#i only know how to write angst
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Haurchefant POV!
:3c
As this writing takes place in Heavensward, Rifra will be referred to as Seren!
Haurchefant only had a split second to react.
This was supposed to be a mission to rescue Aymeric after he was falsely imprisoned by the Holy See, by his own father Archbishop Thordan VII. Estinien, Lucia, and her squadron of Temple Knights invaded the Vault to rescue the Lord Commander while he, Alphinaud, Banneret, and the Warrior of Light Seren went to confront Thordan themselves. Now that they knew the truth behind the millennia-long conflict that was the Dragonsong War, they had to do what was right and confront the one who kept perpetrating the lie.
Yet Thordan refused to listen, stepping onto the airship as one of the Heaven's Ward escorted him. Seren yelled after him, calling him a coward for leaving, running across the bridge to chase him. Had nothing else happen, perhaps she would have been able to reach Thordan, tackling him down and beating him and the Heaven's Ward senseless even in their primal forms. Perhaps Thordan would have relented, accepting his defeat right then and there. But instead a bright light appeared at the corner of Haurchefant's vision. The primal form of Ser Zephirin had charged some sort of lance made of light and was aiming it at the viera, who was completely unaware.
He had to do something.
The elezen warned Seren, sprinting as fast as he could as he drew his shield to block the attack. He planted his feet onto the ground, pushing against the lance of light with all of his strength, fighting to keep the attack at bay.
Crack.
Haurchefant kept his stance, bringing his other arm to support his shield as he continued to defend against the assault. The woman he was protecting was the Warrior of Light, the one who offered herself to assist them against heretical activities despite Ishgard's isolationist approaches. She even came to their aid when Dravanians tried to invade his home at the Steps of Faith. There was so much he was grateful for, and he was not letting her die until he paid his gratitude in kind.
Crack.
And Seren was his ward, a request accepted by his father Lord Fortemps. He had offered her, Alphinaud, and Tataru shelter until their names were cleared from the Bloody Banquet at Ul'dah, one of many ways he had intended to show them his thanks. If she was to die here, then he would have failed his mission.
He heard the sound of his shield getting pierced through as a burning sensation wracked his stomach.
Haurchefant could taste his own blood in his mouth as Seren screamed his name, collapsing in front of her as Thordan nonchalantly boarded his airship. Alphinaud ran to his side, quickly applying his healing magic, yet the pain refused to subside. Ishgard was a cold land, yet it seemed to get even colder as the seconds passed by.
"You..." Haurchefant muttered, turning towards where he thought Seren was. "You are unharmed? Forgive me... I could not bear the thought of... of..."
He felt a warmth in his hand, his gray eyes tracing its path to meet Rifra's teary green. She was holding his hand tightly, pleading for him to live, shouting at Alphinaud to apply as much magic as he could because by the Twelve he was not going to die there.
Ah... The Warrior of Light truly had a heart too big for her own good. Many refused to acknowledge Haurchefant properly even after he had achieved knighthood, having been born a bastard to Lord Fortemps. Being "impure" meant that he had to work twice as hard as everyone else to get even a little bit of recognition, even if it meant that he had to appeal to outsider help in order to protect the land he called home. Seren didn't care for any of that, her opinion of him unwavering even as it was revealed that he was a bastard. She continued to aid him and Ishgard, even traveling to Dravanian lands in hopes of establishing peace with dragonkind. She didn't have to do any of that; she was his ward, after all.
Haurchefant smiled weakly at the viera, strength leaving his limbs. If anyone could change Ishgard for the better, change the world even, it would be her, and he was more than happy to sacrifice his own life for hers, a fire that burned so fiercely amongst this frigid wasteland.
"Oh, do not look at me so..."
His debt to her was paid in full.
"A smile better suits a hero..."
#ffxiv#final fantasy xiv#haurchefant greystone#rifra vestnir#ffxiv fanfiction#hahahaha#i only know how to write angst#happy stuff? too bad#PAIN TRAIN#shiratamako#gpose#heavensward#rifra lore#ramyeon writes
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Locket's first night on the LL. (They end up not being able to find their room and they pass out in the hallway)
#babes i told you i was gonna write angst#my wife is the only one who knows how sad the deadlock leaving part is#locket#transformers#artists on tumblr#my art#mtmte#ratchet#dratchet#fanart#locket au#maccadam#dratchet fankid#comic#drift transformers
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It must be so so horrible for Persephone, to have left the underworld thinking her only son had died stillborn. But then a god finds her, claims he is her long-dead son, and initially she doesn't believe him. She's angry. FURIOUS. That someone would play such a cruel trick.
But then she looks at him, listens to him. Notices his eye that matches hers, the other eye that matches his father's. The way he looks at her, and she begins to believe, maybe this is her son, somehow. And they talk and catch up, and yes, yes this is her son!
But then he looks tired. Weak. He doesn't know what's happening, but he's growing weaker and it's getting harder to speak, harder to concentrate. He's her son and he's scared, he's dying, she knows it, and she holds him and talks to him, but it doesn't matter. He dies in her arms.
And she's alone again, having held her son's corpse for a second time.
#hades game#hades game spoilers#Persephone supergiant#zagreus supergiant#I am sorry I only know how to write angst
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speedrunning this drawing but im still a day late to hanzo's birthday 😩 but i got so inspired and the original image was just so good:
#lifechanging. powerful#related; ive run out of hanzo angst fics and i dont know what to do anymore#i had a lot of fun doing this drawing! i love the looser sketchy lineart of the og piece and its really similar to how i already draw so#and i love the severe shadows and lines because it only uses black as a “colour”#the eyes were also really inspiring and the main reason i gravitated towards the original image#theres a lot going on behind them#i feel like i could yap a lot more about this but its 2am and ive been staying up to finish this LOL#yeah i like this guy#rivera writes#my art#art#artwork#digital art#fan art#overwatch#overwatch 2#overwatch fanart#hanzo shimada#overwatch hanzo#redraw
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Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings
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for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons
TW: Major Character Death Warning
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Not all deaths are created equal.
That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite.
He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go.
He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids.
They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum.
They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.
Not all deaths are created equal.
Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.
Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy.
But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy.
Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens.
It happens like this:
Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.
Something had to give.
Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later.
He stops what he’s doing to fix it.
It wasn’t supposed to be permanent.
Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer.
He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them.
So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for — a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs.
He does not make that call; it slips from his mind.
It is not his fault.
One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.
Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half.
He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new.
This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident.
It’ll never happen again.
His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab.
The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention.
She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes.
When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.”
Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away.
That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother.
Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost.
Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console.
Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed.
Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed.
Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms.
Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware.
It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.
Nobody wakes up with their alarms.
Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm.
There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers.
To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork.
He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks.
At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of.
Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off.
He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.
‘Where are you?’
He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried.
The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”
A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent.
He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;
“Mom? Dad?”
Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him.
Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in; he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little.
The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal.
“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down.
It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here.
Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked.
He checks the garage, the car is still there.
“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!”
Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong.
He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off.
He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?”
There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house.
Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”
Not all deaths are created equal.
But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.
Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home.
He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill.
Not all deaths are created equal
But all of them are unforgettable.
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc au#dpxdc fic#blood blossom au#dpxdc ficlet#starry's writing#tw character death#cw death#angst#hurt no comfort#carbon monoxide poisoning almost sounds like a plain way to go when compared to the other batkids. but then you think about it for more#than a second and then the inherent horror of it all creeps in. danny found his family dead. he found their corpses.#i didnt feel comfortable writing it - just a little bit too heavy even for me yet - but just know that danny shook his parents as if he was#trying to wake them up when he realized they were dead. he went into emotional shock and kinda mentally shutdown.#he yelled and screamed and tried to wake them. and then rushed to his sister's room only to find the same thing. rinse and repeat#more time passed between danny finding them and him going to his neighbor's than what i showed#no more than an hour because the house was still full of carbon monoxide but longer than five minutes. long enough that when he finally wen#over - in hysterics and missing his shoes and jacket - he was completely inconsolable. he was having a breakdown.#when i was writing the ending scene with the paramedics and police and stuff i was very much calling on how i imagine Bruce's own experienc#might have gone. different but similar. with a thousand yard stare and water in their ears#two boys wrapped in shock blankets surrounded by police lights and having just seen their families dead. teehee
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Danny moved to Gotham.
Freakshow is touring in Gotham.
Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.
Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.
Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.
Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.
Danny turns to the Joker for help.
The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.
Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.
Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.
#pondhead blurbs#dpxdc#how we feeling about this fellas#i think it's an ideal angst fic#but i don't wanna write it lol#the younger danny is the worse it gets#someone said that danny shouldn't be afraid of the joker because he's a clown and freakshow is a ringmaster. not a clown#if i find that post i'll tag the creator cause i can't remember rn#but i'm imagining danny who is heavily traumatized and scared and lonely#finding out that one of his worst enemies he hoped to never see again is hunting him and is so close danny has to check his eyes every day#just to make sure they haven't turned red#his anxiety is out of control and he's not about to go find a Bat or Bird to talk to#who would believe him anyways? he's a monster#but danny needs help cause he will not survive this on his own and he knows it#freakshow haunts his every waking dream#but freakshow isn't from gotham. he doesn't have the city's curses engraved into his blood. he never died and he's not truly teasing death#so danny chooses to plead for help from the only predator bigger than freakshow (in his eyes) who IS from gotham#danny goes to the Joker. prepared to offer everything but his free will and free mind. he can't give those up. it's all he has.#danny is a feral house cat asking a tiger to take care of a mountain lion for him by offering the tiger his own liver on a silver platter#joker is...delighted? maybe? no one is quite sure. but he takes what danny offers.#here is this little boy. almost the same age as the second robin when he died. pleading for the JOKER to be his savior. this will be fun
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guys i love them i promise i just have the urge to put them through the grinder sometimes
umm on the bright side here's the alternate good ending version lol!!!!!
#haiii ^_^#i didnt know whether to make a seperate post for the good ending one but it wouldve been weird so im just adding it onto here lol#op#one piece#sanji#usopp#god usopp#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji#sanuso#usosan#tw blood#tw injury#angst#comic#my art#mintart#ok originally i was gonna use every color but red for the first two pages and only make the butterfly red then make the last page red too#cuz yaaayyy symbolism whatever cringe and then i scrapped it cuz i love working with pink and i was nawt about to figure out#a whole new colour palette during finals week. also i have 5 minutes before class so im speed typing this LOL#anygays thanks lars for the usopp dies brainrot i HATE YOU#he's partly responsible for this actually#i hate how the colours of the last page turned out uurgghghhh im not fixing it tho bye#i like the rest of it tho >_<#i love writing dialogue but silent comics r pretty fun too#ive been doing a couple of those lately and theyve been helping me with gesture and expression practice#lol i love drawing sanji pathetic and in love#i love drawing usopp in general he's my favorite to draw ever im so glad he exists#JUST NOTICED THE LESBIAN COLOUR PALETTE UHHH NOT INTENTIONAL or maybe it could be yuri who knows. they r so very gender#i will draw sanuso yuri soon tho TRUST!!!!!!!!!
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💘
#this might be the most scribble thing I post here yet bahahahahahahahahahahaaha#I still like how the hands turned out even though I didn’t finish them😇#but it’s pretty messy and the hands might be the only part I like🥲#but since this blog is my art journey documentation here you are#I was pretty busy today so no good art but maybe tomorrow we’ll see#I am preparing things to FINALLY answer my asks🥹#& if you tagged me in anything I actually have been meaning to respond!!!!!!!! my notifications are the WORST and so confusing on here😵💫#and I’m technology grandma…#hope u all have had an amazing day !!!! 🫶#my brother in law has been fishing and catching SO MANY sargo#(sargo = sea bream for the animal crossing playing English speakers😙)#AND ITS LITERALLY SOOOOOOOOO DELICIOUS !!!!!#i cook it in the weirdest way possible#you just have to gut the fish and cut off its fins etc#then you put it in a wet salt bed and cover it up��cook it for 30 min…AND VOILA ITS DONE !!!!!#I don’t add any spices…NOTHING…and this fish literally has the taste and texture of crab covered in butter#LIKE…😳 it might be my favorite food/fav thing to cook these days bc it’s so easy and fresh caught fish is just delicious😫#well that was my grandma cooking show of the day👩🍳#now you know how to cook sargo a la sal 👩🍳#also going back to the drawing🥹 I just love these two so much…#I love thinking of sweet moments…most of my angst is confined to writinc😆#the chapter I’m writing right now is SO ANGST DEPRESSING (sorry Eloise)#it will get better…I promise…#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanart#hogwarts legacy oc#hogwarts legacy mc#eloise babbit#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x mc
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🫠🫠🫠i’m sorry baby, and you haven’t even reached the sad parts yet 😩😂💕
tryna pull away authors from making heart wrenchingly gut grabbing throat drying angst fics
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y’all i cannot stop fucking thinking about it. will with his big blue eyes, youngest of them all, completely musically untalented and rhythmically challenged but by the gods does he understand the human body. following lee around holding his quiver and rattling off whatever he just learned from watching michael in the infirmary. doted on by his big siblings. talking for hours about a galaxy far far away with heroes who choose to save the world, aren’t forced to, hey, they’re heroes, just like you, lee! and his siblings have dreams, they know the prophecies, they look at their little brother and they know he will be alone. they don’t know why or how yet but they can feel in their very soul that he will be out in the stupid world with all its hatred and violence and he will have to defend himself. and he can’t shoot straight and he cries when he hurts someone in training, and all he wants to do is help, and he doesn’t understand that people can be cruel and they will take his kindness and bleed him dry. and a war is coming. they can feel it. do you think they would be desperate? for themselves as much as will? i don’t know how long i will live. i don’t know how long i have left. but you will be there, son of phoebus. i know you will. remember me, okay? remember how i loved you. remember how we loved each other, remember how we healed and fought and cared. please. please, will, remember us. and remember how we loved you.
#I AM FUCKING SOBBING ON THE GROUND#WHY DID I WRITE THAT 😭😭😭😭😭 WHY DID I OPEN THE CAN OF WORMS#all i can think of is lee!!#with his brothers and sisters and his gift of prophecy!!!#KNOWING he is going to die!!!!#knowing will is the only one who is going to survive!!!!#what do you do with that!!!#how do you deal with that!!!!#how do you put armour around his heart???#how do you protect him when you know you won’t be there#when you know he’ll have NOBODY???#HOW?????? HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF#WITH THE GODS????#and knowing how he finally goes…..#do you think it haunts him in elysium#or do you think for once the gods we merciful#and let him die before he saw the look in wills eyes#as he cradled the pieces of his skull#and sobbed#and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed#gods help me.#will solace#lee fletcher#will solace & lee fletcher#will solace angst
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SKULLY HAS RAIDED MERA'S BLOG!!!???
Skully over shining Zuzu?
UNFORTUNATELY...... yes,,, (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) WAAAA I AM SO SORRY, ZUZU!!!! My heart is just too big and I fell for the dead guy with his Victorian rizz and kiss addiction. I couldn't help it...... he charmed me. This obsession is terrible, dear Izuna!!!! OTL he's completely taken over my brain,,, a parasite that I can't shake!! >:(
He's so precious,,, my beloved King of Halloween, oh how I adore you most ardently. <3 I wish him nothing but peace and happiness forever hehe.
#twisted chit chat#video-game-luvr#AND THEN THEY KILLED HIM#THEY KILLED HIM AND NOW I'LL NEVER KNOW HAPPINESS 。°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°。#i need to write so much angst and fluff with him to cope with this sadness in my heart...#how is twst going to let me have a meaningful bond with skully and then RIP HIM FROM OUT OF MY ARMS?!?!?!?!#the amnesia is bad enough now they have to make him dead too T_T#when i catch you twst... when i catch you!!!!!!!#i need to write him in the plot of 'saishuu senkoku' where he's a lousy grim reaper trying to get you to commit suicide and reap your soul#but because he's so bad at his job it only makes you want to live even more just to spite him#something something skully inadvertently helping you find the will and meaning to live#something something the final declaration of 'i want to live' rather than 'i want to die'#skully with that song is so *chef's kiss* to me#my favorite mafu song... everything about it is just so good#AAAA I RAMBLED A LOT ;;;;
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I was thinking about this: Logan implies that only feeling-based sides are able to duck out when he explains to Thomas that he, as logic, can’t duck out like Virgil did. And in the EXACT SAME EPISODE, Patton is described as the “core of a lot of Thomas’ feelings.” I THINK that Patton is the only other side that can duck out, and if he did, c!Thomas would experience what is essentially depression (apathy, a loss of interest in previous interests, etc)
(Bonus headcanon: If the orange side does turn out to be Rage, he will also be capable of ducking out.)
#sanders sides#virgil sanders#patton sanders#orange side#headcanons#angst#tw depression#this is a stretch I know#but let me ramble please#I want more sanders sides technicalities#pat’s the core of emotions + he has purple and orange emotion children#isn’t it weird how the only rooms we’ve seen are Patton’s and Virgil’s?#THEY’RE THE BOYS OF FEELINGS#now if anyone writes a fic where patton ducks out then pls tag me
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death, rebirth, new life
summary: uh zhongli gets nerfed, you get some new friends, xiao has a crisis of morality(?)
word count: ~3.2k
-> warnings: major spoilers for xiao lore, like very major. spoilers for liyue archon quest. not much else
-> lowercase intended!
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @thehoneymushroomhealer || @imyme20 || @bittersweetorpheus || @vampirecatsw || @willburzone || @some-mildly-happy-human|| @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy || @inmyprinceerafr || @depressed-bitchy-demon || @kithewanderingme
<< first part || < masterlist > || next part >>
zhongli allows his weapon to fade back into golden dust, his mind involuntarily comparing it to the way you dissolved before him.
they were quite similar. after he’d pulled away his polearm, you had sent him a final smile as your body disintegrated into white flakes, much like his spear had, the water rushing back to fill the space you’d left. it had surprised him, because he’d expected you to fall into the black smoke that hilichurls did. unless he had made some sort of…
no, he tells himself, shaking his head. you deserved it. to wear a face that wasn’t yours, to defy his god so, his actions were entirely jus-
a spike of pain drives into his lower back and zhongli reaches behind him with a hiss, feeling for whatever’s hurt him only to land on the glass of his fake vision. it stings through his gloves, and he’s quick to yank it off, uncaring as the string it’s hung on snaps. the small gems on it scatter, but he’s focused on the glass in his hand.
or, rather, the floor. his hand still hurts from the pricks of invisible needles it stabbed into his skin, and he wasn’t keen on holding it any longer.
“what’s wrong?” hu tao comes up to his side, hand landing on his shoulder. “are you okay? is your vision?”
“it’s nothing.”
discretely, he tries to turn a pebble on the floor in front of him. he tells himself it’s nothing, he knows it’ll work, he just needs the confirmation for himself, since if a fake vision could react like that..
“hey, don’t worry about it. the dead need to stay that way. whoever that was, i trust your judgement. i’m certain you did the-“
she cuts herself off with a pained cry, her shoulders jerk back as her hands reach for her back, her face twisting in pain. zhongli takes a step over his ‘vision’, turning her by the shoulder to see what he knows but doesn’t want to believe.
her vision is glowing brightly, the diamond-shaped gem heating up the metal around it. he wastes no time in removing it from the clip holding it in place, though he has to drop it as well from the heat. it burned her jacket, and she’ll certainly need a new one, but that’s not what he’s worried for.
after all, the stone hadn’t moved.
the sun stung your eyes through your lids, forcing you awake if only to move to a more shaded area. the ground beneath you was hard but not harsh, warmer than wuwang hill by a long shot. you were tempted to stay, to allow yourself to slip back into sleep…
something squishy bumped into your right arm.
you pushed your eyes open, pulling at the numb strings of muscles in your arms to help yourself up. you were sitting in a stone… building would be too generous. there were four pillars and a roof, with a ramp to your left and a staircase in front of you.
and immediately to your right, the object that bumped you earlier, is a small dendro slime.
wide orange eyes peer up at you, the sight cute enough for you to forget your aches.
“hey,” you mumble, reaching a wobbly hand to nudge against its side. the slime chitters, hopping into your lap, and you notice something shining in the leaves atop its head. it doesn’t seem bothered, only pressing itself further into your hand with a chirp that nearly sounds apologetic.
“don’t be sorry.” you move your hand to pet over the stems on top of it, the slime’s eyes slowly beginning to close. you feel something hard beneath your palm, and move to see what it is. in the center of the slime’s head is a small tangle of grass, something golden shimmering in the center. you’ve never looked really hard at the models in-game, mostly because they’re always attacking you, so you’re not sure if this is meant to be there or not. maybe they’re like crystalflies, with a core in the middle? but why be exposed…
the slime chirps in your lap and you move your hand away, a ‘sorry’ on the edge of your lips when it stretches to move the tangle between your fingers. did it want you to fix it?
you tilt the slime towards you, but you don’t have a chance to try. as you watch, the tangle undoes itself, cradling a golden ring between the stalks. it looks about your size, with a small blue gem embedded on one side. the slime makes a soft noise, the ring sliding forward as it tilts.
“for me?”
you picked up the ring at its affirmative trill, sliding it onto your finger. it fit as good as it looked, surprisingly. where had the slime gotten a ring your size, let alone know it would fit you?
the slime looked up, seeking a response, and you smiled.
“thank you, little guy. it’s beautiful.” the slime visibly grew happy, hopping lightly in your lap, and you couldn’t help but laugh. it looked so excited, orange eyes beaming as it twirled itself into a little circle. how could they be enemies?
“where’d you get this?”
your question didn’t dampen its excitement��a surprise, since you expected it to have stolen the ring—and it only hopped off your lap, moving halfway down the staircase before looking back at you.
using the pillars to support yourself, you stood, wincing at the combined pain of old wounds and sleeping on rock. as you carefully move down the steps, you hope that the slime wont lead you to some poor merchant’s cart.
the small slime hopped along a dirt path, and you took the time to look around. behind you to the left was a large pit, for lack of a better word, a tree growing in the center on a platform surrounded by water. if you had to guess, you were probably still in liyue, just more south. the horizon was dotted with spires, and you think you see something like the jade chamber off to the left of your current path. it’s hard to tell, given the distance, but…
the sounds of humanoid chanting reaches your ears, and you startle for a moment before hearing the trademark woo! of an abyss mage. the slime stops, checking on you, but you just give it another smile as you continue to walk. so it got it from hilichurls, then? odd, but better than stealing it from somebody. it was in remarkable condition for being from hilichurls, though…
the slime leads you onto some rocks, and you can see the camp just below you. an abyss mage turns as you approach, the red film of a shield beginning to appear around it before it recognizes you. it was a small camp, only a handful of hilichurls around, and they all crowd you as you climb down the rocks.
the abyss mage chitters in a language you don’t understand, its red ears flopping as it gestures. it finishes with a deep bow, looking up at you, and your face twists in apology. luckily, it seems to get it, pointing to you before waving you into the camp. you take its hand and let it lead you to a crate to sit on, watching as it turns to the rest of the group and says… something. nonetheless, the hilichurls seem to get it, all nodding. the abyss mage puts its hands on its hips, satisfied.
the dendro samachurl says something to the large mitachurl, who nods, hefting its rock shield and standing near the entrance of the camp. the samachurl then pulls over another hilichurl as it walks to you. its staff is more at eye level with you than it is.
the samachurl chitters beneath the mask, and the hilichurl besides it—you assume, based on prior experiences—translates.
“unu boya ika zido mosi aba nunu,” it says, pointing further down the path, where you can barely see a wooden structure.
now, your hilichurl isn’t the best. in the beginning, you learned somewhat, but definitely not enough to know the entirety of what it just said. you catch the word for enemy and some sort of time word you think means later in the day, so that together with the gesture.. you’re hopefully assuming that it means later in the day there will be enemies, likely the millelith, over that direction.
you nod. the hilichurl seems proud of itself.
the samachurl continues, much shorter this time, and the hilichurl holds out a hand.
“muhu mita?”
ah. those ones you know just fine.
you accept the offer of a meal and let it walk you to a rock near a campfire, listening as they talk to each other. they bring you food and share more amongst themselves, the electro shooter waving its bandaged hands in a story you didn’t try to decipher. the heat of noon begins to fade after an hour or two, and though the campfire is now embers and your wooden plate is empty, you’re content.
the dendro slime from earlier sticks close to you, shifting as close to the dying fire as it dared whilst being out of range of the jumping sparks. it wasn’t particularly cold, only around 3ish by your best judgement. the sun still shone in the sky, washing over sand and stone and the things that sparkled under it. there was nothing to worry over, nobody near, and the mitachurl and pyro grenadier were still guarding the entrance. it was a welcome respite.
you hope it’ll last.
xiao pulled his polearm from the body of a hilichurl, picking a tuft of matted red hair from the jade edge. the shattered remains of its mask fell to the floor as its body dissolved, but he just stepped over it, dismissing his weapon. the boy from qingce was uninjured, the hilichurl grenadier had fallen, and his work here was done.
“-jianguo, what are you doing out here? you should know better than to wander near wuwang hill!”
xiao rolled his eyes, hoping the fading debt of the hilichurls would dissipate faster. he couldn’t leave without endangering the child or his mother, but he wanted to leave earlier sometimes, if only so people would learn not to wander into areas they didn’t belong.
“but mama, all the hilichurls fled to wuwang hill! our charms worked!” the small boy triumphantly held up a small piece of paper, sloppily colored gold with some sort of crayon. shaky black penmanship made a crude imitation of a sigil of permission, a hilichurl’s mask in the center. or, at least, he assumed that’s what it was. children…
“no, jianguo, hilichurls don’t listen to your sigils! just… just stay away from wuwang hill, okay? say your thanks to the nice man who saved you and let’s go home.”
the boy turned, wide eyes fixed on him, and xiao checked that he had absorbed enough of the karma for it to be safe before teleporting away.
he landed on unfamiliar dirt, haunting trees surrounding him. judging by the blue wisps floating around, he could guess he was in the forests atop wuwang hill.
his question was why.
normally, he teleports away to the next source of concentrated karma to ensure it doesn’t end up infecting the people of liyue. but this… he knew wuwang hill had hilichurls and cicin mages, but certainly not a high enough concentration, right?
‘…all the hilichurls fled to wuwang hill!’
unless something called them here.
with one hand on his mask, xiao drew his spear and started to walk.
the forest was oddly quiet. the leaves themselves seemed to stay still, the only noise being made by his shoes upon the path. there were no cicins, nor their mages, nor hilichurls of any kind. yet what was left of his tattered soul was called up the path, some remnant of an instinct telling him to let go of his polearm.
he gripped it tighter in response.
the stone steps ahead seemed to taunt him, seeming to stretch further and further away as he walked. whatever intuition tugged at him felt like it was tied around his soul, tying up the scattered pieces to drag around. it.. was less irritating than it should be, something that frightened him more.
every step he took highlighted the rips across his heart, the scars of karma accentuated. but it wasn’t the surveying gaze of a predator looking for weak points, the invisible eyes prying into his soul neither threatening or aggressive. it felt like he was being assessed by a doctor, like he was young and still being fostered by morax, like he’d gotten into a scuffle with bosacious and he was being scolded even as his arm was being bandaged, the warm mug of tea in his hand soothing the ache in his knuckles-
water on his cheek drew his attention, and he was quick to wipe it off his face, glancing at the sky. he didn’t remember any stormclouds coming in, and the skies seemed..
clear…
…
xiao set his jaw and kept walking, determined to keep his mind on his task.
the stone was cold beneath his feet, the seelie court glowing as the seelie inside buzzed. xiao turned the corner, ignoring the weird feeling in his chest. it had to be nothing. it had to be just some random memory that he was reminded of because of the trees, or the air, or… anything.
xiao walked up the second set of stairs, stopping at the top in shock. the pathway across the pool in front of the domain was covered in wildlife, everything that was missing from the forest condensed into one space on the path. birds, butterflies, even a crane and an electro cicin, all gathered around a small space.
he slowly took a step forward, confused by the display. to see so many animals getting along, crowding such an area as wuwang hill..
xiao continued to walk, his foot splashing into the water above the path harsher than he intended. he froze, making sure he didn’t disturb anything, but the gathering remained. he quickly made his way over the tree in the middle of the path, ensuring he landed quieter this time. as he closer, the details of what he was looking at slowly filled in. between the legs of cranes and over the heads of crows, he could see that a portion of the stone was a different color than the rest. the water above it also refused to move, the ripples from the various animals not moving it an inch.
the birds finally moved when he got close enough, flapping over to the opposite side of the discolored stone. xiao crouched at the edge of the still water, mindful not to get himself wet.
the stone, and water to some extent, thin as it was, was stained a yellowish color. the path looked newer, less worn, the water above it clearer.
his frown deepened the longer he looked at it. he’d never seen anything like this, any substance that froze water while it was still liquid and cleaned it of any dirt whilst never dispersing. he never saw so much wildlife, for lack of better words, getting along like this. the cicin confused him further- it also linked back to what he’d heard, that hilichurls had been called back to wuwang, but he’d yet to see one.
the slashes across his heart pulsed as it beat, reminding him of their presence as he tried to focus. the string tied in his chest pulled him forward, to reach and sink into the shallow pool of gold. he shouldn’t, it was dangerous, he didn’t know what it was or what effect it had on him—he should leave now, in rationality, because he was already being affected. if whatever this was was strong enough to affect him, a yaksha, then surely it was a danger to the villagers nearby..
then why didn’t he feel like it was a danger? why, though his heart burned with the remains of his karmic debt, eternities of slaughter, did he feel lighter?
questions remained unanswered as the pull strengthened, the animals around him growing bold, risking being near him for the chance to crowd the shimmering water. he checked that there wasn’t anything or anybody lying in wait—the chance of this being a trap was too high to ignore—before hesitantly dismissing his polearm, making way for a large raven to land beside him.
xiao stared at the bird, watching as it kept its body entirely out of the odd zone while still sticking close. did it not feel the same pull as he did? was this water meant for creatures such as him, with lifetimes worth of sin on their shoulders? was this where the hilichurls vanished into?
his heart beat against his ribs, the cuts of karma pulsing with it. this water, this stone, he had to be affecting it somehow. though he made sure that his shoes were outside the boundary and that his hands didn’t touch inside it, it was hard to deny the way whatever was dissolved in the water was attracted to his end. it had formed a gradient, the sheen across it darker on his end. he felt a need to reach out, to hold his dirtied past to this cleansing water and be clean of it. no matter how impossible. no matter how irrational. no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it was outlandish and would only get him into trouble, no matter how strong his will or how many rips crossed his heart.
…when xiao gave in and touched the golden stain, one of the tears healed.
the water’s shine faded in an instant, quickly turning back to clear as the stone beneath it aged before his eyes; animals around him rustled and cried, feathers ruffling as they came to their senses and took flight, leaving him with his hands over his sternum and a bright light beneath his skin.
feeling like one of the birds himself, xiao sat in a daze, his mind racing as he tried to rationalize what just occurred.
what was that? what had happened? why did he feel so light? why was his mind covered in warmth and memories of his time with the yakshas, with morax, with the traveller, why was he so- so free? what happened to the chains of karma crossing his limbs, binding him to his nightmares? what happened to the voices repeating his sins as the worst song ever played, where did the pain and the aches and his debt go? how could this water heal what the adepti could not? what morax could not?
clutching the healed seam of his soul, alatus fled.
#words cannot describe how proud i am of that title#ideas in the tags#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin#genshin impact#self aware genshin#sagau impostor au#sagau hu tao#hu tao#sagau zhongli#zhongli#sagau xiao#xiao#xiao angst#can't believe i studied HILICHURL for this. suffering from success /j#hey what do we think about god having ‘karma'? like xiao's but if anybody kills god they have to deal with that karma?#and it can only be relieved by like… true forgiveness or some other disney shit? like until then they have nightmares#and/or physical manifestations of the karma? like golden chains or some other obvious thing so other people Know What They Did#may or may not write a little drabble on that later.. to the anon asking for venti angst… expect a letter?
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I feel like that stanley had suffered through a lot...
No big deal !
Narrator’s arrival to the human world was a bit delayed. Just enough time for Stanley to start his new life, get a job and apartment, make friends, give up searching for his Narrator and convince himself that The Parable wasn’t real in the first place
And of course, it’s no big deal that he can’t talk to anyone about this because they’ll think he’s insane. Just gotta bottle it all up, easier said than done
#ppl talking to stanley and narrator#tsp#the stanley parable#the stanley parable ultra deluxe#tspud#hopefully this angst is good?#I don’t really know how to properly write angst#only ideas#but that’s what this series is for! to help me get better at writing and comics#and for you guys to talk to these freaks#anyway absolutely stuffing Stanley (sex joke) with issues#we’ll MAYBE (probably) get into that once I flesh it out more#post parable au#.png#.exe
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(reads my own fic) woah. I'm so good at my job
#im so ngl though. i entirely forgot i wrote that one#like when i posted it i thought it was kinda mid and i think i like. banished it from my awareness#and just set it loose into the currents#apparently people really like it!!! im glad yall enjoy it!!!#ik anyone not following me wont see this but uhhhh#did you know that only on like my 20th new file did i realize hadvar is. following the convoy#at the beginning#somehow i never connected like. him parking his horse where it glitches into your face as him being with you#like i just figured he rode in from somewhere else in the fort#need yall to know that i had an entire fucking draft going for that thing where hadvar begs for reassignment#desperately#when he reads over the prisoner list and gets threatened with insubordination--over an enemy no less#and like he was up all night sobbing his little heart out about how he was killing his beat friend#and i was ALMOST DONE WHEN I REALIZED HE HADNT BEEN COMING FROM THE FORT#HE WAS BEHIND US#WHICH MEANT. RAGH (throws writing tools off desk)#unless i actually posted that one too and just completely forgot#but i think it was the og draft for the hadlof intro angst post#<- guy with memory issues#wish i had writing ideas more often tbh but i gotta sit on something for like. months#cant make a simple post to save my life unless its abt celann and even then its only simple bc i cannot coherently elaborate
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Every once in a while I think about the ship I've been obsessed over for close to two years now and feel like I'm ascending to another plane of reality. Like sometimes you just encounter a ship that hits every single mark and is perfect in every regard and you're left stunned how something like that can even exist
#Anyways I'mma put the actual inane ramblings in the tags#Medic and Engie make me so ill every time I think about them for a while I feel like tearing into things and biting people and throwing up#How something like that can exist completely defies me#I don't know how something that perfect can exist#I'm typically a multi-shipper and while I still kinda am I honest to god don't really care to write other ships#Not cause they ain't good (they are pretty damn good) but because Engiemedic is just on another level#Like dammnnn!! that's why I've spent so long writing a fic about them!#I can't fathom it honestly how characters like that can exist#They're like a slightly warped reflection of themselves#They're both intelligent mentally ill lunatics with no morals whatsoever#The only thing is that Engie is marginally better at hiding it#If you go into headcanon territory than WHOO!! OHH DAMNNN#Like what gets me the most about Engiemedic is how they're so similar#They think and exist on the same wavelength#In tune with each other. Their neurons braided like wires#If I start talking about how the machine and the flesh are not opposites but rather one in the same we gonna be here all day#I just can't...believe the ship exists#Like man how does this happen#You want humour? Goofy wacky experiments and silliness of them violating several conventions#You want angst? Hell yeah they've got plenty of it#Fluff? Buddy I start wailing and sobbing if they accidentally brush hands while working on stuff#I could write about them for ages and not get bored they can fit in every circumstance#They make me SICK they make me CRAZY I love them so so much#They would do anything for each other#I look at what they have and I can feel like I understand what love is#I need to write more oneshots and minifics about them they're so flexiable and fun#Can't wait to do parallels with them in these upcoming chapters#Either way GODDDDD I love these two so much I could go on for hours about them#especially if I'm allowed to talk about headcanons#sp-rambles
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