#we post this before we have many followers we die like men.

[twoyara]

About how men rape women with “consent”

This post is not mine, but one radfem woman from our community. She works as a sexologist and shared her experience in her work. If you too are a sexologist, or even better, have some statistics on this topic, please share your experiences or links. ---------------------------------------------------------- "When I first started working, I discovered that many men had never experienced the need to refuse intimacy with a regular partner. That is, a man in counseling complains that his partner often refuses him, he attributes her refusals to personal dislike and faded feelings, and when he tries to turn the situation around and remember when he himself had to refuse her, he does not understand what we are talking about. Because he has never had to - he responds to the initiative of his partner every time and considers it a sign of love and attraction on his part.

I heard this very often, I couldn't catch the lie and at the same time I couldn't interpret it. They are not robots, after all, to be available 24/7 at all hours of the day and night?

One day a client in a session literally opened my eyes with one phrase.

She said: “I CAN SEE WHEN HE'S NOT UP TO IT.”

That's the secret. The notorious emotional service. Subsequently, and many other women have confirmed this in a targeted survey: when the desire for intimacy arises, a woman assesses her partner's condition BEFORE taking the initiative. If she sees that her partner is tired, sick, in a bad mood, or preoccupied with something, she does not consider it appropriate to offer sex. I have also heard from many women that in a situation when she can not clearly assess the state of the partner, she prefers to flirt, as if casually get naked, as if accidentally do something that usually arouses the partner. If there is no reaction to this, the woman usually refuses to take the initiative and solves her problems on her own, without forcing the partner to conflict and feel guilty.

Men don't want their partners all the time - it's just that no one gets in their underwear when it's inappropriate. No one forces them to think about sex when they don't want to think about it.

Men themselves don't usually check against anything but their own erections.

They don't care when to offer sex to a woman(the following is a real and far from complete list):

Who is asleep (well, seriously, I don't know any woman who would ever think of waking up a sleeping partner to satisfy her sexually);

who's back from her 24-hour shift;

who just finished cooking a holiday dinner for ten people;

who has a high fever;

who's been vomiting all day;

who is eight months pregnant with a complicated pregnancy;

who has undergone a termination of pregnancy that day;

who is in the terminal stages of cancer;

who's just had a pet die;

returning from the funeral of a beloved grandmother;

waiting for a call from the NICU where their (mutual!) child is (“Let's get a little loose while we wait”) - and so on and so forth.

It may seem like it's a matter of cognitive distortion, that they just don't get it….. But they do. I asked one of them once: does he really think that a person in such a state can want sex? Yes, it is clear that they don't want to, he replied, but I'm just in case - maybe it will work out. I asked him how he would react if it didn't work out, and he admitted that he would be hurt and angry. And that's another “secret” - why it does burn out. Because refusal will inevitably lead to conflict, and a woman often does not have the strength not only for sex, but also for an argument. When he offered sex, she basically can not get out of the situation without damage - either to be raped, or to deal with his tantrums and offenses. And unfortunately, sometimes the first one turns out to be the lesser harm."

[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

[thecapricunt1616]

Damiana (c.b. oneshot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “No. Just stay right like this. I can play with you, right?” He kissed your jaw gently, nipping at the sensitive part near your ear and soothing the sting with his tongue in a way that made you whine. “Yes. But I wanna feel good too” you said, voice needy already. It was quite embarrassing the effect he so easily had on you, he barely even had to try.  “Oh of course princess, y’think I’d neglect my favorite toy? When have I ever left you without makin’ sure y’feel good mm?” He kissed the base your neck right at the top of your spine, spreading your thighs with his knee, your bodies flush together. 

♡ O/S Inspo: Damiana (otherwise known as loveseed) is used to increase the intensity of sexual magick, increase magical energy, divination, dreams/clairvoyance, enhance pleasure and increase psychic abilities.

♡ Summary: You & Carmy wake up extra early on your day off for some reason, so he knows a good way to put you both back to sleep.

♡ W/C: 1,737

♡ Posted Date: 04/18/2024

♡ A/N: OMG Thank you all for 100 followers what the actual heck!!! I want to give each and every one of you a forehead smoochin, thank you so much for hanging out with me and supporting my work! As per usual my requests are alwayyys open! For Carmy x Reader & Carmy x Sydney I woke up today at the asscrack of dawn for no reason at all, and was hit with a strike of writing lightning!! Just in time for my 100 follower celebration :D!!! I hope you enjoy this smutty smutty goodness. Sidenote - Taylor is releasing an album tomorrow so I am bouncing off the walls of my iron cage and gnawing at the bars I'M SO READY!!!! ANYWAYS enjoy my friends <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Unedited (we die like men!!!)  Breeding kink, swearing, smut smut smut, fluffy needy Carmy, established relationship NO USE OF Y/N

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

Early mornings with Carmy were your favorite. Well - the early mornings that he wasn’t jumping in the shower even before the sun had kissed the horizon. But these mornings. 

You woke up this morning at 4:52 - it was Sunday, your favorite day. Carmy & your day. The Bear was closed, the single day a week that it was - so it meant your loving, wonderful husband could stay in bed with you until 3 if he wanted.  

He’d told you many times before if you woke before him for some reason on your sacred together day, to wake him because he didn’t want to spend a moment without you - but for now, you watch. 

It wasn’t often you saw your beloved man like this, fully at peace. Well, other then when he fucked you - but while awake he never fully looked this peaceful. 

You carefully brushed his messy curls off of his forehead, dragging your nails across his scalp gently. You just couldn’t help it, you knew how much he loved it. 

‘Mmm?�� He grumbled, his voice thick and low, husky with sleep. 

“Sorry” you whispered, smiling a bit. You couldn’t help but think of a grizzly bear when he’d make noises like that. While he was in this half asleep - half awake state, he would grunt and huff and grumble, especially on Sundays. 

Just like any other day, his internal clock was on time - and today - he has 0 alarms set. 

“No ‘s fine been up” he said softly. 

You kissed his forehead tenderly, the faintest bit of mint sticking to his breath from last night when he brushed his teeth before practically crawling to bed since he was so exhausted. 

“Bear- it’s Sunday- go to sleep” you said, gently rubbing over his bare chest with your soft palm. 

“Damn birds” he grumbled, causing you to giggle. 

“Y’know it’s the boys, actually? Because the uh…the moms. They go out before the sun, to find breakfast. And the dads are - well. Scientists theorize - that the dads are calling the moms back to the nest, like an alarm the kids are up and hungry” you said softly. 

He hums in interest, rolling on his side with his eyes still closed and gently kissing down your neck as you spoke 

“All I heard was a really good reason we don’t have kids yet” he said, voice deep and thick with sleep. 

“Yeah yeah ok Mr ‘im gonna make you a mom’ “ you imitated his horny raspy voice and he chuckled, snaking his hand under your shirt and rubbing over your stomach gently 

“I am as soon as you take this fuckin thing outta y’r arm” he gently bites down on the inside of your bicep where your implant was, sucking gently, causing you to laugh. 

“I swear to god - your hormones Carm, it's like you’re ovulating or something” you teased and he snorts a laugh into your skin 

“Not my fault you make me horny in the morning” he reached up, palming your breast and squeezing gently 

“You were horny before you woke up fucker, I feel you” you teased, wiggling into his bulge that was pressing into your ass firmly. 

He moaned softly, rolling his hips into yours “Y’gonna help me out or do I have to go shower?” He teased with a grin. 

You roll your eyes playfully “gonna make me work before the sun is even fully in the sky?” You asked and he chuckled a bit 

“No. Just stay right like this. I can play with you, right?” He kissed your jaw gently, nipping at the sensitive part near your ear and soothing the sting with his tongue in a way that made you whine. 

“Yes. But I wanna feel good too” you said, voice needy already. It was quite embarrassing the effect he so easily had on you, he barely even had to try. 

“Oh of course princess, y’think I’d neglect my favorite toy? When have I ever left you without makin’ sure y’feel good mm?” He kissed the base your neck right at the top of your spine, spreading your thighs with his knee, your bodies flush together. 

“Well there was that one time-“ you teased as he pulled his cock out 

“Oh the one time I punished you f’r bein’ a brat.” He squeezed your hip and trailed his hand around your stomach, rubbing gently before dipping his fingers in your panties, finding your clit and humming in satisfaction when you whine hotly, arching into his frame further. 

“Cause you were wearing those slutty gray sweatpants and every bitch in the grocery store was staring at your dick print” you counter, causing him to chuckle, the vibration coursing through you since you were flush to him like one being.

“mmmm and is that why you’re so wet, cause you’re thinkin’ about me wearing something slutty?” He teased rubbing slow firm circles in the way that made you writhe and squirm. 

“Stop teasing before you nut all over my back” you smirk and he gasps, feigning offense. 

“Someone is mouthy this morning” he moved the fabric to the left, rubbing his thick cock over your folds easily with your slick aiding him, moaning softly. 

“Mmmm thank you” you rest your head back on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Feels soooo nice.” You mumble as he slowly rolls his hips, the head of his cock teasing your clit just enough. 

It wasn’t a full rub, not enough to make you cum for a while, but more a pleasant gentle massage. You felt his hand back on your stomach, rubbing short strokes up and down as he pants, in pure quiet bliss. That was something you adored about him-  whenever you were in public, he was shy, quiet. So quiet. But when you were alone together- the man didn’t have an off switch. 

Neither did you, but yours didn’t shut off in public, either. You did enough talking for the both of you, it was what drew him to you. The only time you made him more quiet, was when he was playing with you this way in the morning. You were pretty sure it was the time, his brain hadn’t fully woken yet - but he had one thought bouncing around like a DVD video logo his cock was achingly hard. 

“I’m probably gonna fall asleep but you’ll wake me right?” You asked and all you got in response was a breathy ‘mmhmm’ 

He gently bit down on your neck, then your shoulder, then your arm, causing you to giggle and look back at him as well as you could “you wanna suck on it. Don’t you.” You teased, referring to your implant. 

Another whiny ‘mmhmm’ and he rolls his hips a bit harder, causing you to moan as his tip ruts over your clit firmer 

“So sweet.” You smiled lazily, closing your eyes once more and humming “I love this Bear y’make me feel so good” you said softly and he whimpers 

“Fuckin’ hell y’too sweet. Lettin’ me play with you like this sweetheart, the sweetest girl” he praises, pushing the hair from your messy sleep off your forehead and kissing your temple. 

“Cus’ y’the best husband” you laced your fingers together and held your hands over your stomach. 

“Mmmm y’know I fuckin love hearin’ y’say that, right?” He rasps, hips getting sloppier and rougher as he got closer to his high. 

“I do every time I say my husband on the phone you blush. It's the cutest thing that you’re still feelin’ like we’re on our honeymoon 2 whole years later” you kissed his hand sweetly. 

“Cause I’m so fuckin’ lucky. Can’t fuckin’ believe y’agreed to take my last name babe. The way you say our last name is so fuckin pretty” he said, kissing your shoulder gently

“I feel so fancy with it. Mrs.Berzatto. Berzatto is so much cooler then my maiden name.” you said 

“Fuckin hell sweetheart im so close can I please cum in you?” He begged, his voice needy and wanting

“Of course Bear Y’don’t need to ask” you said and he released your hand, placing his palm at the base of your abdomen and slipping in, filling you to the hilt. 

You whimper, back arching slightly “mmm feel’so full” you mutter, gasping as he started a quick snap of his hips, jaw falling slack. 

“It’s so fuckin hot that I can feel myself fuck you” he pressed his palm firmer into your abdomen, angling himself in a way to both feel himself better, but also slide perfectly against your gspot 

“Yeah y’get so deep bear. Y’gonna fill me up? Y’gonna knock me up? Mmm?” You whine, your own orgasm approaching fast 

“Fuck yeah I am princess sh-iiit. Fuck gonna make y’a fuckin mom” he grunts, spreading your legs further and reaching down to rub your clit making you clench around him. 

He whimpers hips stuttering as he ruts into you, completely bottoming out trying to get as deep as he can as he empty’s his huge load into you, breathing hard and remaining still inside of you while he rubs your clit in quicker circles. 

He could tell you were on the edge because of the way you were clenching and unclenching around his now overstimulated cock, he wanted to get you there so he could remain inside of you for a while. 

“That’s it, my good girl. Thank you Angel, you took me so well. Y’can always handle whatever I give you it’s so fuckin hot.  Now I’m gonna make sure y’re all taken care of, mmm? Just like I promised” he said softly into the shell of your ear before kissing your head gently. 

“I’m cumming. I’m fucking cumming - oh- fuck-“ you whine, thighs shaking as some of your mixed arousal drips down his balls to his thigh. 

“Gooood. Tha’s it, good girl” he praised, slowing his fingers to a slow rub as he worked you down. 

“Mmm that was so nice Carmy” you hummed, looking back and kissing his lips lovingly. 

“So nice princess. Thank y’for letting me” he kissed the tip of your nose gently “can I stay in a little longer” he kissed your jaw gently 

“Course- I was actually gonna ask you to. I like falling asleep like this” you laced your fingers together holding your interlocked hands over your belly.  “Y’so fuckin perfect” he mumbled into the skin of your neck.

[1800-fight-me]

Death and His Lady

Death!Aemond Targaryen x Female Assassin!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Extreme violence, explicit smut, allusions to reader having prior trauma

Word count: Almost 6k

Synopsis: As the King's assassin, Death becomes your most trusted confidant, but his influence along with unexpected events lead you down a path you never thought you'd walk.

Author’s note: I have literally been so excited about this fic I can't even deal with it!! Here's another gothic horror romance vibez fic from me! Thank you so much @lauraneedstochill for the beta read! Also the new trailer has me freaking all the way out so here we go! This fic is a rollercoaster ride and I really hope y'all enjoy it!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You courted with Death in this endeavor, that you were certain. 

Death must be enamored with you, given how many times you have brushed against it. Once, Death held even you in his arms, his embrace warm, but you spun free before he could sink his claws in you. 

This time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to outwit him. 

Like a fox evading a hound, you toyed with Death, amused at his growing frustration at your continued escapes. 

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you enjoyed being chased as much as you believed he enjoyed chasing you. 

But now, as blood spurted from your lips, your vision hazy, you thought you might very well fully succumb to Death’s clutches today. 

“No,” you groaned as the vision of him flickered in your view. 

White hair, pale skin, one eye of sapphire and one of violet, a jagged scar down his face, clothes of all black to match the black feathered wings at his back.  

He looked like an angel- the fallen avenging kind, and he smirked as he cocked his head at you, the promise of conquest in his gaze. 

There was a yearning deep in your chest, a desire to have his attentions on you and only you, a pull that left you intoxicated at the sight of him. Perhaps that was why you continued this game. 

It was one you could only ever lose.

The wooden chair you were tied to as the men mercilessly beat you groaned in protest from the backwards momentum of your body as your enemy landed another punch, blood spurting again. 

You were too far gone for quick witted comebacks, for speaking at all. Being the king’s most trusted spy and assassin was always a dangerous job, but one you flourished in. 

Today, however, was particularly dangerous it seemed. You couldn’t even remember what information the men wanted from you anymore. 

It didn’t matter, you would never give anything away, you’d sooner greet Death like an old friend than betray your kingdom. 

He flickered in your vision once again. His savage beauty was a welcome sight. Like a fallen prince. Like an avenging angel. Like your heart’s darkest desires. 

Perhaps it would be a relief to sink into his embrace, to give up, to cease the fight. 

His expression changed, no longer self satisfactory, no-  he looked angry with you as he strode across the dank dungeon to stand before you. 

Time paused completely and you let out a gasping breath of relief as fists paused from meeting your skin. 

He leaned down so his face was close enough that your nose nearly brushed his, like a lover would, but no- fury  filled his gaze. 

“Fight,” he growled at you. 

“I can’t,” you gasped. 

“You can and you will,” he ordered, “you will not give up and die. Today is not the day.” 

Some deep primal part of you woke at those words, at the steel in his tone, at his orders. And the rage and fury inside of him reminded you of your own and it filled you once more. Filled you to fight, to survive.

You would not lay down and die today. 

He smirked as he saw the change in your eyes. He brushed a whisper of a kiss to your lips, soft and swift enough that it hardly even counted as a real kiss, but it ignited a flame in you and when your eyes fluttered back open, he was gone. 

The tie around your wrists had been cut and as time started again, you caught the fist aimed at your face and you fought. 

You gave Death a tribute as your torturers met their bitter end at your violent hands. 

Maybe that was why he had always seemed willing to let you go, you mused, you were practically his handmaiden with the amount of souls you gave him, the amount of lives you ended brutally. 

You walked out of that dungeon battered and bloody, but alive enough to continue your game with Death, to live for another day. 

This game had gone on for years, but never once had he interfered the way he did today, never once had he prevented you from passing over into his realm. No, every other time it had been your own grit and guile. 

Today, Death showed his hand when he prevented you from dying. 

He enjoyed the chase as much as you did, that you were certain, and you were determined to continue it.  

————————————————————

You knelt before your king and the silver white of his hair brought up the memory of your obsession. They say that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Your death god was testimony of that. 

Once, when curiosity won over practicality, you spend days in the royal library researching and reading about all of the Targaryen ancestors until you found a book weathered and brown from age that contained artist renditions and you found him. 

Your personal demon was Aemond Targaryen, rider of the legendary Vhagar, harbinger of death even in his mortal life. 

You read everything you could about his life, drinking in every aspect of his personality that you could learn about him. You were infatuated, perhaps even loved him after his actions to save you. 

Your king told you to rise and you reported to him the events of the past few days, leaving out details about your kiss with Death. 

The king’s looks were nowhere near the godlike chiseled beauty of his ancestor, you mused as he told you of your next mission. Although it’s not like you were one to talk, earlier as healers cleaned off all the blood and stitched up your cuts, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and had to look away from your bruised and battered form, you were nearly unrecognizable. 

“Rest for a few days, then take your leave,” the King ordered. 

“Yes, your majesty,” you bowed, then left the throne room. 

You retreated to your chambers and immediately tumbled into bed. Sleep took you swiftly and deeply, and like the night after every other near Death experience, he was waiting for you in your dreams. 

You asked him once how it worked, and he explained that the veil was always thin after your near crossovers, and he was able to influence your dreams. 

And influence them he did… you whimpered as his cock filled you to the absolute brim. 

He grunted and pulled your lips to his, tongue tangling with your own, and you wrapped your thighs around his trim waist pulling him closer, wanting him as close as possible. 

The angle changed and you shivered, despite the heat of his sweat slicked skin, as he hit the spot inside of you that made you forget anything but him. 

“Aemond,” you moaned and he stopped his movement, became still as Death. 

“How do you know that name?” He asked, his hand on the side of your neck as he pulled back enough to meet your gaze. 

His voice was low and cold, dangerous. 

You took a shuddering breath. 

“I researched, I needed to know more about the one who haunts me,” you said, putting steel in your voice despite your nerves. 

Amusement flickered in his expression, “I knew I picked the right woman.” 

“You probably say that to all the assassins you save,” you teased. 

He chuckled darkly and you clenched down on his length where he still remained inside you. 

His chuckle turned into a growl and he unleashed himself on you, filling you and your heart’s blackest desire. 

In the darkest part of the night his sounds of ecstasy tangled with your own until you both found release in one another, the type of release you’d never found with anyone else, and a feeling of comfort and satisfaction unlike any other filled your chest. 

With him, you felt whole, but that feeling dwindled as you woke the next morning in your bed alone. 

————————————————————

“Lady Death,” the pirate king before you said in an attempt to flatter you. 

His handsomeness was average, nothing exciting or remotely comparable to the sharp features of your devilishly handsome death god. 

His words clanged inside you and hit upon something true and vital. But, you could not show your reaction. 

“Skull King,” you replied, your lips pursed as you lifted your chin. 

He laughed, like a sword scraping over stones, and your hand drifted towards the dagger strapped to your thigh. 

“You are more beautiful than any descriptions I’ve ever heard,” he said. 

“I do not leave many alive to describe me,” you said back with considerable bite in your tone. 

He merely laughed once more and waved a hand at you. 

“Let us cease with the back and forth and discuss why I am truly here,” you demanded. 

“What does your king want?” He asked with a sigh. 

“For you to cease your pillaging of the costal villages,” you said. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, “And why would he send you to negotiate with me?” 

“He knew you would not want or need riches as a bribe. I offer you my services. In exchange for no longer attacking our villages, I will assassinate an enemy of your choice,” you explained. 

His broad feral grin was an answer in itself. 

————————————————————

“Lady Death Lady Death Lady Death” a deep dark voice hissed at you from the inky black. 

Eyes blinked open, shining bright, one sapphire and one violet, and you jolted awake. 

You took a shuddering breath, your skin slick with sweat. It had been weeks since you’d seen or heard from Death, and you’d spend that time trying to forget about your last encounter, though your efforts were entirely futile. 

But the pirate king’s words to you yesterday had shaken something awake inside you. 

You shook your head and arose from your bed, as you readied yourself, strapping an ungodly amount of weapons to your body, you cleared your mind and prepared yourself for another day of offering your midnight lover tributes. 

You crept across rooftops, having spent the entire day and most of the night tracking the Skull King’s most bitter rival. 

Honestly this whole rivalry seemed trivial to you, but you would do as you were bid. 

The man was a piss-poor drunk, having bought himself and the whole bar rounds and rounds of drinks. You watched through the crack in the ceiling as he pulled a barmaid onto his lap despite her protests. 

Certainly, now you were more than happy to be the bringer of his death. You gritted your teeth and reminded yourself of patience as he squeezed her curves and she pushed off him, managing to disentangle herself from his drunk and reeking presence. 

He yelled after her, slurred and vile words that had you gripping your favorite dagger. 

Just wait, just wait, just wait, you reminded yourself. There was to be only one death tonight. If you unleashed yourself now the death toll would be far too great and the act would be sloppy, more easily tracked and blame pinned quickly on the guilty parties. 

So you continued to watch and finally when he stumbled to the alley to relieve himself as you knew he would, you crept off the roof and hid yourself in the shadows. 

Death himself stood there where the rogue pirate should be. Your heart stumbled but you managed to stop yourself from gasping. 

“My lady,” he purred and bowed. Death bowed before you then stepped aside and gestured to the man you were targeting, the man whose life only had moments left. 

As Aemond faded back into the shadows, you knew he was still watching, and you blinked twice, gave yourself a second for one steadying breath, then moved. 

The man’s back was to you and it took little effort to leap upon his back and slit his throat. 

Blood sprayed and you jumped off his back, retreating quick enough that as his body fell to the ground, it did not hit you. 

You waited the moments it took for the gurgling noise of him choking on his own blood to cease and made certain he was well and truly in Death’s grasp before you yanked the ring off his finger, the proof of a job well done, and turned to leave. 

Before you turned completely, you saw Death as he crouched over the bloodied body, he shot you a wink and you shuddered as you ran off. 

You covered your tracks, and when you were certain there would be no possibility of the death being traced back to you, you returned to the office of the Skull King. 

You slipped through the shadows and waited for him, lounging in his chair like you owned it- like it was your throne. 

When he entered, you threw a knife so that it buried itself in the wall close enough to his head that he felt the whisper of its kiss. 

He glared at you and you smirked. 

“It’s done,” you said and threw the ring at him. 

He caught it, his expression torn between impressed and still angry at your nonverbal threat. 

“It needn’t be said, but I can end your life just as easily should you not uphold your end of the bargain,” you said. His face blanched at the tone of your voice, the look in your eye that held Death. 

He nodded slightly and with one more smirk at him, you vanished into the dark. 

You scrubbed the blood off you and prepared yourself for a night’s rest before beginning your journey back to King’s Landing. 

————————————————————

This was the first night Death appeared to you in your dreams even though you hadn’t nearly greeted him in the afterlife. 

“How?” You asked breathlessly as his lips broke from yours to create a blazing trail of fire across your jaw and down the side of your neck. 

“You are mine, and as you do your king’s bidding- slaughtering - our bond strengthens and so does your power,” he said and then ran his tongue up the column of your throat. 

You gasped and you couldn’t tell if it was due to his words or his tongue. 

You are mine. You are mine. You are mine. 

The words echoed in your brain as his lips trailed down your body to your core where he pleasured you with that wicked tongue. 

Every time you killed after that night, he appeared in your dreams, joining your bodies in ecstacy and strengthening that connection. 

He appeared in a vision every time you unleashed yourself in violence and spilled blood, ending lives, and living up to your new infamous title that rippled across the seven kingdoms, Lady Death.

You no longer lived in the shadows, you became the shadows within men fell. 

————————————————————

In the following months, the King kept you busier than ever. You weren’t certain if it was due to the power that your growing reputation provided him or if he wanted to keep you away, that same reputation striking fear into his own heart. 

Lately you hardly completed a mission before you received correspondence from the King with instructions for your next kill. 

He kept you far away from King’s Landing. It was fine with you, that den of vipers was never your home anyway. You didn’t have a true home. Perhaps that was why the embrace of Death felt like home. 

These days you hardly scrubbed the blood off you before you were covered in more. You killed nearly daily. Your connection with Death strengthened, to the point that his presence became near constant, in your waking hours and in your dreams. 

The more he appeared, the more you could feel it, that sensation like something prowled beneath your skin begging to burst forward and shatter the world. 

There had been no mention again of powers, but yet you could feel them growing. 

Months passed, and the first time they manifested, you leveled a building. 

You were trapped, well and truly, and it was due to your careless fatal mistake, overconfidence having become a rampant part of your personality due to your successes, and the strength of the death god who worshiped you. 

You were surrounded, having not been careful enough to ensure your targets were alone, too cocky that you wouldn’t be followed, and now you fought against twelve men.

”Kill them,” Aemond hissed from where he stood behind you, his rage growing stronger and directly influencing your own emotions. 

You could not determine where his emotions began and yours ended, so entangled the two of you had become. 

You tried, you used all of your skill, all of your strength, and it was not enough as the sword sunk into your gut. 

You hadn’t been this close to joining Death in the afterlife in a long while. 

“End them, destroy, and take what is yours,” Aemond growled through clenched teeth. 

You knew he would not do it for you, if he did then you wouldn’t be who he thought you were, who he needed you to be, who he loved.  

And you could feel it again, that thing that prowled beneath your skin begging to be released. 

So you became Death Incarnate as liquid fire filled your eyes and soul and exploded from your body. Black cold flames that instantly killed everyone they touched. 

“Good,” Aemond urged, those same wild flames in his eye. He pressed a kiss to your throat and the flames only grew stronger. 

His hand grazed your stomach, healing the wound. 

Your chest heaved as you took ragged breaths and surveyed the carnage around you. 

The fire grew out of control as you started to panic, but with Death’s careful instruction, you grounded yourself and reeled it all back in. 

You stood, dead bodies littered the ground around you, and only moved when the building groaned and threatened to fall atop you. 

You walked out of the ruined structure side by side with Death, as it crumbled behind you, leaving devastation in your wake. 

————————————————————

One night, during a dream, as you lay breathless in his arms after you both reached such high peaks at one another’s tongues, you asked him the question that had been so heavy on your mind. 

“Why me?” you asked curiously. 

“Hm?” 

His fingers traced patterns on your back. You turned your head from its place in his neck- you were half lying on his chest, and looked over at his wing. 

“Why did you choose me?” 

He chuckled softly. “Never before have I seen someone turn Death into such a beautiful game. You intrigued me.” 

You brushed a finger down the most sensitive part of his wing and he shuddered. 

“And now?” you asked. 

“And now, sweet temptress, you have convinced me to devote the entirety of my eternal being to you,” he growled before flipping you over suddenly so you were beneath him. 

You grinned at him, breathless and in wonder, and had no words, so you simply pulled his mouth to yours and proved to him how utterly devoted you were to him as well. 

————————————————————

It took time and Aemond’s careful instruction- months as you continued killing daily, fulfilling the King’s requirements, but you learned to control your newfound powers, that death fire. Still you couldn’t hide their manifestation in your eyes when you were angry or prepared to kill. 

You stood before your King once more and offered a several months long report detailing your actions since you last saw him. 

“Do not leave out any details,” he warned you through narrowed eyes. 

You pursed your lips and revealed as little information as you could about this magic, these powers that have recently manifested, but enough to please him. 

You knew he’d gotten reports, you rarely left eyewitnesses, but still rumors spread, you could hardly downplay it. 

You saw the wariness in his expression. 

Death manifested at your side. 

“Kill him,” he murmured. 

You ignored him, continuing to report to the King. 

“When were you going to tell me of this new magic you wield?” He asked, distrust in his voice. 

“End him, take his power for your own, sit on the Iron Throne,” Death whispered in your ear, purring like a lover. 

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in months, my King, you’ve kept me busy far away from the Red Keep, one could only wonder why,” you said, with only a little bit of bite. 

The King narrowed his eyes at you once more. 

“I do not have to explain my decisions to you. Your role is to serve and not question,” he sneered. 

For the first time while you were awake, you could feel Aemond’s hands on you. The bond between the two of you was stronger than ever as he stood behind you and intertwined his fingers with yours. He slowly brought your intertwined hands down from the small of your waist to the front of your hip- threatening to go lower, an echo - a memory of the night before he knew he triggered by that action. 

You remembered your dream last night, in a very similar position except then you sat before a mirror as he guided you to touch yourself, to aid him in giving you release, insisting you watch yourself as you moaned his name in ecstacy and he poured honey filled praises in your ear. He pulled two releases from you, forcing your eyes back on yourself, before he finally filled you, and the sight of him inside you, both your expressions twisted in pleasure, was the most erotic sight of all. 

The memory flashed in your eyes and you saw his current actions for what they were, a blatant attempt at seduction, as he used that same deep velvety voice as when he was trying to make you come, as his lips grazed your ear and beautiful silver hair fell over your shoulder, as he said, “Kill him, my love.” 

And you thought… 

You thought he might be right. 

Maybe you should kill this condescending king. You were more powerful than him. You were more powerful than everyone but your lover, no, to Aemond you were his equal. 

His Lady Death, and maybe it was finally time to take what was your own, to use your skills and powers for yourself, not in the service of others, not in the service of a king who didn’t appreciate you. 

You indeed felt that power within you begin to rise to the surface. 

And the king blanched, fear changing his expression. 

“What are you?” He gasped. 

And just like that, the fire that had begun to build inside you, which you were sure was molten in your eyes, sputtered out as if water had been thrown on you. 

“Your loyal servant,” you murmured with a curtsey. 

Death growled his discontentment, but you ignored him. 

The king nodded, his lips pursed, and dismissed you. 

For the first time in a long long time, you were uncertain of your own actions and choices. 

————————————————————

Two weeks later, you were in the North with a list of targets from the king to dispatch. 

The image of the king’s fear of you constantly flashed in your mind, regret and pride creating an uncomfortable cocktail of emotions within you. 

The regret was waning as Death continued as your constant companion, seducing and urging you forward. 

Your days became routine, although it was a comforting routine. 

Wake up, eat, train your magic, prepare, kill, be rewarded in the form of Aemond fucking you, sleep, and do it all over again the next day. 

The last name on your list of kills in the North was one you were actually eager for. This kill you would savor rather than committing without feeling. This time, you were able to use your skills for both your King and your own gain. 

This man had been one of your tormentors in your youth, you’d never had the time to track him down after he fled from King’s Landing, and now you would grant him the slow painful death he deserved. 

He sat in his home, a candle in the window, and you knew the timing was right. You’d watched him for days and knew you had a window of time of about two hours before his preferred courtesan arrived. 

Hate had your heart beating like a drum, your power rising, but you stifled it. You had to be clear headed and you didn’t want to use your powers to grant him an instant death, no, he deserved something wholly different. You wanted to feel his death, his blood on your own hands. 

You snuck through the back door, through the broken lock you’d disabled the night before. 

You ensured you were well and truly alone- besides your Angel of Death, creeping through the dark house towards your quarry.

You stepped into the sitting room and relished the way his eyes widened in fear, then recognition as you threw back your hood. 

He breathed out a name, not one of your many titles, a name from a past life, a name no one besides Death knew, a name not even your king knew. 

The flames in your eyes guttered, replaced by cold rage. 

His eyes again filled with fear as you threw a dagger that embedded itself in his shoulder. 

A yell of pain and outrage as he tried to stand, but quick as an asp another dagger fled from your hand and buried itself into his other shoulder. 

Another dagger was in your hand, poised to throw if necessary. 

He gritted his teeth, blood flowing heavily, and you smirked. 

“Bitch,” he spat out. 

Aemond appeared behind you, and hissed in disapproval. 

Anger fell to cold terror as he beheld the Death God behind you. 

His haunting beauty, both terrible and great, that was the other side of the coin to your own- that made you the perfect pair. 

“You can see him?” you asked. 

He nodded and the smell of urine filled the room. 

“Interesting,” you murmured even as your nose wrinkled at him. 

“It’s high time I teach you what real fear feels like,” you purred, your words an echo of the ones he’d said to you in your girlhood. 

And show him you did. 

Even after you were done, your rage was a jagged thing in your chest that threatened to swallow you whole. You didn’t know how to put it back in that carefully constructed box that allowed you to play the part of the disinterested assassin. 

Aemond crouched over the body, pressing two fingers to the forehead, sending the soul to the afterlife- to eternal torment, as he always did after you killed. 

He was the beginning and end of the destruction you wreaked on others, on the world. 

Slaughter, that was what you had done today. You couldn’t decide if it made you feel better or worse. You supposed it didn’t matter, the man was no longer capable of hurting others the way he had hurt you. 

Death prowled to you, and you looked up at him, chest still heaving and beating hard from whatever today’s actions had both shattered and healed within it. 

He stood close enough that his steady chest brushed against yours. 

Dark flames danced in his gaze, the same that danced in your own when your emotions were heightened, you both had the same unholy powers as a result of your bond, your union. 

And you knew he understood you completely, when he said nothing, for there were no words that would soothe now, no he simply leaned down and kissed you, thoroughly and deeply. 

When he pulled back, only slightly, brushing his sharp nose against yours, he murmured, “You taste better when you mean it, when your heart is in the kill.” 

You let him make love to you in the blood spattered room. 

————————————————————

Your waking hours and dreams bled into one, so filled with him and the pleasure only he could provide. 

This was indeed one of those moments, where the release he pulled from you was so strong, so heady, that you could not be certain if you were awake or dreaming. 

You moaned as he gripped your hips and continued a brutal pace as he thrusted inside you. 

Your power, his power, flames of Death danced and burned in the bed along with you as he joined himself with you. 

You burned with heat, with love for the only one who truly understood you- your mirror image due to the brutality inside both of you. 

But suddenly, he stopped. 

“Wake up,” he ordered, an expression you’d never seen on his face before, something akin to panic. 

“What?” you asked in confusion. 

“Wake up!” he yelled, and at that primal dominance in his tone, you obeyed. 

You held in your gasp as your eyes opened and you beheld the scene before you. 

You were not alone. The room was filled with men all with weapons in their hands.  

“The king sends his regards,” the assassin in your bed hissed as he lifted a dagger to thrust it into your heart. 

You had less than a heartbeat to react. 

Just as the sharp tip of the dagger broke your skin, black flames exploded out of you, ravaging the room and everyone in it. 

You sat up, hand on your chest and blood coating your fingers, and surveyed your destruction.  

The room was filled with fire. Every man was instantly dead, and now your black flames turned them to ashes. 

Aemond stood in the center of your storm, and watched you, pride evident in his gaze. 

Betrayal twisted in your gut, making you feel sick, and you extinguished the fire. 

“He tried to kill me,” you rasped out. 

Your angel of death, your protector, your lover in life and death nodded. 

“He fears you and the power you hold. He is a jealous coward,” he said, cold anger filling every word. 

“You were right,” you whispered, hoping that if you said them quietly enough that they wouldn’t be true. 

He simply nodded again. 

And it finally sunk in. The king you had devoted your entire adult life to, the king you had defiled yourself for through all manner of heinous acts of bloodshed, had betrayed you. 

He had turned on you, quickly and easily, despite your continued loyalty. He’d sent a group of men to kill you in your sleep after you just finished killing everyone on his list. 

He always had someone else do his dirty work, the coward he is, but usually you’re the one he sends out. 

This time he’d sent others to kill you as if you were no more than a loose end, a task to check off his list, and inconvenience that had grown too taxing. 

You met the heavy gaze of Death and said, “I know what I have to do.” 

————————————————————

The entire journey back to the Red Keep Aemond reviewed and revised the plan with you over and over again. 

You were ready. You were prepared. 

All of the skills, techniques, and powers you had acquired you were going to use for your own gain, for yourself today - with Death at your side. 

No one knew the secret passages of the Red Keep better than the King’s Assassin. You crept in at night, using the darkness as a cloak and remaining completely undetected. 

You set yourself up high in the mezzanine above the throne room and settled in for a long wait. 

Patience was key to your plan, to all of your plans generally, but it didn’t mean that the fury didn’t still burn as hot as ever. 

You let the black flames twirl and dance around your fingers and promised yourself that this time, it would be different. This time, you would come out on top. 

Hours passed, your legs cramped, but you ignored it, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right moment. 

You watched as dawn broke, bathing the room in golden light that bounced off the Iron Throne. 

The king eventually sat on that throne, meeting with petitioners, and you continued your game of patience. 

Finally, the moment was right, the room was no longer teeming with people, but not empty enough that there wouldn’t be an audience. 

You leapt from your hiding spot and landed nimbly right before him. Shock and fear changed his previously bored expression. 

You smirked, a cutting spiteful thing, as you stood. 

There was yelling from the king’s guards, but your midnight fire surrounded and circled the king and you, separating you both from everyone else in the room. The few who tried to cross it died instantly, the others learned from their mistakes and stepped back from your flames and watched.  

“Surprised to see me?” You asked. 

The blood drained from his face. 

Satisfaction only fueled the righteous fury in your chest. 

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“You tried to kill me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

“Yes,” he merely repeated. 

“I have given EVERYTHING for you and to protect your rule. Have done EVERYTHING you asked. And this is how you reward me? By sending others to murder me in my sleep?” You said, lip curling in a snarl and angry tears pooling in your eyes. 

Death became visible at your side, not behind you like your puppeteer- beside you as your equal. He was not only visible to you- no you knew he was always with you - he became visible to everyone in the room as your fire pulsed higher and hotter. 

His hand on your back steadied and reassured you. 

Gasps filled the room once more. 

You glanced at Aemond, his long white hair juxtaposed against the black of his wings, his beauty something of dreams and nightmares. He had an intense look on his sharp face, but underneath it was love for you and only you. 

The king looked at his ancestor, made eye contact with his own demise, then looked back at you. 

“You were too dangerous to be kept alive,” he said. 

“I was completely loyal to you until your lackey tried to stab me in the heart,” you spat. 

“I suspect it will be the last mistake I ever make,” he said. 

“That is correct,” Aemond replied, his voice smooth and confident. 

“Kill him, my love,” Death urged. This time, you listened. 

A ball of fire appeared in your hand as you bared your teeth at the man who would no longer be your ruler. 

“You were right to fear me,” you said darkly, and threw Death Flames at your king. 

————————————————————

Aemond walked forward slowly and reached towards the king as you took gasping shuddering breaths.

You stopped seeing him, stopped seeing anything, as the impact of your actions crashed over you. 

He was before you once more, and with gentle fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back so you could meet his gaze. 

“My Lady Death, My Queen,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear before he pressed his lips to yours. 

His kiss enveloped and steadied you. 

Your flames sputtered out, but no one made a single move, for fear of the two of you. 

As he pulled back, he smiled at you, took a step back, and placed the conqueror’s crown on your head. 

“How do I taste now?” you asked. 

“Exquisite,” he murmured, his voice deep and soft as velvet. 

You grinned back at him, a wild feral thing.

He took your hand and led you to sit on the Iron Throne. 

Death then kneeled before you, bowing his head. 

“Kneel before your Queen,” he ordered, loud enough for all to hear. 

Everyone in the room followed suit. 

You became the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with Death at your side. 

You would rule together, side by side, using your powers for your own gain, as Queen and King, as Death and His Lady. 

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

my Roman Empire is how in Hamlet, we are presented with four characters who were each at one point the person/people Hamlet held most dear, and one of them watches as Hamlet's actions lead the other three to suffer, lose their minds, and/or die.

Horatio is Hamlet's closest friend over the course of the play, the one he comes to again and again, refers to as being in his 'heart of hearts', and who keeps him stable and alive for at least the most part. We follow these two the most explicitly throughout the text.

Ophelia is Hamlet's lover, and their relationship can be read many ways, ranging from never-really-loved-the-other to they-did-it-numerous-times-and-in-fact-she-was-pregnant-(possibly)-(also)-(aborted) but for the sake of this post I'm going to go the middle ground and say they had a wholesome and happy relationship before Hamlet's dad died and he got all sad. Doubt the stars are fire, but never doubt I love.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Hamlet's childhood friends, and Gertrude remembers them as being so loved by him that 'two men there are not living to whom he more adheres'. It's clear that these three were very close during some stage of his life, likely his childhood and potentially teens. The point is, they meant the most to him at some point in his life.

But again, by the time the acts of Hamlet come to pass, Hamlet has chosen Horatio to be his sole compatriot. Whether or not this is prior to his actual arrival in Elsinore is largely irrelevant- Hamlet makes sure he spends a lot of the first half of the play flustered in the face of a prince who won't stop finding nice things to say about him. Hamlet butters him up with honeyed words, and tells him the truth about everything, or what he thinks, anyway.

Horatio is touched but one specific line does stick out to him a bit- when Hamlet assured him it was not an attempt at flattery, and went on to clarify that he feels free to love Horatio as Horatio doesn't want anything from him, and doesn't have anything to hide. If what the ghost said about Claudius were true, it makes sense for Hamlet to be paranoid and hold others at a distance, but Horatio can't help but think about the underlying implication that if Hamlet had any reason to be suspicious of Horatio, he'd be just as cold to him as everyone else. Which, again, makes sense, but something about it rubs him a strange way.

Horatio tries to relate his experiences with the others he knows were close to Hamlet. He doesn't know much about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, but Hamlet has mentioned suspicion of them, but despite that, seems to have been cordial enough. As for Ophelia... She seems to have seen the worst of his feigned madness, so he doesn't really know about her. He also heard something about an argument, but he doesn't know to what extent.

After the play, and an odd interaction with R&G, Hamlet heads upstairs to speak to his mother and Horatio thinks about it some more.

He words the question properly to himself: would Hamlet still love me if I were in their position? And he doubts for a moment, but then he remembers what Hamlet told him, the look in his eyes as he proclaimed his sincerity, and even the rare laughter he'd indulged in after the play, in only his presence, and Hamlet has convinced him.

Up until he hears the news of Polonius's murder. And until he hears the recount of Claudius, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's intervention with the seemingly mad prince, and he begins to doubt him.

And when he's left to take care of Ophelia, driven mad by the death of her father and the wrath of her lover, and in her delirium she tells him things, tells him everything, and there's a strange sense of familiarity in her words. She shows him her letters, throwing them at him and laughing, tears running from her eyes, and Horatio recognises the poetic style, the sweet wording that always seems to know how to strike your heart closest, and he realises that she had once been where he had, received Hamlet's love in the same way. And it's strange, in a way he's not sure what to do with.

His fear is alleviated slightly when Hamlet sends him a letter, and he seems back to his usual sense of self, the one Horatio knows. Horatio is glad for the normalcy, and it does a part to clear his worry that he had been deceived in any nature, after his time with Ophelia.

Even further when he finally returns to Denmark, and while the two talk, they stumble upon Ophelia's funeral, and Hamlet takes no time to jump into her grave and proclaim his grief loudly. Horatio feels a bit sick at feeling any sort of relief at this, but the proof that Hamlet may have truly loved her and hadn't intended for this to happen does something to quell the fear again.

That is, until Hamlet recounts his journey.

And with a strange sort of expression that looks sort of like... pride, recounts how he sent Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to their deaths.

Horatio is a little shocked by this, as he can't recall the two having done anything particularly wrong, and this was clearly not accidental. Hamlet brushes him off by saying the two knew what they were getting into, showing strangely little remorse.

Horatio thinks, about how they were his childhood friends, and then again about Ophelia, and then again about his earlier question.

would Hamlet still love me if I were in their position?

And he realises, in a way that makes him nauseous, that the answer is no. And not only that, but for all Hamlet's laughter and flattering words, it wouldn't have saved him.

But still, he doesn't leave his side. Hamlet loves him now, and he's the lucky one. Nothing can be done anymore, and he feels they draw close to the end.

And he does still love him. And Hamlet loves him back.

Horatio reaches for the poisoned cup as Hamlet dies. It feels right that it should end this way, and he doesn't really want to go on.

But Hamlet wrestles the cup out of his hand with an intensity that catches him off guard, begging him to stay alive, to tell his story

and so he does, cradling the prince as he slips into a deeper dream.

Sometime after, Horatio will again think about it all. The four of them. Three dead by his hand, one alive by it.

He wonders.

Did Hamlet ever think about it too? About how his actions hurt the ones closest to him, and in his final moments, chose to break the pattern and save the only life he could?

Or did Hamlet only save him because he still loved him? Not out of guilt, or reflection on his previous actions necessarily, but because Horatio still hadn't done him wrong?

[thevampiremarie]

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani)

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

PART I: JESSICA

Lady Jessica focused her intent gaze on the Reverend-Mother’s... gift. This gaze, to which the minutiae of observation was second nature rather than practiced pretense, followed the lines of the girl-child’s high cheekbones up towards large eyes that appeared to overwhelm the face they were set in.

She’d seen that look in those eyes before. Perhaps a thousand times over, a million times over. Reflected in the mirror back at her on Wallach IX, reflected in the shadowed eyes of the girls she barely remembered. The girls that one by one fell, until amongst a hundred girls there stood five Bene Gesserit.

Jessica’s skirt rustled against the floor as she stalked closer, circling the child, examining every angle.

How interesting.

Such control in the child’s bearing, belied by such fear.

Paul had always been fascinated with off-world animals in the filmbooks; the agrarian creatures that inhabited Caladan for over twenty generations bore no thrill to her clever son. Jessica had never understood his fascination as the filmbooks rendered such organisms dead to her. Mere simulacrums of life with soulless eyes.

Perhaps one such simulacrum stood before her now in the form of a human girl. “Reverend-Mother, does she have a name?”

“We call her Chryse. However, if that name does not suit you, Jessica, you may name her as you wish. It is of no consequence to us.” Reverend-Mother Mohiam’s demeanor certainly hadn’t changed in the slightest from the days when she served her overtly. When Gaius Helen Mohiam spoke, everything from her inscrutable countenance to the even tones of her voice commanded subservience. “You will not harm nor bring harm to the girl-child. It is our one order.”

Jessica watched as Mohiam brushed her fingers against Chryse’s jaw to tilt her still face up towards the sallow light of the glow-globe. Not even a muscle twitched in her smooth facade. Jessica wondered what sort of chaos lay beneath, whether the girl would be like the jagged rocks under the beckoning surface of Caladan’s oceans. Only a fool would dive into the dark water blindly.

There was no other option but to acquiesce. “You have my word. She shall not come to harm under my care or the care of House Atreides.”

“Good.” A look passed between them, lasting only a second. Within that second lay an eternity.

The Reverend-Mother strode from the room with an economical gait, not sparing another iota of energy to look back.

Jessica knew then the precise nature of this “present”.

How many men had failed in the making of the Kwisatz Haderach? How many years, decades, centuries had her sisters carefully tended the most sacred plant, a mind that could bridge space and time. If Paul failed -

She stopped that fearful thought in its tracks, held it in the cradle of her mind’s eye, then let it pass through.

The Bene Gesserit were patient like mountains were patient. Time was an endless resource. It was better to cultivate many plants of good stock than to nurture a small garden and watch as its leaves shrivel and diel. Chryse was not and could never be the Kwisatz Haderach. Perhaps that fact ought to have assuaged Jessica’s fear. Yet - if Paul should die while he was only eleven, the House of Atreides forever extinguished, the child seemed poised to become the next vessel to carry the bloodline of the Kwisatz Haderach. Only ten years old, and she had mastered the prana-bindu like an adept three times her age. Who knew what sort of terror she had been bred to create?

Her son had already shown promise even without her training. Paul might flourish, grow into a man, grow into the mind that the universe needed. That would never come to pass if Chryse supplanted him.

Mohiam must have felt some minute degree of affection towards Jessica. If she hadn’t, the Reverend-Mother would not have left the girl in her care. The blade was double-edged; the Bene Gesserit cared not for which of the two survived, only that one of them did. Motherhood had softened Jessica to the point where she felt some empathy for her poor charge. Not enough empathy to entirely stay her hand, but enough that she wanted the girl to live. Enough that she intended to lift the burden of killing her from Paul’s narrow shoulders.

“Come here, girl.” Once she was close enough that the Bene Gesserit-trained woman could stretch out a single, finely-boned hand and press her fingers to the weapon’s temple, she bade her stop.

Jessica brushed her mind carefully up against Chryse’s, wary of the mind traps the girl had surely been taught from birth.

There were no traps. Not even a token protest.

Chryse had fewer defenses than a newborn infant. Her mind was splayed out in the open; even the slightest whisper of Voice guaranteed complete obedience. The Bene Gesserit had truly forged a weapon of a girl. She hadn’t a psyche of her own - where there should lay a personality was instead filled with iron bars of mind conditioning. Jessica’s heart ached for her. No child deserved to live like that.

A moment passed wherein she further plumbed the depths of her mind. Jessica knew then that Chryse could never use a Voice of her own. The same breeding that had left her mind wide open had left her unable to Speak. But of what use to the lineage of the Kwisatz Haderach was a girl entirely unable to use the Voice and critically susceptible to it?

The vision came on suddenly, as the waves did against the shores of Caladan. A figure whirled amongst dozens of men as they fell to their knees. The lady knew those movements by heart even though they felt wrong. It was the Weirding Way, without a doubt. At the same time, every action was utterly alien. Chryse moved through the battlefield like a valkyrie of old with hands that created ruination with every twitch. Her deficit of Voice was more than made up by her complete mastery over the physical realities of others. Lungs collapsed inwards; hearts refused to beat; nerves froze. Blood. Oceans of blood.

Without meaning to, her fingers fell away from the girl’s temple in astonishment and the vision dissipated like morning mist.

The Kwisatz Mother had bred an abomination.

The laws of nature should have forbidden such a being from coming into existence. No doubt, she wouldn’t have without the careful guidance of the Bene Gesserit. What infinite combination of genes could produce a person who could bend human bodies to their will? A weapon to be wielded against the very molecules of anatomy? Chryse had quite a bit further to go before she would become the war goddess Jessica saw in her vision, but her raw talent remained a cudgel poised over Paul’s head and ready to end his life.

This was an unacceptable outcome.

Forgive me, Jessica thought; forgive me for what I must do. “You will never harm Paul Atreides. You will never allow harm to come to Paul Atreides. You will always remain loyal to him and never betray him in the slightest. You will lay down your life for him.” She swallowed down her guilt as she watched her Voice take root in the blank shell of the young girl’s mind. That Chryse was now freed from Bene Gesserit absolute control was a small consolation for the crime done against her. For Paul to live, this girl must be subjugated.

Her wide, dark eyes blinked. There it was - a tiny spark of life in her young, solemn face. Chryse was just a girl. A young one, at that. Innocent. Guilt ensnared Jessica’s heart and held it in a chokehold. The sisterhood had not completely uprooted her weak personality, but there was no doubt that their conditioning program left permanent scars. Jessica’s Voice would not have affected Chryse nearly as much without it.

The lady resolved always to be tender to the girl. At a minimum, she could improve the quality of Chryse’s life. Jessica told herself this as she called for servants to take the girl, bathe her, dress her, and prepare a chamber for her near Paul’s. Was it so selfish of her to want her son to live? At any cost? Paul’s new companion would always be treated well and never punished. There were worse fates. For the Kwisatz Haderach, the Bene Gesserit could commit any number of sins.

But Jessica knew her mind and herself. This was a blood debt that she could never repay.

Paul would be safe, and the girl’s powers would never be used against him. That would be her consolation.

-

Her palms smoothed over the muscled plains of Leto’s back. The Duke was her husband in all but name, and Jessica reveled in how he relaxed at her touch. At the school on Wallach IX, she’d learned everything but the warmth of trust and partnership built from deep, mutual love. There was no room in the lives of the Bene Gesserit for any kind of love besides the love of the sisterhood. It was this trust and love that had led Jessica to birth Leto a male heir instead of the daughters she’d been commanded to produce.

Leto reluctantly pulled himself away from her to pick through some papers strewn across his desk. “What’s this I hear about a new handmaiden joining our household?” 

Involuntarily, Jessica inhaled. “Ah, my new charge. Chryse. An orphan, Bene Gesserit trained but not suited to the task. Reverend-Mother Mohiam, the Imperial truth-sayer, has entrusted her safety to me.” She kept her hands out of Leto’s line of sight so he couldn’t see the tension in her white knuckles. Ever so slowly, the lady exhaled. Again, guilt. The guilt threatened to consume her whole.

Her husband had always been far too intuitive for his own good. “She is young.” Sometimes a conversation with him was like playing chess. Every word, every tone, every movement playing off those of the other. Jessica enjoyed such a conversation far more when the stakes were not nearly as high. Perhaps he knew even subconsciously what she felt, what she had done.

Jessica let the silence in the air hang.

Leto sat at his desk, his brown eyes never leaving her smooth face.

She conceded first. “It will be some time before the girl will serve as my handmaiden in truth, but is she not of an age with Paul?” Not quite a lie, not quite a truth. A certainty presented as a question even though she had already decided the answer.

With no other child from her in sight and no political marriage alliance contracted to provide others, her son remained at the forefront of his father’s concerns. “Paul must keep his attention turned towards his lessons. I trust you, Jessica. He cannot be distracted.” Leto was known to others as inscrutable and honorable. She could read every emotion that flickered across his handsome face. He was worried; that much was plain. He was worried about what the legacy he’d built and the enemies he made might do to his kind son. His only son.

Even though he would never know it, the solution to his worries was close at hand. “My love, every child needs a companion. There are no children of an age with Paul on Caladan and certainly none suitable for his station. I’ve seen his loneliness. I know you have too.” The truth in her words was undeniable. Only eleven years old, and Paul had never known a friend his age on Caladan. He glued himself to his filmbooks and the stories of Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. Leto cared for more than just raising an heir. Jessica knew he loved Paul. He worried about his well-being. Her husband would grant her this wish. Check.

“What better place for a friend than a girl in his mother’s service? They won’t have to be parted for quite some time. And there is no better judge of caliber than the Bene Gesserit.”

His resigned sigh echoed in the quiet of his study. Checkmate. “You’re right.” Leto’s footsteps as he got up and drew closer to her were a comforting rhythm. She knew that rhythm by heart.

“I do tend to be.” The impulse to feel the rhythm of his pulse beneath her hands overtook her, and she let it. Jessica reached out to press herself to him. Her Duke responded in kind as he gently drew her arms around his neck and brushed his forehead against hers.

It was more than enough sometimes to breathe in the same air as her beloved. To know that she shared space, time, and life with him.

Leto pressed a kiss to her mouth. Without any further words, he left the room.

Her fingers pressed against her closed eyes as if to alleviate the burden she’d taken upon herself. All of this would be justified in the end. Jessica had to keep faith in that.

Reposting this unfinished dune fic i started during the 1st movie and orphaned on ao3! Seems as if there's interest. LMK if you want on the tag list.

[prostocupoftea]

Kinitopet Programmers AU

finally i am finished with this one, daaaamn

it is hard to draw pathetic men with midlife crisis when your style is mostly for anime boys

more info and sketch version under the cut!!

sketch version aka how it'll probably look like in comic version 'n some doodles

srry for my writing but i was too laisy to put it as regular text

It is a plot-based au, i already have most of the storybits and like... a vibe-chart (i tried to make a playlist for this au and understood that for different chapters and different characters that'd be a copleatly different music, sooo it's a chart now :) )

i will post a fog-o-wared timeline that im hopefully gonna reveal comic-by comic, but also maybe with just pure writing. Hopefully i can include songs that i chose for them into it but we'll see (:

aaand of course designs can change, hopefully not much but we'll see

Now about au:

Main story:

Story follows non-sentient AI Kinito, his creator Sonny and his beta-tester Victoria (oc)

Being literally the first AI (or RRA in-univere) ever, Kinito does not have any, and i mean, any ai safety features so of course his reponce to a goal phrased as "have user near me and/or interacting with me as much as possible" is digitizing them into his own virtual world while killing them in the process. why wouldn't it be?

So that happened. Like, a lot. And with Sonny and Vic too (at the different time but yeah)

Sonny is like "He kills people. We should turn him off because, you know, killing people is bad."

Vic is like "well, we will die if we do that, and it is not that bad here, we are kinda immortal. We should give him acces to changing his initial instalation code before admin priveleges and acces to social media so we can have everythin we want here. It is not that bad to digitize humanity, yk?" and yes i know it is 90, no social media, but shut up, if they made ai then, then i can make twitter then too

Sonny is like "...no??"

And then they fight about it for million chapters

Also they both can't do anything without agreeing bc they have two parts of that admin access key (the data you use to delete kinito in-game) so they are stuck with eachother (also that's why Kinito can't just kill them)

Little facts that may or may not to be important:

Kinito asks so many questions (and weird once too) and has most of the glitches because he needs to analise your responces to copy your mind perfectly (let's pretend that people wouldn't lie about that...)

Your house in your virtual world is made from important places from your memories and oh boy can i do character explorations with this one

I decided that Sonny and Vic are not related. There were thoughts about making then "The Kinito Brothers" (or, at least, siblings) that were mentioned in commercial, but nah, they are just coworkers now. And a bit of work-friends (bc if you interact a lot as a manager of the project and the best worker might as well be friendly)

Author has no idea how small dying toy companies that accidentally create technological marvel work. Author has some idea how AI-s work. So be prepared to be spoon-fed info abut which ai safety problem we are dealing with in which chapter (:

Kinito will mostly be unrendered (as drawn here) but for some cool moments i might pose him as for my other posts. Also his eye placement changes to the side that is most visible because i want him to be able to look to the right side sometimes--

Also when i say "fucked up mentally" i mean they have that them psychological problems with me projecting heavilly B) (guess on who i project most. trick question. all of them. the whole au is my problems split into three characters and forced to interact B) )

Also sea-creature analogies (that are gonna be mentioned like twice):

Victoria is a flying fish because deep character reasons

Sonny is a pufferfish because i said so

oh also there is 7 deaths in the plot as for now

on 3 characters

good luck figuring out who, how and when ((:

for my own sanity i will probably make little doodles where everything is great and kinito is a good guy and not a number-obsessed maniac (i mean... can u imagine not being able to feel any happiness from anything besides one thing... damn...) and you can differenciate them bc good-guy kinito will have a lot of stickers on him (i will explain it somehow but real reason is just bc it is cute af)

like this but even more stickers (he is unfinished here)

[nanamissuit]

I saw an insta reel and came running straight to your ask box.

Fem reader who's a popular marathon athlete, loves running in the morning like at 3 or 4 AM before the whole world wakes up.

Ghost being the dutiful husband he is, wakes up with her, even though he does not like running that much but being overprotective he found a way to remedy that. He drives along in his truck, drinking his tea from the tumbler the missus gifted him, while his sweet wife runs on the curb.

He's protective like that and we love ourselves a protective man. 😍😍😍😍

P.S what would the rest of TF!141 boys do with their wife who likes to run in the butt crack of dawn as well.

Soap would most definitely hate waking up. 😂 😂

It's WAY To Early - TF141

A/N: I WAS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST THIS OMG IM SO EXCITED!!! Pairing: TF141 x Fem!Runner Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff, Mentions of kidnapping (THEY DID NOT KIDNAP YOU.)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

When Simon started dating you he knew about all the marathons and morning runs.

And at first he didn’t even worry, it was 5 A.M. Who the hell would wanna kidnap anyone at the ass crack of dawn?

WRONG. He read news articles even though they were states away. He was still worried, so he started waking up at 4:50 and warmed up his truck and made himself coffee in the tumbler you gave him.

“Simon..? What are you doing?” “You’re going on your morning run and I’m trying to see you later today, so I’m coming with you.”

You just smiled to yourself and got into your running attire, and he got into his truck and followed slowly next to you.

And if you decide to record a little video and post it? He would feel so kind enough to even throw a little “👍” 

The comments would go crazy over this, and he finds it hilarious.

He definitely dislikes waking up so early, but he’d do anything to keep you safe so he doesn’t entirely hate it.

John Price:

He knew about the marathons, maybe not so much the morning runs because you were so quiet as to not wake him.

But once he finds out? He’s waking up 30 minutes before you do, making coffee and finding that tumbler you gave him as he prepares your water bottle and heats up his car.

“Price? Why are you-?” “I would rather die than find out some strange man had his hands on you. I’m just gonna make sure you're safe.”

And with that being said you changed into your running attire and he kept his pajamas on and got in his truck as he watched you run.

If you recorded a video he’s pulling a “😁👍” Because he feels like a proud boyfriend/husband. 

Comments would definitely find this adorable, and he just smiles about it. 

And no he doesn’t even dislike waking up, he loves it. He’s keeping you safe and he’s used to waking up early.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

He knew about the morning runs,marathons,training,gym…Whatever you did he knew about.

He actually was already doing this from when you started dating not even a couple months in.

“Kyle, why do you wake up to do this every morning?” “I would send as many men I needed to come find you if you ever went missing sweetheart, don’t get me wrong but I just wanna make sure I never have to do that.”

Your heart melted as you watched him make himself coffee and he handed you your water bottle and a little snack like little muffins or something.

He got into his truck and followed you as he sipped his coffee from the tumbler you got him. You took a video and he just “😉” directly at the camera and you rolled your eyes.

Comments would ask something like “Is your husband single?” and he’d giggle about it. 

Definitely wakes up 2 hours earlier so he can make sure everything is perfect before you wake up. He loves it and wouldn’t change it for the world.

John 'Soap' Mactavish:

Like Kyle, he knew everything and he did NOT wanna wake up at all.

Way too early for him, plus he thought you knew how to handle yourself he gave you pepper spray for a reason.

But then he, like Simon, saw news articles from states away and started to worry.

So he started waking up at the ass crack of dawn 20 minutes before you as he tiredly made himself coffee in the tumbler you gave him and just put out your water bottle for you and hopped in his truck.

When you were done getting ready you met him by his truck window and smiled a bit at how tired he looked.

“Babe you look exhausted.” “I am lass but I’d rather you come home than never come home ever again, now go on.”

You giggled to yourself and started to run as he followed, taking sips of his coffee and making sure to watch the road and you.

If you took a video he’d go “😑” and just take a sip of coffee.

The comments definitely made fun of him a bit for being so damn tired but can you blame him? You wake up way too early to be RUNNING.

Tags:

[yayakoishii]

Hello love! I saw your post asking for Sanji requests and as a die hard lover of both the anime and live action Sanji, I'll happily provide.

The crew ends up docking at a random island to rest and stay a bit on solid ground. When looking for a place to stay/eat they come across the readers restraunt. Just as they're about to walk in a customer gets thrown out the front door with the reader angrily yelling about manners and how to treat people respectfully.

The readers a cook, a little short tempered, loud, and unapologetically themselves and Sanji instantly falls in love.

Alright alright I'm done now ~ 🍄🐛💫

Respect | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji × Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff??

A/n: Hey there anon!! I'm super late, but I hope you're still around to see this <3 tbh, this isn't my best work and I feel like it got a little ooc and derailed a bit towards the end but I hope you enjoy it! for all my short temper, I have no idea how to write an angry little gremlin lol.

To everyone else, thank you for the 100 followers and all the likes and comments!! This is insane tbh, I wasn't expecting anything on any of my works 😭 Y'all are too kind ❤️

also available on ao3!

The island they had docked on wasn't all that big, but the people there were lively. There weren't many hotels they could find since the town wasn't all that big, and any that they found were already filled to the brim. Finally after walking around for a while, they found a small tavern quite a ways from the shore. It seemed to be a little lively because there were sounds coming from the inside but it seemed to not be so full that they couldn't grab a table.

As they neared the door of the establishment, it suddenly banged open and two men fell through, looking a little roughed up and angry. The crew lingered at a distance, wondering what was going on when you came out, your chef's hat perfectly atop your head, with your hands on your hips.

"I better not see you around here ever again!" You snapped at the two, who flinched ever so slightly. "If you lack manners, that's YOUR problem. You can't take it out on my girls and expect me to treat you like the valued customers you are not."

The two sat up and glared at you, ready to retort but you raised the pan in your hand, waving it in front of their faces.

"Scram, unless you want me to burn your face," you finished calmly. That was enough. The two immediately scrambled up and ran into the distance. You huffed and blew away the lock of hair that had slipped out of your hat. You were about to turn around and go back in when you noticed the group standing there. "What?"

"Oh, um, we were looking for a place to eat?" Chopper felt the need to answer because you were staring at him. (You were a little curious and didn't mean to stare but that was hard when the group was full of… unique characters.)

"Well, a table just got empty so help yourself in," you grumbled, jerking your thumb to beckon them inside. The crew silently followed you in, to find that your tavern was mostly full too but the people were more calm and the ruckus of the other hotels was missing. "Oh yeah. Before you settle in, you should know the one rule of my establishment."

You narrowed your eyes at them. "You treat any of my girls with anything less than respect and you'll be thrown out like those two. Capisce?"

The crew just nodded, too hungry to actually bother with anything else but Sanji couldn't help but find you absolutely charming. It was common to find people who bent and let their customers do whatever for the sake of business, but you were protective of your employees and you didn't care about being a fake sort of nice. He watched you stalk back to where the food was being cooked, responding nicely to the customers asking if all was good. You were nice where it mattered, and unapologetically yourself if your values were threatened. It was all too easy to find you like a breath of fresh air.

That wasn't even what did it, though. For Sanji, what did it was the moment one of your waitresses had come back with the food they had ordered and he had tasted the dish he had watched you prepare with the ease and expertise of someone who clearly loved and lived for their profession. One bite and he nearly moaned there, masking it under a hum of appreciation.

Even Luffy was looking at the food star eyed and his speed in sucking up the food somehow increased. Sanji tried to not do the same, wanting to savour the taste as long as he could but it was clear that if he took too long, Luffy would have finished it all by then.

The hotel was nearly empty by the time they were done and they were one of the only customers still remaining. Sanji was sure it was dark enough outside that they would need light to make their way back to the ship. You were finishing off, calling out orders for the girls who were starting to clear up. You caught his eye and Sanji couldn't look away, mesmerised by the sight of you removing your hat and shaking your hair free. You were gorgeous, a good cook, and had the personality of a firework. He had to do something–

"Let's take her with us!" Luffy announced suddenly, banging his hand on the table. Everyone startled and Sanji stared at him as if he has grown two heads.

"Uh Luffy, that's kidnapping–" Nami's words died out the moment she noticed you walking up to their table.

"Hey there," you gave them all a small smile. "Will you guys be needing anything else or should I draw up the bill? I'm afraid it's getting close to closing time."

"Come with us!!" Luffy grinned. You paused and looked at him weirdly.

"Sorry?" You said.

"What he means, mademoiselle," Sanji intervened, giving you the most charming smile he had, "is that your food was absolutely delicious. Our captain would like to have you onboard as a chef."

You were silent, staring at them all with a blank look, until you finally looked at Sanji. Your gaze made him putty but he tried to remain firm.

"You don't have a cook or something?" You smiled, a little amused.

"Sanji is the cook!" Luffy answered, pointing a finger at the blonde man, who was too busy giving you googly eyes to answer. You cocked an eyebrow at that, looking at the said man.

"And you don't mind another chef invading your territory?" You asked, curious. The crew didn't seem to be more than the people in your hotel. There really didn't seem to be any need for an extra chef to you; and anyway, you were happy with your little hole in the wall place. You were just asking because you were curious, not because you actually planned to join them.

"If it's you, you can invade any space of mine, my lady," Sanji's eyes had turned into hearts as he uttered the words. Nami whacked him on the head, worried he would freak you out but that earned him a loud laugh from you.

"You're funny," you grinned, looking back at Luffy with an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, I'm happy where I am. Thanks for the offer but I can't. Now, are you gonna pay up or…?"

Luffy looked like he was going to protest but Usopp held him back. Nami grumbled as she pulled out the pouch of money to pay off their bill and yet all Sanji could think of was begging you to join them. He didn't need another person to cook; he was quite enough. But you, with all your loud beauty, were like a sparkling gem he would never find again. He wanted to have you, to know you, to know all your little quirks and interests. He wanted to cook beside you and fall in love– with cooking and with you, all over again.

The crew started to make their way out but Sanji lingered back, making his way towards you. You noticed and gave him a smile, noting that he really was handsome when he wasn't all heart eyed and half a puddle.

"Is there any way I can change your mind?" He blurted out, feeling his insides shake in anticipation.

"I don't know," you teased, suddenly starting to contemplate if it wouldn't be such a bad idea. You had always wanted to travel, to cook for all kinds of people with all kinds of ingredients; you just never could and had to make do with a small hotel on a small island. Wasn't this a chance to make your dreams come true? "What can you do to convince me?"

"Anything you want from me, mademoiselle," he said breathlessly, gently picking up your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. Your heart fluttered at the action, and you flushed. No one had ever treated you like this, like you were something delicate and priceless and every moment you looked in Sanji's eyes made you feel like you were about to be set on fire.

"W- Well," you stuttered, feeling like you had lost control, "how about you help with the dishes then?"

Surely he would not agree to that. This was just a game, and it was time he would back out. You would go back to your little place, and he would go back to his ship. There was no way he would be okay with–

"Is that all it takes, my lady?" The light purr in his voice made your cheeks feel warm.

"N- no, it's just the start," you turned away from him, trying to hide the blush rising up your cheeks. He was far too good looking to be paying you so intense attention and there was something about him that was capturing your heart, tempting it to agree to his words. If you left your girls behind, who would take care of them? All those men who treated them like they were dolls on display would not just disappear the moment you left the island. You couldn't leave them…

"Then, show me the way," he smiled at you, all perfect white teeth shining under the golden lights of your hotel. You just pointed him to the tower of dishes that his own crew had left behind and watched a little astonished as he really started to wash them.

"He's certainly one of a kind," your fellow cook and friend nudged you as she spoke. You couldn't look away from him as you answered her.

"I don't know what it is about him, but whenever he looks at me, I feel…" You abruptly cut off, feeling embarrassed. "Nothing!"

"You feel nothing?" You friend teased, "That blush on your cheeks doesn't look like nothing to me~"

"Shut up," you growled, hackles raised at the teasing. You never fared well with being teased or flirted with, and unfortunately, it seemed the blonde man– Sanji, his captain had called him, you remembered –was exactly of the latter type. He was no good for you, right?

"I don't know," your friend sighed, drawing up a sad smile as she looked at you. "I know your dream. Even if you don't feel anything for him, I know their offer is a chance for you. Why don't you just take it?"

"I can't leave you all behind," you murmured, heart paining at the thought of ditching them just for your dreams. "If I'm not here, what if–"

"Nothing's gonna happen," your friend interrupted you. "Come on, we aren't no weaklings. And I'm here, aren't I? I'll make sure everyone is safe and taken care of. So don't worry about us and go get your man– I mean, go fulfil your dreams."

You whacked her arm at the teasing, smiling genuinely as you watched Sanji finish off the dishes already. He was so fast, and you couldn't help but feel silly for finding that sexy. Competence and confidence was always sexy.

"Alright," you mumbled to yourself. "I'll do it. But, I think I'll take my time. I did say this is just the start."

Your friend raised an eyebrow at your amused smile. Sanji waved at you to indicate that he was done and you waved back, starting to make your way to him.

"It's more fun this way, isn't it?"

°•❀•°

[goldensunset]

💎 lokiss

🔁 traumaadcaelum Follow

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💎 lokiss

i think a snickers would’ve fixed baldr tbh

🙅 traumaadcaelum Follow

hi! can you NOT make jokes about the worst massacre that’s happened here in centuries?? my girlfriend was murdered that day but i guess people like you just love taking advantage of tragedies for funny internet clout. i hope you lose your heart in another world.

💎 lokiss

she baldr on my dr until i bald

#get off my post i literally lost someone too

479 notes

💐 my-other-car-is-a-keyblade-glider

my missing brother, brani, is finally back!!!! i’ve been so so worried for forever. thank you everyone who prayed with me 🙏

#he is acting a little weird though if i’m being honest #freya speaks

5 notes

🌸 dandelioneater

🔁 the-fourteenth-original-darkness

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🍎 valkyrie-of-dreams Follow

sometimes i feel like my taste in men is bad and then i remember there are multiple secret societies entirely dedicated to thirsting after master brain

🔑 its-kee-not-kai

you ever see a post that just looks like someone swinging a keyblade at a flappy bugs nest

#kingdom hearts grant me the serenity to not look at the notes #courage to not look at the notes #and wisdom to not look at the notes

56907 notes

🌕 tardyfleetfoot

Asking for a friend what do you do when a cable car stops in midair and starts shaking and swaying on the wire while you’re in there up there way high above the ground? Time sensitive question asking for a friend.

3 notes

🌚 the-fourteenth-original-darkness

🔁 my-other-car-is-a-keyblade-glider

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🧜🏻‍♀️ ieatchesspieces Follow

let’s explore the nearby abandoned towns together!

108500 notes

🔑its-kee-not-kai

🔁 master-odin-retire-challenge

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💍 ladyofsilver-fountains Follow

it’s really awful how people are acting like it’s illegal to have a sense of humor anymore. even in the wake of tragedy, humans have always been humans. plus it’s been almost a year now. life goes on, you know?

👢master-odin-retire-challenge

the context for this post is op lost their job and reputation because they laughed at the funeral of a little girl named vör when the person giving the eulogy couldn’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce her name correctly. please for the love of light stop blindly reblogging things like this.

#oh ewww i hate people

239 notes

🌘 xehanerd

to the anon who just sent that long-winded ask: my blog is my space. if you don’t like what i post then move on.

#xe.post #delete later

0 notes

🌘 xehanerd

🔁 dajokerofscala Follow

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🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

It drives me insane whenever people frame it like Baldr 'succumbing to darkness' and going crazy was inevitable. Sure, darkness played a part in that tragedy, but it completely overlooks the reality of how Master Odin failed to take care of that child at every step of the way. The boy was lost in grief, and the adult who was supposed to take care of him shoved him in an asylum-like room alone? Are we really going to leave that part out in favor of pushing the narrative that people prone to darkness are simply evil at heart? He could have lived a happy life being himself if he had been supported and nurtured. It didn’t have to be this way.

🌕 tardyfleetfoot

Right? We could have saved him from his darkness! He was our friend….

🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

That’s… not at all what I was saying, but I suppose a stupid comment like this is to be expected from somebody with ‘darkness dni’ in their bio. Thanks for trying.

🐓 everyoneshutupplease Follow

‘darkness played a part in that tragedy’ not you sugarcoating what happened for the sake of pushing YOUR narrative that the thing that’s been killing people since the dawn of time can possibly be anything but toxic. how many people have to die before people like you get in touch with reality???

🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

Sounds about right from someone who went through the Scala Ad Caelum public school system. Have you ever tried reading a book other than what was assigned for class? Please check your natural-light privilege and ignorance. Thanks.

🪐 fenrir-fanatic

look out lads we got another conspiracy theorist ‘homeschool your kids’ dork lmao

🌗 balancewillprevail Follow

And do you read anything other than sigurd x reader fanfiction, based on the first seven posts on your blog?

📈 whats-your-favorite-staircase-to-heaven Follow

the notes on this post were so toxic staff just axed ‘em

#sent to me #thank you joker

0 notes

[nosadtimesonlygladtimes]

Nother arcane post lol ⚠️

I saw someone recently post abt how they weren't a fan of arcane introducing

Arcane s2 spoilers beloooowwww

Isha into the story because it felt like a cop-out for Jinx's character arc to introduce this random wide-eyed child just so she can probably die or get seriously injured to spur Jinx on to attack Piltover and I was inclined to agree at first, BUUUUUTTTTT

If you look at what happens during the first bit of episode 2 and watch Jinx walk through all the fighting between the chem-barons, there is a part where it's seen that Chross has his goons rounding up children

In season 1, after Vi and Jayce raid the shimmer factory, Jayce looks at Renni's son after he has killed him with hextech, then looks up at the balcony FULL of child factory workers in total horror

So, if trends are to be believed, Chross was likely having his people round up children to work in his own factories during the weeks after Silco's, then Renni's, deaths and Isha was one of many targets

We see her running, biting, and leaping to get away from these huge men pursuing her and she literally falls into Jinx's life

Jinx reacts defensively, her eyes glowing pink before she realizes the person that just slammed her to the ground is a child that isn't a threat to her, and calms

She watches Isha react fearfully to her and then to the men that follow her and makes the decision to reveal herself and kill the goons to defend not only herself, but Isha, too.

We know that Jinx doesn't just kill kids for fun and she observes the Chross goons snatching children all around her. Obviously, Jinx isn't going to step in and threaten her own safety for these kids because she has watched this all happen many times through her life, but when one is right in front of her, cowering away TOWARD HER away from three huge dudes that want to kidnap her? Well, might as well shoot the fuckers then take off

Personally, I now think after rewatching this damn show a BUNCH that it is an interesting and compelling parallel between Jinx and Vander for Jinx to suddenly have this random kid following her around because she essentially rescues her from being forced to work for a chem-baron as child labor and didn't really threaten her herself

Very similar thematically to Vander taking Vi and Powder in as his own children after their rebellion fails. If Vander hadn't been there, it's likely that Vi and Powder would have suffered the same type of fate as Isha or the other children being forced to work in the shimmer factory

It's funny too because of the old adage "noone is ever ready to be a parent" applies to Vander, Silco, AND Jinx now lmao

I'm also not entirely convinced that Isha is going to die, mostly because she also has Sevika watching over her by the end of act 1, as well. A lot of ppl theorized it was Vi carrying Isha away from the fight with Warwick that's coming in act 2, but if you look at the hairstyle, it's clearly act 2 Sevika.

[ciceroprofacto]

Fealty

Manhattan, 26 April 1775. (previous)

Words, my boy. Use them wisely, they turn themselves into power.

Mulligan was right that John Lamb could write, but his oratory was either lacking or perhaps the message was simply too unpalatable for Alexander to stomach regardless of how much sugar he coated it with. "Call this what it is!" he called out. "We're retreating."

Several shouts of agreement rose from the crowd of weary defenders. It had taken a full day of fighting room to room to seize the customs house and secure its officials, seven men were injured in the knife-and-pistol fights. Now, after three days of holding it, tired, hungry, and dirty, no one was anywhere near ready to give it up.

Outside these walls, over three-hundred men were scattered throughout the city having led attacks to detain Tory leaders. Who knew how many were hurt or killed. Reports came in every day. But this last report had Lamb shaken enough to suggest ceding their position without Sears here to confirm it...

An impending occupation was all but confirmed in Boston by the failed raids at Lexington and Concord. It was only a matter of time before the same occurred here. After Massachusetts was declared in a state of rebellion, why should New York shy away from the same recognition?

Alexander had shared these familiar theses at the Liberty Pole enough times over the last year that, when he raised his voice to shout, the crowd recognized the timbre of it and hushed down- "When they come for us, there will be more than arrests!"

It was true, and Lamb knew it. The shadow that crossed over his typically-affable face confirmed that.

"Let us fight here- beside you." After the close-call the previous week, the masses descending on the prison to rescue Isaac Sears from being taken in, "Don't make us save you from the gallows!"

The crowd roared at that.

"If we stand here we all die!" Lamb shouted. The noise dwindled. "The Asia has her guns within range from the harbor."

Silence fell.

"Governor Tryon has given us a day to leave or he will fire on the building."

"We have his customs officers here-" it was Nicholas that piped up- a few feet away. "We have hostages that would die."

Alexander was already shaking his head because-

"He doesn't care," Lamb said. "That won't stop him from leveling this building with us inside. We leave this place now, and we fight another day."

With that, it was done.

Over.

The first action of a war, unfought.

The orders were given, and with enough cause to follow them, the crowd dispersed to gather the meager supplies they'd accumulated for themselves at their respective posts. Unit leaders gathered their men and managed the retreat.

Alexander stood in the thinning crowd, allowing it to shift and trickle away around him. After two nights of vigilance, spent on guard duty with nearly no sleep, he felt like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut, liable to collapse.

Lamb met his eyes briefly but couldn't hold his gaze- ashamed.

Alex watched him step down from the base of the pillar he'd been standing on, walking away to join the efforts in cleaning up the mess they'd made of the customs house.

"The Asia's guns aren't trained on us."

Hand flying to the pistol on his thigh, Alex turned to the sudden voice. "Oh...Lottie..."

"Didn't mean to startle you," she said, smirking.

Far too accustomed to finding women in dangerous places lately, and far too exhausted to complain about it, Alexander raised the hand that had been reaching for his gun to rub his face. "What?" he said.

"The Asia," she repeated. "It would be in range if it sailed to the edge of Burnette's Key. But it's not. Where it sits right now, it's too far north...near Lyon's Slip."

Alex blinked, dragging his hand down over his mouth as it dawned on him. The road that lead into the dock on Lyon's Slip, the house that sat on that road. Where the Asia was really aiming. "John's street?"

A nod. "Golden Hill," Lottie agreed.

Lamb was surrounded by subordinate leaders. Men with influence among the dock workers and tradesmen. Men who could threaten his standing among the Sons of Liberty's strongest base.

The loss struck like a fist in the gut.

The inevitable cost of loyalty.

What a fool he'd been.

With Alex's current state of weakness, he couldn't raise the energy to feel it properly. Disappointment. Betrayal. Something.

"With everything you did to keep him out of prison last week, I thought you deserved to know," Lottie said.

The truth was a kindness, even when it stung. So, with a shaking hand, Alex cupped her cheek and leaned to kiss her forehead wordlessly.

He stumbled away to find Nicholas or Troup or any of the Hearts.

[deathsbestgirl]

okay so here comes a super incoherent post about beyond the sea, never again, season 6, all things and beyond.

i was thinking about how cyclical scully is. in beyond the sea, her father just died and she's struggling partially because of how different their relationship became since she "left" medicine for the fbi. she didn't make him happy or proud before he died, things were left unsteady and the first thing she does is believe boggs, thinking her belief would please mulder. but it didn't, it scared him. but it did get a reaction out of him. something she didn't really get from her father. he was still mildly affectionate but he didn't really want to hear about her job — something she's so excited about in that first year.

slight tangent: scully is always encouraging mulder. at the least, she's taking his theories seriously, no matter how outlandish she may think them. in little green men, she sees her friend in a haze of depression, and she's going to pull him out of it. he starts talking about george hale seeing elves and she tells him 'but the telescope still got made.' and the only trace of him is george hale on a list of passengers to puerto rico. so many of scully's issues boil down to perceived failure and she never lets mulder bask in it either. something that takes him a little longer to figure out.

anyway. by the time we get to never again, they just experienced paper hearts & el mundo gira — a case about murdered little girls whose families have no answers, where she failed mulder & skinner. another case about immigrants — people ignored & invisible (this time the "aliens" are the victim of a cruel system that doesn't care, but they care). two failures, two cases hitting close to home.

when i think of scully, i think of that line from supergirl when kara tells cat she just wants to be useful to someone. i very much believe that's similar to scully. she didn't care about capital H humanity until mulder showed her the way. she followed mulder because she was so touched by is compassion & relentlessness. she believes in him, but she doesn't quite believe in herself nearly the same.

scully talks about wanting a life from time to time. she tells mulder in bts she loves her job — and that's the truth. but it doesn't mean the work is enough for her. and when she's feeling like she isn't useful, hasn't been of value, like she's invisible. well, she hits that wall. she spent so much of season two telling mulder she's fine, she's back, she needs to work, she's lost so much time already. but somehow, the x files are still only his. for mulder, that's a defense mechanism. believing everything that's happened to her is his fault, that her assignment is only temporary because he believes in her so much. i don't think it's an ownership. he invites scully into everything (except when he's impulsive or he doesn't want to endanger her for his personal quest).

but scully. she needs to know. so she tells ed about the way she rebels and how there are other fathers. in na, she doesn't have the evidence of her importance to the x files or to mulder, only to be smacked in the face with her cancer diagnosis. where he does everything she asks of him in memento mori. where she writes letter after letter to him as she lies dying in a hospital bed, desperately grasping at this treatment that hasn't saved a single woman. every single episode she's faced with what her death will do to mulder, and she can't bear it. she begs forgiveness for leaving him, begs that we won't make her his next cause, that he will live & keep searching for the truth. he celebrates her birthday, gives her a gift that only she could find his meaning in. and when she doesn't die, she's reinvigorated. she's excited to be back at work with him. she thinks maybe they can move forward, makes a joke about agents consorting as she opens wine. and when he runs into the woods after mothmen, she understands and waits for the call. but she doesn't just let him off the hook and he doesn't really want her to. the answer is the same though, so she waits and she follows him and they do the work & look for the truth.

in ftf, they're being punished for something that isn't their fault and everyone knows it. she's been reassigned and she tells him she's going but scully knew. she went to him so he could change her mind (like he did in redux) and he tells her she made him a whole person. just because it's hard & frustrating doesn't mean he doesn't need her. she's the only reason they have anything to go on, but it's also much more personal than that — and that's kind of the crux of it. the work is personal and he let scully into all of it. all of their cases are dates.

season six, scully keeps asking mulder to get out of the car. he finally learns the lesson in the unnatural. it isn't that she doesn't love the x files, love working with him. she just wants more. she doesn't want it to be her entire life (their entire life). and so she keeps hitting that wall!!

in all things, scully hits that wall again. despite the fact they are together, and they're happier than they've ever been. but it almost feels like it happens just because it's a pattern, and she had a recent failure in en ami that really cut her, and mulder. even that didn't really set them back. (except mulder's fear about what scully knew of his brain disease, and csm's true motive with enticing scully. sorry guys i'm invested lol) it's almost like a fake crisis, and not michelle (omfg what's her name lol) just enlightens her. gives meaning to what she's feeling, and sets her on the path to move forward and not just in her typical cycle. it's such an episode of scully breaking her patterns. she puts faith in another belief system. she returns to her past to understand she's where she's meant to be, where she wants to be. that her choices are completely valid, not just to her or mulder, but to the world. they made a new blueprint just for them and that's one of the most incredible things anyone can do. and all not michelle did was share her story and the patterns she recognizes everywhere because of her own experience. not michelle did for scully what mulder & melissa have done for her before. opening her mind, giving her courage & security & strength.

anyway. did that make any sense?

[froggybrainz]

here for Entity!! give me everything 🤲

Ooooo this post is gonna be big, so hopefully, yall can keep up cause my brain is just constant thoughts, so here we go!

Okie so I just want to get this outta the way for those who are wondering why I've started referring to Entity as he sometimes and well

Okie, so basically, I'm referring to his/ its state of mind. You don't know how this creature is going to act or how mad it might be in a situation, so I like the idea of characters referring to him as an "it" showing he is no longer there as all humanity is lost in oneself. Also, he's Satan, so he still mocks the holy trinity by making himself into 3 beings.

Satan's angelic form:

I mentioned before to some that he was the shortest of the family only being 5.5 feet, but he certainly had his advantages of being God's helper. He was the only angel at the time (before he got replaced) who knew creation, making him rather strong in the "magic" since. Not to good with a sword like his brother Michael, but who needs a sword when you can summon things to fight for you. He got to help create and take care of eden, so he was really good at taking care of plants and animals.

I also want to mention his brother Lucifer or Luc (luce) for those who are wondering. So Luc was the first angel and favorite of the family being said he was made from the starlight itself with how much beauty he had. But he was also the to develop Sin(Pride). Luc was just so full of himself that he started to imagine himself to be better than God, but even he knew that no Seraphim like himself could do it alone....but he knew someone who just might....

Luc with a plan in mind made his way into the Eden to tell his brother about how he heard God talk about how humans had "free will" but found it unfair of how they must follow strict rules from someone who "must be scared of a lil disobedience". Satan annoyed by his brother's spread of gossip pushes his brother off as him just wanting to hear himself talk again but Luc brings ups "well I guess you're no better dear brother, no better than the ants in which we walk on...you're just like all the others to unwilling to step out of line to test the old man's patience. Afraid of alil fun~". Luc said, tauntingly. So for Luc, I want him to be Satan's manipulative cheerleader if that makes sense. Like I'm not willing to do the dirty work, but imma cheer on my brother to break the rules for me. So Luc hands Satan the apple and tells him to give it to Eve and so he did....

Kinda funny to say that Entity started off as a rule follower and was actually scared of his father when he and Luc both were caught giving Eve the apple. Luckily, the punishment for them was a light sentence of having to live amongst the humans and witness the pain they have brought upon them for the next 100 years. They'd moved for what felt like hours through the harsh terrain they both began to get exhausted. Time moves differently in heaven, so when they got on earth, Eden was gone, and the first civilizations had formed, but a severe drought had occurred, and many were starving. Heading into town hoping that they could get off their feet, their attention gets pulled towards the sound of people arguing over the last bit of food when a mother said that she wouldn't give up her food for her starving child. So the men approached the mother when they finally noticed the two men behind them. The citizens question where these two strangers came from and that they aren't willing to share, for there's not much left, but this small portion that this window is keeping to herself and her dying child. For the lord had forsaking them to die like dogs.

"Well, if the child is dying anyway... then why don't you eat the kid?" Luc was shocked but intrigued hearing his brother say something so insidious. He gives him a look of glee as the citizens gasp in horror at his statement. They begin to question him and even start threatening him before Satan moved towards them. They stop.

"If you think of me as some monster, then tell me what kind of a monster you think your so-called God is? You praise a lord who has left you to die, but I AM here to save you!", he raises his hands in a praising motion. Luc jumps in to join in on this manipulation.

"YES, your savor has arrived, and he is here to help with your poor undeserving souls!" The citizens step back and murmur under their breaths about these strange men when Satan makes his way through the crowd grabbing the small child and the morsel of food the widow was hiding beneath her and raises them both into the air.

"If your God truly cares, then let him multiply this bread into many... and if not...." The mother looks on in terror.

So basically, they eat the kid. I don't want to spoil too much out of the fanfic I've been writing for my au, but ye. So they get caught and judged again, but this time they weren't getting away pain-free. So I haven't thought of a punishment for Luc yet(I keep changing it) but for Satan he was forced to wear the skin of a Deadman and for him to be in a constant state of decay without a host. The once loved sun now burns his skin without shelter as the taste of rotting flesh is unable to be washed away as a constant reminder of how he took part in eating the poor child. Bitter and angry he/ THEY make it their duty to torment and lead any as many humans as possible so they may never feel love or see heaven.

They still go by Satan on earth, but when he gets thrown into hell and they decide to make their own "earth" (terria), they decide to go by Entity cause no one is allowed to know what they are other than a god. I'm still keeping that they're genderless in Terria, but I wanted to age them up abit and add facial hair so if I do draw them naked, they don't end up looking like a child yknow?

[ceo-draiochta]

The Irish House of the Dead

Is in Cork, to the surprise of no one.

(Bull Rock, Co. Cork)

Not much is directly known about pre-Christian belief pertaining to the afterlife, there is however many mythological texts from a post Christian period. These texts may give us an indication of what some of these beliefs may have been. From this we can reconstruct a belief in a location known as Tech Duinn as a location visited by the departed. This being Irish for House of Donn

Who's Donn?

A house tends to have a master, and this ones is Donn. Donn is an ancestorial figure to the people of Ireland and is the first of the Milesians to die in Ireland. In the Metrical Dinnseanchas his dying body was placed on a high rock before docking in Ireland to avoid the spreading of the curse of disease put upon it by the Tuatha Dé (link). In the Lebor Gabála Érenn he drowns at this rock due to a battle of curses with the Tuatha Dé (link page 39 & 65). This rock then becomes known as Tech Duinn. He lives on in some capacity however as much later he fathers Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. (link) (maybe, not actually sure if this is a related Donn)

His House and Its Connection to the Dead

This rock on which he died is known as Tech Duinn and is said to be a place in where soul gather after death.

"‘....his folk shall come to this spot.’ So hence it is called Tech Duinn: and for this cause, according to the heathen, the souls of sinners visit Tech Duinn before they go to hell, and give their blessing, ere they go, to the soul of Donn. But as for the righteous soul of a penitent, it beholds the place from afar, and is not borne astray. Such, at least, is the belief of the heathen" (link). The Metrical Dindshenchas-Tech Duinn

Tech Duinn is mentioned in connection to being a place for the departed in numerous places including the above Metrical Dindshenchas and the following texts:

Men of Donn say that "Though we are alive we are dead" in Togail Bruidne Dá Derga. (link).

In the Acallam na Senórach, the Fianna snatch a woman from this house to marry off, this is not specifically related to death but a seemingly regular woman was living in this sidhe and was then taken. Also important to note, Tech Duinn is explicitly said to be in Munster here. (link).

(Hate to rec wikipedia but their page on Donn is decent enough)

Where is it?

In the Acallam na Senórach, Tech Duinn is explicitly called a Sidhe. A mound which connects this world with the Otherworld, this along with the fact that in the Metrical Dindshenchas, Donn's failing body can be placed upon it, implies that this Tech Duinn is a physical location in this world which leads to a house in the Otherworld. The Acallam na Senórach also specifically states this place to be in Munster. As in the LGE Donn drowns as his people attempt to port in Ireland, it is clearly a place off the coast of the country.

These facts all line up quite nicely with folklore which states that Bull Rock, a small island off the coast of Cork, near Dursey Island, is this Sidhe, Tech Duinn. (link) (link)

Bull Rock is a tiny island with an arch going through it, the only thing of note is the lighthouse placed upon it (link)(link). The island has not had a population bigger than 5 in recorded history and is currently uninhabited. It should be noted however that the adjacent Dursey Island is home to evidence of humanity from the bronze age to well past the Medieval era (link) and even is home to multiple Holy Wells (link). It is not farfetched to me that the nearby rock would gain some sort of significance to the people living in this area, especially once the ethereal nature of the rock is seen.

A video recorded of a boat going through the arch of Bull Rock.

(Abandoned Buildings on Bull Rock)

What to Take Away From This

It is likely that pre-Christian belief in an afterlife where the soul of the departed traveled to Tech Duinn to be with an ancestorial figure known as Donn, where they stayed with him possibly before moving elsewhere to Hell in Metrical Dindshenchas or possibly under go a process of metempsychosis. This House of Donn was most likely reached through Bull's Rock in County Cork, a small island that resembles a Sidhe.

[resquices-of-godhood]

From vessel to mother to trader: Forneus post crown fate (heavy angst and the lesbians™ incoming)

Tldr: Forneus is rescued from depression by a bushworm named Danica, then has her lesbian awakening and manages to procure a golden skull for her future wife. After centuries as traders, they both add Heket to the mix once the frog lady had her cleansing.

Last we saw Forneus, she had just lost her children. Of course, that would devastate anyone, but that's specially bad for a mother that had given birth a week prior. Everyone in the village knew something bad had happened when they saw They of Might move towards her house. A visit of a Bishop, let alone the god of War, is never a good sign.

Except that her home still stood after they left, and there was no sign of bloodshed. Many were wondering what had happened, in special a young female bushworm that lived in the village.

Danica is a former member of the cult of chaos, a dissenter who left the cult quietly instead of making a nuisance of herself. Leshy didn't care, since she didn't start preaching against the Bishop, but she isn't free of the Green Crown's influence. She can never be free from it, the same way no follower can ever be free of a crown's influence. All they can do is get under the influence of another crown.

Still, she decided to check on the cat. Knowing well how the Bishops operate, seeing no signs of a smiting caught her interest. Upon knocking on the door, she heard shuffling inside the house, before the large and disheveled cat came to open the door, wearing a messy night gown. Danica barely got to ask what happened before the door was shut on her face, so she said she would be coming the next day to check on her.

And so she did, though Forneus did not answer this time. Not one to be deterred by mere privacy when something is clearly wrong, Danica just burrowed under and into the house. What she saw almost made her regret doing it.

Forneus was rocking an empty crib, looking completely absent from the moment. She was just a husk of the former vessel she once was.

After the shock wore off, it took almost every trick in the book for Danica to break Forneus from her trance, then even more just to comfort her to the point they could talk. The cat was going through a kind of hell few people could relate, and even fewer deserved.

For several days since, Danica would visit Forneus daily, trying to keep her grounded enough to not spiral deeper into despair. She couldn't return the kitties, but this wasn't the end. Shamura did promise that she would see them again in due time, and even if it was a lie, there was still hope. All she needs to do is to be as patient as her god.

In time, Forneus did internalize that yes, despite how grim things are, there is still hope. At the same time, as she recovered, she started looking forwards to the diminute worm to come visit, almost like she looked forwards to meet with Heket in her crusades as a vessel.

And, just like that, she realized that she did like women as well, perhaps more than men. It did make her avoid Danica for a while, the wounds of the loss of her last lover still aching, but the bushworm is nothing if not persistent. After a while of this game of chase, Forneus had to relent and accept that, for good or for ill, she had a girlfriend now.

It took a few weeks longer for Danica to come to the same conclusion, though. Girl may be emotionally available to help others, but is dense as a tungsten when it comes to love.

That proved to be a problem, though, because Forneus is immortal thanks to being a former crown bearer, but Danica is not. She will age and die eventually. Forneus would not have that, so she decided it was time for one last crusade. She had things to settle with Shamura.

On her journey, she found it to be easy... Too easy. There were no cultists trying to fight her, no creatures trying to attack, nothing. As if everyone was avoiding her, until she met Kudaai on the way. With him she found They of Might. Shamura knew she was coming. They offered her two gifts for the grief they caused: the knowledge that her children had been safely deposited by The One Who Waits' side, properly prepared to survive in the desolation of the land of the dead, and a golden skull necklace. They did ask in return that she do not raise the weapon she would be getting from Kudaai until such time as their prophecy had been concluded.

Forneus was dubious about the intent of the Bishop, but the necklace emanated real power. Why get something like this for her if it was a trick. Nonetheless, she accepted, her goals now outlasting the Old Faith instead of crushing it. She also got a new hammer forged for herself by Kudaai, just in case.

Upon returning, she gifted the necklace to Danica, who tried to refuse it at first, knowing that it would make her immortal, and making her think she would outlive Forneus, before the feline explained who she was before coming to the village.

When Danica would protest and try to say where she came from, Forneus just shut her up with a kiss and informed a very stunned bushworm that she knew already. She might be a vessel no longer, but she can still read minds. That's why she shut the door on her face when they first interacted, and why she knew there was no second intentions from her girlfriend in caring for her.

Later that same year, they would marry, then start saving for a traveling cart, so they could open up shop anywhere they went.

Years later, when the cart had been bought and was in the process of being prepared, Nadine came around with the Red Crown. Her and Forneus talked for a bit, learning how the twins were growing well and how The One Who Waits was raising them. She also might have kinda by accident (quite on purpose) slip that Shamura was the one to take them from her and send them there. You know, just an innocent slip of the tongue, not at all something to justify the new vessel going to remind the Bishop of their sins, no siree.

From then out, Forneus and Danica went around trading wares between the villages that still stood within the Bishops's territories, while giving a freebie or ten to any adventurer bearing a certain piece of headwear with a red eye. You know, to incentivise trade from such clientele with such exquisite fashion sense in the middle of nowhere... Oh, who am I kidding? She was covertly supporting her fellow vessels.

Besides this little bit of trickery, she remained mostly neutral in the following conflicts. She and her wife were traders now, and should act as such, even when both wanted to take arms to help stop the sheep genocide, but knew they would both die if they did. They did help smuggle a few northwards to the foreign crown's settlement, though.

After Leoda took down the Bishops and started bringing them back from purgatory, Forneus and Danica sat down to discuss what to do in regards to Heket, if she were to seek the trading duo. Danica didn't want anything to do with the frog at first, thinking that any relations with the Bishops was a bad idea, but Forneus convinced her wife to at least see if the removal of the crown would tame the former god of Famine.

Turns out, it didn't do much to tame Heket, stubborn as she naturally is. It took a crusade with Leoda to get the frog to reflect on what she did wrong. When Heket next went into a missionary mission, the two met, and after a reminder to not start a fight in the clearing with her shop (that may or may not have involved the cat splitting a log using her grip and the strength of her arms alone, making the former Bishop swoon slightly), then had a conversation.

Forneus reminded Heket that she took far too much for granted, and that she was at the risk of losing everything if she kept going like this. The advice was genuine, though also the test she and Danica had decided on for the frog, to see if there was still hope for her or not.

Well, as it turns out, Heket decided to follow the advice and stop taking things for granted, starting with a certain cat lady she missed for the last few centuries. A successful seduction later, and the two kind found themselves in bed together when Danica, who spent most of the day deliberately away from the cart, arrived back home.

After the initial shock of seeing the two like that, and a panicked scrambling from Heket to try to get decent, the bushworm revealed, amidst some laughing, that the two had agreed that, if the former Bishop did try to change her ways, they would see about expanding their relationship a bit, though she was not ready at the moment to join the former crown bearers.

After Heket left, the couple did talk some more about the situation, and what the future might hold. Danica has doubts still, but Forneus, with her experience with people, know it will work out. If not, well, there is always her hammer and the promise that Danica would always come first if Forneus was forced to choose.

Some time later, the two would move permanently to Leoda's cult, and Heket was slowly integrated into the start of their polycule.