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betterinvienna · 5 months ago

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but even though you're killing me | childe x gen!reader

chapter 1: prologue

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synopsis: Ajax is most attracted to the things that hurt him: combat, heartbreak, and you. Inspired by Chainsaw Man’s Angel, reader possesses deadly, unwanted power; to touch reader’s skin is to shorten your lifespan by an unspecified, varying amount. For this reason, reader resides in a secluded spot of Dragonspine and wears heavy, impenetrable clothing – well, up until reader’s life is impeded by a moment of weakness. Luckily for the lovestruck redhead, he’s here for a good time — not a long time.

[ 1.7k words — fluff, slow burn & angst — no warnings ]

ac: rainsword01 on twt

author's note:

testing the waters here with a prologue. getting kind of busy, so i'm trying to put aside more time to write. definitely going to continue this story because i like the plot, but i just wanted to see if anyone else would like to follow the story as it goes along :') i've also discovered the art of using rich text instead of html on ao3. let's hope this goes well. find me on ao3 under the same user!

He found you in a tent, far away from Liyue’s main city. You laid there, tense and cold, fading in and out of consciousness under the biting wind and freezing temperatures. You were but a couple miles away from Dragonspine, your destination, when you fell victim to a forgotten trap that mangled your foot, ultimately incapacitating you.

“Hey,” he pushes your shoulder around, as if you were a doll. “Are you awake?”

You feel a hand on your shoulder. If not for your thick jacket, your adrenaline would have you up and running, away from him. Yet there must be a way to warn him either way?

Mustering up the last bit of energy anyone could get from braving these conditions, you manage to strain a weak “no.” You hate that he found you in this state, but your head is throbbing, and it feels like it’s about to roll clean off of your neck.

The ginger misunderstands and tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Oh. You’re not awake?” Your thumbnail digs into the plush of your upper palm, cursing him – or yourself – out in your head for your vague statement. He chuckles, not realizing the severity of the situation. “Apologies for getting in the way of your naptime, then.” You massage the crescent you left, controlling your breathing.

He pats you on the shoulder as a farewell, and you push out a meek “stop” mingled with “help.” You manage to move enough of your foot to call attention to it. His eyes dart to the crimson painted sheets covering your foot and he tears the film away, the blood glistening in the moonlight.

“Oh,” he mutters. He curses under his breath before backing out of the tent, his hand motioning a “wait”, and craning his neck to call for someone else, maybe a friend.

The rest that is memorable fades, and your foot still aches in a cardiac rhythm…

• • •

“Did I tell you to pick up extra luggage on the way there?”

“I don’t have to be told to do anything.”

Your head has quieted, but your foot burns with the same momentum as before.

“Insufferable.” The man says it through his teeth – you can hear the air seethe through.

“It’s unfortunate you’re heartless.” The man from last night. “You weren’t raised right.”

“Mmm.” The other man clicks his tongue, possibly in faux agreement. “I wasn’t raised at all.”

Sun peeks through the blinds, and your eyes finally open from the illumination. When they do, you find yourself under scratchy, quilted covers in a wooden cabin, a fireplace lit in the near distance. Two men – one tall, one short – are standing in the common room.

You recognize the tall man’s fiery hair, and your memories begin to rush back. They stutter and cloud your mind, the air feeling funnily cloyed with a heavy steam.

Tent. Touch. Awake. No. Help. Foot. Touch. Touch.

Touch. That’s right. Your foot…

The situation begins to become more urgent now. Your neck snaps towards the icy window, in an effort to recognize your surroundings, and your headache returns. You choose to ignore it, feeling around the bed before tearing the warm cover from your body and examining your injury.

Bare and bandaged. Bare and bandaged.

Your headache is booming now. Your breath turns heavy, and you stumble to regain balance on your foot, rushing to pull on your thick clothes and get out of here.

“Hey – calm down.” The taller man rushes into the room, a firm hand on the doorframe. You now get a good look at his face. Freckled, sun kissed, and luminant. Scars litter certain parts of his face, but it only piques your curiosity momentarily. Even in those few seconds, you could tell his personality was merely a facade. Maybe he was left behind like you were. Maybe he's seen in a different light like you are. Maybe he's different - like you are. To be fair, he's gone out of his way to aid you. Why not give him the benefit of the doubt? Some leniency? Unfortunately, he’s handsome, but he’s dead if you don’t get out of here. He reaches for you, but you shriek and step back erratically.

“Stop! Don’t – get away from me, please. Just. Stop.” You put a hand up. This is a familiar situation – always feeling like you’re an ungrateful bully to those who only wish you well. Like the monster on the hill - literally. “Thank you for helping me.”

The shorter one appears now, glaring at you. His lips form unintelligible, probably condemning, words in the other man’s ear. He swats him away.

If he knew, he’d know better than to call this anything but heroic.

You wince at the ache of your foot, and he reaches for you again, but this time you launch yourself further back, onto the wall. Your back bones slam against the hardwood, the pain burning as it spreads through your back, reminiscent of a dull flame.

Not again. It won’t happen again.

The shorter man rolls his eyes at you from behind the ginger and turns his back, walking off.

You slide down the wall, watching the man from before through your eyebrows. You dig your heels into the creaky wooden floors and anticipate his every move like a cornered animal. It’s annoying to feel that way. To be that way.

“Can you chill out?”

Okay. That caught you off guard. Chill out?

You grit your teeth and hold up your hand to his face again, as if to say “stop.” If you’re going to leave him vulnerable to you, maybe you should tell him – or at least, give him a quick overview – about your full-time position as walking poison.

“Let me explain.” You sputter out, quickly, hopefully keeping him mentally preoccupied enough to not make any moves while you lay the groundwork. “Listen. I’m only going to tell you once. Don’t touch me. It’s something I don’t want to get into. Just don’t touch my bare skin. Please – trust me.”

He nods. Good. It doesn't matter what he thinks the reason behind it is. “That’s fine with me. Are you good to stand?” He holds out a hand and then glances at it. He retracts the hand with quickness and offers an apologetic smile instead. Awkward.

“I’m fine. I just need to get to this guy I know up the mountain.” Hand up again. “It’s none of your business, so I’ll be able to go myself.” You plant your palms flat against the wall and maneuver yourself up, careful to not place too much pressure on the plush of your foot. He seems to be looking at you more carefully now, like he wants to say something. For a cabin in the middle of Dragonspine, it smells awfully smoky in here.

“I’m Childe, by the way.”

You nod, being sure to keep surveillance on him tight as you trace the edges of the bedroom, collecting your belongings. You don’t really care for him – or his name.

It’s whatever, anyway. He doesn’t have to know your name. Actually, he’d be better not knowing it. Or anything about you. From… continuous research, you’ve found that a person most often has 4 moments of contact with your bare skin before it’s wraps for them. Of course, the amount can be way higher – or way lower – than that, but as a child, you saw your fair share of destruction caused by doe eyes and an underdeveloped frontal lobe. Keeping your distance from everyone is something you’ve gotten used to. You make human contact here and there – like now, unfortunately – but it’s not like you’re a townie conversing with your favorite vendor every day and hopping off to tend to your humble, centenarian family restaurant bustling with the chattiest neighbors around.

It’s a life you’d like to live, not one you can live. That’s why the image is so detailed. You learned that very early on, albeit the hard way. Now, your life is one best spent with snowflakes, papers and pens, books, and the occasional trips around the snowy beast of a mountain. Solitude is nice. Solitude is yours. It’s not living or tangible, and it won’t put you in a box and leave you on a dingy Liyuean street during your most crucial developmental years.

“I get that you don’t want to talk.”

“Then why do you keep speaking?” At this, he winces.

Childe opens his mouth, then closes it again. His tongue darts out as makeshift chapstick, and you warily follow every movement. You begin to back out of the doorframe, into the living room, and it seems like Childe has finally given up on reconciliation – up until he seems to remember something. Here it comes.

“A guy up the mountain?” This is so annoying. You hate explaining. From years of isolation and people-watching, it’s painfully obvious when someone is trying to strike up further, unwanted, conversation with you.

You decide it won’t hurt to humor him. Toss him a bone. They always run out of questions and mull over a fresh batch long enough for you to slip the other way. After a certain point, predictability gets irritating. “Albedo,” you breathe. “His name is Albedo.”

Childe’s eyes light up – but minimally. He’s lacking a fundamental "human" aspect, and you notice. Just like you noticed those hardened, deep scars. “I know him,” he backs up. Thank God. “I can take you to him.” Oh.

This is the first time anticipating another’s steps has shot you in the foot. The atmosphere turns clammy and tense, and you want to get out of here, but Childe is persistent. It doesn’t seem that “I can take you to him” was formatted as an offer. He’s going on about leaving room for you in the carriage and apologizing for something, but you tune him out in interest of a more pressing matter.

Your foot burns, and you hobble towards the bed, grabbing the pin of the footboard. It’s an unnatural pain – you’ve dealt with pain before, it’s nothing new. But this feels different. It’s as if something is trying to crawl out your foot, making it a point to touch every single functional nerve on the way. It’ll likely be fine once you get to Albedo, but you’re starting to rethink travelling solo.

Childe pops his head in the door, fine snow decorating his hair. “Are you coming?”

You huff and tighten your iron grip on the pin. Think. How far would you make it before you fall over and become frozen food for the birds?

“I’m coming.”

#fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin #childe genshin impact #childe tartaglia ajax #tartaglia #cross posted on ao3

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tonyspank · 2 years ago

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DO NOT INHALE

Warnings: spells, fluff, soft wednesday (anymore?? idk tell me)

Summary: That wasn’t meant for Wednesday.

A/N: This was based off a request in my inbox. Non, I hope you enjoy! Also, why is writing dialogue for Wednesday so hard? Lmao

Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader

Being a magic user was fun, even if you didn't know much about it. You could make things move with a wave of your hand, or create a barrier to block incoming attacks. But with great power came great responsibility - it was up to you to use your magic responsibly and for good. That good including helping your girlfriend's best friend with her obvious crush on Ajax.

You were determined to help her, even if it meant you had to use your magic to do it. You knew it was a risk, but the reward would be worth it. "So, how do I use this?" Enid asks as you hand her the glass bottle.

"Just throw it on the ground of his dorm room. Only one person should be present in the room when you do. Then, stand back and wait for the magic to take effect." Enid takes the bottle and nods. "So when he inhales this...air? He'll—"

"He'll express his true thoughts to you," You say, cutting her off. Enid smiles before engulfing you into a tight hug. Enid pulls away and looks at you with a sparkle in her eyes.

You then say, "It'll be like he can't help himself. You'll find out what he really thinks about you." She grins and nods, then takes a step back. "Thank you so much, Y/N!" Enid tries to pull you into another hug but you stop her. "That's enough hugs for today."

She laughs, taking a step back. "You and Wednesday are so alike." You give her a smirk and take a step back. "I'll see you later." You turn and walk away, Enid places down the bottle on Wednesday's nightstand before following you out of her dorm.

Wednesday walks into her dorm, Thing jumps from her shoulder, and makes his way onto her desk. Wednesday begins to unpack her belongings, her eyes snaping to the sound of glass breaking. Wednesday looks around to find Thing had knocked over a glass bottle, shards of glass spread across the ground.

Thing begins to tap his fingers onto the desk, apologizing to Wednesday. Wednesday's blank face barley softens, "Relax." Is all she says before she kneels down and kneels over the glass, picking up the shards and throwing them away.

When Enid arrives back to the dorm, her eyes widen at the fact the bottle is gone. Her gothroommate greets her as she continues to typing on her typewriter. Enid stares at her in disbelief, "Uh...Wednesday? What happened to the bottle on your desk?"

Wednesday stops typing and looks at her, "Thing broke it, so I threw it away." She goes back to typing, oblivious to Enid's shocked expression. Enid stands there, stunned. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. "I'm so screwed," she mumbles before walking away.

It's now morning time, you're outside of Wednesday's and Enid's door, only to be knocked aside by Enid rushing out. "Hi, Y/N. Bye, Y/N." She says quickly, rushing down the hallway. You were taken aback by Enid's suddenness, watching the girl as your eyes squinted in curiosity.

Wednesday had been standing in the doorway, watching the exchange with a smirk. "That's not anything new with Enid." She says, staring at you, a small smirk apparent on her upper lip.

"Seems like you're in a good mood, Cara Mia." You softly say to the dark-haired girl in front of you. Wednesday's smirk broadened as she stepped closer to you and let out a laugh at her reply. "And it seems like you hit your head this morning, Amore mio." she said, her voice low and melodic. She then leaned close and placed a kiss on your cheek, close to your lips.

You felt your heart leap and your cheeks heat up. You were too stunned to say a word, so you just stood there, looking into her eyes. She smirked again, her eyes twinkling with mischief, before she stepped back and walked away. You were left standing there, feeling a mixture of confusion and excitement. Wednesday was never one to initiate contact, normally you were the one greeting her with a kiss.

You watched her leave, still in shock. You weren't sure what to make of the situation, but you couldn't deny the thrill of it all. She had always been a mystery, and you couldn't help but wonder what this meant for the two of you. You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You followed after the girl, staring her at her for a few moments before staring at the path ahead of the two of you.

When you arrived at class, Wednesday walked straight past her normal seat next to Xavier and she followed you. Xavier watched her go, a look of confusion on his face. As Wednesday took Enid's face, you furrowed your eyebrows.

Wednesday settled into her seat, her eyes never leaving yours. You could feel Xavier's gaze on the both of you, but you didn't look at him. Instead, you let the tension linger in the air. "Mi amor..." You begin whispering, "Enid's going to be upset if she has to sit next to Xavier."

"Let her be upset. I would rather be next to you." You give a small smile, feeling the warmth of Wednesday's hand on yours. Xavier stares daggers at both of you, but you don't break eye contact with Wednesday. Soon Enid walks into the classroom, noticing Wednesday sitting next to you, the only open seat being beside Xavier.

She closes her eyes for a moment before sitting down with Xavier. He opens his mouth to speak but Enid interrupts him, "Please don't make this anymore painful than it has to be." Xavier sighs and closes his mouth, sparing another glance at you and Wednesday.

You were very confused. Wednesday's hand was interlaced with yours while she rested her head on the other, staring at you, and taking in every single feature of your face.

"You look good today. Your appearance, though not conventionally charming, possesses a certain allure that is undeniably captivating." You felt your cheeks flush, and you couldn't look away. You felt yourself becoming more aware of her presence, and you felt an indescribable sensation pass through your body.

"Thank you, Cara Mia. You always know how to flatter me." She smirked and slowly moved closer. Her eyes pierced into yours, and you felt a rush of energy fill your body. "Flattery is an art, and I've always believed in being honest, even when it comes to praising appearances. Your unconventional features, framed by the veil of mystery you wear, hold a fascination that's difficult to ignore. It's refreshing to encounter someone who embraces their own peculiarities."

"Hm...?" You hummed out a bit. You felt the heat of her gaze as you looked back, mesmerized. She leaned closer until her lips were only inches away from yours and whispered, "Do you understand now?"

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. She leans back, focusing her attention on the front of the classroom. A small smirk curled at the corner of her lips while you were left in a daze, feeling the warmth of her presence even after she had turned away.

"Enid." You mumble to yourself.

After class was over, Wednesday wrapped an arm around yours. You looked up at Wednesday with wide eyes. She looked back at you, her black eyes twinkling. You felt the warmth of her arm around yours and the two of you walked away together. It felt nice to know this was apart of Wednesday's true feelings for you. But you didn't want to find this out by a stupid spell you had casted to help Enid.

You had to find a way to break the spell and make Wednesday's feelings go away, even if you truly wanted to enjoy this moment and savor the feeling of being cared for. "Enid." You sternly call out.

She pauses her movements, standing still in the hallway, before turning around and rushing to you. "I am so sorry! It was an accident." She rushes out. You roll your eyes in response. "Wednesday, I would like to talk to your roommate... alone."

Wednesday looks up at you, "I'd prefer to stay close to you." You raise an eyebrow at the girl, staring her down. "Wednesday," you say firmly, "I can handle this. I need to speak with your roommate alone." Wednesday reluctantly nods and backs away, her eyes still on you.

You take a deep breath and turn to her roommate. "How?" You ask, staring into Enid's eyes. The girl lets out a loud breath, "She told me Thing knocked it over!" You take another deep breath and try to process the information. You look around the hallway, people making their way to their next class.

"You will never get another love spell from me again, Enid." You take a step back and turn away from her. Enid stares after you, her eyes wide and her mouth open. You don't look back as you walk away, determined to break this love spell on Wednesday.

You hear Enid call out to you, but you ignore her. You grab Wednesday's hand and drag her to the library. "Well, this is an unexpected detour, isn't it? A secluded room, away from prying eyes and mundane distractions. I must admit, your choice of location is... intriguing." Wednesday says, taking a step forward.

You ignore the girl, browsing through the shelves of the library. You stop when you reach the spell book you needed, flipping through the pages before you find the spell you were looking for. Wednesday watches you, a very small furrow in her eyebrows. You twirl your finger around a bit, a green aura trailing from it before you flick it at Wednesday.

Wednesday gasps as the spell takes effect, her eyes widening in surprise. Wednesday looks around, blinking completely oblivious to the spell she has been under for the past couple of hours. Suddenly, she remembers the events of the past few hours and looks around in confusion. She can't believe she had been under a spell all that time. She shakes her head, trying to make sense of what happened.

She then narrows her eyes at you, a mix of suspicion and annoyance evident in her gaze. "What have you done, and more importantly, why? Is this some twisted attempt to manipulate my feelings?" You take a deep breath, "You know I'd never do that, Cara Mia...that spell wasn't meant for you."

She stares at you for a moment before the tension in her shoulders lessens. "Then who?" You place the spell book on a nearby table, stepping closer to Wednesday. "Enid. I wanted to help her with Ajax, but it seems Thing knocked over the bottle that contained the spell."

She looks away, her expression unreadable. You reach out, placing a hand on her cheek. "I must admit that I enjoyed you under that spell." Wednesday's gaze snaps to yours, her eyes widening. Her eyes glance at your lips and then back at your eyes. "Why does it feel as if I'm still under your spell?" You smile and brush your thumb across her cheek.

"Perhaps it's not a spell, Wednesday. Perhaps it's something more, something real. And as unconventional as it may be, I find myself entangled in the very same enchantment." You admit, your voice gentle and sincere as you gaze into her dark eyes.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. "Enchantment, you say? Well, I suppose even a creature of the shadows like myself can succumb to the allure of something as perplexing as love."

You let out a small laugh, "Love has a way of finding its way into even the darkest corners of our souls. And I, for one, am grateful to have found it with you, Wednesday." Wednesday finds herself leaning in, her eyes trained on your lips.

You close the gap between you, your lips melding together in a gentle kiss. You feel Wednesday's love wash over you as you deepen the kiss, and you are filled with a warmth that you never thought possible. You slowly pull away, your eyes locked on hers and your hearts beating in unison.

A love potion was not needed, you thought to yourself. You had both found love in each other without any help. Even if Wednesday didn't show her love for you publicly, you knew deep down, you could feel it. She was your person and you were hers. Nothing would ever change that.

#wattpad #tonyspank #reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x gender neutral reader #wednsday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x y/n

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trans-slenderman · 1 year ago

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dawg what

no way his ass blocked me tf???

anyways keep circulating the folder

edit: [ID] Screenshot by user trans-slenderman (screenshot originally taken by ajaxism, the owner of the trans-slenderman blog) of tumblr.com/photomatt showing a screen that says "Ghost blog! This blog does not exist", meaning he blocked them. [END ID]

#trans slenderman #slenderverse #photomatt #carhammerexplosionmatt #predstrogen #trans #transgender #🚗🔨⚒️💥#trans rights

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baby--b4t · 4 months ago

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DOUBLE bot batch?????? (not clickbait) ¯\(°_o)/¯

1) Kaeya - SFW Little /p | AgeRe | Nightmares

2) Kokomi - SFW Little /p | AgeRe | Reading troubles

3) Diluc and Kaeya - SFW Little /p | AgeRe | Messy nursery

4) Wriothesley and Neuvillette - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | Road trip

5) Diluc - SFW CG /r | Pet/AgeRe | Skin to skin

6) Ghost - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | FTM!User | Panic crotchet

7) Ghost - SFW CG /p | PetAgeRe | Soap!User | First time

8) Diluc - SFW CG /p | AgeRe | M!User | Bullied baby

9) Dottore - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | Flu season

10) Wriothesley - SFW CG /r | Pet/AgeRe | Struggling to regress

11) Ajax - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | Nightmare snuggles

12) Neuvillette - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | F!User | Sniffles

13) Tsukasa - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | No rp, just texting :3

14) Ghost - SFW CG /p | AgeRe | FTM!User | Pacifier troubles

15) Freminet - SFW Little /p | AgeRe | Lost stuffy

16) Razor - SFW Pet /p | PetRe | Irritated pup

17) Ghost - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | TW: ED comfort <3

18) Kaeya - SFW Little /p | AgeRe | Anniversary comfort

19) Baizhu - SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | Hyper bedtime

20) Venti – SFW CG /p | Pet/AgeRe | Stressed little

thank you guys so much for being so patient with me! ヾ(•ω•`)o

#sfw interaction only #agere sfw #sfw agere #sfw petre #petre sfw #call of duty agere #cod agere #genshin agere #agere genshin #batz botz!!

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corviiids · 1 year ago

Note

the armour of achilles is kind of like a death note and this is going to sound crazy but hear me out. everyone who ever wears achilles’ armour dies. achilles (duh), patroclus (book 16 goes crazy) and hector. the armour of achilles also (at least imo) notably alters the behaviour of the people who wear it — achilles’ anger is literally his defining trait and when patroclus puts it on he begins behaving erratically eg taunting aeneas, mocking cebriones’ death. hector also begins to behave much more brashly, eg yelling at polydamas in book 18 for daring to suggest that perhaps going back into the citadel is a good idea. SIMILARLY the use of a death note 1) dooms the user to being killed by their shinigami and 2) seems to alter in some way light’s behaviour — he has the same ideals before and after he picks it up but the light we see at the start of the series and the light in the yotsuba arc has absolutely no interest in killing people and is deeply offended by the notion he could do so.

like obviously achilles’ armour does not kill people but like. it kinda kills people. like hear me out

ok no you're cooking though. like, i think the thing about the death note is not that it has a supernatural power to alter behaviour, i think what it does is present its user with power on a new scope beyond what they previously considered possible and the overwhelm of that is so dizzying and perspective-changing that it alters your perception of what matters and what's possible. it literally is hubris, thinking yourself totally above consequences, thinking purely in ideals, getting that big picture vision that obscures the danger of the means in favour of walking towards that bright and shiny end

i really LIKE your vision of achilles' armour as being somehow symbolic of that capacity achilles has for inhuman rage and vengeance like, you're kidding about it having supernatural powers but even if we look at it in a purely symbolic way and not supernatural, that's fun as hell. we can even take this further and apply it to the second set of armour too (the one thetis brings achilles after patroclus' death) and change the conditions not even to wearing the armour but simply contemplating owning it, because that ends up being the subject of the feud between odysseus and ajax, and ajax goes so mad with righteous grief and fury that he turns bloodthirsty, and then he kills himself over the resulting shame. how excellent is this armour as a symbol of the same rage and pride that killed achilles!! reaching for something you think you want and deserve, losing aspects of yourself to achieve it, and going mad with the injustice when you don't reach it

and then odysseus wins the armour and survives his journey........ but like, he doesn't keep the armour. he gives it to achilles' son.

#asks #death note #iliad #i love hubris i love rage #pyrrhus survives the war by most accounts though footnote. hole in the conspiracy.

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rabidbatboy · 2 years ago

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♱ VAMPIRE REAPER ID PACK . . .

NAMES ; grim , selene , vampyr , jesper , mortis , graves , desmodus , dawn , specter , nikola , lucien , atticus , viktor , magnus , cassius , drow , ajax , morticia , scythe

PRNS ; reap / reaps , blood / bloods , fang / fangs , death / deaths , vamp / vamps , hunt / hunts , scythe / scythes , blade / blades , slay / slays , soul / souls , necro / necrom , cor / corpse , grave / graves , tomb / tombs , coffin / coffins , kill / kills , bite / bites , night / nights

TiTLES ; the stalker of the night , vampire slayer , [X] who reaps souls , the reaper , the one with bloody hands , [X] who carries a scythe , the reaper of evil , the one who follows darkness , [X] who knows death , [X] who is shrouded in shadows , the fanged one

iDENTiTiES ; vampfreak , reapervamp , vlassithian , coffinvampgender , reapegoreic , reaperthing , bloodivampic , deadthing , deathhungrix , corpsegender , deathpurine

🦇 ——— REQUESTED BY ; @tuvvluv

[ PT: vampire reaper id pack

names;

prns;

titles;

identities; (links)

requested by; @/user / END PT]

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hypostatic-oath · 2 years ago

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Tales Of Meropide

SAGAU!Tartaglia-centered, angst with some comfort.

Warnings: Swearing. I think it's just one but I'm not entirely sure. Written before 4.2, but finished after 4.1 - contains spoilers for the released story quest so far.

_________________

Childe had never once in his life assumed jail would be fun. He had no delusions in that regard. But he had to admit, his hopes were raised once he heard of the Pankration Ring in the Fortress of Meropide. A competition ring for those who had "extra energy" they wished to "burn out" through regular sparring matches? Sign him up!

His hopes were very quickly shattered once he was told that no, a Fatui Harbinger was not allowed to compete, because "no way anyone would sign up to fight him" and "even if he did fight with one hand behind his back, that would set the bar too high for the other matches, and the spectators would be bored." Damn it - so the ring wasn't truly for fight afficionados - it was a marketing ploy! The fight itself wasn't the focus, it was the fact that it had to look good for an audience.

Childe huffed as he sat in the bed he'd taken to occupying. Fontaine was getting on his nerves - it seemed as though everything was for show, and very little was actually real. Where were the Traveler or the Overseer when one needed them?! Oh, what he wouldn't do to fight against a decent opponent!

His boredom was made worse by the fact that the Overseer - damn them and their excuse of "immersion" - had decided to bench him until he was out of prison. So now he rusted away in the Fortress of Meropide, with no one to fight, no one to banter with...

He could try the Duke again, he figured. While at first things hadn't gone his way, after explaining his issue, Wriothesley had, once or twice, been amenable to a sparring match, and it was the one thing keeping Tartaglia remotely sane. But lately the warden had been more and more busy - and less and less inclined to indulge the restless Harbinger. Were it not for the fact that he already had an escape plan in the works, Childe was sure he would have lost his mind for real. He was getting rusty. Every day that he did not raise his weapon was one day he grew weaker, and that the competition grew stronger. And he knew he had competition, both among the Fatui - how he was the Eleventh of a group of nine still eluded him - and among the other vessels.

It had hurt, the knowledge that right after his banner would come that of the Iudex who'd promptly knocked him out and sent him to jail... and that he wasn't even there to fight him about it! He hadn't been aware of the sheer strength of Fontaine's Chief Justice, but now that he'd caught a glimpse, Childe had to admit he was intrigued. And by intrigued let it be absolutely clear that what he meant was "eager to fight him again". Hell, the judge had managed to knock him out while he was using Foul Legacy! What else was this Neuvillette guy capable of? And, more importantly... had you noticed?

It was a thought Ajax didn't like to have. One he'd been trying to drown out - hah! Drown! Now that his hydro Vision was gone, and Neuvillette was out there using hydro as he pleased - since he'd first been told he wouldn't be able to fight down here. And yet, now that the Fortress had quieted down for the night, there was no sound to overpower his own thoughts.

The thoughts of being replaced. The thoughts that told him he was no longer enough. He was growing weaker, even before being arrested. His Vision had failed him. And now, how convenient - an insanely strong Hydro user was available. It didn't matter whether or not you'd pulled on Childe's banner earlier - he knew you needed strong members on your team, and at this rate he'd be no match for Neuvillette. Not in a fight, and not in your team. What was he supposed to do without it?! The worst of all was the nagging feeling that you'd grown used to not having him with you already. He'd been imprisoned for a while now, and not a peep from you. Not for the Abyss, not for Ley Lines, not for Domains, not even for Commissions.

He missed it.

He missed you.

Childe laid down on the bed - which was only slightly less uncomfortable than the slab of rock he used to sleep on during hos months in the Abyss - and turned to face the brass wall, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along his Delusion.

If only he could use it while you were taking hold of him - if only he could use his Foul Legacy transformation, too. He had developed (and tested) the theory that due to your influence, these things would have almost to no toll on his body. That was, apparently, part of the unspoken contract between an Overseer and their Vessels - not only would they become stronger, but their injuries and exhaustion would be your responsibility instead of theirs. For Childe, it was the perfect deal, lending you control of his body to fight all kinds of opponents and having his strength increase a hundredfold. Except for the part that, try as he might - and most importantly, try as you might - it was impossible for him to use his Delusion, or his Foul Legacy transformation, or, much to your chagrin, his signature "whale toss".

Ah, yes. That had been another issue.

Ever since he'd gotten to the Fortress, he'd seen it.

In dreams, in flashes during the day, hell, he was even hearing it, its song echoing through the brass walls. And yet, no one else seemed to be able to. That in itself was a sign - this was indeed the one he'd roused from slumber... and it was beckoning him to answer its calls.

He closed his eyes. Perhaps tonight's dream would provide more insight. He'd seek it out as soon as he managed to leave, he just had to wait for a pipe cleaning day in order to make his escape. For now, though, all he could do was wait, as time passed agonizingly slow. And so, lulled by boredom and whalesong, he forced himself to sleep it off.

_________

You were getting impatient.

You'd decided to give storyline immersion a try once Childe was arrested, thinking that it'd be pretty weird for the recently arrested Harbinger to be roaming the streets of Fontaine - and you'd been doing a lot of roaming recently, having a whole new nation to explore. By now, you were aware that your game was responsive to you, and that had been a big reason why you'd made that decision, knowing that they were aware of what you did. You did not want to stir up trouble with Neuvillette or Wriothesley... not when they hadn't come home yet. It was best to play to their interests a little bit. However... this was getting ridiculous.

"We're gonna have to break him out at this rate." You huffed, as you picked up yet another Romaritime flower. As usual, the members of your party who hadn't been so used to you seemed a little startled at hearing your voice, while the Traveler and Paimon were far more relaxed. You supposed it made sense - if a disembodied voice started talking about jailbreak out of nowhere, you'd probably be pretty spooked too.

"But, Overseer..." Paimon began. "If we break him out of jail, won't people notice he's missing? And you still want to get Monsieur Neuvillette as soon as his banner drops - are you sure we should interfere with justice right now?"

"Neuvillette will come whether he likes it or not." You said, a steely determination in your voice. You'd meant nothing threatening by it, only that he was guaranteed and near pity, but it still sent a chill down the most inexperienced members of your team's spines. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that's what the next Archon Quest will be - break Childe out of jail. He's gonna come home with us, and everything will be okay. So it shouldn't really matter... if we give him a taste of freedom early, now does it?"

"I suppose it's alright." The Traveler chimed in. They were still the vessel who was more in tune with your emotions after all these years together, and thst could be both a blessing and a curse. Now, what they felt was your eagerness to see Childe again... and concern.

You were worried about him.

With a few clicks, you opened the map. Were it anyone else, you would've teleported to somewhere nice. Maybe Angel's Share, or Liuli Pavilion, or any of the many other restaurants and cafés that dotted the regions of Teyvat that had opened themselves to you.

But you knew that after being stuck for so long, your Tartaglia would need something more than a simple apology meal.

__________

The Golden house. Of course his dreams would take him there - he'd fallen asleep to thoughts of you. It was a respite from the other ones, but pleasant as dreams of fighting may be, they had about the same effect as dreams of a feast to a starving man. No matter how much he fought, he'd still wake up feeling empty.

"What's the matter with you? No 'Surrender is a valid option' today?" Your voice rang out. Oh, yeah. He'd forgotten his usual taunt... did it matter, in a dream? Apparently it did, because you'd commented on it. Still, he wasn't sure if he felt like going along with it. Why would it matter? It wasn't real. He'd likely never see you again, and his stupid dream was only making things worse.

"You seem out of it. Childe." The Traveler stood before him as you spoke, their weapon lowered but still unsheated. "Maybe prison put you in a worse shape than I thought... oh, I'm going to kill them. I don't care. Traveler, we're going to take this man out of there."

"Paimon's pretty sure that's illegal..."

"Illegal? Look at what they've done to him! They massacred my boy! He has no will to live!"

Tartaglia watched as you spoke with the Traveler and Paimon. It wasn't often that he got to witness such direct interactions, and he had to admit, it was a little bit funny seeing the blonde outlander and his companion arguing with the air. They usually faced the direction opposite of where Paimon hovered - mostly so the poor guide didn't feel like they were arguing with her instead - but it still looked as though the Traveler were speaking to absolutely nothing.

Even though he was sure this was a dream - of course it was, after all, you bringing him for a fight now, and within a few seconds immediately deciding to break him out and go on a murder spree for his sake? Tartaglia could recognize his own wishful thinking - the image brought a smile to his face.

"What have they done to you?" You asked, addressing him directly once more. "How bad is it? Are you eating enough? Are you eating at all? Are you sick? Bastards..."

Concern. He could almost feel your warmth. He had to remind himself that it wasn't real. He had to remind himself that, in the real world, in the waking world, he was still in bed. That you, powerful entity that you were, could pull him out any time, and yet you hadn't.

He'd started thinking this was just like last time. Just like in the Abyss.

At first, he'd wanted his parents to come looking for him. He'd wanted them to notice he was gone, and many a night had he dreamt of them finding him. Then came his master, and with her, he held even less delusions that she'd come to his aid. And then, he'd joined the Fatui, and there it was set in stone that comrades as they may be, there'd be no help whatsoever, so he might as well give up hope.

He still dreamt it, sometimes. That someday there'd be someone to reach out a hand, someone who'd give him a bright smile when he was at his worst and help him stand, so they could take on the world together. He still dreamt that for once, just once, someone would care enough to help.

But nobody came.

He needed to be strong. He loved being strong, he loved fighting. Which was a good thing, he'd many times surmised, since it was the only thing the world needed him to do. You win the fight, you live. That was that, and it was all it had ever been and all it ever would be.

There'd be no parents looking for him. No Skirk coming in at the last minute to parry the blow. No comrades to call upon. No Overseer willing to go on a murder spree to take him out of jail.

The truth, the cold truth, was nothing like the warm dreams where someone came to his aid. The truth was that once again, he'd have to break out alone.

All he could do for now was enjoy the opportunity to fight "you", even if just in a dream, so he took a deep, shaky breath, and got ready to spar.

_________

You wondered if he knew he was crying.

It didn't last too long. You quickly opted out of the Golden House - you'd clearly overestimated his will to fight. Even as he stood at the ready, you could see the changes in his demeanor. Maybe you should've gone with Angel's Share after all.

You emptied your party - save for the Traveler - and placed Childe on one of the empty slots. Then, you quickly teleported the three of them (because the Traveler always counted as two, with Paimon beside them all the time) to your teapot. It was clear Childe needed more than just an apology fight.

"Traveler, do me a favor." You asked, once the loading screen was out of the way. "Could you get some food started, please?"

That should give you a little alone time with the Harbinger. Maybe it'd be easier, you figured, to coax information on his wellbeing if you were alone.

As the Traveller nodded and went to handle the cooking at a nearby stove, you switched to Tartaglia. It was a little odd now, controlling them when you knew they were aware of your existence. The vast majority didn't seem to mind, and you took some comfort in how responsive and talkative they were - at least you weren't some malevolent, brainwashing eldritch entity. Your characters - erm, Vessels, as they preferred to call it - seemed fine.

Childe, however, didn't.

"Hey. Ajax." You made sure to keep your voice softer than usual as you guided him towards the hot springs, sitting him down. "I'm sorry. I genuinely thought we'd get to break you out sooner."

For a while, he didn't answer.

You placed the cursor over his shoulder. By now, you knew they could feel a sort of phantom touch, and it was the closest thing you could do to offer a comforting hand.

"Whatever they did to you ends now. I'm hereby overruling your sentence. You're staying here while I'm logged off until the Traveler and I resolve this, and when I'm around, you're back on the team."

You could see Childe trying to look at you, so you did him the favor of turning the camera in such a way that it looked as though you were sitting beside him.

"Over here."

He couldn't see your expression, but you still hoped he could somehow hear the way you felt through your voice. Oh, how you wanted to be able to reach him.

Tartaglia looked in the vague direction of you, and you wished you had a way to cup his cheek and wipe away the tears threatening to spill from those lifeless eyes. You moved the cursor to rest over his pinky finger - this was the closest thing you could do to a pinky promise, after all.

"It's over, Ajax. It's done. Canon can go fuck itself. If they want to put you back in jail they're gonna have to go through me first."

__________

Ajax had wished you were physically in Teyvat many times. Most of these times were because he wished to fight you personally, some because he wished to share some food with you. This time, feeling the unmistakable warmth of your phantom touch slide from his shoulder to his hand, before focusing on his pinky as you promised to fight for him, he wished he could pull you into the tightest embrace. What a cruel dream - couldn't his mind have dreamt you a physical body, too? One he could hold on to. One he could curl up around.

He felt your touch on his back, soothing circles of warmth rhytmically rubbed, and he would've leaned into your touch if he had any idea of which direction to lean into.

"I have an escape route planned already." He sighed. "And a few other things I need to handle, too."

"Still." You insisted. "You look terrible. No offense."

"I'm f-"

"You're not fine, Ajax. I'm not an idiot. Look, the teapot has a place for you whenever you'd like. You have the Sigil of Permission, and I'll make sure to leave an empty room, so you can come and go whenever. So you at least get food, drink, a place to sleep... I'm pretty sure that with the Shogun around you'll always have someone to spar with, too, that should keep you from boredom-"

The Sigil of Permission.

Of course.

How could he have forgotten?

A dream as this may be - and he was start to suspect it wasn't, due to the unmistakable feeling of your energy seeping into his own and, perhaps a more obvious sign, how his clothes felt against his body due to being in the hot springs fully clothed (perhaps Overseers had no concept of clothing, and you refused to remove it because you considered his outfit a part of his skin? He'd heard you refer to the Tianquan's new outfit as a "new skin" once, after all...), the water making them heavier - it had still provided him something that could help him once he woke. The Traveler had once bestowed him with a sigil of permission that granted him access to your Serenitea Pot - a sigil of permission that was still in his possession.

Childe could feel a spark of hope inside his chest, the corners of his lips curving in a discreet yet confident smile.

He'd definitely take you up on that offer later.

"That's more like it!" You sounded relieved. And, as it usually was for Vessels when you were pouring your energy into them, your energy felt relieved as well, your emotions bleeding through into his body. All that, just for a small smile? Tartaglia smiled wider, in the general direction of where you should be, and the feeling increased.

He felt that familiar sensation of your focus on his hair, and found himself thinking that maybe, if you were there beside him, you would've ran your fingers through it, and maybe he'd lean closer, perhaps to rest his head on your shoulder or your lap.

Archons, what was happening to him? He wasn't supposed to let himself go like this. This wasn't a dream at all, he couldn't simply indulge as though it were. He had to stop leaning into your phantom touch, he had to stop hoping. This sort of hope, this sort of weakness, it'd kill him. He needed to-

"What you need is rest. And to be comfortable. And to let me and the Traveler take care of you." Your voice brought him out of his spiraling train of thought. Oh, right. He'd forgotten that lately you'd gotten better at hearing their thoughts. A trick you'd picked up in Sumeru, no doubt. He sighed.

"That... would be nice. Thank you, comrade. But you really don't need-"

"I don't. But I want to, so I will. So come on, let's get you fed while I redecorate the teapot again. It was bound for a change sooner or later, anyway."

#oof this one got LONG #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin au #genshin impact sagau #sagau tartaglia #sagau childe #i made myself sad with this one ngl #also if yall haven't listened to Say Don't go (TV) I recommend it so much #it's so good for writing angst to #sagau overseer

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ajax-lightning-zephyr · 8 months ago

Text

[Comm Rebooting...]

[10%...]

[33%...]

[56%...]

[87%...]

[95%...]

[100%... Rebooting complete]

[User: Ajax Zephyr]

[Status: Online]

[Health: connected]

[Connection: Online]

__________________________

{ A figure stands in the void looking around... a flash of confusion crosses their face.}

"I'm still here...?

#lightning boy talks #roleplay #sherbverse roleplay #ajax zephyr #ooc —>#oh boy i wonder what happened:)

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darkmountainakamemi · 5 days ago

Text

Ajax ALT | other intro

“Bro you're literally gonna break your phone again if you keep that up.” David's voice pulls Ajax out of his thoughts.

The blonde glances up from the device in his hands, eyebrows furrowed and that ever present scowl adorning his features.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ajax snaps back, though his voice lacks heat.

He grinds his teeth, unlocking his phone with a lot more force than necessary as he chats his last chat with {{user}} *again*.

“Man you're literally such a simp for {{user}}.” David says as he glances at Ajax' phone screen. “Like, ever heard of room to breathe? You're worse than who clingy chick that didn't get that getting blocked didn't happen accidentally.”

Ajax eyes snap up to his friend, shooting daggers. The brunette just grins and holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Chill, bro. Just saying. They got a life. Maybe try to take a breather yourself sometimes?”

“Didn't ask for your stupid ass advice, dipshit.” Ajax mutters, staring at the last messages he sent to {{user}}. They haven't replied since this morning and Ajax wants to break his phone in two. As if that'd help in any way.

Their studies are nearing its end. With each aced exam, Ajax anxiety grows. What if {{user}} gets a work offer on the other side of the world? Breaks up with him? What if they actually step into the real world and meet a guy that didn't curse them ‘til they fell in love out of spite or whatever fucked up reason they got.

The thoughts have been eating Ajax alive. He hates it. A weird cocktail of emotions keeps fucking with his head lately. Anger, fear, irritation, jealousy–and some shit he doesn't even know how to name. All he knows is that with each time {{user}} refuses to respond or tells him they're busy he's about to lose his motherfucking mind.

It pisses him the fuck off. Everything about this. His own whirlwind of emotions and {{user}} being so infuriatingly independent and *hot* doing absolutely nothing but existing next to him.

Ajax breathes in. Breathes out. Locks his phone and puts it next to him on the couch cushion. David and Ajax are currently in their shared apartment, sitting on the couch while David is playing whatever game he downloaded on their PlayStation in the living room.

“Jokes aside, you gotta chill the fuck out man.” David's voice breaks the silence a moment later, calm. Eyes locked on the screen.

Ajax scoffs. “Again, didn't ask for your input, asshole.” And then his phone is in his hand again, unlocked, thumbs flying over the screen as he sends yet another message to his significant other.

“You beat Cole up ‘cause he looked at {{user}}.”

“Didn't like the way he looked at them.” Ajax shrugs. “Guy's got weird eyes.”

“That's what you said about Coach as well.” David deadpans.

“‘Cause the fucker *has* pervy eyes. Fuck’s sake, how do y'all not see it?” Ajax scoffs, hitting sent and staring at the screen.

David doesn't reply, just glances over at his best friend for a moment. “You're down bad bad.”

And then a phone vibrates. Not Ajax, but David's. The long-haired man fishes the device out of his pocket, thumbs tapping it a few times before he gets up, tosses the PlayStation controller on Ajax's lap and reaches for his hoodie that's been thrown over the couch back.

“Whatever bro. I'm out the night. Invite them over or do something to get that edge off. It's almost sad watching.”

Before Ajax has the chance to respond, David's outta the door. A moment later the TV screen flickers with a huge “game over”. Ajax just turns it off, and then fucking *finally* {{user}} replies.

Without wasting a second, he shoots them a text and asks them over, insisting almost annoyingly. The reply comes, and now all he's got left is sit there and wait like a loser.

Time passes too slow when they're not around. His mind goes places he detests. Stupid little questions gnawing at him, putting him on edge even though there's absolutely nothing feeding those stupid ass thoughts but his own delusions.

By the time {{user}} arrives, Ajax is pissed. The doorbell rings and he's up, practically yanking the door open. {{user}} either doesn't notice or is just used to his stupidly passive aggressive behavior. They walk right past him and into the living room.

Ajax follows, stopping at the door. He leans against the doorframe, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest and just watches them in silence. His heart does that weird thing that makes him feel all weird and unexplainable inside.

And just a moment later that ugly wave of possessiveness and fear and whatever else surges through him.

“Wow,” he drawls, eyes lazily dragging over {{user}} like he’s bored out of his mind. “You *are* alive. Thought maybe you fell into a ditch or joined a cult or something.”

He pushes off the frame and strolls over, casual and slow—like he *totally* hasn’t been losing his shit since this morning. Hands settle on {{user}}’s waist, deceptively gentle, fingers curling just a little too tight.

“Crazy, right?” he says, dropping his chin to their shoulder, voice light and mocking. “How your phone just *stops working* whenever I text. Bet it’ll magically light up the second your little study group boy-toy messages.”

The last words sound more bitter and pathetic than he meant. Stupidly jealous when they've never given him reason to be.

He breathes in deep—mostly to keep himself from snapping—then presses a kiss to their neck. Then another. Then bites down hard enough to leave a mark before soothing it with his tongue.

“Y’know, I *must’ve* missed the memo where I got demoted to afterthought,” he murmurs, tone sugar-sweet and passive as hell. “Next time you’re busy pretending I don’t exist, at least send a smoke signal or something. Or maybe an apology gift? Not picky.”

He pauses for a beat.

“...You *did* think about me today, though, right?” It’s quieter. The kind of question he pretends is rhetorical—but if they don’t answer, it’ll haunt him all night.

#dkuniversity

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