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weird fic idea: A weird ass cult devoted to the Creator somehow decide that Shen Qingqiu is that Creator and, thus, kidnaps him. They feed him some truth serum and wait, hoping that he spills divine secrets and cosmic wisdom.

Shen Qingqiu, completely confused: "I have no idea why you think I’m some kind of god."

Cultists, gasping: "My Creator, you're so humble!"

Shen Qingqiu: "No, seriously. This is a mistake. Let me go."

Cultists, knowing he's under truth serum: "...?"

The peak lords break in to rescue him just in time for them to hear him accidentally insinuate that, while he was involved in helping form the world, he's not the Creator, Shang Qinghua is.

#mxtx svsss #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #svsss #airplane shooting towards the sky #peerless cucumber #sqh is the creator #svsss kidnapping plots #cang qiong mountain sect #fic ideas #platonic cumplane #queerplatonic cumplane #this also

#This also #tadc #tag

happy sadist saturday everyone

He grabs at Heinrix’s chest, gropes him through the fabric of his shirt, feels the heat of his body. He hooks a finger under the chain of his rosette, tugs down until the pendant’s in his palm and grips it as if he could crush it. Cosmas has always wanted to pull him around by it, walk him like a hound. He twists and pulls until the chain goes taut and digs into the back of Heinrix’s neck. Your man. He could be. Not the Inquisition’s, not the Imperium’s, not even the Rogue Trader’s, but Cosmas’ man. He could throttle him, for however long before his self-preservation instinct kicks in. Wrap his hands around the column of his thick neck and crush his windpipe like he wanted to kill him. See if the chain of his rosette could withstand the force he’d use to strangle him. They could match, if only for a moment. His free hand clamps over Heinrix’s throat on its own, digging pale skin and dark metal into supple flesh. Blade to the throat. He lets go of the rosette in turn, hand splaying over Heinrix’s chest. Fingers wrap around his wrist—for a moment Cosmas thinks he’s going to be pulled off, but Heinrix lets go. Lets him press his thumb into the soft hollow under his jaw. Heinrix’s pulse is quick, loud, pounding. It’s like he’s holding his beating heart in his hand. He feels him swallow. Feels his Adam’s apple move under his palm. It must hurt for his muscles to push against his hold. Cosmas’ breath shallows in an imitation of Heinrix’s no doubt decreasing air. He imagines for one unrealistic moment that Heinrix really would let him keep him there until he asphyxiated to death.

also context for the your man line

“Got your man back, eh?” Iako says with a knowing look. His face is still bruised from where Cosmas punched him, smears of dried blood remaining from a poor attempt at wiping it off. It only serves to make him look more handsome. “Y’mean Heinrix?” Cosmas says, filling his flask with drinking water. It used to be idira’s. He likes to think he’s honoring her sobriety this way. “Oh, you two looked awfully close, is all. Holding hands, how sweet. Bagged yourself an Inquisition boy didn’t you? That must come in handy.”

#this also #sneek peak