#who the fuck is that man. imposter.

[blood-starved-beast]

Not to target anyone in particular, but you guys focus way too much on Zagreus when it comes to anything relating to Melinoe. I get this a lot on my posts - people mentioning or bringing up Zagreus when he doesn't really fit in. Or like, the tons of posts or comments (not just this website but in other places) based on this idea that Zagreus is gonna show up and like, save Melinoe from her problems or whatever.

Like Melinoe is a child soldier who saved her brother from being cubed and by her own admission flawed in the sense of her own self-righteous/arrogance. If Zagreus so much as tries to be paternalizing towards her she will rebuff him so hard

[lovesickeros]

☆ what a kind god, what a cruel god

{☆} characters zhongli {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, light angst {☆} word count 0.5k

You are a kind God - with hands that heal instead of hurt. Words that forgive, instead of rightfully insult. The stories do little justice to the breadth of your gentleness, extending your love to the slimes that coalesce at your feet, eager to know the touch of the Divine. The birds that sing with the wind your praises from upon your shoulder.

But to him, your kindness is so very cruel.

They do not deserve it. He does not deserve it.

Your forgiveness should be a blessing after all they have done, but it feels like swallowing acid instead. It makes him feel sick and lightheaded, throat constricting until he struggles to breath against the weight of his sins, heavy upon his chest.

He wonders if your hatred would be easier. Even apathy, he thinks, would be preferable to the way your screams intermingle with the softness in your voice as you cradle his face between his hands within his dreams. Even in the waking world, your every word is shadowed by broken pleas, drowned in golden ichor as it rises up your throat, silencing your screams - it haunts him, and he cannot handle seeing the way you look at him in concern. He does not deserve it.

Try as he might, he cannot forgive himself. He does not think he ever can - not when he wakes to the feeling of blood on his hands, his tongue, filling his lungs until all he tastes and smells is blood.

If you had been a little less kind, he thinks he would find comfort in your cruelty.

Your anger would be a mercy.

But you are not. You are..kind. Gentle. So many things he once praised on bruised knees at an altar that towered far above him, drowned in gold and silks, every word he speaks a prayer to the most Divine. And he cannot bear the weight of knowing that he could have destroyed that part of you - he cannot bear knowing that he didn't, and you look upon the man who wore your blood like a second skin with a kindness that burns him like a hot iron.

He did not deserve such a loving God.

"..Zhongli?"

He pauses in his internal struggle, hands shaking on his lap. He clenches them into fists, blunt nails digging into his palms until they stop - yet you look at him with furrowed brows, concern gleaming in your eyes, and he feels sick all over again. But for you, he would do anything. Even if it meant pretending he did not feel like a monster in a mortals skin when you smiled at him like he was worth anything.

"Yes, Divine One?"

He chokes down the phantom taste of iron upon his tongue, forcing himself to smile to soothe the worries that crease your brow.

"You said you'd take me to the Chasm today."

He feels..relieved as the worry melts away from your features. It is the very least he can offer - he shall take upon your burdens, your worries, so that you may look upon Teyvat with love, and not fear. He will carry the sins of the many, so that you may look upon the nations with pride, and not horror.

It is all he can do, to ease the way his chest aches when you smile at him, hand tugging at his sleeve and forcing himself unsteadily to his feet.

He does not deserve you - but for today, he can pretend. Just a little while longer.

[kamimint]

[wildharesandboundteeth]

Don't know if I've gushed about this here yet but I will gush about again!!!

I love how loving the gods have 'tricked' me into loving parts of myself I have forsaken. I could never claim to be as cunning or witty as Lord Hermes or let alone as ferocious and driven as Lord Ares- BUT I still see traits of them in myself.

How can I take my silver tongue for granted if Lord Hermes so graciously gifted it to me?

How could I look down on what others deem to be 'bad emotions' if it's what helps Lord Ares win the war?

It's been a long journey and it's going to be a longer one still to love myself fully but I think I'm starting to truly love the journey and not just tolerate it for the sake of surviving.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

last years pride i had a sexuality crisis and this year a few days later im having a gender one. fuck.

[emotinalsupportturtle]

the main reason I will always be obsessed with David Tennant is that fundamentally, we share the same mental illness

[juupitrr]

suitcases man / vent

my sister came back from uni and moved back into her and i's room - which for the past 4-ish years has been mostly just /my/ room with her bed still in it for when she came over on holidays or moving between the uni years - and that meant she brought all her stuff with her and I had to move my stuff to make space.

I didn't realize it also meant moving my clothes and where i put them; like the suitcase I keep under her bed specifically at the far left end of it placed so I can pull it out, zip it open and take out the only 3 items that are in that suitcase, my black skater skirt, those black ankle socks I brought to kosov and never wore so keep there just incase, and that one corset top that came a day late than when I needed it.

When my dad helped her put her suitcases under her bed, they initially had to take out /my/ suitcase to make space for it then when they realized they had extra space, put my suitcase back in. In the far right side of the bed.

When my dad left I immediately went to it and fixed it and corrected it and my sister was looking at me weirdly "you're acting kinda ocd" "this is very ocd of you" and it annoyed me a lot because it was only recently that I've been comfortable with saying I have ADHD and she knew this and I thought the suitcase thing was another me or ADHD or both thing, so her naming it as something else just. it annoyed me. because I thought I finally had a kind of guide as to what certain things were and why. then in comes this whole new term id never considered that i now have to give a guest room in my head cuz now its circling in my thoughts a little in the back of my mind.

idk man just like, knowing what kind of neurodivergent u are is so fucking tough sometimes man, like why cant it be like the sorting hat or smn and it just tells u

[rivianrudolf]

Sorry everyone that I haven't drawn the cowboy from the cowboy poll yet. Im.... not having a great time regarding my relationship with my artwork right now. It's really hard to make things at the moment.

[poison-into-positivity]

just found out someone else has already written something with the same premise as the fic I’m working on.

[morimess]

I finally figured out what I want to do with the imposter wind waker for TBABS.

[zaddyazula]

for the last 6 months i’ve been suffering the repercussions of separating myself from femininity since i was 6 years old

[llycaons]

“Eat!” he encouraged, ladling rice into a bowl and then some kind of fried mushroom mixture on top...

Instead of taking up the other man's invitation, [Lan Zhan] opened the little chest beside his desk and took out a small lacquered box. It was red with tiny peppers painted in black all over the lid. He pushed it towards Wei Wuxian wordlessly, only then reaching for his chopsticks.

Wei Wuxian eyed the box somewhat warily, memory of Lan Yi’s trap box all too fresh in his mind. Still, it was Lan Zhan giving it to him. He was fairly certain it wouldn’t kill him. Or burst his eardrums.

I want to throw up whyyyy is wwx so bad at deductive reasoning in this fic. 'hm a red box painted with peppers pushed towards me at mealtime by my longtime best friend slash soulmate who knows I like spicy food??? I WONDER WHAT IT COULD BE' it's FUCKING hot sauce. OBVIOUSLY. IDIOT. im SICK

[ineffectualdemon]

Au where Shen Jiu's ghost has been silently haunting Qing Jing Peak since Shen Yuan took over. And yeah he's pissed and hurt that everyone prefers the imposter but then Yue Qingyuan in the meeting says it would be better if he was as he was before and eh softens a bit

And he spends most of his time with Yue Qingyuan and sees him mourn in private because even though he doesn't know Shen Jiu has been replaced he knows his Xiao Jiu is gone

But he also spies on Shang Qinghua and the Imposter. Especially post immortal alliance conference and finds out about transmigration and the system and investigates MORE and finds the system

And Shen Jiu does was Shen Jiu does best and because of that when Shen Qingqiu is being accused left right and center in Jin Lan City an angry man with more then a passing resemblance to Shen Qingqiu shows up and says he didnt do any of that and couldn't get because he was too busy being sad and why are you believing a demon anyway? Leave his little brother alone you weirdos.

Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu are the only ones to recognise him because that's the plant body! But that's not Shen Yuan! What the fuck!

Shen Jiu is having a lot of fun and it takes like 3 more seconds for Yue Qingyuan to recognise him

Anyway Shen Jiu lawyers them out of there and Cang Qiong is back home freaking out and ask him who he is:

Shen Jiu: i'm Shen Qingqiu's older brother

Liu Qingge: what's your name

Shen Jiu making deliberate eye contact with Shen Qingqiu: Shen Yuan

Shen Qingqiu: *faints*

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Souper

[at unicorn fuck club] JRR Tolkien: tonight we've got a special story from everyone's favorite fantasy writer GRR Martin: CS Lewis: Peter S Beagle: Hans Christian Andersen: L Frank Baum: Tolkien: whoops shouldn't have said that ha ha Tolkien: i mean, you're all winners in my book

Tolkien: but when i say everyone's favorite fantasy writer Tolkien: i mean terry practchett GRR Martin: oh yeah that's fair CS Lewis: yeah fair Peter S Beagle: fair Hans Christian Andersen: yes yes of course L Frank Baum: that's fair

Terry Pratchett: hello unicorn fuck club today i've got a story about a wizard who is - get this - actually very bad at his job Tolkien: oh ho ho! terry my boy, you've done it again! Pratchett: there's also girl dwarves Tolkien: [suddenly stone-faced] i hate this

Pratchett: but first Pratchett: all this story telling is hungry work! Pratchett: do you happen to have anything to eat around here? Tolkien: are you talking about... Tolkien: having Tolkien: a Tolkien: feast????? Brian Jacques: [squeaking incomprehensibly in rising excitement]

Tolkien: why, terry, my boy, what an idea! Tolkien: instead of merely DESCRIBING a feast, we'll have one! huzzah! Martin: huzzah! Lewis: huzzah! Jacques: [squeaking] i use a mercury head dime as a serving platter!

Pratchett: no no nothing so fancy as that Tolkien: eh? Pratchett: i was more thinking along the lines of Pratchett: soup Tolkien: soup? Pratchett: yeah just a big bowl of heart soup right about now would just be the best thing Pratchett: oo i just love the sound of it!

Pratchett: think about it: no work... no worries... no failures... no waste... when you serve maggi homestyle soups, the finest money can buy yet priced reasonably within your budget Tolkien: interesting! tell us more Pratchett: maggi soup! es ist echt ausgezeichnet!

Pratchett: how often have you had this problem Pratchett: say, you're on a budget but you have to feed your hungry hungry boys Tolkien: oh man i have been there! Tolkien: more times than i can count!

Tolkien: but terry Tolkien: i need something substantial and nourishing for my hungry boys. can maggi soup satisfy? Pratchett: ahh jirt my friend, maggi soup does more than satisfy! Pratchett: as the good people at maggi say, "kartoffelsalat volkswagen fahrvergnugen lebensraum!!"

Tolkien: What's that sizzling sound I hear? Pratchett: Get up! It's soup and eggs, my dear! Martin: What can I cook without much fuss? Pratchett: maggi soup would tickle all of us! Lewis: What's a lunch that's good and quick? Pratchett: Hot Maggi soup mix does the trick!

Pratchett: mm mmm! i tell you, nothing's as good as a rich bowl of maggi soup! buy some today! eat it with someone you love! Neil Gaiman: something's not right here

Gaiman: of course the power of imagination is infinite, friends Gaiman: but in all the worlds in all the multiverses of possibility, i cannot imagine one in which terry pratchett shills for soup Pratchett: [sweats] nein, nein, ich bin der echte terry pratchett!

Gaiman: if you are in fact, the real terry pratchett Gaiman: and not an imposter Gaiman: like the imposter sandman hector hall in The Sandman, vol. 2: The Doll's House Gaiman: then you won't have any trouble telling a joke Pratchett: [sweats] ein witz? du magst ein witz?

Pratchett: [sweats] i mean ha ha of course i can tell a joke Pratchett: i am the real terry pratchett after all Pratchett: [sweating intensifies] and you all know me, i'm a real spaßvogel Pratchett: Pratchett: a-are you sure you wouldn't all rather just have some soup?

[spainkitty]

So, I have three different DA stories where the protag is either isekai/isekai+amnesiac/amnesiac. and I'm just having a fun little time. While the DAO and DAI fics are my canon-protags with fun, spicy twists, my DA2 fic is sheer delicious indulgence and not my canon Rogue Purple (Erin) Hawke. Instead (Marian) Hawke is a Blue Mage(Arcane Warrior, I'll never forgive DA2 for taking this class away). I had no intention of sharing any of it, but I just really loved the scene in the Deep Roads where the Hawke siblings take turns almost dying (explicitly ignoring their promise "no heroics" 2 minutes after making it) So here it is:

Oh Fuck, The Deep Roads Part 1

Part 2 / Part 3

This was bad. This was really bad. She couldn’t move her sword fast enough, and her limited strength was waning fast. They just kept coming, waves of darkspawn, screaming yowling frothing blood and worse from their gaping mouths. The ground shuddered and she knew what it was. What was coming. Fear like a disease grew in her belly. Across the cavern, her eyes met Carver’s. He knew it, too. The roar that shook the walls, the ground, the lyrium veins, was icing on the already baked cake.

Ogre.

She didn’t realize she’d shouted it, racing across the room towards Carver, sick with fear and desperation. Not Carver. Not this sibling. It wouldn’t take him. She would not go back, look Leandra in the eyes, and tell her an ogre took another one of the twins. Her babies both dead.

“Mare,” Carver gasped, greatsword dripping gore and rising in front of him as he took his usual position. She nodded, sword mirroring his, feet planted. “We get through this together, right, sis? No heroics?”

“For Bethany.” She held up a fist, and he, with a scoff, bumped it with his own.

“For Beth.”

The wall burst inward, shards of rock and lyrium showering in every direction. It sliced any bit of bare skin, and she hissed. She couldn’t let those damn spawn get their filthy blood on her. With a cry, she thrust both her hands forward and a gout of flame cut through the cavern. It exploded on the ogre’s massive torso, and it roared again, flesh burning and the smell of it made her eyes water. Frenzied with pain as the fire continued to burn, the ogre grasped the nearest jut of rock, tearing it free from the very wall, and flung it towards the Hawkes.

“Shit!”

They both tensed, ready to dive, only for a wall of ice higher than their heads to appear in front of them. Hawke spun around and saw Anders there, mouth tight, ice filming his fingers and staff. The ice wall shattered and they flinched, but the rock was halted. They stumbled back at the impact regardless, and a lyrium blue ghost streaked past. Varric’s rain of bolts hit first, the ogre bellowing and swinging wildly, and Fenris moved through its body, sword splitting its side wide open, broken bones protruding from skin and wound. Blood poured like water, and the ogre roared again. Carver and Hawke exchanged looks and ran forward together. Lightning raced down her sword’s blade, and fire flamed down Carver’s--Anders’ magic again.

They darted apart, flanking the giant monster, jumping forward. Her sword struck deep under the ogre’s armpit, electricity a gout of white light through its veins and dancing over its armor. The scream it let out shook her brain in her skull. Carver’s massive sword sliced across its throat, the scream cutting off with a gurgle, flesh burning along the wake of his sword. They landed on their feet the same time its knees hit rock. Then, the glowing blue of Fenris’ sword burst through its chest from the back the same time a bolt shot through its eye.

“That’s motherfuckin’ teamwork,” Hawke panted.

They all stared at her. Silence deafening. Suddenly, Carver burst out laughing, Varric a breath behind him.

Hawke grinned. She tossed her hair over a shoulder and turned to see Anders, staff in hand.

“You gotta teach me that wall--”

She stumbled.

Carver was hollering. Varric was cursing. The taste of lyrium and slender arms were around her, holding her up, but was she falling?

She couldn’t breathe.

In front of her, Anders’ eyes were on her chest. And she looked down.

Was that… an arrow?

“Oh. Ow,” she whispered.

“Ow?” Fenris repeated incredulously right in her ear.

Her knees met stone, and arms tightened around her, one hand pressed to her back. The broken cry she let out was a surprise. She hadn’t really felt the pain until just then. Fenris rumbled a curse.

“Marian!” Carver screamed. Oh, he screamed it, sounding like a terrified little boy.

She turned towards his voice and saw them. The darkspawn. Crawling and leaping over the ogre’s fallen body. As something dribbled down her lip, Carver ran at them, hollering and swinging. His sword shattered a wicked-looking short bow, and the genlock’s head followed shortly after.

“You hurt her. You will not take another innocent life, foul creatures, not in front of me,” thundered a voice she had only heard once. In the cavern, the booming of it echoed on and on, shaking her down to her bones. Or maybe she was just shaking?

Magic, Anders’ magic, washed over stone, an intangible tide. His Arcane Shield was a thing of beauty, a whirling miasma of energy that flung away darkspawn as he raced, faster than a human should be able to, past Carver and his arcing sword, and grabbed a hurlock by the throat. Although the creature was almost twice his size, Anders lifted it straight up in the air with one hand.

His eyes were so blue, they put lyrium to shame. His skin fissured with light and the Fade poured from his every footstep.

He ripped the hurlock’s head clean off with a snarl.

That’s what Vengeance looks like… Hawke thought woozily.

“Hey, Hawke, focus,” Fenris snapped. Her eyes rolled slowly towards him, and when she tried to gasp a breath, she couldn’t. She grabbed at his hand on her chest, where he held that disgusting arrow in place. “Do your mage shit, this is what it’s good for,” he ordered. Despite his harsh words, Hawke saw how wide his eyes were, his pupils little more than pinpricks.

She tried to smile and say, ‘I’m fine,’ but she only wheezed. More blood burbled down her lip.

“Shut up, Hawke. Heal yourself!”

She nodded, brain spinning. But she pulled at it. That well of power inside her. Her hand glowed over his, magic pouring out of her palm unchecked, and, for a moment, she could breathe. She gulped at air desperately.

“A little more, Hawke, you got it,” Fenris goaded, voice softer than before.

But Carver shouted. And this time it wasn’t fear. She jerked, her concentration broken. Together, she and Fenris looked over to see a genlock swing.

Just like Wesley, the sword sliced down Carver’s back.

Just like Wesley, Carver began to fall.

Just like Wesley, his armor barely hung from the buckles that held back and front piece together.

Hawke’s remaining breath ripped from her. Her scream was her brother’s name that reverberated like an accusation off the walls and stalagmites, digging under her skin like barbs.

Behind him, Anders, no, Justice came again, a second too late. The darkspawn was rent limb from limb, tossed aside like bloody garbage. Its broken body fell and Varric rushed to Carver, firing off shots and blowing the darkspawn back.

She failed she failed she failed.

“No, no, no,” she chanted, leaning forward, ignoring the pain and the crushing weight in her lungs.

“Hawke, what are--”

The healing light returned to her palm and shined. It enveloped Carver in a blanket of power, and she thrust all her will, her want, her desperation, into him. The wound was huge, covering his back in a deep, diagonal slash. It fought her, a creeping malevolence inside his blood spurning her.

In her head, she heard Aveline’s voice, but it sounded like hers. They will not have him. They will not have him.

His shredded muscles, his torn open skin, knit together, slowly, painfully. But it closed at last. She gasped, grinning weakly, as Carver pushed himself onto his hands, Varric’s steadying hand under his elbow.

“Go… home…” she tried to say when his wide brown eyes met hers.

Blood splattered down her chin, her body jerked, and she was gasping without a sound or air. She couldn’t see anything, but she couldn’t remember closing her eyes.

“Fuck, you crazy stupid--Varric, get the fucking mage. Get him now!”

“If you haven’t noticed, he’s not exactly all there, elf!”

“If he doesn’t get it together, she’ll die,” Fenris growled.

“Damn it, Blondie! If even one of these kids die on me, I’ll tear that Spirit out of you myself!”

Oh. I’m dying? Hawke slumped. Her body was shaking so hard she couldn’t hold herself up, but she couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t breathe again. She really wanted to breathe.

She really didn’t want to die.

But Carver. Carver was alive. It would be okay.

[crossguild]

yeah opfl made us cry but it wouldn't have hit nearly as hard if it didn't make us laugh too. those guys making fun of zoro for putting the sword in his mouth. annoying shithead younger marine bro. that giant tough guy marine who loves chopper soooooo much. bookstore cashier girl who got annoyed that everyone's reading the magazines but no one is buying them. main girl annoyed at that terrible nami cosplay by the imposters. big bro falling to his knees and sliding across the ground cause he got hit by a negative ghost. opfl is so fucking FUNNY, it manages to nail the humorous and emotional beats exactly when it needs to. i love one piece, man