#will i ever shut up abt this look no

[prentissology]

gwen wearing a funky little outfit while being bathed in bisexual colors will never not be funny

[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."

[javierduffy]

but when they're out on that river bank alone, what javier should be loyal to doesn't feel as confusing anymore

[thorinlandscaping]

waaaaa they took away my male lead in the Only Straights Show from 2-3 seasons from now and made him a girl for some sort of WOKE AGENDA they're changing my badly written misogynist book series woe is me we need more straight rep!!! this is because i like their story not for any other reason!!! i'm bi as well!!! more straight romance!!!! no nonconformity!!!! the books!!!!!!!

[sandwichhour]

Wah-Rosalina (wosalina?)

she's from the sea but she keeps trying to convince people she's from space bc she thinks its cooler (she's not very convincing)

[labyrynth]

so um anyway jiang cheng canonically does not consider wei wuxian a servant—let alone “just a servant”—and does not treat him like one. idk where this idea came from but it is factually untrue.

in fact, jc repeatedly indicates that he thinks wwx’s station is on par with other gentry, that he likes the idea of being part of a pair with wwx, and even jokes with wwx, mocking the notion that wwx could be a servant.

after wwx was taken in, they were functionally raised as equals, and there is nothing in their interactions as youths that indicates or even hints that their relationship was master/servant instead of simply childhood friends.

and obviously wwx is not sect leader, so yeah, he is expected to defer to jc after the war, (and that’s not an inherently bad thing, that’s how leadership works) but jc lets him get away with SO much shit that Would Not Fly if wwx were a servant (or treated like one). if jc only regarded wwx as a servant, there is literally no reason to be as lenient as jc was with wwx’s loose canon tendencies.

i’m sorry, but there is simply no valid reading of their relationship where the dynamic of their relationship is master/servant. their relationship simply is not built on obligation, as much as they both try to act like it. this assumption undercuts a huge amount of context and motivation, leaving nonsensical character decisions and gaping plot holes. there is no mdzs unless they care about each other as individuals.

[ssruis]

Ruikasa hater because every time sm1 writes tsukasa & ignores saki’s existence to make rui more important to him im like (extremely loud incorrect buzzer) u have already failed to understand tsukasa tenma.

[mrmeepsmadmind]

transformers???? NO 🗣‼️‼️

TRANS FOOTBALL ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

your present for hitting read more, enojoy

[jakowskis]

[lovelyjasmari]

I just woke up because I felt a disturbance in the air.

I was right.

[sleepinginmygrave]

sigh i hate art snobs sm

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[sugar-omi]

THIS IS WHERE IT'S AT. THIS IS WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT!!!!! because you, at least, had something to return back to when baxter left. all he can do is find a new thrill to chase after, another body to mirror the warmth of, a different poison to aid in killing off what remnants of regret and shame from past endeavors still linger. he doesn't have any home to come back to - not really. not like you do. not like you were.

and he'll dress up his guilt, surround himself with so many glittering lights and flashed smiles that it blinds him from the looming shadow of his actions, constantly rocking back and forth in his ribcage like a wailing creature begging to be heard, to be known; and it'll never be enough to distract him from that painful throb at the end of the day. it'll never be enough to blind him from your memory - no matter how brightly the smiles of sycophants around him beam, yours will always be his favorite.

it's just too bad it'll never be aimed at him again.

(not in the way he wants, at least.)

and he'll watch you ask how he could be so cruel, how he could just up and leave without even properly saying goodbye, how he could just leave you here. he'll watch you do all but cling to his ankles and beg him not to go, and he'll do nothing but shake you off and go inside. he'll watch you slowly move on and take with you the part of his heart that your fist had carved itself around, and he'll do nothing but let it manifest as the absence that's supposed to make it grow fonder - but instead, just makes it a little less whole. he'll watch you in pictures and vignettes like he could have watched you sleep, could have watched you smile, could have watched you exist and be happy doing so because it was with him.

and he'll do nothing.

because baxter ward is not a good person.

he's a good investment. he's a good companion. one might even say he's a good friend, perhaps a good lover. he's certainly a good bit of fun.

but by no means is he a good person. and what makes him worse, so much worse, is that he pretends to be.

and in this ted talk i will-

IN THIS TED TALK YOU WILL MAKE NAEOMI CRY!!!! which.. speaking off. let me... share my angsty brain worm

i'm so obsessed with the idea of baxter watching you and cove marry and build a life.

somehow, by some miracle, you forgive him. he still remembers your tear stained face and your trembling lips and he remembers your angry face when you saw him again, and he can feel his heart clench tightly like your hand did on his shirt when he tried to break up with you and flee back into the condo..

but instead of looking back at your younger, sad face. he sees a more mature one, one that has the lingering blush and layer of happiness after a beautiful wedding. he sees a settled look of peace on your face now, the anger and sadness washed away by a cool ocean kiss.

compared to baxter, who goes home and sees a tired expression looking back at him. his smile is like a stock photo, practiced and empty and rounded. he sees the storm of insecurities and his face is heavy with the shadows of his demons..

yet he takes your hand anyway, although your hand is different, rougher, your fingers a bit longer, you wear a ring with another man's name engraved inside and you walk away to a home you share with someone else. a home with happiness and warmth.

but baxter is back in his apartment, it's basic and devoid of warmth, and it's empty, and it's cold and his yet he does not cry because he did this to himself and he's the only one to blame for his droning days..

he takes every olive branch you extend him, though.

he's desperate to bathe in the light of your warmth for just a little bit, he is desperate to be apart of the beautiful life you have because his is now hauntingly empty.

he goes to all the birthday parties, the family dinners and events he is occasionally invited to, he hangs out with you and your friends. he even comes to terry and miranda's wedding. it's beautiful. he catches the flowers but his home is still empty for years to come.

he goes to your anniversary party, your ma sends him random care packages because she knows he has no family of his own, and he attends the kid birthdays- be it your kids, your friends or family kids. he's now "uncle baxter."

your family entertains him. he entertains them, slips his way into the cracks and pretends for a moment that life is good and he is okay.

and he is so damned because he wishes he was cove, he wishes he was anyone else at all if it meant he could've found himself worthy of you. he wishes he had done better, that he had done right. that he had cremated his skeletons and let himself be loved.

but he didn't, and he's not anyone else and your life has moved on while his spins in the same circle, closing in on him. his life is small, but not in the way yours was. yours was small and warm, easy. you could take one step and find yourself in a loving embrace, whereas he is surrounded by the cold starkness of his "home" and his long expression in the mirror..

[satsuha]

summerrr........ its not over in my heart...... (says this every year)

[jrueships]

something invokes the carnal rage in me when a grown man rages like a two-year old over a video game

[vampmilf]

i need to stop getting crushes its so embarassing