#alleged wish granting

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (8 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 <3

***

How could one man's nose, monstrous though it was, be responsible for such an ungodly racket? Tearing through the glass-peaked canyons, sound waves like a cross between an enraged hornet's nest and a shoal of frenzied mermaids rattled the slab acting as Killian’s backrest. It had seemed prudent not to stretch himself flat and expose more surface area to the brutally jagged terrain, but apparently, his total exhaustion was not enough to allow sleep in an upright position. And now this nonsense.

Killian gingerly shifted his weight, and even the scrape and rattle of chains as his heavy shackle skittered along the stone was muffled by Blackbeard's drunken droning. The ring of chafed skin beneath the band encircling Killian's ankle burned with the movement. If only he had his hook back, or even a sturdy dagger; perhaps then he could work one of the links out of shape to at least be rid of the ball’s encumbrance. But as he reached down, intent on sliding the metal higher and onto less irritated flesh, the chain clanked again and Blackbeard snorted awake. He didn't even bother to open an eye.

"Go to bed, Hook."

"I pity every last man on your crew," grumbled Killian in reply. "How many have been flogged for nodding off while on duty?"

Blackbeard's snoring resumed, even louder than before, and Killian sighed bitterly. The bastard had the most selective hearing he had ever witnessed.

A brief image flashed into his mind, that of himself using the blasted spherical anchor to bash the rival pirate's head in. But the chain was too short to accommodate a height of any more than an inch or two above the ringleted skull, and as he'd already discovered, the blood pulsing into his own injured head as he hunched over to lift the ball would soon have him faceplanting onto the razor rocks at his feet. Still, the thought was a tempting one.

“Just what the bloody hell are we doing here, anyway? Are you ever going to tell me, or do I have to figure it out all on my own?”

Grunting irritably, Blackbeard opened one eye and gave his captive a sideways glance. “What, so you can devise a way to escape? I don’t think so. I told you: I’m getting my money’s worth out of you.”

“And just how do you intend to do that, exactly? In case you hadn’t noticed, this is hardly the heart of high society, here. Do you even have a clue where we are?”

“Of course I do. The legendary Blackbeard is never lost.”

“Is that so?” Killian grinned tauntingly, though he certainly felt less than prepared for banter at the moment. “All right then. Prove it.”

With a hugely exaggerated eye roll, Blackbeard reached into an inner pocket. “Fine. If it will finally get you to shut up for once…”

He drew out a folded parchment and held it between his first two fingers, barely making any effort to angle it in Killian’s direction. Killian leaned stiffly closer and plucked the offering from his grasp.

“A treasure map,” he said as he unfolded the grubby bit of crumpled parchment. “That’s your grand scheme.”

“Give me at least some credit, Hook. I’m not likely to spend a small fortune on an expedition to nowhere.”

Killian still could not see anything to make him believe this was anything other than an ordinary treasure map. A complicated one, to be sure, with a maze-like route that undoubtedly purported to navigate them through the current mess of narrow canyons. No key provided any interpretation for the scattering of symbols marking the parchment. “Then where is this taking us?”

Killian immediately spotted some false confidence in Blackbeard’s demeanor as he snatched the map back.

“If the ancient tales of this place have any truth to them… we’ll soon have the pleasure of meeting some powerful magic-wielders; creatures with the ability to grant anyone their heart’s fondest desires.”

Dubious eyebrow raised, Killian settled back against the rock face. “Creatures? What, like mythical beasts?”

Blackbeard returned the map to his breast pocket. A hint of defensiveness colored his tone as he carefully replied,

“The legends tend to describe beings more… simian in shape.”

“Monkeys?” Killian scoffed. “Magical wish-granting monkeys? I always knew you were a wily devil, but I somehow missed the fact that you were also a madman.”

“Mock all you like; this ‘madman’ will soon be celebrating riches beyond your wildest dreams.” Blackbeard tilted his hat forward over his eyes and folded his arms, prepared to resume his slumber. 

“Aye? And what’s my role in all of this? Surely you could have moved faster without the burden of an unwilling traveling companion.”

“Did I forget to mention?” Blackbeard didn’t move, seemingly not interested in Killian’s reaction to his provocation. “The going rate for wishes in this land is a mere human sacrifice. A bargain, if you ask me. I hear the monkeys consider roasted human flesh a delicacy. Although your aged bones may need a bit of extra time on the spit to properly tenderize.”

Ignoring the gibe, Killian made no effort to conceal his skepticism. “All right, mate. Say for a moment that I believe you. Once we’re in the monkeys’ clutches, what’s to keep them from feasting on both of us? Seems a dangerous gamble for such an unlikely reward.”

“Not all of us are as jaded as you are, old man. These monkeys are moral creatures. They honor their deals.” He shifted his weight slightly. “Speaking of deals… I believe you now owe me a bit of quiet.”

Killian rolled his eyes, even though the other man couldn’t see. “You’ve a disturbing amount of faith in these nonsensical stories of yours.”

Blackbeard didn’t respond, and soon, the buzz-rumble had returned. 

Though he’d expressed so much doubt for the sake of appearances, Killian had too much life experience to dismiss the legends outright. Most folk tales had some element of truth to them, and even if the magical beings inhabiting this hostile land were not actual monkeys, he had no intention to treat them with anything but caution. Magic had never been particularly kind to him.

But what if they really could grant a heart’s desire?

***

“Watch yourself, Hook,” sneered Blackbeard from up ahead. Killian picked himself up yet again, inspecting the newest addition to the dozens of cuts and scrapes already adorning his elbows, knees, and hips. He glared at his nemesis, who was in much the same state, though due to the percentage of his blood that was actually alcohol, Killian doubted the other man could feel any of it.

“You don’t say,” gritted Killian. Blackbeard stumbled, but somehow remained upright. Killian made a note of the obstruction so he could avoid a similar incident.

Their second day of navigating the menacing canyons, Killian was already completely lost. Lingering wooziness did not help his sense of direction one bit. Blackbeard frequently consulted his map, purloined from gods-only-knew-where, allegedly leading to the cannibal, wish-granting monkeys fabled to live in this inhospitable location. But knowing the way and being able to traverse the terrain were two different things. And now they were running low on water.

The pair rounded a bend and came to a rare clearing, where the walls widened into more than the average arm’s length they had grown accustomed to seeing. In the center stood a gnarled, sickly tree, also an oddity since leaving the road. Blackbeard made a grunt of satisfaction and tucked the map into his pocket. 

“Over there, Granddad. Time to get well-acquainted with some tree bark.”

Grudgingly, Killian followed Blackbeard to the tree, watching as he fished a length of rope from his satchel. 

“Is this where your monkey friends live? Inside a decaying old tree? Doesn’t appear very magical to me.”

“Don’t worry; this is only a quick layover. We’ve quite a ways to go yet.” 

Killian engaged in a token struggle as Blackbeard grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the tree trunk, but secretly, he was glad of the opportunity to rest. His whole body ached, and his ankle was so chafed from the ball and chain that he wouldn’t have been surprised to find smears of blood beneath the iron band. 

“I don’t expect this to hold you for long,” Blackbeard commented, wrapping the rope around the trunk. He fashioned a quick noose with one end, slipped it around Killian’s neck, and then bound his hand with the other end. Now, too much movement of that arm would tighten the loop encircling his neck. “But it would be foolish to try and find your way out of here without this.”

He flashed the map in front of Killian’s face, then stuffed it back into the front of his coat. Cautiously testing his bindings and making no effort to disguise his movements, Killian growled,

“More foolish than peacefully accompanying you to my death?”

Blackbeard shrugged. “Try it, then. You have no chance of outdistancing me.” He rooted around in the bottom of his satchel for a moment and located Killian’s hook, sneering,

“Don’t want you getting your hand on this.”

Then, after also pulling out their empty waterskins, he tossed his satchel carelessly nearby. “If you do get the gumption to lose the ropes, feel free to clean yourself up. I’m off to fetch water. It’s a bit out of the way and it would take three times as long if I dragged your dead weight along with me.” 

He inspected his knots once more and then patted Killian condescendingly. “Be a good little sacrifice and stay put.”

Killian didn’t waste time watching Blackbeard swagger off; instead, he sank slowly to a seated position, careful to allow the rope enough slack that he didn’t choke himself along the way. Almost immediately, he located a protruding piece of bark and got to work loosening the knot securing his wrist. He didn’t expect his captor to have overlooked any means of self-defense in the satchel, but he was hoping a certain other item may have been deemed unimportant enough to be forgotten…

[sondheim-girly]

the knots in my stomach are back. I think I’m gonna try and take a break from tumblr tomorrow for my mental health, and just get updates from one of my irls.

[sytoran]

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)

word count: 2.5k

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.

This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.

Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.

—

“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office. 

“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.

“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”

“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee? 

“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”

You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.

“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier. 

You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”

“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”

“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”

—

Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.

“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you. 

“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”

Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.

“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology. 

“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”

You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid. 

“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”

Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.

—

“You want me to grant you a cock.”

The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world. 

The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.

Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.

Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?

She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.

“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”

“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins. 

“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly. 

“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.

“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.

“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”

Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?

You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”

A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes. 

“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.

You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle. 

You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks. 

You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.

“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.

All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.

God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.

As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.

As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.

Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.

“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.

“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch. 

“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.

“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.

You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.

Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.

“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.

And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget. 

“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.

The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.

You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.

Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.

Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.

“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax. 

Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit. 

The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.

You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day. 

Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.

She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.

Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.

You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.

You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.

“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling. 

“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach. 

Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.

“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again. 

God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha. 

You think you could stay like this forever.

—

A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.

You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.

“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”

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[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT!

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, Oh No! and Are You Satisfied? are much too basic songs to analyze Dr. Ratio to! Just because he's a scholar doesn't mean that he has academic trauma!" WRONG! Before we start, I have been researching psychology for approximately six years and I plan to go into it professionally. HOWEVER, that said, I am NOT a professional (YET. One day I will be. Yay for Aurae!) so understand that everything I come to conclusions about has been analyzed with some personal judgement, personal interpretations, and this is just what I have concluded with the info that I have deconstructed from his brain. If you disagree, that's fine!

I will be pulling from my own experiences with being a "golden" and "gifted" child, as well as the experiences I've had speaking to other people who were those. I will also be pulling from my experiences of researching and seeing how people with superiority complexes work, as well as diving into how those work (from what I've seen, as well as how they conceal a lack of self-esteem).

OKAY, NOW THAT THAT LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, ALLOW ME TO WORK MY PSYCH ENJOYER MAGIC! Let's deconstruct Dr. Ratio like a lego toy.

Let's start off with how Dr. Ratio presents himself. When you first meet him, he seems like a haughty, arrogant asshole. He likes to PRESENT himself as a stoic, superior scholar who is purely in it to win it, and I got total "*stares down at your tiny body and laughs at how you lack knowledge*" vibes at the very start, due to how he goes around calling people idiots all the time. However, he DOES lose the idgaf war, and we can very quickly see that he does care for other people, even if in his own, strange way. Dr Ratio presentation: An asshole. The reality?

His entire character is based around the idea of helping the masses. He wishes to spread knowledge through the cosmos and give people who didn't have access to it, access. He's a harsh teacher, and calling people 'idiots' is NOT the way to motivate them, but he's doing his best™.

Actually, no, I'm going to go full psych into this. Okay, so here starts the Dr. Ratio and my FATHER COMPARISONS. My father is a professor and he is often called a harsh grader by his students. However, I've spoken to him multiple times because I was curious - why is he so harsh and diligent with his grading system? The answer is - he wants them to actually learn. When he's grading, he gives them harsh marks because he wants them to know exactly where they messed up, and he's always willing to stay after hours to help students understand where they can't. My father also is an enjoyer of knowledge, and for as long as I've remembered, he has prioritized teaching me how to think critically. He wants me to be able to think for myself - and I think that's what Dr. Ratio wants, too. He wants for his students to be able to fully comprehend and absorb the information that he teaches, and although his methods are harsh, he genuinely wants to help. My father's like this too - he hates students that waste his time or aren't here because their hearts are in it. Dr. Ratio hates people who aren't taking their education seriously because knowledge is important. Knowledge is a tool, and to disregard it completely is lowkey kind of insulting - especially when there are people who weren't privileged enough to actually get it, so this isn't something that you should take for granted. Dr. Ratio despises people who take knowledge for granted.

Also, I disagree with the claims that say that Dr. Ratio hates the genius society. He shows open respect for them in his voice lines. Just check them if you need proof. Also, I'll delve into the idea of Aeons and recognition later.

Now that we’ve established that Dr. Ratio kins my dad, let’s let's tackle the 'stoic' allegations. He is LOSING the idgaf war. Like, really badly. He has a temper of a thousand suns and snaps at people frequently, despite his 'impassive' face, his tone holds a LOT of emotion. He seems to feel very deeply and has a shit ton of empathy for others - why else would he be dedicating his entire career to helping others? Of course, he doesn't express this in 'typical' ways of being openly kind - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care for other people. In fact, he seems to be pretty good at putting himself in the shoes of others and understanding them - expressed in the 2.1 quest where he tells Aventurine to tell him if he can't hold on any longer. Also, he loses the IDGAF war because he is actively trying to help people who want to learn and trying to spread logic and knowledge across the cosmos to those who didn't have it before. Would a man who didn't GAF do that? No!

Now that we've covered his view on knowledge and the way that he presents himself, let's turn to the way that he SEES himself. Now, this is where we get into the nitty gritty of gifted child trauma & academic trauma as well as crippling expectations. It's literally explicitly said in his character stories that he sees himself as mediocre, and it's canon that he doesn't have a good view of himself. His self-esteem is down in the fucking trenches along with my sanity as I write this analysis. The reality is - being called a genius your whole life doesn't really make you feel better about yourself. I'd know. I was. In fact, it makes you feel fucking worse when you can't live up to an expectation. We all fail in life. It's part of being human. But when you're held to such high standards - idolized for your knowledge and the way that you're 'gifted' - the crash comes really fucking hard. Failure is inevitable, and when people who are held on that pedestal experience it, they take it really bad.

The reality is that nobody - not even geniuses - are perfect, but you grow up believing that you are. Then, when you fail for the first time, it all comes tumbling down. The first time I came home with a bad grade was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I hadn't studied because I was arrogant and I thought that I was smart enough to pass without putting any extra effort into it - because I was a 'gifted' child, right? I should've been able to do it without studying like the other kids. And that's the thing with gifted children – you grow reliant on that title. You cling onto it for dear life for motivation, as well as self-perception. Little by little, the person you are falls apart as you slave away to the perception other people have of you. I think basically every gifted child that I've ever spoken to is a victim of this – and of course, you can heal from this mindset - but it's a hard one to shake.

Ratio's way of presenting himself as being a 'genius' and 'arrogant' also seems to contradict the way that he calls himself 'mundane' at the same time. However, these are two mindsets that can coexist. One part of you believes that you are a genius and that you are perfect, while the other part is crumbling and calling yourself good-for-nothing every time you make a mistake. It's a tiring cycle to live in. This usually leads to people shutting themselves out and closing themselves off after living like that, pushing back your own feelings in favour of being the perfect child. However, we don't know the exact details of Dr. Ratio's childhood, but we can infer that he was held to a pedestal, and this is a very harmful mindset for a child to have.

His superiority complex comes both from how other people view him, but it's a way to cope with his crippling lack of self-esteem. I'm sorry my guy. Also helping others probably helps him feel like he's worth something and makes him feel better because he bases his entire worth off of what he can do and how he can help others. However, this is just my personal interpretation backed by what I have already deconstructed. 

In general, this is an easy way to crush self-esteem. You spend your whole life working to meet the image of what other people think you are. In fact, another reason why Dr. Ratio might be so harsh is because that’s the kind of attitude he holds towards himself when conducting research – he’s as hard on himself as he is to others. You end up hating the idea of failure, instead of seeing it as it should be - a way to improve and grow. Actually, I think this could be a reason that he went out of his way to break that illusion of 'worshipping geniuses' in the Space Station. Maybe some sort of childhood connection? Personal connection? In his endeavour to spread more knowledge and make people think for themselves and not blindly follow geniuses, to wake them up and let them think for themselves - maybe, somewhere, in there, he's helping that little child that was almost dehumanized for his intelligence. TLDR: Conflicting mindsets due to trauma, brain vs heart almost - his knowledge that he is a genius vs the crippling lack of his self worth.

Now that we've established Dr. Ratio's self worth, let's take a look at the impact Aeons had on him. Nous, the Aeon of Knowledge itself. I think in a world where the Gods are real, tangible beings that you can reach out and talk to - it makes sense that someone with high ambition and someone who's been called a genius his whole life would seek the confirmation of Nous. When you're a man of knowledge, and you've spent your whole life working with it, being praised for it – it feels natural to look for a god to look down upon you and bless you, right? The Genius Society – it should house him, because he is a genius as well, right? Imagine this – you have been called a genius your whole life, held to that kind of pedestal for so long, and now you wait for the recognition of the Gods. Because if you truly are a genius – then surely, a higher being will recognize your intelligence, right?

The invitation never comes.

And then, comes the doubt.

What if I'm really not a genius? What if everything I've worked for is a lie? Aeons are beings that are 'absolute'. If the god of Knowledge won't accept you or even cast a glance upon you, does that mean that everything was wrong. Gods see more than humans, after all. Gods know more than humans - and that spiral... I think you can see if. (If you don't let me know. I will ramble about how a failure like that can make you spiral down into a worse mindset). 

However, the reason why Ratio was never invited to the Genius Society is simple. It’s because he LOSES THE IDGAF WAR. Now, if we look at all the people we know who are in the Genius Society - we find one thing in common. They’re in it to win it for themselves. They don’t help others using the knowledge that they’ve gotten - they use it to pursue shit for themselves. The people of the Genius Society are inherently self-serving. They WIN the idgaf war. Ratio LOSES. Do we see now? 

Ratio’s empathy is the reason why he wasn’t let in. He is too human. Nous is a computer. Herta is detached from people. Ruan Mei is literally looking at life as test subjects. Screwllum is a robot. 

OUR DOCTOR MAN LOST THE IDGAF WAR, BECAUSE HE IS HUMAN AND FEELS FOR OTHERS!!! 

Also, it’s a plausible theory that Nous’s definition of ‘genius’ is different from the human definition of ‘genius’ – it’s a computer, after all. Who knows what’s going on in that code head of its. 

However, we still love you Ratio. Never stop losing the IDGAF war. 

TLDR: Nous is a computer. It is also in it to win it. It is also self serving. It gazes upon the hoes who are here to win it for themselves. Ratio is busy serving the masses and cooking knowledge in his frying pan. To it, there is no logical reason to be doing this. Therefore, no reason to invite this guy to the Genius Society. 

Ratio’s gifted child trauma says otherwise. He wants in. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been working his whole life as a genius. 

Nous is like… nah bro, you care too much. Ratio is like, ‘what the fuck?’ And then the AEON OF KNOWLEDGE GOES FOR THE MILK. 

Okay, now, quick shoutout to Ratio wanting to help others. He is just like me fr. SO BASICALLY, RECAP OF EVERYTHING I JUST SAID:

Ratio LOSES the idgaf war because he cares about other people. Spent his whole life as the golden egg, and then turns to the gods for recognition because of the inherent trauma of being a child genius. He goes, "hey bro, can you confirm that I am in fact a genius?" and Nous goes, "no, you are too busy cheffing for the masses." Ratio goes, "what the fuck?" and then we collectively realize his attitude comes from blocking off his feelings (while failing miserably), being salty about not being recognized, being put on a pedestal for his whole life, and his crippling depression *cough* lack of self worth *cough*. 

Oh, and the "I will never be enough" thought train probably hits him every single day. He is not enough to be recognized by a God. Gods are superior to humans. Maybe nothing has worth after all. Hey, that's Nihility! Hi IX, let's hear what you have to say.

*muffled ix noises*

I see, I see.

The consensus is: HE'S TRAUMATIZED BY EXPECTATIONS! HE WILL PROBABLY SUFFER FROM BURNT OUT GIFTED CHILD IF HE HAS NOT ALREADY!

Okay, now, before I delve into song lyrics (and I KNOW this has been long, just bear with me) I want to talk a little bit (read: a lot) about his relationship with Aventurine. We all know that he cares about Aventurine in his own way. But I want to pull in another idea that I didn’t cover before: 

Ratio’s fucking emotional constipation. 

Basically, the reason why he has trouble connecting with others is because he was most likely alienated by others as a symptom of being called a genius and being put on a pedestal. This makes him seem unapproachable to his peers, most likely, and therefore, as a result, doesn’t know how to properly connect with others. This just makes his way of presenting affection and care to others even more challenging – because he just doesn’t know how to do it in a healthy and clear way. Academic trauma causing emotional problems, because he’s probably a little bit out of touch with his own. Processing? No! Research. Also, this is very important for understanding Ratio’s character in my opinion, because he’s just a little guy who doesn’t know how to articulate. Maybe he’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Tism mutuals, do we agree or disagree? 

However, in comes Aventurine. Love Aventurine, but they are both emotionally constipated. Aventurine displays his affection in ways that Ratio probably only catches after re-analyzing their time together about five times. He’s also a very closed off individual – but Ratio knows this. A cute thing is that Ratio is patient where he needs to be, even if he’s generally a pretty hot-headed guy, and I’m like… bro… that letter… “I wish you the best of luck”... I will wait for you…. GAY ASS MAN…

Sorry the Aventio demons took over. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that they both have nonverbal communication with one another that they clearly decipher and Ratio obviously cares for him (he came back and almost jeopardized the plan just for the sake of his ‘coworker’... okay gayboy…) and they just have such a neat little dynamic… Aventurine lets Dr. Ratio do his thing… understands his emotional alienation to a degree…. they’re so neat….

Okay, Aventurine segment over. NOW, FINALLY, WE CAN GET TO THE SONG LYRICS!!! YAY!!!! We all cheered!!!

We are going to be here for two more amber eras, because I realized I actually want to analyze every single lyric from both of these songs. Brace yourself for like, 2k more words. Help. 

I think it’s only proper that we start off with ‘Oh No!’ the song that has haunted me since my childhood.

“Don’t do love, don’t do friends

I’m only after success

Don’t need a relationship

I’ll never soften my grip”

Remember when I mentioned that alienation was a big part of Ratio lore? Yeah, that manifests itself in this. When you spend your entire life chasing after knowledge and being held to that standard of untouchable genius, it makes sense that you couldn’t connect with others and that you turn your gaze only to success. Therefore, relationships that are interpersonal lose meaning for a bit – you’re just looking for answers and ways to help them, not connect with them. Also, this is what he wants to do – so he’s never going to pass down an opportunity to better himself or to help someone else. 

“Don’t want cash, don’t want card

Want it fast, want it hard 

Don’t need money, don’t need fame

I just want to make a change

I just wanna change, I just wanna change” 

This is directly alluding to his reasonings for distributing knowledge across the cosmos. Was he based on this song? Maybe he was. He’s not looking for money or fame, his ultimate goal is actually pretty selfless – to bring knowledge and give people the tools they need to think for themselves. He just wants to make a change – he just wants people to be able to have access to knowledge and help cure ‘stupidity’. He wants to do it as quickly as possible, always reaching for lofty goals that might seem impossible, but he will make them possible. 

“I know exactly what I want and who I want to be

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine

I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no, oh!” 

Ratio knows his goal. He knows what he’s working towards. I do believe that he understands why he is the way that he is – he has a degree in Psychology, after all. He knows how he’s been hurt but at the same time, the trauma brain probably doesn’t want to recognize it and he hasn’t stepped into healing yet. He knows what he went through impacted him, but he’s too busy helping others to help himself. He’s becoming what he wants to be, and yet he’s not, all at the same time – which causes the idea of “oh no!” as a kind of cry for help, almost. He’s too proud to ask for it himself, of course, so he’ll fall alone until someone manages to catch him and give him the strength to continue holding on. Aventurine is that. 

“One track mind, one track heart

If I fail, I’ll fall apart

Maybe it is all a test

‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst

So I always act like I’m the best” 

Now, these are the exact lyrics that made me associate this song with Ratio in the first place. He’s got a singular goal that he will do nothing to stop at getting, that he goes so far to get to. However, as I mentioned earlier, failure is not an option for those who were deemed gifted or genius. You are perfect, so therefore you must live up to everyone’s every expectation and surpass them, too, in order to keep your perception of yourself intact. Ratio does not hold himself in high regard, but acts arrogant in order to hold himself together and not fall to the self-deprecating thoughts, even if they fall through the cracks. It gets tiring to hold yourself together like that for a long time, you know? 

“I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die” 

Remember how I was talking about contradictory mindsets and how they can coexist. This is them. The feeling of crippling self-hatred and lack of self esteem versus the idea that you can do it, you can make a difference – you were born a genius, this is what you’re going to do. This is the knowledge that you are a genius vs the lack of self-esteem that Ratio has. “Mediocre” vs “genius” mindset, eh? 

All the other lyrics in this song are repetitions of what I’ve analyzed before, so let’s move onto “Are you Satisfied?” 

To be honest, there are only a few lines in this song that allow me to connect it to Ratio, so therefore, I will only be analyzing them. However, if you think that other lyrics can connect to him, I’d be interested in knowing how. 

“What you’re gonna be 

It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

My problem, it’s my problem that I never am happy

It’s my problem, it’s my problem on how fast I will succeed”

Pretending to not care about how the world sees you is so fucking real. Sometimes, you really don’t give a shit, and sometimes it’s all you can think about. Ratio… doesn’t seem like he’s the happiest person. He works himself hard and he’s always chasing after a goal that must be exhausting. He’s always doing his best, and I think even with his empathy, it’s easy to start not giving a shit after trying for so long and so hard. Accepting help is one of the hardest things that anybody can do, especially with how much pride he has. His personal problems are his personal problems and he can deal with them on his own. 

“High achiever, don’t you see? 

Baby, nothing comes for free

They say I’m a control freak

Driven by a greed to succeed

Nobody can stop me” 

Nothing comes for free. A lot of the things Ratio has achieved is due to his own intelligence, yes, but also because of a shit ton of hard work. His goal is literally to cure the universe of ‘stupidity’ – and that’s a pretty large fucking goal. He is a high achiever who likes to know the details of every situation when he can in order to try and make things better, and he is driven by a greed to succeed. Why wouldn’t he be? Success is important, and success means helping more people. He isn’t going to allow himself to be stopped by anybody – not even anybody from the Genius society. 

Okay, and we have finally reached the end of my analysis! This caps at around 4k words, so if you stuck around for this long, thank you so much. I would love to hear any of your comments, and I hope you laughed a little bit. Thank you again! This means so much to me that you read. <3

[gregrulzok]

Devil's Minion is an interesting title though, isn't it.

I mean one of them is a creature designed and all but required to kill. He could eat animals, technically, but we know that isn't sustainable long term - even Louis, who genuinely tried it, wanted it so bad, couldn't keep the diet up for long. That's just not sustainable for their bodies, not what they were made for.

And the many long centuries of isolation, many long centuries of being unable to go out during the day, to talk to people without raising suspicion - and the changing of times, watching the culture shift and drift away from you without being able to fully follow it... Anyone would be distant from humans, from humanity, it's a shift in the psyche supported from every angle to make you view people as prey rather than equals.

And then the other? Human. A guy. He had relatives, friends, probably. He's more than likely lost people before, knows the grief of death far more intimately than a being designed to take two or three lives in a day ever could.

And yet, night after night, he holds the hunter in his arms. Cuddles up to him, ignores the fact that any warmth in his lover cost another human being their life. He ignores the pain and suffering they went through despite being fully equipped to understand it, ignores the grief and heartache he knows their close ones must be feeling - more than that, he takes pleasure in it! He drinks the blood of the monster, for no reason other than his own pleasure, and he tastes in it the wails and screams and desperation of those that were killed for it, and he's addicted to it. He wants more. He craves it, needs it.

More than THAT, even, he wants nothing more than to be part of it. To have the power to take human lives, to be the same as the alleged devil. Armand had no choice in the matter, not really, and has no choice but to kill - Daniel wants it, more than anything, he's constantly preoccupied with it, begs for it over and over and over.

.

And on the other hand, it's Daniel who gets his wishes granted. Daniel who can point at anything he wants and have it in his possession the next moment. Sure, he has to follow Armand's whims and impulses, teach Armand, follow him everywhere, but at the end of the day Armand is serving Daniel as much as he is himself, if not more.

And it's Armand who has to, through arguments and tears and heartache, defend what he sees as the one boundary he set in the relationship. The one line he has begged Daniel over and over again not to try to cross, Daniel has to test again and again.

He'll do anything for Daniel, anything, except for the one thing that would hurt him most - and its still not enough.

...

Devil's Minion, huh.

[theres-a-body-here]

Got No Human Grace

Mohg x Male!reader

A/N: My beautiful, scrumptious, pookie bear beat the mohglester allegations. Me and my homies all hate MIquella the Tiquella.

As Mohg clung to you, his large frame shook, bearing numerous wounds and smeared in blood. His once regal garments were now tattered rags, and two of his horns laid broken beside him.

Despite this, there was a calm silence around you both, interrupted only by Mohg's muffled sobs and heavy breaths.

"I… I feared you wouldn't come…" His muffled voice shook, lips quivering as he pressed into your chest, clutching onto you fiercely.

His mind is his own again.

"Shh, it's alright now." You murmured, wrapping your arms protectively around him. Your fingers gently caressed his back in a calming rhythm. "You're safe now."

As you spoke, you could feel Mohg's breathing slowly return to normal against your chest. However, upon hearing the crunch of debris nearby, you lifted your head to look at the person who had helped make this reunion possible.

A heavily armored Tarnished stood before you, her weapon sheathed and her armor battle worn. She gazed down upon the scene indifferently, seemingly unfazed by the display of affection between you and Mohg.

"Thank you, truly… It won't be forgotten." You assured her sincerely, eyes glancing warmly towards her before returning to look down upon Mohg's fragile form cradled within your arms.

However, it seemed that perhaps requesting privacy might be too much to ask for.

The armor-clad Tarnished remained standing before you, staring at the two of you

It can be helped, it seems.

With a gentle motion, you pulled away from holding Mohg close momentarily and reached into your pocket. After rummaging through it for a few seconds, you produced a small flesh trinket in the jagged, vague image of femininity.

You held it delicately between your thumb and index finger, presenting it openly toward the Tarnished.

"Here, consider this a token of gratitude for your assistance today," you offered politely.

As you handed the trinket over to the warrior, Mohg's grip on you tightened slightly but made no attempt to move or react otherwise.

Septic Womb

"My Dearest, I'll find a way to grant you your wish. The Mohgwyn Dynasty shall have its heir"

An idol used in fertility rites of the Formless Mother.

Restores HP when blood loss occurs in the vicinity.

The Tarnished woman took the fleshy charm without a word of thanks, examining it briefly before slipping it away inside her armor.

She continued observing you silently for a while before casting her gaze over to where he lay dormant within his cocoon.

"Listen closely," You cautioned with urgency in your voice, grasping tightly onto Mohg as if to shield him from the very mention of Miquella's name. 

"I seek no vengeance, nor do I wish to pursue further conflict. I beg of you...leave Miquella untouched!" There was desperation lacing each word as they rolled off your tongue, pleading.

Your warning fell on deaf ears as the warrior paid no attention to your pleas, remaining silent and fixated on the distant figure sealed within the fuzzy cocoon.

An exasperated sigh left your lips as realization settled in; her intentions were never about granting aid or salvation. They were merely self-serving, exploiting opportunities to become Elden Lord.

She was a Tarnished, after all.

You watched as the warrior began to approach the distant cocoon containing the Demigod which seemed to draw her here like a moth to light.

If she wanted to play games involving divinity, that was her choice, however misguided. Right now, though, you had more pressing matters to deal with.

Mohg hadn't moved an inch since nestling against your chest, soft sobs still escaping him periodically.

"Hush now," you whispered gently, cradling his massive head between your hands as you tilted it upward towards yours. Your thumbs brushed at the damp fur from underneath his eyes while your palms rested on each side of his face.

Leaning forward, you kissed his forehead gently, then proceeded to pepper sweet kisses all over his face, even pressing a particularly long peck to the horn in his left eye.

A soft whimper escaped him, hungry for more contact as he nuzzled deeper into your embrace.

With his large hands, he kneaded at your body, leaving no doubt about what he wanted. What he missed.

He released a throaty groan as soon as your lips met his in a kiss, his mouth opening slightly as his hot breath mingled with yours.

His large hands drifted beneath your robe, blazing trails of hot fire across your skin as they traveled upwards, heat blooming throughout your entire body.

As he pulled away from your lips, Mohg looked up at you, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he tugged you closer until your bodies melded together.

He rocked his hips into yours, grinding firmly against you to let you know that he was hard as steel.

"We have much to catch up on…" He practically purred at you, squeezing your waist possessively, prompting a lustful groan to escape your mouth involuntarily.

Your brain short-circuited from the sensation, causing you to let out a meek response.

"W-we do…"

[odinsblog]

Special Field Orders, No. 15 (series 1865) were military orders issued during the American Civil War, on January 16, 1865, by General William Tecumseh Sherman, commander of the Military Division of the Mississippi of the United States Army. They provided for the confiscation of 400,000 acres (160,000 ha) of land along the Atlantic coast of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida and the dividing of it into parcels of not more than 40 acres (16 ha), on which were to be settled approximately 18,000 formerly enslaved families and other black people then living in the area.

The orders were issued following Sherman's March to the Sea. They were intended to address the immediate problem of dealing with the tens of thousands of black refugees who had joined Sherman's march in search of protection and sustenance, and “to assure the harmony of action in the area of operations.” Critics allege that his intention was for the order to be a temporary measure to address an immediate problem, and not to grant permanent ownership of the land to the freedmen, although most of the recipients assumed otherwise. General Sherman issued his orders four days after meeting with twenty local black ministers and lay leaders and with U.S. Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton in Savannah, Georgia. Brig. Gen. Rufus Saxton, an abolitionist from Massachusetts who had previously organized the recruitment of black soldiers for the Union Army, was put in charge of implementing the orders. Freedmen were settled in Georgia, particularly along the Savannah River, in the Ogeechee district of Chatham County, and on islands off of the coast of Savannah.

In the end, the orders had little concrete effect because President Andrew Johnson issued a proclamation that returned the lands to southern owners who took a loyalty oath. Johnson granted amnesty to most former Confederates and allowed the rebel states to elect new governments. These governments, which often included ex-Confederate officials, soon enacted black codes, measures designed to control and repress the recently freed slave population. General Saxton and his staff at the Charleston SC Freedmen Bureau's office refused to carry out President Johnson's wishes and denied all applications to have lands returned. In the end, Johnson and his allies removed General Saxton and his staff, but not before Congress was able to provide legislation to assist some families in keeping their lands.

Although mules are not mentioned in the orders, they were a main source for the expression “forty acres and a mule.” A historical marker commemorating the order was erected by the Georgia Historical Society in Savannah, near the corner of Harris and Bull streets, in Madison Square. (source)

👉🏿 40 Acres & A Lie (podcast)

[udretlnea]

The Divine City, Interlude Quest: Dormiens Factorem. Part 1

"May you live in interesting times, may the gods grant you their blessing, may your wishes be fulfilled. Through this, may you never know peace or tranquility ever again," - An Alternian threat

Page 1 (here) \ Next page \ Prologue

(Words: 600~)

(Edit: I fixed how boring page 1 was and edited in a little introduction for Marc.)

(Disclaimer: This work is non-canon to the plotline of the Divine City by yuriisclumsy.)

The paths that we all take are slow going, so please - I beg of thee, listen to what I have to say.

Several decades ago, whispers of a mighty nation that existed in another universe were shared between traveling outlanders. A place called Alternia. It was a proper utopia. Everything you could ever want, you could have it there.

What made it special was its ruler: the reincarnation of a god. Stories go that he was the one that made Teyvat with their own hands, and created the previous Seven Sovereigns. He decided to take a page out of Raiden Ei’s book and created hundreds of divine puppets to help build and manage his city. 

Aside from that, they were also its protectors and could hit twice as hard as any allogene. Little wonder why the Treasure Hoarders never dared to try and steal from them.

But then the five sinners appeared. I imagine you all know what happened next.

Turns out they were unhappy with how this reincarnation was ruling. So they banded together and waged war against Alternia.

After that, the world was thrown into upheaval. These new monsters were tougher and more powerful to the point it took an alliance between Alternia and the Seven Nations just to have a fighting chance. 

And then, on the final days of the war the sinners met their match. When all seven gods combined their power to create an item of unfathomable power, they pushed all five sinners back into the Abyss before obliterating them.

But before they were completely eradicated they activated a failsafe. One where it made sure that nothing living could sustain itself thereafter.

Irminsul exploded in a shower of Abyssal energy. Without anything recording information anymore, people and gods disappeared one by one. The only one left by the end of it all was the reincarnated creator, and his hundreds of puppets.

Bereft of his beloved, the nation he swore to protect, and his entire world his mind shattered. Thus, he took his creations with him and silently left. 

In time, Alternia faded away until it only existed as a distant memory.

Nowadays, some outlanders catch glimpses of people with puppet joints in their travels. Stories of cults being dismantled and statues of the alleged Creators destroyed were shared between weary travelers from beyond the sky.

Maybe the sinners weren’t all destroyed. Maybe the reincarnation and his puppets are still active, searching for a place to protect to replace their lost home.

Or maybe they’ve isolated themselves from everyone else in order to heal.

I wouldn’t know. I left them to cope with the horrors I experienced. Teyvat is truly a beautiful world when one looks at it with a clear view. It’s just a shame that so many different versions of it are - shall we say - infested with cults worshiping a deity that doesn’t even exist.

But there are worse things out there than children being given the powers of a god. Things that can make even the Archon War look like a snowball fight.

///////////////////////////////

Greek Chorus Labs 00:00 

Current Location: Branch Universe #Y-11

//////////////////

The light eventually died down.

Any few travelers who were on the roads to the Divine City blinked twice before dismissing it entirely. 

A pretty light show over the city? Must’ve been festival preparations, they thought.

Near the farmlands, a small black cube fell from the sky in a bright purple light only to crash into the dirt. It thrummed and vibrated vivaciously. Then, there was a click before a dark violet mist began spitting out.

///////////////////////////////

A/N: 

Howdy! The main story that the prologue was building up to has begun. Hooray! I hope I made the intro engaging enough. :<

I will take a break from drawing and writing by playing version 5.1 of Genshin because I deserve it. Regarding updates,- well, it will be slow since I'll be studying CISSP simultaneously. But that doesn't mean I won't give this little project my all, of course!

I'll make the master list tomorrow FYI BTW.

Terms and general clarifications:

Allogene: “People with particularly powerful desires that have the potential to ascend to Celestia and become gods,” - Genshin Impact Wiki

Alternia existed in another version of Teyvat. This was implied with the Seven Nations and five sinners being mentioned. 

Please leave any comments, questions, or critiques. Anything! I can take it!

Taglist: @yuriisclumsy

[coochiequeens]

Men say shit like women should get married to have a man who will protect them then do shit like this.

Woman, 72, 'drugged by her husband so 50 men could rape her while unconscious' appears in court after bravely waiving right to anonymity as he goes on trial along with men 'filmed having sex with her'

Gisele P opted for a public trial and waived her right to anonymity, lawyers said

Police say she suffered 92 rapes by 72 men, 51 of whom have been identified

Those identified will also go on trial alongside the main suspect, Dominique P

By David Averre 2 September 2024

French woman whose husband is on trial for drugging her and allowing dozens of strangers to rape her while unconscious appeared in court for the first time after waiving her right to anonymity. 

Gisele P., 72, was seen standing in the courtroom supported by her three children to witness the opening day of the trial of Dominique P., 71, which began this morning in Avignon. 

He is accused of orchestrating a sick rape ring, using an online forum to invite a horde of men to his home in Mazan near Avignon before filming them assaulting his wife over nine years between 2011 and 2020.

Police counted a total of 92 rapes committed by 72 men, 51 of whom were identified and are being tried alongside the main suspect, a former employee at France's power utility company EDF.

Presiding judge Roger Arata announced that all the hearings would be public, granting Gisele her wish for 'complete publicity until the end' of the court case, according to her lawyer, Stephane Babonneau. 

Gisele could have opted for a trial behind closed doors given the nature of her husband's alleged crimes, but 'that's what her attackers would have wanted', another lawyer named Antoine Camus said. 

Still, the trial will be 'a horrible ordeal' for Gisele.

'For the first time, she will have to live through the rapes that she endured over 10 years,' Camus said, adding that his client had 'no recollection' of the abuse which she only discovered in 2020.

Gisele P. - a French woman whose husband is on trial for drugging her and allowing dozens of strangers to rape her while unconscious - is seen arriving in court today

Dominique P. is accused of orchestrating the sick rape ring, filming strangers he met online attacking his wife while she was drugged between 2011 and 2020 Ladies let's share this face everytime men spew crap about men protecting women

The President of the Vaucluse Assises Court Roger Arata speaks at the courthouse during the trial of Dominique P. in the south of France, in Avignon, on September 2, 2024

The couple met in 1971 and married two years later before having three kids together. 

Gisele previously said her husband had asked her to try swinging - a request she refused.

But she also described him as a 'great guy' with a 'normal sexuality'. 

Their eldest son said nothing in his father's behaviour suggested any deviance and that 'he had always fulfilled his role as a father', while their daughter spoke fondly of her father's presence in her life as a young girl. 

The heinous campaign of sexual abuse masterminded by Dominique P. is said to have begun in 2011 when the couple was living near Paris, and continued after they moved to Mazan two years later.

Police began to investigate the defendant Dominique P. in September 2020 when he was caught by a security guard secretly filming under the skirts of three women in a shopping centre.

Police said they found hundreds of pictures and videos of his wife on his computer, visibly unconscious and mostly in the foetal position.

The images are alleged to show dozens of rapes in the couple's home in Mazan, a village of 6,000 people roughly 20 miles from Avignon in Provence.

Investigators also found chats on a site called coco.fr, since shut down by police, in which he recruited strangers to come to their home and have intercourse with his wife.

Dominique P. later admitted to investigators that he gave his wife powerful tranquilisers, especially Temesta, an anxiety-reducing drug.

Demonstrators hold placards and smoke bombs during a protest outside the courthouse during the trial of a man accused of drugging his wife for nearly ten years and inviting strangers to rape her at their home in Mazan, a small town in the south of France, in Avignon, on September 2, 2024

Beatrice Zavarro, lawyer for the accused Dominique P, waits at the courthouse during the trial of her client accused of drugging his wife for nearly ten years and inviting strangers to rape her at their home in Mazan, a small town in the south of France, in Avignon, on September 2, 2024

The husband took part in the rapes, filmed them and encouraged the other men using degrading language, according to prosecutors.

In previous hearings, he explained how he took a range of precautions to avoid his wife or family from discovering the dark deeds.

French outlet Le Point��reported how Dominique P. imposed strict rules on each of the men who he invited to rape his wife: no perfume or tobacco, cut and clean nails, hands first run under hot water so as not to risk waking the victim. 

The attackers would park a few minutes from the couple's home and undress in the kitchen. No money changed hands.

The accused rapists included a forklift driver, a fire brigade officer, a company boss and a journalist.

Some were single, others married or divorced, and some were family men. Most participated just once, but some took part up to six times. 

Their defence has been that they simply helped a libertine couple live out its fantasies, but Dominique P. told investigators that all were aware that his wife had been drugged without her knowledge.

An expert said her state 'was closer to a coma than to sleep'.

Her husband told prosecutors that only three men left the house quickly after arriving, while all others proceeded to have intercourse with his wife.

Dominique P., who said he was raped by a male nurse when he was nine, is ready to face 'his family and his wife', his lawyer Beatrice Zavarro said.

'He is ashamed of what he did, it is unforgivable,' Zavarro told reporters on Monday morning, adding that the case was 'in a form of addiction'.

'My client's line of conduct is that he recognises what he did and there has not been an ounce of protest since the beginning,' she said in comments carried by French press.

But this trial may not be his last. 

The defendant has also been charged with a 1991 murder and rape, which he denies, and an attempted rape in 1999, to which he admitted after DNA testing.

Experts said the man does not appear to be mentally ill, but reportedly concluded that had a need to feel 'all-powerful' over the female body in assessments included in court documents. 

The shocking trial is due to last until December 20

[comradekarin]

living for your hotd hot takes!!! what do you wish would have happened in S1 & S2 in your ideal world?

thank you anon. i know some people are sick of me bitching….but blame ryan and sara!!! i love when i get asks anyway, it’s fun :)

now, i won’t go into specifics mainly because i don’t know what plot points i would change exactly (while still keeping it faithful to the show/books). but as for season one, in an ideal world, there aren’t so many time skips. i do understand that time skips and short seasons are because of budgeting, but the frequent time skips didn’t help with establishing the dynamics between the characters, namely alicent and rhaenyra. i believe there’s an entirety of twenty plus years shown in season one, yet a lot of groundwork isn’t really laid down. i personally wish we got more harwin/house strong. it’s easy to forget larys is harwin’s brother, and larys is such a major player with teamg that it really makes you wonder his relationship with his brother and father. more of harwin and rhaenyra! i would even go as far as to wish for more interactions between nyra and alicent’s kids outside of the pivotal scenes we got. in an ideal world, season one would truly show the build of resentment, of bitterness, of suspicion and distrust amongst not just the kids but the adults as well. the events leading up to the estrangement of rhaenyra and alicent in their adulthood (though, this is implied more than explicitly stated).

this last wish is more personal, but i wish the writers hadn’t cut out jacaerys and rhaenyra’s conversation before he left for the north in s1. jacaerys wishing to fight, like daemon, and urging his mother to act for every second she stalled him and his siblings remained in danger. granted, rhaenyra appeared very naive and childish in the script, so it’s probably for the better it never made the final cut.

i’m only halfway through season two, but my main issue with the season so far is the lack of consistency when it comes to characterization. there’s a lot of back tracking and contradictions that make the characters we loved in season one unrecognizable in two. in an ideal world, season two would focus more on team black/green kids. developing the relationship between aemond and aegon (and their dynamic with alicent). letting the audience see jacaerys being political savvy and his budding friendship with cregan while he was up north. the writers acknowledging the bond that rhaena should have had with jacaerys and lucerys; she was ward of dragonstone for six years yet the writers seem to forget this fact. seeing baela murder cole via burning in 4k would also be pretty cool. giving baela way more screen time and actually allowing her to have a voice about the war, the dragonseeds, rhaena and so forth. daemon interacting with the dragon twins more. showing visenya during daemon’s many episodes at harrenhal! the fact that childbirth is such an important component in his relationship with his mother, laena and rhaenyra yet it’s not emphasized is also criminal. but just cutting the harrenhal episodes will do, too. and more jacaela! i’m crazy so i catch all of their crumbs, but i do wish their scenes were less jace centric and more mutual. like, sure, we get the eye, dinner and council scene, but those are short lines rather than dedicated screentime. and even in baela’s moments of comforting jace, her opinions on things are never really mentioned. everything she says go back to what rhaenyra will think, how rhaenyra will react, what rhaenyra will do, etc. i also wish we could see more of aemond and alicent? i think i get her and aegon’s dynamic, but i’m not entirely sure where her and aemond stand. aegon and sunfyre! jace and vermax! addam and jace’s friendship! more of corlys and rhaenys’ reaction to lucerys’ death (lucerys never truly beat the favorite grandson allegations). or, lucerys and visenya being mentioned at all. and i can’t believe i’m saying this, but more otto!! and less criston cole (it’s insane cole has more screentime than all of tb!kids).

season two honestly feels like filler and stalling, yet the writers aren’t using this time to build up tension or meaningful dynamics so that they can really sell season three. it doesn’t showcase grief all that well, either, so i wish that would be improved, too.

so, there’s probably a bunch of other things i want to see but i won’t bore you too much, anon!! outside of baela burning cole, i feel like my wishes wouldn’t stray too far from the narrative? if anything, it would only enrich show canon.

[yolowritter]

A Perspective on Miquella the Kind

"Miquella the Kind...is a monster." Those are some of the first words uttered by Sir Ansbach once the Empyrean's Great Rune is shattered, and the charm placed upon his followers in the Lands of Shadow is lifted. But...are they actually true? With all the new information we have about Miquella in the Shadow of the Erdtree DLC, it's worth to re-examine all we know about his character. Naturally, a huge part of the community is budy combing every nook and cranny for more lore on this Demigod. And...others are displeased with the new information given, or more specifically, what Miquella's plan is revealed to be at the DLC's end. So today, I want to take a closer look at Miquella as a character, his followers, and of course, the overarching plot which the Tarnished becomes involved in after slaying Radahn and Mohg. As an aside, we really owe the Lord of Blood an apology as a community. Nevermind the murders and cult sacrifices, Mohg managed to beat the allegations! Anyway, I do intend to also give my own interpretation in regards to the more...questionable things in the new Lore, so let's get right to it!

Firstly, it's worth establishing a baseline for who Miquella is as a person. As we all know, he is the son of Queen Marika and King Consort Radagon, as well as brother to Malenia. As a side note, the whole "Miquella divested himself of Saint Trina" situation most likely explains how this family dynamic would be possible, but that's another post altogether. Marika's...questionable marriage choices aside, Miquella has always been described as a kind, gentle soul. In some ways, his narrative place in Shadow of the Erdtree serves as a foil to Marika herself. Where his mother schemes and conceals the truth, Miquella is extremely upfront about his goals. Make the world a kinder, gentler place. And honestly? I believe him. I fully believe that Miquella, having grown up next to his cursed sister and seeing the Golden Order unable to do anything for Malenia, wished for nothing more but to better the world. And after realizing the Order wasn't working, I've no doubt he went on to discover the many, many attrocities committed against those of the Crucible, like the Misbegotten for example. However...this is where things get a little muddy, in terms of morality that is.

Remember that Miquella is basically a God. He is one of the few who can succeed Marika in a new Age. But...he doesn't seem like a fighter to me. He isn't one, which is where Radahn comes in. Now, forgive the aside, but we need to have a chat about what exactly "Consort" means as a word. Yes, it's typically used in the context of marriage, but from the original Latin meaning (I'm no expert here, feel free to correct me), a consort is someone with whom an individual shares a destiny. Miquella himself talks a little about this, both in the fight against Promised Consort Radahn, and if the Tarnished is charmed by his Circlet. Yes, that's the thing he uses to hypnotize people, it's in the item description. We understand the concept of a consort as the more modern interprepation of a romantic partner, a spouse of some kind. However, Elden Ring doesn't work by the same rules. Yes, it can mean spouse, given that Ranni welcomes the Tarnished as one and grants the Dark Moon Greatsword as a wedding gift, but it doesn't have to.

Unfortunately, I think the community is falling into the same pitfall we did with Mohg's wording of his own desires to become Miquella's consort. Unlike Ranni, neither situation here necessitates romantic feelings, and frankly I don't believe they exist here. Miquella was fascinated by Radahn's strength and kindness, and believed his brother would be an excellent person to share the remainder of his plans for a New Age with. And Radahn was, objectively speaking. He's hailed as a hero from everyone who knows him, even Ansbach treats him with great respect should you summon him for the final battle. I think the Vow made between Radahn and Miquella happened before the Shattering, and was something along the lines of Radahn helping Miquella make the world a better, kinder place. It's something the Red Lion would absolutely want, since despite his element being war, we get many accounts of him being an honorable, good man. It would make sense why Radahn at first agreed with Miquella, so let's see why Malenia even needed to go and do what she did in the first place. Why did Radahn not hold up his end of the deal?

To put it blunty, it's because he's a Golden Order fanboy. I'm still not entirely sure how Messmer ties into this from a timeline perspective, but Radahn grew up with his older half-brother (presumably before the Holy War against the Hornsent), his father Radagon, and Lord Godfrey as his primary male role models. Even if Godfrey had been exiled by that point, the evidence of his crusades was memorialized in song for Radahn to be inspired by. Of course he believed the Golden Order to be righteous and good, and wanted to uphold the honorable values he was raised on. Considering his own character, I'm quite confident in speculating that Radahn saw the Order's faults, and probably agreed with Miquella that there was a distance between the stories he grew up on and reality. So naturally, upon seeing his younger half-sibling try to fix things, Radahn quite possibly supported the idea.

Where I think the divide happened...was Miquella's method of problem-solving. As I said before, I've no doubt that he is as Kind as they say; it's just that Miquella envisioned a world without violence and had the power of make it so. His broken Great Rune holds the power to resist charms, so it's pretty reasonable to assume that the whole thing once held the power to perhaps inflict them. Miquella later replaced it with the Circlet he now wears, but still. He was strong enough to evoke a cult following from most of those who laid eyes on either of his forms. Again, I firmly believe he was doing good here, as both himself and as Saint Trina. From Miquella's point of view, he is helping. He grants the restless a peaceful sleep, he gives a home to the outcasts, he protects the Albinaurics, etc. That's why so many people wanted to follow him. What interests me is that Miquella seems to be a classic case of the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

He undoubtebly, truly wants to make a kind and gentle world, but has little qualms about forcing people to stop fighting. As Leda tells the Tarnished when asked about Hornsent, she explicitly states that without Miquella's charm, he would be attacking her and the others right now. Yes, it is arguably better for people to not fight to the death, but Miquella enforces this "good" thing in the wrong ways. Everywhere in the Lands of Shadow, we can see something similar. Sir Ansbach for example explains that Mohg himself got charmed, and that upon trying to rescue his Lord, Miquella brainwashed him as well. And he only sounds upset about it after the charm is broken. This gives us a very interesting character, since Miquella is technically correct in what he states. Should his Age of Compassion come to pass, there won't be any more War, or violence, or destructive conflict. However, taking away people's free will is arguably worse. So, what happened? Why does there seem to be a difference between the morally grey (but with good deeds to his name) Miquella, and the more extremist version we battle in Enir-Ilim?

Well...I think Miquella's Crosses hold the answer. At every site, he "divests himself" of something. It's clearly stated that he had doubts, he second-guessed if this was the right thing to do. He had moral qualms, but forced himself to leave them all behind. And there is one more thing he abandoned. Saint Trina. I believe this is why he seems so jarringly different to what we know about him. Because Saint Trina is his love and compassion. Every genuine feeling that Miquella held was left behind to make space for the more nebulous "Greater Good" of his new age...and evidently, very little that made Miquella himself even exists anymore. Despite the radiant light at the Gate of Divinity, his demeanor seems cold and calculated, much more akin to how I and many others might characterize Queen Marika. In attempting to ascend to Godhood, Miquella ironically became what he sought to destroy.

That's why there's such a difference between the Miquella we hear about in the main game, who does seem to be using his powers yes, but for a good cause...and the DLC version of Miquella, who is abusing his charms. Ever since entering the Lands of Shadow after he cocooned himself, Miquella has slowly divested himself of everything except the greater goal. Godhood is all that's left of him by the time we arrive at Enir-Ilim, which is why Saint Trina begs us to kill him. Miquella has already killed himself in a way, and all that's left is a brilliant yet hollow shell. The genuine warmth and compassion he once held for the Lands Between and their people are void, leaving behind only the unfeeling rays of pure gold, much like the ever-present Erdtree. He seeks to supplant Marika's Age...and then install himself as a God, just like his mother. I'm sure that he did have genuine kindness in his heart, but now...there isn't any left within him. That's why he's enforcing his will upon Moore, Ansbach, Freya, Thiollier and Hornsent. Because he's become just like Marika.

It's unfortunate, and a brilliant tale a self destruction that if correctly decoded shows how masterful Fromsoft is at this kind of storytelling. Now, I'm not claiming to be completely correct in this interpretation, since this is just my personal viewpoint of how and why things played out this way in the DLC. Feel free to drop your thoughts below, I'm more than happy to open up a disccussion about Miquella! Anyway, if you'll all excuse me, I need to go replay Shadow of the Erdtree. I'll see you all soon, but until then, Stay Tarnished everyone!

[battle-subway-ghost]

[There's an article being posted around online. Click it?]

Down The Buneary Hole Of The Team Fauna Cult

—

Team fauna is a proclaimed religious group, founded and formed by a man under the name of Wolf Fauna and located in a cavern outside of Olivine City, Johto. This group claims that the world depicted in the hit franchise Animals is real, and that ours is a false reality.

Seemingly innocent on the surface, Team fauna claims to wish to bring people towards enlightenment, all all while they "simply wish to live the way Fauna intended," specifically out of their way to state "We commit no crimes, harm nothing and no one."

Despite these claims to innocence, a further look into the actions and practices of this organization reveals a twisted world of kidnapping, abuse, brainwashing, and manipulation. This work hopes to shine light on the inner workings of Team Fauna and the recent events surrounding it.

Team Fauna pushed itself into the public eye on January 30th, as a strange invitation spread itself to many users of the website Rotumblr, reading as follows:

"Are you a seeker of the truth?

If you're receiving this message we believe you are.

Have you ever truly considered the convinces of this world, or are you still asleep

What if you had a change to escape it all, to live a real life, instead of the one you have taken.

You could reach fulfilment. Happiness. Many have.

With us you will know the truth.

To continue living in the dark is a common choice, but you may be one of the few who deviate.

We await your response with anticipation

Team Fauna"

February 1st, Team Fauna made their own blog on Rotumblr. Following this decision, many allegations arose soon after, many noticing hidden cries for help in the anonymous moderator's replies to inquiries, and eventually, a photo of a Galvantula in highly abusive conditions was uploaded, which was quickly connected to Team Fauna.

These incidents are what sparked a deeper investigation of the group; starting at Olivine City, the closest city to their alleged location. Many missing persons, primarily those reported to have gone hiking in the nearby routes, were reported, their missing posters strewn around the city.

Team Fauna itself resided in a cave and its surrounding woods far off the beaten path near Olivine City. Upon joining their group, it appears that many, if not all new members are asked to leave any partner Pokemon they may have behind prior to joining. This leaves new members far less likely to be able to confront any of the designated "guards" of the team, who are granted access to far more powerful Pokemon than other members.

Furthermore, upon initiation into this group, your name will be replaced, as you're instead given the name of one of the creatures from Animals. This makes it difficult to identify most members, as their names cannot be connected to any legal records.

Connection to the outside world is limited, if not entirely restricted. Many children are born into the cult, isolated from any sort of opposition to Team Fauna's ideals. It is unlikely that these children have legal documentation such as birth certificates.

However, the investigation goes deeper yet.

February 5th, A 17-year old named Sprite Chroma is incapacitated and kidnapped by members of Team Fauna. A bonfire is lit by Wolf Fauna, a celebration begins, and after the so-called festivities, a meeting is called.

During this meeting, Team Fauna's leader announced plans to open a cross-dimensional portal to their desired reality. Sprite Chroma is dragged in front of the crowd, and Wolf announces that he would be the first to cross through to the new world they all desired.

Over the next 15 hours, preparations were made for the ritual that would be performed soon. A member of Team Fauna took custody of the victim's phone in order to impersonate it to its friends and family.

Hour 15. 11 AM. "The last day in this world," as it was put by many in the cult. The ritual is prepared, Sprite dragged out of their cell for a second time. Wolf Fauna exits his cabin, bringing along a covered cage. As the ritual is set into action, the cloth is pulled, revealing that Team Fauna had not only found, but captured a Celebi, an elusive Mythical pokemon revered across Johto.

Celebi is forced to open a portal, but the plan goes awry. not long after the victim is forced inside, they are seemingly rejected, being spat back out, and destabilizing the portal, causing it to disappear.

Minutes after, the meeting is invaded. Many of Team Fauna's members escaped in the chaos, although it appears that the majority of the hostages and stolen Pokemon have been recovered.

As of now, the whereabouts of Wolf Fauna and other prominent members of Team Fauna are unknown. It is more than likely that they will regroup if given the time. Evidence strongly suggests that if left unchecked, the Team Fauna cult could very likely reach levels of danger comparable to that of Team Plasma or Team Galactic. We cannot let history repeat itself once again.

The author of the article appears to be remaining anonymous, save for the name "Lotus I."

[mariacallous]

In his face-off against Elon Musk, Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner has already earned at least one important win.

A judge on Friday granted Krasner’s request to keep a civil lawsuit he filed against Musk and Musk’s pro-Trump America PAC in state court, rather than having it moved to federal court as the tech billionaire wished.

Musk, for his part, filed a motion seeking to quash any personal appearance he is ordered to make in court, saying that his attendance is unnecessary because the case is largely focused on actions of America PAC.

Earlier Friday morning, Musk had accused Krasner of engaging in a “rushed stage play” and a “spectacle” as he urged a federal judge to deny Krasner’s emergency request to keep the suit in state court.

Krasner sued the billionaire and his pro-Donald Trump America PAC over their pledge to give away $1 million daily to registered voters. Musk claims the giveaway is random, but Krasner alleges that Musk is intentionally targeting people in battleground states with an “illegal lottery scheme” meant to influence voters.

Musk has argued that Krasner must square off with America PAC attorneys in federal court because the lawsuit raises questions about a federal election and the federal laws that govern political action committees, not state matters.

Krasner is adamant that his lawsuit isn’t about whether Musk and America PAC are violating federal laws that ban vote-buying. Rather, the district attorney wants a state court, not a federal one, to determine whether the program violates Pennsylvania’s prohibitions against illegal lotteries.

Attorneys for Musk’s PAC filed a notice in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania federal court this week requesting to have the case remanded there. Explaining this maneuver in a brief filed Friday, a lawyer for the PAC wrote that the group’s expenditures are “political speech” and thus “entitled to First Amendment protections,” which is a federal jurisdictional issue.

But U.S. District Judge Gerald Pappert disagreed.

Musk and America PAC “have not identified any question of federal law that must be resolved in Plaintiff’s favor in order to prove either state-law claim,” Pappert’s memorandum states.

“Defendants argue the Complaint’s references to ‘the forthcoming Federal Presidential Election’ show the lawsuit necessarily raises questions of federal law,” Pappert wrote. “But federal question jurisdiction does not turn on a plaintiff’s motivations in filing suit; it turns on whether the legal issues arising from the claims originate in federal or state law.”

The ploy to have the lawsuit remanded to federal court may have been a boon for Musk anyway. The giveaway ends on Nov. 5, meaning that by the time the courts decide the next steps, the initiative will already be over.

The Justice Department warned Musk in a letter last month that he may run afoul of federal election laws against compensating voters, but Musk was undeterred.

Four giveaway winners are from Pennsylvania, a crucial swing state, according to a website for the program. So far, the PAC has given away a total of $14 million to voters who signed the petition that states they agree to support the First and Second Amendments. The website indicates that winners will be declared through Nov. 5. As of Friday, the site specified that those winners would be selected in Arizona and Wisconsin, which are also battleground states in the 2024 election.

Musk and Krasner were initially meant to face off in court on Friday, but the hearing was brought forward to Thursday. Krasner had asked to move the hearing to a more secure venue following a deluge of threats he said he received.

The DA accused Musk of amplifying inflammatory posts about him and the lawsuit on X, the social media platform Musk owns. In court records, Krasner showed Musk’s reposts from a user on X who claimed the DA knew his lawsuit wasn’t legal but “wants a leftist judge to stop it before Election Day.” Other users on the platform have threatened to come to Krasner’s house in masks and harass him.

Musk himself was a no-show at the hearing, sending his lawyers in his stead.

Attorneys for Krasner, Musk and America PAC did not immediately respond to HuffPost’s request for comment.

[zynart]

the picture of aubrey dorian grayham

i havent seen anyone else say it yet, but i've often felt like drake had the vibe of a real-life dorian gray, even for years before this and even aside from all the allegations. and if today felt like a slashed painting, let's cover what i mean

it's about an almost 40 year old whose entire online presence for years has been culture curation and memes and celebrity shit and partying and womanizing and more partying on instagram and plastic surgery and trendsetting trend following and making music to make tiktok money and memeing with celebrities for instagram

a slightly dorky looking guy who seemed like a somewhat self-aware and kinda soulful enough dude in his early 20s, who got famous making music about love and emotions or heartbreak or whatever that even got him the "sensitive rapper" moniker (whether the image was real or fake all along, what i mean in how he came across in public) who has now spent a decade as this giant star where i cant remember the last time i've seen him do anything that looked like it showed an actual emotion beyond insecurity and pettiness and self-aggrandizement in all that time, especially about love

guy made songs like marvin's room but when's the last time he seems to have had any actual emotions about any women besides just chasing an endless list of women as status symbols and feeling wronged or slighted or threatened by women over petty shit. guy got famous off a song like best i ever had, made "sweatpants, hair tied, chilling with no make-up / that's when you're the prettiest" into a catchphrase people referenced for years. i dont know what his true self was but just like in the story, we're not arguing about whether dorian was rotten from the start, just talking about how it seems

haven't seen him show genuine emotion in years aside from trolling. flaunting wealth, trying to take taken women getting off on the concept of dominance play over other men. it's like someone who cared so much about looking hard and chasing pleasures that, because they thought real love and heartbreak looked weak, decided it was better to lose the capability at all

"enthralled by the hedonistic worldview that sensual fulfillment is the only thing worth pursuing in life... dorian expresses the desire to sell his soul. the wish is granted, and dorian pursues a libertine life of varied amoral experiences while staying young..."

someone whose entire life is vacationing with drinks beautiful settings or clubs or mansions or posing with celebrity women or trolling for memes, shown no actual emotions except pettiness and resentment in years. plastic surgery to look fitter and younger. life that's not lived as much as meticulously crafted and curated for instagram

circling back and seeing its a reverse dorian gray situation. one might think that instagram is the real-life painting, but the drake that we see and know is the drake on instagram, the carefully curated hedonistic party animal billionaire with a parade of celebrity friends and women, ab etchings and pout and photo filters and vacation settings for a look curated to be unchanging, constant, the biggest star on the planet. the drake we dont see, the drake in the attic, is the real drake. the person behind the curation

tbh maybe it's not that deep, it's just. a certain dorian gray feeling is something i've always gotten. this drake is something that in theory can't last, you would've expected any given billionaire playboy to have wound down and found love and settled by this age, there's only so long you can stave off time until you're actually old without a family around you, unless you're dorian gray and you can just keep going. but at some point someone's still stabbing that painting

[mrs-snape5984]

“Oh, but what will it take ‘till you believe in me the way that I believe in you?”

“I said I love you, that's forever. And this I promise from the heart, I couldn't love you any better. I love you just the way you are…” (“Just the way you are” by Billy Joel)

I will turn 40 years old in two months. 40 goddamn years on this planet…and only now - at my lowest point in my existence - I realised something. All my life, I’ve been hidden behind a mask. A mask, made of all my responsibilities and supposed duties, which I’ve put on from a far too young age. A mask, which helped me to hide all my ugly vulnerabilities and my true self from other people. A mask, which I thought would keep me going and going for lengths…hiding myself behind an “I’m fine” or a “No, it’s okay!”. A mask, which also came with the capability of erecting thick walls around my heart and soul…building a fort around the real Julia.

21 years ago, when I’ve found the perfect coping mechanism for myself in the love to Severus Snape, I started to allow myself being vulnerable in my little stories about Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. Only Severus was permitted to know, what’s really going on behind this mask. He became the safe space for my deepest thoughts and emotions…the only place, where I’ve granted myself the right to express my own wishes.

And suddenly, after almost 40 years of existing in this world, I recognised, that there’s a drawbridge to my fort…and that there’s someone, who’s brave enough to knock on my door. Someone, who isn’t afraid of looking at the personality behind my mask. Throwing all my unpleasant traits at them, the defensive guards of my fort tried to scare them off in an almost desperate attempt…pushing them away to protect my raw core from being seen.

But my guards got propitiated by this someone. One after the other, they laid down their weapons and lowered the drawbridge ever so slightly…centimetres for centimetres…until someone slipped into my fort…getting a glimpse of the real Julia behind the mask. They made themselves comfortable within the black walls of my fort and switched a light on. This little light is shining through the eyes of my mask now…and it didn’t stay unnoticed.

All of a sudden, some people started to notice a change in my mood, my behaviour and my attitude. Even my children are wondering about the unfamiliar lighthearted happiness of their mother…despite the confines of my disease ME/CFS. Someone lit a fire in the darkest corners of my heart…and for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own wishes and hopes. Maybe, I don’t have to hide myself behind walls and a mask the whole time? Maybe, there’s even some beauty in the rawness of my soul? Maybe, I’ll be bold enough to act on my own dreams and desires for once? Maybe, this time, I’ll be brave enough to stand up for myself…and let myself heal. Maybe, for once, the mask will be discarded for someone.

As always, when I’m thinking of these complex urges to express myself through Severus and Jules, I commissioned my dear friend @madfantasy to help me by creating the perfect artwork for my ideas. Mani, you beautiful gem of a human being, you’ve outdone yourself with these masterpieces! When I explained my imagination of Jules, showing herself to others (here presented as an audience behind the green flames of the fireplace) only behind the alleged safety of her well worn mask, I wouldn’t have thought, that your realisation of this idea would even be possible like that. But again, it seems as if you’re capable of understanding the pictures on my mind. Thank you for your willingness to hold the paint brush…helping me to pour my emotions out into art. Feel hugged, my precious friend.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part 10)

Hello, everyone! Sorry this one took a while to get out. Updates should be much more frequent in the new year ♥️

Thank you so, so much for all the support you've given @greeneyedivy and I on this...so much work goes into it and we appreciate it more than you know! And for all the support on my other writing too! I haven't had this account all that long, but making it and joining this community is one of the best things I did in 2022, and I'm thankful for you all! Hope you all have a happy new year and that 2023 is brilliant for you ♥️

Warnings: None for this part!

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Moonlight was lustrous and plentiful on the lawn of the estate. Such a bright, stunning silver that it had a magical quality to it. 

And yet, you kept to the shadows, cloaking yourself in darkness and waving through clusters of trees. If not for Eris’s sure presence at your side, you would have outright refused the stroll through the woods at the later hour – lest the nutcracker and creatures alike were lurking amongst them. 

But Eris was purely at ease as he strode beside you, not at all bothered by the darkness. It had been his idea – after a game of cards that had stretched on and on and on – to take a late-night walk. 

He was a tad quiet, though. Pensive.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You eventually inquired, after a long stint of comfortable silence.

A part of you didn’t want to ask – out of a selfish concern that he’d bring up the hunting trip again. The scratches he’d clocked on Lucien’s hands. You knew he suspected something, and the two uneventful weeks that had passed since had been a tentative game of waiting to see if he’d bring it up.

He hadn’t. Hadn’t so much as indicated that anything was untoward.

You had a feeling that was all about to change. 

Eris’s amber eyes turned on you, and he fluttered his lashes. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head. I think you’re an ass.”

He snorted, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s Hybern.”

Your feet came to an immediate stop, a slither of ice sneaking through you. “Hybern?”

“The faerie kingdom west of Prythian–”

“I know what it is,” You snorted. “I haven’t quite been living under a rock.”

Indeed, it would take a life of the harshest sheltering to be unaware of Hybern and its reputation. Its savage king. You had family that had fought in the war against them, on the side of the humans. 

The cold, unforgiving island and its inhabitants stood for everything you were staunchly against. And the mere mention of its name had you rubbing goosebumps from your arms. 

“Then you’ll know that in the centuries since the war, the King of Hybern has considered it to be a dark age,” Eris said. “They call the years prior to the war, when humans were enslaved to them, the Golden Era. It’s sick.” 

You grimaced. Sick, indeed. “But what of it? I mean…there’s no mistaking that he’s evil, but…why are we worrying now? It’s been almost five centuries since the war.”

“He sent an emissary of his to Prythian. Amarantha, her name is. She claims to come in good faith, that Hybern wishes to open up communications with Prythian once more, to share assets and establish trading between court and country. It’s alleged that she’s already paid a visit to Dawn and Day, trying to request an audience with their High Lords.” 

“And have they granted such a request?”

Eris shook his head. “Not yet. Everyone is rightfully cautious. This Amarantha may claim to come with good tidings, but nobody has forgotten what the King of Hybern is like. What he did to his slaves when the Treaty was signed. I believe the High Lords will probably meet, at some point, to discuss whether or not they trust her.” 

The two of you had walked the woods circling the estate, finally coming to a stop near the armoury. You tried not to glance in the direction of the manor, where Lucien’s window faced you. Tried not to think too much of a vague movement that was gone before you had a chance to look.

“Well that’s good, right?” You said to Eris. “For the High Lord’s to come together?” 

“It is,” Eris shrugged. “But they’re hesitant to act too quickly, lest they spread panic across the courts. They’re trying to keep Amarantha’s presence quiet. There’s still a lot of lingering trauma surrounding Hybern…I doubt anyone would take too kindly to one of the king’s emissaries walking amongst their people.”

You studied him. The weight of clear responsibility that was sitting on his shoulders. You didn’t quite understand what he was getting at. “So…?” You prompted.

“So it’s time for me to play courtier.” His mouth kicked into a smirk; one that could have been for show. “Instead of the High Lords meeting right away, they’ve arranged for a courtiers’ meeting instead. It will garner much less attention and interest than if the High Lords were all gathered in one place. Every court is sending two courtiers to a neutral meeting ground, where we’ll share what we know so far about Amarantha and Hybern. Said information will be taken back to our respective High Lords – and from there, they’ll decide how to act.” 

“And you’re one of the courtiers?” You smiled up at him. You felt a weird sense of…pride…knowing how well Eris played this game. How naturally he took to it. 

“I am.” He nodded, linking an arm through yours. He pulled you along with him as he fell into a steady walk once more. “And you’re the other one.” 

You tripped. Over your own damn feet. Eris had to grab you before you fell flat on your face.

“Excuse me?” You blurted. 

“Shh.” He chuckled. “Do you wish to wake the entire estate up?” 

“Eris–”

“Look.” He stopped, rounding on you. “My father is sending me as his head courtier. He told me that the choice was mine as to who I brought with me – that I will have to make such decisions when I’m the High Lord one day. He said he trusted me to choose wisely.” 

“...And so you chose me? Have you had a bump to your head, or something?” 

“Give yourself more credit, Y/N.” He pulled you along once more. “The choice was entirely mine to make. I’m not taking Barric, because my father needs him here. There’s absolutely no chance I would trust either Jareth or Rian with such a responsibility, knowing what they’re like. They’d start a fight within the first thirty minutes. Dion would go if I asked, but he wouldn’t really want to. And, well…Lucien’s not even worth considering. He’d be too busy trying to catch a fluffy cloud in a jar, or reading poetry to a doe, or–”

“Eris.” You cut him off quickly; you didn’t need more visions of Lucien cramming themselves into your head. “Be that as it may…why would you choose me? I’m no courtier. I–”

“You’re intelligent. Straight-talking. Witty. You have experience dealing with people – hell, you did enough of it while single-handedly manning your father’s business. I think everyone gravely underestimates you, Y/N, and I want to see what you’re made of when you’re given half the chance.” 

You couldn’t deny the way his words tightly clenched your heart within their fist. The fact that he would even consider trusting you…you could have cried right then. 

“I appreciate it.” You smiled ruefully. “Truly, I do, but…your father would never allow it.” 

“My father left the decision entirely to me. He didn’t give any conditions to such a decision. And so I’ve made my choice, and I’d like you to come with me. And if you get overwhelmed, I’ll handle all the boring courtier stuff. But at the very least, we’d be able to get away from the estate for a weekend and have some fun. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Gods, it did. It was a rare moment when you and Eris weren’t having fun and laughing raucously about something together. Like the brother you’d never had, the two of you seemed to end up making mischief, even without trying. And to be able to do so away from the estate, away from Jareth’s malice and the tension between you and Lucien…

“Well, in that case,” you grinned, “I’m extremely honoured that you’ve asked me, and I gladly accept.” 

“Nobody there will have a more beautiful female on their arm than I will.” He smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Come – let’s sneak some ice cream before bed.” 

⤲

It was after much to-ing and fro-ing that it was decided that the courtiers’ meeting would be held at the sacred Mountain — neutral ground that was situated in Prythian’s Middle. 

You’d heard all about it, of course, years and years ago, during your schooling. The sacred Mountain was one of the first things any faerie learned about in a lesson of Prythian’s history — the point from which your world was created.

Perhaps that’s why you were shot with nerves and excitement to go there. 

While it gave the appearance of a towering, breathtaking mountain on the outside, it was inside that you found yourself lost for words. Eris had promised you a glimpse the day prior to the other courtiers arriving, and that glimpse did not disappoint.

“With it being neutral ground for all the courts,” he explained, “High Lords long ago carved out the mountain’s belly to make it appropriate for use.”

Indeed, while it was nothing luxurious, it was undoubtedly stunning. It was the sheer size of it that had words stuck in your throat. A huge, gargantuan structure that only nature’s hands could have crafted, the stone walls seeming to watch down on the middle that had been carved and sculpted for the most basic and necessary needs. No adornments, nothing that would spit in the face of the Mother’s work — just a giant, echoing cavern waiting to be filled. You couldn’t help wondering how many people could fit inside.

“This is where the meeting will be,” Eris said, seeming to smile fondly at your awestruck expression. “I believe we’ll be indulging in a feast whilst we do the posturing and pretend to like each other.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you won’t catch me saying no to a feast.”

Eris chuckled, the sound seeming to bounce all around you like the cave walls were volleying it between them. Your footsteps echoed, too, as you brushed past him — back towards the crack of daylight that beckoned you from the way you’d entered.

“Y/N.” Eris’s hand landed on your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You studied him. The fierce flash of…something…in those amber eyes. “What is it?”

“There is…a lot riding on this meeting, for me.” Pulling his hand away, he swallowed. Loosened the collar of his tunic. He looked strangely uncomfortable. “So while I trust you…if I ask you to do something for me, I need you to do it, okay? No questions asked.”

Plenty of questions rose in your mind that very second; ones you wanted to poke and prod at until you got an answer. But something in Eris’s expression — in how uptight he suddenly was — had you submitting with barely a blink. You nodded resolutely.

“Okay.” You agreed. “No questions asked.”

⤲

The two of you could just as easily have returned to the comforts and luxuries of the Vanserra Estate and winnowed back to the Sacred Mountain for the meeting the following evening. But Eris had promised you a weekend away from the pressing eyes of Beron and Barric. Away from Jareth’s vitriol. 

You ended up in a small village you hadn’t even known existed. How far from the estate it was, you didn’t know — nor did you care. Not as you watched Eris shuck off the High-Lord-to-be persona and become just…Eris. A few of the villagers recognised him, of course, and the way they warmly greeted him spoke volumes about his genuine character; you certainly couldn’t imagine anyone ever approaching Beron to say a quick hello. But for that evening, you were just Eris and Y/N, and you ate dinner and drank and danced like you had no responsibilities in the world. 

The hour was late when the two of you snagged rooms at an inn, Eris informing you that he’d stayed there a few times before. And with your belly full of food and wine, you managed to forget about your nerves for the upcoming meeting and fall into a mostly restful sleep. 

The next morning, Eris sat opposite you at one of the inn’s tables, the two of you enjoying a quiet breakfast. His faced seemed more…shadowed than the night before. Like the weight of his duty was weighing on him once more, heavier than ever. You wanted to ask if he was alright, to see if he wanted to share some of the load, but you’d barely exchanged a word between you when the door flew open, and heavy footfalls reached you from behind. 

You turned in your seat mid-chew — and forced yourself to swallow as your eyes met Lucien’s. 

That was as far as his acknowledgement of you went as he focused his attention on Eris and dipped his chin in greeting. “Thought I’d find you here.”

If Eris was surprised to see his brother, he didn’t let it show. He merely drew a long sip of tea. “Nothing if not consistent, brother. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Some trouble has broken out between the soldiers under your command.” Lucien said. “It’s getting out of hand and they’re refusing to answer to anyone but you.”

“Shit.” Eris cursed, throwing his napkin down. “Can’t turn my back for five fucking minutes.”

You stared between the two brothers, not exactly sure how to interject — whether or not you even should. Eris’s eyes slid to meet yours. 

“I’m gonna have to deal with this before they start tearing chunks out of each other.” He said. “Damn youngsters need sorting out. I…I may not be back in time to join you…”

You balked. “You’re not seriously suggesting I attend this meeting alone?”

“Alone? Gods, no, I wouldn’t do that to you. Lucien will just have to take my place.”

“What?” The barked word came from both you and Lucien, your voices twining together and sounding like little more than a panicked bleat. 

“Y/N can’t go alone, Lucien.” Eris shrugged. “And I’m needed elsewhere. You’re already here, and it’s my call — you’ll take my place. Please just accept it and don’t make me pull rank.”

“But I have—“

“Have what, Lucien? A flock of newborn birds to sing a lullaby to? I’m sure it can wait.” Eris stood from his seat, mussing Lucien’s hair, at which the younger brother scowled. “I’m going to get ready. The two of you will do brilliantly.”

He parted with nothing more than a kiss to your head and a wink, striding out of the room. And then it was just you and Lucien. Alone. 

He avoided your gaze. 

Fine. That was how he was going to play it.

⤲

It was just before he left that Eris discreetly pulled you into an unoccupied room at the inn, shoving what seemed to be an envelope into your hands. You frowned down at it, studying the Autumn Court insignia. 

“What’s this?” You asked, fingers brushing the parchment.

“I need you to hand deliver that to somebody at the meeting.” He told you. “Not Lucien — you. The recipient is expecting me, so I’ll need you to explain the situation. Tell them the letter is from me.”

Your frown deepened. “Who’s it for?”

”I wouldn’t like to say…with the eyes and ears in this court.” His voice dropped a level. “But they have a bit of a preferred taste for jewellery — blue gemstones in particular.”

“…if this is a female you’re courting—”

“And failing that,” he didn’t seem to hear you, “just keep an eye out for the wings.”

“What? Wings—?”

“I really have to get going.” He brushed past you on hurried feet, tension coiled in his stance. “Try not to worry. I have every faith in you.”

“Wait—“ You blinked, following. “What do you mean wings?”

Eris turned in the doorway, an odd smile — one you couldn’t quite put a name to — pulling at his lips. 

“Just trust me.” He said. 

⤲

Lucien’s head fell back against the wall.

He could strangle Eris. Wrap his hands around his damn throat and strangle him. Or maybe bludgeon him with a large, heavy book. Take a scissor to all his favourite tailored suits–

He’d spent the last twenty minutes leaning against the wall and considering how he might get back at Eris for this. It had not, under any circumstances, been on Lucien’s radar to spend an evening playing courtier – something he usually kept himself far, far away from.

And much less at Y/N’s side, too. 

It seemed like every time he tried to put distance between them, something brought them back together. The hamlet fire, her getting caught up in a storm on the hunt, and now this.

The Mother had to be up there somewhere, laughing at him. At both of them.

He sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. He’d been waiting absolutely fucking ages for her to get ready for the meeting, and he was tired of staring at the same patterned wallpaper that was starting to give him a headache.

He rapped on Y/N’s bedroom door briskly. And then strolled into the room like it was his own.

She was stood at the mirror, surveying her reflection – but she turned upon Lucien’s entrance, rounding on him with a face like thunder.

“You could have waited for me to welcome you in.” She snapped. “I might have been stark naked, for all you knew.”

Lucien shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets and trying to keep such an image from his mind. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

She scowled, turning back to the mirror and smoothing her hands over the black dress that covered her body – scarcely covered her body. Scraps of fabric was surely a more accurate description for what she wore, and Lucien found himself tracking the skin that was on show, tensing as he wandered further in and perched on the edge of the bed. 

“What is that.” He said bluntly, eyeing the thin fabric pulled taut against her figure.

Her eyes met his in the mirror – eyes that were lined with kohl, cheeks dusted with rouge and lips that had been painted deliciously red. She looked every part the cunning courtier, a sight that would stop people in their tracks, no doubt, to gawk at her. At her face. Her body.

Lucien’s eyes, though, snagged on her hair. That tiny little braid he’d developed a strange obsession with. The feel of it pinched between his fingers–

“It’s a gown.” She replied shortly, tugging the dress down. “And before you say anything, Eris picked it out for me, so if I look ridiculous–”

“Which you do.” Wrong. She looked beautiful. Utterly divine–

Her shoulders tensed, and Lucien wanted to snatch the words back. He wasn’t trying to be nasty, it was just…lots of skin on show. Which he usually wouldn’t care about.

Only…he knew what those areas of her body, usually hidden, looked like. What they felt like. And he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about other people getting an eyeful.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the pinch of guilt he felt for his rude remark. “You just…look like you’d fit in more at the Night Court, that’s all. This is what the females there dress like.”

A strange expression took over her face that Lucien couldn’t quite get a read on. She pursed her lips, turning away from the mirror, her hands clasped tightly together. She looked more tense than normal, more wary.

“You’re nervous.” Lucien commented. 

She shrugged, tried to play it off. “A bit. I’ve never done this before.”

“It’ll be fine. Just keep your ears open and your smart comments to yourself, and you won’t get us into trouble.”

She stared back at him, and he half expected her to throw one of those smart comments his way. But she merely furrowed her brow the slightest bit – and then looked away.

Clearly not in the mood for sparring, then.

“Let’s just go.” She mumbled, tugging a pair of heels on. 

Lucien rose from the bed, holding out his hand. She avoided his gaze as she took it, and the two of them were lurched into momentary, swirling darkness, the air becoming considerably colder as they winnowed to the Middle. Right outside the Sacred Mountain. 

It stood over them, huge and imposing and somewhat sentient. Something about it made a shiver course through Lucien’s body as they stumbled to a stop. Something cold and foreboding. 

Or perhaps that was just the icy air. 

“You’re going to be freezing in that hand towel you call a dress.” He commented, eyeing her once more. Some small part of him hoped for her to dig back, to insult him.

But she merely pulled her hand out of his, murmuring, “I’ll be fine.”

Lucien sighed to himself. It was going to be a long fucking night.

⤲

The next three hours — three gods-damned hours — served as a reminder as to why Lucien liked to avoid these things at all costs. 

There was no denying the clear concern that he and everybody else there felt in regards to this Amarantha character. It was evident that each court had either heard of or encountered her in some way. And thus began the volleying back and forth as to whether she could be trusted. As to whether she spoke true on wanting to smooth things over between Prythian and Hybern.

Lucien thought not, but…by the time everyone’s shoulders had slumped and huge tables of food had appeared with the wave of a hand, he was done-in enough to agree to anything. 

Which was why he didn’t much fancy himself as a courtier. 

The general atmosphere of the room relaxed, and people were very quickly shucking off their courtier facades and falling into conversation with old friends from other courts. Even a bard appeared from somewhere, filling the huge, cavernous area with music. The meeting became a party in seconds. 

Lucien returned to Y/N’s side, handing her a chalice that she accepted with barely a glance his way. Her attention was elsewhere — had been, in fact, since the meeting had finished. Pinned across the room. 

She’d done well, he thought. Why she’d been so nervous, he wasn’t sure — for the most part, the small input she’d offered around the giant circular table had been logical and concise, and it had drawn some attention to her. Had inquisitive gazes snagging on her and people wondering who the beautiful, elusive courtier was that had come on behalf of the Autumn Court. 

She was shaping up to be quite the pretty piece on the chess board that Beron navigated from his throne. It left a bitter taste in Lucien’s mouth. Hers, too.

He was surprised — and delighted — to see that his friend, Nuan, had been sent on behalf on the Dawn Court. For the most part, the role she played in High Lord Thesan’s court was that of his alchemist and master tinkerer; but, of course, she was just as valued as any other courtier. Lucien was tempted to stride over and talk to her, catch up with her, but he remained dutifully at Y/N’s side.

Y/N, who barely spoke a word to him. Who downed her wine like it was going out of fashion and kept her eyes peeled on that spot across the room.

Lucien followed her gaze — and almost rolled his eyes. 

How typical, that what had caught her attention was the handsome male with the huge, membranous wings and the shadows snaking around him. The brilliant cobalt siphons that seemed to cast a blue glow around him. Or perhaps it was the tiny female at his side, with silver eyes and a look that could slice anyone in two. 

The two Night Court representatives — Azriel, the shadowsinger and spymaster, and Amren, the…terrifying little second-in-command to the High Lord — were currently engaged in conversation with the two courtiers from the Day Court. But while the shadowsinger’s eyes remained solely on whoever he spoke to, those shadows kept him aware of the ins and outs of multiple other directions. Whispered to him, no doubt, about who was around. What was being said and done.

Lucien damn near started when his guarded, hazel gaze darted over to them — and landed straight on Y/N.

“Have you finished your wine already?” Lucien said — a pathetic attempt to drag her attention to him. “I’ll get you anoth—”

But Y/N was suddenly peeling from his side, mumbling beneath her breath. “Blue gemstones” was all Lucien caught before she was striding away from him without so much as a glance back. Striding towards the damn shadowsinger. 

“What—” He started after her. “Hey.”

He’d met the spymaster a brief couple of times, but he knew only of him through rumour and tale; anybody with half a brain cell could grasp what an intimidating figure he cut. But word had it that those shadows whispered to him, fed him information. Word had it that those scarred, brutal hands had done unmentionable things. 

And Y/N — the mouthiest, sassiest, most outspoken person he’d ever met — had just stopped right in front of the shadowsinger as if he were no more than a mewling kitten.

Lucien stopped by her side, clearing his throat. The female — Amren — was appraising both of them with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Are you the shadowsinger?” Y/N asked. 

Azriel’s lips seemed to twitch. “I am.” He inclined his head. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure…”

“Y/N.” She offered him a hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

The shadowsinger took her hand in his, pressing a chaste kiss to her fingers. Lucien watched from beside her, trying to ignore the way his shoulders tensed—

But it was as Azriel retracted his hand that Lucien found himself frowning. Could have sworn that a small, square piece of parchment had appeared in his palm that hadn’t been there moments before. One of his shadows coiled around him, seeming to stretch towards his ear. And then, as though Lucien had imagined the entire thing, Azriel was dipping his chin at him in greeting. 

“Lucien.” He acknowledged him politely. “Good to see you. You remember Amren?”

The tiny, otherworldly being was hardly easy to forget. Lucien shot her an awkward smile — a smile that she looked like she wanted to devour whole. 

“Nice dress, girl.” Amren’s gaze flicked over Y/N. She turned to Azriel. “Like something from Mor’s wardrobe.”

“Indeed.” Azriel’s eyes also appraised the gown clinging to Y/N’s body; Lucien wanted to rip those damn eyes out. A smooth, easy smile played on his lips. “Perhaps I could get you another drink?”

A smile as bright as sunlight lit up her face, and she nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

Lucien may as well have not been damn well been there as Azriel offered her his arm. He stepped aside, swallowing hard. 

And as the shadowsinger led her away, it was the lightest she’d looked all night.

⤲

He wanted to leave. Get the fuck out of the mountain, and go back to the inn. Or better yet, back to the estate.

Anywhere he could put distance between himself and Y/N once more. 

But the meeting-turned-feast-turned-party seemed to be unending. Drinks continued to flow and music continued to play, a loud mix of voices battling against it as conversations were had and laughter was shared. 

And Y/N – Y/N was having a merry old time. Hadn’t left the shadowsinger’s side once.

It was all Lucien could do to glare at an insignificant spot on the mountain wall and pretend like he wasn’t eavesdropping on the conversation happening right beside him. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help feeling pissed off that the person he’d come to this damn thing with had barely spared him a glance. 

“Grip that chalice any harder, boy,” Amren hummed quietly at his side, “and you’ll bend it out of shape.” 

Lucien scowled, glancing down at her. She didn’t seem at all bothered that her companion, also, was busy with someone else. If anything, she seemed mildly…amused.

As though she was privy to something that Lucien was not. 

With a sigh, he placed his drink down and turned his attention back to Y/N, wondering how soon he could acceptably drag her out of there. He cleared his throat loudly – to no avail. 

“Have you been to the Autumn Court much?” She was asking Azriel, her eyes bright and wild.

Azriel shook his head. The way he stood with his hands clasped behind his back looked utterly unnatural to Lucien, and yet he was the picture of ease. Of darkness. 

Did Y/N like darkness? He wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure what she liked. He’d never asked–

“A few times.” Azriel answered, his voice a lilting song. “But not under…casual circumstances. I’m sure there’s much of it I’ve yet to see.”

“Indeed.” Y/N smiled. “It has some truly beautiful views.”

The spymaster’s hazel eyes flicked over her from head to toe, and his lips twitched. “That it does, lady.” 

The attempt at flirting was so blatant – so pathetic – that Lucien wanted to roll his eyes. But it didn’t stop a splash of pink tinging Y/N’s cheeks. Didn’t stop her dipping her head to hide that blush behind her hair. 

And when her braid fell forward, and Azriel’s eyes tracked the movement, Lucien damn near jumped between them. 

He took a deep breath. Needed to get a grip. Maybe some fresh air–

But he also didn’t want to leave the two of them alone. Lest he come back and find them gone. The thought had him clenching his jaw, and he could have sworn that he heard a soft snort come from Amren.

“If you ever have cause to return to our court,” Y/N said. “I’d be delighted to show you around some of my favourite places.” 

Azriel inclined his head. And looked annoyingly perfect whilst doing so. “I’d appreciate that. You know…I must say, I’m a little stunned.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“In my honest experience,” his eyes danced over to Lucien. Back to Y/N. “The Autumn Court usually snuffs out the fire in any female who tries to lead. Or even show some personality. And yet – here you are.” 

True. It was so true. And yet, Lucien found himself wanting to rip into him for it. Not because he found issue with the statement, but because Azriel had been the one to make it. To comment on Y/N’s fire. Her brilliance.

And what had Lucien done that evening? Merely told her she looked ridiculous in her dress. 

“I mean no offence, of course.” Azriel continued, the words aimed at Lucien; Lucien merely gave a stiff nod. “But she’s really something, is she not?” 

Lucien was hot all over. He swallowed. Bit out, “That she is.” 

Y/N, for what felt like the first time all evening, looked at Lucien. Her expression was unreadable, her brow slightly pinched. But the look was brief as she turned back to Azriel and smiled once more. 

“A good friend of mine committed to training me.” She explained. “I would say he is responsible for keeping the fire going.” 

Linden. The one who had given her purpose and reason. Who had wiped her tears. Who she’d trusted so much, she’d decided to give him her maidenhead. If Lucien met him, he thought he’d feel inclined to thank him.

Because that fire of hers…that brilliant, flaring fire…it made Lucien feel alive.

And what an inconvenient time to come to such a realisation. 

He shook his thoughts away, zoning back in. And stiffened.

Whatever else the shadowsinger had said, he wasn’t sure – hadn’t caught it. 

But Y/N threw her head back and laughed, her hand on Azriel’s shoulder.

Laughter that was trilling and melodious, that sounded clear as day and yet also smoky and raw. Had he ever even heard her laugh before?

No, he didn’t think he had. 

Because he’d not exactly ever given her reason to laugh. To be anything but sullen and quiet – when they weren’t fucking, that was.

And yet here…here, she laughed. Unguarded and beautiful. And all because of Azriel the fucking shadowsinger.

Something twisted so abruptly in Lucien’s chest that he found himself stepping forward. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to run out of there – run from his feelings – and shout to the Mother about them, or…or challenge the damn spymaster to a fight for no good reason.

No. He couldn’t do that. 

So he practically shoved himself between them and gritted out. “We should be going.” 

Y/N blinked up at him. “What? Why?” 

“Because we should.” He prised the chalice from her hands. “Come.” 

She looked as though she wanted to protest, but Amren was also stepping forward, and never had Lucien been so glad to hear the terrifying female speak. 

“Rhysand will be expecting us back soon, actually. It’s late.” She said. “And he’ll want a rundown of the meeting.” 

Lucien nodded. “And we should also debrief, Y/N, so.” 

Y/N had barely a chance to so much as blink as Lucien took her hand. Azriel stepped forward quickly, taking the other and kissing the back of it. 

“It was a pleasure.” He said, stepping back again. “Perhaps we can write.” 

Y/N opened her mouth–

And perhaps Lucien was a little bit of an asshole for doing so, but he winnowed the two of them out of there before she could speak her reply.

And no doubt, she’d give him hell for it. 

But at least her attention would be on him.

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