#or more like mourning one and preparing to mourn the other when he eventually died in the fic im reading

[nie7027]

Maybe buying a drawing table wasn't such a bad idea afterall

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny was born as a Halfa

So! Jack and Maddie are a little More insane in this.

When studying Ghosts, they become convinced that the only way to defeat the Ghostly Threat is to make a Ghost of their own. One who will fight on their Side. And they do believe that a "Good Ghost" is Possible, but only if fused with a Human to balance out the "Inherent Evil".

So, when Maddie gets pregnant they take the opportunity to try and make one of these theoretical "Halfas" by testing on the Baby in the Womb.

Jazz if Born, and she is not a Halfa. She is merely an extremely Liminal Toddler, so Jack and Maddie consider the experiment a Failure. They raise Jazz as per usual, and then 2 years later Jack and Maddie try again.

They have Danny, and this time he is a True Halfa! They did it! Now all they have to do is turn the Baby into the perfect Weapon against Ghosts!

Danny is raised less like a Baby and more like a Weapon. His Parents still treat him well, and give him some amount of love, but there is never any doubt in his mind that his only purpose in Life is to be the perfect weapon against Ghosts.

The only person who really treats him like something more than a Weapon is Jazz, who likes to sneak into his Room and play with him when they parents are out of the House.

(Later addition: They also have Ellie as a Kid a few years later, but because they messed up the process she is not as Stable as Danny is. She is 4 years younger than he is)

Then, they day he had been preparing for his whole life comes. When he is 10, a Ghost manages to sneak through a Natural Portal into Amity Park, and the Fentons send him to go deal with it as his First Test Run.

But when he gets there, he doesn't find an Evil Ghost bent on killing everyone in town. He finds a Teenage Girl, with blue flaming Hair, crying to herself.

(Idk how long ago Ember died, so lets just assume she died around 6 years before Canon)

He doesn't attack immediately, and when the girl sees him she invites him to sit with her. Against his better judgement, he agrees and sits with her.

She talks to him for a bit, and eventually explained why she was crying. Apparently she only died a few weeks ago and had finally found her way back to the Living World, back home. But when she got there she found that nobody really cared about her Death.

She had died in a House Fire, and because she had spent her entire night waiting for her Boyfriend to show up for a Date, she was too tired to wake up in time to escape.

Her Parents had obviously mourned, but her supposed friends and her boyfriend had hardly cared. In fact, it turned out that her Boyfriend had stood her up because he was cheating on her. So she had run off into the Park and sat down to Cry about it, where Danny had found her.

And Danny is confused.

His entire life, he has heard that Ghosts are Non-Sentient Killing Machines. That they don't feel any emotion aside from Malice. That they aren't People.

But this Girl is as Human as anybody else he has ever known. Perhaps even More Human.

He decides to ignore The Fentons Orders, and lets her go back through the Portal she had come through.

When he gets Home, the Fentons are less than pleased. They are Livid in fact.

Their Perfect Weapon was a Failure after all! It's too much like a Ghost to ever side with the Humans! It's just another Spook!

And they know what to do with Spooks.

They lock him up in the Lab, and decide to cut him open Later to figure out what went wrong.

They'll be successful next time.

Thankfully, their jeers to Danny are heard by Jazz in the other Room, and she doesn't like this one bit. So that night, she takes Danny and Ellie with her and Runs away. They need to get out of Amity Park, out Illinois even. They run and run, sneaking onto Buses, hitchhiking, even jumping on Trains.

Eventually they end up in a place called Gotham City.

...

Ages at the end.

Jazz: 12

Danny: 10

Ellie: 6

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. reborn au

feat. Zhongli x Reincarnated!GN!Reader | PART II | wc. 5.4K

Based on 'See You In My 19th Life' webtoon | overview. This Webtoon follows the story of a woman who somehow can remember all her past lives.

sum. You were running too fast in life, so fast that no one could catch up, not even Morax who left you to fend off with your curse. Just when you thought you'll slip and fall, a certain consultant came behind and caught you.

cw. mentions of extreme emotion breakdown. cttro 双niarss on Twitter for the art below.

main m.list genshin m.mlist

PART I < PART II

THEME SONG; Slump by Stray Kids (English Version)

There are five stages of grief; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. All in order.

In your case, it was the other way around. You have long accepted Morax will lay on his deathbed one day, every living thing will eventually cease to exist, mortal and immortal alike

You, out of all people know the in-depth concept of death.

And yet, no amount of tutelage or experience can prepare you for the real thing.

Now you understood what Morax felt when you died.

Your chest feels raw like there's a sudden gash wound that has manifested in your heart. It was painful, too painful that you wouldn't wish it upon anyone, even on your worst enemy.

Scratch that. It's not just pain. It feels something more destructive, demanding and insatiable, crueler than sorrow. Not even death can appease this feeling.

It was agony.

Impale your abdomen with a spear hundred times. Sever your limbs every lifetime. Suffer for all eternity hiding behind Morax and watch him love with someone else over and over again— you'd take them all and say thank you.

You'd be grateful and endure each of them just to trade whatever horrible feeling that's tearing you apart.

Confusion, terror and fright blanketed your mind as you slumped on the floorboards, desperately gasping for breath.

The acrid smell of snarling lightning crackles in the stale midnight air, sharp enough to singe every nerve of your body, rendering you cowering in overwhelming emotions— agony, pain and grief.

Inazuma was bustling with the news of the Geo Archon passing away recently. You could only imagine how Liyue is digesting the cruel twists of events.

The news spreads fast enough for foreign people to sympathize to Liyue citizens, some even offered prayers to the Raiden Shogun, some pay their respects by wishing the late Archon to rest in peace, some never bothered to care.

But none of them mourned in the confinements of their four walls as you did, the Celestia above knows the quiet sobs that wrecked the very core of your existence. The horrors of every shitty lives you went through cannot be compared to this day.

Rex Lapis, who is— was widely known for many names, mostly as the Geo Archon, God of War, God of Contracts, Former Prime Adepti, the Stonebreaker, God of History is now reduced by dust with his people carrying the legacy he has passed on.

To you, all this time, he's still... Morax the petulant child who leans on you for comfort, who politely demands you to sing a lullaby as kids. You're already sold to the idea no one would ever believe you if you told them what embodiment of mischief he was in the ancient times, the exact opposite of the Archon they knew about.

Nostalgia hits you in particular days you can't find traces of the young Morax, but Pride would caress your heart every achievement he succeeds as you watch the people love him.

Similar to a lone planet, you desperately search for a star to orbit around, to give you a source of energy and strength. Once you find one, it'll be difficult to rearrange your position after you have settled down, you're attached until the star loses its amber glow.

And now the star is gone. Gone with the cosmos after a supernova.

Destroying the neighboring planets, including you.

You were the closest in its orbit, you're the one who had to endure the scorching flames morphing you into ashes until you're reduced into cosmos particles for no one to remember.

Morax left you to fend off with your curse and face adversities alone.

Mortals would succumb to these adversities and would choose to sever their connection to the living to escape from everything. You've seen a handful of them and can't ever get enough of it.

If there's anything you long to have other than having Morax beside you is a swift escape.

Every mortal is capable of such thing, you are too, but it's pointless if the pain will cling to you in your next life. It's fruitless to cry when you know every affliction won't be forgotten even if you tried.

Just why?! Why do I have this perpetual curse of reincarnation? I abhor you, Celestia! Not only you cursed me, you even took away Morax from this land!

You shake your head as the anger surge took over your sanity. You thought you can just go live your merry life, unbeknownst how dependent you were to Morax.

Your will to live is solely operated by the fact you have someone you want to protect. But now he's gone? What's the back up plan? Clearly you can't just follow him in his death knowing you can die, but your memories will remain with you.

Was it out of selfishness to protect him to have someone accompany your lonely soul? Because he's the only one who actually remembers the real you?

Rain began to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard disembodied voices theorizing Morax's death. The muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of today's unsavory news. How convenient, the sky is sympathizing.

No, make it stop! I don't want fo hear any of it! Morax is dead, that's how nature works. I'm griefing because it hurts, not because I have nothing to live for.

You lived in that illusion for minutes until. . .

*drip* *drip*

. . . the dam broke.

Hot tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope the pain would stop, just numbing it would be fine too. Your choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time, and sat there unmoving.

There's no see you later's anymore, for Morax has left you. Today has marked your first Goodbye to him.

For an indiscernible amount of time, there was only a black void and it could have been as if you didn’t exist and you had never existed.

And then you felt each of your cells that had been ripped apart within seconds be sewed back together just as quickly, and your eyes met nothing but a blinding white light.

Have I reborn again? You're not aware which is which anymore. You lift your numb hand and reality crashed over your head, you haven't died out of grief, yet.

Your mind is in havoc, you don't know what you want, not that you have any choice.

Dying won't help you escape, forgetting is not an option, loving. . . can't heal an open wound.

No words can equate the absolute devastation you feel.

❖ ── ✦ ── 『 6000 YRS AGO 』 ── ✦ ── ❖

This is stupid. Utterly ridiculous!

What kind of mortal would go in the mines in the middle of the night where monsters lurk in the shadows to hunt for preys? Yeah, that's a question he would like for you to answer!

He flies twice the speed he usually exerts, his mind running rampant of all worst possible scenarios.

He doesn't know what compelled you to do such ridiculous act, but all he knows is he has get to you before any monsters do.

Landing unceremoniously, he gulps at the sight before him. He was never a fan of darkness, it never fails to instill fear in him, the fear of the unknown.

The only time he feels comfortable in the night is whenever you're around him. You don't fear the night, and it somehow influenced him in a way that there's nothing that should be afraid of as long as you're with him— as his human shield.

Young Morax finds himself slowly withdrawing, the fear overpowering his will to come and save you.

"Morax? What are you doing out here?" Saved by the gracious voice of yours, young Morax nearly broke his neck with how fast he looked at your direction.

Your face is contorted out of concern for him, he's sweating profusely and his breathing is ragged.

Just seeing you all in one piece with no signs of injuries made hin slumped on the ground, sighing in relief.

You were at his side seconds later, subconsciously caressing his cheeks. Celestia above! He's shaking like a leaf!

"It's alright, let's get you out of here." Your soothing voice appeased his troubled mind as you helped him get back on his feet. He clutches the fabric of your shirt and wordlessly launches himself on you, arms and tiny tail entrapping you in an embrace.

You waste no second reciprocating the gesture, you've known him for months to be comfortable with physical sentiments. Though you can't say the same to him as he would always flinch away when you initiate it, but has no problem when he does it.

And it seems like he needs your comfort to even give a damn.

"Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now okay?"

From that angle, he peered from below you as if confirming the validity of your words, amber eyes looking like someone has kicked an innocent puppy, it's no wonder you have a soft spot for him.

Both of you strayed away from the caves leading to mines, "I-I thought you l-left me." He meekly mumbled, almost incoherent.

That baffles you as he continues, "I overheard f-from your village that m-monsters are increasing in the area and you're probably..."

"Shh... I'm here now, aren't I? I'm sorry you have to hear that, I can assure you I haven't encountered any marauding monsters during my little excursion." You sighed, guilt pooling your conscience.

He sniffled, "So, you're not going to leave me?"

"Can I even go anywhere when you have a sharp sense of smell?"

"I'm a dragon, not a wolf." He whined, though you could still see the glint of dubious in his eyes, "Can I trust your word?"

Words never served him better than actions, you ought to show him you honor your word by affirming it through gestures.

Smiling, you offered your hand to him.

"How about you hold my hand on our way home? Will that help?" He stares at you and literally contemplated before he relented.

It's warm, much similar to your hug, but like a form of hug that has been reduced to a smaller fraction. It's still a paragon of comfort.

Surely enough, it did help his mind to be at ease. If you ever feel like he's cutting off your circulation, he is cutting your circulation by intertwining your fingers as if trying to tangle it so it won't loose.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm stupid for cowering away just because of some stupid dark cave." He lowered his head in shame.

He's a Dragon who has greater strength than most beings, and yet he lets his fear consume him as if they can hurt him like how—

"Nonsense! Don't ever think like that or I will personally be the reason why you should fear humans." As stern as you sound, your eyes tell a different story.

Young Morax deduced this as concern, which resulted a flustered and heartwarming reaction from the boy. You were worried for him.

It shouldn't be something he's supposed to feel happy about, but your fretful intentions warranted warmth and security in his mind.

"I didn't know how oddly. . . pleasant it is to hold hands." He mused, and you responded with an amused giggle, "Here I thought only couples do this stuff, but it's really reassuring."

"It does, doesn't it? Sometimes the solution to your conflicts is in a form of validation."

Too wise for a kid, he inwardly complained, ". . .Meaning?"

You hold his other hand and stood to face him with a sequined smile, "No matter how minuscule or massive your fears are, you'll still find comfort when someone validates your feelings; to let you know that they care. It may not be the solution in some cases, but it's better than being alone in times of your vulnerability."

You leaned slightly closer, "Can I ask you a favor?" Your gaze pierced right through his soul and he can only nod absently which resulted for you to grin.

"If you see someone, friend and stranger even enemies, looking so vulnerable that they actually might cry. . ." You lifted your intertwined hands with his, ". . .Make them feel significant."

A cold midnight wind whisked past the both of you, your eyes shone brighter than jewels and stars alike as you spoke those words that made a huge impact in his life.

". . .Even if my enemies are about to cry because I'm about to end their miserable lives?"

What a way to ruin the moment.

"You know what I mean, Mora." You deadpan, preparing to let go of his hand, but his grip is much stronger and it only tightens once he feels you're trying to detach.

"I'm afraid you have to elaborate further, Y/N. And please, I only have two syllables in my name. What's so hard in including the X?" In contrast to his words, he quite enjoys hearing his nickname.

"The X is not even a syllable, Mora."

That time, young Morax found peace.

He's always on the hunt for something new, something glimmering, something incredible, something undiscovered and something bedazzling. That's how his childlike brain thinks and he seizes anything outwardly beautiful.

But he never knew how amazing it was to see something— or rather, to see someone's beauty on the inside.

Perhaps that's what draws him to you, because of your voice, patience and understanding. He would never admit it though

To him, you're beautiful inside and out, almost perfect, even your flaws are easy to love.

He can't deny he wasted a few immortal years just mourning your death, you'd probably scold him.

Within those years, he's only reliving the memories and wise words you have with him. He wanted to come out as a better person after your death, take it as an honour of your passing.

You made him for what he is.

If he hadn't met you he'd still be the intolerable, impatient and disrespectful person as he grows up.

He'd still fear the unknown, never having the courage to take risks and accept whatever outcomes.

Everything he does always brings him back to you, his actions always correlates to something that's relevant about you. It had always been you.

He prays the Celestia to let you know you will always be apart of his person. Yes, you died, but every lingering piece of you still remains intact in the deep recesses of his mind.

He has moved on, but you remain the person he loved the most. Not even the sands of time has the capability to change that.

"How disastrous. People can be really simple-minded." Morax rubbed both of his temples once he heard the speculation of him and Guizhong plausible relationship.

"I apologize on their behalf, it never crossed my mind they'll be quick to make assumptions." The fair Goddess bowed in shame.

"You have done nothing wrong to spark such rumors, Guizhong. If anything, it is I who should seek forgiveness for I have tied you down with such unpleasant gossips."

She meekly chuckles, "If we're going to paint ourselves as the culprit then we might as well work together to quell the rumors."

His perfectly lined eyebrows knitted, which didn't go unnoticed by Guizhong, "What seems to be troubling your mind?"

A few seconds ticked by before he let out a whisper that only Barbatos can only hear thanks to his wind. For Guizhong who has keen sense of hearing, "If Y/N was here I'll gear up for another war just to extinguish this spreading rumors." She stifled a laugh.

Oh, she knows alright. She knows you. She knows the person who captivated Morax's heart, it's all about he talks to her in their leisure time and you're not a secret between their comrades.

Most people would find it dull to listen about someone's life unless it held any merit to pass onto the other mouth, she would too. But Morax describes you like a protagonist of a fairy tale, like some mythical being, caught between two worlds, a miracle of existence that racked his existence— which makes you an interesting person

She was so eager to meet you, it was rather unfortunate that you've already passed on uncountable years ago.

"Where are you going?" She inquired as the Geo Archon whisk passed her, "Out to visit an old friend. I won't be returning until tomorrow dawn."

She sighed, a corresponding smile soon follows as she took over his job for the meantime.

Morax walked through the barren areas in Mt. Tianheng, it became part of his leisure activities during the day when his mind needs to detach itself from reality and let himself be swayed by the memories he tucked in the deep recesses of his mind.

Memories of his late comrades who perished in the horrors of war and the most painful but nostalgic one; Y/N.

He ruefully sighed at the thought of you. Even in death, you have full grasp of his heart and shroud his head with your image.

Filtered beams of light accented the spaces between the ancient trees that twisted like spires from the undergrowth. Golden leaves littered the forest floor as Morax appraised the trail of mycelium path, one leading to a particular tree.

His expression remains unchanging, at least that's what he thought, any stranger sees him they'll stop to ponder what made this godly man smile so fondly.

A single maple leaf flow with the breeze, swaying in inconsistent direction until it falls in his gloved hand. The rich color of autumn and texture brings him back in his youthful days.

[ cttro papercider on Twitter ]

"Ah! All I do is reminisce to pass time." He muttered to himself as he let the leaf get carried away by the zither winds once again.

"It certainly has been awhile, Y/N. I was but a petulant child since I've visited you. I now stand here as the Geo Archon." It has been a habit to come back to this specific tree and treats it as his home.

It's a sacred place he's closely attached to, he can perfectly picture his young self failing to spy on you. He grimaced at the memory when he was caught in the act.

"I still have no idea why you let me trail your shadows, you weren't least afraid that I'm a dragon. You told me you're fascinated, but. . . was that the only reason?"

Only the breeze answered for him with nothing, "If you hadn't allowed me to do so I do not know what kind of person I would be as of today." He steps closer and pulled off his hood.

He let the silence hang for minutes, maybe even hours. Just standing there as he appreciates what nature has to offer in the place where his story began with you.

"Are you proud of me? My comrades claimed they were more than proud to stand alongside with me, but I doubt the veracity of their words when I led them to their demise. Is it that prideful to have me as a friend when I bring nothing but misfortune?"

He finally sat down between the roots of the tree, relishing the blissful comfort as the sunlight accentuates his godly features.

"I met a boy who was being manipulated by an evil god who only desires power and selfish gains." He began.

"He was a fierce warrior, strong and capable, the manipulation only fuels him to be at his strongest form. I was thinking of eradicating him, but his eyes already looked so dead. It reminded me of. . ."

He holds his tongue and shuts his eyes as he's in pain, "It would be one of my greatest regrets if I had impaled my spear into him."

"I thought of you that time. Hadn't it been to my promise to you, I wouldn't have gained a new ally. Xiao is his name."

The wind blew stronger, ". . . I forgot you can summon him just by calling out his name." He chuckles to himself.

Green statics cracked into the air and quickly revealed a masked man with his polearm readied for any danger.

"Settle down now. I apologize, your name slipped in my mouth." The young Yaksha visibly looked confused even under the layers of his mask.

"I was narrating a story to my old friend Y/N."

Guizhong couldn't have been more right.

By the end of the day, Xiao now knows every detail there is to know about the person called Y/N. It's what Morax ever talk to him.

"Mr. Zhongli is in a very elated mood ever since you told him Archon knows what, Traveler." Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor finds the situation quite absurd to look at, but never impossible. His mood just feels out of place.

Who looks at mournful families with an eccentric smile on their face as they consult them about their loved one's death?

"Why does Paimon feel like you're pointing finger at the traveler?" She puts her tiny hands on tiny her hips like a mother hen.

The Traveler let out a nervous laugh, "I wonder what exactly brought him in such high spirit with my words."

"Ooh... Paimon thinks it's about Y/N. Isn't it obvious by now?" Hu Tao furrowed her eyebrows, "Y/N? You mean the Adventurer?" Both heads snapped at her direction, "You know them?"

She reluctantly shrugged, "Only at acquaintance level. They showed interest in business and I taught them a few things." She smiled at the epilogue of her statement.

"If they ever come back, my hunch tells me you'd find them in Wangshu Inn, they frequented there before." She added before turning her attention to a new customer.

Zhongli, who's been eavesdropping, perked up at the claims. Perhaps he should visit Xiao tonight and totally won't inquire if he ever met you before.

Midnight falls and Zhongli bid his farewell to the traveler before heading towards the Wangshu Inn.

For some unknown reason, Zhongli could sense the foreboding feeling that's nagging his instincts as he gets closer to his desired destination, yet he doesn't stop. What's worse is that he doesn't know if it's for the good or bad.

All of a sudden, a harsh breeze blew past his face as if the winds attempting to convey a message that's only for his intuition to decipher, for him to meander.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his statue glowing bright blue, but that wasn't what caught his attention. A hand reached out to touch the stone statue.

A mop of [H/C] facing him backward bowed down in respect of the late Rex Lapis, but Zhongli could feel a much more intense feeling.

Something stirs inside him, he remembers this situation— when he watched Y/N with such fascination from above the tree, not knowing what they look like, yet they never fail to express their feelings through threaded words he finds so wondrous to hear.

In contrary to that, the person appears to be. . . forlorn. He stepped closer until he's only less than five meters away from them.

All of a sudden, he feels skittish around the person. It's as if he doesn't want to leave a bad first impression, he's suddenly self-conscious of his looks, and Zhongli never cared about his outer appearance.

Then they spoke, in a solemn voice.

"See you later, Mora. I hope you found your eternal peace."

There are times when you wish you'd forget Morax, some that you don't. But still, in the birth of new beings, you will find Morax in his next life. The prospect of being alone is a phobia you can't ever overcome unless you have Morax.

What a joke. It should've been a farewell. Your final goodbye to your old friend. Not a hopeless see you later.

It took you months to come with that mindset, only to end up saying what's the exact opposite.

It was difficult to come back in Liyue, every step adds a new pile of memory that drags you further into the depths of agony. Every where you look reminds you of the late Geo Archon. Each encouraging word in your mind gets trampled on by his image.

You consider it as an achievement to stand tall in front of his statue after his death, and a failure that you didn't get to bid your final words to him before you depart from Liyue.

You're still clinging to a nonexistent hope that you'll actually get to see him even after your death. Old habits die hard they say. It couldn't have been more relatable than now.

Sighing in disappointment, you retracted your hand from the statue and briskly turn around when you felt the disturbance behind you.

A gloved hand suspended in the air seems to be trying to reach out to you. As you raise your eyes to meet the oh-so-familiar glowing amber eyes that you grew to love. . .

You offered the stranger a faux smile, seemingly naive to the person standing in front of you with an aghast expression.

You failed to realize Morax as Zhongli just as Morax failed to realize you in your different lives.

"Hello. How may I help you?"

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Time has stopped, both hands of the clock moved counterclockwise, bringing him back to the time he first laid his eyes on you— so unsuspecting from what's about to unravel after a sweet hello.

His broadened eyes are solely fixated on you, it ingnited a feeling he couldn’t immediately identify, a sense of a certain and long-forgotten familiarity fogged his memory.

From the color of your eyes, skin and hair. The subtle furrow of your eyebrows and the upturn of your lips. The gentle facade that compelled him to indulge his curiosity towards you.

Y/N. . . Are you the Y/N the traveler was talking about?

But you bare no resemblance to the Y/N he knew, yet he can tell how it is your soul residing in the mortal's body. It is you. Your eyes aren't the ones that welcomed him as new friend. It feels different.

You're smiling while your eyes are grieving.

Your eyes failed to conceal your weeping soul and could only hope the last bits of its strength will keep it standing until someone reach a hand to put back the shattered pieces.

Behind that gleeful stare was a mountain of pain and extracting it would bring instability to the person who would dare to climb. Yet come what may, you're always worth any risk.

He lowered his hand to shake yours, his lips upturned into an enigmatic smile.

Your heart went erratic and the usually dormant butterflies imploded in your stomach. You haven't felt like a teenager since. . .

You felt your breath hitch in your throat when suddenly, with a mere handful of strides, the beautiful man was standing right in front of you, his amber eyes searching your face intently, trying to find whatever it was he was seeking.

"My name is Zhongli, I'm a consultant in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." Your [E/C] eyes blinked surreptitiously before accepting it. What a beautiful name, you thought almost immediately.

Under normal circumstances you would've strictly reprimanded the man with his incongruous advances, but you felt something else, something so powerful it overshadowed your senses.

It was a need, an unyielding need to be close to him.

Rather than pushing him away, something inside you stirs awake and begin to implore to coalesce with his existence.

"I'm Y/N L/N, an adventurer."

So it is really you.

He briefly looks down to their intwined hands.

For countless nights, the image of your bloodied hand reaching out to him as you take your last breath plagued his every dream. The tender, soft hands that will no longer bring him comfort. The hand of the person whom he loved so dearly, whom he failed to protect against the wicked ways of the world.

The intense urge to hide you away from the prying eyes that shared similarities to his kept his mind in shambles.

Which what led him to mumble to you what his thoughts are repeating like a mantra.

When he spoke the promise he'll show you what's up at the highest altitude his wings could go, he was mostly speaking out of his selfish desire to hold onto your hand and fly you away to the farthest place no living creatures have ever stumbled upon.

He had to learn it the hard way; that the greater you wish for something, the crueler fate can be. Maybe if he hadn't been so greedy you could've live your mortal life.

Now that you are standing in front of him, shaking your hand, he can amend his mistake by straying far away from you before he repeats history itself, before he could inflict pain on you again.

And yet, looking at you attempting to shoulder the boulders of life is what all it takes for all the wisdom he garnered for centuries to be thrown out the window.

He can't imagine himself distancing from you when you're suffering and have no one comfortable enough to share your burdens with, no one to validate your feelings, no one to embrace you in your vulnerable times.

You taught him to be compassionate, to not disregard emotions, and he's about to set that in motion. You were there when he needed you the most, offered your shoulder to vent out his feelings, it's about time to let him do what you always did for him.

It became abundantly clear he's not willing to let you go through anything alone just like he had gone through without you.

"You claim you're a consultant. Did you perhaps think I'm a potential customer?"

He let go of your hand as much as he loathes being away from your warmth for even just a second, he's still convinced you can be taken away from him at any given moment.

"Indeed, I couldn't stand idle and watch you grieve alone." He watches how you averted your eyes as if hiding the pain would appease your mind.

"I appreciate the thought. . . though, I highly doubt it'll be effective."

He mentally chuckled at the irony. He, too, was once amazed of what simple gestures can bring to a downhearted person.

"Hmm. An old friend once showed me how to console a person. Allow me to share their insights."

Your eye brows perched in curiosity, this man speaks like he's in his 50s or something, ". . .If you insist. I could use a company for now."

Morax experienced eons of desires to attain what he wishes to, though he refrains from being blinded by those greedy thoughts as he had witnessed how cruel fate can be when he once desired to have you. Will history repeat itself?

Zhongli chortles in response, but his expression soon turned nostalgic, "I may not know what adversities you're facing nor do I know who you are, but know that you're never alone."

His smile never left his face as he takes off his glove and held the palm face forward to you, he watches how your eyes glisten with unshed tears, "W-What is that supposed to convey?"

You didn't even notice how much gap he closed just to increase the proximity between the both of you. Archons! You can smell the lingering scent of Osmanthus Wine mingling with his breath!

Is he a drunkard like Venti?

Perhaps this man is drunk to comprehend his actions, perhaps he won't remember this the never next day, perhaps he has mistaken you for someone else, perhaps—

"Wherever you wish to go, I'll keep you company. I dare ask if I may hold your hand along the way, Y/N?"

Perhaps there's hope you can cling onto until your aching heart is at ease.

Your hand found its way to his, almost too desperate to not let this moment of comfort vanish. Just this once, you thought to yourself as the man smiled with absolute glee that it puts the sun in shame.

Out of reflex, your fingers laced with his, wanting nothing more than to relieve in the warmth of his hand. His expression soon turned into a priceless one as if he's in disbelief that you actually just did that, and that alone made the realization struck you harder than Raiden's lightning and fried your nerves with embarrassment.

"I-I'm so-sorry! I didn't mean to get too comfortable!"

You're a stranger to him, and you acted as if you've been a longtime friends. He must have been feeling uncomfortable, you nervously thought as you quickly tried reel back your hand in an attempt to salvage whatever budding acquaintanceship you have.

Keyword; tried.

Your action prompts him to retaliate by locking his fingers in place, keeping your hand sealed with his and shot you a reassuring smile.

"Do not fret. I'm delighted to know I somehow earned a little fraction of your trust. It's only fair to mirror the trust you gave me."

As if to spell out his point, he held up your intertwined hands just below your chin. His eyes blazed with a newfound emotion you couldn't decipher. He almost looks eager. He was gripping your hand, not too tight, but firm enough give emphasize of something.

His action wasn't fruitless as it gained a reaction from you. Your eyebrows twitched, there's something too familiar about it, but your memory refuses to give you that answer.

Instead, you could only mutter weak responses, "I-I understand, but if you feel uncomfortable in any way then don't hesitate to point out what I'm doing wrong."

Whether it was a satisfying answer he wants to hear, his emotions betrayed to even give you a brief answer and his face only lit up as he turns away from you, "You could never do anything wrong in my eyes."

Did he just say something? "What was that?"

"Nothing. Are you new in Liyue? I could give you a tour if you'd like to make you familiarize with the environment."

Your lips turned into a genuine smile, it didn't reach your ears but something tells you this man will lengthen it until you're the happiest person alive, "I'd love to, Zhongli."

As the wind blows to the East, a new chapter has began with a new retelling of their unfinished story. Until the last maple leaf falls and the oldest standing tree drought, two souls will always find their way to rekindle what has been lost.

>> PART III

─ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @itsyourgirlria @shizunxie @elsoleil @cherlynono @slzarr @katsuissus @tartarsaucechi1de @spyanya @tikitsune @shoujishu @useless-potatho @chimsblogg @xiamuyi @lemonlimesocks @belletifeshyl @alexon-mars @multifandomvoyage @malt-rants-and-stuff @jameineliebe @angelkazusstuff @orginiallyann @eissaaaa @beezgobuzzbuzz @towos @kamukayakmonyet @atsukawolfcat @sunflowers1970 @yamtwt @avery-needs-more-fics @angstylittleb1tch @bigcandlesmolbrain @lxmine @imk1ra @fauxizs @islxisl @chihawari @bishishbored @yuuki4646 @sunsethw4 @princeabomination @alexiris @chocolateneapolitan @ayra2452008 @akaritenchi @sophiee-bush @ittosoneandoniwife @alatus2716 @almighty-raiden-shogunate

(it's my first time doing tags so pls inform me if it's not working, idk why the others are white, did I do something wrong??)

PS. if you want to get tagged for the next part or be removed then simply comment it TAGLIST is for the readers who want to be updated for my future genshin works.

─ 𝐀/𝐍. Can you all smell that? *sniff sniff* I smell a Xiao ver. of this 👀👀 Fr, I didn't expect the fic will be loved that much as I initially thought, I received many appreciative comments and messages which is what motivated me to write part 2, and possibly part 3 (just for the fluff) since this was supposed to be a series but I crossed that idea out until everyone broke my expectation. Thank you💜💙 and merry christmas everyone ❤💚

[a-998h]

When You're Gone

@sunnysolaria requested this idea.

Tw: reader death, illness, and angst

*I'm not responsible if you ignore the trigger warnings*

(Included characters: Venti, Zhongli, Ei, Nahida, Itto, Wander, Diluc, Cyno, Xiao, Neuvillette, and Xianyun)

They thought gods couldn't get sick. You had come down with an illness. At first they thought you would pass it and get back to normal, but you seemed to get worse. All the best healers from every nation tried to help you, but it didn't work. You sepnt the last week, in pain and coughing. It hurt them, and they were hurt even more when you started to cough up blood. No one wanted you to die, yet they couldn't do anything to make you feel better. Eventually, you had succumb to your illness.

Venti

His tears are hidden

On the outside, he's the same old Venti but on the inside he is crying

A constant visitor to the shrine in Mondstadt, always with a bouquet of Calla Lillies and Snapdragons

Keeps a piece of your jewelry with him

His drinking becomes a lot worseIt's not fun for him anymore, it's a way to make the pain of your death go away

He's lost so many friends, and now he's lost you, his creator

Writes songs dedicated to you, to handle his emotions in a better way than drinking

Whenever he over drinks, he hears your voice scold him

Looks for anyone or anything that could be your second reincarnation

Your festival is celebrated with more energy, only to help the people deal with the lose of you

Your shrines become more decorated in order to make your soul feel at home

Candles are lit in order to guide you home to Mondstadt

on windy days he swears your voce can be heard on the wind

Zhongli

Silence

He avoids you grave

Not because he doesn't care, but he just can't handle it

He lost his wife, and many of his other friends during the archon war

Your young age made him think you would have a little more time

But he feels upset for being wrong

Is one of the main people in charge of the preparations for your funeral

Once your funeral ends, he visits the Liyue shrine with flowers and your favorite food

He cries, you were his grandchild and now you're gone

He shuts himself away in order to process his emotions

Once his emotions are handled, he tries to help others mourn in a healthy way

Walks through Liyue Harbor to reminisce on the memories he shared with you

He swears he can hear your voice whenever he walks past your favorite places

The day you died, people relase lanterns to guide your soul to Celestia

Ei

She cries

She lost her friends and sister, now you

Beats herself up over not making a puppet for your soul like she did for herself

If she wasn't leaving the Plane of Euthymia then, she wasn't leaving now

Stills creates a doll version of you, to have some part of you with her

Leaves sakura blossoms in the local shrine

She starts to reconsider her stop in the pursuit of eternity

She now tries to have a better connection with those close to her

Your death taught her something

Walks around Inazuma to your favorite spots

Sometimes, she swears your voice is heard by the puppet and herself in the Plane of Euthymia

Dolls of you become popular

She holds the doll of you close to her heart

Fireworks are lit to light your souls way home

She can still hear you aspirations and dreams and she wants to make them come true

Nahida

Remember how she cried when erasing everyones memories of Rukkhadevata?

Yeah, she's crying

You were a dear friend to her

She would visit you in your dreams to make you feel better

Plans a funeral in Sumeru for you

Vists your shrine every chance she gets

Talks to your resting place like you're still alive

She holds her other friends closer now

Pushes for more studying of medicine, so no one else suffers like she is

Cherishes the time she spend with you in your dreams

The hoildays about you are celebrated with an air of grief

Incense and flowers are placed on a path to lead your soul to Sumeru

Her walks through Sumeru causes her to get teary eyed

During the Sabzeruz festival she swears she sees brief flashes of your presence at the different stalls and games

Furina

Tears

Locks herself in her room to mourn

You were a best friend to her, and now your gone

Makes laws saying that no one can name an animal or other person after you

Makes your birthday a nation wide holiday in Fontaine

A botanical garden in the Court of Fontaine is created to honor your love of flowers

The funeral takes 6 days and every citizen is in mourning

She makes your favorite sweets and shares them with Neuvillette to make both of them feel better

She and Neuvillette grieve together and get closer to each other more then they already are

During walks with Neuvillette in new garden, she swears your laugh will grace her ears

Itto

In tears

He was so close to you

In you last days , he spent time with you as much as possible

The gang is worried about him

He stops his beetle fighting and the games he loved to play with you

Once he makes it half way through the stages of grief he holds onto the card he gave you

The denial stage hits him hard, and then the anger stage hits him harder

He is an emotional mess

Shinobu tries to help him through his emotions

Gets closer to the friends he has so he can feel better

Once he gets his emotions in order, he becomes even more passionate about the games you both would play together

Sometimes during intense games, he swears he hears you chering loudly for him

Wanderer

While he doesn't show outside emotions, on the inside he is a wreck

Hates everyone and everything

The anger stage of grief hits him hard

He now spends most of his time with Nahida

Holds onto any gifts you've given him over the years

He would have shut done if it weren't for Nahida

He visits every shrine of yours he can find

Leaves small offerings

Buys things he know you would have liked

Tries to hide the fact that he is in mourning

When he travels down roads alone, he can sometimes hear your jokes and he can't hep but sigh

Diluc

His emotions are... fucked up

He has already lost his father and now he's lost someone he saw as a little sibling

It was his job to protect you, and he failed

Knows he couldn't protect you from illness, but he could have made you suffer less

Would visit you wentever he could when he wasn't working

Wold give you gifts to make you feel a bit better

Would use that money of his to find the best doctors for you

Visits your shrine during his off hours

Honors you by being a better Darkknight Hero for Mondstadt

Might try and talk to Kaeya in good faith if only to say he tried for you

Sometimes, he hears you tell him to take a break and if he doesn't he'll work himself into an early grave

Cyno

Also silent

He also saw you as a little sibling

It shakes him a bit

He's supposed to be strong, and yet he wasn't strong enough to get you help

Upset at the doctors that they couldn't find a cure for you

Gets even more blood thristy

Your death breaks his heart

Everyone notices he's upset, especially Tighnari

Visits your shrine and promises to protect the others in honor

On his walks through the desert, especially at night, he hears your laughter behind him and it's bittersweet to him

Xiao

Leaves the room

He's seen his friends die and now he lost his sibling

He and Zhongli cry together over your death

He shuts himself off from everyone even more than he already does

Would light a lantern for your soul

Visits your favorite places with Zhongli

Holds your favorite plushie close

Cuddles the plushie close at night

Visits the shrine every evening with flowers

He is a bit mad a Baizhu for not helping you get better

Gets closer to Verr Goblet and Yanxiao

Goes to your burial site with Almond Tofu to feel like he's eating with you again

When he's on the balcony of Wangshu Inn, he feels you hear his arm, and your voice telling him to smile and take care of his friends

Neuvillette

Fontaine is getting weeks of rain

You were one of his grandbabies

He saw you as full of life like Furina, and now you're dead

He tries to drown himself in work to avoid coping

Enjoy's Furina's plan for a garden to honor you

Once Furina makes him cope in a healthy manner, he walks through the garden

Often sits to enjoy the silence some days

Like to reminisce over the time you two spent together

Makes laws about you and legacy

Makes sure the garden is properly upkept

No longer tries to drown himself in work, on purpose

Sometimes hears your voice and feels your presence on the bench he likes to sit at in the garden

Cries only with Furina in private

Xianyun

Shocked

By now she saw you as one of her children

She thought you were an immortal and your death ruins that

Upset that you were unable to be healed by doctors

Makes toys you would have loved

Ganyu has to keep her wraith in check

Takes walks around the mountains to clear her head

Once stable, she cries

Visits your grave to leave the flowers you love

Keeps some of your old jewlery

Keeps your old jewelry in a special box in her abode

Helps Ganyu and Shenhu mourn in health ways, and vice versa

Honors you in her work

Sometimes hears you voice on the winds at night

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 9 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A pack of wolves descend on the camp when you and Arthur are least prepared for it.

Author’s Notes: Chapter nine of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Nine: Warm Embrace

Word count: 4341

You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. A yell. Then a horse’s screaming terror. Before you could pick up on anything else, you were on your feet.

You made to grab your rifle, but instead, a sidearm lay at your feet. Arthur’s revolver. You would wring that man’s neck. As soon as you had the thought, you heard a noise that sent cold fear sliding down your spine and made you lurch for the gun anyway—a snarl. That was no man-made sound.

You burst out of the tent and nearly fell backward in retreat. There were six wolves closing in on Arthur and the horses, the two mounts squealing and trying desperately to pull loose. Arthur stood firm with nothing but a knife. Nothing but a goddamn knife, because the fool had given you his gun. You couldn’t do a thing beyond stand there, absolutely stunned. He was going to die.

“Stay back!” Arthur yelled at them, but it was useless. The animals knew they had the advantage and crept forward still. Before you could think to shoot, the one closest to the horses bound forward, causing your horse to swing around and kick out. Another wolf joined the first, jumping high enough to sink teeth and claws into the animal’s rump. You had to fight the urge to cover your ears from the resulting sound that came out of that horse. Pure agony.

“Throw me the gun!” You met Arthur’s eye, and the second it took for him to spot you cost him whatever had been holding the other wolves at bay. The nearest leapt, and Arthur went down. You couldn’t pull the gun up fast enough, like the seriousness of the shot was slowing you. You sent up a prayer that you wouldn’t hit Arthur and shot into the mass of fur and teeth that stood atop him, all while he stabbed at its throat, trying his best not to have his own torn out.

You missed them both.

Another wolf joined the first, going for Arthur’s leg, but he kicked out hard enough that it whined in pain and retreated a step. The last two wolves joined in on the horses who were putting up much more of a fight, but you couldn’t care about that, couldn’t take in the terrible noise of violence and death that resulted. Not when there were two on top of the man who was your only chance at survival.

“Shoot them!” he yelled, the sound muffled from under the massive animal.

You brought the hammer down and shot again, aiming as best you could. You missed the closer wolf but hit the other this time, right on the shoulder. It yelped and turned, biting at the pain under its skin. Arthur thrust his knife up and gutted the wolf atop him in nearly the same moment, and you knew without having to know he had killed it. He was throwing the wolf off of him and yelling in less than a heartbeat. “Give me the goddamn gun!”

You did as he said, tossing it to him as he rose, retreating father against the tent at your back. You had to cover your ears, couldn’t look at what the other wolves were doing to the horses. Not with those horrible sounds coming from them.

Arthur immediately turned and shot the wolf you had in the head, then shot the one he had stabbed for good measure before reloading quick as lightning. He rounded on the other four. Alone.

You stepped backward into the tent. Cowardly. Covering your ears, closing your eyes, knowing he would get himself killed. He would die, and the horses would suffer, and you would get eaten alive. What was worse? Would you rather have died before, falling into nothingness? When the first shots began ringing out, you had your answer: absolutely. Because then you wouldn’t have to bear the pain of losing not two people that meant the most to you, but three.

More shots rang out until you were sure it was six, the revolver not having capacity for more. Then there was nothing but silence, and you started sobbing, knowing what came next. They would find you in here. They would maul you like they had him. Maybe they wouldn’t if you surrendered to them. Did animals recognize submission? Mercy?

The tent flaps rustled and you braced yourself for death until you felt arms folding around you, warm and gentle. Your sobbing turned to broken heaving as you took in the only scent you ever wanted to smell again.

“Shh, it’s okay. They’re gone. I got ‘em.”

You could do nothing but cry into his chest. You should have lost him. Should have died.

You moved your hands until they were grabbing at his coat, pulling him closer, needing to feel the life beating through him.

“I got you,” he said softly. “I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest, his warmth the only tether you had to sanity.

“We’ll be all right,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm to get warmth back in you. Or maybe life back in you. “My horse got away. We’ll be okay.”

That broke through your shock like a slap. You pushed back and looked at him. “And mine?”

He hesitated then shook his head. Dead then. The horse that had carried you miles and miles. The stubborn thing that you hadn’t given much thought to, all because you were too worried about what you had already lost. Just like Arthur. You couldn’t take that. You pushed Arthur back and got up.

“I wouldn’t go out there,” he warned. “Ain’t too pretty.”

You disregarded him and wiped your tears on your coat sleeve so you could see, stepping outside. They continued to well up anyway, your vision blurred and stinging as you took in two dead wolves. Then you turned and saw a sight so grizzly as to make you nearly lose what little you had in your stomach.

Four dead wolves, one dead horse. If it could be called that. It wasn’t so much something that had just been living as it was pure carnage. You were suddenly glad for your blurred vision. Seeing it clearly would have broken you.

You looked away and stepped back, needing a moment. Arthur was just behind you, and you felt the urge to cry into his chest like a child again but fought it off.

“Can you…” You sniffled, letting out a strangled breath. “Can you cut his tail? Bring me his hair?” God knew you couldn’t do it.

“Sure,” Arthur said. He didn’t hesitate, walking over like the scene before him was something he saw every day. Maybe it was.

If he thought the request odd, he didn’t say anything. It was something your parents had taught you. The good horses had their tails cut, their hair saved and braided and used so there was always a piece of them left behind. You felt guilt swallow you over not doing the same for your own two horses back at that cliff, but you had other things to grieve then. This horse had likely saved your life. You had escaped death a second time. And all you could do for it was trudge back into the tent and cry until you didn’t have any tears left.

~

Goddamn wolves. Arthur was finally starting to see the woman who had existed before the death of her parents. But that woman was gone again. Holed up in a tent for the better part of an entire day. Apart from bringing you that horsehair, he didn’t have the heart to go in and talk to you. He didn’t know what to say. And, lest he forget, it had been his fault you hadn’t had your rifle and he hadn’t had his revolver. You could have taken those animals on together no problem if you had.

Arthur spent the early hours of the morning finding his horse and cleaning up. He dragged the wolves off and skinned the ones worth skinning, taking meat from one. He looked over the damage done to his bedroll and knew there was no fixing the thing—the wolf had shredded it in an attempt to shred him. He tossed that away too. The dead horse was too heavy for him to move. He didn’t have any way to tie it to his own mount for her to drag it away either—it was torn into too many pieces. It would leave the place looking worse than it had been. So he left it, deciding when and if you ever reappeared, he would lead you straight south out of camp so the few trees could block your view of the damage.

He was now plagued with the thought that he had narrowly escaped death and that he had gotten too reckless in leading you. He knew how to survive on his own no problem, but you were distracting him. He had gone to sleep unarmed for christ sake. It was time for him to quit fooling around and do his job.

When Arthur ran out of things to do beyond keep watch, he checked himself over for wounds. His adrenaline wore off a long time ago, and he ached all over from the fight with that monster. He could be hurt anywhere and wouldn’t really know it. He was covered in blood from what he had managed with his knife, so he shed his coat first, seeing what damage it took. There was a gash in one of the arms, the fur along the inside showing. He looked to his arm and saw the resulting scratch cutting through his shirt, but it was shallow. Not warranting stitches. He looked and looked but didn’t find anything else. He was nearly untouched—a goddamn miracle.

He walked to his horse and gave her a few loving pats, glad she had gotten away. She was the best mount he’d had in a long time. He gave her a carrot and checked her over too. She must have gotten away before he had finished his own fight with the wolves. She was unharmed. He would never forget the sight of those four wolves eating the other horse alive though. On its back, on its legs, under its belly. Ruthless animals.

Arthur retrieved a cloth to clean his wound and coat with, pouring water over it. He shed the right half of his shirt from his arm, and the moment the damp cloth touched his skin, he winced. It was so cold he couldn’t feel the pain of the cut, just the frigidness of it. He could sense it now, how low the temperature was dropping. He just hoped the rain that would inevitably turn to snow would hold off.

He finished cleaning the shallow wound then redressed, deciding to stitch up the coat and his shirt later. It was too cold to be without them. He wiped the blood off his face best he could, doing the same to the front of his coat. Cleaning away all the evidence. The blood would just make him hard for you to look at. Well, harder. He weren’t exactly a pleasant sight to begin with.

Satisfied that things were as good as they would get, he went back over to your horse and took everything of value off it. The saddle was scratched to hell, and you wouldn’t be needing it anyway. Boadicea could carry you both. So he left that, digging through the saddle bags. There wasn’t much of anything beyond a few supplies and treats. You must have had that journal of your father’s on you. He did take your rifle out of its scabbard, knowing you could use his, but he was guilty enough over taking it. The least he could do was give you this one back.

He carried the rifle over to the pile of wood that had once been a fire and sat. There was nothing else to do. He could build another fire but didn’t want to leave you long enough to get more wood. All that was left was to wait. The two of you did need to get going soon. All that blood would draw unwanted attention from the local population. He just hoped there weren’t anymore wolves about. He would give you as long as he could, then he would pack up the tent, and the pair of you would move on. Putting all this behind you.

When the snow began again, Arthur cursed it. The weather had been delaying your travel every chance it got. He knew this wasn’t a good time of year to be going so far, but he had still hoped for better than this. The only positive that came of it was your attention, as you soon peeked out of the tent into the dim-lit evening to confirm it was snowing. And from his vantage, he saw that you had braided a piece of horsehair into your own, almost hidden under the shadow of your hat brim. Having your hat on meant you hadn’t been sleeping. Arthur felt the same guilt rise up within him. It was time.

“We better get going if you want to move camp.”

You just looked at him with that troubled expression, like your thoughts weren’t with him. Back to who you’d been before, unspeaking.

He stood, your gun and metaphorical hat in hand. “Listen I’m…sorry about the gun. I didn’t think-” That was it. He didn’t think. Why else did you keep guns at your sides at night other than to ward off trouble? And trouble had come, as deadly as it could have been. There were no more words for it, nothing that could fix what he’d done.

“Arthur?”

He looked at you, surprised to hear you speak. Surprised you had stepped out of the tent and weren’t building up that insurmountable wall within you he was all too familiar with.

“You ever do that again and I’ll shoot you. That’s a promise.”

He couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t smile at me,” you quipped. “You aren’t forgiven.”

His smile only grew. He just knew you would retreat into that shell of yourself you’d been before. Not this. It made him giddy enough to put his foot in his mouth. “You will forgive me eventually though, right?”

“No shot,” you said, going back into the tent without taking your gun. That panicked him. This was a fine line you were walking between the person he had come to know and the one who was so overcome by grief. Exactly how angry were you?

“Wait, I…I mean it,” he said, making you stop at least. “I’m real sorry. That all this happened. That it’s my fault it did.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care about the wolves. They would have come anyway. But we could have taken them on easy if you hadn’t taken my gun. If anything, you owe my horse an apology.”

That cut him. The poor animal had fought a painful death and lost, suffered, because of him. He was just glad one of the two had gotten away, or the pair of you would have been soon to follow.

Arthur nodded, looking to the horsehair in your hair. He could never really make up for this, but he could at least keep his big mouth shut and keep from making it worse.

You went back inside the tent without a word. Arthur let you be and was surprised to see you come back out with bedroll in hand before starting on the tent. He wordlessly joined you in taking it down. It was the least he could do after all the drama that had begun with you hammering the stakes in.

After the two of you finished, he loaded up Boadicea and let you on her first. Then he mounted and went straight south as he had promised himself he would, avoiding any further thought of what you were leaving behind.

~

You and Arthur traveled through the snow for a long time. It wasn’t falling heavily enough to slow you down, so you rode right through it.

You missed your horse. Your backside ached, your back protesting all the same at the lack of a saddle. If you ever came across a town, you would get another one. You didn’t care if you had to steal it and the horse underneath it too.

At least one good thing had come of the tragedy those wolves had brought—Arthur was subdued. Whether from narrowly escaping with his life or regretting costing your mount his, you couldn’t tell. It was a harsh thought, but seeing him so reflective showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed, and you were glad it did. It certainly existed for you, and you didn’t want to be the only one grieving again. You didn’t want to feel like a child. The way you had broken down in front of him when you thought the wolves were coming for you was embarrassing enough, and you decided then you wouldn’t let that part of you resurface. You had come this far. You were healing. You weren’t letting those wolves take that away from you.

When it got dark enough and you ached enough for two, you broke the silence the snow brought. “Do you know if there’s a town anywhere near?”

You felt Arthur shrug against your hands on his sides, his coat rising and falling beneath your gloved fingers. “Can’t be sure. Usually there’s something this far down the trail. May not be a town, but something.”

That much was true. You could still see a trail to follow, so that was a good sign. The snow hadn’t covered it completely yet.

“Why?”

“Wonder if I can find another horse. Maybe a warm bed to sleep in for a few nights.”

“And here I thought you was a woman of the land,” he jeered.

You swatted him across the arm. He chuckled. “If there is one, we won’t find it tonight. I’d be able to see it from here.”

True again. The land was growing so flat that any settlement lit by lantern light would be bright as a beacon in the darkness.

“Let’s stop then,” you said, tired in more ways than one.

Arthur obliged you, and you were soon rebuilding the tent, tending a fire, eating a bite. Routine.

Arthur shed his coat and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a jagged line across his upper arm, no doubt from the claws of that wolf that had tackled him. You’d forgotten completely to ask if he had been injured.

“Where’d it get you?”

“Just here,” he said, tending to it.

Jealousy flared within you. You had a scar a mile long down your side from a fall. A fall, and Arthur had a full grown wolf try to eat him, and he only left with a scratch?

“How’s yours by the way?” he asked without looking up.

You had kept your side wrapped for about a week after the stitches came out, then had made sure it was clean but done little else. It was healing over now, all that was left a bit of tenderness and a scar that you would never rid yourself of, no matter how badly you spited the memory.

“Fine,” you answered flatly. Arthur’s eyes flicked to you then.

“I have you to thank, you know.”

Of course he did. But you weren’t going to rub it in.

“You hadn’t shot that other wolf and my leg would be dog meat.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t exactly aiming for that one but…”

“It don’t matter,” he said, rolling his sleeve back down, satisfied with the cut. He stood and donned his coat. “We’re alive, that’s all that matters. And I wouldn’t be without you.”

“You keep saying that,” you muttered, resentful.

“I mean it.”

“No, not that. You keep saying it doesn’t matter that I can’t shoot that gun. Well it does. It did. That was as close to dying as it gets, Arthur.”

He shook his head. “I’ll make sure your rifle’s close from now on, and you won’t ever have to shoot mine again. Don’t worry about it.”

That response was so typical of him you wanted to strangle him. He was so lax about life, so unconcerned. There was a such thing as learning from your mistakes, and it made you mad that he didn’t have to. Because he needed to.

“Forget it,” you spat, crossing your arms.

He smiled, and it only made you madder.

“I’m starting to think you like picking fights with me.”

“I don’t. You’re just easy to stay mad at.”

“Awe, you could never be mad at me, nameless.”

You flashed him a dark look. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What would you prefer I call you?”

You turned away, seeing red. Because he was right. He didn’t have a name to call you. But like hell would you surrender it now.

“It would have been helpful back there,” he said, stepping closer to the fire and crouching, holding his hands out to warm them. “Knowing what name to yell to wake you up so we didn’t both get eaten.”

That was something you didn’t want to dwell on. “We didn’t get eaten last I checked.”

His smile turned crooked it went so wide. So damn satisfied you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Exactly.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. Had he made his point? That you were alive and nothing else mattered? Yes. Were you about to admit it? Absolutely not.

You got up and stormed to the tent in much the same manner as you had the night prior, only rather than teasing you this time, he had made a fool out of you. So you didn’t regret it a second when you shut him out for the second night in a row, even if he was without a bedroll. The snow would be cushion enough.

When you’d finally shaken your anger enough to drift off, Arthur came bursting into the tent. It scared you at first, the memory of those wolves still fresh.

“What is it?” you rasped, shooting straight up.

“It’s freezing,” he said, his arms wrapped around himself as he tried to rub the cold away, his coat damp with snow.

You groaned in annoyance and laid back down. “I didn’t invite you in here.”

“Too bad,” he said as he knelt down anyway. “It’s my tent.”

“Well keep the cold on your side,” you argued, turning your back to him.

You felt something press against the exposed skin of your neck, so frigid you rounded on him. He had taken his glove off, purposely pressed an ice cold hand against you. “Excuse me!” you yelled, incredulous. Then he was laughing like a kid as he settled beside you anyway.

“Little cold ain’t gonna hurt you. Now move over or share.” Meaning your bedroll. The gall of this man.

“Absolutely not.”

He had a laugh on his lips as he said, “Don’t make me fight you, woman. We already seen I’ll win.”

Then his arms were snaking around you, pulling you into him so tight you could feel a heat sting your cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature. Your heart started racing. You knew he would have been able to feel it had he not been shivering himself. But he was, his frame shaking against you. It thawed your annoyance some, though it didn’t stop you being struck with disbelief at him doing this.

“Just so we’re clear,” you said, needing to make it known lest he realize you weren’t fighting him. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“Like you wasn’t in here freezing your ass off too.”

You had been. You couldn’t deny it was much warmer lying against him. And worse, it was…oddly comforting. Kind of nice. But still your heart pounded, not knowing much, but knowing this was intimate somehow. The last time you had laid against someone this close, it had been your own mother. You didn’t want to think about how differently you seemed to react to it this time. To why. Instead, you let yourself be for a moment, ignoring what you should do, ignoring what was expected of a man and a woman who hardly knew each other. You allowed yourself the simple privilege of touch, something you had never had before. Even if it didn’t mean a thing to Arthur or to you.

After too little thought and lots of silence, you realized he was relaxed, his shivering long gone. You should push him away. Should take his steady breathing in your ear to mean he’d fallen asleep like this. But for some reason, you thought he was just as awake as you were. And that made your heart race even worse. Was he doing the same thing you were, holding you just because he could? Surely he knew better. You could claim ignorance, but he couldn’t. Not after how he had talked just last night.

Afraid he would feel your nervousness through your coat, you whispered to him.

“Arthur.”

He didn’t stir. Asleep then. You were overthinking it. And, like a true moron, you didn’t want to wake him. You realized with no small amount of embarrassment that you wanted to sleep like this too. You were just curious about it all, you told yourself. Nothing more. So you let him be and closed your eyes, melting into his warmth. It took a long time for your thoughts to stop lingering where they shouldn’t, and when they finally did, they didn’t improve much. You were left wondering why you had ever wanted to stay on the opposite side of the tent from this man.

_________

Chapter ten is here.

tag list: @tommys0not0beloved @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[kollux748]

Jacegan??? Jace and Cregan…Brotherhood!

I love Jacegan but what about a more brotherly-Jacegan bond fic? Meaning no “incest”; even between sworn brothers. Maybe shouldn’t use the ship name for that…

Premise:

Set during the night Aemond claims Vhagar and loses his eye (year 120 AC). Alicent doesn’t attack Rhaenyra and Viserys is a bit more neutral in regard to his children. Alicent gets the idea to send Lucerys up North to Winterfell (or rather the Wall as a harsher punishment), far away from Aemond as possible, and Viserys believes it would be a good chance for Lucerys to learn as he will be Lord of Driftmark one day (yeah, right). Jacaerys pleads to be sent instead as it was his dagger that was used to injure Aemond and he drew the blade, to which Alicent accepts. Viserys also sees it fitting since Jacaerys is Rhaenyra’s heir, and it would strengthen the bond between House Stark and House Targaryen if Jacaerys bonded with Lord Rickon Stark’s son and heir, Cregan.

The one condition is that Jacaerys will reside in the North until Lucerys comes of age (16).

Note: I know Jacaerys is like super young, being around 6/7, and Aemond was 10 (according to the book timeline) when he lost his eye. I tend to rely on book ages but not book-accurate plot…woops.

Cregan is 12 at this time. And Arra may be 4 or older…but since they say Arra was his childhood best friend, I’d say she should be at least 8 or older…

Another note, according to Cregan Stark’s asoiaf wiki page, his younger brother died in 119 AC.

Plot Points:

(120 AC):

Age-wise reference:

Cregan Stark (b. 108 AC): 12

Arra Norrey (b. 112 AC): 8

Jacaerys Velaryon (b. late 114 AC): 6

Lucerys Velaryon (b. late 115 AC): 5

Cregan took an instant liking to Jacaerys when the kid arrived in Winterfell. Having recently lost his younger brother in the last year, he saw this new kid (who happened to be a prince but Cregan doesn’t care) as a blessing from the Old Gods. More importantly, it became a common sight around Winterfell to see Cregan and Jacaerys together, practically attached at the hip. (Cregan may or may not tell Jace about blood oaths, and they swear the infamous “oath of brotherhood, sealed in blood”.)

Arra Norrey became Jace’s sworn older sister and she loves occasionally stealing him away from Cregan when she visits to enjoy the “softer” things of Winterfell, such as the Glass Gardens, while Cregan is busy training, in the company of his other friends such as the young Lord Cerwyn, or learning how to be the next Warden of the North.

Jacaerys may have other friends with other people in the North; the one thing everybody knows is that nobody gets away with bullying him, and it’s not because he’s a prince.

A southern maester lives in Winterfell, specifically employed to teach Jacaerys High Valyrian, as well as all other lessons that a Prince and future King must have. Jacaerys writes to Rhaenyra in High Valyrian, and she will write back the same, though sometimes she will include corrections to her son’s incorrect grammar or use of words in common tongue. Lucerys often writes to Jacaerys and sends tiny trinkets and shells, which Jace shares with Arra and Cregan.

Vermax resides on Dragonstone, and his bond with Jacaerys is strained but not broken. He eventually travels to Winterfell himself when he senses Jacaerys in great distress (Arra’s death and his mourning being the cause).

(124 AC): Cregan comes of age (16), but Bennard Stark maintains his regency of Winterfell and limits Cregan’s involvement in heading the house. One of Bennard’s plans to keep Cregan in check involves Jacaerys due to their brotherly bond.

(126 AC): Cregan (18) has Arra (14) take Jace (12) away to temporarily foster with House Norrey while he prepares to overthrow his uncle Bennard and his three sons. Bennard tries to goad Cregan into kin-slaying by swearing to end Jacaerys’ life if/when he gets free, but Cregan only hits him on the head and declares he would never let anyone harm his little brother.

“I will tear that boy apart. And when I’m finished with him, I shall leave him for the savages to enjoy a taste of royalty.”

Cregan then marries Arra, much to the delight of the North. Jace spends the night writing his family on Dragonstone about the wedding celebrations, and how curious Northern weddings are.

According to ASOIAF timeline, this is the year Vaemond Velaryon was executed by Daemon (although it is apparently 132 AC in HoTD). Whatever… The only thing that would happen would be Lucerys or Rhaenyra informing Jacaerys that Vaemond challenged Lucerys for the throne of Driftmark, and was killed for insulting Rhaenyra and their lineage (calling them bastards). Jacaerys is upset on Lucerys and his mother’s behalfs for suffering the insults but doesn’t give it much thought since he wasn’t close to Vaemond.

(128 AC): Arra is pregnant with Rickon, and when she’s not with Cregan, she’s accompanied by Jace. Some find it inappropriate with how close Jace is with Cregan and Arra, especially Arra as the Lady of Winterfell. There is a slight rumor that Prince Jacaerys and Lady Arra are having an affair, and her child may be a bastard. This causes Jacaerys to distance himself from Arra to avoid damaging her honor, like his mother’s was. Arra becomes upset by the development and she can’t seem to convince Jace to stop avoiding her, so Cregan has to pose an intervention.

Arra goes into labor while talking with Jace, and he rushes to inform Cregan after getting her to the maesters. He stays outside of the labor room with Cregan, although Cregan goes inside after hearing a particularly concerning noise from Arra in the chamber. When Rickon is delivered, Arra begs Cregan to let Jace in. Whilst Cregan is watching the maesters handle Rickon, Arra—sensing she is dying—tells Jace to make sure he and Cregan take care of each other, as well as Rickon. Jace doesn’t understand why she’s says this until her breath stops and her hand holding his loosens in pressure. His cries are what attracts Cregan’s attention as well as the maesters’, and Cregan realizes Arra has passed.

“Swear to me that you will take care of them, and that he will take care of you. Jacaerys…

Avy jorrāelan, valonqar.”

(I love you, little brother). Jacaerys taught Arra some High Valyrian throughout the years… Their favorite pastime was speaking to each other with certain practiced phrases when in company with Cregan to annoy him.

Arra is buried in the crypts. The day of her funeral, Jacaerys remains in front of her burial place the entire night, drowning in his grief. Arra was Cregan’s wife and soul, but she was Jacaerys’ sister and light. Cregan must attend to his duties as the Lord of Winterfell, as well as his newfound fatherly duty, despite his own grief.

Vermax senses Jace’s deep grief through their strained bond and leaves Dragonstone, surprising Daemon who was singing to Caraxes.

It takes about three to five (business) days…or a week for Vermax to fly to the North, with a couple pit stops for food and water, because he is a dragon who needs nutrients on a long journey. His arrival causes a stir in the gloomy aura of Winterfell, as they are still mourning their passing of their lady and Jacaerys is recovering after having fallen ill from spending too much time in the crypts without eating or drinking. Cregan found him on the third day since Arra’s funeral and berated him rather aggressively for nearly killing himself after he woke up.

“You cannot leave me. I beg of you, my brother, my blood…do not leave me too.”

Jacaerys hears the scream of “Dragon!” and bolts as fast as a recovering-ill dude can out of his chambers at the thought that his mother or even one of his beloved little brothers came to visit him. He doesn’t immediately recognize Vermax, and Vermax doesn’t recognize Jace, but he does sense the dragonblood in Jace’s blood. Cregan arrives and his dread worsens over seeing Jacaerys unarmed, facing an ill-tempered Vermax. He goes so far as to draw Ice from its sheathe, which startles Vermax into defense-mode.

Jacaerys is eventually able to calm Vermax, and all those who witness the fearsome dragon grow less defensive. Jace would fly on Vermax, though he is still a bit physically weak from the fever. Cregan, for one, vehemently protested against it, and relented for Jace to take Vermax to the crypts to doze in. He does go with them to drag Jace to bed once Vermax settled. It does hurt them both to go back to the crypts so soon and see Arra’s statue which is surrounded by decaying winter roses.

Once Jacaerys is deemed fully recovered by the maesters, he begins rekindling his bond with Vermax. He takes daily flights around Winterfell and the upper North. One day, they fly all the way to the Vale before Jace realizes how far they traveled. He meets the Lady Jeyne Arryn, who offers him to stay for a few days.

(129 AC): Cregan and Jacaerys visit The Wall with a new group of recruits for the Night’s Watch. Jacaerys flies on Vermax, although the closer Vermax gets to the Wall, the more anxious Jace can feel him growing. Jace thinks Vermax is going to fly over the Wall, but Vermax suddenly veers off a few meters before with an ear-shattering screech, which startles all who are there.

There is a small encounter with some Wildlings, though Jacaerys sustains a grievous injury to his throat (by a lucky arrow or a short blade) that ends up damaging his vocal cords, almost rendering him mute. Cregan is devastated, and his protectiveness over Jacaerys grows to the point that he has Jacaerys by his side almost at all times after months long of bed-rest recovery.

Let’s just say Cregan often forgets that Jacaerys has another family, so he neglected to write to Rhaenyra or Viserys at all of Jacaerys’ few misfortunes over the years…so Rhaenyra doesn’t find out he is near-mute until she sees him for the first time in 11 years…

And Jacaerys is afraid to tell Rhaenyra that he cannot speak well anymore, because a King cannot rule a kingdom without a strong voice.

Cregan helps Jacaerys with navigating alternative methods of communication when he cannot or does not want to speak, though writing is his go-to method when it’s available. Jacaerys does speak occasionally, but he experiences gradual pain the more he has to use his voice.

(Late 131 AC): Lucerys comes of age (16). Jacaerys is officially invited back to King’s Landing to celebrate the end of his “exile” by King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Upon his arrival to greet Viserys and the royal family, Jacaerys and Rhaenyra break formal protocol and hug it out, although some people catch that Jacaerys doesn’t say anything while Rhaenyra both frets over and admires her beautiful grown boy.

Later, the family learns of Cregan and Jace’s close brotherly bond. Rhaenyra is miffed that Cregan’s lack of correspondence with her, especially regarding her son. Lucerys and Joffrey are slightly…or not so slightly jealous that Cregan has “stolen” their brother and has such a close bond that they should’ve had with Jace.

Everybody hugs it out though.

The End. :)

RIP Arra Norrey…again

[yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation]

I have a prompt if you're interested: Instead of letting Spider go with Quaritch, General Ardmore immediately sends him back to Earth. Spider spends 4 years on Earth, but is able to return after a government overthrow puts a group in charge that wants to ask the Na'vi for help rather than take Pandora by force (and they know Spider may be their only hope for negotiations). Spider fears that between the 6 years of cryo to Earth, the 4 years on Earth, and the 6 years in cryo back, everyone he loves on Pandora will have forgotten him. Turns out he was wrong, and the Sully kids (now adults) have tried to keep his memory alive, telling their own kids stories about him and trying everything they can to contact Earth over the years. Bittersweet with angst and fluff!

Some thoughts on this wonderful prompt:

*Before sending Spider away, Ardmore had his hair cut into a military high and tight, like Human Quaritch's had been. He was forced to wear human clothes and shoes. His songcord was removed and destroyed. His blue stripes were washed off, and all other traces of his life amoung the Na'vi removed.

*Spider hated Earth! He didn't fit in. He was sick all of the time, because the air quality was horrible and there were so many human illnesses he was never exposed to as a child.

*He couldn't understand people or their drive and desire for money, for having more than everyone else. It was all so foreign and confusing to him.

*He got tattoos done while on Earth. Things that reminded him of his lost home and family. An Atokirina on his shoulder. A picture of his first dagger, drawn from memory, on his forearm. His ssong cord also drawn from memory. A few native Pandoran animals including an Ikran and Toruk in various places. As well as others. He chose tattoos because he never wanted anyone to be able to take those away from him like they took away his stripes and hair.

*Spider had no one. No family, no friends, nothing when he arrived on earth. The RDA and government made sure he had the basics, barely, but he had to learn everything on the fly. Thankfully Spider became a teacher for those that were preparing to travel to Pandora. At least he could help them survive. Spider focused on respecting the balance, the Na'vi and following Eywa. Even being so far away he did all he could to try and help those he cared about.

*Spider was a huge supporter of the new government. Not because they could get him back to Pandora, he never thought he would be allowed to return, but because the new government was more worried about the people than money.

*Spider wasn't allowed to contact Pandora and was sad/hurt that no one on Pandora ever tried to contact him. Eventually he gave up trying to be allowed to contact his true home.

*The Sully family and scientists never knew Spider was alive, Quaritch told them he had died, and they believed him. So they mourned his passing and that he wasn't "with Eywa" so that's why they kept his memory alive.

*When Spider learned he was to be sent back to Pandora he cried, first time he had cried since waking up and seeing Earth after cryo. He was finally going home and that's all that mattered.

*The day Spider arrived back on Pandora a small group of Na'vi were also present, along with some humans. Amoung this group was Lo'ak whom Spider recognized immediately. It took Lo'ak a second to recognize Spider but as soon as he did Spider was lifted into the air, both laughing through the tears.

*I just know Kiri could feel when Spider stepped foot on Pandora for the first time in in about 15 years. She could feel Eywa rejoicing at the return of her human child.

*Neytiri still hissed at and hated Spider but after experiencing earth it no longer phased him. He knew he belonged on Pandora, and nothing Neytiri said could ever change that.

I've had this in my ask box for quite a while but could never come up with how to write it. The idea behind the story is fantastic and I would love to read a fanfiction of this one day, maybe even write one if the ideas would start flowing.

Thank you anon!

[reulaux]

Shen Yuan avoids System's penalty by jumping into the Endless Abyss AU

I'm thinking of Shen Yuan choosing to jump into the Endless Abyss in place of Binghe to intentionally cut off the influence from the System, like how the System goes into hibernation from losing its power source when Binghe is in the Endless Abyss, so the System is unable to punish Shen Yuan by ejecting his soul for failing the crucial Endless Abyss mission.

This requires Shen Yuan knowing this condition, either by Shen Yuan already living this life, or from gleaning and deducing from previous conversations with the System and gambles on it.

Shen Yuan likely dies in the Endless Abyss from the Without a Cure flare ups while having no one to transfer him qi, but all is well if we make Shen Yuan having already planted the Sun and Moon Dew Flower body.

5 years passes. A man emerges from the Endless Abyss as in PIDW (though in a roundabout way as he died first and came back in a different body, and that person isn't the protagonist. )

Shen Yuan remains happy exploring the Demon Realm as a rogue cultivator Peerless Cucumber, not coming into contact with the System's power source because Binghe is still being the white lotus in Qing Jing.

For this to happen, people need to not realise Binghe is a demon. Maybe Shen Qingqiu prepared some talismans or some other method to suppress the demonic energy before the Immortal Alliance Conference.

People mourn this nice Shen Qingqiu and move on. The Qing Jing Peak get helps from other Peaks to fill in their 'dead' shizun's role. There's no corpse so there is no unending tug of war between Binghe and Liu Qingge. Neither can Zhuzhi lang revive his benevolent Master Shen in the Holy Mausoleum.

Airplane doesn't know this weird Shen Qingqiu, who might be a transmigrator but Airplane hadn't confirmed and would never have a chance to now, just switched to another body because Shen Yuan recalled and retrieved the Sun and Moon Dew Flower seeds by himself. Airplane will stay lonely as the sole transmigrator in the fic (as far as he knows.)

.

Eventually, Binghe would meet Peerless Cumcumber because the story wouldn't be complete without this event.

Maybe Peerless Cumcumber is a little too famous from his friendliness with demons? And his superb knowledge of flora and fauna even those in the Endless Abyss?

Maybe he unintentionally causes or gets involved in some unrest that cultivators are dispatched to.

Maybe Luo Binghe misses his shizun, dreams about him, then realises this dream isn't from his memories, nor is it constructed by him or Meng Mo, meaning he's in shizun's real dream and shizun has to somehow still be alive!

Well, Shen Yuan already considered his plan can eventually be foiled so he tries to find a loophole to not get ejected by the System the moment he meets Binghe.

Maybe it's from bargaining with the System, saying that this development isn't so bad and it's been more than more than 5 years and the world hasn't collapsed, that the story is still going so it's surely interesting enough for readers so there's no need to eject him now.

Maybe by tricking the System into agreeing with the novel genre change into fluff, hurt but mainly comfort, and happy ending so there's no need for the blackening.

Maybe we go down the System Reveal route and have Binghe destroys the System to save his shizun's life.

Or maybe the System continues its countdown from before Shen Yuan jumped off the Abyss. Shen Yuan somehow having obtained a way to open the Endless Abyss during his travel through the Demon Realm, takes Binghe in his hand and walks into the Endless Abyss together, as if going on a date, like, "Quick, Binghe. This Master has something to show you." And he shows and narrates to Binghe the gory and monstrous scenery kind of romantically.... But of course Shen Yuan is oblivious to it. Genuinely he's explaining what happened back then and why he jumped into the Endless Abyss, while avoiding the details about the transmigration and the System. And the story progresses into romance...

Then why didn't Shen Yuan just go in the Endless Abyss with Binghe the first time around? Maybe because Shen Yuan's body was still poisoned, Binghe's body was still unstable from the seal just breaking, and Binghe now is much more powerful than his 17 year old self, so going to the Endless Abyss now is barely a torture and abuse for his sweet white lotus disciple.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

I am wondering if you have any thoughts/head-canon/ideas about Minisa Tully and Lyarra Stark. I always get a little sad thinking about them and how GRRM won't give the fandom any info on either of them.

It’s criminal that grrm says so little about them. Like we know a lot of things about Hoster and Rickard but absolutely nothing about their wives. So here are my visions of who they were

Okay so Lyarra was half Flint of the mountains and Old Nan tells Bran that’s where he got the climbing from. Which makes me think that perhaps Lyarra, like Lyanna and Arya, was not as traditional of a lady as is expected. The way I see her she got the wolf’s blood from her Stark father, but maybe wasn’t quite as strong willed as her daughter. In my head she has the Stark look, but with more typically handsome features. Brandon got his looks from her, not Rickard. I think she was a firm, but kind mother that cared for her children’s success and that she agreed with Rickard on fostering both Ned and Brandon. She wanted all four of her children to be prepared for the world so that they would be, you know, strong enough to survive the winter.

I imagine her marriage to Rickard wasn’t a love match and that they never really fell in love, but that they cared for one another in a friendly way and respected each other as life partners. She was his lady wife and his advisor, but not his love. That respect means she can disagree with him without it being too big of a deal and that he valued her advise even as he sometimes thought her to be a little too hotheaded.

Lyarra was well liked among the northern people and quite social and outgoing. Quick to make jokes and smile while also not being a people pleaser. Could perhaps be seen as a little mean sometimes.

We have no pointer as to when or how she died (according to the wiki it might have been as late as 299AC lol), but I headcanon she died of sickness shortly before or after Ned was sent to be fostered in the Eyrie because that means a very big shift in the family. It could also be why Ned chooses not to think of it too much because it was overall quite a painful time of his life as he was separated from his family in the middle of losing his mother. The little Starks that remained in Winterfell and Rickard all mourned her deeply and tried to find support in each other. Her death was swift and unexpected as she was a strong and lively person. One day she was fine, the next she had perished.

Minisa, on the other hand, I think was a softer person in general. Not too soft though because she was a Whent and I just know something is up there. Like she grew up in Harrenhal, there were ghosts in her childhood home. The way I picture her she has a sort of haunted look over her because of being quite pale and thin with big and sort of sad eyes. This made even worse later in life when she had lost so many babies. Still considered a beautiful woman by most, though.

The marriage to Hoster is a strategic move from her family, it’s not a love match. I think they did come to love one another over time though, but that Hoster’s obsession with a male heir made him subconsciously value that over Minisa. Minisa, being all about her duty and really wanting to give her husband a healthy son, never protested against his continued attempts at having a son even as each of her pregnancies were very hard on her and that she grew weaker with every birth. I see it as sort of a Viserys/Aemma situation. It’s canon that eventually it was childbirth that killed her, even as she had already given birth to Edmure.

She was a softer parent than Hoster and was very protective of the children she had that actually survived. I think (might be misremembering) that Catelyn remembers her as being warm and gentle. Before Edmure was born I think Catelyn became very much Hoster’s kid due to being his presumed heir for the time and so Minisa doted a lot on Lysa because Lysa was more hers. Can see her turning into a little bit of a boy mom, much to little Lysa’s dismay, after Edmure was born due to the relief of actually having given birth to a male heir. Still she was keen on her two younger children not growing up too quickly the way Catelyn was doing.

Most everyone liked her. She made an effort to always be kind and gentle and stuck to the social rules. Maybe she became more drawn back later in her life due to becoming weaker and more sickly after her numerous difficult pregnancies. When she wasn’t too weary she enjoyed tending to the flower in the gardens surrounding the sept. Only after her death did they become known as Minisa’s gardens.

After her death Riverrun became a colder place as she brought a warmth to the castle that Hoster couldn’t quite do himself. Hoster, even as he was the reason for her death, mourned her deeply and ended up leaning on Catelyn due to her being the oldest one. Of his three children she looks the most like his late wife.

[not-rude-ginger]

I love your story"For what, for all but myself," it's so good! I do wonder though, what would have happened had JC actually died. Like we know what practically would have happened but grief is messy even at the best of times. I dunno I just like angst.

Ah, so you want the bad timeline! OK let me see...

The immediate fallout is WWX and JL screaming, crying, throwing up. The only thing the doctors can do is present them with Jiang Xi. JL takes him and holds him, thinking he's warm -- he holds JC's last warmth. He huddles around JX, and so we have the first split, because WWX is still wailing over JC's body, gabbling about ways the doctors should try to bring him back. However the doctors can't do anything more -- JC is already gone. WWX starts thinking aloud about how to reanimate him, but the doctors make it very clear they will not let him, and when he starts getting YLLZ about it, they point out that JC's will states that WWX is not to interfere with his body, and in fact is not allowed to have any involvement with his funeral preparations, because JC was afraid he would try something.

This shakes WWX deeply, that JC was so prepared for him, but he still fights LWJ trying to pull him away until one of the doctors knocks him out with a needle.

JL uses his fixation on JX to keep his grief at bay, so he sets about initiating the plans JC laid out. JSH is named sect protector, the other guardians are called to move into the family residence, and then JL announces the news to the sect, all the while still clutching JX. It's only when JX has to feed that JL can be persuaded to let him go and then when his arms are empty JL is overwhelmed with grief. He cries in JSH's arms and JSH's eldest daughter helps take care of him.

They keep WWX under while preparing for the funeral, worried what he might try. JL tells LWJ he must keep WWX from doing anything to JC, no matter how much WWX begs. They do let him attend the funeral and he's unable to keep his composure, everyone is afraid of him turning back into YLLZ.

LXC returns to seclusion following the funeral -- he put too much hope into the relationship he wanted with JC, and can't cope with the loss. NHS is full of regrets.

The rest of the Jianghu is reeling that Sandu Shengshou could stop the resentful cloud and save them all, but bled out during surgery. They eye JX in JL's arms with deep suspicion.

Once the funeral is over, WWX starts coping by fixating on JX, i.e. he doesn't cope at all and distracts himself. He hovers around JX all the time, won't let him out of his sight, sleeps next to the crib, follows the wet nurses around -- JL wants to stay and help, but he has to go back to LLJ as JC would have wanted so he has to say good bye and go home and grieve by himself. Except the other juniors follow him and stay with him in LL.

WWX stays in YMG, he won't leave LP, not even when LWJ is called back to CR to help LQR with running the sect because LXC is in seclusion again. Their parting is messy, not a break up but not a simple 'traveling for work' split either. LWJ is conflicted between his primal possessive jealousy and his basic decency that understands why this is the way things are. He can't even be angry that JC died, because he knows the man tried so hard to stay. He feels a grief he cannot process, for someone he did not like, but had come to somewhat respect and recognise how important their existence was for the running of things.

YMJ is desperately grieved by the loss, the kids are all crying, the disciples insist on bowing and mourning the correct way over and over. Some ask to travel, others want to stay and make sure nothing bad ever happens to their precious new sect leader. JL visits frequently, bringing gift after gift because he feels it's all he can give. Eventually Granny has to tell him Tadpole needs no more new things, he needs JL to be his tangxiong, who will tell him what it was like to be parented by JC when he's older, who will hug him and tell him he's brilliant and brave, just like his a-die.

Much like with LSZ, WWX is more of a fun uncle than a guardian Bobo, although he does learn how to change a nappy, burp the baby and rock him to sleep. When he's not looking after JX, he's working with the Plum Blossoms on new defenses for the sect, he goes to Conferences and watches the other sect leaders with deep suspicion, waiting for one of them to slip and expose their nefarious schemes for YMJ.

Still, as he gets bigger and goes from baby to toddler to child, JX is a source of great joy for many. He reminds Granny of JC at that age, everything he does is amazing for WWX, who sees so much of JC and JYL in him, and after being involved with his rearing, even from afar, JL decides to find a wife and raise a family, making sure that JX is close with his cousins.

They never stop missing JC, his absence is a physical thing, but JX was a worthy thing to die for, and exactly the sort of thing JC would die for. JX sometimes feels overwhelmed by the feeling he should be filling in all the gaps JC left behind -- especially with WWX who seems to sometimes forget that JX is not JC. However JL, who knows that feeling, makes sure he knows they don't expect it, and if they do, it's not his problem.

As he becomes a teen and goes to CR for lessons, some of his peers are suspicious and nasty to him because of his origins. They don't know whether to call him a bastard or abomination, but YMJ's disciples and then LWJ when he overhears, step in to punish and correct them. WWX returns to the Jingshi so he can be nearby if JX needs him.

JSH runs the sect very well, they don't have the same micromanagement habit of JC, but they helped him build YMJ into the smoothly running machine it is, so they simply continue the pattern, always thinking about how JC would handle a situation before acting. They hold onto the role of protector until JX is 21, allowing him time to mature. With JL now grown and a father, and an experienced sect leader, they keep the balance in the jianghu - not that LXC or NHS are in any way interested in messing that up.

Ultimately JX grows up pretty well, venerating the father who died for him, taking on the lessons of JSH, Granny, LH, WWX, JL and everyone else who helped raise him to become a sect leader JC would be proud off. He looks so like his father, but his personality is much softer, unafraid to show his feelings in a way JC never was. JC would say his son is the better version of him -- the kind his own parents would be proud of.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thank you Dujour! alas neither of my wotr fic made the cut but one ffxiv sneaked its way among the jojos, and one non oc work snuck in among Muro n co as well as well. Oops went a bit ham on how i feel about them before realizing i should have been doing summaries, so my personal feelings for each under the cut<3

They Make Me Mad- JJBA- oc

Celia finally snaps after listening to Soverano chatting shit all night- but as she approaches to give him what the righteous anger inside of her thinks he deserves she is instead pushed to escort a drunk and high Tesoro home, distracting her and avoiding the fallout that would come from a fight between her and Soverano. But she easily sees through the ruse, angry at Soverano escaping justice, and after Tesoro is definitely made sober after being drenched with a bucket of water, they start arguing about the dangers of doing what's right in their world, which ends with Celia storming off home.

I am the softly falling snow - FFXIV- Post-Heavensward

The observations and musings of a soldier of Camp Dragonhead as he watches the warrior of light mourning, a while after the dragon song war is over, when Ishgard is rebuilding and the camps have new recruits.

old habits die hard, hope for a better future dies faster- JJBA

Conficcare is cornered, and is reminded of when he was younger. try and he might to win, he's not as strong as he thinks he is, and also distracted. ending up on his back with a boot pressing on his rib. during all hes thinking about how he and his friends have changed. His friend that's changed the most arrives and rescues him, but he spirals further into anger and grief and how much the Celia he knew has been warped into the Muro he knows today. Eventually Muro gets through to him, and carries him home, where he tries to comfort Conficcare, and Conficcare gets a glimpse of part of his old friend he though long dead.

A knife offered in friendship- JJBA

After his fight with the stand user Formaggio, and while Giorno, Abbachio and Fugo are in Pompeii, Narancia tries to help Trish feel more safe by offering her his knife in a gesture of friendship- although his way of gifting it to her was not the best in terms of stopping her panicking

Born to Run- JJBA

Chasing promises of power from a mysterious new figure in the Napoli underworld, the youths prepare to race, with Celia called as the mechanic, however carefully laid plans for victory go awry when their leader is attacked on the way to the starting line- and driven by Elena's ernest passion to win, Celia takes the wheel and leads them to victory, with Elena beside her, ensuring they get that far.

They Make Me Mad- JJBA- oc

maybe on here because of recency bias, but i do love it, being the second look at a teen Celia, and her complex relationship with Tesoro [its the foreshadowing, hypocrisy and tragedy- i am nothing if not a sucker for becoming the thing you hated<3]

I am the softly falling snow - FFXIV- Post-Heavensward an outlier in terms of fandom, and quite old actually, well in terms of my writing i still like, at about six months. games were i end up forming such strong emotional bonds with characters will always stick with me, and for the very linear story, ffxiv manages to get me every time<3 its short and bittersweet but im still very proud of it,

old habits die hard, hope for a better future dies faster- JJBA

Shaking them both. i still like You hurt them like they're nothing but Old habits really shows the complexity of their relationship, not just the effects.

A knife offered in friendship- JJBA

Not oc-centric! not even a single oc! Trish Una you will always been the main character of part five to me<3 i also think Narancia deserves better. Knife part isnpired by me thinking how tf did you make this 15 year old girl feel safe around you.

Born to Run- JJBA

again, i love everlasting kiss but born to run is very much a part two that builds on born to run, and i just love the rollercoaster of tension and action and stupid teenagers in love and grief

[mywipsdontend]

The Third Death

About 1000 words

You know, when I was alive I always heard loads of people spouting bullshit about what they ‘know’ the afterlife will be like.

Many people told me, “There is only one god and he is jealous!”

Others screamed, “There are many gods and you will reach the afterlife regardless!”

One person even told me that all of humanity is one single entity at different points in its cosmic lifetime.

…

…

…

But all of them were wrong. Death isn’t the end. I’m not about to go into soliloquy about something stupid like metaphysical properties of the afterlife.

Blegh.

In truth, death isn’t as simple as the body dying, that is just the first death. I’ve taken the liberty of naming the deaths, the first death I call la petite mort, the little death. My first death was easy, I died, unremarkably, in my worn-down mid-nineteenth-century home. I was thirty-five, married with two kids, Tim and Jason, and my beautiful wife, Jane.

None of it mattered.

The autopsy said that I died from sudden cardiac arrest, my heart just stopped. Bip, Bip, Bip, BEEEEEEEP. Dead. I didn’t feel it though, I woke up as normal and started going about my daily routine, it wasn’t until I tried to pick up my toothbrush that I realized I didn’t have a body anymore. This moment was quickly followed by my wife’s scream as she discovered my cold, lifeless body.

That was the hardest part of the first death, seeing my family mourn me. Fortunately, it didn’t last long, they quickly had me prepared for burial and soon enough I was attending my own funeral. It was… weird, to say the least, being incorporeal, that is, not the funeral. The funeral was nice, but as my body neared the grave I felt a tug within me that drew me closer and closer to my casket and then everything went dark.

And thus began the second death, my body began to wither and decay and all was dark. I call this the la mort noir, the black death. For what I assume was decades I lay there and rot. It was relaxing to feel my worries, cares, and flesh melt away and turn to dust. At some point all that remained of my body was my skeleton and I wondered if this was the afterlife. Slow decomposition until I eventually wither away into nothingness and my consciousness fades into the aether.

The day my bones had finished their decay was not as reliving as I had hoped, I didn’t peacefully fade into non-existence. I started to drift upward, and saw that the world I had known had changed substantially in my absence. I drifted around the world for many more decades and I witnessed many atrocities, a pandemic, and the invention of ‘the internet.’

The world had changed and now I was in the world again, in a second life, as a ‘ghost.’ I wasn’t really a ghost in the same capacity that I would have thought of when I was alive. I had no physical form and no ability to interact with the world.

I wandered for many years until on a cloudy Sunday afternoon in May I heard death’s call for the first time. The deep resonance of a large bell shook my soul and another entity, dark and formless, was before me. I couldn’t see him, and I assume, like me, he has no physical form, yet he still felt larger and more powerful than me. He spoke and, like the bell’s toll, it shook me to my core. He told me of death and explained why I still existed on earth and hadn’t yet passed on to the afterlife. He told me that I must wait for the last time my name is ever spoken, and that that is the third death.

I asked him who remembers me an entire century after my death, when I lived a remarkably unimportant, boring life, but I received no answer. His presence was gone and I was once more alone in my miserable existence.

I tried to find my family at one point, but it didn’t go well. I discovered my grandson, the child I never got to meet, weeping at the grave of my eldest son, Tim. My grandson was older than I was when I died and that shook me. My lifetime had passed three times over and the only people that should have remembered me were dead. Logically, my name should have been spoken after my sons died, but for some reason my name will be spoken again at some point.

Death has given me way too much time to think about the idea of life. I was conceived, then born, I grew into a young man, married, had kids…

Then I died.

No fanfare, no glory. Just death.

Did my life amount to anything? No. I had two children who carry on my family’s name, but is that worth anything? How many generations before my family name is gone?

I, unfortunately, have ‘lived’ long enough to find out the answer, 3.

Tim married early and had a boy and a girl, Jack and Kinsey. Jason married as well, but it's rather hard to have a child with two men and no womb, so that line of the family died off. Tim lived a long time and died in a hospital bed from cancer at 89. Jason died at 46 from HIV infection, and I had hoped I would get to see his soul after he died, but his soul didn’t seem to exist in the same way mine did.

Jack, my grandson, married in his early thirties and birthed a horde of kids. He had six children, four girls and two boys. Unfortunately, none of them lived into adulthood. A war started and they were slaughtered in their home.

I have watched for years people dying and I haven’t heard my name in decades, I’m not even sure I remember what it was. But I exist here, regardless, waiting for my final death. I don’t know what comes next, but I’m ready, even if the end is a vast void of nothingness.

I guess my point is that life was meaningless and now I exist just to observe? I don’t really know. It’d be depressing, if I could still feel anything after all the years. I suppose my existence is a massive soliloquy because it seems the only thing that didn’t die with my body was my overactive mind.

I wander for years more waiting for my final death but it doesn’t come. I’ve ‘lived’ long enough now that I hardly feel human. It seems so senseless, the torture and pain humanity puts itself through just to satisfy their basic needs. It seems that humanity also has a need to kill each other, because that has remained constant across all of the time I've ‘lived.’

[redladydeath]

So, back in 2022 I came up with this alternate history idea I called “Bloody Mary II.” I don’t think I ever posted publicly about it, but the main idea was basically “What if the Glorious Revolution went horribly wrong?” Recently, I was randomly struck with some new ideas for it, so I figured I’d write some stuff out.

During the advance on London, William is fatally shot by a random, independently-acting king’s man. Mary is in pieces when the news reaches her, but finds herself the new focal-point of the whole affair. William’s murder is an international incident; the invasion fleet is in disarray, unsure of whether to return home or press on, England is in chaos as the people struggle to make sense of what is going on (whether the aimless foreign army occupying their land is a good or bad thing, was the assassination justified or not, is war about to break out, what should be done about James, etc.), the Dutch want James’ head on a pike for killing their prince (James did not actually want William killed, but no one is willing to believe him at the moment), and all eyes in Europe are now on England. Despite her intense grief and lack of confidence in her abilities, Mary feels obligated to take up the reigns as the revolution’s new head.

She begins directing the invasion fleet and, once William’s body is returned to the Netherlands and she is able to lay him to rest, she sails to England to lead them in-person. She is driven by an urge to honor William’s memory and a burning desire for revenge upon her father for taking him from her. Despite her fairly swift arrival, the invasion has already been blown way off course; the English citizenry has become divided in their support for the revolution and James has had enough time to throw together a decent defending army. Instead of a bloodless coup, a full civil war breaks out between the two opposing sides. Mary truly wants no part in all this, but continues in her campaign because she feels that she must do what needs to be done.

Over the course of a year or so, Mary and James wage war against each other, despite both parties’ misery at “having” to do so. Eventually, Mary’s forces manage to push James out of Britain; he simply does not have enough support to keep fighting her indefinitely, despite her own unpopularity for leading a foreign army and instigating a second civil war. Mary is crowned queen while James and his family take refuge in France. However, the country remains unsettled and James continues to make attempts at regaining his crown, so Mary has her work cut out for her.

Parliament urges her to remarry in order to bring in more support and hopefully produce an heir, but Mary refuses to even entertain the possibility. Now that she no longer has the distraction of constant danger, her grief, combined with her pre-existing depression and the stress of having so many people relying on her to make decisions, is all-encompassing. She feels that remarrying would be a betrayal of William’s memory (despite him giving her permission to do so before leaving with the invasion force) and she decides she will never love again. She becomes an almost Queen Victoria-like figure, determined to stay in mourning for the rest of her life. Her unwillingness to compromise on this causes her reputation to take another hit, as she’s dooming the country to another succession crisis once she dies. Anne is still suffering her obstetrical problems, so there's no clear heir to the throne and many fear that the Dutch may attempt to sway Mary one way or another, as she is still closely involved with them despite not holding any power there.

Through the stress of navigating war and queenship without any preparation, Mary comes to rely heavily on Bentinck for support. He swore to William on his deathbed that he would protect and aid Mary and, in his own grief, has fully committed to that task. The two of them end up forming a somewhat co-dependent, but purely platonic, relationship, united in their grief for William. The English are highly skeptical of Bentinck; they already want to removal all Dutch influence from Mary’s court and his intense closeness with her has everyone convinced that they are having an affair. Some think that he's the reason she refuses to remarry, others that he’s manipulating her and is the real power behind the throne. None of it is true, but it does even more damage to Mary’s public image. After several years and several attempts to remove him through various means, Bentinck asks Mary to allow him to return to the Netherlands. She refuses, as she’s remained relatively isolated at court during her time as queen and she’s come to rely so heavily on his support and advice.

Eventually, during one of James’ attempts at invading Britain, a young James Francis Edward is captured by Mary’s forces. He is brought to her for her to decide what to do with him. Upon meeting him for the first time, Mary is struck with the horrible realization that this is indeed her brother and that the whole invasion that ruined her life it was predicated on a lie. Despondent and throughly emotionally exhausted, she is unsure of what to do with him and simply keeps him with her at Hampton Court. He’s young enough that he doesn’t completely hate her yet, and thus the two form a detached, but somewhat caring relationship. James and Maria are absolutely besides themselves, trying to get their son back, and Mary’s advisors are urging her to come to a decision about what to do with him, but Mary, exhausted with playing the political game, refuses to make a decision one way or another, content to simply sit still for the first time in the years. What happens next has yet to be seen.

All of this chaos and Mary’s extremely mixed reputation result in her going down in history as “Bloody Mary II.” She’s a figure of some sympathy on account of her horribly tragic life, but the English people simply could not forgive her for dragging them into a second civil war only 40 years after the first.

[unholycourier]

Gomez Sinclair - Lone Wanderer

Gomez Sinclair is the Lone Wanderer of The Capital Wasteland along with his twin sister, Asriel Sinclair ( said lone wanderer is owned by my bf). Read more about him below the cut! He’ll also be attached to the Fallout OCs Masterpost in my pin. :)

A reference for Gomez Sinclair Post-Vault 101/During FO3 Events and Post-FO3 Main Events. Gomez is a rather timid and somewhat closed off individual, even as he was being raised in Vault 101– only really talking to most at length with Asriel, Amata, Jonas and James. After James left the Vault 101, and Gomez and his sister were more or less exiled, Gomez only grew to be more of a nervous wreck and somewhat of a recluse.

With the sudden change in environment and every other wasteland aspect he was barely prepared to face, let alone deal with it himself. Surprisingly, Gomez is charismatic person despite his shyness and often stumbling over his words; a natural silver tongue that makes his awkwardness charming.

Though he’s good with small guns and exclusively hunting rifles, his proficiencies lie within science just like James, Gomez favors energy weapons. Medicine, too, is one of his strong suits, though wouldn’t consider himself to be on a doctor’s level.

The travel through the wasteland to find his dad wears him down significantly, and when James dies right in front of him right after finding him, he doesn’t get any time to mourn his death given the Enclave invading the Jefferson Memorial and the lethal levels of radiation; both him and Asriel having to escort the rest of the scientists through the tunnels + survive the Enclave attack sobers right up but for the worst, since he ends up bottling up James’s death for the sake of taking Project Purity back from the Enclave and take them down.

When it all comes to a head, Gomez, along with his sister, convinces President Eden to destroy the base, and soon enough, the final showdown presents itself and Gomez kills Colonel Autumn. The revenge brings him no relief, only hurt.

After activating Project Purity, Gomez suffers a head injury that requires the Brotherhood of Steel to perform surgery and install brain transplants to save his life.

Gomez bears Colonel Autumn’s uniform as a power move over the Enclave, bearing the uniform to spite and as some sort of reminder.

After some time, Gomez and his sister eventually go on about to do their own things. Gomez becoming an accomplished a scientist, and a lead scientist to keep the clean water production running throughout the Capital Wasteland, in memory of his parents. Some more pass and tensions grow with the Brotherhood of Steel’s presence becoming more present and oppressive, and constantly butting heads with them, disagreeing over a number of things including spreading the clean water throughout the rest of the wasteland like Gomez wanted, he left the project in search of the new Elder of the Brotherhood, Maxson, so he travels the wasteland in search for him— which ends him up in various places. The Mojave, California, even The Commonwealth.

And there is a sense in freedom in this. Not being known as the Lone Wanderer is relieving, having the spotlight on him never felt right nor warranted, despite his accomplishments and following in his dad’s footsteps. 29 year old Gomez is more confident and mature than 19 year old Gomez, still he keeps to himself and retains some of that timidness.

[bydusklight]

Thank you @spyscrapper for the ask! And also for alerting me to the fact that my asks were broken aslkfjsdlkgjdfklg HOME: Aramond was born in Ishgard, in the Brume. He left when he was very young, and did not call it home or think of it as such for over a decade. Still, he did eventually return to the Holy See. Over the course of the Dragonsong War ending and throughout the reformation, he has developed a kinship with the people of Ishgard that he never felt as a child. He does see Ishgard as his nation now, for all her faults and fractures. He has no regrets about leaving, but he has come to realize that he can have a hand in making Ishgard better than it was, and that cause has become very meaningful to him.

DEATH: Aramond lost his mother when he was fifteen. Her health deteriorated over the course of several months, so there was a prolonged period of mourning. They had no other living family, so it fell to Aramond to care for her until she passed. He couldn't confide his fears or his grief in her. There was nothing for it but to push those feelings aside. The task of caring for her distracted him from processing the eventual loss, and he welcomed that. He wasn't prepared when the time did come. It was devastating to lose the only family he had left. He doesn't remember much beyond wandering through the Brume, searching for someone to help him with the body. Eventually one of the temple knights took pity and came to his aid. LEAVE: After his mother passed, Aramond was offered a place to stay by a local shop-owner, an apothecary he'd met while searching for a cure. The man recognized his talent for magic right away and offered to teach him. But Aramond's thirst for knowledge and the freedom it brought grew quickly. For a child raised in the Brume, who had lost almost everything, even a taste of power could be addictive. He grew curious about the magicks the apothecary would not allow him to study, and stole some of the tomes he'd been forbidden to touch. He practiced the spells within in secret for almost a year. When he was discovered and reprimanded, his shame drove him to run away. He'd just turned sixteen when he fled to Ul'dah. He found a place in the Thaumaturge's guild there, and the city eventually became his home. LOSS: This ties in with the responses above, but loss has been a defining experience for Aramond throughout his life. If not his mother, his first significant loss probably happened before he was even born: his father died while his mother was still pregnant. Even though he never knew the man, Aramond felt his absence keenly. His mother worked herself sick to provide for them. The people of the Brume constantly commented on his resemblance to a man he would never meet. Aramond carried a lot of bitterness toward his father, and toward his circumstances in general, for a long time. Only recently has he developed a more nuanced understanding of who his father probably was: another Ishgardian soldier sent off to battle with dragons, never to return. Someone who likely had no choice in the matter. Aramond has seen that he's not the only one with such a story to tell. These days, he's focused less on what he's lost and more on what can be done to prevent others from growing up without a home, without a family. "For those we've lost, and for those we can yet save" has become a particularly poignant mantra for him. He keeps it close at hand for those times when grief threatens to take hold.

[sp1ed]

@prosopagn0sis inquired : [ 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 ] : sender and receiver are attending to a funeral. leon's!!!!!!!! inbox prompt : desperation inbox meme. prompt status : accepting !

𝙄𝙏  𝙎𝙀𝙀𝙈𝙀𝘿  𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀  𝙏𝙃𝙀  𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉  𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙉'𝙏  𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋𝙋𝙀𝘿    since  she'd  gotten  the  message  that  had  since  rendered  time  around  her  to  freeze .  there  hadn't  been  any  goodbye  or  closure  to  be  had  ,  just  a  singular  message  telling  her  that  leon  was  gone .  never  before  had  ada  felt  like  she  was  drowning  under  words  left  unsaid  ,  she'd  always  tried  so  hard  not  dwell  on  what  was  never  said  between  them  but  perhaps  it'd  always  sufficed  because  there  was  an  option  for  them  to  be  said  ,  one  day .  now  ,  now  there  was  nothing .

the  mercenary  would  never  be  able  to  express  just  how  much  he'd  changed  her  life  for  the  better  ,  even  if  she  hadn't  seen  it  at  first .  she  wouldn't  be  able  to  run  into  him  on  random  jobs  anymore .  though  there  once  was  a  time  ada  often  wished  for  it  ,  she  dreaded  that  he  eventually  would  just  become  another  face  forgotten  in  the  long  list  of  people  around  her  that  had  died  while  she  still  somehow  survived .

fundamentally  she  understands  it's  a  foolish  idea  to  show  up  to  his  funeral  ,  there  would  be  plenty  of  people  there  who  wanted  her  head  ⎯  and  a  part  of  her  doubted  the  government  would  pause  their  manhunt  just  because  she  was  in  mourning .

so  ada  does  what  she  does  best  ,  she  prepares .

it  was  easy  to  compartmentalize  when  she  can  treat  her  research  of  where  he's  being  laid  to  rest  ,  she  can  fool  her  brain  into  thinking  it's  just  another  job .  she  looks  over  the  lay  out  of  the  cemetery  for  hours  ,  his  plot  number  burned  into  her  brain  to  the  point  she  thinks  she  starts  seeing  it  out  of  the  dark  confines  of  her  apartment .  unlike  her  jobs  ,  however  ,  upon  stepping  foot  onto  the  grounds  of  the  smaller  cemetery  there  is  a  sense  of  dread  that  fills  her .  it  didn't  matter  what  she  did  ,  no  matter  how  hard  she  fought  ⎯  there  was  no  changing  the  outcome  of  this  day .

ada  keeps  her  distance  from  the  small  crowd  that's  come  to  pay  their  respects  ,  some  faces  among  them  ones  she  recognizes  ,  others  she  assumes  are  other's  he  has  worked  with  or  come  to  know  over  the  years .  she  still  rather  not  risk  bringing  much  attention  to  herself  so  she  watches  from  afar  ,  eyes  unable  to  fully  pull  from  the  sleek  ,  black  casket  that  everyone's  attention  is  to .  it  makes  her  stomach  twist  to  know  he's  just  in  there  ,  that  the  lid  is  sealed  and  there  is  never  a  chance  she'll  see  his  face  again  in  anything  more  than  photos .

leon  was  finally  somewhere  where  she  could  not  reach .

the  presence  at  her  side  nearly  startles  her  from  her  thoughts  ,  but  the  visage  of  a  familiar  figure  in  her  peripheral  is  almost  comforting  in  a  time  like  this  ⎯  even  if  it  had  been  a  bit  since  her  and  miriam  had  seen  each  other .

❛  surely  you'd  rather  be  up  there  with  the  rest  of  them . ❜  though  ada's  voice  is  steady  (  or  as  much  as  it  could  be  )  her  voice  feels  raw  ,  like  it's  the  first  time  she's  spoken  after  years  of  silence  when  in  fact  it's  only  been  hours .

❛  i'd  hate  to  deprive  you  of  a  proper  goodbye . ❜  even  with  the  subtle  urge  to  distance  herself  ,  there  is  a  part  of  her  that  leans  into  accepting  the  familiar  company  ,  to  make  taking  the  brunt  of  the  day's  events  not  so  violent  on  her  senses .