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ajaxwrites · 3 years

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Genshin Impact Fanfic Rec List

(because this is my most current obsession~~)

The Narwhal of Dihua Marsh by GreyLiliy

Childe hears of a strong Adeptus living at the Wangshu Inn. Despite warnings from Zhongli that fighting Xiao would be a deathly mistake, Childe seeks out the Adeptus living in the Dihua Marsh eager for a proper fight.

However, Childe severely underestimates his opponent, and the consequences of his actions may keep him from returning home to Snezhnaya.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This fic is interesting primarily because it's not necessarily what you would call an easy story to read. The content can surprisingly get quite heavy as the relationship between Childe and Zhongli isn't healthy and it becomes increasingly obvious as the story progresses. You swing between wanting to separate the two and also desperately wishing that they'll work out because there is something there. The story snowballs from what seems like an innocuous, if stupid and rash, decision on Childe's part to a complicated mess that you can’t help but be enthralled in. I went in expecting your typical romance and ended up in something that was more complex than I expected but also beautifully thought provoking.

Entirely Out of Spite by Bgtea

"Welcome to a new user experience! You have triggered this interface with the keywords, ‘Stupid game! Stupid devs! I want my f*****g money back!’ You are now bound to the character Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, codename: Childe! We hope you have an enjoyable user experience and we welcome you once again to Genshin Impact 2.0!”

Those are some of the first words Ajax, starving college student extraordinaire, has the misfortune of hearing upon waking up in a brave new world from what he's fairly sure is a very, very fatal accident involving water and a shit ton of electricity.

Okay, so he's not dead. That's good. But what's this about him being stuck playing the character Tartaglia? Tartaglia, as in the shitty, one-dimensional, cartoonish villain who met his untimely, gruesome death in the first act of the original game?

Fuck that noise. Like hell Ajax is going to share that fate.

And so begins one man's journey to unfuck himself.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Whenever this updates, I squeal. If you’re a fan of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System or just transmigration/reincarnation plots in general, you’re going to love it. Bgtea does a beautiful job in balancing humor with the trauma that comes with the whole reincarnation plotline. The whole of it is beautiful written and watching Childe/Ajax interact with the other characters (and the perspective of those characters) is a delight!

the sister by glassdrachma

The tragic and unexpected death of Zhongli-xiansheng of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor occurred to the sorrow of many and the deep skepticism of a few.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: glassdrachma has a gift for humor and romance. In short, Zhongli fakes his death for plot reasons and comes back as Jianlao, the bereaved twin sister. Shenanigans ensue, featuring overprotective Liyue-ians (?), chaotic gremlin Venti, and Kexing. Very light hearted, good for the soul.

The White Cicada Society by clementinesgulag

After his little brother is bundled back to Snezhnaya, Childe makes good on his promise to the traveller and takes the first boat out of Liyue Harbor. Any sense of homecoming lasts about as long as an uncooked steak in front of Xiangling, however, when his boat sinks, grounding him back in the mainland.

It's just as well, because the next morning, a body is found in the Northland Bank. A visit from a fellow Harbinger reveals a far more insidious plot than anything Childe could concoct with a god of the vortex and twenty minutes without supervision. The murders aren’t limited to the one Bank. They’ve been trailing down the Liyue border, getting closer and closer to the city. The Tsaritsa has a new mission for him: to figure out who, or what is targeting Fatui forces.

Against his best wishes, Childe is forced to see Zhongli again at the morgue. It becomes clear that he’s going to need a guide, and Childe resolves to quash his pride, and their differences to request his help to navigate Liyue and solve the case.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A diamond in the rough that I slept on and then stumbled back to by accident. I had it marked for later on AO3 and forgot about it for like a good week to my utter self-disgust. It. Is. So. Damn. Good! The mystery is intriguing but I live for the realistic portrayal of the aftermath of the whole gnosis plotline. The betrayal, the bitterness, but ah, the sexual tension. The harbinger interactions in this fic make it gold though.

Lungs full of Roses by SecretlyACatLady

Childe had always assumed that he would die young. He had accepted that a long time ago, ever since he accepted the mantle of a Fatui Harbinger. However, he always thought that he would die in a glorious fight, his body broken but spirit relishing the strong opponent that had bested him. He was okay with that type of death.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Fate had decided to add one last insult to injury, because, here Childe was, dying because he had fallen in love with the ex-Geo Archon. The same Archon who seemed to have discarded him like an old toy ever since the Osial Incident. --- In which divine beings are cruel and a cursed Childe starts preparing for his inevitable death because no Archon could ever love a mortal.

…Right?

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic that started it all for me, the one that sucked me into the fandom. This fic is heartbreaking. We always do love a hanahaki plotline but something about the way it frames the disease and the shame that comes with it...I highly recommend giving it a read. The angst is real I tell you.

The Bride of The Golden Dragon by Erika_Bee

“You’re to be sent on a special mission, Tartaglia.”

The young man’s eyes gleamed in interest. “How special?” He asked as he wiped the blood off his daggers.

His superior grinned. “Special enough to put your name in Snezhnaya’s history books.”

—

In which the Archon War ravaged the land of Liyue and to ensure the people’s survival, the God of Geo established the Harvester Contract: One bride per village, every year, in exchange for protection and a good harvest.

Or: Childe is sent on an undercover mission to kill the Geo Archon, but things don’t go as planned.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Don’t let the title scare you off--this isn’t one of those fics where they feminize one of the male characters and reduce their personality to a mindless submissive bobblehead to the point that I want to throw my laptop out of the window. Not that there’s anything wrong if you like that kind of thing, just not my cup of tea. This fic though---READ IT! There’s just something refreshing about the writing and the plot, the way that Childe’s character reads off the page. I live for the interactions between the characters and how the author has mapped the relationships. Warning that recent chapters have swerved decided into NSFW territory though.

the brothers grim by izabellwit

Left in an unfamiliar land with a mission he never wanted, a young Kaeya lies, survives, and somehow finds a family in the process.

Or: How Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, and why he left it. Includes lore, sibling bickering, found family struggles, and a more in-depth look at the years between Kaeya’s arrival and Crepus’s death.

Ships: N/A

Notes: Ahh, little Kaeya. Cheeky ass little shit that’s too angsty and adorable for his own good. I don’t have words for this fic. It makes my heart warm but also makes me want to weep because god, this fic covers exactly how traumatic Kaeya’s situation is and why child soldiers/spies just shouldn’t be. And the dynamic he has with Diluc and Crepus--do me a favor and read it. Screams found family.

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A light-hearted, humorous and fluffy as hell piece. Short word is that Venti comes to Liyue for some fun, causes chaos, accidentally plays matchmaker, and steals some vegetables. A get-together fic for Childe and Zhongli that includes a surprisingly self-aware (if blunt and snarky) Zhongli and jealous Childe that gets increasingly flustered.

melt (speak or forever hold your peace) by anatakana

Falling into bed with Diluc was an unbelievably bad idea given their tumultuous shared history, but Kaeya’s impulsive urge to amuse himself knew no bounds.

It’s all fun and games until emotions got involved.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: THIS IS NSFW. With plot though? This is THE FIC that got me shipping the two (though the game did a good job on its own). The angst is real here and we love the sheer gal of both of these two stupid men.

Cascading (In a good way) by Hubbleablubble

Kaeya is a fascinating annoyance.

(Or: A series of events in which Albedo gets to know Kaeya, and they slowly go from strangers to acquaintances to something more.)

Ships: Albedo/Kaeya

Notes: Sweet fic. Not my typical ship pairing. Loved the Khaenri’ah mentions. Kaeya is Trans FTM here though it’s only briefly mentioned. There is also an incomplete sequel (as of May 2021) featuring an Overprotective Big Brother Diluc on a warpath giving shovel talks to everyone except apparently Albedo that’s also worth reading.

The Language of Flowers by Jules (Penwyn)

Kaeya Alberich has made a habit of lying—after all, the only truths he’s ever spoken cost him everything—but there are only so many lies a man can tell before the truth comes spilling out.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Hanahaki! Except not! Basically, Kaeya pukes up flowers that say the truth whenever he lies. Cue, angst! Lovely and quick read--love Kaeya’s voice here.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly."

Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-"

Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?"

Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Childe, you idiot. Humorous and funny, very light hearted. Makes you wonder if Childe has an IQ. He’s too busy pining/lovesick to realize that he told his target that he’s going to kill him for his gnosis. Zhongli and Liyue remain confused on how Childe still DOES NOT get it but half-ass hiding his Archon status anyway.

the bird without wings by Anonymous

"Kaeya!" someone yells. Small arms wrap around his waist tightly, red hair spilling out of the ponytail, and Kaeya's heart almost stops.

He's talked his way out of all types of situations. From placating international disputes to buttering up his informants, he's always had a quick response to everything.

But for once, Kaeya is speechless. He stares down at the boy with puffy cheeks, slightly crooked teeth and sparkling bright eyes.

Eight year old Diluc beams back.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Diluc gets de-aged and Kaeya gets angsty. The interactions between the two are heartwarming and will induce tears. Childe makes a brief appearence that *chef’s kiss*

call me "lover boy" by Anonymous

Zhongli turns back, eyes bright with amusement, a stray lilypad still stuck in his hair, and Childe thinks, wow. I want to kiss him stupid.

Childe's not into the whole "swooning maiden patiently waiting for his beloved to swoop down and smooch the daylights out of him" thing. Nah, that's not his style. He's Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers, and he's going to kiss Zhongli right now.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: FUNNY AS HELL. Childe is straight up just trying to plant one on Zhongli but fate and people just keep interfering. It’s a weird trope aversion where the character is actively trying to confess rather than avoiding it but life gets in the way.

springtime in snezh-nya-ya by miaomaomei

Tartaglia’s body moves before he can even think about it. He arches his back and flattens his ears against his head, baring his teeth in a hiss. Considering he barely even reaches Scaramouche's knees — Scaramouche, of all people! The guy is practically the size of a fourteen-year-old — he doubts that he is cutting as imposing a figure as he hopes.

It isn't a surprise, though. No one could become a Fatui Harbinger if they were scared of a little cat.

Tartaglia is turned into a cat and he goes to Zhongli for help. It goes about as well as expected.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TOO ADORABLE FOR WORDS. This is just pure fluff I swear. Love how Childe is written and the interactions between the two are just ahhhh. A balm on the soul.

Melt by tanktrilby

“My name is Diluc,” he says. A scowl naturally furrows his brow, and Kaeya looks like he wants to laugh.

He’s looking at him through his lashes again, blue eyes teasing and warm. “Diluc,” he says. “A knight in overalls isn’t quite where I thought my preferences would lie, but here we are.”

(or: Kaeya loses his memories and makes some assumptions. Diluc can't honestly tell him that he's wrong.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: As the summary says, Kaeya loses his memories. Diluc plays babysitter for plot reasons. Meanwhile, Kaeya freaks out and has an essential crisis because his instincts freak him out which = angst. Simultaneously, sort of love confessions?

you are cordially invited by ktenologious

When the Traveler receives a mysterious invitation from a Snezhnayan businessman, they seek out help from the only Snezhnayan they are on good terms with. They decide it is a wonderful idea to go to this business party in the middle of the ocean because, well, what could be better entertainment than watching a Fatui Harbinger at work? It is too bad Childe couldn't come with them...

Meanwhile, the Tsaritsa needs someone to track down the source of a brand new drug at a party on a cruise; it just so happens that she has two Harbingers who specialize in causing chaos and sinking ships. Scaramouche is a sadist and loves this, and Tartaglia... Well, Tartaglia just wants to know why is he the one in the dress again.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, sort of Diluc/Kaeya & Scaramouche/Childe

Notes: Features a crossdressing Childe and Kaeya for plot reasons. Funny as hell. Love Fatui dynamics/interactions. Highly recommend. Go read it. I’m serious. It’s so beautiful, I can’t. Also Zhongli is so love-sick and jealous, it’s hilarious.

The Road to Snezhnaya by paranoid_fridge

Everything's done and over. Now, Zhongli only needs to adjust to living like an ordinary mortal. Or that is what he thinks until a familiar face shows up in Liyue. Teucer comes looking for his brother who failed to return to Snezhnaya on the Fatui ships. And as Childe's declared "friend", Zhongli must help Teucer find him.

Or: Teucer drags Zhongli on a cross-country goose chase looking for Childe. Zhongli just happens to find a bit more along the way.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I have no words for this fic outside of the fact that it is clear that Teucer has the only functioning brain and should be Best Man because he obviously did all the work here. Features an oblivious Childe and overprotective Zhongli, plus bystander Kaeya that is getting allll of the gossip. And also the most destructive group of children ever.

basket of knives by oronine

“I just want to be loved,” Childe says to himself, to whoever is listening. “Is that too much to ask?”

They are on the roof once more, this time Childe’s foot touches the edge of the building as he daydreams of something that cannot be. The sky is blank and cloudy and perhaps Lumine fears it’ll all end when he takes a step.

“Not at all,” she says. It’s still the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, Childe hates his family but loves them all the same.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TW for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self-harm, depression, etc. Not a light read by any definition. Set in a modern AU, not in the genshin impact universe. Features a Childe that is Not Okay, good friend but also probably traumatized friend Lumine (and her brother Aether), and Zhongli. Family dynamic is messed up as hell and explores mental health quite well in my opinion. I’m not sure how healthy necessarily Childe’s relationships are but I think that’s a given considering the context and how derailed his mental health is in this fic. Definitely angst as heavy, made me tear up quite a bit. Read, but pay attention to the content/trigger warnings as it does get quite explicit.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Ships: Chongyun/Xinqiu

Notes: JFKLFJS I LOVE THIS. I love Chongyun’s characterization and the interaction between all the characters. The dynamic between Chongyun, Xingqiu, and Xiangling are to die for. Also, this line: “Stuck-up Persnickety Bastard.” Random note but Xiao throws Chongyun off a balcony yet is also 100% a softie.

Talks about Nothing by tzitzimeme

In which Zhongli unlocks the Memory of Dust, only to find out:

1. Guizhong is 100% alive (just disembodied) within it, 2. Guizhong has been watching over him this whole time, and 3. Guizhong is very excited by the prospect of Zhongli getting a cute Snezhnayan boyfriend.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Venti/Xiao

Notes: The pure judgment that Guizhong unleashes on Zhongli (as well as her sass in general) is pure comedic gold. The dynamic between Xiao and Venti are also adorable. Meanwhile, Childe misunderstands and also just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

xi wangmu by tzitzimeme

Xiangling scales entire mountains to satisfy the palettes of her two pickiest customers.

(Or, two men who are emotionally stunted by their own immortality inadvertantly turn an overly enthusiastic chef into their messenger pigeon.)

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao (?)

Notes: Not sure if it reads romantic exactly, can definitely be read as platonic. The fic boils down to Xiangling trying to expose Xiao to variety because just eating plain almond tofu is a no no. Zhongli gives advice/uses Xiangling as a messenger pigeon. Backstory is explored!

Falling (Fallen) by asinglecrow

It’s only when Childe finds himself in front of Zhongli, a spear protruding from his stomach, that he thinks oh I might have fucked up.

Or: The worst (best) day of Childe's life.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Funny and lighthearted! Gets sort of NSFW with passing mention of mpreg but otherwise, it’s just pure humor/fluff. Get-together fic featuring deadpan dragon Zhongli and Childe that is just done with everything.

the louvre by morisuke

Here in Liyue, the air is filled with the ocean, and the sun shines through the mountains like it’s flowing through a crack in the sky. Here in Liyue, there is a man with no wallet at a vending machine that is going to waste the rest of his day showing a stranger around their school campus for a pocket sized can of iced coffee.

It’s interesting here in Liyue, Childe thinks.

Where Childe flirts with a stranger at a campus vending machine.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Set in a modern/college AU. This is a relatively quiet, soft kind of story. Childe comes to Liyue because reasons and falls in love quietly. It’s more of a snippet of life type of fic that’s sweet and peaceful. Love the change that comes over Childe as he finds a home.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic rec #fanfic rec #rec list #zhongli/childe #childe/zhongli #tartali #diluc/kaeya #luckae #fanfiction #i have very obvious ships i know #not all my recs but a couple of my favorites

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robiness · 4 years

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Qrow was meant to be a punching bag (theory, V7CH12 spoilers)

tw: depression, one brief mention of suicide at the very end

Many are upset about the literal and narrative butchering of two beloved characters in RWBY V7E12. The initial and probably most popular argument against what happened is that it doesn’t make sense, why would these characters do what they did. And honestly, that reasonable reaction to the injustice was mine, too.

But now that I’ve “calmed down”, meaning I’m finally not in a whirlwind of blind rage, indignation, and devastation, I started thinking about “Why did they do that?” with some level of depth.

The answer I found is still unjust and disgusting, but at least it fell in line with something resembling logic.

Qrow enthusiasts have been complaining about his endless heartbreak. Why can’t be be happy for once? What’s the whole point in his recovery arc this volume if they’ll just scrap it? It’s like they put random tragedies on a dart board and the writers just started throwing.

Hear me out - they meant all of this. Every instance Qrow suffered is intended. They didn’t throw away his recovery arc because he was never meant to recover.

I think that they’re going to make him an antagonist at worst, or a man driven to the ultimate tragedy at best.

At this point, you’re probably like. What. Lol no. You’re as silly as the writers are.

But again, let me explain. I used to have that mindset of Qrow always being best but sad boy. A hero who just needs a chance.

There was NO way this man will ever go dark:

he probably thinks he lost summer to salem

his nieces are actively hunted by salem and her forces, and RWBY for sure ain’t changing sides

he’s always believed in the principles he has, and he’s always applied them. he’s a good Huntsman who cares, and knows his path

he believes in ruby’s determination and ability to probs save the world

But that’s the thing.

He’s ALWAYS stuck by the principles he learned from Ozpin. Betrayal after betrayal, he was crushed but managed to somehow bounce back.

This volume, he was on a good track. A good mind space. His kids are great, but then he met an equal - someone with literal plot armor against his Semblance. Misfortune is the reason why he stays away from the people he loves, why he blames himself for a lot of things, why he feels like baggage.

A person his age who could be a friend, or more. Huntsman of equal ability and maturity.

Queerbaiting aside (I’m sorry I ever used that phrase, I hate them too), Clover was a possibility. Here was a potential team partner, friend, lover, whatever, but the point is he was finally free to explore what a developing relationship is like because here’s a guy who kinda got him, and probably won’t be harmed by staying close for an extended period of time.

I think the chemistry in their fights solidified this too. Clover was someone who didn’t get in trouble by being at his side (except the first time in the mines, and Clover took it in stride and still succeeded).

Even better, Clover actually vocalizes that hey, it’s okay.

He doesn’t dismiss Qrow’s semblance, but he encourages Qrow to let go of the guilt a bit, that he’s worth more than his bad luck, and can continue to work around it.

Qrow was nowhere near full recovery, but he was definitely on the way with a bit of Clover’s help. Later, my precious man finally smiles for real... not his smirk or sad smiles to Ruby. He’s smiling for the enjoyment of the moment and things are looking up!

(slightly sorry for the gif below)

(V7CH12 gifs would be appropriate from here on, but I am NOT doing that to myself)

So what’s the point, Robiness? We all know how THAT story goes. Qrow gets trauma because it’s shown to him, yet again, that his Semblance fucks up the good things, that even someone with the most potential to be safe ISN’T. Not around him.

The whole crash was OOC, rushed and bad writing, whatever. But why did it happen?

Qrow is basically the poster boy for mental health in this show. He’s depressed, and to him AND to the outside world, he’s right in thinking he’s only going to hurt people. He’s been proven right, many times, that he is bad luck.

What’s different this time?

He didn’t have hope, the other times he was let down. He had hope for humanity, yes, and that he can somehow contribute to saving it.

But he’s never had hope for himself, that he could be more than his Semblance. Clover’s character gave that to him. He was already trying to quit drinking, but that was for Ruby and the other kids, and by extension their mission, but not for himself.

When CRWBY killed that hope, it killed anything inside of Qrow that could’ve thought that he could be a hero. Or even simply better than he was before.

He’s crushed, his mind is clouded. As Clover died, he wanted to kill Tyrian, then he wanted James to fall. The legal type of justice wouldn’t be enough to assuage his need for vengeance.

And he’s alone. Perhaps about to be arrested, I don’t know. But every other time he’s been crushed, he had the kids around to divert the attention even a little bit. But this time, there’s no one to help him process and move past this. No positivity from Ruby, no scolding from Yang to keep it together. No one.

If you’ve ever had mental illnesses, you could probably imagine being alone in that fragile state of mind.

And you know who’s the most likely to know where the heck he is and that he’s going through something? His sister, Raven, because of her Semblance.

Details have been important in how RWBY is told to the audience (though they retract when convenient lol). Sometimes, this includes release dates. February is the last month of winter, slowly turning into spring. Yes, I mean the Spring maiden.

Let’s talk about Raven.

She’s angry at her brother, also for feelings of betrayal. He betrayed their tribe, their values, everything they stood for. He left her, his sister. He chose Ozpin’s mission over her, even though their original plan was to just infiltrate Beacon to learn how to kill Huntsmen better.

This means she remembers a boy that had the same ideas and supported her and their family. I don’t think she can accept that this Qrow, the one we know, is her actual brother, how he should be. When it comes to Qrow, I think what matters to her the most is proving that she was right all along, that they should’ve just stuck together and kept to their practices.

And Qrow, regardless of the spring bit, if he encounters her as he is now... could easily believe that she was right. After all, the facts to him are:

He can’t escape his Semblance, ever.

He needs vengeance for Clover, because his death was his fucking fault. His attempt to deescalate the fight (leaving Harbinger in the snow) didn’t matter, because his bad luck won in the end.

A plausible 3. Doing things “the good way” “the right way” is never going to cut it for him because he is walking misfortune. Something will always go wrong.

So why not drop all fucks and go ahead full-force?

His mind isn’t in its best state right now, and all his decisions will of course be emotional.

We’ve known Qrow from point A depression to point B somewhat recovery to point C the last fucking straw. I think it’s something to consider that we’ve never heard anything about his youth, except that he used to believe in the brutality of their tribe. He never mentions it, and we don’t know anything about the circumstances that made him change, beyond “Ozpin gave him a place”.

He gave up his heritage just to be proven that brutality would have protected his loved ones better.

So yes, the punching bag theme, the endless misery, Clover’s death - all these are most likely building up to that shift in his character. We thought the eventual character shift would just be his recovery, but since that was scrapped, the only other way that makes sense is that he’s going to regress into someone that cannot be saved.

He’s not going to switch sides. He’s not going to stop loving his kids. He’s probably never going to join Salem.

But his methods will be more ruthless now, driven by heartbreak and rage and self-hatred. God knows how he’ll deal with anyone in his way. He’s not going to fucking listen. He listened to Clover, and where did that get him?

This way, the violent, straightforward way he used to know, this would protect his kids more efficiently, even if they don’t want him to go down that path. He’d probably leave them to protect them, and to be unhindered in his corner of the war.

He’ll think that this - to be a rage-filled killing machine - would be the best case scenario for him and the rest of the world. Kind of like how he followed RNJR from a distance, killing all the Grimm that could get in their way.

We thought he was a broken man before, but this has been escalating. It’s been probably planned out since before.

If you’re not convinced yet, remember:

RWBY loves literature parallels.

Leo Lionheart changed, and gave in to fear. The Cowardly Lion.

James Ironwood, the Tin Man, has proven that he’s thrown away his heart.

Qrow Branwen, the Scarecrow, was always fucking destined to lose his mind.

I don’t know what will happen after, what kind of sick tragic death he’ll end up with. Since they’re romanticizing his suffering so much, he’ll probably end up killing himself after his work’s done.

I have no idea how the details will go, but I’m pretty sure this is the path the writers will take. There is just no other reason I can fathom as to why they keep hurting my man. I want to be wrong, but I can’t think of anything else, unless some deus ex machina shit happens in the finale, but hell if I’m ever trusting CRWBY again.

And yeah, as a depressed person who relates to and loves Qrow, the idea of the message of “it’s never going to get better” fucking sucks.

#rwby #rwby theory #qrow branwen #clover ebi #i havent stopped being angry its just that im less incapacitated and more directed in my rage now #fair game #meta

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

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Atonement - Part Four

Length: 3.2K words Warning: Oral and sex, humiliation, degradation, allude to a drinking problem, abandonment issues, probably other stuff too (plz see notes) Synopsis: With his trust broken, Michael is doing all he can to make you regret ever crossing him. Notes: Don’t read if you’re easily triggered by things as this series is made to be somewhat horrible; here, as I’ve said, we write for many kinks. The idea with Michael and Y/N is that he sways her with his powers - the ones that allow him to charm a room, see into her thoughts, feel what she’s feeling, and allow her to give into her desires. She’s 100% consenting because I won’t write noncon. Also, thinking I may divulge onto Michael’s mommy issues so... hope you enjoy if you read. Other stuff can be found on my masterlist :)

The dining hall seemed to be empty for the most part but that still didn’t stop you from feeling mortified at what was going on. Nausea made you feel sick to your stomach as you wait for Mallory - Michael sent her away to grab something from another room and your entire body tensed in fear as to what it may be.

Mallory eventually returns and you notice there’s a double dished pet bowl in her tiny hands - one side held water and the other contained some kind of food. Whatever was in it smelled amazing and your stomach begins to rumble. Michael instructs you to get on the ground once the bowl is placed down and you cringe at the thought but you’re too hungry to care. You immediately drop to your hands and knees and begin lapping the water up so you’re able to swallow the food without it getting stuck.

He laughs when his talented nose picks up the stench of your embarrassment but stops when he realises you haven’t eaten anything. Michael squats down so the two of you are eye-to-eye only to scoop up what looks like mashed potato and shoves his fingers deep in your mouth all the while tormenting you about being ungrateful. You liked potato but not when it was being forced down your throat to make you gag.

When he’s done he wipes his dirtied hands clean with your hair in a display of dominance and rises from the ground. Michael only says two words get up and you follow without hesitation. Once you’re on your feet he decides to take it a little bit further, shoving you into the table close by. The pain from your hip bone colliding with its edge causes you to double over and lean into the piece of furniture.

The space between the two of you condenses when Michael draws his body into yours like a magnet; his crotch pressed against a part of your ass and the fullness of his concealed erection is made known. His hand pulls and pushes the plug in and out repeatedly to stimulate your hole and you’re left feeling weak because the throes of humiliation were replaced with ones of want.

“Close your eyes and stay right there. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The sound of Michael’s shoes hitting the floor fill your ears upon his arrival back in the dining hall and every nerve in your body is throwing a fit over the uncertainty. He removes the tailed plug from your ass, placing it to the side of the table, and slips the mask he retrieved from his office over your eyes. Michael’s slender digits brush through your locks far too slow for it to be an accident and when your thoughts transfer to him and how sweet it seems, he tugs at your hair to bring some order to your wandering mind.

You can no longer feel hands touching you and, little do you know, he’s signalling for his suck up loyal follower, Duncan Shepherd, to come over. Duncan commended Michael on his punishment of you and apparently now Michael wants to offer you up as compensation for unwavering loyalty. This man wasn’t someone you got up close and personal with but you knew exactly who he was. Everyone did. He was egotistical and inexorable in his denunciation of the Greys (or lesser beings, as he calls them) but even that wasn’t as harsh as the way he’d look at you; with even more disdain than the others.

Female Greys would fawn over Duncan like he was famous and you found it sickening. He berated them on the daily and yet they’d just giggle as if the misogyny was endearing. I guess as girls we’re taught that if a boy is mean he likes you and that’s why girls must go for the asshole, right? Duncan is physically attractive and if he came up to you in a bar with a proposition you wouldn’t say no but that shit-eating grin and wolf whistles in your direction, while you walked around in the god awful outfit made you wear pissed you off to no extent. Punishment alluded Duncan because Michael had one law for him and another for everyone else and that’s the way it was because man is above women and, according to the pair of them, they were even above man.

It was near impossible to escape the allure of Duncan Shepherd but you did try. In his presence, you’d keep your legs firmly shut to prevent relighting the fire in your loins that had a tendency of raging when he was especially revolting. The thought crossed your mind often as to whether or not Michael told him about your desires – it made a lot of sense for the way he treated you because he’d think you loved his chauvinistic behaviour.

Michael hooks his hands around your arms and pulls you back so Duncan can sit on the table and purrs vindictively about the present he has just for you – apparently his harsh behaviour warranted for a reward in the form of something you’d been fantasizing about for months. You were so desperate for Michael to return to his old self that you didn’t give it a second thought. The idea didn’t even cross your mind that it could potentially be another person because Michael didn’t exactly seem like the type to share his toys. However, if it was, you’d gladly do whatever he asked because that’s how devoted you were to him and he knew it.

All you hear next is the word open and you oblige because after everything you’d still answer his every beck and call. You’re all too willing and you part your lips so fast it was almost as if the last few weeks hadn’t existed at all. A cock is guided into your mouth and the first thing you notice is that it’s thick. You run lengths up and down the shaft and it seems as if the person filling your mouth is rather ardent as your lips become glossed with pre-cum – you run your tongue over the mess to find it doesn’t really taste like much of anything.

You travel over every inch of this member, learning the route of its veins with your tongue, and get lost in the heat of the moment. It seems like forever since you last went down on a guy and you imagined it would be quite a while before you did again unless Michael decided otherwise. Overcome with lust, you deep throat the weeping cock as far as you can as if it were the key to your survival and Duncan’s biting at his fist to keep quiet; it would all be over the second you heard the moans.

He has no other choice but to vacate your eager mouth and off the table in a bid to gather himself. Michael points first at him and then at you and mouths you wanted her, didn’t you? Duncan mouths back I do but it feels too good and I’m about to lose it. He tiptoes around you and Michael whispers a reminder in his ear that there are other ways to use your body besides oral – almost as if he was egging him on.

You weakly whimper at the fact you wanted more because the hunger for a man you’d locked away had been set free when you were blindfolded had your mouth used like it was nothing. Fingers push through your exposed folds and into the depths of your pussy. Curled movements hit the soft spots inside and sounds of pleasure escape your mouth before you can hold them back.

“Ooh little grey, you’re burning with such an intensity right now. Do you want more?” Michael asks, Duncan’s fingers still hitting you in all of the places that had been neglected for so long. The person who got you into this mess was nothing more than a five-minute fuck and you hated wasting your time but thought maybe, for this moment right now, it was worth it.

You sink into the pleasure and struggle to string together a sentence which doesn’t please either of the men watching because they want to hear your words with their very own ears. Duncan decides to remove his slick-covered fingers from inside you and his palm meets head-on with the supple skin of your ass. Michael asks you again do you want more and this time his tone that of a parent demanding a child to own up to their bad behaviour. When you finally do manage to say yes clearly and clicks his tongue and grabs at your arm, taking you away from where you are.

You know exactly where you are with the crackling of flames and the rise in temperature - part of you hoped that Michael led you here to keep you from freezing but you know you were stupid to entertain a thought like that.

Michael demands you to kneel on this but you have no clue what he’s referring to so feel around and come across the couch. With a sneaking suspicion as to what could be coming (because what really comes after a blowjob?) you manoeuvre yourself into a position where your face is resting on your forearms and your lower half is sticking up in the air. If you were going to be humiliated further in front of everyone then you figured you may as well get some enjoyment out of it and let Michael roam free.

Little do you know, it’s Duncan behind you with a cock in his hand waiting to fuck you. The truth is that the disdain for you was actually pent up sexual aggression because he was attracted to you, a Grey, and didn’t want anyone to find out. Michael had called him into his office a few weeks ago, livid after your betrayal, and propositioned him about the idea of using you for a little fun and admitted to him in confidence how he knew you wanted it. Duncan didn’t take much coercing because Michael’s words made him salivate and basically jumped at the chance; admitted his desire to fuck you senseless.

Duncan guides his cock to your pussy and slides it in with ease as if this whole situation had flicked your switch on; unaware that Michael was the reason your slit was dripping. As he moved in and out of you it became clear to both him and Michael that the way your bodies worked together spoke volumes.

“Mi-mi-mi-ahhh”

You completely let go and begin to cry out in sounds all too familiar to the ears of Michael. Duncan was oblivious but Michael smirks, feeling pretty pleased with himself. You were being fucked by someone else’s cock yet so enamoured with the thought it was him you were trying to say his name.

Duncan doesn’t care that there are multiple pairs of eyes on the two of you because as far as he’s concerned he’s getting what he wanted and that was that. He pounds away at you like waves crashing against the shore; careless, messy, and unrelenting. They kept coming and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. When he finally cannot handle any more he pulls out and unloads onto the curves of your ass, groaning through a closed mouth and clenched jaw. He puts his weakening erection back in his pants and wipes the sweat off his palms on the side of his thighs. Duncan walks past Michael, slightly breathless, and jokes how fun you were and how he’ll do it again sometime if needed.

Something hits your leg and lands on the indent of the back of your knee. You reach around and get a grasp on it – it’s a cloth. Michael sits down beside you and pulls the mask off, telling you to wipe yourself up. You do as your told and he’s smiling at you with an expression that’s almost unnerving.

“Ah, you enjoyed that. I bet you weren’t expecting it though, were you?”

He drags a few fingers along and up your face, tracing over your cheekbone followed by a push of the fallen strands of hair behind your ear. You timidly shake your head and your attention shifts from those knots in your gut to how cold his hands were against your flushed cheeks.

For the first time in a while, it seemed like the closeness has come back between the two of you when he’s caressing your face and rests your chin on top of his hand. That didn’t last long because the familiarity was broken by a smirk and drilling of unfriendly words about how right you thought you were but actually, in fact, you were very wrong. He snatches your face up one of his hands, applying pressure to your cheeks with his fingertips.

“See, there’s a thing I possess and you seem to forget it. I can feel every emotion and feeling that’s running through your body. And, those dreams? you weren’t the only one who felt them. You thought I was doing those things and you loved it, didn’t you? I could feel every wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.”

Michael turns your head, allowing you to see who committed the sin against you that brought you shameful enjoyment. You shut your eyes at the sight of him because his presence makes you feel uncomfortable knowing that now you have to face up to your disgusting attraction. Maybe you weren’t that different from all of the other girls at the Outpost.

“My oh my, I can feel your humiliation from here. You’re humiliated by the fact you enjoyed being defiled by Mr. Shepherd. You think he’s disgusting, but what, what’s this.. It was the most enjoyable experience you’ve ever had? Oh, Miss L/N, I think Mr Shepherd already knew from the sounds you made.”

When it hits as to what happened you forget for a moment where you are or about Michael’s reign, you get up and instinctively go to walk out of the room. He lets you walk until you’re almost at the door before taking a fist full of hair and pulling you back. You stumble and fall to the ground and a mix of sadness and anger rattled your ones. Anxiety kicks in and allows you to gather enough strength to push yourself up off the ground, onto your knees, and then up onto your feel.

As you look into the eyes of the man before you, you notice that those baby blues now appeared colder than ever.

“Now, why would you want to do something silly like that?” he mocks. In a split second you’re slammed into the wall behind by your throat. Michael applies pressure to the hand around your oesophagus and gives you a death stare of sorts for a brief moment.

In this moment he doesn’t see you, instead, he sees his mother standing before him as you tried to leave the room and the anger overwhelmed him. She abandoned him when he was young and needed her the most. You try to pull his arm down to stop him strangling you but it doesn’t budge. He huffs, “Why would you do this to me?”

You're turning red as he’s restricting your airflow but Michael realises he can’t kill you. He isn’t quite sure why exactly because usually he’d snap the necks of those who betrayed him without a second guess. He loosens the tightness, you gasp for breath, and it becomes apparent at this point his heart is broken when tears are glazing over his eyes but he’s trying to force them back to where they came from.

“Michael, please believe me, I never meant to hurt you.”

Both you and Michael locked as you eye the other off and you’re suddenly wondering if Michael could feel the apology you were silently screaming through your thoughts. Mead rushes over to interrupt and yells at Michael to let you go which displeases him - he storms off after shooting a look of confusion at her.

Ms. Mead takes her jacket off of you and hands it out as a gesture of kindness. “Are you okay?”

You put the jacket on to cover yourself up and gulp down the hurt. Mead can sense this and tells you not to talk but instead go and have a shower and she’ll bring you something to help.

The door to the office slams behind Mead as she bursts into the room in a fit of anger. In the moments to come Michael would realise that it was a woman against a man and not a mother and son.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, pulling some shit like that? It’s one thing for you to call her names but it’s another thing entirely for you to use something like that against her. Duncan told me exactly what you two planned and I have to say I just feel pity for you, Michael.”

He’s too full of pride to say anything other than she hurt me. Mead doesn’t enjoy the lazy excuse and Michael can’t be bothered listening to this conversation any longer. He opens his laptop and unlocks it but as he’s typing in his password she slams it down; not caring if it gets broken.

“Look, I know you have some deep rooted issues but you need to get over yourself. I hate to break it to you but this girl is only human. She wasn’t thinking when she did what she did and clearly you know what that’s like.”

Mead was referring to the ongoing indecency towards the apple of Michael’s eye, regardless of if he would admit that his rampage of fury was actually a crime of passion.

“She doesn’t need to bear the brunt of your abandonment and mommy issues, Michael. You don’t even realise how devoted that child has been to you and now here you are, destroying her soul.”

Michael regresses into the state of a teenage boy to avoid confrontation of what he’s doing and rolls his eyes at her before attempting to open the laptop. Mead slaps his hand away because she was tired of this charade.

“You didn’t spring from my womb but I let you into my home and heart and loved you like your mother should have. You hurt my feelings constantly but I don’t try and ruin you, do I? I want you to really listen to me when I say I love you but I’m beginning to really not like you. Stop treating this girl like garbage or else you’re going to break my own heart and push one of the other people who truly cares for you away too.”

She figures she’s said almost everything she can and heads over to the door to leave. Mead looks back and can see by the look in his eyes he’s pondering something; knowing full well what it is. He’s thinking about how deep down he knows she’s right.

“She’s one of the only ones in the Outpost who isn’t trying to suck up to you because they’re desperate. She cares about you.”

Once Michael is alone with his thoughts he dives into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out a flask of alcohol. His heart had frozen over at the betrayal from you, but, as he’d come to realise that was the least of his problems as the ice started to melt.

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sacredlangdon @taintedaffairs @langdonsdemon @violett124 @queencocoakimmie @1-800-bitchcraft // Tagging because they specifically they like the series: @icylangdon @langdonsrapture @cocosfern @creamy-pasta-boi (let me know if there’s anything you want to be tagged for!)

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docholligay · 6 years

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The Cat Came Back

This is a replacement of a tiny, old ficlet, and by replacement I meant there’s at least 2,000 more words in this one. Ana returns! Yay! This is gonna go great! My entire OW universe is here. If you specifically enjoyed this, I’d love a comment!! Or, contribute to my ko-fi, or help me pay my bills on Patreon!

Author’s note: All dialogue in italics is in Arabic

It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but maybe that had been the shrapnel in her head talking. Things had been a little muddy at that moment.

Even she was never sure why–had it come from her own self-pity, a sniper sniped because of her own hesitation, a hesitation that never should have happened, or was it, as she had often told herself, a desire to protect her daughter, to show her that the military life was not for her, could only end in sorrow?

If that had been her noble intention, it had very nobly not worked, as the little girl she had raised was now some sort of stand-in commander for this new, cobbled-together Overwatch.

She had never meant any harm, she thought, in allowing the world to believe she was dead, but what she had hoped would soften Fareeha had hardened her instead.

She had never understood Fareeha very well, by her own admission.

And now, called back by some unseen force, she stood in the extended driveway of a large mansion, where the core of Overwatch now lived. They had never lived here in Ana’s time–it was still being built, or just a rumor, or both, but the large expansive home on acres of land, new and different and nothing like what Ana had known, seemed right. It was a new Overwatch, her daughter’s Overwatch, as much as it pained her to admit it.

She knocked on the door, the sound of it echoing through the house. She held her breath as she heard the quick step of someone coming to the door, and as it swung wide.

“Tracer.” She drawled, and watched as Tracer’s eyes grew wide and her smile faded, her skin growing even paler beneath her freckles. Ana smiled. “I thought I saw your little pla–”

And Tracer slammed the door in her face.

There was a beat of a few seconds before it opened a crack, and Tracer stuck her head out, hair bobbing with each word.

“You’re dead.”

“So were you, once upon a time.”

“‘Missing in action, presumed deceased’, isn’t precisely the same thing as ‘shot in the face,’ love” She sighed heavily. “Wake up, Lena, come on.”

Ana pushed against the door. “Is Fareeha here?”

Tracer took a step back into the home, moving into the large living room where there was a soccer game on TV, a bottle of beer and a sandwich sitting on the coffee table. Ana followed, and Tracer’s mind flipped, in the way it often did, from one emotion to another, her disbelief having been quite quelled by the way Ana moved through a space as if it belonged to her. Ana was the way she had always been, even if she looked a bit different, and was supposed to be dead.

“Fareeha owes SOMEONE an apology.” Tracer placed a hand on her chest. “That someone is me, if you’re wondering.”

Ana snorted. “Oh?”

Tracer flopped down on the couch. “She cracked me bloody skull. Still ‘ave the scar on the side of me head, Winston and Mercy both had to tear us apart to keep one from killing the other,” she pointed to Ana, “But Fareeha started it.”

Winston walked out of the kitchen into the living room, turned around, and walked right back into it.

Ana looked at her skeptically. “Why?”

“Because—“

“Because I caught her sleeping with the woman I thought killed you.” Pharah’s voice echoed through the large living room, and everyone stood a little straighter.

“Widowmaker?” Ana hissed and narrowed her eyes at Tracer.

“Oh now, this isn’t about me, love.” Tracer gave a chuckle that may have been enjoyment, and may have been fear, and most likely was both.

“Fareeha.” Ana looked up at her as she came down the stairs. She had planned what she was going to say over and over again, but standing her, looking at Pharah, it all seemed rather weak. Ana would rather be silent than weak. “It’s good to see you.”

“It is surprising to see you.” Pharah kept to her father’s language, not wanting her mother to come out of her mouth, not wanting to connect herself to the lie. “Though I heard a rumor, I thought it could not be true.” She looked Ana up and down. “I see you have found religion.”

“Of a kind.”

Tracer sat on the couch, eating her sandwich and drinking her beer, her eyes never moving from Ana and Pharah, even as she groped for the remote and clicked the button, the Hammers game fading from the room. She took another bite as Pharah dismounted the final stair, Ana and Pharah’s posture straight and perfectly matched as they looked at each other.

“You did not think to tell me you were alive?” Pharah broke first, anger and pain in a single terse line. “All of these years?”

“It was complicated. It remains complicated.”

“Everything is when you are involved.”

There was a loud crunch, and they both turned their faces to the couch, where Tracer had a mouthful of potato chips, the pink bag ruffling in her hands.

Winston scampered out of the kitchen and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he tried to avoid their gaze.

“Win, come off--two Amaris are angry and neither one at me, this is the best day of me bloody--”

“Lena you are gonna die.” He whispered quickly, tossing her into the kitchen at Mercy and Dva’s feet.

Pharah turned back to Ana. “I suppose you have a reason for coming here.”

“I came to tell you, I had heard of your work. That I was alive.” Ana took a controlled breath, not wanting to betray her guilt, her feeling that Pharah’s anger was what she deserved. “I see you were going to join Overwatch whether it existed or not.” She gave a laugh. “My Fareeha, so--”

“I am not your Fareeha, I am my own woman, and I have built my own life, without your help or consideration.” In her anger, the first language came out. Her mother tongue.

“You are always so dramatic when it comes to the subject of me.” Ana dropped into herself, into the way she did not want to be, the way that played off everyone’s concerns as small and their pains as mere annoyances. “You were a grown woman. You certainly seemed not to need me.”

“You must be the Shrike I heard about. I didn’t think it could be true, even if it sounded like you, because you were dead.” Pharah shook her head, and walked to the middle of the room, looking down at the remains of Tracer’s sandwich. “You had been dead for years.”

“I am.” Ana said in her frightening calm.

“I was a grown woman, that’s true. I was a grown woman who was promoted to a special command. I was a grown woman who married. I was a grown woman who lost her arm.” She looked coldly at Ana. “But I guess you thought I didn’t need you for any of that, either. I certainly thought you could do that. But I did not think you could do that to me.”

“When have you ever listened to me anyway?”

Tracer peered out the edge of the kitchen door. “God, I wish I could tell what was ‘appening.” Tracer looked over at Mercy. “Don’t you speak Arabic?”

“I speak Arabic as Fareeha does German: Badly, and for love.” She shook her head. “I have no idea about what is happening.”

“Oh, i’ve an IDEA, it’s the particulars I’m missing. Anyone? Win?” She looked back at Winston, who shook his head. “‘Ana?” Dva looked at Tracer as if she’d lost her mind. “Well, come on then! Not a bloody one of you?” ”

“Lena,” Winston looked at her quizzically and adjusted his glasses, “You know that you’re the only one that is..uh..monolingual.”

“What?” Tracer looked at the group huddled with her in the kitchen. “Well, there’s Jack.”

“Who speaks Spanish, as well.” Mercy corrected.

Tracer stared at them all and then turned around, hands on her hips. “I mean, I took French in school!” She pointed to herself. “Je suis la jeune fille! Innit?”

Pharah huffed. “Don’t try to make this my fault.” It was building in her, the sadness, the betrayal, the feeling that she had always known Ana was able to keep herself removed, but never imagining she could do that, not to her, even if their conversations were brief and terse, Pharah had always hoped that Ana would be proud of her, that Ana would see how she excelled.

“I mourned you. I mourned that I would never get to apologize to you, for being so sure of my own mind that I didn’t listen to what you were trying to tell me, for thinking of heroism as a goal to be reached and not a horizon to work toward.” She shook her head angrily. “I cried for you, on my wedding day. That you could not be there. Where were you?” She snorted. “Taking odd jobs in Morocco.”

Ana sat, watching her. “I was not the only one. Jack and Gabriel--”

“ARE NOT MY MOTHER!” Pharah slammed her fist down on the coffee table, and the assembled group in the kitchen winced.

Pharah stepped back, and waved her away. “Get out of my house, Ana Amari. The Shrike.”

Tracer looked up at Mercy. ‘Didn’t need to know Arabic to understand what ‘appened there.”

Mercy stood with her hand on the door, wanting desperately to run to Pharah’s side, hearing the hurt in her voice that lay beneath the anger. Wanting to scream at Ana, that she had no right to do this to Pharah, that she was tired of the way Ana took liberties with everyone’s feelings, that she would fight her, and lose, but she would give her some hurt in return for the hurt she had dealt Pharah.

Ana backed away. “Congratulations on your wedding and your command, Overwatch Agent Amari. Pharah.” She turned away and threw open the door to the kitchen, Tracer’s nose only saved by a sudden backwards blink.

She walked through, not acknowledging a single one of them, and opened the back door out toward the garage.

Mercy did not wait for the door to stop swinging as she rushed to Pharah.

“Nice to see you too, Ana!” Tracer called, waving to her, as Winston put his head in his hands and sighed.

---

He wasn’t sure why he bothered flipping through the TV channels. There was never anything on. It was another day in 76’s lonely second life, and he thought to himself that maybe today was the day that he would wander down to the animal shelter and get a cat. A turtle. Something to fill the time.

There was a knock at the door, and 76 walked toward it, putting the visor over his scarred eyes as he did so. It was unusual for one of the team to come out to his apartment, they seemed to prefer him as disconnected as he preferred himself, and they had found a peace with that, with keeping the past above the garage.

He opened the door and Ana breezed past him.

“Jack.”

He was surprised to discover how unsurprised he was to see her. And how happy.

Ana walked into his small kitchen area and pulled out a mug from the cupboard, knowing where he would keep it, even after all these years, and for a moment he felt young and again, when he and Ana and Gabe sat around the tiny barracks and laughed and talked about how they would change the world. If only they could have seen how the world would change them.

“Can I get you a drink?” 76 moved toward his small cabinet in the living room. “I don’t keep arak around anymore, wasn’t getting drunk without you.”

“Not anymore, Jack.” She went to the other cupboard and smiled. “You still keep my tea around.” She was polite enough not to mention the Abuelita next to it.

“Took a liking to it.” He sat down with a glass of whiskey. “You talk to Fareeha?”

“You might call it talking.” She put a kettle of water on the stove. “You might call it, what is that, breaking the ice. Breaking something.”

“None of us are very good at staying dead, looks like.” He took a sip and looked over at her.

“Take off that visor, I don’t care how ugly you are.” She scooped the tea into the ball. “It has to be uncomfortable.”

Ana had never been a gentle soul by anyone’s measure--it had been such a strange match when she and Reinhardt had taken up together--but 76 was reminded in that moment of how she could be loving in her own way, when the mood suited her.

“Did you really think she wasn’t gonna be mad, Ana?” He tossed his visor to the coffee table in front of him.

The kettle screamed impatiently, and Ana shrugged. She poured the hot water into the mug and watched the dark brown of the tea slowly unravel into the water, whirling and turning like the hands of fate.

“You make a decision for long enough, you decide the only thing to do is keep making it.” She said, finally. “It was...it was the choice that I made, and however I live with it is my business.” She picked up her mug and sat next to 76, both of them sitting there quietly as a channel nobody watched flickered onscreen.

“You heard about Gabe?” 76 looked at the screen without seeing it.

“I did. It made me choose to return.” She stirred her tea. “I was sorry to hear about it.”

The electric buzz of the TV and the years slipped between them, both wanting to say something, and both wanting to be silent, and both afraid to do either.

“I’m glad you’re alive. Hasn’t been the same without you.” He took another sip of whiskey and leaned back into the couch. “You can stay here, if you want.”

“The two of us, again.” She chuckled. “It could be worse. So, Tracer and Pharah have brought up everything that should have died.”

76 sighed. “I guess. I guess I threw in my lot with them, too. They’re, they’re trying, Ana. They want to do it different from us.”

“And how do you find it?”

“They do all right, Ana. They do all right.”

___

Pharah sat on the edge of her bed, Mercy’s arms around her, wordlessly trying to reassure her. There was nothing to say, and perhaps that was the worst of it. Who could prepare for such a moment, even knowing what they did about 76? About Reaper?

Pharah let out a sob, and it took Mercy by horrifying surprise, and she drew Pharah closer, as if she could take the hurt into herself, as if she could suck it from her body like a syringe and protect her.

“Fareeha.” She rocked her, saying the only word she knew. “Oh Fareeha.”

“I--” Pharah sniffled, trying to regain her composure. “It was so easy for her..”

Mercy though for a moment, trying to say the right thing, not sure there was a right thing, her own anger at Ana burning in her heart, her same desire to banish Ana from their house and life itself churning.

So she simply stroked Pharah’s hair gently.

“Every,” she choked back another sob, refusing to let her mother get anything else from her, “every adult who raised me is a liar or worse. All of them are,” she wiped her eyes, “are monsters.”

“Fareeha,” Mercy kissed her forehead. “Your father is a good man. Reinhardt is a good man. So, you are two for five.”

Pharah laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the growing dark in her mind. “I hate her.”

“I am not so much feeling a fan of hers.” Mercy pulled her back onto the bed and curled around her. “She never has to be coming here again, Fareeha. I will tell everyone to keep her out. Lena never liked her anyway, and Winston was afraid of her.”

“Everyone is afraid of her.”

Mercy sat up. “I am not. I will fight for you, Fareeha,” she began to tear up herself, “I will, always, always be fighting for you, any day.”

Pharah smiled. “You are my family. You are the family I need.”

“And Sam!” Mercy gave a laugh. “He is my favorite.”

“And Sam.” She took Mercy’s hand.

“Overwatch is not your mother’s to own.” It surprised even her, when she said it. “It is yours.”

Pharah closed her eyes, trying not to let herself cry again. “It is ours.”

“Ours.”

#a holligay joint #HON HON HON #I hope y'all like it's been kicking around FOREVER

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heartkook · 7 years

Text

self-love program || kim taehyung

Kim Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a hard breakup, a boy you meet at the cinema gives you hope for the future.

Genre: fluff

Words: 1626

look at this fluffy boy I love him sm

I sat on my bed in a pile of empty sweet packets, my hair smelling as well as you might expect after three days of not washing it. Beginning to read an article about self-love on my laptop, and taking in the ideas of inner peace, self-indulgence and recovery, I considered the possibility that I might be doing something wrong.

I had suffered my first real heartbreak, having been broken up with after almost two years of a serious relationship, and was not taking it well. He had been everything to me, but he dropped me as if I meant nothing. My self-esteem had taken a hard hit, leading to me locking myself inside for days on end.

So, when my friend sent me the article after three weeks of wallowing, I decided to give it a read. Inspired by the idea of looking after myself, I got up and washed, cleaning my room to create the tidy room, tidy mind mentioned.

Do something for yourself – dine or see a film alone, was the next instruction, and with sudden determination, I got dressed headed to the cinema to see the first film on next.

As I bought the tickets, I suppose I knew deep down that what I was doing was just a way for me to prove to my friends, and myself, that I was not a complete mess. I wanted to believe I was getting better, even though the heavy melancholy and rejection filling me didn’t seem to be fading at all. The cruel ending of the relationship I had relied so heavily upon had taken my confidence from me, and I was left nervous, even walking into the screen by myself.

I walked uneasily down the aisle, searching in the dark for my seat number. I stood still on my row as I checked my ticket, my heart dropping as I realised there was someone sitting in my seat. I looked around, seeing the cinema was stuffed full of people. There was one seat free next to mine, but I assumed whoever was sitting there was saving it for someone joining them. Flustered, I shifted awkwardly on my feet, clutching my popcorn as I contemplated what to do.

Regain your self-confidence! Don’t let your ex bring you down! I remembered the article had said, and took a deep breath.

“Excuse me.” I whispered over the adverts playing on screen. The person turned to me, and I saw that it was a young, horrifyingly attractive man. He gave me a cheerful smile. “Um, sorry, but I think you’re in my seat.” I stuttered, cursing my newfound anxiety. A few weeks ago, I would have had no problem asking him to move.

His face immediately morphed into one of surprise and remorse, his eyes widening as he looked down at his ticket.

“Ah, I’m so sorry!” He grinned again, quickly standing up. I let out a breath in relief that he was nice about it, smiling at him as I moved to take his place. However, as he stood, looking around for another seat, I realised there were none apart from the one next to me. He noticed too, and looked back down at me with a big smile.

“Guess we’re seatmates.” He said, and took the seat next to me. “I’m Taehyung by the way.” I smiled back at him, his friendly manner settling my nerves.

“Y/N.” I replied, ready to just relax back into silence, before I grew curious. “You’re here alone?” I whispered inquisitively, looking over at him. He nodded, looking at the screen which was now showing trailers.

“I do it all the time.” I was surprised, and a sense of admiration washed over me. His confidence and surety was something I would have been able to relate to a while ago, but now seemed impossible to me.

“I like that.” I said, and he turned to me, grinning.

“So why are you here alone, Y/N?” He asked in a whisper, taking a drink and looking at me sideways. “You don’t seem very comfortable with the lone-cinema-lifestyle.” I shook my head, chuckling silently.

“I’m not. It’s a self-love exercise.” I told him, and his eyebrows raised.

“Good. Everyone needs a bit of self-love.” He said almost too quietly for me to hear.

“If I’m honest with you,” I started after a moment of silence as the actual film started playing, “I’m not entirely sure what film we’re seeing.” I grinned as he started laughing quietly.

“Me neither.” He said, laughing harder, and I began to chuckle, trying not to make too much noise.

We continued to talk quietly to each other throughout the film, our voices barely audible as we tried not to disturb other viewers. To hear each other we had to lean so close that I could feel his hair tickling my cheekbone and his breath on my face as he spoke. I found it so easy to talk to him, feeling my nerves dissipate and for once, my ex was completely forgotten about. Taehyung was ridiculously funny; almost everything he said had me laughing.

After repeated jokes and failures to keep our enjoyment quiet, it reached the point where we were both hysterical, my throat aching from when I had strained to keep my hard laughter silent.

At that point I could have found anything funny, so when I made a comment about the film, gestured in front of me and knocked my entire bucket of popcorn off my lap and onto the floor, scattering kernels everywhere, it was too much for me. I heard Taehyung make a sudden choking noise as he tried not to burst out laughing. My hand was clamped over my mouth as I laughed as quietly as possible, bowing forward and then falling back into the seat. Taehyung’s body was visibly shaking with laughter, his eyes creased into slits and his mouth open in a boxed shape.

The people next to us were giving us disapproving looks and someone in the row behind us shushed us. Something about not being allowed to laugh made everything even funnier, and tears came to my eyes as I gasped for air, trying to keep quiet. It wasn’t even that funny, but I just couldn’t stop giggling. I hadn’t laughed like that in months, years even.

Taehyung raised a hand in apology to the person behind us and tried to say sorry, but it came out as a sort of high pitched squeak, doubling both of us over once again. I let out an involuntarily snort, my hand immediately covering my nose and mouth as my eyes widened. Taehyung flailed his hands in front of him, bending over as he choked out laughter, and then stood up. He beckoned me from the aisle and together we made our way out of the screen into the lounge outside, stumbling in the dark.

As soon as we made it outside I couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped my mouth as I clutched my stomach. Taehyung leant against the wall, letting out all the laughs he had held in. We were in hysterics. My stomach and cheek muscles ached and I could barely catch my breath and it felt so good.

Eventually we both calmed down, red-faced and wheezing as I helped Taehyung off the wall and we began walking out of the building.

“Oh my god.” I sighed, grinning and placing my hands over my aching face. I couldn’t take the smile off my face. The icy outside air cooled down my hot cheeks and I turned to Taehyung who was also still smiling. He shook his head to shift his fringe and I got my first proper look at him in decent lighting. He really was breath taking. I realised I probably looked a complete mess compared to him, but couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Well… I should probably go home.” I started awkwardly after we had stood there for a moment and he nodded, his smile fading slightly.

“Yeah, well, good luck with the self-love program Y/N. I hope it goes well.” He said softly, and in a moment of sudden confidence and enlightenment, I realised I couldn’t just let this guy go. The differences between him and my ex jumped out at me, drawing me towards him. He was soft, relaxed, and optimistic, where I then realised my ex had been oppressive and cold. He made me happy in a way I don’t ever remember being, even if it was only for an hour or two.

“Actually, Taehyung, I think I might need you for it to go well.” I said thoughtfully, and his eyebrows shot up. I pulled out my phone, suddenly feeling very bold. “One of my instructions was to keep what makes you happy close to you, and well, I haven’t laughed like that in years.” I explained as I passed him the phone. “Seems like you’re pretty imperative to the program.”

His face stretched into a stunning smile, his large eyes wrinkling and his teeth showing as he obligingly typed in his number.

“Happy to be of service.”

I grinned practically the whole way home, new vigour in my step as I relived my time spent with Taehyung, and grew more and more excited for the date we had arranged for the next weekend.

For the first time since the break-up, my head was not filled with my ex and the anger, sadness and betrayal I felt towards him, but with Taehyung’s voice, laughter and reassurances. For the first time, I saw a future beyond my previous relationship. A future where I was confident, independent and content: how I used to be. And how I knew I would be again.

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frankincenseisnotamonster · 4 years

Text

The Rise

EXPECT IT!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

DEETS:

Today is the day we investigate.

“Then one day you realized you would still be fighting duels,

That you don’t just wake up changed,

Your fight for change is in all the work,

In every micro adjustment you make,

Every time you learn a new chord progression,

It’s in the days your pinky slowly becomes more mobile,

In accepting each setback after each triumph,

And taking refuge,

And feeling a sense of solace,

That it is all practice,

Practice in not betraying yourself,

Practice in being soft,

Practice in injuring the patriarchy,

Practice in holding up up one more stair for the womxn who will come after,

Gazing up at the infinite spiral, hoping for a better chance for the next generations,

A view from the summit,

That’s why you practice,

That’s why you fight,

That’s a reason to rock.”

What a wild time to be alive. This shelter in place has been stressful and devastating for so many, and while there is suffering I am grateful for the pause. I have been practicing more guitar and yoga, and doing shadow work. Shadow work refers to a type of psychology that examines the shadow, part of ourselves we may try to hide or deny. Hi ego, hey shame, welcome back pride, you never really left though right, I accept you selfishness, oh judgement my old friend.

Stuff like that, I don’t want to look at it, but that’s a gift of time, like the universe saying, “oh I see you have a lot to work on, well you gon work on it now!”

And I feel personal work, shadow work, inner work are important for activism and helping others, so you can meet community from a place of deep awareness. This is important.

It’s strange similar to the guitar battles, this quarantine, this time is making me face my self. Like I’M REALLY FACING MYSELF! And this is hard, but it is strangely enjoyable. I’m thankful for the privilege to be able to look at myself as a complex, imperfect human being. I feel like I am going through a dark night of the soul over here, but maybe thats what I’m always doing.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I am thinking of my upcoming guitar battle, the 3rd one, the last one. And to go forward I want to take a moment to go back to what I post 2 years ago in May 2018:

Over the course of about 5 years I ran into 3 guys that I had different experiences with, but all of them left me very changed and usually for the better.

I was lovely lonely and wanted attention so I reluctantly ran towards guys who wouldn’t and couldn’t give me affection. But this wasn’t all true.

I wanted what was unavailable because I didn’t want to face myself. And the problem with attention is that you cannot have enough. I ran to the wrong people to run away from myself.

After many tears, waking up at 6 am, doing things I wasn’t proud of, manic, and out of breath what I remembered was guitar. I think what we seek out and what we envy says a lot about us.

And what I noticed about all these dudes was how much fun they seemed to be having playing guitar. So I try to listen to my envy now, my difficult parts, the hyena. Walk with your hyena. I want do what I admire others for doing.

So instead of running to guys with guitar, I will try to be a girl with a guitar running to myself. But is that really such a good idea?

Looking at this is so fun, because even though I am still doing lots of work on myself and on guitar. This is the time to do it, and I am learning again and again how to run to myself in the most authentic and true way for me.

I still do things I am not proud of, but things do knock me down like they used to, trespasses make me laugh, I’m walking with my hyena, accepting the hard parts of myself and I’m having fun playing guitar! I know the more I learn the more fun I’ll have.

One of my dear friends was married recently, and although the wedding that was planned couldn’t happen, like the rebels we are my group of friends created a small event for the married couple! This was really special to me because my band mate and I got to play some music for them and create a special song just for them. When I think back to a few years ago maybe I could have done a play or something I don’t know! But now I can make and play music, I can give a special gift to my friend who has been in life for 16 years! Even if I am not that good yet, it truly warms my heart that I can give in that way, especially to the important people in my life.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The joy I have been able to experience because of playing guitar only happened because I let hard things happen so I am thankful for the hard things too even as I work on them.

Some area of darkness I have been focusing on are self-sabotage and self- betrayal. In my first guitar battle and before 2019 I was really focused on undoing societal messaging, undoing the toxic norms I was internalizing from capitalism and the patriarchy. In this revolution, in 2019 and 2020 I got more feedback from 2nd guitar battle and beyond.

Now I am digging into what I like to think of as a 2nd ring of conditioning, parental experiences, and how they play out in my life. There’s some generational healing especially around addiction. I have a lot more empathy now for those struggling with addiction. Addiction is the kind of god that makes your knees tremble, the human-ness in me has reverence for something that can take your soul so completely.

One of my good friends shared a poem with my a few years ago by Portia Nelson that reminds me how the process of moving through self-betrayal or bad habits, doesn’t happen fast, it doesn’t happen easily and will just look like small changes over time that can add up to a hard won new behavior.

I love this poem so much. I cry every time I read it. The chapters acknowledge the process, and shows the change in how we take responsibility for and ultimately give love to ourselves. I’m at like Chapter 3 now, and looking forward to 4.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

One of my other wonderful and lovely friends said to me some words, that I am like a detective investigating and I was like wow I relate to that so much. All this work I like to look at, as if I am solving a big mystery. The only big mystery is reconnecting to myself when I really think about it, and a lot is life work, like all our lives just letting it all be a fun mystery party.

As I investigate and self-examine I have been reading and going back to old things to give me some perspective and its been awesome! I started reading, “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle and did not know how badly I needed this nor, how much felt like revisiting old truths with even more verve even more vigor. I had some reservations at first, but after hearing some recommendations from multiple people I had to dive in. Glennon as the title implies weaves a memoir of how she was caged and how she got free. So much of the book resonates with ideals that I love like womxn being wild, be dark, insatiable, untamable. It covers these usual things like how the patriarchial society teaches women to look outside themselves for validations, to not have wants, to be desirable rather than to desire. How it hurts guys too,how it cages everyone no matter your gender. So theres all of that usual stuff and other great reminders that feel really relevant as I shift through shadows. Here are some echoes and snippets from the book that made me feel full:

don’t avoid pain, pain is magic, maybe you don’t have to seek it out, but if you try to resist it, try to stop it you’re gonna stop yourself, your gonna stop your spirit.

not in rebelling and not in obedience

know and let it stand, know what you want, do what you want, don’t ask permission, don’t explain.

a woman full of herself is what we need

One line that reminded me a lot of the guitar battles for me was , “the moral arch of our lives bends towards meaning, especially if we bend it with all our god damn might”. The guitar battles are my way of bending with all my might, and I’m so glad I did and so glad that no matter what I’ll continue.

This book also reminds me of another book I have been reviewing, “Succulent Women” by Sark, which talks about so many different great ways to heal and be a woman that really living. It mentions how when we block our darkness we also block our joy and I couldn’t agree more. Sometimes pain is to big to feel, but I think if you have the opportunity and the space for it exploring the darkness is always a fruitful venture.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The most revolutionary world to me is one where womxn are living in a way that is most true and beautiful (as the author of Untamed notes) a world with no war, where people are fed and have healthcare, have homes, have clean water, that honors softness, honors feeling and empathy for surely in that kind of world many womxn would rejoice and capitalism and the patriarchy could not exist.

I want the music I make to be a dream plan for womxn that know life can be more beautiful more just, more caring, more true.

Investigating the darkness feels good and feels right and my guitar battles are also my way of doing that. One day these battles will be over, but whether I beat my rivals or not isn’t the main point. I’m discovering things about myself, so in the best way I can, I practice so I’m able to dream, plan and imagine through music a world of joy for womxn, because I believe that would be the most joyous world ever.

I rewatched a film that is dear to my heart that I saw as a kid. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind a Hayao Miyazaki film, which takes place fear in the future after the conflicts of humans have left the earth’s ecosystem completely devastated. Most of the earth has become a toxic jungle and small villages try to survive, and in the Valley of the Wind lives Nausciaa who loves plants and animals, and is a scientists. Seeing how things are today wearing masks, like they do in the film, conflicts raging so sporadically its hard to know which side is which, the film doesn’t feel to far off from life today.

I bring this up because Nausicaa is a great example of a female protagonist who leads with her softness and sweetness. She loves deeply and is thrown into a rage when her father is killed needlessly by a neighboring kingdom hellbent on destroying the toxic jungle. I appreciate Nausicaa because she is strong and intelligent and seemingly fearless, but what I admire the most is that she cares.

I work a lot to protect myself and sometimes hide my softness (although I could never really forget it!). I guess for a while as I have been growing up (and I still have so much growing up to do man!) I started to think maybe I shouldn’t be soft anymore, or vulnerable.

However its something I really like about all my friends, that I like about Nausicaa and now always want to say I like about myself. I am soft! I am a tender heart here me roar!

I hope as it is May day all the work from shadows, from investigations can help us all imagine and create and take with our hands, as labour and the oppressed of the earth have done so often the justice we all so duly deserve.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

UPDATES

I have been practicing a lot of basics like scales and chord progressions which is good for me since I am always trying to go to fast. Since we have more time I have been getting a lot more hours of practice in which is really all I want just to practice forever muwhahahaha! Really trying to slow down even though I can barely play as it is and already want to move on to sweep picking. I am slowing down like a snail working on different signature for a project. No plans. No expectations. Enjoying making something that I can’t wait to share, mostly with the ladies :) .

I love when you call me names by Joan Armatrading *my new fav

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#trustyourself #self-controlwillsetyoufree #don'tcontrolyourselftrustyourself

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