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lovesickeros · 5 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #arlecchino #lyney #furina #you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic #trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually!#I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew #anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks #also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth #furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road #arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11 #shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay #hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS #ehe :]#is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!!#shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies #anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D #also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty #bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat..#reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay #they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more #a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 16

Sweeties is very busy tonight but they get a table relatively quickly. He sees some people looking at their group all dressed in the ‘required’ attire for going out to Eden’s and reminds himself that maybe it’s for the best that people remember him tonight. It MAY help the police find his body in a shallow grave somewhere if they can piece together his last few hours.

Nicky stops by the salad bar and grabs three packs of crackers. He hands one pack to FF who just stares blankly at it before shrugging and figuring his stomach needs something so he opens the pack and just eats the crackers.

Nicky looks at him with an abundance of fondness that he doesn’t understand but shakes his head and hands a laminated menu over to him to order dinner from. “I know you’re not drinking but you still gotta take your meds before we leave.” Nicky reminds and FF nods. He reaches into his pocket to confirm that they’re there and feels something cheap and plastic.

Oh god, he forgot to take his Happy Meal Toy out of his pocket. No one needs to know that.

He shoves his hand into his other jacket pocket and the sandwich baggy with his single dose for his Ulcer is right there.

He starts to look at the menu when he realizes that everyone else already knows what they’re going to order since they apparently come here regularly. He tries his best to never be a regular at any place where they can see him and repeat his order back to him (Hello CVS girl, yes thank you for holding some Pepto for him. No he is very brand loyal and would not like to try Tums thank you.)

FF stands behind the art of the panic pick.

He has cultivated this ability over his many years of panicking. He can look at a menu and pick an item that might not be the thing he most wants on that menu it is something that he can eat or drink. Then while he has that pick queued up and ready to fly if a member of the waitstaff comes over before he’s actually read what’s on offer he has his panic pick.

A place like this has GOT to have a burger.

He finds it under the sandwich section easily enough and now he has his panic pick as he peruses the rest of the menu.

The waitress comes far faster than he had anticipated and slams waters down at each of their spots. “What can I get you?” She asks and before anyone says anything Nicky and Aaron slide over the two packets of crackers that she takes before looking at the empty packet in front of FF, “Just two?” She asks.

WHAT KIND OF CODE IS THIS?

“Just two.” Nicky says grabbing his trash and handing it over to her.

She shrugs, “Anything else on the menu I can get you boys?” She asks.

They all make their orders and Nicky, bravely, steps in to remind him he likes his burgers well done when the waitress asks.

“Sorry, I should have warned you.” Nicky laughs bumping his shoulder against FF’s “This place has this stuff called cracker dust, it gets you high but it’s not addictive.” He says.

Every single 80’s PSA goes off in FF’s head all at once.

NICKY “FLIPS TURTLES BACK ONTO THEIR FEET” HEMMICK DOES NOT LOOK LIKE HOW THE ‘JUST SAY NO’ ADS HAD SAID HE WOULD.

There’s not a trench coat! He wasn’t even wearing a hoodie with the hood up! There’s no sunglasses! Nicky had given him a baggie for his ulcer meds but IT WAS A SANDWICH BAG.

“I see.” He says out loud.

“Do you wanna try some.” Aaron asks. He double checks and yeah Aaron is still in the same club clothes he had left the house with. He has on a hoodie but the hood is down.

He does as any 80’s teen sitcom protagonist does by the end of the episode.

“No thank you.”

He thinks Mr. T would be happy that he said No. That ad had been especially nerve wracking as a kid when Mr. T ‘shakes some sense’ into the camera.

“Alright, no worries. Neil and Andrew don’t do any either.” Nicky says quickly.

The drugs come with the food and Nicky and Aaron pocket them before handing over cash to the waitress who just counts it right there. He focuses on digging into his burger and realizes it has jalapeños on it but Nicky volunteers to eat them with his nachos and lets the conversation weave around him as he polishes off his burger and takes his ulcer meds. “Oh cool, hand me the bag so I can keep our stuff in there.” Nicky makes a grabbing motion with his hands and FF just hands it over.

He zones out as he eats his fries. He wonders if Great Gran is upset watching him or if she’s happy that he said no to drugs. Maybe he should have said yes, then he could at least be blasted out of his mind when Andrew dragged him to the basement.

Well, it’s too late now.

The waitress comes and clears out their plates but picks up her notepad and pen again. “So, what ice cream do you boys want tonight?” She asks and looks straight at FF.

But FF is prepared.

Ice cream places are easy. His panic pick is a given, it’s Vanilla. Every ice cream joint has it so he barely even notices how his heart rate kicks up to 190 BPM and his palms grow instantly sweaty.

“Vanilla.”

“Sorry Hun, we’re fresh out.”

OH GOD. QUICK, SAY SOMETHING ELSE.

“Surprise me.”

NO YOU IDIOT SAY CHOCOLATE.

“Surprise you?”

RETRACT, IT’S NOT TOO LATE.

“Yeah. Surprise me.” He repeats and he can FEEL Nicky vibrating with laughter next to him.

“Alright Hun, I’ll surprise you.” She winks at him and he blinks back at her.

The rest of the table all order (They’re all normal people who order strawberry (neil), the special with chocolate (Nicky), Lemon Sorbet (Aaron), and Brownie Fudge (Andrew).

“Surprise me.” Nicky whispers to him.

“I panicked.” He whispers back.

“Yeah obviously.” Nicky snorts but pats him, “It’s fine. The worst is you might end up with Pistachio or something.” He pats FF on the back.

FF likes Pistachio and the world loves to make FF suffer.

“Here you go hun. We just got this in, it’s Mango.” She says setting down two scoops of a bright orange ice cream down in front of him, “With a little surprise.” She winks again as she sets the other ice cream down.

They all get started.

Why is the Ice Cream kind of spicy?

He eventually puzzles out that the waitress has served him a Mango and some kind of pepper (probably habanero) ice cream. She smiles when he thanks her for the surprise, tries not to let it show how much the spice is KILLING his stomach let alone the acid of the mango.

Andrew has his eyes narrowed on him and he’s sure the man doesn’t want him to make a scene at a place that seems to be a frequent haunt for the family. So he eats every last bite and ignores how his lips tingle.

“Ohhh it must have been good. Maybe we should get you her number.” Nicky says looking at his empty bowl.

“No, I’m good.” She was pretty but considering the acid currently swirling in his stomach she probably thought he was an asshole for asking for her to ‘surprise him’. Even if that wasn’t the case, what if she thought it’d be cute to serve him this spicy ice cream as a cute couple thing? His stomach can’t take that.

“Aw man you’re no fun.” Nicky pouts.

They pay for their meals and the waitress hands him his receipt with a wink. He nods back at her before shoving the receipt into his pocket next to the Megamind toy. “Have a good night.” He says.

“You too Hun.” She says.

They head out for Eden’s and in a way the ice cream is a blessing because his stomach hurts enough that he barely even notices his anxiety about being at the place where Andrew most certainly is going to stab him at least once by the end of the night.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

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The requests to be added to the tag list got spread out across a few different mediums on this one so if I missed you I swear it wasn’t malicious I’m just brunch dumb at the moment. Remind me in the replies!

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#fluent freshman au #I swear they're going to be at Eden's next time #The Ice Cream discourse made me laugh enough that I ended up writing about Sweetie's instead lol #The majority of you looked at my boy and saw Vanilla and you are not wrong #The Waitress: Marge those boys brought someone new and he's funny. He told me to surprise him for the ice cream flavor.#Marge (manager): Well what are you going to surprise him with?#The Waitress: Well he got the burger with Jalapenos so he must like spice. We got that new flavor in right? Can I dig into early?#Marge (Manager): sure #Andrew watching Nicky and Neil whisper and bump shoulders: I'll definitely show him the Speak Easy once Nicky and Aaron are fucked up #I would like to thank my buddy Kim for helping me workshop the most damaging ice cream flavor to FF #Originally was googling weird ones but truly few could be worse for his tummy #And he left his tried and true pepto at home. This really isn't his night #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG Fic #AFTG shitpost #my fic #FF - PT. 16

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daffi-990 · 3 months

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Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

It’s Sunday for me so here’s a small eight sentence tease of a snippet from the ladder truck bombing from Rival Firefighters 🚒 (I’m pretty sure it’s eight sentences … I don’t want to recount so we’re going with eight).

Gosh I really really really want to share everything I’ve written for the bombing because your girl needs validation, but I don’t want to share everything haha. The struggle is real 😅

Prev snippet here.

Collateral damage.

Freddie says the words with a shrug like he’s not talking about a fucking life and the fury burning inside Eddie grows hotter. This guy doesn’t give a shit about the people he’s hurt, so blinded by his stupid quest for revenge. Eddie isn’t aware his hands are clenched and shaking, nails digging into the skin of his palms, until there’s a hand on his wrist and Hen’s voice is drifting into his ear, soft and gentle like a trickling stream.

“I know you’re angry, I am too,” she slides her hand down from his wrist to slowly pry his hand open, “but Buck needs us to be calm and in control of ourselves right now, okay Eddie?” Her hand slips into his and she squeezes gently. Eddie can feel the stickiness of blood between their palms from his fingernails. “Trust Bobby, he hasn’t let us down so far, I don’t think he’s planning on starting today.”

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @malewifediaz @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @exhuastedpigeon @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @mellaithwen @nmcggg @steadfastsaturnsrings @shitouttabuck @sibylsleaves @bekkachaos @captain-hen @loserdiaz @rewritetheending @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @the-likesofus @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @fcntasmas @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @giddyupbuck @glorious-spoon @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @puppyboybuckley @princessfbi @vampbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @buckactuallys @prettyboybuckley @starlingbite @athenagranted @fallingthorns and anyone else who wants to play ❤️

#fic: stuck now so long we just got the start wrong #rival firefighters fic #daffi writes #I want to do Eddie’s POV from the bombing justice … cos it’s something a lot of us are like 👀 at #I’ll probably edit it dozens of times once I’ve finished it and still not think it’s good enough 😅#buddie wip #buddie

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

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Death's Embrace

The Thirteenth Prime was never meant to remain on the mortal plane. His work remained in the space between the living realm and the one after. He was to ferry sparks to their destinations, be it to their frames or back to the Allspark where they might find rest. This was his design, and he never rushed the children of Primus to come to him. They would all meet him eventually.

This is what he believed, and so he never tampered... that was until the chosen Primes began to fall.

(Simply put: Thirteen/Optimus is literally death and has to go be a normal mech for a while to figure scrap out)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

He hadn't known what his purpose was at first. He fought the Unmaker alongside his kin and watched them all in mixed love and a degree of apathy. He didn't have a form like theirs, his was nothing but energy barley contained within a shell, and in all honesty, he had no issues with his form. To his knowledge he had no power, no gift like his siblings, and for a time this was acceptable to him.

Then Solus fell and as if a switch had been flipped, he found his design.

His frame changed and shifted, the bindings he hadn't known tied him the mortal realm snapping all at once. Then as he felt the void become accessible to him, he took Solus's spark and he walked with her, leading her along a path he didn't know he knew until she stood before the Allspark. He hardly knew what he was doing as he guided her there, but it felt right and he found himself with a sense of purpose.

When he returned back to the mortal plane, his frame rematerialized and he found his brethren engaged in battle. Where before he might have intervened, now that he knew his purpose, he did not. He watched and offered advice, but he let events play out however Primus wished them to. All his previous opinions and ties fell away and he devoted himself to his task, eventually leading Liege Maximo to the Allspark as well. His brother fought him all the way, but within the void the Thirteenth had as much power as Prima, if not more so. The void between the living realm and the Allspark was his domain, those who walked it were under his dominion.

In the end he watched several of his brothers offer themselves to the well, to which he did not move. He was not needed, for Primus accepted them without his aid. Megatronus was exiled and others fled to the stars, leaving only Primus, Nexus, and Alpha Trion behind. The Thirteenth did nothing save nod to them and wave in farewell before he turned to his new role, allowing his body to fall away so that he might walk the void, watching the world but not interacting with it. That was his reality and he felt more at home in the space between the stars than he ever did walking Cybertron's ground in the closest thing he had to a physical frame. He was the guardian of the fallen, their guide back to Primus, and it was a role he took with joy.

As time passed, Thirteen felt nothing but near parental love for the little children of Primus that emerged from the well that sprang from Solus's spilt energon. He admired their initial purity and accepted the little ones who perished too soon with a loving embrace. His spark sang with sorrow when the little ones came to him, often in tears and confused. However he was always gentle with them, shifting his form slightly to be more appealing and carrying them to the Allspark while singing a soothing song from the age of Primes. The little ones needed him most and he never held anything against them, for they were more pure and innocent than any other.

Older ones came to him with time. They were different, more mature, and with so many more attachments. They were more difficult to guide, often fighting against him in their desire to linger. However Thirteen loved their uniqueness and seeing their experiences as he led them home, sometimes leading him to allow them to walk the world as a specter for a time. Sometimes he spoke with them by taking on voices they knew, other times he merely extended a servo and guided them quietly all while singing his song. He cared not for their actions in life, only that they lived and learned. He washed their pains away and brought them back to Primus, uncaring of who they were in life so long as they did not break the natural laws or turn to the Unmaker.

Thirteen did not weep when the children came to him, nor was he angry when they fought against him, desperate to avoid his embrace for but a moment longer. No, he adored their struggles and their achievements and left most ample time to escape the death that loomed above them. All the children would come to him eventually, there was no need to rush them. Let them live, let them learn, and let them fight for their future. As children of Primus, they had much to do and so many possible roads ahead of them. Thirteen wanted them to live out their lives to the fullest, although he would not turn them away if they came to him sooner than he would have liked.

Sweet little children, his pride and joy. He loved them dearly and always watched on fondly when the most beaten down rose up to become something greater.

He only began to grow concerned when the number of children coming to him increased exponentially with the arrival of others from the stars, Quintessons they called themselves. So many children fell to lack of energon, to injury, to abuse. Thirteen was well aware that some of the children were not kind to their kin, but this was a whole other level of brutality. The children were being changed, he sensed it when they began returning to him and took longer and longer to know who he was.

Even still he did not act. The children would resolve this with the help of Thirteen's fellow Primes and with the aid of Primus's chosen champion. That was the way it always was and that was the way it was supposed to be.

In a way Thirteen was right. A champion was chosen, Sentinel Prime, and he led the children out of the control of the invaders from the stars. He freed them, and after guiding a worrying amount of children to the Allspark, the children stopped coming in such droves for a time. Thirteen was relieved... and then he watched as things grew to be far worse than anything the Quintessons had done.

The Quintessons abused and killed, altering the nature of the children for their own selfish gain. But the mech who called himself Prime did the same and delved further and further into dark territory with experiments, the caste system, and the way he threw lives away in the arenas and the mines. And that for the first time led Thirteen to be enraged. Invaders were not expected to feel love or compassion for those who walked the surface of Cybertron, but an actual child of Primus inflicting that same pain upon his kin? That made Thirteen seethe. He couldn't sit idly by, he couldn't watch it all silently, not when none seemed to be acting.

His kin in the realm of the Primes were not pleased with his deviation, but they allowed it since he couldn't linger for long anyway.

As such Thirteen made a choice he was not at all fond of. For the first time since those early years where he fought alongside his kin, he took on a physical form, at least as much as he could considering his near non-existent tie to the living realm. It was not at all "normal". He had seen plenty of memories and children, but he had never had to recreate what made them so distinctly Cybertronian. His limbs were too long, his denta too sharp, his frame gangly and uneven in places, and his spark chamber partially exposed. It was not what he intended, much less to manifest out in the wilds. Thankfully Alpha Trion seemed to sense his formation and came to collect him, taking him back to the archives and assisting Thirteen in learning how to be like the children he cared for so dearly.

Thirteen stayed with his brother, learning slowly how to be "normal" while he searched for someone capable enough to stop all the death and needless suffering. He was forced to release his form every now and then to guide the sparks that built up back to the Allspark, but most of his time he spent searching. He cared for nothing else, only taking on a name and working in the archives to try and learn how to best approach the situation.

He was largely left alone as most could not sense him. He faded like a shadow, present physically but not projecting the same aura that indicated that he was alive. At most he was asked curt questions before being allowed to continue his work... then he met Ratchet.

Ratchet: Hey! Can you help me find a text on T-cog functionality?

Thirteen: ... Yes.

Ratchet: You don't sound very confident.

Thirteen: You want the text? Follow. I will bring you to it.

Ratchet: Alright. What's your designation if you don't mind me asking? I haven't seen you around here before.

Thirteen: I was granted the designation Orion Pax.

Ratchet: An odd way of saying it, but its nice to meet you Orion.

Thirteen: ... Likewise.

He helped Ratchet and went back to his work of searching without much thought given. Sometimes mecha saw him, and while odd, it happened enough to not be startling. Ratchet was just another mech who would quickly forget him. At least that is what he thought up until Ratchet came back requesting aid again... and again... and again. It kept happening, with Ratchet returning to the archives for new texts and always going to Thirteen specifically.

Before long Ratchet started coming to the archives just to talk to him and all that Thirteen could do was fumble. He was not used to such things and often slipped up while trying to talk with the strange medic who kept tailing him. Often he struggled to speak in a manner that was not fanciful or grim. He was used to having to console and guide sparks, not speak with them on casual terms. There were several instances where he straight up referred to Ratchet as "child" and "young one". The medic laughed at such mistakes and rapidly began worming his way into Thirteen's life in a way he hadn't thought possible.

Thirteen had always been set apart, not truly connected to his siblings or the children of Primus. As such having Ratchet talk with him, get to know him, and introduce him to the living realm was... refreshing. Thirteen only barely noticed when he began seeing himself as the mech that he claimed to be. He was Orion Pax, if only in the living realm. His form even adapted to match that mental shift, with his plating smoothing, his limbs becoming more proportional, and his overall appearance heightening into something that he quickly found that normal mecha saw as pleasing. Even when he shed his mortal frame to do his work, bits and pieces carried over with his form of pure energy shifting to take on characteristics of his identity as Orion Pax.

His search continued, but his focus wavered as he started to connect to mecha in the living realm aside from Ratchet. He found himself getting along with Jazz and learning how to express himself. He came to enjoy the company of his fellow archivists, chatting with them more and more often. He began to enjoy going out to see the sights of the world he had watched over for so long, even smiling when never before had he ever felt the need to do so.

He felt... alive. But evidently his kin saw fit to remind him of the fact that his focus was to lie elsewhere. It was nothing more than a quick warning, but it was enough for Orion to begin letting go of his physical form more often to clear his helm. He couldn't be getting attached, he was to be neutral... and yet after a particularly long stint of him being absent in the living realm, leading to Ratchet literally leading an investigation to find him... he gave up on that front.

Ratchet: ORION!

Orion: Ratchet, my apologies.

Ratchet: DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS!?!

Orion: No, but I can imagine such an emotional response is not comfortable.

Ratchet: You-! ... You are so dumb sometimes.

Ratchet was usually not a very touchy mech, but after Orion's return he wrapped him up in a hug so tight Orion wondered if he was going to snap. Oddly enough, he didn't hate the touch and even leaned into it, enjoying the sensation of aliveness that he usually kept clear of. Ratchet didn't know it and Orion refused to acknowledge it, but after that interaction the embodiment of death was willing to bend his own rules a degree to protect the medic.

Then Megatronus got involved and similarly gained the favor of death incarnate. To Orion he was the perfect mech to fulfill the mission he had originally come to search for a mech worthy of undertaking. When he first met with Megatronus his only intention was to direct the mech toward the path of changing things for the better. Sentinel may have perished and been ferried long ago, but the council remained. Then he began to speak with the gladiator, developing a fondness for the intelligence of the mech before him.

Orion Pax was death, he was supposed to be neutral, and yet Ratchet and Megatronus gained his favor. Orion was awkward, cold, and didn't present very naturally, but for whatever reason his two companions stuck to him like glue. Whatever they did, they dragged him along, a fact that swiftly gained him more associates in Soundwave, Prowl (due to an accidental arrest), and even Senator Shockwave. Orion hadn't expected this, but as Megatronus worked to fulfill the mission of freeing the children of Primus, Orion couldn't find it in himself to dislike the situation.

He was attached, he knew his kin would not be pleased. But Primus, he couldn't help it. He even found himself using his power to aid his newfound attachments as much as he could while still playing within the rules. No one said he couldn't shed his frame to scout and then return with information cryptically. Not a spark said he couldn't use his deathly aura to frighten threats or call upon the chill of death to settle into the frames of aggressors as a silent threat. He wasn't playing favorites, he was just keeping Megatronus safe so that he could complete the mission and perhaps even claim the Matrix.

Only once did he allow anger to bubble within him and lead him to warp his form into something eldritch to fight off an enemy. He did it for the mission, most certainly not because he didn't want to see Megatronus and Ratchet hurt.

Death didn't play favorites... at least that is what he told himself.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #the thirteenth prime #optimus prime #ratchet #megatron #alternate universe #death's embrace au #yep more wild ideas #this too will be expanded upon if it makes enough sense to warrant expansion #I fully intend to do a POV swap to ratchet noticing that his friend is the weirdest thing on cybertron and shrugging it off #like "Yeah Orion doesn't vent sometimes and he once disappeared into nothing in under a second only to appear again an hour later-#“but that's just what he does don't worry about it”#Orion thinks he is so subtle and Megatronus is just chilling wondering what else his weird buddy can do

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