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sagau-my-beloved · 1 year

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Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin venti #sagau impostor au #genshin angst #my attempt at imposter au cause why not #I didn't realize there was like no dialogue until editing whoops #kind of set up so that I can do a part 2 where you come back and we get that fun dynamic #don't know if i will tho #also hi #it's been a minute #how you guys doing #school sucks that's how I'm doing #despite that I'll probably be posting another oneshot tomorrow #not as sad thankfully #anyway yeah this was more just a self challenge to see if i could do imposter au without breaking the characterization I've got going rn #luckily he's just so full of trama that i can make constant references to that to help tie things together #anyway lantern rite how we feeling

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shiny-jr · 9 months

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from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia | Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done.

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue.

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream.

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink.

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue.

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.”

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.”

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks.

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier.

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed.

If you’re reading this,

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes.

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco.

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field.

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet.

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved.

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly.

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you.

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable.

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment.

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you.

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll.

I eagerly wait for word from you.

Until we meet again soon,

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest.

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time?

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?”

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago.

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.”

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...”

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read.

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries.

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...”

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.”

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!”

Dear player,

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies.

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise.

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain.

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us?

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay.

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor.

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient.

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace.

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you.

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now...

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace.

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask.

This is a pledge that will not be broken.

Cordially,

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly.

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either.

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.”

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?”

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.”

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile.

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there.

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind.

Great Player,

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary!

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you!

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self!

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth!

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well.

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know.

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds!

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be!

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written!

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste!

Faithfully,

Sebek Zigvolt

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again.

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you.

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster.

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve.

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!”

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

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levemetal · 3 days

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I have a million and one svsss AU ideas that idk if I'll ever write cause I have 0 confidence in my untested writing skills. Any of these appeal to you?? Go ahead, use 'em. Know any fanfics like that? Please please PLEASE leave them in the comments. Ideas to add? Anything? Please go ahead I have no friends that are as deep in the svsss brainrot as me to subject this to ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Continued under the cut due to excessive rambling

These will be Ghost King/Calamity!SJ cause he has been living rentfree in my brain ever since one braincell at one AM shouted about it so you have been warned.

- Dual Ghost Kings YQY and SJ, Post canon of PIDW. That's it that's the idea. Their extras hurt my cold dead heart way too much and as much as bbygirl SJ is a piece of shit, Yue Qingyuan deserves happiness, and for that he needs his Xiao-Jiu. Basically YQY does not stay dead when Bingge turns him into a pincushion à la White No Face to Xie Lian except with arrows. What happens from here? Idk didn't get that far but I imagine he steals back his (probably dead) Xiao-Jiu, maybe does some other batshit insane shit like we all know that deep down he's capable of, and the duo fucking COMMUNICATES for once in their life and they live happily ever after. Bonus points for hilarious deaths for Bingge.

- If you're a filthy multishipper like me, want a BingJiu version of the above QiJiu? Easy, SJ decides to haunt Bingge's ass for eternity and vice versa when Bingge kicks the bucket and so they spent the rest of eternity trying to make each other miserable in increasingly ridiculous and creative ways. Maybe along the centuries they find a common enemy or sort their shit out and proceed to make their awful existence everyone else's problem. A match made in hell, truly <3

Are you seeing a theme yet. I like a general comedic air to svsss AUs, it just belongs to the svsss experience ya know? Anyway carrying on-

Shen twins, and SQH twins cause why not. If you want Binghe twins too, actually probably funnier with Binghe twins, where one is our beloved maiden Bingmei and the other OG!PIDW Bingge but forced back in time with memories of the PIDW timeline. Transmigrator SQH aka Airplane gets the peak lord + Mobei-Jun plotline while OG!SQH is just chilling as an An Ding Peak Hallmaster or something. Meanwhile, the Shen twins have a funny game of imposter going on. As far as everyone is concerned, there is only one Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan transmigrated in earlier into the novel, but ended up going to CQM with Yue Qi while SJ got stuck in the Qiu household as in canon. From here the details can change but the main idea is that

A) Shen Yuan knows how to do his peak lord job actually

B) SJ is a calamity ghost, having died either in his disciple years or alternatively never made it out of the Qiu household alive

C) Both SY and SJ have been playing switcheroo when SY needs to head out and do stuff or just wants SJ to do his paperwork for him.

I still need a good reason for the switching and duping, but wouldn't it be funny if the disciples just had to deal with their peak lord behaving WILDLY different at times. Most of the time it's good ol' Shen Yuan smiling at disciples, way too enthusiastic for monsters and plants and keeps forgetting his fans everywhere. Then one random week in the month after he has a resting bitch face, scowls, snarls and bitches at anyone and has 0 patience for teenage attempts at music.

Most shrug it off as just terrible migraine weeks, but some disciples are suspicious, most of all Bingge who is CONVINCED something is WrongTM. Like, he KNOWS SQQ and this SQQ is just so different, something must be different. He doesn't know how right he is yet everyone just thinks he's actually insane.

I know this is probably increasingly insane and dumb, but fast forward to the Abyss opening. SJ was probably there to keep an eye on his clumsy twin, but SY ends up asking the ghost to look over the Luos, as the system still demands that they go to the abyss. So SJ after much grumbling agrees (after all he probably just was unmasked as ghost calamity, and the twins as demons, with a huge amount of cultivators moving their way. It's really the smaller hassle to jump into the Abyss and deal with the horrors there. Besides, the scholar in SJ would be curious about the abyss (and SY too let's be honest) ), kicks both in and goes "Alright we're taking an impromptu field trip" and jumps in after leaving SY to deal with the political mess that comes after.

Anyway, the last AU can be changed in various ways, like make it a PIDW time travel fix it with only the OGs around, or just Shen twins, etc. Feel free to shout at me how dumb this all is.

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nickfowlerrr · 2 years

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keeping secrets -

chapter one

series masterlist / chapter two

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: 18+ only. self deprecating thoughts from both bucky and reader. i don’t think anything else needs a warning, but if you find i’m missing something that should be included here, please don’t hesitate to let me know.

words: 5.8k

notes: idk. pls let me know what you guys think about this chapter - whether you’re liking it so far or not. as always, feedback and comments are more than welcome. thank you for reading.

Steve Rogers was as much a gentleman as everyone always said. You were surprised that he was taking so much time to make sure you got acquainted and comfortable with your new surroundings, but you thought maybe he was probably just sympathetic to moving into unfamiliar territory in such a short amount of time. Though you definitely had a lot more warning than he did, the change of living quarters was still a lot to take in. You had only been at the compound for a few hours now, but it really was a little overwhelming. You were glad to have him showing you around and attempting to explain the in and outs of the place while going over what everyday routines you could expect.

He had taken you around the outside of the compound to show you the track and field area, along with the trails that led out further into the privately owned land, and to the middle grounds of the compound which was basically just a giant park, before finally leading you back into the living quarters that only the avengers had access to.

“Tryna keep the new girl all to yourself?” the voice of Natasha Romanoff sang from the kitchen as you and Steve walked into the common room once again. Your eyes shot up to where she was standing at the counter preparing herself breakfast. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out while you vaguely heard Steve saying something back to her. What he said, you had no clue. All you were aware of was how crazy you probably looked, but who could blame you? The woman was intimidating enough without her green eyes gleaming at you while she smirked over at the two of you. Taking mercy on you, she walked over to introduce herself.

“I’m Nat. It’s really nice to meet you,” she said as she extended her hand out to you. You looked down with wide eyes before taking her hand in yours and shaking a little too enthusiastically.

“So good to meet you,” you said while nodding like an idiot before the sound of your name caught you off guard again.

“No freakin’ way,” Kate called as you let go of Natasha’s hand to turn and look at her. Before you could prepare yourself, she had you in a tight hug, squeezing as she laughed. “I cannot believe you’re actually here! Oh my god! Wait,” she said as she pulled back from you suddenly, “does Yelena know you’re here?”

“Oh, I- uh, I haven’t seen her,” you started before Kate was calling into the air.

“FRIDAY, tell Yelena to get to the kitchen ASAP!”

“I’ll let her know you wish to see her, Ms. Bishop,” the AI sang back as you stared perplexed, eyes darting across the ceiling.

“You get used to it,” Steve said quietly in your ear before he straightened to his full height. “I’ll leave you to say your hellos, and I’ll see all of you at training in an hour,” he said before he smiled at you and nodded, sauntering away to do whatever it is Steve Rogers does in his free time.

“So, you three know each other?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, they’re uh, they’re kinda the reason I’m here at all,” you responded.

“She’s the one who helped us run ops when we were stranded in Berlin,” Kate explained.

“No shit,” Natasha said, surprise clear in her voice, causing you to swallow hard. She didn’t say anything, it was just that same sense of shock you always received from people. Why did you always feel like such an imposter? Maybe because everyone always thought you were, too. They hear stories about your work, but when they see you in person it’s like it’s impossible to imagine anyone bigger than a size 10 could ever have your skillset.

You never thought you belonged here, on this team with these heroes. You certainly didn’t feel like one. But Kate and Yelena somehow convinced you that the avengers could use you, that they could really use your help. You honestly couldn’t believe you listened to them, but here you were. They had to have been a little right..right? If Stark invited you in, he must have seen it, too.

You nodded in response to her, faking a smile, “Yeah,” you breathed.

“You saved their lives,” Natasha told you. “I watched Yelena’s playback from the recordings her goggles took. You’ve got good instincts,” she stressed. “And you’re a hell of a shot,” she smiled, causing you to grow a soft, genuine smile in return.

“Well look who it is,” Yelena said, her accent thick as ever as she strolled in from the hallway. “Did you come to try and kill me again, or are you finally bucking up and joining us?”

“Okay, first of all,” you began, “I wasn’t trying to kill you. Even if you hadn’t moved, the bullet would’ve barely nicked you, you would’ve been fine,” you argued. “And secondly…, I, uhm, I guess I’m finally bucking up,” you shrugged.

She looked at you a moment with sharp eyes before smirking and nodding. “Good.”

Entering the training area was anxiety inducing to say the least. Though you felt a lot better when you found out not all of the avengers would be there today. It was definitely a smaller group training session you soon realized. Kate, Yelena, and yourself were there early to warm up before Peter Parker showed up with Steve and Natasha.

You made introductions with Peter as you were all warming up and felt yourself relaxing into the environment. Everyone you’d met so far, which granted weren’t many of them, had been so nice, you were genuinely shocked.

“Where is everyone else?” Yelena asked, sounding irked at what she obviously thought was a delay in schedule..

“Briefings.” Nat responded.

“Briefings?” Peter repeated, confused.

“Yes, briefings. For their missions, which none of you will be assigned to,” she said, cutting straight to the point as Peter’s mouth gaped in offense and Kate groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Come on,” Kate bemoaned. “It was a one time thing. We swore we wouldn’t do it again,” she complained.

“Yeah, I know what you said. Doesn’t mean you’ve proven you’re ready for another assignment.”

“Natasha,” Yelena appealed.

“It’s not just that, you guys,” Steve cut in. “Not everyone goes on every mission unless it’s necessary, you all know that. It’s not that big of a deal, Nat and I aren’t going on any assignments either,” he reasoned. “Now, focus up. Kate, you're with Nat. Yelena, Peter,” he instructed before speaking your name and turning his eyes on you, “you’re with me,” he simpered, the corner of his lip twitching up ever so slightly.

You left the training room sweaty and sore, but feeling great. The session had gone well. You didn’t realize how beneficial sparring with everyone could be. Each time you switched partners, you were exposed to a new weakness you found you needed to work on, but you also were able to play to your strengths and show your well developed skill set, following your instincts to help you take each of them down a couple of times. You could feel how much power Steve was holding back as you sparred, but didn’t take it personally, you still got a good workout from him as you went back and forth. When you switched partners, you and Yelena were really getting at each other, each hit to one of you was met with a hit just as equal to the other. Steve had to call you guys off before your competitiveness got the better of the both of you, but you ended your sparring with her in a fit of laughter. Peter was so much stronger than he looked and Kate was a lot more evasive than you remembered her fighting style to be, expertly blocking rather than full on attacking, but it was a good change of pace. Your fighting styles were all different, but they helped prepare you for what you may come across from other’s when you’re in the field. It was your first day and you were already learning so much. Kate said the team could use you, you didn’t realize how much you could use them, too. You had a bit of a pep in your step as you felt more and more like you had made the right choice in reaching out to Stark when you did.

As you walked toward the kitchen to grab more water before you headed back to your room to shower, you could hear the bubbly laughter of Brittany loud and clear. You made accidental eye contact as you passed by, right after you decided to just keep walking and come back around later when the kitchen would hopefully be empty. She called your name as she saw you and you begrudgingly stopped and forced a smile, willing yourself to walk over.

“Hey,” you replied.

“So how’s your day been so far?” she asked while you took notice of the bulky figure belonging to none other than the Winter Soldier who was standing in front of the open fridge. You almost scolded yourself mentally again, but you really couldn’t remember what his name was and it’s not like you said it aloud, so, no harm no foul. You looked back to her to answer.

“It’s been good,” you nodded, a small but real smile playing on your lips now, “Just finished sparring, so I was gonna grab some water and head to my room to shower.”

As you moved past the counter, entering further into the kitchen to finally fill up your bottle, the man who’s name you couldn’t fully remember, Barnes, turned around, your voice having caught his attention.

You couldn’t describe it very well, but the moment your eyes met, it was like your breath was frozen in your chest. In an instant, you just felt something had changed. More accurately, like some dormant part of you had suddenly been ignited. You couldn’t pull your eyes away as he gazed right back at you, an unnamed intensity taking over his crystal blue eyes. You felt like you were staring forever, but it couldn’t have been more than a second or so. He was looking at you in a way you didn’t know how to accurately describe. Like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing..what he was feeling. And truthfully, he couldn’t.

That feeling of familiarity he got from you earlier was back with full force, though now he was more than sure he’d never met you. He’d have recognized you from your eyes alone - would have definitely remembered even just seeing your face before. Yet still, he felt something he couldn’t explain telling him he knew exactly who you were. He felt like he was in a trance for a moment as he looked down at you before he finally willed himself to look away.

You felt exposed in a way as he was looking at you, his gaze penetrating. You finally took a breath again when he suddenly looked away, but you for some reason, couldn’t do the same, your eyes following him as he moved. Time was no longer standing still and you were again aware of your surroundings and Brit still perched on the counter, her long legs swinging off the edge, but you couldn’t care about any of that. All you could focus on was him.

Though he was no longer staring at you, he still felt your gaze on him, still too familiar and suddenly all too intense. It couldn’t be, he reassured himself. There was no fucking way he had a soulmate all this time. He figured he missed his shot at that long ago, if it was even possible he had one to begin with. He had finally convinced himself that he could find happiness in someone else. Not everyone has a soulmate and not everyone meets their soulmate, he sure as hell never thought he’d meet his.

But fuck, he could already feel your flurry of emotions and he just knew. But maybe you didn’t. Maybe he could just pretend like nothing happened. He had his future right in front of him. His very delicate future that he worked so hard to build up and convince himself he might be worthy of. He didn’t deserve a true soulmate, anyway. Second rate happiness was the best he could offer himself. Brit wasn’t perfect, but she was there for him. She’d been there since the day he first moved into the compound. She knew more about him than anyone else here, aside from Steve and Sam. What was he gonna do, just throw her to the side and fall madly in love with you. Who even were you? He still didn’t know your name or the first thing about you. And he didn’t want to, he decided. You could be perfect, but he didn’t want perfect. Or more aptly, he didn’t deserve perfect. Deep down he knew he’d only wreck whatever good came his way. He couldn’t do that to you, especially if you were his soulmate.

At that thought, he suddenly felt bad for you. You deserved better. Steve seemed to have taken a liking to you already. If ever there was a solution, it was that. Steve was a better man than him in a hundred different ways. Steve’s the one who deserved a soulmate, not him. He’d rather you just stay away. As far away as possible. He knew soulmate connections were near impossible to deny, but he’d fight it as long as he had to.

He didn’t say a word as he continued walking away, even as Brit spoke.

“Have you two even met yet?” she asked before offering each of you the other’s name.

Bucky was gone without so much as a hello, though you saw him look back at you for a split second as he left down the hall, your eyes still trained on him and as he looked back at you, his still as intense as before.

Brit sucked her teeth before she looked at you with an awkward smile.

“Sorry about that. He’s uh..a little gruff when you first get to know him,” she tried to explain.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” you kind of scoffed. His reputation certainly preceded him, but did he really just walk away like that? Without a single word. No way that was one sided, was it? He must have felt what you felt, it was way too intense to have just been you. But to brush it off like he did made you question if maybe you really were just being insane.

If you were really crazy, you could convince yourself you knew what that was. You'd read about it enough times. All the signs were there, all the emotions, too. But you weren't crazy. And it obviously wasn't. It couldn't have been. There was no fucking way Bucky Barnes was your soulmate.

Right?

“He’s not always like that,” she reassured you. “He can actually be really sweet.”

“It’s really fine, don’t worry about it,” you said, forcing another smile on your face and the thoughts now hounding you from your mind. “I’ll see you around,” you told her as you screwed the lid back on your bottle.

She smiled as she hopped off the counter and seemed to follow the same path Bucky had previously taken as he was leaving.

Were they..seeing each other? Is that why he acted like nothing happened? Or did nothing actually happen? You weren’t sure what was going on with that man, but either way, you weren’t a fan. Maybe you should just forget about it and let it go. That was the smart thing to do.

So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him the rest of the day?

FRIDAY’s voice chimed in your room as you were putting away the last of your clothes, alerting you that the team dinner was ready. You had completely forgotten, but as soon as the AI said it, you recalled Steve telling you to be prepared for it. There were team dinners normally once a week on Friday nights, but as a sort of welcoming dinner, Stark planned for one tonight, too.

You blew out a nervous breath and walked out into the hallway. You ran into Yelena coming from further down the hall and your nerves started to settle as you had someone familiar next to you. If you thought you were nervous about meeting everyone before, the nerves you had over seeing Bucky again were a hell of a lot worse.

Walking into the dining area, you were met with the faces of the heroes you’d only ever seen on the news and in articles and youtube videos. Not everyone was there, a few of them were away dealing with things you had no clue about, but you met Sam and Bruce as Tony introduced you to everyone who walked in. Wanda came in, accompanied by Vision and had a bright smile the moment she saw you. You talked with her for a while as other’s made their way to the table, Bucky included. The moment you felt him walk in, Wanda noticed an immediate change and surprised you by looking right at Bucky. She quickly looked back at you, but didn’t say anything, though her eyes told a different story. You were sure you looked terrified as you stared at her, face blank and waiting for her to say something. After a moment, she patted your hand and said, “we’ll talk more later. And if you ever need anything, I’m always here,” she smiled lightly as she moved to finally take a seat by Vision.

You nodded and smiled back before turning to the table, looking for a seat of your own. You sat next to Yelena at the very end of the table. Tony was at the head and there was an empty spot directly across the table from him and an open seat across from you, too. Kate was across from Peter, who sat to the left of Yelena, and Sam was next to Kate, across Yelena. For a second you thought you had lucked out and would have elbow room and no one sat awkwardly across from you. That, however, was not the case.

Steve came from behind you, his hand on the back of your chair as he greeted you before taking the open seat at the end of the table. Following behind him, and audibly cursing under his breath when he realized there were no other seats, was Bucky. You scoffed at his dramatics that no one else seemed to have taken notice of. You watched him as he sat and refused to look at you, instead turning to Sam and acting like you weren’t there.

The real question on your mind now was if he was really this much of an asshole to people he’s just met or if he was making an effort to ignore your presence because he did in fact feel what you felt earlier and wanted nothing to do with it. Nothing to do with you. Honestly, you felt it had to be the latter. And that hurt just a little bit before you shook it off. He wasn’t all that himself. And who cares? What does it matter? Why get your feelings hurt because some guy doesn’t like you. You really tried to convince yourself with that one, but you knew it was deeper than that. If he really was your soulmate, and even he didn’t want you, the one person guaranteed to, how terrible must you be.

Interrupting everyone’s conversations and your train of self deprecating thought, Stark brought the attention to himself, making a show of clinking his glass and talking about the importance of a team, and more so, family. He was rambling a little while you were tempted to start dwelling on your previous thoughts, but a few stolen glances from the stoic man across from you were a little more distracting. It seemed like he was checking on you, or making sure you were still there. You tried to refocus on what it was Tony was talking about and mostly succeeded before he gave a little speech introducing and welcoming you to the team while everyone - well, save for one, clapped and welcomed you in good hearted cheers. You laughed lightly and smiled timidly, looking down to divert the attention from you before saying your thanks. Everyone’s eyes were on you, but you felt his gaze the most, intent and piercing as you spoke, trying hard to ignore it.

As the food was served, everyone talked and laughed and was having a good time. Though he was again still mostly trying to act like you weren’t sitting directly across from him, you admired Bucky smiling the one or two times he actually did. He might have been an asshole, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. As you sat so close to him, you started thinking that maybe you were just being crazy. It must have been the stress of the day, your emotions were highly charged and you clearly made a lot more out of what very little your initial meeting with him was. He probably really was just that cold with new people, you shouldn’t have taken it so personally. There were no more crazy soulmate thoughts, you threw them out the window.

Until somewhere along the way, relationship statuses started being discussed.

“I’m not interested in anyone. I like my alone time, my personal space,” Yelena had answered bluntly when Kate asked her why she hadn’t made plans with the girl who asked her out at a bar they had gone to the week previous.

“You sound like Bucky,” Sam laughed as he nudged the clearly annoyed man next to him.

“Well that’s not true,” Peter argued, “He’s seeing Brit.”

That was met with a playful scoff from Natasha, a disbelieving chuckle from Steve, and a hardy laugh from Sam as Bucky sat stone faced, sending daggers to Sam as he continued his laughing.

“Well, I mean, you are, right?” Kate asked as if it was obvious as she took a bite of her food. “God knows she’s around here often enough,” she added with a side eye.

Feeling the glare Bucky shot her, she defended herself.

“What?” she said incredulously. “She is.”

“They’re not dating,” Sam clarified. “He wishes,” he added with another laugh.

You couldn’t help but look up from your plate, chewing on another bite of your own food as you, for whatever reason, wanted to see the look on his face in response to that bit from Sam.

There was no visible change, though, only his look of clear annoyance etched on his face. He was practically scowling.

Changing the target of the conversation, Tony decided to chime in.

“Rogers there is still very much single, too,” he smirked. “Any new ladies caught your eye lately, Cap?” he asked, feigning innocence as he tilted his head. He clearly enjoyed rustling Steve’s feathers as he watched him look up at him with a glare, his cheeks turning just the slightest bit pink.

It was only then that you noticed a change in Bucky’s expression, just slightly, but still noticeable. His eyes were somewhat sharper and he seemed to tense ever so slightly before he relaxed himself, looking over to Steve with a curious eye.

The moment Stark said it, of course Bucky knew what he was alluding to. Steve had been talking about you all day, every chance he got. It was clear to everyone except you apparently that he was interested, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. It was good to see he was taking his own advice, at least. When Bucky had first broached the subject of potentially seeing someone, Brit, Steve told him it was best to just take things slow. Friends first, and then see where things go from there. Obviously, that seemed to be his natural approach and not just advice he gave.

He hated that it happened, but Bucky’s first response was being put on immediate edge. He quickly corrected his demeanor and his wayward thoughts. He wasn’t jealous or worried. He was glad. The realization that Steve really did like you hit him and he told himself that was good. Steve was good. And any sort of relationship that might sprout between you two would help with your soulmate connection. If you were with Steve, he’d still be around you all of the time. He’d know what you’re up to and could be sure that you were happy and protected. That’s all the connection really needed, right? That should be enough. And it’d be good for you, too. Hopefully Steve could keep you distracted. He knew he was ready to fight this pull, but that didn’t mean you would, too. Maybe if you were with Steve, if you didn’t make the same connection he did, if you didn’t know anything about soulmates, and he made sure to keep his distance from you, maybe you would just pretend it wasn’t there.

Now that he thought about it, it seemed you already were.

Why hadn’t you said anything to him after you first met. Sure he left, but if you felt what he did and didn’t know what it was, wouldn’t you have wanted to know? Wouldn’t you have asked? He started to worry then. What if you did know. And you were doing exactly what he was. That should have been a relief, but really it only seemed to hurt him. Because that could have been it, it made sense. You knew exactly who he was and who he had been forced to be. Who would want a soulmate like that, like him. No one..

Instead of wallowing in his sudden self pity, he forced himself past that thought. It wasn’t the only possibility. Maybe you knew what your connection was and didn’t want it because you were already involved with someone else. That would certainly screw up the Steve solution and make things a lot harder. It was like his brain was working overtime to make sense of everything and find a fix. But he needed more information. Did you even like Steve, would you consider him at all, and more importantly, were you even single? He looked at you and spoke before he could stop himself.

“What about you?” he gruffed.

The moment his eyes turned on you, you were picking up your glass of water, taking a drink. The moment he asked you that question, you found yourself sputtering on the liquid as you coughed. You kept your eyes down, setting your water back on the table and grabbing your napkin to wipe at your mouth. His eyes were still on you and so were everyone else’s now. Yelena patted your back and asked if you were good.

“Wrong pipe,” you coughed again. “Sorry.”

You finally looked up and around at all the faces staring at you. Whether they were waiting to see if you were okay or if they were simply waiting for your answer, you weren’t sure.

“Uhm, well, I spend half of my time doing stealth work alone and the other half undercover, pretending to be someone I’m not, so..I don’t really have much in the way of a steady dating life,” you laughed lightly, feeling yourself grow more and more embarrassed.

“So you're single?” he asked plainly, yet still somehow sounding annoyed. You in turn found yourself annoyed that you had to clarify what you thought was an obvious answer. You looked at him sharply, eyes narrowed.

“Shocker, I know,” you said sardonically.

“I get it,” Nat agreed with a nod and sip of her wine. You were glad to have the attention switch to her, you didn’t love having your personal business laid out for everyone to judge. You were shocked Bucky of all people had asked you such a personal question in the first place.

He recognized Nat’s voice as she spoke, the sound taking your eyes off of him, though he stopped listening the second you had responded to him. He knew you were being sarcastic when you said it, but ‘shocker’ was right. Shocking and relieving. For a second he recognized how lucky it was you weren’t seeing anyone, for Steve’s sake, obviously. His mind went straight back to trying to sort everything out. Trying to figure you out.

Maybe you didn’t think the charge from when you met was mutual - that he felt it too. It was possible you really didn’t know, or just hadn’t recognized yet the connection you shared. Maybe the concept of soulmates had never even crossed your mind. It didn’t sound likely, he knew that, but he could hope. If he didn’t bring attention to it, if he refused to mention it, then maybe you wouldn’t either. And if neither of you ever mentioned it, then it never happened.

As everyone was cleaning up around the dining room and kitchen, you still seemed to be distracted. So distracted, in fact, you didn’t realize anyone was in the kitchen as you went to put your dishes away. When you saw Bucky at the sink, you thought maybe you should just go back to the dining room and wait for him to be done, but you couldn’t get your feet to move in that direction. Instead, you found yourself walking toward him. The way his back went straight as you got closer let you know that he knew you were there. But he didn’t say anything. And neither did you. What would you have said anyway? How crazy would you seem if you asked him if he had felt anything earlier, especially if he hadn’t. You couldn’t do it.

So that was it, then. You just weren’t going to say anything, act like it never happened.? Seemed to be your plan. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself like that to a man you’ve literally just met. If he didn’t say anything, he obviously didn’t feel what you felt. You should just shake it off. Forget the whole thing.

That’s what you told yourself. But there you continued to stand, not really wanting to leave without talking to him, yet still having no idea what to say. Causing yourself stress and anxiety for no good reason. You were slightly relieved when Bucky broke the silence without turning around, though his sharpness was cutting.

He could feel you working yourself up and though he really didn’t want to engage with you, he felt like he had no choice. He had to do something to get you to calm down and stop affecting him so much.

“You just gonna stand there or do you need something?” You continued to look at him for a second before you got your mind to work and mouth to move.

“Yeah, I need to wash these,” you started. “Sorry, I was under the impression the kitchen was for everyone to use, didn’t realize I needed your okay to be in here,” you sassed.

“You don’t. But you’ve been hovering behind me for five minutes without saying anything and you’re starting to get on my nerves,” he griped.

“Starting?” you repeated with a humorless laugh, “Could’ve fooled me. And I didn’t realize it took five minutes for someone to wash a single plate. Seems more like you’re having a personal problem,” you added, just as annoyed now.

“Seems like you are my personal problem,” he bit as he turned around, staring at you down his nose.

You were taken aback by his attitude, but really you didn’t know what you were expecting at all. Just as you were about to snark back, Yelena came in from behind you, eyes darting between the two of you.

“What are we talking about?” she asked, eyes harsh on Bucky.

“Nothing,” he answered harshly before turning away and leaving without another word.

“Really great talking to you, too,” you called after him, rolling your eyes in pure irritation. What the hell was his problem? And what was your problem? You had the urge to follow after him, some weird desperation to talk more that you refused to listen to. There was nothing to talk about, clearly.

“What was that?” Yelena asked. You turned to look at her, exasperated and with no answer to provide.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled with a shrug. She eyed you closely before taking your dishes from you and walking to the sink.

“You should get some sleep,” she said, changing the subject. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a little more intense.”

“Thanks,” you told her, receiving a nod from her in response. You were about to leave the kitchen before you turned back around. You wrapped your arms around her waist and hugged her from behind, earning a chuckle from her as she leaned her head back to gently make contact with yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early,” she teased as you let her go and once again made your way out of the kitchen.

“Looking forward to it,” you replied with a mock salute to her and with that you were off to your room, trying to rid the thought of Bucky Barnes from your mind, though truthfully you didn’t really want to. The pull you were feeling to him was more intense now than it had been before you spoke to him. You really didn’t get why he was being such a dick, though. Your mind searched for a rational explanation but you were coming up blank.

Your ire was easier for Bucky to deal with. And he felt it for a little while after he had left the kitchen, longer than he expected to, but anything was better than the anxiety you had been feeling earlier. It made him ten times more uneasy and he had a hard enough time falling asleep as it was. Even now as he laid in his bed, he couldn’t get you off of his mind. He knew he should have ignored you, shouldn’t have said anything. Because now all he could think about was talking to you again. Whether it was because you were arguing or not, he just wanted your attention on him, he wanted to be around you. But he couldn’t let that happen. He knew it was only gonna get harder from here, pretending he didn’t feel anything toward you, that he didn’t feel so called or pulled to you, but as long as you didn’t know, maybe he could get by without falling to fate. It was gonna hurt like hell, if any of the stories he’d heard were true, but he believed you’d be better for it. Better off without being tied to him for the rest of your life.

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saikiscleansink · 2 years

Text

Okay so i love sagau fics n have always had some of my own headcanons so i wanna share but idk if i would ever be able to write it bc i suck n have no idea where n how to start. Will come back and edit things every once in a while. More like my own notes for sagau fics. This is all my own opinion!!Pls dont come after me for this.

Sagau basic headcanons:

Blood red slowly turns gold (like really really slowly) glitter? Looks normal but slightly different? = can justify acolytes attempt to kill cos seems fake?

Lore: why kill someone for looking like their creator? Impossible for anyone to mimic creator’s look due to creator being god. Only if have gold blood then is creator. ie blames abyssal magic for creator looking person but no gold blood (refer to above point for lack of gold blood)

Can hear through screen? If game is on then they can hear you clearly. Places they can see you?: luhua pool, mona’s thing, holy places (church of favonius, narukami shrine, asase shrine etc) (my fave place ok its so pretty) If game is off then its muffled? Maybe blurry image?

Acolytes feelings warmth around the creator? Yes but also no? Godly aura wont load in so fast. Maybe can feel a little bit similar to when around the traveller.

Godliness doesnt really load in so fast. Reader’s body has to undergo cjanges to adapt to being in a place filled with magic unlike homeland?

Imposter au headcanons:

If creator dies and is sent back to homeworld. Only they can see their blood is gold? Go doctor or smt and they only see normal red blood? Scars also only reader can see.

Abyss can tell imposter is actually creator due to ancient connection with creator from Khaenri’ah / curse???

Kids cant tell but dont want to hunt? Cautiously looks after reader bc of morals? Too young to be clouded by their obsession with creator.

Khaenri’ans in general ie kaeya, albedo, dainsleif can tell bc abyss n curse?

Albedo n kaeya have me a little on edge tho. Cause they were raised in a human land? Maybe albedo would be better at sensing their grace? Albedo isnt exactly as human as kaeya and doesnt get influenced by others as easily as a normal human? But kaeya is khaenrhi’an so he can just tell?

Razor probably doesnt really understand all that much about their grace? He understands that theres an imposter and imposter=bad but he finds reader and only understands that reader feels warm and safe. Even if reader is an imposter, razor is safe and comfortable. Reader smells like home.

Heizouuuuu!!!! Hes literally the best detective. While the dumbass “acolytes” r so focused on hunting reader, he just notices small details about reader. He notices that the blood you leave behind has a faint golden shimmer that gets more and more gold as time passes (?). He notices the way that not only the “bad” creatures of teyvat flock toward you but also the innocent animals (squirrels boars even pigeons). While the rest of teyvat is saying that reader is the imposter because of the way hilichurls and slimes crowd around reader, heizou notices the way timmy’s pigeons dont fly away until someone else comes by. He notices how the birds seem to guide reader in their escapes. He sees the squirrels giving reader wolfberries (to help heal wounds) and mints and sweet flowers and berries. He can put 2 n 2 together to realise that an imposter wouldnt be able to earn the favour of innocent animals the way his grace can.

TRAVELLER JUST KNOWS!!! They spend the most time around you!!! Even if they are not in the party i hc that they are still there. They are you in a sense. 11/10 most loyal and huggable acolyte

Dancer!reader:

headcanons: graceful. Flexible. can treat minor injuries (dance= injuries) sprained ankle, muscle cramp. Used to injuries ie hit in the head. Big stamina. Can work through stitches (exercise stitches)

imposter au: 9/10 avoiding and protecting? Very graceful. Can fix slight injuries due to past dance injuries i.e. sprainend ankle muscle cramp? Taekwondo dance= better hand-to-hand combat. Better at hiding due to flexibility?

darling au: teaching teyvat dances and music from homeland. Obv vv graceful & elegant. Scares acolytes due to dangerous dance moves / literally folding in half. Dancer!reader is very flexible. No safety in mind, only cool dance move.

Senku!reader:

headcanons: ALBEDO/ RUBEDO. Teyvat equivalent of homeland materials/scientific reactions? Electricity?? ALICE!!! she would work w albedo n reader (like the dodocommunication device). Reader probably can figure out a portal to homeland but doesnt want to go back because SO MANY NEW THINGS TO EXPLORE AND LEARN!!

imposter au: surviving and thrIVING. Doesnt care about being hunted (but also doesnt really want to die) albedo finds reader n is ?cautious? but reader shows albedo science from homeworld. Albedo protect? Albedo n reader learns. After finding out that reader is indeed the creator, everyoen tries to apologise but albedo probably says that reader has gone back to their world because they dont want to keep being hunted (reader can probably “off themself” due to stress from being hunted) but reader is actually still in teyvat vibing n trying to research? Albedo keeps portal a secret?

darling au: acolytes LOVE to help reader find stuff to mess around with. Probably turns albedo’s lab into kindom of science 2.0. Instead of food n hymns people gift stuff like rocks and crystals and weird stuff to reader bc everyone knows n accepts that to be reader’s thing. IMPROVE DODOCOMMUNICATION DEVICE. People cant reallt go see reader much bc dragonspine is hecking dangerous so ppl r sad. But even better for reader bc can focus on research?

#sagau headcanons #sagau #genshin sagau

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slow-wth-anxiety · 2 years

Note

I just saw the most recent Imposter AU with reader being unable to be harmed by Diluc. Can we please a version of that with one of archons and/or Childe finding them instead

Kawabingo

I'll try my best! I'm not as familiar with them so they might be a lil more OOC them normal in the SAGAU universe 😂 I almost shit my heart out, I thought I deleted this 😭😭

Characters: Venti 🍃, Childe 👁️

Gender neutral! Reader :)

Tw!! Genshin cult Au violence, violence against reader/imposter, sort of mentioned of bodily injury to others, let me know if I missed any!!

How would they react to Imposter! Reader unable to be harmed?

❤️

Venti 🍃

Venti would first attempt to find the imposter through his connection with the winds of Teyvat. When the winds don't head his call, and seem to actually ignore him, his anger towards the imposter grows.

Seeing the winds ignore him, he takes it as the Creator's anger with him letting the imposter escape without punishment time and time again.

He sets out from Mondstat, tracking the imposter through their old campgrounds and anything left behind that tells him which way they went.

No longer is he the lovable bard, Venti. He has shed that layer, and in place, stands Lord Barbatos, winner of the Archon war and thousand's year old Archon of wind. He might be the weakest of the Archons, but he is still one, and he will use his power's and favor given by his God to find and punish the imposter.

Once he finds the imposter, who has set up camp surrounded by simple slimes, he notches an Anemo infused arrow, locking on to the imposter.

" Let the wind lead" Venti snarls to the air, releasing his arrow straight towards the knees of the heretic.

Watching his arrow, he sees it fly off course, the winds not under his control knocking the arrow far away from his intended target and into the ground, alerting the imposter and their surrounding slimes of his presence.

The imposter flees, and Venti gives chase, growing more and more frustrated with how every attack of his flys off course. He will eventually discard his bow, and use his arrows as makeshift knives instead.

While he prefers to use his bow, he has been alive for a very long time, and over that course of time, has learned to use different forms of weaponry.

Eventually the chase between the imposter and Archon will end, with the imposter facing the furious Wind Archon alone.

Venti would approach the imposter, saying how thier presence is a disgrace to his God, and how ending them will restore his Gods image. As soon as Venti is within striking distance, he will attempt to end the imposter, as in his mind, they don't deserve to speak or defend themselves.

As soon as his weapon is near the imposter, his attack is stopped and flung away from the imposter. A barely seen shield of Anemo is swirling around thier form, similar to the stormy winds that has been seen around Stormterror's Lair, but as the imposter has no Vision, Venti can't see how the shield appeared to stop his attack.

Venti tries to call back the wind, but once again the winds ignore him and continue to surround the imposter, protecting them from Venti.

Seeing how he can't use weapons to harm the imposter, Venti decides that he'd have to end them with his bare hands, as much as it would disgust him to lay his hands upon the heretic. As soon as he comes to the decision, the wind surrounding both of them picks up, as if sensing his thoughts

The wind continues to pick up speed, flinging rocks and other debris towards Venti at alarming speeds. The debris would blind Venti, and create shallow cuts on his skin the closer he attempted to get to the imposter, until he could not get near them without grave injuries to himself.

As Venti realizes that he physically can't harm or even go near the imposter, and begins to go into a near frenzy thinking why the winds of his God are protecting them this way.

Though the imposter is no longer fleeing, that activity would cause some of their wounds to reopen, spilling what would seem to be golden blood from those wounds. Venti would stare in horror as it all clicks into place in his mind as to why the winds of Teyvat were protecting the so called imposter so fiercely, they weren't an imposter at all. They were his God, one who has suffered severely from the people of Teyvat.

Apologies immediately would fall from Venti's lips, tears gathering upon his lash line as he watches and feels the winds surrounding his God shield them from his view. The force of the winds would force Venti to close his eyes, until he feels the winds disappear, and when he opens his eyes, his God is no longer there. Only thin wisps of air cradle the space where his God once stood.

Falling to his knees, Venti let's the tears clouding his vision fall, realizing what a grave mistake he has made, what a mistake Mondstat has made.

🍃❤️

Childe 👁️

Childe could first hear about the imposter from his fellow Fatui agents, or through gossip from whatever place the Tsarista has him in.

Hearing news of such an imposter would make his blood boil. Who would dare sully his God? Childe would immediately set out to find the imposter, barely having the thought of informing the Tsarista of his plan.

Following gossip, the poorly hidden campsites and tracks of the imposter, he would find them with more difficulty then he first expected.

Everything seemed to get in his way, first hoards of slimes, or hilichurls would block him from following the imposters tracks, to heavy interference from the weather of Teyvat, which seemed to change as soon as he began to grow closer to the imposters campsites.

With every delay in his single minded goal of ending the imposters pathetic life, Childe grows more and more frenzied in his pursuit of that goal. He sees the delays as tests from his God, the one who guided through his time in the Abyss and who approved of his blood and battle lust.

He gleefully cuts through the hoards of monsters and braves any weather thrown at him, until after all his hunting, he finally found the imposters final campsite.

He'll approach the imposters campsite, first mocking them on how far they've traveled to run away from divine punishment. After mocking them, he'll begin to try to attack them.

As his arrows continue to miss, and none of his infused attacks landing, he'll grow more and more frienzied and driven to kill the heretic. Throughout the one-sided fight, and during his journey find the imposter, Childe has noticed Foul Legacy growing restless, which Childe takes as a sign from his God to continue his hunt and his goal.

After finally getting close to the imposter, he'd bring down his weapon on their head, laughing and anticipating watching their blood flow. Only to feel shocks shoot up his arm as his blade is seemingly flung back from the imposter and sends Childe himself back a few feet.

" I see you have a few tricks up your sleeves" Childe would rise to his full height, calling forth his Foul Legacy form. He feels the familiar weight, pain and pressure of his form, and begins to charge up his attack to end the imposter.

As soon as he begins to prepare his attack, he looks at the imposter, and Foul Legacy falls to it's knees, bringing Childe with it.

Alarmed and confused, Childe attempts to regain control of Foul Legacy, but it isn't working, it isn't listening to him. It whispers and howls of his time in the Abyss, of the God that guided him through that time.

Childe feels ice crawl through his veins as he begins to realize exactly why Foul Legacy isn't listening to him, of why it is whispering of his God.

The Creator created everything in Teyvat, from the tiniest dandelion seed, to the deepest corners of the Abyss. Childe watches his Foul Legacy form refuses to harm the imposter, and knows now why nothing he did could harm them.

Nothing that the All Knowing, All Loving God has created, would ever dare harm them, including the beings of the Abyss.

Slowly shifting one knee to raise, Childe folds his arm across his chest and bows to the one he now knows as his God.

Foul Legacy slowly fades from his form, and he swears to himself as he sees his God watch him in fear, that he will never let another being ever harm his God. He'll rip their hearts from their chest and offer it to his God as a sacrifice, in hopes that it will convey his devotion, his sorrow and despair for almost harming them.

👁️❤️

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin sagau #genshin impact: cult au #childe #venti the bard #imposter au #genshin childe #sagau #gender neutral fanfic

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heres-to-all-that-is-mine · 2 years

Note

Hi!

I had this idea for the imposter au for a while so here it is. Its essentially what i think the 'reveal' in the au could play out as.

I dont actually imagine that they get exposed publicly (im too soft and they would be devestated), but i do imagine the wrong people catch wind of them being rumoured to be pokemon and attempt to kidnap them. I imagine this group are interested in how alike pokemon and humans are and want to not so ethically test their limits.

Since theyre pokemon, moves probably work quicker on them so sleep powder or spore can take care of them.

Since i like picking on Ingo, he gets to be the one kidnapped! They dont expose him - that would make it easier to locate him since they would be looking for a human instead of a zoroark. Best let everyone look for a person that doesnt really exsist.

I imagine that Ingo and Emmet either heard rumours about them or encountered them before (maybe one of the reasons why theyre terrified of being exposed). So when he's told about Ingo's disappearance (maybe it was caught on tape) he flips out on Drayden and Elesa. Probably saying this only happened because they kept looking and telling everyone and now Ingo is in danger - do you not know what they do to pokemon like us?

They feel extreamly guilty and would try and help get ingo freed. I imagine that the league would be told theyre pokemon (So they know how to look for Ingo) and then they find him. Hes okay at the end of it but now the league knows and its awkward.

I think after the whole kidnapping they make sure it never gets out and while Ingo and Emmet are wary of Drayden and Elesa, they do reach a middle ground (since not everyone knows here). Plus that means they dont have to constantly hide around the league now that they know (After theyre comfortable). They still get to be the subway bosses and carry on as normal.

Sorry for the long post. I just had this in my head for a while.

Oo!! That is a fun idea!! Perhaps not what I’d consider canon to the main au, but still something worth thinking about!! Plus, it gives me some ideas about how to make it easier for the twins to get Back To Their Lives at the end of things. Anyways! Back to yours!

Maaaan, Emmett would be devastated!!! All alone, stressed out, paranoid and fearing for his safety- for Ingo’s safety!

He has no idea where his brother is, but he knows these people, and he knows he does not like them. Perhaps they’re the reason he and Ingo met in the first place! They wanted to experiment with Pokémon capable of changing their forms or something, I dunno.

Anyways! Drayden would be horrified. Elesa would be as well! They caused the rumours to start spreading, and now they have a terrified Emmett who looks half melted from stress crying and yelling at them that they took his brother and it’s your fault. Guilt for the both of them! And more knowledge about the two’s past than they’d ever wanted, when he calms down enough to breathe and explain what’s going on.

Perhaps the two met to talk about Ingo’s disappearance (and their suspicions), only to have Emmett barging in through the door and everything going to utter shit.

These poor excuses for people are a fairly small organisation. Run by a handful of scientists researching the relation between pokemon and humans (they were once one, after all), these scientists turned away from more conventional (and legal) methods in order to conduct their own unethical experiments. They hired a couple of grunts (who had connections) to collect Pokémon (and certain humans) for their research, and took a special interest in the two subway bosses with the little rumours being spread around.

And what luck! The rumours were true! A Pokémon, masquerading as a human! And succeeding, at that! It had even taught itself human language!!! What a discovery. What a marvel. And they want to understand every inch of it.

Perhaps they didn’t grab Emmett because they thought only one of the twins was a Pokémon? I mean, what are the odds that two wildly successful trainers are both Pokémon pretending to be humans? It sounds absurd. So they observed the two… and decided that the one who didn’t emote was clearly not human! Because obviously all humans emote!

This is merely an animal making an attempt at seeming human. They just want to understand why.

(Aka they’re complete dehumanising assholes)

As for the league, it probably starts with Skyla (because I am fond of Elesa and Skyla crushing on each other)- Elesa reaches out to her for help, and it spreads from there to a few other gym leaders and the league themselves. Drayden also pretty much definitely has his own connections with them. I don’t remember enough about them to speculate much, though!

But with so few people knowing it’s probably far easier to put them back where they belong, together. And they get to bring down those scientists and their associates! And, most importantly, rescue everyone who’d been taken by the organisation. (Probably not many- but most likely way more Pokémon than people).

#purples rambling #submas impostor au #ditto emmet #Zoroark Ingo #Ingo #Emmett #submas #Elesa #Skyla #drayden #I’ll elaborate on the ideas if asked I think

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lavender-lotion · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Writer Asks

I was tagged by @asarcasticwitch - thank you so much!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

737, which is an ugly number :(

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,890,054 words, which ... AH I might actually get to 2mil by the end of the year!

3) How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

thank you, ao3 dashboard for this handy list:

Teen Wolf (TV) (377)

X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies) (187)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (93)

Glee (29)

Young Justice (Cartoon) (11)

Kingsman (Movies) (9)

Original Work (9)

The Avengers (Marvel Movies) (8)

Criminal Minds (US TV) (7)

Thor (Movies) (6)

Deadpool (Movieverse) (5)

Weird City (TV) (5)

X-Men (Original Timeline Movies) (4)

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) (4)

Ragnarok (TV 2020) (4)

Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) (3)

Teen Wolf (TV) RPF (3)

Iron Man (Movies) (3)

The House in the Cerulean Sea - T. J. Klune (2)

Venom (Marvel Movies) (1)

Stranger Things (TV 2016) (1)

Captain America (Movies) (1)

Fate: The Winx Saga (TV) (1)

Power Rangers Ninja Storm (1)

X-Men - All Media Types (1)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan (1)

Riverdale (TV 2017) (1)

X-Men Evolution (1)

Push (2009) (1)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

With You, I Belong

Mates and Marriage Proposals

The Perceptions of You and I

(baby) maybe that matters more

Breathing You In

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

ughh so, fair warning, I have a lot of works. I definitely do not remember all of them, however I do have four works tagged as Unhappy Ending and then another nine works tagged Ambiguous/Open Ending, which is way more than I’d thought I had!

however, there is one fic that stands out in mind when I think about which of my works has the angstiest ending! Heed the tags :)

And Now?

Stiles Stilinski finds out who his soul mates are by setting one on fire.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

ughhhhhhhh I truly do not know???

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write many crossovers at all! I have some mcu/teen wolf cross overs, I have a teen wolf/glee cross over plotted (that i’ll probably never write), but my strangest is probably this teen wolf/x-men cross over!

what-ifs (don’t fuckin’ matter to no one)

Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | M/M | X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)Teen Wolf (TV) | Logan (X-Men)/Sheriff Stilinski | Logan (X-Men), Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski | Memory Loss, Telepathy, Mentions of War, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Neglect, Grief/Mourning, Telepath Stiles Stilinski, Telekinetic Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling

There’s somethin’ there. Somethin’ that has him sleeping curled up on his side with a pillow tucked to his chest, somethin’ that has him splittin’ up his food ‘fore he eats ‘cause he don’t need as much as a baseline. Has him turnin’ to tell someone shit that ain’t there. There’s just...there’s just somethin’ there that’s missin’ and it shouldn’t be missin’.

8) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

sometimes! I don’t write a lot of smut because I actively dislike writing it, but the smut I do write is super super soft and sappy and full of emotions lol

9) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to almost all of my comments! comments i won’t respond to: negative comments, unsolicited criticism, comments that aren’t relevant to the fic itself, comments simply asking for more

I love love love responding to comments! I love every single comment that I get and I want to show how much I appreciate getting them, and personally I think responding to comments is the only way to do that! everyone has different comment philosophies, but for me, if someone is taking the time to comment on my fic like I so badly want them to, I think it’s important to respond to show my appreciation!

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

aha YEAH I DO. this past weekend I actually got a number of shitty comments and had to file two ao3 abuse reports for harrasment (: I love it

I am no stranger to hate comments. I write copious amounts of age difference fic. I write copious amounts of incest. I am not going to apologize nor am I going to feel bad for enjoying either.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

ughhh I sure as heck hope not!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I have a number of them :) I always always do my best to make sure it’s linked to the original fic, AND that I add a tag noting that there’s a translation!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have made a few attempts! the only successful attempt is there's nothing i wouldn't do to make you feel my love which is a collaboration with @flightinflame, not quite a co-write!

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am unable to answer this lol I don’t have an all-time favourite. mutli-shipping forever.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

god okay this is such a good question! imma ramble about a few so bear with me here! (i may have 700 posted works but I also have a few hundreds wips & ideas floating around in my gdrive, too)

gone & past - this is a starrish wip i’d started in 2017. I ended up deleting it from ao3 to rewrite it and never got there, but I have about 20k of content! I built my home, inside of you - thorki human au with college jock thor and high school dancer loki. i’ve got a start and nothing else Sheriff Stilinski Gets Some Sweet Sweet Lovin’ - massive wip where... well, the sheriff fucks his way through the entire pack. I want to write it but. trans allison au - this is an au where allison is trans and that changes the entire season 1 canon. it features stallison, petopher, and a looooooong ass outline that will never exist beyond my wips You Fill My Heart (With Such a Gentle Love) - this is a stetopher a/b/o au with pregnant omega stiles and alpha pair petopher falling in love. it started as a labour of love to someone I no longer have in my life. I have about 30k, a full outline, but idk. makes me sad to think about it they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered - this is my big x-men first class rewrite that I honestly don’t think i’ll ever finish. I have a few thousand words, a full outline, but no love lost for cherik so. doubtful Physiotherapy (I'll Be Your Baby) - this was a fic I was SO excited about, and then it kinda flopped and stayed a wip because I didn’t have a plan or the motivation to finish it. it’s a winterspider human au with amputee bucky and science twink peter that I adore the premise of but who knows breathing you in chapter 2 - I have a massive second chapter planned for this fic but the first did so good so fast I am way too intimidated to write more in case everyone hates it lmao

there are more arjgoirjeg there are so many more but these are the bigger ones I can think of right now!

16) What are your writing strengths?

ughhhhh I hate answering this because I have, like, seriously bad imposter syndrome around my writing BUT I do think i’m able to weave poignant backstory into narration & i write strong, distinctive narrative voices!

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

literally I can’t write settings at all. I don’t know how people vividly describe settings but I absolutely cannot do that and it’s one of the reasons I haven’t delved into original fiction. I need to write the town my characters live in?? fuck that imma just use a location we’ve seen on screen & let readers fill in the blanks lmao

I am also shit at long fic. I don’t have the mind for long and interesting plots, and I don’t have the focus to write long fic (which is why every long fic i’ve ever posted has taken me literal years to complete smh).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like it! both as a reader and as a writer. as a writer, I generally only use a few words, or small sentences that can be understood by context, and I generally don’t

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

the last thing I wrote and posted was this one:

Languish

It was a really, really hot Saturday, and most of the school was outback, enjoying the sun, not caring about the heat, and having the time of their life.

Everyone but Bobby, of course, who was melting away.

“I just want to remind everyone that I make ice. I am the Ice Man. I am not built for the heat and soon enough I’m going to melt away into nothing.”

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

this is another impossible question! I have a few I really enjoy, but I really don’t think I have a favourite that stands out above the rest!

i’m tagging: @4magicandmayhem @insertmeaningfulusername @midrashic @wynnefic @ikeracity @stronglyobsessed @elledelajoie @wolfnprey & anyone else who sees it and wants to do it! seriously! go ahead :)

blank questions below the read more!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

3) How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

8) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

9) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

16) What are your writing strengths?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

#lavenderlotion #my writing #writing tag #writing meme

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pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 25

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Revenge is a dish best served cold, as long as poison is not in the equation. Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit

***

“What in God’s name did he put in that wine?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know! You spoke with him, he must have told you--”

“Lower your voice!” Héctor hissed, and he had the audacity to smack a hand over his mouth. “He only told me not to drink the wine, and to tell you not to either. That’s all I know!”

Gustavo scowled, and slapped off his hand. “Ugh, whatever. I don’t care.” He grabbed the reins of his horse, and turned to the other men who’d been taken from Santa Cecilia. They all looked varying degrees of terrified and confused all rolled into one and there sure would be a lot of questions concerning ‘Padre’ Ernesto that Héctor had better give answers to, but at the moment - in the midst of absolute chaos, with about half the soldiers collapsed, another good chunk not looking to great themselves and those not looking pale as death trying to help their comrades in any way they could - they had other priorities.

The main of which was getting out of there.

“Everyone get a horse, we’ll make a run for it. Doubt they’ll notice, let alone give chase. Help is coming, but getting out of the way would be wise,” he said, and sure enough, all men got on top of a horse. Except one, of course.

One idiot who tried to turn and run on foot in the opposite direction, toward the grove where the commander had dragged the man Gustavo had believed their parish priest. Before he could go far, however, Gustavo grabbed his arm. God, it was like trying to look after a child who wanted to find out the hard way why one shouldn’t get into the pen of an angry bull.

“Chorizo, that everyone includes yo--”

“I can’t leave him behind,” Héctor cut him off. He turned back to him with a look that was somehow both defiant and apologetic, but that most of all made Gustavo want to kick his teeth in. As in, made him want him to kick his teeth in more than usual. “I have to help him.”

“You don’t have to do anything, he was a Federale and--”

“He came to help us!” he snapped. That was not something Gustavo could argue against, which somehow made him ever angrier at the bastard who’d managed to fool him for months on end. So much for just being an eccentric young priest.

“He’s probably already dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

A groan. “If you want to go and try, be my guest. But you’ll do it on your own, you hear me?” he said. Héctor drew in a deep breath, and with a stronger pull managed to get his arm free.

“If I don’t make it back--”

“You couldn’t shoot your own foot if you tried, of course you won’t make it--”

“Tell Imelda I love her.”

Jesus Christ. Gustavo slapped a hand on his forehead and groaned again, wishing really hard he was exactly the cabrón everyone claimed he was so he could just shrug, wish him good luck, and ride off to safety with the others. Unfortunately, he was only approximately seventy percent the cabrón everyone thought he was. In the end, he turned to the others.

“Ride back the way we came, fast. Don’t turn back. If you meet men on the way, tell them what is happening.”

“But we don’t know what is--”

“Federales drank a bad batch of wine, tummies hurt, come take them out,” Gustavo snapped, and smacked the rump of Francisco’s horse. It took off, and the others followed. As expected a few yells rose up for them to stop, drowned out in the cries of terror of men writhing in pain on the ground; a shot rang out, hitting no one. Gustavo turned with a scowl.

“Fine. Let’s go save the imposter before I kill you for this,” he grumbled, and when the idiota smiled at him with that stupid golden tooth he had to really fight the urge to knock it out.

***

“I told you I’d make sure everyone would know exactly what you are, didn’t I?”

De la Cruz didn’t reply, but that didn’t matter. His cries before he seemingly ran out of voice had been better music to his ears than any of his singing back when they were in the same battalion; the wheezing sound he made now, as his bloodied chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, was more of enough for him.

Santiago smiled, and finally stood to admire his handiwork. Blood was everywhere on de la Cruz’s chest; the letters he’d carved on his skin didn’t show as clearly as he would have liked and the traitor’s eyes were falling shut as he tethered on the edge of unconsciousness, but that was nothing a good splash of water wouldn’t fix. Santiago took a bottle from the saddle of his horse, and threw water across de la Cruz’s face and chest.

“Ah…!”

He recoiled and seemed to choke on it a moment, pulled back onto awareness; much of the blood washed out, and the letters showed stark and clear for a few moments before more blood welled up. But even as it began dripping into the dirt again, the word remained clearly visible and that was all that mattered.

JUDAS

“Now you can never hide again,” Santiago sneered, knowing full well Ernesto de la Cruz would not live to see the sun set that day, let alone get a chance to try hiding. But it was a soothing thought, knowing that anyone walking by his hanging body would get to read the reason why right there on his chest.

“I have sinned, he said, for I have betrayed innocent blood,” Santiago quoted, cleaning the blade of his knife before he put it back at his belt. A long time since he’d even stepped in a church, he still remembered much of the scriptures. “So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.”

A pause, and his lips twisted in something resembling a smile. He could taste something bitter at the back of his throat. “Maybe even Judas was above you, after all. You never regretted a thing, did you? You would have never ended your own pathetic life. You had to be dragged out of hiding, kicking and screaming, to be given the punishment you know you deserve.”

De la Cruz groaned and tried to move, or maybe to speak, but in the end all he could do was turn his head to the side and heave, skin clammy and ashen gray, hair sticking to his forehead. Some bile spewed forth into the dirt, and it seemed to take the last of his strength; even when Santiago kicked his side, he barely reacted.

“What is it? No more begging?” Santiago taunted, and crouched down to put the noose around his neck. There was a weak attempt at shifting away, easily ignored. He tightened the noose, glanced up to make sure the rope went over a branch solid enough to hold his weight, and stood. “No more crying? No more--”

“Uuugh…!”

The sound of someone else groaning and then throwing up caused Santiago to trail off, and he rolled his eyes. Was a little blood enough to make the delicate damsels he was leading grow faint?

“If you can’t handle this, I suggest you--” Santiago began, turning, but paused when he realized it wasn’t just one of the three men with him at the grove who looked sick.

All of them were pale, one still heaving, the other two clearly struggling to maintain composure. The one who’d just tied up the end of the hanging rope to the horse was holding onto the saddle with one hand and doubling over, holding onto his stomach; another staggered as though drunk, and leaned against a tree before slumping to the ground.

“What are you-- Rojas! Stand up, damn you!”

“Commander, I… I…” he tried to speak, but his voice broke and he doubled over, both hands over his stomach. A few meters away, again came the harsh sound of retching. When Santiago turned again, blood running cold, all three men were either on the ground or kneeling over. Something was wrong, he realized, horribly wrong.

“What the-- what’s happening!” He demanded to know, walking up to one of them. The wind picked up and as though to answer more sounds reached him, beyond the grove, back on the path where he’d left the rest of his men. There were yells, the whinnying of scared horses, a noise that sounded horribly like a grown man wailing.

“You damned us!” Rojas choked out at his feet, eyes squeezed shut and terror in every word. “You shot a priest and God punished us!”

For just a moment, Santiago believed it. He stepped back, an unknown terror seizing his heart, mind full of the tales of divine punishment he’d heard as a boy, of plagues and fire and brimstone. Everything around him seemed to go still and cold, as though the blistering hot sun above the grove had ceased giving warmth.

“In God’s name,” the gringo had cried out. “For your own soul, if not for their lives!”

And he’d shot him. He had taken out his pistol and shot him, and now… now…!

Rojas writhed on the ground, and something spurted from his mouth. Santiago was terror-stricken enough to think it was blood at first, that his men were dying as they spat out their own blood - but by then, he had seen too many men bleed out for the illusion to last long. After a few moments he realized what Rojas was spewing forth was not blood at all. It was… it was...

Wine.

He saw it now, with the mind’s eye, the scene he’d come across earlier: his men standing around a fake priest, all of them drinking from casks of wine. Red wine. Mass wine.

Blood of the covenant. This damn bastard.

With a cry of fury, Santiago turned his back to Rojas and stormed back to where Ernesto de la Cruz lay, chest bleeding and arms tied behind his back, noose still around his neck… and features twisted in a grin that confirmed all of Santiago’s suspicions. He crouched by him, pulling him up by his hair and shaking him savagely.

“You! What did you put in that wine!” he screamed. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!”

De la Cruz’s eyes found his own, and the despicable grin widened. His chest shuddered while he let out a sound that was hardly recognizable as a laugh, or any sort of sound a human being should be able to make. “Whatever… it took,” he gasped out, and he had the audacity to laugh again. “Todo modo... para buscar... la voluntad divina.”

“I’LL GIVE YOU DIVINE WILL!”

With another cry of anger, Santiago slammed the traitor back down against the ground and went to the horse. The raspy laughter still rang out, mocking him, but he would silence it and he’d silence it now. Santiago grabbed the horse’s reins, and pulled hard to get it to move. The beast moved, the rope grew taut, and Ernesto de la Cruz’s laugh was finally silenced.

In the distance shots rang out, but Santiago Hernández was beyond caring for anything other than the choking noises that now left Alberto’s murderer.

Let them die. Let us all die, as long as I take him down with me.

He stopped the horse, turned, and watched with a widening smile as Ernesto de la Cruz writhed and choked, hanging by his neck a few feet above the ground. His eyes bulged, his face quickly growing red while he kicked uselessly and strained against his bounds in a doomed struggle for survival. It was horrifying, a slow and painful death. It was perfect.

I told you I’d avenge you, Beto, Santiago thought, and stood there to watch, faintly wishing he had something to drink as he enjoyed revenge which had been served very, very cold.

***

“Hold the horses, something is-- stop! Everyone, stop!”

Imelda pulled back the reins, causing her horse - who had probably not run so much since the day her father had absolutely forbidden the twins to ride him - to skid to a halt, nearly bumping into José’s horse right ahead. A few paces ahead one of the women, the one who'd allowed Imelda to join, had stopped with a hand held up.

“Luciana, what is--” José began, only to be silenced by a wave of her hand.

“Listen.”

They did listen, and after a few moments Imelda heard it over her own rushing blood - distant cries and, coming closer, the beating of horse hooves. Someone was coming.

What’s going on?

As one, the men and women around her pulled up their rifles and pistols and took aim towards the bend on the road ahead. Imelda did the same, grip tight on the pistol and holding onto the reins with her other hand. Sweat dripped down her brow, into her eyes. The cries remained distant, but the sound of galloping horses drew closer.

Then several horses come over the bend at breakneck speed, ridden by men in uniform. The first man to appear saw them and cried out, pulling hard on the reins and causing the horse to rear up on its hind legs. The cap fell off his head, Imelda caught a glimpse of his face, and the finger on the trigger went slack.

The baker.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” Imelda cried out, lowering the pistol and kicking the flanks of her horse, coming in front of José and Luciana. “I know them! They were taken from Santa Cecilia!”

As José blinked, more horses came into view and skidded to a halt. Voices rose up, frantic.

“Don’t shoot!”

“We’re not enemies!”

“We got away!”

“Gustavo sent us this--”

“It’s hell back there--”

José lifted an arm to get his comrades to lower their rifles, and Imelda quickly scanned the group. She recognized all of them, they were from Santa Cecilia all right, all twenty-eight of them. Two, however, were missing: Gustavo… and Héctor.

Fear gripping her heart, Imelda opened her mouth to speak - but José spoke first, kicking his horse’s flanks to get closer to the terrified men. “What-- all right, all right, one at a time. Gustavo sent you? Where is he? What happened?”

“Padre Ernesto-- I mean, we think he’s a Padre--”

“-- not so sure anymore--”

“-- came over with wine, offered it to all soldiers--”

“-- told us not to drink and we didn’t--”

“Did any of you listen to me when I said to speak one at a time?” José lamented, and most of them fell quiet. Only one spoke again.

“Now they’re all sick - if not all, most of them - I think some have died, I am not sure. It was chaos, the screams… It was like the plagues. I think-- I think Padre Ernesto poisoned them.”

“... A priest poisoned them?” José turned back to look at Imelda, baffled. “First you, and now… what is going on with the clergy in your village?”

Ah, that was going to be… a long story to tell. Imelda opted to cut it short, for now. “Ernesto must have gone after them with the holy wine - he clearly did something with it. Francisco-- Francisco, look at me. Where’s Héctor?”

The young man looked back at her, pale as ash. He was a couple of years older than her, and yet looked so much younger now. “He… he and Gustavo stayed behind, he wanted to help Padre-- I mean-- Ernesto. The commander, he was hellbent on seeing him dead. He recognized him, and took him away to hang him. He-- wait, was it him he was looking for in Santa Cecilia?”

Something clenched in the pit of Imelda’s stomach; once again, the knowledge she may have avoided all this by speaking out and handing them Ernesto wouldn’t leave her mind. It was a sense of guilt she would have to deal with, but later. Now, she had to get to Héctor.

And maybe also save that other idiot who thought he could take on Federales with sweet words and poisoned wine.

But he was not entirely wrong. The men are ill. Vulnerable. We have an advantage now.

When Imelda looked up to meet Luciana’s gaze, she could tell she’d come to the same conclusion. “... We will discuss this later. Their advantage was in numbers and now that they’re sick, it’s gone. We can take them head-on,” she said, and turned to the still shaken men. “How far are they?”

“No more than three miles. Just down the path at the bottom of the hill, they stopped in the middle.”

“A stupid place to stop. Any guards at the back?”

“No. It’s chaos, that’s how we got away.”

“Very well. You can go home. If any of you feel able to join us in this, do so. But lose the jacket, we wouldn’t want to shoot you down by mistake.”

As several of them did tear off the jacket, ready to follow them back, Luciana turned to Imelda again. “That’s your novio still there, right?”

“... Sí.”

“Then focus on finding him. We’ll take on anyone who fights back and find Gustavo. The idiota still owes me money,” she added, and kicked the horse’s flanks. “Onward!”

The group galloped forward once again, ten more men added to its ranks. Imelda spurred the horse, and this time she found herself galloping by José’s side. He turned to look at her as they rode on.

“Hey, do we get an invite to your wedding? I’ll invite you to mine!” he yelled. Despite everything, Imelda found it in herself to laugh. It helped to think of it, that there would be a wedding, and guests to entertain. She would bring Héctor home, and they would have all that, and a lifetime to either celebrate or regret it, tales to tell their children.

She smiled. “You’ll all be guests of honor.”

***

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely do mean that.”

Héctor decided not to carry on the whispered argument, and they kept moving slowly through the grove, low behind shrubs, following the sound of groans. The hands holding the rifle were sweaty, which didn’t work miracles on his already shaky grip. He let go with one hand to wipe it against his jacket, and almost dropped the rifle altogether when he heard a scream.

“I’LL GIVE YOU DIVINE WILL!”

Gustavo recoiled as well, rifle raised as he tried, without much success, to look like he was all that good with firearms. Héctor may have even found it funny - maybe we’ll be the ones to shoot Ernesto in the ass after all - if not for the noises that followed moments later, nowhere as loud as the scream but bone-chilling all the same.

The unmistakable noise of someone being choked.

They’re hanging him. They’re doing it.

“They wouldn’t give me a quick death,” he had told him once, and he had been right. It was horrifying but maybe, if he made it on time, it was a blessing in disguise. He could stop it.

Héctor ignored Gustavo’s whisper to wait and just began running, holding tightly onto the rifle, following the increasingly weak sounds of a man whose consciousness was fading fast. His heart pounded, and he prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

Please don’t die. Hang in ther-- agh, I mean-- hold on. Don’t die. Please.

The choking noises had almost died down by the time he finally reached the clearing, Gustavo having fallen behind. Ernesto was there, hanging from the tree and convulsing in his death throes. Blood dripped from his bare chest, but that wasn’t the most horrifying thing; what would never leave Héctor’s nightmares was his purplish face, the way his mouth opened as he strained for air, the bloodshot eyes.

Dimly, Héctor was aware of the presence of the commander standing by and watching, of three other men groaning in pain on the ground, but none of it registered. All he knew was that Ernesto had seconds left to live if he didn’t act immediately, and so he did.

Héctor lifted the rifle, took aim for the branch Ernesto was hanging from, and pulled the trigger.

***

“Drop the weapons or drop dead!”

“Never!”

“Bad call.” Luciana’s reply was followed by a bang, and the man who’d tried to stand up and lift his rifle did, as a matter of fact, drop dead. As did several other men who tried to draw weapons, taken by surprise by their arrival as they tried to tend to their ill comrades.

Imelda hadn’t been so naive to imagine epic battles with fair play, of course. Often vastly outgunned, revolutionaries couldn’t afford the luxury of being chivalrous; even so, had those men not terrorized her village only hours earlier and taken Héctor - and tried to take her brother, and Miguel - she may have felt some measure of guilt for the attack, which struck them as they were mostly defenseless. Francisco had been right: it was chaos there.

But she was there for Héctor, and it made overlooking the death around them so very easy.

“There is no mercy in war,” Ernesto had said. “They die or you do. Until you forget you’re looking at humans.”

She didn’t quite understand, then. She did now, in the midst of a battle, ears full of screams and gunshots and galloping horses raising clouds of dust. If the idiot was still alive, she’d have to tell him as much - that he’d been right. Annoying, that.

More shots were fired as the men still able to stand and hold a rifle left their wounded and ill comrades on the ground and began to retreat towards a rocky formation, clearly aiming to hide behind it and keep shooting. Imelda slowed her horse before it stepped on the body of a groaning soldier, heard a bullet whizzing right past her head, and looked ahead to see a soldier lifting his rifle, aiming it at José as he rode to intercept some men before they could recover ammunition from a cart. Imelda didn’t stop to think: she lifted Ernesto’s pistol, her pistol now, and fired, the kickback violent enough to hurt her shoulder.

She had aimed for the head, truth be told, and the bullet hit the man’s calf, but it was enough to make him drop his rifle and fall to the ground, so she counted it as a success. She looked around, scanning every man in uniform she saw for a sign of Héctor, but he wasn’t anywhere within sight. Where had he gone? He had stayed to help Ernesto, so… where was Ernesto?

The commander, he was hellbent on seeing him dead. Took him away to hang him.

And to hang someone… well. You need a tree. Imelda turned; right by there was a smaller path, leading to a grove of trees. And just as she turned, a gunshot rang out in the distance.

A flock of frightened birds took flight against the setting sun, and she knew where to go.

***

BANG

As the kickback caused Héctor to stumble back, the noise ringing in his ears, his mind registered two things.

The first was that he’d entirely missed the branch he had aimed for; the second was that he must have hit the rope instead in a stroke of sheer blind luck which he would forever pass off as skill, because the rope was severed and Ernesto’s twitching body fell heavily to the ground.

The third was that he was in deep shit, because Commander Hernández immediately turned to see him and he was much, much better than him at using a gun - not that it took much. That, and he was even more unhinged than ever before.

“YOU!”

Mierda.

Héctor ducked behind a tree just on time before a shot rang out, taking out bits of bark inches away from his head. The horse let out a loud frightened neigh and galloped away, dragging the severed rope with it. That would have been an excellent moment to run, but Ernesto was still there, unconscious, and--

“I should have known you were harboring this traitor! Once I’m done with you both I’ll burn your village to the ground!”

Héctor clenched his jaw, and dared glance around the tree, ready to duck back. The commander was turning, rifle up, aiming it at Ernesto’s still form. Even now, knowing an armed man was on him, he was hellbent on killing Ernesto like it was a more important goal than his own survival.

Oh no you don’t.

Héctor lifted his rifle again, braced himself, and fired another shot. It missed Hernández entirely because of course it did, but it seemed enough to make him rethink the strategy of pointing his firearm at an unconscious man rather than on a much more pressing threat. He fired back, but Héctor was already hidden behind another tree and he heard him cursing before he also took cover.

Maybe Héctor wouldn’t be able to hit him, let alone incapacitate him, but at least he could keep him in a stand-off and away from Ernesto until help came. And by help he meant Gustavo. God, where was he? How far behind had he fallen while Héctor ran on… much longer legs? He couldn’t be that far. If only he could hold Hernández’s attention long eno--

BANG

Another shot rang out, much too close, sending bark flying off the tree right next to the one Héctor was crouched behind. All right, so Commander Hérnandez had a fairly good idea of where he was hidden. Time to move and make some more noise while he was at it, just to keep him busy.

Héctor drew in a deep breath and darted behind another tree, shooting blindly in the process. Two shots were fired back, and a bullet hit the ground just inches from where he’d been standing a second earlier, but he managed to get cover unscathed, heart beating wildly in his throat. He gripped the rifle tightly, drenched in sweat, and crawled behind some shrubbery.

He looked over at the clearing through the branches, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hernández, but he could only see three unconscious soldiers… and Ernesto, still motionless on the ground where he’d fallen.

No good, no good, he could shoot him any moment--

And he tried, sure enough. Something that had looked like a branch moved from behind a tree, and it was once again pointed at Ernesto. Héctor lifted his rifle, heart hammering in his chest, and shot again. The bullet hit the tree instead of the barrel of the rifle, but it was enough to make the man recoil and lower his weapon. With a cry, Héctor pulled the trigger again.

CLICK

Ah. Mierda.

As Héctor fumbled to grab the spare bullets, Commander Hernández made a horrible sound that may have, with some imagination, passed off as laughter.

“Oh, out of bullets, are we? Didn’t make sure it was fully loaded, did we?” he called out, his voice more unhinged with each word, and he stepped into view, rifle up and aimed at Ernesto. Well, that was it. No time to wait for Gustavo any longer.

With no other choice, Héctor did the only thing he could think of doing: he ran out of his hiding spot screaming like a man possessed, brandishing the rifle like a club, and brought it down with all his might.

“You bast--!” Santiago Hernández moved at the last second and the blow did not land on his arm as intended, but it did hit the barrel of his own rifle; when the shot rang out - how many times has he shot, how many has he left? - the bullet hit the dirt, several feet away from Ernesto’s head. Héctor let out a cry of victory, feeling elated for just one moment.

Then the butt of the rifle hit him in the face, and he fell back on the ground. Blood filled his mouth along with something small and hard - the golden tooth, dislodged by the blow - and Héctor’s vision swam. The commander stood above him. He’d shoot him, he knew, any second now he’d point the rifle at him and pull the trigger and--

BANG

“Agh!”

“This will teach you to run off like that, idiot! Should have let him shoot your stupid head off!”

Gustavo’s voice was rarely a welcomed sound to Héctor’s ears, but it sure was now - even sweeter than the cry of pain that left Hernández, and that of his rifle falling to the ground. As he grabbed that rifle and forced himself to stand again, pointing it at the soldier’s crumpled form, Héctor couldn’t help but think his voice had sounded almost angelic, really. Not that he planned on telling him as much.

As it turned out, he would never get the chance to either way.

***

Gunshots and cries were a clear indication that not all was well in the grove, but what really told Imelda she was heading in the right direction was seeing a terrified horse bursting out of it, dragging a severed rope behind it.

The commander, he was hellbent on seeing him dead. Took him away to hang him.

Maybe she wasn’t too late after all, but if the shots were anything to go by she didn’t have much time either. Imelda gripped the pistol more tightly and spurred the horse into going faster, down the path and into the grove, trampling bushes and pressing forward amidst trees, heart beating somewhere in her throat.

It was not the most discreet way for her to go into whatever awaited, and it made her a much easier and obvious target - she was well aware of that - but there was no time to waste. Too much was at stake; Héctor’s life, their future. She couldn’t afford to be too late.

More shots rang out and then another sound came, carried by the wind - the most unhinged laughter Imelda had ever heard in her life. It made the hair on her arms stand, but what truly made her blood run cold was the cry that followed. Héctor’s cry.

As another gunshot tore through the air, Imelda spurred her horse into a full gallop, heading straight ahead and ready to trample everything on her path.

Whatever it takes, was all she could think, and the grip on Ernesto’s pistol tightened.

“You know, I could kiss you.”

“Do me a favor and never say that again. I would like to keep my lunch down.” Gustavo snorted, rifle still pointed at the groaning man on the ground. He was curled forward, blood seeping through his sleeve. “Don’t move if you want to live,” Gustavo added, and tilted his head to his left. “Go check if the fake priest over there is still breathing. You and him both have a lot of explaining to do, you know.”

Héctor didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed to Ernesto’s side, put down the rifle, and went to shake his shoulder.

“Ernesto-- amigo, you hear me? It’s all right, it’s over, come on…” He turned him on his back, horrified by the mess of blood on his chest but relieved to see it rise and fall in shallow, wheezing breaths; the noose had loosened, but not quite enough. Héctor loosened it the rest of the way, and pulled it over his head before resting it back on the ground. God, it had been a close call, but now… now he got him. He would be all right. “There-- better, no? Breathe, come on. Just keep breathing. We’ll get you help. Just hang-- I mean, hold on--”

“Mier--”

BANG

Héctor turned, heart leaping in his throat, just on time to see Gustavo being falling back, the rifle falling from his hands. He opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound left him; he watched, petrified, as commander Hernandéz stood - his wounded arm hanging limply at his side, and holding a pistol in his other hand.

The pistol, oh God, how did we forget he had one--

The second he turned the pistol on them Héctor knew that trying to grab the rifle would doom both him and Ernesto. Instead he lifted his arms, shielding Ernesto with his body. “Please,” he managed. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Ah, but I do.” The man bared his teeth in a smile that looked so much more like a snarl. “That man is a murderer, and I promised Alberto he would be avenged. Get out of the way, and I may even let you take your other friend to safety.”

Behind him, Gustavo groaned. He tried to lift himself on his elbows, but immediately fell back in the dirt. “Liar,” he gasped out, voice full of venom. Hernández barely glanced over at him, then looked back at Héctor, who hadn’t moved. He didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, frozen on the spot between predator and prey. Deaf to everything but Ernesto’s laboured breathing and his own thundering heart, he failed to hear something else - a quickly approaching horse.

Hernández didn’t look up, either. “A poor choice,” he scoffed, and Héctor closed his eyes.

I’m so sorry, Imelda. Miguel--!

For the final time that day a gunshot tore through the air, echoing into Héctor’s head. He kept his eyes shut and waited to feel the pain, wondering how bad it would be, how hot it would burn and for how long. And he waited. And waited.

And still there was nothing.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet the gaze of Commander Santiago Hernández. He staggered back and stared at him, eyes widened as if wondering how come they had both come to be there. He let the pistol drop, all strength gone from his hand, and looked down.

Across his chest blood was seeping through the uniform, spreading fast. He opened his mouth, tried to speak - but a gurgle was all he managed before his eyes rolled back and he fell heavily, dead before his body even hit the ground.

“... I had aimed for the groin.”

Héctor turned slowly. Behind him - above him, atop a horse - was Imelda. Her head uncovered, her robes gone, a pistol in hand. A vision from Heaven, and for a moment he wondered if he was dead after all. He smiled breathlessly. That sure was a lovely way to be welcomed in the afterlife. “Te amo,” he told her.

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled back. “I sure hope you do. I hear that helps in a marriage.”

“So-- will you marry me?”

“Of course I will.”

A short distance away Gustavo managed to make a noise that sounded a lot like ‘bleagh’, and it was enough to snap Héctor’s mind back to reality. He lifted his head, alarmed. “Gustavo! Imelda, he needs--”

“I’ll check on him. You make sure the other idiot doesn’t die.” Imelda climbed off the horse, practical as always now that the moment had passed. She ran past the commander’s corpse straight at Gustavo, and Héctor focused on Ernesto again. He still breathed, and that… that was good, surely. It had to be good, he told himself, brushing some hair off his forehead.

Imelda, however, did not have good news. Héctor could tell as much the moment she called out for him, her voice somber. He turned to see she was cupping the back of Gustavo’s head; he was ashen pale, eyes rolling back, blood all over the front of his uniform.

And despite everything, he still spoke. “If you let-- Chicharrón bury me, I swear to God-- he’ll do a shit job just to spite me.”

Imelda looked down at him, something akin to a small smile on her lips. “You need not worry. Chicharrón hasn’t actually dug a grave in years.”

“Heh. I-- knew it. The cabrón-- should have got him-- fired,” Gustavo gasped, and dropped his head against her hand again with a groan. Imelda turned to Héctor.

“The final rites,” she said. “He needs it now.”

Oh. A weight in his stomach, Héctor left Ernesto to rest and stood. It felt surreal, like it couldn’t possibly be happening and he was watching an event from someone else’s life through a foggy glass. “I… I don’t think I can. I am not priest, I--”

“You are the closest that there is to one right now. It will have to do.”

She was right: as soon as Héctor approached he could tell that the wound to Gustavo’s stomach was devastating, and he was fading fast. Too fast. He wouldn’t live long enough to see a real priest. They had never been friends, quite the contrary, but something clenched painfully in Héctor’s chest as he approached. He’d never wanted such a thing to happen.

He knelt by the dying man, trying to ignore a bizarre urge to apologize if the attempt at befriending him as kids had hit a nerve, if he had done or said something wrong, if he had never tried to extend the olive branch again. All along, he’d been their link to the revolutionaries, and now he’d saved his life too. He deserved better than dying in the dirt.

“There is no mercy in war,” Ernesto had said. “They die or you do.”

But he could extend mercy now, at least; without even anointing oil, it was all he had to give. So he rested a hand on Gustavo’s forehead, and began murmuring the prayers required. With a rattling breath, Gustavo opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“Now you’re… really trying… to piss me off, Chorizo,” he managed, and it took the last of his strength. His head fell back again, his gaze grew dull, and his chest rose in yet another breath before stilling, just as Héctor whispered the last amen.

It was over. Héctor let out a long breath, feeling entirely emptied out. Imelda laid a hand on his shoulder, a warm and welcome weight. He reached up to cover it with his own.

“... Maybe we’ll tell others he had something slightly better to say as his last words,” he said.

She squeezed his shoulder, closing Gustavo’s eyes with her other hand. “Yes. Let’s do that,” she agreed. They knelt a few more moments before standing, and tending to the living.

Away from the grove, the battle was over.

***

“What in God’s name is this mess!”

Well, that was not an encouraging thing to hear, but then again doctor Sanchéz wasn’t new to outbursts, and it wasn’t every day he had two severely wounded men carried at his doorstep. The gringo had been at death’s door - still was, lying unconscious only a few feet away - and Ernesto was in no better shape.

Sofía’s eyes wandered over the congealed blood, the deep cuts on his chest, the dark bruise around his neck, the ashen color of his skin, his utter stillness as he remained unconscious. She remained outwardly calm, but something within her trembled.

Idiota. What have you done?

Of course, at that point she knew the answer; word travelled fast as soon as the first few men returned galloping into the village. Between that and the fact Chicharrón had confirmed their stock of rat poison had disappeared along with the wine, Sofía knew exactly what he had done. She may have admired the sheer guts of it, and the fact it had helped win the battle, if not for the detail it had turned out so horribly wrong for him.

That, and even if he pulled through the game was up and the village knew, or at least guessed, he was no priest at all. Coming up for a convincing explanation was going to be a bitch and a half, but she’d think about it later. One problem at a time.

“... Well, doctor, surely there must be something you can do,” she said, and Sanchéz groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“I’ll clean the wounds, stitch the worst and wrap them up,” he muttered. “But he lost a lot of blood and Hell knows for how long he was left hanging by the neck. There is nothing I can do about that. Either he wakes up or he doesn’t. If you ask me, he doesn't have many more chances than the gringo does.”

“We’ll be praying for them. We already lost a member of our parish today,” Sofía said quietly.

Sanchéz would have normally snorted at such a comment, but this time he sighed. He looked tired, too, and gestured for his assistant to bring over the alcohol and a small basin of warm water. “... I’ll do what I can. You may want to come up with some sort of story to tell, if not the village, at least outsiders. In case anyone comes asking. And we’re going to need at least one real priest alive, for Gustavo’s funeral.”

“Our… friends know one who will come over from San Luz to do it. No questions asked.”

“... That’s good. You may go, sister. We’ll try our best here.”

Sofía nodded and, with one last glance at Ernesto - try to pull through, you idiot, you and the stupid gringo both because God knows you deserve each other - she took her leave, stepping out of Sanchéz’s home and into the street. The bell was once again ringing to a death knell, announcing the death of their parish's sexton.

Just as she stepped past the threshold, with doctor Sanchéz’s attention entirely on Ernesto, Father John Johnsons shifted imperceptibly and almost, almost opened his eyes.

***

“Padre Raúl will be here within a couple of days for the funeral - three at most, I swear. Us too, it’s the least we could do.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to stay for a few nights?”

Grabbing the reins of his horse, José smiled. “Tempting, but we have all those Federales to keep an eye on. They’re still writhing about, but they’ll live. Whatever was in that wine couldn’t be nearly enough to kill so many men.”

Héctor swallowed before speaking, thinking back of Alejandro, of other men who so clearly were not in the army by their own free will. “... What will you do with them?”

“They’ll get a chance to join us. A lot of them do - Gabriel was one.” José shrugged, and grabbed the reins of his horse. They were standing in the churchyard, Imelda holding tightly on Héctor’s hand. “If not, well. We have someplace where they can be locked up for a time. Between us, I got word from the north and I think Huerta’s days are numbered. Once he falls, the Federal Army itself is sure to follo--”

“HÉCTOR! IMELDA!”

A loud, wonderfully familiar voice cut José off, and Héctor turned just on time to catch Miguel in his arms. He was a shrimp of a kid, but he almost knocked him over. “Hola, chamaco. How--”

“Why did you do it!” Miguel cried out, face pressed against his stomach. His shoulders shook, and he began sobbing. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…!”

“Miguel…” Héctor began, not quite knowing what to say next. In the end he needed say nothing at all: Imelda crouched down to hold onto Miguel as well and he clung back, a hand grasping her blouse.

They kept holding onto one another for a very, very long time.

***

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#pixar coco #hector rivera #imelda rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco #fake priest au

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fork-tectors · 3 years

Text

trusted ║ arlo

; among us au trusted ; crewmate! arlo x crewmate! reader

[ edited ] [ word count ║ 1271 words ] [ part one ║ part two ]

John/Black was an imposter. One (1) impostor remains.

The recently ejected person's best friend blandly stared at the screen. Once she had processed the words, her face contorted into an expression of anger and betrayal.

Her shaking hand curled into a tight fist. She spent most of her time on the ship with the dark-haired male. They had been here for almost four days, and they had bonded; she felt deceived. Was he only using her as an alibi?

Sure he hasn't killed her, but, he would've done it afterwards since it would only be a matter of time. There are no friendships in this game.

She wanted to use her ability to turn back time and ask him. But, she shook her head with a weak laugh. "It isn't worth it," she whispered to herself.

After Elaine did her best to console the upset short-haired girl, we all went our way. The mentioned two leaving with the company of each other. I felt horrible for her. It isn't every day that your new best friend turns out to be a murderer.

I made my way to go to Admin with the guy in the yellow spacesuit, which I afterwards learned his name was Arlo, walking side-by-side. He wasn't very talkative was honestly quite distant and cold to everyone, but, I didn't want to wander alone, and that we both had a few tasks in Admin left for the day. We thought it would be convenient that we head there together. I will bet my life that he was safe; I watched him do the scanning task, and he hasn't done anything to be called "sus".

I'm sure he was still sceptical of me since I had no assigned tasks to prove my innocence. Not that I need it to show that I am just a mere defenceless crewmate.

We arrived at Admin quickly; it was near the cafeteria anyway. I jumped to do my work, and so did he.

I kneeled onto the ground; the blonde-haired guy was still seen in my peripheral view. I pulled out my ID card. Taking some info from talking to the other crewmates, they complained about how hard the card swipe was. I didn't think it would be that difficult. I mean, how hard can it be?

I unscrewed my helmet to make myself adjust to my comfort level, placing the headwear near me on the table. I started my job, readying the item needed.

Swipe! Too fast.

Swipe! Bad read.

Swipe! Too slow.

Taking a quick break after two failed ones, I sighed and continued with a whine.

Five attempts and the constant reminder of doing something wrong later, I was tired and annoyed with it. I slammed my fists on the hard metal surface which startled the boy who was performing his final task of the day.

"What's wrong?" He asked as looked over at my work station to see me sitting on the ground, slumped over.

"... I hate card swipe," I murmured.

I heard the subtle sound of zapping before hearing metal come into loud contact with metal.

"Get up."

I felt the sudden grip on my right shoulder, "Hey, stand up."

I looked up at him to see his sparkling blue eyes, taking notice that he had taken off his helmet too. His eyes are so pretty, I awwed. It was kinda stuffy in the suit, so I guess it was expected.

I followed his command and grabbed my wrist with my fingers wrapped around the card, "here." He guided my hand to help me with my work.

He coiled his hand around mine as I positioned the laminated piece of paper to do my thing. With one steady motion, the mission that took more than ten tries was completed.

"There. It wasn't that hard, right?" I gave him a sarcastic look, though he just ignored it.

"That was your last task?" I hummed in agreement.

We were caught off guard when the loud alarm rang through our ears, someone must've pushed the emergency meeting button. Without warning, I clutched his arm and set off to retreat back to the cafe, not wanting to be late. Arlo just quietly obeyed and sprinted with me.

I notice a person dressed in an orange spacesuit standing near the table, the red button left uncovered. He must be the one we called a meeting, I thought.

Soon the crewmates slowly arrived with their buddies and some alone. My eyes circled the room to see if everyone was present. Pink. Cyan. Red. Dark Blue. Green... Wait a sec, where's green?

Speaking of the devil, she appears to be the last to arrive. No, I'm not gonna call her suspicious just cause she the last to enter the room. That's a dick move.

"Who called the meeting?" Dark Blue, or Holden, spoke up.

Orange, or Isen, help up their covered hand, "I did."

"So, why?"

The orange-haired boy sighs, "It's Green."

Hearing their colour be brought up, Cecile glares at him in surprise. She seemed taken it back by his abrupt accusation, "excuse me...!?"

"Tell me, what's your alibi then?" Orange was acting more persuasive than usual.

The pink-eyed female growled at him, narrowing her eyes. A vibrant glint of pink visible from her irises, as if to indicate that she was powering up her ability. "I was at Med bay, doing my task like a responsible cremate should, unlike someone who's going around accusing people. What's your proof?" She looked somewhat agitated.

Isen imitated the girl's action, his glare was prominent, and an orange hue was projecting from his eyes. Both leant near, looking like they had the intent to harm the other. If they didn't have the madness in their eye, I would've thought they were gonna kiss.

Before the situation could escalate itself, a girl who was dressed in pink intruded and pushed them off of each other. "Getting angry and fighting won't resolve any of this!" She yelled.

At first, I thought Isen was just nervous. I kept noticing how fidgety he was every time I encountered him, that was just a mere observation. That didn't really come across as unusual since everyone else was acting the same. Honestly, I was beginning to become sceptical of him despite that I've no proof of him doing anything strange.

There's another impostor still on board? I thought. Could it be Orange...?

As if he was speaking my mind, Arlo stabs an allegation at Isen. "Isen, why are you so eager to vote someone without any evidence? That's extremely shady. If I were to be the judge, I'd think you're an imposter or either siding with them."

"Hey, man! He's not an imposter, he's been with Remi and I a lot of these days!" The redhead jumps to protect his friend.

"So did John," Sera said.

It didn't feel right to give more statements about what's happening since people were already arguing. Maybe being stuck in this ship with anyone being an alleged murderer was taking a toll on everyone's mentality. I yawned, I feel tired.

"None of what you people are saying mean anything! None of us knows each other personally. Don't be fucking stupid! We're all just strangers! We can buddy up with someone, but we can't be sure that they're fully safe to be with!" She inhales, pausing, "Look at John, you think someone could've known that he was gonna be the imposter?!" Cecile stayed silent once she finished with her rant. We did similarly.

"Let's just vote to skip for now."

And that's what we did.

This will only go two ways. Either with Arlo or with Isen. Btw, they’re all strangers here, if you haven’t caught on. They don’t know each other outside of this. This might get a part two if I become motivated enough to finish it:>

ngl the card swipe task ain’t that hard though

#unordinary #unordinary oneshot #unordinary arlo #Arlo #arlo x reader #unordinary arlo x reader #unordinary x reader #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #ngl I really like among us

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dandelionflower · 4 years

Text

@mcheang I want a Felix episode AU, where Felix is taken with Marinette but doesn’t really try to go out of his way to see her. And then he meets her cousin

[Send me Felinette prompts!]

......

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, famous child designer.

Her mother was a famed model and her father a gentle baker. It was no surprise that with that encouraging environment surrounded by beautiful clothes that Marinette’s fashion sense bloomed. Her brand, Cheng, skyrocketed when she was barely ten years old.

When Marinette turned thirteen, her father, Tom Dupain, disappeared. Her mother became a recluse and Marinette took it upon herself to heal her broken family.

Her mother was taken to therapy and soon rejoined the modeling world, becoming the sole model for Marinette’s new line, Dupain.

Marinette was a legend, she was graceful, responsible and humble even in the face of success.

And she had been sitting in front of Felix in class for most of the school year.

Felix had to admit, he had had a little crush on Marinette ever since she offered him her umbrella after her first day of school, and the first day Felix became Crimson Spot.

He kept his distance, but there were still times where he found himself abandoning logic to hang out with her, but not to the extent that he could be.

But Marinette’s job as a famous designer did take a toll on her, as she put so much pressure on herself to learn languages, play piano and guitar and be a generally well-rounded human being. It caused her to have to skip some friendly outings.

Today was one of those days.

The whole class had met up to discuss ways to lighten Marinette’s mood on the anniversary of the day her father disappeared.

“What if we sent her videos?” Felix suggested. “Telling her how happy we are to be friends with her.”

“Great idea dude!” Nino elbowed him. “Why don’t you go first?”

A shock of fear ran through him as he snatched the tablet from Nino’s hand. “Why don’t I just record them for now?”

Nino gave him a look, but allowed it and moved on.

—

Gina Dupain stared down at her granddaughter, sitting next to her daughter-in-law, both of them looking at the statue of her son, singing the little kitten song he had taught them before they left.

She had so desperately wanted to tell them, console themselves with the information that he would return, just as soon as she got the miraculous from those pesky heroes.

She was the ‘villain’ Lady Violet and her darling son was resting under her families home, comatose, because of the peacock miraculous.

She wanted to tell them, to ask them to help her, but she just couldn’t.

Gina walked down the stairs and sat next to them, wrapping her arms around the only family she had left.

The doorbell rang and and they all jolted from their song and they walked to the door just as it opened, revealing a large shadow.

“Papa?” Marinette whispered, stepping forwards.

The figure walked forwards just a little more, revealing him to be Sabine’s brother, Wang.

He stepped aside to reveal a petite girl with deep blue hair tied in a high ponytail.

“Bridgette!” Marinette smiled and launched herself at her cousin. “It’s been so long.”

“It certainly has.” Sabine grabbed her brother by the arm and began chatting with him in Mandarin, a language the whole family was fluent in, thanks to Marinette. “Remember when those two would dress up like each other and you ended up taking Marinette home?”

He chuckled. “I was so easily fooled.”

After Bridgette had successfully detangled herself from her cousin, she glanced at Gina, more specifically, the necklace Gina was wearing.

Gina caught her glance and casually tucked the necklace into her shirt.

“So, sister, I don’t mean to pry, but would you consider giving me the family rings?”

“Of course, Tom’s is somewhere upstairs. Marinette, take Bridgette upstairs and help her get settled.” The four of them went upstairs and Gina was left alone, staring at the ring on her necklace.

That girl better be worth an akuma.

—

Bridgette scrolled on her phone absentmindedly, as Marinette chattered on about who knows what.

“I’m just so glad you’re here!”

“Yeah... so am I. Anyway, can I take a shower? I feel like I’ve been on that plane forever.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bridgette stood up and began walking to the room she gestured to, before she got an idea. She turned slightly, wrapping her arms around Marinette and slipping her phone from her pocket into Bridgette’s.

“Thanks for being here for me, Mari.”

She heard a soft hum and Marinette hugged her back.

“Anytime.”

Once the shower was turned on, Bridgette slid to the floor and started going through Marinette’s phone.

“A superhero crush? Seriously?”

Just as she was about to go onto social media, the phone buzzed with a video message.

“Hey, girl.” A girl in a plaid shirt waved at the camera. “I know you’re probably having a bad time right now, but-“

“Boring.” She deleted it.

“Markov and I have done the research an jokes are statistically proven to improve your mood by ninety-seven percent. So, knock knock?”

“Lame.” She snorted.

“You’re so sweet and kind and considerate and-“

“Wow. Original.”

“Marinette. I know you’re likely going through something right now, and I want to let you know that I’m here for you, because... I adore you. I have for quite some time, ever since you gave me your umbrella that day at school.”

“Pathetic.”

After the last video had been deleted, she leaned her head back against the wall.

So the little princess has some good friends... not for long.

“Hey Bridgette?” Marinette spike through the door. “I’ve got some stuff in the oven downstairs, mind if I leave you here to go get it?”

“No problem, but do you have any extra clothes I could borrow?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got some in my closet. Take whatever you want.”

She heard the door close and turned off the shower.

First, a little more snooping.

She checked the drawers, computer, and a really smelly cabinet.

“Yuck.” She threw the awful thing on the bed and pushed a pillow on it.

Finally, she opened a drawer and found the biggest stash of hair ties in the world.

Good, now she could put her hair in those insufferable pigtails.

She opened the closet and chose a navy jacket and neatly cuffed jean shorts, along with a white t-shirt.

She pulled out the phone and pressed record, a smile on her face.

—

“I hope you’re happy, Tikki. Because I am never doing anything again.”

She giggled, floating over his head. “Don’t be so dramatic! I’m sure Marinette will appreciate the confession.”

“During the time she is most vulnerable, another thing to think about is the last thing she needs.”

“Well...” His phone buzzed before she could answer.

“Marinette answered.” He remarked, walking up to the rest of his friends.

“...It only served to make me feel worse! I hate all of you!”

“I can’t look at this.” Alya passed the tablet to Nino.

“How could she say that about us?” Rose whimpered. “I thought we were her friends.”

“Marinette said all of that? Impossible.”

“She did.” Juleka shook her head.

The girl who made sure she was at every rehearsal, every practice, everything she was asked to go to?

“Nino, I really think-“ he was cut off when a cloud of violet attacked his three classmates, transforming them into their former akumatized selves.

“He’s not ‘Nino’ anymore.” Reflecta spoke, transforming Alya into a carbon copy of her.

“I’m Bubbler now.” He swung the tablet-shaped wand in the air, deadly bubbles pouring out.

“One of the three Punishers!” Princess Fragrance remarked with glee, a familiar toxic cloud pouring from her gun.

Felix gulped in a breath of air, barely muttering “Spots on” as he dove into the water.

It can’t be an akuma, maybe a sentimonster?

He threw his yo-yo out, swinging after the three punishers, hoping to save the true Marinette and get some answers.

—

“I made cookies!” Marinette sang, opening her door with the tray. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember what your favorite is, so I went with an old classic; chocolate chip!”

She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Bridgette rocket off of her office chair, hair in pigtails.

“Whatcha doing, Bridge?”

“Well...”

“Marinette!” Her mother barged in. “Akumas, get the both of you to the bunker!”

“Too late.” Reflekta walked in, accompanied by Bubbler and Princess Fragrance.

“Dude, which one’s the real Mari?” Bubbler whispered.

Marinette glanced at Bridgette. She needed to transform before anyone got hurt.

“It is I! The cruel Marinette!” She cackled, relishing in the concerned and confused look on Bridgette’s face. “You’ll never take me alive!” She dashed out of the door.

Once she had made it into a secure hallway, Plagg flew out of her pocket.

“So, I know you’re against using cataclysm on a person but...”

“No, Plagg.”

“She smushed my cheese!”

“I’ll get you more cheese, now come on, claws out.”

She felt the familiar magic leather clothe her and jumped out a window, eyes landing on the familiar red bug in the distance.

—

Felix swung into the room, grabbing Marinette and swinging her out and onto the roof of the nearest hotel.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Her eyes were wide and innocent; Felix felt his composure slipping.

“Well, if you don’t have any information, just stay here and hide; I’ll deal with the akuma.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait! Crimson Spot!” She grabbed his arm and Felix swallowed.

“Yes?”

She started walking and Felix stepped backwards in an attempt to preserve personal space.

“How ‘bout a little extra courage?” His back bumped against the wall and he stood, frozen, as he watched the girl he had adored from afar lean closer.

“That won’t be necessary.” He tried to gently push her away, but she persisted, her lips mere millimeters from his.

Something within him burned red and snapped. He crouched low and swept his right foot in a circle, knocking her to the ground.

“You’re either an imposter or a sentimonster, because Marinette certainly understands that no means no.”

“That’s Bridgette,” Catastropheline landed gently on her toes, not making eye contact with Crimson. “Marinette’s cousin. I ran into her and she told about the... situation.”

She glanced at Bridgette, who was backing away ever so slightly.

“It must be difficult keeping what few friends you have with you acting like that, huh?”

“If she’s not a sentimonster, then we need to stop wasting time and find the akuma.” He threw his yo-yo into the air and a small can of whipped cream fell into his hand.

“As always, Tikki.” He groaned.

“Cataclysm.” Darkness collected over Catastropheline’s palm just as three thumps sounded around them.

“I wouldn’t if I was you, kitty.” Refleckta had her brooch aimed at the dark clothed hero’s heart.

“I usually prefer my servants to wear pink,“Princess Fragrance twirled her gun around, “but I suppose red would do.”

“And if that’s not enough, I’ll send you both on a one way flight to the sun if you so much as move.”

“Crimson.” His partner spoke from beside him. “Do you have a plan?”

Before he could deliver the depressing answer, a shout turned them both to Bubbler, who was clutching his hand with Bridgette in front of them, holding the tablet.

“Good! Bridgette, break the wand now! Then this torture can be over.”

“Oh, I don’t want it to be over. I’m just switching the roles.” She smirked before she held up the rectangular wand. “Lady Violet! Are you listening? I can help you; all I need in return is a certain piece of jewelry.”

“Get the miraculous first, and I’ll consider it.” Bubbler growled, holding out his hand for the wand.

She grinned wider. “With pleasure.”

She tossed the wand to Bubbler and started running towards the superhero pair.

“Feline, batter up.” Was all he said as he launched his can into the air.

Even without the use of her ring-bearing hand, she swung her baton effortlessly, slamming it into the can.

It fell just ahead of Bridgette’s feet, and she stepped on it haphazardly, tripping and sending it into Bubbler’s face.

The wand flew through the air and started its decent to the pavement.

“Crimson! Go!”

“What about-“ He glanced at the imposter who had stood up and was moving towards him, only to see a metal baton slam into her abdomen.

He took in the two Punishers struggling in the pool and dashed to the side of the building, jumping off.

He landed directly on top of the bubble wand and heard the reassuring snap of broken plastic.

He purified the akuma swiftly and launched the battered can of whipped cream that had landed beside the wand, into the air with a shout of “Miraculous Ladybug.”

He swung back up as the cure swept the streets and landed beside Catastrophiline, who was helping Rose out the door.

“Pound it?”

She grinned and attempted to step over to him but ended up tripping over her own baton and, in a series of impressive acrobatics, landing on her face in front of Crimson Spot.

He chuckled and held out his hand. “I’d just begun to think you’d grown out of that.”

“Well, old habits hie dard, I mean, die hard.” She sprung to her feet with a sheepish grin, twirling the leather straps holding her pigtails in place.

They pressed their fists together and left, a screaming Bridgette still on the roof.

—

“... I just want you to know, Mari, that I am so sorry. I just... I was jealous that my father named his famed Celestial soup after you, and not me.” Bridgette, back in her own clothes looked down.

“What are you talking about?” Wang looked down at his daughter. “I’ve named so many of my dishes after you. My Angelic stew, to name one.”

“What?” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I thought...”

“If every dish I wanted to name after you was called ‘Bridgette,’ people would get confused.” He explained, pulling her into his arms. “If only I had noticed, I could have explained.”

“It’s okay, Papa. I overreacted.” She spared another glance at her father, then turned to her extended family.

“I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, after all the strife I caused.”

Marinette was the first to hug her, whispering a soft apology.

Sabine joined next, until it was just Gina standing beside the group hug with a hand on Bridgette’s shoulder.

She felt a slight tug and was pulled deep into the hug. The tension seemed to melt from her body and Gina allowed herself to feel content.

Bridgette was the first to pull out of the embrace.

“Thank you all, for forgiving me so quickly.”

“Of course.” Marinette grinned.

“You’re welcome back anytime.” Sabine added. “And, brother, I’ll call you if I ever find Tom’s ring.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

The two entered a black vehicle and drove off, Bridgette still waving through the window.

—

“Hey guys! I’m really sorry, but I wasn’t able to see your videos. It really warms my heart that you were thinking of me today, though. I want you to know that I love you. All of you.”

Marinette’s beaming face filled the screen as Felix watched the video again and again.

“She’s so considerate.” He sighed.

“Yeah, considering all that just happened with her cousin.” Tikki remarked. “It’s too bad she didn’t see your confession, though.”

“It’s probably all for the best. However, that Bridgette girl may prove to be an issue.”

“Yeah, working with Hawkmoth and his akumas all on her own, it’s kind of scary. I wonder what could be worth that?”

—

“It’s truly a pity that Sabine couldn’t find the second ring.” Wang sat down next to Bridgette, allowing her a window seat on the train.

“You mean this one?” Bridgette pulled a chain from her pocket and displayed the ring adorning it.

“Yes, Bridgette, that’s it!” He stared at the ring, transfixed for a moment, before hugging his daughter. “My little magician, always saving the day at the last minute.”

Bridgette smiled and, as her father turned to slip the ring in with its partner, turned to the window, her innocent features twisting into a cruel smirk.

It really was a shame their trip was cut so short. She could have had a lot of fun in Paris.

#felinette #ml felix #felix agreste #mlb #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #miraculous ladybug #bridgette cheng #ml bridgette #inverse au #wang cheng #gina dupain #felix rewrite #request

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kneelbeforeclefairy · 4 years

Text

Me vs my father in the enjolras is javert's son Les Mis AU that is my life

So. Me. 28. THIS close to her master's degree. Liberal. Socialist. Mixed kid. New Yorker. Just got home from living on her own in Greece. Been living away from parents for seven years. Queer. ADHD . Rsd. Imposter syndrome. Bad at rejection. Torn between two parents who are STILL fighting for me.

Living with Father because who picked the year of the coronavirus to give up her life .62. Barely completed high school. Said Regan was the best president he lived through. Trump voter. New Yorican who doesn't understand the world doesn't see him as white. Conservative who moved south and got worse. Blue lives matter dude. Not Batman.

Will not STOP. Provoking me.

It started with him mentioning you can't get aunt Jemima syrup any more because....you know . Me saying yes you can. The brand firs of all hasn't rebranded itself yet. It currently is still aunt Jemima and the packaging hasn't changed, still widely available. It's just going to rename itself. Get told no it's not "you can't do that any more." interrupted. Get to squeak out the bit about its gonna be the same recipe just called something else. Auntie J maybe. I think that's a good syrup name. He laughs and says it's gonna be BLM syrup.

(and you know what I find that trivializing but if that's what they wanted to name it who cares.)

(more context. His grandfather was black. He told me about being told as a kid by his father that little brown boys just say yes sir to the police. He got The Talk)

And then it goes to Porgy and Bess. Porgy and Bess is on so we watch it. All of us enjoy it thoroughly. He says "isn't this racist? What's the difference between this and aunt Jemima?"

Me.....

I have to get this information put as fast as possible . He's not really listening. He doesn't care. He's not asking . He doesn't find them both genuinely racist. He just....seems to want to catch me out. I try to explain. Porgy and Bess DOES Have some problems. But it was written in 1935 and was one of those Fair For It's Day things. Launched the careers of a lot of black classical singers. Still does. Some charecters might be a little sterotypical (Sportin Life did not age well) but in the hands of a good production and a good actor depth can be found. Rewrites have been made.

But I don't get to SAY any of these things. I try. I, well spoken, bordering on eloquent, stumble through a few poorly thought out points about interpretation and employment and he didn't see the difference between a classical singers playing Bess at the met and being well payed singing beautiful music and even if the roll is somewhat sterotypical and a product of it's times, through a good actress can become a wonderful three dimensional role, or at least no less than any other opera heroine and a poor black woman playing a completely one dimensional mammy sterotypes to sell syrup to enrich white people while playing off their own created nostalgia for oppression of the black race cause I WASNT PREPARED FOR FUCKING WAR OVER PORGY AND BESS. He just asked the questions. I'm on the defense. I've never even SEEN it before. I'm not ready to defend it. I didn't know I was going to have to. Hell, I'm not sure if it IS racist or problematic yet, we're 15 minutes it. He seems to know why I'm watching it at all if I'm so sensitive that a syrup name must trigger me.

He's not concerned it IS racist. Just seems to want to catch me in inconsistancies. Why do you watch this but you want the syrup renamed

(I didn't bring up the syrup. We were talking about the difference between brands in the north and south. He just brought up the fucking syrup and said it wasn't there any more. By the way. It is. I saw it in the fucking Kroger. And I literally do not care about the name of syrup. it's largely symbolic sure but if they want to rename themselves because yeah totally cringe history that's their business. Fine. It literally does not affect me. The recipe is there I'm just gonna call it aunt j or whatever)

And then this morning when I showed him a picture of the Alexander the Great statue o took on Thessaloniki

(masters degree in macedonian history/archeology, me)

He says

He SAYS

"I'm surprised they haven't taken that down."

In this stupid sing song way.

(like obviously this statue thing is an American thing with some England thrown in. I don't know much about Greek politics but I'm PRETTY FUCKING SURE they weren't invovled in the American transatlantic slave trade or the age of exploration my dude)

But he says "it's imperialism isn't it?'

Me "well yes but..."

"he conquered the world didn't he? Did he or did he not conquer the world. You think he did that by being nice to people?"

"well you'd be surprised how much alliance building and diplomacy was used but yes but--"

"so how's it different? Did he conquer the world? Did he own slaves?"

"actually probably not as macedonia wasn't really a slave society and the Persians DEFINITELY didn't have slaves"

"well I just think it's the same"

(frustrated. Can't show emotion or he wins. Already cracked a few days ago when he was talking about a cop iniured by "the mob" and COULDN'T because how many of my people were injured by them? And had to tell him to stop. Told he wouldn't talk politics. Does the above count)

Me. Lightly. "You're unable to grasp nuance. And you're just trying to provoke me"

Something happens. Subject changed. Did I win? Did I lose? We're always battling.

Thing is.

Yes.

There is an INCREDIBLY subtle and nuanced discussion to be had about imperialism in general and its effects and how even ancient imperialism effects us to this day. And how we view warfare and conquest in general and the stories we tell. I would argue Alexander was great because of his kindness, the cultural exchange he sparked, his clever tactics , his mastery of grand strategy, his diplomacy, his ability to use image, and only last his undefeatedness in battle. But I wasnt the one who called him Great, to whoever that was it was about the war. There is A LOT about Alexander and his affect on Persia,which, while we shouldn't layer modern politics over it (especially race based one. Yes Alexander was Caucasian but WHITENESS didn't exist then and Persia was the sophisticated empire , Greece was tiny and insignificant. It's just that Greece wrote the story and got to paint them as barbaians but it has nothing to do with race and they REALLY REALLY WEREN'T and even the Greeks knew that) did destroy an empire and affects the region to this day. Persian perceptions of Alexander are obviously not as kind, and equally important.

So yes there is a discussion to be had about that. And why we venerate a man who did kill thousands and why, I would argue, he still is a very good person who, despite his faults, does deserve that statue.

But we weren't having that

We were playing gotcha.

Cause even if he Couldn't grasp the difference between Alexander the Great, who yeah, totally did sell thebans into slavery in a system that attributed slavery to bad luck and if he had lost would have expected the same treatment to anyone who was not killed,and Confederate generals who thought and entire race was inferior due to their birth, fought for their continued enslavement, committed treason to the country he loves SO much, and LOST, and were memorialized in stupid statues by a bunch of sore loser white supremacists in an attempt to rewrite history to turn what could have been and should have been an Embarrassing chapter in a regions history that should have been healed from into the DEFINING THING about that area despite lasting onl five years and still the symbol of pain and murder to a large percentage of our population within VERY CLOSE TO LIVING MEMORY that has affects that are still here in a very real way because *gestures vaguely at everything* and have caused riots TWICE in your lifetime because it hasn't changed has it and also YOU'RE NOT SOUTHERN and why do you care?

Then I'm not sure what to say.

I don't know what he wants. He wants me catch me out? Debate the liberal cause they're so stupid ? Vent frustration at the liberal because fox news tells you to hate them? His way of processing Something he doesn't understand? Men can't ask for directions? He wants me to argue him, some nerd version of beating the old man at basketball? He feels inferior to his kid so he's gotta put me in my place? A nerd version of not letting the kid beat you at basketball? Test me? Make me prove myself? Make me represent all liberals so he can win?

I don't know what he wants. But I'm SICK OF IT.

And I'm sick of being torn between the mother who is frightened and overbearing and the father who seems to want to always make me keep up.

And I cant

Deal

With

Conservatives

Any more!

#personal #it is polite to tag the crazy as personal #long post #fathers

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riddleredcoats · 5 years

Note

For the sentence meme, 'i never loved you'. For Bellamort. Please.

So this an AU, set in the HP world where everything is basically the same but in which Snape couldn’t kill Dumbledore in HBP. Just a little snippet of this Alternate Universe. A little OOC Voldemort, maybe?

(Also, I know that Bella wasn’t there when Dumbledore died, but just go with it, please?)

Hope you like it, @ionlydrinkonline

------------

It was mid-May 1998 and the world was a different place than Voldemort had planned on it being. At this time last year he, Bellatrix and Snape were making plans to finally put an end to Dumbledore and his far-reaching influence, after all, he wasn’t truly counting on Draco Malfoy to actually kill Dumbledore.

By June, a mere eleven months ago even if he felt like an eternity had passed, everything had gone according to plan; the boy had gotten Bellatrix and his – well, hers, really, sometimes it felt like – Death Eaters into the school, and the only thing that had been left to do was kill the old fool.

But something had gone wrong.

Snape, who Bellatrix had claimed – over and over and over again – to be a traitor to no avail, had indeed been turned and, in the end, wouldn’t perform the deed. Worse still, not one of his Death Eaters had returned, only the boy – her nephew, of course – had managed to escape.

The boy had escaped and had run home to his mothers arms to tell them of the massacre the Order – led by Moody, forewarned by Snape of the Dark Lord’s plans – had unleashed upon his Death Eaters. He’d seen in the boy’s mind and knew that at least Greyback, the Snatchers he’d sent along and the Carrows were dead.

Bellatrix, the sole survivor of the group, had been able to stall everyone long enough for Draco to escape, dealing blow after blow to the Order warriors – the Weasley Matriarch was dead, as was Mundungus and Moody had lost his other eye along with half his skull – but she couldn’t hold on against eight skilled warrior forever. As Draco neared the apparation spot near the end of the Forbidden Forest, Bellatrix had managed a last long look, before thrusting her nephew over the threshold so he could disaparate out of there. She turned to the battle deflecting Dumbledore’s spell but not before giving her nephew her necklace, the necklace that he had given to her.

Sentimental perhaps, and although there was a sentimental value to her gesture, it was more pragmatic than it seemed, the necklace doubled as a portkey to his – their? – house. Always sentimentally practical, that woman. She, even in what could have been her last moments, had protected them… Had protected him. A lump formed in his throat thinking of the last gesture he knew her to make.

But she wasn’t dead. He would have known. They had taken her. Why, why, why, why…

He had been dealt a heavy blow. Heavier than he even knew. The leaderless Death Eaters he could deal with, Rodolphus being able to do a passable job – if subpar in comparison – in Bellatrix absence. The werewolves had Greyback’s second in command, and the Carrows had never been terribly essential. The others didn’t bear mentioning.

The movement – his movement – while not thriving was chugging along well enough, in better condition even than the Order was. He had, after all, raided every single outpost of that little organization that he could find. Had left rivers of blood and mountains of corpses in his wake, in his attempts to find her. No stone left unturned, not until he had her.

Bellatrix’ absence… He couldn’t explain it, he had spent long years without her, without her warmth, without her company, without her care – he never did like the word ‘love’, even if was what she felt for him, he knew it to be so – but this time… It hurt him, affected him, depleted him to a point he could barely keep himself focused.

But all that was about to end. Rodolphus had found her, at long last. Hidden at a cottage deep in Scottish lands. McGonagall, he thought darkly, Of course.

He entered his home – he’d been away on a mission on the Continent, the war didn’t stop on her account although it should have, perhaps – and Rodolphus quickly met him at the door.

“Where is she?” He asked as he put his cloak down, boundless energy about him.

“Third floor.” Voldemort moved immediately, “She’s in perfect condition. Although, she’s bound.” Rodolphus whispered casually as Voldemort rushed to push him to go away to his own house and leave him and Bella alone, finally. “There’s something you should…”

Voldemort didn’t give him time to speak, “I’ll deal with whatever it is, Rodolphus. Leave us.”

“Very well.” Rodolphus sighed and ran his hand through his greying red-ish brow hair, “She’s in her office.” With that, the man turned to leave, leaving Voldemort to resume his fast pace to meet her.

Ah, of course, Rodolphus would put her where she’d feel more in control. More at ease. Her office was on the third floor of the Manor, well away from his so they both could work in private without any distractions. It mattered not, they’d reach their bedroom easily enough from there.

He paused for beat at the door of her office, unprepared to see her again after nearly a year of separation. How he craved her… How he yearned for her worship. With a deep breath he prepared himself to see her and pushed the door open.

And there she was. Whole, healthy, with tear-filled grey eyes, kneeling, bounded and gagged and set against May’s blue sky, the large open window letting in the warm sun.

And his hard heart, unharden a little when he saw her there; with the Sun on her shoulders, wind in her black hair, the smell of her perfume, and suddenly he felt only a man before her. Not Lord, not the ever-in-control Dark Lord. Just Tom, despite his distaste for the name. He was just that, himself.

He rushed to her and relished in her trembling. She was always so sensitive to his presence after a long while apart. Always shuddered when he was near after a long absence and they would barely leave the bed for the first day after their reunion. His lips quirked up in a small smile as he knelt beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly the so rarely uttered words – words, in fact, spoken to her and her alone – he approached her and started undoing all the binds, “I didn’t go with them. I was out of the country when Rodolphus called me.”

When he finished untying her legs, he was caught by surprise when her foot swung out to strike him. It hit him in the shoulder, and even as the pain hit him it was nothing compared to her apparent rejection of him. What the hell… He panicked as he saw her rise and dash towards the open window – of the third floor, was she trying to kill herself? – and with little bit of wandless magic bound her again.

She fell hard against the wall and pushed herself closer to it and away from him. With heavy breathing, Voldemort ungagged her.

“L-Let me g-go.” She whispered and seemed unable to meet his eyes, to even look at his face. How unlike her. Her voice was small, trembling as she pleaded him, “P-please, l-let me go.”

He stood stock-still. She wanted to go? Why, why, why, why…

“Why?” It took a while for him to register that the broken voice had come from him. He watched her advert her eyes from him, not in deference but in fear. She hadn’t feared him in a very long time. He repeated the question, voice hoarse as his throat seemed clogged with something he couldn’t identify, “Why?”

“P-please let me go.” This-this body had Bellatrix’ face and her magic – which was so familiar to him – but his Bella had never sounded so… pitiful. “I-I… please, I don’t b-belong here. I-I want to go h-home.”

He snarled, “You’re home.” He couldn’t help but correct, harshly.

Bellatrix whimpered under his mild – oh, ever so mild – temper, “P-Please, s-sir…M-My Lord.” She chocked on the words as if she’s never said them before, “Y-You’ve had me before, p-please, n-no more, I-I don’t want…” she gasped as if some part of her understood the torment she was causing him, but nevertheless, she continued, “I-I don’t want anymore.”

“Bella,” he gasped her name, pain in every inflection of his voice, and uttered the words that had never truly passed between them, though he knew them to be true, “You love me.”

“I never…” She gasped as if she couldn’t finish the sentence, her grey-nearly-white eyes were already clouded with tears, and as she forced out the words through her pain-filled throat, she for the first time didn’t stumble through her words, “I never loved you.”

He faltered. His gaze fell from hers and his legs near swayed and, unbidden, a hand rose to his chest as her words pierced his mind. What…What did she say?

“I never loved you.” She repeated as if she’d heard his thoughts.

He winced at that. Bella knew his thoughts and would respond to his unspoken question. But the thought of this… imposter doing the same was unbearable. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. He refused to believe her. She loved him. Madly. He knew that. When he lifted his eyes from the floor to look at her, her eyes were wide as if she could not believe her own words.

“Why,” a sob escaped her throat, her hands rose to her chest clutching around her heart as if she had felt the same torturous pain he had, “Why does it hurt so much?” She sobbed, her lips quivering, her eyes wet and clouded from tears.

He said nothing. Merely looked at her, his red eyes stinging with the beginning of long unshed tears as her torment spread to him. She filled the silence with questions he had the answers to but couldn’t bring himself to explain to her.

“Why does it hurt when I look at you? Why does it hurt to have you so close to me, and even more so when you’re farther away? Why does it hurt when I say…”

She cried harder, loud heavy breaths escaped the lips he’d kissed a thousand times before but knew not if he’d kiss again. Wouldn’t, as long as she remained as she was. Couldn’t, not until she was herself again. He remained silent, distant and firm against her cries.

As she sobbed and recoiled into herself, making herself tiny against the wall, something twisted inside of him. He had her back, but she was broken well and truly this time. She was no longer Bellatrix. Azkaban hadn’t managed to break her, but they had… He’d killed them. Tear them down limb to limb until nothing remained. His blood boiled and sang with the thought.

Bellatrix’ shudders and weeping arose him from his more degenerate thoughts, and he realized that he had more pressing concerns. He would have to fix this – her – first. And he would. It was some sort of spell, surely. Or a potion. Either way, the evidence would be in her mind.

With a determined move, he removed his wand from its holster. For her, because of her defences – defences he’d help create – he’d have to actually, for the first time in years, utter the spell. When he raised his wand at her, he flinched and his face torturously twisted, at her terrified yell. He pushed her cry from his head and focused on his magic.

“Legilimens.” He uttered the incantation and found himself immersed in her memories.

They passed by quick. Memories of her. With her sisters. At Hogwarts. With Rodolphus. With some boy in her sixth year. So far so good, he knew all of her, this was her. Then, started memories of him. Of them. They too were the same, unaltered, with the same raw feeling. Same reckless abandon she had given him. Nights together, days spent in company. It all blurred pass him faster and faster as his desperation built, when he found nothing wrong with her memories. The horrors of Azkaban blurred by, the debacle of the department of Mysteries flew by them and then, finally, her capture at Hogwarts.

They took her to an Order outpost – one he had raided several months ago and left as many of his people alive as he had left of the Order’s, when it turned out she wasn’t at that outpost either – and there, they had messed with her mind. They tried Legilimency, torture, blackmail, threats but she held herself steadfast. Her defences had been too strong, even Snape hadn’t broken through, so they decided to break her.

They repeatedly invaded her, ripped through her until her mind simply shattered. Her memories had then spilled out, like a silver river from her, they were unnavigable so forcibly taken they were, but as a blank slate, they had turned her against him, and then submerged her again in her memories, her new perception of him colouring her view of their past. Then, he watched an Order meeting where she spilled his every secret.

They know. That thought fell second to, They changed it.

‘It’, being their past. They changed it, her memories of him were twisted, moulded in the image they thought he should represent to her. Torturer. Murder. Abuser. Jailer.

Voldemort growled. He’d turn them all to ash.

Her memories were altered, yes, but not by magic. They changed her perception of him. It was simply the way things were now. It was simply the way she thought of him now.

There was nothing he could do.

He felt his head sway under his new reality.

“I never loved you.” The words fall from breathless lips and despite himself, Voldemort felt what seemed to be the last remainder of his heart leap out of his chest. She had been lying, he knew. But not anymore. Her heart said something but her head another, and for once she chose to follow her head. She talked, compulsively, “I never loved you. I never loved you. I never loved you.” Her hands curled in her hair and she rocked back and forward, riddled with confusion, torn between her head and her heart.

Every repeat was like a sword through his gut. Again. And again. And again.

With a painful sigh he tentatively sat next to her, both of them on the floor, leaning against the wall. He with his head between his knees and she in her own little world, rocking back and forth, uttering that spineless truth over and over.

“I never loved you.

I never loved you.

I never-

———————–

I thought of course of having Voldemort saying it to Bellatrix, but that’s so basic? And then, there was the thought of Bellamort doing a scheme and Bella saying that as part of a con in a fluffy way, and then another with Bella saying to Roddy, but then I decided to do this… ooops? I’m sorry?

#bellamort #fanfic #mine #angst #ask #prompt

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j-axxie · 5 years

Text

Kingdoms Apart: Possessed.

Have fun with the first thought of how Anti’s possession works, It’s close to the same but there are some differences now.

Sorry, I’m drowning y’all in this I’m HYPE for this AU lmao.

Characters: Anti, Sean, Evelien, Mentions of Marvin and brief mentions of others.

tw: stabbing, possession, choking, blood, anxiety.

Content: suspense and ANGST BABY.

Evelien stumbled over her feet, tumbling to the ground. Tears pricked in her eyes, her hands fumbling to tear the corset off her body. The red blood seeping into the forest green dress causing her breaths to quicken sharply, her left hand pressing into the wound roughly as she attempted to stand on her shaking legs. Grabbing the corset with her right hand that was also holding a sword she shifting her position so now she held the corset to the wound on her side as she limped through the castle halls.

"You cannot run from me, my princess..." A high-pitched tone mingled with Sean's deeper voice, "I can feel your pulse through the floor."

Turning down a hall, Evelien found the stairs to the main room. Her heels clicking on the cold porcelain floor as she ran as fast as her injured body would allow. Passing paintings, that slowly became pictures, Sean's heritage back over a hundred years. She knew the imposter was catching up to her based on how the hall got darker and her anxiety raised. He was here, hidden in her lover's body. Taking him and making him a vessel for his sick twisted tricks. As she rounded the corner of the stairwell, making it to the throne room, Evelien was roughly slammed against a wall. The movement causing her to drop her corset and making her mouth open wide in an almost silent scream of agony,

"I found you, my princess." Anti's eyes were black, unlike Sean's sky blue ones and Evelien felt herself wishing to see the morning sky in them one more time.

"Please! Just let Sean go," Evelien trembled, her grip on the sword tightening. Sean's hand, controlled by Anti curling tighter around her throat.

"What do I get out if it, hm?" Anti moved closer to Evelien and the woman swallowed fearfully.

"If someone Sean truly cares is in immediate danger due to what is said in Anti's head, he might snap. Sean can see everything Anti does whilst in his body, Anti is like a symbiote. Sean can fight for control, which is why we see Anti glitch like a Television." Marvin said, his hand resting on a black leatherbound book open to a page, scribbled in an unused language.

If Evelien could get Sean to snap...

"Me," Evelien whispered, fear causing her arms to numb. She couldn't feel her blood rush, she couldn't feel her grip on the sword. Her neck felt hot, yet cold. Her body shook with fear as Anti got so close she was afraid of their lips touching. His head jolted sideways and his eyes flashed blue. He was glitching.

"Say that again, I couldn't hear..." Evelien knew he heard, but took a shaky breath and swallowed. Anti's grip snapped tighter as his arm glitched, his face contorting in pain.

"If you let Sean go, you can have me instead." Her voice was still soft, and Anti reeled back and screamed in agony. His whole body shook and jolted in different shapes. He screamed in various tones. Evelien held her sword towards his figure, her hands shaking so bad the sword was slipping from her grip. Anti screamed once more, the sound so loud the walls shook and Evelien dropped her sword to hold her hands to her ears. Once Anti dropped down to his knees and fell forward on his elbows all Evelien could hear was this faint ring and the blood rushing past her ears.

"Sean, Sean, please." She collapsed and crawled towards the king, the feeling in her arms slowly returning. She pulled him into her lap and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Someone, please! Someone help!" She cried, her hands tight around his arm and side as if he would disappear if she didn't hold him, "Anybody, please! He's hurt!"

Townspeople burst into the door, a few tumbling over, torches in hand. They must've burnt the door to weaken it then bashed it in. People gasped and slowly came over to Evelien and Sean, Henrik was there faster than Evelien had expected, shouting adding to the background noise as Sean twitched in her grasp and she cried out.

"Don't go like this, please. C'mon, you are so much stronger Sean." She whispered, feverishly brushing her fingers through his hair.

"Eve... I'm so sorry." Sean's words were slurred, clutching her dress and Evelien laughed almost in hysteria.

"No, don't be sorry! It's okay, I'm okay. You're alive. We'll be okay." Evelien looked up to see Henrik sit down in front of her and slowly take Sean out of her lap.

It's okay. It's okay.

#Kingdoms Apart

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djinmer4 · 6 years

Text

Foresight (Demon General AU)

“Hi, Nils. Kitty, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.” Wanda waved to the other members of what was informally known as Genosha’s rehabilitation committee. Shadowcat was surprised to see the princess looking so worried, but dispelled any thoughts of trying to delay or stall her. She waved the others off and followed wordlessly.

Wanda led her up through the palace until they reached a small, dusty chamber, clearly unused for a long time. “It’s the old communication center, from before Scanner joined us.” She booted it up and started manually tuning it to a frequency. “Kitty, I need to contact the X-Men to warn them about my father’s plan.”

The younger woman crossed her arms. “I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while. What’s his trick?”

“He’s got a mutant imposter taking the place of Senator Kelly. The imposter’s going to launch the Sentinels at Genosha tonight!”

“What? Why? Wasn’t he shown a future where everyone loses because of the war he’s trying to start?”

“He thinks he can control both sides and choose who loses. Genosha doesn’t have many allies and only the X-Men are in a position to stop this before it escalates.” Frustrated the Scarlet Witch almost hit the panel but the X-Woman grabbed her hand before it could connect.

“I’ve got this.” Kitty adjusted the frequency and quickly connected with the manor. As soon as the connection was made she started speaking. “Hank, we have a Code Guardian going down tonight here in four hours.”

“A Code Guardian? Acknowledged. I’ll inform Logan right away.” With that, the connection was shut. Wanda looked at her friend with wide eyes. “You expected this?”

“Not exactly. Code Guardian just means that the X-Men need to shut down the Sentinel program right now and that the details would take too long to explain. I also gave them the time and place where to meet if the mission’s unsuccessful.” Grey eyes looked into blue. “Now, can we think of anyone else who could help in the fight?”

“Where are you, you little bugger?” Kitty had searched her room top to bottom and still couldn’t find one of those little bamfs that she knew had been shadowing her every move. She needed to get a message to Seir, and this was the only way she knew how. The only other option would have been letting Nils absorb her again, and she didn’t want to spend however long tramping through the Brimstone Dimension just to find him. The first time was bad enough.

“Dammit, I need to think like a bamf. If I was a fuzzy blue ball of chaos where would I like to spend my time?” A moment was spent in silent contemplation. “I have no idea where bamfs go, but I do know other things they like.” She opened the minifridge in her room and took out the bottle of whiskey Logan had given her for a birthday gift. Pouring out a generous portion she waited. “Here little bamfling. Do me a favor and I’ll give you more.” Within minutes there was a puff of ill-smelling smoke, and a babbling blue creature showed up. While it consumed first one and then a second shot glass of whiskey, she attached a small clip to one tiny, pointed ear. The clip held a memory stick and a written note from her. “Now, take this message to Seir. When he comes back, I’ll give you a third shot of whiskey.”

“Whiskey! Whiskey!” And then it was gone again.

Kitty whispered a quick prayer to God. Genosha was going to need all the help it could get.

“We don’t have time to evacuate all of Hammer Bay.” Kitty declared to her staff. “And we don’t know what the Sentinels plan of attack will be. So I’ll leave it up to each of you to decide what you deal with first.” She grabbed a marker and placed it over the power plant. “I’m going to try to get the shield that Gambit destroyed back up. Each of you place a marker on what responsibility you’ll be covering or what areas you will warn. If you complete those, it’s your choice to either leave then or come back here to take on more. I will ask that you each accomplish at least one task before running away.”

Nils raised his hand. “Have there been any attempts to contact allies? Maybe the X-Men or anyone else?”

“Wanda and I informed the X-Men before we called this meeting. They’re trying to shut down the Sentinels before they leave the factory, but they’ll be cutting it pretty close.” She hesitated but continued. “I also took the liberty of sending a bamf to Seir, but I don’t know when or even if he’ll show up for this. Wanda sent messages to any countries who are friendly with Genosha on the east coast of Africa, but other than Madagascar we don’t have much hope. Neither Somalia nor Wakanda have the resources to put up a good fight and South Africa isn’t likely to side with us against the Sentinels even if they like our money.”

Nils looked over the map of Hammer Bay, then put a marker on the docks. “We’re sure they’re going for the capital first and not anywhere else?” Kitty nodded. “Hammer Bay’s surrounded by mountains. They’ll have to come up from the sound otherwise they’ll waste too much energy flying over the range. So this is the one place that’s guaranteed to be hit. I’ll take over the evacuation there.”

“I’ll join you,” said Sooraya, grabbing another marker and placing it beside his. “It’s a large area to cover with only one person and if the attack comes early I’m not afraid of getting hit.”

One by one each member of the staff grabbed a marker. Some took only one task, others took several. Kitty didn’t ask for their reasoning. When they were done there were still many tasks left undone and too much territory left uncovered. But Kitty only nodded and dismissed them.

“Katzchen?”

Kitty turned around in surprise. “Seir? So you did show up!”

“Yes. Wanda’s set off the alert siren-”

“I heard it.”

“And she had me evacuating the district around the water treatment facility.”

The Jewish woman paled. “No one took that area when I was assigning duties. It must have been hit pretty hard.”

“It was. Not just by the robots but when the facility blew it flooded the district. The whole area’s pretty much a bust.” Kitty looked sick with the amount of work that was going to be needed and Seir pulled her into a one-armed hug. After a second she looked up. “Do you know what stopped the attack? I know the Sentinels weren’t destroyed.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yes. Magneto reprogrammed them. He’s set them off to attack the city they came from. He ordered Wanda to follow up with Genosha’s army.”

“She’s not going to do that.”

“No, she isn’t.” He paused for a brief moment. “She tried to contact the X-Men, but according to . . . Forge, I think? He said they had already left.”

“Damn.”

“What do you want to do Katzchen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wanda’s ordered that everyone remain on the island and not follow Magneto? But I can bring you to him easily. Do you want to join the X-Men? Do you want to follow Magneto? Or do you want to stay here?”

She looked around and sighed. “I do want to help the X-Men. And I want to make Magneto pay for what he’s done. But I accepted responsibility for the people of Genosha already. Wanda says the best thing to do is to stay here and rebuild and I agree with her. So here I stay. I’ll just have to trust that my friends are able to deal with the problem.”

She received a sharp, fanged smile in return. “An interesting choice.” He reached out and pulled her to her feet. “Ready to receive our next assignment?”

“Yes.” They vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke.

“You did the right thing.” Wanda and Lorna looked at their friend.

“Did I?” asked Wanda. “Genosha, this place wouldn’t exist without Father.”

“Yes. Genosha’s your home and you chose to defend it. There’s nothing wrong with that. And Magneto may have founded this country, but he betrayed it by setting it up to get destroyed as a means of furthering his cause.” If Kitty had any doubts at all, they didn’t show in her face or voice. “But it’s alright to feel sad about banishing him too. He was your father and you both loved him very much.”

“But he was a bad person,” said Lorna. “Surely it’s wrong to love bad people.”

“People are people and very few of them are completely good or bad. And even if he was bad to other people, he was very good to the two of you. It’s not wrong to hurt over losing that.”

Polaris’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “So we weren’t wrong to banish him and we’re not wrong to miss him either?”

“Exactly.” Kitty might have said more, but at that moment the Scarlet Witch started to break out in sobs. The younger woman quickly gathered the princess (or should they call her queen now?) and guided her over to the bed in Lorna’s room. Wanda wrapped her arms around the X-Woman and started to cry in earnest. Deep, body-wracking sobs filled the air. Lorna stayed standing for a little longer but then tears filled her eyes too. Kitty freed up one arm and motioned her over. In a flash, the younger princess was also beside her and crying.

Kitty adjusted her position so she could embrace both of the devastated princesses. Sometimes it helped to be just a little further from the problem. And if she felt like crying too, well neither would begrudge her a few tears of disillusionment.

Seir got home and just wanted to go to sleep. Today had been just as physically exhausting as the first time he had gone to Genosha to deal with the invasion of Dire Wraiths. Emotionally however, it had put him through the wringer. The first time he had been there solely for the mission. He hadn’t really known the city or the people involved, it had just been another job for him. It wasn’t the same now. Now he knew the city very well, knew what the streets and plazas and gardens and what they meant to the people. He knew the people, had participated in their lives. He had friends, actual friends there, and he felt their pain almost as clearly as if it had been his own. They’d loved the city and trusted their leaders and been betrayed. The city was destroyed, many of them were dead and even if all the people he cared about had survived, the attack and losses weighed heavily on their hearts.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Ginniyeh again. He didn’t have the patience to deal with any of his siblings right now. “Jillian was looking for you.”

“I really just want to sleep, Ginniyeh. Go tell her to fuck Yidrazil or Ophis if she wants some fun.”

“I’ll pass that along.” She smiled, sharp teeth gleaming in the bloody light. “Father wants to see you as well, although he said he can wait until after you’re rested.”

Now that was important. “Did he say why?”

Her smile grew even larger. “It’s time to reclaim our place in the material world.”

#demon general au #Kitty Pryde #Shadowcat #seir

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maddie-talks-movies · 6 years

Text

Goodbye Until Tomorrow

[Part 3]

part 1 2 3

Summary: A ‘The Last Five Years’ AU. Jack is telling his story from back to front. David is telling his from front to back. They were never destined to work.

Word Count: 2086

Warnings: Fighting, (maybe) swearing, slight panic attack

Link to ao3 here!

Enough is enough.

At least, that’s what Jack’s been telling himself over and over.

Upon coming home this fall, the evidence had been there, but Jack had dismissed it not wanting to connect the dots that were placed neatly before him. He’d wanted to believe that everything was fine between them; that they were still the young, madly in love couple they were when they first met.

These clues started to stack up, though.

The scent of strong perfume in their bed.

Socks that hadn’t belonged to either of them.

A smudge of mascara in the bathroom sink.

Jack was willing to overlook these things, willing to overlook them if it meant that he and Davey stayed together.

Things were fine, for a while.

Then Jack noticed Davey hadn’t been wearing his ring all the time. Each time that Jack would remind him, Davey would just play it off as a forgetful mistake. He’d claim that it bothered him when he was typing and he’d forgotten to put it back on.

That’s funny, Jack thought. It had only bothered his typing recently.

The ring became the final straw for Jack.

Jack shifts in his seat, not being able to find a comfortable position. His forehead holds a sheer layer of sweat and his forearms itch under his long-sleeved shirt. Bringing a hand up to his mouth, he chews on what is left of his blunt fingernails. His eyes dart around their familiar living room, attempting to collect his thoughts for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Davey has been at the office since this morning, he left before Jack had woken up. Davey left him a scrawled out note, though. The note said he’d be home around eight, that he had meetings all day he couldn’t miss.

This conversation should be easy, Jack thought. It should be no problem, right?

But it is a problem. How does one accuse their spouse of cheating? Why should it even come to this point?

Jack has lots of questions and next to no answers, he’s hoping Davey can supply those.

But even that hope seems like a longshot.

Jack jolts up when he hears the familiar sound of Davey’s old car rumble into the driveway. Without thinking about it, Jack sits up straighter and appears more rigid in his manner. His mind starts racing, every word, every sentence, every letter he practiced over and over seemed to flee his mind. Thoughts of backing out take over, but Jack doesn’t let them win. He does his best to silence his chaotic mind.

The loud front door squeaks as Davey walks in, looking exhausted. His eyes have deep purple bags under them and his shoulders are slightly rounded over on the top. His glasses are falling near the end of his nose and the moment he drops his bag, he moves to push them back up.

Jack used to find that adorable.

“Hey, Jackie,” Davey, half-heartedly, greets him. He makes minimal eye contact as he scoots his way through the living room.

Davey’s not stupid, and Jack knows this. He knows that Jack knows, he just has to.

“Hey babe, I actually wanted to talk to you,” Jack says, focusing on keeping his voice steady. He’s had to do this hundred of times for auditions. If he can transform into any role when it comes to his job, what can be so hard about doing acting strong right now?

Davey looks at Jack, but Jack can’t read his expression. Part of Davey’s face tells him to drop it, to ignore the subject until later, but the other part has a softer, almost apologetic look. As if he’s sorry.

Jack wishes sorry could fix this mess.

Even if Jack couldn’t read Davey, Davey sure as hell could read Jack; he always has. He moved over to the couch near Jack and sits down. They are near each other, but a few feet divide the two. To Jack, the space felt like the grand canyon.

Davey’s eyes stay far away from Jack’s. “Yeah, what’s up?”

I know you’ve been cheating.

I know you don’t care.

I know you don’t love me anymore.

How does one do this?

“I know,” Jack says simply.

Those words shouldn’t hold weight, but they do. They hold the weight of every fight, every cruel word, ever mile separating the two men. The weight is something that’s been building, something that’s been adding to both of their shoulders for years now. Too bad it’s tonight the suspensions decide to snap.

Jack doesn’t need to tell Davey what he knows, David is well aware of what those two simple words mean.

“What do you mean?” Davey asks.

Jack let out a breath that sounds more like a shaky laugh. Here’s Davy, taking the responsibility off of his own shoulders and placing it on Jack’s. He’s done this since the day they met, and Jack is sick of it.

Jack stands up from his spot, not being able to handle inferiority of sitting anymore. “You know exactly what I mean Davey. You don’t get to play the clueless card on me,” Jack didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the way Davey flinches at his own name proves otherwise.

Davey doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Jack starts again, not being able to handle the silence from his husband. “The extra socks, the mascara smudge, the perfume… not to mention the ring! Davey, I’m not stupid and neither are you, I can connect the dots here,”

Hot tears brim the edges of Jack’s eyes causing the scene around him to be blurry. His field of vision becomes nothing more than blobs of color, everything blurring together simply into beautiful colors.

Then he looks to Davey.

Everything is blurry except for Davey. He’s the only thing that’s ever been clear to Jack, he’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. Ever since the day they met, Davey being in Jack's life made more sense than anything ever had. Being with him made Jack feel like he was put on this earth to be with Davey.

But the look he’s giving Jack doesn’t make sense.

He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting from him, but the angry, hard-eyed look was not it. Davey looks mad, as if he couldn’t believe that Jack brought this up. Jack outright accuses him of an act he knows he committed, and Davey decides to outright deny it.

“Jack, I think you’re being a little too dram-”

“Dramatic? I’m being dramatic? My husband sleeps with another person while I’m not here and I’m not allowed to be dramatic?”

A silence settles over the two, the room fills with nothing more than the hum of the washer and dryer in the next room mixed with Jack’s heavy breathing.

Jack wants to give in, to believe that everything is going to be okay, that they could get through this. He wants to go back ten minutes and never start the conversation. He wants to go back to the relationship they had years ago, he wants to apologize and start over.

But the only thing standing in the way of that is a single, underlying thought that had been jumbled in Jack’s brain for weeks.

He doesn’t love you anymore.

Jack takes a deep breath. “I just need you to tell me the truth,” his voice is steady. “I just need you to be honest for five seconds,”

Davey doesn’t look up from his hands.

More silence.

His lips part as he prepares to talk.

“I’m sorry,”

Davey’s eyes stay trained down, not making contact with Jack’s.

A sob escapes Jack’s throat. His knees want to buckle but he won’t let them.

“You break my heart and all you can say is sorry?”

“I’m not sure what else to say,”

“I don’t know, maybe, admitting to what you did? Maybe, admitting how awful of a person you are?” Jack’s throat burns and his whole body shakes. What did he expect from this? Sorry was better than nothing, he supposes. But that band-aid still doesn’t fix the bullet hole that Davey shot through Jack’s heart.

Davey stands up and for the first time tonight, his hazel eyes meet Jack’s.

Jack takes a step back in surprise, for the eyes he sees do not belong to the man he fell in love with. These eyes are out to kill and their deep stare cuts like daggers through Jack’s skin. Davey’s beautiful hazel eyes have been replaced with something more sinister, eyes that didn’t belong to the man he married.

“Who are you anymore?” Jack asks, incredulously.

Davey scoffs. “Who am I? Who are you? You’re the one who went away for five months to go be in that mediocre show out in the cornfields,”

If Davey regrets his words, he doesn’t show it. His hands stay clenched at his sides and his stare doesn’t break with Jack’s.

“Really?” Jack lets a tear slip. “You’re going to blame this on me and my career,”

“I’m not the one who left,”

Jack doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing. He wants to believe that this is the man he married but he can’t help but feel this person in front of him is an imposter. How can one go from so loving to so cold in such a small amount of time?

Maybe it was Jack’s fault.

At that moment, memories of the past few years flash before Jack’s eyes, as if his brain knows this is the end. He remembers the young people they once were, the ones filled with passion and desire linked to every action. Every kiss, every touch, treated like their last. Flashbacks to the stupid fights and to the jokes they shared stream through his brain as if on a movie reel. He remembered everything in that instant, too bad memories are the worst form of torture.

“You’re not the same person I married,” Jack breathes.

Davey lets out a shaky laugh. “Don’t act like you didn’t change,” he points a finger at Jack. “I never let my career run my life, you’re so set on chasing this impossible dream of broadway that you let it blind you. For fuck's sake, you went to small-town Wisconsin for five months to put on a stupid musical. You chose your career over me long ago,”

Jack cannot believe what Davey is saying.

He has always been a backseat to Davey’s career and both of them know it.

“You’re impossible,” Jack yells. “You are never around because you’re constantly in meetings or attending stupid, pretentious parties-”

“I don’t go to that many parties,” Davey defended.

“Oh yeah? Then what are you doing? Screwing your boss?”

Silence.

Silence for so long it makes Jack want to scream. He’d gotten it right, he had no intention of guessing right, but he did nonetheless.

“I’m going to bed,” Jack’s breathing picks up, the panic of the situation set in. He needs out now, and going to sleep is the only way he can see past his position. Davey’s eyes soften for the first time tonight at the sight of Jack’s chest heaving up and down. The gesture is too little too late, though.

“Jackie,” Davey mumbles as he passes, but Jack doesn’t turn back as he shakily makes his way to their bedroom. He shuts the door behind him sending Davey a message: don’t follow me.

And he doesn’t.

Jack crawls into bed, trying not to wonder what Davey is thinking.

His mind turns like a wheel as the empty space beside him starts to feel more like a black hole. Closing the door to their bedroom was cruel, but Jack can’t seem to find the energy to care.

His breathing finally mellows, but his head doesn’t.

Jack stares at the ceiling for hours before he can even think about sleeping, while Davey has been passed out on the couch long before Jack.

Jack couldn’t help but feel betrayed by Davey. He wants nothing more than to view the man he loves as an enemy, but Jack can’t seem to place that title. The betrayal hurts all the same.

Too bad the saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies, it always comes from the people you’re closest too.

Davey is simultaneously Jack’s greatest strength and biggest liability. A combination he swears is going to be the death of him.

Tags: @the-world-is-ya-erster , @fandomtrash-universe , @syrenokot

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! My inbox is always open:)

#javid #the last five years #goodbye until tomorrow #jack #jack kelly #davey #davey jacobs #jack x davey #brin writes things

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