#shes gonna leave me

[mushe-room]

-

[angelicstalker]

I FUCKING DID IT AGAIN

[this-guy-is-insane]

I hate having bpd so much it makes me feel like im toxic and bad because i have so many awful thoughts about my fp so so so many

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

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

What was justice?

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

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

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

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

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

It is a mockery of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She understands, now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does she have left to lose?

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

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

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

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

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

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

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

Probably.

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

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

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

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

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

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

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

..How was she going to prove it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She does not hesitate to agree.

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

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

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

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

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

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

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

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

Neuvillette, for his part..

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

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[pencilscratchins]

they won’t let tpol be on season 3 of strange new worlds because they know footage of old tpol would allow me to finish my tripol silver springs fancam

[imminent-danger-came]

I am seeing some of the WORST takes about tdp season 4. Sweet, sweet tumblr users. This season was a lot of set up, not everything was supposed to be explained or resolved, or even "should" have been. Season 4 had to do the heavy leg work of re-establishing characters and arcs and the plot moving foreword. It just needs a little time to be able to act on everything it's now established. It did a good job building off of arc 1, and now we are fully indoctrinated into arc 2!

[diviedrawn]

The way we were robbed of the milfication of Jill for death island

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

you know i adore you (3)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: gojo's being a little manipulative, angst, mentions of death and blood, mostly fluff tho

1: what you see, i see

2: where you go, i go

A/N: gojo is so 1989 coded

Her phone had buzzed for the tenth time during her student council meeting, and for the tenth time, she ignored it. She didn't have to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

Who knew Gojo Satoru would be so clingy? And here she thought she would be the one hanging on his coat tails. Not that they were dating because they weren't. They were friends with emphasis on friends - she had decided that after the high of finally seeing each other face to face.

The morning after was very clarifying for her. She tried to remember her dream the night, only to realize that Satoru had not slept the entire night - he had been watching her sleep the entire night. It was especially clarifying when her mom knocked on her door, and she processed that not only did she have a strange boy in her room, but that he was also soaked in blood. A hectic morning of her hiding her soulmate in the bathroom. It didn't help that he was complaining the entire time - it was a miracle her mother didn't hear him.

Fact of the matter is it would be irresponsible for her to start seeing him romantically without actually getting to know him first and she was a responsible person. So responsible that for the time being, she had to put student council duties first over her friendship with him, especially with the festival coming up.

She would call him after the meeting was over, "Now, do we have everything prepared for the festival tomorrow?"

Everyone nodded as they checked classrooms, and fixed decoration, and they put up the banner outside of the school that would be welcoming everyone in. After this task was done, she would leave.

From atop a ladder, she tied the elastic ribbons into a bow and smoothed the banner over with her hand, "Everything alright on that side?"

Her peer smiled at her from the other ladder directly on the other side of the banner, "Yeah!"

She climbed down the ladder and looked at their handiwork. It was perfect. All that was left was to go get her things.

One of her classmates giggled besides her, "Your boyfriend's here again."

"Who's boyfriend?" She asked.

The girl pointed at the entrance of the school, "Yours." She smiled cheerfully at him, "Hi, Gojo!"

And there he was, walking over to them - pouting.

This was her fault she should've known he would show up if didn't at least answer one of his calls or texts.

"We've been over this." She said, "He is not my boyfriend."

"Does he know that?" The girl said.

Another classmate chimed in, "Why not? he's super cute."

She hoped Satoru hadn't heard that. His ego was big enough as it was.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled his head in her neck, he said, "Yeah, I am super cute. Why not?"

Of course, he heard them. He looked at her expectantly over his glasses. He really was adorable when he wanted to be, enough that all of her classmates (boys and girls alike) practically swoon for him when he does anything.

She ignored him, "Meetings over. Everyone, go home."

Satoru huffed in annoyance but didn't let go of her, "Why don't you answer your phone?" He tilted his head so she could see more of his vibrant blue eyes despite his glasses, "A text would've been enough."

She fought the urge to run her hands through his hair, "I told you I had a student council meeting today." She twisted in his arms to face him, "and I told you that I wasn't going to be able to call or text until after."

He buried his face in her neck again and groaned, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you did."

This was a little more than friendly, she knew that, but she also learned at the beginning of their friendship that he also didn't know what personal space was. Besides, she would stop him before he got too far, but she would admit, she liked it when he daringly pressed his lips on her neck to test just how far he can push the boundaries she had set for them. But today, she would enforce them.

She tugged his head back from her neck, "I have to go get my school bag, Satoru."

She stilled as he leaned in and kissed her in the corner of her mouth. Another thing he did to see how far he could go.

She pursed her lips, "That's more than friendly."

He raised an eyebrow, "You mind today?" And let out a dramatic sigh, "it's cause people are watching, isn't it?" He shifted all of his weight on her, "I'm a dirty little secret!"

She finally hugged him back. Not to actually hug him but keep them from toppling over.

She heard footsteps and giggles as her classmates walked past her and Satoru, "Yeah, he's totally not your boyfriend."

She saw a glimpse of Satoru's cheeky smile before he stuck his lower lip out and rubbed his cheek against hers.

And like clockwork, "Aw~"

She glared at her peers, "Do not encourage his behaviour."

They all snickered as they left.

She rolled her eyes at them and grabbed Satoru's cheeks with one hand forcing his lips to pucker as they looked at each other, "Stop." She pushed him off of her and finally, went to go get her belongings.

She sighed when Satoru slipped his hand in hers. If she pulled away he would whine for the rest of the day, so she let their fingers intertwine.

His eyes wandered away from her from time to time. She closed her eyes for a second. Little spectres were staring at them, peeking their heads from their hiding spots, and whenever, Satoru directed his gaze at them they'd duck back into their hiding spots in fear.

Oh.

She opened her eyes and quickened her steps. Her soulmate kept up with her new pace with ease. She opened the door and quickly picked up her school bag, but Satoru took it from her hand before she could sling it around her shoulder and swung it over his instead.

"Those curses shouldn't scare you. You know, they're too scared to come out and hurt anyone," he said, "They're too weak."

She grabbed her phone from the table, "You know I can't see them the way you can."

He pressed a kiss on her temple, "I can handle them, no problem."

She rested her head on his arm. He was right if any curse dared to rear out their ugly heads against them he would excorcise it easily. She was safe. They were safe.

She flipped her phone open as they walked out of the school.

47 MISSED CALLS from Gojo Satoru

He was not serious.

83 TEXT MESSAGES from Gojo Satoru

Oh God.

2 TEXT MESSAGES from Geto Suguru

Geto.S: He's being insufferable

Geto.S: Answer so he'll stop whining to me and Shoko

She shoved her phone in his face, "For real?!"

"You weren't answering!"

She shook her head as she went through the text messages.

Gojo.S: Wanna go check out the new boba place <3

Gojo.S: Whatcha ya doing? :3

Gojo.S: Oh right student council

Gojo.S: How long is it gonna to take?

Gojo.S: it's been 30 minutes :(

Gojo.S: Pls answer the phone </3

Gojo.S: meeting boring

Gojo.S: Ditch :D

She skimmed the rest of texts until she got near the end.

Gojo.S: The decorations look great!! :b

Gojo.S: r ya seriously going to check every classroom?

Gojo.S: For real?????

Gojo.S: ______ <3

Gojo.S: Suguru punched me :(

Gojo.S: kiss it better pls

Gojo.S: How much longer?????

Gojo.S: A ladder for what???

Gojo.S: :'(((((((((

Gojo.S: <////////////3

Gojo.S: I'm heading over there

She flipped her phone close, "You are such a stalker, Satoru."

He gasped offendedly, "I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Am not!"

"Really?" She said, "What about the time you were literally watching me sleep for hours?"

"I wasn't myself that day." He quickly added, "and you were sad all day! What kind of soulmate would I be if I didn't let you know I was okay?"

"How'd you know where I live?" She retorted.

"It's a cute little bakery!" He smiled, "how is anyone supposed to miss that."

"Uh huh," she hummed, "suuureee~"

She was right, Satoru had somewhat stalked her that day and with how empowered he felt - he tracked down the very little cursed energy she did have with his six eyes.

"You stalk me too!" He pushed back.

"Hardly."

She was lying, but there was a difference between his stalking and her stalking. She only wanted to make sure he was safe. After what happened a few months ago, she couldn't help it and she only stalked him when he goes on missions not for everyday things like he does.

"Liar," Satoru said, "I can tell. I have really good eyes and senses."

She blushed, "It is not the same." Stupid six eyes, "You stalk me for no reason."

"It's not for 'no reason' - I miss you." He readjusted the straps of her school bag on his shoulder, "Besides, you don't have to worry about me like that anymore. No one can get the jump on me like that again."

She knew what he meant: I'm stronger now. Don't worry, I'm not dying anytime soon, and he was right. Nothing could touch him anymore unless he wanted it to, even her. Still, he didn't know what it felt like to have him gone from her soul. It wasn't a fading feeling of him slipping away - No, it was violent and soul wrenching - he was viscerally ripped from her. She was left cold and alone with her heart being the only one left beating. She was with him the whole time when he was desperately trying to learn and understand reverse curse technique to heal his bloody and dying body. All Satoru knew was that she cried.

Soft lips pressed against her cheek and then to the other. It was so sweet, so wonderful she hadn't realized she was crying.

"Is that why we aren't dating yet?" He continued to kiss her tears away, "you scared?"

She hadn't cared for him then and she fell apart. Imagine the damage it would do to her if she was in love with him? Her lip quivered at the thought. With a shaky breath, she buried herself in his chest in a hug, and nodded.

Satoru soothingly ran his long, slender fingers through her hair, "My girl's a bit of a little cry baby, ain't she?"

Her heart fluttered, my girl.

"I have every right to cry," she mumbled stubbornly in his chest.

He kissed the top of her head, "Yeah, you do." He tilted her chin up so she would look at him, "Boyfriends give more kisses you know."

She smiled as she wiped her tears, "No fair, I'm emotionally vulnerable right now."

Satoru's lips pressed ever so softly on hers. It was barely even a kiss, but she melted in his arms all the same. It would be so easy to fall into him and he would catch her every time. Yet, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

She was right. He shouldn't take advantage.

He sighed... if time was what she needed then he could wait a little longer.

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Gojo: y'all be scared to double text? Not me! Ding ding ding it's me again bitch!

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing89

[wyrmswears]

gguys im so fucking serious id die for a flashback episode following at least one member of the team in the immediate aftermath of the merge

[neothalamus]

herberts such a little shit, get him dan

[yesokayiknow]

okay so you know how it goes: fourteen comes to life in thirteen's clothes. and they're both too short and too loose and entirely too bright for his frame of mind. they worked with a doctor who hid everything behind a too wide smile; not so much with a doctor whose pain and tiredness is written across his face

he needs to change. obviously

and then the star beast starts, and fourteen leaves the tardis, and he's still in thirteen's clothes

he just. he doesn't know. how does he choose new clothes? he feels wrong. how will wearing something else change that?

(donna tells him that it's christmas, mate; it's bloody freezing. maybe wear longer trousers, yeah? also he's both too young and too old to wear braces. just a friendly note)

he doesn't have to explain who he is to the unit scientist, not with those clothes. instead he talks about how he doesn't understand why he looks like this. why he is this. why this face? why isn't he someone new?

actually. maybe he is someone new. was he ever this open before? hm

why do you look like that, sylvia hisses, trying to hide him from the daughter he destroyed ruined left

it's a lottery, he replies, purposely ignorant

he still has his thirteenth self's screwdriver. it's too small in his hands

(the whole time they were her, her hands were too small. she didn't like touching anyway, but whenever someone took her hand, it felt wrong. they were too small. sometimes it felt like if she worked fast enough, tinkered about without stopping, she wouldn't have to look at them)

everything goes wrong. his fault, like always

(blimey. of all the things to carry over from the first time he had this face, it had to be the guilt, didn't it?)

you shouldn't look like that, the doctordonna says, and he runs a hand down his face with a tired laugh

no, the doctordonna says, not the face. a hand reaches out to grasp at the collar of his shirt, at the dangling earring chain. this isn't you. who are you, doctor?

like he knows. like they've ever-

she dies.

she lives. he doesn't deserve it. it isn't about him. he still doesn't deserve it

we're letting it go, donna says, and he looks down at himself, at another him's clothes, another him's screwdriver

well, she never was subtle, his donna

the tardis is gorgeous, though when isn't she. he tries to show off his new console to donna, and she rolls her eyes, and drags him off to the wardrobe

unlike normally, where all the clothes are scattered about, the new tardis wardrobe now also has a line of wardrobes stood against the wall. fifteen of them, to be exact

the last wardrobe is open. and empty

he goes to the second to last, and opens it to reveal a wide array of rainbow patterned shirts. she probably would've hated for her things to be organised like this. always creating mess so she wouldn't have to think about anything important. he laughs. and he takes off the sky coloured coat and the worn boots and the earrings and gently places them inside. tag, he thinks, as he closes the doors

and then he moves down to the eleventh wardrobe, full of brown coats and blue suits and neatly pressed shirts and pairs of converse. and he stands in front of it. and he wonders

after a moment, donna's like wait do you want me to leave?? you never cared about nudity before, did you? and he's like oh actually i do feel more self conscious. huh. weird.

he doesn't have to say, i think i'm a different person. not to donna. she just gives him a smile, and a shoulder nudge, and tells him she'll see him in the console room

the last wardrobe is empty

he takes a breath, and then goes to rummage about in the rest of the clothes

[cuepickle]

Stranger Things x Breakfast Club AU (part ?)

[nonomives]

*Materializes*

I wanna show a little something

I usually like to stick close to the canon for stuff and fill in the blanks with my ocs but I only realized until later that theres already on Opal character in hsr. I didnt wanna change her name cuz i liked the themes for the gem lol

More deets below

So anyhow, originally, Opal was meant to be someone that fell off from her high position and is trying to get it back, despite clearly struggling. It ties to how opal, as the gem, doesnt really quite work well with diamond since they're on different sides of the Moh Scale (diamond 10 and opal 5.5-ish). For now she's still on a pretty high ranking but I do plan to have some sort of fall from glory for her. Something to do with how opal (the gem) transitioned from having positive meanings in the past, to now being associated with bad luck.

Personality wise, I wanted to lean into Opal being a queen bee of sorts (something to do with opal being the queen of gems). Elegant and poised, pretty meticulous of even the minute details; she takes care of her image above all else so even the smallest slight against her isnt tolerated. Pretty tempermental too (like her gem). While she can look gentle, appearances can be decieving. One wrong step and Opal can easily snap out of a good mood. She can and will make even the smallest of things into a big deal if you irk her enough, which can be pretty often. She can also be pretty obsessed with perfection, making sure everything goes according to plan and up to par with her position because, while she may flaunt her high standing which is one thats hard to achieve, she knows she is still replacable. She may revel in the hight of success, but there's always the chance of falling.

At some point, when the time comes she fails big time and gets demoted, she kinda goess off her knockers, punching walls crazy. If she just gets demoted shes gonna try anything and everything to get back to where she was, even if she resorts to getting her hands dirty or even begging. If she gets fired then shes throwing any and all dignity, probs will lash out the moment she realizes shes been fired and such. I honestly dont know yet how she'll get to this point but I'll figure it out.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Jazz becoming the next big Gothem villain is such a solid concept. Theres so much to explore.

She targets corrupt mental institutions. Corrupt companies who destroy their workers state of mind so they wont quit. She attacks landlords who make it impossible for people to live comfortably.

She is the staple anti-hero of anyone struggling to get back on their feet. People should have to work three jobs just to afford a crappy one bedroom, no utilities, half bath, in crime alley apartment, with a roommate.

Shelters should be aiming to gain a profit instead of using the donations to support others.

She is tired of these big name heros leaving children to clean up messes. She has watcher her own brother wither away to a shell of his former self trying to make a change and she is sick of it. Hell she herself is a child but if this is what it takes, then this is what it takes.

Enter from the left The Manipulator™️

Feared by all corrupt. People think she has mind control or something. When she targets someone they make almost a full 180 in their ways. “She will do anything to get her way or to make people into what she thinks they should be. And she mist be stopped” cries big business.

In reality she is the worlds best damn psychiatrist ever to be known. She doesn’t force anyone to change but gives them the choice to be better. To see how much more they can be. And it terrifies them. Helps them find themselves again and to move past their troubling pasts. No force and no mind control. No manipulating. No one but those who she has helped know the truth but when they tell the truth it only fuels the fire of her being controlling.

Theres one thing also fuelling the flames of mind control. Thats the fact that every single major hero to go after her can’t. Any who approach her find themselves no long near her. Superman just wants to talk, well she doesn’t, and he is then back in his city?!? Batman is stalking her to figure out how to deal with her but once he gets too close he suddenly finds himself in the batcave?

At first they think it’s teleportation but time is passing? Theres video feed and tracking of no they just went back themselves. No response from them the whole trip. As if possessed. (Lmao it’s just good brother danny pranking his sis a little by making her seem all powerful but also protecting her anyway he can. Or could be Dan instead)

[fromtheseventhhell]

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? | Jon VI

--metaphorical knives at feigning neutrality regarding his sister

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold... | Jon XIII

--literal knives from breaking that neutrality to save her