#💠 sagittarius ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{fics}

[chouettecrivaine]

Odile's Soliloquy [Honkai: Star Rail]

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Characters: Sparkle

Notes: 1.2k words, reader is referred to as prince but it's symbolic, sparkle has definitely disappeared an undescribed loved one of yours at BEST (and killed at worst)

Sparkle was a woman of many talents. An ardent method actor, she could become anything she wanted to be. Since the beginning, her name deserved to be up in lights, glittering over an entire city and catching the ardor of all. This talent of hers only grew until she could don any mask, becoming more mirage than person. Sparkle could be anything. She could be anybody your heart desired.

…except the one your heart desired.

Sparkle was used to flimsy desire. The things that sparked her attention lost it just as quickly. She wasn't used to being enthralled so thoroughly, much less by something she couldn't attain. Sparkle knew she was a woman of taste, though, and she trusted that her enrapture was well founded.

Unfortunately, such trustworthy taste didn't seem to have blessed you as it had her.

The one who had your heart was, quite frankly, a fool - and not even in the fun way. But the universe was made of contradictory sameness, and like always attracted like. They couldn’t see a trap whilst standing inside one, and Sparkle always knew that they’d need to be dealt with as soon as they started poking their nose in the Fools’ business. 

Though, in the end, their presence wasn’t quite as burdensome as Sparkle once thought. They had something that Sparkle had been vying for - someone who occupied her thoughts far more often than she’d care to admit. And yet, despite the fact that you had decided to cast a blundering fool in such a pivotal role, Sparkle couldn’t force herself to be mad at you. After all, what understudy doesn’t secretly wish for the trap door to open beneath the lead’s feet and render them useless for the performance?

So maybe she pulled the lever, cut the rope on the sandbag, loosened a few screws on the lights. Actress or magician? Only someone as gifted in the arts as Sparkle could pull off both in one act. Hidden up her sleeves were numerous cards and secret tricks, all of which gave her the leg up in the battle for your affections. More than simply act the part, Sparkle could become anyone she wanted to be, so of course she jumped right into the role she had been vying for and placed herself snugly at your side. Your partner’s actions were hardly difficult to replicate, and their words weren’t exactly taxing prose. The only admirable thing about them had been their devotion to you - but even then, their adoration was nothing compared to hers. A candle could never compete with dazzling fireworks, after all.

Sparkle knew long ago that she found her calling as a body double, fancying herself a black swan masquerading the lovely, cursed princess. She could pirouette around your questions with ease and take your hand in hers without suspicion. Sparkle was your trickster, and you, her idiot prince; truly a match made in whatever paradise the Aeons fashioned for the departed.

But then, as usual, she got bored. 

She wasn’t bred of you, but of something she thought would always be her weapon of choice; the monotony of a mask. She felt her face plastered into the same smile every day, a plastic facade she could never force to drop an inch. Sparkle wanted more from you: she wanted to feel the maniacal grin on her face once she revealed her plot; she wanted to feel the smug, victorious smirk on her face as she watched yours crumble; she wanted to grimace and scream as she tore into her own chest, trying to claw at the stabbing pain as you ran away. There was so much potential, and an artist such as herself couldn't be expected to hold back at such a critical junction in her career!

Shows that outran their welcome were rarely remembered fondly. Sparkle had prepared for her grand finale, ready to reveal her identity to you just before the curtain closed. When finally she allowed her mask to clatter to the ground, abandoned, she bent her knees and curtsied. Thank you, thank you, for attending the show! What thrilling twists! Way to end with a bang! Her hair fell over her shoulders and swayed by the sides of her face, hiding the uncertainty that turned her appreciative bow into one that hoped to beget your forgiveness.

She had expected a shriek, perhaps a gasp of utter shock - anything but the bemused laughter and sardonic slow clap that met her ears. Rising slowly, Sparkle matched your easy smirk with one of her own, as if she was in on the joke. 

Is the show really over? That’s what you seemed to ask. Sparkle had spent so much time watching you, both closely and from afar, that she could read the unspoken question in the tilt of your head, the slight shrug of your shoulder. Your gaze burned her like a spotlight shining down as she forgot all of her lines.

Well. If all it took for such an adoring audience was to don the mask once more, who was she to deny you an encore?

Sparkle didn’t need to hide herself in entirety after that. Her plan had been successful, after all. Your foolish oaths of true love had been broken by her facade, just as she wanted. But you didn’t run and try to assemble the pieces of what she forced you to break. Instead, you grabbed her hand and changed the steps, pulling her along the stage while she mimicked you as best she could. Sparkle remembered then why she never coveted the true romantic leads before - for any romance to be interesting, there needed to be a heartbreak in the central act.

No matter how precisely she danced, Sparkle realized that the romantic overture would never play while she was center stage.

Most Fools believed that love meant nothing. Everything meant nothing in the vast gaze of the Elation. She knew you would make a fine Fool when the discovery of her facade meant little to you. For whatever reason, something about this costume of hers brought you joy. Her actions brought you memories of true happiness, and when she donned that ugly simpleton’s mask, you could pretend everything was the same as it had been before. Yet, in the form of her that was as close as she could get to ‘true,’’ you never called her name or looked at her softly. You had seen through her disguise from the beginning. If she didn’t need to hide, then you didn’t need to pretend to care.

But now, her greatest tool had become her greatest weakness. Why should she have to hide her emotions when she wanted to let everything out? You had managed to tear her to shreds, and she was restless with the desire to rip off the costume and hear seams pop, show you her tear-stained cheeks and blood red hands so you could kiss it all away. Sparkle was no longer playing a part; she was feeling, which was the one thing a mask could never do.

Having the tables turned on her had been her greatest dream as a bored Fool. But now, she was something far worse than a Fool; a simple idiot who wasted her time wishing it was her name that spilled from your lips with such sincerity. She wanted it more than anything; the day when you pierced through the final mask, when you saw through the puppet named Sparkle and unlocked who she was in her core.

That would be the day when she could shed her swan feathers and finally be yours.

[chouettecrivaine]

You looked in the mirror with your (e/c) orbs and sighed. Washing your face, you brushed my (h/c) hair and pulled it into a messy bun, then got dressed in your ripped jeans, (f/b) band tee and knee-high converse.

"GET DOWN HERE!!! NOW!!!!" you mom yelled at you from downstairs. Heaving a sigh, you grabbed your backpack and walked down the stairs as quickly as u could

"Pack your things," You're mom said dismissively, already opening another cam of beer. "You're moving out."

"What?!1?!? You can't kick me out!!!" You yelled. You stomped our foot at how unfair she was being

"Its my house bitch, I can do what you want. By the way, these are your new owners."

"Owners…?" Your eyes trailed over to where a gongus woman in yellow with bleach-blonde hair and electric blue eyes stood with two men in suits on either side. Usually you would think she was super basic, but she actually made it work???? She even had obvious makeup on but you liked it because it was somehow also tastefull. Wait. Where had you seen her before…

"Nice to meet you," the woman said in a soft voice that made you weak in the knees arms heavy mom's spaghetti. "My name is Navia."

Oh. My. Archons.

YOUR MOM SOLD YOU TO SPINA DE ROSULA?????!?!!?!?!?!

{A/N wow omg first chapter haiiiii :3 remember be sure to leave ten comments or i WONT UPDATE THE NEXT CHAOTER X3 mwahahahahah......anyway like comment follow and add to library for more! and remember, stay saucy :P}

[chouettecrivaine]

dead woman walking

Fandom: @shepherds-of-haven ! A little drabble of my MC who I have grown unexpectedly attached to and now she dances around in my head all of the time

Characters: Trouble/OC

Notes: 1.6k, angst, depressing introspection, the world's most OVERDRAMATIC girl has the most OVERDRAMATIC kiss

Summary: Lark has decided that the best course of action is to go on the mission alone, even if fatality is certain. She plans to leave in the middle of the night when nobody can stop her, but first there are some feelings she needs to put to rest.

Even if the trip from her room to Trouble's was familiar, Lark couldn't help but slow her steps as reticence pulled against her on every step. The magelights lining the hallway, for once, didn't seem as warm and homey as before - instead, Lark could only focus on that one spot of darkness between each fixture. It didn't matter how far the warm light stretched; the shadows always made their way to her.

She stopped just outside the door to Trouble's room, standing perfectly still and taking a deep breath. In the stillness, time didn't exist to her. Lark could pretend that she wasn't heading off to her final battle, a one-woman army marching straight into extinction. Maybe this was the battle she was created for - or maybe she was damning everyone by throwing herself away when she knew her reality couldn't be remade. Either way, the thought hollowed out her body and filled it with ice, the way she had been before. Somehow, Lark always knew she was going to die alone. At least this way, she could save anybody that she had tricked into caring for her from riding straight into the maws of death for her sake.

Lark had made peace with it, as much as she could. Her time in the Shepherds had reminded her all too well how to want to live, but blind hope wasn't something she had been able to afford for a while. This was her last stand, and she could accept that. It was bound to happen eventually in this line of work. There was just one thing she needed to do - one box left to check - before she could leave her loose ends in the hands of others.

Finally composed, Lark turned and knocked on the solid door, each in rapid succession of the last. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding against her ribcage and rising into her throat with every beat. Her mouth went dry, though she couldn't figure out exactly why. She heard a soft shuffling on the other side of the door and forced herself to swallow, determined to keep up with her own façade. 

Trouble opened the door, more alert than Lark had expected, and gave her a friendly once-over. Despite not being bleary-eyed and half asleep, he still blinked a few times as if to make sure it was Lark in front of him. Easily, he smiled at her, unsuccessful in keeping his gaze covert as it lingered on her untied hair. During the day, Lark kept it in two braids circled around her head and pinned closely to her skull. She only ever kept her hair down when she was sleeping, and the few times Trouble had seen it, he'd been silently fascinated. Without fail, the attention would send a wave of excitement through her body, but now her apprehension was too strong for even that to shine through. Still, she smiled back at him.

"What're you doing here, Birdie?" Trouble asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. He only stood there for a moment before hurrying to make room for Lark. "Oh, I mean, you're welcome to come in. If you want."

Lark shook her head. "No, that's alright. I just needed to tell you something important."

Though he kept the mood light, Lark noticed how Trouble's face immediately softened. She noticed that when he was happy to see her - so, normally - his eyes seemed to sparkle as if the golden rings around his pupils were pure ore. Now, everything was warm seawater and honey. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

Lark's heart stopped beating, only to grow so quickly she thought it might burst out of her chest. God, she wanted to stay. An overwhelming affection flooded her senses, choking her up and forcing her feelings to well behind her eyes. Lark gripped at her nightshirt, trying to blink away the tears before they became too obvious. She thought heartbreak was supposed to be a shattering of glass as someone tossed her heart aside; maybe it could be your own heart tearing at the seams and spilling out all the love you were foolish enough to hide, too.

"Well, I have to tell you the second half later." At the end of her sentence, her voice trembled, and she covered it up with a shaky laugh. Trouble didn't seem to notice.

"Alright, then what's the first half?"

A beat of silence passed.

Then another.

Lark wasn't normally the type to be at a loss for words. She never felt comfortable unless she had a plan at hand to lie her way out of - or into - a situation. But Trouble made her honest, and the truth didn't seem survivable in that moment. Not if it was to be spoken aloud in a voice that would hurt Trouble the most.

So she stepped forward instead, brought her hands to his face, and pulled him down to her height so she could kiss him.

For a brief, terrifying second, Trouble went entirely rigid. Lark couldn't tell if he was staring at her, bewildered, or if his brow was furrowed as he tried to figure out how he got in that position. It didn't matter, because both were endearing, and neither would have stayed for long. His surprise melted away and his arms wrapped around her back, holding her close against his body. Lark almost sagged in relief.

Beneath her gentle hands, she felt his face gradually warm, certainly a few shades darker than before. In fact, she could feel his warmth all over, radiating from him and almost burning where their skin touched. In this moment, she could have anything she wanted, and she could delude herself into thinking it would last. In this moment, Lark was safe. Loved.

She wasn't ready for Trouble to pull away, yet he did. It was only an inch, and the many questions he undoubtedly had died on his tongue, but she could feel it. The ground was fracturing beneath her, and reality was swallowing her whole. Lark could only think of two things, and their certainty dug into her like claws: she loved him, and she was going to die.

So, even if it was selfish, she pressed her lips against his again, desperate and rough and scared. This kind of emotion, passionate and raw, was more up Trouble's alley. He kept her ferocity, yet held her with the care he'd give glass, like she was to be wrapped up and kept safe forever. Maybe he should've. Or maybe he should have kissed her breathless. It would have been a far kinder fate - but her fate was never meant to be kind.

Lark hoped that he could tell in the way she held his face, in the ease with which she leaned into him. If she was worth protecting, he was worth cherishing, and even if she never said it she hoped he knew. Trouble was always dense, but he had his moments. Now that she realized simply wanting him wasn't enough, had never been enough, there was nothing she could do but hope he was getting it now, and ignore her desire to stay ripping through her soul.

When they parted for a second time, neither of them said anything as they tried to catch their breath. Lark kept her lips parted, knowing that if she closed them it would be too obvious that she was trembling. Trouble didn't realize it,but even through his crimson fluster he was positively giddy. It was almost enough to convince Lark to stay.

But that was dangerous thinking. So she slowly untangled herself from him, her fingertips trailing down his shoulders and to his arms until there was nowhere left untouched. As he sorted his thoughts, Trouble's arms fell slack to his sides, a metal filament falling when the magnet attracting it moved away. Lark bit her tongue.

"So, uh…what does…this mean?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck if only for something to do. Bashfulness wasn’t something Trouble was well acquainted with, yet he couldn’t look Lark in the eyes all the same. 

“That’s the second half,” She answered quietly. “I’ll have to tell you later.”

Trouble narrowed his eyes in the way he did when he knew Lark was keeping something from him. Void of any heat or anger, it was more of a way to make her feel guilty than get her to actually admit anything. But he let it go. This was something they had been dancing around for a long time; a little while longer wouldn’t hurt.

Clearing her throat, Lark reluctantly backed away from Trouble and towards the door, keeping her eyes on him. It was difficult to swallow and even harder to breathe, yet she twisted the handle anyway. The hallway air rushed in, cold enough to send goosebumps down her arm. The moment she left this room, it’d be the beginning of the end.

Just before she turned around completely, Trouble interrupted her. Looking at him over her shoulder, Lark could tell that he was worried about her. “You can stay, if you want. You’ve done it before.”

An arrow of regret shot through her chest. “No thanks. I need some time to calm down.”

Trouble chuckled at that, muttering something small and proud about the effect he seemed to have on her. Then, lifting his head, he nodded once and let Lark take two steps backwards, his gaze undeniably fond. “I’ll collect you tomorrow, then. We can go to breakfast together.”

Lark nodded once, firmly, and put on her best, brightest smile. “I’d like that.”

It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She would like that.

If only she’d be alive to do it.

[chouettecrivaine]

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