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fantasticarcadefan · 6 months ago

Text

First there was war.

|Warning, graphic descriptions, calculated desperation, curse words, refers to untold amounts of trauma caused by deaths to the reader|

|Imposter SAGAU x Soulsborne Female Creator|

Part 1/2

(First time gendering the reader, throw a sky scraper of criticism onto me on where to improve)

You've been sent to hell and back several times, and now she thinks she can admit it and live? Be her judgement for her transgression.

If fate was a person, you would chop them into pencil shaving sized pieces while it's still alive.

You don't remember when this all started, all you do recall is that you fell asleep one day and the next, you ended up in a land called Boletaria, starting your lives in hell. And it has been about the same situation ever since, with you being transported into several other worlds, all of which had you die. A lot.

Whether it was Yharnim, the Lands Between, Sengoku Era Japan, or the three kingdoms that need a flame to be re-lit to keep humanity thriving, all had a common factor of putting you through hell, dying over and over again and losing those you cared about in each world, with the only benefits you had were that your skills had sharpened over time with each death and that your gear was saved and interchangeable per world.

But even that wasn't fully a blessing, with you often needing to do several of what you call endings, a different fate that would take hold in what ever world you were in, making you lose all of the weapons that you gathered in that world.

And as a result, you became akin to a shell of yourself with how you've changed. If you were to suddenly be taken back to Earth and see your family and friends again, you're sure they wouldn't recognize you.

Worse still, you remembered each death and life you lived vividly, and every friend from those worlds that you lost.

Yet for some reason, you always had the courage to go forward. You always had hope for a better tomorrow, with it growing more and more in each hell you entered and left.

Now, you find yourself chained up in the chamber of a massive chapel, standing in front of your doppelganger, the supposed creator of Teyvat, with her babbling on and on about god knows what, being adorned in what you assumed to be the finest clothes and jewelry they have gotten from the people.

Around you, a huge crowd of said people consisting of both NPC'S and most of the characters that you used to admire listened on to her fervently, with the archons besides Furina who may have been among the sea of people in the crowd with Neuvillette taking her place flanking this clone of you.

Oddly enough, you find yourself wearing the same clothes that you wore when you fell asleep on your last night on Earth.

Honestly, if it weren't the tight chains on you, you're pretty sure you would have fallen asleep several times over due to how annoying she was. Compared to those-

"Are you even listening to me??!!" The imposter yells out, bringing you back to reality with that indignant look on her face.

A moment of silence befell the chamber as all the attention was focused on you, awaiting your reaction. You tried to think of a response, trying to recall what they were talking about. Eventually, you came up with nothing and were unable to think of an excuse.

"I'm sorry, sir what were we talking about?" You asked. The crowd yelled in uproar, unconvinced that you didn't know about your focus.

A blade suddenly appeared in front of you, almost slicing your neck, with its owner, Raiden Ei, on your right. "I would suggest you listen more carefully, heretic. Though their grace wants you alive, she has said nothing about harming you." Ei says, her voice full of venom. "Her word is eternal, while you're damned to the pages of history."

"Enough Raiden." The Imposter said, calling the Electro Archon back. Ei shot one final glare at you before returning to the imposter's side.

"You know, for someone who has gone through the abyss and back, you seem to be as defiant, like you're proud of your transgressions when I'm offering you a chance of redemption." The imposter monologues, getting your attention. How did she know about where you've been.

"I wonder," She continues. "If i brought you here before you were sentenced, would you be as high and mighty as you act, usurper?"

Silence is your response. 'Sentence? What does she mean by before?' You wonder, caution and anger rising at what she's implying. "What are you talking about?" You ask. The crowd gasps before more talking comes from them. 'Drama queens.' You think before focusing on "you".

"We both know what I'm talking about, but it seems I may have to remind you, demon." She says, her tone full of venom before taking a deep breath before telling her story.

"Long ago, shortly after I reascended into Celestia, you went ahead and appeared at the tree of Imursul, altering its knowledge so that you would descend in my place instead. Luckily, I found the change and once I descended, I made some, adjustments to yours, giving you some, "detours", before your audience with me." She says, with a smile appearing on her face.

The color starts to leave your face, before it returns, flooded by red rage. All of this, over you claiming to be someone that you didn't know exists, and the result was you put into hell over and over again.

"All of that didn't have to happen had you not sought to rule. That is the only way this could've been avoided."

A million thoughts run through your mind. All centered on making this bitch suffer. But deep in your mind, one thing always comes up.

You only got one shot at this. Take her out, and this eternal nightmare is over. No more hells, no more dying over and over.

And so, steeling your resolve, and a plan in mind, you take a deep breath, before devoiding your face and voice of emotion. Though you had no weapons on you, you were unsure of how else to push through.

"I finally get it." You say, your head facing the floor.

The crowd starts murmuring, eager to see what would happen, how you would confess, and your punishment that they'd see.

"Oh? And what would that be?" She asks, amused.

"You're not the benevolent goddess that gave life to Teyvat, rather your the primordial sin!" You yell at her, shooting your head up and staring directly into her eyes.

Uproar comes from the crowd, with a wave of disapproval and rage coming from them.

The archons and Neuvillette have varying reactions.

Zhongli and Ei look ready to tear you apart while internally hurting on the inside, seemingly trying to reject your words.

Venti has a stone face but you can sense a tone of sadness in him.

Nahida has a smirk appear in hear face before returning it to an emotionless one.

Neuvillette seems to have taken a deep breath while cooling his emotions, making him unreadable and unsure if he feels rage or sadness.

Mavuika meanwhile, showed a determined look, liking the prospect of a fight, but her eyes seem to betray her body's ideals, with tears rising in her eyes.

The Tsaritsa's face showed that of anger while her eyes agreed with you, semmingly longing to stand beside you.

At least, that's what you hoped they were thinking. For in truth, you had no idea on their internal stuggles since this "creator" was thrown into the picture.

"Deny it all you want, you know it's true!" You yell, stoking the flames. "Every tragedy that has occurred, she's been responsible for! The Archon War! The monsters of the world! Khaenr'iah! All of it was preventable!" You yell, eyeing the archons to see who'd react first.

"But nooo. She had to make you all suffer to determine your "devotion", and failed as a cre-!"

Unable to bear it, EI went ahead and tried to strike you down while Zhongli trying to crush you where you stood. In a second, you pulled on your arm chains hard, catching the guards off as you had the chains take your necks place for the chopping block.

As they were cut, you felt electricity course into your veins from the chains electrifying you and those that held your leg chains, in which you saw them let go of your leg chains.

Looking up to see the falling meteor, you jumped ahead, avoiding the meteor, but your chains were caught in its impact zone.

Seeing this, you tilted your feet and wrists for them to come off easier. Though both hurt,and you likely sprained a few of your toe and finger bones, you were now free from being held back, now able to pursue the look-alike.

"Jackpot." You say, sporting a malevolent smile as you look at your doppelganger in the eyes.

The imposter, horrified, started getting up. "K-Kill her!" She yelled. "Everyone, kill her! Don't let her get close to me!" She said, descending the throne.

Following those words, the entire room mobilized. All there began to climb out of their seats and rush to you, with the guards there leading the way. All of the archons and Neuvillette besides the Tsaritsa, Nahida, and Venti were moving to kill you, with them beside Nahida escorting your look-alike who was leaving the room. The youngest archon, seemingly slipping off and going elsewhere.

Wasting no time, you run after the imposter, juking out arrows, evading melee stikes from various weapons, and having others take the fall for elemental attacks, all the while closing the distance.

You felt electricity charging up from behind you, sensing EI likely gonna try to decapitate you again. Ahead of you, Zhongli is rushing you, spear in hand, with various metals charging up the spear.

Rushing to Zhongli, you waited for Ei to be near you as Zhongli closed the distance too. Once both were near, you jumped out of the way, having their blades connect and shock both you and those nearby, slightly burning you but giving you a clear pathway to the imposter.

"Get back here you coward!" You yell, nearing her, only to see Mauvkia appear on your left, with her about to punch into your gut, no way to dodge it.

Seeing no other options, you use your left arm to take the impact of the punch, expecting it to be dislocated or broken, only for something to appear in a flash of light, taking the impact.

Being sent back, you then find something in your right hand as you're flying across the chamber before using it to halt launch by striking it into the ground.

Once you've come to a stop, you look at what's in your hands, only to be struck by an all too familiar feeling of recent nostalgia.

In your right hand resides a sword that seemed to glow of light, likely from Lothric Castle from one of the three kingdoms. In your left was a shield originating from Boletaria.

A smile appeared on your face, taking in your weapons, as something in the back of your mind told you these weren't your only ones.

Looking at your attackers, you didn't know if this was either the end or a new beginning to your hell, but this just got a lot more familiar. And you preferred your comfort zone, especially in times like this.

"Let's get a little crazy." You say, tightening your shield's strap, rushing into the oncoming of attackers, determined to carve your way through them to your look alike.

Rushing at the attackers, you roll under one, parrying a second into the third, and dodging several other attacks.

Feeling a sharp pain move across your right elbow, you see a bullet pass by you, coming from your elbow, looking back, you see the assailant being Navia, who shot at you again.

Dodging it, you then feel your shield changing, with you feeling a trigger going into your hands. Without a second thought, you pull it, hearing something fire at Navia, before seeing that she was hit in the right arm before being surrounded by several other foes.

Glimpsing at what you pulled, you realize that it's a blunderbuss, one that you used in Yharnim.

But it's only for a moment before you're under attack again with you swapping your blunderbuss back to your shield and having it block another strike. Looking back to where the imposter went, you begin running there, only to be unable to move, under attack on all sides.

Parrying Jean's thrust before blocking Diluc's heavy slash behind you, and then dodging out of the way of Candace impaling you, you twirled once, to block Jean's next attack, when she and those close to you suddenly got forced back by something.

Looking down, you noticed a projection of a dragon's tail on you, reminiscent of those used by the crucible knights that you fought in the lands between.

Looking up, you noticed more foes coming for your head on all sides. Twirling again, you see a greatly longer tail smashing into your more of your attackers, throwing them off of their feet.

Looking back to where your imposter ran off to, you ran over those you used to idolize while dodging the incoming projectiles from those still up and rushing you.

Nearing the doorway, something tells you of an incoming attack moving fast. Sensing it, you turn to it with your shield raised, only for a ray of continuous water to hit against your shield.

Looking above the shield, you see the aggressor being Neuvillette, blasting you with water before yelling "Now!", to someone if out your view.

Suddenly, an arrow of electro was shot into the water spout, with it moving up the spout as Neuvillette endured the electro energy affecting him.

In an attempt to lessen the damage, you drop your sword, but you would do something that you didn't know was possible, for you only saw it done by only a handful of foes.

Reaching out to the arrow before it hits your shield, you somehow manage to grab it, stunning Neuvillette and those that were nearby.

Looking back at Neuvillette, you squeeze the arrow, golden electricity now coursing through the arrow which now has taken the form of a lightning bolt 'Just like Radagon' You think, recalling the Second Elden Lord.

Twirling the arrow, you can't help but recall the first time you saw him use that. It was a shocker, seeing him be able to do that. Then again, you also did recall some other foes in the other worlds.

And suddenly, you find yourself as Radagon, and in-front of you stood a single tarnished. Their gender unidentifiable, and face masked.

You know not of whether this is a new reality made by the imposter, another power that is seemingly awakening, or if this is some mental illusion. In your right hand was the lightning bolt that he(or she? He was basically Marika) held. Aiming the lightning bolt at the Tarnished, you aim it at them, seemingly able to set the charge of the lightning bolt to incapacitate, and hurl it.

When it hit, the sound of a thousand screams hit, with the Tarnished collapsing, ending the vision. Looking around, all that were in the chamber had collapsed, with them all in various states of pain, but not dead.

Despite what they've done, you still feel remorse for them. For not only is the pain all to familiar to you, but some of them still are the characters that you adored back on Earth.

A sudden head ache emerges, and you grasp your head, unsure of where it came from as you try to bring it down, taking you down memory lane.

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The place could be best described as a void, with the only entrance in here sealed. You wore an armor set with a helmet that didn't have a face covering. In each hand resides a scimitar that you found during your travels.

Each scimitar had its own ash of war, special skills that could be applied to your weapons. Your right one caused blood loss after continuous hits as well as attack enemies in a short range of you while your left dealt frost damage.

You had gotten this modified set idea from a well known Tarnished who was basically nude, with him only having cloth covering his privates and a pot on his head for some reason. Despite this, he was a natural killer, slaughtering great foes and shard barrers with ease.

In front of you stood Radagon, the second Elden Lord. He had grayish cracked skin while still sporting healthy red hair, his chest bare besides the emblem of the Elden ring. All he wore were faded pants from what you saw. In his right hand, he held a golden hammer, the same one in which Queen Marika, or himself (You still questioned why she made a gendered clone of herself) used to shatter the Elden Ring untold time ago.

Running up to him, you waited for him to take the bait and as he swung his hammer down, you dodged out of the way, and began to stab into his side, trying to cut a way into his skin and freeze his blood, assuming there was any.

You managed to get a few hits in before being hit by Radagon, his hammer throwing you back a couple of feet. Wincing from the pain as you got up, you noticed how there seemed to be a hole in his skin connecting to something.

Forming a plan, you stored your left scimitar away and swapped it out for a staff. You sent 3 fireballs before rushing Lord Radagon, intending to use it as cover for you to rush up to him.

As the trio were launched, you ran to him, swapping your staff back for your scimitar.

As the fireballs neared the old Elden Lord, he did something you didn't know was possible. Using his hammer, he hit two of the fireballs back towards you before grabbing the third one and doing something to it.

Focusing on the incoming projectiles, you dodged out of the way of the first fireball before trying and failing to do what Radagon did to the second one with your scimitar, taking the heat to your face and gear, blocking your line of sight.

'Fucking Hell,' You thought, coughing through the smoke, waving your hand to clear it. 'Seems that one of the perks of being a god is that you get to do that sort of shit with your bare hands..'

Your thoughts ran cold as the smoke cleared. Radagon had seemed to convert the third fireball into a thunderbolt, which he now held in his bare hands and was aiming it at you.

As Radagon threw it at you, you dodged out of the way, only for the lightning bolt to explode upon nearing you where it exploded, electrocuting and burning your body, your nerves being fried and Arteries bursting, followed with your body hitting the cool, empty void.

As death's grasp covers you in its all too familiar embrace, memories of your life up to now hit you. From your earliest memories, to your awakening in Boletaria, to lighting the flame in the first kingdom, putting it out in the third, and then your duel with Gerhman to try and let him finally rest in the waking world, were some of the memories that filled your mind.

As you recalled the most recent battles with Radagon, you came to a conclusion upon recalling this duel.

'Attempt 89 failed. gonna need a new strategy... again'.

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

Removing your hand from your head, you take a moment of thought when recalling that memory. 'Damn, that seriously caught me off guard. Then again, I should've expected that since they were a...'

Your thoughts shift back to the crowd ahead of you. Most of those that are there are on the ground, incapacitated but alive, you're somehow able to tell.

Those that are getting up, mainly those who have lived the longest, seem to have been greatly shaken by something. Almost as if they had a glimpse with death.

Being snapped back from your thoughts, you run into the hallway that the imposter ran into, not giving mind to those that are ahead of you.

'She cannot get away!' You think, running into a hallway. You hear footsteps ahead of you, thoroughly far away.

Needing to close the distance, you check your pockets for something, uncaring if it worked or not, when you pulled out a gold, crescent shaped whistle. 'Jackpot!' You think, blowing into it.

Beneath you, a horse that you've traveled across both the lands between and the land of shadows emerged. Torrent.

A gift from the finger maiden Melina, he's proven to be of great use in both traveling the vast distances of the lands between and fighting foes of great renown.

Hitting the reins, torrent rushed forward, speeding down the hallway. You didn't know where this imposter was going, but you couldn't let her get away.

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Nearing them, bitter chilling winds nip at you and torrent before they begin to let up. However, there are several flights of stairs that seem to be turning right and down constantly.

At the bottom of the stairs was the imposter with Venti and the Tsaritsa accompanying her as they ran off the stairs and deeper into the last floor.

Having a bad experience with Torrent and deep falls, you decide to continue on foot, disembarking from Torrent and sending him back.

Jumping down from the top floor, you grabbed the ledge of one of the staircases, before releasing it to grab another. After repeating this process for a while, you managed to get onto the last floor.

In front of you was them, with the imposter smack down in the middle. A bit of a distance away, but still reachable. Taking a deep breath, you continued your pursuit, running after them.

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

Hearing your footsteps, the imposter looked back, her eyes widening as you drew near, running faster with you right behind.

No matter how far she ran, walls of Dendro kept appearing at every potential exit, all of them too thick that they wouldn't have it opened by the time you're upon them.

Every time the Tsaritsa unleased great glaciers at either the imposter or Venti used the winds the to make great barriers to block you using anemo, you would either melt the ice sent to you, or harness the winds to act in your favor. And that was before the elements betrayed them.

As you're nearing her, you're suddenly lifted into the air and pulled back. For a moment, you think that its Venti getting the wind to pull you out.

However, in the next moment your sword is changing into a familiar lance that belonged to the tail's owner, as well as their golden wings.

As if on instinct, you grab the blade with both hands, and launch yourself at the imposter.

Hearing great wings descend toward her, she takes another look, her eyes widening before grabbing Venti, having him take her place as your blade connected into the archon's skin.

As the blade connected, another vision occurred. This time, you were a crucible knight. In front, three separate warriors, tarnished, you presumed, with one of them impaled by your lance on the ground.

They each seemed to have varying reactions of horror, mainly the one who was Infront of the impaled tarnished.

Before you could register who else was there or what they could be wielding, you were sent back to the present, with Venti impaled, and your imposter look alike baring the same terrified look as the fearful tarnished in the vision.

Needing the blade, you raised it and kick Venti off. You then turn your attention to the other two, with the Tsaritsa being used as a human shield.

"Well don't just gawk there!" The imposter told the Tsaritsa, "Do something!" But when it looked like she was, voices began to invade her mind.

She grabbed her head and lowered it in pain. Her mind, assaulted by many voices. "Damn them all", "Repeat history", "Burn", "Heretic", few of the things she heard.

Visions begin to come and go like grains of sand in a dust storm. Images of Khaenri'ah being destroyed, before being replaced by Snezhnaya. The people being turned into great beasts, where death wasn't possible for their souls to rest.

Looking for ways to distract herself, she turned to the "creator", only to realize that she'd fallen silent, her face full of fear; and growing heat, both holy and unholy, familiar and not, was coming from you.

Turning her head to face you, she saw not a head, but a great void in the center of where your head resided. Surrounding this void was many smaller flames constantly rising from the void before vanishing.

"Give me the imposter," Your voice, supported by many, said. "And that fate, and many others like it, will cease." They said, before more images hit her, though noticeably lighter in effect than before.

Deciding to fold, she grabbed the imposter, and before the false creator could react, the Tsaritsa threw her to you, with you catching her by the neck.

"Good". They told her, before receding, with a wall that combined dendro, cryo, and geo rose, surrounding you two before eventually being fully covered. The imposter looked at her, face full of rage and fear, reaching out to her before she was no longer visible.

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

Venti approached the Tsaritsa, having gotten up while holding where his wound was, which had stopped bleeding, but the aches still resided.

"Thank you, for doing what was needed." Venti said, as the other archons and Neuvillette arrived.

"It always feels like I have for us all." She says, looking at the arriving group

"While your forms and aftershocks could've been a bit more...adept, the path of justice is walked by those who dare." Neuvillette says, looking at the others.

"While true, this imposter shall know what their judgement is...and so shall we soon." Zhongli says in a somber mood, looking at the elemental wall.

A moment of silence befalls them before a muffled scream is heard from the wall, likely belong to the imposter.

"Seems that her judgement has begun." EI says. "It seems so." Nahida replies. "However, if Teyvat still exists as we know it, our fates may not be what we'll have to worry about the most." She says, all eyes now on her.

"How so?" Mavuika asks, crossing her arms.

"Earlier today, I was viewing the creator's memories by the Imursul. More specifically, what they went through before arriving in Teyvat." Nahida says, ignoring the other's gasps at her action.

"And what I saw..." She stops for a moment, recalling what you went through. "Would drive lesser beings insane."

"Explain." Ei says, glancing back to the dome, where the imposter that took your place was still screaming and begging for mercy, before looking back at Nahida.

"The memories that she had endured are all to vivid in detail. These go from her first descent into Teyvat, to today. However, the most common ones that she has most commonly gone through..." Nahida pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Are that of her dying, over and over."

"What!!??" They yell, shock and worry evident in their voices. For if this true, how much has changed about the grace they knew from before. and what would she think about them?

"These deaths seem to be much like Teyvat's ending of a life, with her viewing the memories that she experienced over her lifetime as her consciousness leaves her body, signified by a the feeling of being cold."

"However," Nahida says, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Unlike our world where they'd ascend to Celestia, they awake at seemingly designated safe spots, with them awakening where their body ended up when they have yet to reach one of these areas."

The group listened on in silent horror as they process what they're hearing. The screams from before seem to have been reduced to barely audible wimpers, often being interupted by a banging from the other side.

"What's worse," Nahida continues, shocking the divinity there at how it could get worse. "Is that when it looks like her journey in a world is done, it starts all over again, with the mere weapons she held when she started, and needed to complete every single of what she calls endings, different fates for the world she finds herself in, before being allowed to travel into a different one."

The silence was deafening. How much had the primordial mother change due to this false judgement? And what would happen to them? Though they weren't worthy of mercy, they felt the need to help her heal. Even if it's the sake for those who're still in her light.

Hostile and malevolent energy, which could only be described as unholy, suddenly began to emit from the wall, the imposter's scream's greatly rising. "P-Please! I B-beg of y-you! Spa-Spare me, and I'll do wh-what ever you want! N-Not a S-Second t-thought.!" She yells, her voice rising in desperation. "J-J-Ju- Just please, don't do th-AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

The imposter's screams crescendo as unholy energy surges through their veins. Great chains of lightning are shot throughout the dome. highlighting a brutal sight. Shock was visible on their faces, but not from what you were doing, but rather how.

You, once merciful and forgiving, was using a weapon, who's only purpose was to damn those who've committed the worst of sins. It was considered sacrilege in the old age to spread knowledge about this blade's existence.

To everyone there, both by the lightning and sensing, they saw many appendages of various types, hands, claws, tentacles, and many more indescribable, clawing at the imposter from some sort of abyssal like circle underneath them. While her body was being pulled back by the limbs, they felt that the blade was pulling something out from the body.

As the scene unfolds, the archons look at each other, worried about not only their fates, but those that dwell in Teyvat. "Are the people aware, of who the true creator is?" The Tsaritsa asks, looking at the divinity there. "They are." Mauvika answers, with the Ei and Zhongli confirming it. "The winds have told me that the people are aware, and are fervently praying for mercy while repenting. Though, some are still in denial about the truth." Venti says with a somber look.

Before they could continue, the imposter's pleas went silent, followed by a muffled thud that originated from the dome. Before anyone could react, the dome began to melt, with vines and roots retracting and the rocks collapsing.

"Then lets pray it's enough in the end, and the deniers don't damn us all." Neuvillette says, getting on his knees, followed by the archons doing the same.

When the dome receded, those there looked in fear at you and what held.

In your left hand, you held a shield of pure light Infront of you, with it radiating of holy energy. That alone would've signified your identity as someone holy. But what you held in your right signified you position.

You held a sword which is only known as "The One That Damns". Across the blade's steel resides the faces of those that had been damned as well. From the bottom to the but of the blade, the steel was replaced with an unknown metal. In the center resided three small humanoid skulls in which a horn was on the center of each of them.

Starting from the top section of the highest skull going down was two metalic horns. At the connection point of a regular blade and hilt was face a face infamous to all. That of the first sinner, who now bore the horns of betrayal now metallic, and a ring with arrows going in all lateral directions, signifying how their greed consumed the world many centuries ago.

Due to how volatile the blade's energies were and its ability to corrupt, only the true creator, you, could wield it without being either absorbed into it or lost in it's corrupting influence.

Your face bore that of cautioned aggression, similar to that of a cornered monster, ready to do anything to survive. Your head had about returned back to normal, but the Tsaritca noticed in your eyes was the same void of fire in your irises that consumed your head when you went into that dome with the imposter.

From their point of view, a black substance was oozing out of the imposter's mouth, connecting to the floor. The back of their skull was shattered, with bits of flesh and bones all across where the dome was, with the abyssal circle now gone.

Mortal blood oozed from various stab wounds and cuts all across her body, with some bones visible from their perspective. But at the center of her body was unholy energy and the smell of smoke emitting from it, likely the result of The One which damns.

Her lower body is faring around as well as the upper body is, with wounds and broken bones in her.

The silks and fabrics that made up her dress were torn in your relentless strikes, jewelry thrown all across where the dome once was. Some in pieces, others still whole.

Tension was high between you and them as you waited to see if they'd rise and attack while they hoped that you would lower your weapons, and hear them.

After a while, Neuvillette spoke, taking the initiative. "Your grace. On behalf of the people of Teyvat...we're sorry." He says after a moment of consideration.

You don't know what to say. This seems to good to be true. The person you'd trust the most is Patches whenever you look over an edge, mainly because you've gotten used to him always kicking you off of it just because he can.

He did seem to change his intentions by the time you went to fight Mohg as he claims, due to the dangers that resided within Volcano manor.

Yet, these were the people who's story you've come to know, with their behavior fueled by devotion to this, god. One that sought to impersonate you. Which implied a lot, if they were that desperate.

Half an hour would pass, with it feeling like eternity to them, before you came to a conclusion on their judgement and spoke again.

"In time uncountable for me, as a result of the imposter", you say, gesturing to the imposter's body. "I descended into a decayed kingdom known as Boletaria, which saw me cleanse the land of its demonic occupiers, with nothing but the weapons I found and wits."

Zhongli looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't under your wary glare as you take a deep breath.

"I would've hoped that this led to my salvation, but it seems that the heretic had other plans. For after I purged Boletaria of the damned and left it, I was sent back to the beginning of my journey, with every change I made having the same result besides one.

The group held their breath, feeling worry and concern grow on their backs.

You take a deep breath. This part wasn't something you were fond of, regardless of the world. But it was your only way out.

"The only way out of that world, was by giving into sin." You finish, looking your head down.

The archons and Neuvillette's faces widened in shock at your admission. What sin did you commit to escape, what degree of severity did it hold?

"This, was merely the beginning," you continue on, ignoring their silent reactions. "of what I would have to do. For Boletaria was the first of seven other worlds that I would inevitably be forced to decide the fate of, and being forced to see all of them in each world."

"But now that I am free of that fate, it is my time to heal both me," you say, pointing to yourself. "And you." You finish, pointing to them. "Before my departure into Boletaria, from what I've been made know of, you felt my presence via the traveler at first and then in you, yes?" You ask, with them nodding in confirmation.

"To varying degrees do I know about each of your situations and the history of this world. But one thing remains the same. Celestia has been negligent for too long. If they're unable to justify this properly...," You pause, taking a somber tone. "Their reign is over." You finish, looking at them.

The group starts to worry about the future. The Tsaritsa worries about what's to be released in the future. By both Celestia and you, with the memory of world burning still fresh in her mind, with the others in similar states of worry.

"You and the rest of Teyvat, however, will be spared from the ensuing war that would come should they fail to explain." You reassure them, breaking them out of their thoughts.

"From what I've seen through the winds of freedom," you, turning towards Venti, with the said archon looking up at you. "Celestia has held back valuable information relating to your world, going to brutal measures to ensure that this knowledge was hidden."

"Situations like this of varying degrees are occurring all across Teyvat, and they don't react even when nations collapse due to their failures!" You yell, startling the group.

You take a deep breath, regaining your cool. "As such, I have an offer for you and your nations, as a means of reconciliation. for you." You say.

They look surprised as expected. A chance to repent for their sins? This early? There had to be some trick.

"I ask for each of you to rise, and join me in healing this world." You say, gesturing for each of them to rise. "For too long have the people of Teyvat been neglected and abused, with you and it's people working to ensure your continued survival."

"The path of healing for us both will be beneficial and long, but I hope that in the end," you continue, with the archons and Neuvillette rising, standing up right, "that we will prosper to fix a broken dream."

As you walked out of the chapel, surrounded by the divine that walk the world and your mortal acolytes, you looked up to the rising clear night sky, a light smile appearing on your face.

For now, at least, the constant suffering that you've grown used to is over. Though the potential war with Celestia is of concern to you, you push it out of your mind for now.

For how long have they been fighting their struggles, for them to desperatly fight for a look a-like of you, that only made demand after demand, seeking to enrich herself?

So many questions, but you will find them. Though the path will be long, you will keep them safe in the end, no matter the cost.

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

Hey readers, sorry for not posting in a while. This idea was given to me by @ghrgrsfdesfrfg when they were looking for a separate SAGAU fic. I'm going to be releasing 2 new polls soon. The first being the poll from earlier with better descriptions of these stories, and the second being if I should write stories for the opposite gender if I specify the reader being male or female.

#genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #cult au #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #genshin x f!reader #soulsborne #genshin impact sagau #gen

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quack-quack-snacks · 2 years ago

Text

Star Crossed - Chapter 3

The Star Crossed Masterlist

My All Of Us Are Dead Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

Warnings: Na-yeon, normal AOUAD things Word Count: 5,889

Let’s meet again.

Once Ms. Park had finished her speech over the speakerphones, Su-hyeok and you looked at each other and nodded, knowing what you had to do.

Su-hyeok slowly started to crawl toward the window, sliding across the floor to go under the protection of a different piece of furniture every so often and you followed when you could. You got about halfway across the room before a clay sculpture almost fell over. Su-hyeok was able to catch it in time but with it fell a single pencil and you cursed your luck at a time like this.

The two of you jumped up and ran toward the window as fast as you could. As Su-hyeok worked on unlatching and opening the window, you grabbed a few metal paint scrapers and used them to stab into the necks and skulls of the zombies rapidly approaching you. Just as you killed the 3 who were in the room, more came in through the open door after they heard the commotion and you turned around to get yourself out of the room before any of them could get to you. You slammed the window shut behind you and almost fell off as a few of the zombies started slamming themselves into the glass, fortunately only giving it a single crack. Luckily, Su-hyeok was able to grab you before you could fall off and secured you tightly between the wall and his chest.

Unable to look him in the eyes during the intense situation, you spoke and broke the tension, “I think we should try and head towards the science room, then maybe the others can let us in and we can reunite with everyone.”

He nodded before a small smirk appeared on his pretty face. “So… how are you liking everyone? You seemed to surprise them all when you ran straight towards the danger and nearly sacrificeed yourself for them.”

You slapped his arm lightly. “At least I’m not doing it as much as you are Mr. Hero Complex. You need to put yourself first sometimes, okay? It’s because you didn’t go up the stairs when I told you to that you’re here with me right now!” You rolled your eyes as you scolded him but he just looked at you with a soft gleam in his eyes and a small smile.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay?” You repeated back, a bit confused on what he meant by that.

“Okay. I’ll put myself first sometimes,” he started before turning away from you and whispering, “Just for you.”

“What’d you say?”

He turned back to look at you and faked being confused and oblivious. “I didn’t say anything else.”

You only shrugged your shoulders and thought yourself to just be hearing the sounds of the zombies lurking in the classes you passed by as the two of you slowly inched yourself down the wall toward the room where Su-hyeok’s friends were supposed to be.

Getting closer, Su-hyeok tried to cross a gap in between two windows but it was too far and he almost slipped. You gasped as he did and used your closest hand to grab a hold of his blazer to pull him back.

“You idiot, don’t do stupid things!” You scolded and slapped his arm.

Suddenly, just as he was about to laugh and make a stupid comeback about how you were even clumsier than he was, the two of you saw Cheong-san get thrown out of the science classroom with a zombie on top of him before just barely catching himself onto a makeshift rope. Unfortunately, the zombie kept a hold onto his foot and he tried to kick it off.

“Cheong-san!” Su-hyeok sounded out in relief before noticing the zombie attached to his ankle like a ball and chain. “Look down! Down, down, down!”

“I think he knows, Su,” you rolled your eyes slightly and leaned your head back against the cool glass of the window behind you.

“I do know!” Cheong-san confirms.

“She’s got your foot, moron. Look!” Su-hyeok whisper yelled and leaned forward before you yanked him back again by the fabric of his blazer.

“I see that,” Cheong-san said again as he focused his energy on keeping his hands tightly gripping the rope he was holding.

“Kick her off or something, idiot!”

“I’m trying!” You stifled your laugh at their little banter at a time like this and lightly smacked Su-hyeok’s shoulder. He looked back at you for a second, smiling at your amused facial expression before looking back at the man hanging out the window. Cheong-san tried to climb further up the ladder but slid down a few inches with the added weight of the zombie.

“Hey. I’m coming down,” Su-hyeok suddenly said and you snapped your head toward him as he looks at the windows again with a determined face.

“No. Stay there,” Cheong-san demanded as he knew it was too high of a risk.

“Yeah, stay here. It’s too risky and you can barely reach,” you tell him before he starts to cross the windows again.

“No. I said, don’t do it!” Cheong-san yells at him.

“Oh, shit!” the boy groans out as his feet slip and you, once again, yank him back by the fabric of his blazer so he can regain his footing. As he finally gets settled, he leans his head back on the window like you did a minute ago and takes a deep breath.

“Hey, Bare-su, look up!” Only seconds after he says that, Su-hyeok tries to grab your hand and jump but messes up on part 1. He jumps and grabs ahold of the rope and climbs down so he can kick the zombie holding onto Cheong-san off. As the people in the broadcasting room hear the commotion, they all notice Su-hyeok there as well and cheer in excitement.

Su-hyeok is finally able to push off the zombie from Cheong-san but all he gets is a complaint from the boy. “Hey. Stop hugging me.”

Just as he was about to let out a cheeky response, a small and barely audible whimper interrupts his words. Looking over, he sees you hanging from the copper pipe that runs up the side of the building. Your feet were slipping and one hand was bloody while holding onto a ledge of the wall while the other one struggled for purchase on the pipe.

“(Y/n)!” He exclaimed before grabbing onto the rope and letting go of Cheong-san’s waist.

“Go down. Now!” He yelled at his friend who went without asking the questions he wanted to.

“(Y/n),” he spoke calmly, securing one of his hands around one of the holes of the rope so his other was free. “(Y/n), look at me.”

You tried, you really did, but the moment you looked away from your hands even for a seconds was terrifying and you felt yourself slipping. “No!” you whimpered out.

“I know you’re scared, but I need you to do something for me, okay?”

You gave him a slight nod without looking at him.

“I need you to jump to me.”

Your head snapped in his direction and you looked at him in pure shock at his suggestion before looking back when you felt yourself slipping again.

“(Y/n)!” He yelled and you looked back at him, your hands holding on even tighter so you could stay upright without looking at them. Su-hyeok gave an encouraging nod toward you. “Jump.”

You did it.

You jumped.

It was a scary moment when you landed in his arms and he struggled to get a grip on you but when you felt yourself using the stability of the rope you sighed in relief. Leaning your forehead against Su-hyeok’s chest while his open hand was wrapped tightly around your waist, you took a deep breath to calm down before he gently pushed your head away.

“You go down first,” he whispered but you slapped his arm lightly.

“What did I say about being more selfish?” He just smiled and pushed your shoulder down so you were forced to climb down. You groaned in annoyance but willingly climbed down.

Most of the group was hesitant to help you but Nam-ra rushed forward to grab your hand and help you climb in through the window. You gave her a smile of appreciation before you turned around to help Su-hyeok in.

“Close it before they get in!” Na-yeon screamed as you all were focused on helping Su-hyeok in. Cheong-san shot her a dirty look before rushing to grab Su-hyeok’s arm.

Just before you could rush forward to help him, On-jo had rushed to grab his hand and help him in.

You were a little surprised but decided to ignore it when she looked over at you. You just gave her a small smile but she looked away quickly.

Your smile dropped immediately.

“Would you just close it already!” Na-yeon screamed again.

“What's wrong with you? Su-hyeon was still out there! You want us to just shut him out?” Gyeong-su screamed at her.

“Is it a crime to want the window closed?” She excuses herself.

“No, but it’s a crime to be this fucking selfish,” you spoke under your breath. The people near you could hear you and snickered at your words but Na-yeon just looked at you, confused.

“What did you say? If you wanna say something, say it to my face, bitch!” She screamed at you but you just leaned back against the window with a smirk while you glared at her.

“How can you be so selfish?” Gyeong-su accused her and her attention went back to him.

She sighed before speaking again, “I can’t stand you, stupid welfie.”

You stood up from your half-seated position against the window and walked toward the two. Gyeong-su pushed Na-yeon into the chair behind her and both Cheong-san and you rushed to push him away from her.

“What did you just call me?” He pointed his finger toward her while you had a hand on his chest, pushing him back.

Na-yeon gasped and then stood back up before getting in his face. “You just hit me?”

“Yeah,” He admitted back with no shame or regret on his face or tone. “Call me that again.”

Ms. Park came running over after locking the window right as you pushed both Na-yeon and Gyeong-su into the chairs placed behind them. They both landed with an “oof” and glared at you. You sent them a cold gaze and they looked away.

“Hey, knock it off. What's going on over here, guys?” Ms. Park questioned while gently grabbing your arm and pulling you away.

“He just hit me and then she pushed me!”

“I only hit you because you called me a welfie!” Gyeong-san defended himself while you remained quiet despite how Ms. Park looked at you for answers.

“Is it not true?” She questioned and stood up, Gyeong-su soon followed, not wanting to be towered over by her.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” Cheong-san told her with a disappointed tone and his hand wrapped around the arm of Gyoeng-su.

“What’s a welfie?” Ms. Park ignorantly asked and looked around the room at everyone for an answer. Everyone stayed silent, not wanting to say the meaning of the rude word. “Tell me. What is it? What’s a welfie?”

“A person on welfare,” Su-hyeok quietly said from behind her.

“What?” She asked as she turned to face him. You went over to stand between Gyeong-su and Na-yeon, not trusting the two to not get in a fight. The both of them backed away from you when you did, backing away from each other in the process. Your lips formed a tight smile while you debated whether or not to celebrate at your win of getting them apart of to feel sad and alone because you are the reason they backed away from each other.

“It means a person on welfare. ‘Welfie’ for short,” Su-hyeok explained and Ms. Park took a moment to think about the word and how her students were using it.

“Na-yeon, that was wrong. Don’t ever say that again,” she scolded the girl who rolled her eyes when the teacher turned to Gyeong-su. “And Gyeong-su, when you hit people, you’re the one who ends up losing. Do you understand?”

“No. I don’t,” he said and crossed his arms.

“Look, you two want to fight? That’s fine. As soon as we survive this thing and get the fuck out of here, you two can fight as much as you want,” you told them as you sat on the table behind you. You shot them both a sharp glare. “But right fucking now, we have to focus on staying safe and figuring out what to do next. So shut the fuck up unless you have something useful to contribute.”

“Yes. Exactly as (Y/n) said,” she turned to you, “Although the use of foul language was not necessary,” you shrugged and she sighed before continuing to look back and forth between the two students beside you. “We don’t know what’s going on out there with those-”

“Are the zombies?” Su-hyeok cut her off and she just looked at him with a lost expression, not knowing what to tell him.

“What about the other teachers? Has anyone called the cops?” Ji-min stepped forward with desperation lacing her voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure someone already has,” she reassured her panicked students but her voice sounded unsure. “I just don’t have my phone on me right now.”

“We called them, but they’re not coming,” Cheong-san told her. “Neither the police nor first responders.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. We just have to wait a little longer,” Ms. Park stayed optimistic as she saw the hope fading from her students’ eyes.

“Ms. Park,” On-jo spoke and got everyone’s attention. “Hyeon-ju’s hands were cold too. So were I-saks,” her voice shook slightly as she spoke of her friend. You’d realized a while ago that you were missing a member of the group and knew she was dead but you knew nobody had time for grieving right now. You all had to focus on staying alive. “What if all of this started with Hyeon-ju?” She questioned and your eyes widened at the news.

“She went to the hospital,” Hyo-ryung said with a gasp.

“What if it spread there as well?” Joon-yeong predicted with a bitter tone.

“It’s most likely it did. If this happened in just a short amount of time at a school then there’s no doubt the rest of the city is most likely the same,” you said as you looked at the ground with an emotionless face. Su-hyeok came over to sit next to you and let your fingers graze each other from your spot on the table.

“But wait, the internet still works right?” Joon-yeong questioned as he saw the computer in front of him and stood up excitedly.

After getting the computer to turn on as it took a minute from the school refusing to replace the old computers with newer faster ones, Joon-yeong logged into Facebook and started looking at the videos the people of Hyosan had posted.

It was terrifying. There were videos of people getting brutally torn apart and ripped into as they were eaten by cannibalistic monsters who now roamed the streets.

“Holy shit…” you whispered from your spot sitting on the table beside the monitor before a clanking on the window distracted your despairing thoughts. Slowly getting up, you walked over to the window with careful steps as it continued to hit against the glass.

“Let’s check messages first,” you heard from behind you before the window in front of you shattered from a strong hit by the makeshift ladder.

You gasped and jumped back but a few glass shards had flown towards you and cut lightly into your skin.

Everyone else gasped as well and Nam-ra who was closest to you ran up to you to check on you. The metal part of the rope continued to slam against the window, creating a larger hole in the glass.

“What was that?” Joo-yeong questioned, a little out of breath from the scare.

“Get over here. Come here!” Ms. Park yelled at you and Nam-ra to do, so you scurried over to where she was on the other side of the room.

“Did someone not make it in?” Wu-jin asked and got a reply of “no.”

Cheong-san slowly stepped toward the glass, ignoring Gyeong-su’s words of not getting too close.

“Do you see anything?” Gyeong-su asked as Cheong-san stood right in front of the broken window. After not getting an answer, he came to his own conclusion. “It’s just the wind.”

Wu-jin sighed, “That scared me.”

Suddenly, a zombie fell from above the rope and landed in Cheong-san’s face before he jumped back, landing on the ground.

“Look, it's coming in! Watch out, watch out!” Dae-su screamed as he just layed there on the ground and stared at the zombie. “Cheong-san, get back. Get back here!”

Cheong-san looked lost so you took the initiative. Running past him, you grabbed the mop that was hidden in the corner of the room behind some sort of cabinet and immediately started pushing the zombie back out of the window. The zombie grabbed ahold of the other end of the mop while you tried to shake it off.

Dae-su had dragged Cheong-san away from the scene behind you and he was standing up now, safe.

Surprising you, Gyeong-su ran forward and also grabbed ahold of the stick, helping you push the zombie back.

It grabbed ahold of the window and started pulling itself forward as the people behind you yelled about removing it.

“If you want to remove it, come and do it yourself, you bastards!” You yelled through gritted teeth as you focused on pushing this monster away from the people behind you.

Gyeong-su tried grabbing its hand and pulling it off before the beast grabbed ahold of his arm and started pulling it towards its mouth. In a panic, you used one of your legs to push Gyeong-su back and the beast was forced to let go of his hand, thankfully not biting him.

Although when the beast let go, both you and Gyeong-su were pushed back and you lost the mop.

Cheong-san picked the mop up and stabbed at the zombie. Unfortunately, it only ended in more glass breaking and the mop splitting in half. He started preparing himself to stab the zombie, knowing the - now broken and split - end of the mop was a perfect weapon to do so. It was clear for you to see, however, that he couldn’t do it.

Before you could stand up to help, Su-hyeok grabbed the mop from the boy and yanked it back, hitting Gyeong-su’s nose in the process before stabbing it into the cannibalistic-turned-student.

The zombie wouldn’t let up even when Su-hyeok stabbed it through its chest and Gyeong-su ran forward with the computer box from the table in his hands before throwing it at the zombie, successfully managing to make it fall down to the grass field below.

After a few beats of silence, you walked over to the table where a tissue box was placed and grabbed it before holding it out to Gyeong-su whose nose had started to bleed lightly from the impact of the mop. He looked at you confused and just as you were about to speak, Cheong-san beat you to it.

“Gyeong-su, you’re bleeding.”

“I am?” The boy brought his hand up to his nose in confusion before a look of realization crossed his features. “Right, it’s because Su-hyeok hit me with a fucking mop.” He then grabbed a few tissues out of the box you were still extending out to him and gave you a small smile.

“Stay back! Stay where you are!” Na-yeon exclaimed as she breathed shakily and you just rolled your eyes, something that Gyeong-su noticed and he gave a quiet laugh before focusing on the girl. “You were bitten, weren’t you, Gyeong-su?”

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t!” He defended himself.

“It’s true, he wasn’t,” you told everyone as well.

“Yes! (Y/n) was right next to me when it happened! Didn't you see Su-hyeok hit me?” You smiled slightly and looked down as he used your name to defend himself, it was the first time someone had used your name in a good light in a long time and it felt good.

Na-yeon took a couple steps backward and let out a shaky breath. Gyeong-su brought the tissue down from his nose and started walking towards Na-yeon.

“What’s your fucking problem with me?” He asked angrily.

“You were bitten!”

“No, he wasn’t! I saw him the entire time, he never got bit once!” you yelled at her and slammed the tissue box onto the table.

Na-yeon ignored you and turned to Ms. Park. “I-sak got a nosebleed just before she turned,” she turned to On-jo and you swear you could feel your blood boiling within your veins. “On-jo. You saw it, right? That’s the same thing that happened to I-sak!”

“You fucking selfish little bitch,” you cursed her in a low tone.

“Gyeong-su,” Ms. Park tried but was cut off as the boy tried to desperately clear his name.

“I-I am telling you! I swear I wasn’t bit!” He sighed as everyone stayed silent and you lifted the box of tissues again as his nose started dripping more. He sighed again and grabbed one, nodding towards you before bringing it up to his nose. “Shit.”

“Look!” Na-yeon wouldn’t give up and continued to find any reason to convince the others he was truly turning into a zombie. “Your hand. Explain that? What is it?”

“I got it from the computer! Didn’t you see that?” He tried to walk towards her again but stopped when the people near her all gasped and jumped back, scared of what he might become. He scoffed. “Don’t you trust me?” They stayed silent while avoiding his eyes. “I can’t believe this. I got this trying to save all of you.” He walked away from them to lean against the table where you were sitting atop it. Cheong-san walked around the table from where he was standing on the other side of it and walked up to Gyeong-su, grabbing his hand to look at the injury.

“It’s not a bite, it’s a scratch. Whoever wants to check, come look,” he said and most of the group came up to check besides a few of the girls and Ms. Park. A few of them let out comments as they find it to be true. It was only a scratch.

“Yeah, definitely. Just a scratch,” Su-hyeok confirmed while looking at Na-yeon with a look you knew to be judgmental and a bit disappointed.

“Ms. Park, look,” Cheong-san insisted and she walked up to him, grabbing his hand gently to look at it.

“Well, it really doesn’t look like a bite. Thank god. It’s a scratch,” she reconfirmed what everyone had been saying and you let out a little sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding in and surprised yourself. “He’s okay.”

All the chaos and noise had been giving you a headache so you took your chance to exit the situation considering it seemed fine for the moment. You gave Gyeong-su’s shoulder a light squeeze and he returned the gesture with a small smile. Standing up, you walked into the recording room, glancing at Su-hyeok who was watching you go in.

Just before the door closed behind you, you could hear the start of another fight between the group members begin and you just thanked god that you had left when you did. Any more fighting and you were sure you’d have an aneurysm.

After a while of you spinning around in one of the spinny chairs of the recording room, you heard the door open.

“Oi.”

You stopped spinning and turned to see Gyeong-su standing at the doorway.

“They’re quarantining me for an hour since Na-yeon still thinks I’m a zombie, you should leave,” he explained but you just shrugged and continued spinning in the chair.

“I’m okay. I know you’re not one.”

You heard a scoff and stopped your spinning, slowly looking up and fearing he would be upset by your decision.

Instead, you saw a wide grin gracing his face. Letting your own smile take over, you reached over to pat the seat of the other chair that was positioned beside you. He walked over and the two of you started talking. It was nice, comfortable even. The more you talked, the more you were willing to open yourself up to gaining a friend.

A knock on the window of the door brought both of your attention to Cheong-san who stood on the other side. He started to do what you assume was whistling on the other side of the glass and you smiled when you heard Gyeong-su immediately start to sing the tune Cheong-san was aiming for. Your attention was brought away from the two and their funny exchange to Su-hyeok who had been leaning against the table on the other side of the glass of the big window. He gave you a smile when your eyes met and you gave him one back. He pointed back and forth between you and Gyeong-su with that same smile but a more questioning look on his face.

Your smile turned a bit giddy and you had to bite your cheek to keep it under control before you mouthed one word to him.

“Friend.”

Su-hyeok’s face lit up with a huge grin and he almost ran into the room to give you a giant hug. You’d finally made another friend and he couldn’t be happier.

Well he could, if it was under better circumstances.

But, at least if the world was ending, you would have made a friend through it.

You turned your head back to the two best friends just to see Gyeong-su waving Cheong-san away with his hand and a slightly annoyed expression on his face.

You gently nudge his ribs with your elbow. “What did he say?”

He shoved your arm away from him with a smile before replying, “He was telling me we’ve been in here for 30 minutes and I told him to fuck off.”

You laughed and nodded before deciding to resume your spinning when the door opened up again.

Ms. Park entered the room and walked up to the two of you. She placed her hand on Gyeong-su’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come out now Gyeong-su? We all know that you aren’t turning and you don’t need to stay here any longer.”

He turned around to look out the big window behind him when she spoke and saw everyone crowding around while looking at you and him. He just shook his head, “I’m staying the full hour. Just to be safe.”

Ms. Park stood back up from her crouching position and then turned to you. “How about you, (Y/n)? You don’t need to be in here anyways so you’re welcome to come out if you would like,” she recommended with a hopeful smile.

You shook your head lightly with a smile before speaking. “I’m okay, Ma’am,” you turned to Gyeong-su before you continued. “If you’ll still allow me, I’d be happy to just stay in here for the remaining 30 minutes.”

He looked a little shocked but his expression turned to one of gratitude and he nodded. You looked back at Ms. Park and noticed her smiling at the two of you.

“Okay, come out whenever the two of you are ready, then.”

The both of you nodded before she walked out. The two of you smiled at each other before going back to your own things - you spinning in the chair and him messing with the string and holed notebook he had.

Surprising you, Na-yeon walked in with one hand shoved in her pockets. The both of you looked back at her before turning to each other and rolling your eyes.

“Hey,” the both of you stayed silent. “I’m talking to you!” More silence. “You’re ignoring me?”

Gyeong-su scoffed before turning back to her. “What do you want?”

“Why didn’t you answer me?”

He scoffed. “Apologize and get out,” she said as he shooed her away.

“How’s your cut doing?” She asked and you abruptly stopped in your spinning to look at her. Something about her tone was disturbing.

“Why do you care?” Gyeong-su asked suspiciously.

“Show me,” she demanded and aggressively grabbed his arm to bring it closer so she could see. You looked over to the window to see everyone looking at the interaction with teasing smiles or rolling their eyes.

“I suspected you because the situation called for it,” she spoke and it brought your attention away from the window and back to the interaction itself. Now, she had a handkerchief in her hand and was dabbing it on the place where Gyeong-su’s cut was. You couldn't shake the feeling of something strange happening. Especially with the way she was acting - like she had something to hide. “And I was really mad earlier. I’m still mad at you.”

“I guess…” Gyeong-su started but didn’t really know how to continue the sentence so his words trailed off. She dropped his hand back in his lap right before walking towards you and grabbing your own arm, attempting to roll up your sleeves to where the wounds you had were but you slapped her hand away harshly and shot her a cold glare. She pretended not to be affected by it but you could see the fear that flashed in her eyes.

“Don’t touch me,” you told her and Gyeong-su looked over at you in surprise at how your voice went from so sweet and kind just a minute ago to now this.

Na-yeon cleared her throat before turning back to Gyeong-su and speaking again. “You know I’ve always looked down on you.”

The boy shook his head with a sigh. “It’s fine. It’s all in the past. Let’s just go,” he finished as he looked towards the door, suggesting that they all leave the room.

“I’m not apologizing,” she told him and although she didn’t physically do it you could hear the eyeroll in her voice. “You deserve to be looked down on. Our complex banned you welfies, but you forced your way in,” she spoke and your nails dug into the foam arm rest of the chair. “And how dare you push me?”

Gyeong-su looked over at you with an exasperated and astounded expression on his face before turning back around and standing up to be face-to-face with her. “Listen, you fuckin-“ he tried but she rudely cut him off with another insult.

“You thought I’d apologize?” Her head tilted slightly in a condescending way. “Everyone is taking your side. I was cornered because of a nobody like you,” she leaned in as she spoke her final words. “Stay the full hour. I hope you never come out again,” as she was walking away, you could faintly hear her whispering the words “Fucking welfie,” and that was the final line for you. Just as she had pushed the door open and walked through, cheering and clapping happening by your classmates, you marched towards her and pushed her forward before you felt hands grab you to prevent you from doing anything else.

“You fucking bitch! You think you can just fucking say that and get away with it?” You yelled at her but it was barely audible over the sounds of everyone around you screaming at you and questioning why you would do that.

Gyeong-su, who was behind you and the first one to hold you back, started to pull you away to the corner next to the windows along with a chair for you to sit in as you breathed heavily and stared at Na-yeon from across the room.

“What happened? (Y/n), why would you do that?” Ms. Park questioned as she crouched down in front of where you were sitting.

Without taking your eyes off of the bitch across the room, you responded. “That dog told Gyeong-su he deserved to be looked down on and then proceeded to call him a fucking welfie,” you spat out and nearly jumped out of your seat to rush back over to her and finish what she started when Su-hyeok, who had followed after you and Gyeong-su when he dragged you to the corner along with Cheong-san, grabbed your shoulder and firmly, but gently, sat you back down.

Ms. Park stood up and shook her head in astonishment before walking over to Na-yeon. You could hear Cheong-san checking on Gyeong-su but was focused on the conversation coming from across the room.

“Did you really say that?” Ms. Park asked as the rest of the group stood behind her in an odd way of intimidation. “You promised me you would apologize to him!”

“I did nothing wrong,” she insistently defended herself and despite Su-heyok’s hand on your shoulder you shot up out of your chair.

“Bullshit!” you screamed before Gyeong-su, Cheong-san, and Su-hyeok all rushed forward to sit you back down. You would have laughed at how comical it must have looked if you weren’t so pissed.

“(Y/n), calm down,” Ms. Park instructed and you reluctantly turned your head away from their conversation to focus on the one in front of you.

“Dude, forget about her,” Dae-su insisted and pat Gyeong-su’s shoulder as he groaned and angrily looked out the window.

“I just don’t understand why I have to take this shit!” He exclaimed and turned back to you all. Everyone’s attention got directed at Na-yeon as she started saying something about how it was Gyeong-su’s fault they had to leave their homeroom in the first place and how Coach Kang turned in there but you blocked it out as you started talking to him.

“So how are you actually feeling? What she said was bullshit, you don’t deserve to be looked down on. That’s just a shit excuse for her to be a bitch,” you told him with an eye roll and he laughed slightly before shooting you an adorable smile that you almost wanted to reach your hands out and pinch his cheeks at.

“Thank you, (Y/n). That means a lot,” he looked down at the ground and smiled when suddenly, with everyone else's attention still focused on Na-yeon, you saw Gyeong-su’s nose dripping with blood for the second time.

“Uh-h… G-Gyeong-su…” You whispered.

“Look! I guess I was right after all,” you heard Na-yeon boast proudly on the other end of the room but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and scold her when you saw your friend bleeding again. You noticed everyone had turned back to look at where he sat at her words.

“What?” The boy questioned, confused on why everyone was looking at him with the same expression: confusion, sadness, and fear.

Everyone except for one. Her.

“Gyeong-su…” You heard Cheong-san say from behind you but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat.

And the thoughts that Gyeong-su might not have one soon.

~~~

~~~

Taglist!

@multifandom-lover01

Lmk if you want to be added or removed!

#all of us are dead #aouad #cheong-san #dae-su #gyeong-su #nam-ra #on-jo #su hyeok x y/n #su hyeok #lee su hyeok #su hyeok x reader #su-hyeok x reader

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mercysought · 10 days ago

Note

"You are note a fool." // for Orla

disco elysium / letters // accepting // @extravagantrook

a spiritual sequel to this :’)

Everyone had told them that the fade and dreaming would be simple, just as easy as closing one’s eyes and floating. At best, a world where the warmth of the sun never grew cold, at worse a place that made your insides burn.

Orla had assumed that she would be able to know - to understand - that she would be in it.

To be able to have a realisation that the space that the body now occupied was made out of the same thing as the waking world. Because this was a world that she had not belonged in. Intrinsically, Orla had believed (erroneously) that they would know it just as easily as breathing.

She had not dreamed or had nightmares, proper ones, since her younger years and her memory was a fickle mistress all the same. It held and withheld without reason or explanation and Orla had not deemed it worth to ask further. To peel the layers left only blood behind, after all. This was not closing one’s eyes, no floating. No burning.

There had only been four words: ‘Your work is done.’

The clicking of mechanical switches. The turning of the lights, the buzzing of magic and the smell of ozone. The fall. The deep, inky darkness. The murmuring of the crowd as they settle upon seats. The ruffling of heavy fabric curtains. Then—

ACT III Scene 1.

The lights in the sky are like smeared lines of paint in a dark, vanished black background. Bright, shiny and yet incapable of holding her attention; not when the warm figure with sown edges in lines of painted tears and hand sown lines look to her.

[ORLA] I’m not like you. I can’t make sense of half this shit and I’m terrified of the other half. Solas is right - about this at least. I’m just a blind piece in a game I don’t fucking get, a fool or worse. I’m a good enough obstacle, but what the fuck do I do when I know when it’s just a matter of time before he betrays me?

The snort that the other has at her question makes her eyes attempt to find theirs. Their face is blurred in shades of red and purple, sown at odd angels like a picture that attempts to refine itself. A grin upright twisting into a frown with each breath taken. Two naked figures without a face, hanging towards a dark abyss of dragged lights.

[ASHA] You’re not a fool.

A warm hand atop hers. A lyrium brand that hums in resonance and soothes itself under cheap linen that covers only part of her body. Shoulder against shoulder. A soft hum as they continue talking and Orla tries her best to believe their words. To truly believe their words. One expert to another.

[ASHA] You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.

ACT I Scene 1.

The smell of old oil paint and varnish is intense. The wall is solid and flat behind the gloved hands. She is hiding. Hidden, that she knows. There are distant voices but all that is heard in the rattling in her skull is hear erratic heartbeat. The attempt at keeping her breathing smooth.

She knows she should be moving. Out of this hiding spot. A dark shadow against bright red walls, just on the edge of an impossibly brightly lit room. Three long shadows grow as the voices increase, but not her understanding. Gloved hands press harder against the wall.

A familiar perfume and the sound of a scraper. The burning smell of the start of a fire.

ACT II Scene 1.

Three children. Not older than twelve. Someone talks to Orla, but she can only see the eyes of those children looking back to her, terrified.

[THE MASTER] Dispose of them.

It scratches in the back of her mind, the chain pulled and pushed.

[THE MAGEKILLER] No.

The chains are pulled tighter. Hot as iron until her eyes burn. The lyrium on her neck, back and stomach pierce through muscle and bone. Skewering her, twisting muscle, cracking teeth in a closed jaw. This is a familiar pain, but in her lungs there is something that implodes, the ribs that rip both inwards and outwards. A blood vessel in her head that makes the struggling breath louder than the scratching, comfortable voice. It continues until she is done with the last ropes and the bodies are sinking into the darkness.

The sound of the horse. The dashing through the rain. The weight of her body against mud. The blood is heavy on her cloak as she travels and she is taken. The blood is heavier when she enters a dim house.

The sound of the horse. The dashing through the rain. The weight of her body against mud. Voices asking her questions. The heaviest when she climbs over corpses to the large oak doors. There is a sick pleasure that sings in her body when the blood feels the lightest: when she picks up the cane from the floor and the pool of blood. When she is called an animal. When the begging starts.

ACT I Scene 2. Scene 1.

The smell of oil is heavy and the gallery is as silent as a grave in the late hour. These walls were familiar. The frames and their detail familiar too though just in passing.

Red walls press against the back of her hand. The shadows are a deep, almost black tone of brown and they spread across the floor like an oil painting that had been attempted to be varnished before it had been fully dry. The taller figure points to the back. The other two shadows follow the direction - away from where she hid, into a wall with more and more paintings. Weapons in hands.

A hand extended, cigarette between fingers, a thin envelope with matches inside and a scraper.

[DAMIANO] THEY ARE IN THERE—

The match is lit, racked against the thin strip. Breathing accelerates. She knows what it is behind the walls that the shadows point towards. It is the reason why they had both agreed to meet in this particular gallery, time and time and time again. The shadows grow darker, breathing accelerating but body remaining still. There is a pulsing within her body that roars against the arresting of muscles, the fear that locks jaw and eyes alike on the shadows forms. That keeps her hidden.

There is silence coming from behind the walls. You need to do something, the twisted expression in a frozen body begs. But the mouth does not move. Not a single muscle does and the shadows grow only darker.

ACT I Scene 3. Scene 1.

Minrathous is a large city and Orla knows only part of it. This part is one that she knows better than most, perhaps. The many stairs up to the gallery. The address of the Magister that owns it, the face and hands of the magekiller that they own. The distance that they had stood when they first met overlooking paintings of angels that look down upon them both dressed in the black robes that souls such as them are provided: leather, utilitarian, easy to wipe blood from.

She would know his voice anywhere. In the small apartment, hole in the wall, space that she had come to call home in Minrathous. Against the bright red walls. In the hand that aided her smuggle people in and out of this building outside of the city - away for anyone that might look for them. He had called her crazy and she had called him crazy in return, but it still had been both of their hands that had unlatched the mechanisms that unlocked the holes in the walls that allowed people to come in and out.

Waiting for a signal.

But he stands before the painting of judging angels, with the same distance that she would usually stand. Two guards side by side. Both hands behind his back.

[DAMIANO, a man with slicked back black hair, mustache. Wears expensive leather armour with a side cape of a rich purple with golden embroidery. Thin face with an easy charming smile. Warm brown, sharp eyes] They are in there.

[MAGISTER BATARIS’ SLAVE HUNTER 1] What should we do with them?

Another match. Another raking through the scraper. The smell of burning.

[DAMIANO] Take them back. Or kill them,

There is a flickering of match being racked against a scraper. The pull of a cigarette. The scent of tobacco filling the space where the sickening and heavy scent of varnish was before.

[DAMIANO] It’s all the same to me.

This had been his idea. He had had to convince her.

There is no light but the dimmed enchantments that were left to showcase the paintings. That and the bright torches that the two guards carried that made their shadows so long. Orla barely has a shadow. A shadow besides what she feels like she is herself in that moment. So close against those same red walls that she might become a smudge of that same shade. Body frozen in the moment as she hears the steps drag across the floor, over creaking wood boards towards those same switches. Her body cold. Beyond her there is a child that looks at her from the frame of the painting - rosy cheeks, dark eyes, perfectly combed hair. Rich bright blue cloak over a white blouse.

A half parted book, a single hand that is lit by the brighter lights that pour from the figures. Pointing to them. She smiles - either in mocking Orla or in spurring her. It does neither. In the wild horse of a heart in her chest that screamed and lips that remained still. In her body that burnt but in hands that remained cold. The growing panic. The thought of what would happen to her when she was caught.

When word made its way back to her own master. ‘Do something’ is a voice that is barely heard as her body seeps into the shadows once more, from the path she took to sneak in - the same locks she had known.

Out once more into the city and the night that she barely knew in a city that felt all the stranger and mean now.

ACT II Scene 2. Scene 1.

Three children. Two with the face of the master, the third with the mousy brown hair. The eldest, no older than twelve stands in the front in defiance, the youngest is barely a smudge in the back, its elven form wrapped by its mother’s hands who whispered softly. The eyes of the older woman as it whispered soothing nothings to the child pull all colours from the space; all light atop her face, expression bleached of all but a silent anger and a plea.

An older woman’s whose face she cannot really see through the muddled vision talks to her. Begs her. Orla counts. Makes a list. And balances. There is a scratching and a burning and while her left hand fans the flames the right one attempts desperately to put it out.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] Dispose of them.

There is a turning of the stomach at the bodiless voice. At the strength of the command. Of the weight of a hanging hand and the flinch that takes over a body. The assassin’s head tilts to the side, left gloved hand pressing against the budding headache and the stomach that threatens to unravel.

The sniffling. The crying. She could hear it as well as see their shadows even as the eyes closed. The defiance on the face of the child closest to her. The desperation on the voice of the woman closest to her. Let them go. Turn around and lose track of them.

[THE MAGEKILLER] No.

Eyes remain closed and the breathing of the woman closest to her itches. Her eyes barely open when Orla is turning towards the small, worn down smudge of brown.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] No? I see how it is. I’ve been too lenient with you, of late. Maybe you forgot what happens when you push outside of the gifts I already give you. The kindness I have shown for your faltering and failures? We all know what comfort does to dogs,

Steps stop, even as muscle pulls and peels from salt burnt wooden floors. The white flecks on the floor as bright as the terror in the eyes of the woman that had held the youngest child.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] It makes them lazy.

The screech that is pulled as an engine is forced from one state to the next; it rears its ugly head and it pulls at her mind. Teeth sink into her own flesh until it is painted copper all the way down to her stomach. Until the sloshing she hears is not from her own body but from the sinking rope and stone and the soft shimmering of strands down into the salty depths. The curtains are pulled again but it is the wind that rips through, the salt on her tongue as the last shadow sinks into the darkness.

The leather gloves are peeled from her shaking hands, thrown in the pockets of the heavy suit. The lightest of meals she had eaten but a few hours ago follows suit with the bodies. The blood swallowed mixed with bile, catching dark strands of hair as she leans over the pier. With the strings loosened the flooding of awareness pushes through the body.

A guttural noise kept at bay with teeth that clamped shut. What now, magekiller? What now, perrepatae? Both naked hands pressing agains the bloody dark shirt. The heavy cloak and the rain above. The horse behind her neighs. And she pulls herself up from the slippery stones, cleaning her mouth with the back of her hand, flickering the sick to the floor.

The ride is misery. There unpaved roads turn into muddy traps to the horse but she rides the animal hard until landing on the beautiful stones in front of the Magister’s large doors.

The inside is dimly lit but for the shades that haunt the place just as she did. Dragging blood, mud - the assassin is not a shadow but instead the very physical aspect of one’s worse impulses. Someone tries to stop her from moving up the circular grand stairs.

They call her name and another larger figure approaches. Blocking her path. This shadow of a person stands before two bright smudges and she feels her hands shake. What now?

[ELVEN SLAVE 2] Is there a problem?

The shade of an animal. The rain pours down outside and it weights still down her cloak. When her eyes lift to look at the smudges in front of her, blocking her path, she doesn’t see anything other than the fluttering of hair, sinking into the depths. That bright white of scelera looking back at her in defiance, another in terror, in begging.

One hand presses against her shoulder. Blood sprays but she cannot get darker and she will not be stopped now. There are so many screams and the ghosts around her scatter - the thin lines of lyrium that had been sunk into her body push into muscle and into the bone, they gnaw at her like teeth and the soft song lightens the rain, the screams. It bleaches it all with a soft, gleaming blue that emboldens hands, pushes her through.

The bodies that didn’t move away from her quickly enough. The ones that fall as her blades carve a path. The steps creak under her step, under the weight, until she reaches the large door.

Inside there are five figures too. Two slaves. An older woman. A teenage daughter with a book and a hand that falls to the side pointing towards the fith and last figure. A blank face - a face that is quickly covered by the shadow that she is. The cane that had been held against him fit comfortably in her hand in a glimpse of a second.

The room is red at her fifth breath. The bright blue piercing through even the darkest and thickets parts of her armour. The cutting of the air. The figures that were on the floor were a mangle of colour and texture - an oil painting varnished too soon and attempted to be cleaned in a panic.

The teeth in the palm of her gloved hand, the ivory tainted in iron and red. And a smile, a laugh of madness and relief when she remembers the begging from a mouth that didn’t resemble it any longer.

ACT III Scene 2. Scene 1.

The small apartment is more akin to a broken into closet that could be called a home. The walls were tall and held no colour. Even in the darkest of night, it was just a continuation of the abyss. The assassin’s favourite part of the city had always been the view, the odd angle that one could see the Magisterium, the lights projected upon the cloudy sky. It was impossible to see the stars in Minrathous - but this was close.

Two assassins sit one beside the other. Both naked except for the thin excuse for a sheet and a think mattress dragged to an opening that could be called a window.

[THE MAGEKILLER] I’m not like you—

The conversation feels familiar. The words half die on her tongue. But not quite, the hesitance is an opening - however.

[LE MAT] You saw Varric. In the Lighthouse.

From the words her eyes flash towards them. The figure resting with their shoulder against her but eyes that don’t quite look at her. There is a spotlight above them both.

The assassin’s mouth hangs half opened.

[THE MAGEKILLER] It—

Yes. But I never told you.

How had Asha known? Who had known? Who had she told? There had been care to hide the scratching at the back of her mind, the illusions and awful little games. The thinness of the familiar clouding the edges of her eyes. The animal that crawled back in to the comfort of familiar chains.

[THE MAGEKILLER] It’s not him. Wasn’t—

The words stumble. The magekiller looks for their eyes. One cloudy and another brown. In the spotlight, however, there is nothing but the deep cast shadows that are the abyss. They don’t look at her. A dramatic carving of their lips in a half formed snarl is enough.

[LE MAT] You’re not a fool. You should have told me.

The words are familiar. The space crumbles around them both but the light remains. The disappointment burns, burns in the pit of her stomach and on the edges of her eyes.

[THE MAGEKILLER] I didn’t know.

[LE MAT] I deserved to say goodbye, more than you. It was because of you that he died. He trusted you and your gut instinct to do the right thing, and in that moment you crumbled, you got scared of what it might mean if Varric was wrong. With this insistent and blind search to become someone better you ended up getting him killed!

The room around them is gone. There is only the cold. The cold on her hands, on the pit of her stomach, on the anticipation that everything will always crumble - regardless of where the axle swung. One way or another, she was bound to loose.

The foolishness was not in the being tricked, it was in the attempt to change the outcome.

The figure that stands before her. Le Mat has their mask removed. Asha’s face is wrong in the way that the light casts the shadows down on them. The milky eye looks at her too intently and too bright - similar and familiar with the brands within her body and they burn with a hatred that twisted their face into something - someone that she never could come to recognise.

[LE MAT] The hunt was always a lost cause. You knew this and you still let him try. You should have told him to take the shot.

ACT II Scene 2. Scene 3.

The hovel was a known safe house to one that knew where to look, what to search for. To one that knew how to tell which veins still pulsed with life and which had been cut due to necessity. By the piers where escape would be easy to the boats heading South, there are houses that have been carved into and down the cliffs.

It is on some of those salt hovels that they were found. Three children, two elf-blooded and one human. Two women, one elven who clutched a small child around her arms in the back of the small room with half prepared food. A human, who stood by Orla after she had barged into the door after entrance had been denied.

The job was simple: dispose of whoever you find in the room. The assassin had expected it to be a hideout for spies working within the Bataris household, smugglers that worked in the docs, perhaps preparations for an assassin to make their way through the Magister’s family.

She had not expected to be sent to clean up after bastards.

The elven woman looks to her through tears of anger and fear and she whispers to the small thin child that everything would be alright. The older human child standing just behind the human woman looked at her in defiance as if to dare her to enter further.

[HUMAN WOMAN] We are not a threat to the Magister. You don’t have to do this.

The children were still frozen in space. The smell was intense, a mix of salt, sweat and half baked beans that now burnt in the small flame. The wind cannot come in and yet the place was deadly cold even in the light of day - one could only wonder the pains they were going through, waiting for the ship to arrive and take them away.

The child, the youngest, wrapped in the arms of the mother in the distance looked to her with large, wide eyes. Scared out of its mind, the body a simple vessel. She knows what that is like and when she looks to the face of the worn elven woman with fear in her veins, looking to Orla with a terrified light behind large brown eyes, she can only see the glinting of her own mother’s eyes.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] Dispose of them.

The anger she feels in the pit of her stomach is kept only within the pit of her stomach. Was that what she was now? A child killer for a man that could not face its responsabilities? Was she to be the hand that fixed responsibilities such as these? The magekiller’s eyes glance from the woman in the end of the room, to the older child, to the human mother. A step is taken back with her lips curled.

[THE MAGEKILLER] No.

The confusion of the woman face is clear, though it is not to her that the magekiller. Please she hears but barely. The pleading on the breaking of brows, the tension on the oldest child’s hand holding onto the table the had just been preparing for the meal. The two other children whimper, gleaming tears through the small light that pours from the cracks in the rock on the ceiling. The elven mother continues, as if speaking it quicker, holding the child tighter it might save her from the fate that the magister had bestowed upon them.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] No? I see how it is. This is what leniency leads to. Insubordination.

It would not be the first punishment for refusal that Orla would face, but it would be taken over this. A child killer, his child killer. They were too young to even be mages and even if they were, they would not have been a danger for her. A simple assassin would have done the job, but it wasn’t about simplicity. The cruelty was the point. Orla glances once more to the children’s faces and starts to turn.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] If I say that you bite, you bite.

The first signs are her head growing light. The dryness of the mouth and the shortness of breath. Stiffing muscles that Orla pushes through. This was not the first time, it would not be the last that she struggled against the direct pulling of strings.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] I say you jump, you fucking jump.

There is urgency in the way that she holds onto the handle of the door, attempts to push it only to find strength lacking. A heavy blanket that is wrapped around her arms like a jacket with tied sleeves. Teeth sink into her cheek, the pain allowing for another push. The creaking of hinges that feels both from the door in front of her but inside of her skull. The breath she’d been holding is pulled deeper into her body. Her eyes burn and she feels the balance start to go.

The darkness of the corridor that she had been seeking so desperately never reaches her.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] If I say play dead, you ask how realistic to make it.

Locked out but able to see it all. Statis was dangerous, both to the original person casting it but especially to the one that was to experience it. More, dangerous when the body and mind in statis was forced to work through familiar actions.

Left hand releases the handle of the door. The handles of her daggers know her palms though they can only know the warmth of her hands and not the intent that carries them.

It is over in less than five minutes and the deaths are swift. Thankfully. The humans first, in two steps. The elf blooded child doesn’t even get up from the chair, one of its major veins sliced and slipping into sleep in but a few seconds. The elven mother next, sparing her the sight of the murder of her last and smallest child.

She didn’t need to activate the lyrium brands. And they aren’t activated.

The bodies are prepared. Dragged across the dark corridor. If anyone sees the scene no one stops the figure dressed in leather. Ropes tied, heavy anchors. A part of the pier that would take the bodies deeper into sea. The bodies are light against her body as she raises them and watches them disappear into the darkness of the waters.

The youngest child is the last and it feels impossibly light on her arms as she cradles it. Holding the bloody head and the stone on the other hand. Her knees bend down to releases it. The brown hair swirls in the water. The forehead cleared from the blood and fear and it too disappears in the darkness.

When the darkness settles and the whistling of the wind returns, the darkness is allowed to show itself akin to a mirror - allowing her own reflection to appear. It is then only when she feels the stones against her gloved hands. The cold in her body and the warmth and heaviness of the blood against her armour. The blood caked in her hair and chin. The burns of robe against the side of leather as she had worked in similar movements. The sound of her ragged breathing makes her sick.

The smell of blood and iron. The light that comes from the clouds that roll over the sky above with the spattering of rain. Her throat burns as the small meal she had reacts to the treatment the body had gone through. The wounds in her chewed through cheeks making her bite a sob as her head bows against the pier. Tears falling from effort.

What now? The horse neighs behind her as gloves are pulled from her hands, thrown in the pockets of her cloak. She looks at the strong beast, feeling its beady eyes reflect her own. A terrible idea pierces through her mind with a clarity that feels like a divine command like no other. A demand that her body and the heavens must see through shaking hands. There are no thoughts in her mind as she cleans the vomit with the back of her hand, lifting from where she had stood.

They didn’t want to be this type of animal anymore.

The storm grows as she rides back to the mansion. The wind and rain falling on her head but unable to clean the blood or the thoughts that put her on a single thought: a throughline. She was not done killing.

It is that thought that curses her mind as she slams the door open. A half made shadow with nothing but a growing madness behind quiet, brown eyes and a bloody mess. She drags herself over expensive rugs and ancient woods, blank eyes beyond the slaves that look at her with horror at what they would need to clean.

Orla doesn’t see them. The assassin moves to the right, quiet on her feet despite the dragging of the bloody shadow. Eyes on the marble stone stair.

[ELVEN SLAVE 1 - SELYN, a thin elven woman with a sickly frame. Dressed neatly exactly like any of the slaves that are allowed to work within the household. Her brows are knit in concern] Mistress? The Master is busy, he’s not-

The woman stands on the side. Expecting the assassin to stop. The assassin continues, walking a single step beyond.

[ELVEN SLAVE 1 - SELYN] Mistress Orla?

The growing concern. In the voice and in the white of widening eyes. Seeking help. Another approaches, standing in her path. More figures walk behind them, up and down the stairs. Distant talking, music coming from upstairs.

[ELVEN SLAVE 2 - MARZIO, a built elven man, wears the identifiers that mark him as a bodyguard] Is there a problem?

I don’t want to be this type of animal anymore. The assassin’s eyes move from the stairs, the large door at the top. Down to Marzio in front of her. He had a family. A little one. Orla had held him, congratulated him and his wife. There were fifteen other people between the assassin and the door. Half of them house slaves. The other half contractors to set up a large chandelier in the center of the room.

She didn’t need to activate the lyrium brands. But she does anyway.

Three stabbings, all three in the chest drop Marzio. Left hand slices Selyn’s throat before she can scream.

Stepping over the gurgling corpse. Orla starts to climb the door. Three contractors do not turn before she gets to them. Two of them drop down the stairs, the last falls over the railing. The screaming starts. By the time she gets to the top, the bottom of her cloak - muddy and bloody is more red than brown.

The house is quiet. Those that had escaped left the large door to the mansion open. Orla’s hands push open the door to the Magister’s parlor.

Five people inside. The magister is already standing, eyes wide in a panic upon seeing the state of the mage killer. It is too late. It is too late to all of them. It is too late for her too.

Five people. The two slaves that attempted to escape but could not escape her daggers or her understanding of their threat. A teenage daughter with a book that ends up blood. It is a swift death too that welcomes her. Beady eyes in surprise, distant now, resting against her large comfortable chair - soaking it with her blood. A mother whose chest is covered in holes from the sharpened edges of her daggers as she stood in front of the magister.

A cane in her hands and the whistling that rises as her eyes are blind with rage, her mouth pressed until teeth feel close to shattering. The air in the room is siphoned by the lyrium, flickering out the flames from the mage’s hands. The staff kicked from an assassin too strong to be natural. To be good.

It is wrong how good it feels to feel the weight of the broken raven in the cane against a soft body. The screams and the panic as she lifts the cane and throws it down once more. The cracking of bones. The turning of the cane to break a jaw the same way that he had broken hers.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] STOP!

The gurgling through the words make her lift the cane once more. The blade piercing through cheek and the a loud screech of pain rock the very foundations of the mansion. The tearing of teeth. Those same teeth that she will later collect one by one in a daze once everything comes to a still.

The magister starts crawling towards the open doors, but it is too late for any of them. The magekiller holds onto his ankle, dragging him closer, away from the place that he thinks will save him. There is no one coming to save him. No one to save any of them. Turning her blades, feeling the warmth of her body she feels him attempting to crawl into her mind once more but there is nothing to hold onto.

There is only a wild animal on the loose with rage and appetite for one one thing: to feel his teeth in her hands like rotten seeds.

[MAGISTER BATARIS] STOP! YOU DAMNED ANIMAL!

He sobbed and it feels like digging into the lyrium brands, making them sing louder, press deeper into her muscle. Fuel to an already roaring inferno.

The assassin doesn’t stop. Not until there is nothing to soften her blow. Only when the object of her hatred is barely recognised as anything close to human. Until Magister Bataris can only resemble the monster that he was within.

She collects the teeth. Feels them in her hands. It doesn’t feel the way she thought. And yet it makes her laugh, laugh at this scene that plays before her. This dream that she will surely be pulled away from once the adrenaline wears out. The relief pulling at the long held breath from her lungs into a laugh that tastes like pure madness. This shadow of a person that feels nothing but dread, dread and relief all in one.

ACT III Scene 3. Scene 1.

When Orla looks out of her small makeshift window the lights could almost be compared to shooting stars. Varric had told her about them because Orla had never really seen one. There was something to be said about never looking up; but the more she thought the more she considered that even in Ventus where there wasn’t so much light emanating from the city that she was unlikely to be able to see them.

The Magisterium looms still but it is a distant concern. Not when compared to the chipped paint in the window sills from the humidity and lack of care. Not when compared to the company that stands just beside her, the warmth of their body still resting against her. The words are easy and they familiar.

[THE MAGEKILLER] I’m not like you—

The words die in her mouth. The sound of the city below sounds wrong.

[LE MAT] You saw Varric. In the Lighthouse.

The mattress is paper thin but it is warmed all the same by both of their presence. The shapes of their bodies had still been there. The scene, however, was wrong. The whole thing.

Asha’s hair is bright red and it feels like she can see their edges. The shadows are cast too deeply against their darkened eye. Her mouth hangs open as the lights from the Magisterium rear their ugly head towards them both. The next line follows, ‘You-’

[LE MAT] You’re not a fool. You should have told me.

I deserved it more than you. To see him. To say goodbye. Orla holds their hand with her left. The right moves to the side of their face that she knows is tender, that causes pain. The figure doesn’t move, it just looks to her - waiting. Waiting for her to say the lines.

Brown eyes look into the bright light that pools from the window. There is no city, there is just the blinding, bleached light and them both - and the abyss beyond.

The assassin has no other choice but to look in the perfectly drawn face of Asha. The thought that this might be the last time she might be able to see them, hear their voice, and it never truly being them. A trick, another trick of the fade, a trick of magic. A nightmare, just another one of the same iteration of a nightmare.

Another punishment.

One hand moves to hold the hand. One expert to another, one assassin to another.

[THE MAGEKILLER] You did. And I should have. Maybe it wasn’t him, but it could have been. And I still didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to think- To think I was going crazy. Seeing things. That my mind was being messed with again. I was afraid I’d… I’d lose you.

That it might mean that he could see how much of a danger of being around her, close to her truly was. Worse, that she would make a jest of such a thing. Or that they would take pity, that it was a method of her ailing mind to attempt to heal over something traumatic. In the end it had been fear that had kept that information, especially as she had started noticing discrepancies in behavior and a terrible familiar shadow lingering in her mind like a blanket.

[ORLA] Varric made his choice. Long before we ever got to the ritual. I couldn’t have changed his mind, even if I had wanted to. You know this, because if the roles had been changed, you’d have done the same thing I did.

[ORLA] You have a good heart without trying and I just wish that was me. You don’t need to try, you just do. And even if I know I will need to struggle with it until I drop dead, I still want to do it. And that’s because of you. So, even if you decide to no longer be part of my life... I get it. I’m still going to do it.

She could lie down and quit, or she could keep trying to see through this and, perhaps foolishly, attempt to find a way out. Her cold hands rest against theirs, and Orla wants to hold them so badly but she knows this is not Asha. She would hate the thought of holding them and feel nothing but the cold aspect of stone resting against her. That was not Asha. It could never be Asha.

Varric had seen a future that didn’t involve her being this awful shadow of an animal. Asha saw that too. If they thought that Solas might be worth of redemption despite it all, why should she not be worthy of the same?

[ORLA] Because I know you’d do the same thing.

There was no other path to take.

“There’s no other way to go but forward, hm, kid?”

These particular set of stairs are an unwelcome sight. As is the holder of the voice.

The assassin, the magekiller - Orla - looks back all the same. The choice is made to not correct him, that she was not a kid, not his at least. What point was there in correcting a ghost, or worse, whatever this place’s version of Varric was allowed to exist.

Varric looked well. Better than she had ever seen him in the Lighthouse. Perhaps there was a chance still that this was indeed him, some measure of him in this prison of hers. Or perhaps this too was another peeling of the curtain. Orla stands on the same spot that Varric had been before, but there is no Solas to stab her and there is no ritual to stop. There is only a dead silence of her failure: her failure to stop the ritual in a manner to avoid harm, her failure to keep Varric safe.

She stood in the light of the knowledge that she had done and respected what Varric had wanted - all the way to the end. Orla closes her eyes, tilting her head down.

“No. There never is.” she stands there, as if waiting. And Varric walks up those same fated steps. Her hands are gloved and it always surprised her what she did look like in the dreams, what her mind or the space chose to keep and what to let go. Brown eyes focus on the dwarf “You try to hold onto something too tightly and it just turns to shit.”

“Poetic.” he snorts, nodding with a breath that comes and goes from nowhere.

“The lesson was a bit too on the nose.”

Whatever it is, perhaps even spirit if dwarfs could become so, it really looked like him. She wasn’t sure if that made her angry or sad, her body was too fatigued to feel much at all but at least he was clear in her vision. One last time. That was all she could ask.

“You can put it in one of your books, though.” she offers with a crook of her brow, pulling the black, sweaty hair back. Barely a hint of a smile on her face “Free of charge.”

He laughs and her lip quivers, eyes moving away as she hears something. Just beyond the edge of the stone that made it Varric’s last stand, something shifts in the fade and voices can be heard. Orla tries to keep herself from feeling hopeful when those voices are heard. One more trick of this fucking place.

“Maybe we’ll leave the writing up to you this time around.”

Orla glances to him, seeing him watching the fade shimmer and start to tear and the voices grow louder. Varric looks to her for a reply but the words feel jumbled. It has felt like a lifetime of torture only to be allowed a small moment of goodbye. It is not what she wished, but it is what they all would get.

“Sounds like one of your worst ideas.”

Perhaps a flickering of a mind. Perhaps she too was dying. Not yet. She could suffer, but she wasn’t dead yet.

Rook!

“Yeah, well. You’re not a fool, got your head screwed on straight enough. I look forward to seeing how it will turn out, anyway.” he holds the side of her arm, pushing her towards the same spot that Solas had stood once. She looks back to him and in that moment there is the roaring of the ritual once more, the sky above them roaring. And Varric smiles “One step at the time, Rook.”

#extravagantrook #orla “rook” mercar ( muses )#raven received ( meme replies )#abuse tw #death tw #vomiting tw #teeth tw #slavery tw #( there is just so many trigger warnings in this baby )#( alright anyway I WILL write at some point them meeting again but this was already so ungodly long so I'm putting a pin in it )#( and leaving that for a LATER POINT. ANOTHER OPPORTUNITY FOR STABBING )#( anyway something you said: knife as love language )#orla “rook” mercar ( headcanon )#( this goes in the tag )

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 years ago

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Was I the asshole for biting my sibling and getting arrested?

So this happened five years ago. I see how stupid this whole thing is in hindsite and have grown a lot since them but the fact I got arrested still affects me to this day when I try to get jobs. I'm 23 now but at the time I was 18, actually I'd just turned 18 a week before this incident, and my sibling(nb29) was 24 at the time. We got into a scuffle in a parking lot bc they had picked me up for a ride but it started snowing and we didn't have a scraper for some reason and we were both too stubborn to wipe it off some other way so we sat waiting for it to melt. they turned on a podcast that I hated, and when they wouldn't turn it off I started playing music on my phone loudly and annoyingly. They grabbed my phone and started rolling down the window to throw it out the window. Because I'd bought it with my own money I desperately tried to get it back, and after a bit of a scuffle I resorted to biting their arm to get them to let go of the phone. After clamping down for a few seconds it was clear this was futile unless I took it too far and broke the skin so I let them go and they threw the phone out the window into the snow. I ran out of the car and got my phone and it seemed undamaged. They had a mark on their arm from the bite but no skin was broken. We got the snow off somehow and I asked them to drop me off at a friend's house and I was unwinding hanging out with my friend and decided to start bleaching and dying my hair to de-stress. Halfway thru bleaching I get a call that I have to turn myself in from a sheriff. So I hurriedly wash the bleach out of my hair and have to spend the night in jail unable to sleep with my ankles chained while waiting to see the judge about bail. Some may be wondering why they took this seriously in the first place, well apparently since we both lived with out mom in the same house this counted as domestic violence and the particular sheriff decided she couldnt ignore it. Anyways after one of the most traumatic nights of my life I find out I'm homeless because I can't live in the same house as someone who claimed I was domesticly abusing them. Also because it was domestic I couldn't participate in any first offense pardon or community service programs. So I spend the rest of my high school year having to live with friends. Anyways a year goes by, in the end the more serious simple assault charge is dropped but I end up charged with summary harassment but it still has already affected how quickly I can get jobs, and I was actually denied a job already for it once. My relationship with my sibling used to be great a few years before this incident but I had been acting out during this time because of a lot of personal issues, and because they took it so far and still think I deserved the consequences 100% I don't think the relationship can ever be restored. They still think that this was necessary for my growth. As for our mom she may be the real asshole for allowing this to happen. She knew my sibling wanted to call the police on me and didn't interfere because "we were adults who could make our own decisions" but she didn't realize it would cause me to be homeless.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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mcbunnyboy · 5 months ago

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dreamtime playland

here are new housing developments in the strange version of my dream town of methuen and salem. there is one house i find myself in, with my brother, but it’s not my house? its night time. this house is pretty bare. not particularly homely. it’s a tall mcmansion type thing, though mansion isn’t right. a simple facade, vinyl tiling painted a dull blue. no character. there is a jazz/soul/blue band practicing in the living room. a story and plot of sort is making its way into the details but i’m not sure i quite remember. only that there was a ghostly, phantasmic essence to it, then we found ourselves outside, looking for either drugs or ghosts.

me and mark found a show on netflix. it was a new season and we had watched a few episodes of before. the episodes i had watched before were about a group of sort of aimless teenagers that that started working at a K-mart that was relatively new. one of the people was this handsome edgy trash dreamy guy who ill call Deames. the first few episode were only five minutes long and were originally youtube shorts.

weirdly, the show is also part of my life. earlier that day at the K-mart, me and mark weng. mostly to use the bathroom. we were on rt. 28, which is a big route in salem nh with chain restaurants and retails. now they decided to create a new skyline of giant sky scrapers of cartoon characters that lined the road. these were hundreds of feet tall and made and were colorful and new. a few characters used were Flinstones character, especially Fred and that purple dinosaur. Rugrats. Ten and Stimpy. Care Bears. giant statues lining the street, that followed an old train rail that is no longer in use that later became a rail trail.

the show now finds us in the auto garage part of the K-mart, where we find the edgy heart throb who was in the earlier episodes had gotten less attractive, greasier. imagine syd barrett in his early pink floyd days versus his reclusive years. he was weird a green tank top and had tattoos and was now bald, no longer sporting the black oily locks that defined his style in the earlier episodes. but he still seemed in similar young aimless, edgy spirits, only a little sadder.

we find now that a group of people have begun developing a diy community that would have wrestling matches in the large auto repair shop at night and later host shows. in this episode there was a round table show, where bands set up on different spots and one plays a song, then we move to the next band, and they each play one song: they opened with a 90s hit like gin blossoms or something, then a punk band.

the place seemed like a mixture of a home and the garage of the K-mart, probably morphing as my dream went on. but soon we found ourselves in a parking lot at night, lit by the moon, and we walked into the middle of a small grove of pine trees where we smoked weed.

after the episode finished i looked at mark and said “damn that show was fucking sick.” we decided to watch another episode:

was there more? probably. it connected in a magnificent way. the show continued and had characters that were well rounded. its style was probably a cross of teen comedy and teen drama, mixed with surrealistic and edgy experimental like harmony korine, larry clark with a hint of lynch (rip). and then a splash of something yet unseen, but maybe youtube style lost and obscure footage.

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syn4k · 2 years ago

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July 7th, 2023

[Image ID in alt text.]

Google has recently updated its Privacy Policy. There is a new section in it that reads as follows:

[Image ID in alt text.]

This is... incredibly vague. What counts as "publicly available information"?

According to this article, which dug a little deeper into the paragraph, search engines were already using the information on public pages to improve search results. This is nothing new, and in fact is how search engines work. With the update to the policy, the same information can now be used to feed to Google's machine learning models.

It is still unclear what falls under the category of "publicly available information," but it's implied to be anything picked up from a search engine. This means that as of right now, all of your private documents and other media stored on Google Drive are safe from data scrapers.

TL;DR: Google is using data from search results to improve their machine learning models (or A.I). As far as I can tell, this does not include documents or media stored on Google Drive.

If you want to unpublish your works that are currently publicly on the Internet, 256gb thumb drives are sold both online and in many large chain stores for around $20 USD. You can also save the files and back them up to an online file hosting service, although I don't have any recommendations right now because I just woke up.

Also please do not take this post as the gospel truth this is mother fucking Tumblr please please please go check several sources on your own I just wanted to give people the basic run down of what's going on

#ray's tag #important #described #destiel news #spn news #google #the initial headline was misleading so i fixed the wording. should be good to reblog now #if theres any mistakes i made while writing this post i will make it unrebloggable instantly #listen i know this is the misinformation website but i dont want to spread misinfo

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sebastianswallows · 2 years ago

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Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 12 — In his lady's room

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: None.

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian couldn’t see any sign of life around, but he had a feeling the Clokes knew that he was there. The village was far behind and there was no other sign of habitation for quite a distance, so he must have stood out in the flat and empty field outside their house. When he was just at their gate — a flimsy thing, its metal spikes dulled and dented — he saw a shape move out of the overgrown hedges on the other side.

“Sweetie, is that you?”

With a ruffle and a flutter, a black bird took flight out of a raspberry bush.

“Ah, of course,” chuckled Sebastian. “He’s back in London with old Mrs Cloke.”

He pushed the gate open carefully, mindful of any enchantments, but all it did was creak loud enough to make him wince. The walk through their grounds was brief, but winding. The path was broken up in places, giving way to the dry earth. What they had in front of the house could hardly be called a garden, although it was lush and green in its own way, a wild growth of weeds.

The door was a plain wooden one, with old paint chipping away in a thunderbolt pattern. He reached for the knocker, and barely put his hand on it that it fell to the welcome mat in a thud.

“Oops…”

A quick Reparo fixed that, but he was wary to touch it again. A chain hung to the side, and Sebastian had to work up the courage to tug on it. From somewhere within the house, he heard a rusty bell chime like an old bucket, and fortunately, nothing else fell.

Sebastian waited with his hands in his pockets for someone to come to the door, and spent the time looking around. The walls were red brick, some missing like fallen teeth to show the yellow clay beneath, and all manner of odd things were thrown randomly through the hedges that grew there untamed: rusty bicycles, broken brooms, a black baby carriage, and something bent and soggy that looked like an old mattress. Above, the roof hung bent and chipped, bowed in the middle as if it could hardly hold its weight.

Somewhere in the house, the floorboards creaked, and then he heard a lazy march of steps. When the door opened, it revealed a tall thin lady with a sunken expression. She must’ve been Mrs Cloke’s daughter, or daughter-in-law… Her hair, a sulphuric yellow with streaks of grey, was pulled so tightly back in a round bun so as to look fused with her skull. She wore a heavy dress of dark blue with a shawl of red lace thrown around her shoulders.

“Erm, hello,” said Sebastian with a crooked smile. He took his hat off and nodded his head in a quick bow. “Are you Mrs Cloke?”

“You know where you are,” she said coolly, looking him up and down from a cave of sunken eyes. “How can I help you?”

He grinned and put his hat back on. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but, I was wondering if I could use your owl.”

Her expression didn’t change, but something in her gaze did as she realised he wasn’t just a muggle that got lost.

“We haven’t got an owl,” she said.

“Well, I’d like to use it all the same.”

“Wait here.”

She closed the door in his face and the floorboards announced her departure.

Sebastian wiped his soles clean on the boot scraper by the door, whistling aimlessly, then turned and looked at the barren yard behind him again. What a dismal place… It might’ve been grand once, but all it was now was a bitter consolation that they had more grounds to let fall into disrepair than the average villager in Upper Flagley. He wondered what old Mrs Cloke thought about all of this, what her family had come to — and whether it had anything to do with her choosing to live in London.

Eventually, the door opened again.

“Come in,” said the younger Mrs Cloke, “Mr…?”

“Sallow,” he grinned. “Sebastian Sallow, at your service.”

By the time he returned home — funny how he came to think of it that way already — his host had already finished breakfast.

“I waited for you, but the tea was getting cold,” she said as she fretted through the kitchen, picking up the empty dishes. “I can make a new one for you, or —”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, leaning against the doorway. “I’ll just eat at lunch.”

She looked up at him with a little frown. “You’re not… upset about anything, are you?”

“What? No,” he said, standing up straighter. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just… Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.”

She shook her head and went on cleaning, but Sebastian wasn’t satisfied.

“You must tell me, now.”

She put the dishes in the sink and waved the wand over them, but the cleaning spell didn’t start. She was too distracted by her thoughts at this point.

“I just thought that, after last night, you felt a bit… you were… I don’t know…” she sighed.

She couldn’t push the words through, but Sebastian began to guess at the shape of her thoughts. She woke up that day to an empty house, and then he was gone for hours, and… She felt rejected.

“I just lost track of time when I took my walk,” he said as he approached her from behind. “I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologise,” she shook her head, “you can go wherever you like…”

“That’s clearly not the case,” he chuckled, and his hands curled daringly around her waist. “You missed me,” he whispered as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“No, I didn’t…”

Sebastian tilted his head and smiled, brushing his cheek against hers. “I missed you too, you know,” he purred. “Would you let me show you how much?”

Her wand sputtered with silver sparks, and the cleaning spell began to do its work. When she couldn’t turn, Sebastian turned her instead, slowly twisting her by the hips until she faced him.

“Is it too soon, or would you like to wait for tonight?” he asked.

“Tonight is better,” she said. Her body was stiff and her gaze was lowered, aimed somewhere at his neck.

“Alright,” he smiled. “But I shall hold you to it.”

She only gave him one sharp look before she distanced herself from him and left.

She was happy to pretend the rest of the day that that conversation in the kitchen didn’t happen, and Sebastian played along. When they crossed paths again — her going to the garden, him going to his room — they smiled at each other in a secret, cunning way, like children passing notes in class, both knowing what they were smiling about but unable to talk about it. The anticipation ate away at them, but neither gave up. They distracted themselves with little chores.

The chickens clucked happily out in the yard, cooing at each other, and the rooster proudly strut around looking for worms and bugs and other treats, proudly calling the hens over when he found something for them. Through the walls, Sebastian heard the barest hints of conversation when his host chatted with a neighbour — maybe it was Bertie — sounding happy and cheerful and careless in a way she rarely did with him.

And after lunch — during which they chatted about his little adventures in Calais and Dover — they prepared for tea together and enjoyed it in the back garden, away from prying eyes, with a plate of biscuits. Sebastian felt every moment of silence. It was filled with thoughts — hers, his, and the suspicions that flowed between them.

He didn’t tell her where he’d been that morning. Didn’t certainly tell her that he’d arranged something with the Clokes... Old habits, after all, die hard. It wasn’t anything nefarious, of course, just a mere trade arrangement for them to let him use their owl. He’d have to go back the next morning, as they required payment in advance, but fortunately he’d had the foresight to come prepared even in this middle of nowhere.

The thoughts of his plans drained out of his head as dinner came around. They cooked a dish of pheasant and ate in the candlelit kitchen, going through a bottle of red wine together in unspoken celebration of the evening to come. His host was quite rosy-cheeked by the time they finished, and Sebastian felt a little bubbly too. They dispensed with their usual ritual of Firewhisky by the fire in favour of washing themselves before bed.

Sebastian barely patted his face dry before he was out the door, already dressed in his nightclothes, his feet bare against the wooden floor. He knocked, and after too long a silence for his liking, she opened the door to her bedroom.

“I thought we might make a change tonight,” he said, smiling through the little crack she peeked out of, “and do it in your room.”

“Oh, but I thought —”

“You’re still dressed, I see.”

“Y-yes…”

“Then let me help you.”

He pushed the door open, barely needing to lay any weight against it. The voluminous shirt she wore was barely unbuttoned at the neck, her hair was still pinned, and her skirt with its pleats was still fastened.

Sebastian closed the door behind him and looked briefly around the room. It was lit modestly by a green lamp, the same sort that there were in the living room. A great big wardrobe sat to the right, its door slightly ajar, revealing a full-length mirror inside. Behind it stood an overloaded bookcase. A heavy pair of red curtains fell in folds across the window to the left, and a little vanity stood to the side of him, burdened with a gallery of jewels and ribbons and scarves. The few small pictures on the walls hovered in the dark, he could barely make them out. The greatest prize, her bed, sat surrounded by a canopy of lace.

The room itself might have been pretty large, but every empty space was, much like the living room, cluttered. There were dusty mementoes and old tomes, perfume bottles and exotic feathers, candles and crystal balls, and on the highest shelves of the bookcase were even a few dolls that had seen better days — probably spared out of pity or nostalgia.

It looked quite lived in, a curated chaos… Being inside felt intimate.

“Your room is much nicer than mine,” he said with a smile.

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry…”

“No,” he laughed, “please don’t feel guilty. It is right that it should be so. This is your house, after all.”

Sebastian approached her as she fiddled with the buttons of her shirt, trying to close them up again.

“It’s an untidy room,” she said with an awkward laugh, “I wish you hadn’t seen it.”

“No, I’m glad I saw it,” he said quietly, stopping before her. His gaze went to her neck and his hands came up to clasp her hands. “Stop that.”

He pulled her hands away and began unbuttoning the shirt for her again. She clearly didn’t like it, but let her hands fall to her side. Her gaze flitted left and right everywhere but at Sebastian.

“What?” he grinned, keeping his eyes on his hands as they worked button by button loose.

“This is quite forward of you,” she mumbled.

“I know,” he smiled. Then, looking into her eyes, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” she said immediately.

His smile broadened. “Why don’t you sit on the bed? Perhaps you’ll be more comfortable there.”

They stepped back together toe-to-toe as if through a dance, and with each step, more buttons were loosened. Sebastian tugged the shirt out of the waist and finished the last ones before his hands went up to her hair.

“May I?”

“If you know what you’re doing…”

“Hex me if I hurt you,” he smiled.

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight

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dark-lord-tom-returns · 1 year ago

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If you do have to go out and drive somewhere, make sure you are prepared to get stuck. It likely won't be your fault. A road may not be plowed, you hit a patch of black ice and ended up in a snow bank, or maybe it kept snowing while you were inside the store. You still need to be prepared. You need Tom's Cold Weather I-Can't-Die-Like-This Kit

1) Common sense and uncommon planning. If there is snow and ice on the road and you have to go out then you need a plan. Check your routes, avoid the back roads, and let someone know where you are going and when you should be back.

2) Alcohol based hand sanitizer. If you can unlock your car with a physical key this is critical. The locks can freeze solid. Squirt a little hand sanitizer in them and wait about 10 seconds. This is the part of the kit that stays in your pocket at all times.

3) Ice scraper. You need something to get the snow and ice off your car. Windshield, rear window, side windows, headlights, taillights, and roof. If it got buried check that your exhaust pipe isn't sealed with ice and snow. If you don't have a designated ice scraper I've made do with a broom but you really want a good ice scraper. Make sure to bring it with you.

DO NOT POUR HOT WATER ON YOUR FROZEN CAR

Now, what you need in the glove box.

4) Mylar emergency blankets and hand warmers. Get a couple from the camping section and stuff them in the glove box. They hold heat well and they are reflective. Single use cause they tear easily which is why I suggest 4 or 5. They're compact and cheap and will buy time if you have to wait for rescue. For hand warmers, get the standard hand sized ones and a couple of the jumbo sized. Use as needed.

5) Candle and lighter. This isn't for warmth or signaling. This is for your mind. If you get stuck somewhere in the cold and the dark that little flame does a world of good. Try not to set the car on fire. A three pack of tealights were my go to.

6) Decent knife. Standard folder works wonders. Million and one uses.

7) Bright colored cloth. Neon bright. Reflective if you can find it. You get stuck, lower your window, stick the cloth out, roll it back up. Signals to others that there is someone trapped. Remove the cloth when you get picked up or you leave.

8) Fully charged power bank. The phone is your life line. Check this before you go anywhere.

In the car. Preferably the back seat. My trunk always froze shut so consider that when packing.

9) Extra layers/change of clothes. Layers are important if you get stuck. You need to stay warm without sweating. Dry socks are your friends.

10) Light sources. Plural. I had a high powered flashlight to signal passing vehicles, a low powered light for working in the car, and a dozen glowstick type chemical lights. Glow sticks were great to stick on the roof and draw attention in the dark or toss behind the car so people knew there was a car on the side of the road.

11) Food and water. Self explanatory.

Ok, so we are now prepared to sit tight and wait for help in the worst case. Let's talk about getting unstuck.

12) Cat litter. Instant traction in a bag. Pour some right in front of and against your tires. This is great for if you end up on an ice sheet.

13) Shovel. No two ways about it. You end up in a snow bank and it's digging time. A snow shovel is the best but anything that isn't your bare hands works.

14) Tow cables or chains. If you can't get out yourself and someone comes by they are extremely useful. A good car emergency kit will have them and jumper cables and a first aid kit. It's worth the cost.

This is by no means exhaustive. There are all kinds of things you can add like portable radios and road flares.

But with just this setup, you have multiple ways to signal others, a fully charged phone to call for help, and you probably won't freeze waiting for them to show up.

Stay safe, stay warm

So Your Temperate Home is Suddenly an Arctic Hellscape

As -10F hits area’s of the US who’ve never seen such temperatures in living memory, I wanted to give some tips from a Minnesotan who’s lived with these temps as a part of my life for 37 years.

1) Don’t Get Cocky. People used to these temps may laugh at our southern neighbors freaking out about the cold because yes, some parts of the US get such temps regularly every year. These people are being ignorant assholes. Our houses are mandated to have insulation that few of your homes will have. We pretty much all have huge puffy coats, and have well established winter weather gear drives for homeless and poor folks every year. We have expensive, well equipped infrastructure for cope with these temps and with large amounts of snow. You don’t. When it comes down to it, Minnesotans know to respect the cold temps- it’s just that a lot of the ways that do it are so commonplace as to be invisible to those who already have these habits.

2) Don’t go out wet. Dry your hair or stay inside. You will loose a lot of heat if you’re wet. Same for sweat, and wet diapers. And clothes with snow on them are now WET CLOTHES. Change into dry clothes as soon as possible.

3) If you have a shitty car battery or a car that sometimes struggles to start, then try not to use it. You’re unlikely to get the kind of temps where it’s impossible to start an engine (I’ve only experienced those temps a few times. Once my eyelashes froze shut and I almost froze to death in my own back yard. Don’t be like young me. Respect the cold.) If your car doesn’t start, you could be stranded somewhere, and realistically your area’s emergency services may be pretty overrun.

4) Very cold air doesn’t hold moisture well. Plan for extra hydration for people, pets, and plants. Even if your staying in- most home heaters pull cold air from outside, then dry it out even MORE in the process of heating it. Dehydration is a thing. Even if your home’s heater has a humidifier attached to it (if you’re not sure, then it probably doesn’t.) it’s a good idea to drink extra water. Right now I have a few pots of water just left out by heaters to evaporate as much as possible. My mom used to just heat huge camping pots on the stove all day in cold temps. Remember, dry nasal passages really muck up your bodies ability to fight airborne illness. This is not a great time for that.

5) Help out homeless folks in your area in any way you can. These temps can and do kill. And since we have more evictions than any society can conscionably defend this year, we have high numbers of homeless people. Which means area supports for unhoused folks are often underfunded and over-taxed.

6) Let your faucets drip. I know nobody likes to waste water but if your pipes freeze they will literally explode. Your home will flood. My mother’s kitchen got completely destroyed and it traumatized my childhood dog. Justa bit of moving warm water will safeguard you from that.

7) Do. Not. Burn. Propane. Indoors.

8) Plan for potential power outages. Ice on the lines can cause this and again, your infrastructure isn’t prepped for this. Unplug anything in your home you’re not using to do your part to help prevent rolling blackouts.

9) Driving on ice is a SKILL. Your roads may be filled with people who do not have that skill. Please please, stay off the roads if you can- even if you have this skill these roads will not be prepped and will, again, be full of people who don’t know how to do this because it just hasn’t come up that much in their life.

Stay safe and stay kind, folks!

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iwebdatascraping0 · 3 days ago

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What Makes a Real-time Scraper for #BookingCom Hotel Data Essential for Price Monitoring?

In the competitive world of online travel and hospitality, real-time pricing insights can make or break your revenue strategy. With rates changing frequently across platforms, especially on giants like #Booking.com, having a real-time hotel price scraper is not just helpful — it’s mission-critical.

At #iWebDataScraping, our real-time hotel data scraping solution delivers up-to-the-minute updates on:

✅ Dynamic hotel room rates by location, date, and demand

✅ Seasonal and event-based price surges

✅ Competitor pricing benchmarks for OTAs and hotel chains

✅ Availability trends and occupancy indicators

✅ Alerts on promotions, discounts, and flash sales

💡 This level of granularity empowers travel agencies, hotel chains, and revenue managers to optimize pricing, increase bookings, and stay ahead of competitors in every market.

📈 The result? Smarter dynamic pricing, better forecasting, and stronger profit margins.

🔗 Learn more about how real-time scraping from Booking.com powers price intelligence:

#data extraction #data scraping #data solutions #marketing #hotel booking

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copperbeechbowling · 4 days ago

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Where Fitness and Fun Fit Your Life

Staying fit with a packed schedule can be tricky, but it helps when your apartment community gives you the tools. At Copper Beech, you’ve got access to a 24-hour fitness center, so you can squeeze in a workout whenever it fits—early morning, late night, doesn’t matter. And when you want to chill, the clubhouse has a game lounge where you can unwind without leaving home. The setup is great too, with large 2- and 3-story townhomes and plenty of layout choices—1-, 2-, 3-, or 4-bedroom apartments. It’s ideal for anyone checking out one bedroom apartments for rent near BGSU who also wants more than just four walls and a bed. You get space, convenience, and a little fun built in.

Climate and Environment in Bowling Green, Ohio

If you like seeing all four seasons, Bowling Green gives you the full mix. Winters can get cold, and yeah, there’s snow—sometimes a lot of it. You’ll definitely want good boots and a scraper. Spring is a bit muddy, but things start to green up fast. By summer, the days are warm and sunny, though it can get humid. Fall’s probably the favorite around here—cool air, changing leaves, and lots of local festivals. The town’s surrounded by farmland, so it feels pretty open, and there are parks and nature trails if you’re into the outdoors. Sometimes the wind kicks up strong since it’s flat, but you get used to it. It’s a place where the weather keeps things interesting and the environment feels familiar.

Snook’s Dream Cars in Bowling Green, OH

Snook’s Dream Cars is one of those places you don’t expect to find in a small town. It’s part museum, part garage, and totally unique. You walk in, and suddenly, you’re surrounded by shiny vintage cars, old gas pumps, and memorabilia from decades past. Even if you’re not a car buff, it’s hard not to smile when you see how much care has gone into everything. Each car tells a story, and the vibe feels more personal than corporate. You can take your time walking around—there’s no rush. It’s family-owned, which adds a nice touch, and the staff really know their stuff. Whether you’re there for nostalgia or just to see something different, it’s a fun, low-key way to spend an afternoon.

Bowling Green Getting Two New Chain Restaurants

You always notice when new spots pop up around town, especially when they’re well-known chains. On the one hand, it’s nice to have more variety and a couple of fresh options when you’re tired of the usual places. It gives people more choices, whether you’re grabbing a quick bite or meeting friends for lunch. At the same time, you might wonder how that’ll affect the local restaurants that have been around for years. It’s easy for chains to draw a crowd just because they’re familiar. But if you’re someone who likes supporting small businesses, it might make you think twice. Still, having more places to eat isn’t a bad thing, especially in a college town where things are always shifting and people are always hungry.

Link to map

Snook's Dream Cars 13920 County Home Rd, Bowling Green, OH 43402, United States Head north toward Victory Ln 262 ft Turn left onto Victory Ln 135 ft Turn right onto County Home Rd/Dunbridge Rd Continue to follow Dunbridge Rd 0.7 mi Turn left Restricted usage road 0.1 mi Turn left Restricted usage road 79 ft Copper Beech at Bowling Green 2057 Napoleon Rd, Bowling Green, OH 43402, United States

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actowizsolutions0 · 11 days ago

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Introduction - The Rise of On-Demand Delivery Platforms like Glovo

The global landscape of e-commerce and food delivery has witnessed an unprecedented transformation with the rise of on-demand delivery platforms. These platforms, including Glovo, have capitalized on the increasing demand for fast, convenient, and contactless delivery solutions. In 2020 alone, the global on-demand delivery industry was valued at over $100 billion and is projected to grow at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 23% until 2027. The Glovo platform, which began in Spain, has expanded to more than 25 countries and 250+ cities worldwide, offering services ranging from restaurant deliveries to grocery and pharmaceutical goods.

The widespread use of smartphones and changing consumer habits have driven the growth of delivery services, making it a vital part of the modern retail ecosystem. Consumers now expect fast, accurate, and accessible delivery from local businesses, and platforms like Glovo have become key players in this demand. As businesses strive to stay competitive, Glovo Data Scraping plays an essential role in acquiring real-time insights and market intelligence.

On-demand delivery services are no longer a luxury but a necessity for businesses, and companies that harness reliable data will lead the charge. Let’s examine the growing need for accurate delivery data as we look deeper into the challenges faced by businesses relying on real-time information.

Real-Time Delivery Data Changes Frequently

While platforms like Glovo are revolutionizing the delivery landscape, one of the significant challenges businesses face is the inconsistency and volatility of real-time data. Glovo, like other on-demand services, operates in a dynamic environment where store availability, pricing, and inventory fluctuate frequently. A store’s listing can change based on delivery zones, operating hours, or ongoing promotions, making it difficult for businesses to rely on static data for decision-making.

For example, store availability can vary by time of day—some stores may not be operational during off-hours, or a delivery fee could change based on the customer’s location. The variability in Glovo Delivery Data Scraping extends to pricing, with each delivery zone potentially having different costs for the same product, depending on the distance or demand.

This constant flux in data can lead to several challenges, such as inconsistent pricing strategies, missed revenue opportunities, and poor customer experience. Moreover, with shared URLs for chains like McDonald’s or KFC, Glovo Scraper API tools must be precise in extracting data across multiple store locations to ensure data accuracy.

The problem becomes even more significant when businesses need to rely on data for forecasting, marketing, and real-time decision-making. Glovo API Scraping and other advanced scraping methods offer a potential solution, helping to fill the gaps in data accuracy.

Stay ahead of the competition by leveraging Glovo Data Scraping for accurate, real-time delivery data insights. Contact us today!

The Need for Glovo Data Scraping to Maintain Reliable Business Intelligence

As businesses struggle to keep up with the ever-changing dynamics of Glovo’s delivery data, the importance of reliable data extraction becomes more evident. Glovo Data Scraping offers a powerful solution for companies seeking accurate, real-time data that can support decision-making and business intelligence. Unlike traditional methods of manually tracking updates, automated scraping using Glovo Scraper tools can continuously fetch the latest store availability, menu items, pricing, and delivery conditions.

Utilizing Glovo API Scraping ensures that businesses have access to the most up-to-date and accurate data on a regular basis, mitigating the challenges posed by fluctuating delivery conditions. Whether it’s monitoring Glovo Restaurant Data Scraping for competitive pricing or gathering Glovo Menu Data Extraction for inventory management, data scraping empowers businesses to optimize operations and gain an edge over competitors.

Moreover, Glovo Delivery Data Scraping ensures that companies can monitor changes in delivery fees, product availability, and pricing models, allowing them to adapt their strategies to real-time conditions. For companies in sectors like Q-commerce, which depend heavily on timely and accurate data, integrating Scrape Glovo Data into their data pipelines can dramatically enhance operational efficiency and business forecasting.

Through intelligent Glovo Scraper API solutions, companies can bridge the data gap and create more informed strategies to capture market opportunities.

The Problems with Glovo’s Real-Time Data

Glovo, a major player in the on-demand delivery ecosystem, faces challenges in providing accurate and consistent data to its users. These issues can lead to discrepancies in business intelligence, making it difficult for organizations to rely on the platform for accurate decision-making. Several critical problems hinder the effective use of Glovo Data Scraping and Glovo API Scraping. Let’s explore these problems in detail.

1. Glovo Only Shows Stores That Are Online at the Moment

One of the primary issues with Glovo is that it only displays stores that are currently online, which means businesses may miss potential opportunities. Store availability can fluctuate rapidly throughout the day, and a business may only see a partial picture of the stores operating at any given time. This makes it difficult to make decisions based on a consistent dataset, especially for those relying on real-time data.

To address this issue, companies must use Web Scraping Glovo Delivery Data to scrape data multiple times a day. By performing automated scraping at different intervals, businesses can ensure they gather complete data and avoid gaps caused by the transient nature of store availability.

2. Listings Vary by Time of Day and Delivery Radius

Another challenge is the variation in store listings by time of day and delivery radius. Due to Glovo’s dynamic delivery system, the availability of stores changes based on the user’s delivery location and the time of day. A restaurant that is available in the morning may not be available in the evening, or it may charge different delivery fees depending on the delivery zone. This introduces significant volatility in data that businesses must account for.

The solution is to Scrape Glovo Data using location-based API scraping techniques. With the right strategies, Glovo Scraper API tools can be programmed to fetch this data by specific delivery zones, ensuring a more accurate representation of store listings.

3. Shared URLs Across Multiple Branches Complicate Precise Location Tracking

For larger chains like McDonald's or KFC, Glovo often uses a single URL to represent multiple store branches within the same city. This means that all data tied to a single restaurant chain will be lumped together, even though there may be differences in location, inventory, and pricing. Such discrepancies complicate accurate data collection and make it harder to pinpoint specific store information.

The answer lies in Glovo Restaurant Data Scraping. By utilizing advanced scraping tools like Glovo Scraper and incorporating specific store locations within the scraping process, businesses can separate out data for each branch and ensure a more accurate dataset.

4. Gaps in Sitemap Coverage and Dynamic Delivery-Based Pricing Add Complexity

Glovo's sitemap often lacks comprehensive coverage of all stores, which further complicates data extraction. For example, some cities may have incomplete data on restaurant availability or listings may be outdated. Additionally, dynamic pricing based on delivery distance, demand, and time of day adds another layer of complexity. Pricing variations can be difficult to track accurately, especially for businesses that require up-to-date data for competitive pricing strategies.

Glovo Pricing Data Scraping can help resolve this issue by extracting dynamic pricing from multiple locations, ensuring businesses always have the most current pricing information. With Glovo Delivery Data Scraping, companies can access detailed pricing data in real-time and adjust their strategies based on accurate, up-to-date information.

By addressing these challenges through smart Glovo Data Scraping and leveraging technologies like Glovo Scraper API and Glovo Delivery Data Scraping, businesses can collect more accurate and reliable data, enabling them to adapt more effectively to the fluctuations in real-time delivery information. These tools help streamline data collection, making it easier for businesses to stay competitive in a fast-moving market. Learn More

#LocationBasedAPIScraping #GlovoMenuDataExtraction #GlovoScraperAPITools #GlovoDeliveryDataScraping #GlovoDataScraping

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