#how old were the vessels that died at her hands?

[sunderwight]

Fic where Su Xiyan lives but she's like, a huge asshole about it.

Tianlang Jun still gets stuck under the mountain, see, and Su Xiyan's been thoroughly betrayed by her own master, and seemingly not just him but also all the other major sects too. They all sided against her and against her lover based on prejudice. The fact that they were tricked likely wouldn't be known to her, from the outside it would just look as though they all readily dogpiled on at the first opportunity to take down a heavenly demon, even though he never did anything wrong.

Plus her own reputation has been ground to dust, going from the respected head disciple of the second greatest sect to being slandered as a honeypot who seduced a demon emperor in order to bring him down. She was used to destroy the man she loves, she almost died trying to keep her baby, her cultivation's probably taken a massive hit and she has no chance of getting to that mountain and digging her lover out from under it. Even if she could, he believes she betrayed him, so what kind of reception could she hope for?

Not that this will stop her from trying to dig him out anyway, but it's not like she can just snap her fingers and get him out. There's a whole mountain on him, and she's on the run with an infant.

So she decides she's going to make this everyone's problem as much as she can.

For a couple of years she lays low, just trying to rebuild her cultivation and look after the baby. If she's being honest, she's not great at it. She loves her son but maternal instincts don't really kick in, he's kind of a shriveled ball of misery and mess, and she doesn't really see the appeal. It gets better as he starts to get bigger and more of a personality asserts itself, and she can start treating him more like a small human than a wailing parasite that's latched onto her tit.

She would still hire someone else to look after him at the first possible opportunity, but she's paranoid about some aspect of his seal slipping and giving them away. With no body ever recovered, Huan Hua Palace is still looking for her. So she's stuck with childcare and she hates every minute of it and spends most of her time changing diapers just seething about dropping her old shifu into a mountain of shit and watching him suffocate.

Once Binghe is big enough to walk, and Su Xiyan is well enough to fight, they make for the borderlands. Su Xiyan starts teaching her son the earliest forms of cultivation he can learn, but his demon heritage is still sealed and right now he's too weak and small to risk unsealing it. So she focuses on herself, on rebuilding her own strength, turning to demonic methods and forbidden techniques (why not, when one has already been tarred and feathered and was never particularly precious about righteousness to begin with?) and hunting other cultivators just as often as demonic beasts.

Time passes and Su Xiyan begins to build a reputation even worse than Wu Yanzi's. A deadly rogue cultivator known only by some epithet or other who kills even powerful disciples of mighty sects. She experiments with what it would take to destroy a mountain, how much force, and what could provide it. Sacrificial arrays that feed off of the energy of cultivators or demons. Rituals and artifacts that demand high prices. Ways to summon demons or open gateways for them to possess others. She even considers using her son -- his blood is heavenly demon blood, his body is the closest thing she has to a suitable vessel for Tianlang Jun.

It would probably work, is the thing.

As the thought turns around her mind and she washes the blood from her hands, she decides that she's got to send her son away, actually. He's too weak and burdensome (and the fact she'd even consider using him such a way means that not even she is fully safe for him to be around any longer, not with the kinds of things she's doing, not with the kind of creature she's becoming). Now that he's big enough to survive on his own, she can ditch him somewhere to level up and bring him back once he's got enough strength to actually make himself useful.

So she sends him off, tells him not to come back until he's strong, ignores the tears and the hands gripping her robes until she finally has to wrench them away and strand the boy in a city far enough from her hunting grounds that he can't easily get back on his own.

Of course, he does still try, but he's lost and doesn't know where he's going. A kindly washerwoman takes pity on him and takes him in. The now-named Luo Binghe (his mother only ever called him 'son') isn't sure what he's supposed to be doing, but he suspects it's not just keeping house with his new caretaker. However, at the ripe old age of five he doesn't really know what else to do, so he stays and gradually the memories of the cold-eyed woman he called mother start to fade, until he wonders how much of it was merely a dream.

When his second mother dies and encourages him to go become a cultivator, Binghe decides that sounds right, so he goes to the Cang Qiong entrance exams and gets taken in. There's something familiar about his new shizun. Not in his looks, really, but in the way he acts, how he snaps and sneers, how he seems to hate Binghe but also claims him. Luo Binghe finds himself utterly desperate for the man's approval, even though he can't completely explain why. But it feels like, if he could just get this person to love him, the world might make sense.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't love him, though, if anything he hates him, and that only seems to change at random after a qi deviation. Which at first drives Luo Binghe slightly mad trying to figure out what he did and guarantee he can keep it, but gradually his thoughts and feelings on his master start to shift as, it seems, the man becomes someone completely different.

Meanwhile Su Xiyan has built up enough strength and information that she has a plan to move a mountain using a legendary blade that can open portals. She's also gradually begun to infiltrate her old sect again, using dark techniques to turn some of her former shidimei into puppets. By the time the Immortal Alliance Conference comes around, she's built the underpinnings to take the entire sect out from under her old master, and the chaos of the conference provides the perfect opportunity.

Shen Yuan has no idea what he did to cause the Huan Hua Palace Master to get ripped apart by demons during the invasion, and he's even more confused by the woman who materializes during the final hour and does him the favor of throwing Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss herself, saying something about needing him to fetch a sword for her before she'll welcome him back to her side.

[ceoofglytchell]

A safe bet

Summary: During a night out with his friends, Aegon drunkenly makes a bet with one of them that he can charm a woman without even needing to bed her- he set his sights on you, a merchant’s daughter with a heart of gold. The only problem? You are not going to give in to his charms so easily.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x merchant’s daughter!Reader

Word count: 8596 words

Warnings: mdni, no descriptions for the Reader except that you are female and have longer hair, manipulation, canon typical misogyny, aegon is an ass at first, slight angst, aeg being a pervert, suggestive thoughts, infidelity, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), no mention of Y/N

Notes: Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛

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The air was heavy with the smell of roasted meat and stale beer, the floor was slippery with spilled beer and old straw. The clatter of wooden mugs and the quiet murmur of voices was mixed with occasional laughter, the clinking of coins and the creaking of the inn door opening.

At the very back, in one of the furthest corners of the tavern, sat Aegon of House Targaryen with three of his friends, Leon, Eddard and Martyn. All of them were drunk and the ones who slurred the loudest in the vast interior of the building and shouted something to each other, even though they were sitting right next to each other. On the wooden table where they had sat down a few hours ago, there were a few empty vessels that had once held the sweet wine from the Arbor, and their cups were all almost empty again.

One of them, Martyn, let his partially blurred gaze wander around the rooms until they landed on a couple who were simply talking. No inappropriate touching of any kind, no heated or sweet kisses, nothing. When was the last time either of them had such a connection?

His gaze wandered to Aegon, the prince he was friends with, and he noticed how he was simply staring into his cup. His loud laughter from earlier had died down. He deserved some good female company. But under one condition.

The redhead leaned forward and tugged on the black sleeve of his tunic. He might be a prince, but whenever he went out with them into the streets of King's Landing, he wore the clothes of the common people to blend in better with the crowd and of course to avoid being recognized. Silver hair quickly gives away any Targaryen.

"What?" grumbled Aegon, looking over the rim of his cup, which had now been emptied for the sixth time. He was drunk, but not enough to forget his inner loneliness. All the feelings that were building up inside him. He hated it to death.

"Let's make a bet," suggested the heir to House Reyne, whereupon the other two men at the table tapped the wood in agreement. The evening had just become boring.

"What kind of bet are you talking about?" asked the silver-haired man, leaning back comfortably in his seat. Bets could be fun, meanwhile. He had more than enough gold and he was open to anything that didn't remind him of the duties that weighed on his shoulders and were slowly but surely crushing him under their weight.

"One of the fun nature," Martyn replied with an almost triumphant grin on his lips, as if he had already won the bet without even revealing what he had in mind.

"I am all ears," the prince replied, and indeed he was interested in whatever the man had in his mind and what he would offer him. After all, every good bet came with a price.

"You always tell us that there is no woman you cannot charm, no lady who cannot resist your advances..."

Aegon nodded, actually feeling a little pride growing inside him. It was true that whenever he set his eyes on a pretty lady, he usually got her, but he had half of that to his incredible talent for dexterity, his gold, and his cock.

"But I was wondering how a lovely maiden would react to you if you weren't allowed to lay a hand on her?" Martyn finally finished with a grin.

The prince leaned back in his seat, licking his lips. Whatever bet his friend had thought of, it didn't seem to be as fun as he had hoped. Well, for him at least.

"You want me to seduce a woman, but without touching her?"

"Exactly! You are not allowed to touch, kiss or fuck her. Show us how talented you really are, your highness," the redhead explained, while Leon elbowed him in the side, laughing, satisfied with the idea his friend had thought up while they were drinking.

"You would have a week and could choose the girl freely. On the last day we will meet here again and you will introduce us to your new sweetheart. Let's see, maybe you will keep the sweet dove this time too!"

He rolled his eyes and sighed once, but even though he was pretending to find this bet annoying, he found the premise exciting. He had never tried it before and he wanted to know if he could do it. But what if he couldn't? He hated rejection, even if this woman would be nothing more than a bet for him. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Fine, but next week it's your turn," grumbled the prince before he got up from their table, snatching his cup in his hand.

Aegon walked through the tavern with a sharp eye, looking for a pretty lady who he was willing to not leave behind after one night. He would have to make an effort with her.

His violet eyes briefly fell on a waitress, but she was missing that certain something. He was looking for a spark, a glitter, something that would attract him like a moth to a flame. For a moment he wasn't sure if he would find it, but then his eyes fell on... you.

You were alone in a small alcove in a dark corner of the tavern and looked down at the table where a piece of paper lay with writing on it, but he couldn't quite make out what it was written about. You seemed to be one of the well-read types, but at the same time you had a face that reminded him of a statue. Beautiful and elegant.

With a flame of determination shining in his eyes, he approached you, rocking slightly on his feet.

He hadn't even spoken to you yet, but his choice had already been made. You were the right one.

He plopped down on the seat opposite you without announcing himself or asking, a smug grin on his lips. You looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes and in that moment he was already sure that he wouldn't need the whole week. If he was lucky, you would be his by the end of the night.

"Can I help you?" you asked him in such a gentle voice that it felt like a warm blanket was being draped around his shoulders.

You were perfect.

"Tell me, what is such a pretty dove like you doing alone in a place like this on a night like today?" asked the silver-haired prince without answering your question. He was now a man on a mission.

You blinked, your eyelashes repeatedly touching the soft skin of your cheeks, which were slightly flushed. He wasn't sure if they had already taken on a pink tone before or if he was the cause. He liked the latter thought more.

"I am enjoying myself," you answered him after a brief moment of awkward silence. In the darkness of the tavern and the fact that he had pulled a hood over his face, you could hardly see what was underneath. But his eyes... either the flickering candle on the table deceived your vision or he had purple eyes.

Either this man was a dragon seed or an actual member of House Targaryen.

With a small chuckle, he leaned forward and snatched the piece of paper you had been reading up to that point: "That doesn't look like much amusement to me."

Aegon ran his eyes over the curved writing, but he didn't understand much of it. It seemed to be about money.

"Are you a whore?" he asked you, whereupon your eyes widened and you immediately snatched the page from his hands.

How dare he? Even your shoulders were covered and he called you a whore? Outrageous.

"What are you thinking? My father is a merchant. He can't read. I help him keep track of things," you explained to him as you tucked the page into the pocket of your coat, which was lying on the wooden bench next to you. It was warm enough inside that you could sit there in your long-sleeved dress.

"Huh..." He leaned back, running his thumb over the edge of his empty mug. Your helpfulness might come in handy at some point. "Does he not have a son?"

A sigh escaped you and you folded your arms over your chest as you eyed him critically. "If I had a brother, he would help him, right?"

He raised his hands in defeat to show you that he understood. Maybe you weren't as naive as he had thought at the beginning. But he actually liked that fact better. You had bite.

"Are you married?" he asked then, unable to contain his curiosity.

In response, you simply stretched out your delicate hands and laid them flat on the table in front of him. Not a single ring adorned your slender fingers. You were still unmarried. Perfect.

"And I assume you're not promised either, otherwise you would never be sitting here alone reading some junk," said the king's firstborn son with a triumphant glow in his eyes.

With every second that passed, however, you were losing patience with this man whose name you didn't even know. A part of you was curious and wanted to know more about him, but the far more rational part of you simply urged you to stand and walk away.

“Why do you care, my Lord?” you asked him with a long sigh.

“What makes you think I’m a Lord?”

You smiled at him and in that moment he could feel two things: firstly, how his heart contracted unpleasantly and secondly, how something stirred in his breeches. You were not only beautiful, but your clever and bold manner also attracted him, excited him.

“You try to hide it, but it’s there. I can see it in your eyes. Common eyes don’t lose their shine so quickly,” you answered thoughtfully and he immediately recognized something he could start with.

He cleared his throat: “No, you’re right. I am a Lord. A prince, even, if you want to know for sure. And one who offers you his company.”

A small giggle escaped your rosy lips and he watched you as you rose from the table and looked at him with a playful twinkle in your eyes.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said and gave him a deep bow before walking past the table out of the tavern, your hips gently swinging left and right.

From the side he heard Martyn, Leon and Eddard laughing loudly as he leaned back in his seat and stroked his crotch, which pressed uncomfortably against the dark fabric of his trousers.

He wanted you. He had to have you.

That night he fucked a girl in one of the many brothels on the Street of Silk who vaguely reminded him of you. She had the same hair that his soft, smooth skin and he was sure your cunt must be just as tight.

The next evening, he hoped to find you in the tavern again, but you weren't there. Why would you? You didn't seem to be a drunkard, nor were you a whore.

He walked over to the bar and leaned against the wooden counter, wondering whether to order Arbor Red or a Dornish wine. But suddenly an idea struck him.

He waved the bartender over to him. "The woman who was sitting at the table in the corner yesterday. Do you know her?"

The older man raised one of his eyebrows. There was something in his eyes. Something that let him know that he actually knew you. Wonderful.

"I know her father. Kind girl. A rare beauty. What do you want from her?" the man asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"That's none of your business. Do you know where she might be? It's of great urgency."

The older man laughed softly before shaking his head. "Take a look at the market. Maybe you'll find her there."

The young prince nodded, turned around and hurried out of the tavern. He had six days left to seduce you and after those six days he would show you exactly what it meant to enjoy his company.

Even at this late hour the market square was full and all kinds of figures were rushing around. Loud music was playing, laughter echoed through the darkness and in some alleys lovers or lustful people had retreated to show each other passion. This was where Aegon felt at home. All these people were free and could do whatever they wanted. It was pure freedom.

And then he saw you. You were standing next to a few other women and seemed to be gossiping happily. The dress you were wearing revealed your shoulders and collarbone and he longed to see what was still hidden under the fabric.

One of your friends elbowed you in the side and when you looked to the side you saw him again. The prince. Prince Aegon, as you found out. You had given his description to a lady from the Street of Silk and she had been able to answer immediately.

"Is that him?" one of your friends, Eryn, asked you with a mischievous grin. She was already married and often and happily told you about her and her husband's bed stories. She just wanted you to be happy.

"Who?" you asked instead, looking at the goods on the stand you were standing at. Treasures and carvings from Essos.

"Your secret admirer!" she whispered excitedly, while you just rolled your eyes.

"He is not my secret admirer. He is the prince. And the one who, if I may say, is known for having slept with every whore in King's Landing," you replied instead.

"Shhhh, he's coming!"

The other women moved away a little as Aegon approached you with a grin on his face. He already seemed confident of victory, but you wouldn't give in so easily. Not to someone like him. After all, you now knew exactly who he was.

"Good evening, dove," he greeted you confidently.

"Your Grace," you answered instead playfully and perhaps with a small hint of annoyance in your otherwise melodic voice.

"You were not at our table."

You immediately raised your eyebrows and your expression changed to amusement. "Our table?"

Aegon nodded his head in confirmation: "Yes, in the tavern. In the corner."

You had to hold back from rolling your eyes. You knew very well which table he meant, but you hadn't known that it was your table. This was new and you didn't know how to feel about it.

"Why are you here, Prince Aegon?" you asked him, explicitly mentioning his name so that he would know that you knew exactly who he was. That and so much more.

A small, almost flattering smile played around the corners of his mouth at your question. He seemed to like the fact that you had apparently asked about him. The thought alone made him feel warm and tingly.

"I wanted to see you," he replied with a shrug, letting his eyes roam over your features.

"You wanted... to see me?" you asked inside as you walked a few steps further, letting your hand run over some fabrics. They had probably been imported from Lys by traders. If you were richer, you would only wear such beautiful fabrics. So you couldn't understand why he, a prince, was walking around voluntarily as if he were a commoner from Flea Bottom.

"Yes," he answered you without hesitation, "I offered you my company and you said you would accept it on another day. Today is a beautiful evening, don't you think?"

A small sigh escaped you again and you couldn't help but let a small smile play around the corners of your mouth. He was amusing, you had to give him that. Amusing and persistent.

"And what do you intend to do, Your Highness? I would certainly be the ugly duckling at a ball," you said, putting your hands on your hips.

You wouldn't be. He quickly bit his tongue to stop these words from escaping. Even in your current, rather simple and partly time-worn dress, you would be a lot more beautiful than most of the ladies at court. And you were free. A luxury he always longed to have. Slowly he began to understand that he not only desired you, but also the life you led.

You symbolized his hopes and dreams.

"I don't know. We could go for a drink? Maybe our table is still free?" he suggested with a mischievous smile on his lips.

A few meters away from you, you heard your friends giggling, and when you looked over at them, you saw them nodding happily at you. This fact alone made you want to reject him even more. It wouldn't be wrong to make him wait a little, would it?

"Forgive me, my prince, but I just remembered that my father still needs my help," you said quickly. A lie.

"Now?" Aegon asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Now," you clarified and walked straight past him, your shoulders brushing slightly. You were about to disappear behind another market stall when you suddenly felt him grab your wrist to stop you. His fingers were warm and his skin surprisingly soft. You wondered if he had ever held a sword in his life.

"Wait... Please," he said quietly and the look in his amethyst colored eyes, so pleading and almost vulnerable, made you want to listen to him instead of tearing yourself away from him.

"Yes? What is it?" you asked, the words coming out a little harsher than you actually intended.

"Where will I find you tomorrow? Please?"

Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a gentle smile, which hopefully had a calming effect on him. You didn't want to scare him away. Somehow you liked him and these conversations, even though you knew who he was and where he was supposed to be right now.

"The southern side of the Kingswood. We will go for a walk together," you answered him before you freed your wrist from his grip and turned around and disappeared into the crowd of people.

Aegon Targaryen, the second of his name, looked after you with a longing look and he swore to himself that at the end of the seven days he would not only have won the bet, but also gained your genuine affection.

The summer sun shone warmly on your face as you sat on a fallen tree trunk at the edge of the forest, waiting for the prince who wouldn't leave you alone. You wore a slightly looser dress, which gave you plenty of freedom of movement, and a cloak over it. You also had a bag slung over your shoulder with some food you could eat. A few apples, grapes and bread with some cheese. It would have to be enough.

He appeared as the morning sun turned to midday sun and you began to wonder if he had gotten lost. He hadn't. Aegon had stolen a horse from the royal stables and ridden the distance to the forest and the place you had told him. It was more comfortable for him than walking and maybe you would allow him to take you home later.

You looked up in surprise when you heard the sound of galloping hooves approaching the edge of the forest. A brown horse came to a stop not far from you and its rider jumped from the saddle with a wide grin on his face.

Aegon wore a blue tunic, black trousers and a black cloak that he left open. His boots came just below his knees and his silver hair was ruffled by the wind.

He looked good. Quite good.

"My lady!" he called happily as he landed on the sandy ground of the forest path and joined you.

"I remind you, my prince, I am not a lady. I am simply a woman you find pleasing," you reminded him with a smile as you stood up from the tree trunk and walked over to him.

"Guilty. How are you today?" he asked you and this time it was not just to be polite. He actually cared about your well-being.

"Quite well. And you?"

"I have never been better," he said with a grin before he gently took you by the elbow and led you into the forest.

All around you you could hear the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, cracking branches and in the distance the sound of a stream. The atmosphere was beautiful and calming at the same time and surprisingly peaceful with him by your side. You hadn't expected that. You were pleasantly surprised.

"What do you have in here?" he asked himself and touched the brown bag that was hanging around your shoulder. His curiosity was contagious and you began to enjoy his company.

"Something to eat. In case we get hungry," you explained with a smile on your lips. In the hustle and bustle of the city everything was always so tense and loud, but here in the wilderness around the city she could enjoy the peace and quiet.

"You are too kind," he said and reached into the bag, where he pulled out a ripe apple and immediately bit into it, the juice of the fruit running down the corners of his mouth.

A small smile formed on your lips and you couldn't help but shake your head in amusement. The prince was incorrigible and you enjoyed it very much. A small part of you hoped that he enjoyed your presence too.

"You like apples, I assume?" you asked him as you looked over at him and saw that he was munching on a piece of apple with relish.

Aegon grinned and looked over at you, and you could see a small blush on his pale face: "I like anything sweet."

He seemed particularly proud of that comment. You, however, rolled your eyes exaggeratedly and jabbed your arm into his side, causing him to gasp loudly and drop the rest of his apple to the ground.

"Hey! Unfair!" he shouted angrily, causing you to let out a hearty laugh.

The two of you continued walking for a while until you reached a river. The water was clear and, compared to the warm air that surrounded you, it seemed cool and soothing. The prince rummaged through your bag while you gently stroked the water with one hand.

What you didn't know, however, was that Aegon's violet eyes followed your gentle movement the entire time. A lump formed in his throat as he understood that the sight of your delicate hands made his body warmer and his imagination imagined how a touch of yours would feel on his body. But he couldn't do it. He had a bet to lose and you would probably never let him touch you. Not yet.

But of course you would notice sooner or later.

"You're staring," you simply commented, making the future king flinch slightly and immediately clear his throat.

A small part of him wanted to deny it and tell you instead that he was looking at the river, but at the same time he still had a mission and a personal desire to have you.

"How could I not? Your beauty is breathtaking," Aegon answered you after a moment and even though it sounded like mere seduction, it was much more than that. It was the truth. You were beautiful.

You blinked in surprise and for a moment you didn't know what to say to him. It was a compliment, yes, but was it serious? You couldn't have known.

"Thank you, my prince. I'm honored," you said quietly, wiping your hands on the skirt of your dress.

"I'm serious, you know. My reputation precedes me, but I actually think you're beautiful, my lady. A silver swan in a pond full of ducks."

Your cheeks flushed and you looked back at the water, hoping he wouldn't see. Apparently he still had the talent to be charming and it actually worked. He managed to make you blush.

"Stop," you whispered under your breath, more to yourself and your own body than to him, who was sitting not far away from you.

A quiet chuckle escaped the king's eldest son and he shook his head gently, the silver strands of his hair falling over his face, as they often did. He didn't comb it too often. If he did, it was before big feasts or when his mother demanded it with a slap on his cheek.

"Never, darling. Making you blush is all I want," he said, grinning.

A sigh escaped you and you stood up from your place by the river and offered him your hand. "We should slowly return, Your Highness. My father still needs me and I think that the Red Keep is missing a certain person."

Aegon looked at you with wide eyes for a moment before he took your hand and slowly stood up too. The feeling of holding your delicate hand in his almost drove him mad and he had to hold himself back from pulling you against him and kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

You were driving him crazy.

"Fine, we'll go back. Or- I have a horse? I could take you home?" he offered, handing you your bag, which was only half full anymore.

You smiled and slung the brown leather bag back over your shoulder. "You just want to know where exactly in the city I live."

Still holding your hand in his, he led you to the exit of the forest, where his horse was still waiting for him, eating some of the grass that grew on the ground.

"Perhaps," he replied as he took the reins and watched you climb into the saddle without help and look down at him with a playful gleam in your eyes.

He swung himself onto the saddle of the brown horse behind you without further ado and wrapped his arms around your waist, humming softly as he felt the warmth of your body against his own. He would have to concentrate not to get hard now. However, his body had always been full of pleasure and reacted to the smallest of movements. And you... you were something very special.

You leaned your back against his chest and allowed yourself to relax as you rode back to King's Landing together.

Nature passed by you and the gates of the capital of the Seven Kingdoms came ever closer. It seemed as if the sky was instinctively darkening and as if everything was immediately becoming more dreary and desolate. The small folk in the market and on the dirty streets looked up in confusion or jumped aside as a horse suddenly galloped past them, carrying a Targaryen and a woman.

"Right up here, my prince," you said, pointing to the wooden front door of a small and nondescript house. The only thing that set it apart from the others were the plants on the windowsills. A work of yours to make the sight less desolate.

Aegon brought the horse to a stop and you slid gracefully from the saddle, but before you rushed straight into the house to see how your father was doing, you looked back at him one more time.

The way he sat on the horse and looked down at you as if you were a star in the evening sky, you realized that he must be serious about you. If he looked at every whore like that, then every one of them must think that she was loved by a prince.

"Good day... Aegon," you said before finally turning around and disappearing into the pleasant interior of your house.

And Aegon? He sighed and rode to the tavern where you first met, where he got drunk to the point of unconsciousness.

The next morning, you were woken up by the sound of someone knocking on the door of your room. Sleepy, with disheveled hair and wearing only your nightgown, you opened the door and your father stood in front of you. He was already dressed as if he was ready to go to his market stall, but it was much too early for that. The sun had not even come out over Visenya's hill yet.

"Father?" you asked sleepily, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"There is someone here for you," he said, nodding towards the front door.

Confused and still not fully conscious because you had been sleeping so peacefully, you went to the front door and opened it. Your eyes widened when Aegon stood in front of you, but this time not in dirty clothes so as not to attract attention, but in a beautiful green doublet and a gold chain that fell around his neck. His silver hair was brushed and he had a bag at his side.

"Aegon? It's still early," you said, smiling gently at him.

"I brought you something," he said bluntly, handing you the bag.

Confused, you took it and looked inside, and what you saw made you look at him with wide eyes. In the brown bag was a beautifully embroidered green dress with some gold details on the sleeves, neckline and waist. It was more beautiful than anything you had seen at the market before, and the fabric was one of the velvety Lys fabrics you loved so much.

"My prince, I... I don't know what to say," you told him, resisting the urge to jump into his arms and press a kiss to his cheek.

"You can thank me by getting ready and coming with me now," he replied, looking at you with an amused twinkle in his purple eyes, which seemed darker than they actually were in the dim morning light.

"What are you planning?" you asked him, suddenly wide awake.

"You are a Lady today and you are accompanying me back to the Red Keep. I would like to show you around."

You nodded your head and hurried back inside, where you cleaned yourself as quickly as you could, got dressed, and tied your hair into a braid. You then hurried back to him and the moment you opened the door, Aegon knew he would never be able to look at his sister-wife again knowing that a woman like you existed.

He wanted you. If he didn't know better, he would actually say that you could have been a lady of the House of Tyrell. You were a sight of true beauty and grace.

"May I?" he asked with a mischievous smile on his lips before bowing slightly and holding out a hand to you.

"Why so polite, Your Grace?" you asked him with a grin as you took his hand in yours and allowed him to lead you back to his horse.

Still smiling, he placed his hands on your hips and lifted you effortlessly onto the horse's saddle before climbing behind you. "Believe it or not, I have manners."

"Oh, really?"

He shook his head and kicked the brown horse in the sides with his heel so that the horse would immediately ride off. Like the day before, you rode through the streets together, but this time you didn't stop in the dirty streets of the Small Folk, but in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

Knights, lords and ladies looked up in surprise when the usually drunk and lustful prince returned accompanied by a fine lady. None of them knew you, but at the same time none of them suspected who you really were. Your disguise was perfect.

He showed you the stables, the training yard where his younger brother Aemond was training with a Dornish-looking man, the throne room and then he led you to the kitchens, where with your help he stole a few pieces of lemon cake, which you ate together in the shade of a tree with red leaves.

You had never seen Aegon laugh so freely and carefree when a leaf fell and got tangled in your hair or you noticed that you had been crumbling on your lap the whole time.

The sun shone on your faces and it felt peaceful.

At one point he moved closer to you and reached out his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You instinctively leaned into his touch and in that moment you too realized that he was no longer annoying you, that you wanted to be close to him and that he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.

You were in love. And with a prince from the House of Targaryen of all people.

"If you could go anywhere, anywhere you like, where would you go?" Aegon asked you while his head rested on your lap and he looked up at you with curious eyes.

Your fingers gently stroked his locks while you held a flower to your nose with your other hand. It smelled sweet and, for some reason, healthier than the plants you collected to decorate your house.

"I don't know. I actually like the Keep. It seems peaceful here," you answer him with a quiet sigh.

"If only you knew," the prince replied and closed his eyes, enjoying your touch on his hair. The court was certainly not peaceful. It was dangerous, full of intrigue and deadly. You shouldn't be in such a place. Only with him. He would be able to protect you. Somehow.

"And you? Where would you go?" you asked him after a moment of silence.

"Essos. It's far from here and very different," he answered you without hesitation. He seemed to have thought about it many times.

"And what would you be there if not the Prince of Westeros?" you asked him with a hint of curiosity in your otherwise gentle tone.

Aegon shrugged. He wasn't quite sure. He often dreamed of running away and being free, but he never thought about what he would actually do if he managed to do it.

"I don't know exactly. I would just be free,” he finally answered you and you could tell from the look on his face that he was telling the truth. Besides, he had no reason to lie to you anymore.

“You could work in a tavern and serve people wine?” you suggested.

A grin formed on his lips: “But only if I can pour myself a cup too.”

You couldn’t help but giggle and gently tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. You liked him a lot when he was like that. Not arrogant, stuck up or about to seduce you. You liked him when he was himself.

“I don’t think that would be a problem,” you replied after a moment.

The look in his eyes softened and he carefully reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, where he left a small kiss on the back of your hand before resting his cheek against your palm. Your heart leapt in your chest and you knew you could no longer lie to yourself.

With every moment that passed, with every gesture he made for you, you fell a little more in love with the prince.

And he fell in love with you too.

Day five started out normally for you. You walked through the market square with your friends, wearing one of your old dresses, because out here you were nothing more than a merchant's daughter. You were not the lady he wanted to make you into, even though you enjoyed it. Very much.

You hadn't decided on a place where you would meet today, if you met again, but you were also aware that he knew exactly where you lived, and there was still your table in the back corner of the tavern. That was your place.

You were just turning a street corner with your friend when you suddenly felt a tingling sensation in the back of your neck. It felt like there was something - or someone - here that seemed familiar.

"Hey, are you coming?" Seryne asked you, smiling gently at you, but you just shook your head.

"I have something to do," you lied, because you wanted to find out why you suddenly felt so strange. What was that feeling?

"Fine, but I'll see you later, yes?" And with that, the woman turned around and disappeared into the crowd and you stood alone in the middle of Flea Bottom. A place where no woman should stay alone for long.

You followed your intuition and walked down a street. To the left and right sat young men and young women, dirty and barely dressed. Some of them were scratching their heads or their arms, which was an obvious sign that the name of this place lived up to. Most of them were sick and you could be thankful that you did not have to suffer such a fate.

And then suddenly you saw it - a dark cloak with a light pattern at the bottom. The person had pulled a hood over his head, but the way he walked seemed familiar to you.

But what could the prince want here now? And especially in such a place?

Out of curiosity you followed him and you were shocked when you suddenly saw more and more naked women, lustfully pressing themselves against men and whispering filthy promises in their ears. Some paid, others simply dragged the women with them.

You were in the Street of Silk. And Aegon was here too.

At your father's request you had always avoided this place as if it were the Seven Hells themselves, but now you could not help it. You had to know if this familiar figure was really your prince and, above all, what he was doing here.

The streets became more crowded the further you walked, but you could not stop, nor could you just turn around and forget about this. You would bring it up next time anyway. Or maybe not.

You quickened your pace as best you could and could see out of the corner of your eye how the person disappeared behind a wooden door - a brothel.

You couldn't blame him. You knew his nature and even if he tried to be gentler with you, he was a man and men have desires. However, your curiosity didn't go away. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know what kind of girls he surrounded himself with and what exactly he would do.

You just had to know.

With a lump in your throat and sweaty palms, you knocked on the wooden door of the brothel until a slightly older woman with brown hair and a sleazy smile opened it for you.

"How can I help you, my lady?" the woman asked you as she leaned her side against the door frame. You felt small and weak under her gaze.

"I- I would like to spend some time in your establishment," you answered her as confidently as possible in this situation.

A small laugh escaped the woman, who was obviously the madam of this house, and she took a step to the side so that you could enter.

"Of course. Have fun, little flower."

You cleared your throat and quickly walked past her into the interior of the brothel and immediately it seemed to you as if you had entered another world.

Music echoed through the oppressively warm air and a wave of smells suddenly overcame you. Fragrant oils, alcohol, sweat and sex. You also heard noises from every corner that made you blush immediately. Moaning, whimpering and sometimes a scream when someone reached their climax.

You shouldn't be here.

But you couldn't help but wonder if Aegon was behind one of the silk privacy curtains and one of the girls was between his legs at this very moment, satisfying him in a way you hadn't dared to think about until now. Or maybe the whore was sitting on his lap? Or maybe she was lying on the bed and he was right behind her and-

A drunk man stumbled past you and you quickly took a few steps further into the room, the feeling of being overwhelmed growing inside you. At the same time, you felt your insides getting warmer and warmer. All the noises and the bare skin had an effect on you.

You walked quickly until you suddenly heard something that made you freeze.

Your name.

A voice moaned your name and whimpered softly. It could be none other than the prince you had fallen in love with over the last few days, and now he was moaning your name in the middle of a brothel.

You knew you should turn around and leave immediately, but your curiosity got the better of you. Your curiosity and the surging feeling of lust inside you.

"Oh gods... fuck yes, don't stop," you heard Aegon's voice say in a tone that made you instinctively bite your lower lip. His voice was rough and deep and his breathing was coming in quick gasps.

Slowly and carefully you approached the curtain and you could already make out a vague silhouette.

He moaned your name again, this time a little louder, and you could no longer hold back.

With a jerk you pulled the silk fabric aside and looked at a scene you had already dreamed of, but you had always been in the whore's place.

Aegon was lying on his back on the bed. His silver hair was disheveled, small beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his eyes were half closed and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. He was still wearing all his clothes, but his breeches were open and between his legs knelt a young woman who bore an astonishingly great resemblance to you. She moved her head up and down, her cheeks hollowing out so she could take him deeper.

Every now and then you caught a glimpse of his cock, and the sight alone made your knees go weak. It was long and thick, and you wanted to close your lips around his shaft and do the same as this woman.

"Oh yes... just like that," he moaned under his breath, reaching for the woman's long hair to keep her in place.

You gripped the fabric of the curtain tighter, and the rustling finally gave you away.

Aegon looked up, and the moment his purple eyes found yours, he began to move his hips back and forth demandingly, never looking away from you.

The woman protested, but the prince did not let go. His moans grew louder, and his pale cheeks grew redder.

"How beautiful you are. Seven hells, I need you. I need to be inside you,” he moaned, which made you whimper in return. You pressed your thighs together and tried to relieve yourself somehow.

And then suddenly with a deep grunt he unloaded himself into the whore’s mouth, while his whole body trembled and she swallowed his seed.

The prince let her go, whereupon the whore winked at him, stood up and left the small alcove, deliberately bumping into your shoulder.

You, on the other hand, were still standing motionless next to the curtain that you were still holding. It burned between your thighs and you couldn't help but stare at his now flaccid member. You wanted to take him in your mouth too.

"Dove... I can explain," he began hesitantly, still breathing quickly and in gasps as he put his cock back in his pants, but left them open for now.

"You don't have to," you replied quickly, your voice coming out weaker than usual, "You have desire. That's normal."

A grin spread across his face, but strangely enough he made no move to get up and pull you towards him. You knew now that he found you physically attractive and that he wanted you, but he didn't take you, even though you too felt a burning desire to be turned onto your back by him at that moment.

"And you? What do you feel?" he asked you and you could swear that there was something vulnerable in his eyes.

"I don't know," you answered him, even though you knew exactly how you felt about him. You loved him and you wanted him. But not like that.

"Really?" Aegon questioned, leaning up on his elbows.

"I want you, Aegon. But not like that. Not in a place like this."

The prince sat up abruptly and looked at you with big, hopeful eyes. "Please... darling, I want you too. I need you. I love-"

Your eyes grew wide and his cheeks turned even redder than before. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped and you were the only two people left in all of King's Landing.

"I love you," he finally said and you could feel your heart leap in your chest. It was like in your dreams.

He loved you. And you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth. But what would you say to him now?

"I... I shouldn't have come here," you said instead before turning around and hurrying out of the brothel as fast as you could.

You could hear him calling your name, but you ran out of the establishment and up the street to your house. Part of you hoped he would follow you, but the rational part of you also knew that it wouldn't change this moment. You still wouldn't open the door.

That evening, you lay in your bed wearing only your nightgown. You had pulled the white fabric over your hips and you moved your slender fingers in circular movements over your sensitive pearl, while the fingers of your other hand moved in and out of your tight hole.

You thought of him and how he had moaned when the girl had closed her mouth around him.

His name was on your lips as you came and you knew you could no longer run away.

You didn't see him the next day and you had never felt so alone before.

The seventh day had come and Aegon was sitting at your table in the tavern and getting drunk. He had already had four cups, but he wasn't drunk yet. Not yet.

Aegon hoped that you would come. He had confessed his love to you and you had run away, but he couldn't blame you. Not after what you had seen. You had a heart of gold and now he had ruined you.

The sun had long since set when you entered the tavern. You didn't know he was there, but you had a hunch. And indeed, your prince was sitting in the furthest corner, alone and staring at the table. It reminded you of your first meeting, only now the roles were reversed.

Slowly and with quiet steps on the wooden floor, you approached him and sank into the seat opposite him. He looked up at you in surprise.

"Good evening," you said with a gentle smile on your lips.

Without waiting a second, he grabbed your hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your hand, while a sigh of relief escaped him.

"You're here," he whispered, as if he could hardly believe it.

"I had a hunch," you answered him gently and brushed a loose strand of hair from his forehead. He was so beautiful and in that moment you realized it again.

“About yesterday…” he began hesitantly. “I wasn’t thinking properly. I said things I shouldn’t have said. I should have-”

“Aegon,” you said and he finally stopped speaking. “I love you too.”

Before he could say anything about your confession, a loud laugh suddenly came from the side and Aegon froze when he saw Martyn and Leon standing not far from their table. They already seemed extremely drunk and were staggering from one foot to the other.

"That bastard actually did it!" Martyn slurred and pointed a finger at the prince, which made you look back and forth between the three men in confusion.

Leon pulled a sack of gold dragons from his belt and threw it on the table. It landed right between you.

"Well played. You won the bet," Leon said with a grin.

"And? Are you keeping this beauty this time?" Martyn then asked and you slowly understood what was happening here.

Aegon looked at you and the expression on his face was pure desperation and panic. He had something to do with it and a lump slowly formed in your throat.

"What kind of bet are these men talking about, Aegon?" you asked him uncertainly.

"I- I-" the Targaryen stuttered without being able to say a clear word.

Before he could explain himself, the drunken redhead intervened again: "We gave him a week to seduce a woman and by all appearances he succeeded."

Your eyes filled with tears and you could feel your heart breaking into hundreds of shards of glass that could never be put back together.

"Nothing of this, absolutely nothing, was real," you realized, your tone bitter and angry.

Aegon immediately shook his head and grabbed your hand again to prove you wrong.

"In the beginning, yes, but no more. I love you. Truly," he answered you honestly, but you just shook your head and pulled your delicate hand away from his again. You loved this man, but the pain blinded you.

"Do you hear that? He loves her!" Leon laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder.

"You are such a damn fool," you cursed and stood up abruptly from your seat to run away from him a second time, but Aegon would not allow it a second time. He left the sack of gold on the table and ran after you.

On the dark street outside the tavern, he grabbed your arm and pulled you against his chest.

"Listen to me, please," he immediately begged as you struggled against his grip. Your hands hit against his chest and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"No! Let me go!"

He ignored your words. "Listen to me. I love you. In the beginning you were just a bet, that's true, but now you are so much more than that. I need you in my life. You are the sun that brightens my days."

You looked at him with wide eyes as another tear rolled down your face. You believed him, but the truth still hurt you.

"I want you," he whispered and slowly leaned down until you could feel his warm breath on your face.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?"

"Aegon..."

He grinned and let his lips wander over your wet cheeks as he kissed your tears away slowly and tenderly. The gesture made your knees weak and your eyes closed for a brief moment.

"The bet said that I couldn't touch you, kiss you, or fuck you. Tonight I shall do all of those things."

The moment the words left his lips, he leaned down and kissed you with a passion he had never seen in himself.

That night he took you, made you his, and proved to you that you were much more to him than a mere bet. You were everything to him.

And he was everything to you.

And his friends were right about at least one thing. This time he was going to keep you.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[the-artist-grimm]

Im sorry if you already answered something similar but does the twins ever reunite with Forneus in your au? If so how does it exactly work out, does Narinder, Anthea, and Forneus share custody?

Crimson Angel AU - The Situation between Forneus and the Twins

(Anon, @gerroacarnival  and @xquaserh Putting all these asks in 1 cause oh boy this is a COMPLICATED question to answer oof. I wanna preface this that while I love Forneus just going by the characters personalities/themes of this AU the reunion is not as fairy-tale happy as it is in game)

Anyway-the boys do reunite with her technically, but not in the way Forneus dreamt. Reunions are good in theory, the long lost children reunite with their ‘real’ family, hug their mother, go ‘home’ with her, start life anew, but life isn’t so simple, now is it? It’s never that easy, not when one side clings to the memory of three day old infants and a reunion she'd dreamt of for so long it just became her expectation, and the other side has no memory and complex feelings on the whole matter with this slight feeling that perhaps while their mother loves the idea of them, she doesn't actually love them.

It's messy, complicated, and no matter what, will NEVER be the reunion Forneus wanted. The second they left her embrace, she lost the chance to be the mother she'd wanted to be for them, yet never realize till too late what else died with them.

(Putting this under the cut cause it's longgggg. The Twins and Forneus's story has so little in-game text that it's become this favorite thing of mine to interpret/expand)

The Two Parents

Forneus did and didn’t have a choice to give the boys up. When Shamura appeared, the newborn, extremely premature kits were already doomed to die, so the choice to either let them pass naturally or to allow War to take them as gifts with a potential of reunion was an either damned if she did or damned if she didn’t, situation. And in her grief and desperation, she chose the option that gave the potential for hope. She gave the twins to Shamura, accepted the golden skull, and waited. Waited for her babies to come home, waited as a mother who never really ever had a chance to be a mother-one who works off feelings but no experience. 

Meanwhile when it came to Aym and Baal, Narinder never told them who their parent(s) were. How could he, when he himself had no certainty as to who they were? Though his 7th Vessel, Forneus, had left service specifically because of pregnancy, he had no means of tracking how much time had passed since when they first arrived (it could've been a century since for all he knew), nor any means to confirm without doubt that the black, newborn kittens were hers even once his next vessel gave him the date-he couldn't ask them to investigate something so personal and unrelated to their cause.

Their box held only their bodies, a spider-silk cloth which was their burial shroud, and a note penned in Shamura’s hand. ‘A Gift’ that’s all the note said. No names, no clues, no nothing. While Narinder had suspicions, he could not in good conscious tell the boys of a potential mother out of risk of being wrong-of getting their hopes up for a heroic parent only to be proved that it wasn’t her, or worse, told heroic tales just to learn they were abandoned all along. Vessel 7 was heroic yes, had a sense of justice yes, but during her service her luck had made her grow arrogant, had transformed flirting into a game of hearts and people into a way to get the upper hand-for all he knew, if they were hers, they could've all along been her means of trying to easily get out of vesselship. He just didn't know.

And thus Narinder raised them from there. He tried to use the title of ‘Master’ as a barrier in hopes that, if they did have a family awaiting them, he wouldn't take their place, (it was also out of guilt for being the reason they were trapped) but he also couldn't bring himself to fully shut them out either. The moment their dead bodies healed in the gate and they started to mewl for attention his unbeating heart bled for them, and he just couldn't deny them love because he knew how much it hurt to be without.

The Twins

As centuries passed Aym and Baal were content with Narinder as their 'Master'. He who told them stories of his time above, who taught them how to fight, who fashioned them clothes from whatever scraps of cloth he would get vessels to send-he was all they had and knew. When they felt the time to sleep it was in his paws they curled up, when they got hurt training or got bored it was from he they received comfort and attention. It was his magic which allowed them to age against the Gateway's stasis, it was he who saw their eyes open, watched as they learned to speak and walk.

But that’s not to say neither did think of whoever was left behind from time to time. Baal tried to keep hope that he and his brother were taken-stolen by the Bishops, with whatever parents they’d had having desperately tried to keep War away. Aym, meanwhile, only felt anger, bitterness and resentment, for who lets two three day old kits be taken and sacrificed? Narinder himself simply tried to keep neutral on the subject, not wanting to feed into either side in hopes that'd avoid a heartbreak or the smooth transition to their 'real' kin.

The Lamb

When the Lamb appears and starts to befriend them, it's then the boys suddenly find themselves feeling the same sense of security and comfort Narinder gives them towards Anthea. As the lamb brings them toys and books catered to their interests, teaches them to read, uses the crown to show them the world above and encourage their boundless curiosities. As nights suddenly see the lamb visit in their nightgown book and quilt in hand, letting the twins snuggle into their sides as the three are cradled against Narinder's chest while reading a book, and the boys fall asleep to a heartbeat for the first time. Narinder had always been stability and security, Anthea became tenderness and warmth.

Anthea teaches them what a 'Father' is as well, and the boys realize that's what their master actually is-he's their dad and tentatively start testing calling him as such, and while it's not until just before Silk Cradle they realize it (yet don't call them Baba yet) Anthea's long on their way to feeling like a parent too.

Which then begs the question…what of the parent(s) left behind?

First Contact

Baal still wants to meet them, he's always been curious and just wants to know who they are, while Aym is still angry and wants nothing to do with them. They got a parent in their master, and Anthea's their friend and practically a parent too, so why bother with the ones who abandoned them? Narinder overhears the boys debate over it more and more, and as Anchordeep’s door opens, Narinder hesitantly asks the Lamb for a favor.

He’d heard rumors of a shopkeep she-cat who wore a golden skull, and Anthea had been the first to confirm that cat's name was Forneus. He’d never asked a vessel to do such a thing before, mainly out of not feeling close enough to ever ask such a personal, unrelated to the Bishops, task, but he wants to give the boys closure, and Anthea would happily do anything to help the kits. And thus they're sent out, and in a bit of a side quest work their way to getting Forneus to sit down and just...talk.

She explains her side of what happened, how the boys were born too soon, how she had really no choice, breaks down, and as the cats had been listening in and Aym who's now uncertain feels bad, and he requests Narinder for permission to speak.

“Save your tears for when we meet” is what he says, and that’s all that’s said through the crown.

For Aym it’s an olive branch-he’s sorta gotten an answer as to why he and his brother were sacrificed, though he's not entirely sure how to feel since well...she still gave them up, but she looks sorry so... Baal's eager and happy to hear that they were cared about but is a little disappointed at realizing that she didn't really hesitate despite the situation, but regardless, both are willing to give her a chance. They want to get to know her, and then they'll decide how they feel after that.

They, do not, see her as a proper 'Mother'. Just someone who shares their blood who they want to meet. To then Narinder's still Dad-he's still the one who makes them feel secure.

Meanwhile for Forneus it’s proof that she’ll get what was promised. Her boys are not only alive, but they’re children-they’re still children, so she'll now get what she wanted and more. They'll reunite and she'll then take her children home to travel by her side-she’ll get to raise her dear little babies just as she’d planned, and while it took so long it's going to be perfect.

She's dreamt of the boys seeing and running into her oncoming embrace crying. That they'll love her instantly and had already because she's their mother so of course that's how they'll feel. How could they not? Children ALWAYS love their parents.

The Lamb promises to help her meet them once they’re free, and every visit after, Forneus tries to get the boys to talk again-offers gifts for the lamb to bring to the Gateway, rambles on about all the things they'll do together while the Lamb browses her shop. And...well they're things, at least. Most of the toys she offers are either baby toys or things that just don't interest the boys, and some of her plans are...plans. They're elaborate-taking them to X mountain, to X landmark, traveling here and there and everywhere. Big and grand and...and never mentioning their Dad or Anthea being there.

Baal thinks it's sweet how excited she is while Aym is getting more and more unsure-but even Baal eventually admits that she's a little...loud. Forneus is loud-she's energetic and eager and while he and Aym can be too, seeing it from a stranger about them is...weird. She keeps calling herself their Mama , and calling them Zamir and Delshad despite being told otherwise because apparently those were their names (a fact not even Shamura had been given. Narinder had to name the boys himself). She keeps talking about those three days they were with her, and it kinda feels like she loves the babies she gave up and not them.

Anthea tries to tell her about them, but she usually doesn't realzie since she's busy talking to her babies and not them, it's as if the lamb isn't even there. The boys can't even try to think of trying to talk-she never leaves an opening for them to try. Eventually the boys ask Narinder to mute the crown during the Lamb's shop visits the more uncomfortable it gets.

It's like going to a family reunion and being brought to your great Aunt who last saw you as an infant at your christening. She insists on kissing your face and hugging you tight and going oh how big you've grown sweetiepie and this and that and...and you put up with it because she's family but...well she's a stranger despite the shared blood. She doesn't actually know the you of now-and you don't know her.

Reunion

When the final Bishop falls is when Forneus suddenly finds herself left in the dark. For 6 months she sees hide nor hair of the Lamb, and gradually gets worried because where are her sons? The Bishops are dead, why hasn't she been given back her babies?

(The Lamb had been avoiding her cart during crusades out of both grief and guilt-Aym's dying word of calling them 'Baba'...it broke something in them, made them realize just how much the boys had meant. They had a shattered heart and endless guilt, and having to face Forneus and explain she'd never meet her sons? It'd been too much as a grieving parent themself)

The twins were revived after 4 months but Anthea only finally approached Forneus after 6, and she was too relived to finally hear she could meet them to bother asking what'd happened. Anthea invited her to come to the cult that weekend, and Forneus happily accepted, not even noticing the tiredness in the Lamb's eyes nor the uncertainty in their tone. Even on the day she arrived at the cult, she didn't mind the lamb, not even as Anthea gave her a final warning.  

"There was trouble setting them free…they’re wary, skittish, they’ve been through a lot... I know you’re excited but please be gentle when you speak to them, be calm and keep your distance please they’re so easy to startle."  

Meanwhile the boys waited at the temple with Narinder, who, for the hundredth time, asked if they were certain they were ready for this. Though it'd been 2 months, the toll of dying so traumatically via turning to ash, of being trapped in the gateway, the trauma of resurrection, the fear of being alone without their parents because that's what he and Anthea were to them, Narinder had wanted them to wait as did Anthea. The boys could hardly sleep without at least one of them there with them in bed, were just starting to be ok interacting with other people, could only handle the touch of a select few and even then sometimes would just break down into panic attacks out of seemingly nowhere. They weren't ok, but the boys had insisted. This woman who claimed to love them had been kept in the dark for so long, they felt bad and wanted to try.

They felt guilty for not being ok. Even as Narinder and Anthea repeatedly and gently reminded them that it was alright-that their feelings were valid, that they could take all the time they needed and they'd be right there to support them, the boys had insisted and they just couldn't deny them their choice.

But once Forneus arrived no one got the chance to even properly introduce the boys to her-she just saw them, ran towards them for the reunion she dreamt up, swept them into her arms, and next thing she knew she had two yowling, struggling kits trying to break from her hold. In her excitement and in not listening to Anthea's warnings she'd done the worst thing anyone could've done-she was louder, bigger, stronger, scarier than them, and as the kids managed to shock her into dropping them suddenly Baal was hyperventilating, and Aym was working himself into a panic attack. And Narinder and Anthea, having two months practice in calming them like this, and having long been the twin's safe people, immediately fell into place. Narinder got Baal, Anthea got Aym, and Forneus could only watch.

Could only watch as Baal started gasping for Dad as Narinder tried to get him to breathe, as Aym started sobbing for Baba and practically tried to bury himself in their embrace, as her babies looked at her in fear and clung to someone else.

And then all she can feel is anger. She'd waited 300 years-those boys were hers. Why are they clinging to someone else?

From there it just becomes a mess, she gets into a very loud, very heated argument with Narinder especially for 'stealing' her sons which just scares the boys more, and in a very poor move tries to just grab one of them which prompts Anthea to use a show of godly power and threaten her to get out of the Cult which she does since a crowd has also formed (the Cult was ALL aware of the twin's poor mental state, and they'd all grown very protective of the community's first children despite having to keep their distance because by gods those kids deserved more than what fate had given them).

Forneus leaves angry, and Narinder and Anthea now got two kits who had been tentatively healing temporarily back at square one, and who are now gonna start having nightmares of a stranger taking them away on top of preexisting ones.

I wanna note that Forneus isn't a bad person. She isn't, but she's also not used to things not going her way. As a vessel she was 'Lady Luck', she who rarely died, who always had the upper hand, who would pop curse shots at the Goddess of Famine for fun and be the heartbreaker of her own cult able to flirt and tease and talk her way to whatever she wished. She's kind and cheerful and charismatic sure and she genuinely does want to help people and do the right thing, but there's still this...ignorance, arrogance-that she doesn't even realize is there.

Like how above in Starfall Part 1 she VERY casually mentions how she 'knows what it's like missing her own twins' and 'how 'hard' it must be for Anthea to have nothing of their family to remember them by', but the thing is...she doesn't know. She's so hooked on this idea that she WILL get her boys back that she completely has just ignored the grief that comes with loss entirely this whole time. The way she misses her sons is NOTHING like how Anthea misses their brothers-she misses them like a relative you haven't seen in awhile but will see soon. Anthea misses their brothers because they're DEAD and they know that they will NEVER see the two again, especially now. Like Forneus has not considered how she's lost a LOT of moments with her children. They're still kids yeah but they're not returning to her as blank slates-though physically and mentally 11 they've been with Narinder for over 300 years, that's a lot of time to be without her. She loves them, but kinda more-so the sons she thought she'd get back.

Thus when you've been envisioning this 'perfect' reunion the entire time only for it to not go your way...it's a hard pill to swallow. She gets disappointed/angry understandably-anyone would, but instead of stepping back and realizing she can't fault the boy's feelings she takes it out of the ones who 'took' her place instead, which then turns her into this loud scary bad-guy to the boys.

And Aym and Baal aren't to blame in this situation, like they're kids, and like with my 'great aunt who last saw you as a baby' analogy, it's not their fault they don't immediately love her. She's a stranger-one whom, the more she tried to force interactions via the crown during their imprisonment, seemed to have little interest in them personally and more in whatever children she assumed she'd be getting back. And after that disaster of a first meeting? They don't want anything to do with her she scared them that much.

As for Narinder and Anthea they both feel awful because they understand why Forneus is angry, she only gave them up because she was promised a chance for reunion (though she ignored the CHANCE part of that), but in the same breath Aym and Baal are their sons and they'll take their side first over anyone else's. And the thing is there's nothing that could've been done on their part to prevent this really either.

Anthea telling Forneus the twins had died? Anger, grief, then upon their revival a fierce insistence for the boys to NEVER go near the Lamb or Narinder again, which the twins would've been just as terrified and against.

Narinder not showing care to the kits for those 300 years? They would've gotten attached to him anyway since he was literally all they had, though they might've turned out worse emotionally because of neglect

Telling the boys to wait longer to meet Forneus? She likely would've just shown up on her own within another month anyway since by that point Anthea had just freed Heket from Purgatory and word was starting to get around about the new God of Death so this would've happened but worse.

The only way Forneus could've had the reunion she'd wanted would have been if Narinder never forced the twins to start aging against the stasis. But then there would be two 300+ year old infants, which is a whole other can of worms.

Notes/Explaination

Again I love Forneus in-game she's so adorable and my one of my favorite NPCs to visit, but I also like making imperfect characters, especially parents and their relationships with their children. And while I love the idea of her being this wonderful, sweet, amazing mother, I also like the idea of her being really flawed about it to.

Crimson Angel is about learning to communicate with your loved ones, and in this case, it needs to be her looking at things from the twins view and realizing that if they don't want her in their lives, she has to accept that. She needs to realize that she's not entitled to their love just because she gave birth to them. She also has to let go of the sons she gave up that day-those three day old infants who were perfect little blank slates, and get to know the boys they became without her. She has to realize someone else took her place in their hearts, and realize that if she wants to join them, she HAS to let the boys come to her, and that she has to work on THEIR terms.

She cannot try and force a love if she wants a chance for it at all, and must swallow her pride and listen to others who know the boys better-Anthea and Narinder, alongside the boys themselves.

She'll get a relationship with the boys eventually, but it's not going to be the one she hoped for. She's gotta work on herself first and realize her flaws, maybe get some practice with handling children via unintentionally adopting a certain fan-favorite grave spider kid after finding him all alone, and just...wait. Narinder and Anthea are the twin's primary parents, and while Forneus does eventually get to a place where they're comfortable with her, it's never going to be on the same level, and they all just gotta contend with that.

Boarders are by @/lambouillet

[the-white-void]

Fabula occurrit finis

Synopsis: "No matter what sort of GOD I am, in this vessel, I am MORTAL."

Taglist: @kthehoeforfictionalmen @pix-stuff @kthehoeforfictionalmen @time-shardz @scarletttcroww @mysteriaqueen @atsukawolfcat @junkoslette @mefOrgOr @altheqo @obliviousariies2007 @mmeatt @quacking-simp @amnervous @resident-cryptid @etherisy @gallantys @ccybersins @angelofdarkness2 @eliciana @weirdducky17 @chidouna

One || Four || Five.

"Overseer..." You whisper with a hoarse and cracked voice as the blood vessels pop around your eyes while you strain them in anger hearing that damned title being uttered.

You hung your head back down to face them, your eyes tinted with golden blood as you stare at them with rage. "Say that again, and you'll get a taste of what the 'Overseer' can do." Your hoarse and wretched tone made the two on the other side of the bars take a step back.

Your eyes remain glaring at both Nahida and the Wanderer. After some time, you release the bars from your grasp and return to a lax state like before. "Good... Now, what else are you here for?" Your tone returned to its early cheery attitude like a robot getting its settings reset.

The two outside the bars step back, wary and trepidation on their feet from your uncanny and inhumane movements. "You... All those lives... every loop... you-" Nahida whispered as she tried to ease you enough to make you explain to her more only to be cut off with a glare that could split mountains like butter.

"Don't overstep your boundaries. The only reason I haven't snapped Teyvat to oblivion was because..." Your voice trails off, and your piercing gaze softens as you are reminded of when this world was once bright and colourful to you, how the grass and the wind felt like a breath of spring grazing your skin.

Wanderer notices your body softening, a moment of weakness compared to your eccentrically inhumane behaviour before, perhaps a chance to penetrate your cold exterior. But that plan was quickly put aside when you stood back up again. Although you were still a sulking figure, the aura you were emitting made you untouchable.

You heave a small sigh knowing the real reason why couldn't let go of this world aside from the joyful memories you made here. "... I am still human after all. If I destroy Teyvat, I will simply die along with it due to my mortality." Your soft whisper echoed across the dungeon as you stepped forward with your hand gently holding the bars of your cell.

"You merely caught a glance of the countless loops I've had. It doesn't hurt anymore, it's no different than waking up from yesterday and doing the same old routine." You spoke softly as you looked down on her, the space between had never felt so narrow as no one had ever wanted to hear you utter a word from your wretched existence as an imposter of their Divine Overseer.

"There's no point in helping me... In the many loops I've had, I've seen it all. From being an imposter, the Overseer, or simply an envoy of your Overseer... I died by the blade, against age, and illness. "No matter what sort of GOD I am, in this vessel, I am MORTAL."

Nahida and Wanderer eventually left the dungeon and met up with Zhongli who was impatiently waiting for their return — his brows furrowed with downturned lips — clearly dissatisfied with the young god holding up the imposter's execution with her interrogation. "Buer, I respect your place as an archon of the seven, but, why are you defending a traitor, an imposter who besmirches on our Divine Overseer's name!"

"No, they're not! They are the true Divine Overseer! And they have the means to prove it!" The Dendro Godd tries to defend your name only to be silenced when the sound of crackling lightning is heard flashing across the darkened sky before the Shogun makes her presence fill the air as the sound of her heels clacking the stone ground.

"Are you saying they are to be given a trial, Buer?"

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Danny, Security Chief

Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These kids are making me feel so old, Danny though, running a hand through his hair before setting his ball cap in place and walking out the door of his room. The talk he’d had with Liz Collins the cycle before was still reeling through his brain on a loop. Once again, he questioned the merits of keeping GAIL Command in the dark, but once again followed the logic of Admiral Townes and Captain Skitch. At this point, they didn’t really have conclusive proof of sabotage, and if they started raising any alarms, any evidence would point back to the Terrans. The codes used to send encrypted messages were the science team lead’s, a human’s, and the more vocal opponents to the Earthling’s membership would use that against them.

For now, however, Danny decided to turn his attention to the other possible threat to human/GAIL coexistence in the galaxy. The Noah was scheduled to have a rendezvous with a Sed trainee ship later in the cycle. Apparently the GAIL council had decided that a group training session would be just the thing to drive home the idea of interspecies cooperation. However, the captain of the Sed vessel they were set to sortie with was a man named General Drinner, a high ranked figure in the Sed power structure. He’d been fairly curt in transmission between ships, and claimed he would be personally overseeing the exercise. When Danny asked who he was, Skitch hadn’t been able to provide much information. The Sed government had totally wrapped the man in red tape so any information about his military record or personal life was behind a security clearance wall that nobody onboard the Noah had access to.

Before he entered the lift, Danny Ducane paused and walked back to his quarters and strapped on his ‘work belt’, complete with pistol, stun batton, and combat knife. He chambered a round in the pistol before holstering it again. Danny had a feeling in his gut telling him it was gonna be that kind of day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Coola grumbled, arms crossed in her seat around the security command console.

“Because unfortunately bureaucracy is universal,” Danny said as he cycled through screens on the terminal, “and we have our orders. Now, the plan here is to head down to this planet here,” Danny pointed to it on the screen, “and meet up with Drinner and his crew for the joint training. Supposedly we’re going to be running standard drills, some close quarters work, and there will be a combat demonstration at the end. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Ritz chimed in, tail flicking around the floor in annoyance, “why is a Sed general taking part in this? This is a simple training procedure, correct?”

“I don’t know,” Homet said as he strapped upper armor to his thermal suit, “but I’ve seen Drinner before. He spear headed a GAIL mission to apprehend some pirates a couple rotations ago. None of the pirates made it to a cell, and two of his team died, neither of which were Sed.”

“You’re sure of that?” Hayte asked, sitting forward, concern starting to show on his face.

“Hundred percent,” the Doun said. “I was on the ship set to take the raiders to stand trial. All we did was transport the remains. After that, Drinner was removed from GAIL mixed forces and the Sed brought him back into the fold on their home world. I heard he got a promotion for the operation, it’s how he made general.”

“That just great,” Danny mumbled, “one big party like this.”

“Sir, what are we going to do?” Coola asked. Danny looked around at them, his team. He could feel the unease and anxiety coming off them, a sense of uncertainty surrounding them.

“We do what we always do,” Danny answered, “our jobs. We don’t start anything with them under any circumstances. Most likely the Sed government is just inspecting us on the down low, so as long as we show them we’re competent there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Just saying it Chief,” Ritz hissed behind sharp teeth, “they’re going to see that the only Sed crewman in any position of power here got replaced. They aren’t going to like that.”

“No, probably not,” Danny signed, “thanks for that Ritz, I wasn’t already sweating about that at all.”

“You are very clearly perspiring sir,” Coola added.

“Sarcasm, guys. Remember our talk?”

“Right, sorry.”

“Anyway,” Homet popped the last plate into place with a solid metallic click, “I think what the chief is saying is just be prepared for them to try and antagonize you, but don’t react to it. Right?” He looked to Danny for confirmation.

“Right,” Danny took a deep breath. “Go get suited up, we’ll be dropping out of WARP in a few hours. Dismissed.”

The Quintin siblings Ritz and Coola left, alongside Hayte who gave one last look back into the security office before heading out. Then it was just Danny and Homet left in the room, with the holographic face of General Drinner oscillating above the console.

“So what’s the word boss?” Homet finally broke the silence. “You got your work belt on and your… hat, that’s the word, your hat is on backwards. Humans mean business like that, right?”

Danny chuckled.

“I think that’s mostly a me kind of thing man,” he said as he dragged a hand across his face and screwed his eyes shut. “I got a bad feeling about this. After all this shit with Grite, and now this Drinner guy is showing up… I don’t know if I’m being intolerant or what, but every bit of training I’ve ever had is saying somebody is making a play here, I just can’t see all the players.”

“Trust me, you’re not being anything but prepared,” Homet tapped a couple claws against his thermal suit and the added plating. “The Sed have a reputation in the GAIL for the collateral damage of other species. Couple unexplained accidents and botched missions, but never enough evidence to directly link them to any crimes or negligence. So as far as I’m concerned, do what you gotta do.”

Homet clapped his big paw on Danny’s shoulder.

“Who knows,” he continued, “maybe you humans will be the ones to finally teach them some manners.”

Danny’s terminal trilled, then his comm-link did the same.

Must be synced, he thought.

With a push of a button, Danny brought the message up on the holoviewer. It was a message from engineering.

We have something for you

-PADRINO UNIT H663K67Q6

“What do the Padrino want with you chief?” Homet asked.

Danny stared at the message a beat longer.

“Side project. Make sure everyone is ready for the drop, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Unit H66-, uh, 3-,”

“You may refer to me as Sixer, Chief Ducane,” the unit said in its machine synthesized voice. “It is what the Human Thomas calls me for efficiency.”

“Sixer,” Danny started again, “what did you find?”

“Per your request, myself and the other Padrino have been collating the data from the ship’s AI CORE in an effort to find any clues to your… problem, as you call it. Using the assumed times that you claim Human Elizabeth’s access codes could have been used, we have begun searching through all long range messages during those time frames.”

“And?”

“We have found numerous encrypted messages going out, but no data could be acquired. It seems someone has uploaded a program to scrub the system after each message is sent, but it appears they did not implement this function until after this broadcast:

The mis[]io[] is s[]ill g[]in[] ah[]ad as pla[]ne[]. Th[]re w[]s a min[]r set ba[]k, but no one []board t[]e NO[]H sus[]ect[] a[]yth[]ng. We wil[] be []ictorious as we h[]ve alw[]ys be[]n. Pro[]ee[] with t[]e s[]cond pha[]e as sc[]edule[]

“Why is it all piecemeal like that?” Danny asked.

“I found traces of a scrubber program in the core systems, a less advanced version of what is erasing the more recent messages. It seems this message was sent early into the mission, appropriately forty hours after launch.”

“Seriously? This has been going on for that long?” Danny was dumbfounded. Forty hours. The numbers made his head spin. It was almost inconceivable. They’d been over confident, and now it turned out they’d been tricked from the jump.

“Is it possible to get surveillance data from the long range communications consoles? See who all was in there during that time frame? Maybe start narrowing down our suspects?” Danny asked. He clenched and unclenched his right fist a few times. Maybe now he’d finally start making some headway into solving this instead of staring at puzzle pieces for hours on end.

“It is possible, with your approval and from your terminal in the security lounge. With your permission, I could start reviewing footage on your word,” Sixer stated. Danny eyeballed the android before nodding.

“When I get back from this training, we’ll do it together. Leaving you alone in there is a major security risk you understand. It’d cost me my job.”

“Of course,” Sixer said. “Permission to inform Human Thomas of these events? I believe he’d be of assistance in this endeavor.”

No no no, not the kid, please, the corner of Danny’s mouth twitched a little. I can’t deal with the fucking kids anymore.

“Why?” He asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“I have been informed that it is protocol for friends to inform each other of important information regarding their interests. As Human Thomas is greatly invested in the wellbeing of the ship, it seemed prudent to inform him,” Sixer explained. “Though I do agree that yes, it does involve a security concern, which is why I’m requesting permission from you first.”

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sure. Fuck it. Why not?” He said exasperated. “Turn this whole operation into a game at day care, I’ll go Vend some juice boxes or something.”

“I’m sure Human Thomas will appreciate the refreshment, sir.”

“Oh my god,” Danny cried, “okay, keep doing whatever this is, get Thomas if you want, keep me informed about anything you find, got it? I gotta go deal with the other problem that’ll give me stroke today.”

“Orders confirmed, sir,” Sixer gave a kind of salute to which Danny assumed was also somehow not sarcasm and walked away, taking deep, calming breathes, and wishing the Vending Machines could make something stronger than a juice box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“All ready for the big drop Chief,” Homet called when Danny made the hangar bay. “You take care of that other thing?”

“We’re gonna have to wait and see about that I think,” Danny replied, making a face that said it better or I’m gonna lose it. “How’s tricks in here?”

“Everything protocol says is on the shuttle,” Homet gestured, “and a few extras, just in case. Just waiting for you now.”

“And the team?”

“Nervous,” Homet admitted, “but you gave them the brass they need chief. I think they got this.”

“Careful Homet, you’re starting to sound like a real Terran there,” Danny joked. Homet laughed, a deep, hearty sound, making his thermal suit’s armor clank and clatter against itself.

“Skitch and Commander Koatil are already down there, they sent the go ahead just a minute ago,” the Doun man continued. “We better get moving Chief.”

“All aboard then,” Danny clapped his hands together and stepped through the hatch.

“Once more into the breach.”

[coochiequeens]

Women’s history just became even richer

By Marco Margaritoff | Edited By John Kuroski

Published March 14, 2025

Items found with the skeletons — including iron arrowheads, horse harnesses, and a broken vase — helped researchers trace back the burial to the 4th century B.C.

Institute of Archaeology RASThe oldest woman found in the grave wore a calathos, which is a ceremonial headdress.

Archaeologists in Russia have uncovered the remains of four Amazon women of different ages buried in the same tomb. According to CNN, this is the first time in history that such a discovery has been made.

Published by the Institute of Archaeology of the Russian Academy of Sciences, a new study estimates one girl to have been between 12 and 13 years old when she died. The second was aged 20 to 29, the third was 25 to 35, and the fourth was 45 to 50.

The tomb itself was built from clay and oak blocks.

Items discovered at the burial site — iron arrowheads, a bird-shaped hook made of iron, horse harnesses, harness hooks, iron knives, animal bones, various vessels, and a broken, black vase — all helped researchers estimate the burial to have taken place during the 4th century B.C.

This suggests the warrior women were Scythians, who were ancient warriors living throughout Siberia between 200 and 900 B.C. Female Scythians, in turn, were Amazons — and the inspiration behind Wonder Woman.

The more magical elements, of course, have yet to be discovered.

Institute of Archaeology RASThe excavation took place at a cemetery called Devitsa V, which contains 19 burial mounds.

This remarkable find took place at a cemetery in the Voronezh region of Russia called Devitsa V. The site is comprised of 19 burial mounds, and has been studied since 2010. It took an entire decade, however, for the Don Archaeological Society of the RAS to excavate these specific remains.

“The Amazons are common Scythian phenomenon and during the last decade our expedition has discovered approximately 11 burials of young armed women,” said Valerii Guliaev, head of the expedition.

“Separate barrows were filled for them and all burial rites which were usually made for men were done for them.”

The ancient personal items of this stunning discovery carry with them priceless ancient information that clarifies just how these people lived, millennia ago. While the girl and one of the young woman’s graves were ravaged by robbers in ancient times, the other graves were left undisturbed.

One young woman was buried as a “horseman,” which meant her body underwent a rather macabre tradition that includes cutting the tendons in the legs. Underneath her left shoulder was a bronze mirror, two spears, and a glass bead bracelet along her left side and hand.

At her legs laid a one-armed drinking cup and a dish adorned with a black lacquer design.

In addition to the headdress, many other priceless artifacts were also found.

The average life expectancy for a Scythian woman was between 30 and 35, making the oldest woman’s age at the time of death impressive enough. The calathos, or ceremonial headdress adorned with floral ornamented plates and pendants, however, was just as surprising.

The jewelry she was buried with was 65 to 70 percent gold, with copper, silver, and iron comprising the rest. Scythian jewelry has previously been found to contain far less gold. She was also buried with an iron knife that was wrapped in fabric, and an iron arrowhead with a forked end.

The researchers explained that the headdress was shocking to find, as so few of them even survived the burial itself, not to mention the years before people dug them up. Archaeologists typically find mere fragments of these calathos, rather than entirely preserved ones.

Besides the intriguing, ancient objects found in the middle of Siberia, the fact that no one has ever found for Amazons buried in the same grave before makes this rather exciting. There’s no telling what researchers will find in the remaining mounds at Devitsa V.

After learning about the ancient Scythian Amazon warrior women being uncovered in Russia, read about the Slavic warrior woman buried with weaponry in a Danish Viking cemetery. Then, learn about the ancient warrior woman unearthed in Armenia who may have been an Amazon.

[hypostatic-oath]

I'm so happy you like my ask (this is long overdue).

I bet that the people of Fontaine are very happy because i have been doing nothing but hanging out with the Melusine instead of doing the archon quest(though that will eventually come to an end soon). I also bet that new laws/regulations are being proposed because the amount of wacky stuffs the Traveler and their companions is up to all the time. Imagine you just joined the Traveler's team and your first experience is watching a forest watcher beat up some of Fontaine's local legends lmao (and after your recent post, Childe is seething if he learned of this).

Can i be 🚬 anon?(unless you don't do that here)

Named anons? On my blog? Omg I feel honored - of course you can be 🚬 anon! Welcome :D

New laws being proposed because of the traveler is amazing. It has the same vibe as that gliding law in Mondstadt about taking off using anemo slimes (yes, it works, no, it is not very useful as far as I know. I don't even remember if you get an achievement), because you KNOW there's a story behind it, someone must have tried it and it must've gone very, very wrong, and the wacky circumstances that lead to the creation of new laws would be hilarious to witness.

However, on a more serious note, Wriothesley and Neuvillette would be grappling with the issue of teleportation - how do you arrest someone who can simply just... leave? It doesn't matter how secure a prison is if a bored entity can just take control of one of the prisoners and whisk them away on a whim? Worse yet, since Wriothesley is officially a Vessel, what would happen if an Overseer decided to take control of him and sign official pardons? New rules in the Fortress of Meropide have been implemented - any orders given by the Duke while he is on the team are automatically overruled unless it can be proven that he is acting of his own accord.

I can only imagine how confusing it feels for the newcomers to suddenly join the team and find themselves in the kind of situations the Traveler faces daily... and for the onlookers, of course. "Oh, I wonder who that newcomer is... such a distingushed gentleman, perhaps he's here on business?" "Guys, not to scare you or anything, but that 'distinguished gentleman' dropped a meteor on a crab." "Oh, yes, that huge crab in the-" "No. A regular crab. On the smaller side, even. He just threw a huge meteor at it - didn't even bat an eye. The crab practically disintegrated." "What the hell."

And for those that don't know their teammates - any of the knights of Favonius being placed on a team with Klee know exactly what she's capable of, but someone less familiar with her is about to be shocked. "What in Celestia's name is the Overseer thinking? This is a child, she'll get hu- oh. Oh no."

On the other hand, imagine being a nun-turned-idol, looking to the side to check who your teammates are, and there's the Raiden Shogun standing there as if it's no big deal. A little bird lands on her fingers. She watches it with a wistful expression as it flies away. You look to the other side and see the Dendro Archon chatting with that kind but often drunk bard as if they're old friends. You find yourself in what looks like a domain but soon realise, with no small amount of dread, that you're in the Abyss. At least you have two Archons beside you... Barbatos help you, the challenge has started and there are more monsters than you thought. You're doing your best to keep all your teammates alive - you wouldn't forgive yourself if you were the indirect cause for the fall of a god. So you sing your song and put the hydro circle around your team, but there's just too many enemies, coming from all sides... And then you hear a faint "ehe", and the specters are pulled into a vortex of wind. The Shogun doesn't even need to pull out her signature move, just the swirl reaction the bard has caused is enough. You see him shoot down one of the things with a single Anemo-infused arrow. It dies immediately. He's dealing damage on par with the two Archons on the team. Just what is this bard capable of? Suddenly those rumors about him being Barbatos are starting to seem a little less nonsensical. Surely, it couldn't be true, right? You have half a mind to ask him about it once the four of you exit the Abyss, but as soon as you find yourself outside and able to regain your breath he just gives you a "whoops, gotta go!" and floats away on a wind current you're pretty sure he just created.

Now that I think of it, it'd be fun to imagine how different team dynamics would work - I'll make a separate post for this, but if you've read this far and want to send in asks with your team comps... 👀

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

The Castaway Pt. 1 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

requested by @tkappi 🖤

Summary: You're running away from Mr. Daws, your adoptive father on Nantucket Island and happen to be saved by a curious sailor. You seek refuge on a whaling vessel in your hopes of making it to the mainland of Massachusetts. The man promises to help you, even if it costs him his job.

Warnings: Hints at possible sexual assault attempts from adoptive father, old-fashioned perspectives on prostitutes, 10-year age gap, mutual trauma.

word count: 4040k

Seventeen- Sjowgren 🎶

“Stop her!” Mr. Daws shouts from the doorway of his store in the overcrowded market. You duck between two men carrying a large basket of oysters, your feet nearly slipping in the deep layer of mud that has only gotten worse in the snowy winter months. Mr. Daws chases you but his rotund belly and smallish legs hinder his pursuit and you manage to put some distance between yourself and the angry fish-marketer. 

“Thief! Grab her, by God!” You can hear the anger rising in his voice and notice that more people turn to inspect the scene. Thankfully, no one tries to intervene, they’re too confused by the scene to do anything. To the people of Nantucket, all they see is a young woman, probably 18 or so, in a printed blue dress holding onto her bonnet as she runs down the market lanes. They look for a thief or a criminal and see none, just a girl. You look like the well-off daughter of a merchant or clergyman in your colorful frock and braided blonde hair stuffed into the brown bonnet. 

“For thee love of God, grab tha’ girl!” The man tries again to rally the bystanders as he lumbers after you, slipping and sliding in the mud. The passing of a cart cuts him off momentarily but you can still hear his voice calling from a too-close-for-comfort distance. You can’t help but smile as you race down to the docks, clutching a cloth duffle of bread, preserves, and personal belongings- some of which you did sorta steal but from your own home. Mud splatters up the back of your legs, staining your cotton pantletts and underclothes but you daren’t stop and incur the wrath of the fishman. 

Your feet scramble in the mud, your boots losing traction. A frightened squeal escapes your throat as you keep running, praying that you make it to the docks and catch a sailboat before the man reaches you. This is not how it was supposed to go. Mr. Daws was not supposed to see you as you snuck out of the fish stall in the market, but he had. Mr. Daws is the man that wishes to marry you, and most shockingly, the man that adopted you a year before from the Nantucket Island Orphanage. He’d treated you well, buying you new frocks, and showering you with kindness until you turned 18… then his true intentions were revealed. He’d only shown you kindness in exchange for your trust. A marriage proposal from the man who by your understanding was your legal father was enough to shatter any trust or affection you held for him. And the things he’d tried to do… you couldn’t stay there any longer. Your only choice is to pay for passage to mainland Massachusetts on one of the many sailboats docked in the harbor. 

 “Thief!” He screams again and you nearly feel like sobbing because you can’t seem to outrun him in the horrible mud. 

“Umph!” The sound of surprise leaves your mouth as you’re jerked to the side by a strong hand. You fall between someone’s arms in the cutaway of an alley and immediately struggle to remove yourself. 

“A thief eh?” 

You look up. A sailor smiles down at you, his hands still holding your shoulders in place. You look over at the busy market and the man follows your gaze, registering the look of fear in your eyes. Without a word, he pushes you into the shadow of a stall and covers any view of you from the street with his body. 

“I hope whatever you stole is worth it,” the man mutters over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the busy market lane. 

“I didn’t steal anything… well not really,” you whisper back, your voice dipping as you added the last part. 

“I paid for ye!” Is the last thing you hear Mr. Daws scream as he limps right past you and the sailor. The sailor turns and cocks his eyebrow. 

“He paid for you?” His tone is quizzical as he looks you up and down. You don’t look like a prostitute. “Aren’t you a little young?” 

You look at the man for a moment, still in shock and totally unfazed by the man’s intervention on your behalf. You narrow your eyes, trying to understand what the man means and open your mouth slowly to respond but the sailor shakes his hand dismissively.

“No, no it's alright. That’s not important. Are you alright?” He glances over at the market again, checking to ensure the angry man wasn’t on his way back. You release the breath you were still holding and bury your face in your hands with a groan of relief but it’s still too soon to celebrate. Mr. Daws could be on his way back any minute now and see you. He could realize that you didn’t go down to the docks once the crowds of the market faded before the harbor. Your eyes snap open again and you grab the sailor’s forearms desperately. 

“Please, can you help me?” You manage to ask, your heart still racing. The sailor’s brow furrows and he nods with visible concern. 

“I can try, what’s happened? If you are a thief I won’t report you…” 

Your knees buckle randomly and you collapse. You would have landed in the mud if not for the sailor grabbing beneath your arms and holding you up. He looks around for a place to set you but there is mud all around, so he exhales tightly and supports your body weight. 

“I’m sorry,” you squeak in embarrassment and try to stand on your own. 

“Never mind that, are you in trouble?” 

You nod emphatically and glance over again at the market lane. 

“Was that man chasing you?” 

You nod emphatically again and nearly begin to sob for a second time. Your gasps of breathlessness make you feel lightheaded and weak. You lick your lips and try to take a steady breath so that you can speak.

“I- I’m running away. I have to get away from Nantucket. I was going to buy passage to the mainland but I’m worried he will see me and make me go back.” 

“Go back… where?” The sailor tries to follow but you shake your head. 

“I just need to get off this island. I need to get on a ship and go, go anywhere. Can you help me? I have money for the fare.” You reach into your pocket with a shaking hand to withdraw the roll of banknotes you’d stolen from Mr. Daws to pay for a ticket, either legally or under the table. 

“Put it away,” the man nods towards your pocket and looks down at his feet as he thinks. You shove the money back into the safe pocket of your skirt and wipe a tear from your eye. Finally the sailor looks back up and nods. 

“Can you walk?” 

He lets you go for a moment so you can try to stand without assistance. Your legs are weak but the moment of helplessness has passed. You nod. 

“Ok, follow me closely and take my coat.” The stranger pulls off his navy blue peacoat and helps you pull it on over your dress. He takes the duffle from you and when you start to protest, he shushes you with a finger to his lips. “Now take off your bonnet and put it in the pocket of your dress. Put on my hat.” 

The sailor removes his cap and hands it to you. You tuck your hair beneath the lip.

“Good, now come on,” he grabs your hand and pulls you through the edges of the market towards the dock. His grip is tight and reassuring as you both walk quickly towards the dock. 

At the harbor, the air is thick and gray. You can barely see the mass of shipmen working on the docks as they confer with other men. In your strange disguise, you look like a sailor’s wife wishing your husband farewell and indeed, you see wives doing just that as their husbands set off for whaling expeditions or fishing trips. 

“There’s a ship here leaving for the mainland…” His sentence is cut off as you both approach the sailing boat. You squeeze his hand and duck behind a wall of water barrels. Quickly, he realizes what you’re doing and joins you. 

“He must be telling the captain. Wait here.” The man tells you and steps back onto the busy path of the dock. He approaches Mr. Daws and the captain of the sailboat with a casual jaunt in his step. Mr. Daws turns toward the man and waves his hands about his head in his usual animated fashion. The sailor rubs his chin as he pretends to look interested. He pats Mr. Daws on the back and bows to the captain before walking back down the dock. The men don’t notice as he ducks behind the barrels beside you once again. 

“Whoever that man is that you’re running from, he’s forcing the captain to postpone all his trips to the mainland for the next few days. You won’t be able to get on the vessel without being turned in.”

“Oh God!” You exclaim softly and sink down against the barrels, tears spilling down your pink cheeks. The sailor jumps at your tears and holds his hands out helplessly, unsure what to do. 

“Oh please don’t cry! Look, I’ll take you aboard my ship. I stay docked for a few days and in that time, you may be able to board the sailing boat. If not, maybe we can drop you off at our next stop.” The man spoke quickly, his ideas coming to him on the spot. You pause your crying to look at him. You don’t even know who this man is, much less trust him to keep you safe aboard a random ship. But this is what you wanted. You wanted to get away from Nantucket in any way that you could. 

“What’s your name?” You ask softly, wary to follow the man now that your shock has subsided slightly. The sailor chuckles at your question, his smile lopsided. 

“Matthew, but we can introduce ourselves formally on the boat.” 

You nod and wait for the sailor named Matthew to give you a sign that it was safe to move. He glances around the wall of barrels and after a few moments, his hand gropes blindly for your back. Pushing you along by your back, Matthew leads you down a dock and to the right where the larger vessels are docked. A ramp has already been set up and when no one is looking, Matthew scoops you up. You gasp, startled and very uncomfortable as he hurries up the ramp. 

“Pretend you're a sack of potatoes or something…” Matthew mutters between his teeth and you dejectedly comply. He throws you over his shoulder and beelines for the passage leading below deck. You can tell immediately when Matthew passes through the threshold because the air is stuffy and humid. It smells like stale food and mildew but thankfully, it isn’t unbearable.

“We’re almost there,” he whispers as he turns a corner or two. The hallways are dark, only lit every few feet with a lantern. When he finally stops, he opens a door and steps inside quickly. He sets you down gently on your feet and steps back to give you room. You exhale slowly and look around. It’s a closet of some kind, full of extra rope and canvas for sails. 

“You should stay here for a little while, at least until we know if you can catch the sailing boat. Just don’t wander about. This side of the boat isn’t as busy because we use it for storage and for our workshops but it wouldn’t be good to have you walking about…” He clears his throat pointedly and you realize suddenly, that you haven’t really gotten a chance to look at him since he pulled you to safety. His face had completely slipped from your notice all day, as desperate as you were to get away from Mr. Daws. 

Matthew has a grayish face in the pale light below deck, and attractive hollow cheeks below prominent cheekbones. He has an impressive scar above his top lip, splitting his pallet down the middle at a diagonal. He is clean shaven but his hair is unkempt and about as long as you would assume for a sailor. His hair is a chestnut color, lightened from months spent beneath the sun at sea. And his eyes! You draw your eyes up to his. You’d never seen eyes quite like his, so dark blue they championed the color of the sea. 

“Well,” Matthew clears his throat, trying to fill the period of silence that you didn’t notice, “now that you know my name, I think it’s only fair that I should know yours.” He keeps his back against the door, creating a respectful distance between you. You look down at your hands, for no reason really, though the blush spreading across your face may be one. 

“Y/N,” you answer, looking up again. Matthew nods and trails his fingers absent-mindedly down the strap of your duffle bag still slung over his shoulder. He realizes the bag is yours and sets it down. Seeing him do this, you remember that you’re wearing his peacoat and cap. You remove them and hand them back to Matthew with a shy smile. Your body begins to drain of its initial adrenaline as you watch Matthew put his belongings on once again. 

“I’ll be back in an hour or two, and when I come back, I’ll bring you some supper. If another man happens to open this door and see you…” Matthew trails off, his eyebrows pulling together. He looks just above your head on the opposite wall, thinking. 

“What?” You prompt him, apprehension clear in your small voice. 

“I’m trying to think,” he mutters and sighs gravely. “Tell them you’re my sister, blame it on me. It’s better for both of us that way if you’re caught. Besides, you’ll only be hiding here for a few nights at the longest.” 

“Just until I can get safe passage on another ship,” you add with a tense exhale. You try to convince yourself that everything will be ok, despite the extremely strange circumstances. 

As if he read your mind, Matthew promises you, “Everything will be fine.” You nod thankfully and watch as he ducks out of the room. When the door is closed, you hear keys jingling against the door which tells you the door is being locked. A rush of anxiety takes you and you rush to the door. The door to the closet is locked by the time you turn the doorknob. Your breath catches in your throat and you panic. 

Oh God, I’ve been locked in a closet on a ship by a man I don’t know at all. No one knows I’m here besides him and if I draw any attention to myself and someone else comes… Damn it all! 

You think and slide down to your knees behind the door. Matthew seemed so kind and trustworthy… but to be fair, so had Mr. Daws after he adopted you. Your stomach turns. 

The closet has only one window, a dirty porthole, but no lanterns so save the aura of sunlight streaming in underneath the door, the room was dark. You stare at the face of your watch by resting your wrist beside the gap beneath the door. You’d decided to give Matthew the two hours he said he would need to return before screaming as loud as you can. You’d already watched one hour go by, fearful tears falling from your eyes. You have stopped brushing them away because it was straining a muscle in your neck. You’re fairly convinced that you have just left one horrible situation for another when you hear footsteps approach the door. 

You scramble back in time to see the door swing open. The direct light behind Matthew is too aggressive for your eyes, so you blink and shield your face with your palm. You can’t tell if you’re relieved or not to see him. 

“You locked me in,” you tell him flatly. 

“Yes…” Matthew starts cautiously, hearing the tone in your voice. “My belief was that you would be safest if you were locked in.”

“Don’t please…” you ask softly and Matthew finally sees the tears on your face. 

“Oh, child. Don’t cry again! I shouldn’t have locked you in. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m one of the only men on this ship with keys, so I believed this would be the safest arrangement.” Matthew closes the door quickly and crouches down to your level. “Are you alright?” He asks softly and sets down a canteen by your knees.  

You wipe your stale tears and wipe your nose on your sleeve. When you nod, Matthew sighs in relief and pushes the canteen closer to you. 

“Supper,” he opens the lid. You take the warm receptacle and drink the watery broth. “Now that we know each other’s names, will you tell me why you’re running away?” Matthew tries, his eyes watching your carefully for more tears.

“It’s a long story,” you murmur after you swallow some of the broth. Matthew twists his mouth to the side and sits down on a pile of coiled rope, exhaling loudly. 

“We have a few days,” he shrugs and clasps his hands together. 

“Right…” you concede and regard the man carefully, still wary. 

“Why are you running away from home?” Matthew asks again, not harshly, but his tone is strained with fading patience. He’s risking a lot to hide you aboard, a young girl (and probable prostitute) he doesn’t even know. “If you don’t tell me, I’m likely to remove you from this ship.” 

You shake your head wildly and stop him from continuing with an outstretched hand. 

“No, please… I’m just not sure where to begin.” 

Matthew nods and leans back against the wall, listening intently. 

“Um well the man that I was running from is my father, though only legally. He adopted me a year ago.” 

Matthew raises a quizzical brow but doesn’t interrupt. 

“When I turned 18, just a few months ago, he tried to change the um nature of our relationship.” 

“To what?” He leans forward.

“He wanted to marry me.”

“Oh…” Matthew grimaces and scrunches up his nose in disgust. 

“When I refused his first offer, he kept asking but more and more forcibly…” You wring your hands uncomfortably. 

“Did he try to take you?” Matthew asks without thinking of his audience. You narrow your eyes, confused again by his choice of language for everything.

I’m not sure…” you try to answer, not having understood his question to begin with.

“You’re not sure?” Matthew looks pointedly puzzled for a moment before exclaiming and rubbing his hand over his face. “So, I assume that means you aren’t a prostitute?” Matthew crosses his arms across his chest and cocks his head to the side. 

“What?” You gasp in surprise, knowing what that word means. 

“I just assumed when your, eh, father said he ‘paid’ for you,” Matthew shrugs apologetically.

“No!” you lower your voice, “I am not a bad woman. Mr. Daws had to pay the orphanage a certain amount to adopt me. He feels like he owns me now because of it.” 

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Sailors happen to have a lot of respect for prostitutes.” When Matthew sees your mortified face he sighs again and shifts uncomfortably on the coil of rope. “Forgive me, I’m not used to speaking with young women. We don’t interact with many of you,” Matthew chuckles beside himself and gestures to you. 

“But tell me,” he turns serious again, “what do you plan to do when you get to the mainland?” 

You shrug honestly, “I’m not sure. I was going to find a family to take me in and work as a maid.”

“You’d do better as a prostitute,” he mutters beneath his breath, then at a normal volume, “Boston would be the place to go. They have wealthier families there. I don’t know how easy it will be to find a job as a maid, especially without references which I assume you don’t have.” 

“I’ll do whatever work I can find,” you assure him quickly but then pause and add, “within reason.” 

“Ah,” Matthew chuckles at you softly and crosses his arms over his chest again. 

“And who are you?” You drink from your canteen as Matthew looks up at the ceiling. 

“Well, I’m a whaler. I’m First-Mate on this ship, The Essex,” he turns his gaze to the side, leaning forward, as he tries to recall anything else to say. 

“How long have you been a whaler?”  

Matthew chuckles again and shakes his head, “A long time.” He meets your gaze with a sheepish smile, “Probably for longer than you’ve been alive.” 

“I’m 18,” you say though Matthew had already gathered that from your last story. The truth still shocks him.

“You’re no more than a child,” he shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his messy hair. As you watch him, you realize how old he could possibly be. He must be at least 30, you decide. 

“Did you go to school?” You change the subject after a period of silence. Matthew raises an intrigued eyebrow at you and nods. 

“Yeah, yeah I did. How could you tell?” 

“The way you talk… and your grammar,” you stammer, not realizing how intrusive the observation had been.

“Hmmm,” he nods thoughtfully and scratches his chin. Did you go to school?” 

“Some, the orphanage had a good schoolmaster. He was from Boston.” 

“Must have been a pretty fancy orphanage,” Matthew laughs softly and clears his throat. 

“Are you married?” You break the silence again and Matthew’s eyes shoot up to yours. He swallows tightly and you can tell you’ve stumbled upon a sensitive topic.

“I was,” he answers simply. You look down at the canteen in your hands, ashamed that you asked such a personal question of someone you don’t know. 

“Smallpox,” Matthew whispers and you look up in shock. 

“My parents too.” 

You stare at each other in silence, save the muffled sound of waves hitting the side of the boat facing the harbor. 

“Horrible disease. I hear that you go fairly quickly… I wasn’t there.” He moves as he tells you, hiding his emotion with his hands. 

“I was there when my parents died but I have no memory of them, not even their faces.” 

“How did you know how they died?” Matthew runs his hand over his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, an image of the communal grave on Nantucket Island springing into your mind. 

“The island kept track of everyone who died from the Pox. My parents’ names are on the list.” 

“How old were you?” He continues to ask. You furrow your brow, trying to remember.

“Just a baby, no more than three years old.” You sigh and look back up at Matthew. “What was your wife’s name?” 

Matthew frowns when the conversation is turned back onto him. His face darkens and he exhales, not liking to talk about her. 

“Abigail.”

You can hear the change in his tone and finish the broth instead of asking anymore questions. Matthew watches you drink the broth silently. When you finish, he takes the canteen and stands. 

“I’ll go now, and I won’t lock the door this time.” 

“Thank you for- for everything that you’ve done for me today. I owe you.” You stand as he had and clasp your hands together against your apron shyly. 

“You're welcome child,” Matthew smiles with closed, full lips. “I’ll come back in the morning after I see about any ships sailing to the mainland. Goodnight.” 

He leaves quickly, before you can say goodnight back. Once behind a closed door by yourself, you realize how dark the room had become. The sun is setting and you can just barely see it through the dirty porthole.

xxx

[thoundcarriers]

a final explanation to my ghost AU for graphical novel which was teased here. a fair warning, I'm a terrible story teller, but I'll try to summarize everything short as possible, plus a lot of arts down below. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ as been told before, Charlie and co rummage through the old mall at night, trying to find problems (as usual). nothing out of the ordinary happens, except when she notices someone tall and dressed in a security guard uniform waddling lazily in the dark, but seemingly paying no attention to the kids invading the space.

she calls out to him, and oh how his eyes widen when he realizes she can see him, and even talk to him back.

he immediately recognizes her as his old partner's daughter, which leaves her stunned, as she haven't heard about someone talking about her father in a long time. when she asks the stranger to tell her about himself, or his name, well...

but, as snarky as he is (try inhabiting the same old, crumbling place for more than 10 years!), he apologizes and says he doesn't remember why he's here, as he's stuck and can't leave the place, let alone remember his name. charlie is surprisingly calm admitting she's dealing with someone long gone, and asks Dave if he could show her more of the place, although she warns him that she has friends with her (who thankfully doesn't seem to notice him at all).

he agrees, yet still gets the chance to mock her at the animatronic control panel lmao. he's disappointed to see a daughter of the best engineer he's ever known fail miserably. but HEY, she's not so bad.

eventually, they have time alone to discuss everything. Charlie's eager to know more about her father, who died a very strange way, and Dave has a little hope of setting his soul free or at least remember who he was. to her surprise, he lets her know the first thing is somewhat doable. he needs a physical vessel to roam free and to help her get around the place (which is horribly falling apart). it's pretty easy to arrange, as she needs to track down all the parts of the old spring bonnie suit, which are scattered all around the old pizzeria (it's definitely not haunted), put the costume back together, then invoke the spirit inside by...

that's right, baby! if you want a ghost in a metal carcass walk, just spill a blood or two. who knows why, but Charlie is on her quest anyway, and does everything in said order (my girl is reckless, give her some slack (っ◞‸◟ c))

she thinks it doesn't work ar first, yet...

it does! somewhat excited and dubiously kind, the man's spirit rises up in the clanky costume and tries to fix the parts, which were hastily put together. she gulps at the 7-foot monster, casually moving around and asks how must Dave feel in there.

as it turns out further, ghosts need some rest too. as politely asked, Charlie disassembles him before leaving the place. pale grey eyes in the dark socket die out, and the costume parts peacefully lay in the dusty room, as if they weren't just moving a minute ago. she learns to assemble and disassemble pretty quickly, as she tends to visit old Freddy's place more and more often. she doesn't mind the whole blood thing, she just prays her friends don't notice the scars on her hand. with more information given everyday, poor girl becomes restless, as missed college studies catch up to her too. her ass is NOT learning

Dave proposes that she can take the Bonnie head with her, if she wants to. he still would be asleep, but he is aware of what is happening around. this way he wouldn't be so bored and somewhat can see the world. perhaps, this way Charlie wouldn't be so stressed, too. ummm yea for now this is pretty much it!! feel free to ask anything, I hope I can make a continuation to this if I find the strength lmao. thank you for reading!! p.s. this is NOT a ship. plz be respectful. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[procyonloser]

"I'll show you," Adam promised Sera, the woman who had raised him all these years. "I'll come back with gold and jewels, spices and the finest linens."

Sera tried to sit up, but her health was failing her. She'd not been back to the water in far too long, and it showed on her body. She'd grown gaunt, eyes sunken in - not that Adam would ever know the true reason. He'd never forgive her if he found out what she was, not after how his parents had died.

"Adam, the sea is treacherous, your crew is inexperienced-" She tried to tell him, but he was already letting the door to their shack fall closed; he only had eyes on the water and the promise of what lay beyond it. Sera knew better than anyone, there were hands waiting out there in the depths, waiting to grab hold of young men with strong ambitions.

Adam coughed, spluttering as his head breached the water surface. He was trying to find his bearings, but the clouds covered the stars and the moon, and the sea was rough. It pushed and pulled him, crashing over his head and shoulders again and again. The skies had been clear all day and into the night, until the sounds of screaming alerted him. Then, a great crash came, and the eerie silence followed by groaning of wood, splintering hulls.

A streak of lightning lit up the sky, enough to see that their vessel was nothing but a remnant of bow and mast across rocks that should have been easy to avoid. Adam grabbed hold of a piece of wood, trying to paddle in the dark to look for other survivors. He hadn't seen the man he'd bumped into, but he heard him muttering to himself.

"They weren't there, they weren't there, they weren't there, the sirens came, they came, the sirens came and ate-"

Adam shook his head, trying to reach out to him, but silence fell, and when lightning struck again, he saw no one. He cursed to himself, and debated swimming to the rocks, knowing he'd likely get crushed against them by the waves, but he couldn't stay in the ocean for hours. Why had this gone so wrong? What had happened?

The lightning struck again, followed by a rumble, and in the light, Adam thought he saw a pale face not more than a few yards off, stark against the darkness of the water. Adam tried to swim towards it, but something bumped against his foot, feeling like a hand around his ankle.

Suddenly, Adam was below the water, and the chaos of the storm fell to muffles, calm and still.

A face in front of his tilted it's head, looking Adam over. It wasn't until that moment, Adam realized the being had an unearthly glow about it, like the morning star. It was a bone white, with red eyes, smaller than Adam's frame, but it had a long tail, and six red fins spread out behind it like wings. It reached out, touching Adam's face. He wanted to pull away, but he was quickly running out of air. He let out a bubble, clutching at his chest. The creature grinned at him, teeth sharp and in lines of rows - a predator.

Before it leaned in, kissing him, and pushing air deep into his lungs.

When Adam awoke, he found himself on a beach, a port within walking distance. He had no idea how he'd arrived, how he'd survived, but he could only believe it was the work of a higher power - an angel, watching over his immortal soul.

As Adam stumbled into town, shopkeeps on the outskirts of the village looked upon him with shock and horror. A woman pulled her children away from him, and a man boarded up the front of his wares. They whispered as he went past, and none would speak to him, not until he passed an old man, sitting outside what looked like a pub. His face was reddened from drink, and pockmarked from sun and age.

"Son, they'll be coming back for you." He said, and Adam frowned.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Adam asked, brows furrowed.

"The black spot - you've been marked. It'll come for you again." Adam froze, looking down at his body. Black rings of script in a tongue he didn't speak wrapped around his ring finger. "A siren has taken you for her husband."

Adam looked up from his hand, to the old drunken man. "...It wasn't a woman."

"Then," he said with a broken croak of a laugh. "You'll be a fine wife, in the kingdom below the sea."

[damianbugs]

i often include some obscure symbolism in my fics without any real desire to point them out but i was rereading an old piece of mine and remembered one i was rather proud of;

it's from YOU MUST KNOW LIFE TO KNOW DECAY. which is a canon-adjacent story about jason's experience with rain throughout his life. it spans over many years, starting from before his parent's death, to the present as red hood.

the rain itself is the massive metaphor and motif, obviously, but within that i snuck in some other key aspects to jason's character. the one i want to talk about it from the second section of the fic (unofficially dubbed "No!" and the period in time where jason was homeless):

in this scene jason's belongings have been dumped out of his bag into the rain over a misunderstanding, amongst these scarce objects are two things — an old book belonging to Willis Todd, and a photograph of Catherine Todd (the one jason has at his place when bruce comes to find him in Batman (1940) #408).

this photo always fascinated me and so i wanted to give it its own backstory. this moment however has two stories happening. a story of sacrifice for Willis, and the story of grief for Catherine.

the book willis used to love and jason remembers him reading often is the last remaining object the boy has to his father (because most of his belongings were left with his neighbour, and jason doesn't get those back until Batman (1940) #426).

unlike a picture or a letter, this book is a vessel between them, nothing about it actually is Willis' other than the memory attached to it. a nod to the fact that even in death, he had nothing other than the memory he left with his family.

catherine however has a picture, something that is entirely hers, but even that is all it is; her face. jason is young when his mother dies, and as he grows up, he'll soon forget the memories he made with her, but he'll never forget her face because of this last photo he has. her existence, prior to the disease and suffering and death, is forever immortalised for jason. she exists only before her death.

neither willis nor catherine are ghosts that follow jason. he mourns them and misses them deeply (and this grief is the entire catalyst for why he runs away in A Death in The Family) — but they don't come to him when he's doused with fear toxin or battling exhaustion. he doesn't see them when he closes his eyes. because they are not concepts he mourns.

they are a book, a photo, people he has lost forever. jason being a young carer, would have had to watch his mother slowly die to her disease, so he knows death in its raw forms. i have spoken before about how jason views love and loss, as being very literal and blunt understandings, and it's the same here.

so, we have a book and a photograph.

the book being destroyed by the rain is another nod to the modern characterisation of Willis Todd (in both canon and fanon). of the explicitly abusive and negligent father. how his character being "ruined" is usually to paint catherine as the weak and pitiful victim of circumstance and nothing more. neither of them have any true personality other than their surface level one's, which are often classist and ignorant.

on the other hand, willis' book being ruined but protecting the photograph of catherine underneath is to represent his story in jason's life. he was an absent idea because he was working to provide for them, jason didn't really know him outside of this story, and willis dies as a mere idea for his family.

it's not enough, however. willis dies, but it's still raining. catherine's photo may have been saved by some of the rain, but jason is still homeless and he will still have to endure it alone.

the second section of this fic is the saddest one to me, because while jason is the only todd present in this scene, there are three stories being told.

[kurithedweeb]

As it turns out I have a LOT more to say about veils! So now I will inflict these discord rambles I did for @irenes-journal on y'all too.

OKAY SO veils are very commonly seen in worshippers of Irene and the Church of the Matron. The standard devotee veils their eyes to protect them from her divine radiance when looking up to her in worship, which is said to allow her to hear your prayer above that of others because she can get closer to you thanks to how you don't have to shy away from her. These are the most common and the only ones that can be taken off outside worship but some people like those employed by the church or living in church housing don't take theirs off. Members of the church such as priests and nuns cover the lower half of their faces because in the eyes of the public, their word mingles with the goddess's, they are the messengers of her word and middlemen between her and the masses and are never ever to be seen in public without one - they show a seamless united front and it's very scandalous in the church for someone to be stripped of their veil. The High Priest himself is to cover his entire face, for anyone outside his immediate family and lover to see his face is equal to seeing the face of Irene herself, he is her vassal and it's said that should she come down to the mortal realm he might even be her vessel, he has different veils and masks for different ceremonies and tones he wants to convey because you can't read his expression the way you're still able to with other kinds of worshipping veils. Zane is so lucky that he can't show his face because he can so sweetly talk circles around absolutely everyone but there's always something a little too sharp about his smile.

Followers of the Destroyer (illegal divinity :( so they're mostly considered cults) also sometimes use veils that very closely resemble the ones the Church of the Matron use except the eyes are always covered. Whenever we see Shad when was human, there's always a sort of shadow over his eyes, right? Their veils are meant to resemble that, and since it's very similar to worshippers of Irene it also helps them hide in plain sight in cities. They have to be very careful with their ornamentation already, but it's also just a little bit to twist something of their lord's enemy's worshippers into something of their own. Ask me about ornamentation in the Divine Faith sometime.

Veils do sometimes come up in the other Divine Warriors' divisions of the Faith because they're seen as a group under the leadership of Irene. Like, if you're a follower of Esmund or Xavier you might not wear a veil over your face but have a veil that goes over your hands and weapon during certain ceremonies or holiday-specific worshippings. Graduations at the guard academy usually involve the headmaster veiling the graduate's arms while they kneel with their sword to swear their oaths, after which the veil is wrapped around their shoulders or clipped to their pauldrons like a cape. You can tell when someone graduated from their oath veil.

Veils were a thing in Irene's time but they weren't popular until the rise of the Divine Warriors; Irene herself only got married after their ascension to what's basically sainthood and she wore a veil when she and Shad were married so it really got popular after that and eventually became standard practice in Ru'aun to be married with a veil. The tradition of both spouses eventually dies out and sheer veils become fashionable about the time of MyS but really devoted followers of Irene or Shad will still follow the old MCD traditions.

Wedding veils have a ton of variety, they are made special for the wedding day by either the elders of the family or a specialized tailor/seamstress. You can have layered ones, colored ones, shiny, silken, whatever you want, it's your day! The only real rules about the wedding veil are that people should not be able to see your face through it, you need to be able to get your arms out so sometimes the veil is sectioned/has slits cut for the arms, and there is usually a dictated length based on how religious your settlement is. Both people being married wear veils, not just the bride, and different lengths are chosen depending on gender: a man's wedding veil will usually fall in the range of his shoulders to his elbows, a lady's will usually fall in the range of the knees to the ankles, and if you're neither then between the elbows and knees is usually a happy medium. Both parties are veiled because the first person who should see your face when you're married is your spouse. After you're pronounced married, you and your spouse lift each other's veils and that's when you kiss.

Since you don't pass on your veil and you likely aren't getting rid of it, it's usually repurposed into something for the family. Maybe you'll stitch it into a blanket or something to keep it as a record of your personal history. Very commonly, your child's first swaddling will be made from your wedding veils!

[lanitalay]

In the dark, a light

Azriel x reader

a/n: lil azzy one shot

warnings: mentions of death, gore and canon typical violence

Wordcount: 1.1k

Masterlist

In a way it was comforting. You were grateful for whoever had chosen a burial and not the traditional burning. The tight box where you lay was plain wood on the inside. But someone had taken it upon themselves to dress you in your most precious gown. The blue velvet was wrinkled now, months of decomposing does that to fabric and bodies. Your hair was dry and shriveled, not like it had been in life. Someone used to run their fingers through those once luscious locks. If you concentrated you could almost feel the calloused pads of those fingers massaging your scalp. 

You were buried deep enough the ground did not freeze, moisture caused the wood to smell like an old cabin you used to play in as a child. The cabin belonged to your grandmother, but that was a detail you could not remember. It had been months since you died. The cause of death must have something to do with the cracked ribs and broken neck. Your body had been laid perfectly straight, except for the slight bend just above your clavicle. It must have been painful, you think. 

Days aren’t something that can be measured in the darkness of a grave. Sometimes you realize where you are and try to remember who you were. Other times you’re not sure where you go. You suppose one day you won’t return from that ominous place. Returning to this worn and wasted vessel became more and more pointless. There were no names or memories, only flashes. But just when you thought it was over, that the final transition had been made, those rough calloused hands would yank you back. Unwilling to let you drift. 

In the absence of light you failed to notice how with each return to the vessel, your body was warmer. Your cheeks fuller, your hair softer, body plump with something alien to this space. Only when a ray of light seeped through did you realize your eyes were working. You could see. It blinded you and on instinct you raised a hand to shield yourself. Choking as you realize the arm responded to the command and a healthy looking hand landed on your nose.

The light got brighter and brighter and shuffling could be heard from above. Then movement. Your coffin, your home for the last… however long was lifted from the soil and placed on a mound of green grass. Muffled voices clouded your ears, overwhelming your senses. Now I know why babes cry when they are born, you thought. Just moments before you were in a state of bliss, nothing could harm you. Now light was glaring, sounds were overwhelming and the feel of being moved around was all too much. Just then you noticed your heart was beating wildly. Your heart was beating. 

There was more commotion outside, the sound of metal and then ripping of wood ended in the lid from your coffin being lifted. The glorious midday sun floods you with its light. Four figures loom above you. All you want to do is go back. Put me back, you want to say. Let me rot. 

Their faces are cast in shadows. They are speaking amongst themselves, you can’t understand what they are saying. 

“She 's alive.” Said as though the male was confirming a mirage.

“She must be in pain, let's get her to Madja.” Another deep voice commands. Then the calloused hands she would feel pull her soul back to this world picked her out of the coffin and held her close to his chest. 

A sense of relief flooded her. He smelled familiar, like her body knew his and had been aching to rejoin him. In an instant they were in a bedchamber fit for royalty, then she got gently placed on a soft mattress. The ancient healer walks up to them and tells the males to wait outside. 

“How is this even possible?” Cassian asked, dumbfounded. 

“I.. I don’t know.” Azriel answered, gazed fixed on the door that separated him from her. 

“You always said you still felt her.” Rhysand points out. 

“I thought it was her ghost.” 

“Did the Suriel say anything else?” The High Lord asked Feyre, still frazzled by the corpse they had unearthed.

“He just said that she was never gone, she never fully made it to the other side but… how long did you say she had been dead?” 

“Fifty years.” 

“Mother above… and she’s your..?” 

“She’s my mate, yes.” 

The door opens and Madja beckons Azriel, “she’s perfect, her memory is fuzzy but I expect her to recover it in time.” 

Then she leaves, he forces his feet to step into the room that used to be theirs and struggles to breathe the five steps it takes him to reach her bedside. 

“Y/n…” He doesn’t know what to do. Every impulse he has is telling him to hold her, to never let her go, to kiss her and love her until the world fades to oblivion. He settles on twirling a piece of her hair in between two gentle fingers. She gasps at the gesture. 

“It was you.”

“What?”

“All this time… how long has it been? I- your hands” she grabs the one that was caressing her hair “they kept pulling me back.” 

“Do you remember what I said before you..?”

He was cradling your head as breathing became more difficult. A rogue Illyrian band had ambushed and beaten you to a bloody pulp. You were screaming down the bond you shared with your mate and hoping to whatever was out there that Rhysand could hear your mental pleas. They outnumbered you fifteen to one. You didn’t stand a chance. When you were sufficiently damaged the leader took you in his arms and flew you to the barren mountain range, making sure to drop you where the rocks were jagged. 

Azriel took too long to find you. “Please, please, y/n stay with me. Don’t go.” He begged over you.

“It hurts Az.”

“It’ll get better, just wait until we get Madja and she’ll make you better.” 

But then you coughed and bright red blood spilled from your lips. “No, no, no.” 

Your eyes were still open, fading. “Listen to me, I will never let you go, I will take you home and you will recover. You can’t- please don’t leave me y/n. Please, please, please.”

Your eyes rolled back by then. It hadn’t been two minutes since he found you. All hope vanished when your head went limp in his hands. You were gone. But the bond lingered and Azriel held onto it with everything his soul had to offer. He would keep the bond alive, knowing that your souls were entwined and believing that death was nothing, if not a worthy opponent. 

“You never let go.” 

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU Overview - The Lamb, Anthea

Crimson Angel AU, or better viewed as ‘Blood Soaked Angel AU’, is a Cult of the Lamb AU based around the Lamb, Anthea, a seemingly kind, friendly, and optimistic person just eager to help. Yet in reality, much of their actions stem from a mix of guilt over surviving, and a lingering desperation to cling to the way they were raised-to put everyone else’s needs above their own and to bury any negative emotion out of fear of being ‘selfish’. They are an 'angel' eager to help anyone in need, even if that means they bleed themselves dry. The main themes of the AU are learning to communicate and express your emotions and needs to your loved ones, themes of how negative family dynamics can affect a person, and letting go.

Background of the Lamb

Lamb’s Family Overview 

Prior to becoming a vessel, the Lamb was but an older sister, the eldest child of 4 raised with the understanding that in a time of genocide and strife, there was no room to be ‘selfish’. That with Papa serving as the village's supply runner, it was Anthea's job to help ease Mama's burden at home, especially once the twins Lindel and Garrick were born when the lamb was but 4. The first-born was the one meant to handle the burdens of growing up to soon, so that at the very least, the other children could play a little longer. Anthea was to be the example, and all her things were to share. Nothing was ever truly hers because it was better to pass things down, and complaining about it would be selfish when their village was already just barely getting by, as well-hidden from danger as it was. It was lucky that sometimes Papa would take her with him on trips to teach her the routes, though at the time, Anthea never understood why he looked so sad when asking if things were too much back home. Since after all, what was there to complain about? The lamb was alive and could help out her family-that was enough.

Even as Papa died when she was 8 and that left Anthea no choice but to take up his mantle (no one else had the courage to do the same). Even as two brothers became 3 only a week after his death and Mama suddenly needed help more than ever, it was fine. It was fine because that's just what big sisters had to do and she could handle it.

It was the older sister’s job to handle it.

Just as it was the older sister’s job to keep everyone safe, at least until after one standard, uneventful supply trip at age 12, Anthea returned to find that the entire village had been razed to the ground, with not a single person nor body left behind. There was only blood mixed with the ashes of her home, and scraps of cloth that looked so, so similar to what the boys had been wearing just before she'd left. Even after weeks of wandering a kindhearted rat named Ratau finally found and took her in, Anthea was still an older sister. An older sister who had failed, and was now left with this void of purpose. And thus she clung to that old title-clung to that role of self-sacrifice and bottling things up. Because that was her job, and that was all she knew how to do. The boys deserved to live more than her-they were so, so young she'd been 12 they'd had so much more life to give than she, and thus she knew damn well that she better not complain because of that.

The God of Death

Whilst in Ratau’s care, the lamb at first was just going through the motions. Never crying, but not quite settling in either. That was until Anthea came across a collection of books left from Ratau's time as vessel. A collection of books about a fifth bishop, a kind bishop, a God of Death who greeted the departed with gentle hands and soft words, walking with them before seeing them across the Threshold to what lied beyond. A god so unlike the cruel, merciless bishops the lamb had known of, that for the first time in weeks, the lamb felt at ease. If those books were true, then someone kind was there to greet her family after they faced the most brutal of deaths, and though that god was chained now, that just meant he deserved Anthea's worship even more. She created a little alter beside her cot in Ratau’s shack and would prayed nightly to him, then spent her days helping Ratau around the house, learning how to defend herself from heretics from his friend Shrumy, learning how to survive via making potions from Ratau's husband Flinky, how to set traps and barter from another friend Klunk with his buddy Bop, all while secretly awaiting the day she would meet this kindly god, since as much as she enjoyed this life with Ratau and everyone, it was one lived on borrowed time.

Execution

The Lamb faced execution at age 26, and it was a death she welcomed as it was a trade for Ratau. The two had been careless whilst walking home one afternoon and were jumped-a lamb and a former crown-vessel were fine prizes to have, and Ratau was injured during the chase. Having long accepted that she was meant to die, Anthea simply picked up her sword, drew the heretics away, and prayed that her father figure had escaped, knowing that so long as he lived, that would be enough. And yet when the axe fell and Anthea died as the last lamb, the god she finally got to meet wasn’t quite like that of the books and stories she'd managed to get from Ratau. He of Death was tall and grand-with glowing red eyes beneath a dark veil, yet he was shackled in place by bloodied, iron chains, with his dirty robes torn and stained. His arms were stripped down to bone, smelling of rot, and worst of all-though he appeared to hide it as she was beckoned to approach, he was in clear pain. That kindly god she'd grown to worship was chained in such a dreadful state and in pain, and to Anthea's horror-he wasn’t alone. Two kits just barely in adolescence were there by his sides. Two kits whom were black cats just as he was, which made the Lamb wonder how could the bishops be so cruel as to not only chain their kin, but to lock his children with him?

(They had thought the twins his biological children then, but even after learning the truth later, it was clear that regardless of blood the boys were his)

When asked to built a cult in his name the lamb accepted it without hesitation. She had survived her village where she should have died, and even after dying for Ratau, here she was being offered to live again where someone else deserved it more. If this is what her god ordered, then this must be why she lived.

The lamb would fight and die so long as it meant the betterment of someone else's life.

Bishops Arc

Anthea’s time as vessel was a mix between managing the cult and continuously being drawn back to the Gateway by the image of the children, Baal and Aym. Those two little boys who brought back memories of her own little brothers, yet were also two little boys so unlike Garrick and Lindel, that didn't seem to know how to act as kids... Unable to shake the instinct, the Lamb began to try and interact with them whenever she came to report to TOWW, yet each time the boys seemed startled at even a simple hello. What finally broke through the ice was giving the boys a book she had read to her own brothers as a child-and at learning the two couldn't read, offered to teach them how as well.

Yet through befriending the kits Anthea also began to break through to TOWW as well-the god's melancholic, stoic mask gradually cracking as he questioned their reasonings. Why bother with the kits? Most vessels ignored them. Why ask if he needed anything for them or himself besides the Bishops dead? He could manage just fine. Why offer to show him the world via the crown? Why try to talk? Why waste the time? Why do any of this that was not required? Did they wish something to gain? Anthea's reply of simply wanting to make his and the kits more comfortable only seemed to just confuse him more, and it made them sad.

(Which ah, wasn't that something? Them...He Who Waits and the kits helped them realize that. For so long 'she' sometimes didn't feel right, even as a child, but Anthea had always ignored it since there was never the time and more 'important' things to worry about than their own discomforts. It took the three's help to realize that 'he' and 'they' were options too, and that gender could be fluid)

Seeing him think simple kindnesses with no strings attached was unthinkable hurt the lamb. It hurt them to realize that someone being kind to him just to be kind was rare.

In the same vein TOWW started questioning them on other thing too. Why did they awake screaming from nightmares, why did they hide when they were hurt? Why did they seem so, so set on pleasing everyone, yet just as set on ignoring themself?

They started balancing the other out-Anthea would call out on TOWW being unkind to himself, and he the same in turn. A friendship, it seemed, of two people who understood and saw the other's plight. Gradually Anthea's heart started to flutter with every visit, and after constant nightly deaths kept scaring the cult, they start talking to him via the crown long into the night till falling asleep, needing his voice to sleep in peace, but that was normal for friends, it was easier to talk at night and they just had so much to say. And the boys-the boys were there too, such sweet, gentle kits. Seeing them learn how to play, how much they adored their father-seeing such a happy little family despite the cruelty of the situation...freeing them would be worth everything.

Yet in the back of their mind though the lamb couldn't help but wonder-why did the Bishops chain their brother? TOWW's only answer was that they hated him, and yet...Leshy died with a look of resignation on his face. Heket died cursing herself. Kallamar died calling himself a failure of an older brother-so why? How could anyone resent their own kin so much?

(The Garrick and Lindel had destroyed their orginal copy of the same book they'd given Aym and Baal, once. Papa had given it to Anthea shortly before his death, a rare, precious type of gift to find with books so rare, and strictly had told everyone that no one else was to touch it-that it was all hers alone. Yet the boys colored all over it during Anthea's second time running Papa's routes, when Mama was too busy nursing baby Oliver to realize until it was too late.

Yet Anthea had just smiled and said it was alright, that the boys were 4, that they didn't know better, even as they wished to scream themselves hoarse.

A big sister can't resent)

As Shamura's domain came in line however Anthea began to reminisce. The anniversary of their family's loss have come up and...and it had been a long time since they visited, hadn't it? Nearly 3 years a vessel, plus the 14 years since that day, they had been 12 then but were nearly 29 now, and they finally had the strength to go back without dying so...they asked TOWW tentatively if he could accompany them somewhere via the crown, and without hesitation he agreed. They took him there with a bouquet of flowers in hand and...and they just broke.

They failed...They failed....They failed. Their family was dead because of them, weren't they? They must’ve done something, Anthea could’ve saved them had they gotten home sooner, or maybe they weren’t as careful coming or going and that’s why they were gone. For the first time the Lamb broke down, and as they swore that they’d get him and the kits out-that even if it took their permanent death they were getting his family out, suddenly their god-their friend was telling them no and to never think such a thing again.

The One Who Waits told them that either he was leaving the Gateway with them by his side or he wasn't leaving at all, and for the first time...Anthea was first. He was willing to stay there if that meant they could live (it was likely a figure of speech they assumed but...but he'd waited so long for his freedom. Yet he refused to hear about leaving without them. No one...one had ever said something so...selfless to them of all people before). Something squeezed inside their chest and ah, the realized it now, that’s why they were so open with him. Why they so desperately want to talk to him, be near him, to free him and his kits. They had fallen in love, hadn’t they?

‘Either you leave this place at my side or I don’t leave here at all. You’re leaving here with me’ 

They…they wanted that. For the first time in their life, Anthea wanted that. That selfish, selfish little desire to live freely, to live with someone-to do what their kind and their brothers never could, to make a choice and have something of their own, they wanted that and if their god wanted that too then maybe...maybe it was ok.

TOWW stayed with them via the crown till their tears ran dry, then gently pushed them to go home-home to Ratau and their teenhood bedroom and cot, telling them that the cult could manage a night and that they should go see their adopted Dad and Pa and not be alone on this night.

And thus left to their thoughts Anthea started to think. In sheep culture it was tradition to use your own wool to weave a sash for your beloved, as a show of devotion and an oath of commitment, and often given as a sign of courtship or a proposal. TOWW's words weren’t romantic, they couldn’t have been romantic, but that was alright, Anthea didn't mind. This was just to be a symbolic promise to him and themself-they were going to live, and live with him.

The Betrayal

From there by day they were taking on Silk Cradle, and by night, sneaking off to their old loom at Ratau’s with the crown’s eye turned away-a request for privacy their god always honored, to work on their gift. They usually spoke with TOWW before falling asleep, but he seemed to buy their excuses as to why they couldn't-that they were helping a follower, needed some more rest, had other things more imperative to do as sorry as they were, and as much as they missed their talks they wanted this sash done before he was freed.

During the cradle Shamura would ramble on about betrayals whenever they appeared and the Lamb would ask again how could someone ever betray their own kin-Shamura would spat that the lamb didn't understand what it meant to be the eldest sibling, and the Lamb always would reply that they did before the god would disappear. 

The sash was completed a week before Shamura finally fell, and with favors cashed in to ensure they’d be able to get their god, no, Narinder alone enough to give it to him once freed.

(Shamura had said his name the first they appeared in the Cradle. Anthea had died shortly after, and when calling TOWW Narinder in the Gateway it had put such a sweet, flustered look of surprise on his face that they made sure to do it again and again until he scooped them to dangle them upside down out of mock frustration, cracking a smile as the Lamb had hung laughing and squirming before he placed them back down.

It had felt so wonderful to say, to make him smile like that-they loved him so much that it was the closest they'd ever let themself get to saying an 'I love you')

When stepping into to the gateway for what should have been the final time, Anthea barely had a moment before two kits had barreled in for a hug they eagerly returned-knowing that their boys finally were going to come home, that Narinder was coming home with them-but as he called the two back and the Lamb forward something...something felt different.

It had been a week since they last talked to him or saw him, now that they though about it. He seemed so…so sad for a moment before his expression shifted.

“Vessel…” he had said in a voice, so, so unlike him. So unfeeling, so cold. “I relinquish you from your service to the Red Crown. Return it to me, and embrace the end that awaits. With this sacrifice of my most devoted follower, I will be freed. Approach, and lay your life down at me feet”

Anthea had been stunned. The kits, too, stood in shock. Then came the rattling of chains, then two cages dropping down-filled to the brim with their friends, their followers, Ratau and Flinky- (Dad and Pa had been at the Cult to finish setting up. Anthea had spent the remainder of the week after Shamura's death prepping everything, but their perfectionism had taken hold. The rat and snake had to practically shove them onto the dais they were so nervous to go)

Just what was he talking about? Sacrificing themself...what?

“You who plans betrayal has lost the right to your life. I know of your plan to usurp power, and will not be chained again.”

Betrayal, usurp? Since when...where did he ever get a horrible, unthinkable idea?

Even the kits tried speaking up and asking just what he was saying-if he was ok? What was happening???

(Their heart felt like it was cracking within their chest-)

Narinder hesitated a moment, then, ordered Aym to return to his side, and for Baal to fight the traitor. All three looked at each other in shock, and when he asked again, hesitantly fell into place.

"We'll just...just spar-" Baal had whispered as they parted. "He hasn't been acting himself lately...maybe that'll snap him out of it?" Anthea didn't really get a chance to ask what he meant, because Narinder ordered them a third time.

The blows they traded were meaningless-light parries of sun-spear and sword, evenly matched. Anthea had sparred with the twins countless times before, the boys knew their rhythm just as much as Anthea knew theirs, so it was easy to avoid any lethal hit. It was easy, until Baal unexpectedly threw his weapon the other way to knock Anthea's balance off, and leapt right into their oncoming slash. Red blood appeared over his chest- red blood VERY much splattering as an artery would. Blood that then roared in Anthea's ears as they caught him falling without even realizing it, with Aym bolting to their sides.

He was fading...he was saying something...he was fading, he was-he was ash. Black ash that fell from their fingertips and blew away in the wind. There one moment, gone the next.

They...they killed him.

Before Narinder or anyone else could say anything Aym's magic was suddenly surging-with Anthea staggering back on instinct from the fiery heat.

"If you want us to fight then we'll fight!" he raged, and Anthea was dodging.

Ash on their fingers, blood on their clothes-they refused to fight, started begging Aym to stop, to calm down, he was going to hurt himself calm down-but nothing could get through and when a spell was suddenly hurled at the cages Anthea was too overwhelmed to think of the consequences as they just threw up an ice curse as a shield. A shield that exploded on impact, piercing ice shards shattering across the field. Shattering, and impaling Aym in the stomach.

They were aware as they caught him falling and pulled him into their embrace. They pressed down on the wound as tears spilled from their eyes and it took but a moment to finally realize just what happened.

He knew they'd defend the cages. Baal knew how to force a strike. They...they were trying to get hurt, weren't they?

"Heh...d-dumb plan...s-sorry..." Aym had whispered, blood dripping from his mouth, body breaking apart. "B-baba-"

Then scattered to the wind.

And ah wasn't that funny? They never realized how much they wanted to hear one of the twins call them that but...but there went his ashes, slipping through their fingertips...

Anthea keeled over, and screamed. The piercing, sobbing wails of a parent who just watched their children die in their arms. And then they vaguely heard Narinder's voice (they'd missed how it shook back then) and saw the shadow of his hand and suddenly it was all just red.

Anthea didn't really remember the fight, just that since all four of his chains had been broken Narinder managed to dodge their first blazing curse, and with the fifth at his throat clanking, the battle commenced. It wasn't until eldritch beast was transformed into a bloodied black cat drowning in giant, ichor-soaked robes that Anthea realized the crown's blade was pressed against a neck, with a thin line of ichor already tricking down his throat. How easy would it be to finish it...to hack away till he was but ash as well but...but they couldn't. Staggering back trembling they couldn't kill him-

(They loved him-)

Anthea sent him to the cult, helped everyone down, and they all warped home. And there on the dais in nothing but his own fur Anthea saw Narinder, The One Who Waits, Their God, the Reaper, and the argument started.

He listened in, he listened in they learned. He overheard them finishing the sash but only part of the conversation and not only went against his promise of privacy but took an out of context conversation as proof of them being a traitor??? Did he think that lowly of them!?? That after all they've been through, all they've done they would just...just betray him???

They were making him a gift. They were making him a gift how could he ever think they were going to betray him how even-a crowd had gathered and was watching, and suddenly Anthea felt like they were going to be sick.

"Show's over, back to work. Nona watch over the reaper, and leave me alone-"

They locked themselves into the temple without bothering to see everyone's response for the rest of the day, fell to their knees, and cried. For their sons. For their broken heart. For that damn sash, tucked into its gift-box hidden still inside the chest at the foot of their bed.

The next day the lamb ignored that the Reaper was not anywhere in sight, and ignored how Nona kept trying to talk to them about him. They simply put on a smile, and tended to their flock.

Don't complain, don't be selfish. People are relying on you, and it doesn't matter how you feel.

A thousand year old cycle repeats. 

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[goodlucktai]

sabo luffy prompt if your still accepting them:

Luffy about Ace's death: it should have been me.

Sabo wide eyed and scared cups Luffys face: never ever say that. Don't even think it.

x

It lingers in the back of Sabo’s mind, in the furthest, darkest corners, as persistent and sticky as a spiderweb. 

Luffy is his crybaby little brother, always will be. Sabo wasn’t there to watch him grow up, grow out of childish old habits, so the sight of that precious face crumpling and flooding with tears was familiar—expected, even. There in the underbelly of the colosseum, Sabo’s body remembered what his useless brain had forgotten, pure muscle memory guiding his hands up to catch the human cannonball without missing a beat. The act of it was tried and true, even now. Of course Luffy would fly into his arms, would cling to him and cry. Sabo’s job was to be bigger and stronger and hold him up for however long it took him to feel brave again. 

He might have been afraid to approach Luffy at first, but it was a stupid thing to be afraid of. Anyone else might have had good reason to be petrified of meeting their only remaining family—of facing the condemnation or betrayal or hatred for not being there when they were needed most, for only showing their face now when it hardly mattered. It would be a scary thing, reaching out the thing you had thought lost, knowing that to reach out would mean to lose it for real, but to stay away forever would be unthinkable.

But holding Luffy, looking at him, Sabo’s brain remembered how little he had to fear from this person. His heart opened up, like a flower unfolding for the sun, because it was safe to open and be gentle here. Luffy would never think to blame him or hate him, not for Ace. Not for anything. 

No, instead he would clutch at Sabo’s jacket with shaking hands, ruined chest heaving, and apologize. 

“I was right there,” he sobbed. “He died right in front of me and I couldn’t save him.”

At the time, Sabo smiled, and said, “I’m grateful you’re alive,” and let Luffy cry himself out. He helped Luffy out of his silly competitor costume and rubbed at his sticky face with the hem of his own jacket until the smaller boy was laughing and wrestling to get away. Luffy’s friends were waiting for him, and he had a job to do, so they parted ways not long after meeting again. 

Responsibility was an odd look on Sabo’s little brother, who used to find trouble in every single nook and corner of the mountain they grew up on like it was his job, but not a bad one. And when he ran off, shouting, “I’ll see you soon, Sabo! I swear!” Sabo knew he could pile oceans and mountains and decades on top of that promise and it would never break. 

Entering the colosseum, Sabo’s mind was focused forward—Ace’s fruit was waiting, Luffy was counting on him, Dressrosa was about to become a warzone. He was very good at compartmentalizing, at doing what needed to be done, his mind, as Koala affectionately put it once, like an unforgiving steel trap.  

But it lingered, that spiderweb thought; invisible except for when the light was just right, when the angle was perfect, when Sabo’s mind was clear and he had a moment to himself to breathe and noticed it cluttering up the corner. 

Luffy apologized. 

The chance to discuss it came eventually, when Sabo found himself at the end of an intel-gathering mission with news of the Straw Hats in the waters nearby. He cleared it with Dragon, endured Koala’s smug face when he let her know to go on without him, then backtracked to catch up to the ostentatious brigantine that was already famous in the New World. 

Luffy’s crewmates are a friendly sort, and the Thousand Sunny as a whole is happy to have him aboard. Franky waves him ahead and jumps down onto his vessel to secure it himself, and Chopper and Carrot and Usopp all call out to Sabo cheerfully, more curious about him than anything. He returns greetings as he makes his way across the busy deck, something in his chest easing like a sigh of relief to know that this bright, beautiful place full of bright, beautiful people is his little brother’s home. 

Zoro nods at him once, all the energy he has to spare for someone who isn’t one of his own, then tilts his head toward what must be the galley door. 

“Surprise, surprise,” Sabo laughs, and makes his way to the kitchen. 

It smells amazing, something rich and spicy wafting from the simmering pans on the stove. Luffy is sitting at the huge, scarred table, gnawing on a piece of dried meat and talking with his mouth full, while his skeleton musician strums something unobtrusive and cheerful on an acoustic guitar. Sanji is working diligently on what Sabo can only assume is dinner prep. The dangerous Trafalgar Law sits across the table from Luffy, with a book open in front of him that he appears to have largely given up on. He’s watching his fellow Supernova with dark, clinical eyes, but there’s much more warmth in them than Trafalgar is probably aware of. 

Those eyes flick past Luffy as the door opens. When he sees Sabo, Trafalgar stands, picks up his book and his mug, says, “There’s no way I’m dealing with two of you,” and leaves through the other door. 

“Fair enough,” Sanji says, which is rude, but not unfounded. 

Luffy swallows his mouthful, turns in his seat, and then lights up like the dawn.

“SABO!” he shrieks, leaping over the back of his chair like one of the monkeys he grew up with back on Mt. Colubo, instead of getting up and going around it like a person. 

Sabo is already laughing by the time he catches the armful of little brother, squeezing Luffy tight for a moment before playfully ruffling his hair and tussling with him. Brook the skeleton tips his massive tophat and leaves them to it, but Sanji clearly can’t abandon his multiple stations, even just for a few minutes. That’s all right. An audience of one is more than he could have hoped for with all the bodies currently on his brother’s ship, between his own people and the visiting allies. 

“How have you been, Lu? Staying out of trouble?”

“For now!” Luffy says happily. “I bet our next adventure will be fun, though!” 

His body is battered and bandaged, but he looks a lot better than the last time Sabo saw him, in that little hidden-away cottage in Dressrosa, the night after he and his crew won peace for a people they barely knew. He’s already looking forward to the next adventure. 

Whatever Sabo did to deserve him in a past life, he’s grateful. 

He gives Luffy a push back towards the table, and draws a stool up next to his. The dining hall is cozy, and a cup of something steaming and fragrant appears in front of him the second he sits down. Sanji only hums when Sabo calls his thanks, already halfway back to the kitchen proper. It’s either the worst place to start a potentially difficult conversation, or the best one. 

“I’m here for a few days,” Sabo says, “if you can spare the room.”

“Of course!” Luffy declares. “Always room for Sabo! Sanji?”

“Your new friends left us pretty well-stocked,” the cook says without looking up from something complicated he’s doing with a knife and a fish the size of a small horse. “We could probably feed an army for a few weeks if we wanted to.”

Luffy looks up at Sabo with a glowing smile, as if to say ‘see?’ and Sabo reaches over to shove his hat down over his eyes. 

“Thanks, Lulu.”

He’s glad he remembered the nickname, because just like when they were kids, Luffy is immediately outraged. 

“DON’T CALL ME—” 

“I did want to tell you something kind of important,” Sabo cuts in smoothly, grinning inwardly at Luffy’s flustered, frustrated face. “I’d rather say it now and get it out of the way then hang onto it for my whole visit. And after I’ve said it, if you’d rather I didn’t stay anymore, that’s okay, too. Your ship, your rules.”

Luffy’s expression clears to one of confusion. The sound of Sanji’s knife has slowed. 

“Okay,” Luffy says. “What does Sabo want to tell me?”

Sabo has practiced this half a dozen times on the way here, but it’s still very difficult to start. 

“When we met, back at the colosseum,” he says, “I was so sure you would be angry. I thought you’d hit me, at least. I deserved that much, right?”

Luffy’s brow furrows. “Why would I hit you?”

Taking a steadying breath, Sabo says, “Because I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. Because I only showed up two years later when it suited me, when I would get Ace’s fruit out of it. Because I let Ace—”

“You didn’t,” Luffy says loudly. “You didn’t let anything.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Sabo replies, wrestling with his voice to keep it even. “I didn’t help you.”

He watched the transponder recording a hundred times. He relives it every time he closes his eyes. The gaping hole in Ace’s chest, the blood on Luffy’s hands, his childish, frightened plea of Ace’s name, the wounded animal sound of pain and grief he made right up until his mind took mercy and shut his body down. 

A nightmare. An actual documented living nightmare. 

And Sabo wasn’t there, because the two of them were strangers to him, and he had more important things to do than wonder about the execution of Gol D. Roger’s son. 

He should have flown to Luffy the second those memories flooded in. He should have turned heaven and earth upside down to find him. Instead he chose to be a coward. 

Robin was kind, more so than he deserved, and the two of them spent dozens of late nights in Baltigo trading stories about that same wild, relentless little person who owned the most real estate in both of their hearts. She filled the black hole inside him with better stories than the one in the papers, sun-filled stories, about triumphs and hijinks and heartaches and unconquerable love. She showed him the newsprint photo that he’d already looked at no less than a million times, of her beloved captain paying his respects to the fallen at Marineford, only this time she pointed out the message on his arm. 

“I want to run to him right now,” she said. “I want to break everything and everyone in my way and not stop until I’m beside him again. But he wants me to wait. He isn’t ready yet.”

Sabo stared at the photo, mindlessly rubbing his finger over the 3D2Y he hadn’t understood until someone who actually knew his brother explained it to him. Robin let him have a moment, her eyes knowing and grave and full of a sympathy he didn’t think he deserved. 

“It’s okay not to be ready,” she said. “Just don’t make him wait too long.”

Now, Sabo says, “I want you to know that you can be angry. You can yell and scream at me and blame me and that would be—it would be allowed, okay? Even if you just want me to go away, or you don’t want to see me for a little while. It’s all on your terms. Just don’t pretend. Not with me. Okay?”

Luffy’s face is blank and Sabo isn’t sure what to make of it. He dares to reach out and lay a hand on Luffy’s slim shoulder, impossibly small for the weight of the things it carries. 

“Okay, Lu?”

“I’m not pretending,” Luffy says, loud and sudden. “I don’t do that, it’s dumb. I was happy to see Sabo, because I thought he was dead but he was alive and it was a miracle. Robin told me you had ameesia so you forgot all about me and it wasn’t your fault. I dunno about that stuff but if Robin said it, it must be true. It would be scary not to remember important things. I bet it hurt a lot when you finally remembered and it was already too late. I bet it was really lonely. I would never hate Sabo or hit him or blame him for that.”

Sabo’s next breath shudders, and the one after that, and he has to bite the inside of his lip hard. When he’s certain he won’t fall apart, he says, “Robin only told you that afterwards. You didn’t know I had amnesia when you first saw me.”

“You’re my Sabo,” Luffy stresses, like Sabo is being particularly dense for no good reason. “I’ll always be happy to see you first.” 

It’s one of those Luffy-isms, Sabo thinks, leaning forward to put his face in his hands. One of those unexplainable, unquantifiable things that so many people hang their faith on. It would make sense for Luffy to be angry, because grief is heavy and horrible and doesn’t disappear into a fine mist just because something good happens. But there are so many things better than anger for him to hold onto instead. He’s surrounded by better things. 

A plate is set down somewhere in front of him and he lifts his head. Sanji lingers after the delivery this time, slouching into a chair and pushing the platter of lemon curd cookies and fresh-from-the-oven turnovers to the brothers’ side of the table. 

Luffy beams and picks up a turnover, but he doesn’t eat it right away. He turns it over in his hands a few times, warm against his fingertips, and begins to shred the flaky pastry into pieces. 

Sanji sits up a little straighter in his chair, as if an alarm has gone off in the back of his head. Sabo is right there with him, because he’s never seen Luffy deliberate with food before, not ever. Especially not something home-cooked by someone he loves. 

“If Sabo is angry,” Luffy says slowly, “he can tell me, too.”

“What?” he says faintly. 

Looking at his hands, at the dessert falling apart into a loose pile on his plate, the young captain tells them plainly, “Ace died back then, instead of me. He might have lived if he didn’t save me from the magma man. Everyone was there to rescue him and ended up rescuing me instead. Because I wasn’t strong enough. I’m glad I didn’t die, because I still have my nakama, and we still have promises to keep. But I bet that some people, who fought in that war for Ace, who loved him and didn’t even know me, wish that it had happened differently.” He still doesn’t look up, expression unreadable as he burns the tips of his fingers on the hot rhubarb filling dripping from the mangled turnover, when he adds, “Sabo loves us both, but he loved Ace longer.”

If Sabo had been stabbed with sea stone, it would have hurt less. If he had burned with the Grey Terminal, or drowned at sea in front of the Celestial Dragons, it would have hurt less than this. 

He’s on his feet before he’s aware of moving, seat tipping over and rolling away behind him. His heart is racing, he can feel the steam start to lift off of his superheated skin as Ace’s fire inside him begins to react.

“Don’t say that,” he says, too loud, almost a shout. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think it.”

Luffy finally looks at him. His mouth is set but his eyes are wide, and Sabo may have twelve years to catch up on, may have failed both his brothers at every possible turn up until now, but he still knows what his little brother’s face looks like when he’s seeking reassurance.

How many thunderstorms and bad dreams did they weather together back on Goa? How many times had tiny hands shaken Sabo awake, only for him to look up into these eyes exactly? 

Back then they were both children, so Sabo would make fun of him, or he would groan and roll his eyes, and they would have a hushed argument about it, but ultimately Luffy would fall asleep safe under a shared blanket, the thunder or the nightmare the farthest thing from his mind. Sabo never regretted it, even when Ace laughed at him in the morning. 

The body remembers. He’s reaching automatically, and holding Luffy’s face in his hands. He isn’t afraid of burning him, because Ace’s fire would never burn him. 

“I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he says. “Not for anything. It doesn’t work that way. If I ever had to choose one or the other, you or him, I’d kill whoever made the rules and choose you both.” Unspoken, forever unsaid, is the knowledge that he and Ace would always put Luffy first, because that’s an older brother’s prerogative. Luffy wouldn’t understand it, so Sabo simply says, “I loved Ace longer, but I don’t love him more.”

Luffy nods, his eyes glassy, the firm line of his mouth beginning to wobble. Sanji snatches the plate and the messy turnover scraps away with a bitten-off sound, stalking back into the kitchen. 

Reeling, feeling somewhat as if he’s backing away from the perilous edge of a five-hundred-foot fall, Sabo releases Luffy only to drag him forward by the shoulders into an embrace instead. Luffy scrambles to his feet to return it properly, wrapping rubbery arms around Sabo that loop a few extra times. Sabo buries his face in the top of Luffy’s head and breathes him in; sea-salt, warm grass, everything touched by sunshine. 

My brother, he thinks, with all the same wonder as the first time he thought it. 

“And if you ever say anything like that ever again,” he goes on, “I’ll fly here from wherever I am in the world and kick your ass.”

“You can try!” Luffy says, leaning back to look up at him. He’s beaming, untouched by everything he’s lived through—still, in part, that same stubborn little kid that Sabo and his best friend first met in the jungle, who decided they were all better off together. “I’m stronger now. I could probably beat you this time!”

“You think so, huh?”

“No fighting in my kitchen, idiots,” Sanji snaps, striding back to the table with a big dessert bowl in hand. “Do I look like I have time to babysit? If you’re gonna wrestle, take it outside.” 

He all but slams the bowl in front of his captain, revealing the deconstructed turnover folded into fresh vanilla ice cream and drizzled with caramel. It’s the most aggressive display of affection Sabo thinks he’s ever seen, and he grew up with Koala. 

“Ooh, thanks Sanji! I would have eaten it the other way, too, but your ice cream is the best!” 

“Of course it is,” the chef says shortly. “Eat it before it melts. In fact, go eat it in front of Zoro, it’ll be funny.”

“Sanji���s weird,” Luffy says, full of good cheer, but he hauls the bowl out the door with him and makes a beeline straight for where he somehow knows his first mate will be. “C’mon, ‘Bo, I want you to meet Sunny!”

He lets Luffy get a head-start out the door, listens to him join the rest of his crew on the deck, their voices rising together gladly. He picks up his chair and rights it, scooting it back into place at the table. He just needs a minute.

“None of us were there, either,” Sanji says abruptly. “We all wish we were. Would’ve given just about anything to be there with him. But by the time we got the news it was too late.” He crosses his arms, leans back against the counter, and says, “You can imagine what a failure that felt like. Leaving our captain out to dry like that.”

“He would never hold that against you,” Sabo says immediately, knowing the truth of it in his blood and bones.  

Sanji nods, looking Sabo in the eye as he agrees, “No, he wouldn’t.” 

[rederiswrites]

Well, today I had the entertainment of having a dental hygienist schedule me for my next cleaning to make sure that she was the one doing the cleaning, so that she could hear "the end of the story". It was definitely a uniquely entertaining tooth cleaning.

You see, I got a message from Jacob while I was in the waiting room, telling me that... Well, the situation with my mom, who lives in our basement and is causing us problems I don't really need to get into, had deteriorated even further. So when the hygienist went to take my blood pressure, I was like, "oh actually, it might be really bad right now, cuz I just got upsetting news, don't worry about it." And then it was, in fact, fairly terrible. It's always been great before, and was great in their records, so we called that one a scratch.

But naturally she was curious to know what had my blood pressure through the roof. Presumably if I'd brushed it off she'd have respected that, but I was like, hell, why not, it's some pretty wild gossip. So I told her the basic outlines, and actually it was good for me, because at some point I'd really started to give my mom a little too much credit, trying to keep the situation peaceful. The hygienist gave me a fresh perspective of like, "wait so why is that even a problem for her?" And at a couple points there seemed to be surprising parallels with her life. So when I was done, and hopefully less likely to pop a blood vessel, I said, "Well I gave you the goods, I think you'll agree, so fill me in on your story!"

Because after all I was about to have her hands in my mouth for fifteen minutes, so my turn with the talking ball was definitely over.

She's like, "Alright, but fair warning, this might be more uncomfortable for you than me." And naturally I say something to the effect of, "Oh nah I'm cool with most things", and she gets to work.

"So ten years ago," she begins, "my husband died."

Me: *indistinct noises of shock and dismay* What's that one Twitter thread--"I know, classic start to a funny story."

Anyhow, short version, her husband died, she had a two year old to take care of, and she was working as a social worker and feeling like she couldn't take another day of it. So she quit her job, sold her house, moved back in with her parents (she got space in the unfinished basement, the baby got her old bedroom) and trained to become a hygienist. It certainly hadn't been her plan to still be there ten years later, but hey, she had help with the kid, he comes home to his grandparents every day instead of her scrambling to find a situation for him until she gets off work, and she feels spoiled to have her mom cooking for her. It's not perfect, but the way she sees it, it's been much better this way for her son.

So now she's gotta wait six months to find out if we get a mediator and how we settle the situation. Which I guess means I gotta actually settle it. God I hope.

As we were saying goodbye, I said, "Wait, I didn't get the punchline. Are you happier as a hygienist?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Absolutely."