#BRINGVALKOBACK

cw!! - sfw. phainon is horrendously atrociously down bad for you arf, slight yandere...?, possessive phainon, phainon giggles over u like some highschool girl with a crush (please praise him)

a/n: first post ever!! kinda nervous but hope u enjoy (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ also this isn't proof read at all so sorry if there's any mistakes :3c

self aware! phainon who's heart is beating louder and louder with each second that passes until his banner is live. he just can't wait to see you.

self aware! phainon who grins to himself when you stare in awe as he takes up the screen with his starlight echo the moment you boot the game up. he takes pride in being the one making your eyes light up and shine.

self aware! phainon who just wants to jump out of the express's doors at your very first pull. don't be too shocked when you get more than one copy of him in a single ten pull soon.

self aware! phainon who knows how much time you spent grinding for him. of course he had to reward his sweet player by pulling up within seconds of your warps. not even pompom could hold him back from charging straight pass them!

self aware! phainon who's eyes are always on you. whether it be the team setup menu. the character details screen or simply preforming his idle animation. he stares directly at you always. pure adoration in his eyes.

self aware! phainon who's voice lines are slightly different from what you heard from clips you've seen. you've never heard him mutter, 'did i do well for you?' after a battle on other's gameplay videos...

self aware! phainon who's cheeks are always a hue of blush pink with you. a lovestruck gaze never missing from his face. breathing heavier than other characters. smile brighter than ever. just for you.

self aware! phainon who just doesn't allow you to take him off your team. now why would you do that? after how good he's been for you. play with him more, wouldn't you?

bonus: you post a clip of self aware! phainon looking at you like he's one millisecond away from dropping onto one knee and whipping out a diamond ring through the screen. the comments spam, 'hoyo better compensate 1600 stellar jades for this dawg 😭'

Sometimes I forget I have to be serious on my blog and actually post my shi on here, anyways Dante plz kiss me ty

warning: spoilers for lantern rite 2026 (specifically zibai)

i'm doing the lantern rite and since cosplay is an actual thing in the universe: creator au where u really are the creator except everyone assumes you're cosplaying, so it becomes a weird impostor au but no one wants u dead. they just think youre really good at roleplaying

only the archons, traveler, and some observant vision holders can tell that you're the real deal, but you look like youre having so much fun just screwing around so they dont bother telling anyone else. you drop in at liyue (because the land of cosplayers apparently. you'd think it was inazuma) and Zhongli takes it upon himself to be your guide. he says so he can supplement you with the knowledge of what the creator should be like (pretending that he thinks you're just a cosplayer, too, but really he just wants to make sure that you're safe during this whole fiasco (also he wants to rub it into the other archons faces that he's the one you're with but shh no one heard that)).

you're eventually accompanied by zibai because "cosplay besties" who are "pretending" to get a sense of the world. zhongli is in a constant state of envy because yall are getting along too well just for being newbies to Teyvat (although not completely because you're literally a player and she's gone through this rodeo before essentially being sent to super hell moon.) He does enjoy being your tour guide tho (the best travel guide in teyvat is now zhongli).

you spend your days exploring teyvat as a cosplayer that's "trying to collect material for your role" and everyone thinks you're doing such a good job at what you're doing that they're just cheering you on and "helping" you in "your work and hobby". you'd think that the three of you would be poor but no. at some point, zhongli finesses his way through everything and reasons that since you were on a hunt for everything you could find out about the creator you were "cosplaying" as and you already know a whole lot more than anyone, he convinces people that you were currently the biggest archive of information about the creator that existed. and this is zhongli we're talking about -- who is like known to be one of if not the biggest supporters of the creator -- so most people believe it. you start making deals with people about exchanging detailed and trustworthy information about yourself the creator in exchange for money (you couldn't believe the amount of money people were willing to fork over just to know what color you preferred for the day it was kinda wild). you get offers from artists, researchers, all the way to treasure hunters for information and you're like hey they already know a heck ton why the hell not.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

Thinking of a Genshin player getting isekai'd into Teyvat and landing in Snezhnaya, but not having played the game since Fontaine (finished in 4.2 lets say) or kept up with the story at all. Of course you can easily figure out where you are; Teyvat is large, but it has only two snowy areas and the one you're in has Fatui everywhere and everyone talks about the Tsaritsa.

Hearing about all the nonsense the Traveller had to go through in Natlan, hearing how things are starting to get insane in Nod-Krai, and knowing Snezhnaya is the "last stop" in Traveller's journey, you decide there's no room to get involved in that whole mess at all. A bystander is who you are at heart so a bystander to Teyvat's history you shall be. Unfortunately, you have no idea what you should be doing or who you should be avoiding to not get involved when the Traveller finally arrives.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅ As seen by the Harbingers: You, the Creator

I: sixth, ninth, fourth and third. II: the director, eighth, first, second.

III: eleventh, fifth, seventh.

✦ SCARAMOUCHE

He imagines the Creator without eyes when he’s weak.

No gaze to witness his humiliation, no pupils to reflect the things he’s become. When he’s low—when his voice shakes and his eyes sting and he thinks no—no—not here, when his joints ache like they’re rusting from the inside and his throat closes around the jagged ribs of old heartbreak, he imagines you blind.

Because if you could see him—really see him—when he’s crawling through mud and ruin, when he’s nothing more than gears and bruises and shame—

No. That won’t do.

But when he is something—when his powers ring in the bones of Tevyat and the ground cracks under his steps, when the sky and rules bends to his will, when mortals kneel and whisper his title like it tastes iron and end—then he imagines you with eyes. 

Wide. Unblinking and brilliant. 

He wants—he needs you to see. Needs your gaze like a blade to press himself against. So he can shout and shove it in your face like a trophy stained with dried blood:

‘’Look! Look what I did without you!’’

He doesn’t know what he expects in return. Awe, maybe. Horror. Guilt would be nice too, even if it’s hollow. But what he really wants is to catch a flicker of regret. He wants to know you care, even if it’s too late. Especially if it’s too late.

He imagines the look on your face when you see how close he has come with splinters and pride alone.

He spat on a statue of you, once. Watched it streak down the stone-cold face like weeping. Then wiped it with his sleeve and slept under it.

✦ PANTALONE

He imagines you as a transaction. The first deal he ever begged for.

The first time he prayed, it was not to you by name. He did not know the shape of gods—only the sharp edge of hunger and cold. He lit a candle after slicing his palm with a rusted shard and letting the crimson drip to the wick and whispered: 

"Let me live, and I’ll make the world owe me."

And the candle stayed lit.

Not a gust of wind could touch it. Not the dark. Not the fear and the possibility of infection that trembled his hand. It burned like an agreement. It burned like a signature.

So he made good on his promise.

He learned to smile with closed eyes—because he imagines you do too. He drinks wine even if it upsets his stomach—because he imagines you held a glass in your hand when you signed your name in fire with the other that night.

He built an empire out of debt, not faith. But if you count his prayers the way you count his coins, you’ll find he’s kept a perfect record.

He’s been paying interest on that night since he was twelve.

He smiles more often now, tilting his head just so, like a man who’s seen the divine—and convinced it. He tells himself you’ve been watching him climb this whole time. That the world kneels for him because you shook his hand first.

He calls it faith. Others call it debt.

✦ARLECCHINO

She does not picture you as man or woman—because that would be too easy. She does not assign you the softness of skin or the weight of a voice. She does not put you in neither silk or armor.

Instead, a wolf. She imagines you as a wolf, the kind that watches a crib rocking in the rhythm of your heartbeat all night and does not blink. A wolf with blood still staining its muzzle—not because it devoured anything, but because it would have, if it meant keeping the child untouched. A beast that doesn’t purr or kiss or cradle. One that circles and maims. And when she thinks of you that way, it makes sense.

You are not cruel. Just practical. That’s the only type of god that could exist in a world like this—one who does not meddle, only intervenes when the wolves aren’t grown but men are. One who never offered her safety, but gave her enough strength to drag herself through hell by the teeth.

She thinks you would have liked her or bitten her throat out. 

She dreams of it sometimes—wakes up with a short breath, grins at the ceiling until sunrise.

Either way, she would have known you.

That's all she ever wanted.

✦ COLUMBINA

She imagines you like a friend.

 A soft presence. The kind that pulls a blanket over your shoulders when you fall asleep mid-sentence. The kind that whispers instead of warns. The kind who is the reason why bells ring at noon and brings sugar instead of salvation.

She imagines that it was you—only you—who closed her eyelids long ago. That your hands were cool, not cold, and smelled faintly of lily stems. That you kissed her temple like a promise and said, “Don’t open them. Not yet. You’ll see too much.”

 And she obeyed, because she loved the voice that asked her. Because you didn’t speak like a god—you spoke like someone who cared what would happen to her mind if it shattered too soon.

When she sits on the windowsill, arms looped around her knees, she sings to the empty air. She doesn’t ask for anything—she just sings. Because she’s certain you’re listening. And sometimes she imagines you sitting across from her. Your legs tangled with hers. Fingers tracing the shapes of new worlds on your dress. Hair a little messy. Like a girl. Like a friend.

Yes, she thinks. That would be nice. To have a friend like you.

------

You tried to sound normal, to blend in—you really did try, but you didn't realize just how much it seamlessly weaved into conversations. You quit using modern slang, only because explaining the meaning each time frustrated you, but it looks like you'll always need to pause the conversation to make yourself more comprehensible.

It turns out, that half of your language was rooted in mythology, everyday terms going back to legends and people that were not part of Teyvat, and thus, you also had to explain those words to them each, and every single time.

--

Childe's breath came out in ragged, wet rattles—each inhale felt like grueling labor for his cracked ribs. He laid down on the floor, roughed up after the fight you gave him. Of course he made you fight him, why wouldn't he? Even after learning of your identity, even knowing that you were the overseer all along-- all of that was just more reason for you to fight him. He got cocky, perhaps because he didn't think someone who worked behind the scenes controlling people as vessels would actually match him physically.

"Don't you think," you began, circling his exhausted body. How foolish, after all, he was your vessel, once, you knew of his weaknesses better than most. "That maybe you flew too close to the sun? Challenging me?"

...

..

.

"...what?" He wheezed out.

"What?" You echoed back, raising a brow.

"...'flew too close'...," he coughed.

You blinked, once, twice until - Oh. That idiom... originated from Greek mythology, Greece, that did not exist in Teyvat.

"Oh." You shifted awkwardly, your battle-readiness disappearing in a matter of seconds. "It's, based off an ancient legend. Its about this man called Icarus. He had been imprisoned, so, he managed to build himself wings from wax, and,"

Childe slowly shifted his head up to look at you, blood still going from his head down to his chin.

"he was able to successfully escape. He was ecstatic, but he became too cocky due to this one victory, and his father warned not to fly too close and high to the sun otherwise his wings will melt, Icarus overestimated himself, flew too close to the sun, and then the wings melted, causing him to plunge down and die."

"...huh...!" and he'd been geniunely fascinated. "So I'm...?"

"Yes. You're Icarus, Ajax." You sighed.

----

"That poor Yaksha," you laid your cheek on your hand, idly glancing at Xiao as he quietly conversed with the traveler. "It only adds to his Karmic Debt, and yet he doesn't seek a cure or to end his duty, he simply continues to 'push the boulder' because its his purpose to protect Liyue, even if he will never gain peace..."

"Push the boulder?" Zhongli subtly tilted his head, a low hum leaving him.

"Oh, right." You looked back at him. "It's actually quite the interesting story from my world. Do you want to hear it, Zhongli?"

He nodded.

"It originated from a king called Sisyphus, and the punishment for his crimes. There's many different stories for why he earned the punishment he had gotten. One of the stories had been that Zeus, the god of lightning, carried off Aegina, a mortal lady who had been the daughter of the river God Asopus. Sisphyus had born witnessed to this kidnapping, and took advantage of it, in fact, he used this opportunity to strike a deal with Asopus himself - he would tell him who kidnapped his daughter, in exchange he shall give the citadel fresh-water springs. Of course, witnessing the God's deeds and exposing him led to grave consequences."

He did not interrupt. He'd been too entrenched in the story to comment. Yes, it was as if he was in Third-Round Knockout once more.

"...another tale was that he tricked the God of Death, enchaining him, and thus during that time no human was able to die. Eventually, Sisyphus was condemned -- he was to roll a boulder up to the top of a mountain, only to have the boulder roll back down to the bottom every time he reaches the top. That was the punishment given to him by the Gods."

"...Ah, an eternity of futile labor." He mused.

He was very, very interested. How could he not? It's been the first time he found a story he didn't fully know, let alone never hear of. He was accustomed to Third-Round Knockout and the tales of Iron Tongue Tian, he had been personally involved in half the ancient legends mentioned, and he knew all the stories there were to offer, so Zhongli could only say this had been quite the pleasant gift.

--

A cosmic joke, was your first thought when you saw Diona. The pity in your expression must've been obvious, as she gave you a confused look, wondering what the hell was up with you.

Diona, Diona, Diona — Dionysus: God of revelry, God of wine. A man who turned many a scheming sailors into hapless dolphins for daring to capture him. A man so wild he invented the state of ecstasy. The man who gave Midas his own golden touch. He had been the God of chaos and the man behind the first grapevine.

So why exactly was this child, who utterly despised drunkards, named after him?

A Safe Place - Sephiroth x fem! Reader

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★ Here's your request, I really had fun making it, I based it on the Sephiroth who's still sane, LOL. If you or anyone else has an idea for a story, let me know! I hope you like it!!

Main Masterlist — Sephiroth Masterlist

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The room was in absolute silence, save for the soft, steady hum of the air conditioning in the SOLDIER quarters, outside those walls, he was Shinra's hero, the perfect weapon, a man of silver and steel whom no one dared to touch without permission.

But inside, Sephiroth was simply a tired man.

You noticed it the moment he walked through the door, he didn't say a word, but the way his shoulders slumped slightly and the heavy weight with which he dragged his boots betrayed the days he had spent trapped in simulators and boardrooms, before you could even get up from the couch to greet him, he was already there.

He dropped down beside you, the couch groaned under his weight, and before you could utter a single word, his long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him with a firmness that brooked no argument, yet lacked even a hint of roughness.

"Just a moment," he whispered, his voice, usually deep and clear, sounded strangely raspy from exhaustion.

He rested his forehead right in the crook of your neck, the contrast of his slightly cool skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, Sephiroth exhaled a long sigh, a sound that seemed to empty all the tension built up in his chest, and began to settle in, he moved slowly, nuzzling the tip of his nose and his cheek against your shoulder, seeking your warmth with a deliberate, almost feline insistence, like an enormous cat claiming its territory.

You did the only thing that made sense in that moment, you raised a hand and tangled your fingers into his long, silver hair. It was flawless and soft, as always.

At the feel of your touch, Sephiroth let out a low rumble in his throat, an approving sound that vibrled directly against your chest, his grip on your waist tightened a bit more, hiding his face completely in your clothes, breathing in your scent as if it were the only clean air he had breathed all week.

"I missed you," you said softly, stroking the base of his neck.

"I know," he replied against your skin, tickling you. "The headquarters is unbearable without you."

To anyone else, Sephiroth was an unreachable figure, to you, on afternoons like this, he was someone seeking refuge. He didn't need to talk about his missions, or Shinra, or the world's expectations, he only needed this physical, blind, and constant contact, which reminded him that he was alive and had a home to return to.

You leaned in slightly to kiss the crown of his head, he didn't move, he simply stayed there, clinging to you, breathing in sync with your rhythm, finally losing himself to the sleep he had denied himself for so long.

hey everyone!! i've put up all the summer themed merch i've made of dante and leon now!!! very proud of how these turned out so please take a look if you're interested :D link below!!

What can I say except It is still possible to save the environment, there is still hope and we must try

Absolutely not. We would be no better than the antis. I understand that people think that Infold/PPG thinks we're pushovers, and that's why they cancelled Bilibili World and not Gamescon.

Did we forget that in their homeland Infold had antis send them cow dung in the mail, throw cow dung at the building, have some guy who doesn't play the game walk around the lobby with a knife, funeral flowers were sent to the office building and the shared bikes had razorblades placed on the seats?

Bilibili World wasn't safe. At all. They feel safe to go to Gamescon (and Anime Expo too) because we don't do these things. We're not pushovers. Our boycott doesn't make them think their staff are in danger.

For my eternal love of Zack Fair

A/N: Of course my love!!! I wanna apologize for my absence, been focusing on more personal projects a bit more and life has just generally gotten busier. HOWEVER!!! I shall fix this by fulfilling the requests that I've unfortunately left on the back burner (sorry for that too!) I genuinely love hearing from you guys so please don't be afraid to reach out <333 With that I hope you enjoy!

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He's just so cute!!!

-Lagooneah W/C - Roughly 1.8k Not/barely Proofread -------------------------------------------------------

Everyone knows that Pinocchio—or P—can be so unintentionally cute.

Yes, the killer puppet with a beating however mechanical heart could be quite aloof, leading to confusion akin to a small animal still finding its footing in the wood. Even when it came to things most would figure simple he was tilting his head and furrowing his brow. There was one thing he did understand, enough to act on it at least…

Death. Killing. Absence of life.

Aside from a few sparing cases, death as a concept comes easy to him unlike anything 'human'. If you awoke and was immediately tasked to spill oil and blood how would you feel? You wouldn't, and he's the perfect example of this.

When he was called he heeded it; when someone needed a street cleared he came home covered in oil that wasn't his, when someone wanted his opinion on a weapon or a legion he practically lived in the training yard until he could provide listed feedback, when someone needed saving he searched until he found their body warm or cold. He was needed the moment he awoke, he hadn't stopped working since he awoke, he didn't know the calm life everyone swore they missed.

Well, aside from when you're in his arms.

Pinocchio doesn't know how to handle much else but his day to day job, his duty always comes first or it always did… Before you. You had come to the hotel quite a bit ago, the very same puppet you grew quick affection for being the one who saved you. You still remember how it went, how he scooped you into his arms with little effort after expelling of a puppet with even less exertion. How he called you 'My Lady' before speaking any further about or to you; as cold as he was then he still enraptured you, and until recently you were simply another human he figured he should assist if you ever desired it. Although… That wasn't exactly how things had went judging from your current position.

You're snuggled into his front, the cold metal hum of his body lowering your guard, easy to forget the horrors that await outside these walls when you're wrapped in his arms… Arms that were as gentle as they were cruel. His legion is hooked over your waist to connect with his other more organic limb that lays beneath you. He lays incredibly still, like if he moves too much he may harm you, but your soft giggles and caress of his freckled face should tell him there's no where you'd rather be than in these arms he previously considered were only made to harm.

"You have such cute freckles, P." P, that letter, that nickname that only you seem to call him leaves your smiling lips, your soft fingertips dancing over said dark spots that decorate his features. There's a stiffness to the way his eyebrow cocks, and an emptiness where feeling would be had he not been the way he was,

"The markings? Well, their just dots." He states bluntly. Clearly not understanding the reasoning for your words nor what lies behind them. To him they're just something he happens to have, not a blessing nor a curse, just marks that he has. If anything he may even come to think them odd, no one else has these from what he's seen except his father. Your giggle only confuses him further, especially since you don't say anything, rather you act on your feelings of adoration.

The press of warm, soft flesh meets his dotted cheek. Slow, gentle, long enough to make his heart jump from its cogs, and you don't stop there. Your lips meet the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and his other cheek with the same gentle affection. None of the kisses are met with much acknowledgement outside of a flex of his legion at the small of your back or an adjustment of his leg that folds your layered skirts… That's only until you pull back to look at your hard work.

The gentle shine of lip gloss paints every place you kissed on the puppets face, that in itself was cute enough without the additive of his reactions. Blue eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing with a fuzzed audio but never once uttering a word. He's speechless, and not in his usual aloof and collected way, in a completely baffled way. He quite literally cannot form words to speak to you. Nothing is good enough, nothing would get an answer he would be satisfied with. What would he even be looking for with a question? What he was looking for was action, an action only you had done just now.

"P, I—" Before you could get your giggle-ridden words out it's your turn to widen your eyes. He lunges his face so far forward the tips of your noses meet, and his eyes are practically glowing against your skin. Your cheeks flush at the sudden proximity to him, although you had just been even closer pressing your lips against his synthetic skin, this felt very different. You half expected him to return the actions—or better yet—let his lips meet yours, but what followed was a flit of his eyes; a plea, a silent desire…

Was he… Asking for more..?

With a smile and a few fast blinks you gather your composure enough to say,

"Did you like that? The kisses?"

It was funny, you should've expected the puppet who held you over the plush of this lobby couch would desire your affection. It was pretty clear he at very least allowed it, but him asking for it? That was new.

he doesn't answer with words, just mimicking his prior mannerisms as if you could read his mind. Sure, you definitely could read him, but everyone could. He wasn't necessarily mysterious because he hid things, he was at the very core unable to fully understand emotion or anything relating to it… Yet. He didn't yet know how to frame his words for inner desires, he didn't yet know how to decipher those inner desires in the first place, all he felt he could do in this powerless silence was to imply.

You pressed another kiss to the tip of his nose, and you swore his eyes fluttered closed. He pulled you close so your warmth was pressed against the hard plains of his body. With his head rested against your cushioned chest, his face was a canvas for her fondness, you definitely took it that way.

It may have very well been a few hours that the two of you were like this; tangled together into a warm pile of kisses that the puppet hardly objected to. You kissed his entire face, his hair, even his palms received some attention and he didn't move an inch. Not in the same stiffness as he was before, he was rather languid against the old couch, against you. It was his personal heaven, though he couldn't define it as such, he definitely felt the way his heart thumped and his ergo flourished that this was good for him.

He hardly felt much good in his short life, so in that way it was easy to know when something was. The feeling was so foreign that it blared like a siren when it was there. He would feel grief, guilt, anger, selfish desire, never good. Not outside of these walls, not in the way you made him feel it.

That wasn't to say he hadn't felt at least some bit of good his time here. Sophia always had a nice presence, he felt comfortable around her and her ergo. Maybe it was simply because he she would support and supply him of the rawest form of life as he knew it, or maybe it was her kind and gentle word, whatever it was he could suppose he enjoyed it. Eugenie always helped him with his arm and his weapons, recommending what would be best and asking what he would desire out of his items; little Spring the orange cat was a plus even if she hissed at him occasionally still. Lady Antonia was quiet but strong, he could tell every time he spoke to her that she was fiery in a way that no one else he had met was. Even then she always checked on him, always told him what she felt and believed and why, it enticed him to continue his visits to her chair. Enticed him to know of her days even if he couldn't learn from them. Just to know people was a curious concept, because even his father who he was supposed to know was a stranger to him.

He was still navigating the good people made him feel and how they made him feel it. He paid close attention to the way his cogs would loosen or tighten, how his heart would either thrum vigorously or hum softly, and the why of these happenings was a completely different story.

He laid in your arms, still being showered in warm presses and vibrations of giggles, and for a moment he figured… Why does he need to know? Why does he need to know why something makes him feel the way it does? Why should he ask instead of bask in it and seek it again? You always gave without him having to ask, maybe that's what separated you from the others he knew. What made your good feel so different. You never asked him for anything but his company or the way he offered it. You would lay like this in his arms for hours, never needing anything but reciprocated wraps of his arms or his attention. You didn't need him to kill, you didn't need him to gather ergo, you didn't need him to test weapons and legions out and see which one fit best, you didn't need him to save a city and people he never knew, you needed him. Only him.

That was… New…

"Pino? Are you ok?" Your voice breaks his trance, eyes fluttering to look up at you. The sight shocks you, just enough for you to take in a quick breath. He felt… Warmer. His heart for just a few moments felt like a real one, and you swear you can feel the warm brush of his breath against your cheek as he returns your gaze with his own half-lidded one. He looked, felt, so… Human. You cradled his face, and for one last kiss, you pressed one against his lips.

'You like this, you like her. You don't need to know why, just that you do.'