#after the war like 8 decades or something

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 8 (The End

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Irena told the shadows that she was finished. The service was over…and quite frankly…she was done for the day. Tired and sad and angry and a thousand other things. 

He came to get her in seconds, lifting her up silently, not saying a single thing.  

"Are you alright?" she asked Azriel softly. She could feel...something through that fledgling mating bond....something she couldn't quite place. He just nodded, mutely, and she took that to mean that he wasn't really fine.

"Mor apologised to me," he said softly.

"Well, that's..." Something, Irena supposed. Probably the least the Morrigan owed Azriel, but it was something.

"What did you say?" she asked curiously as Azriel carried her back to his room.

"That I need time," Azriel said simply. "I need time. They all apologised. But that doesn't just...erase years of hurt. It doesn't."

Irena nodded slowly, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. "No," she said quietly. "It doesn't." She could see the pain in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Decades of hurt, years and years of suffering, it couldn't just vanish after an apology.

She could only imagine the complexity of his feelings: anger, hurt and...a hint of hope.

They were all there, swirling together, warring against each other. 

He had loved Mor for centuries. He still loved her, even now. The thought pained Irena in a way she hadn't expected.

Irena knew that Azriel loved her. She didn’t doubt that for a second…but he’d loved Mor longer than he'd even known her. 

And she knew that…there was a part of his heart…that would probably always…always be for her…for the first female he had ever loved. For the female who had hurt him again and again.

But it wasn't a competition, Irena reminded herself. Azriel's love for Mor did not mean he didn't love her. It was not an either or thing. He could love them both, in different ways.

His arms squeezed her gently, pulling her closer to his broad chest.

"Whatever you are thinking, stop it," Azriel said with a sigh. "I love you. Mor isn't some kind of competition to you. You are my mate, the love of my existence. There is no competition."

Irena blinked, startled that he had seen straight through her. She ducked her head, unable to look at him. "I...I didn't-” she started, her voice strangled, but he didn't let her finish.

He stopped abruptly, adjusting his hold on her so she was facing him. Irena met his gaze, the intensity in his eyes stealing her breath away.

"You are my mate, Irena," Azriel repeated, his voice low and ragged. "You are my mate, the other half of my soul, given to me by the mother herself. There is no one who can replace you, no one who could even come close. Do you understand that?"

Irena stared at him, her heart fluttering at the ferocity in his voice. She nodded slowly. "I...I understand," she said, her voice a mere whisper.

Azriel's eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to communicate the depth of his feelings without words. "Good," he said finally, his voice rough. "Because I don't want you to ever doubt that," he said, his words firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"I love you too," she told him softly.

That seemed to soothe something in Azriel, the tension leaving his body, his eyes softening. "You, me and the bed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Sounds like the perfect end to an awful day."

"Bath," she corrected him softly. "You, me and the bath."

He stared at her wide-eyed.

"Bath?" he asked her softly.

"Bath," she agreed, biting her lip. "I just...I just want to feel you," she said softly. She just wanted…

Azriel's eyes darkened, understanding what she meant. He drew in a ragged breath, his arms tightening around her, holding her even closer to him.

"Alright," he said huskily. "Bath it is."

She should have known that even...even when she invited her mate to share a bath with her...he was a perfect gentleman. Averting his gaze as the shadows helped her sink into the bubbly concoction and then sliding behind her.

She maybe...maybe snuck a peek. Just one.

They weren't going to do anything...not that day...not with him still worried about her leg and after the day they both had...but just feeling his warm skin against her body...it was enough to make her forget...nearly everything else.

Azriel's large hands traced over her skin, his touch tender and gentle as he held her against him. The water was warm and soothing, and his bare skin against hers...it was intoxicating.

She could feel his muscles, the planes of his body, the warmth of his skin. It was enough to make her shiver, goose bumps rising on her flesh. And he seemed just as affected as her, his breathing ragged, his grip on her tight.

His lips ghosted over her shoulders, sending tingles through her body. She closed her eyes, arching her head back against him, her breath coming in shaky gasps.

His touch was light, yet firm, and oh so careful, as if he was scared to press too hard against her.

It was then she realised why he wasn't making any obvious moves to...continue their activities. He was being careful with her, worried about her leg.

She could feel the restraint in his every movement, in the way he held her. He was holding back, for her sake.

A rush of affection for him went through her, her throat constricting. She reached forwards, running her fingers over his hands, tracing the calloused, scarred flesh, before entwining her fingers with his.

She felt...safe. Secure. Cherished. Even more than before.

"You know the shadows never give me bubble baths," he said drily. Irena couldn't help but burst out in laughter. "I could get used to this."

"You are always welcome," she said softly.

"Good," he said huskily. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Because I am going to make a habit of joining you."

She shivered against him, his words sending a bolt of heat through her. "I..." she began, her voice catching in her throat. "I wouldn't complain."

Azriel hummed, his body pressing against hers, his hands moving on her skin. "Is that so?" he said in a low, velvety voice.

"No complaints," she managed to say, her voice shaky. "None at all."

Azriel's grip on her tightened, pulling her more closely to him, his lips gently nipping at her earlobe. "None?" he repeated, his voice a little hoarse.

Irena's breath hitched, her body pressed flush against his. "None," she managed to say, a slight, blissful gasp in her voice.

Azriel let out a soft, pleased rumble, the sound sending a shiver of heat through her. "Good," he said hoarsely, his lips trailing down her neck.

She drew in a shaky breath, her head lolling back against his shoulder, giving him better access to her skin.

He made the most of it, nipping and kissing at her neck, his lips and teeth exploring her soft skin.

She could feel his desire, the restraint in his every movement, and it made her body tingle.

It was a far cry from everything else she had ever experienced...and she loved every second of it.

Her blood was burning, a low heat pulsing deep within her every time his skin met hers. She could feel him, the planes of his body, his breath against her skin, his lips on her neck...and he was driving her mad in the best way possible.

"You are everything I ever wanted, " Irena said softly.

Azriel stilled for a moment, her words making his heart clench. "Am I?" he said, his voice low and rasping.

Then he nipped her shoulder gently, a possessive gesture. "You are everything I never dared to dream of," he murmured against her skin

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss: Ch.7

Warnings: Mention of Injury, Some Smut, 18+

Ch.6 Here | Ch.8 Here

***

You were not happy about being dragged to the Illyrian war-camp with everyone else. Azriel had demanded it, refusing to go anywhere without you since that night after the Hewn City. He acted as if he let you out of his sight you would disappear from him forever. Nothing more had happened since then, besides his need to be more protective than normal. Even at night you would feel the cool brush of his shadows running over your arms, checking in to make sure all was well.

You didn’t mind any of that, but bringing you out here when you had no reason to come? You were annoyed with him and he could certainly tell. You hadn’t said a single word to him since he had dropped you in this cabin. Not that you particularly wanted to stay at the House of Wind when all the Illyrians were gone, but that was beside the point. You didn’t appreciate him making you come, especially when it meant more time around Rhysand.

Luckily for you, he and Feyre had been gone for a few days. You sat on the plush chair with your feet tucked up under you, a book in your hands as usual. You were pointedly ignoring the shadows twirling through your fingers as you read, even more so ignoring their master in the corner of the room. You could tell he was growing agitated with you, not quite understanding why you were so upset.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asked, voice low. You didn’t look up from your book or respond to his question. “I know you’re mad I brought you here, but I don’t like the idea of you being alone up there. What if you needed one of us?”

You turned the page in your book.

A shadow swirled up your neck and hooked around your chin, forcing your gaze up to the Shadowsinger. He had stalked closer to you, standing in front of you now. “I don’t like being ignored,” he murmured, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. You shoved down the heat that was creeping up through you, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to be angry.

“I don’t enjoy being forced to come wherever you go like i’m your little toy,” you shot back. He leaned down closer, hands coming to rest on the arms of the chair below you. His shadow remained on your chin while the others ran over your arms and legs.

“You’d rather I left you unprotected, stuck miles up in the sky?” His eyes were hard, his breath fanning over your cheeks. You glared right back at him.

“It would have been preferable to being stuck here.” Your disdain for the violent Illyrian camps was not something you hid. You remembered the stories Rhysand had told you of their youth, and how hard he had worked to try to change things. How slow that change was coming.

Azriel leaned down even more, lips close enough to brush yours as he spoke. “Mmm, but then you wouldn’t have me around.” His voice was teasing, a light in his eye. You hated how easily he could bring your brain to mush, turn a bad mood into a good one.

You were seconds away from closing the minuscule gap between the two of you and press your lips to his. A loud bang outside accompanied by yelling tore you from the moment, Azriel running to the door as you stood behind him.

You heard the faint voices of Mor and Feyre, and then Cassian was dragging in a near-dead Rhysand. You despised the way your heart stopped at how he looked, the decades of your love for him making his pain your pain. Azriel helped Cassian pull him onto the couch as you hurried to the kitchen, grabbing any healing supplies you could find.

You ran back to the injured male on the couch, kneeling down next to him as you assessed what had happened. Azriel and Cassian shifted behind you, upset at the state of their brother and unsure what to do. “Go,” you told them, “stand outside. Watch for anyone coming. I can handle him.” The pair nodded at your command, following each other out the door. You knew their anxieties would only make this harder, and sending them outside to pretend to do a task would make everyone’s lives easier.

You undid Rhysands shirt, pulling the blood-soaked fabric off of him. He groaned at your touch, eyes rolling back into his head. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, focusing on the injuries in front of you. You took out a warm washcloth and began dabbing the blood away, trying to find where each wound began and end. You had trained in some healing techniques long ago, a useful tool when you married an Illyrian.

You had been in similar situations, cleaning blood and stitching up your husbands wounds. This time was drastically different, and not just due to the fact you weren’t really together anymore. He was quiet. In the past even his worst injuries he had joked through, lightening the mood as you worked on him. Now, he had nothing to say. He wouldn’t even open his eyes or acknowledge what you were doing. It was like something had been sucked out of him, something had destroyed him.

You finished stitching what you could before moving to his wings. “Rhys,” you said, “I am going to have to touch your wings to help you. Is that okay?” You knew he didn’t deserve this kind of respect from you, not after what he had done. You didn’t need to ask his permission to touch the soft leather you knew all too well. Yet something told you that this moment was not the one to start acting on your hurt and anger.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse, hollow. His eyes stayed closed as you washed his wings with the rag, tears pricking your eyes at the deep slashes through them. You knew how much an Illyrians wings meant to them, how devastating it would be for them to be taken away. You were gentle with them, heart heavy as moans of pain came from Rhysand. You took your time making the stitches as even as possible, spreading a healing balm over them when you were finished. The last thing you did was pull out a roll of bandages, going back over all the wounds you had stitched up. With his fae healing he should be fine in a matter of days, but until then he would be forced to rest.

You had just finished placing the last bandage when his hand shot out for your arm. You startled at his touch, looking up into his now-open eyes. He was staring down at where his hand rested on your elbow, pressing your forearms together. You looked down as well, taking in the sight of your matching marital tattoos. “What I have done is unforgivable,” he murmured, hand tightening on your arm. You were inclined to agree, and you probably would have torn your arm out of his grasp and left in any other situation. The male in front of you now bore no resemblance to the cruel Rhysand of the past few months.

“Perhaps not unforgivable,” you gave, trying to ease his pain in any way. Your gaze caught his, taken aback by the tears lingering in his eyes.

“Do not lie to me to try to preserve my feelings.” His voice was thick, on the verge of tears. “I have treated you in terrible ways. I have said and done truly awful things to you.” He looked down at his chest, at the bandages cleanly placed there. “And yet here you are, tending to me as wonderfully as ever. I never deserved you.”

You sighed. “No, you didn’t.” His head shot back up to you as you pulled your arm from him, cleaning the healing supplies up. “However, that does not change what was done. What we had, once upon a time. Can you truly tell me it was all a lie?” There it was. The question that had been haunting you for months.

He took his time to respond, the silence taking over the room. You carried the remaining bandages and healing balm into the kitchen, putting them away while your question hung heavy in the air. Minutes passed while you cleaned, broken only by the sound of Rhysand’s struggling breaths.

“She’s going to reject the bond,” he finally said, avoiding the question. Your movements stilled, not quite expecting that. “She did enough to keep me alive before dropping me here and disappearing.” Truth be told, you couldn’t blame her. You washed your hands, drying them slowly on a towel.

“So she knows?” You asked, understanding that he must have told her. You walked back to the couch, looking down at him. He nodded, avoiding your gaze.

“She trapped a Suriel, to try to find a way to heal me. It told her. She’s angry that I would hide it.” You gave a humorless laugh, kneeling back down next to him.

“For the most powerful High Lord of all time, you certainly are also the dumbest.” Your blunt words shocked him, making him look back at you.

“W-what?” He sputtered out, not used to you talking to him like that.

“Rhys, please. She is your mate, is she not? You have already devoted yourself completely to her, something she had to have noticed months ago.” You sighed, pulling his hand into yours. “She will come around. Give her time.”

He held on tight to you, the ends of your tattoo lining up perfectly when your hands were connected. That was how it was made to me, to show the unbroken love between the two of you. The love that was now shattered into a million minuscule pieces.

“Remove this bond, Rhysand. It does you no good being tied to me like this.” You knew he still may not agree, that you didn’t not know his true motives behind keeping you around. However, you weren’t sure if there would ever be another chance to ask. When he was vulnerable enough to be kind.

You were pleasantly surprised when he nodded, thumb stroking over your hand one last time before he let go. “Okay,” he agreed, voice weak. “I’ll summon a priestess.” You nodded, standing from your spot next to him.

“Rest now, Rhys.”

***

You found Azriel and Cassian outside, sparring to relieve the tension. They stopped when they saw you, rushing over to ask how Rhysand was. You raised your hands, silencing them before they could even speak. “He will be fine,” you assured. “Feyre found out about the mating bond.”

“Feyre did that?!” Cassian asked in disbelief, eyes wide. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped at his shock, shaking your head.

“No, no, she found out while trying to heal him. Where is she?” You looked around the two males in front of you, catching no sight of her.

“She asked Mor to take her somewhere far away. Where Rhys wouldn’t bother her,” Azriel explained. You can’t help but wish you had thought of doing that.

“I see. He is resting now, but you may come back in.” You opened the door for the two, Mor winnowing back at the same moment. She pushed past you to get to Rhysand, demanding to know what happened. You don’t try to stop her. While you could feel bad for his current state, you couldn’t deny you enjoyed seeing him get a little taste of his own medicine.

You grabbed the book you had discarded and headed upstairs, mind heavy with the thoughts of your conversation with Rhysand. You were concerned he was only being nice due to the possibility of Feyre rejecting the bond, and where that would leave him. A beat of fear ran through you at the thought of Feyre rejecting him, and he decided to turn back to you. You shook your head as you pushed open the door to the room you were staying in, banishing that idea from your mind. You would never let that happen.

***

You had fallen asleep while reading, waking up with a sore neck and a rumbling stomach. You slept right through dinner, if it was even had. You stood from the bed, walking slowly to the door. You cracked it open and listen for any sounds of life before deciding to sneak downstairs to grab something to eat. You rubbed your neck as you made your way down, regretting falling asleep at such an awkward angle.

You enter the dimly lit kitchen, catching sight of Rhysand asleep on the couch in the living room. You say a silent prayer to the Mother that he stays that way. One interaction with him is enough for the day. You turn your back on the sleeping male and browse the cabinets for an easy meal. You begin to reach up for a pack of crackers when a cool shadow brushes against your waist. You smile down at the thing, wondering if Azriel knows one is out.

Your question is quickly answered when a hard body presses against your back, an arm reaching over your head to pull the crackers down for you. You turn your head to smile at your friend, a little surprised to find his face so close to yours. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist, the other landing on the countertop in front of you. “Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, voice low as to not disturb the High Lord only feet away.

You shake your head, a bit lost in his eyes and his proximity. You turn so you are facing him, hands coming up to rest comfortably on his chest. “Midnight snack?” You tease, gesturing to the crackers he had grabbed for you. His eyes darken and shadows swirl around you.

“Something like that,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you. Your heart is ready to rocket out of your chest, knowing Rhysand could wake up any second and catch you.

“Azriel,” you whisper, glancing at his lips. You should stop this, push him off and run back to your room. You shouldn’t allow his hand to move up to your neck, a long finger angling your head up to him while his thumb rests on your throat. You shouldn’t allow your arms to wrap around his neck, hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You definitely shouldn’t lean up and kiss him.

You no longer cared as Azriel’s lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, hesitant. You could feel in the unnatural stiffness of his body that he was holding back, allowing you to decide what happens. You pull him even closer to you, increasing the speed and passion of the kiss. Your body melts into his, the hand on your waist wrapping around and splaying across your lower back. Your hand slid up his head, tangling itself into his soft hair. You opened your mouth for him, needing him in every way. You gasped as he lifted you up onto the counter, pushing your nightgown up to step between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer, closer, closer.

He groaned into your mouth, nipping your bottom lip. The hand on your back dropped to your thigh, running up and down the exposed skin. His shadows were twirling around your ankles, your arms, your hair. Everything about him was intoxicating. He pulled away from your lips, traveling down to kiss and suck on your neck. You moaned lightly as the hand on your neck dropped, fingers sliding ever so slightly under the top of your gown. “Azriel,” you breathed, arching into his touch. He growled against your skin, placing a harsh bite in a spot anyone could see.

Not that you particularly cared.

Your hips pushed against his, desperate for him. Your mind was a blaze of lust, of need, and it could only be sated by him. His fingers dug into the top of your thigh at your movement, a warning to think before you did that again. His lips came back up to yours, kissing you so hard you were sure you would bruise. You felt something cold brush against your heat, an almost embarrassing whimper coming from you. “They want to touch,” Azriel said, his voice deep. You moaned when the shadow ran against you again, teasing the edge of your underwear. “Would you like them to touch, my love?”

He was going to be your undoing.

“Yes,” you gasped out, the shadow delving to where you needed it most. You bit hard onto Azriel’s shoulder to muffle your moan, pleasure radiating through your body. He resumed the kissing and sucking on your neck, hand fully sliding down under your top to cup one of your breasts. You dug your nails into his back, the sensations overwhelming. His thumb ran over your nipple as his shadow gave a delicious twist against you, cries falling from your lips. He pulled his hand out of your nightgown to bring your head to his again, lips silencing the noises coming from you.

The shadow began vibrating against you, your legs falling open to allow it more access. You felt the cool breeze of another one dip inside you, Azriel’s hand on your thigh keeping you available to them. You shook against him, moaning his name into his mouth as he kissed you. You felt the shadow push in farther, the sensation unlike any you had experienced. It stretched you open delightfully, it’s twin increasing the speed against you. You bit down on Azriel’s lip, the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. His nails raked down your thigh at the pain and pleasure as you licked over the wound you had made.

You were close, too close. You didn’t want this moment to end, but the shadows seemed to sense the tightening in your body. They held their current speed and movements, bringing you to the edge. You arched against Azriel, head falling back against the cabinets as stars exploded behind your eyes. You shook against him, his shadows working you through the last bit of your release. He hummed in satisfaction as he watched your mouth drop in a silent scream, the sight one he had dreamed about for far too long.

He called the shadows back when he could tell your mind was blank with overstimulation, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. You brought your head back down, glassy eyes looking up at the Shadowsinger. Rhysand had never made you feel that good, and Azriel hadn’t even touched you yet. He smiled at you, brushing your tangled hair back. He took in your swollen lips, spit and a hint of blood glistening on them. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever seen in that moment.

“What are you doing with my wife, Brother?”

***

This is my favorite chapter so far 🫣 Please let me know what you guys think !!!!! I LOVE hearing your thoughts on this story <3

Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters @mybestfriendmademe @thaynarajejheje @brujitafantomatico @justdreamstars @thisblogisaboutabook @lees-chaotic-brain @abeltownshipslittlebitch @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @fxckmiup p @its-sam-allgood @miluiel1 @nickishadow139 @hailqueenconquer @mika-no-sekai-blog @books-hlmc @stonerpersona @starsinyourseyes @meshellexplosionmurder @acourtofbatboydreams @captainsbaby

*crossed out users it wouldn’t let me tag :(

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Self indulgent but … thanksgiving w a gf who loves the holidays but doesn’t have family or friends to spend them with ?

This is really small and super quick, I hope you enjoy it! I do hope you have a wonderful day! (Also went ahead and incorporated two things I made today just because my mind is too lazy to think of anything else. If you don’t like them, womp womp/jk Pretend Gotham War dosent exist)

—

Time written - 8:09 p.m

—

“You sure I’m not invading in on their celebration?” You vocalize your concern for about the fiftieth time after smoothing out your final layer of fluffy, whipped concoction for your dessert dish.

“If anything, Alfred will appreciate one less dessert to make.” Jason responds, casually leaning across the countertop across from you, watching you work your magic on making one of your miracle dishes. While you didn’t necessarily have to bring a dessert, you insisted as a show of good faith.

“It’ll give the old man a reason to sit down for once,” Jason adds, referring to Alfred’s insistence upon waiting by everyone until they got full plates and thoroughly enjoyed a majority of their meals.

You kept asking the same question, just with different rephrasing of words. You were nervous, Jason could see that by the way you smoothed the silicone spatula over the top of your dessert for the tenth time, insisting perfection on something that already tasted heavenly.

Jason would know. He’s always your designated taste tester.

You went above and beyond with everything you did; Making your own whipped cream, using Madagascar vanilla beans, making your own pudding base from scratch.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You respond with a concentrated stare on your dish.

“Look at me real quick.”

You spare a short glance up at him, putting up a sweet front of a smile. “What? I’m almost done, Jay.”

“I know,” Jason curts. “I’m sure they’ll love it.”

You nod, swallowing before focusing again on the top of your dish. You picked up the recipe from an online blog article about three years ago; an upgrade on a traditional banana pudding using heavy cream and expensive flavoring, the dessert reeking of pure holiday that had to be shared with the rest of the world.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” You ask, feeling like the top of the dessert needed a lot more than wafer cookies and bananas. Nuts? Caramel drizzle?

“It looks great,” Jason insists, approaching your side of the counter, settling his hand along your hip. “Scratch that. It looks delicious, incredible, mouthwatering. All the good words, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smile, your cheeks warming with his compliments. Raising your whipped cream spoon to his mouth, you tap his bottom lip before giving him a kiss, hearing his muffled chuckle shortly after.

“Decadent,” He adds, licking his bottom lip of any remaining, perfectly sweet cream. “Perfect. Believe me, Dick and Alfred will never see any banana pudding the same way again.”

You could only hope so, giving him another smile. You liked making this dish, bringing it to your work during little dinner parties. The loudest compliment was a dish scraped empty, yet no one ever asked for the recipe. No one wondered who made it, no one really asked.

“You sure it looks perfect?” Again, your doubts can’t help but have you repeat your broken vinyl record. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Jason gently reassures with firm sentiment, giving your cheek a soft squeeze. You set your mind to something, you keep at it until you’re perfectly satisfied. As stubborn as it makes you, you always try above your best.

This was your first official gathering with the entirety of Jason’s family. It wasn’t your first, as you’ve been over a few times before for pizza and burgers for movie nights, but never with every single Bat related member at a large, ornately decorated table in an extravagant dining room.

Especially, never with Bruce. Not until tonight, where they’d have a little private event to themselves at the manor. A rare occasion where masks and secret identities weren’t needed. Sometimes, criminal behaviors didn’t allow them a break, so this was truly a treat.

Dick could be himself, fussing over preferences of pumpkin and sweet potato to an annoyed Tim. Babs would scoff her amusement while recording them to show off during Christmas, and the rest would gawk or scoff, chatting amongst themselves or listening in on such a boisterous conversation.

This time, the special guest would be you; the girl Red Hood was sweet on long before you knew his name, becoming the sole guardian of every important identity of the Wayne family.

“Trust me. They invited you, it’ll just be us. It was a big vote with no one opposing.”

Those words brought a more comforting, genuine smile to your face, one Jason could tell was more truthful. Holidays were joyfully dreadful to spend alone in an empty home, the promise of a manor full of friendly faces happy to see you, happy to spend time with you and incorporate you into a tradition you desperately craved was a godsend. It felt too good to be true.

The best part of it all was how much Jason understood. He didn’t celebrate these kinds of holidays when he was a child. No foster family, or even his own mother, could spare enough money to provide grand meals and hours of spending time with people you care for.

It took him a long time to get used to it, he wanted that for you as well. You deserved it after all, they all liked you in their own unique way.

“I’m sure a solid nine out of ten attendants will enjoy those sugar cookie martinis,” Jason murmurs while adjusting a few strands of your hair, reminding you of the one underage family member that ‘tolerated’ your presence.

“Do they got a full stock of vanilla vodka?”

“Course they do. Personally know Bruce has a ton of amaretto.”

“‘Personally?’”

“All those bottles for our dates, babe. Grabbed them all from somewhere.”

[oldtvandcomics]

Jill Trent - One of the best discoveries this year

... I probably should stop saying that. There were A LOT of good stories I had the pleasure to find this year. But even so, Jill Trent the Science Sleuth is something special.

(Title image for the Jill Trent story in Wonder Comics #13)

Long story short, I am playing around a little digging in old comic books for some Public Domain ladies, and found Jill Trent on the Public Domain Wiki. I have read every single one of her stories so far, and she is:

A detective

Also a mad scientist who keeps inventing cool gadgets and immediately losing said gadgets, so that she can spend the rest of the story recovering them

VERY easy to read as a lesbian, to the point where... You know, if it quacks like a duck.

Generally cool, gets into multiple fistfights with bad guys every issue

As I said, IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. You can get her comics for free on the Internet and not worry about a thing.

From just after the War, around 1947, 1948.

Jill is the blonde woman in the picture. The other one is her partner, Daisy Smythe. This being the Golden Age of comic books, the stories don't go as deeply into their personalities as a modern reader would hope (read: not at all. They do science and chase criminals, That's it), but they are very close. They clearly live together, and are shown to share a bed on two separate occasions.

I love these two. I desperately want more of them. I have read every comic story by now, and there are exactly zero fanfictions on AO3...

(There does seem to have been a project around a decade (?) ago, to publish reimagined stories with the two of them. But to me, setting is part of the charm. If you change the race of the characters and put them into space, that kind of defeats the purpose.)

Jill Trent appeared in the following comic books:

Fighting Yank #6, 9

Wonder Comics #8-20

All of which are in the Public Domain, and can be read LEGALLY on Comic Book Plus.

[dreamxthetic]

Louis de Pointe du Lac | Jacob Anderson | Interview with a vampire | Bygones

Two hundred years and counting. That is how long Louis has been on this earth—decades upon decades of ill misfortunes and fleeting 15-minute episodes of contentment and peace. More than two hundred years on this god-forsaken planet, yet your face continues to stalk his thoughts like a drug.

He remembered evidently the way you smiled—how your dimples would quirk as your eyes sheepishly fluttered when he showered you in the dearest of compliments. They were the highlight of his days, and Louis remembered all of it, especially the first date.

It was night out, beyond dark, so much so that the two of you would frequently stumble while trekking to your hidden location beneath the glistening stars. He isn't proud of it now, but looking closer at things, he could have been less ashamed of you and met more frequently within the daytime, but the times were sacred back then, and he was young and cautious. He had to catch you four times that night before insisting on leading the way, and when you reached your goal destination, he covered your eyes.

You had asked him, "What," in return, but he merely chuckled hoarsely and gave you a kiss on your cheek.

Louis smiles…oh how soft your skin was…

It was the night of a many first of the two of you, but nothing could upstage it being the night he confessed to you. A mere six words, double that of the usual endearing three, and yet they changed your lives forever…especially yours. He still recalls how your voice cracked with disbelief and joy when he uttered them to you—how the crickets chirped with applause around you while the moon beamed a light of approval onto you…His most cherished memory. And of course, he could never forget the kiss you be-granted his lips after that, would never forget. It was slow and endearing, the most passionate he had ever been with anyone—most vulnerable: more than with Lestat. You're bodies had intermingled beyond that of just flesh. You had claimed his soul, his destiny, something Lestat only had the pleasure of holding onto temporarily.

He regretted deeply not holding onto you more dearly. He could have fought harder, should have! Sure, the times were cruel to people his kind, and it didn't make it any better that he never held the courage to visit you out of the ours of the damned, but still! You were more than just the love of his life; his actions should have replicated and been in tune with his words—his promises. Louis was young and dumb—but in love, and because of that, your veiled relationship only lasted 3 years. An ironic outcome for how high of a standard he held you.

If only he had gotten you out when he promised…had given you that happily ever after in that cottage. Maybe then…only then would Lestat not have gotten to you—would the world not have gotten the chance to degrade you: your very own family…

But he didn't. He didn't, and that was his greatest regret. Louis was 25 when it happened, cursed that way after that enchanting night with Lestat. You were pushing 30, and it was 6 years after the breakup. He knew that because he never did stop loving you. He stalked you like a personal guardian angel. Though it appears he was an ass at the job because despite seeing you once every week, he still had no clue about the internal war you were waging within yourself. If anything, it only gave his infatuation with you over to Lestat. That is what set things truly ablaze.

To this day, Louis doesn't know what Lestat did to you, nor did anyone he asks, but the morning after, he was there, just standing in front of him with the most brim smile in town, eerie in all its glory. He should have instantly known then that something was wrong, but having been with the unpredictable Lestat de Lioncourt for so long, he merely grew docile to the older's eccentric behavior, something he repented for the next day. It was 2:00AM on 8/5/179 when they discovered the body, a mere year from the new century. Of course, to Louis, this was no big deal, having already deducted that it was one of Lestat's many feeding victims, but when he heard of where the body was located and how they had passed, everything changed. There were only 2 people aside from him that he firmly believed to know that place: You and Lestat. And if Lestat was okay…then…

He had to see for himself. I mean, it could have been literally anybody. But fate wasn't so kind for him to be mistaken this time. It was you.

Your body looked bruised and drained, and at first sight, he instantly thought of Lestat, but your body showed no signs of struggle, and that was a big deal, considering it was hanging from a thin rope. It was damaging to swallow, but you had killed yourself, hanged from the tree you and him had carved your initials into, a wretched sight.

He would never forgive himself for that, even up to this day. You haunted his dreams, both the good and bad. That gleaming smile of yours…It brightened his day and made him mourn for the loss of what could have been if only he was brave enough…

Lestat had once again taken something precious from him, and like the lonely fool he was—is—he continued to remain by him…

[dcdreamblog]

do you have any tidbits about the Red Bee? I heard he died decades ago but I also saw some people claiming that he showed up a few years back helping that Peacemaker guy

Depending on someone's level of familiarity his entire life is a fun tidbit but I will do my best.

(Art piece of The Red Bee that adorns one wall of the Superior City Historic Society) Richard "Rick" Raleigh would have appeared to anyone who knew him as the most stand up kind of guy that existed at that time. The assistant DA in the booming pacific port town of Superior City. His only major quirk was a fascination with bees but hey, everyone has to have a hobby right? No one knows for sure what caused his turn to crime fighting, as I've stated before it really was just something in the air during those days. If people like The Sandman and The Atom could do it, and make the jackals preying on vulnerable communities shiver, then anyone would with the right willpower.

His abilities were modest. A motorcycle, a "stinger gun" (which in reality was just a souped up BB pistol but sting it did indeed do) and his secret weapon. A trained bee named Michael. Those of you who do not know this story just balked at that. How does one train a bee? Don't bees live like, two months at best? I need you to look at me when I tell you a couple of things and then the best guess we have. I am NOT fucking with you. 1. That bee is still alive, and has recently reunited with Raleigh's time displaced sidekick. 84 years after Raleigh's debut. Michael sat, and waited until Ladybug returned to the honey farm where he was housed and upon her return instantly flew up to her acting with direct recognition of the young woman after 8 decades.

2. Michael is able to sting multiple times without any ill effects on his person. (Bee-son. You know what I mean) Our best guess? The bee has a metagene.

A random mutation in this seemingly random worker bee has given it, what is from its perspective superhuman abilities of intellect, longevity and invulnerability. It is a theory because under no circumstances are we ever going to get to find out unless for some god forsaken reason the two heirs to Raleigh's estate pass it off to science when and if it does finally die.

Perhaps the discovery OF Michael's abilities were of partial inspiration for Raleigh's career. Truly we may never know.

Raleigh himself died in a battle with Nazi war criminal Baron Blitzkrieg in 1944, distracting the Baron long enough for his teammates in the Freedom Fighters to free themselves and turn the tide of battle. His memorial rests in Raleigh Park, Superior City for those curious. Note that it is a somber place of respect, those who have gone in an attempt to trivialize or joke on Raleigh's legacy have found themselves suspiciously targeted by the park's many large bee hives. The local superstition is that Michael has made it clear to all his fellows in the thousands of following generations who made their undisturbed home possible. (The park was built and is now maintained by the Raleigh estate, currently in the name of Raleigh's grand niece Jenna Raleigh and the descendants of the Rivera family who owned the honey farm where Michael was born) To this day, in Superior City, is considered very bad luck to harm a bee. And the city's annual Pollination Parade is held on Raleigh's birthday in July.

[fruitbird15]

recently my dad, who dabbles in writing, happened to see something David Seymour said about privilege, and wrote an article about it in one furious sitting. That post is now gathering a fair amount of momentum on social media such as facebook and instagram. So fuck it, why not share it here:

"David Seymour said on twitter

"If you believe you have special rights because of your ethnicity, you’re going to be disappointed with the Treaty Principles Bill. When you’re used to special rights, equality feels like oppression."

A question I have for those who state that Māori get special privileges in Aotearoa New Zealand, Actually two questions.

1/What are they

2/what decade did they start in this country

Did they start in 1863 when the New Zealand government of the day started the Land Settlement Act? An act that confiscated millions of acres of land from the Māori because the Māori refused to sell, leading to the Māori land wars. An act that by the early 1900s meant that Maori held just 8% of the land they had held when they signed Te Tiriti O Waitangi and that percentage continued to fall. As of 2024 land currently owned by Maori is 5% and that's After Waitangi Tribunal Settlements.

The last bit of land was confiscated during WW2 to make an airfield.

Was this one of their special privileges that settlers to New Zealand didn't get?

Did they start in 1867 when the government signed the Native Schools Act, which decreed that all Native Schools would only be held in English? An act that is often blamed on a petition from tribal chiefs calling for a school for their Moku. Yes they did send such a petition but it asked for 2 things, that they be taught literacy, science, and numeracy and the second was that they be taught both in English and Māori. This act wasn't repealed till 1987 by which time several generations of children had had their language and culture beaten out of them. One of these was my Father, speaking Te Reo still makes his hands hurt and he's 80.

This must have been one of those special privileges that only Māori got as this privilege wasn't offered to Dutch or French or other European children who might have spoken another language at school

Was it being Blackbirded? For those that don't know it was the practice of kidnapping Māori and Pacifica and selling them as slaves in Queensland to work the sugar cane plantations.

Thats a privilege that will make you feel special

Was it in the 1850s when the Crown started confiscating Māori children and giving them to Pakeha families to greater assimilate them into the British way of life, An act that continued until well into the 1980s under the foster system leaving them subjected to mental, physical, and sexual abuse

Its a special privilege for special children

Was it a special privilege that John Ballance transported poisoned sugar and flour up the Wanganui River to sell to Māori an act that got overlooked when he became prime minister of this country

Someone was privileged anyway

Or was it in 1907 when the Government signed the Tohunga Suppression Act which banned Māori from access to their healers and medicines and made them rely on Western medicine instead? Did this get rid of a number of quacks, yes but it also suppressed a lot of local knowledge about medicine from local plants that had worked and it put them into the hands of the Western medical system that didn't have their best interests at heart either. It was also aimed at suppressing Māori religion and culture, after all, you suppress the belief system you suppress the people

The only laws aimed at suppressing a religion passed in this country were made against Māori so that must be one of their special privileges, but they did get to pick what religion they could be forced into, Protestant or Catholic so there's that

Is one of the special Privileges a shorter life span, on average 7 years shorter than Pakeha. Yes, the average life span for Māori in the 1700s was 30 but that was the same for Europeans. Is it because they have the privilege of having their symptoms overlooked in a medical system that has prioritised pakeha males, Is it that Pakeha women are more likely to be offered pain relief during childbirth than Māori women? Is it because they were often paid less than their pakeha counterparts at 81 cents to the dollar and so couldn't afford regular checkups? Is it because they were taught not to put themselves forward and to be noticed by society, to be a good Māori?

Is it a privilege that the New Zealand health system can no longer take their race into account when giving them treatment?

Better-researched people have written more on this special Privilege so I will move on

Was it in 1926 when old age and widow pensions came into this country and Māori were only paid 75 per cent of the going pension rate. In 1937 when pressed on why the Senior Treasury official Bernard Ashwin stated "On the face of it, it may appear equitable to pay the average Māori old-age pensioner the same amount per week as the average European pensioner, but in this matter questions of equity should be decided having regard to the circumstances, the needs and the outlook on life of the individuals concerned … the living standard of the Māori is lower – and after all, the object of these pensions is to maintain standards rather than to raise them.’" Or more simply a grass skirt is cheaper than a suit.

I guess being able to make do with less is a special privilege

Was it during the early to mid-20th century when signs saying No Māori's on pubs, hotels, theatres, and even drinking fountains were not uncommon and cinemas and pools had separate use days? In many places, Māori were only allowed to use the pools on Friday as they were cleaned on Saturday. It must have been that Privilege of trying to rent a property and seeing advertisement after advertisement saying Europeans only. Was it that privilege of being denied bank loans because they were Māori?

Being treated as lesser in your own country must be a privilege

Is it the privilege that Māori are jailed at 3 times the rate of Pakeha for the same crimes that will get a paler-skinned person a non-custodial sentence or no charges at all? They do get a special privilege that their race is taken into account when arrested, or charged or sentenced but that comes with the privilege of their race working against them every step of the way. During the mid-20th century often young Māori men were seen socialising together and harassed by police until they committed an antisocial crime like swearing in public and were sent to borstal

Is it a privilege that unjustified force is disproportionately used against Māori in police encounters and arrests

Constantly being under the watchful eye of the law must be a special privilege indeed

Was it a special privilege that Māori had to start occupying confiscated land in 1977 starting at Bastion Point in an effort to finally get some redress to the massive loss of tribal land, An occupation that lasted for over a year before it was brutally put down by the police and Army

Bash our heads, it's our privilege as Māori

And then there's that special privilege that Māori love and enjoy called the 2004 Foreshore and Seabed Act an act that takes the aforementioned and places them in the hands of the crown as opposed to the public domain or as was guaranteed by Te Tiriti and then promptly confiscated from guardianship and ownership of Māori. Luckily this bill was repealed in 2010 and replaced with the Marine and Coastal Act 2011 which guaranteed the right to access justice through courts but only if Māori could exercise that special privilege they have.

Can they show that their rights to the foreshore and seabed have been exercised since 1840, in accordance with Tikanga Māori, without substantial interruption and was not interrupted by law, say a law passed in 1863. Then if so, by special privilege then they can put it before the courts. In 2024 they got even more special privileges when the Government ignored the courts recommendation to lower the threshold of proof and required Māori to prove they had had continual exclusive use and ownership since 1840 to have a chance to get confiscated foreshore lands back

Yay the privilege of ever-moving goalposts

Did the privilege start in 1988 when the Crown returned Bastion Point to Ngati Whatua after a prolonged court case or was it in 1989 when the first Ti Tiriti O Waitangi settlement was done giving Waitomo Caves back to Uekaha Hapu or was it 1987 when Te Reo was recognised as an official Language or was it the early 2000s when Bilingual signs started being put up around Aotearoa or was it in 2024 when the Government banned Bilingual signs on roads and in government buildings?

Was it in 1867 when the Māori were granted 4 parliamentary seats, given the Maori population at the time compared to Pakeha it should have been more although it could have been 1868 when Māori men got the right to vote? Oddly it was 11 years before pakeha men were given that right, before then, only landowners could vote and because Māori held land in common all of them could vote

Was it in 1880 were several hundred prisoners from the Māori peaceful protest group Parihaka were held and treated to 2 years hard labour without trial and their settlements burnt and confiscated

Was it in 1977 when race was added to the Human Rights Commission as something you couldn't discriminate against as well as gender, religion or beliefs?

Was it in 1977 when a section was added to the Race Relations Act that made it illegal to publish, broadcast, or make public statements that were likely to incite hostility or ill-will against a group of people based on their: Color, Race, and Ethnic or national origins

Was it after 130 years of being ground down and stepped on and murdered and marginalised and robbed, that laws were made that said, you know we probably shouldn't have been doing that

Is the privilege the knowledge of what 184 years of all of the above does to a people, the hurt that it causes deep into the bone

Is it that in the 40 years since that Human Rights Commission rule that Māori have begun to hold up their heads, to be proud of who they are, to speak their language and to rediscover their culture?

To speak out against things that are wrong in the health system, the education system, the justice system, the welfare system and the political system. To demand, not ask but demand redress for the crimes that the Crown has not only done against them but encouraged others to do to them.

Did the Privilege start when the Waitangi Tribunal awarded 6 cents for every dollar of land confiscated? If you want that broken down, for every million dollars worth of land confiscated, the reparations were only $60000

Is it because New Zealand as a society got used to seeing them be shy, and humble and hard-working and lost amid the diaspora that pakeha society caused?

That society got used to being able to exploit the bits of Māori culture we liked, like the music and the humour and the strong back and compliance and when they found their voice and took it back and that redress was happening and suddenly, they were privileged because how dare they not be happy with scraps from the table.

That Māori were no longer being the Good Māori.

Is the privilege that in 2024, 184 years after the signing of Te Tiriti, Māori are finally getting a fraction of what they should have had if Te Tiriti had been honoured

One other question to the Pakeha of Aotearoa New Zealand

If all of this looks like a Privilege. Do any of you want to swap places?"

[mitigatedchaos]

You Won't "Beat Trump at His Own Game"

Post for July 8, 2024 5,500 words, 25 mins

[ @morlock-holmes ]

Like, can you guys imagine Donald Trump ever admitting that he lost a debate? Let alone imagine his party *withdrawing him as nominee* because of it? And we're going to beat him at his own game by, uh, doing literally the exact opposite of his game?

[ mitigatedchaos ]

Your plan is to beat Trump by being better at being Trump than Trump is? Damn, son. You got a Texas oil baron lined up or something?

-★-

I watched the first hour of the debate. At one point the moderator asked Trump about abortion. As the Republican candidate, this is a tricky question for him, since evangelical voters would like abortion banned in most cases (and thus presumably every state). Trump then argued that he was leaving it up to the states, and the states would decide. He says that he agrees that the abortion pill should be legal, and agrees with the court ruling in favor of it, and that he supports the exceptions for rape, incest, and health of the mother. Further, he's against third trimester and 'post-birth abortion.'

While banning most first trimester abortion only has 38% support, banning most third trimester abortion has 80% supermajority support. The views of the median voter are in tension: they don't want to force women to have babies they don't want, but they also don't want to kill babies.

Biden stumbles in his delivery of his canned line in response, which appeared to be based on the idea that strict limits on abortion access would de facto nullify the exceptions.

Democrats have repeatedly lied about abortion. Republicans have repeatedly lied about abortion. The whole argument about 'after-birth' abortions appears to be based on political fencing with bills, which Democrats also do. (Something like the classic, "Oh, sure, it's illegal, but will you make it super double illegal? Oh, you won't? That means you support it, then.")

(I should note, at the time, I wrote, "I don't think Americans should trust a single word either of these guys is saying.")

But later, Biden trips over Roe v. Wade and the three trimesters to the point that it's unclear just what the hell he means.

The main CNN video doesn't support comments, but there's a clip that does. The top comment?

we're fucked as a nation

In my opinion, these comments overall agree with my post...

Man, both of these men are so old and tired, though Biden is the older and tireder of the two. ... This guy's like a cat with 6 months to live.

It isn't that Biden "lost" the debate, as in he morally failed to engage in enough preparation. The man is simply too old; no amount of preparation would have worked.

-★-

With the abortion argument, we get a good example of Trump's pattern of exaggeration: "Everybody wanted to get it back to the states. Every legal scholar, all over the world. The most respected."

There was a substantive debate about this, and in fact there were a number of legal scholars that believed that the issue was, on a legal basis, on shaky ground. This was a common argument over the past two decades. There was not a complete, unanimous consensus.

People talk about Trump lying a lot. For a lot of that, I think they have this sort of thing in mind, but I don't take it all that seriously. This is salesman lying. He is trying to sell you a Trump steak.

Each message has a [social] component and a [content] component. Trump is weighting the [content] component lower, making it less accurate, but the [social] component lacks tactical depth.

I think this gets into some sort of personality conflict.

All politicians lie. They put on a nice suit, tell you some flowery speech, and then go bomb some country in the middle east. Obama was a genius at public speaking, like Hollywood President tier, but the drone war continued.

So, to make up an example (that's less controversial), a regular politician will start talking about "the human dignity" of guys that break into cars, or something, and the initial language will be quite empathetic. But rather than going where this is supposed to go, and improving the quality and safety of the prisons, they'll get you to agree to this nice-sounding language as part of a multi-step maneuver, and then they won't fix the prisons, and they won't properly rehabilitate the guys that break into the cars, and they'll just... release them, to break into your car.

So if someone starts talking about "human dignity," I start looking for where they hid the knife. (I also consider their personal record; I'm willing to entertain that they're serious, but I have to see the evidence of pragmatism first.)

Trump comes in and he starts talking about how, "All the legal scholars agree with me, all over the world. The most prestigious." This translates to, "I'm popular. I make great decisions. Vote for me."

It's so crass that it has a tactical depth of like, one. It's not part of some long and complicated chain. There is no sophisticated ideological permission structure being setup. He's not trying to redefine the language. There is no second maneuver.

So to me, this feels safe.

I'm not expecting to be attacked from some high-level social plane or whatever, so I can relax. This man is a salesman. A lot of what he says is bullshit, but he just wants to sell me something.

I know it's bullshit. He knows it's bullshit. He knows I know it's bullshit. But this deception is so unsophisticated that it loops back around to being somewhat honest, or even friendly. (It's like if you had a mandatory prison gang fight, and technically, they have to "fight" you, but they're not really trying.) Obviously it results in a lower rate of information transmission, though. (What will he actually do? It can be hard to say.)

This is not the same as "lock her up," from Trump's 2016 campaign against Hillary Clinton. That was concerning, and in fact in the 2016 election I voted for Clinton. But then, he didn't follow through on that.

-★-

Thinking from the other direction, why would someone find the general, "we have the best cows," approach to be disconcerting rather than just annoying? (The Wall was kinda also like that. It's just a big, dumb object.)

Well, if you're used to everything having three layers of social misdirection in order to protect everyone's reputations and social position, and using this to demonstrate loyalty to others, maybe the crass rhetoric makes it sound like anything could be up for sale, with enough votes.

So you're supposed to say the stuff that your network socially agree sounds nice, and if you aren't saying the stuff, that might mean you're planning to coordinate to do something bad. (Why aren't you following the network? Do you think you're better than other people? Sounds like you might be planning to subordinate others.)

But the actual content of the messages doesn't get properly evaluated.

To quote some swing voters from the famous Reddit "sanewashing" post:

Only one participant here agrees we should "defund the police." One woman says "That is crazier than anything Trump has ever said." 50% of people here say they think Biden was privately sympathetic to the position. We are explaining the actual policies behind defund the police. One woman interrupts "that is not what defund the police means, I'm sorry. It means they want to defund the police." "I didn't like being lied to about this over and over again" says another woman. "Don't try and tell word don't mean what they say" she continues. Rest of group nodding heads.

During the early part of the 2014-2022 era, when we had the feminist push, there was a term called "mansplaining," intended to mean roughly "a men condescendingly explaining things to a woman."

In discussion with each other, men may try to assess who is the most knowledgeable or sharpest (in order to lead the discussion), so they may throw a piece of information out there like it's a tennis ball, and they expect you to hit it back. So a man might tell a woman about a book that she wrote, and then expect her to respond with some insight about the passage he was discussing.

From what I've seen, among men this is social statusy, but it's not like, hardcore. From some women, we got tweets along the lines of, "How dare he lecture me about my own book! Does he think he knows better than me about the book I wrote myself?!" It's basically mismatched systems of etiquette. (An autistic woman might have powered through and info dumped about the book to the man anyway until he got tired of the topic, and perceived no insult.)

This was a triple failure.

First, the men did not realize that the women (this kind of woman) have different discursive norms from men, and adapt in a way that makes them feel more comfortable in mixed spaces.

Second, the women did not realize that this was not a male plot to subordinate women. Feminists connected this etiquette mismatch to a larger ideological construct ("patriarchy"). Some of them are probably still angry to this day.

Third, the two groups largely did not reach a mutual understanding on this issue, except for a few honest people (and people less prone to viewing the opposite sex adversarially) in small spaces, coming into maturity.

Which is to say, in this clash of norms, the view based on multiple layers of social indirection as a form of politeness may be socially astute within its own culture, but may be socially maladapted outside of that culture.

Because these social norms are social, they are a product of a local social equilibrium rather than a more universalist analysis, which in practice makes them more particular. Compare economic or scientific ideas, which, while they exist in a social context, have a non-social framework for discovery and resolution.

I don't find it that difficult to understand the median voter wanting first trimester abortion to be legal and third trimester abortion to be illegal.

In the same way, to the median voter and not just conservatives, a slogan like "defund the police" means "defund the police." A lot of the more confrontational slogans produced by this process sound positively unhinged to outsiders - in a way that makes Donald Trump seem normal by comparison.

-★-

There are a good number of right-wing grifters who are out there regularly lying. I don't post much about them, because they just aren't that interesting. The field of politics is constantly shifting, anyway.

But I think it's worth considering how Democrats got into this situation.

To pick another Trump example, some readers may have seen this 2018 video of Trump telling Germany they're too dependent on imported Russian natural gas, and the German delegation smiling at him.

I vaguely recall that this was part of a Trump push to sell more liquefied natural gas from the US to the Europeans.

Of course, Russia did expand their war with Ukraine in 2022. At the time, Germany was importing 55% of their natural gas from Russia.

Brookings interviewed some economists about how the results went down. Russia cut down on gas supplies into Europe in 2021, reducing the amount of stored gas in Germany by the expansion of the war in early 2022. They raised and lowered the amount of gas coming in to Germany until the explosion of the Nord Stream pipeline in mid 2022.

So it's likely that Putin's Russia were, in fact, trying to gain leverage over Germany. Estimates from industry CEOs predicted a major recession.

The economists predicted that the situation would be expensive, but manageable, and the damage to Germany's economy was less than expected. Why?

First, the demand for gas was not perfectly inelastic. The dire predictions were based on gas as a bottleneck causing a cascade of missing production inputs ("for want of a bolt, the bulldozer is lost; for want of a bulldozer, the factory is lost; for want of a factory..." one might say). It turned out that it was possible to substitute at multiple points in the production process, so more gas-intensive components could be imported if needed. (As the war was in Ukraine, Germany was not blockaded.)

Second, gas was imported from other sources, including Norway... and liquefied natural gas from the US. (A second source claims that 5-6% of the gas is still coming from Russia.)

Third, the disruption was already on the horizon from 2021, so it was easier to coordinate actors.

So was Trump right? Was he wrong?

Germany was getting about 26% of its energy from natural gas in 2021. If 55% of that is from Russia, that makes for about 14% of Germany's energy supply, not including imported Russian oil. As of 2014, Russian troops were already occupying Crimea.

What I want to argue is that, less than right or wrong, "Getting ≥14% of your energy from a powerful geopolitical rival, particularly one currently engaged in a military occupation just two countries away, gives them potential leverage, and this makes it risky," is obvious.

Going, "Haha, look at this ignorant buffoon who thinks that Putin might exploit providing us with 1/8th of our energy for leverage," is just... It's cringe.

Germany had to reactivate their coal power plants to deal with the energy crisis, but they still had coal power plants to reactivate. The long-term storage problem for renewables hasn't been resolved yet. If they had an energy economy that was 60% natural gas, 40% renewables, and 0% nuclear, they'd be in an even worse spot.

(Lately it looks like people are making a stab at sucking CO2 out of the air and converting it to fuel. Will that be online as a replacement in 2030? That's harder to say. It would be fortunate, because combustible fuels don't have the same security concerns as fission power.)

-★-

Anyhow, that was all background.

How did Democrats get into this mess?

Well, obviously Democrats and left-leaning people in the media made a huge deal of Trump as the exception, Trump as the risk, Trump as would-be dictator, Trump as the erosion of norms, and so on. And of course, the Covid-19 pandemic landed on Trump's term and was very abnormal.

The point of running Joe Biden, from the perspective of the median voter, was a "return to normalcy." This is what voters were telling them by picking the pre-Trump Vice President from Obama's term.

After Trump got in and stopped caring about pursuing Hillary Clinton, I found it hard to buy the idea of Trump as an emergency.

Democrats always seemed to use "Trump is an emergency" as an excuse to behave in worse ways. For example, Democrats argued that protests against lockdowns of community centers like churches were too dangerous to be allowed due to the risk of spreading the virus, but then argued that nation-wide race riots needed to be allowed and that this was the position of 'science' as an institution.

Did the race riots accomplish anything of value? No. The opportunity for normal police reform was squandered on braindead slogans like "Defund the Police," which swing voters think are insane. There was a significant increase in homicide, and this is before accounting for significantly-improved trauma surgery since 1990. If LA is any indication, most of the victims of the increase in homicide were black and hispanic.

They complained constantly about Trump eroding institutional norms... and then eroded institutional norms. By 2022, trust in mass media among independents and Republicans collapsed to 27% and 14% respectively.

This is going to be a long-term problem; conspiracy theories are proliferating due to a lack of trust in sense-making institutions, and sense-making institutions have had their reputations shredded by wasteful partisan behavior that barely moved the needle electorally.

One way to assess how much someone values something is to ask what they're willing to give up to get it. Ask any Democrat on Twitter - what concessions are they willing to make to the rest of America to ensure Trump doesn't get back into office? The answer is none.

A "return to normalcy" would mean using the racial identitarians as expendable shock troops and then dropping them after the election, not getting shut down by the courts for doing "race conscious" policy.

The administration would quietly make changes to shore up the practical (not mere messaging) legitimacy of the institutions in order to cover for the spent legitimacy from the Trump era and run a boring administration focused on policies with supermajority support.

So now Democrats are the weird theater kids, and Trump is the normal guy. (And he's already been President, so publishing a magazine cover calling him Hitler just comes off as hysterics.)

-★-

Why did this happen?

First, as the guy that won the election, Joe Biden is the primary guy with the political capital to reshape the Democratic coalition's priorities. In 2020, Joe Biden had the same problem he has in 2024: he's too old.

There is no Democrat strategic command to impose discipline on the coalition members. There are lots of factions all fighting each other to pursue policy that's aligned with their own interests rather than the national interest, and it's resulting in what I call a coalitional interest deadlock. (For a relatively uncontroversial example, Left-NIMBYs and boneheaded environmentalists oppose housing construction, while pro-immigrationists bring in millions of people... who, when they get here, would need housing. One of these two factions needs to lose.)

Nasty identitarian rhetoric requires no immediate material concessions from these factions, nor does it require any discipline, so we get nasty identitarian rhetoric that does not benefit the country in any way, and is not connected to positive programs (that would require actual work and limiting claims to what's realistic, which defeats the point).

Some of you are probably familiar with the idea of a "leveraged buyout." This is when a private equity firm buys a company with debt, and then typically put it on the balance sheet of the company they just bought out. A firm with too much debt is said to be "overleveraged."

The second problem is that Democrats are epistemically overleveraged. They are making too many bets based on incomplete information, and a lot of the assumptions they're making in the process are not accurate.

Some tech-related online right-wingers believed that mass schooling was having almost no effect on learning or performance, and that it was almost entirely just selecting for conscientiousness and intelligence.

Learning losses from online schooling during the pandemic showed that mass schooling was having an effect - by removing it.

However, in researching the literature on education shortly before the pandemic, I found that getting educational results beyond what schools were achieving was very difficult, and that many educational interventions would fade out. Charter schools only produced modestly better results (for about the same price), in a way I couldn't differentiate from selection effects on parents. (I did find that online charters performed horribly. Well, I guess that's one finding verified by a larger-scale experiment.)

It isn't a matter of funding. Baltimore schools are highly funded and get terrible results.

We lack means to convert funding into results.

(Roland Fryer reportedly managed to beat the average for one class, but as a sign of things to come, he got politically sidelined in 2019. Naturally, he's an economist.)

Line voter Democrats are likely to claim that sub-par US school results are due to underfunding. The condition of scientific institutions is not as bad as right-wingers think it is; researchers know that just blindly slapping more funding on to education won't work. However, the guys in between, the 'officers' of the Democratic coalition, are quite happy to leave the line voters in the dark.

They're probably patting themselves on the back, thinking, "I should leave out the most damaging information in order to protect the weak and marginalized," and then not accounting for the possibility that everyone else in their information chain is doing the same thing.

Because of this, we don't get a more serious conversation that would establish a better method to convert funding into results. (This applies to other domains as well. Public transit in the US is ruinously expensive to construct, particularly in CA and NYC. A "car tax" without the ability to practically construct public transit is just a hateful punishment.)

When a Democrat is talking about "beating Trump at his own game," for example, by pretending that Biden did OK at the debate, this is generally of the form, "we should be more aggressive, deceptive, and selfish."

The Democrats are already too deceptive. It's inhibiting their ability to govern effectively. The Democrats are already too aggressive. A number of the online right being read by Chris Rufo and Elon Musk were once self-identified liberals [1] who were driven away and radicalized by the hostile messaging (which was not connected to practical benefits for society, so this isn't "mere selfishness"). Democrats are already selfish enough; forgiving student debt without fixing the system to reduce the origin of that debt polls 30-40 approve-disapprove.

And for the debate itself...

Bro why do we have 70+ year old[s] running for office? Shouldn't we have someone at least young and more modern? This is like watching a retirement home cafeteria fight 😭

Do you think telling someone like that, "Biden didn't lose the debate," sounds, you know, hinged? At the very least, it certainly doesn't inspire trust or confidence.

-★-

A little while ago, collapsedsquid posted:

Seeing a lot of the "This Trump thing is because everyone was so unfair to Romney in 2012 and he lost" out there again and this is fucking abuser logic man, "Why did you make me hit you? If you'd only put away the dishes like I'd asked then this wouldn't have had to happen" shut the fuck up man.

I had been writing a draft response to this.

Basically, seriousness is both a substantive position and a rhetorical stance. The Bush administration undermined the rhetorical stance on the Republican side due to the Iraq War, which was mismanaged, and in which no nuclear weapons were found. (Some old chemical weapons were found, but not an actual development program.)

Throwing the line "binders full of women" at Mitt Romney didn't help, of course, but it's more like that faction of the Republican party failed to regain its footing.

During the Bush administration, there were comparisons of George Bush to Hitler (it showed up on protest signs, for instance).

In practice, the Bush administration were libcons. Looking at Afghanistan, a mountainous, dry, landlocked country that has a GDP per capita of around $500, they were neither 'anti-racist' enough to decide not to invade and respect the local rule of the Taliban (and their local cultural traditions), nor conventionally racist (or culturalist) enough to conclude that national development would be a tremendous challenge requiring a radical reorganization of Afghan society.

Utilitarianism is generally about maximizing "utility," or subjective positive experience, and assumes that this can be summed across individuals. For example, there is a utilitarian thought experiment in which a surgeon has one healthy patient and five sick patients. If he kills the healthy patient, then he can harvest the man's organs in order to save the five sick patients. (Yes, like in Rimworld.)

There are many problems with a naive utilitarian approach.

However, if we rotate the concept of utilitarianism, we get the idea of moral prices, and morality as something that can be traded off against other factors of production, such as land, labor, energy, capital, and so on. Morality is not like these other resources; immorality can incentivize more immorality. However, this provides us with a potential frame with which to view a more violent and exploitative past.

One way to view the situation is that a radical reorganization of Afghanistan would be morally intensive, not just financially draining.

For example, Afghanistan has a high rate of cousin marriage, which is not common in developed countries. Overriding that would mean prioritizing foreign marriage norms as superior, taking on epistemic debt as the relationship between marriage norms and democracy or economy is more correlative than rock-solid causative, and to the degree that Afghan people resist this change, enforcing it at gunpoint.

While Democratic voters of the era would joke about Republican-voting "rednecks" being cousin-married, the appetite for such a program likely did not exist.

Another way to view the situation is that, from the outside, the Bush administration believed that democracy, rule of law, economic productivity, and women's liberation, were simply what happens in the absence of dictatorship. This view legitimized American power and influence as simply the natural order asserting itself, and argued that asserting American influence was morally cheap.

If democracy, rule of law, economic productivity, and women's liberation are non-trivially the product of particular cultural norms and values, then American interventionism is much more morally expensive.

In either case, Trump represents a "correction" in reaction to the failed project of the Bush administration: conflict and oppression are still undesirable; bombs are morally expensive; borders are cheap.

-★-

As we know, the United States lost the war in Afghanistan to the Taliban. A joke emerged at the time:

"Now the Taliban have to govern Afghanistan."

Discussion in right-wing circles claims that the Taliban won by doing a better job of maintaining basic property rights and resolving disputes than the US-aligned forces did, despite being in a state of war with the US:

The short answer is that they auditioned to replace the state across the spectrum of control — including punitive violence, but also the pedestrian tasks of recordkeeping and adjudication and governance. They wove their legitimacy into ordinary people’s water rights, their inheritances, their personal disputes — so that even people who were indifferent to the Taliban’s ideological program became invested in the Taliban’s stability and growth.

There were, reportedly, complaints from members of the Taliban after their victory, but it would seem that the Taliban were already governing Afghanistan.

Richard Hanania may be a troll, but he went through some Afghan War documents posted by the Washington Post, and I don't think he's making it up. It would seem that while the Taliban were governing Afghanistan, the US forces, well, weren't:

Six months after he was appointed, Bush didn't know who his top general in Afghanistan was, and didn't care. General McNeill had no guidance about what he should be doing in the country.

He has a whole long thread of this sort of thing. It reminds me of reading through the Wikipedia page on the Vietnam War many years after high school history, which made it sound like the US was quite adept with high-technology weapons, but failed to properly identify and manage the political source for the conflict.

Let's return to the student loan debt forgiveness issue.

A typical firm only has a profit margin of about 7-10%. A firm can keep going as long as it's breaking even, so even a low profit margin can still pay wages. However, if a firm is losing money, it will have to sell off assets or lay off employees, reducing its production capacity.

There is investment, in which we spend current production in order to increase or maintain future production, such as by building a factory. If we make a good investment, we'll get the production value back later. There is insurance, which involves moving risk around. For example, you are unlikely to be in a car accident most of the time, but if you have car insurance and you do get in an accident, the insurance company will pay for repair or replacement of your car. [2] This may make you more likely to buy a car in the first place, or more likely to structure your life around the assumption that you will have a car.

Governments can (in theory) spend a great deal on investment or insurance, but they can only spend a more limited amount on consumption spending.

For a college degree that pays for itself, government can loan money at a low interest rate, and the value will be paid back by the person who took the loan later.

For a college degree that doesn't pay for itself, someone has to supply the production that builds the buildings on the campus, fixes the water pipes, reloads the toilet paper in the bathrooms, and so on, and if that's not "the person taking the degree, but in the future," then it has to be someone else.

Someone like collapsedsquid might have the view, "I want the state to subsidize college education. Why should I pre-compromise and reduce my negotiating position?"

To expand on this, "Guarding the state treasury is the work of the right and of capital (business); why should I do their work for them?"

From this perspective, the role of the Democratic presidential candidate is to be the leader of America's left-leaning coalition, the blue team.

But the median voter or swing voter does not necessarily have this perspective. The median or swing voter is choosing between two candidates to lead the American enterprise.

The actual job is President of the United States.

If you win the War in Afghanistan, you have to govern Afghanistan. If you win the US presidential election, you have to govern the United States of America.

That's the prize. If you don't like it, don't run for office.

-★-

Nonetheless, this causes a tension. In order to become President as a Democrat, you first have to win the Democratic primary, which makes you effectively the leader of the Democratic party.

How do you deal with this?

That's "simple": split the issues.

A political coalition has a lot of people and those people have diverse interests. Representing them all at once is too difficult. Talking about them all at once is too difficult. Generalization of coalitional interests into a smaller, more manageable set of principles yields ideology.

Take the issues, and order them by how important they are to the functioning of the country, and how important they are for mainstream voters.

For the issues most important to mainstream voters, aim for a very broad coalition using very general principles. Pass legislation that has supermajority support in the polls, and be loud about it so that voters know what you've done for them lately.

For more niche issues that mainstream voters care less about, aim for a narrower coalition with narrower principles, to reward your base.

The second is the reward for the first. The median voter should be able to trust you on the things that he cares about, and where he doesn't trust you, it's on things he doesn't care about.

Core issues for the functioning of the country will seep into more generic voter dissatisfaction with things like inflation, so it's better to keep on top of those. Whether to be loud about it depends on whether the individual policy that's actually needed has good optics or not.

-★-

If you want to "beat Trump at his own game," you don't do so by talking about how America has the best steaks.

You identify his most important issues, and then you work out how to best steal them from him.

-

[1] "They were elves, once." Extradeadjcb is probably the most prominent example, but it comes up for a number of them. I've written about this before, but ethnic conflict theory by one player creates an equilibrium more favorable to ethnic conflict theory by other players. Lefty Twitter users asked Razib Khan why he attended Extradeadjcb's natalism conference; he replied by asking where the left-wing natalism conference was. That's probably still 20 years out.

[2] It's more complicated than this.

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 8

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

Elijah knew the Dreaming turned into a wasteland, but it didn’t hit him what a wasteland actually looked like. “ Lucienne, lock all doors, gates, windows. Any creation of my husband that is in the Dreaming must seek protection immediately. A dove will be sent when it is safe to leave.” ‘If it is ever safe to leave’ Love thought while marching through the hall straight to the throne room. The librarian followed the Queen’s fast pace, as Elijah stayed behind, analyzed his surroundings

He vaguely remembered the Dreaming. He didn’t think it was nearly as beautiful as the Garden, but it was alluring. Incohesive to his eyes, due to its ever-changing nature. Even if the Garden, like the Dreaming, was susceptible to its creator's mood and condition, the Garden kept his core unchanged, it was consistent, stable for the lovefolk. The same could not be said about the Dreaming. And Elijah could clearly understand why the Emissary was hesitant and why Eoster was running around giving urgent orders to Lucienne.

They could very realistically be on the verge of a disaster.

The Dreaming was collapsing, which means the King was weak. Lucifer has one of his prized possessions. Morningstar has the trap set and Dream walked right into it.

“Spells or anything against demons. Check Constantine book, maybe it has something. We need it. Now.” Enfatic saying to the librarian, she turned to the cupid “Elijah, find ink, prepare the doves” It didn’t occur to her that there weren't any doves in the Dreaming, nor ravens. Elijah would have to find a way to warn their allies. They would be easy to find. Only a few entities were not fond of her, especially since she had taken a vast number of protégés, blessed many unions and was a godmother of gods knew how many children from these unions.

“Allies? My lady, we are not at war.” Lucienne said it with a gasped nervous laugh of uncertainty. Hands slightly shaking and hesitant. In her eyes the need for something to hold to, something to believe in.

Love was skeptical about her husband’s return. He was Endless, but his state was frail, crumbling to pieces like his own realm. And Lightbringer would see that. An opportunity. Lucifer always sees an opportunity, and one as delicious as an Endless desperate to get his tools back? The fallen angel was going to make him risk it all. And Morpheus would have no alternative but to accept it.

She couldn’t lie to the librarian, saying that everything was fine. Lucienne saw the restlessness in the Garden. Elijah and the Emissary agitated, promptly abiding Love’s demands. If she tried to lie, the librarian would be skeptical of her word. At the same time, it was her duty to care for her husband's creations. She needed to give them hope. If Lucienne, his most loyal dream, gave up on him, there would be no one left to fight for.

“You are right. We are not at war, but it might be wise to prepare. Demons can be erratic.” Love answered promptly. This wasn’t the time to argue about the necessity of raising defenses.

“I believe in Lord Morpheus” Lucienne faced her queen, fixing her glasses. Lucienne’s tone questioning Love's faith in the Dream King. Eoster couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t convince herself of any different outcome than defeat on her husband’s part.

She was also furious with his recklessness, doing the same mistake that got him imprisoned in first place and led to the loss of his prized possessions. Acting before thinking, acting before having a proper conversation with his wife, without tracing a proper plan.

He may not respect her as a wife. He may not want to talk about their relationship. But, politically speaking, she was his queen, she was responsible for his realm in his absence. The bare minimum would’ve been to let her know that he planned to throw his freedom away and deliver it on a silver platter to Lucifer.

Love took a step forward, enterwinding her fingers pressing them against her corset. She kept her face neutral but her green eyes sparkled with authority. It occurred to her that Lucienne never had to take direct orders from Love. Usually Love’s requests were supported by a previous order from Dream. How strange it must be to have to blindly follow Love’s without the king’s approval.

Love took that into account when choosing her words. “As you should. Defying my husband was a mistake and Lucifer will learn it the hardest way. Morningstar is a sore loser and might not want to give in easily. We must be prepared. When he returns, My lord husband will be displeased if we let erratic demons creep into his realm.” Promises of a doubtful return that Love made as a certainty.

The librarian's eyes kept still on the Queen, as if looking for something of a doubt. But Love turned her back, dismissing her “ Protection spells might be enough,”

Lucienne bowed before leaving the throne room, going to the library.

Love waited until she was certain she was alone, taking a deep breath, as filling her lungs with air would somehow ease her mind. Losing the posture, dragging herself up to the throne, sitting under it, leaning her head in the seat. She couldn’t occupy his seat. It could send the wrong message, like a claim she didn’t want to state. Besides, even the thought of occupying his seat seemed like a bad omen, like she was already sealing Dream’s fate. Sitting at the thorne's feet seemed more appropriate. Always at Morpheus' feet, never at his side. A position quite too familiar.

She should’ve known that his sympathy last night was hiding something. His secrecy with Matthew, and the sudden stop when she arrived. He knew he was going. This was the type of thing he should discuss with her, not with his raven. And more importantly, he should not waste their last night together in poor attempts at flattering!

Did he think she was that naive? Or that superficial? That a praise here and there, a kind word, would thaw her frozen heart, so she could grieve for him? For his realm? Beg to Lightbringer for mercy?

Love was already imagining the mess of his loss. There would be two sides that would split entities and anthropomorphic manifestations. The mortal realm would be chaos for who knows how long. Some would probably lose their lives, realms could be destroyed. All would burden her shoulders, terrorize her nights.

One side would support the narrative of: Morpheus lost in the oldest game. Suppose Lucifer wants to enslave the Dream Lord. The angel gets control of the Dreaming. And since Lady Love is bonded by the Book Before Time under the laws of the True Marriage, to Morpheus, she carries half of his soul. Since the Dream King is enslaved and Eoster is also part of his essence, Lucifer has a claim of Eoster and the Garden. Not only the fallen angel would have two realms, but two powerful entities as playthings. That would be his claim. A very good, and logical one, in Eoster’s opinion. Easy to support.

The other side, the one that Love would try to persuade Lords and Ladies to abide, would be: Morpheus lost in the oldest game. Lady Love is bonded to Dream by the Book Before Time under the laws of True Marriage. Since Lady Love carries half of his soul, and The Dreaming is her husband’s essence, The Dreaming is hers, as it is Morpheus’. By ancient law, before the oldest game, The Dreaming and her husband’s creations are hers. And since she wasn’t the one who lost nor agreed to gamble her realms, Lucifer has no valid claims. Morpheus may be enslaved and unable to rule, but not his creations, since they are now Love’s.

It didn’t sound strong like the first one, but that would be what Love would have to claim, to stay in the Dreaming, deny and resist its take over. Protect her subjects. Her husband might be awful to her, but he created dreams, nightmares and stories, beyond her wildest imagination. They carry an important hole in the mortals' realm. To let it be destroyed and corrupted was unthinkable.

She remembered the night before, her husband’s soft touch, the way his gaze rested in her face, his words. It was a farewell. He knew that he might not come back from Hell. Love didn’t know how to feel. He was imprisoned before, but she was not aware of it, of any suffering, and he was imprisoned by a mortal. Now it’s different. Lucifer could, or better, he wil.condemn him to eternal servitude, there would be no escape, no hope. She would be deserted. Alone. Fighting for a realm that the King never made to be a home for his Queen. A realm she felt responsible for.

It wasn’t like before, when she didn’t know if he would be back. This time, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t. “My Lady, what do we do, now?” Elijah’s voice made her raise her head from her hand, putting the curls that covered her vision out of her face. “Pray, my cupid. Seal the palace against demons and pray.”

The minutes turned to what seemed hours. Love heard a clock that wasn’t around, in her heels clicking on the floor, in Lucienne turning the pages, even in Elijah’s careful watch over the symbols draw to keep away demons. Love tried to make herself useful after pacing around the throne room, double checking all the entrances. Love hesitated in entering her husband’s quarters, but shook the feeling away, doing what was needed.

The last bedroom to be checked was hers. Lucienne left it half opened, and Love stayed in the middle of the hallways looking at the double doors. She wasn’t ready to deal with the past that laid inside that room. No longer she was the queen that lived there. She missed who she was. Hoping for it all, believing in the future promised in those forged letters by someone who wasn’t the one laying beside her. A blissful life, like the mortal’s she blessed, full of passionate love making, whispers of sweet promises, not a need in the universe the other couldn’t fulfill.

Love heard from someone she couldn’t remember, that the King of Dreams was so infatuated by his lovers that mortals would often dream of them. Love was humble enough to not think that it would be her case, but she did blindly believe that he would love her.

The memories from inside her room begged to differ.

Eoster took a deep breath, deciding to check the windows of the balcony, and go back to the throne room, not staying longer than necessary.

As she stepped inside, a crunchy noise was heard. Broken glass. She couldn’t tell if the smell of the room persisted from all those years, or it was her imagination. Roses, jasmyne and wine. It took her back, centuries ago. Her bed was a mess. Stained and creased white linen, pillows ripped, two in the bed, one on the floor, swan feathers everywhere. There were dresses tossed aside in her chaise lounge, unmatching heels scattered through the bedroom. Her vanity had a broken mirror. It was a disaster. A perfect scenery of the lowest point in their marriage.

Flashes from that night came straight to her head, like cutted scenes from a movie. Love’s head burned from each memory. Disgusting pleas, mixed with sobs, she collapsed on the floor. Head down in defeat, incomprehensible mumbles and eyes filled with tears that made it impossible to see anything other than a blurred vision of the marble floor.

She could feel his eyes on her back, but she didn’t care. He needed to get away from her.

“Leave”. Eoster repeated the words he coldly said it. Love never understood how he could watch her defeated and broken at his feet and not do anything at all.

It didn’t bring tears to her face. It wasn’t a sad memory. It was sour and left a weird taste in her mouth, something she felt ashamed of. That night, she questioned her own nature, if she deserved to be Lady of the Four Loves. Both said awful despicable things to each other.

One thing Love never admitted to anyone was that his decision in banning her from the Dreaming was for the best. Distance saved their marriage, not exactly saved, but preserved it. It calmed their nerves. Steady their emotions. Both could do their work, focus on the mortal realm, attend to their creations. True Marriage requires half of a soul, but it doesn't require them to share a home, a bed or even talk to one another. They would be together in reunions, conferences, sitting side by side in official events. He would summon her, when needed, and she would abide by his requests.

Love finished crossing the room, leaving the past behind, checking her balcony window, and taking a seat. Resting her back against the wall, she felt the cold silent air brushing against her face and brought her knees to her chest hugging them. Early stars shining above the realm's silhouette. The same view she used to stare while waiting. For the maids to fix her up to some event. For the Seamstress while adjusting one of her dresses for the evening. For Elijah. For Lucienne. For Dream. Her bedroom was more of a waiting room than anything else. All her life all she seemed to do is to wait.

Maybe it would be a good thing Lucifer taking control of the Dreaming. Maybe she could present herself favorable, relief even. The fallen angel could destroy the palace, destroy the rooms that terrorize her memories. Maybe Love could suggest to Lucifer to make Morpheus relieved their marriage but in her point of view. A torture even the cruelest demons would applause. It was tempting.

“ Lady wife” Eoster’s heart skip a beat, shutting down those traisoning thoughts. For the first time she was relieved to hear that deep calm voice. Tears almost came to her eyes, and she let out a breath she didn’t know was holding since earlier. Without turning, she could feel his presence at the door. “ You’ve returned.” She said it without any hint of worry.

“You seemed surprised. Did you not believe in me?” Love could feel his vacillating steps, like approaching a cornered dangerous animal. He remembers. She turned defeated, tired. “Don’t. Please” He stood quietly. She turned to him, saying in a quiet voice“ Why didn’t you tell me?” He raised an eyebrow “ Would you care?”

“I am your queen.” He perfectly knew what that meant. It didn’t matter if she cared or not. She should’ve known.

“ I had to restore my helmet.” He said it was the most logical response in the world. A final answer that justifies his whole sequence of inconsequential decisions.

It sent Love over the edge. Was he that oblivious? Didn’t he stop for even a second and think? She was at her feet quickly. “ You had to think sensibly, not impulsively barging into Hell!” She screamed angrily pacing through the bedroom, her steps almost opening a hole on the floor.

“ I was sensible! I did what I had to do. How did you expect me to rule?!” He replied screaming back. It came back to the fighting. The only language they seemed to understand.

“ I don’t know! But you should’ve consulted me! Talked to me!” Love’s voice got weak, her hand holding the bridge of her nose, shaking her head in denial, trying to avoid the knot in her throat. Taking a few seconds to regroup herself. Avoid all those convoluted feelings.

“Since when the Lady of the Four Loves is an expert in challenges in Hell?“ Morpheus grinded his teeth, trying to shove his angriness away. Why couldn’t she understand? He was rebuilding his realm. That was the only way he had to restore his possessions, even if that meant to put himself at risk. The night before, she made it perfectly clear that she did not care. Why was she upset?

“ Since when the Lord of Dreams is?!” Love was shaking, she didn't know how she was even able to keep walking back and forth in the room, because every fiber in her body was trembling.

“ Do you have any idea what the last hours have been like for me?! Making promises I didn’t even know if they were real. Promises that even I didn’t believe! Your librarian was in shambles, so I had to pick it up. And I didn’t know what to do. Prepare for a war? Search for you? Sit in the Garden and do nothing?!”

He tried to argue between her rants. “ I was going to tell you, last night. But you left before I could even say anything. I was trying-”

“Don’t lie to yourself!You didn’t plan to tell me anything! You were trying to court me to bed!” Poorly, she wanted to add. She saw men do it for centuries over love stories after love stories, telling their muses whatever they want to hear, luring them away from their senses with pretty words and impossible promises. It is easy for an innocent heart to fall for it, but not a seasoned one.

“ I did this for me as I did for you! Don’t you think that I know what would happen if Lightbringer or any other knew about my wounded state? If I did nothing, and waited, they would’ve come. And The Dreaming and you, I might add-” Love knew he was being sincere but couldn’t keep away her anguish.

“I was scared, Morpheus!” She let it out, before realizing what she said. He was stunted, his deep blue eyes confused but kept quiet. And she dared to repeat. Even if every inch of her body was trying to keep her from vomiting all her feelings. She repeated quietly, like she didn't want him to listen. Like admitting it to him, was admitting defeat. Her pride wonded by the confession. “I was scared. I thought…” She spoke before any sense of regretness made her quiet “You barely returned, and you were gone. Again. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid. For me, for the Dreaming, for your subjects… for you”

Both dropped in silence, things were escalating. Both their chest going up and down, they could feel the thickness of the air, the bedroom seemed smaller, and their loud voices seemed to echo through the walls.

The raven haired king never, in centuries, saw his wife in such a state. He remembered her earlier years of being lovable and understanding. The later years of her melancholy and bitterness, and her recent coldness and passive aggressiveness. But, apart from one time, he never saw her distressed, arms and hands trembling, trying to hold herself. Love never showed any weakness in front of him. She silently cried, but every single inch of her always breath royalty, always a proper queen. Even in their fallouts.

He didn’t know why he made his way towards her. Last night, Dream saw that Eoster preferred to avoid his touch, recoiling from even the most lightly innocent brush of fingers. But he was taken aback by her sincerity. The confession of fear, obliviousness in face of a situation he didn’t prepare her to. He felt guilt. His wife knew nothing of the Dreaming. He never bothered to teach her.

Now trying to understand her place, he couldn’t contain himself, but to walk to her, close enough to touch her face, her elaborated hairstyle was semi-undone, her brown curls falling in her face. Dream put them behind her ear, making his queen look at him. At first, by impulse, she tried to get away from him, but concead mumbling again about being scared. “ I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I did what needed to be done. Still, it was never my intention to distress you. Leaving you in the dark, I thought…”

He didn’t, actually. The Dream King thought his wife wouldn’t worry. He never thought she would be terrified with his departure. He didn’t think about the burden he dropped inadvertently at her feet. Seeing her as only his unhappy wife, not his queen. Queen of the Dreaming. The Queen who would deal with the consequences if anything happened differently than his win. An entity with no experience in quarrels beyond the ones of a relationship.

Morpheus didn’t know his wife at all, that was clear by the shock of knowing she would try to defend his realm. Even after the suffering he inflicted on her.

Dream leaned in,letting his forehead rest against hers, as both of his hands secured her face, whipping the salty tears in her cheeks. Eoster let out a deep sigh, still listening, she didn’t try to wriggle out of his touch. Morpheus whispered to her, trying to calm her down, like an intimate prayer shared only between them. “ Hope made me victorious. It is what kept my strength, even when Morningstar had the upper hand. Laying on the ground, almost giving up. It was hope that upheld me. Hope for the Dreaming, for a new dawn… for us.”

Love’s voice was almost a whisper, and if he wasn’t close enough to see her lips move, he would’ve thought it was the whispers of the wind. She frowned, letting the best of her senses behind, ignoring the pain, the memories, nudging against his nose, looking for comfort even for a brief moment. Eyes closed, as if opening them meant to face reality. “Husband… You yearn for what lovers share, that only lovers long and grieve for. Only lovers hope.”

She taught that lesson a hundred times to protegées: When lovers are together, they can give each other everything that matters to the heart: Affection, romance, friendship, passion, fidelity, devotedness, but only if their hopes are in perfect harmony. Strangers that share a bed when the flesh craved for warmth, or that were tricked into marrying someone they thought they loved, are never in harmony. Their hopes are always somewhere else.

Only lovers hope. He knew what she meant. They weren’t lovers. Never were. Silence fell among them again, his thumb caressing her soft wet skin. Love didn’t remember if she ever felt such gentleness emanating through his body, calming her trembling self. She didn’t want to let go.

“My Lady, it is all I plead you ” He begged against her skin, their lips almost brushing against each other. Love felt the warmth of his hands against her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, slightly pending her head in his hand. She opened her green watery eyes, staring at him. Either they look brighter with tears, or Morpheus never really paid attention to them.

Eoster knew what he was asking from her. A vow of faith. To believe in his hope. To believe in his change. With all of her heart she wished she could. The words she so longed to hear. She once wished for his love, with all of her heart and self. Now he wanted her to believe in their future.

She wished she could, she wished her memory was feeble, obliviating all those painful recollections of their time together. His coldness, neglectfulness, disregard. The constant humiliations of being looked at with pity in reunions and having to pretend to not see it, having to endure with elegance, mistress after mistress. Having her intentions questioned constantly. Her devotion, inquisitioned by her own husband. Tossed aside, used for relief and discarded. A pretty accessory parading around in the Prince of Stories’ arm. A cruel joke that Desire could tell to amuse others.

“I want to believe, my lord. How I wish I could…” She let the words trail off, pressing her hands harder against his, as if she could make it happen by physically holding onto him, holding the moment.

She wished to forget the past, the truth and live in this ethereal parenthesis where her husband cared, where he looked at her with worry, sorrow, guilt, and he yearned for her. A parenthesis between the quests to find his belongings.

But the truth hovered between them. It was smothered by a brief second, but it was there, already reopening the drift between them. It was impossible to be ignored.

The truth was they were spouses.

Not lovers.

They never were

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya

[literallyjusttoa]

Apollo throughout the ages! Or at least from birth to Rome. I'm going to go ham on explaining the timeline under the cut, but I hope you guys like the designs I made for the different periods of his life!

Anyways EXTREME TIMELINE RAMBLING TIME

Baby (2591 B.C.E.): The year I arbitrarily decided Apollo was born in lmao. Apollo didn’t look like this for long. Probably only like, a minute. Just long enough for Leto to safely give birth and then he was immediately like “ew, no I wanna be big” 

2. Fighting Python (2591 B.C.E.): Immediately after being born, Apollo flies off to go fight Python for 7 days (fun!). After that, he is punished for committing murder and has to purify himself by serving as a slave for 9 years in the Vale of Tempe (funner!) Yeah, Apollo definitely had an A+ childhood. One thing in his first two designs Apollo doesn’t look entirely human. This is bc I like to think he was born with some cool titan traits!

3. Pre-First Punishment (2582-2300 B.C.E): Back from his years in the mortal realm, Apollo looks much more human. His clothes are inspired by Ancient Aegean fashions I found, as we are long before the start of what is considered Ancient Greece. Apollo is the youngest member of the Olympian council and it shows. This boyish look stays with him until after he serves under Laomedon.

Other events that happen during this time: 

Hermes is born (Around 2500 B.C.E.)

4. Post-First Punishment (2290-ish B.C.E-1500 B.C.E.): Apollo comes back from Troy influenced by their traditions, and it shows in his design. There wasn’t much I could find on how Troy differed from the rest of the Mediterranean at the time (probably bc for a while we thought the place didn’t even exist lmao) but I did find something that said an emphasis was put on those with higher status wearing jewelry. So Apollo gets pearls in his hair and golden bands around his arms. His clothes are inspired by feminine Aegean attire. 

Other events that happen during this time:

Music duel with Marsyas (Around 2000 B.C.E)

Dionysus is born (Around 1600 B.C.E)

5. Post-Daphne (1500 B.C.E-1194 B.C.E.): The introduction of the laurel. After Daphne’s death, Apollo distances himself from his family a bit, which leads perfectly into our next big event-

6. Trojan War (1194-1184 B.C.E): Apollo sides with Troy, and its influence once again appears in his appearance, this time even more pronounced. In a war against not only Greece, but his own family, Apollo keeps himself covered and constantly prepared to aid in battle. Missing his mother back on Delos, Apollo grows his hair out for the first time. 

7. Post-Trojan War and Hyacinthus (1184 B.C.E-776 B.C.E.): After Troy falls, Apollo sheds it’s influence quickly, not wanting to look like he’s supporting a side the rest of his family is either against or has given up on. He breaks his time evenly between Olympus and the mortal realm, and takes many lovers until the death of Hyacinthus around 800 B.C.E. After that, he stays up in the heavens for a few decades. 

8. “Main” Apollo (776 B.C.E-540 B.C.E): Starting with the first Olympics in Greece, Apollo is lifted as a paragon of Greece and its people. Shedding the peplos he has worn throughout his early years, Apollo wears a classic chiton and becomes much more invested in the affairs of man. This is a period of great power and ecstasy for him, but as the saying goes, pride goes before the fall. 

Other events that happen during this time: 

Death of Niobe’s children (Around 770 B.C.E.)

Music duel with Pan (Around 750 B.C.E)

Dating Cyrene (Around 630 B.C.E)

9. Coronis-Asclepius (540 B.C.E-500 B.C.E): A design that only lasts as long as Asclepius lives. Zeus is unsettled by Apollo’s influence over Greece, and starts applying more pressure against him. This leaves Apollo stressed, and that's without the fact that he is now raising a prodigy in medicine alongside Chiron. In these 40 years, Apollo attempts to balance his want to be involved in the mortal world with his fathers wrath. In the end, his father will win. 

Other events that happen during this time: 

Around 515 B.C.E - Tarquin purchases the Sibylline Books. Apollo and the Sybil of Cumae must happen before this point (not entirely sure when yet, but definitely in this period.)

10. 2nd Punishment (500 B.C.E.): Apollo serves his second punishment under Admetus. Crushed by the loss of his son and anger of his father, Apollo spends most of this time in hiding. It is only through the gentle hand of Admetus that Apollo finds some sort of healing. 

11. Late Greece (499 B.C.E-146 B.C.E.): Apollo is definitely trying to move on far too quickly from his punishment. He cuts his hair, dons his chiton, and gets right into being an Olympian. It doesn’t help that he is beginning to see the cracks in the foundations of Greece. Athens is flourishing, but only at the expense of Sparta and his own Delos. Years of civil war and threats of Roman invasion leave Apollo shaken, and he pulls away from both the mortal realm and his family, who seem more and more like strangers every day…

Other events that happen during this time:

Trophonius’ death (Around 200 B.C.E)

12. Fall of Greece (146 B.C.E.-32 B.C.E.): Rome officially takes over Greece, and suddenly Apollo’s family are all lost to him. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t think Apollo has a Roman form like the rest of his family, and I imagine the sudden switch in their personalities must have been terrifying. Rarely worshiped and ostracized from Olympus, Apollo returns to the mortal realm, spending his time in solitude as a shepherd. As his influence grows weaker, he begins to show sign of weakness. This is the only time Apollo “ages” (I gave him a beard) and I tried to take away some of the attributes that would have been considered divine. Apollo is completely covered, and he wears shoes (which gods would never do)

13. Rome: (32 B.C.E.-476 C.E.): I know, I know, Apollo should have multiple Rome designs, but I got lazy. Apollo is credited by Octavian for his success in battle against Marc Antony and Cleopatra, and worship of the god skyrockets. Now back on Olympus, Apollo is still wary of his family’s Roman counterparts. He drowns himself in luxuries, hoping to distract from his worries about his brothers and sisters. Who knows what kind of bad decisions a man might make in this scenario?!? (*cough* Commodus *cough*). 

And that’s my full timeline so far!! If there’s anything y’all have questions about (Any missing myths, questions about why I put things were) I’d be happy to answer! I put a lot of work into this, so I hope y’all like it!

[liloify]

i really do love Emmas’ suggestion for Rhaenyra and Mysaria to kiss bc I feel like it does add some nuance to the scene that’s only gonna make this season all the more entangled

I don’t like the argument that “oh when Rhaenyra was young she didn’t like goose(pussy)”, like that was ten years ago, that is a whole decade, and these aren’t books so we don’t exactly get a look into her mind in the form of italics, or a shortened retelling of something that made her realize, “ykw, goose isn’t that bad.” or even more likely, RHAENYRA IS STARVED.

1. Imagine a war being fought that’s all about your inheritance, the inheritance that your father literally upheld to his LAST BREATH, and everyone is acting like you have nothing to do with it aside from being a visual for the cause.

2. Your husband/uncle (aka, the closest older male relative you have now) is in harrenhal tripping off weirwood leaves and a thirst for power

3. Your oldest child starts undermining you

and all this whilst still processing the death of your father, your son, your daughter and now your cousin who was technically your Aunt anyway bc she was old as hell.

Rhaenyra is not only feeling powerless but now she feels unneeded, useless, she doesn’t feel like she has control in a war that was only started because nobody listened to her in the first place when she said she is the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms. And don’t come under my post talking about, “WELL THE BOOKS SAID—“ the books are literally being retold through someone, an unreliable narrator, and I thought we all knew by now that GOT/HOTD doesn’t follow the books to the T.

Should they in some cases? yes, absolutely, but this is TV, it still has to be entertaining to an extent, it still has to be easy for the audience to follow to an extent.

Why would any of you think after 8 seasons of reinventing and in S7 and S8’s cases, just inventing in general, that they would follow the books exactly in the prequel series? Why would yall think that in season 2 they would suddenly start following the books??

If you don’t like the changes, don’t watch it, simple. stop going under posts and being like “it was fan service by the writers!!!” “it’s woke propaganda!!!” nigga this is a show about incest and dragons what the fuck could be woke about THAT??

I love the decision because it really does show just how starved Rhaenyra is for anything at this point, her husband is gone, she’s lacking physical intimacy. Rhaenys is dead, she’s lacking a female confidant. Even Sonoya says that they BOTH needed someone at that point, it wasn’t about manipulation, it was about two women who had been groomed, assaulted, underminded and alone finding comfort in each other.

Mysaria was already a confidant for Rhaenyra, and had she won the war, she probably would’ve been elevated any way. Why would Mysaria, who is so closed off about herself suddenly decide, “you know what, I should tell her this brutal story about my father abusing me because maybe she’ll elevate me right now.” With what kingdom??

I understand y’all don’t like the fact that the show strays from the books, and I understand that the Rhaesaria kiss came out of ‘nowhere’, but y’all keep looking at this face value. Yeah, they never really hinted at Mysaria or Rhaenyra liking women after season 1, but they did make it very very clear that the two are alone, and right now they feel like they only have each other. The kiss doesn’t have to go anywhere but it does make sense for it to have happened, in the heat of an emotional connection, they kiss because theyve both been lacking physical intimacy for so long that it just happens.

It’s not propaganda, Rhaenyra and Mysaria are two lonely women and the kiss made sense from an emotional standpoint, if you have an issue don’t get mad at me bc 1. it’s not my show??? and 2. theyve done gay shit before (laenor, renly, loras, oberyn, yara, ellaria) so be mad at the showrunners for allowing it.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Masterlist

Here is the master list for all my fics! The date at the bottom is the last time it was updated (I try to keep it as updated as possible)

Thank YOU for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting! I appreciate and LOVE the reception and feedback and commentary more than you could ever know - it fuels me and keeps the inspiration flowing!

All stories have a face claim. However, with all my OCs, I encourage folks to see themselves in the story! Also I love angst BUT all my stories are happily ever afters so enjoy the emotional rollercoasters knowing everyone'll be ok lol Thank you again for reading! Love y'all!

MBJ Fics:

Built for Love Series - Michael B Jordan x Famous OC Reader Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan

Series Summary: Charlotte Bennett was not looking for love when she moved to LA and landed her first role in Creed. Quite the opposite actually. However, her costar, Michael B Jordan, makes her question everything she once believed possible for herself and her future. As she builds a life and relationship with him, ghosts from her past threaten to destroy it all.

Series Warnings: Violence, Mentions of past experiences with DV, Angst, Mature Sexual Content

** SMUT

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6**) (Interlude**) (7**) (8) (9) (10) (11**) (12)

One-shots:

Completely random one shots that follow Charlotte & MBJ as they navigate the world as Hollywood’s Black power couple. Whether it be stardom, their work, parenthood, or relationship drama, the Jordans are building a love that will last a lifetime.

Protective

Oscar Night Part 1** (Part 2**)

Bleeding Through (1)

Falling Apart (1) (2)

Date Night**

Asks:

Nicknames

GQ Couples Quiz

Wicked Fantasies - MBJ x Black OC

Moodboard: coming soon!

Series Summary: Raven’s life, as of late, was one unexpected turn after another. It seemed as though every time she got a break and could get her head above water, something came tumbling to knock her back down. As she struggles to get her foot in the door of LA’s call girl scene to make extra money, she stumbles upon her big break: Michael B. Jordan, Hollywood’s most famous, talented, and notorious actor, director, and playboy. One night of pleasure for him would solve many of her continuously mounting financial problems. However, an unlucky trip to the hospital and an ill-timed flash of a paparazzi’s camera snag her the proposition of a lifetime, one that would solve all her problems and allow her to live out her most wicked fantasies with the sexist man alive. However, she forgot one cardinal rule: fantasies and pretend never last and reality would always come around eventually. 

Warnings: Mature sexual content (18+), HEAVY Dom/Sub storyline (the whole nine), this is for the kinky girlsssssss, angst

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11.1)

Asks:

Late Nights

MBJ Requests:

A Love That Never Fades (MBJ x OC)

Erik Killmonger Fics

Unbreakable - Erik Killmonger x Black OC

Moodboard: Coming soon!

Series Summary: Naja, the younger sister of the Queen of Wakanda, hated few things. And at the top of that shortlist: Prince N’Jadaka. Well, if she were honest, he was the entirety of the list. Once destined to be a princess of Wakanda, Naja was the picture of kindness and grace. Now, she is hailed as Wakanda’s most fearless, dangerous, and reclusive war dog. After more than a decade of putting as much distance as possible between her and the life she almost had, Naja is forced to come face to face with the person she hates most again. With a threat looming over Wakanda and lives at risk, Naja must decide if trusting Prince N'Jadaka is worth the risk before it is too late.

Warnings: Angst

(1**) (2)

Last Updated: May 31, 2024

[ghoste-catte]

I'm on my hands and knees asking you about your favorite gaalee moments (spin offs count bc why wouldn't they)

Anon ... I'm sorry I took a while to answer this for you, but it's because you activated my trap card. But without further ado ... here are my top 10 GaaLee moments.

(My 10th pick and rationale beneath the cut)

The Drop Kick So, I feel like we don't talk about this kick often enough. Because this is actually the first time anyone draws blood on Gaara (we see the scratch on his face once his head pops back up). As much time as was given in canon to Gaara's reaction to Sasuke drawing his blood, I don't really understand why Lee being the first to cut him wasn't as big a deal.

The Primary Lotus This is ... probably the first time Gaara's been touched hand-to-body in years. I've written a few times (and shout out to @egregiousderp for their hand in this headcanon) about how this was probably the first approximation of a hug that Gaara had since Yashamaru. He replaces himself with a sand clone halfway down, but for the initial drop, that's just Lee holding him.

The Rescue I wasn't able to find my favorite screenshot from this moment, which is the one where Gaara's sand is rushing to save Lee and it kind of looks like a heart, but anyway, I just love this pivot. The fact that Gaara uses the very weapon he used to crush Lee's dreams to save him. The way Lee still tries to be an equal partner in this fight despite his injuries. The "I don't hold a grudge!"

The Talk This moment means a lot to me. It's a deep conversation to have, and it's one that happens on two levels that I think aren't fully addressed by the narrative. Of course, on the surface, they're talking about Kimimaro and Orochimaru, but the subtext goes something like: Gaara: Even if people love me, I'm still a monster. All they would need to do is be desperate and lonely enough, and I might seem like a good choice. Lee: The fact that people love you proves you're not a monster! Obviously Gaara gets the final word in this conversation, but I do like to think it sinks in later on and influences their relationship in the future.

The Walk Home I hate that we only get to see this in flashbacks in filler episodes (although we do get to see it twice from two different perspectives!)

But I love this moment because of the way that Gaara chooses to carry Lee: he slings him over his shoulder with one arm. If you go back and watch Gaara and his siblings returning to Suna after his fight with Naruto, that's exactly the way first Kankuro, and then Temari, carry him when he's wounded.

This moment is during that time where Gaara's still learning how to be a person and not a weapon, and the fact that he chooses to carry Lee with such care … it feels relationship-defining.

6. The Eighth Gate That flashback that Gaara has to Gai and Lee's relationship shows that he's really internalized the defining impact Lee had on his life. The genuine care and concern that he looks at Lee with in that moment despite Lee's stubborn insistence that he won't be sad makes my heart ache for the both of them.

7. The Retreat If you've ever read one of my fics that's set during the war and notice that I mention Gaara carrying Lee around on his sand, this is what I'm talking about. I love that Lee sees the sand as an unequivocal source of safety instead of threat at this point (to the point of entrusting it to carry Gai-sensei in his frail state). And I love that this seems to be Gaara's default way of pulling Lee out of danger ... it's at least the second time he's done it, after all:

8. Gaara-kun! This was one of The Moments for me. We as a ship had been speculating so long about the degree of intimacy of Lee and Gaara's relationship. We'd spent, I think, a decade at this point writing fics where Lee called Gaara "Kazekage-sama". Then the Perfect Day for a Wedding arc dropped, and here's Lee calling Gaara "Gaara-kun" just like he does the rest of his friends ... wind was blown into the ship's sails on this day.

9. The Double Date Gaara and Lee go on a double date with Tenten and Kankuro to Ichiraku Ramen. This is canon. 'Nuff said.

And now, for number 10 ... drumroll please ...

10. The ILY I know, I know - those handsigns don't mean the same in JSL as they do in ASL. But my little hard-of-hearing heart can't help but see Lee shooting double "I love you"s at Gaara in this moment. And even if he's not, the starry eyes and blushy cheeks say it all. This is flirting, y'all.

[fast-moon]

I'm 30 years late, but...

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine originally aired when I was 10 years old. I loved Next Generation when I was a kid, so I gave DS9 a try back then... and immediately grew bored of it. They weren't going to new planets or having space battles, they were just sitting around in one place discussing space politics, and there wasn't even anyone funny like Data to hold my attention. So, I stopped watching after a couple episodes.

But, since I keep hearing it ended up being the best Trek seres, I've decided to go ahead and give it a full watch-through. Maybe now that I'm 40 and have more life experience under my belt, I can appreciate it more.

Turns out I do! I've finished the first season, so I'll give a run-down of what I thought of the S1 episodes below the cut:

1-2. Emissary: All right, I actually understand the premise this time which completely went over my head as a kid. The Bajorans were under Cardassian occupation for decades, the Federation showed up and drove them out, now the Federation is in control of the Cardassian space station DS9 to help the Bajorans rebuild and return to self-governance. But wait! Turns out there's a wormhole that goes to the other side of the galaxy here and it's suddenly become prime space real-estate! And the wormhole is inhabited by... mysterious non-temporal entities that spit out a magic orbs from time to time and the Bajorans worship them as prophets.

3. Past Prologue: Garak is queer-coded like whoa and gives Bashir a taste of his own medicine about not respecting boundaries. Is also possibly like a quadruple-agent. And tailors a fine suit. Also, Kira got a haircut. There's rats on spaceships?! Oh, that's just Odo. Okay. Still, the fact that he considered that a convincing disguise means there's rats on spaceships?!

4. A Man Alone: A guy backstabs himself and blames Odo for it.

5. Babel: Poor overworked O'Brien gets so stressed out he starts speaking in tongues. Then it turns out it's contagious. And it turns out that it's because someone sabotaged the station decades ago with a dyslexia virus and then just kind of forgot about it.

6. Captive Pursuit: This actually touches on a moral question I'd been wondering about if we ever end up with sentient AI: If something is bred/programmed to like being oppressed, is it more moral to remove it from its oppression even if that makes it miserable, or to return it to its oppression if that's what makes it happy? This episode chose the latter.

7. Q-Less: A surprisingly boring Q-centric episode whose only shenanigans involved a space stingray Vash was trying to sell off. Q really does miss Picard.

8. Dax: Oh, another philosophical thought-experiment: If you committed a crime and then get reincarnated in a traceable manner and retain all the memories of your previous incarnation, can your current incarnation be held liable for your previous incarnation's actions? This episode decides it doesn't want to answer this because she's not guilty, anyway.

9. The Passenger: Bashir becomes even more insufferable and nobody notices.

10. Move Along Home: Samurai hippies come through the wormhole and demand everyone LARP with them whether they like it or not.

11. The Nagus: Quark falls victim to one of the classic blunders, the most famous of which is "Never get involved in a land war with Asia". But only slightly less well-known is this: "Never get involved with a Ferengi when profit is on the line".

12. Vortex: So... Odo just lets a guy get away with murder because he has a sob story and claimed he knew others of his kind? Just because he was wanted unjustly on his home planet does not change the fact that he murdered a guy for hire. Also, Odo can get knocked out by a rock?

13. Battle Lines: Remember that "Great Divide" episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender that everyone hated? No reason.

14. The Storyteller: O'Brien goes down to Bajor to fix the pipes, becomes God.

15. Progress: Kira has to go convince a Boomer to leave his land because they need the resources to rebuild the planet, but he's all "I got mine, screw them." She humors his sexist behavior all episode, then burns his house down.

16. If Wishes Were Horses: Bashir wishes for his own personal side-piece Dax, and real Dax is weirdly okay with this because "boys will be boys". The conflict in this episode is literally solved by thinking happy thoughts.

17. The Forsaken: Odo gets sexually harassed so reports it to HR who just laughs him off because they think it would be good for him to get laid. Then he gets stuck in an elevator with his stalker and it's revealed just how physically strenuous it is for him to maintain his human form all day, and yet he has never been afforded any accommodations beyond a bucket to sleep in. This poor space slime, no wonder he's always so grumpy. #JusticeForOdo

18. Dramatis Personae: TNG's "The Inner Light", but stupid. Once again Odo has to save the day because he's immune to the humanoid crazypox that seems to infect the station every half-dozen episodes, and yet they still just can't find it in their effects budget to adjust station operations enough to allow him the minimal comfort of not having to contort himself into human form every day until he collapses just to do his job.

19. Duet: I am a sucker for "Did the janitors on the Death Star deserve to die?" sorts of moral discussions, and this episode delivered that very well. Also, I'm in lesbians with Kira.

20. In the Hands of the Prophets: Lady who doesn't even have kids at the school nevertheless takes issue that the children aren't being taught in accordance to her religious beliefs. It's been 30 years since this came out and nothing changes.

All in all, a decent season 1. It does show its age in places, especially in its treatment of female characters, and being written before the internet and smartphones caused seismic cultural shifts that its vision of the future failed to take into account. But still, I'm liking it now that I actually understand what's going on. On to season 2!

[cerebralisis]

Wait, does this message from 🫚 anon refer to the 10 years that have passed since 1989 came out?

Years 1-2, See what they drew = Oct 2014 - Oct 2016, "We were laughing drawing aces", 1989 era

Years 3-4, Keep searching for more = Oct 2016 - Oct 2018, searching for more aces but coming up empty handed, dark Reputation era

Years 5-6, Lay it on thick = Oct 2018 - Oct 2020, heavy flagging during the Lover era and Miss Americana

Years 7-8, Isn't fall great? = Oct 2020 - Oct 2022, release of her two most fall-themed albums, Evermore and Red (TV)

Years 9-10, The final act ends = Oct 2022 - Oct 2024, release of Midnights and The Eras tour, which brings us to the present.

It would make so much sense if Taylor has been under a contract or NDA for the past 10 years. She has been hinting for a while that 1989 was the problem era. Having her evil twin in the Antihero music video wear the 1989 colors and literally point at herself saying “I’m the problem, it’s me.”

Leaving her normal signature off of the infamous 1989 (TV) prologue, which is essentially saying “This isn’t me, I’m not signing off on this.”

Releasing the Bejeweled music video in Oct 2022, almost exactly 8 years after 1989 was released, and using it to tell us that exile ends in 2 more years: Oct 2024 🎃

This is just a theory, but maybe in the move from country to pop, she negotiated an agreement that would offer her a lot of money and the chance to become an even bigger star than she already was, but in exchange, she had to give up control of her public image. She’s written that she put her career first and “took the money” around this time. In doing so, she might have had to sign something that silenced her for the next 10 years.

Her career popped off with 1989, and she was feeling so Gatsby - but then she fell in love with someone who (again) didn’t fit the public image they chose for her, and it sounds like she’s been fighting her decision ever since. You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars.

To make it worse, after (allegedly) making the difficult decision to sign her life over, she was nearly canceled right after that 🐍 and left with nothing except a relationship that she would have still been contractually obligated to hide.

We can see that she tried to roll with it for Reputation and stayed in the dark, but she ultimately decided to leave Sony and negotiate better terms for herself under Universal so that she could find a way to step into the daylight. And we all know how that sparkling summer went down.

As the decade would play us for fools… but the decade is over now and she’s clean.

[spleelover06]

Why I prefer Yo-Kai Watch over Pokémon

I have mentioned before that I prefer Yo-Kai Watch over Pokémon, and if you're interested in knowing why, here are the reasons why I do:

1: It's interesting how the YKW anime doesn't always just focus on the main protagonist as it also focuses on what some of the other characters and Yo-Kai do more. Pokemon pretty much focused too much on Ash Ketchum for over two decades despite having different friends from different regions. We mostly never get to see what Ash's friends are up to.

2: The side characters in Yo-Kai Watch don't get replaced every couple of years, and it feels like the crew behind the franchise actually gives a damn about their characters, unlike the Pokemon franchise, where they constantly and commonly introduce new characters and rivals and then replace them with new ones every now and then, which I did find pretty cool at first, but now it's gotten old and annoying, and I just wish they'd stop with that.

3: I find the Yo-Kai Watch fanbase to be more sane and less toxic, and it isn't around the same level of how toxic and annoying the Pokemon fanbase is, which is why I left it and also kinda regret being in it. The shippings in Yo-Kai Watch aren't really taken as seriously as the shippings in Pokemon, and there isn't really any shipping wars happening in the Yo-Kai Watch fandom, at least from what I've seen. Plus the fanbase behind the YKW games doesn't seem as bad either.

4: Yo-Kai have more personality and can make more noises and say far more than just their name, which makes it easier for me to know what each Yo-Kai is individually like.

5: The episodes in the YKW anime feel more of my style as I have always personally preferred episodic shows over shows with a lot of ongoing storylines and with the whole to be continued thing which I can find really annoying.

6: The Yo-Kai Watch games, to me, are more enjoyable than the Pokemon games are because there's more exploration to do, there's lots of content in both before and after finishing the game, the cutscenes don't really take up space during my time playing it and they are at least more interesting (especially since there are ones where they speak with voices), and the graphics, soundtracks and settings looks great to me.

7: The storylines in the games and anime are better, plus I find Nate to be a better protagonist than Ash. Nate acts more like a person in the real world with actual personality and it's interesting to see how he can see creatures that other people can't in a non forced way. This goes for Hailey Anne as well because both characters are quite relatable for people in the real world. Ash on the other hand just travels through participates in Pokemon leagues over and over again, and the show can mainly suffer from having him as the main character since it's mostly through his perspective, and the plots mostly involve him and even have him there even if he's just there not doing much (what's the point of even doing that?).

8: There aren't as much gender stereotypes used in Yo-Kai Watch as there is in Pokemon. What I mean by that is the fact that Ash's female come out as either girly girls that participate in stuff that makes them wear dresses and do elegant/graceful stuff with their stuff, or tomboys that want to accomplish something strongly just like Ash. Not only that but all of Ash's' companion's personalities and traits in Pokemon can blend into one-another, resulting in them lacking true individual personalities. Meanwhile in Yo-Kai Watch almost every character is shown to have their own personalities even if they share some traits with each other, showing that there are no gender stereotypes overused.

9: Yo-Kai Watch isn't afraid to leave the status quo like how Pokemon mostly is because we get to see Nate go through different challenges and plots as the series continues, while before season 25, the Pokemon series was too afraid of leaving the status quo to the point where they had to keep Ash going to different regions while keeping him at the age of 10 with Team Rocket stalking him. There are no excuses why they had to keep on doing that other than being afraid to leave the status quo.

10: There's no overuse of clichés in YKW, like Nate having feelings for Katie does not become so forced for example as well as how not every episode plot has the good ending we'd all sorta expect to happen. Heck, the premise seemed pretty original to me also. While in Pokemon, it's about a new trainer becoming a champion and/or Pokemon master overtime and encountering/defeating evil teams in every single region, and this is one of the reasons why I left the fandom. The whole premise just seemed really clichéd to me and it's something that the Pokemon anime was too afraid to change it up more until the horizons series came (I'd say it's more tolerable than the original anime).

And that's me done with explaining things out about why I think this way. I've tried to think the opposite of this when I was younger but I fully failed to do so and went back to my original thoughts on the two franchises. There's just too many Pokemon, games, seasons/episodes, movies, altered storylines and characters from the Pokemon franchise for me to give a damn about them while Yo-Kai Watch gives out all of that stuff in a way where they're not overdoing it and that makes the series more interesting. If you think the other way around, then I can handle that opinion of yours. This pretty concludes what I wanted to say here and I hope y'all understand what I felt like saying here. If you do, thanks.