#his second was in war serving the gods ... doing his duty

[cabin10diaries]

my roman empire is jason grace

[meggannn]

hades 2 conversation dialogue my sister and i found interesting

SPOILERS obviously. my sister has been failing her runs on purpose to get more dialogue out of people. this post discusses dialogue that was not in the developer stream.

on hermes (mel and hecate are speaking about hermes and artemis at the start):

on melinoë, artemis, and the olympians:

on why mel is the only one who can kill chronos:

on hecate & mel's relationship:

on a secret order that mel is apart of:

on mel's job at the crossroads:

tension and secrets in the crossroads!!!!

when you give hypnos nectar:

(i wasn't fast enough to get his reply. hypnos says something like "zzzz... welcome to the.... zzzz"), then mel says:

other things i didnt screengrab:

hypnos: mel can remark to charon that hypnos is still asleep, charon says "arrghhh," and mel says "wait, he's of more use this way...?" possibly implying hypnos's sleep is not what it seems

nemesis: is uhhh kind of really mean!!!! she says something to mel along the lines of "you're upset you lost a family you don't remember? i KNEW my mom, all you did was be born"

moros: you can invite moros to the crossroads and he stands near the fated list far from everyone because nobody wants to talk to doom incarnate (odysseus in particular makes a point to say he'll stay away). iirc he introduces himself as "the bearer of bad news" which i find kind of clever but also a bit sad. if you give him nectar iirc he says nobody has given him a gift/offering before. aphrodite also notes that moros has made mel's acquaintance and calls him good-looking.

hephaestus: he criticizes your weapon's workmanship when you first meet him, then later takes it back and compliments it as very good, and says "just don't go spreading it around" to the olympians.

takeaways:

hermes is "missing" but he's on a mission for the war to find out what chronos is scheming

artemis (and hermes) didn't tell the olympians hecate has been raising a titan-killer (mel) and the olympians don't really believe she can do it but send her boons anyway, presumably figuring why not

only mel can enter the house of hades to challenge chronos, so that's why she needs to make this journey alone

hecate is rather sweet and mentorly with mel, but she gets exhausted and irritated when mel doubts herself. i didn't grab it but there's a bit where mel says if hecate had not held back, she knows she would've lost, and hecate snaps "you know?" asking mel why she puts limits on herself

mel, hecate, selene, and artemis are part of a secret order called the silver sisters that hermes also supports. olympus does not know about it. all these gods (save hermes) also have moon iconography in their designs

pretty sure moros will be romanceable. i think his and mel's interactions are very sweet, and aphrodite notes he's arrived and calls him good-looking, which reminded me of how she commented on thanatos to zag. no idea who might be a female romance option yet (i'm assuming there is one)

hephaestus boons are a lot of fun, per my sister

the big one: HECATE AND NEMESIS KNOW SOMETHING WE DON'T??? hecate maybe knew an attack was coming and didn't do anything?? nyx is also confirmed to basically be not around though we don't know where she is. and hecate is something called a handmaiden??? is she meant to serve nyx? it now seems like the children of nyx are meant to serve hecate, and eris isn't doing that, but nemesis is playing guard duty begrudgingly. so maybe nemesis thinks hecate let the house be captured/destroyed for her own ends, possibly also to get nyx out of the picture, so nyx's children would serve her(?). maye nyx is also a silver sister and hecate is now in command at the crossroads/on earth, second only to selene?

[janaknandini-singh999]

Being a king was a lovely business.

But it was also a lonely business.

How can that be? If you are surrounded by all people chanting your name from the top of their lungs like a war cry?

But what if you never wanted a war?

Any of that separation, agony and a cycle encompassing all of that just going on?

"Dharma" Ram told himself, closing his eyes

When Kaikeyi exiled him, he had looked at the dawn raising his hand to the sun, as if to reach out to the new life awaiting him now.

When Dashratha wept rivers, Ram had never seen his father this vulnerable. He wanted to console him, to cry with him, but he was bound to go away for his sake.

When Kaushalya, despite being the mother and the pain she'd face by her son's separation, she had blessed Ram to go, to do what he was meant to do.

When Shurpanakha's nose was cut off by his brother, Ram had closed his eyes tighter and sighed, knowing a war was inevitable now.

Before that, however, during the exile he was quite happy. Braiding his wife's hair by the river, pausing to look at her with loving eyes as he smiled.

"What is it?" Sita asked him, smiling back "Don't worry, swami. We will be back at our home before you know it. This exile is just by default."

"My love, for me any place with you is a honeymoon. Who cares about any exile?" He paused again to tug a stray hair behind Sita's ear "Just let me cherish this moment. Who knows when it will come to pass again?"

Sita cupped Ram's face which made him tear up a little bit "Nothing can separate us. Even if the world does, you shall be the only king and God to rule my heart forever."

"A king's duty is to serve. So, let me serve you, not rule." He whispered and kissed her hands

"As a king?" Sita raised her eyebrows in amusement, grabbing an opportunity to tease her ever solemn husband.

Ram shook his head, laughing "As your righteous and rightful darling lil husband, of course" and tickled her as the sounds of their laughter blended in with the gurgling of water and singing of the birds.

"What must it feel like to be the king, dada?" Bharat had asked him with dreamy eyes once when they were kids. Only if they knew.

"Everything ever." Ram would answer in the future

"Everything one would think they'd want.

In the end only to be a martyr,

Deemed by all as a God."

"Dada, please don't leave us alone!" Bharat cried and cried, finally taking his big brother's sandals to be placed on the throne.

The heart that breaks to keep everyone else's from breaking. Did the people love the king because of who he really was or just because of the sacrifices he made for them?

But there was one who loved him for who he really was.

Hanuman

He was moved by his devotion so that the warrior monkey soon became his family

He looked up now at the fireworks that burst in the sky

Fire

He had a strange relation with it

Fire, that ran in Lakshan's veins like rage. The fire of poison that almost took him away. Ram's world would've been long gone into darkness if he had lost his brother. But Hanuman rescued him, because of which Ram would forever be indebted to him.

Fire, that danced on Hanuman's tail. With which he set ablaze the whole kingdom of gold to ashes. The arrogance of a vast emperor defeated by the piety of "Jai Shri Ram"

Fire, that devoured Raavan's body with the flaming arrow launched by Ram. A festival that would be celebrated for eons to come.

And finally, fire that Sita had to enter for the agnipariksha. Ram knew nothing could touch her wife but for a brief second, he recalled Sati's trial and the grief Mahadev went through. He gripped his heart as a tear lingered by his eye, burning as intensely as the agni Sita was so calmly going into. But she emerged unscathed and Ram finally breathed relief.

What does it feel like to finally come home?

Ram looked around

Diyas lit up houses as far as the eyes could see

An inviting, slow flame of love, not violent fire

Rangoli adorning every doorstep in welcome

He could finally see his family, his brothers as they used to be when they were young, his parents desperate to see their son back, his people longing to touch his feet, Hanuman hugging him fiercely in between sobs and lastly, his wife's eyes numb with the happiness of reunion.

"Swami" she breathed as tears rolled down her cheeks

If he had cried earlier, they would've seen him as a weak king. Hanuman would've set the world ablaze if he saw his Ram upset. So would Lakshman. And Sita would even set herself on fire, all over again, a million times in a million births if that would ensure his happiness

But now Ram let go, all the tears he was holding back since what felt like forever

So? How does it feel?

"Prem" Ram told himself, closing his teary eyes and smiling, swaying his head silently to the tune which was on everyone's lips

Ram aayenge toh angnaa sajaungi

Deep jalaake diwali main manaungi

Meri jhopdi ke bhaag

Aaj khul jaayenge

Ram aayenge

[seneon]

月光 ݁ ˖ MOONLIGHT ── CHAPTER FIVE. THE WARRIOR THAT DIDN'T CEASE HAS RETURN TO FINISH HIS LAST TASK.

CONTENTS. ANGST. blood, cuts, wounds, false name usage, death and murder. sad sad, melancholic sadness. little extra chapter at the end. wc of three thousand.

moonlight series masterlist ₊ 𓂃 previous.

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆, blood dripped everywhere. sweat mixed it with the blood and into the surface of the wound it goes as an aching pain burned throughout the entire skin.

how did this happen?

how did you end up in the same situation all over again? like the war between nations and the war that is happening now. it is the same event that is happening all over again. except, nobody ever saw this war coming. this was impromptu, a fight against unknown enemies.

at the start, you remembered it all as clear as the day— of what you've been doing just before it led to this point. just like any other normal evening, you would cook meals for the mountain god and yourself. his bunny workers didn't need any food to survive, for they are the heavenly workers that were sent to assist rayne. but you still made little bunny treats for them.

dinner was then served, and you dined with the mountain god. nothing more, nothing less. just an average night in an average mountain with an average mountain god.

what consumed the averageness of it all was a single arrow that knocked over your spoon, still with soup on it, the second you put it near your lips. it left a faint scar in a single line that ran across your nose that blood started to run out.

rayne manipulated the wind and forced you backwards, his other hand moving to block any incoming arrows that were aiming right at you.

“y/n! are you alright?!”

“yeah!” you got on your feet and looked around in alert. “who shot those arrows?”

“i don't know. but surely they are not on this mountain because i don't feel any foreign presence.”

“it's definitely a skilled marksman,” you added, just as another arrow came into view right in front of you. with your instincts over hellish years of training under the imperial army, all you knew was how to dodge and deflect. so you deflected the arrow that was right in front of your face by pushing it away with your bare hands. that act caused the skin of your palm to tear apart, blood once more peeking through the cracks of your skin.

“you shouldn't have done that,” rayne scolded you. “i’m going to the direction of where the arrows are. you stay here.”

“no rayne, wait!”

too late. rayne has already flown to the mountain next to his. the arrow that was shot right at you was picked up, and you made a run after the mountain god.

there was no doubt about it. the arrow in your hand has the symbol of the mimihagi nation imprinted at the end of the arrow. what does someone from the mimihagi nation want from you? no— the question is, how did they even find you on the mountain?

your footsteps halted the moment you sensed an unfamiliar presence lurking around you. then the presence walked out from the shadows to reveal a man around your age, dressed in the clothing of a samurai. it clicked. you recognised this samurai. you remembered as clear as day that you stepped over his corpse while trying to run away from hell on earth. his hair that is oddly similar to the mountain god, half of it a sunflower yellow and the other half of it the darkest of obsidian.

did this samurai not perish along with the other corpses?

“in fear and terror that i traveled all over japan to find that one last survivor of the enemy army. and i finally found her,” the samurai said, a smile that looked so guilty displayed on his lips and his eyes that dropped in the pool of guilt. “i, samurai ryosuke yamamoto of the mimihagi nation, must fulfill my duty and kill all remaining enemies.”

this is bad.

before you could react, he swung his blade at you. ryosuke yamamoto servant of the mimihagi nation. the mimihagi are known for their skilful and talented warriors. no matter how weak their warriors are, each of them has their own specialty which builds up the army.

the sword you picked up became your temporary defense against a perfect blade. of course, it was cut down into two pieces and you obtained a mild cut on your fingers. there is no way you are going to win. you have nothing on you. no weapon, no nothing. just battle experience which led you all the way here.

where is your sword when you need it?

you tossed the broken arrows aside and made a run for it. there is nothing you can do empty-handed. you are a warrior who uses weapons to fight. you are trained to enter the battlefield with a weapon or two in your hand. you couldn't win this fight alone.

rayne ames scrunched his eyebrows together at the sight of a child with beautiful blonde hair holding an arrow with an awkward smile that shakily surfaced.

“what is ryoh’s child doing here? are you the one who shot those arrows?!” rayne exclaimed, demanding an explanation as ryoh himself came into view.

ryoh grantz, god of light. a god who has lived in this world for thousands of years, serving as one of the original gods that was chosen once the earth formed. clearly, if rayne were to fight him, one snap of ryoh’s fingers would send the mountain god back to light. it would be stupid to engage in a battle with a heavenly god.

“you have defied the divine rules of heaven by involving yourself with a mortal. let me rephrase that, boy. you failed as a mountain god by allowing a human girl into your sacred mountain and also, falling in love with her,” ryoh explained, his hand softly combing through his blonde hair. “you know it is wrong to be making love on a mountain that is sacred don't you, rayne?”

“what is so wrong with showing affection to the girl i love in a mountain that i ruled in?” rayne asked. he knows that the mountain he guards is sacred, blessed by all heavenly gods. true he might have gone as far as to kiss your lips or to caress your face a few times, but he knew that the mountain subjects didn't mind it at all. so why did the divine visionaries send a god of theirs to give rayne his judgment?

“you might or might not have forgotten, but you are not to allow a mortal to step foot into the mountain. the part of the divine tree is slowly starting to decay with the disruption of a mortal staining the soils of the mountain with her sins.”

ah yes... all the sins you committed in that war alone. all the burdens and blood that you carried all the way into a mountain you didn't even know that you weren't supposed to step in. all the blood on your blade that you have collected.

“she is a lost woman with a kind heart. she doesn't know,” rayne defended, and ryoh let out a sigh, giving his son a ruffle on his head. “there is no use arguing with you. but i tell you, your woman will die today, from the hands of another mortal in your mountain.”

the moment ryoh cease talking, rayne has already left. he rushed to your side, the wind creating havoc all around the mountain. through all the dust, leaves and soils of the ground, rayne swiped his hands to the side and brought all of it away. the image of finn ames burned into the back of the mountain god's mind.

“finn..?” rayne let out under his breath at the sight of a familiar face. the face of his late brother, a mortal far different than he is. but the samurai standing opposite of him isn't the brother that he knew. it was someone else with the appearance of his brother. regardless, rayne felt emotionally challenged by the samurai.

“now, allow this human boy to be the result of your judgment, rayne,” ryoh came into view and held the shoulders of ryosuke. “you know the rules. you shall not interfere with mortal battles.”

mountain god rayne ames felt like a mouse trapped in a cage. what do you mean he has to stand aside and watch as you fight against a man? but then again, rayne ames knows that you are a strong and great warrior who survived a great war all alone. this is the perfect timing too. your sword has finished its repair.

“partisan,” rayne summoned a sword out from the dimension where he kept all the swords in the world and pulled out your sword. “y/n!” he called out and handed your sword to you as you took it and immediately unsheathed it.

your blade… as beautiful and shiny as it could get. it was far different from the sword that your squad lieutenant gave you. this sword feels like it was made from magic, forged for days and nights. you could see your reflection in the blade, the blade that was brought back to life by the hands of the sword cane, as they call him, the master of swords.

“thank you, rayne!” you swung it once and aimed it at the samurai in front of you. “now, honoured samurai ryosuke, let's finish what i couldn't, yeah?”

...

you came this far with cuts and bruises all over, breath hitching and body shaking all over. your feet are unstable, going back and forth in small motions before it completely gave up on you and you stumbled to the ground. a mouthful of metallic hot red liquid forced itself out of your mouth, falling and staining your hands along with the blade that didn't belong to you.

“r-rayne..” your shaky voice trailed off, hands moving to catch the sleeves of rayne’s kimono. just to tug on it or to hold it. it didn't matter. what matters is that rayne gets back his senses. “stupid god rayne,” you added, managing to get a hold of his kimono sleeves before you gripped it as tightly as you could. “come back to me.”

the said man’s eyes slowly widened, the honey in his eyes starting to brew again. rayne glanced down at his hand where he held his greatest sword. but the blade is not pointed towards his enemy. it is pointed to you, rayne's lover, right through your chest. stabbed exactly where your old wounds remained and where rayne used his own herbs to cure.

fear spreaded throughout the entirety of the fearless mountain god. it was like a wave that washed over the island, causing calamity that was unseen to the world. the moment rayne snapped back to reality, he felt the desperate tugs on his arm where his sleeves were being pulled by your weak hands and your pleas for him to come back to his senses.

“y/n—” as swift and as painless as he could, he pulled out his blade and held your weakened body in his arms.

all this happened by seeing you fight alone and losing, rayne also lost his temper as he saw your skin getting dirtied with slices and wounds. he couldn't bare to watch you get hurt, so he broke another divine rule as in, interfering with a battle between mortals by using his magical abilities. he broke another rule— killing a human being. rayne ames murdered samurai ryosuke yamamoto who held the face of his dead brother, finn ames.

see, even divine beings commit sins.

you are about to be the next human being whose life he ends. that thought pains him. once a god commits a sin, they lose an authority of theirs or a piece of their mind. rayne in that moment, lost a piece of his mind and saw you in a view of hatred. divine punishment is already beginning for the mountain god.

“i’m glad you're back,” you said, a smile so broken forming on your face. your grip on his sleeve never letting go. you wanted to hold him as much as you could, with the little left and the need to just stop breathing. “rayne i really thank you for allowing me to be yours. but i can't any longer. i will enter hell and suffer in it for walking on corpses.”

“please stop talking,” rayne hugged you tightly, his head burying into your neck. he didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to do other than to murmur a string of apologies. guilt started to weigh down heavy on him, consuming him bit by bit.

you could feel his tears that flowed down your skin. the feeling broke your heart even more. to leave rayne all alone again. who knows what kind of punishment heaven or hell has in mind for him? his hug tightened and tightened even more, not wanting to let go. he never wanted to let you go. not when he found someone he actually loves and cares way more than himself.

it is unwise from the start, for a divine being to fall in love with an earthly being. there is such a big difference between them, and rayne knows it. he knows it all too well. he isn't someone stupid. he doesn't feel as if it is stupid to fall in love with you. in fact, rayne does not regret ever giving his heart to you.

“rayne i promise i will dance with you soon. so stop crying okay? please stop crying, rayne,” you held his face, your own tears fighting to make their debut just as you felt your end nearing. “i’m sorry, rayne.”

...

huh?

. . .

“y/n no no no no you can't... please no, don't leave me please please please…”

that night, mountain god rayne ames wailed at the death of his beloved. so did his sacred mountain, in which petals and soil all decayed and wilted for their ruler's lover. the moon cried it's tears too, turning it's moonlight as gray as it could.

“welcome to easton magic academy! today is a brand new day for all of us! to officially enter the academy, all applicants must go through an entrance exam to determine if you are qualified to be in easton or not,” the host announced, ignoring the fact that the students were fawning over a beautiful princess from the royal family who stood among them like a commoner.

from the side, blank golden honey eyes stared at the said princess stoically. the boy let out a scoff at she was unbothered by the crowd gathering all around her. on the other side, there were people who whispered to each other in a salty conversation at a royal who attends a magic school with common people.

to the princess, she already expected such a commotion from the moment she opened her mouth to urge the words of wanting to go to school like normal people. this was the only consequence she had to bear if she wanted to be a normal girl.

“leave her highness alone,” the boy with honey eyes stood in front of the princess just as everyone else gasped at the double line on his face. they knew instantly not to mess with someone who harbours two magic lines, for the double-liners are feared among the academy.

the said double-liner took a glance back at you and gave you a bow. when he glanced back up to look at you, something sparked. there was something in your eyes that felt so familiar, along with the single line that ran across your nose. the princess seemed to have felt the same way, as she looked around the boy's face where his lines are engraved.

the boy felt rude for staring too long, so he averted his gaze away and apologised. his voice and the way he apologised is all so familiar for the princess too. she doesn't know what the feeling of knowing him is. but she is curious. “may i ask what your name is? it would be great if i have someone i know with me.”

what is her highness saying? rayne asked himself, bowing his head once more. “my name is rayne. rayne ames. your highness, i do not understand what you meant by someone you know. we have never met before.”

“rayne ames, rayne ames.. ames rayne..” the princess said repeatedly, trying to get a single of her senses right. but nothing came to mind. the same thing went on for rayne, he couldn't shake the feeling that the princess right in front of him is just so familiar in a way that her presence felt like home.

princess y/n of the l/n family, a royal princess born into the royal family. the next heiress to the throne, one with power all over the nation. she who is right here in this magic academy with every other maguses.

“princess y/n, uhm, have we danced together before?” rayne asked, suddenly remembering a memory that was locked away long ago, finally unlocked.

y/n thought for a while before nodding. “we have, i think.” she said and looked at rayne. “i don't know why nor do i remember, but i feel like i know you. oh well… do you want to dance together someday? perhaps we can figure out what's so familiar about each other.” she said with a small smile that instantly made rayne nervous.

“sure,” he quickly said, trying not to sound like he was nervous or having a shaky voice.

“let's begin the first exam!”

“we shall converse later, your highness,” said rayne as y/n sighed. “i am equal to everyone here, so in this academy, i am y/n.”

“alright warrior y/n. don't complain to his majesty if i end up being better than you.”

the princess playfully punched rayne's shoulders. “do not worry, i have grown stronger, stupid rayne.”

ryoh grantz watched from afar, sipping on a cup of expensive tea and a slow surfacing smile. “they are once again together huh?”

THE END — or perhaps not..? could the two have eventually found out about their last lives? are they able to live peacefully with each other around?

NOTES. RAAAGGHH END END END oh rayne how i love you ):

TAGS ݁ ˖ @kyoghurts @anqelically @caelivir @bblade00 @ansbobcar @rjasmin2021 @lunarbaboon

© SENEON￤MOONLIGHT 2024. do not alter or repost.

[melmedarda]

@meljaymicrofics ⸻ royalty au ⸻ wc: 540 ⸻ rated G

As an indentured servant, Jayce does not see the ruling family of Piltover often, but every glimpse of them he catches is enough to give a boy dreams. He becomes greedy for their sightings, dressed in their gold and crimson, bright like the sun, like some glittering ancient god. Forever youthful.

It is she he sees the most of. The second child of the Medarda House, honeyed and gilded. Called Mel, she is his age, and yet so vastly distant from him in deportment and station. A distant star. And then one day as she passes him in the hall, he swears she smiles at him, a slight shadow of the real thing, but a smile all the same. And Jayce has never wanted anything so desperately than to befriend the princess.

The vision of her lingers, the scent that follows her feathering across his skin and clinging to him even after she is gone. He cannot forget the gentleness of her manners, the shrewdness in the hazel of her eyes that betrays the mind behind that gaze. She is girl, she is princess, she is the makings of a ruler soon to be. There is a curiosity that settles in his bones, curious and tugging, his eyes following the princess whenever she appears.

Now, at fifteen, Jayce finds himself splitting his time between the blacksmith’s forge and the stables, while learning the art of war. He is taught to use the greatsword, how to shoot a bow, but he finds he is better at wielding a warhammer or maul. Still, he excels in them. He cannot afford to fail, not when his service counts towards a debt.

“Ye think they do not see how yer look at her, boy?" The blacksmith grunts. “Her brother will pluck ye eye out for staring the way ye do, aye, that he will.” Jayce shrugs, cannot find it in himself to care. Cannot find it in himself to look away from her.

The older Jayce becomes, the fewer and farther in between are the glimpses he catches of her. They move him from the main house and relieve him of his duty as blacksmith; though his house may be ruined, he is still a nobleman after all. No matter how disgraced. He is a page now. A knight in training.

She becomes a dream he holds deep in his heart, even deeper than the dream to see his mother, or his wish to become a huntsman like the prince, famed and known across the land for his skill with a rifle. But Jayce, young though he may be, is well aware of his place. He is the son of a baron, a baron long passed and debt laden. He is not in any place to gaze as he does, to dream as he does.

He is not of the sort to fraternize with royalty. There are those who's lot in life is to rule, and those who's it is to serve. To lead and to follow. He is meant to serve, and his longing has no place in this life.

But at night, his dreams are his own, and he falls asleep to the princess smiling at him from beneath his eyelids.

[ww2yaoi]

I returned to Littlecote with a start when the lieutenant ended his list abruptly with a private named Zoltz. For a few seconds the Regiment stood sad and silent in the lovely Wiltshire dale under the big, white, summer clouds that were so peaceful and eternal, and then, before we could start coughing and shifting our feet, Chaplain McGee stepped to the front of the reviewing stand and said, “Let us pray. We will read aloud the 506th Parachute Infantry prayer that is printed on your program sheets.” We had been handed these programs as we marched onto the field. The prayer, a fine example of the Gott mit Uns spirit of the paratroops, was written by Lt. James G. Morton. “Almighty God,” we began, “we kneel to Thee and ask to be the instrument of Thy fury in smiting the evil forces that have visited death, misery, and debasement on the people of the earth. We humbly face Thee with true penitence for all our sins, for which we do most earnestly seek Thy forgiveness. Help us to dedicate ourselves completely to Thee. Be with us, God, when we leap from our planes in the dark abyss and descend in parachutes into the midst of enemy fire. Give us iron will and stark courage as we spring from the harnesses of our parachutes to seize arms for battle. “The legions of evil are many, Father; grace our arms to meet and defeat them in Thy name and in the name of the freedom and dignity of man. Keep us firm in our faith and resolution, and guide us that we may not dishonor our high mission or fail in our sacred duties. Let our enemies who have lived by the sword turn from their violence lest they perish by the sword. Help us to serve Thee gallantly and to be humble in victory.” There was a pause and then through the still, warm air came the clear notes of a lone bugle playing “Taps”: When your last Day is past, Some bright star From afar O'er your grave, Watch will keep. While you sleep With the brave. The Regiment said, “Amen,” and lifted their heads. “Call your battalions to attention!” the adjutant shouted. Colonel Strayer spun on his heel and threw back his shoulders. “BaTALLYOWN... tenSHUN!” We straightened our backs, raised our heads, clicked our boots together, slapped our hands to our sides. The band began to play “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” and the 1st Battalion went by. We wheeled about and followed them off the field. The Invasion was over, the memorial service had ended. In Normandy, the dead lay forever silent in the dappled-green parachutes that had carried them to earth. We were ready to go again, because we could only go forward, never back. Somebody had to do it. We were not ashamed of the task. We were the infantry, the Queen of Battles. The truck drivers could do their part and get our battle stars, the manufacturers could get rich on cost-plus-10-percent and shout that wars are won by production, but we knew that nothing was solved and nothing accomplished until the infantry had killed the enemy and driven him from his ground. And so we went forward, one regiment, filled up with replacements, the dead as fine and strong a part of us as the living men, so fresh and new, who had come to take their place. 

David Kenyon Webster, Parachute Infantry, pg. 67-68

[witchthewriter]

𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 '𝐆𝐚𝐳' 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

ISFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Gemini Sun, Virgo Moon, Cancer Rising

The fact that Kyle Garrick doesn't have as much popularity as some of the other characters in the Call of Duty world. is sinful. It's blasphemy.

Look, at first I was one of those people who didn't like Gaz as much as the rest of the Task Force, but now, NOW, I see him as such a valuable member. This is my formal apology to thy beautiful god of a man, Gaz.

And also a post so those that say, 'they don't know anything about Gaz so they cannot include him' - well here's your info babes!

"𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉?" — 𝖪𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝖦𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄

Alias(es)

Sabre 2-6

Bravo 0-5

Bravo 2-6

Bravo 6-2

Bravo 6-1

Gaz

Nationality: British

Rank: Sergeant Sergeant is a senior role of responsibility, promotion to which typically takes place after 12 years of service, depending on ability. Sergeants typically are second in command of a troop or platoon of up to 35 soldiers, with the important responsibility for advising and assisting junior officers.

Birth: 1993 However, he is older than Soap.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Kyle Garrick enlisted in the British Army in 2008, serving in the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, spending four years participating in test flights, jump competition and marksmanship before passing selection for Her Majesty's elite Special Air Service (SAS), where he is currently serving as a Sergeant for his sixth year.

Tasked to Northern Ireland, Bosnia, Turkey, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. Garrick has spent the better part of his career hunting terrorist fighters.

Kyle earned the U.S. Marine Corps Gold Parachute Wings at Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune in North Carolina whilst on an exchange attachment and routinely cross-loads on operations with the SAS' American counterparts, the Navy SEALs.

Required to undergo resistance to interrogation (RTI) testing, Kyle was the only candidate in his class to escape the facility and evade capture.

Routinely subjected to physically and mentally uncomfortable scenarios, Kyle prides himself on high tolerance and tactical awareness.

Sergeant Garrick was awarded the Queen's Gallantry Medal and the General Service Medal for both covert and overt counter-terrorism operations in the Middle East, disrupting opium supply lines and poppy production, a major source of terrorist financing.

With expertise in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance and VIP protection, Kyle currently serves on the SAS domestic counter-terror program, executing homefield missions with metropolitan police forces on European soil.

Challenging duty, due to civilian and collateral damage issues, Kyle seeks the opportunity to serve abroad again, and make a real difference combating the threat of terror.

Quotes

" Fuck off, shit pouch."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place sir."

"They sent us in half assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we're not at war."

"I'm not dead, Nik. I'm hanging from a bloody rope!"

Personality

Very rarely does Kyle demand attention. He's observant problem-solving and bases his decisions on his instincts and values, and focuses on enjoying the present.

However, with the line of work he's in. Kyle has had to change the way he reacts to things. One really obvious scene between him and Cpt Price shows how this job is changing Kyle e.g,. Price’s quote about bloodying your hands after taking the gloves off.

Even so, I do think he's the most gentle of the four men, the kindest - almost like he's clung to his humanity with everything he's got.

sources: @mockerycrow. callofdutyfandom.com.

[ladywaffles]

16 + icemav for the drunken confession prompts!!!

okay so this one kinda ran away from me, oops! thank you for playing <3

"This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams, we're usually kissing."

send me a pairing and a number!

It lasts sixteen months.

They run out the clock as best as they can, and then they put overtime on the clock and run that down too.

But Ice has always wanted, and then wanted more, and TOPGUN was only ever a stop on the way to the top for him.

He understood that going in; their time was limited. Maverick has never shied away from a challenge, though, especially one that Iceman placed in front of him.

Create a life that makes Iceman want to stop, for him. Make a place that Iceman won’t want to leave, when the time comes.

(It will be many years down the line when he finds out, but Maverick was almost successful in his attempt. It is only the decades they have behind them, spent together, that stops this from hurting.)

So Ice’s time at TOPGUN comes to an end. It’s almost a joke, really; Maverick’s track record of relationships in Miramar is oh-for-two. Charlie had packed off for D.C. before Ice rotated back stateside. Maverick was too burned by the experience to even think about approaching Ice in any way that hinted of romance.

Sixteen months of flying circles around hotshot flyboys with Ice on his wing, the wide expanse of the Pacific stretching out in front of him. He really couldn’t hope for anything better. He only wishes he had more time.

They spend their last night of freedom—Ice’s second-to-last night onshore—on a pub crawl that Mav will be feeling in the morning. He won’t regret it, but even as he matches Ice shot for shot, because Ice is an all-American poster boy but he hates beer more than anything, Maverick wants to slow down and take in these last memories of Ice at his side. They serve at the pleasure of the Navy, and only God knows when the brass will smile on them and send down orders to reunite Maverick Mitchell and the Iceman, the only fighter pilots on active duty to score air-to-air kills since the end of the Vietnam War.

They close out a bar on the other side of town, and then because it’s Ice’s last night and Ice gets what he wants, no matter how stupid Maverick thinks it might be, they end up on a picnic bench in some park, looking up at the admittedly bright stars.

“Do you ever miss it?” Ice asks.

“Hmm?” Maverick’s head is still fuzzy, his cheeks still warm with all the alcohol rushing through his body.

“The stars,” Ice says, staring up. “When you’re here, don’t you miss it? When you were out on the Enterprise. I swear I used to go up on deck every night just to look at the stars.”

Maverick shrugs. “They’re mostly the same, no matter where you go. Maybe if I crossed the line and the constellations changed, I’d care more, but stars are stars.”

“Huh.”

“Do you?” Maverick turns to look at Ice, who seems to be tracing out lines in his mind, vectors towards true north, or maybe the outline of Cygnus.

“Yeah. Where I grew up, the light pollution was so bad, you could barely make out the North Star. The city was just too bright. The first time I was on a carrier, and I saw the stars, what they actually looked like… Man, Slider must’ve thought I was dumb, walking around with my mouth gaping open like a fish. Nearly ate shit when we were heading back to bunk because my head was in the clouds, I hit the knee-knockers. He didn’t let that one go for weeks.”

“At least you’ll get to see them again,” Maverick tells him.

Stay, his heart begs him to say. Stay here, with me. I’m not the starry night sky, but can’t I be enough? Please, let me be enough to keep you.

“Yeah,” Ice muses. “I almost wish I could take you with me.”

“What?” Maverick lets out a shaky laugh.

Ice smiles, that small little thing that he does whenever he’s amused, the one that Maverick learned to look for early on. A blink-and-you-miss it grin, a glimpse into the real man behind the Iceman.

“What? Was it not obvious? You need me to say it out loud?”

“I don’t—”

“I’m gonna miss you, Mitchell,” Ice says easily. He doesn’t look in Maverick’s direction, even as he continues. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do out there without you on my wing. It’s been so long since I— since I flew without you right there, annoying me over the radio. What am I gonna do without you chattering in my ear?”

“I’m sure you’ll find another flyboy out there to talk your ear off,” Maverick replies, falling into the banter. It’s not what he expected from Ice, but maybe the alcohol had more of an effect on Ice than he thought it did.

“I would stay here, if I could,” Ice admits.

You can! Maverick wants to cry. You can stay here! Fly with me! Stay with me!

“I’m gonna be a tough act to follow,” he says instead.

“You sure are,” Ice agrees.

“You can’t stay here if you want that promotion, though. That’s what you want.”

“What I want,” Ice repeats. “You know, these last few weeks, I wanted nothing more than this.”

Ice looks at him now, a blush on his cheeks from the chill bite of the midnight air and the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Maverick furrows his brow. “This?”

“Just sitting here, taking a moment to enjoy your company. Don’t let it get to your head, Mitchell, I’m still the better pilot, but you’re a good man. Everyone’s wanted something from me these last few weeks, and I was worried I wouldn’t get a chance to say it.”

Maverick cracks a grin. “You were thinking about me?”

Ice groans. “Of course that’s what you latch onto.”

“Iceman, thinking about little ol’ me!” Maverick jumps up and yells it out to the world, teasing Ice. It’s the only way he can think to make it hurt a little less, that it took Ice this long to say anything. “I win!”

“This isn’t what I was dreaming of,” Ice deadpans.

Maverick turns to him, breathless. That… changes things. “You were dreaming of me?” He sits back down next to Ice, a little closer than before. Their knees are knocking together.

Ice stares down at the ground, focusing on the grass with deadly intent.

“Yes. Yeah,” he breathes out.

“And is this like your dream?” Maverick asks gently. “Is this the dream you wanted?”

“This is not a dream, I think,” Ice answers in a soft voice. “In my dreams, by now, we’re usually kissing.”

And Ice looks up at him, his heart fully bared and placed in Maverick’s hands, his eyes full of hope and fear in equal measures, and Maverick aches.

“I would’ve said something sooner,” Ice continues, “But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk it. It took me all night to work up the courage to say something, and all that alcohol to pry it from my own damn self, but the only thing I’ve wanted to do all night is just say it and take you back to mine, so I could have you, just for the one night—”

Maverick cuts him off with a hand on his jaw. He can feel the flush in Ice’s cheeks, the hot blush that rises to his skin. “Ice, it’s okay,” he says.

And slowly, so Ice knows that it’s coming, so Ice can stop him if he wants to (even though that might break Maverick’s heart, and maybe Ice’s too, if he’s understanding this right), Maverick presses his lips to Ice’s. He feels the hot puff of Ice’s sigh against his lips, then the hard tug of Ice’s hands on his hips as he deepens the kiss.

Maverick willingly follows where Ice leads him, because his wingman has never led him astray. He ends up straddled across Ice’s lap, hanging on desperately as Ice kisses him with a passion he’s never felt from anyone else.

It’s only when he can’t breathe anymore that he stops, leaning his forehead against Ice’s, his weight falling back on his haunches. Ice’s hands steady him as they breathe together, big, heaving sighs like they’d just done the thousand-yard dash.

Stay, Maverick’s heart chants. Stay with me, don’t leave. Ask me to go with you, and I will. Just say the words.

“You have to go,” Maverick says sadly. He’s sobering up faster than he ever has before, realizing that there are a scant few hours left between now and when Ice goes back to sea.

“I have to go,” Ice repeats. He presses a light kiss to Maverick’s lips.

I’m sorry.

“I’ll be here,” he says.

Come back to me. I can’t lose you too.

Maverick kisses him again, and again, and again, to drive the point home.

“I’ll come back,” Ice replies, understanding.

The timer on Ice’s last day has already started ticking. Maverick is surprised more than anything when Ice drives them back to his housing, seven hours after they first set out on their pub crawl, and opens the passenger door for Maverick. He leads him into his bedroom and holds him for the rest of the night, falling asleep just as the sun starts to peek through the blinds.

Maverick doesn’t want to let go, but he won’t stop Ice. He commits Ice to memory as best he can, and when the time comes, he kisses Ice hard, pouring sixteen months of wanting and desire and love into it.

Ice meets him with the same fervor, the same built-up emotion flowing out of him, a mirror image of his own feelings reflected back to him.

They’re wingmen, after all.

[miilkybnn]

I know these have been requested already but I adore your 09 and cowboy Ghost/Roach/Soap art and would love to see more!! Also, do you have any cowboy/gunslinger headcanons for the three??

I, too, adore ’09 GhostRoachSoap AND cowboy/ranch life GhostRoachSoap so you absolutely WILL see more of them, I promise!!

As for ideas/hc for the cowboy au, it’s a lot more “ranch life” based than gunslingers so if you are into that, keep reading below the line!

If not, then you are more than welcome to skip over this :}

Disclaimer: Most of my ideas are a bit scattered so I apologize for the messy layout, I’ll try my best to keep it coherent. Also, this is not all of them I don’t want this to be overly long

Background:

The AU takes place in Roach’s family ranch where all three members have been discharged from duty.

In this AU, because I like happiness, there is no war over the horizon and is simply a group of people living their lives out on the rolling plains of either Texas or Tennessee— I’m leaning more towards Texas just because I know more about the agriculture of the Texas plains.

In this AU, the 141 & Co simply live their lives from either being retired/discharged/etc. While everyone is involved (except for Shepherd, eat shit and die Shepherd), they all do their own thing but primary attention is mainly on GhostRoachSoap

Roach (+ extended background):

Roach and his other 5 siblings have the ranch under their and their parent’s name. He and two of his siblings, the youngest and the second oldest, are more active in taking care of the ranch's needs now that their parents are well into their ages. The other three help ever so often with more minor things but they have their own families to tend to and his parents don't actually live in the ranch anymore (again, due to age) and live closer to the city.

Roach, however, is the main caretaker for the ranch. He spends the most time on the land and is often alone, that was until Ghost and Soap came

Headcanons;

His accent left when he joined the army. Came back tenfold after a week on the ranch.

Has a collection of cowboy hats and each one serves a purpose (although his favorite is his very worn-out Cattleman that he leaves by the front door to take on his way out)

Expert horse rider. I'm not saying you would see this man at the Rodeo, but he’s had his fair share of bucking broncos, and not ONCE has he been bucked off.

Though there are horses on the ranch, his horse is Estella— a Chestnut American Quarter Horse with three white socks (forelegs + right hind leg) and a star + stripe. She loves to chew on people’s clothes if they turn their backs on her.

Has slept in the barn before (multiple times) and regrets it every time (wouldn’t recommend it, very lumpy and you WILL wake up with straw in places you don’t want it to be)

LOVES cattle work, and hates paperwork 💀 (he lets Ghost, and his two other siblings take care of it) due to this, he is good at reading the animals and knowing when something is wrong!

Are good friends with the vet! (It’s his ex 💀) (They broke amicably though so it’s okay!!) (“So, like, when I kiss you??…. it’s gross” “OH thank God, I thought it was only me")

Gets SOOO distracted when Soap is picking the hay bales. Bff short circuits for a good minute before Ella gets miffed at him and throws her head back

Cows > sheep (will make an exception for baby lambs tho)

Soap:

Along with Ghost, realistically both would not actually retire in some rural Texas town but because I can, let's say they decided to retire to some rural Texas town.

Soap is the most recent member to the farm and took to it like a duck to water. (We'll ignore the times he forgot to lock the chicken coop). He was on active duty but after a close call that was too close to comfort, he decided that maybe it was time to retire. Price is the one that mentioned the ranch to him, although at the time he did not know it was a ranch.

All Price told him was “if you are looking for something a little different, take a look here" and looking he went.

Headcanons:

Not on the friendliest terms with the cattle dogs but boy do they LOVE him (they’ve tried to herd him multiple times and have succeeded) (he cusses both Ghost and Roach out for watching and letting it happen)

Loves the nitty gritty work. Hay bales? Check. Cleaning the stables? On it. Shearing the sheep? The Clippers are all warmed up already. If there’s a job that involves getting his hands dirty, he is the first in line

Sheep > cows

His horse is a Buckskin American Quarter Horse that he very proudly named Buck. This name came after Roach told him the color of his coat but was reinforced when Soap tried riding him and was almost bucked off. They became the best of pals after that, and Buck occasionally tries to nibble Soap’s mohawk for fun.

His favorite chore is feeding the animals! He loves watching them all flock to their food and munch away. He doesn't find it much of a chore as it fills him with such joy to see all the creatures he cares for flourish.

Gagged the first, second, and third time he saw a sheep give birth. Man has seen a soldier’s leg come clean off from a bomb and recovered in less than 5 minutes but BIRTH? Get the bucket ready.

Ghost:

Discharged after a mission had gone wrong, Ghost had no idea where to go. With no family to go back to and no friends to crash with, civilian life was looking very bleak until Price came to him with a plane ticket and an address to some rural town in Texas.

Ranch life was… different for Ghost. It wasn’t bad per say, and he can’t really find much to complain about, but it was just different. It is... steadier? softer? he's not too sure but at least it lets him sleep easier at night.

It took him and Roach a while to find a rhythm. It wasn’t easy and it was very awkward at first but eventually they were able to settle on something unique for them that worked out.

Headcanons:

Sheep > cows

He likes to roam around with the LGDs. He greatly respects their jobs and has grown a soft spot for them. He knows he’s not supposed to distract them, but he just can’t help himself and always gives them a good belly rub.

Became good friends with the farrier. Farrier does most of the talking but Ghost will join in here and there. He really likes learning about the Farrier's different methods and likes to watch him work on the horses. (Lowkey thinking about making Jackson the farrier bc why not)

One of my favorite personal hc's about Ghost is that he is shit at naming things so yeah, he named his horse, Horse. Roach almost took his horse privileges away because of it but anyway, his horse is not an AQH like Roach/Soap but is instead one of the two draft horses the ranch has! His horse is Blue Roan Clydesdale with a very splotchy coat that loves peppermints and loves napping her days away (she’s had three kids alright she deserves it)

Genuinely enjoys doing the ranch paperwork. Sure, he has to ask Roach here and there where some of the stuff is at but honestly? Could spend hours reading and organizing the books and such. He's very interested in the topics discussed.

Earliest riser. His favorite time of the day is just before the sun peaks over the horizon where everything is blue and foggy, where condensation sits on his skin, when the crickets are still chirping, and when the mourning doves are softly cooing. Roach wakes up soon after him.

[eclairfair98]

“I lost my father to a war, Tom,” he whispers, heat pressing down on his shoulders, burning the inside of his ribs, slamming into the pit of his roiling stomach. “I know flying’s dangerous. Better than most people, I’d think.”

And he sees it then. The purple sun rising across the horizon. Its faint light glancing across the slope of Dad’s brow, catching in his close-cropped hair, bouncing off his wide grin. Sees Dad’s face every time he got a perfect score on a test. Won a prize at the science fair. Outran every single one of his classmates.

Sees the warmth of pride, of happiness that lit up his eyes. Made them shine. Made Pete think that he could shine, too.

“Why do you want to be a naval aviator?”

Despite himself, he reaches out a tentative hand and touches Tom’s cool cheek. Brushes his fingertips down the slope of his strong jaw, wishing he could banish the stress from his expression.

Tom’s hands still, then crumple into tight fists as his eyes harden into pools of ice.

“I want to serve my country. Be a part of something bigger than myself. Honor my family—” Tom says, and that’s it, isn’t it? It’s that simple.

“Then why is it that I can’t do the same for my country? For my family?” he interrupts, knowing that Tom has to see reason now. That it’s all so very simple when you put your mind to it. “Don’t you see, Tom? If my father was here today. If he was alive… he would’ve been so proud of me.”

Pete hastily wipes the wetness rolling down his cheeks. Tastes the saltwater on his lips.

If he was here today. If Dad was alive. I wouldn’t even be here.

There’s stars dancing in front of his eyes, and he can make out each individual pin-prick of light. A dazzling, blistering white. Like Magnesium burning in the air with a brilliant, luminous flame.

Tom’s silent for several seconds, his eyes dark, almost black in the dim light of their bedroom. “I think if your father was here today, he wouldn’t want his only child to fly in active combat. To risk getting shot down, or captured, or killed.”

The rings on his left hand feel a lot heavier than they did an hour ago, like they weigh a thousand tons each. Like they’re rusted metal chains shackling him to the cold, lifeless ground.

“You keep talking as though we’re actually at war,” Pete says. You’ve no idea what Dad would’ve wanted for me, Pete thinks. You didn’t know him. You don’t even know me. Not really. “The Cold War’s practically over.”

“I guess we should write Brezhnev, then. Wonder how long it’ll take them to tear down the Iron Curtain now that you’ve declared the War’s over.” Tom deadpans, his voice flatter than Pete’s ever heard it. Unwavering gaze flickering down to his belly before settling on his tear-stained face. “You know this isn’t just about the Cold War, Pete. As long as we’ve had history, there has been combat. We aren’t going to enter an era of world peace just because our military has started commissioning omegas.”

“You’re being a hypocrite. You do realize that, don’t you?” Nausea burns the pit of his stomach. Punishing and hot. His chest aches like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to it, ragged breaths rapidly burning his insides. “You stand there and talk about the dangers and unpredictability of war when you’re fully prepared to serve in one, if and when duty calls. I’m supposed to live with the knowledge of not knowing when you might be sent off to combat. Deal with it as a part and parcel of my life. But God forbid, I ask you to do the same for me—”

“I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you that alphas and omegas would be taking on a very different set of risks going into active combat duty,” Tom bites out. His expression’s a mask but Pete can see the carefully-restrained fear in his eyes. An emotion so out of place on Tom’s face, it almost stuns him speechless. “Say you get shot down over enemy lines one day. Say you don’t go out in a blaze of glory as you might imagine… What then, Pete? Do you know what the prisoners of war lived through at Hanoi? Do you have any idea how bad it got for them? Imagine how much worse it could get for an omega…”

“What are you saying?”

Pain sparks through the base of his skull, making him drop his head down and press his clammy fingers to his brow. It feels as though he’s slowly being ground into dust. These days, it always feels that way.

How much worse could it get?

“Please, don’t make me spell it out for you,” Tom whispers, somehow instinctively knowing that Pete doesn’t understand. That he hasn’t thought about getting shot down. About getting captured. Getting killed.

“Everyone’s gotta die someday, right?” His throat hurts from the effort it takes not to cry. He closes his eyes. Thinks about his life. The seemingly endless hours spent at home alone. Doing laundry. Washing dishes. Dusting shelves. Throwing up until he’s sobbing from the relentless pain in his head. Thinks about the second line on his test. Bright pink and impossible to ignore.

About how maybe, there are worse things than death. Than being eighteen and feeling like your life’s over already. Than not being where you want to be.

Even if it doesn’t feel that way.

“I could die five months from now. Or in five years. Or fifty. That’s not upto me, Tom. Some things are just… out of our control. But what I can do is make my life matter. Make it worth something. I want to learn. I want to grow…”

I want all of the same things you do.

“And I want all of those things for you. I want you to study. I don’t care about how much it costs us, as long as you get to learn. I want to do things your way. When we got married, I promised myself we’d do everything your way—” Tom pauses for a moment. Weighs what he’s about to say next. Seems like he doesn’t want to say it but soldiers on anyway, jaw set in a tense line. “But you need to stop chasing ghosts, Pete.”

Something cold and heavy swoops up from Pete’s belly. Settles on his chest. Presses hard against his ribs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The heavy feeling worsens. Squeezes his lungs. Sharp and unkind. Almost like he’s cracked a rib.

“I think you do.” Tom’s mouth twitches, and he looks away. Runs a hand across his tired face, looking much older than his twenty-one years. His Annapolis ring glints a caustic blue in the dim light. A potent reminder of all the things in the world that just aren’t meant for Pete. “You don’t need to join the Navy to make your life matter. You don’t need to seek validation in what you think your father would’ve wanted for you—”

“Fuck you.” His stomach wrenches and he presses his hands over his abdomen, struggling not to vomit. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s angry. To recognize the raw, painful thing lurking under his sternum. To give it a name. Tom takes a step towards him, concern flickering across his face, bleeding into his ice-cold eyes. And Pete leans away. Lets the tepid air rush in between them. “Fuck you, Tom.”

Because that’s his father. That’s his life. His dreams Tom’s talking about so callously. Dismissing like Pete’s just a lost little child who doesn’t know right from wrong. Doesn’t know what he wants. Who doesn’t know himself.

“Yeah, fuck me.” Tom sucks in a breath. His next exhale a little bit sharper. A lot less steady. He stares down at Pete’s bloodless fingers still clutching the flat of his belly, before looking up and meeting his eyes. Wistful and angry and resigned. “But that’s how we got ourselves into this situation. Didn’t we, Pete?”

[infinitepunches]

Possibly controversial take:

As beautiful as the animation was in this short, the first episode of Star Wars: Visions season two, “Sith,”  shows a fundamental misunderstanding of Star Wars and its core concepts, and it’s a microcosm of the Disney Star Wars problem as a whole.

Lola is well-acted, charming, and likable. She’s aesthetically quintessential modern Star Wars in all the best ways. But her character and story fly in direct contrast to the whole point of Star Wars.

She’s a former Sith, probably my favorite archetype of Star Wars character. There aren’t many former Sith characters in the franchise, especially outside of Legends. We have Ventress, and Quinlan Vos (sort of). Vader and Kylo are both killed off so to avoid the “you murdered my whole family” awkwardness at the respective New Republic celebration ceremonies.

And with as rare as the trope is, this is the second time Visions has done a story line with a reformed Sith, the first being in “Ronin.” The Ronin character adheres to the Star Wars philosophy of moral obligation to good. (This is made especially clear in the sequel Ronin novel.) The Ronin began the Jedi Schism and many died because of his actions. Because of this, he believes he has a duty to hunt down and eradicate the evil he created. He is still driven by emotion, like a Sith, but the core Lucasian moral of power demanding responsibility is still there.

“Both Light and Darkness are part of the painting... part of me...” Lola says as she ignites a saber that bears a bled crystal, a sentient stone that has been tortured by her hate and pain. And she proceeds to do precisely what her old Sith master tells her to do: she murders him. Not because she wants to right her wrongs, or because she wishes to stop the spread of evil, but because she wants to be alone and get to make every choice for herself.

Somewhere along the way, we forgot that Star Wars is Christianity through a space-fantasy lens. The Jedi serve the Will of the Force. The Will is the Force is supreme above all. Jedi abandon selfish desire in exchange for service to a higher omniscient Consciousness. The Jedi are freed from the Dark Side’s corruption by their submission to the Will of the Force.

In contrast, this episode adheres to the Sith Code: “Through victory, my chains are broken.” Just like the snake in the garden, the Sith spout the lie that you can be your own god and chart your own destiny. Jedi follow prophesy. Sith defy nature. Lola’s happy ending teaches the audience that by the sheer willpower we possess, we can escape our enemies and find peace in isolation doing whatever the hell we want.

This is precisely opposite to the core philosophy taught in the Original Trilogy. Seemingly, according to this short, Luke should have stayed on the farm and “not gotten involved.”

Ironically, Lucas himself was an artist who used his artistic power for good, unlike Lola who merely wishes to retreat from conflict and make art for her own enjoyment. And where Lucas wanted to adapt ancient myths into modern mediums for the sake of future generations and their moral landscape, Disney has been motivated by a lust for greater money and power for far longer than it has owned Lucasfilm.

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

Chapter 56

Cw:mentions of blood, cousin incest and incarceration

Taglist @darylandbethfanforever9 @mercedesdecorazon @alexandria-millie @watercolorskyy @sweethoneyblossom1 @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Gif by @talesofoldandnew

Aemond is nothing short of bored in his cell.

He has books, his infernal lute and little Aeg’s bouncy ball that he’s tossing at the wall beside the modest fireplace in his room. He has visitors, Ironrod and the Septon who hint at treason he could join, but Aemond shoots those offers down knowing Larys Strong is waiting for proof to get him short of a head.

After all, Aegon no longer needs Aemond to fuck his wife ---not that Aemond had ever planned not to fuck Aemma after the deed was done--- and should Aenys die in his cradle, there were two spare Targaryen boys to replace the gaps in the succession.

The spare was to serve the heir, something Ser Otto loved to remind him every time he outshone Aegon. If his grandfather had listened to his own advice the world would’ve thanked him instead of cursing him to something worse than the seventh hell.

“What do you want?” the bored prince asked Aegon who he heard coming by the curses he let loose from so many stairs.

“Can’t a brother visit his brother these days?” he asked as if nothing had happened.

“You had me arrested, Aegon.” Aemond said dryly as he continued to stare at the wall.

“Why did she have to love you?” his brother asked as if he knew the answer to that.

“Fuck if I know.” Aemond has no idea why Aemma loves him, he knows why he loves her, but why Aemma would love him is a mystery to the one-eyed prince.

Frankly, he was surprised his attempts at wooing had succeeded, but he supposed his success may have been due to his friendship with her. “I helped our mother usurp hers and it killed her and three of Aemma’s siblings, let you and Cole destroy what was left of her family and when you and mother forced her into adultery to make her have a child she never wanted, I didn’t do anything to stop it. If I were her, I would hate me for my inaction.”

I hate myself for my inaction.

His time in the Riverlands fighting for the most undeserving king he had seen yet had shown him that. So much time was wasted in the name of duty and all it did was extend a war that will end with them being forced to take the Black or dead.

Lord Stark was a young widower and will likely wed Aemma, or so it has been speculated, or Daemon would name himself Aemma’s Lord Protector and hack away the remnants of Otto Hightower’s family tree.

Either way they were fucked.

Gods, they had been so blind to believe in all the lies grandfather feed them through their mother.

He most of all.

“Then why did you agree to it all, if it was all so fucking wrong, why did you agree to do it?” Aegon asked, hating being cast as the villain. He would be if he hadn’t been raised to be someone’s puppet.

Their poor mother had been raised as one by her father and the poor girl didn’t know how not to raise children who think you are not worthy of love if you are not a slave to your parent’s whims. As much as they rebelled against it, none of them could ever say no to her and the man pulling the strings behind her.

Why else would Aegon agree to take the crown? Why else would Daeron die a loyal soldier without ever knowing anything else but duty? Why else would Aemond be Aegon’s second and agree to ruin Aemma’s life even after coming to see Rhaenyra was never the enemy?

“Duty.” He practically spat out the word like garbage in his mouth.

“I fucking hate that word.” Aegon calms, sits on the armchair Septon Eustace occupied mere moments ago for some reason Aemond didn’t care to remember. “Duty to her, duty to the realm, duty, duty, duty.

Aenys won’t fucking live like that. He’ll be free to do as he pleases, if he doesn’t want to be king, he won’t be king and we’ll crown my namesake, or little Viserys or even Daenaera. He can fuck girls, he can fuck boys, he can dye his hair blue and become a sellsword or a bard, but my son won’t grow up thinking he has a moral obligation to me or the realm because he has a cock.”

Aemond doesn’t like the way he calls him his. He thought he would learn to be fine with it, but he does not. In his anger he throws it wrong and the ball ricochets off the wall, onto the mantle and eventually falls into the cold fireplace.

No wonder Harwin was so keen to beat Cole to a pulp that day, to have a man mocking you for taking what scraps you get to have with your children who you can’t claim without killing them would make even the strongest crumble like marzipan.

Duty. Gods, what a prison it is.

“What do you say to becoming Lady Lothston, Allie?” Lucas asks, playing with her dark tresses after sweet and somewhat satisfying sex in her room.

They are plotting to kill her. Not Aemma and the king, but Aemma’s greatest supporters, the Wyldes. Something so obvious even her new lover can see it.

Fools, the lot of them. Even if they knew sweet and innocent little Aenys would die if they killed her, Alys knows they would see it as a necessary sacrifice for the greater good. The witch needed to escape and live a long healthy life so all the babes she nursed in lifetime do not die with her.

Lucas Lothston would become Lord of Harrenhal due to Aegon needing a grown man to run the lands instead of a boy still in leading strings when he is rid of her half-brother.

Lucas was perfect, he already had two children from his dead Butterwell wife and would never raise his voice or hand at her no matter how wroth he got. They were cousins, his mother was her aunt and the woman never treated her badly. Yes, Cousin Lucas was perfect.

Perfect for her plans to escape without resorting to murder or worse, depending on her sisters’ kindness. If baby Petyr Lothston died young, Ida’s boys would still inherit either way, or one of her daughters would wed him to make sure House Strong lives on in Harren the Black’s cursed castle.

They could be happy, Lucas was always sweet to her and with enough spells, Alys could avoid having him the same fate as her dear William. Perhaps she will even get her chance to love again.

“Alys Lothston has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, my love.” She could be happy, be Lady of Harrenhall and keep the Drowned God’s curses away from the lands to prevent the waking of the Great Other as the Ironborn God tried to do by consuming the life of his devoted servants in the castle.

Best of all, stop being someone’s servant and having to make deals with them for scraps. Alys would be free, though never free from her curse, but free from the cage society trapped her in when Larys killed their father and brother.

“If we wed now, you won’t have to join Baratheon’s host. Andal tradition say recently married men may be exempt from war until they have been wed for a full year.” The witch suggests giggling like a maid when he agrees to her scheme.

Septon Eustace is too far asleep when they bang on his door as excited as young lovers are. “What do you want Ser Lucas?”

“I want to marry Alys. Now, if your holiness can manage it.” Her lover and bridegroom say beaming from ear to ear.

The following morning, Lady Alys Lothston pricks her finger and has little Prince Aenys drink her blood as she does to the infants she binds to her. This would have been done when he was old enough to be weaned, but in order for the both of them to live now, Alys needs to finish the binding ritual before Jena Wylde can get her greedy paws on her.

The witch has never done it to a babe so young, she prays to the Crone that the fire of her lamp keeps that of the babe lit until she calls Alys home.

“From Life comes death, from death comes life. May the Crone’s lamp always shine on you, my sweet prince.” The witch whispered softly as she kissed the soft little head of the dragon prince who was never meant to exist.

By noon, Alys has been let go due to the scandal of her elopement and Lothson is made the Master-at-arms after his predecessor is found guilty of treason. By evening, Alys exhales in relief when she learns the prince had no trouble waking from his nap.

And yet the fires in her modest rooms still show the white owl of House Mertyns coming for her.

[cast-you-dxwn]

To the members of the 778th, what was the most surprising thing about the Afterlife? Or what was the most difficult to get used to after dying?

What was the most surprising thing about the afterlife?

Albert: “How well everyone gets along, I ‘spose. I mean, it makes sense when you take even half a second to think about it, but I died in nineteen-forty-four.

The whole world was at war, evil was everywhere, even where we were all told it wasn’t. I mean, shit man, the army was still segregated when I was alive, if you can believe that. If you were black or Japanese you got shunted into separate units led by white officers, for the most part if you were Chinese or Hispanic you were ‘white enough’ to serve in white units, I just…I grew up in that shit, but I guess the war was really where I started questioning just how backward it all really was.

There was this one unit, tankers, the 761st, called themselves the Black Panthers cause of their emblem. We were bogged down in Bastogne, surrounded by a German infantry division and two fuckin’ Panzer divisions. Just waitin’ to die. The 761st and 87th rolled in and smashed ‘em to pieces. Saved our lives. They had eleven tanks, lost nine of em, and all I could think was ‘how in Gods name ain’t these men good enough to serve alongside us?’

Shit, well, died a few months after that anyway. Ain’t like that here, none of it. Equals is equals, brothers and sisters in Christ. My Centurion’s a woman, no one gives a shit. It’s good like that.”

Ramirez: “The calm, I think. While I was alive everyone was always scared, or looking for something to be scared of. Even before 9/11, and any of the newer arrivals can tell you how fucked pretty much everything’s been after that. Fucking everybody was scared, everybody was baying for blood, didn’t matter whose.

It’s calm here. Peaceful, you know? Yeah, I’m a soldier, but it’s not…the same. I don’t have to wonder if the guy on the other side of my rifle is a bad guy or if I’m just some asshole who invaded his home. I can see it, I can sense it, and when I get home I’m not hearing every second about how bad things are, how afraid everyone is, how we’re gonna pay the bills or feed the kids or fill up the gas tank. I do what I do because it’s right, and I know it is, not because some rich fuck is telling me it’s my patriotic duty to pop a round into the skull of some guy who’s pissed we ran over his kid with a tank.”

Alistair: “Technology. I was martyred in the Year of Our Lord Twelve-Oh-Nine. The horse was the most advanced form of travel in the world and it was not known that small organisms caused diseases. I wore steel and leather, and killed men with sword and lance.

When I died I was thrust into this world of light and sound and knowledge, where one can travel across a massive city in mere minutes and every man and woman can read the Scriptures for themselves. Where the streets are lit with lightning, and a fever is a minor inconvenience instead of a death sentence.

My armor gives me the strength of one hundred men and tells me how fast my comrades hearts are beating, my weaponry can reach out to strike a heretic dead from a distance unattainable for even the most skilled of longbowmen. It is a place of wonder.”

[general-radix]

A recent development in my mythology-based musings is where to factor in the Roman pantheon.

While a handful do have separate origins from their Greek counterparts, they're so heavily syncretized that they're functionally identical (save for Ares vs. Mars). So, as not to have the Greek gods simply take new names or ignore Roman mythology entirely, I've decided to give the Roman pantheon as depicted in these musings mostly-new vocations and myths. (And also, no double-dipping for Apollo.)

The following are rough notes:

Jupiter: leader of the Deii Consentes alongside his twin sister Juno. (They are not married.) His duties have more to do with law and order than flinging lightning bolts from the sky.

Juno: the other leader. In this scenario, she's the arbiter of justice and vengeance.

Mars: As in actual myth, an older and more mature god of war than Ares who pulls double duty as an agricultural guardian. Unlike actual myth, he's older than the Ju' twins and has served as their mentor ever since Zeus and his siblings were young, being a soldier of the twins' father Saturn.

Janus: Well, being the only Rome-exclusive deity here, he didn't change much aside from getting a permanent spot in the consentes.

Ceres: the goddess of wind and a free spirit. It's said that she's the one calling down storms and the like.

Mercury: tomboy goddess of esoteric magic. Dut to their similar vocations, she has a crush on the Egyptian god Thoth, though it's strictly one-sided and will become platonic in the future. Mercury is the youngest of the Consentes and looks up to Ceres.

Vulcan: the god of fire. His boisterous attitude grinds on Hephaestus's nerves, leading the two to clash every now and then.

Neptune: protector of sailors and god of rivers, springs, and water. There are rumours that, as a way of performing his duties, he moonlights as a pirate.

Minerva: goddess of wisdom, peace, and the arts. She also defends Rome from outside threats with her fists, and is the second-youngest of the Consentes.

Venus: goddess of the stars, what with her namesake planet being the Morning Star and all. She doesn't enjoy being perceived and dresses accordingly. Older sister of Vesta.

Vesta: god of ceremonies; an extrovert who prefers feminine clothing. Younger brother of Venus.

Pluto: the advisor to the Consentes, in theory. They can only seem to get Juno, Mars, and Minerva to listen to them without having to relate a parable first.

Other notes:

Unlike with Zeus and co. with Kronos, the Ju' twins and Saturn are and always have been on good terms. Zeus doesn't know how to feel about that.

Hades was the first of the Olympians to meet the Consentes through his wife Libera.

Minerva has a twin sister, Bellona, who is not allowed into the Consentes on account of making Ares look level-headed. She's the edgy rival to Minerva's shonen protagonist, seeking battle and conflict for its own sake.

I have in mind that Janus's two faces will be represented by him wearing half a mask.

Diana is absent because I wasn't sure how to sufficiently differentiate her from Artemis.

Tangentially:

IF I were to try and connect all this with Heaven Sent: non-Abrahamic pantheons could fall under Gaia, herself a non-Abrahamic concept. So Zeus, Jupiter, et al. would be (mostly) wingless angels who live among and help govern humans, and had no idea that they were connected to the Spirit of the Earth because their capricious mistress never told them shit. (As far as canon HSent goes, this role largely goes to the Nephilim.)

[toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp]

Hello and welcome to Day 3 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies" everyone!

Today, my brain felt like dragging out a SVSSS crossover with Genshin Impact that came to me during the 4.4 livestream. (Gaming's trailer was the reason this idea came back with a vengeance to me)

Also, before I begin with describing the idea itself, a bit of a warning: I might start rambling midway through because my thoughts are chaotic (and I am also experimenting with some text formating to ease my explanations for the following fics. Plz, tell me if it looks ok or not)

Edit: As of February 6th, this fic has a title:

"Gaming's Dimention Hopping Master (and his annoying Harem)"

So, let's get started:

First and foremost, I wanna send Shen Jiu (who is still a deciple; basically just before he is named Peak Lord - he should be around 18 to 20 maybe?) to Teyvat via a portal opening during the Immortal Allience Comference (or during a mission - still haven't decided fully yet) and he land straight in the middle of the Archon War in Liyue about 2000 years before the canon events in Genshin.

With me so far? Good.

Shen Jiu was with Liu Qingge and, possibly, Yue Qingyuan (if you want even more angst in this than it will have) when the portal opens. Whether the portal aimed for Shen Jiu or he pushed one of the other two out of the way, the end result is that LQG and YQY see Shen Jiu disappear before their eyes. (Again, angst galore for YQY for the moment)

Shen Jiu, after ending up in Liyue mid-archon war, is more focused on getting back to where he was... until he saw some children that were in danger due to the active warfare around them (monsters everywhere who are very much looking to make as much carnage as possible).

Now, look, I am not denying that Shen Jiu is an asshole (to say the least), but he is also a cultivator whose job is to protect civilians from monsters/demons and who is send on missions to do these things. Him saving some children doesn't mean he is not still an asshole. It just means he has some morals and a sense of duty. That is all. He is still very much the sharp-clawed cat that spits poison when people approach.

What happens next is simple: some adepti/yaksha find him while he is fighting the monsters. The adepti help in defeating the monsters and - barely manage to - convince Shen Jiu to follow them to safety.

From there, Shen Jiu is on a rollercoaster of emotions:

First, he learns that no one in this place ever heard of Cang Qiong Sect, and that leads to the idea that he is from somewhere outside of Teyvat.

Second, neither Shen Jiu nor the adepti (of the God they serve named Rex Lapis) seem to know how to get Shen Jiu back to his world.

Third, Shen Jiu misses Yue Qingyuan. Like a lot. Especially so after he learns that there might not be a way for him to get back.

Fourth, this place (Liyue) is in the middle of a war. And that is terrifying because Shen Jiu might just die here, too.

Fifth - and this is the most weird point of them all for Shen Jiu - these adepti seem to almost... care about his well-being? Which, of course, is impossible in Shen Jiu's mind. Not only is he not even part of this world, but they barely know him for a little less than a week. There is no way people can care about him this easily, right? There must be something that they want from him, right?

All in all, this is stressful for our paranoid Shen Jiu. He is fully convinced the adepti and their God only saved him so that he (who is not of this world) could help them win this war. Shen Jiu hates owning people, so he will help them just to not own them anything. (Owning someone a debt is dangerous, and Shen Jiu knows that too well)

Meanwhile, the adepti + Morax (and Guizhong, if she is still alive) look at Shen Jiu and go: "This poor little child. He is so small and skinny. He needs to be somewhere safe and to be fed three full meals a day."

What follows is Shen Jiu trying to help the adepti (so he can pay his debt to them) and the adepti trying (emphasis on trying) to take care of Shen Jiu. It's a hodgepodge of both sides trying to help the other without making too much fuss about it. And not to mention that both sides become attched to each other - even if Shen Jiu will die before he ever admits this. And so things seem to continue like this for months, and everything is more or less fine. That is until Shen Jiu takes a hit for one of the adepti (or even for Xiao) on the battlefield.

That attack wouldn't have killed an adeptus (not that Shen Jiu would know that), but it can kill a human. And, for all that cultivation that Shen Jiu has, he is still fundamentally human. So, Morax gives him the option to make a contract with him so that Shen Jiu will live. The price is a simple but heavy one: Shen Jiu will not be human anymore, but an adeptus.

Seeing no other way out of this death situation, Shen Jiu accepts. He wants to live so he can go back to his world. If he can live, he will live. He is not picky about the method - he did way worse things for the sake of survival before.

Thus, Shen Jiu becomes an adeptus and continues to help Morax and the others in protecting Liyue through the Archon War. At the end of the war, many were lost, and yet, Shen Jiu believes it could have been worse. With Morax now an Archon, peace can come back to Liyue.

Since Morax is aware of Shen Jiu's love for the arts, he proposed that their newest adeptus settle down in a place where the arts and traditions are very much appreciated: Chenyu Vale. And that place has become Shen Jiu's new home for the next 2000 years.

Meanwhile

Going back to the SVSSS/PIDW world, Shen Jiu's disappearance is a very heavy blow to Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge. Here are some exerpts from my own angst-filled imagination about them:

"He barely had his Xiao Jiu back for 3 years at the sect, where he is safe and within his grasp, and now, once again, he is taken away from him. And Yue Qingyuan regrets a lot of things - but most of all, he regrets not coming clean to Xiao Jiu about their past and his failure to save him. He regrets this so much, and yet he is unable to do anything to change it. He had so many chances to come clean - now there is no guarantee that Xiao Jiu is even alive any longer."

"Liu Qingge, for all he had hated Shen Qingqiu, is also heavily impacted by his disappearance. Not having someone like Shen Qingqiu - with a sharp tongue and not a very nice personality - should be a relief. And yet, it just makes him feel empty. There is no one to curse at Liu Qingge and yet there is also no one to fight him everytime he visits (read: barges into) Qing Jing Peak. After their searches for Shen Qingqiu yielded no result, Liu Qingge insisted that Yue Qingyuan let's him break the news to Shen Jiu's family. (Shen Qingqiu was a spoiled young master - there is no doubt in Liu Qingge's mind that his family is worried sick for him. They deserve to know what happened to Shen Qingqiu most out for everyone.) Hearing that Shen Jiu is - was - an orphan was not what Liu Qingge thought he would hear. That was not what Liu Qingge ever wanted to hear. Because that had to be a lie, right? ... but if it wasn't a lie and Liu Qingge was wrong about Shen Qingqiu being a spoiled young master... what else was he wrong about?"

For the following 15 years, all the Peak Lords felt Shen Jiu's absence - Yue Qingyuan, Liu Qingge, and, surprisingly, Qi Qingqi the most of all. (Especially so after a lot of information about their former martial brother came to light)

Luo Binghe still comes to Cang Qiong Sect, but since there was no Shen Qingqiu to be named Qing Jing Peak Lord and to take the boy into his peak out of spite, he is taken in by the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, Liu Qingge.

Ning YingYing also still ends up as a desciple at Qing Jing Peak - but she is very much bullied by her fellow brothers and sisters for her poor performance and young age.

Yue QingYuan is only alive because he had yet to extinguish that hope to see his Xiao Jiu alive again. Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi hope to see Shen Qingqiu again as well so that they can both apologize to him - for the rumors that Qi Qingqi started, for the insults that Liu Qingge thew at him, for not being better martial siblings for him. (Even if Shen Qingqiu might be at fault for that too, they also can't excuse their own behavior)

But then, during the Immortal Allience Comference in which Luo Binghe participates, another portal, very much resembling the one that took Shen Qingqiu away from them, opens up again and takes Yue Qingyuan, Liu Qingge, Qi Qingqi, Liu Mingyan, Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying with it.

Now, all five cultivators (and a demon) are thrown into Liyue 2000 years after Shen Jiu has first set foot in this region. Can the Peak Lords find their martial brother? And what will the desciples' reaction to Shen Qingqiu be? Can they even leave this strange world and go back home with Shen Qingqiu? Does Shen Qingqiu even want to come with them?

We'll have to see!

~

So this is most of what I have for this fic idea, bit I wanna include some little tidbits here at the end:

There were 3 reasons why this idea started:

Chenyu Vale just screams "Shen Qingqiu" to me. This image in particular strikes me as a place Shen Qingqiu would choose as his adeptus abode.

Since Shen Qingqiu is a shizun, during the Genshin Livestream for 4.4 my brain went: "You know how Cloud Retainer goes on and on about how "When Ganyu/Shenhe was a child" right? Imagine Shen Qingqiu doing the same as an adeptus master for Gaming towards Cloud Retainer when they have tea together." So yeah, Gaming is Shen Qingqiu's little apprentice. And with how Gaming loves Wushu Dance (aka a traditional form of art), it would make sense for him to have Shen Qingqiu as an adeptus master.

Last but not least, I am not gonna lie, I just wanted to force some type of therapy onto Shen Jiu. Why did I have to send him to Teyvat for therapy, you ask? Well, theoretically speaking, every single person in Teyvat has some type of trauma (some may have it worse than others but trauma is still trauma), and I feel like whatever type of therapy they practice in Teyvat kinda works because, for all the trauma the characters have, they don't seem as harden and callous as Shen Jiu. So, whatever they have been feeding on to help with the trauma, I want like 50 portions for Shen Jiu.

Some other things of note:

Shen Jiu has 3 options for a Vision/Elemental Powers: Anemo, Cryo or Pyro

Shen Jiu's adeptus form is that of a Jiufeng - an early depiction of a Phoenix that has 9 heads. I believe it is a good correlation because Shen Jiu turning into an adeptus doesn't mean he is not Shen Jiu anymore. It's not a full resurrection and new life altogether for Shen Jiu, just another WAY to survive.

Shen Jiu met Gaming when he was a child who got lost around the mountain/parts of Chenyu Vale that Shen Jiu protects. He helped the kid go back to Qiaoying Village. Gaming called him "Master Adeptus Bird" as a child, and it changed to "Shizun" after Shen Jiu decided to take him in.

I don't know if this might end up as a Shen Jiu/Yue Qingyuan or Shen Jiu/Liu Qingge, but regardless of the pairing, I wanna say that Shen Jiu will at least get some friends and family (new or old) out of this whole situation

Here is a little funny thing I thought about as I was writing this monstrosity of a post:

Cloud Retainer: When Ganyu/Shenhe was a child...

Madame Ping: When Yanfei/Xianling/Yaoyao was a child...

Shen Jiu: When Gaming was a child...

All Adepti + Morax: When Shen Jiu was a child:

Shen Jiu:... fuck you guys...

Either way, this is about everything I have in me for today (I have been writing this for nearly 2 hours, so please excuse any typos you may find).

What do you think? Good? Bad? A bit too much? (My brain is literally cooked after this post)

Let me know what you think.

Also, I wanna say that I wrote this literally 2 days before 4.4 is live, so I don't know anything about Chenyu Vale or Gaming's story outside of what was shown/said during the livestream.

See you guys tomorrow,

- TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help

[third-generation-female-warrior]

WIP tag game from @twinsunstars!

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

(Full disclaimer, without even counting, I already know I have more WIPs than taggable people, so we'll just ignore that last part.)

____

A Tale of Two Imperials, Chapter 3 - Captured by the Nightbrothers, Omega must rely on Cal Kestis/The Second Brother to find her before it is too late...

Breathe - A one-shot in which Lyana comes into realize just how important Omega is to her (pre-epilogue)

Cavalry - When Omega joins the Rebel Alliance to serve as a pilot, she expected dogfights, espionage, and a long fight against the dark grip of the Empire. She didn't expect a reunion with a certain General to turn into something introspective about what the war takes and what it leaves behind. In the perfect world, this is my 50K magnum opus that examines a very rich relationship between Hera and Omega as they grapple with feelings and whether or not they have a place in their worlds that are filled with things like trauma, duty, war.

Coveted Honor, More than Two - Padawan Omega continues to improve in the Order, but her Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, grows concern with the fact that she struggles to connect with her fellow padawans. In an effort to break her out of her shell, the Council assigns her and Obi-Wan to a mission with Jedi Master Jaro Tapal and his padawan, Cal, Kestis, to set up an outpost on Bracca.

Coveted Honor, The Light - The origin story of how Omega was found by the Jedi on Kamino.

Daughter of the Creed - When a mission for the Rebellion leaves Omega stranded on a backwater skuzzhole of a planet, she must maintain her undercover identity as a Mandalorian bounty hunter to the convert that took her in, when she stumbles across a small but impact Imperial operation on Nevarro that connects to a difficult time in her past.

Hold On - What if CX-02 captured Omega on Teth? It's a race for the Batch to find her before the shadow clone has the chance to make it back to his ship, but who he is under the helmet might change everything (spoilers: he's still not Tech).

Secrets of the Buried - Chapter 12 - Hell, where do I even start with this one? The climax of this fic, there.

Tales from Marauder Lane - New Slang - A cute little one shot that explores what it means to be a Mandalorian in the Republic States, but it's actually a DinxOmega chapter that I've been trying to write for @happydragon.

Tales from Marauder Lane - War Games - Lyana learns why no one should ever go paintballing with four teenage Mandalorians, starring Mox, Stak, and Deke!

To Take a Risk - When what was supposed to be a simple mission for the Rebellion lands Omega in the path and at the whims of a smooth-talking gambler, she must play his game in order to complete the mission, and try not to get swept up by his charms in the meantime, because he does flirt with her in the middle of a shootout. Starring, Lando Calrissian!

___

Oh god, I don't even know who to tag here... do what you want with this post.