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#harvesting harbinger aftermath
capriciousleo · 1 year
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OKAY GUYS, IT’S HAPPENING!! While I totally love Genshin and the Harbingers, I still am an astrology and tarot account, which means... I will be combining these two and share very interesting series and posts with you all, my lovelies!!
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Part 2, 3
So, my first post in “Fatui Harbingers Natal Charts” series shall be:
𝑫𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑬’𝑺 𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑳 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑻
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Sun- Gemini
Moon- Capricorn
Mercury- Cancer
Venus- Aquarius
Mars- Capricorn
Rising- Leo
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First of all, I would like to say that this man gives heavy earth energy for some reason that I didn’t expect😭. He’s very duty-and-goal-oriented, and you can rely on him to complete his job. Even his short phrase — “Jester, I have completed the task you gave me.” gives very Capricorn vibes. Also, agreeing to the negotiation for killing off his segments for a Gnosis... a pretty frosty Capricorn move — Capricorns will do whatever it takes to achieve their goals, and their methods may be shocking to people because of how cold and sharp their decisions can be. And the experiments he makes??💀💀 This man doesn’t feel anything, and it’s also his Venus to blame. But we will get there. Also, the way he hates his time being wasted and he clearly voices this out is another trait of Cappies. However, this doesn’t mean they won’t invest in something that should bring harvest in the future.
It was difficult to pick between Aquarius or Leo rising, but you guys see my verdict lol. Yes, he may come off as disturbingly weird and innovative, but the way he holds himself commands awe and respect — his tone, speech, body motions. Wherever he goes, he takes up the space. Remember his behavior and body language in Sumeru in the scene where he manipulated the citizens — he’s very prideful. He is confident in his abilities and this feeling oozes out of him.
All of the fcked up weirdness, innovativeness, being open to possibilities... I believe it comes from his Aquarius Venus. He enjoys and thrives to learn and experiment on something new. His methods were unacceptable and out of the norm, for which he got expelled from Akademiya and thrown out of Sumeru and he’s still salty abt it lmao. He’s also very detached, which combines with his Capricorn. ‘Emotional intimacy’ is not in his vocabulary — don’t even bother, he will call it ‘silly’, and this being the lightest word I used.
NOW. His Mercury in Cancer... it’s DARK. OKAY?? And I’m sure it’s at a very high degree. I was originally thinking to put Cancer Mars cuz it also fits him, and this placement is completely FCKED UP (many many serial killers have this exact placement and that’s something I found out myself). All of his experiments??? The Underground Arena??? All of the plots and manipulation of literally everyone and everything??? Literally the whole plot revolves around the aftermath of his actions that always affect everyone in Teyvat. And guess what? He is not going to stop nowhere soon. The way he made Scara unlikeable both for regular ppl AND the Fatui members on PURPOSE just so Scara is dependent on HIM AND HIM ONLY. ‘Oh, look, Scara, I am the only one who didn’t turn their back on you and can keep up with you. You have only me.’ Ofc, Dottore needed Scara’s powers. That’s an unhealthy Cancer placement for you. He knows where to press where it hurts the most, and with his Capricorn placements? Oof. He damn knows how to use his words and combine emotions and logic in his manipulations. Dottore is literally a walking “The Traumatizer-3000” machine.
Sun in Gemini is pretty self-explanatory. He is witty, intelligent, unconventional, and enjoys learning and has great oratory skills.
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P.S. Share your takes/ thoughts in comments if you wish! I’d love to discuss tee hee💛 And now, I’ll go watch Zydrate edits of him since they flooded my tiktok fyp fhsksksk. Also, excuse if my writing seems kinda funky and hard to understand, I was writing this at 2 am🤠
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mariacallous · 1 year
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SINDH PROVINCE, Pakistan—Muhammad Umar Jamali’s rice crop in Johi, Pakistan, usually peaks in autumn. In a normal year, he would harvest the rice before December, making way for mustard to grow in the winter. But this year, some of the worst floods in Pakistan’s history wiped out Jamali’s crop and submerged his land, along with that of millions of other farmers. “When the water first started coming, we said it is not a lot, but then it continued to increase and increase,” Jamali said. “And then our seeds were swept away, the seeds we sow.”
Starting in mid-June, heavy monsoon rains caused rivers to spill their banks and inundated southern Pakistan, destroying nearly 80 percent of crops in Sindh province. Farming is the primary means of subsistence for millions of the province’s rural residents—including small landowners, sharecroppers, and day laborers—and Sindh around one-quarter of Pakistan’s agricultural output. Months after the floods, some areas remain partially submerged—the flat landscape and failing water infrastructure leaving stagnant pools of water behind.
The extent of the damage is still coming into view. The World Bank estimates that this year’s flooding has already cost the country more than $30 billion in total damages and economic losses. To stave off further agricultural losses, Pakistan is counting on the harvest of its staple wheat crop, which is planted in the winter and harvested in the spring and early summer. Getting seeds in the ground will be no easy task given the land that remains submerged: In mid-October, more than 4,000 square kilometers of land in Sindh remained underwater.
Even before the floods, farmers in Sindh were on the front lines of Pakistan’s climate crisis. Changing weather patterns—extreme heat and unrelenting monsoon rains—have exacerbated long-standing water access issues as farmers compete for limited irrigation resources. Under normal circumstances, many of the province’s agricultural workers live from hand to mouth, and they were barely scraping by before the floods came this year. With weather extremes only worsening, the loss of a season of crops in Sindh may be a harbinger for future obstacles.
The flooding and its aftermath have stirred long-term concerns about food security in Pakistan. Farmers are struggling under the weight of massive inflation, and many people are falling into debt to buy supplies. Basic food items have become harder to afford; in the parts of Sindh that are still flooded, communities face extra costs to travel to buy fresh food and water. Farmers are also dependent on wheat, the winter crop, to sell and eat: If the floodwaters in Sindh don’t drain fast enough to allow time to plant, the province could face another disaster.
In villages across Sindh, the immediate shocks from a season of lost crops are already being felt; effects of the flooding have pushed some agricultural communities further into poverty. Food inflation in Pakistan reached 36 percent last month compared to the previous year, reflected in the price of staple goods like flour, tea, and fresh vegetables. Facing constraints on all sides, many small landowners and sharecroppers will depend on help from the government to begin planting wheat before it’s too late—a window that usually ends in late November or early December.
The government announced that it would begin distributing seed to farmers in flood-affected areas beginning in early November. “The government of Pakistan is going to provide free seed to all farmers who are affected by floods,” Maj. Gen. Muhammad Zafar Iqbal, the national coordinator of the National Flood Response Coordination Centre, told Foreign Policy. Sindh province is focused on providing cash grants to farmers to purchase their own supplies, and the World Bank has promised the provincial government $323 million to provide subsidies for fertilizer and seeds.
Pakistan’s plan to salvage this year’s wheat crop requires farmers to sow their seeds as soon as possible. The effort to collect and verify data from farmers in remote villages and then provide them with compensation is testing the coordination of provincial and district governments. There are local challenges, such as ensuring that the person who receives government support can prove land ownership, said Abdul Rauf Magsi, who works for Kamber Shadad Kot district’s agriculture extension program.
If farmers can’t get wheat seeds in the ground in time this year, then they say they will plant crops they see as less profitable, such as sunflowers to be used for sunflower oil. The urgency of the government program underscores Pakistan’s heavy reliance on wheat, said Mahmood Nawaz Shah, senior vice president of Sindh Abadgar Board, an advocacy group for progressive farmers in Sindh, and a farmer himself. Demand for wheat is growing along with Pakistan’s population, but domestic yields have decreased due to climate change, water scarcity, and issues with seeds and other inputs. “Our food security paradigm starts and ends with wheat,” Shah said.
Government support offers little to those who already took on debt to buy supplies. Farmers whose land has drained enough to plant wheat or other crops have already started trying. In Bidoo Mugheri village in Kamber Shahdadkot district, a group of sharecroppers gathered to recount their losses, saying they have had to take loans from their landlords to afford seed bags, which they say have increased in price in their area by around 30 percent. Fertilizer and pesticides are also more expensive. “During the three months of devastating rain and flood, we didn’t get any paid work, so now we are under huge debt,” said Haji Tilan Khan Mugheri, 62.
The floods also destroyed fodder used to feed cattle, killing off livestock—another reliable source of income. Women, usually involved in farm work, are now trying to earn money through embroidery, sewing, and other manual labor, said Shazia Mugheri, 20. “When our crops don’t grow well, then we the women also work to help our men,” she said. Anything the sharecroppers earn will only go toward paying off their loans, trapping them in a cycle of debt—a long-standing problem in Sindh that this year’s flooding has only exacerbated.
Pakistan’s government also aims to offset losses to crops in flooded areas by relying on its domestic wheat stocks and increasing imports. This month, it approved a $112 million deal to import 300,000 tons of wheat from Russia. But importing more food also has significant implications: Pakistan is already grappling with balance of payment issues and dwindling foreign reserves, and it has sought support from international donors and the International Monetary Fund to stabilize its economy.
Many farmers in Sindh remain in stasis. At a tea shop along the main highway in Dadu district, small landholders and sharecroppers whose fields are still inundated pass their days in aimless conversation. After last season’s rice crop couldn’t be salvaged, they searched for work in nearby cities or sold building materials from homes that collapsed in their floods. Some farmers have experienced personal losses: Ghulam Qadir Babar, 40, spoke of his 25-year-old brother, Muhammad Bakir, who drowned as the floodwaters rose around him.
On the global stage, Pakistani leaders are pushing for funding for vulnerable countries in the name of climate justice. At the annual United Nations climate change summit in Egypt this month, Islamabad led the charge in calling for a “loss and damage” fund to provide compensation for extreme weather events caused by climate change, such as this year’s flooding. “These are entitlements for countries that are on the front line of somebody else’s carbon legacy,” Sherry Rehman, Pakistan’s climate change minister, told Foreign Policy in October.
As extreme weather events become more common, Pakistan’s water and agricultural systems will need to adapt to prevent further economic damage. In Sindh, climate change is already delaying growing seasons, and heat waves lead to more diseased crops. Meanwhile, small farmers complain that influential landowners further upstream overdraw from shared irrigation canals. Jamali said only around one-third of the land in his area is even used for growing wheat under normal circumstances because there is not enough water.
Jamali and his neighbors have slowly started moving back to the homes they evacuated, but they are still waiting for their land to drain completely. He said relying on high-interest loans to buy supplies was the only option for many of his neighbors. “The wheat is gone, our houses are gone too, [and] our beds are also gone,” Jamali said, describing the conditions in his area. He and millions of others like him remain powerless as the floodwaters linger.
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ask-spw-mercenary · 3 years
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A small nervous purple-haired pillar would pause herself near the red-haired mercenary.
The pillar looks over at Joelle and smile. “We did it...”
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baelpenrose · 2 years
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Under Avandra's Eyes XXXII: Right of Judgement
@canyouhearthelight helped a lot with this one. @dierotenixe, @drbibliophile, your reblogs and comments are always appreciated, as is the regular engagement of @quantumizedinsanity. The comments of @1978sah and the readership of @feral-possums-in-the-bog, @ladyhavocinc (and your comments) and @mon015 are also very much appreciated. Baldor deals with Paladin responsibilities. Baldor's views on gender politics are not reflective of mine, but of Faldrea's in-universe, which are the result of...Look at some point I need to do a proper worldbuilding notes on Faldrea or more accurately "put my worldbuilding notes on Faldrea in order to be readable to someone who isn't me" but short version for this chapter: Faldrea is based on Arthurian Legend, and every human culture worships a different version of Pelor, which are not always the same gender. the version prayed to by Faldrea is based on the Lady of the Lake, and where "hard" politics are gendered male in Faldrean culture, spirituality is gendered very much female in their cultural mindset, thus while the Faldrean military and high court are all male, the Church is entirely female. Both have immense political and cultural power in Baldor's homeland. By contrast, the Empire tends to be on paper more egalitarian but in practice considerably more masculinist. Thus Baldor's bitching.
“There may be trouble in coming days, it is vital that you all keep your eyes to your duty by one another and to your people. The world stands poised on the brink of disaster in the aftermath of two Pikar incursions in the same century, and there is evidence that trouble is not yet done stirring in dark places of the world.” Baldor continued speaking, his voice booming over the village as it once had over battlefields, but with little success. He had sent word by pigeon to both Faldrea and to Kazarak-Ur, but both had given the same reply - that in their current state, it would be foolhardy at best to send warriors south to involve themselves in Imperial business. Ghaztir at least had been apologetic, but the note was the same. Faldrea had the love and respect of Kazarak-Ur, the Empire did not.
And from the look of the peasants in this village, it was questionable how much they cared for their nation either. The men-at-arms seemed worried enough, as career soldiers would be, but most of the peasantry were, as commoners realistically ought to be, Baldor realized, more worried about harvest than they were about high politics - even if it was a Paladin attempting to bring them word.
Perhaps it was that he was a foreigner. Perhaps Marcus or Iris would have had better luck. Or perhaps not - Marcus was of mixed blood, and of the Western Empire even where he was Imperial and this was the northernmost part of the East - and the Imperials he knew said it was more five nations beneath one banner than one country. Iris was from the Northern Empire, formerly known as Fiorenz. Liza was a Wanderling, but she’d been born in the south, formerly known as Nemedia - though her features indicated her blood was actually from outside the Empire entirely, regardless of birth.
Baldor sighed. He would give one more effort, plant one more seed of an idea. One that would perhaps inspire something. Anything. “The Pikar Incursion was repelled in the far north - not by men like me. Not only because I slew a Harbinger with the aid of Thomas Grey. It was men defending their homes who held the line against Pikar. If Zammoreans come here, if anything comes here, you have to be willing to do the same. I will come to aid you - and so will those who fought with me at Veridal. Reflect on what I’ve said. For the sake of your families, and your people.” He stood to go, and prayed that that would get through to someone.
Men here in the Empire, he reflected, were weaker than those in Faldrea for the way women’s power in politics had been taken and twisted. In Faldrea, women controlled the church of Pelor in its entirety - one of the most powerful institutions in any human nation was entirely female. A man was the material head of house with property right, but a woman was its spiritual head with the power that implied with the Church and only women could become priests of Pelor’s Faldrean aspect with all the power over spiritual matters - to bless marriages, to baptize children, to bless graves, to become clerical healers, to arrange marriage pacts between families. In the Empire, the gentry and the priesthood were both mixed - women could hold political title independent of marriage and command troops or burgermeisters on their own, but the Peloran Church - a powerful entity in any human nation - was also mixed, meaning that they didn’t have the power over marriages or children that gave them much of the agency that they had in Faldrea. Thus, marriages that were supposed to be partnerships often didn’t consult each other - among peasantry or nobility. Men had gotten too comfortable not listening to their partners, culturally, which meant that they were naturally disinclined to listening to anyone - which turned them into fools. And the Empire called Faldreans backward because Faldrea hadn’t seen a female knight-commander.
Maybe he was simply getting old.
He had been told when he was tired of attempting to raise militia to simply head towards the capitol of Justanlia and meet with the rest of them, and he was eager to see his adoptive son and future daughter-in-law again.
It was two boring days of riding alone - not many people dared attack a giant, even a lone one, on a destrier, and certainly not one wearing heavy-plate forged by goblin smiths. It was on the third day of riding that he saw a trio of men with broad brimmed hats, wearing ominous black cloaks, trimmed with gold. Underneath those cloaks was that same chain that glinted wrong to be steel, and he knew without asking that it was iron and silver.
Witch Hunters.
He swallowed down the almost-instinctive disgust. Yes, they were of Bahamut, and yes, Melora and Bahamut were both for all races, and yes, technically those two gods allowed followers of any gender.
That didn’t make the idea of an mostly male group of mage hunters that had originated in the Empire or Hykrania - sources varied - using a gendered word for unregistered arcanists while wearing church colors of any kind less aggravating to the old Paladin. It wasn’t shocking that Liza - or indeed, any friendly Khymer - would have been able to get a bunch of Faldrean soldiers to want to lynch them during the siege.
Still, he was a Paladin now. And as a knight he’d taken his oaths before both Pelor and Bahamut himself. So Baldor supposed he ought to find out where they were going. He rode up to them quietly. “Hail.”
“Hail, Paladin!”
“Where are you bound?”
“South, for a ways. Then west. Supposedly a well cleaner found a way to use that for malfeasance.”
Baldor scowled. People who discovered the “purify” khym were almost always living in squalor. And they had to be touching the water to use their powers. For them to use it for malfeasance…
“Blood of Pelor…”
“Blood of the victim more like. Or rather, not. Turns out you can use purify on blood inside a person’s body if they’ve got an open cut. Turn it all to water.” Baldor shuddered, then paused.
“Wait. Why would anyone do that? For someone to use that khym...everyone I’ve ever met with the purify khym was nervous, meticulous - it took focus to use, too. For someone to do that, they would have to be in a moment of desperation, force themselves to calm down, and then do that - it wouldn’t be done in cold blood or they’d have simply used a dagger and been less traceable.” The witch hunters traded surprised glances. It was clear they thought the giant knight was simply muscle - pure in intent for being too uncomplicated to be anything but at peace.
“If someone did that while able to focus, really focus on what they were doing to another person, and calm down enough to do it on the fly - that makes our duty more urgent, not less, Paladin. Malfeasance such as that - it’s a horrible way to kill, I’m sure you agree.”
Baldor shrugged a massive shoulder. “I may have, once. I still do. But I’ve worked with Thomas Grey. He saved my life during my duel with Abbadon, Harbinger of Orcus. I’ve seen him kill with knives. I’ve seen him do it with poison. People fight with what they have, and I can’t bring myself to condemn someone simply for using what they had if that’s what they had to do to survive.”
There was a tense moment as the Witch Hunters for a moment seemed to calculate their odds if the Paladin drew forth his hammer. Baldor chose to draw out their confusion.
“Where are you going, anyway?”
“Leondropolis.”
Baldor let himself smile. “Well, as it happens, I’m headed to the provincial capitol myself. To meet up with my companions. I think we’ll share the road until we arrive there. I believe that as a Paladin I have a right to dispute any case involving the Church of Bahamut and demand its resolution via trial by combat? May Bahamut favor the valor of the just?” His voice was soft. “Not that you need to be afraid. I’m certain you did your due diligence and that this one actually has been using their khym for dark purposes.”
Maybe. Maybe he was enjoying this too much. If there was power in a Paladin’s mantle, he could use it. He didn’t have to let smug, arrogant bullies define the god of justice and courage. He had as much a right to that banner as they did - more, actually. He’d stand for Bahamut. “We’ll see to your warlock together, then. I take it we agree. Not,” he added, “that we have to, as I understand my rights?”
The Witch Hunters clearly wanted to argue. They didn’t.
That didn’t make them pleasant travelling companions.
***
Arriving at the Justanlian capitol in the company of grim-faced Witch Hunters - and seeing, as always, the bustle of the largest city of the wealthiest province of the Empire. Spice came from Mughulia, along with silk from Hansea. Back flowed iron, lumber, wine - things that the Empire had that were harder to get in Nistria or in the Hykranian subcontinent.
The Witch Hunters looked suspiciously at a family of Wanderlings who were tumbling through the streets before the excited eyes of the crowd, and one of them muttered about the odds of finding an Allure Khymer, even as one of them began to take on the posture Baldor recognized from when Iris used her chaos sensitivity. ���No. Nothing there.”
The old paladin was tired of the Witch Hunters.
Baldor scanned the crowd as the man perked up. “Wait. No Allure Khymer - but the one we’re looking for - I felt a surge of panic at the sight of the cloaks and someone here is using a purify khym. Follow that.”
Baldor didn’t speak - but he unlimbered the warhammer slung along his back in case it became necessary. The Witch Hunters drew forth their maces and readied themselves. Baldor saw over their heads, even as they filed forward on the balls of their feet, and saw the person they were stalking suddenly break off in a run and almost immediately groaned. He took off at a run, plate clattering and ringmail clinking after the Witch Hunters who were running at a much quicker tempo.
The humidity in the east made running in full plate hard, and Baldor’s massive size and strength was only enough to manage under the full plate - even as his age and career of fighting had added up to slow him down, but people quickly moved out of the way of the Witch Hunters and the massive knight who followed them. A slender young man with deep circles under his eyes and tattered trousers and hobnailed sandals finally fell to the ground, stumbling over something as the Witch Hunters surrounded him. Baldor finally caught up. The kid had dirty nails and the lead Hunter nodded. “This is him. Warlock. You’re a purifier, right?”
The boy looked right and left. “No, I’m not. Swear!”
One of the Witch Hunters rolled his eyes. “Go find a chamber pot, he’ll change his tune if he has no choice.” Baldor blanched.
“You can’t just force him to…”
“I’m not going to make him drink it, Paladin, and if you’re overly worried over it we’ll pay for a bath for the boy if he’s not our man.” The Witch Hunter’s voice was quietly directed at Baldor, exasperated and it was painfully clear that neither of the statements would have necessarily been true had Baldor not been there. A Witch Hunter returned moments later from a house with a bucket and prepared to upend it and almost instinctively the boy on the ground extended a hand into the muck and immediately found himself doused in pure, clean water.
The warlock immediately seemed to realize he’d caught himself.
“Several days ago you killed a man by turning his blood to water, do you deny it?”
The young man blanched. “I...I didn’t even know it was possible to do it when it happened. It was a backalley brawl, I was trying to do the right thing. I didn’t even have a knife, he had grabbed me and wasn’t letting go. I knew slavers were picking up business around here, so I started clawing at him and when he started hitting me, I panicked and grabbed the little trickle of blood that…” He took a breath. “What was I supposed to do, be taken?”
The Witch Hunters paused. The boy’s words had been too incredulous and fearful to even ask if he was lying. The lead Hunter shook his head, sadly, and began to heft his mace. “The law must stand as written. I have sympathy for your reasons. But malfeasance warps the mind as it is…Your name, young man? For your last rites?”
Baldor spoke, almost gaping with shock. “I want to know what he was supposed to do. He asked a fair question, seems to me.”
“There was no good answer, I grant you. That doesn’t change what malfeasance does…”
Baldor pounded the haft of his maul on the ground. “So we’re just going to kill someone for doing the only thing he could have to not wind up in chains? No. I think not. I demand my rights as Paladin in the judgement of...young man, name.”
“Iskander.”
“Iskander...surname?”
“I’m...a bastard born in a brothel, I do not have one.”
Baldor sighed. “Faldrean custom that would make you Iskander of Leandropolis but that’s another story. I am judging him.”
“He just confessed to malfeasance, Paladin.”
“I had a companion who used the Night Eyes to fight through an unnatural darkness to plant a dagger in the back of Harbinger Abbadon. That’s a use of Khym to cause harm. I know a young man who uses Sense Motion to sense attackers as they move their blades as part of his swordplay and it makes him positively devastating and nearly untouchable when he focuses. I know a young woman who uses her Chaos Sensitivity any time we fight sorcerers to kill them before they cast. All of those should be malfeasance - but you don’t count them.”
“Those are professionals, using Khym to fight with normal weapons. It isn’t using magic itself to kill. Malfeasance is using magic to alter someone else’s body in harmful ways. That warps the mind more and more over time.” Iskander looked up fearfully, and Baldor wracked his mind.
“I take responsibility for him.” Iskander looked so young - not that different from Marcus when the boy had been only a few years younger than this. Baldor wasn’t going to watch these zealots kill him. A crowd had gathered to watch at this point. Marcus would doubtless be unhappy with this decision. The rest of the team would be unhappy with this decision. There was a new person with them. The tone was final. Baldor shifted his hammer in his grip, to remind them of their alternative. A duel with him, under Bahamut’s eyes.
The Witch Hunter in the lead narrowed his eyes, and then sighed. “You have that right. If he commits malfeasance again, you have to deal with it. But today...as you wish, Paladin.”
Iskander looked up at him. “You’re...Baldor Torin. I was just saved by...the Paladin of Veridal. Oh, Pelor. And...you’re supposed to watch over me...wait I’m not a soldier, sir. I don’t know how useful I can possibly be to you. And I’m a coward. I mean I can carry your kit...wait, actually there’s no way I’m even strong enough to do that. I can clean your kit, I suppose. But…”
Baldor shook his head.
“Look, we can talk with my companions. I would be worried about taking someone who isn’t ready for the life we live on the road with us.” Baldor looked at him. “My holdfast lost its purifier some years ago, and we’ve been hiring one whenever trouble started here and there at exorbitant rates ever since. If you want to simply settle down somewhere with a good home and stable pay, I can pay to have you on a carriage tomorrow bound for my holdings in Faldrea. For tonight, I want to see my companions, and you need a bed and a meal. Come with me.”
Iskander nodded. “That sounds...really good. The job, and somewhere to rest. And when you say...companions...you mean...I’m going to meet Marcus Fitzwultian, Iris Mariassdaughter, Thomas Grey, Liza the Lone Wanderling, all them?”
Baldor smiled, wearily.
Maybe the mantle of Paladin didn’t have to be quite as grand. Maybe the power to do small things was enough. To do what he’d done before, but more easily. <<Prev Next>>
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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.
OR
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.
or
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.
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paxveraque · 5 years
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Holiday Harbinger 2019:  Let Old Ghosts Rest
Hi @theuselesspotoo!  I’m your Holiday Harbinger!  I know I am delinquent in my delivery of this harvesting (I am a bad Reaper and for that I am sorry), but I hope that you enjoy!  I had quite a bit of fun with this.  I’ve never had the opportunity to write any Javik before. Thank you @masseffectholidaycheer​ for organizing!
The Normandy unsettles Javik. It is not simply the friction of this unrecognizable time, or even the folly of allowing an artificial intelligence aboard. No, the ship itself thrums with the energy of those that have come before. It floods him with their memories, no matter how often he washes his hands. Their camaraderie. Their sacrifice. Their pain.
It is all too familiar, and yet, nothing is.  
He confines himself to a room that surges with a cacophony of unyielding war drums, surging pride, and trumpets of sour rage. He does not know the krogan who sang this sordid tune, but it is a variation on the only song Javik has ever known.  
Maybe that is why he rarely questions how easy it is to adjust to this cycle. The primitives have evolved and brought with them unfamiliar and unintelligible customs, but his purpose remains the same. He is the Avatar of Vengeance: the anger of a dead race that refused to be silenced. As long as he is fighting, he is home.
The human Commander seems to understand this purpose, and so Javik stays aboard. The rest of the crew give him a wide berth. All but the asari, that is.  
At first, he thinks he might grow to like her. She is dedicated to the cause and a powerful biotic. She understands much about his cycle, and she tries to make him feel comfortable.  
But she asks many questions, and his answers always seem to disappoint her. She talks about his civilization, as if he has ever known anything but war. She asks about his culture, as if he has ever had a chance to appreciate it. She calls him heartless, as if his heart could have been shaped any other way. It is almost as if she wants him to be someone other than he is, even if only for a moment.
It shows how little she understands.  
There is no winning this war. Not for the Protheans. There is only the trumpeting rage, the final overture of a trillion ghosts demanding their tribute be paid in blood.    
To pause, even for a moment, means their extinction.  
*
Thessia.
Liara hoped she woud never live to see another planet burn. Earth was enough. Palaven was two too many. But Thessia—
She promised them they would be safe. She encouraged asari commandos to rescue human colonies, to help Shepard and the war effort. She spread her resources, her intelligence, too thin.  
She left Thessia vulnerable. She let Thessia burn.  
It is all too much to process. The loss. The guilt. She deserves to be chastised, but the Normandy’s crew offers her only pity.  And before she knows it, she is standing before the one person she knows will not offer her sympathy. The one crew member who will not shy away from reprimanding her naivete. Javik will not mince words. He never has.  
She enters his room brimming with barely leashed biotic energy. She has never wanted to pick a fight before, but here she is, directing her rage toward a man she knows to be incapable of empathy. She is mere seconds from throwing the first punch when he speaks. It totally disarms her.
“Despair is the enemy’s greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it, Liara T’Soni.”  
The biotic subfield that surrounds her subsides. He touches her shoulder, and for the briefest, most impossible of moments, she sees beyond the Avatar of Vengeance to Prothean underneath. Not the rage and ruthlessness, not the fury of a dying people, but the pain. The loss.  
She has asked hundreds of questions about his time and his culture, but she has never bothered to wonder about him. How many planets has Javik watched burn? How many friends has he buried? 
Her feet take her away before she processes what she is doing. Javik. Shepard. Garrus. They all carried on as their planets burned. They kept up the fight despite the odds. And so would she.  
*
Something changes after Thessia.  
The crew has warmed to him. They stop by his quarters and offer him food. They invite him to drinks. It is strange, but not unwelcome.
And the asar—Liara, he remembers—stops by more frequently. But the tenor of her questions has changed. No longer does she ask him to recall a Golden Age that he never experienced. Instead, she asks how Prothean armies waged strategic retreats. How they evacuated occupied planets. Whether they ever found a way to reverse indoctrination.  
They talk for hours, and still, her thirst for information is never sated. He teases that she too is exemplary of her cycle. An Avatar of Curiosity if ever he had met one.  
But he knows few others will put his information to better use. The answers to her questions save millions of lives. He admires her drive. He envies her empathy. Both, he eventually realizes, are invaluable skills in winning this war. 
Despite himself, he begins to look forward to her visits. Indeed, when her information brokering keeps her away, he even ventures to visit her. He learns that she enjoys warm soup, and that she sometimes needs to be told to take breaks, to rest, even though there is more to do.
During one lengthy visit, she asks about his family. His service history. She wonders whether he ever held a command. Whether his crew was anything like the Normandy. Whether he considered them friends. He talks about them with affection, but he realizes he can no longer remember their faces. Their smiles. The realization haunts him as they prepare for to return to the Commander’s home planet. 
The ghosts of his past drive his purpose. But what happens when that purpose is extinguished? What happens if they manage to do what the Protheans never could: to put an end to the Reapers? What then? Who would he be? How could he be?
He knows the memory shard could tell him of a time before the Reapers. A time when he may have been shaped differently than he was. But there is so much pain in those memories. So much he would have to revisit.
We have a saying, the Commander tells him. Let old ghosts rest.  
It is chillingly simple, but the wisdom rings true. His ghosts have demanded much of him over the last fifty-thousand years. They have driven his purpose, carried him forth into countless battles. But if it came to pass that this purpose was fulfilled-- perhaps they deserved to rest.  
Perhaps he deserves to no longer be haunted by them.  
*
“Dr. T’Soni.” The wrap at her door startles Liara from her work. The war may be over, but the relief effort has only begun.  
Earth has stabilized in the weeks since Shepard activated the crucible. With the relays back up, Liara has been able to coordinate shipments of dextro rations and emergency supplies to the armies that were stranded. Thessia and Palaven have started to rebuild.  
It will take many years, but it is a start.  
“Javik.” She smiles as he enters, not bothering to wonder at the tinge of relief she feels. He has made himself invaluable in the aftermath of the Reaper War. The supply runs are critical, but fraught with raiders. Thankfully, few are able to withstand the fury of a Prothean on a mission to see a galaxy reborn. Still, he is not invulnerable.  
His gaze fixes on her and she cannot help but note the concern in his voice when he adds, “You have not slept.”  
“There is always more to do. Thessia needs massive mineral shipments.  Palaven is nearly out of medical supplies. Armies across the galaxy need to refuel. There is a lot counting on me being awake.”
“Stubborn asari. You are less than useless to the galaxy if you do not take care of yourself.”  
“Says the Prothean who has jumped on every shuttle off of the Citadel since the moment he got medical clearance.”  
He tilts his head in response, as if to note the bitterness behind her words that she did not intend. “I have missed you too, Liara,” he teases. 
Heat rises to her cheeks. She glances away, pretending to busy herself with more work, in the hopes that he does not catch her flush. “I have been thinking about my next mission,” he continues. 
She takes a breath and glances at the screen to the far right. Another mission? She though perhaps he would stay a little longer this time. Hoped it, even. All the same-- “Well, I have a fuel caravan leaving tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours, and another leaving at twenty-three hundred hours. But they are already well guarded and—”
“Yes,” Javik stops her. “That is why I have been thinking.”  His gaze shifts to the floor, and he shuffles quietly, the very picture of uncertainty. “The Reapers are gone.  The raiders have largely been squashed. The supply caravans no longer need my biotic protection.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “And, if I am honest, I want to know who I am when I am not fighting. I want my legacy to be more than anger and death. I want—"
He looks up from under heavy lids and something flutters in Liara’s chest. 
“I want to stay here for a while. With you. If you will allow it.” 
The fluttering has become savage. “With me?” She hesitates, hoping her voice does not betray her nerves. 
*
He knows he is rambling. What he does not know, is why he has not stopped. Surely Liara would have answered by now if she understood what he was trying to say. “I mean, I know that you wanted to write that book. A Journey with Protheans. And I think there is a story to be told. The Golden Age of Protheans. How we helped this Cycle to victory, and—”
“Yes.” She says, after far too long.
His head lifts ever so slightly.
“Yes?” He lulls over the word as if it were a strange new discovery. And perhaps it is. There is so much promise in that simple sound. A chance at a different life, a different purpose. A chance at--  “Yes... to... the book?”  
She laughs, and the sound is sweeter than any he can remember. “Yes, you may stay. Yes, to the book. Yes, to all of it.” 
“Yes.” He says, this time barely a whisper. Dazed, he takes a seat at her side. Yes to all of it.
And before he has a chance to ask whether she understood the full import of his question, she embraces him. With it comes the flood of her biological imprint: a lilting, evocative melody, unlike any song Javik has ever heard. It is soft, it is fervent, and above all, it is right. Through it, he sees himself through her eyes: a gentler version of himself, one that is free to emerge from the burdens of his ghosts now that he has satisfied their tribute. Full of potential and light and hope. It floods him with a warmth he does not expect, and for the briefest of moments, he believes in the promise behind her yes.
“If you’re staying,” she asks, “will you handle things for me? You are right. I do need to sleep.” 
“Yes.” He answers. “Yes, to the monitors. Yes, to you needing to sleep.” 
Yes to all of it.
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metng · 7 years
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Mass Effect: The Next Generation
Episode 1: Remnant of a Dead God
This is an extensive crossover that draws characters and concepts from multiple sci-fi and even fantasy franchises and integrates them into the Mass Effect universe. No prior knowledge of anything but ME should be necessary to follow the story. This is absolutely a sequel story about the galaxy after the end of Mass Effect 3. New characters, new conflicts. I hope you can fall in love with them as much as I have.
Rating: M - language, violence, sexuality
Summary: 100 years after the Reaping and the Crucible Event, the galaxy is rebuilding into a new golden age. As optimistic as times seem, the darkness between stars threatens to return in the form of infighting between the remaining Reapers. The Shadow Broker silently pulls strings across the galaxy to guard against the Reapers’ infighting, but even she can’t end this alone. When bounty hunter and synthetic-organic symbiote Samus Aran is called on to investigate a Reaper’s mysterious death, she discovers truths about the Reapers’ motivations and the century-old Crucible that could end the civil war–or ignite it into another Harvest.
Scene 1: The Shadow Broker’s Warning
It has been one century since the Crucible Event ended the Reaping. Commander Shepard entered the Citadel and never returned; our only knowledge of what happened in the Crucible comes from her final transmission, and from the Reaper that burst through the Citadel’s mass relay, just before the Event. This Reaper, of a unique design and incredible power, attacked Harbinger, the leader of the Reapers, and bought Shepard enough time to trigger the Event.
In the century since the Event, the civilizations of the galaxy have rebuilt. We have not only survived; we have thrived. The alliances and friendships forged in the fires of war remain strong. The krogan, quarians, and geth have rejoined the Citadel community, as have the batarians of the Khar’shan Republic, which rose from the ashes of the Hegemony. The Citadel Defense Fleet of the Reaping has become the new right hand of the Council, Starfleet. It is an interstellar, multispecies peacekeeping armada, and it is the pride of the galaxy. The Spectres are the left hand, a shadow organization that goes where Starfleet cannot. Synthetic life is easier than ever before to create, and the precedent set by EDI of the Normandy carries through in Starfleet and the Spectres. Many ships now have their own minds and wills, and are as much part of the crew as any organic. The Reapers have vanished from the sight of the galaxy, and many believe they simply retreated back to dark space, defeated.
But I know the truth. The peace we fought so hard for is not so easily held. The Reapers are not gone, but they are no longer Reapers. They are fractured, fighting among themselves for direction and purpose. My Shadow Network watches this civil war and, when we can, we strike to turn the tide in our favor. From the void of space, my beloved and I pull the strings of the galaxy and weave the future we never stopped fighting for.
Even the Shadow Broker is not omniscient, however … and some strings tangle so easily.
Scene 2: The Dead God’s Dream
Khar’shan, like Earth, only has one moon. It’s not the only way in which the two planets are similar; indeed, they’re nearly twins, despite the Sol system and Earth being a fair distance further into the galaxy. According to Varia’s historical codex, that’s why the batarians and humans used to fight over planetary territory--both sides wanted to colonize the same planets. Now, however, the two species are firm allies. In the aftermath of the Reaping, they realized they actually could colonize the same planets and coexist peacefully.
Samus Aran thinks it’s a little ridiculous that a near-total genocide of the batarian species was required for that realization to occur. Why didn’t they co-colonize before?
The Hegemony believed all non-batarians were inferior and only good for enslaving. The humans did not react well, Varia tells her.
Varia is a living starship. That’s the common term for the ships that contain quantum artificial intelligences, at least; to Samus, she is far more than simply a ship. She is an entity on her own terms. She’s not large, just barely smaller than a military frigate, but she has a powerful drive core, three different gun types and a cyberwarfare system, and a stealth drive--and she can use them all without her pilot. With Samus, locked into the piloting pod, they react faster and with more creativity than any single ship. Even the Starfleet helmsmen, who all pilot living ships, couldn’t hope to match them.
Helmsmen have to tell the ship to move; Samus and Varia move together.
They can converse while flying, but that is only one level of the mind. On all others, they think as one, combining Varia’s formidable processing power and Samus’s nimble, inventive turian brain. Greater than the sum of their parts.
The moon of Khar’shan is a barren rock, devoid of life and even an atmosphere. The old Batarian Hegemony, over a hundred years ago, once had a military base here. Now the base is a hollow ruin on the other side of the moon. It’s not why they’re here. There’s something else far more interesting. So far it hasn’t shown up on the scanners as the ship skims over the rock, but they’ll find it. Something this big can’t hide for long.
Have the batarians sent anything up yet? Samus asks. We don’t want to be here if they start sniffing around.
Nothing yet, Varia informs her. Her scan of batarian extranet conversations and military communication takes but fractions of a second, almost instantaneous. They’re talking about the light show around the moon last night, but nothing in the military is considering it enough of a threat.
Hardly surprising. The Khar’shan People’s Republic is barely spacefaring right now; a few unscheduled fireworks aren’t going to rate as much of a concern. According to Watcher 21, the Shadow Net agent who gave them the job, at around 0100 Khar’shan time, there was a sudden explosion of red and green light in the sky, centered around the moon. Twelve hours later, the batarians are discussing the phenomenon with great interest. The Shadow Broker, who heads up the Net, shares their interest.
“According to the Broker,” Watcher 21 had told them in his funny Earth-human accent, “those lights had unique energy signatures. Only one group of creatures is known to have those signatures--Reapers. That’s why we’re hiring you. If there’s a destroyed Reaper around the moon, we need to know why it was there and what it was doing. Any organic around a Reaper risks indoctrination. Yes, even when the Reaper is dead,” he added, anticipating the question. “A synthetic-organic symbiote like you and Varia, however, is immune. And you’re used to, you know, dangerous situations.”
Dangerous situations are landing on a rachni planet to obtain a queen egg, being attacked by pirates on that planet, and having to storm a pirate dreadnought alone to regain the egg. Dangerous situations are leaving the rachni egg on another toxic planet, having the egg hatch and imprint, and wind up with a baby rachni follower for a while. That was a weird few days. None of those dangerous situations involved dead starship gods.
The short-range scanner’s visual flashes red. Focusing on the red reveals a large mechanical strut--no, not a strut. A leg. It looks like a giant finger, half-buried in the rock, cut cleanly from its hand. Samus leans forward in her seat, even though she can zoom by thought alone. “Spirits,” she breathes aloud.
More red fingers appear on the scanner visual. One is sticking straight up from the ground, as if to point at the sky above. Surrounding the fingers are scorch marks and, more impressively, small canyons and large craters. “There was a fight here,” says Samus, flicking the visual from highlight to highlight. “But if these are the legs…”
“The body must be nearby,” finishes Varia. “The extent of the damage indicates at least two Reapers were involved in the struggle. Likely more.”
“Reapers right above Khar’shan, and nothing’s happened on the planet surface. I do not like this.”
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ask-spw-mercenary · 3 years
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Arden wakes up and emerged from the rubble. “W-we did it...”
Darius watches the result of the foundation’s success against Mordred from a distance. “I’d hate to say this, but... thank you.” He says before vanishing.
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