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#i Will rub it in her face.

lovesickeros · 8 months

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☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #focalors #furina #neuvillete #a family can be a dragon an archon and his 300 other children who reverse adopted him #u date him its a package deal sorry #u now have like 300 children g-dspeed #also tagged spoilers on neuvi's part bc its kinda a spoiler??? sort of #also this can be read as platonic or romantic on neuvi's part #can u tell i like focalors btw :)#also gonna be swapping between focalors/furina bc SOMEONE sent me a theory and it sent me spiraling im gonna be ill #u know who u r and ur days r numbered #can be read as romantic between reader & neuvi but only bc i know focalors rubs it in his face she found the actual creator first #anyway can u tell focalors is my fav pt2 i wont shut up abt her its terminal atp #focalors..................#anyway *doesnt post fr months. randomly drops a 2k word fic. leaves and doesnt elaborate*#starts out v serious ends v silly #wrote this in one sitting im gonna go pass out now gn

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hamletshoeratio · 4 months

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"I want x spinoff, I want a book about y"

I want to meet the woman who had not one but TWO kids with Hermes. Two kids so close in age and are so alike people just assume that they're twins, two kids who are chaos personified, who singlehandedly run the camp shop, who are in charge of the biggest cabin at camp and look after their equally chaotic gremlin siblings plus every unclaimed kid at camp like Lou Ellen a daughter of Hecate and another being of chaos who learnt it all from them, and who take every opportunity to fuck shit up, to prank their camp mates or to steal shit. Their last name, which they get from their mama? Stoll by the way. Neither child notices the pun.

I want to meet Mama Stoll, who saw the chaos, who saw the bullshit Hermes brought into her life the first go around and said tonight's the night let's do it again. She is either the world's greatest cat burglar who enticed the god of Thieves or the messenger god was enchanted by the best god dam delivery woman on the planet. There's no in-between. It was just a bonus that her surname was the perfect pun. Her and Hermes laugh about it. In my head, it's all canon. Regardless, she unleashed two agents of unlimited chaos onto an unsuspecting world, and I love her for it. I take my hat off to her, I kneel before her.

Oh, and the oldest kid, Travis? He's dating a girl called Katie, who is the daughter of Demeter. Her last name? Gardner. Fucking Gardner. She has a sister called Miranda Gardiner, by the way. Mama Stoll finds it hilarious. Her sons still don't get the pun, but at least she gets on with her future daughter in law like a house on fire.

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spacefairynayu · 13 days

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I can’t stop thinking about how Zorian is of mixed ethnicity and how that adds so many unexplored layers to his befriending of the indigenous minorities within Eldemar(ie. a morlock, shapeshifters, the aranea) AND layers to his mother’s rejection of her heritage.

Especially to his mother’s rejection of her heritage.

Witches are explicitly indigenous to Altazia, and yes part of the negative perception of them comes from the fact that many witches have done terrible things, but the villager’s treatment of Cikan and her mother also easily parallels plain racism. Cikan’s reaction to this being to completely abandon her heritage screams of a choice to assimilate into the majority culture to avoid discrimination. Her insistence on raising Kirielle as ‘the perfect lady’ by Eldemar’s standards is an almost obsessive attempt to erase any trace of her ethnic background and present both Kirielle and herself as ‘proper’ Eldemarian/Ikosian women. She says she’s doing it for Kirielle’s sake, and partially it is(albeit while heavily projecting), but it’s mostly to reinforce the family’s image, her image, as 100% Eldemarian/Ikosian.

Not to imply that abandoning one culture to embrace another is inherently a bad thing, Cikan is very clearly happier living as an Ikosian woman than an Altazian one. This probably was the correct decision for her. The problem is that she is taking the choice to embrace or reject their heritage away from her children(as well as doing the exact same thing that she hated her mother for, attempting to force a certain way of living onto them that made them miserable).

And then there’s Zorian. The Kazinski child who resembles a witch the most. He’s anti-social and withdrawn, he fiercely holds on to grudges and memories of every slight(and holds to memories of kindness just as tightly), he parleys with non-humans and ‘undesirables’, and to top it all off he inherited the bloodline ability that his witch ancestors cultivated and passed down to a degree that likely hasn’t been seen in generations.

Zorian embodies everything that Cikan has tried to erase from their family history. He’s a walking symbol of their Altazian ancestry.

All this to say that I feel it was a massive waste for Nobody to not explore Zorian’s heritage, his relation to it, and his family’s relation to it, as well as how that in turn affects his relation to/perception of Eldemar and it’s politics.

#mother of learning #mol #zorian kazinski #cikan kazinski #I normally only lurk but I can’t stop rotating the fact that zorian is of mixed ethnicity in my head #so you all get to be subjected to my brainworms #I can only imagine how much worse cikan and zorian’s relationship is going to be once she realizes #embracing the heritage she rejected and rubbing it in her face #who cares if he’s a boy being a witch is a vibe

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glorious-spoon · 18 hours

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it is a truth universally acknowledged that the more angrily certain a patron is that they returned a missing book, the more likely they are to show up two days later with the book in question clutched sheepishly in hand

#librarian stuff #just had the great pleasure of processing one of these from a lady who called me a fucking liar to my face last week lol #i was professional enough not to rub her face in it but only just

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yassentheassassin · 8 months

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the fact that tyler calls miguel son in front of conchata as he's about to take him away from her what if i just [gunshot]

#evil little bastard just rubbing it in her face and AUGH I WANT TO KILL HIM #sm2099 #miguel o'hara #conchata o'hara #tyler stone

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how-queerious · 10 months

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me: idk the last two seasons of due south have too many little things for them NOT to be queercoding. if they're not, then boy howdy wtf was happening there

my mom: queery it cant be queercoding, one because i find paul gross hot, so i dont wanna /j, and two because it was the 90s and not everything is gay

paul gross himself, legend and king:

#the fact that i was scrolling through his imdb for other reasons #read this bit #and said HA out loud #anyways cant wait to rub it in her face #also so valid of you mr paul gross sir #due south #paul gross #callum keith rennie #my mom

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blaiddraws · 1 year

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Okay so seeing your Dojoshipping stuff and also Zisu and Zoroark stuff I can’t help but wonder what her Zoroark would think of Ingo. I feel like it would either love him or hate his guts with every fiber of its existence for taking its mom’s trainer’s attention away from it. Then again Ingo uses a Zoroark for one of the paths of solitude so maybe he borrowed it from her for a bit?

hfjsgdDKHDSKHDKSHSKSHDK

trying to get approval from strict parents? no. gotta get her weird 8-ft-tall hell dog to like you. otherwise it very likely WILL kill you in your sleep

all joking aside. (well. less joking.) i think ingo just gets along with pokemon in general so well. even zorua and zoroark -- ik they're used as angst a lot but i think it's much funnier if he's just like. yeah whatever. and ignores them whenever they try to torment him. so.

maybe her zoroark Does hate his guts for a bit. just because. she's paying so much attention to that guy! that's no fair! and then he gives it the best scritches known to mankind and it just melts into his lap. this guy knows how to give pokemon AFFECTION

anger and hatred cancelled this guy's the best actually. no wonder zisu spends so much time with him

(or maybe ghost types in general just Like Ingo. maybe his bond with chandelure left a mark on him somehow.)

#answered #i think zisu lending him her zoroark is a cute idea as well #ingo and the zoroark would Definitely have to get along at that point #bonus ingo giving zoroark tummy rubs doodle. sorry zisu zoroark is loyal to ingo now #right until zisu gives it scritches bdksbdjsh #ingo #dojoshipping #it counts right #pokemon #hisuian zoroark #IN OTHER NEWS. so badly i want to just plop my face into a hisuian zoroark's mane and be Absorbed #never to be seen again #it looks so FLUFFY.......

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skoulsons · 1 year

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Joel’s desperation in wanting to keep Ellie engaged and talking in episode 9 as compared to the earlier episodes. How he was annoyed with her questions and here mere presence and, really, all he wanted was silence between them. She was just some dumb little kid he was forced to protect and he was not happy about it

But by episode 9, he does anything to get her to talk. Shows her beefaroni, tells her about Boggle, asks if she’d like to learn guitar (also that being him saying they’re obviously sticking together and settling down and I am throwing up over it), and even cracks the joke about finding dynamite hoping it’ll get a little smile out of her. Even him giving the branches to feed the giraffe because she would not have fed it herself

But his expressions when he’s watching her be silent or dissociated around him?? He’s concerned, a little upset that she is so silent and how it’s not like her at all, and he looks damn near heartbroken to see her like this and knowing that he can’t magically fix it. He would’ve tried, I’m sure, those few months we don’t see. There were probably moments where she’d snap at him to just stop. How he’d do anything, absolutely anything, to try and bring that light that he knows is in her back out

He just loves her so incredibly much and I know it kills him that he can’t fix it. That he can’t just say or do something to fix it. That there’s a part of her that’s irreparably different and hurt now and he, despite his best efforts with what he’s given, cannot wipe it from her life. And that’s hard. Because his job is to protect her. To care for and to love her as a father should. But everything that happened he couldn’t stop. Another failure under his belt, if you will

#you know?#does this make sense?#I wrote ‘he loves her so incredibly much’ and straight up dropped my phone and just rubbed my face in my hands #it’s so???#ITS JUST SO PROFOUND #he just loves her so much #it’s insane how much he does #I hope I haven’t talked about this before #the last of us hbo #joel miller #ellie williams

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