#so warning that it’s in the next tag

[great-tusk]

Ugh. I had a really bad day.

[lazylittledragon]

everything in my art shop is back in stock!!

+ lots and lots of new things >:))

(also discount code for patrons <3)

[artingstarvist]

TGCF Vol 3, Chp. 43 - 44 (First "Kiss") Part 2 / 5 (First, Next)

Next part is finally done! Xie Lian's inner monologue kills me.

Novel excerpt under the cut:

[denotes panel #]

[1, 2] Xie Lian blinked, trying desperately to bat away the thousands upon millions of lingering crystalline bubbles. [3] Then he found himself caught by a pair of strong arms. [4, 5] One hand circled his waist, and the other grasped his chin. [6] In the next second, something cold and soft covered his lips. [7]In that instant, Xie Lian's eyes bulged. Never in his life had anyone treated him like this. First, no one dared, second, no one could. However this person was swift like the devil and had appeared so suddenly that he had no chance to defend himself before he'd been plunged into such a state. [8, 9] Flustered, he thrashed and desperately tried to push the person away. [10] Instead, he only succeeded in choking on large mouthfuls of water as string after string of bubbles escaped his mouth like crystal beads. Of course, this was a big mistake underwater. [11] The hands round his waist only tightened, pressing their bodies closer together, and Xie Lian's struggling hands were firmly folded and crushed against his own chest, trapping them in place. [12] His lips, too, were securely sealed. The kiss deepened, and with it, a breath of cool, gentle air was transferred into his mouth. [13, 14, 15] Completely helpless and at a loss, just as Xie Lian began to accept his fate, he finally saw the person's face clearly. [16] It was Hua Cheng. [17] The moment he realized it was Hua Cheng, he stopped struggling. Innumerable random thoughts popped into his mind, all inappropriate for the time and place, such as : So it was Hua Cheng! No wonder he's cold. [18] Ghosts don't need to breathe, but he can still transfer air to me?! [19] Don't ghosts sink in the water? [20] Hua Cheng suddenly opened his eye. [21, 22] Staring into that dark eye from such an intimate distance, Xie Lian froze again, then resumed struggling, his arms flailing like a duck so clumsy it was drowning. [23, 24] Hua Cheng easily corralled those thrashing limbs, and with his arm still firmly locked around Xie Lian's waist, Hua Cheng took him and speedily swam upward.

[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.

[hinamie]

limbo

[milkhorns]

Learning to sew 🪡

[swagmaxxer]

tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy tommy

[catofoldstones]

Sansa Stark whenever the psycho bitch who killed her father or the next top contenders for Westeros’ most traumatised unaware pedophiles try to info dump & project their secrets/plans/opinions on her

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Y’know when you’re tired and come across the wrong post at the wrong time and just. Pure rage. For no reason whatsoever.

I’m feeling rather bitter at Elwing rn (it was a very well written ficlet and I admire the writer, I’m just tired and unwell 😂) so you get a little fic of me getting that out. Content warning done.

Here we go!

Elrond and Elros can’t stand most depictions of their mother.

White feathered wings, plain white gown billowing in the sea breeze around her slight figure, two dark shapes reaching taloned hands for the brilliant gem around her neck. Desperate expression on a too round face with wide eyes looking towards her sons. It makes them sick.

Because Elwing wasn’t soft and innocent. Elwing wasn’t like that at all.

Sharp, angular features. Grey slivers for eyes more often clouded than not. White? Yes she wore white. But it was the white of a desert sun, the white of cold starlight, merciless and unfeeling as elves were dragged to the darkness.

And she’d loved her sons, yes, but it was the love of an ideal. Elwing was young and far from ready for the burdens of motherhood alongside ruling a city in her husband’s ever growing absences. And the gem-

Well. The less said about the silmaril, the better.

The Sindar more than others remain desperate for a symbol of innocence, a sign of their claim to the stolen jewel over the sons of it’s creator. So they present their winged princess bathed in holy light whilst the sons of Fëanor cower from it’s brilliant glow.

But Elrond and Elros remember how the stone sang when Maedhros and Maglor arrived, just as they remember their mother’s fury at its song.

You see, Elwing loved her sons. But she didn’t jump to save them.

Elrond and Elros saw the beginnings of regret, but they also remember her steadfast determination to keep what was never hers, cold starlight and unyielding sun meshing to cruel pride as she fell. It wasn’t holy light but white hot fire that clashed with the silmaril to send her screaming as the stone rejected her grasp, burning brighter than ever as she flew to her husband.

Elrond’s arrival to Valinor and the white scars radiating from Elwing’s hand to her chest confirm what he knew all along.

It wasn’t innocence that crowned her the day Sirion fell.

Because years before Maedhros and Maglor had fallen victim to the Silmaril’s hallowing, Elwing the White had paid the price for her false claim. And no matter how they tried to hide it, the consequences of that pride marked her to this day.

[stopper-my-heart]

Nothing like Heartstopper S2E8 removing some of Taylor Swift's "seven" lyrics just so that the singing can specifically come back in at "Or hide in the closet" while Isaac is processing difficult emotions related to the book he's reading (i.e., Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen).

Did I mention "Or hide in the closet" hits just as the camera focus finishes shifting away from Isaac?

This is fine

[pixylpaws]

look! its 99% of the dressrosa arc in one picture! (luffy grabbing an immobile and severely injured trafalgar law before running straight through anything in his path iiiiin order to violently dethrone the nation's king!!)

one piece is the ever

[hrokkall]

it feels like thinking through cheese wire

[i-like-forcefem]

https://www.tumblr.com/i-like-forcefem/761630659485810688/1-insert-a-girl-as-a-headmate-into-a-cis-man-2?source=share

I just want you to know that this literally happened to me. Or at least, something close to it. I'm Felicia, of the Nova Collective, and I was the first member of our system, but I went dormant, before we even knew we were plural, and then Rain (a fictive of the titular character of a webcomic) took over for a long while. Our history is pretty complicated, but I came back to our body having been on estrogen for months and already having grown boobs. Now, looking back, I definitely was not cis in the first place, but I did get a girl headmate who took over as host, resulting in me getting forcefemmed.

However, I am here to tell you that this method can have unintended consequences. The dormancy impacted my memory in weird ways and now it's really easy for me to end up temporarily forgetting what happened after I went dormant for a bit. So sometimes I just forget that I'm a girl, and then instead of just reminding me in a normal way, Luna (another headmate of mine, a vampire who feeds via fucking with the hormones in people's blood to feminize them) always decides to try and fluster me as much as possible

So uhh, this approach does need caution because like, it's a bad thing that my memories are weird and I'm stuck in a loop of forgetting and being forcefemmed over and over again at the mercy of my Mistress, right? I'm constantly being told that I'm a good girl whether or not I understand it, I'm often deliberately hypnotized into these states of forgetfulness so it feels like I just suddenly went from seeming like a totally cis boy, immediately into suddenly being in a body that's been on estrogen for YEARS, and we don't even have any masculine clothes anymore, and my headmates are laughing and drawing attention to how big our boobs have gotten to make sure I really feel the difference, and that's all very cruel and wrong, right? That's gotta be why I keep getting so flustered and blushy and horny when this is done to me. It's uhh, unethical, or something. Luna is now laughing at me for not even being able to properly deny that I like it. And now she's demanding that I type out that "I'm a very good girl, deep down inside I've always been soft and cute and feminine" and put it in the ask and I can't bring myself to disobey Her.

Anyway, just wanted to let you know the potential dangers of that particular style of forcefem. Safety first, or something

[rudeboimonster]

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO

i'm watching the trading post as the fucking price PLUMMETS. 3mil, 2mil, 1.5mil for 2, 650k, 500k. lets fucking go. thank you for the chaos, tnt. this rules.

[crowleyholmes]

Guys help I think Crowley is possessing me I am very suddenly overcome by such a WAVE of love for Aziraphale????

I mean I've always loved him but Jesus Christ it just got turned up to 100 suddenly I mean he's just so GOOD isn't he???!!!

He's so kind and he's so nice and he's so PRETTY I mean have you seen him in his little outfit with the comfortable-old-couch waistcoat he refuses to ever take off and the silly little bowtie he thinks is so stylish and you know it actually KIND OF IS but ONLY on him??!?! and that beige coat that suits him so well and he just looks so well put together and also so soft and cozy at the same time like HAVE YOU SEEN HIM???

And he's so gentle and he's so full of love for everyone and everything and he always tries So Hard to do the right thing... and he's so ready to change his mind about what The Right Thing is when he is presented with new information like that is such a rare trait!

And he's so FUN, you know all his weird little hobbies I mean who collects old prophecy books and misprinted bibles ONLY this weirdo!! And he's so obsessed with silly little magic tricks that aren't even magic at all when he could very easily do real magic instead but noooo, making people think you're doing real magic when your Not Actually doing real magic is so much more fun apparently idk??? And he collects licenses (shooting guns, driving cars, literally who knows what else, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if my guy knew how to scuba dive and fly a plane), and he learned French the hard way just because?? He likes learning I guess?? And he's so bad at it, it's so silly it's Infuriating but it's also so endearing he's taking such JOY in it!!

And maybe you'd THINK that's all he is, sweet little goofball, but no!!!! Beneath all that soft exterior, this very intentionally soft and fun and kind exterior that he's carefully cultivated for millennia, he's also so incredibly brave. I think about how he was ready to face the thing he feared the most, to save three innocent kids. He was so ready to give up everything he had, fall from grace and spend eternity in hell, just so these kids could live. Just so that family would be spared the grief. Just so they could have a few more short years of human happiness. He lied to his boss for justice and he lied to GOD for justice and he somehow got away with it who does that??? AZIRAPHALE IS WHO. And he Never backs down did you see him pick up his little sword at almost-Armageddon when Lucifer himself rose from hell to end it all and my angel was ready to fight Satan Himself if he had to HELLO???

And then he blew up his halo and casually declared war on hell to save two humans and his former boss and his bookshop what a fucking badass!!?!?

And have I mentioned how pretty he is yes I have but it's worth mentioning again because have you seen his eyes?? Color of the fucking sky, they are, and his nose is so perfectly shaped and his stupid lips with his stupid cupid's bow, and his hair!! Is just so Damn soft it's and I just want to watch him be himself and do his thing but I also want to HOLD him and protect him and keep him safe from everything because if anything ever happened to him I-... UGH.

I don't KNOW.

I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

[synthshenanigans]

You Sound Like Louis Burdett is a banger song I wish it was real 💔 [looking at you spotify]

skeleton-less & textless versions ✨ wahoo ✨