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five-rivers · 6 months

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Ancestral Chapter 21

Probably the last one for this month, if not this year. Written for ectober day 27: circus gothica (yes, I am behind).

Somehow, Danny wasn’t even surprised at this point.

"Yeah, I, um. I met the guy, once?"

"Sorry?" said Gwensyvyr.

At the same time, Jazz asked, "Who?"

"Pariah Dark," said Danny.

"He is supposed to be sealed." Gwensyvyr's form briefly flickered back to her battle regalia. This close, Danny could see that each of her braids had a spiked chain woven into it, starting low enough down that the spikes would bounce off the back of her armor, not the back of her head.

"He was," Danny hastened to reassure her. "He is. He just. Got out for a little bit. Last year."

Gwensyvyr leaned back, her elbow phasing slightly through the chair. She covered her mouth with her opposite hand. "It seems my suspicions might not be as far-fetched as I thought before. If he was out at all, they might have–" She stopped. "You still need to know the whole story."

Matthew's phone began to tweedle. He snatched it up with a look of panic on his face. "Sorry! I need to take–" The panic transformed into a kind of exhausted horror as he stared at the phone. "Does our honored ancestor know about phones? I mean…" He looked back and forth between Danny and the phone, which was still ringing.

"She knows about phones," said Danny, unsure whether to be amused or not.

Matthew seemed to take this as permission, because he answered the phone. “Yes, did you find it?” He was silent for a moment. “No? Do you know what happened? Could he have moved it to some other spot? No, no, I understand. If possible, please keep looking. It’s very important. Goodbye.” He put down the phone. “That was Aldryk Wylfred, his father was one of grandfather’s close friends. He’d been named a Knight of the Key, and given one of the Great Gate Keys to safeguard… His key is missing. I’m waiting on the other Knights of the Keys.”

“I had hoped it was not so.”

“Is… no one going to ask why Danny knows someone that Queen Gwensyvyr fought?” asked Leo. “Or how?”

“Well, he was a ghost at the time,” said Danny. “But we really ought to…” He waved at Gwensyvyr. “Listen. And stuff.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to be able to get away with that for much longer.

“Thank you,” said Gwensyvyr. "But if you met Pariah Dark, you know what he became."

"King of Ghosts."

"He thought of himself that way, yes," said Gwensyvyr. "It is not something Artyr and I considered, when we killed him. Nor did any of the ghosts and spirits who haunted him and wanted him dead as badly as we did."

“His name really was Arthur, then,” said Lewis, who had taken out a notebook at some point. "Your husband."

“In his birthplace, perhaps. He was named after a famed king of that land, long dead, as I understand it, then and now. It has made our respective legends rather confused, at times.

"With me, he was always Artyr. He was trained as a blacksmith, which was why they kept him. Such skills are valuable still, as you well know.” She nodded to the ritual knives many of them had set on the table, and then again to the knives Irene had set the table with. "He made the very first of those. To kill Pariah."

"Why?" asked Danny. "Why did you need that? Wasn't he human, then?"

Gwensyvyr shook her head. "Not entirely," she said. "Not anymore. He had his men desecrate the pool. Mine was not the only blood spilled in it that day, and they did more than that. They threw trash into it. They blocked off the spring. They did things in it too foul to speak of. They cut down the tree and burned it. But not before Pariah and his sons ate every single apple that grew on it that year."

"They were syvyrys," said Danny. "That's why you needed a knife that could cut a ghost."

"Not like I was and not like you are, but, yes. They had already had some measure of magic to them - that is how they cut down the nine of us priestesses. Numbers alone did not do that. But the apples gave them terrible power.

"They took me and the others they had chosen as slaves - beautiful girls and men with valuable skills, for the most part - back to their homeland. The islands were not the only place he had taken slaves from, though they were always quite careful not to ever take so many as to be outnumbered. So, there, I met Artyr. There, we plotted. There, I came into my powers. There, I killed Pariah Dark.

"But to my continuing regret, I did not kill his sons."

"You think they have something to do with all this," said Matthew.

"Or their descendants," said Gwensyvyr. "They are the only syvyrys I ever knew of who could use blood blossoms like that. They were always doing some new, terrible thing. We had more spirits on our side than they did, even with their ridiculous cult, so they spent much of their time making new weapons against them. They had ways to keep themselves and their spirits safe from blood blossoms that we never learned. They had ways to imbue objects with their powers. At one point, they used some alchemy to make this sphere of red glass that could control most ghosts and even tugged on my mind…" She trailed off. "You've encountered that, too, haven't you?"

Danny squirmed. "Maybe."

"How?" asked Gwensyvyr. "Why?"

"It was–" He looked at the rest of his family. "It was– This crazy circus ringmaster had it and was using it to make ghosts rob banks and jewelry stores for him."

"Are you talking about Freakshow?" asked Jazz.

"Freakshow?"

"His real name was Frederick Isaac Showenhower," offered Jazz. "At least, that was his pen name."

"Amazing," said Gwensyvyr. “We ought to sit down and talk about all of the history you managed to run into despite living an ocean away and under a different name. But– Showenhower. That has a German root, doesn’t it? There was some suspicion that the younger son had fled to that area after betraying his brothers… I’m getting ahead of myself.

“While Artyr and I worked at cleansing the sacred pool, reviving the tree, and healing the other damage done by Pariah’s attack, Pariah’s sons built up a cult around their father’s ghost. A group of fanatics that stayed loyal even in death.

“They attacked Avlynys again when I was pregnant with my second daughter, seeking revenge and the power of the sacred pool. Imagine for a moment, such a battle between syvyrys and spirits. The sky was shattered with lightning, the air green with power. Trees uprooted themselves to take part in the fighting. The dead sacrificed themselves to take up their buried corpses. I myself fought Pariah in his glory, bolstered by prayers and sacrifice, wearing a crown of fire and a ring forged from the souls of a hundred berserkers. I banished him through the pond, whose door had been stuck open since it drank of my blood.

“It broke the ground beneath the pond and spring, and the spring sank deep underground where, to the best of my knowledge, it still rests.”

“That’s the portal in Andyr?” asked Danny. “Just checking to make sure.”

“The pond, yes,” said Gwensyvyr. “Kyr Argyn was built on the rift - we also used it as a silver mine for a while. Very useful, for a newly-formed country.” Her lips twitched up. “Artyr also enjoyed the chance to learn silversmithing. I do appreciate your attempts to get back the Kyp Styrryse, Lwys. It took him a hundred years to get that good.” She made a face. “It was also a great aid when maintaining the pool. Having it again would be very good.”

“Oh,” said Lewis. “I, well, I’m working on it. But– A hundred years?”

“Artyr died in that battle, but he did not leave. We had three more children, after, though they were… strange. Even now, he has not left, though he sleeps with many of the other spirits of this land.

“After we had driven off Pariah’s sons, we found the pool again. It took time and a great deal of effort even with magic, and once we did, we were determined that no one should use it for evil ever again, and that even if all of us should die - me, and my children, who numbered three, only, at the time, and my closest friends - it should be safe. But we could not simply bury it and leave it. It was not yet clean and still too powerful. So, we made nine Great Gates and nine Great Gate Keys, to guard all the paths that could reach it. We pledged our family to the cause of safeguarding it and tending it, and we named ourselves after those gates, those doors, so we would not forget.”

Gwensyvyr paused significantly.

“We’ve done that, haven’t we?” asked Matthew. “Even before Uncle Leon died.”

“It was a good while before that, too, to be fair,” said Gwensyvyr. “In truth, I think it started as early as my great-grandchildren’s time. A hundred years of fighting with the sons and grandsons of Pariah…” She trailed off and shook her head. “Alys wanted peace, and thought that both sides were worn down enough that she could get it. She married her daughter, her only child, to one of Pariah’s scions. But Kythrin chose never to have access to the sacred pool, or take up her duties to it, and so never to become queen herself. The throne and its duties went to her cousin, and her husband killed her and took their children to Britain, where he made a pest of himself for the rest of his natural life, despite efforts to end it prematurely.

“One of the children came back. We were overjoyed, but…” Gwensyvyr’s face soured. “Once welcomed, they used the pool to try and call up Pariah once more.

“That is when the pool and the journey andyr Kyr Argyn became so entwined with the succession. Before that, we had helpers, who came freely. They were not the priestesses of old, but they had some knowledge, and it made the burden easier for the family. After… we did not trust so easily.

“Later, many years on, Queen Arynryd saw the danger in this and founded the School of Heroes in an attempt to gather those that could be trusted. That was the original point of it - not to be a pre-approved pool of heroic suitors to pick from to prevent inbreeding in the royal line.” She rolled her eyes as a faint susurrus of ohs rose up around the table. “Although, I will grant that it has been useful for that, on occasion.”

Gwensyvyr shook her head. “After that incident, though, many of us were worried that Pariah might return, so I and some others went through the pool, and directly into a war. I am not sure how long it lasted. Time was strange, there, in the otherworld. But it was Pariah and his fanatics against all other spirits, and we felt that, as his old enemies, we must join in.

“When Pariah was sealed, we returned, but we found that more than a generation had passed, and Pariah’s brood had made war on us again, and that they had even roused the Normans to do the same. A whole…” She paused, looking away. “While we were gone, a whole branch of the family had been wiped out. Only the youngest, one too young to go to war, survived. And though King Ydmynd completed the trials, and as an adult, with a child just born, he decreed restrictions, and that no one should go into Andyr or to the pools except for the Trials.”

Gwensyvyr stared at the table. “I did not intervene. I thought it would be enough, as people had children, and those children wanted to take up the family task. I thought the pool healed enough, and the gates strong enough. It was not Ydmynd’s fault, mind. He was young, and he’d had a harrowing time of the trials, with so many of us gone to fight Pariah in the beyond, and all his family dead.”

She paused again, giving Danny time to catch up and think about what that must have felt like, for Edmund. To think about how every day they seemed to be getting closer to that point themselves.

“There were some benefits to the developments as well. The decrees were not because of fear, only,” said Gwensyvyr, softly. “Athlyng Elysyvyt was kidnapped young and educated by the Danes, who wanted to put her on the throne, but without the Trials, she had no claim to it. We avoided long periods of regency, and the crises that come with child monarchs. A few times, Pariah’s living fanatics were caught trying to get into Andyr.

“Then, too, not everyone followed King Ydmynd’s decrees, especially after he, in turn, died. There were strong syvyrys in those years, too. Even so… even so, we thought it might be best to let the living find their own way, in most cases. There is a reason I did not stay queen after my death, though I was, clearly, still there and still visible, as magic had suffused Avlynys through the sacred pool far more in those days than it does now.

“There were things to do, regardless. Even in death, even with the pool behind the Great Gates, we still had to protect the island and the pool from enemies. And…” She sighed. “When there were no more enemies, and we found ourselves growing weary, many of us chose to rest. Even I cannot be everywhere at once. I often chose to shadow my family, rather than any greater purpose and as time passed, and the pool wasn’t tended to, its power faded. I thought that a good thing, that it was finally returning to how it used to be before my first death, but lately we find we cannot even go there, and… Now we are here. A thousand years of attrition and inattention later, we are here.”

“And… that’s it?” asked Danny.

Gwensyvyr spread her hands out. “I am not going to attempt to recount the entire millennia, much less the portions of it that are in living memory. Although maybe I should. I always thought the nationalist movement had a little too much in common with some of the things Pariah’s fanatics got up to.” She tapped her lips. “And the Germans sent us a remarkable number of curses during the second of the Great Wars, despite how terrible they were at it, and despite hardly anyone being able to do that at all in the twentieth century.”

“We expelled the nationalist movement. Their whole organization was outlawed, after the Brygytyn attacks.”

“Matthew, you know as well as I that you never entirely get rid of people like that.”

Iris raised a hand. “So, our consensus here is that our premier pharmaceutical institution is run by deranged cultists who specifically hate our family for killing their, what, their god? And they might be Nazis on top of that?”

“Not Nazis,” said George. “Those were specifically German nationalists.”

“There are American Nazis, too,” pointed out Iris.

“I wouldn’t call it a consensus,” said Gwensyvyr. “But they must, at least, be involved, and I find the timing suspicious, if he was out of that sarcophagus for any length of time. I would say that the spirit who attacked just now was one of them, likely being punished for failing to kill you earlier, Matthew.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Danny. He was, personally, all for going out and beating up whoever was behind all this, but he didn’t know who was behind all this.

“The Trials,” said Matthew. “If we did them, if we got rid of whatever was blocking you, could you… How many of our ancestors are here, awake? Could you help?”

Gwensyvyr smiled, teeth sharp, ghostly fangs. “We would like nothing better.”

#danny phantom #ectober #ectoberhaunt #ectoberhaunt23 #ectoberhaunt 2023 #ectober 2023 #ancestral fic

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haveyoureadthisfanfic · 3 months

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Summary: When several of Maddie's relatives die mysteriously, the Fentons return to her ancestral - and extremely haunted - homeland for the funerals. But there's more at stake than just a family funeral, and the inheritance is more complicated than even they could expect.

Author: @five-rivers

#official fic poll #haveyoureadthisfic #pollblr #tumblr polls #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom poll #fandom culture #internet culture #Ancestral #danny phantom

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centuryberry · 2 months

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Shadowiceflower Adventures

Otherwise known as "Macaque's Extended Bachelor Party" or "What Happened While Wukong and Yue Were Away"

A Brief Summary: For once, Macaque doesn't just sit and wait for Wukong to come back home. Instead, he goes out with Shanzha and RinRin to make some memories and maybe leave a mark on the world.

Macaque, Shanzha, and RinRin last about one (1) week without Wukong and Yue before they break down and cry. They just miss them so much.

After a night of getting completely hammered together, RinRin gets the bright idea of going on an adventure - just the three of them. Macaque is reluctant to leave FFM but eventually agrees.

The three start small: They visit the Demon Bull Family first.

Everything is pretty chill until Red Son starts to lose control of his Samahdi Fire. Shanzha manages to ease the flames with her ice powers and buy Macaque and RinRin some time as they search for a specific flower known to help manage and repress demon powers.

Red Son is (temporarily) saved though the event makes PIF and DBK consider asking for celestial help since their son's abilities mostly come from the celestial side of the family.

The trio move on. They stop by a Demon Night Market so they can buy rare wares and trinkets for Yue and themselves.

RinRin meets an unpleasant Owl yaoguai and decides to steal their lantern so she can gift it to Macaque. This sets off a chain of events that gets the trio into trouble. They somehow get out of the ordeal intact and alive. Shanzha is upset at RinRin's riskiness but Macaque is moved by the gift.

From there, the trio decides to visit Macaque's homeland. The lands were ruined and ransacked and were a sad sight to see.

Macaque, Shanzha, and RinRin stay in the Macaque Spirit Clan's castle overnight and discover that it's haunted. Or, more like, RinRin is painfully aware that it's haunted while Macaque (part of the bloodline) and Shanzha (a shrine maiden) are oblivious until RinRin decides to deal with the ghosts.

Instead of putting them to rest, Macaque uses his new lantern to give the ghosts shadow forms. They now guard the lands, keeping outsiders out. They also acknowledge him as the current Macaque Spirit King.

Since the Spirit Macaque Clan territory is located between FFM and LoES, they use the land to gather all of the FFM soldiers and generals willing to throw down with some snow monkeys for sending a child bride.

Macaque, RinRin, and Shanzha enter the territory first to gather information and stir up some shit. RinRin and Shanzha give Macaque a makeover and sit back and laugh as LoES falls over themselves to impress and court Macaque.

Macaque gets the ego boost of his life. While he really doesn't have to do anything, he takes the initiative to learn from RinRin how to flirt and seduce. He also learns from Shanzha all the underhanded tricks that the residents of LoES might pull on him. He flourishes during his time there.

Though, in their information-gathering, the trio slowly realizes that there's a conspiracy afoot. They dig a bit too deep and are imprisoned by a clan leader who isn't as moved by Macaque's looks (unfortunately).

Enter: Nezha, who had been scouring everywhere to find the three so he could bring them up to Heaven. He breaks them out of jail and ends up getting tangled as the monkeys continue to unravel a concerning thread of thralls and followers of a Bone Demon.

Nezha was insistent that they come with him at first but then he saw the state of LoES firsthand and witnessed children's lives being threatened daily.

LoES child: "There's a God that Protects Children?"

Nezha: (devastated at their disbelief)

Nezha was onboard with helping after that. He was the one who would evacuate the children whenever the scheming trio upended a clan and dethroned its thralled leaders. Eventually, he was the one who led the charge against the Zodiac Monkey Clan when civil war broke out.

There's this one moment when Macaque enters the compound and finds the room Yue used to live in with Shanzha and RinRin. It was so small and bare and it broke his heart seeing it.

LBD's influence over the clan made it more hellish than it already was. Many of the clan members were all too happy to back Shanzha as the new heir and leader. Anything to escape LBD and Yishan's rule.

Shanzha and Yishan (the Thrall) engage in a one-on-one inheritance battle. Shanzha nearly takes his arm off with her arrows. Yishan nearly takes an eye out but scars her instead. The fight ends up as a draw because of Erlang Shen's entrance, forcing Yishan and LBD to flee.

Erlang Shen takes an exhausted Nezha and the Scheming Trio up to Heaven where they are reunited with Yue and Wukong.

#queen of the mountain #shadowpeach #iceflower #lmk #macaque-centric #outline #male-female friendship #macaque turns his ancestral territory into a literal ghost town #macaque is a snacc #canon #if i had the time and energy this would be its own fic

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fungal-wastes-my-beloved · 2 years

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There are a lot of unsaid stories in hollow knight.

(Transcription under the cut)

One by one, the last bound by ancestral home.

Isolated, but not alone.

Is it any wonder that he did not kill it himself?

#hollow knight #snail shaman #ancestral mound #comic #art #hk snail shaman #got hit in the face by this last night #enjoy :)#i like the snails quite a lot #oh #not all who wander is a good fic if anyone hasn't read it yet

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layzeal · 8 months

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hey do you ever think about how MAD Lan Wangji must have been post-Siege. like people talk about the Grieving, because of course he was grieving, but I don’t see as many people talk about how furious he must have been. like there’s him being shown first hand the rank hypocrisy of the cultivation world and how they killed Wei Wuxian and the Wen (and jeez, the fear he must have felt wondering what would happen if people were to find out Shizui was a Wen–) and then how they turned around and said that was Justice. how enraging would it be to hear them disparage Wei Wuxian and then without blinking use his inventions; just using Wei Wuxian while condemning him even after death. truly hanguang-jun is stronger than me, because I think I would go crazy.

ksdjfhjsdkfh in all fairness, i think the reason people don't really talk about lan wangji's rage after wwx's death is because we never actually see it. we watch him drink and harm himself with the wen brand in hopeless despair. we see his sadness, his grief, we see him drag his broken body to yiling and search for days for a single trace of wwx, the only thing forcing him to come back being the sickly little boy he found hiding in a tree... but we don't see him angry, resentful, or vengeful.

other than maybe towards jc, lwj doesnt outwardly show any resentment or disdain, and doesnt treat anybody differently. he isn't violent, and even at the immediate threat of losing wwx (ie the 33 elders) he only attacks them so they cannot impede him from escaping with wwx, it was a rational choice made with a clear goal in mind, he didn't snap. in the present, we watch how he simply removes himself from the situation altogether and chooses to help the common people with his own hands, rather than waste time with clan politics.

we KNOW he must be angry at that senseless injustice, but he simply has a different way of showing it. it's all inner brewing, which he answers by changing his actions, not by snapping with violence.

and thaaaat's exactly why wwx is OBSESSED with making lwj angry. because he sees all that self-restraint and emotion boiling behind that impassive face, and he wants to see it explode!! he wants lwj to never have to hold back with him. he knows lwj feels everything SO much but only allows his own actions to be calculated, so if he can tease him just in the right way to let those feelings explode in a positive manner that makes them both happy? well, call that therapy babyyy

#i WILL say that we DO see lwj snap with anger Once: the ancestral hall scene #and he was valid for that tbh #that's the closest we see to lwj's anger towards injustice and grief. and it was sexy as hell #u know how teenxian saw teenji's stuffy face and was like. i need to see him break #he was so correct #but yeah thats basically why i think there's a lack of ''what about lwj's rage'' in fics #we simply are not shown it. that's just not how he reacted to those events #it's how he FELT for sure. but not how he expressed it #that and theres a whole nuance to what he likely already expected to happen as soon as he left wwx at the foot of the mountain #modao #lace speaks

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nerevarbean · 2 years

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Goris the Maggot King, who i only became aware of this morning

#i just visited the venim ancestral tomb page on uesp bc i was doing some research on bolvyn for fic reasons #and then it mentioned this guy and i was like ''how tf have i been playing this game for so long without encountering this guy''#who has a surprising amount of backstory #morrowind #my art #tes #dunmer #elder scrolls #necromancer #he is summoning a skeleton #i am shocked tho #that the game can have someone with the title of maggot king in it and i did not know

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lynpheas · 6 months

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i literally live on the winx club wiki because i rly dislike coming up with ocs for established fandoms and sometimes i need to give a teeny tiny minor character a major role for the sake of my fiiiic

#textp #winx club #tbh for the pnf-style fic i'm planning out #i've been just rereading stuff on the wizards of the black circle #bc i haven't watched season 4 since grade school honestly #and man the wizards are super underutilized #they're the only villains that don't want to take over the magic dimension mmm #with no ties to the ancestral witches #so their entire backstory is free game #and honestly their motivations are too #their designs are still cool as fuck #i remember i rlly used to like anagan when i was little #i should do a winx rewatch Soon bc i'm worried my fic characterization and timelines are getting a little wonky

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mantisgodsaus · 3 months

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there isn't really a specific question on the ask games that fits but we want to hear you talk about what muse is/was like in selkieverse. she fascinates us based on the roughly two things you've said about her

Yes we can do this absolutely! Fair warning - There Are Things Here We Are Not Stating, mainly for spoiler reasons. Hopefully, they are excluded cleanly enough that this still flows well, but this is a long-ass thing so

Muse, though she wasn't a selkie herself, was close enough to Leif that he felt entirely safe leaving her with care of his pelt. She knew that he was a selkie pretty much from the moment that she met him - there wasn't quite as much baggage built up around the risks of having your pelt just Out And About, at the time, though a lot of selkies were a bit skittish about it, and Leif didn't really hide things.

A marriage, at least for moths, is more a contract of trust than anything else - an expression of trust, a unification of families, and so on and so forth. Somewhat more of one for selkies, with the big blaring weak spot they've got - it's a lot like showing your back to someone and just... hoping that they don't fuck you over. You welcome this particular bug into your family and you trust that they'll watch your back and help raise your children and look after your family when you're gone.

She was the usual person to keep ahold of Leif's pelt during expeditions, so as to keep it safe even when his bug body was in danger from being hurt or killed. She was trusted to keep it safe, or to use it for its transformation if the need ever presented itself - it was more shared between them than anything else during the later stages of their life together, and that meant that she was very, very familiar with how it felt.

Leif died in Snakemouth after having given her his pelt for safekeeping. Just to make sure he had an anchor. Just to make sure he didn't go too deep. Just to make sure that, if something happened, she would know he was okay from the heartbeat of his pelt - or, that if it went cold, she would know to stop, and get out while she still could.

She felt his death in the pelt wrapped around her shoulders. The aftereffects of the venom coursing through his veins, reflected in his pelt, giving the warning she needed to order a repeat. She felt his death throes reflected in the very literal piece of himself still trusted with her all the way out, and all the way home.

She sat at home after submitting the report that declared his death, a dead pelt still settled around her shoulders, standing over the shells of their eggs, knowing that the larvae were in the Ant Nursery where she couldn't know if they were all right or if her whole family had been killed where she couldn't even see, and she felt the shudder of a body restarting as the cordyceps settled into his husk.

Muse knew, for absolute certain, that he died. She felt his death throes. She felt his heart stop on her back. She also knew, for an absolute fact, that he was alive after that, even if she didn't know how or in what form. She knew this, and she could feel the dull pulse of his cordyceps self starting to take over his body in his skin, and she could feel the sealskin starting to change under her fingertips, and she was deadly, deadly afraid of looking away- of taking it off, or simply ceasing to pay attention for slightly too long, and returning to find it dead and vacant again. To that end, she just... didn't take it off.

She didn't take it off, in fact, for several years. Past the point where people thought she was in shock and morning and long into the point that people thought that her husband's death had broken something irreparable in her. She continued to wear it long after her children had emerged from the ant nursery, and long after they had begun to grow into fully-fledged selkies of their own, and long after they had the context to know about It All.

She got into arguments about it. As far as anyone else knew, she was dragging her dead husband's equally dead pelt around 24/7, and once her kids were old enough to understand that whole situation, there was a certain awareness of "hey, this is maybe a bit fucking bizarre to do, don't really like that". It was, in particular, a recurring argument with the son that would eventually become known as Grandpa, as he was of the firm opinion that it was Fucking Weird to walk around with a loved one's dead pelt twenty years after said loved one's death, and that she shouldn't Do That.

Unfortunately for him, this was not an argument he was going to win. Muse, being as stubborn as a bull and with no particular regard to what the neighbours thought, had been doubling down on this particular argument for twenty-eight years already. She had chosen to see this through, and no one could really convince her otherwise, though many of her children would try.

As such, she would remain "that weird lady carrying around her dead husband's pelt and skulking around doing who-knows-what since there's no damn way her husband's life insurance and her dispatch salary from the explorer's association would account for the care and feeding of eight kids plus herself without at least a few jobs in-between and no one knows what the hell she does for a living". The argument, however, would continue.

It would continue, in fact, until after Grandpa had had kids of her own, when Muze was fairly young. The old argument got brought up again, Muse refused to entertain the idea of maybe not being seen as The Local Weirdo, she went off to her room with the usual pelt. She sat, alone, in her room, thinking about the whole Situation. She put on the pelt.

This time, specifically, she chose to put it on in such a way to attempt to shift into Leif's selkie form. It had been years with barely any chance in it, after all. Though she had initially feared disrupting whatever delicate balance was keeping him alive, it had been stable for long enough that she was pretty sure that wearing it wouldn't disrupt something, and she... wanted the assurance, really, that she wasn't going mad. That her choices were based on truth - and that he was still out there, somewhere, even if dead-and-resurructed.

It... worked. With some caveats.

At this point, Leif was entirely merged with the cordyceps components, entirely hosted on crystal hardware, and the mirror that his pelt offered to his body was one where the bone marrow, connective tissue, and structure had entirely been eaten away by now, and the vast majority of the flesh was now composed of cordyceps tendrils that were a whole lot more obvious when they were puppeting around a skin suit with an internal skeleton, and not a relatively rigid exoskeleton.

No one could really deny that her old paramour was alive enough to animate a pelt. Unfortunately, no one could deny that whatever the fuck had happened to him, it had warped his selkie form beyond anything that anyone had really expected to be possible, and absolutely no one wanted to learn what the fuck his body looked like back in Snakemouth, or what form he was alive in, and no one really wanted to touch the pelt that had offered a form like that.

In particular, no one really wanted to see that particular pelt anywhere that someone might try to put it on after that whole fiasco, and no one was particularly fond of the idea of continuing to let Grandma Muse walk around with the living pelt of whatever her partner had become.

After a great deal of arguing, she accepted the compromise of hanging it over the mantelpiece, where she could keep an eye on it even without physically wearing it. She would then proceed to relocate herself to the living room for most of the rest of her days, if only to make absolutely certain that that faint, dull hum beneath the skin was still active- that he was still alive out there, somewhere, in whatever form.

Against all odds, she would live to see his awakening. Unfortunately, she would not live to see him actually return to his family - just to see the tell-tale shudder of a pelt growing active again, as miles below, Leif stirred from his slumber.

Her family are currently engaged in Trying Very Hard Not To Think About The Whole Situation. They are fairly certain that whatever the pelt belongs to, it's still in Snakemouth Den. They are fairly certain that Leif's relation to the family is through it, though theories are more "he's the kid of whatever-it-is and a different moth" than assuming that he Is In Fact Todd's Great-Grandfather.

No one really wants to take the pelt down from the mantelpiece at the moment, and absolutely no one wants to explain the whole Situation to Leif unless they have a better idea of what he's inherited from his other parent, but there's also enough shit going on with them in general that it might just never get brought up until someone directly mentions it.

Leif is currently under the impression that Muse remarried to a selkie because the whole "being a selkie" thing wasn't terribly relevant to the way that his current cordyceps took up residence and after that whole Situation he was not especially eager to delve into previously repressed memories.

Predictably, this whole setup goes Terribly when poked at, especially as Leif's pelt is a whole lot more autonomous than your average selkie pelt, being more than a century old by now and belonging to a fungus who is very much set up in a way where his disconnected individual body parts can act autonomously on remnants of whatever priorities are/were in the main control system.

It is still hung over the mantelpiece.

#asks #bf aus #selkieverse #selkieverse muse #selkieverse leif #we are carefully excluding some details as to what muse was doing with her free time beyond Having Kids for spoiler reasons #bc unfortunately a lot of the shit she was doing on her own is like Super Mega Spoilers for even like. entirely unrelated fic #having a living piece of leif around while leif is The Horrors is. maybe not an absolutely ideal situation it seems #muze is living in a horror movie and shes Aware of it but like. shes got her own shit going on. cant worry abt The Horrors too much #unfortunately we cannot elaborate any more on this without The Spoilers so uhh. muse. stubborn as a bull. causing Situations.#despite the Possible Implications we do wish to note that like. they do not actually think about it very much. they got their own shit.#there is a potentially cursed ancestral relic just In The House and you just kinda have to cope with that sometimes yknow #what are you gonna do. worry about it more. we thought not.#anyways this is the point where its relevant to note leif doesnt actually remember the whole Selkie Thing after leifs request #they actually only pick it up in the postgame! after the umm. the uhh.#actually dont worry about what its after its fine

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cuntstable · 2 years

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omg im thinking about all the horrible nasty racist shit in overwatch fandom back in the day…. how could i forget dear mcree x hanzo…

#posterchild of incredibly distasteful to outright fucked fan content #like the one big fic that everyone slobbered over where hanzo got fucked on his familys ancestral grave. and the same story kept associating #reaper with noose imagery….. the author and everyone who went crazy for it will be going to hell.#sorry i just opened up some kind of a dark portal of repressed horrors from 2017. jesus christ

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griots-tales · 2 years

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T'Challa and T'Chaka in the ancestral Ancestral Plane (Part 1)

#T'Challa #T'Chaka #Black Panther #black panther #Black Panther 2018 #ancestral plane #ancestral realm #crying #father-son #black panther fic #Black Panther Fanfic

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five-rivers · 6 months

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Ancestral Chapter 17

Written for day 1 of Ectoberhaunt's isekai weekend! Ignore how far past midnight we are, okay?

Sleep all too often came with dreams. That was probably why none of them had really wanted to go to bed.

Along with the anxiety, the revelations, the threat to all of their lives, etcetera, etcetera. No one was really counting all that. Much.

Danny dreamed. He knew he dreamed.

Well. Sort of. This was really more of a nightmare. Even though nothing bad had happened yet, the whole atmosphere of the classroom was steeped in unease and tension.

"Ryv is one of the few Avlynyse words borrowed directly from French, without first passing through English," said Mr. Lancer, as he wrote on the board in Esperanto. "Most likely due to the popularity of Marie Thérèse of France, who married Prince Alyn, later King Alyn, in sixteen eighty-eight pursuant to the agreement of marriage negotiated when she was five between her father, the Sun King, and Dr. Kahysy Wyrtmyn Royne Tyronoé, when the later saved her from dying of consumption. Yes, Mr. Fenton, this will be on the test.”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Danny.

“Queen Marie Thérèse was often quoted as saying ‘Parfois, j’ai l’impression que ma vie ici n’est qu’un beau rêve’ or ‘Sometimes I feel as if my life here is nothing but a beautiful dream.’”

“You don’t even speak French,” said Danny, despairingly.

“Compare and contrast ryv with the thirteen other common Avlynyse terms for dream, such as ayslyn, traym, and revo.”

“That last one isn’t even Avlynyse,” protested Danny. “It’s Esperanto. You’re writing in Esperanto. I don’t think you know that, either.”

“Compare and contrast King Georg Gyvry’s attempts to acquire royal spouses for his children, thereby securing alliances and diplomatic ties, with Queen Arynryd’s foundation of the School of Heroes.”

Danny stood up. He couldn’t take any more of this. He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and all that was happening was Mr. Lancer giving a lecture on Avlynyse history. And getting things wrong, but that wasn’t really relevant.

“Mr. Fenton, this will be on the test.”

“What test?” asked Danny. “This is a dream.”

“But you have to pass,” said Mr. Lancer, not looking away from the blackboard. “You have to pass. This will be on the trial.”

“What?” asked Danny, unable to help himself.

“You have to pass the Trials. Dr. Kahysy Wyrtmyn Royne Tyronoé was born in Royn on the Island of Tyrono, to the herbalists Byryta and Yud Wyrtmyn, also of Royn. He was later sponsored by a client of theirs, Dr. Uwyn Font, to attend Argyntyn College. While there, his ideas were instrumental to the resolution of the sixteen sixty-nine Argyntyn Cholera epidemic, and he was inducted to the School of Heroes.”

Danny turned away. He already knew all of this. Except where it was wrong, which was annoying. He hated it when his dreams were wrong, especially when they’d be so interesting otherwise. Like, one time, he’d had a dream about Jupiter, but it was way too close to Earth, and there was just no way the GAV could fly up there that fast, so, there.

Behind him, Mr. Lancer - that is, dream Mr. Lancer - had stopped speaking. Danny felt certain that if he were to turn around now, Mr. Lancer wouldn’t even be there. No. He’d be replaced by something much worse. Something terrible.

He hunched his shoulders and covered his face, then froze as his fingers encountered something around his eyes. The mask he’d worn the previous night, for the Moon Masque. Had he even brought it home, after everything? He didn’t remember. He had been given back his not-so-ceremonial knife, and it was resting on his bedside table. His fingers itched for it now. Normal weapons, even Danny’s normal weapons, wouldn’t do anything against what loomed behind him, but maybe that would. It had already banished one monster.

There was only so long he could delay. He turned. The tunnel was long and dark, with no forks or turns. He walked. Fire and flowers licked from the walls, horribly red, ready to burn, ready to bleed, but did nothing to provide light.

There was an end. It was covered in metal instead of stone. Dull green lines traced between metal panels and wires sprawled loosely over the floor. He put his hand against the wall as he walked. If he was right, this was where he would slip–

–click.

Remembered agony shot through his bones and heart and brain and he spasmed. Through the green he could see Jazz. Leo. George. Iris. Vivian. Lewis. Matthew. Joanna. Grandpa Alfred. Martin. William. Aunt Alicia. Great Aunt Isabella. Great Uncle Theodore.

All of them dying. All of them screaming, dying, melting.

There was a sensation of cold in his chest and he choked himself awake, his ghost sense slipping past his lips. He reached for the dagger instinctively, ready to fight.

“Fryth, myne yfyor. Peace, Danny. Dreams, only, have troubled you.”

“Danny?” said Jazz, blearily, from the other side of the large bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” said Danny, staring. Gwensyvyr had her hand phased partway into his shoulder, and that was clearly what had triggered his ghost sense and woken him up. But, more importantly… “You talked!”

“Yeah?” said Jazz, who was still not entirely awake.

“Yes,” said Gwensyvyr at the same time. “Although it would, ah, appear that you, only, can hear me.” Her accent was strange and heavy, but still familiar and homey in a way Danny couldn’t properly identify.

“Danny?” said Jazz, again. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Yeah, I, um, nightmare. Portals and murder plots, you know? Ah. Ha.”

Jazz was sitting up, now, and peering at the clock. “It’s two,” she said, making a face. “The sun was just barely up… What’s that at this latitude? Nine? So, five hours?” She sighed. “I feel like we just got over jet lag…”

“Mhm,” said Danny. He wasn’t entirely awake either, and his brain wasn’t up for returning anything but exclamation points on the subject of Gwensyvyr talking to him.

(And, as a point of fact, they’d been recovered from jet lag even before Matthew’s attempted emergency coronation, and that had been on the… The ninth? The tenth? And now it was… Danny wasn’t entirely sure, actually. Preparations for the Moon Masque had been a whirlwind. Late January, anyway.)

(Maybe Jazz was right and they weren’t all that recovered from jet lag.)

“Should we go back to sleep? I don’t want to throw my sleep schedule off too much, though…”

“Jazz, I don’t… I don’t think that’s really important.”

Jazz made a disgruntled noise, looked back over at him, and abruptly propelled herself off the bed. “What–”

“Oh,” said Gwensyvyr. “It might be that she might see?” She pronounced the ‘gs’ in each ‘might.’

“Ohh,” said Jazz. “She– That– Hello, Gwensyvyr?” Then she blinked. “She’s gone?”

“No,” said Danny. “Still here.”

“ I just– I don’t see her anymore.”

“Alas,” said Gwensyvyr. “A moment, only. Yet still better than not at all.”

“Y-yeah,” said Danny. He looked Gwensyvyr over. “Your arm is better?” It was, at least, covered in clothing again.

“It appears.”

“This is good,” said Jazz. “This is good, right?”

“I mean, I don’t think it could be bad,” said Danny with a shrug. “I can hear her, now.”

“Can you hear the others?” asked Jazz, climbing back onto the bed. “Vivian?”

“I’ve been awake for a minute,” said Danny. “And Vivian’s still with Matthew.”

“They have returned,” said Gwensyvyr.

“Really?” asked Danny.

“Three, four hours after you began to, ah… Slevyn?”

“Sleep,” provided Danny. “But they’re back?”

“I always forget that one,” said Gwensyvyr, mildly. “Matthew still is awake.”

Danny rolled out of bed.

“I guess we’re getting up, then,” said Jazz. She brushed her hair out with her fingers as Danny hunted for something slightly more acceptable to wear downstairs than his pajamas. Then, Danny remembered that Leo had come down that first day in pajama pants, a blanket, and no shirt, so it wasn’t like it mattered.

The other ghosts, as silent as ever, pointed Danny and Jazz in the direction of the dining room, where Matthew, Irene, and Joanna were talking quietly and intensely. They all stopped immediately when the door opened.

Matthew and Irene looked absolutely awful. Irene was still in her Moon Masque costume, and it was rumpled and stained. It looked like she’d been pulling at her hair, with how it had come out of its earlier neat style. Matthew had changed into a t-shirt and ratty jeans, and his arm was in a sling. He looked pale, and his other arm had IV tape and various medical bracelets. His nose was crusted with blood, and he had a black eye.

“Is Sophia asleep?” asked Jazz, when no one else seemed ready to say anything.

“Sophia is still under medical care,” said Matthew. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Nervous breakdown. Grabbed a syringe from one of the doctors and tried to stab me with it. Punched me really good, too.”

No wonder he and Mr. Kynbaz had been too busy to answer the phone.

“Then, I had been given some Revyvtech drugs, because the knife,” he gestured at his shoulder, “had belladonna extract on it. So I spent three hours after Joanna called getting all my blood replaced, just in case Revyvtech was also poisoning me. Luckily, Physostigmine is produced by other companies, so Sophia and I were able to take that, and the amount of atropine that got into our systems really wasn’t enough to kill us, anyway.” He sighed. “I’m tired of getting poisoned.”

Irene patted his shoulder.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “So. What are we doing about that?”

“Which?”

“The– The thing with Revyvtech.”

“We’re investigating,” said Matthew. “Unfortunately, you can’t just accuse an entire company of murder. You have to find the people responsible. And you need evidence. Security brought the medicines you tested to a forensics lab, so we’ll see if anything turns up there. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t even know if it’s safe to take the Trials, if these ‘blood blossoms’ bioaccumulate, if we’ll all drop dead the minute we finish them, the same way everyone else did. I don’t know.”

“I don’t think they do,” said Danny, thoughtfully. “I mean, I had a friend eat some for me, once, and I was still able to do things like phase through him afterwards.”

“There’s that, at least,” said Matthew. He rubbed his eyes again.

“You should sleep,” said Joanna.

Matthew shook his head.

Jazz cleared her throat again. “Mom and Dad?” she asked.

“Kyr Argyn, under house arrest in the Late Wing,” said Matthew. “Pending an investigation, but of course all the investigators are busy…” He stood up. “We’re doing what we can do. If the spirits are able to give you anything else…?” He trailed off, hopefully.

“He should sleep,” said Gwensyvyr. “I do not believe anything I have to say to you will change that.” She paused. “Vivian’s story might.”

Danny shook his head.

“Let me know if that changes,” said Matthew. He took a breath and held it for a second. “Joanna, can you–?”

“I’ll keep everyone to the schedule as best I can,” she said.

“Good. Good,” said Matthew. He hobbled around his chair, towards the door, Irene helping him.

“What schedule?” asked Danny, after they had left. “To prepare for the Trials,” said Joanna. “We’re going a little fast, but… the full moon is soon.” She smiled shakily. “So! Since you two are up, why don’t you get breakfast - or lunch, I suppose - and we can talk about personal seals.”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt23 #ectoberhaunt 2023 #ancestral fic

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turnbacktyne · 2 years

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Are you native? I am too I’m lakota!

Ah unfortunately I'm not, but I'm so glad to hear that I have indigenous people in my followers!

I'm irish, but I've always wanted to learn and understand the native people in what's now America, especially since the irish and indigenous have a long history of supporting each other.

The powwow was open to the public and I wanted to learn and support local tribes so I was super happy I got to go! I learned a lot and saw amazing things, I loved the fancy shawl dance and the MC calling the dancers storytellers just really struck something in me

#especially since i wrote TF i've wanted to make sure i'm respectful of indigenous cultures #since westerns are rooted in a racist history #i tried my best to listen to NDN voices and be respectful whilst writing #but i know as a yt person i'll never truly understand #so i want to learn #and support #it was always my plan if TF ever blew up like other fics I'd use the fame to support indigenous people especially within the fandom #that and my new job places heavy focus on working with local tribes #especially in caring for ancestral puebloan artifacts we have in the park #i really wanted to invite people to come cause we let NDN in free but i didn't know how to say #plus i didn't want to speak up or be disrespectful while dancers were dancing

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hawkaboy · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Ryo/Runner (pre-relationship), so none yet Characters: Ryo (OC), Runner (OC), Other(s) Additional Tags: How Do I Tag, Original Fiction, Original Character(s), Major Character Injury, major character (almost) death, Ryo's alive I promise, Originally an Cyberpunk campaign, based on Cyberpunk 2077, (without any context lol?), Ancestrality, cardiac arrest - Freeform, (i guess), Graphic Description of a Cardiac Arrest, Mentions of Ryonner, the context of this scene is too big, Drabble, short fic, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Runner is a cyborg Summary:

His ancestrals, they were getting to him.

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andy-15-07 · 2 months

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can you do a fic with Paul Atreides, where Y/n is a bene gesserit and they find he is the One

Our love is powerful

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the mystical world of Arrakis, where sand dunes whispered ancient secrets, Paul Atreides and you, a Bene Gesserit, found yourselves entwined in a destiny written in the sands of time. The air in the Sietch was charged with anticipation as the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, with their millennia-old knowledge, discerned a truth that transcended the ordinary.

As you and Paul stood in the sacred chambers of the Bene Gesserit, the reverence in the air hinted at the gravity of the moment. The sisterhood, with their eyes that held the wisdom of countless generations, regarded Paul with a mix of expectation and acknowledgment.

"Y/N," one of the elder Bene Gesserit addressed you, "the threads of fate have woven a tapestry that binds your path with that of Paul Atreides. He is the One—the Kwisatz Haderach."

The realization hung in the air, a moment that echoed through the corridors of time. Paul, with his piercing blue eyes and a destiny that weighed heavily on his shoulders, looked at you with a mix of curiosity and acceptance.

"What does this mean?" Paul inquired, the weight of the prophecy settling on his young shoulders.

The elder Bene Gesserit stepped forward, her voice a melodic resonance that carried the echoes of ancient wisdom. "The Kwisatz Haderach—the One who can bridge space and time, unlocking the secrets of the universe. He who possesses both male and female ancestral memories, breaking the limitations that have bound humanity."

You, a Bene Gesserit bound by duty and destiny, met Paul's gaze with a depth of understanding. "Paul, you are the culmination of a plan set in motion by the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. The threads of our bloodlines converge in you."

The gravity of the revelation seemed to settle in the room. Paul, born into a lineage of political intrigue and ancient prophecy, found himself at the crossroads of destiny.

As you and Paul retreated from the sacred chambers, the Sietch buzzed with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The sands of Arrakis seemed to echo the whispers of the prophecy that had been unveiled.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice a quiet contemplation, "what does it mean for us? For our relationship?"

You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the weight of the truth. "Paul, our connection goes beyond the prophecy. The Bene Gesserit may have seen the threads of fate, but our love is a force that transcends destiny. Together, we navigate the path that unfolds before us."

The days that followed were filled with the intensity of preparation, as Paul embraced the training and revelations that came with being the Kwisatz Haderach. The Bene Gesserit sisterhood, with their watchful eyes, guided him through the intricacies of their ancient knowledge.

Amidst the trials and tribulations, your connection with Paul deepened. As he grappled with the weight of his destiny, your presence became a source of solace and understanding. Late nights were spent beneath the stars, the two of you seeking refuge in each other's arms.

One evening, as the desert winds whispered tales of destiny, Paul looked at you with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Y/N, I may be the Kwisatz Haderach, but my heart belongs to you. Our love will be the anchor as I navigate the complexities of this path."

You smiled, a reassurance that transcended words. "Paul, no prophecy can diminish the love we share. The threads of fate may guide your journey, but our connection is a beacon that lights the way."

As Paul embraced his destiny, the sands of Arrakis witnessed a love story that defied the limitations of prophecy. Together, you and Paul Atreides forged a path that merged ancient wisdom with the unwavering power of love—a journey that echoed through the sands of time, leaving an indelible mark on the destiny of Arrakis.

#paul atreides imagines #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x female reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides #paul atreides imagine #dune x you #dune x reader #dune imagines #dune imagine #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader

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