#this was fun to write up! :D

[herstoriies]

— Priscilla, a character study in:

  The comedic relief character that looks like the romantic heroine isn’t sure if she’s in an Epic, Tragedy, or Satire Comedy // The last one you’d expect // Life is an Opera and I’m the Prima Donna // Constantly getting oneself in and out of trouble // Gilded cages and center stages // Diamond in the rough // Femininity, beauty, & grace // Reckless adventure & lighthearted shenanigans // Crime & The Femme Fatale // Laughing in the face of danger // Wink & blow a kiss across the room to disband your rival // Don’t underestimate this damsel in distress

[elvyn]

doodles some of my favs from One Piece because after two years I'm finally almost up to date with this anime😭

[tylidae]

A I L U R A N T H R O P Y 1 0 1

[bleue-flora]

Ok, I recently wrote an essay [here] talking about the definition and duties of civil engineering as well as the ethics because of the brain rot @swordfright gave me with calling Dream Sam’s ultimate engineering project. So, because I actually am a civil engineer I took it upon myself to design the title and summary of quantities sheets just like I do at work for roads but with Dream as the project instead. And in honor of angst day sponsored by @sixteenth-day-event, I figured I’d share it because I feel like it kinda works for the prison of the mind prompt.

“Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair.”

{These are very similar to the actual sheets I make day to day, which I shall not share for the sake of doxing my location, but yea pretty much everything has a significance. Some of it doesn’t necessarily make sense but that was because I was more so taking inventory of what we see in lore (so you know I counted ;) lol)}

[turnaboutstar]

it was fun to watch this cutscene but didn't klavier say she would never preform this song again I know they wanted to do this for a reference to the previous game but this is a bit of strange way to do it

[zarvasace]

Some silly sketch comic stuff, bits of a mermaid au story. The last two are a sequence that ends in this art from earlier. :)

[yuesya]

A Fyrefly Type-V is more colloquially known as a Personal Escort model. Their primary purpose, in addition to contributing to the war effort against the invading Swarm, is to carry out the role of a royal guard. To protect Her Majesty, Titania, Queen of the Iron Cavalry.

“More than anyone else, Titania’s safety is paramount,” their creators tell them. “For the glory of Glamoth! Dedicate yourselves to your Queen, even at the cost of your lives.”

Yes. They will. A chorus of assent rises from their collective throats in unanimous, simultaneous answer.

… AR-1368 knows that she is fortunate. Overwhelmingly, the vast majority of the Iron Cavalry do not have the opportunity of seeing Her Majesty in person. After all, the Swarm Propagates endlessly among the stars, and there is always a pressing need for new Knights to rise and promptly take their places upon the battlefield –sometimes even straight from their incubation pods, when critical circumstances call for it. What little contact the Knights have with Her Majesty is through the quiet ideas and impressions that are sent to them, the telepathic directives that Her Majesty guides the Iron Cavalry with.

That, and the dreams.

… But for Personal Escort models, who are specifically designed to protect their Queen, they also receive the honor of being permitted to accompany Her Majesty. To remain in her presence, in a more physical sense of things.

The first time that AR-1368 sees Her Majesty is exactly a week after she steps outside of the dark, sterile incubation chambers.

It’s…

Indescribable, the feeling of wonder and awe that one feels when standing in the presence of the Queen. To gaze upon Her Majesty and know what devotion is. But at the same time, there’s also something that’s… that’s not quite…

…

… AR-1368 doesn’t know how to articulate it, this strange feeling that stirs inside her when she sees Her Majesty still and unmoving, suspended within a glowing blue liquid in the glass chamber. There is some nameless emotion that constricts her throat for a brief moment, but she cannot put a name to it. AR-1364 can’t quite decipher it, either, and he’s the most verbose and expressive unit of their batch.

AR-1368 doesn’t understand.

… But the confusion is swiftly replaced by wonder, and a faint nervousness-excitement when Her Majesty turns her attention to them. She greets them easily, her presence a cold, gentle brush upon their minds. Not intruding, never intruding, but a steady sea of calm, crested with an ever-faint flicker of curiosity.

Hello.

There is a strong juxtaposition between the lovely, melodic voice AR-1368 hears in her mind, and the harsh, robotic voice that echoes out in their surroundings at the same time. One that’s almost a little… jarring.

“Hello to you as well, Titania. As of today, AR-1364, AR-1367, and AR-1368 will be added to your personal retinue,” the Chief Scientist said. “Improvements have been made to the newest iteration of the Type-Vs.”

What of the old guard?

“Unfortunately, they’re a complete loss,” the Chief Scientist responds. “Most were destroyed completely during the evacuation process from the previous facility. The survivors… suffered too much damage. Our scientists tried their best, but it was determined that it would be more efficient to salvage usable remains instead of–”

The lights in the room flicker, suddenly unstable. For a moment, everything is cold.

The Chief Scientist frowns. “Titania?”

… It may be efficient in terms of resources, but experience is more important than raw materials, and far more difficult to replace.

In the surrounding room, the Queen’s voice is cold and robotic. But within her mind, AR-1368 can feel the glacial tone seep through her, the Queen’s cold displeasure chilling to the bone. She is not the only one; beside her, she catches a glimpse of AR-1364 flinching slightly.

It’s good that the Chief Scientist does not catch this break in formation, because AR-1364 would be sent for retraining otherwise. But the hoarfrost cold recedes immediately, and a phantom warmth washes over them, tinged with a faint note of something… apologetic.

Is that… Her Majesty?

“Titania,” the Chief Scientist says, voice infinitely patient in a way that indicates this is a topic that has been discussed multiple times before, “We can always make more of them. Focus on directing the war effort, and we will devote our efforts towards providing you with all the Knights you need in order to carve a future for Glamoth beyond the abhorrent Swarm.”

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[kitswag]

A little art about a headcanon of mine for Dragon and Sabo, and a little fanfic about it under the cut

"Dragon-san," a familiar voice, Sabo's voice came knocking from the door of the cluttered office. Dragon perked up, putting down the pen he's writing with- just a follow up rough plan for the revolutionary's next strike.

The door was opened and there was Sabo with a bleeding arm. Instinctively, Dragon reached for the cabinet on his desk, pulling it open to grab for a roll of bandages and a bottle of antiseptic.

Sabo sat in front of Dragon, reaching out his roughed-up arm, his face not showing a trace of pain. (Dragon always knew the surges beneath his mask anyways.)

Dragon sighed as he saw the gnarly wound on Sabo's arm. The boy had a knack on being risky, sometimes even too keen on self sacrifice. Even though being a revolutionary always costed a price, Dragon couldn't help but worry about Sabo's knacks.

"I got a little reckless with my plans, " Sabo offered a little charming smile to Dragon (cut out the reprimands just this time?)

"I always told you to be careful. You're too good to lose, " Dragon said (again, Sabo?).

Sabo offered another cheeky smile, "Next time," he said, as if Dragon never feared for his name written on the list of fallen revolutionaries in a mission report.

When Sabo first arrived in Baltigo, still wrapped with bandages all over, not even able to move his wounded limbs freely, he would only turn to Dragon to replace his bandages, any nurses who tried to replace it would only make him flinch violently.

Dragon tapped a cotton smeared with antiseptic liquid on his arm, following it up with the roll of bandages. Soon, after falling into the familiar act of wrapping Sabo's wounds, Dragon couldn't resist the nostalgia that went flying right to his head.

But of course, they understood (despite being concerned) , that Sabo was a child, a child that had no one familiar except for Dragon in an unfamiliar, new building far far away from his home island.

When his burns healed, and when he finally got to trust the nurses, it still became a habit. He would knock on Dragon's door or tug at his coat, show his wounds, and Dragon would pull out his cabinet and fish out a bottle of antiseptic liquid and some bandages. And there it was, a repeating pattern of tapping a cotton smeared with the antiseptic against Sabo's wounds and wrapping it up with soft bandages.

Dragon always thought of it as a comforting habit.

It was not rare that he would receive reports about his fallen men, people that had died for his own cause. And being here, bandaging Sabo, feeling the warmth of his skin, reminded Dragon that his Chief of Staff, his son, was still here, still alive. Still able to go knock on Dragon's office and offer a smile and a wound.

Sabo's small hiss of pain suddenly brought Dragon abruptly out of his daze. He softened his pace and grip, finishing wrapping Sabo's arm with tying the end, cutting the excess bandage with a small pair of scissors.

"Thank you, Dragon-san, " Sabo smiled, softly.

Dragon couldn't resist reaching his hand out and ruffling Sabo's hair, "Be careful next time," he warned.

Sabo's smile turned into a grin, "This time is just a slip up. "

Dragon couldn't help but smile back. Thin, but soft with fondness for his son sitting in front of him. He pulled his hand out of Sabo's locks of blonde and hope that tomorrow, his name wouldn't be written on the list of the fallen.

[kookoofufu]

I think it would be funny if all the top level ranked marines secretly had a favorite warlord. It's like choosing a favorite water droplet on a car window- nothing serious, just a fun way to pass time.

Mihawk and Kuma are common favorites since one is an expert swordsman (marines love katanas) and the other is the only warlord to regularly attend meetings. Kizaru favors Kuma for... different reasons... but has a soft spot for Buggy. Hancock insults Crocodile? That's a win for Kong over Ryokugyu. Aokiji's favorite is Moria simply because he thinks Moria's laugh is funny. Issho's favorite is Jinbei because of their shared strong moral values, while Garp loves messing with Law (and Sengoku by extension).

Tsuru claims her favorite is Weevil "because he's the only one I've never met >:|" so she doesn't have to admit genocidal maniac Doflamingo is her problematic fav/basically adopted grandson.

[flowercrowngods]

✨🤍 some steddie softness for @thefreakandthehair's birthday, i hope it's the very best so far! 🤍✨(please please your day comes first, read this whenever you have time and space to breathe 🤍)

Eddie is not a religious man — far from it, actually. But there are a few things that make him believe in higher powers. In angels. In destiny and luck and a love so strong it could conquer everything. 

This very moment is one of them. 

Stevie, soft and sleepy beside him in the back of the car as Nancy is driving, the dim light of the passing street lamps painting his face in hues of gold like the light itself favours Steve Harrington, caressing his features with the softest of shadows. 

He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Perfectly angelic with his eyes closed, his whole body turned towards Eddie in the warmth of the car.

It takes Eddie’s breath away, his heart taking up space where before there were his lungs and ribcage, growing in size until he feels like he is about to burst. And even then he keeps looking, staring at that pretty face that looks so at peace with the whole world right now. Eddie has never seen Steve like this, but now he understands why people start wars. Why people defy gods and death itself to be with their one true love. Why Orpheus looked back. 

He understands. Because Steve, his Stevie, warm and safe and perfectly fine in the backseat of a car? That is everything. He doesn’t even need to kiss or touch so long as he just gets to look. And be. Oh, to be at the same time that Steve is. 

That might just be life’s greatest gift to him. 

A tiny sigh falls from Steve’s lips and Eddie really, really might be about to burst. 

“Hey, angel,” he whispers, because moments like this aren’t made for anything but hushed words, their truths too heavy, too sincere for the world to hear and keep on spinning. He doesn’t need the world to spin as long as there is Steve. 

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, his eyes still closed but the smile lighting up, luring Eddie in like he is but a moth drawn to the flame. 

Eddie leans in and rests his forehead against Steve’s, his hand coming up to cradle a light-kissed cheek. Steve leans into it, following Eddie’s hand like maybe they are twin stars pulling each other closer until there will be an explosion of light and creation. Steve nuzzles against his palm and leans further into Eddie’s body until they share the same breath — but still it’s not enough. 

Eddie wants to say so many things now that their hands are entangled, their soft exhales mixing. But after a while he notices that Steve is humming before gently singing along to the song coming quietly from the speakers. 

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze. Take your time, make it slow. Andante, Andante. Just let the feeling grow.”

Eddie knows the song, recognises it instantly, and his breath gets stuck in his throat once more. Because he has a secret. He loves it. He has imagined for the longest time that one day, someone would make it his song. Sing it for him, to him. 

He’s never told anyone because he has a reputation to uphold and more than enough metal music to listen to, but of course Steve wouldn’t care about his secrets being secret, and just oh so casually make his deepest, most private of dreams come true. 

He’s an angel, that one. A hero. Myths and fairy tales should be woven around that heart of his, folklore speaking of his name until history itself wouldn’t dare to forget. No one can convince Eddie otherwise. Not in that moment, not with Steve singing so quietly, so gently, so adoringly. 

I think I love you. I think I can’t ever stop, not when I’ve seen you like this. Not when you’ve just shown me what life can be about, what it should be about. Gods, I love you and love you and love you. 

That’s what he wants to say. 

But all that comes out is a marvelled, “Shit, Stevie.”

It has the desired effect of a huffed breath, an even wider smile, and Steve cuddling further into Eddie’s side, eyes still closed. Eddie brushes a kiss to Steve’s forehead and feels like maybe his love can make it into the fairy tale, too. 

It will. Oh, it will, when Steve finally lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder and looks at him through hooded eyes, all soft and sleepy and safe. A moment passes like this and Eddie can’t breathe, maybe he can never breathe again — but it only lasts until Steve slowly, so very slowly begins to lean in to claim Eddie’s lips with a kiss so gentle it could bring him back from the dead. 

Eddie kisses Steve back just as slowly, because in moments like this there is no rush, no hurry. There’s only them, there’s only this. Only a kiss until there is another. 

And with Steve, there is always another. 

Nancy smiles as she is taking the long way to Steve’s house, rounding Loch Nora twice because she knows how comfy Steve gets in cars at night when he doesn’t have to drive and there is soft music playing. 

Eddie kisses her goodbye on the forehead, fully aware of what she’s done. He doesn't tell her about the sun and the myths and all the wars he would start for Steve.

Nights like this are not meant for telling anyone about them. They can hardly be believed as it is. They can only be lived, hand in loving hand.

[beanghostprincess]

I really loved your hc about Sanji meeting Yassop and Usopp meeting Zeff and I start to think about like-

What about this with Zosan, Lusan and Lawsan?? This will be SO funny and perfect-

Just hear me: (and yes, this will be with our queen Trans!Fem Sanji)

Mihawk and Zoro going to a dinner with Sanji and Zeff because both want to know their child partner

Shanks going to Baratie 'cause Luffy insisted, and Sanji going too just to say a 'hello!' to her father and properly give the notice she's dating her captain (Luffy forgot to tell this to Shanks and he just discover he was knowing the father of his son's girlfriend when they already are in Baratie)

Law going because Sanji wanted him to know Zeff, and even hating to interact too much, he acepts because he knows how much this mean to her

And like, how you think they will react about the thing of Zeff eating his own FUCKING leg??

Okay, this is really funny- The chaos. Just imagine the chaos. Gonna try to put my thoughts into words (<- Literally a fucking writer. I'm just tired today don't blame me).

Please assume the OP world here is exactly the same but Mihawk and Shanks actually raised Zoro and Luffy. Somehow. Don't ask me how. They see them as their fathers. Zeff and Sanji's story is still the same because they're canonically family lmao. And also Transfem!Sanji as you said btw bc I love my princess.

─┉┈◈Zosan◈┈┉

The thing about Mihawk and Zoro going to a dinner with them is that Zoro and Sanji would try to behave but they would end up arguing in front of them anyway because that's just how they are and Mihawk and Zeff would end up talking alone about them tbh. Zeff offers Mihawk one of his best wines and Mihawk is- Well, you already know how Mihawk is. Their conversation is pretty polite but they keep drinking while the other two are in the background fighting for some meaningless bullshit like: "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET HERE FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO, STUPID MOSSHEAD" / "OKAY SO IT'S MY FAULT THAT THE SEA IS VERY ROUGH TODAY AND THE SHIP ALMOST SINKS" / "LIAR!! I'M SURE YOU JUST GOT LOST".

And it's uhhh chaotic. But there's passion and Sanji is mad because she cares about him meeting Zeff and Zoro is frustrated but actually trying to calm down. Zeff and Mihawk are very fond of tough love and passionate couples so these two fighting just means they have strong feelings for each other. However, they end up making up and sitting down with their fathers while they tell anecdotes and try to get to know each other better. Mihawk and Zeff are intimidating af and I'm like 100% sure that Zoro would be scared of Zeff at some point bc he would look at him with that look of "If you hurt my daughter I'm killing you" and Zoro is, for once in his life, scared of a cook. Then that silly topic of "Oh, yes, I ate my own leg to save this little shit of a daughter from starving to death" comes up.

Zoro almost chokes on his food and Mihawk stares at Zeff for a while, looks down at his leg, squints his eyes at him and says: It certainly is a really admirable doing. And just out of mere curiosity, was it good-

Zeff: A little bit of seasoning and less pain would've helped

Sanji: DAD, WHAT THE FUCK

Zoro: Curly, you didn't tell me your dad was cool

Sanji: OH, YES, EXCUSE ME MOSSHEAD FOR NOT TELLING EVERYONE ABOUT MY DAD EATING HIS OWN FUCKING LEG

Mihawk: I say admirable doing because you just met her, right? I would not have done something like this for this bastard right here

Zoro: Thanks, dad

Mihawk: You're welcome I let you and Princess stay with me, don't push it

Sanji: Who's Princess?

Zoro: My sister

Sanji: YOU HAVE A SISTER?

Mihawk: Zoro, you didn't tell your girlfriend about Perona?

Zoro: I forgot

Sanji: I'm going to murder you

And basically, long story short, the night ends pretty well to Sanji's surprise. Mihawk is very nice and polite to her even if he looks pretty dark and edgy, and Sanji can't believe that man raised an idiot like her boyfriend. Then we have Zeff, who shakes Zoro's hand so hard it hurts and whispers in his ear all the atrocities he would do to him if he hurt his precious princess. Things that won't happen, of course. That's why that 'would' is there. But still, he tells him anyway. Just in case.

─┉┈◈Lusan◈┈┉

When Luffy tells Shanks to go to the Baratie together, he doesn't hesitate to say yes because who would refuse to go there? What kind of pirate would he be? Sanji is already there because she decided to go a bit earlier, so Shanks instantly assumes he's just going to have lunch with his son in a very nice place and see Zeff again after a long time. When they get to the Baratie and see that Sanji is there too, Shanks assumes Sanji just stopped by too. A coincidence. He already knows that's Zeff's daughter, btw.

But then Luffy does that thing he always does, running towards someone he loves and hugging them tightly with his legs wrapped around them. And Shanks is just like "Oh, well, that's his usual behavior and he's just greeting his cook" but then they kiss and it's uh, confusing. So Shanks asks what's going on and Sanji is all like "Please, don't tell me you didn't mention this to Shanks" and Luffy just shrugs, turns around, and says "Dad, I'm dating Sanji!" then looks at his cook again smiling and Sanji sighs: "And you obviously didn't tell him this was supposed to be a thing so our dads could talk-"

Shanks: Fuck, am I meeting your dad now? Like, actually meeting him as your boyfriend's dad? That's not- Hey, Anchor, you did not mention this.

Luffy: I'm sorry! But Zeff is reaaaaally amazing!

Shanks: I am well aware that he's amazing but you need to warn me first about this stuff.

Luffy: What? It's just dad stuff-

Shanks: I AM NOT GOOD AT DAD STUFF

Then Zeff appears and Shanks tries to act like a normal father for once (he can't. He fails. It doesn't work) and they actually end up having a pretty calm and fun dinner once he relaxes, remembering that Zeff has always been cool. Luffy is extremely clingy with Sanji, a thing that Shanks already knew but never guessed it was because of them dating. And now that he sees it from a different perspective, it is clear that they're in love, even if Sanji won't stop trying to push the kid away because he's obsessed with sitting close to her and eating food from her hands and things like that. Little shit has a more stable love life than him. That's depressing.

Their laughter and joyful voices fill the whole empty restaurant and Shanks and Zeff are already a bit drunk while Sanji is dragged by Luffy to sit on his lap. And it would be embarrassing but it's not like their dads are looking at them, too caught up in their own anecdotes and stories.

Then Shanks asks how Zeff met Sanji because he knows that's not his biological daughter. He remembers Zeff telling him about his little princess years ago when Sanji was still at the Baratie and Shanks stopped by to eat with his crew. And of course, Zeff explains what happened. Their shared dream and everything. Luffy isn't really listening because he already knows the story and is too focused on his girlfriend right now. Zeff tells them about the leg thing, and Shanks starts laughing so, so fucking loud and hysterically:

Shanks: I DID THAT TOO

Zeff: You did what, too?

Shanks: Don't you notice something missing? Perhaps on the left side of my torso? There hanging? Well- Nothing hanging, actually

Zeff: You did not-

Shanks: I did not, but I lost this useless thingy saving this bastard right here

Sanji: You said you're not good at dad stuff but that's a pretty dad thing to do, huh?

Shanks: I guess so, yeah. We have more things than I thought in common, Red Leg!

Luffy: Except for cooking. Your cooking is awful.

Shanks: My cooking is amazing, Anchor, thank you very much.

Luffy: THAT'S NOT TRUE! YOU ONLY HEATED UP WHAT MAKINO MADE FOR ME

Shanks: But I did a good job!

Anyway, they surprisingly have a very nice and warm meal together without Shanks or Luffy being as chaotic as Sanji thought they'd be. When they're heading out, Zeff just pats Luffy on the shoulder and tells him to take care of his princess and appreciate her food or else he'll make him clean the dishes again but this time for years, quite literally speaking. Shanks sees the couple holding hands when they get out of the restaurant, the redhead staying behind for a second to speak to Zeff. But Shanks is already at that point of drunkness where he starts having a breakdown and he's like "Why does my kid have a girlfriend and my husband left me?????? This is so unfair. They love each other so much, Red Leg, look at them!!!!!!!" and Zeff is like "They're young and stupid too, but they'll grow up. You still haven't. Please get out of my restaurant before you make my onions cry."

─┉┈◈Lawsan◈┈┉

Law doesn't want to meet Zeff, that much is clear. He is not good at meeting new people and even less meeting father figures because God knows he doesn't have a good memory of how his relationship with his dad ended (Rip Cora-san, we miss you). But he goes anyway because Sanji keeps insisting and saying that it's important to her, and of course, Law can't say no to her. Well, actually Sanji just tells him that if he comes with her to the Baratie, she'll wear the Soba-Mask suit (Stealth Black or whatever, Sanji refuses to say those words so-) again for him some time and Law accepts almost instantly. Fucking simp.

So they go to the Baratie and Law is dressed in a white shirt and actual, proper, and almost elegant clothes because Bepo said he needed to do it in order to give a good impression, and Law, deep down, just wants Sanji to be happy. And if getting along with her dad will do it, having to deal with this torture for a few hours is worth it.

Sanji keeps telling him not to worry about Zeff because, even if it's a big step in their relationship, her dad is just a bit scary but a good guy, after all. He will like Law once he knows how much he cares about her too! But Law isn't worried about that, he just fucking sucks at social interactions. Free the introvert from having to socialize, please, he just wants to stay with his girlfriend alone and cuddle and infodump about silly little things and comics. This is highly bad for his mental health (getting out and talking to people).

But, well, turns out Zeff is actually a great guy. Even though at first he looks at his daughter intensely and says: "Why the ex shichibukai of all people? This guy looks depressed too. Have you eaten, kid? You look like a starving man. He looks like a starving man, sweetheart. You're not dating an emo bastard who does not eat" and ends up having an argument with Sanji... He's fun to be around, once he settles for feeding Law everything he can cook. And Law isn't complaining but decides not to mention how much he hates bread because he feels that sentence will end up with him dead on the floor.

However, Sanji is the one mentioning that after a while of seeing Law forcing himself to eat bread, rolling her eyes and taking it from his hands to eat it herself. And Zeff is just like "You should've said so earlier, son! Just eat whatever you like. I feed people for them to enjoy the food, goddamnit!" and Law can only nod and keep eating.

And they actually end up getting along when they start talking more and more. Law starts actually laughing and smiling a little bit and Zeff pats him in the back from time to time whenever he mentions stuff he has done with his powers. Zeff just finds that hilarious. And Sanji is happy they're getting along, but extremely embarrassed when Zeff starts talking about her childhood (Law is enjoying every second of this). Then the topic of how Zeff met Sanji is brought up, and Sanji doesn't really want Law to hear it because she didn't tell him about the leg thing. And when he finds out, he's just...

Law: You didn't tell me your dad did that for you

Sanji: It's not something I like to explain, y'know? I kind of feel guilty to this day

Zeff: You're such a cry baby, Eggplant. I already told her countless times I chose to do that and it ended up saving us both! What's the problem?

Sanji: Shut up, old man, you don't get it!

Law: I do get it. The- Uh- Feeling guilty about your dad sacrificing himself. Without Cora-san... I wouldn't be here.

Zeff: Well, kid, I don't know what your father did, but be grateful instead of feeling guilty. I'm sure he's a nice man if he raised somebody who loves my girl this much.

Law: He was a good man, yes. The best. And- I- I do love her. A lot.

Sanji has a moment where she almost cries, but she doesn't!! (She does. She goes to the bathroom and cries).

When they have to go back to the ship, Zeff stops Law and says:

Zeff: You might need to eat more, that much is clear, kid. But you take care of her and that's good enough for me.

Law: Thank yo-

Zeff: But you also strike me as someone who would die for her and even though I do appreciate the effort because I would do the same, don't die on her, got it? And eat more. Eat what she makes, actually. And you also should check if you're celiac.

Law: I'm a doctor. I know I'm not-

Zeff: Then stop bitching around and eat bread like a man, for fuck's sake.

And, you know, Zeff might be a bit intimidating but he is, after all, a good man just like Cora was.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU drabble - Moving

Hello I am back and I got another idea for this little silly au that I have @spotaus to thank for for the original idea :3 Though I think this may be officially becoming one of my AUs hahahaha

First part Prev Part Next part

Also yes. I know it would work better to number these uploads but also i am not writing these in any set order so it will become miserable for all of us if i number them because either they will be out of order or I will have to rework all the names and I am already editing links I don't need that extra energy in my life.

ANYWAY! :D

Next part! The one I lovingly clal in my head - The one where the gang finds a more permanent temporary home. (also yes. Before this they all speed-run the whole Parental bonding and emotional bonding to the idea of having a babybones. Which honestly can and probably will make four different drabbles)

-------

Horror stares at the door and wonders once again how he got to this point.

Well, no. That is a lie. He knows exactly how he got to his point.

He glances over his shoulder where the other four at hiding off to the side. Out of view from the doorway but still visable for Horror if he looks just right. Seems like Dust won the discussion, again, and is holding Nightmare, again.

Horror wants to say it is surprising how quickly they all just... accepted the situation they got into but he really isn't. Monsters are weird like that. Forced adoption is not that wild all things considered when you are talking about beings made of magic and emotions.

Horror stares at the door and raises his hand before knocking twice.

He really hadn't wanted to do this but they have no other choice. As he waits he can't help but think back to what made them decide this.

Cross walks from side to side "That was way to close! That was the third time we came across the Stars with Nightmare out. Third!"

Killer nods from where he is sitting wiht the sleeping Nightmare in his lap "Yeah no kidding. It is annoying as shit that they are hunting us."

Dust shrugs "Not surprising. Nightmare 'disappeared' after all. We are their only lead."

Killer grins "We were lucky Cross managed to lie his way out of the last one." and he shoots Cross a wink.

Cross sputters "I panicked!"

Killer grins and winks "Sure sure daddy crossy."

Horror holds up his hands between his two... co-parents "This is not the time. We need to figure out where we can go." and he thinks things over.

Cross sighs "I don't get how they keep finding us!"

Dust huffs as he packs their bags "We go to too little universes. Makes it easy for Ink and Dream to pick us out because they recognise us personally."

Killer frowns "Meaning. we need a big universe?" he taps his chin "But also mostly positive as we still don't know how obvious Nightmare would be otherwise."

Cross frowns "I think it will be fine. He can't feel the balance anymore right? And no one seems to have a reaction to him like they had before nor how people have a reaction to Dream's aura thing. Maybe with the corruption gone he really is just... ex-guardian now?"

Killer groans "I hope so. I am not a fan of child labor."

That is when it hits him. Horror sits up "I think I know a place."

All of them turn to him and he immediantly regrets saying anything. See? This is why he normally tries to limit what he says.

Either way. Here they are now and Horror prays this works. Please. They need one thing to work in their favor.

The door opens and a gasp "Horror! It has been ages! It is great to see you. How have you been?" Crop smiles at him.

Horror steels his nerves. Come on. Too much hangs on this moment "Hey Crop. Nice to see you. I am... okay. How are you?"

Crop frowns at him instantly "You sure? You don't sound okay. Trouble at home?"

Horror chuckles "Kinda? Not exactly. Euh... Can't go back to that place now?"

Crop frowns "Why? Need a place to stay? I got a spare room."

Okay yes! this is going great! just... gotta make sure he knows.

Horror nods "I do need a room. Not just for me though..." Crop starts to frown and Horror raises his hands "Just temporarily!"

Crop frowns "Did... something go wrong?"

Horror pauses and thinks this through once more. He trusts Crop. Crop has never been anything but kind even when Horror had been an ass. Even when he had to once drag Dust here to get healing before they could make the jump back home.

Horror looks to the side and he sees the others just beyond the treeline, hidden in shadows and waiting. Crop takes a look as well but he can't quite spot them. Crop looks back up at him.

Horror takes a deep breath "You need... to promise me, no not just promise you need to swear. That what you are about to learn will not leave this universe."

Crop frowns as he immediantly looks uncomfortable. It is the reaction a promise gets from most of them. But Crop also shoots him a considering look before he nods. He holds out a hand "I swear and promise I will not share the about to be giving information. UNLESS! It endangers anyone." and he waits.

Horror stares at the hand and thinks. That... That is fine right? That should be fine. Nightmare being a child doesn't endanger anyone. Only them and Nightmare. Horror nods and shakes the hand.

Crop nods and steps aside "Come inside. I bet you will be more comfortable explaining there." he glances at the forest "Do your... friends? Want to come in too?" a guess clearly. probably on multiple fronts.

Horror shakes his skull "Not yet. Need to know your answer and reaction first." He turns to the forest and makes a signal to wait a bit longer. He sees a thumbs up shot his way back. Probably Killer. He never bothered with the signals they had learned together.

Crop nods as he steps aside and Horror walks in, having to duck slightly for the door. The door closes behind him and Horror sees the small living room with fireplace.

Crop leads him to the kitchen "Lets talk there. I will get some tea."

A few minutes later they are both seated and with a cup of tea. Crop looks at him expectingly.

Horror takes a deep breath and takes out their most valuable resourch. The Dreamtale book. And places it on the table. Crop frowns at it before looking at Horror.

Horror nods to it "It will help explain... Very long story short... Nightmare was never an adult. He was a child with a magical shield of some type. That magic has ran out."

Crop stares at him for a moment, then he pulls the book closer and starts reading it. He pauses at the title before opening it.

And now he waits.

---------

Crop sits wiht his skull in his hands. Horror just sits across from him, with his empty cup of tea. Crop's own cup has grown cold a long time ago. Horror just waits for anymore questions but Crop hasn't said anyhting in the last ten minutes.

Horror looks back at the book and sees that Crop has turned the pages back to the one with the drawing of Nightmare's head being cracked open. The image makes a very clear show on how small Nightmare was compared to the ones attacking him.

Horror still thinks the book doesn't do it justice. Nightmare is much smaller in person than the picture makes him seem. The cracks had been much worse than the picture showed. But it is the closest they got.

Crop finally sighs and speaks. He doesn't look away from the picture "I don't... Know a lot about this whole... multiverse stuff. It isn't my place at all. And that is fine." he pauses for a moment "But this... You are telling me... That the one being that had everyone afraid. That everyone saw as a demon. Is a child... is this child?"

Horror nods before he explains more "Nightmare... gained a lot of magic and powers when he ate those apples. At least that is what the story implied. We haven't managed to get him to tell us yet, mostly because well... he is six again." Crops pulls a face as well, yeah. Horror agrees. A PTSD filled six year old is not easy. But they are managing.

Horror nods "so... What Cross nad Dust think what happened is that... The magic and negativity of the apples bond itself to Nightmare. Which game him the magic and powers he would use. The connection to the balance because the apples were part of the balance. and more importantly, an adult form and mind to fit all the magic. There was just no way all that magic and energy would have fit a babybones. Especially one that hadn't shown much magic beforehand." an assumption on their end as Nightmare was never said to use magic in the book.

"We think... We think that this magic of the apples just. ran out. We had been in battle at the time and Nightmare had been hit but it shouldn't have had that much of an effect. it was the same type of attack he had been hit by before. Dust thinks it was just the last bit of magic that the apples had having run out. Meaning that with the magic and energy so went the form." all a theory of course. But it is the only thing they have.

Crop nods as he clearly thinks "And as he was suddenly an adult. instead of just being afraid and scared. all that pain and emotions took a more violent turn. As he was an adult and was suddenly able to realise that it was unfair which made him angry..." Crop pauses.

Crop glares back at the table and shakes his skull "It is... It is a whole story about victim blaming. A victim is blamed for the abuse they suffered. They are made to believe they deserve it and should be abused. Then as soon as they fight back and defend themselves they are seen as guilty." Crop takes adeep breath as he leans back "What I don't get... Why come here? I can't help with any of this."

Horror shakes his skull "This isn't about any of the big stuff. We don't even care about it. We just... Nightmare is himself again. His real self." he taps the page lightly "Not his aged-up self that the corruption enabled him to be."

Crop stares before his face changes to shock "You are trying to hide him." Then a frown "Why not go to your own home? Has it been compromised?"

Horror snorts "At this point? probably." a confused look and Horror continues "Nightmare used his magic to shield off an universe and make a castle." he shrugs at the glance "Nightmare likes to read. I imagine he liked to read back then too. He may have been an adult technically but he was still a child at soul. Child him wanted a home and wanted that to be a castle and adult him made it happen... probably... that is Killer's theory at the moment."

Crop laughs and nods "Suonds reasonable- oh... and with his magic disappearing."

Horror sighs "When I left his universe the castle had already been decaying..."

Crop frowns "Left? The five of you you mean?"

Horror looks to the side and feels the shame return "We.... we did not react well... when we saw the changes at first... we... we obviously dind't know what was going on and well." he looks down "We abandoned him. I know it was wrong and stupid and we all regret it. We came back but we still did it." shame.

shame shame shame shame shame shame shame-

A hand on his shoulder. Horror glances up and Crop smiles at him "It is okay. You are trying to fix it now right? obviously. Not cool that you abandoned a child... but it can be nerve wrecking. Suddenly going from a position where a person is mostly guiding you, to going to a position where you suddenly are responsible over that same person."

Horror looks to the side "We still left." he can't believe they just left!

Crop nods "But you returned." he grins "And you are trying to fix it."

Horror nods again "We are..." he chuckles "Not that we have been doing a good job at it. Jumping from place to place."

Crop hums "So you are looking to settle, at least for a little bit, while also hidding. Why this universe?"

Horror nods "Yeah..." He looks to the side "We... we don't know how everyone will react. To him being like this. Maybe they will react well. Maybe not. We don't want to risk it. Risk him."

Crop stares at him for a long time and nods "There must be better places?"

Horror shakes his skull "The Stars kept finding us. Dust figured out we needed a big universe that leans towards positive. Yours is one of those. It is one of the wider and bigger ones. And overall leaning towards positive."

Crop frowns "It can't be the best one..."

Horror shrugs but continues "True... there are bigger and more positive ones. But those are busy. Many people. many places. Yours is quieter. more empty. Gives peace and room to work from."

Crop frowns as he taps his chin. He thinks deeply before sighing "You guys got any type of backstory we can use? The multiverse thing isn't a known thing here and the only reason my brother and I know is because you crash landed here."

Horror blinks "You will let us stay?"

Crop nods "Sure." and he grins "Can't kick out four parents with a babybones." and he gets up.

Horrro shakes his skull "That isn't... Well I mean technically." He knows that Killer has come close to killing quite a few people with how protective he has grown over Nightmare and that isn't even including the motherhenning of Cross nor the clinginess that Dust has.

Crop chuckles as he nods towards the stairs "The attic is messy and should be cleaned but can be used by you four, well five. There is an old bed and an old lounge chair up there." more thoughtful "How big is he exactly? we will need some clothes. Probably also get a healer to check him if he is developing okay after all those magical shenanigans."

Horror stares for a moment before smiling "Thank you... I know it is a lot."

Crop shrugs as he opens the linnen closet "Horror. Taking care of milking all the cows on your own is a lot. Having to fix your roof in the middle of a thunderstorm is a lot." He straightens his spine with blankets in his arms "Helping a friend and his friends who have somehow aqcuired a babybones, while strange, does not compare to either of those. Now get your friends out of those woods. They will make the animals nervous." he grins "I am excited to be one of the first ones to meet the real Nightmare."

Horror smiles as he packs his book and goes towards the door. "Thanks again Crop."

Crop waves it off as he moves the piles upstairs.

-------

Boom! and they are staying in FarmTale for now! Horror and Crop are homies and Dust is more of an acquaintance of Crop but it works. Aged-up Nightmare knew that Horror had an universe he liked to visit but never demanded details. *shrugs* Nightmare didn't see the point. as long as horror wasn't going to betray him what did it matter he didn't tell him?

Surprise Nightmare, this is your temporary home now. For a bit. or maybe longer? They are still figuring it out.

First part Prev Part Next part

[ehlnofay]

One day – as far-off as a century, as near as tomorrow – it will all be a grand old story.

The stories will speak of a handful of champions, rushing headlong against time and logic to save the world; the last Blades, the last Septim, and his hanger-on Hero, carving a bloody path to the Temple doors. The stories will tell of skies like burned blood, of fire and ash and uncountable legions of monsters – hundreds, thousands, millions, the quantity rising with each telling – the city streets cracked and quaking, every civilian locked up in their homes and businesses and praying for deliverance. The stories will tell of the appearance of Dagon, red-hot and roiling, a gory perversion of the sun; they’ll tell that when all seemed lost, Martin Septim sacrificed himself in a blaze of glory, calling down the avatar of Akatosh and casting Dagon and his ilk back whence he came. They’ll tell that the golden dragon threw back its head and roared, and the sky cleared and brightened at its word; they’ll tell how it petrified in place, a magnificent pillar of stone, a sacrosanct statue. A site of pilgrimage. A shrine, to the grace and glory of the gods, and the bravery and benevolence of the last Emperor, the best of men.

It will be a good story. All splendour and triumph, a bittersweet victory right out of the epics; the pages closed, the crisis done, the world saved in as golden a resolution as could be asked for. It doesn’t get better than this, a perfect saviour, a hallowed end.

What the stories won’t tell is how, under clear skies and sunlight, the Hero of Kvatch falls at the statue’s marbled feet and howls like the world is still ending.

“You fucking coward,” Pax is screaming, as best as she can. Her mouth tastes like smoke. Her voice is hoarse. “Stupid worm, fucking – selfish bastard – what’s wrong with you?”

His head is swimming, a bit; he shouldn’t have tried to stand, but he – but – he’s dragged himself up to the dais, just about, and managed to sprawl himself over the edge, a snail’s trail of blood smeared along the floor behind him. The copper tang of it is strong in his nostrils. The statue stands, proud and silent, one marble claw dug into the cracked stone of the rostrum. His whole body is beginning to ache – just because of a stupid stab wound in his side, he’d swear he’s had worse, it’s not that bad, it’s not that bad. His throat burns. He isn’t crying. He isn’t.

The sky is so fucking blue.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, again, and brings the heel of his hand thudding against the clawed foot hard enough that he feels the impact down his arm, through his blurry head. “Why would you – piece of shit – sorry spit-gill – I thought –”

None of their thoughts will go through to the end. “I thought,” Pax says again, and she’s not crying, and it hurts so much it’s looped back around to not hurting, and it’s all getting fuzzy at the edges, all the world narrowed down to this and this and this and all fucking hell she’d rather be anywhere, anything else. The statue is cold. Her throat is scraped raw. “Come back,” she’s begging without quite meaning to, “come back,” and she drives her palm into the stone again, and the pain sets her reeling.

And all hell, the sky is so blue; the statue enormous; and here they are, at its feet, vision blurring, staring up at its cold marble face. It’s so fucking tall, so proud, face tipped up towards the new-appeared sun, away from them.

“How could you?” Pax says, and then they can’t even see it anymore, blood unspooling from them like skeins of madder-dyed thread. Red has never been their favourite colour. The shape of the dragon, glowing like the sun, is fixed forever on the backs of their eyelids; gold, they think, is worse. The world is detached and floating about them. They taste smoke and then bile. Stone digs fierce into their spine.

It burned like the sun, the dragon; like all the divine light of Aetherius come to earth just to sear the moisture from her eyes. Where it clawed Mehrunes Dagon, his blood boiled; when it screamed, the world moulded itself to its call. Pax hadn’t known what was happening, while it happened; sure as shit doesn’t know now. What they do know is that he’s gone. What they do know is that the dragon didn’t look at them once. They don’t taste ash on their breath, now; just fear, stagnant, sour, blood jangling bitter in their veins and seeping out to soak their gambeson.

It doesn’t hurt, anymore, there’s just this spreading, vague numbness. It doesn’t feel like their body. It’s just a thing they’re putting on. Their ears are still ringing from the crashing-in of the Temple, but there’s a faint buzzing of noise outside. They might be dying. They can’t be assed to get up.

Skeeving asshole. They’re getting blood on the dragon’s immaculate feet. The hollow sounds of voices feels distant. Could well be worse.

Then, “… a healer, here!” they hear, much closer than anything else had been before, paired with the faraway thudding of the door, and “Pax. Pax! It’s – where’s –” and there’s hands on him, a cautious manipulation of his neck, a shifting of his legs. Pressure on his sternum, and then his stomach, and a pained grunt slips out of his mouth, bound up with a slurred curse.

“Stay calm,” says an unfamiliar voice, soft and steady. “I’m just accessing the wound.”

“Go away,” Pax says, or tries to say, but his voice is whispering-hoarse and the dragon looms in the dark even still. He could open his eyes, but what would be the point?

The hands stay on him even when he bucks, holding him steady; they whisper over the stab in her gut, pulling at the drying blood, mumbling words that she can’t be fucking bothered to listen to, one voice known to her already, one voice not; pressure again on the injury, and they try, half-heartedly, to breathe out a swear – and then light, copper-bright, behind their eyelids, and burning heat, and pain pain pain eclipsing all else as something inside them wrenches back into working order, and then their eyes are open and the sky is blue and they are very fucking aware, thank you.

Pax sits up, fast enough to send the world dizzily whirling, and shoves the mage-medic away from them.

“Piss off,” he says – and it’s still hoarse, smoke-throated and scraped raw, but there’s more bite to it this time, more sound. The strange hands fall away from his side, and he looks down. His gambeson is hanging open, cords untied, the emblem of the wolf split clean down the middle. His undershirt is rucked up around his chest, too, so much of his skin is bared to the clear, bright air; all to get to the wound tucked just under their ribs. It’s an underwhelming thing – smaller than they would’ve thought, a thin short slash like a very red mouth has opened itself up in their gut. It’s stopped dribbling quite so much blood, gone scabby with rough healing, though the stuff is still smeared all over their skin, damn near enough to bathe in. It’s barely anything, really. They’re barely even hurt.

“I’m not done,” says the mage-medic, all stern. The wound itches, the taste of hasty magic gone sour in the back of their throat with all the rest of it. “I might have to find my suturing needle. It isn’t too bad, but it can’t be healed all at once.”

“Piss off,” Pax repeats – and all fucking hell it hurts, and he’s sitting up against the statue, legs lolling. He’s dizzy. He ignores it.

Ocato – his fine clothes sooty, face tight as a wound-up spring – says, “Calm down, please – he’s a skilled healer, he knows what he’s doing.” His eyes keep skipping around the room like he’s searching for another enemy lurking hidden in the shadows. “What happened? Where’s the Emperor?”

Ah – not an enemy, then.

Pax tastes bile.

“Not very quick on the uptake, are you?” she says, elbow braced against the statue’s massive marble claws (she hates touching it, she hates it, she hates it, she wants to set it crumbling apart, she doesn’t want to let anyone else touch it ever again). She can’t stop leaning because then she might topple back down again. Fuck, she needs to keep her head on straight – or lose it altogether, whichever happens faster. Her fingers feel cold. “How’re you going to run an Empire when you’re this fucking clueless?”

Ocato looks them in the face; his brow, high and slanted in that way elves have, furrows. “You’re hurt,” he says, in a tone like he expects Pax to argue with him. “Martin Septim–”

“Can’t you see him?” Pax demands, tone torn in half and uglier than they’ve ever heard it before, and they slam the back of their hand against the stone for echoing emphasis. (They want to shatter all the bones in their knuckles, break every piece in their hand one by one, like wishbones. They want it bloody and bruising. They want to scratch its polished-smooth surface until their fingernails tear. They want – they want – they want –)

Ocato, the Empire’s de facto leader, says, “Ah.”

In his plummy robes, all fruit-rich and stained with ash, he looks very stark against the Temple’s cracked marble floors.

“The Avatar,” he says. “If – the Amulet – joined blood of kings and gods –”

“Ocato,” says Pax, leaning heavy against the statue’s hateful foot, “shut up.” Their voice is bowstring-taut; he looks at them, his eyes too golden to meet. His mouth twists. They tip their head back against the stone, glaring up at the chips of blue sky shown in the crater where the roof once was, and try hard to ignore the tugging ache hooked behind their ribs.

It really fucking hurts. Worse than it did before, maybe, like some gauzy veil has been ripped from it. A veil has been ripped from the world. All the colours are too-bright, hideous. Pax breathes, because there’s no alternative, and waits for the pain to ebb.

(It doesn’t, really.)

“The Gates are sealed,” Ocato says, slowly, and he’s looking at her again, she can see out of the edge of her eye. “We will speak later. I’ll have you put up in the Palace until you’re healed. Ah – Quintus, does –”

“As long as she doesn’t go back into shock,” says the mage-medic, busily flipping through some kind of supply bag at his belt, “her odds are good. Lost blood, but I don’t think anything important was too damaged – get a proper examination, all I did was give her a second wind. Stitches, rest, fluids should do it, with luck.”

“Can she stand?”

“Can or should are –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Pax snaps, “I’m right here.” Her back pressed against the cold marble of the statue, her plait half-loose and knotted, filled with ash. The sky is so fucking blue. It hurts like hell – if the healer took her out of shock, then shit, she wishes he’d put her back in. She can see in too much detail. She can feel the skin, damp and ragged and angry. She presses the heel of her hand to the injury; her palm is crusted with dust, tacky with the same half-dried blood streaked over the floors.

Ocato, in the edges of her vision, shifts, all a blur of rich clothes and sympathetic eyes and solemn voice turned soft like he’s talking to an easily spooked horse. “I know.”

The mage-medic clucks his tongue. “Let me take another look first,” he says, and takes a step forward –

Pax kicks out at him before he even gets close. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Pax,” says Ocato – and why, why the fuck is the Empire’s de facto leader here, now, babying them like a whimpering little puppy instead of anywhere fucking else, why is he bothering to talk to them all patronising soft, why does he care? They’ve barely fucking met – talked twice, if you can call either of those times talking. Is it because they’re the Hero of Kvatch? Is this what they’ve earned – a bit of leeway as they throw a tantrum, bleeding out at the marble feet of that stupid bloody statue? Ocato looks so fucking tired; Pax wants to hit him in the nose. “You need care.”

“I need –” and Pax chokes it off in a puff of air. The statue looms behind them. There’s blood on the floors. (Traitor liar coward come back come back I hate you come down I’ll knock your fucking teeth in stupid selfish fraud come BACK. LOOK AT ME.)

Pax closes his eyes.

“My gratitude,” Ocato says, “ – our gratitude for what you’ve done cannot be overstated. The Crisis if over. The gates are sealed. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again.”

The knobs of Pax’s braid are pressing uncomfortably against their scalp. They can hear footsteps, coming closer. They don’t respond.

“It’s a great shame we had to pay such a price,” Ocato says, and Pax would fucking love to know who’s we here, “but it’s done. Dagon is defeated. We’ve won.” He’s much too close, now; his voice pitches softer. “Martin – is dead. But he died an Emperor – and a hero to rival Tiber Septim.”

Pax shoves him.

It’s a good fucking shove – knocks him right to the ground, his elbow hitting the marble with a painfully audible crack, Pax standing over him, shirt rucked up, their handprint on his shoulder marked in blood. “You useless, prattling jackass!” they spit, hoarse, and deal a swift, savage kick to his side. “How dare you act like this is a victory! It should have been me!”

Then their head swims, and they’re sitting again on the edge of the dais, palm pressed to their side, the sweaty cloth of their gambeson pushed half off their shoulder and its cord biting into their hand. The mage-medic is kneeling over Ocato, who still lies, stunned; Pax can’t see his eyes, now, but they remember them, brassy with shocked fear. Their bow is off by the wall where they left it. Pax’s palms are sticky with blood. The sky is so fucking blue. No matter how hard she rages the dragon won’t look down at them.

By the time the mage-medic has helped Ocato up, they’re gone. The Kvatch guard gambeson remains, smoke-smelling and crusted with blood, left like an offering at the statue’s feet. The Hero of Kvatch is never seen again.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Meal Redux: Roevember Edition! Erenwolweek: family

"Alright, enough about my adventures sellin' fish, you have to tell me something about yourself, sis."

"Umm, so I know you love your plunging geographical features, so there's this canyon I was sent to survey, full of the gnarliest cactaurs -"

"Ha! Stop trying to deflect with all that adventure stuff. I get enough of that in your letters! I want to know if you're still seeing that scrawny hyur bloke who came by when you were here last."

"Thancred? Oh gods, is that what you all thought? He was just dropping by for blackmail material, I'd have to assume if asked why he came all that way to walk me back to the city. No. Do not talk to him if you ever see him again. Kill him on sight, in fact."

"BAHAHAHA! I promise nothing! Alright, alright. Someone new, then?"

"New?! I - um - no - not that I can think - there's no one! I'm seeing no one! I mean, um. Oh Gods, Raha is going to kill me. Um. Aside from... actually, no. Please don't tell Mum about anything that I just said. And then maybe also, if you'd please, forget this."

[astralspen]

You know this was supposed to just be a silly fun AU

I don't know how I got to the point of expanding everything to the point of introducing constellations to the religious system and creating an all new craft type

Also my computer is infected with loop critters. This doesn't have anything to do with the AU I just thought it was fun :P