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lovesickeros · 5 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #arlecchino #lyney #furina #you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic #trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually!#I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew #anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks #also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth #furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road #arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11 #shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay #hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS #ehe :]#is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!!#shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies #anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D #also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty #bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat..#reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay #they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more #a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)

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lorephobic · 5 months

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literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

#saltburn #saltburn posting #really desperately need someone to pay me to write saltburn essays all day #or else these will never be more than a smattering of bullet points #and these are only the most developed of the millions of the thoughts that i've had rolling around in my brain this last week #idk if lengthy meta-essays are interesting to literally anyone other than me #but if any of these speak to u and u have thoughts abt them #of course u are welcome to send them my way #i think all of these were born out of either seeing bad fandom takes (ie. everything ive seen about farleigh and oliver)#or rly good fandom takes that haven't been talked about enough like the fluids thing #anyway #oh also if u want any interview clips that back up any of these ideas i have a list thats like a million miles long #and would be happy to dig for any specific things im talking about here #bambi #also also im sorry i kno the colon in academic essay titles is so overused i just love a subtitle sm #i love love love a clever little essay title. titling my essays was literally my favorite part of the essay process in college #saltburn 101

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 month

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Not sure if this theory makes any sense at all but I'm starting to believe that there's no time skip between Wally's phone calls and what we see/hear in the show's Media/Merchandise. If we see the Toyland call being made before the Homewarming episode then it would make sense that Wally's expecting Barnaby to come over soon. As well as the Homewarming sketch from the prior update. (I don't know, still kind of brainstorming this perspective)

that theory Does make sense and i've been considering it! the "timeline" is such a nebulous thing right now because we still... don't really know! there are too many variables and too many Maybes for any solid answer.

maybe the reality that the neighbors live in exists outside of time like you say, and like half of me suspects. there's so much reality fuckery already present, but I'm also... unsure of how much merit this holds given what we know / can infer about how time passes in Home. i'm putting this theory on a low shelf to look at but not prioritize

maybe it really has been 50 years, and Barnaby is either still around / Wally is still in contact with him, or Barnaby... isn't there. who knows, maybe Wally was just verbalizing some Wishful Thinking. i mean, Wally is a bit of an unreliable narrator, isn't he? we can't assume that everything he says is entirely accurate or truthful. and i mean, if it's been 50 years it makes sense that Wally would be pushing for connection / to revive WH. who knows how long he's been trying.

hm... i mean. it could be a mix of that and the Outside Of Time theory. who knows, maybe W is receiving calls from different points in the timeline - Wally may have started out just calling, and has just graduated to invading the WH website / getting pushy with the envelopes and media that's been sent to the WHRP. maybe Wally got tired of waiting for W to respond before W was even born. who's to say!

#i mean. idk the emphasis wally puts on Its So Quiet makes my brain tilt its head #it feels like wally breaking composure before he pastes the Facade back on with '-during homewarming'#that and just the way he phrased 'everyones usually so busy so its just me and home for a long while'#Usually so busy. Usually. why not Always? or Is?#usually.#and then the 'its just me and home for a long while'#the phrasing here has Connotations i think!#homebogging #welcome home speculation #wh speculation #OF COURSE. I HAVE TO DEBUNK MYSELF!#what we hear / see from Wally is - ironically - more genuine than the WHRP's or W's recovered media (save the eddie excerpts)#the WH media shows us the ideal homewarming - where everyone is getting into the spirit and spending time together and the like #but then wally could be telling us what homewarming is Really like - lonely. quiet.#WHICH MAKES SENSE THEMATICALLY! and it mirrors how christmas time is. its marketed as this joyful thing that brings people together #when in reality its lonely and stressful. i know i certainly never feel more lonely than i do at that time of year!#so there's just. layers. right now im simultaneously believing in the time discrepancy And them existing outside of time #im leaning on the first one but you know!#BUT!!! IM CONFIDENT THAT THE HOMEWARMING WALLY WAS CALLING FROM WAS NOT THE ONE WE SAW IN THE UPDATE.#wally spoke with enough familiarity about the time of year to make me think 'hes lived through many of these hasnt he'#it could be that time Has passed for the neighbors and its been many homewarmings.#it could be that it Started as what the commercials/update showed us.#but as time passed maybe it became a time where everyone just... Isolates for one reason or another. so now it's just quiet and lonely #im still rolling it all around in my head! many factors and implications to consider w/ this update!#Take All Of This With A Grain Of Salt As Usual!

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skunkes · 3 months

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another thing i love about dungeon meshi along with how theres adequate time given to every character that matters! Is that like. Along with no "every single character in supporting cast gets put on the backburner in favor of MC / other character development" is that theres also no "god these characters are all so boring except that one guy who is tragic and compelling" bc they all have the same capacity for compelling tragedy (and such).

And it also doesn't feel like when ppl tack on as much Bad Things onto a characters life just to emphasize tragedy or hardship... Theres a good balance in each of em. The recent leaked izutsumi dark lore implication drop wasn't even in the main story and it doesnt feel like that quirky "i love torturing my ocs! 🤪🤪🤪🤪 (Literally just throwing everything into one pot)" sentiment i see here often if that makes sense. It doesn't feel Edgy ykwim

#i cld never do this. fully balancing individual characters alone is hard enough #but padding out individual characters with hardships that can sometimes parallel each other #or make you have to Think about it further in a show not tell way #WITHOUT also making you roll your eyes because of how edgy it is but instead giving enough for adequate enjoyment #regardless of which character u fixate on. is really good #that was my point ykwim. im here fixated on thistles tragedy because well. but its not bc he's my only option #i guess thats also the wonder of it like I can really only write from what I know (or experience thru others experiences)#so having a variety of characters #that draw in intrigue from different people in the same cast is so #i hope that makes sense?#OH WAIT MY TAGS CUT OFF #its so amazing like theres smthng there for everyone #talkys

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enihk-writes · 10 months

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[of yearnful kisses and an un-relinquished old flame]

pairing: blade/ren x gn!reader

summary: blade kissing you. the lotus flower symbolizes beauty, purity and eternity amongst other spiritual things. his adoration for you was a religion he’d follow until his last breath. for he had been reborn anew, and it was just as ethereal as the lotus flowers in bloom.

word count: 1.15k

author’s note: i saw a scene from when a man loves (1927) going around on twitter and im just expected to go about my day like nothing happened? also something happened and now it’s very angsty.... i wanted to write fluff i swear babes!!! cross my heart!!!!

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when blade kisses you, it was usually quick, fleeting. as though he was just about to slip past your grasp. but he had always been one to come and disappear as so, there was a long time where you had been convinced your beloved was nothing more then a figment of your delusions. months of silence, for a man who was as quiet as he, even this was just too much for you to bear.

during the height of the rainy season, a knock resounded on your door. even before you could get up to check, the hinges creaked as the door swung open, the rhythm of heavy footfalls was all you needed to know who it was.

ren.

the man came face to face with you, soaked from the downpour outside, strands of dark hair plastered on his handsome face. he looked like a sorry sight, though it was not depressing enough to dull the sharp and pointed gaze of his andesine eyes. he parts his lips, there was something he wanted to tell you — that might have to come later, you had thrown a towel over his head, your muffled voice telling him to go and change out of his clothes

or else you would get sick.

he listens. he always listened to what you had to say. no one else but you could ever be allowed to care for him this way. but you didn’t have to know that, he wasn’t going to put that kind of pressure onto your already tired shoulders.

you paced around your living room. what to say to a lover who you haven’t seen for so long? should you tell him that you missed him? would you be putting him in the spot, asking him to show you that he still loved you? what if that was emotional baggage he couldn’t carry, and he leaves you behind — this time for good?

your gaze fixates on the painted scroll hanging on your wall.

dark un-breaking brush lines of waterfalls you’d never seen, flower petals blushed on the translucent paper, the red stamp of ink at the corner the painter's claim. the sound of the pelting rain outside begins to sound like the gushing of rivers, the smell of the wet earth grounds you into the fantasy, and another faint smell permeates your senses — sweet lotus blooms still fresh and pleasant, a warmth envelopes your being. your eyes flutter open, a pair of arms slowly snakes around your shoulders, pulling you deeper into the bare chest of your lover. were you that deep in thought? what a shame, you did not realise he had already cleaned up. his cheek rests on the top of your head, mildly damp hair falling to your shoulders, little droplets trickling down to come meet the dip of your collarbones.

your shoulders were tensed, and yet again you did not notice until he rested his palms softly on the curved slopes. fingers working on the tight knots of muscles, lips peppering kisses onto the back of your head. the warmth, the comfort, the long-lost familiarity of it all — this was what your lives should be. not this one, not the one where he only comes tumbling through your doors when he needed you.

you knew why he is the way he is, you think, no. you’re sure that if his one true beloved ever came back for him, he had no reason not to go. after all, it was because of that beloved he was the blade of today, always sharpened to pierce through the one in his memories. who was fading away, but never forgotten.

you were sure, convinced yourself after years of yearning, that the only reason he ever let you fall into his embrace was because you were a placeholder for his one true beloved. you think that this was fine, it had to be fine! you chose to chase after him, knowing that his heart belonged to another, at least that’s what you thought.

ren did love you, dearly so. he watched you yearn and he too, had been longing for you just as desperately.

but.

he had things he had to finish, ends he never got to tie up with people whose memory barely even remains in this present day — troublesome, honestly traumatic stuff he never got to heal from properly. and so, he lets this barren shell of his former self morph into whatever he was asked to be. and now? he was forged to be a weapon used to slice through the obstacles that stood in the way of the stelleron hunters path.

you had left the stage for a while now, but still not out of the acting cast elios had gathered. if a life of peace was what you wanted, it was still all according to his script, so no mind was paid to your whims. and a half-dead man dropped at your doorstep with no announcement or apologies was also another act in that same script. you falling in love with said man, was also part of the fated string of events. you never knowing that he too loved you back was also another part of act in this play called destiny.

you feel your hand raised up to the man’s lips, the soft touch of his kiss felt like it was burning and it left a lingering phantom of a part of him behind at each graze. was it because he was a blacksmith once upon a time that this was so? or was it something else, something that you were deluding yourself into?

even though your heart’s delusions were closer to the truth of ren’s feeling then your mind’s rationing ever was.

from the back of your hand, to the pads of each finger, your open palm, wrists where the thumping of blood was felt, over the vein that went to your heart, it was one after another, each touch inking his testament of adoration onto the parchment of your skin. even then you chose not to lift your blinds to see.

blade wasn’t a religious man. even when someone loved him enough to bring him back to life, share his blood and take an axe to the head for it. that wasn’t enough to make him worship the ground they treaded. because that wasn’t the type of love he had wanted. you who just happened to be the string with a fate entwined to his, was the respite he needed. it was always what you did for him and his reverence in return that sustained you both for this long.

so like a devotee who had places to be, he too will leave the temple of your love. when the rain finally let up, and the sun’s rays shone through, he took the traces of him and left you once again like the morning mist outside your window.

#enihkwrites #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade #hsr blade #blade honkai #honkai blade #blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #there was a point in this fic where i could have added comfort but that is not the food we serve here in enhik-ville #no comfort for me nor this man #OR YOU ALL #anyways i am back this time bitches #im not really liking this style but i had to put it out before blade rolls around

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