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m1d-45 · 1 year

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hi i have more idea (　･ิω･ิ)

i am writing this at 4am so apologies for the holes but anyway

so i've seen a few fics where the creator grants someone's wish or cures someone's illness or something as proof of their divinity

what if we flipped it around though? it is often expressed in fiction that divine intervention offsets the natural order of the universe. thus, i bring you this:

creator!reader arriving in teyvat first and being recognized and placed on the throne.

however, as much as it pains you to do it, you must strictly abide by one single rule: god must not meddle in the affairs of mortals.

prayers go unheard, pleas unanswered.

one day, a being who bears a striking resemblance to the creator emerges from seemingly out of nowhere, granting wishes left and right.

suddenly farmers are seeing healthier crops, clinics finding themselves empty.

you're skeptical. suspicious. not just anyone is capable of such a feat. just who is this person—no, entity?

the divine call it an abuse of power. mortals call it a miracle.

people begin to question the validity of your identity. why is it that this mysterious being who, unfortunately for you, happens to look exactly like you holds so much power that they've never seen you demonstrate?

naturally, people's faith in you begin to waver.

for all they know, you could be a fake. masquerading as their god to gain their adoration and devotion.

and eventually your very own people begin to turn on you.

- death loop anon

ohhh, that’s interesting!

gods don’t intervene with mortal affairs, after all, and the idea of reader being like “you want them? fine.” and then promptly fucking off to like sumeru to play w the aranara is hilarious.

after all, their creator is a benevolent god, right? they should heal the ill and cure disease, not just sit there, right?

(they would have died anyway, your healing would have just prolonged the inevitable. better to die naturally than be suspended by the divine, less human than you were before.)

and this new ‘god,’ they fit the bill so much better! deeply intertwined with the people of teyvat (can’t you see it’s manipulation?) and (seemingly) emotionally invested, outright hostile towards you for your callousness and aloof nature.

(they’ll find out. they’ll know eventually. those they’ve cured are alive by corruption, taking a poison as a cure.)

but what do you know, right? you’re just the god of all, just the one that created the disease your people suffer from. what do you know of medicine or society, you who have crafted those very concepts by hand? what do you know of empathy or compassion, you who gifted humans with this ability eons ago?

what do you know, you who leaves in exile, you who hardly puts up a fight—and surely never cared at all?

the archons beg you to stay, not to leave them under the jurisdiction of whatever that is that’s wearing your face, but you wave them off with a smile.

“i’ll return,” you promise, hand twitching slightly as yet another of your beloved creations falls to the fraud’s toxins. “they are unsustainable.”

“then why not stop them now? why not prove your point and make your move first, why let the world suffer?”

“isn’t this what they wanted? who am i, to say what they need, hm? i am no dictator. i am not both judge and jury, nor executioner. if the people cry for a slow death, then i will not deny them.”

“please, divine one… you know as well as us that they are misguided. give us time-“

“to do what, barbatos? we have tried to convince the people of the truth. if they turn a blind eye to the long-term in favor of short moments of bliss, then… well, then i suppose that’s a fault in my design.”

“do not blame yourself for their fallacies-“

“i’m not. i’m just a bit disappointed they haven’t put it together yet. humans are bright people, and yet so… is egotistic the word?”

“selfish?”

“no, not selfish… ah, no matter. this will be resolved within a millennium, of this you have my word.”

“…and if it isn’t?”

“then i will intervene myself. you have nothing to fear.”

“my god…”

“all will be well in the end, kusanali. i will not forget this promise. if the imposter isn’t driven out of the people’s accord, then i shall do so myself.”

#m1d : [chats]#death loop anon #hiiiiii…… i haven’t been writing at all for the past two days 😜#no fr i keep wanting to write for red but i made a whole ass presentation on albedo in google slides so. um.#in terms of defense i have no defense. pretty boy is pretty and i fixated on that—#n e way. how do we feel about a formal post about red. aka a character we collectively came up w by crossing sagau and shining nikki.#god that post is gonna flop like hell. but that’s a problem for future meds motivation ahahah #i’m trying to get back to the ‘post every 2-3’ day schedule from the start of the blog because i genuinely like being that productive #but idea stocks hit zero :/#brain go 📉📉📉📉

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we-were-so-beautiful · 4 months

Text

4. shower

wow look it's another chapter!!! like... not that long after the last one, even! honestly I had the first 3 sections of this basically entirely written not long after finishing the last one, but eventually I decided I should probably do literally anything else for a while (hyperfocus is a real dick lol), and so I'm just now getting back to it. I thought this was gonna be on the shorter side, but it's about the same as the last one, around 1.3k! there's a pretty important reveal in this one...

Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, conditioning, infected wounds, (severe) illness. As always, please let me know if there's anything else I need to tag.

[masterlist] [chapter three]

Vanessa’s never been particularly sensitive to scents—it’s a saving grace, in a mind where too much light or sound or texture can make her feel like she’s dying. But by the time the guy lying shaking on the seats behind her practically falls out of the taxi in front of her stoop, even she’s having a hard time with the smell coming off of him. Given how the driver peels away with all his windows down the second she pulls the last scrap of soiled newspaper from his backseat, it probably isn’t just her.

She turns back to the guy, for the first time finally alone with him. She’s too short to be used to talking down to people, but he’s hunched himself into that weird curled-up position again, so when she speaks it's aimed vaguely toward the top of his head. “Okay. First things first, we’re getting your ass in the shower,” she tells him. “And then we can deal with the effects of my questionable life decisions.” She pauses for a moment, considers. “Well. This one, anyway.”

There’s no way she’s getting him in through the front like this. Too many stairs, and too much dirt. The garden door will have to cut it. She motions for him to follow her down the alley, and he unfurls himself just enough to shuffle after her.

As soon as the shadows close in around them, she looks back over her shoulder. When she’s satisfied that no one can see them, she unclasps the collar from around his neck and tosses it, leash and all, into the garbage.

—

Vanessa can’t say she’s ever been grateful for the fact that her parents are insane enough to have a swimming pool in the basement of their New York fucking brownstone. Quite frankly, she still isn’t; they got the fucker installed when she was a kid and she screamed for so many days they finally packed her off to a hotel with her nanny of the week just to shut her up. Which they probably should have done in the first place, given that she was nine and there was a jackhammer in her fucking basement.

What she is grateful for now, though, is that the part of this floor that isn’t taken up by the pool—or the hot tub, or the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub—is a shower stall the size of her literal bedroom. Complete with benches, and removable showerheads, and, she’s hoping, everything else she could possibly need right now.

“In here,” she motions, and he drags himself onto the tiles. “I’d offer you the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub, but you’ve barely been able to keep your head up all day and the last thing I need is to fucking drown a guy in my basement. Also no offense but you’re literally so dirty right now I’d have to drain the fucker the second you got in. After this you can have a bath whenever you want, if you’re into that sorta thing, but for right now you’re getting a damn rinse.”

—

Once he’s more or less situated on the built-in shower bench, propped up in the corner in hopes it’ll keep him from falling ass over, Vanessa gets to work, still fully clothed down to her chucks on the marble tile. She unhooks a showerhead and aims it at the drain while it warms up. “Is this okay?” she asks, pointing it at his feet, and he flinches sluggishly but doesn’t respond either way.

“I don’t know what that means, guy.” She tests the water again with her hand. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” she muses out loud. “It’s the same temperature I’d use for me, and fuck knows I’m… y’know, picky. So if you want it different you gotta tell me, okay.”

He doesn’t tell her shit. But he doesn’t flinch too much harder when she moves the stream of water up toward his knees, either, and she figures that’s the best she’s gonna get.

She leans over him and focuses the showerhead on his hair. It’s matted stiff as tree bark, the water barely able to permeate through the layers of filth. “Shit, I dunno man, your hair’s got so much crap in it. Not to mention it wouldn’t surprise me if that shelter gave you goddamn lice.” She shudders. “Might be better off just cutting it short.”

There’s a noise she barely registers as a gasp before his ice-pale eyes fly open and he clutches her arm, quicker than she’s seen him move by fucking light years. She jerks automatically out of his grip, dropping the showerhead in her alarm, but he fixes her with a lidless, panicky stare and the eye contact is so startling she’s frozen to the spot. “Please…” he wheezes, “don’t.”

“You fuckin’ what, dude?”

“Don’t… cut… my hair.”

She blinks, astonished. “That’s the first thing you’ve said all fucking day, isn’t it?” He doesn’t offer another. “Christ. Typical fuckin’ me not to notice.” She huffs quietly. “Well shit, dude, I guess if you give enough of a fuck to speak up about it it can stay. But so help me if I find a single fucking nit in there.”

He whimpers quietly, squeezing his eyes shut, but he doesn’t say another word.

—

Vanessa gingerly retrieves the showerhead from where it’s spattering up at the ceiling, along with an oversized lace bath pouf and a mostly-full bottle of body wash she’s pretty sure is fucking designer. If you could see me now, Mom, she thinks, squirting the gel at his left shoulder, the one closest to her. You… well, you probably still wouldn’t give a shit.

She touches the pouf to his sullied skin as gently as she can, and she knows she’s not well-coordinated at the best of times but she really doesn’t feel like she deserves the choked-off sound he makes or the way he shrinks away from her when she makes contact. “Oh cmon, guy, look I know but you gotta let me get this shit off you, there’s no way it’s not fucking your shit up worse than it already is,” she cajoles, and whatever she’s said it makes something in his posture go slack and he rolls back toward her, opening himself to her touch. “Thanks, uh, I think,” she hedges, and begins to lather him up with slow, concentrative strokes. She flicks the shower back on, sluicing suds and dirt from his skin in equal measure.

"Ohhh, fucking yiiiiikes," Vanessa says softly.

With the first layer of filth washed away, Vanessa can see the far grimmer reality that’s been hidden underneath. Rows of jagged, infected gashes streak their way across his shoulder to his chest. The skin around them burns an angry red, the wounds themselves all but smothered in sickly whitish-yellow. What narrow swathes of skin remain intact are mottled purple, and now that she’s touching him, she can tell he’s just… way too much hotter than any person should ever be.

She lowers the temperature of the water and keeps washing him, afraid to look but needing to see. Each stroke only reveals more of the same. His chest and left shoulder seem to have gotten most of the worst of it, but there are stripes across his arm, his back, his stomach, deep gouges in his legs. She hasn’t tried to touch his face yet, but now that she knows what to look for she thinks she can even see a scratch or several across his cheek, trailing up into his hairline. Jesus fuck.

It all makes a sinister sort of sense now, she thinks: the shallow breathing, the shivers, the near-total lack of response. And here she thought he just had regular rescuee trauma.

“Fuck,” she breathes out quietly, as the realization creeps over her like ice.

There’s something really, really wrong with this guy.

taglist: @maracujatangerine @pigeonwhumps @tragedyinblue @marchtothefuckingsea @octopus-reactivated @briars7

#whump #pet whump #rescue whump #recovery whump #bbu #box boy universe #vanessa + juniper #disaster caretaker #imperfectly consistent #tw dehumanization #tw conditioning #tw illness #tw injury #tw infection #do I like... need to tag for language?#I know using swears is pretty standard for bbu/pet whump stories #but I also use them kind of a uh. non standard amount.#I kinda feel like vanessa's house needs a tw of its own lmao #I honestly have fun making up all the increasingly ridiculous rich person shit #anyway I've got a decent bit of the next chapter written already (wrote it at some point back when I was working on 2 or 3 tbh)#and that's more or less it for stuff I have fully written out in advance #(from the main storyline at least)#but a lot of the stuff that follows that is stuff I've had in my head for ages #so hopefully it won't be too hard to write out! knock on wood #sometimes the things you think about that much come easily when you finally write them #and sometimes they're nigh on impossible bc you get obsessive with doing them justice #or at least just like. remembering all the ideas you've ever had for them when you finally sit down to write #hello it's me writing a novel in the tags again #anyway I've been falling asleep since somewhere in the middle of proofreading so I should probably wrap this up lol #if you read all this for some reason hi!

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