#regarding my birth and also other children they lost

[proto-language]

hrngnfghnfg

[cooki3face]

what you will be like as a mother 💛

message: I did a corresponding one for the divine masculine collective and what he would be like as a father so I thought I’d do this one too. Having a little bit of a marathon here if you will, I’m using up this opportunity to do what I love the most and help and send off messages for the collective. Divine feminine would be you if you consider yourself a feminine energy or you are the divine feminine in this case, the titles are a little bit different because I usually speak mostly to the divine feminine collective as I am a divine feminine energy myself. I hope this reading is beautiful and gives you something to hope for. 💛

***

i.

You could’ve gone through so much healing pile one, heart break, trauma, depression and anxiety and spirit is telling me that all this healing wasn’t for nothing. You not only have souls purposes to fulfill here I’m hearing you have more than one but you may really aspire to mother hood or really want to be a mother one day, you may have had to heal deep mother wounds as well. All of this heart chakra opening and all of this heart break and hardship was so that you could mature emotionally and spiritually and build on the natural compassionate heart and spirit you have already and all of this will be relevant within your experience in mother hood. You will pour all of your love, knowledge and wisdom into your children. You may be someone who is very wise or has spent a great deal of their lives growing and learning from your experiences in life. You may even have children within your early twenties or mid twenties im seeing. You’re someone whose fairly young whose accumulated more experience and wisdom than most people who are nearing the ends of their lives and there will be a deep amount of devotion and love and compassion between you and your children pile one.

You may also have many children i’m getting. You could be an old soul there’s something really significant here about the way you view motherhood or child baring that comes from a different time or there is old practices or ideas that you adhere too in terms of bringing children into this world, specifically that, you could be someone who is very progressive in terms of parenting or the way you plan to raise your children but you may plan to have many or plan to give birth at home or have an alternative birthing experience planned. I brought up an old soul because there is something really significant about your energy in terms of an old life or a view on life that pushes you to want a large family or have multiple children throughout your life time like they used to back in the day when everyone’s grandmother dropped a whole litter for no reason other than because she could.

I see experiencing motherhood or having a child for you finally allowing you to live in peace or be freed from any left over limiting beliefs or feelings. There’s this level of completion, a calm after a storm or a wish fulfillment here surrounding mother hood for you. It’s almost like it will be a moment or a time period within your life that will be apart of some of the highest moments. You see long term commitment and mother hood as a reward. You see motherhood as a stamp or seal of achievement and honor. Like you’ve made it to that point and nothing else matters. All your heart break, all your hardship hasn’t been in vain and you finally feel as though you’ve checked that one thing off of your souls list of priorities. You could’ve been really connected to readings about spirit babies or you could’ve really resonated with one of my last readings about spirit babies. There is so much profound energy here regarding your experience as a mother. Motherhood and children could’ve been something incredibly significant for you in a past life, you could’ve missed out on having children of your own or lost a child here for some of you in a past life. And I hear spirit saying that even your pain and loss in your past life was not in vain. You were meant to have all your manifestations, all of your fulfillment, all of your happiness in this life. The things that await you here.

You could also be in a soulmate connection or twin flame connection and I’m hearing that it’s entirely possible you didn’t come into union with this person in your past life or get to have a family with them or be with them in your past life because spirit planned for you to come into union with them and have children with them in this life. I’m hearing spirit saying that they needed you here, that your divine purpose is always big, always profound but in this life, in this era, in this world, you are needed more than ever. You could have spiritual gifts or have a passion or something you’re meant to do in this life and motherhood is one of them.

As a mother, you will encourage your children to speak and express themselves freely and encourage clear communication and boundaries with them. You may feel very strongly about social Justice issues or trauma and hardship that are apart of life as a human being and I see you raising up your children in a way that encourages them to be independent thinkers and encourages them to remain in tune with themselves from the very beginning past the point in which they leave your home and go out into the world on their own. Your parenting style or your way of treating and acknowledging your children will create very special people and will prepare them to live out their own souls purposes in a very authentic manner. I’m hearing that you will respect and honor your children and see them as people. This is something you feel very strongly about.

These decisions that you will make will influence the way they raise their children and will influence your entire bloodline after you. You may be someone who breaks a lot of generational curses or comes from a home with a lot of wounded feminine energy, with addiction and abuse and other karmic energies that affect your other family members and people around you. Your work, your journey, will inspire many. You may even write a parenting book or write books to help others or serve others. There’s something you’re meant to do or something you’re about to do within your life that will change and inspire many others and the first set of those people will be your children who will live on to tell your story.

You will serve as a guide for your children. As their mother. You will continuesly remind them to grow or to turn inwards and tackle issues within and to heal so that they can move through life intentionally and be happy and healthy. You’ll encourage them to do deep soul searching and find out who they really are from a very young age. I think that there are no real words for how much you’re about to do just by being a mother. Typing this, writing this, im almost outside of myself and outside of my mind here or my human form. This is very divine. This is higher than us. Than many. This pile is very specific here and for a select few people who have a job to do for the divine.

For your children you will bring so much structure, you will provide them with a foundation that’s irreplaceable and they may even find themselves wishing they could speak with you long after you’ve passed to help them replicate what you created for them growing up. The future is very significant here. When you’re gone you’re not really going to have gone anywhere. You’ll be in everything, you’ll be in stars, in the moon, in the sun, in the trees, in the rivers. You will be protective of them, you will be prepared to make sacrifices for their sake. I’m getting the imagery of Moses in the basket floating down the Nile river for his safety and for his protection, because his mother loved him so much, so deeply that she would risk the pain of sending her child away to protect him from something that was larger than her that had the potential to strike her down if it tried.

You may be a poet or a writer already. Something you will write and something you will create will serve your children and your lineage well. You will set them up to make important connections, be in important places, connect with others on a very deep and profound level. I’m getting that quote again, “it takes a village. And you are the village.” I wrote that into the corresponding reading “what your divine masculine will be like as a father” pile one could be significant to you for that reading as well. He is your person here or this is your divine counterpart and you may have read both of these readings and recognized his energy within that reading. These children will be well loved and well supported and appreciated. It’s never ending. The love predates you and your husband and the home you’ve built, it will live on forever and ever. Nothing can stand in its way once it’s created, once it’s done and in motion.

You could also have a pet who will be beside you for the next 20-30 years or so, and this pet is coming through here very strongly, you may very much admire this pet, I almost want to say this person. This pet could be the spirit of an ancestor or be some type of familiar spirit for you. The two of you are very connected and in tune and throughout the years of your life this pet will love and admire your children very much and will love living and being apart of your home and family. He/she knows you’re destined for many great things. The two of you are young. You have a life to experience with one another as eachothers company. You may even view this pet as a baby or someone an animal who holds the spirit of youth or of a child and while they are young in their form they are very wise and all knowing in their spirits and hearts. They will be sitting with you and bringing immense love and support to you. I’m hearing they protect you, they’ll protect the babies like they’re their own.

***

ii.

You may have a child at a time in your life you least expect and you may be required by your spirit guides to show off your strength and perseverance in the beginning here because this may a pregnancy you were unprepared for but a child that will bring you great happiness and fulfillment in life. This child will reflect back to you the vulnerability of your inner child I’m hearing, you may grow to be really protective over this child here, not allowing certain people to see them, not allowing them to be exposed to certain things that you were at a young age that brought upon great hardship and struggle for you. I see you coming into yourself because of the presence of this child and coming into your power and higher self and as a thanks to this child protecting them with all your might and giving them the ability and the protection to grow into someone wonderful and have a good life.

You could spend a lot of your time reading, studying, trying to understand children and their development or trying to unearth trauma within yourself and heal it when you realize you’re having this baby or when you become a mother for fear that you’ll project unresolved trauma onto your child or that you’ll make giant mistakes a long the way. I see you potentially reconciling with a friend here from your past or watching someone from your past on social media who has children of their own and admiring their parenting style and their path through motherhood and trying to find the best ways possible to show up for your child and be a good mother. You may feel discouraged or feel as though you’re not meant for motherhood or if you were a mother it would be a disaster because of how deeply your past, certain environments or even your own mother affected you and your mental health. You could have very significant mother wounds here that kept you stagnant or are keeping you stagnant at this point in your life and leading you down bad paths here, into bad relationships, into insecurity and self limiting beliefs.

I see the presence of a pregnancy here bringing up old memories or trauma that you’ve suppressed and allowing you to become aware of the things that went on in your childhood or the things you don’t want to repeat when raising a child or your own. I’ve been getting “don’t you forget about me” by simple minds this whole entire time and I don’t know what it is about that song that’s significant. 1985 could be significant or the 80s as a whole, I see you reevaluating your values and your priorities when this child comes along. I see you realizing that you may be prone to traumatizing your child, manipulating them or being reckless and irresponsible when raising your child if you don’t prioritize your healing before they get here. You could be someone who has a lack of long term vision and doesn’t necessarily think very far ahead.

This pregnancy, this child will be a large wake up call for you. I don’t know what it is about 80s music and the 80s that’s so significant. You may end up really enjoying 80s music or aesthetics or you and your child will enjoy 80s music together at some point in your life.

In the beginning, when you conceive or when you find out that you’re pregnant you’ll experience a lot of fear and self doubt coming to ahead here, your divine masculine, the father, the relationship, the pregnancy is all going to shake you and make you feel incredibly undeserving and this coming up is the energy that you’ve been carrying with you almost all of your life. Undeserving. But you will make the decision to move forward with the pregnancy and accept the relationship and the child you’ve been given as a gift, your worries will go away, you’ll grow, you’ll heal, you’ll learn.

***

iii.

Something about this pregnancy could be accidental or unexpected after a long run of infertility or something others of you may have a child who will change your life or essentially cause you to do a complete 180. There’s something here about learning from mistakes or learning from failure of some sort. Having a child may also push you to better be able to identify certain short comings within your family line and better assess and understand traumas to break generational curses on a large and timeless scale. You may also become influential in a way to others as a mother and as a parental guardian. You may also even adopt or foster children and give children from other places who’ve been in rough situations a chance to live a good life and have good things.

Something about children, a child, or motherhood will bring immense change to your life in all aspects im really getting humanitarian vibes or something of the sort. You’re going to be stepping into the position of a natural born leader or a visionary. Your souls purpose may lie in motherhood or being a mother to all. Taking care of children or helping out children in need will allow you to heal a great deal of trauma you carry with you that you may have found difficult to resolve or overcome. Trauma surrounding child hood experiences, neglect from parents and family members or even trouble and loss in child barring as well. As a mother you’ll grow to be fearless and boundless. Being able to resolve deeply rooted fears that kept you feeling stagnant and unable to move forward, you’ll be able to express your emotion and heal your heart and your spirit by being giving and being generous to young souls and to your children.

Before motherhood you may feel confused or out of alignment with your souls purpose or your reasoning for living and being on the planet and you’ll find it through motherhood and being able to raise and nurture children. I see you feeling stuck or feeling somewhat unfulfilled until you get a chance to love someone the way you were meant to be loved or make things right by paying it forward towards those who are young and in need. You may even grow to enjoy charity work and you may donate money to children who are ill or need food to eat or need shelter outside of the ones you cannot take in on your own. You may also even have the experience of even having an orphanage of your own as well for some of you.

There’s a great deal of Justice that revolves around your experience as a mother and as a giver. Your hard work, your lives work, is being a mother and even for those of you who don’t become a mother on such a large scale, you’ll take motherhood and protecting your children very seriously. Always keeping a close eye on them, always ready to defend them, always ready to advocate for them and their needs. I’m hearing, “you get nothing else from me today, don’t make me fall Portia” lol like your kids are going to be very serious about their mom because they know that you’ll go hard for them and cape for them at any given moment. You’ll be the type of mother your children aren’t afraid to call and tell what happened when they’ve made a mistake or done something bad because they trust that you’ll be gentle with them and offer them forgiveness and understanding and help them grow.

As a mother you’ll be selfless and forgiving. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do. There’s nothing you wouldn’t give. You may also be a huge part of your community, a pta mom/member, the mom all the kids in the neighborhood go to for advice or go to when they want to feel safe or when they feel unwell or are having a hard time. Home is within you. And I see you being someone who is a very sentimental person and you may also be extremely interested in choosing the right home to raise children in or settle in and your home will become a safe space for many. Your children may even grow up one day and have a hard time leaving home or come to visit you frequently because even when they’re adults and they move out their own houses won’t feel like home. Children who you’ve met along the way will cycle back to come visit you. You are the community. The mother, the father, the teacher,,,

***

Sorry that pile three seemed short and sweet ❤️ I love you and welcome back guys! Or I should be saying welcome back to me it’s my own job I left lmao, anyways, have a good night, good evening, or good morning! I love you!

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Jace is delulu, tiny!Aemond is kind of a jerk in this one, Dark Themes, shit is going down, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also, translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also, I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: I'M BACKKKKKK! I am so sorry for leaving this story alone for so long! I have been getting into other fandoms and making new stories because of those fandoms. But the two new trailers for HOTD season 2 brought me back! I swear I will be better at updating this story! But on the bright side, I made this chapter over 5k word length! I own only the plot and OCs of this story, please do not repost without my permission.

Despite living in the Red Keep for nearly your entire life, you still felt hopelessly lost as you walked down the corridors beside the prince. Like you and Aemond, the sight of you walking side by side with the heir of the Iron Throne’s firstborn son made for an unusual sight for the courtiers of the Royal Family. But this was not the case with the serving staff, which comprised smallfolk. Your mother was a favored companion by Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. Despite coming from such humble beginnings, Doreah of Essos became a highly regarded member of the serving staff belonging to the House of Targaryen. All the maids respected your mother, while most stewards who served under knights idolized your father. And as your mother’s daughter, they were very used to the vision of one of their humble sewists’ children playing with the Royal children.

As a result, no one so much as batted an eye when they saw you walking down the halls directly beside Prince Jacaerys. It would have made a much more unusual sight if your presence was absent by either his or his uncle’s side. The older staff bowed their heads in respect to the prince while also flashing a small but kind smile at you. The younger serving girls were still too new in the ways of the court and beamed with broad smiles at the sight of you before acknowledging Jace. You grinned back as you inwardly beamed at the knowledge that Head Septa Marlow was with you.

She would have scolded those girls fiercely if she had caught them greeting an apprentice seamstress before the prince.

You turned your head to glance at your childhood friend, who happened to be second in line for the Iron Throne, as you both made your way to his mother’s chambers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in the troubled expression on his face. Just a few minutes ago, he was practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you left Aemond alone in the Godswood. But now it felt as if he was a thousand miles away from you despite being so close. Having been by his side since his birth, you always felt a sense of protectiveness toward the young prince. No matter his station, you were a month past your third name-day when he was brought into this world. It was natural that you were perspective to his shifting moods.

“Jace?” you softly called out to him. You were relieved to have brought him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

Jacaerys stopped in the middle of the stone corridor. Staring at you with those large brown eyes, he looked much older than his actual age. When someone as happy and bright as Jace became somber, it was always a reason to worry. Was Rhaenyra all right? Had he been listening to those awful rumors of his true birth?

“Ashi’,” he began, “what were you and Aemond discussing in the Godswoods’ Heart Tree?”

Ah, so that’s what this is about.

You inwardly grimaced as you realized how foolish you were to worry. With Aemond and Jace, it was always something one did to the other. And almost every time, it was up to you to stop their squabbling by being forced into the middle. You were not as blind as everyone in the castle liked to believe you were. You knew that both boys had an unhealthy attachment to you for whatever reason they conjured in their minds. Reasons that were only encouraged by their mothers.

You were still cross when they interrupted you and your mother’s reunion with your father. The matter was really very stupid. Jace had made fun of Aemond for not having a dragon during their family supper with the King. However, Jace only did so because Aemond and Aegon were snickering to themselves about how fat Princess Rhaenyra had grown due to her third pregnancy.

It didn’t make any difference to you, in all honesty. All you remembered from that time was that your time with your beloved father was forcibly cut short. To make matters worse, the two boys’ outbursts startled your mother, and the stress was so terrible that it nearly caused her to faint.

As a result, you decided not to speak to either boy for nearly two weeks. It had grown to the point where Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra practically begged you to forgive their sons—but even a royal command would not budge you. It did not matter how many blueberry tarts or honey cakes they gave for your forgiveness. You made it very clear that you would resolve never to speak to either boy unless they sincerely apologized to your mother for the awful fright they gave her. You finally resumed your friendship with them after your mother asked you herself to forgive them after Aemond gifted her a lovely bouquet of blue and purple hyacinths, and Jace gifted her a basket full of her favorite honey lemon cakes.

“Jace,” you groaned, “you cannot be serious.”

“Ashi’, you’ve been spending so much time with him lately. I feel like I don’t ever get to see you anymore.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him as you sped up your pace to reach their destination. You only made it a few meters from where you were earlier before Jacaerys caught up to you and firmly grasped your wrist to keep you in place.

“I’m serious, Ashi’!” he insisted. “Unless it’s for fittings or when the Maester seeks your help teaching us High Valyrian, I rarely ever see you anymore!” His eyes had a wet sheen in the light, and his lip quivered slightly. “I miss you. Luke misses you. And so does Mother and Father!”

If the pitiful sight was enough to fill you with guilt, his next question nearly broke your heart.

“Do you – do you still consider me your friend?”

“Oh, Jace-” you pulled your younger friend into your arms “- of course I do. I’ve been so busy with my duties and my mother’s health. She and Princess Rhaenys have been so concerned over Lady Laena’s pregnancy and are trying to convince Prince Daemon to travel to Driftmark for the baby’s arrival.”

Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you, eager to feel your warmth. If the gods were kind, time would stop, and he and you would stay like this forever. But he became sad at the mention of his Aunt Laena. He had heard his father recount hundreds of stories of their time together at Driftmark in their youth. Jace knew his father missed his sister terribly, and he was sure she missed him the same.

You noticed your friend’s change in behavior. You looked at him with concerned eyes, and his heart began to race at your care for him.

“Oh, Jace,” you whispered, “have I upset you somehow? I did not mean to!”

Jace frantically shook his head. “No, Ashi’! I just wondered…do you think I’ll ever meet my Aunt Laena?” he softly asked. “Do you think she’ll like me? Can you tell me more about my cousins?”

You rolled your eyes at his request. He had yet to do so despite your advice for Jace to send a raven or two to his cousins. You hadn’t seen the twins for many years, but the three of you wrote to each other so often that it felt like you would recognize them by how they spoke alone.

“I’m sure she and your cousins will adore you, Jace. Baela is excited about her new sibling. She says she’s close to riding Moondancer! Once she gets big enough, she hopes to ride her with Rhaena!”

Jace wondered how you’d react if you knew he didn’t write to his cousins because he was scared they wouldn’t like him. To be honest, he didn’t really care about them at all. He only cared about the way you smiled at him, and only him, when he asked.

“Mother!”

Still seated at her dark-stained ebony-wood desk, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen scribbled away with her black swan’s feather quill, nearly hidden behind stacks of dusty tomes and piles of scrolls from across the Seven Kingdoms and, despite being heavy with child, remained to be one of the most exquisite beauties across the realm. Hearing her eldest son’s voice, she looked up from her papers and smiled at the two children standing in her chambers' doorway.

“Jace! You made it and brought our little Lady Ashirri with you.”

You looked down at your feet as your cheeks slightly pinkened at the attention brought to you. Princess Rhaenyra was one of your mother’s closest friends and one of the few belonging to the noble houses that approved of your father’s rise in status. But his title was only in name, and so many in the keep look down on him with ill-hidden disdain. And as a result, many in the keep looked down on you with the same contempt and disgust.

The image of Lord Otto Hightower’s cold and judging eyes gazing down at you with arrogance came to mind before you could block it out.

You lifted your skirts and bowed in a deep curtsy in respect for Princess Rhaenyra. “Yes, my princess. Prince Jacaerys told me that you required my assistance with something?”

Princess Rhaenyra warmly smiled and laughed. “Yes. My husband seems at a crossroads in deciding which fabrics best suit his sister. Although, as you can see, he is being unnecessarily picky about it all.”

Her husband, Prince Consort Laenor of House Velaryon, stood beside your mother with his arms spread wide apart. On each arm were textiles of luxurious materials and superb stitching patterns. His close friend and confidant, Ser Qarl Correy, stood close behind him. The crown princess spoke truthfully as the entire room was filled with dozens of fabric bolts, from brilliant orange-marigold Dornish satin to iridescent light-azure Yi Tish silk. Your eyes were filled with excitement and wonder at the magnificent sight. You raced to touch the imported textiles.

“Is this silk truly from Yi Ti?” you softly whispered while carefully stroking the surface with one finger. “It looks almost too pretty to be real. This color would beautifully complement Lady Laena’s complexion and silver curls.”

Your mother and Prince Laenor smiled in agreement. It was softer than anything you’ve ever touched. Yi Tish silk was famous for its textile quality. One bolt was worth double your mother’s monthly wage at the Red Keep. The color alone was mastery at its finest. You knew from personal experience that blue was an incredibly tricky dye to handle. Although it was a primary color, it was rare in nature. You had to devote hours, if not days, to find the correct materials to yield the desired tone and shade properly. But that work is useless if the dye ends up damaging the fabric. Dark blue was one matter – it was still stunning, and many nobles would pay a hefty amount of coin for it. But to own such beauty, you wouldn’t dare imagine the price for a few yards, let alone an entire bolt.

“Fine eye as always, little lady,” Laenor jovially laughed. “Yes, I’m sure at least one of these fabrics will make a suitable dress for my sister before she gifts me another niece or nephew. I’m afraid your mother is very cross with me at the moment. Any delay in choosing the fabric will result in her being unable to finish the dress before the baby is born.”

“Lady Laena will need it to be loose and not so tight around her waist,” you spoke matter-of-factly. “Muña says that most pregnant women have rashes and inflammations after giving birth, so the dress must be made of a fabric that won’t cause irritation. Let’s see…excuse me for a moment?”

 You took out the small leather-bound journal Kepa gave you as a gift from one of his many voyages with Lord Corlys that you kept in your dress pocket, along with a small stick of charcoal. You drew out the image as quickly as possible whenever inspiration struck, regardless of the time or place. It was a habit that could lead to horrible misunderstandings, but being scolded and berated mattered little to you if it meant you could train yourself to be half as talented a seamstress as your mother.

After flipping past all your previous ideas, you finally spotted a blank page. Racing to your mother’s side for help, you excitedly shoved the journal in her face.

You thought aloud and drew out the concept simultaneously. “I think it should be blue. Even if Lady Laena married Prince Daemon, she is still a Velaryon by birth! Maybe if we chose a material that looks like water, it would make her feel closer to Driftmark and Lady Rhaenys!”

Doreah beamed from ear to ear as she crouched down and took you in a tight embrace. It filled her with such joy to know her daughter had developed such a tender and compassionate heart. You were a deeply empathetic girl who always considered the needs of others before your own. Her little pearl had a heart of gold that shone through the darkest storms. She planted a loud kiss on your cheek before letting you go.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my little pearl,” her eyes twinkled as she cupped your cheeks. “I have just the fabric in mind for it.”

Lady Doreah Pyke pulled out a large bolt of shimmering azure blue silk velvet. The rippled pattern and texture matched the transcendent and melancholy shores that surrounded High Tide. You gasped in delight at the sight of it. It was exactly the color you imagined! You gently caressed the hand-pleated panels, expecting it to feel crinkly and cheap despite its luster. But the fabric sheen and its soft, velvety texture made you want to wrap yourself with it like a warm blanket.

Your mother thoughtfully inspected the fabric. “Yes, this will be perfect. However, I think instead of a dress, it may be better to be used as a cloak. If the result is as beautiful as my little pearl envisions it to be, it would be a shame to be a dress for one lady. If it is a cloak, it can be passed down from mother to daughter.”

“An heirloom cloak…” you murmured in excitement. Your mother was a genius. “It sounds so romantic…the waves should be hand-painted and glass beads strung and stitched into the fabric. Oh, Lady Laena will look like a sea goddess! Would she like it enough to pass it down to Ladies Baela or Rhaena?”

Doreah chuckled at your delight and booped your nose. “She will love it, my darling – especially because you will be helping me make it.”

“A wonderful idea!” exclaimed Laenor. “Who better than our lovely Doreah and her little pearl to complete the task?”

“Really?” you gasped. To work beside your mother on such a prestigious project…was like a dream too good to be true. “Mother, do you…do you truly think I am ready?”

Jace jumped to his friend’s side to hug her. “Ashirri! This is wonderful! You and Lady Pyke will make the most beautiful cloak in the Seven Kingdoms - I know it!”

Rhaenyra and Laenor glanced knowingly at their son’s support for his dearest childhood companion. Everyone in the Red Keep knew of Jacaerys Velaryon's infatuation with Ashirri Pyke. If only the gods had allowed their stations to be so different. It seemed cruel to let two young souls meet and grow beside one another without the hope or possibility of love being borne.

You beamed at Jace with a brilliant smile that shone with so much radiance that looking at you felt nothing less than sin. You took his hand in yours as you squeezed his hand in silent thanks and appreciation for his words. In the young prince’s eyes, you were more heavenly than the Maiden herself. He hopes to be seen as strong as the Warrior in yours one day.

“Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros,” you said in your mother’s native tongue, softly stroking your thumb on his skin as a rosy hue bloomed on Jace’s cheeks. “Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī!”

You were about to leave before stopping and tracing back your steps to bow to Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Laenor quickly. Your cheeks were bright red from embarrassment from forgetting such basic etiquette.

“My princess, my prince, forgive me for not remembering to thank you for granting me this opportunity and forgetting to leave before you dismissed me. I was too caught up in my excitement. But, I swear that I will not let you down.”

The adults in the room shared amused expressions at your excitement. Ashirri Pyke’s transparent honesty and sweet nature were so refreshing to not only the Targaryen Princess and her prince consort husband but also the entire Royal Family. She was the perfect combination of her parents’ personalities. From Hotho, you adopted your father’s unwavering honesty and sense of justice. From Doreah, you were your mother’s copy in sweetness and purity. You were a highborn noble in all but birth and title.

Rhaenyra waved off your apology and nodded. “No need for apologies, little pearl. Run along. There is work that needs to be done, and your mother and I still have things to discuss between old friends.”

You pouted to hear that your mother would not be joining you. After all, this was a very important job, and you had hoped this would provide an opportunity to learn more of your mother’s secrets in her trade. But who were you to refuse a princess’ orders? You bowed once more before waving goodbye to Jace and everyone in the room before racing to your chambers. The disappointment you felt moments before was washed away by the jittering and buzz of your creativity rushing through your mind.

The waves would have to be hand-painted – that goes without saying. But should you paint silver instead of ivory for the sea foam? And did you have a steady enough hand to replicate each pattern perfectly? You were going to need a template to trace it.

You were going to need dozens if not hundreds, of beads ranging from violet to turquoise to teal. Were there any artisans in Kings Landing that could make such a large quantity? Were there any skilled enough to ensure the glass and crystals would yield such clarity and durability? You may need to ask Kepa if he made any glassmaker friends from Essos or the Free Cities.

Could you dip into your personal collection of sea crystals and pearls? Mother would be cross with you, but it would look so splendid against the fabric!

While racing down the many halls and past the flurry of chambermaids and squires, you came across Aemond. His trademark frown on his freckled face quickly turned to a kind smile.

“Ashirri! Mother wants to–”

But you did not have time to stop and quickly ran past him. You interrupted him with an apology.

“Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie import! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon!”

Aemond owlishly blinked before realizing you had spoken to him in High Valyrian. He took a few moments to mentally translate what you said before calling out your name and asking you to explain.

“Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?”

But when he turned, you were nowhere in sight, and he was left alone in the middle of the stone corridor. His shoulders slumped in deep disappointment at seeing you running away from him. But he supposed that such a slight could be forgiven since you were his loveliest and dearest friend. On the plus side, he was gifted with the sight of how the sunshine rays peering through the windows darted your glossy locks and wrapped you in a warm halo that brought out even more of your natural charm and prettiness.

As soon as you reached your room, you shut the door and grabbed every colored charcoal stick you’ve been gifted since you began learning your letters. Grabbing your big sketchbook, you immediately began jotting down your vision. By the time your mother joined you, your entire floor was covered with pages filled with a kaleidoscope of blues, greens, violets, and silver. Doreah was ecstatic of the display of your budding talent and took you in her arms for a tight hug.

The next few weeks were the most thrilling of your young life. You would spend hours on end with your mother, going over and debating which colors would match the tone of the cloak. Your mother found out about your idea to incorporate your pearls in the stitching, and she gave you a lecture that put all her past scoldings to shame. Eventually, you relented. In truth, you were a tad reluctant to part with your pearls. Each pearl was a gift from your beloved kepa for each country he visited. He said it was his way of giving you a tiny part of the world to his little pearl.

Because you were so busy trimming and stitching, you barely had time to read with Aemond under the Heart Tree in the Godswood or watch Jace practice his sword fighting with Ser Harwin Strong. You and your mother could only be removed from the cloak when either Queen Alicent or Princess Rhaenyra ordered your presence. They often expressed their woes at your decreased presence in court. As a result, your mother would take small breaks to share tea with Queen Alicent to discuss your progress as a seamstress, or she would get called by Princess Rhaenyra to her chambers so that they may speak their most private thoughts and troubles in High Valyrian.

You would often escape their orders by spending time with Princess Helaena. She would sneak into your workspace to bring her own embroidery and ask for your guidance with the more intricate patterns. While most of the court found the second princess a bit…odd – you took to her presence like green to pink. The two of you greatly differed in personality, but that made your friendship with her all the more special. You always made sure to treat her with kind words and common courtesy.

The most rude you had been to her was when she showed you a massive spider in her hands, and you loudly shrieked before crawling under your bed as a reflex. It took a few minutes before you could rejoin her. When she asked if you liked to hold Gerald the Spider, you took your father’s thickest riding gloves before you went near the beast.

You only held Gerald in your palms a few moments before you cried and begged Helaena to remove him from your person. But despite the terrors you got from Gerald the Spider that night, it was worth it if Helaena could smile as happily as she had when you agreed. She was so pleased that she didn’t correct you when you called her by the nickname you made for her, ‘Hel.’ In fact, you were almost certain that the nickname made her happier than you holding the spider.

But despite the peace these past few weeks have brought you and your family, such joy was not granted to the rest of your friends. Trouble was brewing in the Red Keep for House Targaryen – a fact you were unaware of until much later. You were returning from the rookery after being notified of receiving a letter from Baela. She was so excited about the arrival of her new sibling. You were reading the letter until you heard soft cries in the library. Searching for the source, you were shocked to find Aemond crying in a secluded section of the Royal Library. Distressed at your friend’s tears, you immediately knelt and hugged him close to you.

Clinging to your arms like you were his anchor, you could only make out the words: ‘pig’ and ‘dread.’ When you voiced your confusion, Aemond explained once more.

“They gave me a pig!” he barked, wiping away the angry tears from his violet eyes. “They said they found a dragon for me, and it was a pig! The ‘Pink Dread’ they called it!”

You lowered his head to the crook of your shoulder. “Aemond, who’s ‘they’?” you softly asked.

“Aegon! Who else?” he exclaimed. Your simple linen frock muffled his yells. “My sister’s bastards were there, too!”

Your blood chilled. He couldn’t mean…Jace wasn’t…

“Aemond, you can’t say such things,” you warned. “It’s considered treason by your father’s laws.”

But Aemond wasn’t listening. “I hate those bastards. They shouldn’t carry the Targaryen name. Their last name should be ‘Waters.’ It’s the name that bastards born in the Crownlands carry. Northern bastards are called ‘Snow,’ ‘Sand’ for Dorne, ‘Flowers’ for the Reach–”

“‘Pyke’ for the Iron Islands,” you snapped and let him go. “Am I a bastard, Aemond? Am I what you hate? Do you hate my father?”

Aemond was shocked at your venomous tone. When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to make amends.

He shook his head. “My pearl…no, no, no,” he said. “You aren’t a bastard. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about–”

You clenched your fists and stood on your feet. “I know who you were talking about! That does not make it right!”

Aemond was getting angry. Why weren’t you taking his side? Had his whore of a sister already poisoned you against him? Had Jace already dirtied you with his filthy, bastard blood? He stood up and stared you down with fury in those beautiful violet eyes that you once so adored. But all you saw was his grandfather.

“Your father is a bastard,” he stated matter-of-factly. “He was a bastard from the Iron Islands that Lord Greyjoy didn’t want! He wasn’t worthy of his noble father’s house name, so he is named ‘Pyke’!”

You shook your head. “There is more to family than names and blood. I am neither a Targaryen nor a Velaryon. I do not carry a speck of your noble house’s blood, but I consider you and Jace my dearest friends! To me, you are my brothers! You and him are my family because I love you, not because of blood! Does that count for anything?”

“I never thought of you as a sister,” he spat out. “Not once did I consider you family.”

Devastation overwhelms your broken heart as tears flood your and Aemond’s eyes. He reaches out to hold your hand, but you step back. Once more, he tries to keep you closer to him, but you turn around and run to the door. When you reach it, he calls out your name and begs you to let him explain. Once more, you turn to face him to see he has not moved an inch. You feel so small and insignificant underneath the massive stone framework, but you summoned the sea of hurt and rage crashing inside your heart.

“I used to wonder how a horrible and mean-spirited man like Otto Hightower could be the grandsire of such a sweet boy,” your voice trembled, but you continued to steel yourself. “I thought…you were smart enough not to listen to such horrible things. I thought you were my friend. But I was wrong. I was so horribly wrong. What your brother, Jace, and Luke had done to you was cruel and unfair. But Aemond…what you had become…I-I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

With that being the final word, you raced to your mother’s chambers. You cried into her skirts and told her what happened – of the Pink Dread, Aemond’s cruel transformation, and the ruin of your friendship with him. You sobbed out your wish to leave the Red Keep and never return.

Doreah Pyke immediately thought of what Princess Rhaenyra had informed her in the afternoon. ‘Nyra told her that she would be moving her family to Dragonstone. Each day since her failed attempt to match Jace with Helaena, the Red Keep feels less safe and more hostile to her and her children. Since Harwin assaulted Ser Cole, tensions between the princess and the queen have reached an all-time high.

“Come with me,” her princess begged Doreah. “Come with my family to Dragonstone.”

“Oh, ‘Nyra,” whispered Doreah, “I don’t know. Dragonstone is so far from King’s Landing. And Ali would never–”

“Alicent is becoming more like her father each day,” Rhaenyra interjected. “She wants to put her son on my father’s throne – both she and her father are conspiring against me.”

Rhaenyra clasped Doreah’s hands in her own. “I know you want to believe she is the same girl from our youth. But Otto Hightower has sunk his poisoned claws in her and will stop at nothing to crown Aegon when my father passes. I need people I can trust by my side. People like you, my sweet Dory, and your husband.”

“…But Ashirri, my pearl,” sighed Doreah. “She will be so devastated. She grew up running in these halls, playing in the Godswoods, exploring this castle’s corners and shadows. This is her home.”

“Your daughter will flourish wherever she goes,” insists Rhaenyra. “She will never be alone – not with Jace, Luke, and Joffery by her side. And forgive me for what I am about to say, my friend, but…King’s Landing no longer agrees with you as it used to.”

Doreah sighed and gazed out the window with slumped shoulders. What her princess said was true but hard to hear. As she grew older, she found the air and noise outside the Red Keep more sour and rancid. It made her miss the clean and fresh sea breeze in Essos. Rhaenyra was not the only one who had noticed Doreah’s melancholy. Hotho, her beloved Iron Knight, has remained in King’s Landing after learning of her despondence. Her husband implores her to care more for her health – if not for herself, but their daughter.

Doreah waved off their concerns, but perhaps…they had a point. Stroking your hair to calm you down, your mother asked if you would be open to the possibility of moving to Dragonstone. She reassured you that she and your father would be there with you and that you would still be around Jace, Luke, and Joffery if you ever felt lonely.

You agreed before she finished and immediately started packing. By the end of the month, you had not spoken another word to Aemond and left with Princess Rhaenyra and her family to Dragonstone. You did not look back. You wanted to leave King’s Landing and Aemond as soon as possible. You wanted to leave this wretched castle and have peace once more.

While others stared at the obsidian castle with trepidation, you felt hope. Unpacking your things from your trunk and knapsack, you were determined to leave behind all the political headaches and focus solely on stitching with your mother and sailing with your father.

If only life could be that simple.

Translations:

Muña - mother

Kepa - father

Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros…Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī – “Thank you, dear friend…Mother, we must get to work at once! I will bet going first!”

Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie importance! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon! – “I am sorry, Aemond. But my mother and Prince Laenor gave me something of great importance! I have to get to work right away!”

Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?” – “Wait! What do you mean?”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @lady-ashfade , @axelsagewrites

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist! Please like, comment, and/or reblog this story if you enjoyed reading it, and please share the link with anyone you think might enjoy it!

[warning-heckboop]

I really love your changeling dev au 🤌✨️, i was thinking does this make dev the youngest in fairy world ? then that means there is a fairy who accidently had a baby but beacuse of da rules, it cause them to give it to dale as a gift? Im sorry don't know how the gifting works 😅

Okay, first off. Apologies for the late reply. Writing the fic on top of work and other plans took a lot out of me.

On to the actual question! To be honest, I hadn't actually thought too much about Dev's origins regarding who his actual fairy parent(s) would be. So let's brainstorm now, shall we? I'll be putting this under read more, because it got kind of long :')

Full disclosure, I never watched the entirety of the original FOP, especially after Poof/Peri was born, so I don't have a full grasp on the canon lore. I know before Peri, fairy babies were against the rules for thousands and thousands of years, but I guess I kind of assumed that after the dam was broken, they just kind of let fairies have babies whenever they wanted again--especially considering there's a "fairy shortage" in the later episodes (that's my understanding, at least, from what I've read. Again, I've never watched the later episodes, especially not the really later ones with Chloe). Even if this wasn't necessarily canon, I consider it canon in my head, especially since I like seeing people's OCs who are younger fairies born after Peri! Just gives more possibility for world building, I guess.

Regardless of the above, however, I think I'm leaning towards going more the route of Dev being an especially unique case. As I mentioned in my previous posts, Dev was given to Dale as a sort of compensation for Dale's lost childhood, where a fairy could have intervened and helped him escape Vicky's wrath, but he was just somehow overlooked. As I mentioned as well, I see this as a sort of cover-up that would have been handled very high-up in the fairy hierarchy, possibly by the Fairy Counsel themselves. Not only is giving a human a Changeling Baby an outdated and frowned upon practice that they want to limit the number of fairies knowing about, but I also think they'd just want to hide the fact that they so largely failed Dale (and the other children who worked with him) to begin with. They can't let the populous know that their all-powerful and all-knowing leaders screwed up like that, so instead they'd rather just pay off those affected in secret, and pretend like it never happened.

(Does this imply that there might be more changeling kiddos out there that were given to the other kids who suffered under Vicky alongside Dale? Maybe. I'm probably not going to ever expand upon that myself, but if that piques anyone's interest, feel free to build on it yourself!)

Based on this line of thought, I don't see this as a scenario where Dev was born first and then they decided to give him to Dale afterwards. I think Dev would have been created specifically for Dale. We've seen that fairies can reproduce like humans do through birth, obviously, but since they are magical creatures, who's to say there aren't other methods of creating more of their kind?

A fairy's human form appearance isn't completely detached from their natural form appearance (based on my own headcanons which are based on those created by @bunnieswithknives, who originated the 'natural form' concept I'm using in this au, for context), so in this case, in order to create a child that the world and probably even Dale would truly believe is his own flesh and blood, they'd have to create a fairy who would have traits that resemble Dale's. Maybe it was even a process of using magic combined with something of Dale's, like a lock of hair or something like that, to create a fairy child that to some extent really is related to Dale, although less in a "biological child" sort of way and more in a "slightly-modified-by-magic clone" sort of way.

I guess that's all just a really long-winded way to say: I don't think Dev has fairy parents! He's just a product of magic, and the closest thing he'll ever really have to a technical parent would, in fact, be Dale. I hope that's not a disappointing answer, haha.

[resident-quilt]

Shrue’s descent into radicalism and what the Silt Verses says about our world today

(also, regarding the giant poem that the episode titles make) ITS A TUMBLR ESSAY BABYYYYYYYYY

Kill your gods. Starve them out, topple their statues, forsake their comfort— Kill the stories that gave birth to them. Tear away your flesh that bears their marks.  Adjudicator Shrue, Ep. 43

The Silt Verses is a story born of its time, to a 21st century world which is slowly decaying—and everyone in it is doing their part to help it decay just a little bit faster. It speaks of capitalism, of corruption, of power and belief and environmental destruction and the rift between generations. When Charles tells Val he can’t really stand behind the idea of a family (“You wonder about what kind of world we’re bringing children into, y’know?”) I had to pause and gather myself; it’s something we hear from so many Gen Z’ers today.

But then Shrue’s speech came, and it made no sense.

Shrue calls for an end in any form it can be given. They call for the loss of all faith and love and community in the world; they call for us to kill the stories of our history, to kill the figures we believe in and the ones that give us hope. Anything, everything, all we can give to stop the decay and degradation of the world. They demand us to defeat the corrupt system we have built by trading our lives to do so.

If our words and stories sustain them, let us fall silent. If our communities rely on them, let us drift apart and die, lonely, in the polluted wilds amongst the howling winds of long forgotten deities.

It made no sense because TSV, most simplistically, embodies “no ethical consumption under capitalism”—and this solidly did not fit. So I cast about for an answer to what it all meant, because TSV had grown to be more than the “folks, look where capitalism got us” which I thought it to be. And Shrue's “we can’t do anything to escape the system but die” was just too flat a conclusion. 

Then I fell upon the poem compiled from each episode’s title.

It begins with the start of humanity: a story of things that have happened, things people have believed, things which have roamed the land from then til now. 

Let me speak first of revelations, and next of dark deceit. Then I’ll speak of champions, of lovers, gods and beasts.

And so the poem continues in a description of this story, until it eventually twists to become entirely self-destructive around Chapters 18-24. It's a reference to how everything in the TSV universe seems to eat itself: their system of gods, sacrifices, even the characters themselves.

If I could trace with bloodless fingers, if my hands could shape the flow, I’d bear this song to the precipice and rend us both to dust below.  We’d both go plunging downwards, one final fall from grace— I’d howl, I’d scream, in victory, and we’d be gone without a trace. 

At Chapter 25, we get a respite from the story. We get a short poetic break which concludes that yes, we’re doomed to die—but we continue as we are despite it, and write our story even if it’ll be lost in the end. It’s a classic conclusion that a lot of literature and poetry fall to, because it’s so very human. It’s a cliche, and it’s a cliche for a reason. 

But we’ll never be rid of each other, my song, my sorrow, and I,  So I’ll bear it trembling onwards: to drift on, to dream, to die.

With that, the poem progresses forward until it starts addressing our end and what happens when we face that. It screams of last-ditch efforts keep on believing, even as we plunge down and down and the world just gets worse and worse. Shrue’s speech takes place in “One Last Song of Revelations” (the title is so fitting!), where they vocalize their realization that their pacifist attitude isn’t doing shit to change anything. 

But when they switch towards radicalism because it’s, evidently, the only way anything will ever get done—the only way anything will get the exposure to maybe make an impact—they speak of the destruction of society as a whole. Not the eradication of capitalism, nor the installation of kinder gods, nor the lowering of sacrifice ceilings. They speak of true destruction. Utter destruction.

Shrue’s speech isn’t some call to action, nor does it embody any concrete ideology which the writers are trying to convey. It’s just an expression of desperation. Nothing is working; no one is listening. 

What this poem sounds like is a story of how our world goes. It's its birth, its self-destruction, its philosophical revelations, its finale.

When we began following Carpenter and Faulkner in the reeds of the White Gull River, we were consuming a commentary on capitalism. Now, it’s more. It’s a commentary, yes, but it’s not only that—it’s an exploration. The Silt Verses is a tragic exploration of our world as it connects to theirs, of how we’ve been driven so far and been corrupted so deeply that only radicalism makes a difference because only radicalism is what gets the notice and attention to spark moderate change. And that same radicalism is going to destroy the society we have left.

But it’s all the same in the end, because society's collapse was going to happen anyways. So at least someone had it in them to fight for something.

GAHHHH I LOVE THIS SHOW

[trippygalaxy]

(Click for better quality)

My design for Gyomei’s parents! Now, i will be going into my headcanons for this family but before i do I will be stating what is canon! My headcanons will be below the cut!

CANON INFO

Gyomei and his family lived in a clan on Mount Hinode

Gyomei's father (unnamed) died in an epidemic while his mother (unnamed) died during childbirth

He lost his 3 brother (one older, two younger) due to unknown circumstances.

MY HEADCANONS!

Hiroki Himejima (Gyomei's Father)

The leader of the clan, title passed down from eldest to eldest in the Himejima family. A very well respected man and a good, reasonable leader who's only flaw (in this regard) was his belief in second chances.

Though hes an imposing figure (8ft and bulky, but skinner than current Gyomei), he rarely raised his voice or abused his intimidating aura. He would deny his 'softness' as a leader in fear of losing the respect of his people, but his 'stern' persona was often broken when it came to the domestic life of the Village.

His cleft lip has been with him since birth, and due to the lack of medical knowledge, the village was not aware of how to fix it. In his youth, he was very embarrassed by the defect but thankfully because of his family's position he wasnt bullied because of it. It took him becoming the leader for him to get over his insecurities, as he had more pressing things to worry about over his appearance.

He and Risa were an arranged marriage between to villages as a sign of peace and trading. Hiroki wasn't too thrilled about the opposing village's methods of bargaining, but he knew it was better to accept it than refuse and cause possible issues. Plus, he thought Risa was a beautiful woman, even more so with her rougher side.

Their marriage was, purely, for connivence at the beginning and Hiroki made sure that Risa knew she had no obligations to any intimate or romantic activities with him. But as they grew older and closer, a genuine relationship began to form between them which eventually lead to them having their three sons!

Sadly, while Risa was half way pregnant with their fourth child, Hiroki (as well as many others in the village) fell ill to an epidemic which sadly took his life.

Risa Himejima (Gyomei's Mother)

Risa was the daughter of the opposing clan's Elder. Sadly, her mother died before birthing a son to take the roll of elder, leaving her as the only child. Her father wasnt the kindest to her because of this and was quite eager to marry her off and tried multiple times so she wouldn't be able to become Elder.

(To be Elder, you'd have to be born to the current Elder with their last name. If all possible inheritors of the title die/marry out of the namesake, the Elder is the able to pick whom to give their last name to to become the new Elder)

This obviously lead to quite a strain in their relationship, but Risa didn't care. In her mind, her father died with her mother and the only thing she shared with the man is blood and a last name (which she wanted to change, but on her own accord!)

She is a soft and beautiful looking woman, but surprisingly the woman can be rather bitter and spiteful but she doesnt enjoy that side of her. In truth, she keeps a nasty attitude in hopes of deterring men from accepting her father's arrange marriage proposals, which had worked up until Hiroki.

Risa was surprised when Hiroki accepted the marriage, and believed it was purely for his village/clan's sake- which it was, and strangely enough that made her more at ease. And when he told her she had no real obligations to acting like his wife? Risa was ecstatic but also very very cautious, so much so that she wouldn't sleep in the same room as the man for months.

Eventually, when the two started to fall in love and have children, Risa was determined to be there for her kids. She took her health very seriously, doing everything she could to make sure she'd see her kids grow old.

Sadly, the lasting effects of the epidemic, she would die during childbirth of her last child.

Taglist: @whiteperle3 @prussiastronk @treasure-goblin

[a-shade-of-blue]

New Gaza fundraiser asks I've received (26 August)

Ayman Sharif (@aymanelsharif): Ayman has 6 children. His child Mohammed (6) has a problem with his eyesight and is at risk of losing his vision if he doesn’t get surgery soon! However, since all the hospitals in Gaza have been destroyed, they will have to go to Egypt to get the surgery he needs. A lot of children children are also contracting hepatitis due to the unsanitary environment and they have all lost a lot of weight. Please help them evacuate! (https://gofund.me/0ff8b798) (#244 on the verified fundraiser list by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi.)

Jawad & Farouz (jawad236): Jawad and Farouz have two children: Muhammad (4) and Ahmed (10 months old). Their home has been destroyed, they have lost their source of income, and are now displaced. They are raising funds to buy daily basic necessities, medicine, shelter, evacuate and start a life in a new country. (https://gofund.me/bc231514) (#655 on the Butterfly Effect Project verified campaign list.) 

(@falestine-yousef)

Mohamad Smeer (@mohamadsmeer34): Mohamad is a palestinian medical student studying in Egypt right now. He has lost contact with his family since October 7 and his house has been bombed. He is trying to raise funds to cover his studying expenses. (https://gofund.me/db622b3a) (UNVETTED but seems legit. This is his Instagram: @mohamadsmeer and it has links to the same gfm campaign. His Instagram has been active since 2017 and he has posts that are geotagged in Gaza.) 

Rawan Shihada (@rawanshihada11): Rawan lives with her parents and 4 siblings. She is a renewable energy engineer, graduated in 2022 and already has a published paper. She dreams of doing a master’s degree. However now their home is destroyed and they have been displaced 6 times. Her brother Karam is a medical doctor, her sister Ruba is a software engineer, and her youngest sister Tala is 17, a secondary school student but the war has obstructed her education. They are trying to evacuate out of Gaza. (https://gofund.me/741d42ef) (UNVETTED but likely legit, see post here. @/catboymoses has managed to find Rawan on both LinkedIn and ResearchGate and has messaged her to confirm that this is her Tumblr account and fundraiser.)

Falestine (@falestine-yousef): Falestine has a 3-month-old son called Youssef that she gave birth to during this war. She cannot provide enough milk, medicine and other basic necessities for the baby. Due to the horrible conditions and the loss of their homes, her father suffered a stroke and her mother is suffering from chronic diseases and needs treatment. They are raising funds to evacuate out of Gaza and buy daily necessities. (https://gofund.me/77ca82d7) (shared by 90-ghost) (additional info on Falestine and her sisters)

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 13 July - 25 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 26 July -29 July.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 30 July - 1 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 2 August - 5 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 6 August - 10 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 11 August - 14 August.

Click here for my Masterlist for fundraisers from 15 August - 18 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundrasiers from 19 August - 21 August

Click here for my Masterlist for fundrasiers from 22 August - 24 August

How does vetting and verification work? See post here. (also read comments regarding 90-ghost and why we trust the campaigns he has shared)

Click here for my Google Doc with my complete masterlist of all the Palestinian gfm asks I've received, updated daily (along with other verified ways to send aid to Gaza).

Don't forget your Daily Clicks on Arab.org, it's free!!! and Every click made is registered in their system and generates donation from sponsors/advertisers.)

[meldingintheunderdark]

Halsin, fatherhood and his ability to hurt

Unpopular opinion: any post mentioning Halsin having a plethora of biological children makes me feel queasy. And I say this when I hc Sszazar will bear Halsin's kid because the need to raise a far better daughter than Orin for Bhaal, then just to raise a daughter for himself, was the pivotal point in his filial faith as the Dark Urge.

How would Halsin take care of such a huge family? How would he avoid neglecting his children? If the childbearers are present too, how does he communicate with them to co-parent? How would he create a positive environment between his bio kids and the orphans without favoritism?

I know Daddy Halsin is a meme, however the title he loves so dearly is terribly heavy with responsibilities. In my opinion, as Halsin is in game, he will neglect the orphans until he realizes that it's simply impossible to be Daddy Halsin. It may take a day or a week till he's dead tired and ready to abandon the concept of a traditional family with one strong and loving parental figure. Art Cullagh writes on “[...] the children of all ages in Halsin's care”. It seems Halsin is indeed the sole caregiver. Obviously, nine whole wagons of children need far more than Daddy Halsin telling them stories. They need daddies, mommies, guardians, caregivers. They need many adults. The kids who lost their parents also need to grieve. I cannot believe every single child is calling him Daddy as if their parents did not die so recently and/or they don't have any trauma regarding their parents or the concept of a parental figure... or that every single child loves Halsin. Sometimes, personalities just don't match.

So, to add a lot of biological children to these nine whole wagons of kids... I guess I don't like this headcanon because it implies Halsin is downright irresponsible. Bearing and birthing a child are difficult and dangerous. If he's the one with a bun in the oven, it means he's willing to put his body through such an ordeal without reserve, over and over again. Halsin isn’t dumb. He's a healer. He knows firsthand that something natural can maim or kill. He's a druid. He knows the strain people put on nature. I can hardly imagine him spawning kids left and right without a care in the world just because he can.

Nine whole wagons of children... It’s already so many orphans. Hence my belief he will neglect them at first, overjoyed as he is to be Daddy Halsin, blinded by his title, but then he will quickly understand he must raise them alongside many other adults and work together as a tight-knit community. He won't be their only dad. Maybe he will feel jealous of the other daddies, wounded even. Maybe he will worry a lot about the quality of his parenting. Maybe he will hardly digest the fact not every kid he saved will love him as a father. Undeniably, caring for the orphans will also make him think about his own family and the pain and joy associated with these bittersweet memories.

Raising children is never easy. I do dislike headcanons describing Halsin and fatherhood as smooth sailing. Perhaps I'm simply an unfunny person entrenched in my own traumas, thus I cannot see Halsin as a wonderful, confident, faultless dad. Furthermore, kids aren't sharing one mind. Like adults, they are extremely different from each other. These kids went through war, abandonment and extreme poverty too. It's unrealistic to imagine they would all adore Halsin or even that living together with so many others won't have any negative consequences whatsoever.

I must admit the way Halsin is represented with this headcanon, and some others, bothers me. He's too perfect. His traumas, depression and grief tend to be acknowledged, but not his ability to hurt people. His actions hurt the Grove and the tieflings deeply. He tries to be good, however he isn't a saint either. He can and does hurt himself and others while attempting to do good. Certainly, it’s completely unintentional when others are involved. Halsin isn’t cruel. He’s a good man at heart, yet he’s flawed.

My English fails me. What I’m trying to say is that Halsin is so often framed in an extremely positive light in game and in the headcanons I read here, especially when the scenarios are about children. I truly understand writing on potentially triggering themes is not a good experience, to say the least. Nevertheless, writing Halsin as a good man who can do no harm to anyone he loves/likes does him a great disservice. He did hurt his druids and the tieflings he sheltered indirectly because he threw himself body and soul into his long-lasting obsession. So self-sacrificing he tends to forget the world around him. Once again, I understand the need to have a comfort character who is soft, caring, hot, who suffers but accepts help from his loved one... and yet, I also don’t.

In the end, the problem is rooted deep in my interpretation of Halsin. The very same lines don’t resonate with me the same way they do with other players, as does everything else in our world. But positive only Halsin is overwhelmingly represented, I honestly wonder if I'm too obtuse. People seem to see hope and joy when he talks about the children whereas all I can see is the damage he will cause temporarily because he’s too eager to realize his dream, too focused on a somewhat traditional family structure with a single parent, too inexperienced. Painful moments before peace and happiness. He doesn’t mention other settlers as caregivers. Moreover, the commune represents such a logistical nightmare. He also runs back to Thaniel’s realm without decompressing or processing his own problems, his new romance in a long while, their life-threatening adventures, etc.

It's the hill I’m willing to die on. Halsin is kind, but he can hurt people. He will neglect the kids because he cannot physically and emotionally cater to their every need. Of course, he will correct his mistakes in a heartbeat. This one-dimensional Halsin shining like a beacon of light in the darkness is dull. It’s so often about his kindness/love in the fandom, sometimes his pain. A person who hurts someone else unintentionally is not instantaneously evil. Halsin is not evil if he hurts the kids because he cannot give each of them enough attention while he is trying to take care of them with all his heart. His ability to hurt gives him depth as much as love, gentleness, selflessness.

Once again, it's all about our personal preferences, I get it. It isn't a big deal. It's merely isolating to have such an important school of thought about Halsin dominating his tags. I would love to read stuff about Halsin frustrated because a teenager keeps running away from the commune. Halsin crying because he can hear a child repeatedly having night terrors. Halsin shouting because he is at his wits’ end, scaring them, then agonizing over his mistake, clueless how to mend things. Halsin having no more libido because fatherhood and the commune are so demanding, and not feeling alright about its absence. Halsin at loss with a kid who isn't like others, unable to interact with them the same way. Halsin distraught that a group of orphans has stopped calling him daddy, then envious because they call another settler daddy. Ashamed of his envy. Halsin being unfair when he thinks he’s being fair. Halsin, who is so modest, too modest, subconsciously teaching the children to be humble, too humble, then realizing they’re becoming their harshest critics, like he is with himself. Trying, sometimes failing, occasionally hurting himself and others, then trying again to be better and do better. The fact he's 350 years old doesn't mean he has nothing to learn anymore. He says so himself.

One can love intensely, strive to be kind, and still hurt people unintentionally. Halsin is no exception.

[lychee-angelica]

nakshatra observations p1 ✩‧₊˚

punarvasu, chitra, rohini, anuradha, shatabhisha, ashlesha, mrigasira

✩please don't plagiarise! the following is my own research and observations, so if something doesn't resonate please let it go✩

punarvasu nakshatra ｡⋆ boundless imagination

this star relates to the idea of repetition & patterns that occur within the concept of other things. classically symbolised by arrows being placed upon a quiver over and over again. or the idea that ruling deity, goddess aditi is recognised to be the mother of her own father. unity and wholeness cannot be broken in punarvasu nakshatra

this nakshatra prominent in a person's chart usually indicates someone with a boundless imagination and a youthful curiosity for conceptually complex thought. it is a beautifully intricate star which resembles our desires to explore the great wonders and awes of life. i imagine these people becoming so lost within an immersive day dream that they can easily lose sense of reality. however, their strong sense of nostalgia tends to wash over and refreshes them, finding themselves once again. punarvasu natives are usually highly sentimental and fond of reflection

chitra nakshatra ｡⋆ beautiful ingenuity

this star relates immensely to the design and talent it takes one to create beauty, typically in it's physical forms. ruling deity, visvakarma is often described as the chief of detailing and designing. he is who is talented enough to create palaces, cities, weapons, jewels and even replicas - quite literally anything you can think of, beauty and wonder is embossed in it's formation

i often notice that these individuals have such a keen eye for beauty and detail. their ability to create anything beautiful and aesthetic is expectational, no matter what it is they may wish to create. they are the types to even go to such lengths of adding little details where no one will even see it, they are truly dedicated to their craft. additionally, women with this star prominent can literally embody physical beauty and have an amazing sense of physical adornment, but of course that is not all there is to her. she is talented and multifaceted woman x

anuradha & shatabhisha nakshatra ｡⋆ love vs lust & the celestrial nymph

one interesting aspect of these two stars is that their ruling deities mitra & varuna share mythological affinity. anuradha’s deity mitra is god of day-time & shatabhisha’s varuna is god of the night-time. these deities exemplify love & pleasure as a polarity in it’s higher & lower dignities. the story is as follows, the two deities once were of a singular body when they met urvasi, a celetrisial nymph & made love with her. mitra & varuna sepearted into two bodies as there was disagreement, mitra sought after the nymph for selfless love & varuna propositioned urvasi for sex & selfishness. urvasi desired mitra although varuna became too excited & ejaculated too early - urvasi felt bad & birthed varuna’s children through an artificial womb

anuradha resembles the highest order of adoration, love & devotion. another thing to note is that shatabhisha is not primarily a sexual star, it just has sexual & lustful potential. although, in this story the star of shatabhisha portrays it's lustful & pleasure seeking side. anuradha is all about companionship & mutual union - it is a beautiful star to be born under. anuradha people are usually adored and admired lovingly, shatabhisha people may simply be lustful or ignite these lower desires in the minds of others. i also find it fitting that the birth of varuna's child was artificial, as other research of mine correlates this star to the idea of parasocial relationships (will get into this in a different post)

rohini nakshatra ｡⋆ red-girl

rohini’s ruling deity is brahma, the forefather & god of all creation. when rohini’s context is taken into sexual regards there are some impurities present. brahma being the god of creation had once desired to create his own wife in order to reproduce, his other children had protested against this idea as his wife was of his own creation. brahma became ashamed of himself for pressuring her. brahma discarded his body & created a new one to wash away impurity of thought. his old body lived on as a fog of danger & darkness

rohini nakshatra is the star of fertility & creativity, passion & beauty. the word rohini means red-girl, symbolising a woman’s menstrual cycle or the blushing or rosy cheeks of a woman. all is well in rohini for creativity, imagination & fertility but there is some other aspects to this star are not so favourable. rohini nakshatra may at times attract the wrong kind of attention & affection. women in general can become subjected to other’s infatuations & desires that are shameful, wrong & impure. this dark side of rohini resembles insidious external influence that comes way toward women

extras ｡⋆

punarvasu & ashlesha nakshatra ｡⋆

people with these nakshatras prominent in their chart usually love cats! they are the types to probably identify heavily with being a "cat person" as clique as that sounds. i find it so cute how pushya separates these stars, a nakshatra that symbolises milk

rohini, mrigasira & ashlesha nakshatra ｡⋆

these stars are all symbolised by serpents. the most flexible and movable among all the relevant animal representatives, and also the only one without four legs. for this reason these people have the potential to become talented and amazingly hypnotic dancers! even if they don't dance, they may move and walk in a very mesmerising way

[pomplalamoose]

I fucking love you you’re the only person who talks abt Luke and I need more stuff abt him PLEASE litreally anything will do

Really, this means SO much to me because the only reason this blog exists is an outrageous lack of Luke content, so now I'm making it myself😤

I didn't know what you would like to hear about so here's a random collection of Luke thoughts and ideas I had since August (mostly in collaboration with my girly @little-skywalker )🫶🏻

Also this turned out a little bit more nsfw than what I usually do, I hope you don't mind

• in my mind Luke is very good with children and they like him a lot in return

• so if you have been in a healthy and loving relationship with him for a while, he'll probably ask how you feel about kids of your own

• as someone who wants to avoid pregnancy at all costs I like to think he'd be very understanding about you feeling uncomfortable with giving birth to a child yourself

• because of this he'd be more than happy to adopt too

• especially because he knows what it's like to loose caregivers and grow up without knowledge about your real parents, he'd be so enthusiastic to raise orphans with all the love they deserve

• along with the ones already in his Jedi Academy, you'd have a shit ton of kids around

• related to this I can totally see him giving out fun stickers as rewards

• the children cleaned their rooms? Sticker. They did their house hold chores? Sticker. They did well at school? Sticker. They made him laugh? Sticker.

• he likes to give you some too if that's what you want

• (although for wildly different reasons)

• when he's in a good mood, Luke is a tease

• often about pretty innocent things like a stain of marmelade on your top or when you mispronounce a word lost in thought

• other than that he likes to gently pull your hair while he's sneaking up on you

• or to grab your nape with ice cold fingers after washing them

• he loves hearing you shriek his name and your indignant expression after

• when you're alone though, things quickly take a turn in a whole other direction

• he's never mean of course, but making you blush is one of his favorite activities

• he likes to mock the sounds you make in bed, sometimes even going as far as mimicking them

• he likes to pinch and squeeze your soft thighs, your arms and ass or your breasts until you swat his hands away

• when he discovers something new you like, you won't hear the end of it for the next few weeks

• he has a way of glancing and smiling at you suggestively while others are around that makes you fume

• Luke likes to see you in pretty lingerie, no matter whether you bought it yourself to surprise him or if he gave it to you as a present

• one can argue about his favorite colors in that regard

• my first idea was a nice pastel green to match his lightsaber

• until I realized his lightsaber is neon green

• the ultimate conclusion: Luke likes to see you in neon green lingerie

• (maybe go for black, you can't go wrong with black)

• Luke is ✨well endowed✨ and while not too big, he's still a lot to take

• I like to think you'd need to practice to get him fully inside of you

• he's always patient and careful with you though, and knows how to make it as pleasant as he possibly can

• he doesn't want to hurt you

• that said, sometimes he tends to forget himself while you are going at it

• when at first he was slow and gentle, he sometimes gets a little bit too into it and his thrusts grow rough, almost bruising

• he'll catch himself quickly and apologize, though if you liked it, he may be willing to change up his pace a little bit

• I'd like to add how insanely attractive that man is as well

• everything about him is good looking, even (or especially?) his hands

• they are simply made to be kissed and licked

• (imagine sucking on his fingers)

• also it'd be nice to just be held by them

• your hand would completely disappear in his

• and they are always nicely warm

• I'm sure that Luke is very strong as well

• he didn't train in that swamp on Dagobah for nothing

• we all have noticed his arm muscles

• that combined with his height, he's easily able to manhandle about everyone

• the children love when he picks them up to spin them around or to throw them up in the air as if they weigh next to nothing to him

• you like to be picked up as well, especially if he then pins you to a wall

• or down on his bed

• if he wants to cuddle there is not much you can do about it

• while I'm not necessarily into nicknames or other kinds of endearments, the thought of being called bunny by Luke drives me crazy

• I find it to be fitting in every kind of situation too

• it doesn't matter if it's said in a soothing manner or just casually during the day

• imagine him calling you bunny to admonish you

• OR when you're bouncing up and down on his enormous d-*gunshot noise*

[alexandraadavies1996]

I was talking to a close friend the other day, she asked me if my inability to bare my own children bothered me, and I essentially said it did to an extent, despite being very okay with the sacrifices I had to make while going on HRT, and I don't regret them. It still makes me feel a little mournful

I could never bring myself to *father* a child. The idea of it really makes me feel dysphoric.  I could only ever accept being the mother, and since life did not deal me that card I feel my choice has been made for me in many regards.

I think what has brought so many of these feelings to the foreground is seeing so many people I went to school with or grew up with having children. And while I don't envy them the children (children are kinda gross and a handful) I do envy them the easy ability.

Me and my friend also discussed our views of womanhood from a Pagan point of view, the triple Goddess and how it is viewed as a triunity of 3 distinct aspects or figures within in one being. These three figures described as the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone, each of which symbolizes a separate stage in a woman's life

With maiden representing  inception, expansion, the promise of new beginnings, birth, youth and youthful enthusiasm. All of these traits I associate with my early transition as a teenager and that journey. A journey which in my eyes reached its zenith a while ago

I told her I feel less and less of the *maiden* archetype, I can feel myself growing more longing for something creative and nurturing in a way that is new.

I guess those feelings mixed with my knowledge of my own situation just leaves me feeling somewhat lost

Perhaps my estrogen levels are too high and it's making me broody lol

[anxiousnerdwritings]

oh my gods Viserys forcing Corlys and Rhaenys youngest daughter to marry Aegon because the Velaryons are obviously pissed that Rhaenyra keeps having bastards but they won’t say anything. and whole funeral thing kind of added fuel to the fire. so Viserys thinks having the reader marry Aegon will smooth things over but it really just complicates everything.

of course the reader is her mother’s child. so there’s no way in hell that Aegon goes down the path that he does. homegirl whips him up into shape. and he kind of becomes a fun mix of Oberyn Martell and Tyrion Lannister where he’s always drinking and he always horny for his wife but he’s lowkey deadly. because she absolutely was not gonna be embarrassed by this boy.

and it brings up so many mixed feelings for Corlys because he really wants his bloodline on the throne but Rhaenyra’s boys don’t have his blood despite having his name. and there’s also a small part of him that wonders if Rhaenyra and Daemon really killed Laenor like the rumours say. what if Daemon comes after the boys to install his own sons? so he’s beginning to lean towards the Aegon and the other greens in the court. especially after seeing them welcome the reader with open arms because she was the only one who can reign Aegon in so they fucking love her and know she’ll make sure Aegon is a good king. but Rhaenys is stressing because it leaves the Blues stuck in the middle of the battlefield cause they’re daughter will be crowned queen and their grandson will be made the Prince of Dragonstone soon. and that’s her only living child. what if Daemon comes after the reader and her children? they’d lose everything if the reader died.

Okay but I can’t help but imagine yan!poly!Aegon and Helaena for the Reader in this situation. Like, I can see Viserys realizing after the whole Vaemond outburst that maybe he should try to work something out more with the Velaryons, especially since it looks like even they are torn amongst themselves on whose side to be on. So, why not make it easier for them, at least that’s what Viserys thinks his actions will be achieving. Only it does the complete opposite and makes things much worse, especially for Rhaenyra.

I feel like this betrothal would happen behind Rhaenys’ back because of course she wouldn’t be so willing to marry off her youngest and remaining child, especially not to the Greens. And especially not to Aegon. She doesn’t care that their child will be Queen of the seven kingdoms or birth the future princes and princesses, Rhaenys wants to keep her remaining child as close as possible. She’s already lost two of her children and one of them may have been murdered by his own wife so she surely wouldn’t trust Aegon or the Greens to do something similar to the Reader.

Corlys is apprehensive as well but this could also be a monumental opportunity for not only the Reader but also all of House Velaryon as a whole. He doesn’t want to use his remaining child as a playing piece either especially after losing Laenor and Laena but this may be just what they need. He knows his child well enough and knows they’ll be able to hold their own, especially against Aegon. Corlys isn’t too worried about how Aegon will be with the Reader but he is worried about the underlying threats of others, such as Otto, Alicent, Rhaenyra and Daemon. He would have to mull it over but would inevitably accept the betrothal regarding his child and Aegon. After all, he thinks this would be very beneficial for the Reader in the long run. But, Corlys also knows that this will inevitably cause a rift between him and Rhaenys when he tells her. And Rhaenys would take this as a betrayal on her husband’s part, never forgetting that he put their last remaining child up freely for the Greens to have.

Going off Aegon already having married Helaena and now being betrothed to the Reader too, he would just see it as yet another thing forced upon him. He hadn’t even wanted to marry Helaena in the first place now he has to marry yet again, being stuck with two wives. The only thing that may get him to think of it differently is someone referring to the situation as it being like Aegon the Conquer, Rhaenys and Visenya all over again. Aegon would take that as people seeing him as Aegon the Conqueror and his ego would only grow because of it. But the Reader will be their to knock him down a few pegs or more.

I like to imagine the Reader being pretty free spirited and strong willed. The first time they meet Aegon, whether before or after the whole betrothal thing, he was most likely drunk and either said something vulgar to them or about someone else and they heard it resulting in them verbally handing his ass to him. The next day Aemond, Jace, Luke and others are laughing about the situation which causes Aegon to storm off and seek out the Reader to ‘punish’ them. Only when he finds the Reader to do just that, they physically kick his ass and fuck his whole shit up. After that he sees them in a completely different light. He’s kind of scared of them and ashamed that he got his ass beat but it also totally turned him on cause of course it would. He never really had anyone do something him like that, let alone a woman. He usually always got what he wanted but that was the first time someone really put him in his place and it got him feeling some type of way. Of course he wouldn’t allow anyone else to ever do that to him and get away with it but he’d make an exception for his darling. After that, Aegon wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off the Reader, he would try to get as close to them as possible justifying it with getting to know each other better because of the betrothal. He’d always find his way to their side and if he couldn’t be there then he would take to keeping them in his line of sight. Inwardly panicking a little when he would lose sight of them, automatically fearing that someone had stolen them away from him.

Given that the Reader is a free spirit I imagine that they would always be riding their dragon and going on adventures, which would only cause Aegon even more anxiety. Sure, it’s one thing to be able to go on his own dragon and fly after the Reader but it’s another thing after they’ve gotten married and they insist on him staying behind to manage his royal duties and look after everything like a good king should do. There would be an underlying fear of the Reader leaving and never returning, whether due to them perishing on their adventure or because they decided to start anew and someone else ended up capturing their heart. Aegon would compromise that the Reader either wait until he has the free time and could come with/be able to follow them on their impromptu adventures or stop their adventures altogether if they wanted him to continue keeping up with being a ‘good king’. He would threat to burn all the Seven Kingdoms to the ground if they up and left him again like that, even if they were to always come back. If they ever did leave on their dragon again after he tried compromising, especially doing so just to spite him, Aegon would have no problem hunting them down himself and forcing them back home and once they were back home, he would go as far as to kill their dragon so they wouldn’t be able to leave him again. He may also take to having them locked in their shared room or they would at the very least be heavily monitored. Aegon would also keep the Reader pregnant as often as he could to ensure they would stay in one place and prevent them from trying to flee.

I imagine that Helaena would really be the closest person to the Reader, maybe besides Rhaenyra depending on whether the Reader was still on her side after the rumors about her having Laenor killed. I don’t think the Reader or Helaena would have a hard time getting along and if they both have to be married to Aegon then that would only drive them closer to each other. Aegon may even grow jealous of how much closer his darling his with Helaena then compared to him. He would childishly accuse the Reader of loving Helaena more than him whenever he got drunk, which would be often. And both the Reader and Helaena would roll their eyes and ignore him or try very half assed to soothe his hurt feelings. These little jealous bouts happen more often then not so his darling and Helaena are more than use to them. The few times all three of them have shared the bed together there have been times Aegon will wake the Reader and Helaena out of their sleep accusing them of cuddling with each other more than with him. The three of them have been forced to try and find a sleeping arrangement that would work where Aegon would feel included but to no avail, he’d always find a problem. So eventually he just kicked Helaena out to her own room. But then one night Aegon woke up all alone in the bed while the Reader had slipped away to keep Helaena company in the night. Which led to Aegon barging in and throwing a huge hissy fit. He would complain about it to his mother and his brothers but Aemond honestly couldn’t careless and didn’t want to hear any of it due to his own envy. But eventually Aegon would come around to moving Helaena back into his and the Reader’s shared room. He liked it better when it was him and the Reader but they insist on it since Helaena is a part of the marriage as well. Not to mention it doesn’t feel right when she’s gone. If it bothers his darling so much than he can tolerate it, he supposed.

When Aegon hits his limit with the Reader up and leaving on their own accord and has them kept in their room, Helaena would be their sole company for the most part, besides Aegon himself. (Aemond and Daeron would visit themselves if only Aegon hadn’t banned them from interacting with his darling.) Helaena doesn’t agree with Aegon, knowing that no matter how many times the Reader left or how long they were gone they would always come back to the two of them. But she could also see where he was coming from. She did often worry herself whether their darling would just abandon them or meet their fate on one of their adventures. This way they can ensure their darling is safe and with them always. Not to mention it results in Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor getting to have more siblings due to Aegon using that as a way to keep the Reader occupied and to prevent them trying to run away.

Earlier on when the Reader was in the beginnings of shaping Aegon to be a rightful king, there’s a good chance that they could get him to be on good/okay-ish terms with Rhaenyra. Especially if the Reader was still very much Team Black. It didn’t matter whether they actually had any care for Rhaenyra but given that she does have the Reader’s nieces and ‘nephews’ with her I could see the Reader trying to keep peace so as to not cause any harm or trouble for Baela, Rhaena, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. And if the Reader themself were close to Rhaenyra then I’m sure they wouldn’t want anything to put a damper into that either. It would really be Alicent, Otto, Larys, Aemond and Aegon himself who would ruin the peace. Leading to Corlys and Rhaenys having to choose a side.

Also, there’s a very good chance that Rhaenys moves to King’s Landing permanently once the Reader is married off to Aegon. Rhaenys wouldn’t want to leave her child all alone with the Greens and would certainly want to be there for when her grandchildren are born, not to mention she’s still very pissed with Corlys for even goimng through with this whole thing and is still very much feeling betrayed over it. She would also want to make it very clear to her child that they have support by having her there with them. Although, Aegon wouldn’t like it too much with Rhaenys giving and always being with the Reader and also given that she watches him like a hawk whenber he’s near his darling but his mother would make him bite his tongue to keep Rhaenys and the Velaryons on their side. And if it did mean a lot to the Reader to have their mother with them then he could deal with it, for now.

[fellsilver]

I see an opportunity to tempt some folks into writing the Seven Sisters, so here's my crash course on the topic 👀 Disclaimer that I don't claim to be an expert on all of them. I know Greenwood has youtube videos up about some of them, and at least some of the books featuring them can be borrowed from the Internet Archive and Open Library. The best source to get a feel for them is The Seven Sisters sourcebook in my opinion, though the novel Silver Fall is also good! Both are a bit older, but they give a good idea of their personalities, activities, etc.

BACKGROUND.

Mystra, of all the gods, needs Chosen in order to bear the burden of Her office. The problem is that the world produces suitable individuals all too rarely. Thus She sought to create them Herself. (We have also learned as of Death Masks that She seeks to always keep one alive so they can replace Her in the future. Part of Elminster's job is to ensure this.) To that end, She came to the half-elf sorcerer and adventurer Elué Shundar. She possessed Elué with the intention of using her as the vessel to birth Her Chosen. Elué was initially unaware of this possession, but once she realized, she fervently agreed.

Now comes the other parent. A human ranger, noble, and former Harper named Dornal Silverhand had been attempting to woo her — unsuccessfully — for two years. Possessed by Mystra, "Elué" finally seemed to return his affections. They were married. Within the span of seven years, "Elué" gave birth to seven daughters. Unfortunately, the weight of Mystra's possession in conjunction with birthing powerful children so close together took its toll on her body. She essentially became a lich by the end, unable to survive without Mystra.

This did not go unnoticed by Dornal. He sought answers about her condition, and was told that she was possessed by a powerful entity. Believing this to be the only way to free his love, he led Elué to the woods and beheaded her. It was then that Mystra rose from her and revealed the truth to Dornal. He was destroyed by it all, though, and simply abandoned his home and daughters. (He eventually became the Watcher, but that's another discussion).

The Seven Sisters were then split up. Syluné and Alustriel were placed with the Harper Thamator the Old, presenting them as his lost nieces. Dove, Storm, and Laeral were raised by Elminster in what remained of the Silverhand home. Alassra — better known as the Simbul — was raised by Oraumae, a witch of Rashemen, in exchange for powerful spells to keep Thay at bay. Qilué presented a problem, however, as she was still in Elué's womb. With Eilistraee's permission, she was placed into the womb of a drow faithful to Eilistraee: Iliryztara Veladorn. She was thus born a drow.

ANASTRA SYLUNÉ. The Witch of Shadowdale, the River Witch, the Ghost Witch

Although Thamator wished to raise Alustriel and Syluné as rangers, they both showed aptitude for magic. A Harper named Hauliyr, known as "the Old Witch", took her to his home near Everlund as an apprentice. She decided to settle a land somewhere and nurture a community to show that "magic was more than just a weapon" with an additional goal of founding a school for magic. She seems to have been unaware of her connection to Mystra, however, until this search for a place to claim led her into conflict with Laeral. Then Mystra appeared to them, told them all, and offered them a chance to become Her Chosen. They accepted, and traveled together for some years under the direction of the god Azuth.

Syluné traveled extensively, even to Kara-Tur, and finally settled in what is known now as Shadowdale. There she married the land's lord, Aumry. She was an integral part of the fledgling region's survival, particularly for the pull she had with the Elven Court. Although some feared magic on principle, she was nevertheless regarded favorable as someone kind-hearted, wise, and stern when need be. Some even said she was a seer, but in truth, she was only incredible perceptive about people and thus able to predict their actions.

Unfortunately, three dragons attracted Shadowdale in 1356 DR. But, she had been the wielder of the Scepter of Savras for many years. Savras, contained within the scepter by Azuth ages ago, gave her the ability to turn into an adult silver dragon at will. (She's a WEREDRAGON.) This allowed her to withstand dragonfire. And when she broke her staff and sacrificed herself to bring the dragons down, it helped her "live on" as a spectral Harpist and Weave ghost. (Once a year for seven hours, she can solidify into a silver dragon with all the powers, and I think that's cool.) She is now watched over by Azuth who protects her from any further destruction. Attack her, and He'll fuck you up.

She is currently keeping Laeral company in Waterdeep and acting as a sort of "ghost spy". However, Elminster and the Simbul have created bodies for her to possess in the past, and we know Mystra can "mother" her a new one to resurrect into. So if you don't want to deal with her being a ghost, you can believably diverge from canon to bring her back.

ENDUÉ ALUSTRIEL. The Bright Lady, The Shining Lady, Lady Hope, The Queen of Courtly Love, etc.

While Syluné was taken as apprentice by Hauliyr, Alustriel remained with Thamator. However, he was a man with high and specific standards who desired her to be a ranger and Harper as he had been. His disappointment was her constant companion — until she fended off an "overly amorous" suitor with magic, thus proving she could make it as a Harper. She did take up such a career, but abandoned it early "to pursue her vivid dreams of peace, harmony between the races, and a place where the arts (of all sorts) would be revered and celebrated". It is further said of her relationship with Thamator that "her unhappiness gave her determination to find her own way — and make her own happiness."

She is gifted in magic even as far as the Seven go, quickly excelling in leaps and bounds during her travels. She came to Silverymoon under an alias originally. There she became close friends with the High Mage Amaara Nharimlur and her sister, Lynnàsha "Lynx" Nharimlur. Together, she and Lynx founded the Lady's College. She added a number of other accomplishments to her name, including establishing the city's mythal. She was named the next High Mage in 857 and held that position until 876.

She has a lot of accomplishments, in fact. In 1235, her true identity was revealed after saving Silverymoon once again. She was elected High Mage once more, this time under her real name. She became the most beloved ruler in all of Faerûn. She eventually stepped down as ruler of Silverymoon, but she was key in the creation of the League of the Silver Marches (which became the nation of Luruar) and became High Lady of the Silver Marches. Alas, the Silver Marches collapsed after disagreements in 1488.

There's . . . so much to cover with her actually. She's done a LOT. So here are some fun facts: she has a LOT of children, including twelve famous half-elf sons known as the Tall Ones. She is very good at remembering people and details about them, and she is incredible at multi-tasking. She is also an expert at identifying gems, even ones that have been altered.

She faked her death around a century ago alongside Laeral, and the two hid among Candlekeep's monks. The intent was to thwart Larloch's schemes, but that didn't quite work out. Although she's no longer in hiding, she hasn't contacted Silverymoon or her heir / son. She's on some secret mission from Mystra we don't know much about.

AMBARA DOVE. Knight of Myth Drannor, Lady in Green

Dove was one of the three troublesome girls raised by Elminster. As such, she was aware of her true lineage from an early age. She became an adventurer and Harper early, later joining the Knights of Myth Drannor. She can lay claim to levels as a sorcerer, wizard, rogue — but prefers strength at arms and is a capable ranger and warrior. Though she could be quite the hellion when she was younger, she grew into a calm, quiet, capable woman. Completely unflappable but with a great sense of humor. That having been said, she can and will pick a man up by the neck and throw him bodily across the room.

In fact, she's known for her broad-shouldered, 6' tall physique. She further favors masculine dress, and has at times lived as a swanmay and as a man. She at some point married Florin Falconhand, at least partly in thanks to the mandates of Mystra and Mielikki. The goddesses charged them with marrying and bearing a child, Azalar, who would become Mielikki's Chosen. This son was born in 1358 and was raised by them, alternating parenting duties, in secret in Evermeet.

Nevertheless, she and Florin seem to have had a loving relationship. It's unclear when Florin died, but she did outlive him. In 1487, she herself was slain by Vattick Tanthul, though she took him with her to death. Laeral cites her desire to be reunited with Florin as part of the reason for her departing her body.

Dove is currently a Weave ghost. Like Syluné, she is in Waterdeep keeping Laeral company and acting as a sort of "ghost spy". Also like Syluné, you could easily diverge from canon to give her a body if you don't want to deal with ghost stuff. Same reasoning applies.

ETHENA ASTORMA. The Bard of Shadowdale

Storm is perhaps the best known of the Sisters — which is saying something actually. She was another of the troublesome three raised by Elminster. Unlike the other two, she took to running away pretty early. Unfortunately, this led to her being grabbed by a slaver who dampened her magic and enspelled her appearance. She spent years in slavery, as a dancer, and as a festhall mascot in Calimshan until she stole a flying carpet and made it home. There she demanded Elminster return her to her original shape. Despite all that, she is known to be closest to Elminster of all the Seven Sisters not only as family but also as a friend.

Although that experience taught her much, she remained a, shall we say, enthusiastic adventurer for some years. She's the sort who had to learn from the school of hard knocks. Her early years as an adventurer weren't easy. This has given her a soft spot for youth who are rebellious or feel mistreated "by parents, neighbors, rulers, and the gods in general".

That having been said: "Mystra admires Storm's buoyant spirit and zest for life, and she has often whisked Storm away from certain death. She is further pleased by the fact that Storm has not come to expect such rescues, or exalt herself because of them." Mama does play favorites lmao (Ironicially, though, she's not much skilled in magic — at least in a wizarding sense — and strongly prefers a bard's and warrior's skillset. She has 5 classes as of 3e lmao)

She is widely known and loved — and in fact, many are smitten with her upon first meeting, such is her charisma. Her exploits are numerous, being not only a Chosen but a prominent Harper and famous bard. In fact, she serves as "den mother" to Harpers in Shadowdale, training them up and sending them out. And truly, she is a household name for her many compositions as well. She has had lovers and spouses down the centuries, but despite her desire for children, Mystra has never granted that.

She has worked closely with Elminster down the years, including during the Spellplague and leading up to the Second Sundering. She's currently helping him train his successor, Amarune Whitewave. This is in addition to her usual heroics and training Harpers.

ANAMANUÉ LAERAL.

I don't have to do this blurb, right? Y'all know Laeral? Let me say, though, that I am very duplicate friendly. If anyone else wants to pick her up, you have my FULL support. I will pool resources with you like you wouldn't believe.

ALASSRA SHENTRANTRA. The Simbul, The Storm Queen, The Witch-Queen

She is THE badass of Forgotten Realms. "In all Faerûn, no living mage has aA fearsome a reputation as 'the Storm Queen', the fiery-tempered, wily, ruthless, awesomely powerful Witch-Queen of Aglarond." She was delivered as a babe TO Oraumae, a witch of Rashemen, in exchange for powerful spells against Thay. At some point, she left Rashemen and began wandering the planes, showing she was an accomplished caster and planeswalker at a relatively young age. This she did for four hundred years.

Then a lover of hers perished, and Mystra afterward revealed her lineage and destiny to her. But, the Simbul has never been one to simply accept other's mandates, even the gods. She has more than once defied Mystra, Azuth, and everyone in between down the years. When Mystra set to claim her as Her Chosen, the Simbul fought Her and had to be literally worn down til she accepted lmao

After this, she became the apprentice of Ilione, a sorcerer and ruler of Aglarond. She came to love her home and her people fiercely. She succeeded the throne in 1320 and became a highly respected, even revered leader — if not a loved one. She's not the cuddly sort. But, she protected them tirelessly and capably from threat after threat after threat (Thay in particular), and she was almost a goddess to them for it. She keeps no true schedule, requiring the chaos to keep her enemies on their toes, and often moved about in one spellguise or another — animals or objects or gods know what. There's no one more accomplished at shapechanging than her.

This is more a personal note, but I love that, despite being extremely capable and confident, she's also sorta socially anxious. Her behavior doesn't necessarily come off as awkward — not always — but she often feels awkward and uncertain in social settings. She's a loner and doesn't have many close relationships. Never has. She's uncertain even in her relationships with her sisters because, again, she's used to being alone. She is a fierce friend, though.

Another personal note is she's supposed to be Elminster's lover of many centuries. I personally don't love that, but that's me.

Unfortunately, she was killed permanently in 1479. She sacrificed all of her silver fire to restore Elminster's destroyed body and return him to it. Her body and soul dissipated, leaving her unable to even become a Weave ghost. I, like many others, don't care for this overmuch, though. Diverge from canon. Make her a Weave ghost. Bring her back to life. Whatever, fuck canon, she's too badass for death to claim. In fact, a line from The Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide implies she still lives. So. Fuck canon.

QILUÉ VELADORN. The Dark Sister, The Chosen of the Chosen

Qilué is a bit of an odd case. Elué was pregnant when she died, but Mystra wouldn't allow the child to simply die. Below the surface nearby, a drow named Iliryztara Veladorn who was leading a group of drow to establish a community after being ousted for refusing to worship Lolth. They were faithful of Eilistraee, and Eilistraee watched Iliryztara most closely of all. Iliryztara herself was pregnant at the time, but her child had died in her womb and that would eventually have killed her as well. Thus Mystra sought Eilistraee's blessing to replace the child with Qilué. Eilistraee assented. Thus did Eilistraee and Mystra become allies.

Eilistraee revealed herself to Qilué when she was only a child when she was tasked to lead her friends to aid nearby drow. Eilistraee gifted all the children holy singing swords to do so. This was only the first of the quests She sent her on as a child, and Mystra came to aid her in these quests as well. She became the Chosen of both deities at this time, often calling them the Two Who Watch. Thus balancing the power of two goddesses, it is said she has the most respect and care in wielding that power out of all the Seven.

She became High Priestess of the Promenade of the Dark Maiden, a temple she founded near Skullport. Her statue stands in the Cavern of Song at its heart. Her temple welcomes drow and non-drow alike, including escaped slaves. She is the foremost of Eilistraee's Chosen — the Chosen of the Chosen — and is loved and respected by her people.

Honestly? She's a magical badass. She fought off GHAUNADAR as a CHILD. She is known to be gentle and warm but can have a firm, commanding manner — as well as an impish streak. She is adept at disguising herself, including the use of a robe attuned to her life force that hides her in shadow, and often walks about unseen or disguised. She's actually stolen Laeral's appearance throughout her life to have some fun on the surface — often to Laeral's annoyance lmao

She is currently . . . dead, I am sad to say. This death did cause a problem for Eilistraee for a time. She's currently a Weave ghost, though. She took a bit of a break from mortal affairs but still interacted with mortals when needed. We have not heard much about her since. You can easily diverge from canon to bring her back imo, same as with Syluné and Dove. Get funky with it.

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were. 

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room. 

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create. 

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you. 

You would never know. 

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken. 

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were. 

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger. 

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow. 

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum. 

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit. 

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death. 

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.” 

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing. 

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet. 

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’. 

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of. 

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh. 

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush. 

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done. 

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley. 

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you. 

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving? 

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving. 

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. 

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin. 

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead. 

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it. 

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.  

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals. 

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open. 

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded. 

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft. 

“You told me to get a sniper!” 

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women. 

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was. 

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty. 

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope. 

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece. 

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target. 

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched. 

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows. 

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories. 

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair. 

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over. 

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper. 

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below. 

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word. 

You pull the trigger. 

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed? 

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building. 

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows. 

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him. 

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena. 

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest. 

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over. 

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you. 

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more. 

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home. 

You were The Shadow. 

You weren’t a hero. 

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask. 

The mask. Oh, they hated it. 

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times. 

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves. 

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on. 

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point. 

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope. 

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers. 

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together. 

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something. 

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere. 

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you. 

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head. 

Everything goes black. 

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore. 

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received. 

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines. 

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?” 

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip. 

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you. 

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.” 

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull. 

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden. 

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing. 

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you… 

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen  Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin. 

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh. 

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off. 

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next. 

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards. 

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.  

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger. 

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud. 

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him. 

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over. 

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl. 

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster. 

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray. 

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around. 

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man. 

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns. 

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out. 

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face. 

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers. 

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up. 

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now. 

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved. 

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves. 

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling. 

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips. 

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face. 

PART TWO

[108garys]

*gestures wildly at my spooky children* Do you see my vision?

Struggling how to articulate how much Cole in little hope is perfection and has been eating my brain since it popped into it the other day due to the recent dragon age resurgence

I don't know how much overlap there is with little hope being such a tiny fandom comparatively but picture it:

(long incoherent ramblings undercut)

Cole the spirit, the personification of the virtue of compassion, who's literal whole deal is being drawn to and untangling deep rooted pain, who has a complicated relationship with death and morality due to his largely misunderstood nature and speaks in riddles about people's inner demons

A puritan village consumed by witch hysteria? A villain who fell due to deep personal pain that ultimately becomes irredeemable? The themes of grief guilt and blame and narrative framing surrounding innocence, vice, overcoming inner demons? the inevitability that you can't save everyone and reconstructing what was lost? The ambiguity of well intentioned yet massively misguided actions? I could go on but it'd be a whole lot of nonsense ramblings lol

It would be fascinating if I knew where to go with it, like on the one hand, send my boy to go ruin those puritans whole day as he pops up out of nowhere, reads minds, outwardly spills all the tea and then dips but also what about Cole and Curie? The curator of stories who observes and records the end of mortal souls and could be compared to a knowlage spirit or something under dragon age terms and then Cole who literally makes people forget they ever saw him, it would be fun to see this put together well spoken figure and then weird kid who ligit thought he was a ghost for a bit there(I mean he had his reasons but still).

Other concepts could be Cole as the M's, even the worst ending would be reflective of Cole, both with and without the gun but Anthony's death would parallel pre character development Cole who kills out of a simplistic and misguided compassion and in general the ending makes me think of the death and birth of Cole(also the compassionate soul trophy regarding Andrew's personality traits and how that's the optimal route for him, need I say more?)

There's something to dig out there but the thing that kicked this all off was wanting to draw one of the M's in Cole's hat(if not a full outfit swap), not being able to pick which and really getting on the idea that Megan "spooky child" Clarke is right there with my original weird son lol

Also wouldn't it just be a whole vibe to draw Cole in little hope's three eras of 1692/1972/2020?

Well that's what's been gnawing on my brain and I still don't know what to do with it but at the very least I can throw this ramble out there lol

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 6 - PUNISH YOU

Synopsis: Thranduil and his Queen struggle with their new role as parents and with each other.

Word count: 2.5k

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: slightly smutty? Mention of depression, disordered eating

Additional tags: spanking. I'm sorry. If pregnancy, childbirth or little kids in fanfiction are not your thing, don't worry, I am mostly brushing over it!

Link to the chapter overview

And maybe it's the past that's talking Screamin' from the crypt Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

The birth of Prince Legolas was the most joyful day of Thranduil’s entire reign. Every elf in the kingdom was celebrating for days. Anarríma was jealous of them. She had to remain in bed, recovering from childbirth while simultaneously caring for the child, and everyone else could simply dance and get drunk. Elrond had departed a few weeks after the birth, returning home to Celebrían and his sons, but as soon as word of the birth reached Loríen, Lord Celeborn jumped onto a horse and sped towards Thranduil’s realm.

The King was unsure about his feelings toward the child. Children had always made him feel a bit uneasy, they were so small and fragile. Everyone had always told him that it would be different with his own son, but they had all been wrong. Queen Anarríma felt the same way about their child, Thranduil could see it in her eyes when she looked at Legolas. They both loved their son dearly and either would gladly give up their life for him, but neither of them had any experience with raising babies.

When Lord Celeborn arrived, Thranduil could swear the light of the two trees illuminated his face. He was their saviour. Thranduil was finally able to return to running his kingdom, Ana was free to take as much time as she needed to recover, and both of them got enough sleep. Celeborn departed after well over a year. It was a sad day for all of them.

Over the years, the King and Queen grew more comfortable in their roles as parents and everyone would say that the little Prince was the happiest child there ever was. When his parents were holding court, he could often be found happily napping on the throne. His laughter filled the halls all day, but the little boy was also full of mischief. When the Lady Galadriel finally had the chance to visit her grandson, he smiled at her and reached his arms up towards her, only to yank on her long golden hair as she bent down to pick him up.

Queen Anarríma, who had taken frequent trips to Loríen before the birth of her child, found herself increasingly caged in her own home. She barely slept anymore, feeling restless all the time. The Queen had lost most of her appetite and nothing seemed to give her any joy. Thranduil had not noticed, he was too busy ruling the kingdom, the golden cage, in which he kept his golden Queen. One night, as she was picking at her dinner, she declared her intentions to Thranduil. “I will be going to Loríen for a few days. It is Ada’s birthday and I have not seen my parents in such a long time.” The king looked up from his dinner and regarded her with a puzzled expression. “No,” he stated curtly. The queen almost dropped her fork. “What?” “No,” he repeated.

“Thranduil I did not ask for your permission.” The King reclined in his chair. “You may not leave the forest. I forbid it.” Anarríma rose from her chair so furiously that it almost fell over as she pushed it back. “You cannot lock me in here. You have no right to keep me from leaving.” Thranduil rose as well, trying to keep his composure, he clasped his hands behind his back. “I can and I will. We have a son, you cannot just abandon him.” His tone of voice carried an accusation that left a bitter taste in Ana’s mouth.

“You were gone for an entire week last month,” she reminded him. Thranduil shrugged. “That is hardly the same.” “How is there any difference? We have an army of maids, Legolas would not need either of us,” Anarríma argued. The truth was, that the Queen tried not to let herself love her son. She couldn’t help it, he was her child, but she knew that Legolas should not need her, could not need her. One day she would be gone. Thranduil was silent for a moment as if he could hear her thoughts. “He needs you. Please, Ana. Don’t go.” Thranduil was tired of arguing. He left her standing there and went into the forest to clear his head. He did not return until the early hours of the morning, but Anarríma did not notice that. When Thranduil returned, she was gone.

Deep down in his heart, Thranduil knew that she had to go, but he was the King and he had commanded her to stay. And she had disobeyed him. He was furious. Angry at her, at himself, at the fact that he could not just simply come with her. Just the three of them visiting some family. Without the army of guards they had to bring along for safety reasons. He sighed deeply as he lay down on the bed, trying to get at least a few hours of sleep. Anarríma had left him a note. He let his fingers glide over the black ink. “Goheno nin,” it stated in her usual elegant script. Forgive me.

Ana had not been stopped by her maids when they saw her pack a few things. The guards in the stables had not stopped her either. Nor had those at the gates. She made it to Lothloríen undisturbed, except by her own thoughts. What would Thranduil do when he found out she was gone? Her husband was not merciful, she knew that very well. He was the kind to send people to his dungeons if they so much as looked at him funny, especially since the incident with the dragon. Leaving the kingdom against his will was much worse, but she was his wife. Even though she knew that he could not simply send his Queen to the dungeons, the thought did not calm her, on the contrary, it only unsettled her even more. Anarríma had no idea what would await her when she returned home.

Lord Celeborn’s birthday was a small gathering. Not even Elrond and Celebrían were there and the Lord and Lady were surprised to see their daughter arrive in the early morning hours. “Anarinya?” Celeborn approached his daughter warily. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. Tired, weak, haunted by something. Or maybe someone? “What are you doing here seldënya?” He wrapped his arms around her protectively. “Happy Birthday, Ada,” Ana murmured into her father’s shoulder. Celeborn chuckled softly. “We both know that’s not the only reason you came.” He pulled away and smiled softly at his daughter. “Come, let us go inside and have some breakfast, you look like you have not eaten in days.”

All troubles seemed forgotten back in the comfort of home. She had missed her parents more than she cared to admit. Breathing seemed easier here, where she was just Ana, not the Queen, not the King’s wife and not the Crown Prince’s mother. The food here did not make her nauseous. In Lasgalen, the mere thought of eating had made her break down crying more than once. She did not know why it happened and she did not know how to fix it. And Thranduil could never know, which is why she often told him that she had already eaten without him. Anarríma spent two entire days with her parents, walking the peaceful forest she had grown up in, but she knew she could not remain.

Thranduil had debated sending someone after her, even going himself had crossed his mind. But his wife had run away from him. She needed to make the decision to come back of her own free will. Thranduil tried to discreetly ask his wife’s maids about why she left so suddenly, finding himself shocked at their response. Since the birth of Prince Legolas, the Queen had been a ghost of her former self. Apparently, she had not returned her sister’s letters in many months, she had stopped doing anything except work. Sometimes, she wandered aimlessly through the halls of their home in the middle of the night. Thranduil was furious at himself. He had not noticed any of it. How would she ever choose to come back to him if he had been so neglectful?

When Thranduil’s guards came rushing in one evening to tell him that the Queen had returned, he dropped everything and ran. He almost spooked the horse as he came to a halt, just in time to grab his wife by her waist as she dismounted. “You’re home!” he exclaimed excitedly, still hugging her from behind, burying his face in her neck. “You’re not angry at me for running away?” Ana asked, slightly ashamed of the way she had left him. Thranduil chuckled and swept his wife off her feet, carrying her off to their chambers. “Would it be easier for you if I were angry with you?” Anarríma let her head fall against his shoulder and sighed. “Yes, I think it would.” Thranduil was silent until they were behind closed doors. He knew that his beloved wife was struggling and he did not know how to help her.

He cleared his throat. “Your parents are well?” Ana nodded. “That is good to hear,” Thranduil continued, “and you had time to take care of yourself for a few days? You have slept? Eaten something?” The queen looked up at her husband in shock. Had he known all that time? As if he could read her mind, Thranduil shook his head. “Your maids told me a few days ago. I am so sorry, Ana. I should have known, I should have done something to help you,-” “Don’t,” she interrupted him, her voice shaky. “Please stop.” Thranduil gently cupped her cheek and tilted her face upwards, carefully wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The king sounded heartbroken. Another thing that was her fault. She closed her eyes and the tears fell silently on her cheeks. “You already have an entire kingdom to take care of. I thought that I could fix this, thought that I could fix me. But I can’t, Thranduil.” When his wife started sobbing uncontrollably, Thranduil felt more helpless than ever before. So he just wrapped his arms around his wife and held her. Time seemed to stop around them. The king did not know how long they stood there. It could have been minutes, hours, days even. Anarríma calmed down slowly.

Thranduil’s mind was racing. Ever since their altercation at dinner, things had not been good. They did not usually disagree on matters quite so intensely and he had a feeling that their usual method of resolving conflicts would not work this time. This was not a problem they could just ignore that would eventually go away on its own. A new solution needed to be found so they could put this behind themselves for good. The king was softly stroking his wife’s hair when he decided to tell her about his solution. “I cannot let your disobedience go unpunished.”

Anarríma wrestled herself out of his grasp abruptly. “What?” Thranduil looked at her as if nothing were amiss. “I am the king. You disobeyed my orders to remain here.” “You intend to throw me into the dungeons?” Thranduil huffed a laugh. “Of course not, you are my queen, it would be unseemly. But I must punish you somehow. Bend over my desk.” He turned his back to his wife, who was still processing what he had just said. She was still standing in the middle of the room, staring off into nothing as he brushed the neatly stacked mountains of paper off his desk in one smooth motion.

The noise made Ana jump and turn to him. He just stood there, looking at her expectantly, holding out his hand for her to take. Anarríma hesitated. Would this be it? Thranduil’s solution to their problem, never to be mentioned again? It was worth a try, she decided, stepping forward and taking his hand, letting him lead her to his desk. Anarríma felt her hands shaking as she gripped the edge of the desk, digging her nails into the wood as one of Thranduil’s hands applied pressure between her shoulder blades, forcing her to lay down, face pressed against the cold surface of the desk.

“Count them for me,” he commanded icily. Anarríma was still too frozen to say anything as she felt the cool air hit her legs as the King moved her dress out of the way, bunching it up around her waist. She almost jumped as she felt the warmth of Thranduil’s palm against her backside, gently caressing her. Her reaction made him chuckle cruelly. Torturing her was too easy. “Do you have anything to say for yourself before we begin?” he taunted. Was he seriously expecting her to apologize to him again? Ana refused and before she was able to adjust to the absence of the comforting weight of his hand, it was replaced by a sharp sting that made her wince. “One,” the Queen whispered.

He seemed to become harsher as her punishment went on, Anarríma thought. Or maybe it was the precision of every slap landing on exactly the same spot broken up by his gentle caresses that caused the intensifying pain. It was amid the counting and the yelps and gasps she attempted to hold back that Anarríma realised that the tears running down her cheeks were not the only thing that was wet. It felt wrong to be turned on by this. As if her body was betraying her. “One more,” Thranduil’s voice brought her back into the moment, “you’re doing so good for me.” The pain of the final slap felt good, the Queen decided. Still, she would never admit it out loud.

“Ten,” she finished her counting, attempting to push herself off the desk, but finding herself being pushed back down. “Not so fast,” Thranduil scolded. “But you said-” “I know what I said, there is just something I need to check first.” Just as the Queen was about to ask him what he meant, she felt his hand slide between her thighs. Shit. There was no way of hiding it from him anymore. He wiped his fingers on her thigh and allowed her to rise, grabbing her waist to turn her around. She was blushing furiously, looking down at her feet, letting the skirt of her dress fall again, pretending to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Ana,” Thranduil drew out the first syllable of her name, “did you enjoy your punishment?” The Queen did not know how to react, choosing to simply continue feigning interest in her clothes. He hooked a finger under her jaw, tilting up her face until she met his penetrating gaze. She shook her head slowly, causing him to grin maliciously. “Liar.” Anarríma finally let out the giggles she had been holding back, taking a small step forward and resting her head against her husband’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head atop hers. “Do you think we’ll be alright?” she whispered after a while, almost inaudibly. Thranduil sighed contently. “Of course we will.”

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