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heliads · 9 months

Note

I’m not sure if you write for Marauders or not, but I thought I would ask. I’ve also never requested before, so apologies if I do this wrong.

My request is a Regulus Black x a female Potter reader where they fake their deaths to hide from Voldemort and destroy all his horcruxes in secret. Once they’ve destroyed all the horcruxes they reveal that they are alive to Sirius and James, and there is a cute reunion scene that’s really fluffy.

Again, sorry if I did this wrong. Thank you so much!!

oh i would do anything for the marauders (including writing for them)

masterlist

Night has fallen when Regulus Black tells you that he’s leaving. He waits until now, the final hour, as if hoping that the dark shades of midnight will hide what he’s planning from the rest of the world. Regulus will be found out, of that he is certain, he just hopes that he’ll have enough time to do some sort of good before he’s caught.

The smart thing would be to leave before anyone got word of his disappearance. Regulus is not smart when he comes to you, however, or so he admits when he shows up on your doorstep when you were just about to go to bed.

Regulus says that he’s leaving alone. It doesn’t explain why he showed up to say goodbye, or perhaps the thought of that solitude is the very reason for it. Regulus is alone except for when he’s with you. Every time that he was lonely, he sought you out. It makes perfect sense that now, when he fears the quiet abyss of death, he would want a farewell from you one last time.

You, however, are unwilling to let him go. It was hard enough having to endure the past few years estranged from him like another brother to let go. You’re a Potter, he’s a Black, and even though Sirius switched over to your side, Regulus hadn’t. Not yet. Not until now.

It had all but torn you to pieces, choosing loyalty with your brother James and his best friend Sirius when Regulus seemed so far away. Regulus had always been kind to you throughout your years at Hogwarts, the two of you closer than anyone despite how your scarlet school robes clashed with his emerald ones, and just when you swore nothing could separate you, he signed on with the Death Eaters.

Now he’s in front of you, telling you that he’s going to take down the Dark Lord or die trying. It seems like a fool’s errand, and a dangerous one at that. That’s what you tell him after you get over the shock of seeing him after such a long time, once you remember to invite him into your house and lock the door securely behind you.

The outside is blank and dark, but in your home, you’ve never felt more alive. You had wondered what it would be like to see Regulus after so much time, and it’s like you’re back at Hogwarts instead of in some small apartment close to your job. He’s here, and you’re here, and the thought that he’s about to go fling himself into the grasp of unwarranted death is unthinkable.

Perhaps that’s why you let it happen under only one condition: that you be there too. Regulus is a brother and you are a sister and the two of you understand each other, you always have. That’s why you know without a doubt that Regulus will not stray from this quest, even though you try to persuade him from it nonetheless. It’s why he knows better than to fight when you assert that he won’t be doing it alone.

You did try to talk him out of it a little, at least. Why would it be him of all people to try to take down Voldemort? When there are so many witches and wizards fighting in the cause, why should he be the one to die?

You had not gained much by way of explanation. “It’s my responsibility,” he had said simply.

Regulus would know about responsibility. Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters to appease his parents, who regretted the choice from the moment the inked skull appeared on his forearm. You’ve caught him staring at the accursed tattoo for hours, only when he thinks no one else is around. You know he only feels comfortable wearing long sleeved shirts so he doesn’t have to look at it and remember what he became.

It is his responsibility to save the wizarding world, and so it will be yours, too. Regulus isn’t pleased at first when you tell him that you’ll be going with him on the quest to hunt down the horcruxes, but you refuse to change your mind. When the moon hangs high in the sky later that night, you think he goes to sleep with a smile at the thought that he’ll have such a lovely traveling companion. He tells you as much when you set off, anyway.

He might as well be smiling about something, you won’t have much reason to do so until the difficult deed is done. You’re already leaving under terrible circumstances as is; in order to avoid detection from the Dark Lord and his followers, you and Regulus have staged each other’s deaths. When your friends come upon the scene later, they’ll believe that Regulus, a Death Eater, came by your home to kill you, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You fought back and managed to wound Regulus enough to end his life, but not before he returned the favor for you as well.

It’s a horrific sight, the illusion of both of your bodies lying side by side. Your brother will find this out later, and be sick with grief. Regulus’ brother too, even if the taint of betrayal will make the whole scene wretched with wrongness. For now, though, you have no time to think of possible reactions nor the difficulty of what you are forcing your friends and family to endure. The only objective in your mind is how to destroy the horcruxes so that the war can be won.

Regulus knows of the first, a locket in a cursed lake somewhere deep underground. He takes you there first, and it takes him weeks to sleep off the aftereffects of that awful potion hiding the locket. Whenever you close your eyes, you see the rings of fire you had to conjure up to fight back the Inferi swarming from the lake, how they had emerged from the greenish lake ready to drag Regulus into the water the second he bent his head to drink.

Regaining the locket is an awful thing, destroying it more so. It takes the two of you several days before you’re able to do it for good, and all the while the accursed relic whispers lies in your ears, trying to convince you to abandon each other. When a wave of rage so strong it almost kills you makes you black out and slam the thing with the Killing Curse, it works at last. You’ve never used an Unforgivable Curse before. It takes surprisingly little willpower to do.

Regulus talks you through that. It’s easier to address the use of Avada Kedavra than the ugly truth both of you know, which is that there will be no guarantee that either of you will make it out of this infernal quest. It took everything in you to find and destroy the locket, which at least you knew about. What of the other horcruxes? How will you survive them, too?

The two of you travel across the country, listening in to wizarding news and doing your best to find out what the remaining horcruxes could be. You share space, you share secrets. You’ve never been closer to Regulus in your entire life. The thought that the two of you went a year or two without speaking after you left Hogwarts is unthinkable now. How could you breathe without him?

After dark, he lies awake, watching the light from a charmed lantern flit across the ceiling. He says, you don’t have to do this. Stay with him. Risk your life like this.

You prop yourself up on one elbow so you can get a better look at him. The furrows in his brow are more pronounced now, and the shadows under his eyes, which have been there since the day you met him, are now dark enough to look like the hollows of a skull. Of course I do.

As if the universe meant to reward your faithfulness, you’re blessed with a clue the next day. Regulus recognizes a Death Eater furtively walking down a street and follows him, overhearing the man tell one of his friends that Lucius Malfoy was apparently given some strange token of the Dark Lord’s. They’re both jealous that they weren’t given Voldemort’s refuse, apparently, but their complainings are like music to your ears.

Malfoy’s item is a diary, and it writes pages of frantic scribblings in an attempt to save itself before Regulus hits it with Fiendfyre which, strangely enough, works. Stranger still was trying to break into Malfoy Manor to find a journal, but all’s well that ends well. You got in, you got out, and although there are definitely some house elves under Lucius’ employ that will wonder why they heard voices in the dark that one night, no one is the wiser.

The next secret you hear is not an item but a place, the family home of the Dark Lord’s mother. The two of you comb the place relentlessly until you find an old ring buried deep beneath the earth. Just to be sure, you check it for curses, and after a great deal of difficulty, are able to remove the dark enchantment before destroying it for good.

You lie awake that night, musing aloud before you can stop yourself. “We only barely caught the curse on that one. What if the other ones were enchanted as well and we didn’t know it?”

Regulus sits up, brushing dark hair out of his eyes so he can look at you. “What if we’re both going to die because we didn’t catch something in time, you mean?” He asks.

You nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to seem like I’m losing faith, because I’m not, but– I worry sometimes, you know?”

Regulus stands, takes both your hands in his palms and kisses them. “I rely on your worries, Y/N. They keep us alive. And no, I don’t think we’re cursed. Not yet, at least. If we were, I could at least die with you. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

You laugh. “That’s morbid, Regulus.”

“But true,” he muses.

He tells you he loves you the next day. It feels like it’s been a long time coming. You have never been one to declare love immediately, but it’s different with Regulus, always has been. If you were in the mood to be honest, you would admit that you have been in love with him for years, ever since the two of you were small enough to hide in your brothers’ shadows and find each other there. You have loved him since the start. You will love him until the end.

Taking down the next horcrux is almost easy, if such things were allowed to be said. You’re fuelled by the hope that this might be the end. Standing over the shattered bits and pieces of Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, you almost believe it. It’s funny, you always thought that you would somehow be able to tell when you finally destroyed the last of the horcruxes, like you could feel it in the air or something.

You feel nothing when the cup is destroyed. It scares you. You and Regulus have been extremely careful to keep yourselves hidden, but you dare to poke your heads out of the shadows for a little bit to determine if you were successful or not. Although you hear rumors that Voldemort seems weakened, that his forces have started losing battles despite him being at the helm of the attacks, he is not yet dead.

It’s heartbreaking. After all of your efforts, your trials and tribulations, every injury and weakness the two of you have sustained on the quest to defeat the Dark Lord, it still isn’t enough. You listen, you spend weeks and then a full month waiting for information, but nothing comes. There is no sign that there are any more horcruxes, but Voldemort has not died. How could it be so?

You come up with a tentative solution in the end, which is to go to Dumbledore for advice. In a way, it seems almost childish– why should the headmaster have any idea what to do, other than the fact that he led your school where the two of you first met and studied? Then again, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of his age. If anyone would know how to proceed, surely it would be him.

Regulus agrees readily enough, recognizing the necessity that if the two of you cannot find a way to continue on your journey, it will never end, and before long the two of you are Apparating near familiar territory and walking up to the castle on foot. You disguise your faces with a simple charm; the two of you are supposed to be dead, after all, but all it takes is one glance at you and Dumbledore is smiling and telling you that he’s glad to see two such familiar corpses up and about.

You laugh, you can’t help it, and remove the charm once you and Regulus are safely in Dumbledore’s office and out of sight. After explaining your predicament, Dumbledore sits for a moment in contemplative silence and then says at last, “It must be the diadem.”

You and Regulus exchange glances, then look back at him. “What diadem?” Regulus asks.

“The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, of course,” Dumbledore muses. “Tom Riddle– the Dark Lord, if you like your pleasantries– was captivated by the magic of the four founders of Hogwarts. You have told me already of Hufflepuff’s cup, this is the expected companion piece. It must be somewhere within the castle, but where– but where–”

He clears his throat after a lengthy pause. “I give both of you permission to scour the castle for it. I will caution the staff not to look too closely at either of you. Take however much time you need, but I would urge you to hurry. More of us die by the day, and it would do us no good to have our friends fall as a consequence of our own dillydallying.”

You look up at him. “And what happens after we destroy the diadem? It must be the last horcrux, or the last one he’s created so far. Will that kill him for good?”

“No,” Dumbledore murmurs, “that will end the horcruxes, not the monster who made them. Once the horcruxes are gone, he will be severely weakened and search for however has been hunting down his creations. You two are lucky that you have not died already, you know. I have no doubt that he has already begun attempts to stop you from completing your goal.”

You shudder, remembering past encounters. Death Eaters had nearly caught up to you many times, and on numerous occasions, they had, requiring firefights of spells and hexes before you and Regulus could escape to relative safety.

Beside you, Regulus tenses, obviously thinking along the same lines. “How do we survive once we destroy the last of the horcruxes? How do we stay out of his sight?”

Dumbledore sighs, weary and heavy. “I will put a stop to him,” he says at last, and that is that.

You and Regulus conjure up your charms once again, disguising your faces to all students who happen to pass by. You look in towers and dungeons, empty classrooms and great halls. It’s a mad memory rush being back here, and it is difficult not to mix memory with your current situation.

When a few hours of searching pass by, though, and neither of you have found even the slightest hint of a diadem, your fond musings are replaced by desperate anger. This is your last step, surely, if you could just find the thing. It would all be over if you could merely find one diadem in one castle.

Regulus leans against a nearby stone wall, eyes cast up to the sky in a plea for help. “Where would a diadem be? In the Ravenclaw dorm, maybe?”

You shake your head. “Dumbledore said it wouldn’t be there.”

You pace back and forth, trying to wrap your head around the issue. What other sections of the castle are particularly known to Rowena Ravenclaw? You’ll wear a path into the carpet beneath your feet while you try and think, but nothing seems to work until the wall opposite Regulus suddenly shifts away, revealing a door.

You and Regulus stare at the room that has appeared out of nowhere. “Do you remember a hidden room near here?” Regulus asks faintly.

You shake your head. “James loved tracking down every secret passage, and he told me most of them, but I don’t think even he knew about this one.”

It’s nice to have a first. You smile to yourself, then take Regulus’ hand when he offers it and walk inside the mysterious room.

The chamber is packed to the gills with objects great and small. It occurs to you that even if the diadem is somewhere in here, it could take years to sift through all this junk. You and Regulus look at each other, shrug, and each take a corridor in which to search.

About half an hour has gone by before Regulus gives a shout. “Found it!”

You race over to his side, and stand, breathless, looking at the very same artifact that’s caught his attention. It’s old, dusty, and not particularly noteworthy, but it has this terrible feel to it that all of the horcruxes had in turn.

“This is it,” you whisper. One last shot. Then, the end.

Regulus lifts his wand, summons a tendril of Fiendfyre, which goes straight through the diadem, shattering it like glass. It’s silent for a moment, and then, when the last shard of the diadem falls to the ground with a quiet crunch, you’re both rocked backward by a boom like a cannon. This, at last, you can feel. This is it.

Dumbledore is waiting for you when the two of you emerge from the room. “I’ll take my leave of you,” he says, “and thank you.”

You nod. “What do we do now?”

For a moment, despite the burden that has now been placed on your old headmaster’s shoulders, despite all the lives that have been lost and those that will still be taken, Dumbledore smiles. “You can go home.”

Sirius used to stay the night at the home of you and your brother, you remember that from your school days. It would then follow that, with everything in peril and friends disappearing by the day, Sirius would be at James’ right now. It certainly saves a trip for you and Regulus. Dumbledore gives you their address before you leave, and he tells you to waste no more time.

As if there is anything in the world that you want more than to see your family. You and Regulus Apparate a street or two down from the house, then walk over, hand in hand. Before you know it, you’re waiting on the threshold. The lights are on somewhere in the back of the house; you can hear voices, then a shout of a laugh you remember as Sirius’. It’s more quiet than it used to be, a little more hesitant. He’s lost a lot, the elder Black brother, but he’ll gain some today, too.

Regulus squeezes your hand. “Let’s come back from the dead,” he says.

You smile at him. “That sounds good to me.”

The doorbell echoes through the house, ceasing all conversation. There are slow footsteps to the door, a pause as someone looks through the peephole, and then all of a sudden the door has been flung open and you’re engulfed in a whirlwind of a hug. Your brother is here, your brother is lifting you off the ground with the force of his embrace, and it’s been so, so long since you’ve seen him, but you’re back again, and everything is okay at last.

James’ eyes are as wide as saucers when he finally leans away to get a good look at you. “Y/N, you’re– I swear, if you’re a Death Eater using Polyjuice, I will hurt you so badly–”

You laugh. “I’m me, James. Just me. If you want proof, though, I offer up the memory of when you were a first year and totally in love with Lily and you had me–”

James cuts you off quickly. “Alright, alright. It’s you. God, it’s you.”

A figure appears behind James, and a quiet voice asks, “Regulus?”

James moves aside so Sirius can see his brother. Regulus stands perfectly still, says, “We tried to fix it, Sirius, we hurt him, the Dark Lord, we–”

Regulus told you years ago that he wasn’t that affectionate with his brother. It’s to be expected, of course, divisions between brothers rarely settle themselves sweetly. You suppose that’s why Regulus looks so stunned when Sirius reaches out an arm and hugs him. You’re not sure if he’s trying to crush his younger brother or just make sure that he’s actually real, but they both look vaguely confused when it’s over. Happy, though. Glad to be alive.

The news will come out later that week that Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore did what was promised and killed him. That means the war is over, and that means you can rest at last. You’ll get a place to stay with Regulus. The thought of leaving him now that the two of you can be together without fear is unthinkable. You don’t want to be without him, and thanks to your suffering on the path to destroy the horcruxes, you won’t have to.

Dawn breaks. And you think– you think this might be it. Not a harsh end, but a soft one. A quiet aftermath. You’ll live, and Regulus will too. That’s more than you expected during those months on the run. When the two of you went to sleep unsure if you’d wake up in the morning, your wildest dreams could not encapsulate the wonderful life you have right now. It is marvelous, and it is yours. That is all.

requested by @bookishirishdancer, i hope you enjoy!

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

#regulus black #regulus black imagines #regulus black x reader #regulus black oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #marauders #marauders imagines #marauders x reader #marauders oneshot #marauders regulus #marauders regulus imagines #marauders regulus x reader #marauders regulus oneshot #harry potter regulus #harry potter regulus x reader #harry potter regulus oneshot

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shunsuiken · 1 year

Text

A LITTLE SECRET | SAGAU

synopsis. you, the divine creator of teyvat, discover one day that your blood can heal.

tags. gn!reader + hurt/comfort + fluff + you bring childe and kazuha into a domain (xiangling and bennett are honorary mentions) + reader wants ragbros to reconcile + zhongli and ayato are sparring partners + itto gets hurt but don’t worry we heal him + gorou is still traumatised after the war between the shogunate army & the sangonomiya resistance so pls understand his reaction here + reader thinks everyones gonna be mad at them but thats not true + they tease you in the end and its all adorable <3 hehe

warnings. mentions of blood (obviously), self-harm (??? because reader cuts their wrist to obtain the blood), if i missed anything pls lmk !!

wc. 2.6k

an. incredible how brainrot makes you write things so quickly. i only just indulged myself into sagau’s literally a week ago and now this is here 😀

“now wasn’t that quite the fight!” childe wipes sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, letting his bow dematerialise in the air as he strides into the estate in your abode.

“you were rather ruthless out there, i must say.” kazuha removes his bandages and replaces them with a clean roll in a cupboard. “their grace looked concerned when that cryo abyss mage shot a cryo thorn at you.”

“true but these scars will heal like they were never even there!” sometimes kazuha wonders if the fatui harbinger feels any pain, he must, he thinks, but is most likely good at hiding it.

“would you like to bandage that at least?”

“hm, i could but-”

“kazuha! ajax!” you call with your sweet voice from the kitchen and all the men’s heads in the living room whip around in the direction of your voice. speaking of you… they haven’t seen you since you and your party left the domain.

“yes, your grace?” childe replies, a light blush appearing on his face upon the use of his real name.

kazuha smiles lightly behind him, greeting you as you enter the living room. “your grace.”

“here are your vitamins, you two!” you bring two cups of a mysteriously transparent liquid to them. “i’ve already given these to xiangling and bennett and now it's your turns!”

“oh, it’s this drink again.” childe raises his brows. “you gave it to us last time as well, your grace.”

you hum in agreement, “i did.”

kazuha inspects the liquid after taking it from your precious hands. “the ingredients for this healing mixture must be incredibly difficult to find since it heals wounds so quickly.” he then drinks it up with childe, both men handing the cups back to you in a respectable fashion.

kazuha is right about that. the ingredients for this drink are definitely difficult to find.

but that is because the drink was your blood. your golden blood to be precise. when you descended as the creator of teyvat, you were naturally bestowed with this condition to discern your immortal body from others.

funnily enough, it was all due to you scraping your palm against a rough rock that you discovered the hidden properties of your blood (and its rich golden colour). it was weird in the beginning, and you made sure to guarantee how highly your blood’s healing properties were before offering it to the men who joined you in domains and open-world fights. so you only declared its potential after flinging yourself through multiple enemies.

so far you’ve managed to hide this fact from the men since you found out. after learning some illusory spells that can’t be detected by the naked eye, you were able to successfully heal your men after feeding them your blood—referring to it as “vitamins”.

“your grace, what’s the secret recipe behind this amazing drink? maybe i could learn it to help you if any more of us get hurt.” you feel bad, thoma looks like he has stars in his eyes but you obviously can’t tell him how the drink is made. you can already imagine it. he’d panic and go all red in the face. although a cute sight, you don’t want him to worry about you since he and the rest have done so much to smoothen your descent into teyvat.

you also notice the expectant eyes of the other men who are behind him, either idly standing by or are on the couch relaxing.

“oh thoma, there is a reason why it’s a secret.” you wink at him, extending your index finger to your lips. you end up laughing at the housekeeper when the red on his face makes it up to his ears, a sheepish look on his face for asking such a question with an obvious answer.

“my apologies, your grace. i didn’t mean to pry.” the pyro user scratches the back of his head while ayato, who sips on his boba milk tea, pats his back sympathetically.

“don’t apologise, dearest, it is natural you all are curious.” you meet eyes with everyone in the room, hoping your words can convince them. “but don’t fret, this is just a way of me giving my thanks to all your preparations when i arrived here.”

“your grace is too kind.” kazuha smiles. “therefore we shall accept your offerings wholeheartedly.”

you’re praying (to who knows what, you’re literally the most powerful being on teyvat) that the boys can forgive you if they ever found out. but you have a sinking feeling that they’ll all feel betrayed instead because they wouldn’t ever want you to hurt yourself to heal them. just thinking about it makes your heart break. so you quickly shove those worries away, as long as the boys stay safe then it is worth the minuscule second of pain.

you’re reading a book next to kaeya while he completes paperwork. he decided to do his work outside the confines of the wooden walls so he could get some fresh air instead (news flash: he actually just wants to be in your presence). after a while, diluc comes along with a glass of grape juice in his hands. he greets you and stares at his brother. “kaeya,” he greets before sitting down opposite of him.

kaeya raises his head, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. “diluc.”

you twitch your eye at the dry interaction in front of you. perhaps you should add this to your list of things to accomplish, to help these two estranged brothers and connect them once again. no doubt would the two be happier. obviously they will need as much time as possible to settle things. and you are willing to give them exactly that. time. you sigh underneath your breath, listening to the distant cling and clangs of a polearm and a sword.

hm, perhaps they’re sparring? you remove your gaze from your book to the two figures in the distance. ah, it seems to be zhongli and ayato. now that is an interesting pairing. however, your moment of peace is interrupted by panicked shouts for help at the front door. you exchange alarmed looks with the two brothers in front of you, getting up quickly from your seats to attend to the shouts that are coming from… you believe, gorou.

your face pales at the sight in front of you, there is a large gash right across itto’s stomach, blood pooling out of him like a flowing river. immediately you kneel down to his figure supported by gorou, who is startled by the entire situation as he relays what happened.

“we were looking for onikabuto but itto’s wind glider broke and he fell through the trees in chinju forest!” gorou’s tail is raised high up in alarm, ears stiff and skin running cold at the sight of his comrade in this state. it brings him too many memories. too many unfortunate ones that make his hands shake.

you hold onto his hand tightly, returning him to the present so he doesn’t focus on what he saw behind the look in his eyes anymore. he raises his head to meet your gaze. your gaze that does not falter, your gaze that urges him: trust me.

gorou does, giving you some space to heal itto with your abilities. it then dawns on gorou that he’s never seen you heal anybody with your abilities. and when you did heal people, it was with that liquid you would bring to them.

the men who are on site look at you with anticipation because they’ll finally get to see how you prepare that healing concoction. but they’re also exchanging gazes at each other in concern for itto. the oni groans in pain, clutching onto the gushing wound. you have no time to waste. materialising his claymore, you quickly slash your skin against the sharp edge as your blood spills onto itto’s wound.

you hear various reactions. cries of shock, quiet gasps, and protests that plead you to stop your actions.

“y- your grace?!” gorou gasps, brows creasing in bewilderment while his hands hover awkwardly in front of him, unsure of what to do next.

“so that’s why they never told us how the ‘vitamins’ were made,” the wanderer mutters but everybody hears him clearly.

the men are smart enough to put two and two together. seeing your divine blood trickle down your arm onto itto’s wound that healed the second it made contact with your blood threw them all into a speechless stupor. they weren’t even expecting the liquid to be such a dazzling colour that would reflect the light of the afternoon sun.

when the wound heals completely, you wipe the remaining streaks of itto’s blood off using your sleeves. and magically, your slashed skin is healed too. you reach for itto’s cheek, caressing him. “you are alright, my dear. you can open your eyes now.”

itto responds with a tired whine.

zhongli takes a step forward, kneeling down to meet your height to gently hold your forearm, his thumb running over the skin that was ripped open just a second ago. “so i’m assuming this is the secret recipe to the vitamins?”

you can’t lie to the boys anymore now that they’ve seen it all so you nod your head, admitting the truth. “yes, it is.” you don’t dare meet zhongli’s amber gaze, which is why you don’t notice the glint of worry he looks at you with. instead, you jump to conclusions and think that he’s disappointed in you. they probably all are, you convince yourself.

“gorou, let’s carry him inside.”

the men collectively jolt in alarm, they can’t possibly let you carry the oni into the estate. even if they saw your arm heal itself, you’re still their creator! they can’t just let you perform physical tasks like that when they’re available. so heizou and tighnari take it upon themselves to help the general carry him inside and onto the couches.

while the others are distracted you quietly retreat to the kitchen to make an escape through the back door but the second you turn on your heel, your face is met by somebody’s chest.

“you didn’t think what we saw would go unspoken, did you?” just your luck, it’s alhaitham. you’re definitely not getting out of this one.

you avert your gaze to the very interesting stove behind him, grimacing. “i was just about to grab some food for itto,” you lie through your teeth.

cyno suddenly appears beside alhaitham, crossing his arms. “we know you’re concerned for itto but the oni has a strong spirit. he’ll be fine.” he tilts his head. “however, i believe we deserve an explanation.”

the grip you have on your cloak tightens, staring at cyno as your heart thumps like its right beside your ears. “uh,” you begin, turning around to see that all their attention has fallen onto you, including itto who peeks over the spine of the couch.

“o- okay, well, initially i wanted to say something about it however, i’m also aware of how protective you all can be towards me and i realised if i did tell you all, then i wouldn’t be able to heal all of you quick enough after battling domains and open-world fights,” you trail off, continuing in softer voice, “i’m not doubting any of your abilities—i’m just concerned and mean well because majority of you are mortals. and mortals get hurt more easily than those of the adepti and other immortal beings—even when you wield a vision.” you sigh, shamefaced. “it appears my plan has turned on me, very well, if any of you believe i’m deserving of a punishment then i shall gladly-”

“woah woah woah, who said anything about a punishment, your grace?” although heizou would have preferred you to finish your sentence, he can barely get through the first few words. you clearly made your statement and proved your points. there is no need for punishment when you have already proven yourself.

“your grace, you are too kind for your own good!” venti shakes his head fondly. “you were only looking out for us in the first place, what position are we in to complain? you’ve also revealed your condition so i think we’re all even.”

you nod your head hesitantly, a tense atmosphere radiating off of you. “i just don’t like seeing any of you injured so terribly. it’s too much for me to bear.”

it’s silent for a while. everyone’s thinking of words to say. their creator doesn’t normally express their emotions so when they do, it renders even the best of linguists in the room silent.

itto groans, turning his head animatedly towards everyone. “jeez! you guys are acting like somebody just died!” the oni cannot stand the intense silence, it makes his body jittery and he has to say something to break it. he taps his finger on his temple, shaking his head dramatically. “your grace is the only one who can get these serious people quiet like this!”

aether raises a brow at the oni, folding his arms. “looks like you’re all better, aren’t you?”

itto’s eyes return to your figure. you feel like a spotlight is shining on you from the bright expression on his face as he rambles, “and that’s because their grace is super amazing, super cool, super smart and super-”

“i think their grace understands.” the wanderer interrupts him before looking at you. “you should tell us how you discovered your condition, we’ll be all ears.”

you’re caught off guard, lowering your gaze to the floor again as your face heats up. “u- uh.”

“you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” xiao reminds you.

however, the men in the room have keen eyes and notice the change in your expression. how is it that the memory of discovering your condition made you react like this? now that makes them all wonder…

“ooh your expression changed your grace, was it perhaps an embarrassing memory?” kaeya teases, squinting his eye.

you fold your arms, feigning ignorance but your shaky gaze does nothing to defend you. “it was nothing of the sort.”

“oh really?” tighnari presses on. you’re sweating now.

“their grace must have been experimenting.” ayato defends you suavely but a glint of mischief shines in his lavender stare. “a little slip and slide of a few sharp objects is inevitable, no?”

“correct.” albedo nods his head, holding his chin with his thumb and a curled index finger. “however, since their grace can heal themself now, the discovery must have been… an accident?” he tilts his head, eyelids falling lower as he gives you the look you’ve seen on his face countless of times when he teases you.

your face boils like a kettle, you swear there’s steam coming out of your ears too. you snap your head away from their cheeky expressions. “you all are too much.” you huff, turning on your heel, because you somehow believe you can successfully leave the room when they all are eager to tease you like this.

“uh-uh, your grace!” venti blocks you from leaving through the back door. “after such a long day, don’t you think we’re worthy of your affection?”

you blink owlishly at the bard. “you all always are.”

venti coos at your words and the others can’t help but react similarly.

you sigh like an exhausted parent before pulling on a smile always reserved for them. “then how about you all join me on the couch while i tell you about my life in the other world?”

the men are quick to guide you to your seat in the middle of the couch. aether shushes itto because he started yelling in excitement, the wanderer and xiao have a glaring contest in order to sit beside you (somehow alhaitham and cyno are doing the exact same thing on the other side), kaeya and thoma prepare drinks and snacks for everyone and the rest make peace with the seats they’re sat at. as long as you are in their view, not a single complaint leaves their lips.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #sagau x reader

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

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mmm sagau brainrot you and Foul Legacy finally finding somewhere quiet to settle down, somewhere away from the rest of the world, away from the people who call you an imposter. the house is small, but it's comfortable and safe, almost as safe as when Childe holds you in his claws, and you couldn't be more grateful for both him and the house. it takes a while to get acclimated to having a place of your own after hiding in caves and abandoned buildings with Foul Legacy. for a long time you flinch whenever you hear an odd sound, something other than Childe's footsteps or gentle clicks and croons, and sometimes your ears trick you into hearing others, other false people who send you running for the comfort of Foul Legacy's arms. he's with you the entire time, cradling your broken body, keeping watch over your injuries, curling around you when you wake from a violent nightmare, all while letting out sweet purrs and trills. Childe helps you recover, helps you heal from the rest of the non-beliving world's crimes, because the Abyss never forgets the aura of the Creator. slowly, you brighten and begin to live again. your body still hurts, but it's muted, quiet in comparison to before, and you get to see Childe crooning over the scars that litter your skin, a dull gold from your oddly-colored blood. you begin to relish being awake and spending time with him, as you walking into the room always elicits a symphony of happy chirps from Foul Legacy. and for Childe, his Abyssal side no longer aches- instead, it's calming, settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket, and it just feels right. your favorite time is the early hours of morning, when sunlight peaks through the window and you're just waking up, because you get to bear witness to a peacefully sleeping Foul Legacy. if you shift even the slightest, he murmurs and drapes an arm over your torse, only waking when you trace your fingers over his face and horns. with a drowsy yawn, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, urging you to fall back asleep beside him. one day you wake up cold. with a shiver you pull the covers closer to your body with little effect, reaching to tuck yourself closer to Foul Legacy- only to find an empty space. you jolt awake, flinging yourself upright as you look around your old room in the real world, just the way you left it and without a comforting Abyss moth. was it just a dream- no, it couldn't be- the scars still cross over your hands and legs, body aching more than it has in weeks. you curl your fingers over each other, breathing shakily with oncoming panic- you're home- you'll never see Childe again- you'll never be held by Foul Legacy again- the game is real, it shines on your computer- what do you do what do you do what do you do- in Teyvat, Childe screams and weeps over the loss of his god's comforting aura and the weight of the world's sins on your shoulders.

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ode-of-odr · 5 months

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Dagon and The Chained God

I would like to first start before going into this long post about Ras' ties with Dagon and Dagon's plans, is this is a conversion from Ras' original backstory from the campaign and world he was made for almost two decades ago. At the time we didn't know this much about Faerun's origins nor the Abyss' very extensive history as this was around the time of 3.5 and I think some info just wasn't widely known. So I had no idea how well Ras' shift over really would be.

While I do not think I will completely turn Ras' BG 3 timeline into a divergent durge verse, as I think people do not like roleplaying with powerful characters, or characters with such grand backstories or tied to such great plots that they feel like a second wheel.

However! This is always there casually hanging out in the background if people ever want to tap into it ooc or ic.

The history of Faerun is a wild one, and the start of the multiverse and all that came before most common knowledge in the realms is hard to navigate because time isn't a thing, and when all reality was made by forgotten elder gods, where reality is a mere afterthought of their dreams after they left...it gets sticky.

But the Abyss is alive, and something mad rests within it. Chained and eager to be free. Something old, and long forgotten save by those who drove it mad. Who allowed this chained god to fling open the gates that stopped the Far Realms, the living chaos and madness of long-gone gods to come forth.

Dagon is older than the Abyss itself like the other obyrith demon lords. They drove Tharizdun mad promising him power in exchange for setting them free. The plan didn't succeed but it didn't completely fail. The Abyss grows and the Blood Wars acts as a distraction to hide this. How it is consuming the Astral Sea and in time all.

Setbacks have happened. The "lesser" Tanar'ri forged by them rebelled and now the dominating force in the Abyss. However, Dagon hasn't forgotten the real endgame. The Spellweavers caused a dramatic shift in the timeline, gods sprung forth when there were none, it changed everything but also offered a new opportunity.

A place that is wrong because of pride? He could use this as his playground. Whisper more madness and promises to the one chained. A new deal. Take control of this forsaken timeline, and bring all the multiverse to heel. Why not?

Let the mad god be a puppet overseer like Ao, while Dagon controlled him and all things hidden and forbidden, all knowledge his, shadows and dark depths bending to him, so such mistakes never happen again. But someone must be chained to the Abyss, keep the seeds of chaos somewhat contained. A new Prince of Demons. But he learned long ago, that simply forging something out of pure evil souls will not work. He needed something with lingering care, but broken. So a small part of them would never overstep. Generations of failed offspring when finally Raserei was born. And his soul was everything he needed.

|||||||||||||| Please feel free to ask about this or use it in our threads as you see fit, but also, again, please note it is okay if you wish for most of this to be ignored. I totally get why.

#◾ i blinked and the world was gone — ooc #◾ what looks so strong is so delicate — headcanon #◾ blood on the snow — faerun general #◾ unrest with the quiet — baldur's gate 3 timeline #sorry I keep reblogging this #but it's like the longest write up I've done in a while #since it's hard for me to get all my thoughts typed out #I promise to offer up more headcanons

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deny-the-issue · 2 years

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A Drag of You

Kinktober Day 18: Glory Hole|**Shotgunning**|Somnophilia Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

AO3 Link

Ko-fi Link

Thank you to @juniper-sunny for helping me edit <3

[NSFW][MDNI][Demon!Silco][SilcoxFem!reader][Smut][fingering][drugs][marijuana][shotgunning]

Of course, you knew you weren’t supposed to, but after the shit day you’d had, lighting up a joint seemed to be your only reprieve from the murderous rage stewing inside. Hands shaking, you held it in your mouth while you fruitlessly flicked the lighter. With one more thing going against you, you growled, flinging the useless thing against the alley wall and yelling your most virulent curses into the night smog.

Danger prickles at the back of your neck and you spin on your heel, instinctually hiding the smoke behind your back. Silco stands not two paces from you, demonic pupil burning through the darkness as the dim light from the backdoor illuminates the curve of his singular horn. His cerulean eye remains cool as ice as he tilts his head and holds out a hand, palm up.

Biting your lip anxiously, you give up the joint, handing it to him sheepishly. Your heartbeat drowns out the beat from the club within and you swear you see him smirk. It’s a small, fleeting pull of his lips but you’re sure of it. Instead of destroying it, he brings one end to his lips, takes a deep breath, and blows. The joint lights up, dull embers turning bright within a second.

He looks you over as he takes a long drag, holding it in his mouth while he closes the gap between you. Feeling as if you’re going to fall over from his dizzying presence, his hand closes around your jaw, clawed thumb caressing your lower lip before pulling your mouth open.

Your heartbeat raced dangerously fast as he dipped his head within a few inches from yours, and you surrendered to the fiery abyss of his demonic eye. His eyes trail down your face, landing on your lips before a stream of velvety smoke flows from his mouth into yours. Oxygen-deprived lungs begin working again at that moment, sucking in a deep breath laced with a multitude of intoxicating drugs, the foremost being the devil himself.

It goes straight to your head, clouding your thoughts and relaxing your body. His claws drag lower, caressing the soft skin of your neck causing your body to betray you. Mewling at the sensation, your mind struggles to backpedal. Your feet, however, do not, and your back soon hits the wall behind you. He followed, pinning you against the wall with just his presence.

Self-preservation be damned, you blame your recklessness on the pot and lift your skirt for him. His human brow lifts in surprise before he flashes you a lupine smile and drags a claw over your clothed slit.

“Sinful little thing, is this what you want?” he taunts as your face flushes with need.

You nod your head eagerly and grab onto the collar of his suit jacket when he rips your panties off in one smooth motion. Your Hips shudder, canting forward onto his hand as a surprisingly dull claw rubs slick circles around your stiff bud. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, taking deep, determined breaths as you felt your arousal start to drip down your thighs.

Sensing you were nearing your release, he lifted his head to take another drag of the burning joint before throwing it away entirely. Smoke enveloped your writhing form as it poured from his mouth, surrounding you in a hellish mist of lust and greed.

Then he slips into you, curved claw finding the delightful spot within and massaging it. An overwhelming jolt of pleasure runs through your body and you shamelessly thrust against the palm of his hand, chasing your impending climax with unabashed fervor. A low, gentle growl serenades your ears, adding to your cries of ecstasy as you clench around his hand and pulse with orgasmic delight.

You collapse against his chest, sighing peacefully as the last of the day’s frustration melts away. Leaning you back against the wall, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before licking his fingers clean with a satisfied hum and sauntering back into the club.

Laughing to yourself at the absurdity of the interaction, you decided you’d give anything for it to happen again. Perhaps even your soul.

#silco #arcane #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #fanfiction #smut #kinktober 2022 #silco my beloved #silco x you #shotgunning #demon!silco

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saionofvalflame · 1 year

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❀ stained blood

The sun has set by the time he finishes with his Reason essay and moves on to the last item of homework: his Authority assignment. As he works, the light of the few candles flickers and wavers around him, tossing shadows here and there on the walls and furniture. Some people might find the dim and unreliable lighting annoying, but Saias has worked in these conditions for most of his life, learning his letters and tactics by night after the work was done and the other orphans off to bed. The low light does mean, however, that after he wraps up with his final piece of homework, he has to get up and walk all the way over to the better-lit washroom to clean off the ink stains from his hands and wrists.

(He’d almost always been a messy writer, and growing into the noble status he obtained upon entering the academy—coming in to the birthright he held within his veins—hasn’t done much to fix that, it seems. Good thing he uses inks that are easy enough to wash out, or his entire wardrobe would be sporting bad cuff stains right about now, to say nothing of his hands.)

The warmth of the water and the familiar routine soothes him, lulling his mind closer to sleep. It’s been a long day, and his candles had almost entirely burned down... he catches himself nodding off and jerks himself awake. He can sleep after he’s finished cleaning up, he reminds himself. It’s then that he blinks down at his right hand, which has been scrubbing at the same exact spot on his left wrist for several moments now. Oh, great Bragi, I really am tired, aren’t I. Shaking his head, the redhead huffs and rinses his hands, then frowns down at the smudge on his wrist in the same spot where he’d been repetitively washing. Saias sighs and gets the soap bar, rubbing it over the smudge and, when that doesn’t work, rubbing his thumb over it to get it to come off.

The smudge doesn’t budge.

Now more awake, the teen stares at the smudge in annoyed confusion. If his ink doesn’t stain like this, then what on earth did he get on his wrist and when? Is he going to have to ask a professor for help in removing it tomorrow? What if it’s a sign that someone cursed him while he wasn’t looking, unlikely as that may be since he would’ve felt it?

Gods, get a grip, you haven’t been this paranoid since you first came here. It’s just a smudge. Find a professor tomorrow and ask them for help instead of jumping to negative conclusions. Saias holds his wrist up to one of the lamps hung next to the mirror over the sink, in order to get a better look. The smudge doesn’t resolve, so he squints his eyes and brings his face closer—

It’s a sign of a curse, all right.

Bile churns in his stomach, clambering up his throat. He wants to cut off his hand and fling it away from him—except that won’t get rid of it at all, will it, not when it’s in his very blood, sewn into his entire being for the rest of his existence. It’s the emperor’s fault, for what other factor ties him to the only other bearer of the Mark of Loptous? Julius was lucky, in a way, that he didn’t grow up fearing the Mark and all that it stood for if that cult really was an integral part of his childhood. Saias hasn’t had that luxury, and now... now—!

He won’t go down to Abyss with his brother, he’s made too many good friends up here; however, he can’t hide the Mark forever, as the truth will always out despite a person’s best efforts. How will he be able to look the other Jugdrali who know and revere his future self in the eye when he is so thoroughly stained by the emblem of their ultimate foe? But going home is even less of an option—unless he goes home, back to the enclave, back to the people of Bragi, disciple of Maera, himself marked with Loptous’s filthy blood. Yes, that place may be the safest option for him until he can figure out what to do next (or more accurately, get a grip on himself and come to terms with his new... state).

He doesn’t want to leave though, not yet. It’s been a wonderful year and a half, and he has no intention of giving up his studies or his friends so soon. Not loyal and empathetic Chrom, not gentle and sensitive Shigure, and especially not his dear beloved stepmother. They don’t deserve to be left in the dark, and they would all be understanding towards him, comforting even...

—He can’t think. His heart races and his breath trembles. No, he’s in no state to do anything at all. He needs to go to bed and sleep and wake up and eat breakfast and then begin the process of putting his head back on straight, in exactly that order. He can do this, he did it after Mother died (but he was grieving the loss of a loved one, not the loss of his security in his identity, now, was he). He’ll have his friends and family to help him along the way. It doesn’t matter that he’s now Marked as Loptous’s. It doesn’t. He’s still the same old Saias Augustine Velthomer, son of Emperor Arvis and Aida, heir to Fjalar, stepson to Empress Deirdre, hardworking tactician, priest-in-training, student, friend, son, him. This can’t take that away or destroy it. It won’t. He won’t let it.

(Sleep does not come, and in the early morning he lingers at the gate, teetering on a precipice of decision.

He steps.)

#✿ drabbles #✿ in character #//a li'l saias angst for y'all. teehee~~ :3c

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autisticlee · 6 days

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lee rambles about life and brain nonsense thats nothing more than dramatic autism whining, don't bother reading pls fhfhdjsjjssk

met friends' friend at con. like always, lee hoped to become friends with friends' friend so we be one big happy friend pile. but lee bad at friending and failed. very sad. tried so hard. tried to talk and listen. be friendly, funny, cute, etc. even when everything was very overwhelming and was very hard. firefly cosplay mask can only do so much and stay do long before the autism flings it off and lee brain reverts back to dumb unless autistic that can't social at all. (how to become firefly at all times and not lose her??? she cute and friendly and good at hiding her demons and making friend)

thought lee did pretty good job actually despite how hard. but at end was worthless. when friends' friend left, only said goodbye to them and left lee hanging. lee had prepared script in head and practiced how to say it when given queue to say it. but they turn around and left instead. so lee brain ripped up script, kept smiling, and walked away too. lee liked friends' friend a lot. thought was fun and nice and wanted to be friends too but failed. always ends that way. brain freezes and cool person leaves lee with nothing but crushed dreams

now lee wonders what if....one day having lunch friends told lee stay with them so they can quickly run to VA signing before it closed. but lee also wanted one so argued to run with friends (despite pain and struggle hfhdhhdh) and not stay with friends' friend (and their friends) but wouldn't have made it in time if stayed and went back with them???

so lee wonders if lee just didn't get signed print and stayed with them instead....would friendship happened? did lee mess up and lose chance? did lee offend them by not want saying with them? did that make them hate lee? don't know. but didn't really talk to lee after that and then didn't say bye so big possibility now that lee think about it....lee sorry. just wanted signed print because was last day....wasn't against you promise. maybe should stayed anyway.....maybe could meet that VA in future...

think they have group chat or something and talk every day and hang out a lot lee misses being part of that kinda thing. lee needs that to stay sane and get human interaction that required to not spiral into mental illness abyss. but been so long since having that....thought if lee become friends with friends then maybe join group and have more friends and always someone to talk to! and have happy fun time and laugh and be silly and not lonely depressed blob all day every day struggling to have one small conversation a week. but can't invite self. is rude. tried best lee could to be friend. except leaving to get signed print maybe not good choice? so don't know what else do except be sad. sigh

lee hate exclusion and like being part of things. especially after almost 5 months before this not talking to people because didn't want to be annoying burden and bother anyone (and also bad internet problem) but no one else reached out either and most people lee did try reach out to rejected or ignored lee....so lee just 😭 why lee like being included and not accept lee not included. stupid brain. get over it. is not meant for lee so stop wanting it.

#lee rambles #dont read the autistic depression rambles. just needed to make thoughts be wordd and not angry brain hornets fhhdhdgdgdhdbhd

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the-pessimists-paradigm · 28 days

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Into the Abyss

Chapter Five

(TW: Substance abuse, description of drug dealing, arrest and legal consequences)

I did what I had to do. At the crack of dawn, I ran from my mom’s basement with some baking soda back to school. Aurora was just trying to have fun and make some money, perfectly reasonable.

Just because she may have broken some rule that everyone else follows: don’t make/sell drugs, doesn’t mean she was a bad person. Here I was, letting her legacy live on beyond the TV coverage and missing posters. Classic “12th grader has a breakdown. ”She needed closure, but also someone to remind her that even though she wasn’t on earth, she was in my heart.

Glimmers of sunlight reflected from the window onto the beakers, blurred figures of the light. Head spinning, fingers trembling, sweat beading from running a mile at one in the morning. The wind’s chill embraced me. Emotion flooded my mind like a dam breaking open. Inhale, exhale, repeat.

My pockets contained her remnants; a handmade bracelet, diamonds of black and pink, woven to perfection, and her diamond heart necklace that matched my pastel blue flower one. A rose quartz bracelet that I would’ve given to her. Tearful laughs filled the air as I picked up a paper from when we wrote an exceptionally dreadful romance story about two classmates, layered with tropes and cliches, only eight chapters in before we got caught—annoying Theresa May.

I miss her hugs in the morning, her laughter in the halls, the light in her eyes as she talked about her life, brushing her fingers against mine, tiny fiery sparks slithering their way into my soul. Shared secrets, stolen glances, and small smiles were all hidden in her bedroom. I wish I had told her I had feelings for her sooner.

But alas, no more crying over old times, I should get this over with. Remember her in the only way I know how. Finally, a piece of her stash lay in my jeans' crevices and dark corners. Bubbles from steam evaporated as I combined baking soda and the crack, a white crystalline powder, you could’ve mistaken it for salt. Finally, the mixture was done. I had freebased cocaine, and a burnt serving spoon lay astray on the table.

Now all I had to do was wait for the money to roll in. It was child’s play. An experiment for the daring, innovative risk-takers of tomorrow. How could I ever get caught? A question that crossed my mind several times, eventually running through the traffic of medicated, forced thoughts.

Weeks passed as I used a counterfeit volunteer sheet to sell “bricks” for signatures. I was getting some recognition, rising from the underground. Not infamous, but getting there. Like different species, my buyers were of a unique kind. Older men who blurred together, my mom’s flings who wanted to take some edge off, gangs, sometimes even Rita, as I loitered downtown in hidden alleys, conveniently tucked away from the cops. One guy in particular, however, was my downfall, and just as I was starting to pay my bills.

His job was on the line, he needed a fix, or that’s what he said, walking up in a black hoodie, the mask and frayed drawstrings easily hiding his badge. He took his hand to give me money as more cars pulled up. I was frozen in place, numb with shock as he handcuffed me. Cool metal against my flushed skin, not resisting. Rough edges indented my flesh, as I sucked in a breath. I know I didn’t deserve this. I was simply trying to accomplish her goal, or at least attempt to. God, what a roadblock. But what would I do about it?

What could I do if I was stuck in a place without escape?

-> Previous Chapter

-> Next Chapter

#original story

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lostghostthing · 7 months

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This was for a school project. My teacher said to write a story. So I did. Enjoy!

I pointed the gun to his new, ghostly form. Spencer let out a deep growl. “I’m sorry, Spencer.” Bang. His body fell on the cold now bloody ground. You may be asking, what is going on? I’ll tell you. It all started on a sweet Sunday night in 2006.

I had just snuck out of my house; my parents were fighting again. “I can’t wait to be 18. I’m tired of all of this.” I fling my small red bag over my left shoulder. The night was cool and serene. The stars peeking through the abyss. I stood on the sidewalk, my head tilled up. The slight breeze danced over my face. It was impeccable how beautiful the sky was.

My phone started to vibrate in my back pocket. I reached for it, bringing it to my face. There was no caller ID. I still answered. Maybe it was a friend that got a new number or something. “Hello?” Nothing. Not one tiny peep. “Hello? Is anyone there?” silence was the only thing on the other end.

I hung up the phone a little spooked. “I need to stop watching so many horror movies at night,” I muttered under my breath as I put my phone back in my pocket. Now fight or flight was on. Glancing around me, I was all alone. No one was on the street or hiding behind a tree. The call with no one responding scared me.

Abby tilled her face back up to the sky. The moon was at it’s pinnacle. So perfectly round, shining a bright orange. She closed her grassy eyes and smiled sweetly at the moon. As she let out a breath, the chilly air mixed with the warmth of hers. The carbon dioxide and fresh oxygen acting as if they were Tom and Jerry.

Suddenly, Addy’s phone started to vibrate. Zapping her backside. Her eyes paying a quick, two second visit to her eyebrows. “Hello?” Abby held the phone to her left ear. She waited for an answer. Nothing. But then, she could hear something. Deep and heavy breathing. Shivers when up her back. “This isn’t funny,” tears formed in her seaweed green eyes. The beathing continued. After a few more seconds Abby hung up. She looked around her again. No one was there. Only her and the night sky.

Her phone started ringing again. Annoyed, she answered the phone again. “This better not be some stupid prank! I will find you!” Abby screams echoed through the big Neiborhood. Bouncing house to house.

“Hiya,” a deep voice whispered in my ear. Before I could do anything, the man wrapped his arms around my torso. One of his hands flew to my mouth, covering it with a rag he had. My vison became burry, my breath slowing down, as my body weakened.

The next thing I know, I wake up in a dark hospital room. I could hear a very loud, high pinched beeping coming from beside me. The beeping was coming from a heart monitor. The room was freezing, it felt as if I was in the arctic. My body still felt weak. It was hard to breathe in the dusty air. “Whose mom didn’t teach them how to clean?”

I looked around this dubious room to see two grey doors. The doors were bolted shut. I sat up from the hard bed underneath me. If the word “boring” was a room, this would be it. The room was so dark and plain.

“Scar, I think she’s in here!” A male’s voice echoed from the outside. Footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer to Abby. Abby pulled her knees close to her chest, her arms wrapping themselves around them. Confusion and fear took over her body as the footsteps stopped right in front of the doors.

Silence took over the room. “Hey, Princess, you should move out the way!” Another male’s voice yelled from the other side of the door. After a few moments, the door on the right flew open. The bolts flying everywhere. Abby flings herself off the bed onto the hard floor. As Abby looks up from the side of the bed, she sees the dust becoming a fog type of form. She can see two men in the fog. The men stepped inside the room.

“Where would she go? Was she even here to begin with?” “I’m sure she was! I saw the helicopter and heard them said something about a girl.” “Oh, there she is,” the taller one stepped closer to Abby. He was only a foot away. “It’s ok, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re here to help you,” he kneels in front of her and holds out a hand. Abby hesitated before grabbing his hand. The man helps her up, still holding her hand.

“I’m Spencer Graham and this is Benjman Arthur,” Spencer gave Abby a small, but welcoming smile. “I’m Abby Stanheight. Do you know where we are?” “Not really. All we know is that we’re in an old hospital with zombies.” “Or zombie like creatures,” Spencer adds taking his hand away from Abby’s. “Am I dreaming?” “Let’s see,” Spencer pinches Abby’s forearm. “Ow! That hurts,” “there’s your answer then. You’re not dreaming,” Benjman chuckled. “But zombies aren’t real” “now they are!” Benjman cheered, making Spencer side-eye him. “Anyways, we should get going to continue to find our way out of here. Come on, Princess” Spencer held his hand out for her again. Abby playfully rolls her eyes and takes his hand.

The duo, now being a gang, showed Abby around the hospital. They showed her where and where not to go when she’s alone. Abby enjoyed her new friends, asking them questions and sharing stories. She found out that Benjman is 24, 6’0, loves dogs and is an only child. While Spencer was 29, 6’3, loves music and has 4 sisters. They both had deep brown hair and were in the same birth month. They were both from Austin, Texas, just like Abby. In only one hour, they all got to find out many things about each other. It was amazing. Only one hour to make Abby feel like she found her forever home within these two guys.

After talking for an hour, the gang got their things together and made their way to the front doors. Benjman explained to Abby that they needed a code to open the door. No one knew the code as for days, Benjman and Spencer have been looking for a way out of there. Abby took understanding to this. Now the gang was looking together as one. Going level to level. Hiding from and shooting at the monsters. Life felt good, but sadly, everything must come to an end.

Me, Spencer, and Benjman were on the second floor looking for any hint of what the code could be. Loud growls of the zombies could be heard down the hall. Spencer grabbed Benjman and my hand, pulling us away from the doorway. We all knelt down behind a desk. The zombies slowly walked by the door. I cover my mouth. I haven’t come this close to zombies. I was so terrified; tears slowly formed in my eyes. Spencer saw this and hugged me. Benjman soon hugged me too. After the zombies fully left the hallway, we got out of our hiding spot.

Benjman gave me a comforting smile, “you’re gonna be ok. We promise, right Spencer?”

“Yes sir” he up handed Benjman. The sound alerted the zombies. They started to make their way back to us.

“Are you kidding me?!” Benjman huffed angrily at Spencer. “Sorry dude,” he felt embarrassed sadness taking over his mind and body. “Whatever.” Benjman scoffed, grabbing Abby, and pulling her away from the danger. Spencer stays still for many long seconds tears forming in his eyes.

“Spencer! Get over here,” Abby held out her hand for him. Her worried eyes looking into his watery eyes. A warming smile formed from Abby’s mouth letting Spencer know she forgave him. His tattooed arm reaching from her gloved hand.

“Leave him, I know the code. I’m not going to die because of this stupid idiotic fool.” Benjman gripped Abby’s wrist, tight. It felt as if she was a witch about to be burned at the steak. His hands never letting go, holding her in place by his side.

“Benjman stop, that hurts!” She shrieked at the sharp pain in her wrist, Benjman dragging her carelessly down the hall as zombies chased after them. Spencer watched in horror and shook at this horrify scene playing rapidity in front of his own very two almond eyes. His slim long legs moved him from his spot on the cold hard ground, taking him to Benjman and Abby. He knew Benjman was insane, that’s why in was in jail for 6 years until he broke out. Why was he in jail? He stalked and murdered a girl, because she rejected him to go with him to prom. He had already been stalking the girl for a few months, knowing she had a boyfriend, but did that stop him? Nope.

Day after day, he would flirt with her, buy her flowers and write little lobe letters to her. She was what they call a “popular girl”, while Benjman was just another soccer player. All she wanted was friendship. Not to be murdered in cold blood.

Spencer raced the monsters and time, wanting and needing to make it out of there. But he wouldn’t. Benjman pushed Abby to the ground, turning to Spencer with fire in his dark eyes. The devil’s eyes. At this moment, it seemed like Benjman wasn’t human, but an entity coming out of hiding from these humans he stood in front of. The man glared at each other with hatred burning into their souls.

“You are not going to cost me my freedom! Do you hear me, Spencer!? I am not going to die because of you being stupid. No worried why you lost your daught-”

“Shut up! You have pushed me enough. You know that’s not true, I lost my daughter because of cancer,” Spencer growled as those hurtful words brought tears and memories be to him.

“Maybe if you weren’t making your way around women, you could have seen it earlier.” Benjman smirked knowing he had the upper hand in this word battle. He crossed his arms over his chest, “just say it. You failed, you are a failure to yourself, your family. To the whole darn world.” His brutal words hit harder than any punch Spencer has ever been hit with. Abby started to wake up after being knocked out for a little nap on the cold ground. Her eyes blinking away the dust like virson becoming less and less burry.

As Spencer was taught up in his thoughts, Benjman pushed Spencer into the crowd of zombies coming their way, snapping him back into reality. Benjman’s gun fell from his belt onto the floor in front of Abby. She let out a blood crudiling scream, “Spencer.” The zombies grabbed any limb they could, biting and eating most of his arms. Benjman laughed out loud crazily, as if he were manic. He glanced over his shoulder at a panic and broken Abby. Her nose bleeding mucus, eyes spilling waterfalling and lips trembling. Blood sprayed one of the walls where the zombie tour Spencer apart.

“Let’s go Abby. Be mine and we should live a happy ever after together with many children,” he smiled holding an untrustworthy hand out.

“No,” Abby sat up from her last position.

“What did you say to me, darling?” His face took in a bit of a shock at her answer. “Say that again.”

“I said, No.” her voice louder than before. “You just killed your friend-” “friend? He was just someone I was trapped with for a few days.” “A few days? Y’all were here for two months! Two whole months, you two were stuck with each other living together as y’all fought for your lives!”

“Who cares anyways? Now me and you can live a very happy life with each other.”

“I don’t even know you! Plus, I am 17.” “Age is just a number, sweetie,” Benjman reached out for Abby. She dropped down and grabbed his gun that he had made fall from the earlier battle with Spencer. Abby got into her new position, her left knee touching the ground, her foot on the ground too. The gun aimed perfectly at Benjman.

He let out a short chuckle. "Do you really think you will kill me? I don’t think so.” “Why not?” “Because I don’t see ‘killer’ in your-” Bang. His still warm body l fell onto the shing white floor. Now it is stained pink. A puddle of blood slowly leaked from his neck. Benjman let out his last breath as a cough, blood flying out of his mouth.

“Everyone has killer in them, hiding just below their heart. Or stupid people would show it in their eyes.” Her words being the last thing Benjman would ever heard. She wiped away the blood from her cheek looking up from the dead body to see the zombies rushing to her. Abby ran over to Benjman, remembering him saying he had the code. Maybe it was written on a piece of paper? He must have had it somewhere on him.

She checked his pants, shirt, shoes but didn’t find the code. Burning lava tears fell quickly down her face, she stood up and made a run it. Running faster than Ricky Bobby could drive to the finish lane. Her enemies right now being the two strong bullet glass doors blocking her way out and the zombies chasing her. She made it to her enemy, staring them die on.

Pushing and crying to let her out as the zombies made their way closer and closer to third lunch. “6,7,3,4,3” a deep voice echoed through the giant room. Abby pressed the number keys. The panel shined a bright green light meaning she was free. Abby shoved the doors open bolting it out of there. The doors close behind her making her safe from the danger inside.

She looked back at the zombies, breathing heavily. She lets out a soft chuckle, turning back to the clear path ahead of her. Too bad she couldn’t rest. It all happened so quickly. The new Spencer now one of the monsters, made his way to Abby. She raised her gun at him like she did with Benjman, this time standing up.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Bang.

Now his body was even colder than before, laying on the grass. His eyes were still open. Not the beautiful dark brown anymore, now a white and veiny look. It took on a creepy vide. How was Abby going to live with this? Knowing that she killed two men.

When Abby was distracted, the zombies managed to open the opens, running out of the hospital and attacking Abby from behind. Her blood and guts flying over the overgrown grass. Everything went black. No more thoughts. No more family. No more music. Only the ice-cold place they called “the afterlife”.

Too bad everything happy must come to an end

#sadgirl #zombie #music #sad stories #sad stuff #fanfic #school #writing #reading #sadnees #weird stuff #spotify #cancer #losing my mind #where’s my mind

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crackspinewornpages · 10 months

Text

Les Misérables 330/365 -Victor Hugo

321

The National Guard found the only one left alive, Enjorlas, with a broken rifle and he said to shoot him he accepted death. They start to take aim when Grantaire regains consciousness from his drinking binge. (if you drank enough to pass out for several days and not wake up as literal war happened outside you’d probably be dead from alcohol poisoning) The silence sobered him (yeah being surrounded by your dead friends with one of them cornered as the police have their guns aimed at him would be pretty sobering) and Enjorlas’s presence shocked him, he was perfectly informed by all around him what happened. (no shit) The soldiers didn’t notice him on the other side of the room (they thought the dude was dead) he shouted “long live the Republic’ he is one and stands besides Enjorlas who allows it and both are shot dead. The soldiers fish out any hiding and fling the bodies out the window and smaller conflicts as the barricade fell a soldier and insurgent fought on the roof and both fell off in an embrace.

322

Marius was a prisoner of Valjean, he didn’t take part in the insurgency but to carry away the wounded. He never took his eyes off of Marius and when he was shot Valjean leaped for him and carried him away. No one saw Valjean with Marius in the attack as they disappeared behind Corinthe. They were sheltered behind a wall but how to escape the massacre, his escape from Rue Polonceau was difficult, now this was impossible. Troops were watching and at the barricade he would be a target, the fighting was getting closer. He stared at the ground in agony and saw a metal grating and the paving stones torn up around it. His art of escape rose up and he raised the grating and descended with Marius much like he did with Cosette years ago and he could vaguely hear the assault on the wine shop above.

BOOK SECOND THE INTESTINE OF THE LEVIATHAN

323

Paris cast 25 million into the water a year by means of the intestine sewer, cast into the abyss but if manure was restored to the land it would nourish the world. (no no no nope I draw the line at fertilizing the fields with human sourced manure) France deposits half a million a year and man prefers to get rid of five hundred million in the gutter into the sewer into the ocean tainting the water. The Thames is poisoning London (look up the Great Stink of London) and so Paris transports it downstream, a process that does evil trying to do good. The sewer is a myth, leaking public wealth away. Paris has a quarter population of France and spends the twenty-five millions worth on the sewer system to flush away. If you imitate Paris, you will be ruined, Rome did the same and set the example. (Rome is still known for its sewers)

324

A subterranean network of sewers branching off, the history of man reflected in it. All sorts of phantoms haunt it, a putrance of miasma. “The sewer in ancient Paris in the rendezvous of all exhaustions and of all attempts.”p.801 Everything of the city converges there, no longer any secrets, all uncleanliness of civilization falls there coming to an end. A sewer tells everything, terrible stream where bloody hands had been washed, nothing escapes.

325

In the middle ages, Paris’s sewer system was legendary, but the capital didn’t know how to manage its affairs and couldn’t sweep filth. Sometimes the sewer slowed and backed up into the city, a warning it didn’t admit to. 1802 the muds flowed over two hundred meters over three feet deep, the cleaning was left to the rains. (so in summary Paris is a shithole) No one thought to explore the sewers until 1805, Bruneseau, as pestilence rose.

326

One of the survivors of the expedition told a detail Bruneseau let out, disinfection was rudimentary, after a ways eight of the twenty refused to go further, it was complicated to clean, one notes the paths of water currents time to time, one fainted and the ground would collapse. (and they’re not wearing any breathing or protection gear and you know they’re not getting any hazard pay) Two water conduits dates to 1550, the drains halted here and there, different centuries of sewer vaults. Beneath the Court House they thought they found dungeons, a person missing from 1800, everywhere in the mire a treasure or souvenir from above. At the entrance to the Grand Sewer hung a ragged shroud of Marat. (a political theorist during the Revolution who was murdered in his bathtub) This visit to the sewers lasted seven years to have the network disinfected, this was the sewer of the past.

327

Today the sewer is straightened, cleaned almost like a subterranean corridor used by fleeing monarchs and princes. This network now has more prowlers and rats than ever while rain washes it, miasma still inhabits it, the commission of health did their best, it still exhales suspicious odor. The sewers of Paris had been improved, a transmutation between ancient and present, a revolution Bruneseau brought.

328

Cleaning the sewer was no easy task, ten centuries of Paris growth, twenty-three thousand three hundred meters of sewer. Napoleon, Louis XVIII, Charles X, Louis Philippe, the Republic ect. all built a section of Paris, today it is ten times what it was with much difficulty and bravery of matinence. Even in 1832 the sewers aren't what they are today, Bruneseau began it but cholera brought vast reconstruction, open cesspools, wells discharging. Thirty years ago the June insurrection was nearly the same sewer streets were sunken and many streets just had maws of catch basins. With progress public hygiene brought up the question of the sewers. Paris is under two sheets, water from heaven and air from the sewer, the miasma mingled in the city. In time, with progress, water will purify air, for ten centuries it has been a cesspool of disease for Paris even with high pay, sewer men were hesitant to plunge. (that’s it that was what everyone was going on about with the sewer chapters I actually didn’t mind reading it I enjoyed it more than the Waterloo chapters and much more than the convent chapters the way people go on about the Paris sewer system you’d think it was half the book)

BOOK THIRD MUD BUT THE SOUL

329

Valjean was in the sewers from peril to obscurity, Marius didn’t stir and he didn’t know if he was carrying a corpse. For a moment he was blind and deaf, cautiously feeling himself forward as his eyes grew accustomed. It was up to chance the soldiers would find the grate and investigate, so he plunged into the gloom. They were less safe than he thought, he fell from one hell into another with miasmas and traps, navigating the labyrinth and danger of emerging in front of people drawing police. (out of the fryer and into the fire or in France Mettre de l’huile sur le feu) He dragged Marius on his back, his breathing meant life as he chose a course. He got lost, how was he to get out, would Marius die, was he descending into the Siene, he went on. He was in a watershed, a culminating point and continued avoiding a trap of tunnels and into the path of police. (literally out of the fryer and into the fire)

330

On June 6, Prefect Gisquet swept the sewers looking for the vanquished insurgents that might have fled. Valjean took a narrow path, he stood still as the lantern passed his shadow when the patrol heard nothing they consulted. They separated into two squads to check the water shed and Siene, had they continued on they would have found Valjean who only saw their passing lantern. Only to acquit his conscience the Sergeant fired in Valjean’s direction, hitting a few paces from his head. The slow steps died away and once more he was deaf and blind, not moving for a long time.

#les miserables #victor hugo #books #book summaries #epic #historical fiction #tragedy

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representshinjuku · 10 months

Text

Three Hearts as One (三心同体）

“One way to the champ

There’s no way out

One way to the champ

There’s a reason to fight”

[All]

We’re going to the next level

And that’s the reason why we can’t lose this battle

You can’t shake our unity,

We stand three hearts as one

[Samatoki]

Now turn tail and run, you Shibuya dogs

This headshot’s your warning

Lawlessness is my rule

Running around the playground really suits you

Some used-up tool’s gonna pick a fight with me?

Forget it, I’ll take you out

I don’t give a shit what your reasons are

I’m just doing what I’ve gotta do–hunting you

Raising ‘Hama’s banner of revolt,

Three hearts as one

[Dice]

Always pinching up our brows?

Nah, we’ll hit straight through your hyped-up pride

Hiding nervous sweat under my poker face

I see right through you, I’m calling doubt on you fakes

[Gentaro]

Intimidation poured into your flowery lyrics

But your fear flickers clear through the facade

In one of my novels, you’d remain unnamed

Destined to die as such

[Dice]

A little bird like you better

Give it a nice long cry from inside your cage

[Gentaro]

You little rabbit of fables

What awaits you is ah, a tragic fate

[Dice]

Hama’s gettin’ some safety scissors

[Gentaro]

You no longer need your mad trigger

[Gentaro & Dice]

Dice and Gentaro, writing your last rites

Fling Posse rising to the top

Shibuya is greatest

We stand three hearts as one

[Jyuto]

You’re a writer who only knows fiction

Wet your bed and lie in it

This won’t end in just your arrest

Counting down to your destruction

[Rio]

Back to square one; this is my unshakable foundation

A gambler throwing a tantrum over the counter

Gets crushed by this verse

[Jyuto]

You plan to deceive me with lies?

Come crying teary-eyed begging for money?

[Rio]

If you kneel begging for forgiveness

I’ll let you taste my wonderful dishes again

[Jyuto]

Your face is an eyesore

[Rio]

I’m tired of your pretending

[Jyuto & Rio]

Don’t talk so cheaply of bonds

Yokohama is a monolith

MAD TRIGGER CREW, Shibuya goes down to

Three hearts as one

[Ramuda]

So scawy, scawy, you three of a kind

You’re real funny so keep up the jokes!

If you pick a fight halfheartedly then

In return should I crush your everything?

Yakuza, cop, soldier, ‘Hama’s garbage

You’re so annoying, I can’t share the stage with you

Gonna knock you on your back and open the path

Get outta the way, weaklings

C’mon and wave Fling Posse’s flag,

Three hearts as one

[All]

One way to the champ

We’ll seize glory with our disses

“We gotta go”

Towards the top

“No way out”

It’s kill or be killed until one of us falls

“We gotta go”

Or else this all means nothing

“Right here, right now”

To the next; Cutting deep, fighting head on

Burning with passion through our words

(Rhyming like nobody else has)

To the next; The strength of our bonds will carry us through (one way)

There’s a reason to fight; we’ll settle things three hearts as one

(Walking a road nobody else has)

Can’t stop ‘til we die!

[Rio]

The bullet wound, the heart to shoot

You’re naive to the pain of both

Though you’re blind in this abyss

It’s time to grovel in the mud, Posse

[Dice]

Gotta say thanks for feeding me but

Until this battle’s over I’ll have to pass

Playin’ around like a military maniac

Time for you to withdraw from the front lines

[Jyuto]

If you’re in the red, then you turn it to black

That’s nothing but simple winner’s logic

You’re a disgusting public enemy

Shall I erase you from society?

[Gentaro]

What is a lie and what is real?

An officer of the law wearing masks of good and evil

Without time to mourn–

Shall I ring the bell that tolls the end

[Samatoki]

Don’t come at me like you’ve learned something, stupid

Shut your damn mouth and choke on your empty words

Breakin’ down your pretty words and fake justice

I’ll show you your last vision

[Ramuda]

Yeah, witnessing threats at the scene of the crime

This means I’ve gotta give you a pat-down exam

Your lawlessness is on parade

Can’t let you run free anymore, stupid

[Samatoki]

Get outta my sight Ramuda, you damn brat

I’m never gonna forgive you

Your damn manipulations ain’t gonna shake ‘Hama

I’m gonna be the one settling things here

[Ramuda]

Huh? Who gave you the right to talk, Samatoki?

Your superficial anger’s a real eyesore!

If you mess with Shibuya, you get eliminated

You can’t invade our sanctuary

[MAD TRIGGER CREW]

Shout out with thundering anger–Rise up, rise up

[Fling Posse]

Together in the same boat–Open it up, open it up

[MAD TRIGGER CREW]

We’ll take it all, Mad Trigger Crew

[Fling Posse]

We won’t give way, we’re Fling Posse

[All]

Crush the enemy before you and forge ahead one way

Our bonds are greater than any sum

Break all; Hypnosis Mic

There’s a reason to fight here and now,

A conflict of interest

One way to the champ

We’ll seize glory with our disses

“We gotta go”

Towards the top

“No way out”

It’s kill or be killed until one of us falls

“We gotta go”

Or else this all means nothing

“Right here, right now”

To the next; Cutting deep, fighting head on

Burning with passion through our words

(Rhyming like nobody else has)

To the next; The strength of our bonds will carry us through (one way)

Sorry but we’re not backing down; we’re betting all our will and pride

There’s a reason to fight,

We’ll settle things three hearts as one

(Walking a road nobody else has)

Can’t stop ‘til we die!

We’re going to the next level

And that’s the reason why we can’t lose this battle

Rhyming like nobody else has

[MAD TRIGGER CREW]

We’ll take it all, Mad Trigger Crew

[Fling Posse]

We won’t give way, we’re Fling Posse

[All]

“One way to the champ”

Walking a road nobody else has

You can’t shake our unity,

We stand three hearts as one

#rule the stage #FP v MTC #fling posse #mad trigger crew #sanshindoutai #three hearts as one #hypstagetl #koutranslates

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a-table-of-fics · 11 months

Text

Cull to Adventure, Chapter 16, Draft 1, Part 13

“Whoa, kid, what’re you doing?” Sheldon asked. “This is the perfect time to get that armor off of him!”

“B-but we need him back up! The Zapfish—”

“Not to worry, the snapping of that fastener should fling his armor off with enough force to spring him back up! The Zapfish should be fine, I think. Very secure, or at least it should be for maximum…”

Sheldon paused.

“Right, not the time. Just break his armor and you should be golden!”

Cull nodded, heading back down to the rim and tentatively walking over to Octostomp. Giant green eyes stared at him intently, and he would have done anything to hide from that view. Still, he had a mission, and he was going to complete it.

He turned his focus to the buckle, and opened fire. Soon enough, it snapped off, and the armor spring off, the recoil launching Octostomp back. The armor, meanwhile, landed faces-up by Cull, dangling on for just a moment.

“THANks, roy….” the two faces managed to say before their eyes went black. Cull shuddered, watching the coat as it slipped off into the abyss.

“WELL, COME UP AND GET SOME, ROY! YOU RUINED BOTH MY COATS, AND YOU’RE GONNA PAY!”

Cull sighed. So much for gratitude.

He slowly clambered up, preparing his weary body for another dodge. Without his coats, all the Octostomp could do is run up and try to slam one last time.

#cull goes to octo canyon #cull to adventure #draft 1 #splatoon 2 fic #splatoon 2 #splatoon #splatoon fic #chapter 16

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 year

Note

“he thinks youll be disgusted but you’re just happy he’s alive” 1) incredible work as usual 2) YOU CANT JUST DROP THAT AND NOT ELABORATE- wifi my heart you don’t understand i need closure—

suffer <3 (just kidding just kidding :> ) referenced ask here!

while everyone else mourns Ajax's apparent death, you work twice as hard to save up money to journey to Liyue, determined to find out what had happened. some called you stubborn, others called you crazy- but the only thing you truly desired was Ajax, and if not him, then closure. if Ajax truly was dead, why hadn't the Fatui sent word the minute it was confirmed? why were there no efforts to recruit a new Eleventh Harbinger? why hadn't his possessions been sent to his family? there had to be some reason behind all of this

and there is, you quickly find out, when an odd man named Zhongli leads you to an Abyssal monster curled in the corner of a room, and when it sees you it's single eye widens as it shrinks into itself, clicking frantically and trying to hide from view. but you simply step closer, murmuring Ajax's name, and the creature hesitantly looks up at you, a low croon exiting its- his mouth. you run over and fling your arms around him, sobbing in relief as you feel his claws slowly wrap around your waist, feel him lean into your touch, feel the presence of your Ajax again. you know it's him, even in his Foul Legacy form, and you swear on Celestia that you'll never be parted again. carefully you lean in and press a kiss to his forehead, just like you always would back in Snezhnaya, and hear a soft, rusty purr filter through the room for the first time ever

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chit chat #anon #everyone else: oh no ajax is dead :((#you a stubborn little lad: oh you THOUGHT #you will go to the ends of the earth and exhaust every resource you have to find out what happened #it's a matter both of seeing if he's actually dead and getting closure if he actually is #and yes you will hear many purrs in the future #short scenario

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popsicletheduck · 2 years

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Oooh! 🤥 (lying), 💢 (anger), 🍁 (maple leaf), 🙊 (speak-no-evil), 🌱(seedling), and 🔪 (knife) for Mosca?

Lying: Are they a good liar? Do they have tells to show they're lying? Well, purely mechanically they have a +5 to deception but the dice don't always agree with that one. From a story perspective, I've explained it to people before as- when they're lying or hiding an emotion you generally know that they are hiding something, just not what they're hiding. Their biggest and most obvious tell is silence and stillness. When they really don't want to answer a question or give away how they're feeling, they have a tendency to shut down entirely. They lie by omission a lot more than they lie by falsehoods.

Anger: What are some habits they have that will take some getting used to? Swearing! Mosca has an absolute filthy mouth, every third word they say is probably either "fuck" or "shit" with the occasional "graves" thrown in (an in-universe version of "god(s)", the full phrase is "graves of the gods", which they also use on occasion for emphasis). They're also just generally a very blunt person. Oh, they also go invisible fairly often. They have to be in shadow or darkness for it to work, and it breaks when they move, but that means they will occasionally just flicker in and out of existence. They also sleep fully invisible, though the invisibility doesn't extend to whatever they're sleeping in.

Maple Leaf: What is their favorite season? Why? Surprisingly, spring. As someone who lived in the wilderness for the past 5-6 years, spring was testament to the fact that they survived another winter, and also there'd be more food coming soon. Summer could get dangerously hot for someone who lived completely covered in black and winter always carried the danger of freezing or starving. Fall definitely used to be their favorite as a kid, but in the apocalypse fall got stressful, with everyone trying to prepare for the winter and some people willing to kill over it.

Speak-No-Evil: What is something they will refuse to stay quiet about? People being assholes. For all Mosca can be blunt and bitter and distant, they care a lot. They're always ready to throw themself into a dangerous situation to help someone else, and they can't at all abide people being cruel. They know how shitty the world can be, they can't just stand by and watch other people add to that shittiness.

Seedling: What is their most vivid memory from childhood? I'm not sure if there's a singular vivid memory from their childhood anymore, given how strongly they've tried to suppress most of them in the past few years. Most of their memories at this point are repeated sense memories: the smell of the bakery down the street from their house where they'd go daily to buy bread, the sharp tang of black powder and chemicals from their father's lab (though that one's been twisted some), the sounds and sights of the forest near their house where they spent a lot of their childhood, those sorts of things. Though given that they recently resurrected one of their father's friends who they've now been living with for the past month, a lot of memories are trickling their way back in...

Knife: How do they react to injury/misfortune befalling their loved ones? Do they put themself to blame? Uh, poorly. They react very poorly, generally by throwing themself into a fight. Given that Mosca and all the people they care about the most are all adventurers, injury and near death in the course of combat are pretty common occurrences, and Mosca has coped with all of this poorly. They would do just about anything to keep the people they love safe, up to and including sacrificing themself, which they have almost done already, recklessly flinging themself at a huge demon that had grabbed ahold of the sorcerer, killing it but in the process almost falling through an open portal into the Abyss. They don't necessarily blame themself for every injury, they know that the life that they live is inherently dangerous, but there is a certain threshold of bad above which they will blame themself, in the "I could've done more to protect them" sort of way.

#mosca #multiversal shenanigans #<3 thank u kata lov u #as always hit me up on discord if u want more info

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onehundredfallenpetals · 4 years

Photo

Been doing some outfit requests from discord, took me a while lol (read more for close ups, click for image quality)

#noragami #hiyori iki #fujisaki kouto #yatonoragami #yukine noragami #noragami mizuchi #noragami kofuku #flings this into the abyss and hides #artists on tumblr

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floweryfandomnerd · 4 years

Text

Of Snow and Cherry Blossoms

Summary:

One night, Yato slips away and climbs a mountain, digging around in the snow, he finds what he’s looking for. He can’t help but think back to it when he looks at Yukine, trapped between three borderlines and halfway to being an ayakashi. Blight looks just like bruises.

— This has spoilers for chapter 86!! A character study of Yato during the flashback from that chapter and also during Yukine’s ablution since I liked the idea of exploring how it would influence Yato’s emotions and feelings during the ablution from chapter 11

word count: 1665

ao3

: : :

Yato stings, whether from the biting cold or the blight on the back of his neck where Yukine pricks him over and over doesn’t matter. Perhaps it is just the utter rage at what he knows he will find buried amongst the snow that stings - the same snow Yukine had fallen with, the snow he’d named him for just a few days ago. Yato drives the plank of wood into the ground with all the force he can muster, its jagged edges push splinters into his hands and his palms are blistered painfully. Yato can barely feel it. Again and again, he hacks at the ground, pulling up dirt with every action, his shoulders hurt and he feels sick to the stomach, sagging with fatigue and retching so much he can barely breathe, Yato keeps digging; how many times has he done this kind of thing now?

Then he strikes something hard, like metal.

For a moment, Yato pauses, he is tired and the blight that afflicts him seeps in heavy. He can’t blame Yukine for the blight - Yato’s memories of this place, memories that aren’t really his no matter how they haunt him, are far heavier. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Yato steels his jaw as he properly unearths the object. He finds a fridge, it looks the same as in his stolen memories, only dirtier, and Yato swallows down the urge to puke. He’s found it, which means no one else ever did - did anyone even care to look? Maybe that’s a question he doesn’t really want to know the answer to, there probably isn’t even a police report.

It takes everything Yato has in him to force himself to open it, he sinks to his knees and grasps the edge of the door with shaking hands. Then he pulls it open, eyes closed to give himself one more moment to brace himself. The smell hits him anyway, old blood and decay. Yato tugs his scarf up over his mouth and nose to block it out. It does little to help. When Yato opens his eyes, he wishes he hadn’t. The cold of the mountaintop only ever briefly uncovered by snow and the protection from the elements the boy’s horrid coffin provides has preserved the body well despite the decades that have passed. Or well enough, at least, that Yato can still see the bruises that marr him all over. Yukine’s body looks as broken as Yato knows he feels inside, the image stings nastily like the blight on the back of his neck. Yato balls his fists, fingernails digging into his already ruined hands. He wants to scream and punch something, anything to destroy the site where he stands. His nature has always been a destructive one, it’s hard not to give in.

Instead, he gently picks up the child - just a child, Yukine was just a fourteen year old boy, just a child - and cradles his body in his arms. The tears are hot against Yato’s cheeks. He doesn’t attempt to wipe them away. With one last dreadful glare at the scene, Yato kicks the side of the old fridge as hard as he can, Yukine’s prison and coffin dents slightly, then he leaves that awful mountain behind. He’ll take Yukine’s body somewhere that he can be at peace, and then he’ll do his best to give his spirit peace too. As he carries him away, Yato doesn’t acknowledge the searing pain shooting up his leg from his right foot. It doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much as what he’s found anyway.

It feels like an eternity that Yato’s been walking, leaping and bounding unseen over building tops and countryside, taking precious care of the lifeless boy in his arms, but it is still the same night when he comes to a stop. He’s chosen an old abandoned cemetery with a pretty view of the lake, there are trees at the back of it that sway slowly in the wind and wild flowers growing nearby; it hasn’t been used for over a century - not by anyone but Yato. No one ever comes here but him anymore, the families of those laid to rest in this place have long since forgotten them. He never strays too far from here, hasn’t in a long time. There are too many days where he comes back to visit, and even if he did go far away, it wouldn’t help because he’s never forgotten a single one of them. Yato pushes open the gate.

He buries Yukine beneath the sakura tree where the petals from its blossoms will softly fall in the spring like they have every year since Yato planted it so long ago. Patting the dirt down neatly, Yato marks the grave with a wooden cross. He’d made it in advance, even so, having to use it is almost too much to bear. When Yato is done, the dawn is breaking.

He collapses against the sakura tree in exhaustion, watching the sun rise, Yato sings. It is a quiet melody that fills the air around him with melancholy, an old mourning song one of his shinki once taught him even though she never remembered how she knew it.

“You were supposed to have a long life Yukine, I’m sorry,” Yato says, his voice is thick to his own ears, then he looks upwards at the branches of the tree, “You too, I’m sorry. I’ll give him the chance I stole from you. Sleep well."

He pats the tree fondly, he likes to think that she’s there, and pushes himself up to stand. He leaves wild flowers on Yukine’s grave.

: : :

Yato can barely move. He curls in on himself, lying on the ground outside of Kofuku’s shrine and choking, struggling to find his voice whilst Yukine is frozen in place by Daikoku’s threat to kill him.

Not again, he won’t let it happen again, Yato thinks, he promised to give him a chance to be happy this time around. He hasn’t even seen the kid smile yet, not genuinely. Still, he cannot so much as reach out a hand to the boy, he can’t comfort him, even though he’s so scared. They’ll have to perform an ablution and Yato is scared too - if it goes wrong, Yukine’s last moments will once again be terrified and pained. Yato opens his mouth to tell them to stop, to beg Yukine not to cross that line, instead he coughs up more blood.

Then Hiyori comes back. Kazuma follows her and his face is grim but the three shinki get to work. Mayu, Daikoku and Kazuma each draw their borderlines. Yukine is trapped. He pounds on the walls, pleas to be let out turning to threats as the ayakashi begins to take hold of him. Blight spreads across his skin in splotches, a deep purple just like the bruises his father left on him, Yato can’t stand to look at it. He squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can and clamps his hands over his ears but it does nothing. He can’t drown it out, he can still hear it, still see it in his mind, Yukine crying and screaming, he can still feel it. It hurts.

Yukine’s name begins to slip, fading away as the ayakashi wins over more and more of him, wings made of blight sprout from his back when he refuses to confess his wrongs. Daikoku winces, all three shinki straining to keep up their borderlines, to not be devoured the way Yukine is so close to being. Yato claws at the ground desperately, if he can just call his name then it’ll be okay, it won’t disappear, he tries to push himself up to face Yukine but can’t, Yato slumps pathetically to the ground. His voice is stuck in his throat, dying on his lips when he coughs up blood. He can’t do anything for Yukine in this life either then, just one horrible existence to another and then nothing, moving from a deadbeat shitty father to a useless master who could do nothing for him before becoming an ayakashi, how unfair. Yato still can’t find his voice, if only he could call his name, he’d do better for the kid than let him be covered in bruises. Do better than only hurting him. If he could just stop Yukine’s name from vanishing, he’d do better… for both their sakes.

“Yukine-kun,” Hiyori shouts, “You can’t go over there, don’t become an ayakashi!” She pushes against the borderlines, ignoring any warnings to get back even when it burns her fingertips, Yukine faces her and Yato can feel his name just slightly more, of course she wouldn’t give up on him either, “Yukine-kun, you have Yato don’t you? Yato even said that he was honing you himself, those words… were like those of a father!”

She pulls him back from the brink with her words, Yukine pauses, staring at her whilst tears run down his cheeks and listening despite the ayakashi.

Hiyori keeps talking, if she can just get through to him then maybe Yato can do something too, “If you keep betraying someone like that again,” Hiyori cries, desperation flooding her voice, ““Then he won’t be your friend anymore!”

It works, just enough. Just enough for Yato to regain a little strength and to breathe enough that he can speak, he lifts his head and pushes himself up to face Yukine, still gasping in breath, “Yukine!” Yato calls, finally finding his voice, “You were given a person’s name so live as a person!”

Yukine breaks, sobbing in regret and finally understanding. Yato can feel it like a weight being lifted off his chest that Yukine understands, to be a shinki is a second chance to live.

He has a second chance, so he’ll be better, Yato promises himself, he won’t ever abandon the poor kid, or hurt him, he’ll be a better father than either of them ever had - he promises.

#noragami #yato #yukine #hiyori iki #flings this into the abyss and hides

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