed. with a snap, the skin stitched itself shut, and you were again dragging him along like a child did their favorite toy.

you did that a lot. pull him aside and experiment with whatever new reaction you had discovered that month, week, day, hour, watching his reactions with unabashed delight. and he let you. every time, without fail, he eagerly followed, knowing full well he’d end up rigid with lightning or with ice crystals studding his throat. it was worth it, though. you always fixed him up, squeezing his hand with a whispered ‘good job’ that never failed to make him dizzy.

it didn’t matter what you did to him. it never did. even when his mind was hazy with pain and he couldn’t quite stand on his own, he never regretted it. unconsciousness licked at the edges of his vision, burning black stains that lingered even after you stopped, but he never once hesitated.

if you asked him to jump, he’d ask how high. if you felt like holding him underwater, he’d cherish every bruise. to be kept as a toy was still to be kept.

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

@lautski-week - sweet

i think we as a fandom give a lot of appreciation to a wiley-esque tinky pete and not nearly enough to nibbly's sweet lil stephanie yum yum idk man idk

background/close up below cut:

[feroluce]

So Sampo is canon described as the only person who can travel between the overworld and underground, but it's never actually revealed HOW he gets around.

I'd like to believe part of the reason he's so secretive really is just because of business. One of the best ways to keep your customers is by being the only one to offer something, and Sampo stands to make a pretty nice profit if he's the only one able to smuggle in supplies. Gotta protect the trade routes ☆

BUT the other part is because he's probably one of the only ones that could SURVIVE it. I'd like to think a lot of his routes enter the overworld either in places like Backwater Pass, where it's technically in the city but is overrun by Fragmentum, or on the frontlines, where it's frigid cold and crawling with Silvermane Guards.

If someone manages to get all the way up, and even if they manage to sneak past all of the Guards/monsters and not freeze to death, there's still the possibility of getting caught in the city proper by regular civilians.

And if Cocolia heard word of someone caught in the overworld, I can't imagine there's any way she would just leave that, she separated the halves for a reason. This person would be interrogated, and then the route sealed off, and then the Undergrounders would lose a vital supply route. Sampo has to be extremely careful to not get caught and not be tailed.

And I'm sure he does a lot of shady trading in Belobog proper, but I think a lot of it also comes from him looting the Fragmentum-corroded areas, too. After all, in the Cyrille the Fool quest line, when the trailblazer sees something strange in the Fragmentum, the first person they think to consult is Sampo.

So I love the thought of Sampo being like extremely disciplined and being able to be out there for like days at a time.

Looting is easier in the beginning, but eventually Sampo has to go farther and farther out for supplies. Sometimes he'll be out there for days, and it's not exactly a safe place to sleep, but he can stay awake and alert for absurd amounts of time if he needs to be. Going for 24+ hours isn't unusual for him on a big supply run; Sampo will be awake for a day or two, he'll bring back everything he finds to Natasha, then sleep for a solid 8-12 hours and be back up again. He takes a couple of low key days where he rests or does easy work, then he's ready to plunge into the fray again!

On the rare occasions he sleeps in the Fragmentum, it's not for very long, less than an hour, and Sampo has traps he sets all around him while he sleeps sitting up with daggers in hand. Caelus finds out about this habit the hard way because he gets restless and decides to go explore (I'd like to think with the Stellaron dwelling within him, he's largely immune to any kind of Fragmentum corrosion), and he sees Sampo curled up in a corner, head down. So of course he approaches to see if he's ok, and-

A trap pops and hisses

There's a bright flash of pink

Caelus blinks

His back hits the wooden wall behind him

There's the sound of reverberating metal-on-metal right next to his ear

Caelus blinks again

...and is shocked to suddenly find that Sampo is looming over him, pinning him to the wall, one dagger sunk into the wood and the other blocked by his metal bat.

And they both just stand there for a beat, until Sampo blinks the bleariness out of his unfocused eyes, and then he yawns obnoxiously right in Caelus' face and tells him he shouldn't interrupt people's beauty sleep! How is Sampo supposed to stay so handsome otherwise!?

Caelus only notices shortly thereafter that there's a thin line of blood on his neck, and he belatedly realizes that Sampo really would have taken his head off by pure instinct if he weren't also incredibly quick with his reflexes. No wonder he's the only undergrounder surviving out in the Fragmentum; anything that approaches in his sleep thinking they have easy prey is almost instantly demolished.

[cremefralche]

he's my favorite i promise

[rafumeika]

Gods above I did NOT remember the Dream Visitor ever wearing different clothes outside the armor... What am I to do now that I have seen Gortash like THIS I feel like I'm going fucking FERAL I tell you

(Plus Durgetash hugging because that's fucking cute and I'm quickly becoming obsessed with them)

[emil1863]

[westscain]

can we please talk about this look more please please please

[iwhoneverbelievedinwar]

arthur: i hope nothing bad happens

me:

[ryanthel0ser]

Asa and Denji are the type of idiots to lie on the floor staring up at the ceiling as they realize they're in love with each other but can never act on it

[rainboneish]

i just thought today is a good day to remind everyone that the heart pirates (specifically Bepo, Penguin and Shachi) are the most long lived family Law has ever had… he’s known them for 13 years… his bio family died when he was 10 (maybe even 9 depending on the exact timeline), he was with the Donquixote family for 3 years (only 6 months of which he spent traveling with Cora)… and now he might have lost them…

[nirdoesnothing]

love your Reigen art 🥰 could I have your headcannons for Reigen 😋? I’m curious

HII THANK YOU <333!! and of course!! I've amassed a good chunk of them over these years of hyperfixation so I'll share :]

🏳️‍🌈 I think he's somewhere in the aroace spectrum.. it's rare for him to get crushes or be attracted to someone for that matter, so when Reigen realized he was feeling both for Serizawa he definitely started panicking 😭

🏳️‍⚧️ He's a trans man who started going on T about a year before leaving his old job and starting the S&S office. He wanted top surgery at some point, but eventually made peace with being no-op since the cost and recovery didn't feel worth it to him

🍊 Allergic to citrus and lactose intolerant but refuses to acknowledge it LMFAO

🇦🇷 One of his parents is south american (possibly argentinian, can't decide) but sadly he wasn't raised with any aspects of the culture or language

🌶️ Canonically he has a low spice tolerance, but I think it's still higher than Serizawa's LOL

🧂 His favorite type of flavor is salty/savory, while his least favorite is sweet

🎮 Mains Peach in Mario Kart/Mario Party/Super Smash Bros

That's what I got for now, I'll add more if I remember any <3

[shuuenka]

I got this headcanon that I imagine Jiyan being about 23 yo (in canon it's said he was general by age of 20 due to sudden promotion basically and that the war happened about 3 years ago, so i think that pretty much confirms he's pretty young. So 23 it is.)

And Aalto i think would be around 27/28. He just has this vibe and I imagine being information broker and getting where he is now took a little bit more time.

So Aalto I think has some relationship experience - but these are just flings and some casual fwb that don't last long, because he'd travel around a lot. While Jiyan gives vibe of not being in relationship at all before, too many things in rapid succession happened that he surely didn't have time for dating then, and now that he's general he doesn't really either.

So it's funny to think about flirty Aalto that gets flustered by Jiyan's serious sincerity. It's not how any of his previous relationships worked, never long time, so he himself has completely new experience of being wanted and loved this way. Then you have Jiyan who's just intense as he is with everything, even more so with his loved one.