#no i will not hear any dissent on the matter

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

The Witness and Why It (and its demise) Means Everything to Me (A POC Perspective)

Hey everyone!! The Final Shape has ruined me and has brought me to levels of not only grief, but hope, that I did not think possible, so I decided to give my thoughts on the different aspects of it that moved me to a place where I can be at peace with many things in my life and look forward to paving a better future!!! I think I’ll be making many posts pertaining to the Final Shape as a way to help me express my thoughts on how important this DLC was to me, but we will see!

Please note that these are just my loose, not fully structured thoughts and I’m yapping. My opinions are subject to change and I’d love to hear the input of others! We will be talking about subjects such as slavery, religion, black experiences, and personal experiences of mine!!! It’s very long too, so I’m sorry about that and any writing errors!!

Though I do not believe what I speak of was fully Bungie’s intentions when making the character, the implications and views you can take on the Witness do relate to what I will discuss.

I wanted to start off my return to tumblr with one of the many, many reasons why I have such a deep attachment to the Witness (Precursors and Dissenters will get a different post bc they mean the world to me too!!) , because truly, this entity owns my whole life. I think of it all the time, it lingers in my thoughts, my art, my writing, all of it. It has been so deeply intertwined with my enjoyment of Destiny since it appeared and has offered so much to my perception of the world. I do not think I will truly get over it and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t draw it every chance I get. It appears in every single thought of mine, it’s bad you guys.

I love the Witness so deeply because I have never harbored such a personal level of DISGUST for a character before. As much as I joke about it being silly and the love of my life, the very existence of the Witness revolts me to the core and the tragedies it has directly or indirectly caused squeeze my heart empty. This festering rot of an egregore SICKENS me as it is the beliefs that has robbed me and many others of family, culture, and livelihoods given form. My love for the Witness comes from how it instills in me such HATRED, and truly, we were far too kind to it in game.

For context, I am Caribbean American and have a tumultuous relationship with my heritage for many reasons, but it wasn’t until the Witness and its many victims that I felt like the religious imperialism that has affected my heritage was represented in a way that crept into my spirit.

My Caribbean mother always said to me that we are of this world, not in it. That the hearts of men are wicked and sin (cruelty) was embedded in existence itself. It is only when we give ourselves to a higher purpose that we will be free in the end from all suffering. To her, this life and everything in it did not truly matter for it was a temporary challenge to overcome in order to earn an eternity of salvation. A perfect paradise was awaiting us all if we just gave into the way and left everything else behind.

These were all convictions she held to her very core as she tried to shed away all other aspects of herself to give into this “truth”, especially her Caribbean culture.

She did not always believe this way, but to her, the island she came from did not truly matter at all. Those “wayward people” she grew up with were not worth anything and would die as nobodies on that nowhere island for their lives were not saved, even if they knew of the “truth”. In her adopted views, those people believed in false gods and practices (such as Vodou and beliefs that belonged to those taken from Africa and indigenous populations), they invited in frivolous wants of the flesh such as lust (with „improper“ attire and certain dances), and committed crimes that proved to her that they could never be anything more than what they already were (though she would be blinded to the fact that these behaviors are a result of hostile environments created by the systems established for slavery and racial subjugation). If she wanted to be fit for “walking the right path”, those people had to be left behind for they were lost causes who could not be saved unless they were delivered by the “respectable” ways of life. She had to discard her black mannerisms, hair, speech, and more to have a place amongst the truly chosen.

Religious imperialism has a long history of being heavily tied to discussions of race and colonialism as those who participated in subjugation believed themselves to be more enlightened than the people they brought devastation to, giving them an entitlement that drove them to force their way of viewing religion onto populations. After all, in their minds, they were doing the greatest good for they were setting the people they subjugated on a path for eternal paradise. There was no cost too high in this finite life for infinite salvation to colonizers and all efforts to convert populations who did not see this truth would be “necessary”. People would die or be forced into servitude in mass to support the ambitions of the “enlightened” ones, whole cultures and populations being scrubbed from the face of this Earth in an attempt to “heal what is sick”, to “break broken bones again to heal them right”. I think of all the generations lost to war, slavery, colonialism, and every other act done to deliver “purpose” onto others, all the people whose names will never be known because others used the breath needed to utter it on preaching of their own virtue, and I am left in ruin.

I think of how my mother speaks of those lost to destitute lives because of the social pillaging of the island as an unfortunate side effect of guiding them to the truth and I look at how her world view has been ruined.

My mother thought she was saving me by keeping me from my culture, my people, my family. I did not get to know the language, the customs, the land, but I did get to know how much my mother thought those were distractions. She spent my whole life trying to cement the truths given to her by the same people who left her island in such as state that she felt like she had to run from it, to ensure I would not grow into a person, but a vessel of the righteous message. After all, to be a person is to be complex, nuanced, and flawed and there was no room for that in the visions given to her. The complexities and human flaws that came with our culture would only distract us from giving our whole lives to freeing ourselves from the curse of existence.

The cruelty the Witness delivers with such gentleness as it razes civilizations, its unwavering belief that it is the objective truth and other perspectives are blind to this truth, the means it will use to get that “justified” end, its gut wrenching to me and all that has been lost throughout human history to ideologies that bear the same qualities. Its zealous, static nature that relies on circular reasoning keeps me up at night and makes me mourn what could have been if the unfamiliar and hard to understand parts of human expression were allowed to flourish instead of being eradicated for diverging from someone’s vision of what makes a life worth living. I see this big eyed vessel, incapable of growth and convinced of its own righteousness and my chest feels like it is going to cave in. I see its disciples and pawns in the faces of too many people I know and recall their stories in moments that remind me how poisonous what the Witness represents is.

The Witness is an evil that has hollowed out lives, homes, land, and futures, especially for those who come from heritages that have persevered against attempts to “rectify” them. I still grieve the empty life my mother lives and the people left to suffer the consequences of daring to create their own meaning. I look at the face of the Witness and think of the “burdens lifted off my mother’s shoulders” by those who thought themselves as witnesses of a truth that could not be contested with interpretations that could not be questioned. She prides herself on being a weapon wielded to correct the sinful hearts of men, but I just wish she prided herself on being a person because those who “delivered” her robbed people of color of personhood entirely.

The Witness is not a person, but the embodiment of these deeply rooted ideologies and concepts that affect so many. It’s horror, both in game and the parallels it has in reality, is far too grand and unfathomable for me to bear its weight on my soul and not agonize. Its very existence is monstrous, despite the understandable intentions that went into its making, and my stomach churns at the mere thought of it.

How many species in the Destiny universe will we never know about because their whole galaxy was used to get closer to the Final Shape? How many star systems were left barren because of the Witness’ ambitions? How many children, spouses, artists, philosophers, siblings, neighbors, and more, people who were something, became nothing because of eons of the Witness‘ justifications? Bile boils just thinking of it.

What the Witness represents has hung over my head my whole life and its perverse touch lingers on the whole Destiny universe, tracing many of the depraved atrocities in the game back to itself. It’s death in the Final Shape, at the hands of those it had turned into victims and left to deal with the repercussions of its influence united together, moved me in ways I do not think I could ever properly articulate. To see beloved characters I had given a decade of my life to come together from different backgrounds with different reasons to defeat such a heinous entity, I felt like I could do my part to bring others together, despite our struggles and differences, to rebuild what had been taken from us.

As a person of color from a group of people many still think are undeserving of life, seeing so many characters I have related to over the years say “I matter because I decided to and you can’t take that away from me” to an entity who thought itself so refined that it got to determine everyone’s worth strengthened my entire being. Existing as a person of color is bold in and of itself, but the defeat of the Witness at the hands of people who wanted to exist so bad they risked everything for it ignited in me a flame to be audacious. My existence and culture as a poc is unsightly and heretical, but TFS encouraged me to take on the prejudices of others by saying “Here, despite generations being molded into a “perfect” image and so many lives lost in the struggle to live personal truths, ergo sum. Ergo sum and there is nothing wrong with that”.

To me, the Witness’ death showed me that the stains left behind by social structures such as religious imperialism and colonialism can be overcome by people banding together to make the future different from the past. When we embrace the subjectivity of existence, we can create spaces for different views on life to flourish and reconnect with the nuances of this world. We can better the lives of our people, no matter who they are, not by abandoning all cultural practices and ways of life that were deemed meaningless, but by rebuilding our societies to allow for fulfilling lives and self efficacy for all.

My people no longer have to let imperial powers decide our fate for us or decide that we can be nothing other than the „nature of our race“ that they believe is inferior. Instead of looking up at others who asserted themselves as more enlightened for salvation, we can look at each other and realize there is no one truth to life, especially one worth all the devastation and cruelty placed against those who lived differently. The intricacies of life often lead people to belief systems that allow for comfort and understanding, alleviating the anxiety of possibly living an improper life that will forfeit a desirable afterlife. It is up to individuals to decide what makes their life fulfilling and what beliefs will guide their actions, for no one can make your fate but you.

My mother still likes to wear the patterns of the island and keeps paintings of island scenery in her room. She talks on the phone in patois when she doesn’t feel the pressure to be “proper”. She misses her mother because she used to make dishes from home. To relate it to Destiny, she still has the coordinates to her Lubrae in her pyramid despite convincing herself abandoning it all was for the best and there was nothing there worth keeping. I once thought reconnecting with our heritage alongside her would be a frivolous endeavor, but I hope that with time and understanding, the Witness may not have power over her anymore and she won’t look back on her disassociation with relief. Time and understanding will make our island grow and flourish, free to decide what it wants to be, not held back by preconceived notions of the worth of its existence.

Despite all the Witnesses in the world, I will persist on and try to acquaint myself with my culture without shame. The Witness is everything to me because I hope one day it desecrates nothing ever again. I hope the Witness becomes nothing at all and the cultures it has corrupted make themselves something audacious.

Thank you guys so much for reading!! I hope you guys don’t mind the vague language, I chose to spare some details for my own sake and to make the message more applicable!! I’d love to hear the takes of other people about this bc I love hearing people’s perspectives!! And always remember, no one makes your fate but you!!! Go be audacious!!!!

[velocesainz]

Reconciliation

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist |

A/n: Here is the requested part 2! Also please send me your ideas, I’m in writers block.

Summary: read part 1 here. After a nearly marriage breaking argument and y/n walking out on Lando, he is determined to get her back at any cost.

Warnings: kinda angsty, suggestive at the end, slight fluff

Pairing: Lando x ceo!wife!reader

Lando pov:

What have I done? I just lost my unborn child and my wife in the span of a few months.

I tried to call her so many times but she refused to pick up. I went to all her estates and apartments in and around London but couldn’t find her.

I even called her parents and they said they hadn’t seen her and also expressed their dissent with me, which I totally understand.

I shouldn’t have said that to her. I knew how much the baby meant to her and I know she still is trying her best to work and handle her company.

No matter what happens or what it takes, I will get her back.

Y/n pov:

After that argument with Lando I called an Uber to my apartment in Greater London to find some peace.

He didn’t know of this apartment of mine so there was no chance he could find me.

I knew he would try and get me back as soon as he realised his mistake but I need space. What he said was vile.

I threw myself into the company work and officially came back as the CEO of l/n industries as I had taken a break for the baby.

Timeskip (6 months):

I was at my desk looking at some contracts when my door burst open to reveal the man that had shattered me a few months ago, Lando Norris.

But how did he get in? I had him blacklisted and all the security personnel knew not to let him in. My train of thought was broken as he spoke.

“Y/n baby, please hear me out! I can’t live without you. These past 6 months have been absolute hell. I love you so much and I realised almost immediately that I shouldn’t have said that. I miss you so much please forgive me, take me back into your life” he croaked out desperately

Hearing the desperation in his voice I couldn’t help but feel bad. I too missed him dearly, he was a part of my life since childhood.

I think I was finally ready to forgive him for his words after 6 months.

“Lando, I miss you too. What you said was heinous but I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I love you too, I’ll come back only on one condition however” I replied

“Anything baby, whatever you want in the world” he immediately said

“I want you to be my personal assistant for the month. I just fired mine and I don’t have anyone at the e moment to hire” I told him.

His look of worry immediately turned into one of joy and he ran towards me and hugged me tight

“You have no idea how happy I am to have you back in my life. The last few months were so miserable for me you don’t even know” Lando whispered into my neck.

Finally my family was back. We had overcome one of the biggest hurdles we would ever face. We definitely belonged with each other.

Timeskip:

We got back home after I finished up my work at the office, it felt good to be back home.

Lando came up behind and helped me take off my coat and started kissing my neck, god did I miss his touch.

He took me to our bedroom and took off my clothing one by one.

“We’re not gonna stop until you have another baby growing in that pretty little body of yours love.” He said huskily.

Boy was this going to be a long night.

A/n: my apologies if this was too short, I didn’t really know what else to add here. Let me know your thoughts on this fic and also send me your requests. Kissies ✨

[thefirstknife]

*hears Witness refer to themselves as the First Knife*

*eyes Bel*

*slowly backs away*

Welcome to my twisted mind.

Jokes aside, I also saw that ofc! It was also called that in the campaign by the dissenters:

I really enjoy that this got confirmed (either way!). There's been so much speculation on it. I've personally been on and off on the theory that the Witness is the first knife or just a manifestation of it or maybe that the first knife is just a concept, and if the Witness is trying to embody it or not. And so on. It's been really cool speculating and theorycrafting!

But now we know! Well... sort of, still. The Witness certainly believes itself to be the first knife, but is it truly? What does that mean? Does it even matter?

There's a ship you can get for finishing one of the sidequests: The First Knife. It has really cool lore of Mara and Ikora discussing the first knife and its meaning. I'll shorten the lore tab to just their dialogue so it's easier to copy and have at hand:

Mara: "When I first encountered the Witness, I heard it proclaim to me, 'We are the first knife.' It was as if that title held power. Meaning." Ikora: "The apocryphal texts we dug up on the moon, the ones Eris translated, mentioned the knife as a concept." Mara: "And even if we consider that unveiled text as dogmatic propaganda, there may be truth behind the allegory. The knife becomes the metaphor of a concept. A power. A knife that winnows, cutting things into a defined shape." Ikora: "A power that winnowed living beings into Taken. A power Oryx wielded." Mara: "You're wondering if the knife is a title, or a power. Did Oryx wield the power of the Witness like a knife?" Ikora: "The Witness is a manipulator. It distorts the truth to bend the wills of its supplicants. The allegorical fantasy told to us by the Witness paints itself as a monolithic cosmic force. But perhaps that's a shadow cast by the truth." Mara: "A knife is a tool, wielded by another's hand." Ikora: "If the Witness is the knife, as it asserts, then what wields it?" Mara: "The Witness is not a being. It is the culmination of a bleak ethos willed into existence by the nihilistic desires of its creators. Is their will the hand on the knife? Or is there something else?" Ikora: "I don't know."

This about summarises my thoughts on it, the ones I've always had. I'm not sure if there's any other information, maybe in the raid or the raid's lore book, but for now I'll focus on just this.

Mara says what I've always also agreed with: Unveiling is an allegory, but it has shreds of truth. The problem is that we don't know which parts are truth. We could speculate on that to no end. Ikora agrees as well and also asserts what I believe is the confirmation that the Witness wrote it, by calling it the "allegorical fantasy told to us by the Witness." Or at least this is what the characters believe to be true; Ikora also notes how even that could be a part of that truth among the allegories.

They consider it as a possible power, but they also consider it through the concept of it being a knife: a knife is wielded. Is the Witness being wielded by something else? Is it a knife because the species that made the Witness is the hand? Or is there something different? The conclusion is that neither of them know.

The problem, I think, we'll always have here in regards to the Winnower and anything above the Witness is that it will be hard to tell unless this hypothetical other being actually appears. The Witness may believe that it is the knife of the Winnower, but that could just be its interpretation of its own purpose. Essentially, the Witness may hold a religious belief about its place in the universe that simply isn't true, or believe in a being that isn't real. Just because the Witness says "We are the first knife [of the Winnower (?)]," doesn't mean that is the actual truth. It could be! But we simply don't know, and we won't know, until the Winnower appears (if it ever does; even if it is real, it may still not ever appear in person, in lore or the game).

Even if there's any other information, unless that information is from a reputable source (something that isn't the Witness itself or the Witness-aligned factions telling us a story), it will be hard to tell what's the truth. I really like that! I also really like that the first knife is still discussed also as a concept, not just something that the Witness believes it is. At the end of the day, this title represents something and it's the concept of winnowing, cutting things off.

But I do also like that "the first knife" has been addressed and explained. The Witness believes it is the first knife, and depending on more unfathomable cosmic forces, it may or may not really be that thing as something tangible and powerful, or even just as a title. Does the title matter? It does only because it matters to the Witness. At least for now. Until something actually shows up and presents itself as the wielder of the first knife, we will not know for certain.

Currently waiting to see when I can get the raid clear and the raid lore book, maybe for more information!

[valehour]

been idly discussing this with a friend, and generally just kind of ruminating on the DLC's final boss and end story and how mad it made me. so consider this significant rewrite to make the story more like I think I now want it to be because my opinions are obviously important """fix""" to the story.

What if the Miquella's lord was just- the player character, not Radahn?

(Full (and Extremely Long) justification under the cutoff)

this is born from my previous thought/rant on the fact that the player isn't given a motivation to actually oppose Miquella within the game itself.

By contrast, the player being the potential Consort of Miquella necessarily helps solidify the conflict around Miquella's Age of Compassion, and the player's place in it.

the Fundamental nature of Miquella in this DLC is that, ultimately, Miquella's love is amoral, stretching the full range from compassion to overtly abusive manipulation. one of the most evocative descriptors of Miquella's love is that it is "Terrifying". That feels like it's a fundamentally punchy, heavy thing for the player to wrestle with. The Age of Compassion is something that the War-torn Lands Between so clearly needs, it needs peace, and love, a more gentle place to cope with the trauma and the suffering and the Ruin, not merely from the Shattering, but the world that preceded it. but it's being created and enforced by a "terrifying", manipulative Cult leader (for want of a better term) who's channeling a very "All Shall Love Me And Despair!" energy.

There's a familiar throughline created by this- the player (both as the Tarnished, and as the Player has a particular impression and idea of Miquella, one who ultimately promises and provides salvation. As we advance through the story of the DLC, we increasingly learn the truth behind what that means- who Miquella is and the full extents of the implications presented.

The biggest moment in regards to this, is, of course, the Approach and descent into the Fissure, and the one of the most important parts of the story.

"I abandon here my doubt and vacilation"

"I abandon here my love"

"Kindly Miquella. I see you've thrown away... Something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation Offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

Miquella's pursuit of godhood has excised St Trina, who appears to have fundamentally dissented Miquella's deification, as it's her, delivered through sleep, who tells us that we shouldn't side with him, but kill him, instead.

This Feels spiritually adjacent to something like encountering Darkstalker Kaathe for the first time, and hearing his side of the story, an argument for The Age of Dark. but, as far as I can tell, this doesn't actually matter. Knowing that St Trina values preventing Miquella's Age of Compassion means nothing in the game, it's just an explanation as to why she was ditched halfway across the realm of shadow in a pit . But the argument St Trina raises, the doubting of Miquella's agenda means nothing because the final confrontation with Miquella is not born from the player's decision to reject the Age of Compassion, it's born from someone on the Fromsoft Dev team needing to put a final bossfight into the DLC.

it's this that forms the main Issue with the ending. The Player is forced into a passive role- the story happens To them, not Because Of them. the "choice" given by the game mechanics is to "Fight Radahn", or quit the DLC. but while the second one is technically a valid resolution to not opposing the Age of Compassion. It really isn't in any practical metrics because, well, That's not actually narrative resolution- putting a book down halfway through does technically end the story, but it doesn't resolve any of the plot threads or conflicts that the audience is expected to engage with- it stops abruptly and unsatisfyingly, told that we're not supposed to care about those plot details- Literally just the "it was all a dream" ending, but punching through the fourth wall. Simply Stopping Engaging with it isn't narratively satisfying for any work who's resolution isn't designed around the idea of putting the story down. and SOTE quite unambiguously isn't designed around that. So even if we view it as "an" ending, it's still fundamentally a bad ending.

but fighting Radahn is also narratively unsatisfying as an ending simply because of the fact that it's DLC- there was no space or time to establish or set up this plot thread or idea that Miquella and Radahn had any relationship or meaningful interactions in the base game (which, fair enough, it'd've bloated the main game which already has a lot to say and discuss in regards to it's own story). but without the idea that Miquella and Radahn actually interacted, this "reveal" is unsatisfying because like. Why should we care? Why Radahn? many other people have commented that Godwyn would be a better fit, but regardless, I think it still doesn't really address the underlying problem- The Player is a passive actor in this story.

So then 9+ paragraphs later, we get to the actual proposal of this unhinged rant essay:

What if the player, due to being tarnished, became the Consort of Miquella, much like one becomes the Consort of Marika and thus Elden lord in the age of fracture. Tarnishedness is a status that can apparently be conferred and withdrawn, and is not, in fact, a limiting factor in lordship (given you can become Elden lord regardless). Not to mention that being opposed to the present order, why should Miquella care as to whether or not the Golden Order values tarnishedness or not? Additionally, Miquelladahn already has an attack where he bewitches you (his grab attack), and should he successfully accomplish it twice, provides an instant game over due to your newfound love and affection for your new God.

This confers the advantage that now the player an active participant of the story, allowing them to choose, for themselves, whether they embrace or reject the Age of Compassion. it's the question posed by the ghost in the Fissure: "How will you salvation Offer... to those who cannot be saved?" Opposition is largely fronted by Ansbach (who resents the use of Mohg in this ritual. Which like. Me Too Buddy.) and St Trina, who fears that Miquella will become "trapped" by godhood, much like Marika was. but now the player can also decide for themselves whether or not to Oppose Miquella. maintaining a Hard-as-fuck bossfight as a result of refusal also creates a rather fascinating ludonarrative tinge to the amorality of his love, and it's most villainous side- after all, if he valued a gentle place, why does he support Radahn ultimately destroying you? Clearly, his world order is at least founded on the same violence that everyone else's is. it's a Fascinating argument against pacifism, calling out it's hypocrisy- that in truth, peace is violent, born from crushing those who ultimately oppose it- the police- The State's armed body do not enforce "The peace" by beating bankrobbers in a debate, only by beating bankrobbers. It's a strong argument against meekly accepting the shape of the world and one's part to play in it- that one ought to stand up for themselves against someone else's will, that one should fight for one's own world.

It's an argument, effectively, in favour of the worldview supposed by Ranni The Witch, who is arguably one of Miquella's strongest narrative foils. She used a shocking act of violence (the assassination of Godwyn) as a tool of liberation, to overthrow the order imposed by another. the shape of society shall not be determined by militarist-Faith, or a cult of adoration, but by self determination, the power to pursue one's own ends. Ranni and Miquella both have love play a part of their quest, but whereas Ranni spurns and fears love, maintains a cold exterior in favour of her duty- keeping the power of the Greater Will distant from the world- that the player must actively pursue and be willing to share the burdens of the thousand year journey into the chill night- a choice and a sacrifice you have no obligation to actually make- but you choose to do out of love, a willingness for, just a moment, Ranni to be truly vulnerable, share her past and her beliefs. But, Ranni's world, for all it's freedom, guarantees none of them, guarantees no true success, that people would actually be free, only that they be free to choose. what stops great warriors from simply founding a new kingdom, a new empire? Are Crowns not warranted by strength, after all?

Miquella, by contrast would build that peace, build it so intensely, that it feels obsessive, maddening. You drown you in it- drown in his Peace, his Love. You can choose to agree with him- because the world should be more gentle, more kind, more loving. This war has gone on too long, the cities in Liurnia are sinking into the ground, Leyndell partly buried into the ash of a failing world order. Stormveil suffers under a mad tyrant-king, the Albinaurics oppressed for the "sin" of their birth. Where are the people? Where is harvest and harvesthome? Miquella's peace, Miquella's love can give it to you.

but if you refuse to serve leally, if you refuse to submit, refuse to build his peace. Well, you join the corpses scattered about the divine gate. you walk in again. Godling Miquella asks you once, again, in a voice polite, courteous, filled with love and civility. to join him. You refuse, and he and his servants, be it the resurrected Radahn or some original boss crushes you again. And Again. it hurts. the pain of asserting your boundaries, your body, to refuse to give in to the world he'd build. it'd be so easy to submit.

Miquella would love you, to the best he was capable. and after all, what's the alternative? marrying Marika into an Age of Fracture? perpetuating the age of an obviously flawed Golden Order as it continues to decline? Or is it a more inclusive order- that welcomes those who live in death? It's reactionary principles jolted forward in a moment of tolerance. But Fia's hallowbrand doesn't save the Albinaurics, though- only Those Who Live In Death. It's still a bigoted, reactionary order, making a concession to what is explicitly framed as a social minority only because it's literally written into the laws of reality.

Is the failure of the Order that the gods were not held accountable to it's principles? But Ranni didn't want to be an Empyrean. Didn't want to be someone with explicit fertility-childbearing metaphors. her freedom is in many ways a story of fighting that selfsame Order, the literal Laws Of Reality in the name of her bodily autonomy and her self expression. but that was only because she was not held accountable to The Order, because she could dissent. Don't you see Tarnished? Is this pursuit Not Flawed? But he could fix it. and He would, he would save people To the best of his ability. Miquella loves you and he suffered Apotheosis to save you. But what happens to those who Cannot be saved because they Refuse to be saved. For Miquella Loves you and Suffered Apotheosis to Save You. But only if you submit to his shape of "Being Saved". and If you don't? Well, the Swords of the Haligtree will sever parts of you until you can.

Or I guess we could have what we actually got where we show up and Radahn immediately throws hands for unclear reasons with someone he's seen for like 3 seconds, in a game that fails to like, explain a motivation as to why the player is fighting Miquella aside from "Because the DLC needs a final boss" with his admittedly sick as fuck wrestler intro for a plot thread that has left at least a few fans with more than a sour taste in their mouths. Myself included. Hence the essay. Anyway, if you finished reading this, congratulations. :D

[lamemaster]

Accidental Father Acquisition

Requst: Ritual gone wrong with celebrimbor! I've been playing shadow of mordor and I just love him. What's more spooky than being bonded to a ghost? I'm not saying it has to follow the plot lines of the games at all, I'm just inspired/going for the vibes of that.

Pairing: Celebrimbor x Reader

Genre: Crack/ found family

Summary: From death by banner to an expecting mother, Celebrimbor's plot was insane.

AN: This is bonkers. Proceed with caution. Also, Shadow of Mordor Celebrimbor is the definition of how I imagine elves to look like so I feel ya anon.

Celebrimbor blinked once. Close his eyes and shook himself awake once again. Wait, why was he closing his eyes like a mortal? 

The huge bump still lay in front of his vision. His bump to be exact. A feeling of faint disbelief makes him swoon only for a tiny kick to stop his dissent. 

That is when he hears a small fleeting thought of incoherent hunger. The child was hungry. He noted distantly. The child inside him. Inside the body that now belonged to him.

What in the Timeless Halls was this? 

“That’s my body dipshit,” The baby- no, another voice intercepts his thoughts. Another annoyed raspy voice. “Yes, it is I, your summoner. If only I had known that the spirit I get would be an equal mess.” The voice grumbled and an image of a human woman materialized in his mind, no in the woman’s mind that was now his? Or was it his mind in the woman’s body? 

“You are human.” He whispers out loud to which the voice scoffs. “Yes, Einstein. I am a woman.” It You answer and Celebrimbor cannot bring himself to ask more about Einstein. He got the gist of it. “Didn’t you know who you were answering to when you walked your grand self into my circle?”

He had no idea how he was here in the first place. One second he was a banner on Sauron’s battlefield and another, he woke up with a child. And not even in his body. Was this another of Sauron’s baffling visions? 

“Holy hell dude, that’s some graphic shit. Did no one tell you to not traumatize expecting mothers?” You cringe covering your eyes. Only then does Celebrimbor realize that his thoughts were now projected to you and the child. With a wince, he turns his thoughts to pressing matters.

“Where am I?” He asks the mortal woman lounging in the shared mental palace. 

“In my summoning circle. That I made for a bargain. Not the body swap legenderia.” You shift trying to sit comfortably, failing to do that like a practiced dance that led to a string of curses every time. “Pregnant women can’t be comfortable even in their thoughts.” You sigh looking at the lost elf. 

Celebrimbor, as if spurred into action, adjusts the cushion that materializes into the thin air just as he thinks about it. Helping you lean comfortably, he relishes in the sleepy murmurs of the child now content as its mother. 

“Why did you summon me?” He sits next to you, feeling the fatigue from the human body. It’s heaviness he found himself unused to given that his jump had been from his elven form to a heavily pregnant woman. 

You look at him scrutinizing him. Much to your disappointment, your summoned one ended up in your body instead of coming in a much-desired combat-enabled form. But for some absurd reason, you do not feel anything. Not the despair of a failed ritual or the shock of having a chat with the elf who now seemed to be in charge of your body. Only the everlasting urge to pee persists.

“I did it for revenge. The original plan was to find something sinister enough to mess up the man who left me in this state.” You point to your belly. “Left us hungry, begging for food. I wanted to make him suffer. Make him hate his life. But the kid got scared. It held on to your soul instead of whatever monstrosity I had asked for from Gothmog.” Celebrimbor blinks, his mouth agape. 

On any other day, he would’ve been enraged, mad at the careless Eru-forsaken woman who did not once care for her child, the idiot human. He perhaps would have, had her child taken away the second it was born. Yet, now he could not help but look at you, at himself in the mirror, and see the scrawny human stare back. Calouse hands, slouched shoulders, and fragments of a nightmare he did not pry into. Of the rights and wrongs of this world, how would he judge someone who had let go of everything? Who had been robbed of everything and was still expected to love. 

His despair was hers, and hers was his. Pain of betrayal, of pain, of scorn, shame, and guilt. All he knew too well. “You could have killed the child,” he whispers looking at you failing to sound every bit admonishing that he tries to be. “I am aware.” You reply with a stony gaze. “And the child will die of hunger either way. So why not sate its blood thirst as a last favor?”

Behind all the bitter words, all he feels is gut-wrenching sorrow. Despite the righteous urge to scream at your foolishness, he only gathers a tug of unfair empathy. Of the wrongness of love that bloomed out of sorrow- for a child you desired to hate.

It was wrong. All of this. And those were your thoughts that he knew to be. Anger, love, disgust all lingered in the body Celebrimbor’s soul fell into. 

And then he does what none in the living eternity of Arda would have expected. “Is there a spell for procuring another body? I reckon a male vessel would be better.” He looks around trying to spot the spell book in your surroundings. “A vessel matching the child’s father.” He watches your eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes, page 345 goes over it.” You speak in a daze. The Child inside you waking up to kick in order to express its approval of the elf’s crazy fucking plan. 

That is how Celebrimbor the ancient elven lord, King of Eregion found himself in the body of a 25-year-old man named Thomas Duffy. A miraculous plane crash survivor. 

That is how the line of Feanor continues in your world. With your firstborn daughter, who was born with glimmering eyes for unexplainable reasons, and your twins, who possessed uncanny pointed ears. 

Celebrimbor, the name, felt ancient in the tales that he told to his daughter. Your daughter, who had pulled him into her world, away from the pain and death of his world. Away from oaths, dark lords, and dooming jewelry. And Celebrimbor had clung to her mercy. 

In this world, his fate was not of extravagant creations or becoming the doom of the entire world. In this world, most crises were limited to the principal's office visits for his twins. Or your pregnancy mood swings.

Never in the history of the world had been struck a bargain so pleasant. A bargain where nothing was lost. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 35

welcome to the thirty-fifth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Send Down the Rain by @azapofinspiration

Lance missed rain. As much as he missed his family and his home, he missed rain almost as much.

However, rain has to exist somewhere out in the universe, right? Even if he can't go home, Lance should be able to feel rain and soak it.

Right?

Five times Lance tried to find rain and the one time he did

lance should have gotten the rain in canon. he needed that. and god did azap fucking deliver!! this fic is sweet and this fic is sad and this fic is melancholy and this fic makes you want to throw up and this fic makes you feel alive. i fckn love this fic

2. Brawler by @admiralcanthackett [GORE WARNING]

I have no summary for this beyond Lance and Keith get ambushed and Lance is a determined motherfucker who fights dirty. Keith is mildly turned on and largely impressed.

you ever want to see lance, feral, thinking only of protecting his family, rip someone’s throat out with his teeth? no? well, i didnt either, but it turns out that i needed to read it, so. and just to clarify this series isnt just lance going batshit insane, although there is plenty of that, it also has some tender klance gong over trauma so thats fun

3. nobody has to know (nobody but me) by xeah

Lance has a secret, and he’s taking it to the grave –except, he didn’t think the ‘taking it to the grave’ bit would happen quite so soon.

When the team head planetside on a diplomatic mission, Lance can’t decide if he’s ecstatic about it, or about to endure an intense bout of homesickness. Sure, the planet looks cool, the aliens themselves are pretty chill considering they’ve singlehandedly fended off Galra attacks up until now. But thanks to Pidge making the team clocks that run on Earth time, Lance knows that it’s almost his nineteenth birthday.

Yeah, he’s gonna go with the homesickness.

Unfortunately for him, the aliens they visit have two distinct qualities that, in any other circumstance, Lance would find cool; the ability to sense emotions, and the complete inability to keep secrets. That extends to their allies, as well.

He probably would have continued thinking those were pretty amazing skills –until the aliens sense negative emotions between the Paladins, and demand that to secure an alliance, the team must heal the dissent brewing in the fine cracks between each other thanks to the secrets they’re keeping, no matter how trivial.

Yeah. Homesickness probably wasn’t the right way to go.

okay, full disclaimer, this series isnt finished and i doubt it ever will be. HOWEVER. this fic is, and this fic is fucking stellar. magical realism has always been a fave of mine, and of course add vld and klance to that and ill always go feral. if you want to see amazing mcclain family backstory and tension so thick you could gnaw on it, swallow the L and read this fic you’ll only be a litle devastated that you won’t see how the series ends

4. Bruises by @admiralcanthackett

Lance is cornered by a Galra, cut off from the rest of his team. When he hears their disparaging comments, instead of asking for help when he can, he hides how hurt he is. He doesn't want them to think he's anymore useless than he already is.

you can tell that the author was mad when fae wrote this and honestly? yeah. yeah, sometimes u just have to be mad. sometimes thinks go to shit and its everyone’s fault and your pain becomes physical and you just have to grit your teeth and tell everyone to go fuck themselves. thats what lance goes thru here

5. Hybrid by @admiralcanthackett

Lance overhears one of the aliens insulting Keith after a successful mission and loses his temper.

yes another admiral fic but let me live i have always been obsessed with these fics and there are just so MANY of them okay. there will be more. but i like this one bc who doesn tlike protective lance??? who doesnt like keith realising that he’s worthy of being defended??? like cmon now

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[toushindai]

Do you have any thoughts on the relationships between characters so far in Hades II? Any predictions? How would you say they compare to those of Hades 1? Btw, love your megzag fic. You were The Author I went to for them back when 1.0 just came out.

Hello anon, and thank you!! I miss megzag so much, they are my everything. I will say that no one in Hades II so far is seizing me quite the way they do, especially not ship-wise—but let’s put the rest of this under a cut.

Below the readmore is an absolute free-for-all of spoilers so please be careful!

Overall the impression I get—especially from how Mel talks to and about Aphrodite—is that Mel thinks of love as something she’ll get around to once she has a chance to sit down and study how it works, which obviously comes after her task in importance. Now this is not how matters of the heart work, which presumably is why it’s immediately obvious that she and Icarus are BIG into each other. Which is cute, undeniably. I wish them happiness. Though that’s not really quite shipping, is it.

I’m still waiting for melnem to seize me like it has everyone else; I’m not opposed, but as of yet I’m not quite seeing what they have to offer each other. They are both striving for each other, that’s something; I just don’t yet see how that pulls them into bed with each other. It seems like the last thing on either of their minds. Except they do keep talking about taking each other’s clothes off. Are they flirting? They may be. At the very least I think SGG is sending deliberate “don’t worry, we ARE going there” signs. So far I am not drawn in by Mel/Moros as a ship, either. I’d much rather that shit-stirring suggestion of Eris’s (that the Fates are trying to set him up) be something that he finds kind of perturbing, that his sisters would try to set him up with someone just because she’s been nice to him. I would ship Moros/Dora. I think that would be cute and funny.

No despite all odds what I am 4k words into so far is some meleris. Well. I mean, that’s what the file name is called, and there’s some making out involved, but I don’t know if this is going to become a romantic or even physical relationship by the time I get wherever I’m going with it. Listen… I just love Eris. This horrible little gremlin whose ideals absolutely no one around her respects, so in response she doubles down on her gremlinhood. She’s at odds with Mel by their very natures and yet Mel keeps coming over to her little corner to give her the same gift over and over. I think they find each other frustrating but in the way a pet finds a puzzle treat toy frustrating, and I don’t think they know what kind of relationship they’re building with each other, but certainly one is building. I don’t think Eris really knows what a friend feels like and I don’t think she knows how to behave to keep a friend. I don’t think Mel knows why she is extending kindness to Gal Who Keeps Shooting Her And Littering. I, the player, am absolutely approaching this from the perspective of “someone in Eris’s entire life needs to be stubbornly kind to her as opposed to every authority figure in her life treating her like a problem child” but I don’t know if Mel feels the same way, consciously or un-.

Eris is just all around a deeply interesting presence in the game—the Unseen seem to me to be a cult (neutral use of the word) to Nyx and Eris is absolutely a dissenting voice against that. And everything else. The game has done the opposite of selling me on either “Chronos should rule” OR “the Olympians should continue unopposed” so I think we should hear Eris out. Did you know that “strife” and “strive” come from the same root. Something something the importance of dissent. Let her cook. Explosives. And drink bath water I guess.

Other things of interest.

The “your family may be vain idiots you hate being around but it’s still an inherent good to interact with them” tone of the epilogue of Hades I never pleased me greatly; so far, Hades II seems to be going “got it, just because someone is related to you by blood doesn’t mean you inherently have to feel anything for them” which I—I—I agree with that. Fundamentally. BUT THAT’S MY FAMILYYYY AND I LOVE THEMMMM TToTT… Supergiant is doing a fascinating thing where the majority of their players know Mel’s family better than she does, where Mel questions how strongly she even wants revenge for the family she’s never known while we, clutching our keyboards or controllers, are snarling Let Me At Him Let Me At Him I Love Those People. The “what do I care? I don’t even know them” is so deeply upsetting and I think that once there is an actual endgame that will get addressed but I a little bit wish we had not been given that line until we were ready to deal with it because it currently gives me an emotion.

Hecate is so interesting as a contrast to Hades—in some ways she is encouraging Mel towards much better emotional health but also. but also. Putting tremendous pressure on her, and telling her she must not think of Hecate as her mother or the Crossroads as her home. Asking Mel to leave these gaping holes in her heart so that her blood family and original home can fill them someday. I have to wonder if there’s a part of Melinoë that feels like Hecate is withholding these things because Mel isn’t good enough yet, and—deeper still—a part of her that fears that if she cannot become good enough, she will be subject to the same impatient disdain that Hecate aims at Nemesis and Eris. I don’t think Hecate is evil but I think she maybe doesn’t see the effect her single-mindedness might have.

And lastly, Chaos. Chaos!! Last night Chaos asked me, “Do you tolerate my gates stabbing you and my mark making your life difficult just because you want to look at me” and you know what. Yeah. Their new design is everything in this whole world to me. Chaos I am going to change how I dye my undercut to be more like you. But also I absolutely love what they’re going through emotionally in this game. Listen, if they had turned the Fates over to Chronos just because they like thwarting the Fates, I would have winced but forgiven them. This is a known! I don’t require them to operate under human morality! But the fact that they feel they were deceived and the indications that this troubles them, that they are not USED to feeling troubled, that they look at the way things are currently and say I would like things to be different actually, that they ask Mel for a response when they confess their part in the current goings-on (despite there not really being a question there IIRC!) but wait until so deep into the game to do so—Chaos I Love You. Would You Like A Hug. We stan an alexithymic primordial originator. Also “perhaps he shall release them if you use sufficient violence” is the funniest sentence in the world and I will continue to do my best 🫡

[mdhwrites]

The Stupidity of Claiming Heroes Push for Inaction

TLDR: It really sucks to me that 20 years after Superman: What's so Funny About Truth, Justice and the American Way (adapted into Superman vs The Elite), the point that story made has been forgotten entirely just because of dickheads who keep saying Batman should kill the Joker.

That might sound harsh but I am deeply tired of the argument that heroes deciding not to kill is the same as them doing nothing. That just because these villains could kill again, it gives our HEROES the right to put them down like rabid dogs. The video that was shared in my Discord that sparked this claimed such lessons only existed to empower tyrants while being entirely uncritical of the fact that this sort of mentality is EXACTLY what tyrants use to get away with getting rid of dissenters. "They were clearly a threat to the state so before they could hurt anyone, I executed them."

But to get away from the politics, it's just an inherently flawed argument. The perfect counterpoint is just that old Superman comic. He's questioned what he'll do if the person breaks out of jail and tries to kill people again and Superman's answer is simple: He will stop them. And he will keep doing everything he can short of killing them so as to stop them whenever they cause trouble. That isn't selfishness or self righteousness or inaction. That is understanding that murder isn't just a narrative device but genuinely one of, if not the, worst things you can do to a human being. That in this situation it is the easy answer but that our HEROES should be better than that. That they should be able to change the world without giving into our worst impulses or by going with the easiest option at their disposal. They do MORE by deciding to shoulder this burden than someone who decides to simply remove it by taking justice in their own hands and being judge, jury and executioner.

These arguments though are always in bad faith. Or, well, they were originally. Some people genuinely believe these sorts of lazy takes, just like the lazy takes that complain about Disney movies being based on fairy tales essentially and don't take into account things like, I dunno, genre or thematics. Why doesn't Batman kill? Because Batman had everything taken away from him by callous, cruel violence committed upon his parents. If he perpetuates this cycle of violence, if he ever kills, he doesn't fix anything. He is only going to make more of himself and that is the last thing he wants because what he went through made him MISERABLE. So yeah, he could save more lives in the future by killing the Joker but you also throw the whole point of the character in the wood chipper with that argument. Good fucking job.

It's also a pedant's argument and the counters to it are also pedantic. "If Batman kills the Joker because of the fact that he might kill people in the future, instead of believing the system can function at all, does that mean Batman needs to kill every villain?" "Well, what is the line between saying that a person is or isn't capable of incredible cruelty? Should he kill everyone with a gun and make sure no one but him can have weapons so such violence is hard? What does that make him? Why should he stop with only supervillains for that matter? The cops of Gotham are often crooked and trained to kill. Even if they're good today, who says they'll be good tomorrow?"

It's almost like building an argument with a flawed base leads to nowhere good. And again, this is not me pushing for inaction. Batman doesn't hear that the Joker is loose and goes "Alfred, I have a no killing rule so I guess I have to just let him do what he wants." No, he goes out and does quite literally everything in his power besides killing so as to stop the Joker. So as to minimize how many people die. So as to save as many people as possible. That's not pushing pacifism, complacency or any of the dozen other bullshit claims you want to make about what having heroes who don't kill implies. It is just pushing the idea that we should still have, you know, ANY sort of moral code. That there should be limits in place for solving problems because an eye for an eye makes the entire world blind.

Or beheaded if we go by literal history. Hi French Revolution and the extreme turmoil caused by opening the Pandora's Box that was executing nobility at that time. That's not a joke either. The guillotine is so famous for that time period because it wasn't just one round of nobles. Once they opened up the idea that someone in power could just be thrown under the blade by mob rule, a LOOOOOOT of people died as the mob tried to find someone they were willing to let rule them.

Violence begets violence. Some media can explore when that's necessary, a lot of it has examined that really well even, but you know what those stories aren't? They're not stories targeted at kids and young teens who probably shouldn't be told to try and gouge out the eye of their schoolyard bully just because then they won't do it again. I feel like trying to teach kids to do better than that is extremely important in fact, especially as the uncle to a nine year old nephew who still gets physical with others way faster than he should.

I want him to grow up to be kind, not cruel. To not think he can do whatever he wants so long as he can claim to be 'right'. That's never been the mentality of a hero after all, only of monsters. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.19

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - A dance is held, part 2

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Pardon the phrasing, but I am having a ball writing this party. This is what I always yearn for in asoiaf, everyone at a big ass party having fun!! Dancing, drama, fights!! This is what life is for.

Shanda weaved her way through the throngs of people crowded inside the ballroom. She could see Martyn talking to a member of house Mudd briefly before she ran smack into Lady Bellena of house Mooten.

“Running is what got you into this mess, slow down a bit! But then if the punishment is a strapping man like that, I might take off in flights of fancy myself eh?”

Shanda did not particularly care for Bellena because she was always in someone’s business and frequently would beat her out for information. But tonight, she was more than happy to play into the lady’s gossiping games.

“Oh Bell, you know I never could sit still. But you simply must tell me, are the ladies truly envious of a brute like that?”

Bellena laughed loudly, a shrill sound like a tree branch scraping along a window, her head thrown back. Her bosom was in danger of falling out of her dress as her chest heaved.

“Don’t play coy with me, I’m sure you’ve taken him for a spin or two.”

When Bellena winked at her, it took a great deal of self control not to lose her cordial facade. Bell obviously wasn’t going to tell her anything without something in return.

“I’m not as crass as that. Though there is a more, shall we say, dynamic man behind the blood stains.”

Shanda then glanced around suspiciously before she grabbed Bellena’s hand and led her to a less crowded area. It was all an elaborate theater to make it seem as if what she was going to tell her mattered. It didn’t but theatrics go a long way in convincing people that something is important. Shanda learned that early on in the information game.

“You didn’t hear it from me but the heir has actually been investigating my mothers death.”

One look at Bellena and Shanda knew she had her complete attention as she crowded closer to her. It had been Martyn’s idea really. They posit that Benjicot was actually madly in love with her and started this whole ordeal to help Shanda discover her mother’s murderer. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, it was a good rumor and plausible. Besides that it gave the gossip hungry riverlanders a hidden undercurrent to latch onto. Nothing makes a story juicier than hearing insider information straight from the source.

The lady gasped, “No! Oh I knew it. No offense but I’ve known you long enough to realize there had to be something else going on.”

That irritated Shanda but she ignored it. Instead she nodded her head in a sympathetic manner.

“I know but we couldn’t come out and say it could we? Not with the climate around here. It’s just a shame because we don't have any good leads.”

The lady grabbed her arm and pulled her along as she spoke.

“Well now this is all hearsay but I’ll tell you what I heard about that night. Your mother had stopped in on us on her way out, you know…”

And so Shanda spent the night charming the river house’s strategically. She would tell them whatever angle would get them talking. Then Martyn would come behind and talk about the tragedy of their family being pulled apart. Royce’s job was to spread dissent so the houses did not start talking amongst themselves about whatever her and Martyn were saying. It worked well for them to know all they could but it would be disastrous if the houses figured out it was all a ruse. Which is why they’d went with the plausible story that Benjicot and her were star crossed lovers who started a skirmish to find out the truth.

***

Martyn was growing tired of the idiotic voices of men sounding all around him. When he managed to find a sympathetic ear eventually the conversation would turn to whether his sister's virtue was truly intact. After the third fool wormed it into the conversation, Martyn had dismissed himself. He’d talked to several ladies, who were far better listeners, but he hoped his sister was having better luck than he was. He knew Royce was having a splendid time wreaking havoc on the established hierarchy baked into the river lords. He would catch a glimpse of him standing beside some lord before said lord would turn red in the face and start fuming.

Martyn did not stay inside the ballroom long after growing frustrated with the men. He was just outside the door when the first fight broke out and across the room Lord Tully yelled, “What did I bloody well say about fighting?”

The sound brought a slight smile to his face, the more things changed the more they stayed the same.

Out in the halls he decided to go outside, grab some fresh air before heading back in to try again. He knew whatever was going on right now was likely chaos so he didn’t feel bad about leaving his siblings. Those two thrived under stress but Martyn did not. He enjoyed the building suspense, the moments just before hell broke loose. And he liked the opportunity to view the madness from a distance. Getting a different perspective on the issue was always helpful and he would only be in the way in the middle of the whirlwind.

So caught up in his thoughts was Martyn while climbing the stairs that he almost tripped over the lady sitting on them.

“I beg your pardon.” He said having just barely sidestepped the lady.

“You can say that again.” She snorted before placing her head in her hands.

He stepped in his ascent, looking down the stairs at her. He looked back up at the door at the top of the stairs before he sighed. He could not leave a lady alone on the night of a large party, certainly not sad and on the empty stairwell.

“Come on.” He said instead.

“What?” When she finally looked up and twisted around to gaze backwards at him, he saw it was Lady Blackwood.

“Grab some air with me, it's bad luck to linger in a stairwell anyway.”

He had just made that up but that fact was unimportant in his eyes. The lady looked at him skeptically before she shrugged and stood to follow him up.

Outside the air was cool and fresh, a balm to Martyn’s soul. He took a long deep breath and sighed gazing out at the pond of water surrounding the castle. He had almost forgotten about his unlikely companion when she spoke up, startling him.

“Did you grow tired of our loquacious brethren as well?”

The moon was a pale sliver in the sky, nearly gone. Martyn nodded his head.

“There’s only so many ways to subtly accuse someone of being dishonest and somehow I seem to have heard them all and then some.”

“As if any of the people in there would know the truth if it pulled them under the RedFork.”

Martyn smiled and in the distance the sound of moorhens chittering grew in tandem with the chirping of crickets. A cacophony of night sounds swelled around them. It was close and alive, thousands of creatures all sharing the night sky together. The cloudless sky twinkled with more stars than Martyn had seen in a long time.

***

“Don’t let him see!” Shanda hissed at Royce from behind the banner they were hiding behind. Tucked away in a small alcove, he laughed.

“Sorry! I didn’t think I was going to stay out of it for a moment.”

Shanda clapped a hand over her mouth remembering the shocked look on Lord Wendell Wayn’s face when ser Joth Piper threw the first blow by picking the man up by his shirt with both hands and tossing him. It was hysterical and she was nearly in tears remembering it.

“Shhh! If they didn’t see me sneak in, they’ll hear you laughing!” Her brother tried to say through his own laughter.

“I think we have to send Ser Joth a gift now in thanks.” She said, wiping her eyes. “I will never recover from that image.”

“Forgot him, what about the ser from Mallister that dumped the punch bowl on our lady cousin when he thought no one was looking?”

Through stunted giggles she replied, “Marcelle will be fine but I don’t think Beck will be after half of Seaguard came to the Mallisters aid.”

“Fishy bastards, that's almost why I didn’t make it out. For men so remarkably ‘wise’ why is it they have to travel in packs? Surely one Mallisters is as good as ten?”

Shanda peaked out from behind the banner and grabbed her brother's hand barely hearing him as she pulled them back out into the party.

“Scatter. And don’t find Martyn until you’re alone back in your compartments!”

As children ‘scatter’ was the command they used to ensure if they were going to be caught, it wouldn’t be together. It made her oddly nostalgic as she glanced around the room making sure no one had noticed them. Royce, who was familiar with the phrase, hadn't said a word, just scattered. It was nice to have a moment with her brother where they weren’t fighting even if it was because they’d started a different fight. She had to work hard to stop the laughter from bubbling back up again at the thought.

Instead she let her eyes rove along the less enthusiastic guests, looking for Martyn but not spotting him.

“Care to explain what it is you're scheming up?”

Shanda jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of Benjicot’s voice so close to her. When had he gotten there? How much had he seen?

“I don’t know what you mean.” She said casually, still looking for her brother.

Before she could really process what was happening, Benjicot had pulled her back onto the dancefloor and they began to dance.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment.” She huffed annoyed at him.

“I know, that’s the issue. You’ve been stirring the pot all night.” His voice was playfully disapproving. “And I’ve had to field a dozen ladies all night because someone keeps talking about my hidden inner gallant knight. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

Shanda blushed, embarrassed. She’d been so concerned about keeping the houses from talking amongst each other, she failed to consider they might allude to Benjicot that she was fighting on his behalf.

“There are always some necessary evils when working a plan. Just be glad it painted you in a good light.” She sniffed, looking at his chest to avoid his eyes.

The floor was slowly filling back up around them in the aftermath of the fight. And while she turned out of a spin she caught Bellena’s eye, who winked at her.

“Seems you mended the rift with your brother though.” He mused, staring down at her.

“Maybe. If tonight doesn’t pan out, I am sure he’ll circle back to being angry. He likes to cause fights, luckily for me tonight it was with someone else.”

Shanda shook her head a bit bemused at her own words. When had she become this comfortable around the heir of Raventree? It was almost as easy to talk to him as it was her own family. Somewhere along the line they’d become almost friends. Or maybe it was the energy of the dance, the night felt normal. Like life could’ve been if this feud didn’t exist between them, coloring every aspect of their lives. She finally looked up to meet his stare, finding his eyes twinkling mischievously like always and a lopsided grin on his face.

The song playing was fast and upbeat. They moved swiftly and turned in a never ending circle round and round the room as it went on. But she could not put her finger on the name of the song. The fiddle player drew to a crescendo and butterflies erupted all inside of her. They were spinning so quickly she couldn’t help the golden laugh that spilled out of her.

[philosophicalconservatism]

A conflict has erupted between two of the most prominent Conservative political commentators in America over the war between Israel and Hamas. I believe that it is largely unnecessary, but there is something that needs to be unpacked.

Within Conservative circles, we have long recognized the danger of obsessing over racial “dog whistles”. The instinct to see and hear racism in everything is an unhealthy and destabilizing one. It is frequently discussed with reference to Black America, but the same applies in all other cases; including when it comes to Jews and anti-Semitism. Many Jewish people are going through a difficult and uncomfortable time right now due to global sentiments attached to the Israeli Hamas war. They are often being targeted as an entire ethnicity by unsavory types. That can understandably lead to a certain amount of sensitivity. But the instinct to reflexively read anti-Semitism into everything that everyone says no matter the source should not be yielded to.

People who have not themselves displayed any clear track record of anti-Semitism in the past should always be given the benefit of the doubt with respect to what they say. Is your problematic interpretation of that person's ideas the only way that their words can be understood? A politician is accused by a political commentator of yielding to foreign interests due to money. It is hardly a rare charge. Of late the current president of the United States himself has been accused of precisely this in regards to Ukraine. It has always been a common accusation in foreign policy discussions where elected officials are involved. So why should an accusation of that exact nature about American support for Israel made by the hard core isolationist commentator be read as anything other than honest dissent?

Instead, certain people (that is, multiple people) are interpreting these accusations as an appeal to subtle ancient racist stereotypes about Jews and money. It is I believe an unnecessary and unwarranted leap. The presence of racial or ethnic tensions in the air increases personal sensitivities I understand this, but these are times where we need to think carefully and soberly even when it is difficult; and not end up making decisions that we will perhaps regret making in the future when cooler heads prevail.

[novantinuum]

I'd love to hear more about Connie's trauma! The attention you give her character through the parallels between her and Steven always resonated with me.

Ohohoh yasss I really do wanna get back to this one…

This one-shot examines like… the whole thing with Connie being largely absent from Beach City and active Gem nonsense in the beginning of Steven Universe Future, and attempts to give an potential explanation as to why.

Like I guess personally, it just always seemed a bit strange to me that she made such a sharp pivot from actively desiring to be a close participant in Gem matters on Earth, to… seemingly not? She even specifies to Steven in Together Forever that her interest in politics is more for “down to earth” reasons, when he asks if her experiences with intergalactic diplomacy got her on that train. So my brain kinda was just… okay, what changed? And my current thought is that… after the deeply, DEEPLY upsetting experience she went through in White’s head… she realized she needed to take some time to step away for her own wellbeing. And I think it took some time for her to figure out even that much- some time, and some long discussions with her own therapist. Thus, set post movie, I have a scene with her and Pearl cooking away in my brain. It’s only a starting sketch, but it’s eventually gonna tackle like… the residual trauma Connie still has about Pearl restraining her when she was controlled by White.

Snippit:

_

“All right! Wonderful hustle, as always!” Pearl says, her holo-Pearls dissipating into glittering light at her command. “Now—“ she summons a material sword from within her gem-space, posture falling into a ready stance— “your final opponent today will be me. You’ve made great strides with those new defensive maneuvers I’ve taught you, so let’s concentrate on refining our footwork this time, shall we?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Connie exclaims with a snappy salute, and refocuses her attention on the precise rhythm and form of her steps as— with a mighty shout— she glides across the training grounds towards her teacher, sword in hand. 

Stance wide, she reminds herself. Body lowered. Let your toes point the way.

Ever the in-sync mentor, Pearl follows her lead. She’s clearly not playing it easy this afternoon. To be fair she rarely does, but there’s this extra wild glint of tenacity whirling in her eyes that alerts her to the fact that she’ll have to dig for every last strategical advantage to win this one. When she raises her blade to attempt her first strike, the Gem effortlessly dances around it. She counters with a swift overhead assault, which Connie blocks with the flat of her weapon.

If she were practicing against the holo-Pearls, her teacher would’ve interrupted the moment to shout an eager word of praise, but not this time. Not in their recent one-on-ones. 

Not when some stray Era 3 dissenter could drop right onto their doorstep at any second and destroy all the progress the Crystal Gems have worked so hard to achieve.

It’s unfortunate— ever since the injector incident a few weeks ago, the usually bright and upbeat atmosphere at Steven’s house has grown… uncomfortably tense. Most of the bio-poison’s damage has been mitigated by this point, with Beach City residents aiding in physical clean-up and Steven using his powers to heal the ecological impacts, but there’s been a clear shift in the tides for her friends. She can feel it radiating in her very bones. Before Spinel, the Crystal Gems seemed content to hang up their weapons and enjoy the peaceful bounty and simple joys this new era promised. Though she still trained with Pearl during that period, those spars resembled more of a casual workout than any real battle simulation.

But now… even though they try not to show it… Connie can tell her friends have been re-traumatized. Recent events have simply sucked them right back into the barbed thickets of the war they never truly escaped. It’s not a physical battlefield this time, thank goodness… more a battlefield of the mind… but in her opinion its impacts are one and the same, even for Gems.

All the endless perils that shaped the trajectory of their pasts… they’ll always in some small part be there to haunt them.

Connie, of course, is no exception to this rule.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Smith at The Guardian:

It was, in the end, an artful compromise. Joe Biden got to speak uninterrupted and renew his pitch to Black voters. Protesters got to make their point by wearing keffiyehs or raising a fist. Even the skies were merciful, hinting at but never quite unleashing rain. And through it all, Sunday’s 140th commencement at Morehouse College, a historically black men’s college in Atlanta, preserved not only its dignity but a sense of joy. Music played, parents wept and graduates who had weathered a global pandemic could savour their big day without being upstaged. “Thank you God for this ‘woke’ class of 2024 that is in tune with the zeitgeist, the spirit of the times,” the Rev Claybon Lea Jr said during a prayer at the start of the commencement, held on a lawn on the college’s century campus, surrounded by trees and red brick academic buildings. The urgency of the daily news agenda – will the US president be heckled over Gaza? – collided here with storied traditions dating back a century and half. Accompanied by organ music, the 2024 graduating class processed in black mortar boards with gold or black sashes. Most wore Kente stoles with the Morehouse seal.

Morehouse alumni followed, many wearing maroon jackets and straw hats with maroon bands. Some went all the way back to 1954. The alumni seemed more enthusiastic about standing to applaud Biden than the fresh wave of graduates. They took their seats and looked at a stage that had been erected with a black awning with a maroon backdrop that said “Morehouse”’ in giant letters. Two big screens were showing the event, including close-ups of graduates who smiled, waved or made goofy faces. The programme began with the solemn ringing of a bell, an evocation and the Army Color Guard Corps performing the presentation of colours. The Morehouse College Glee Club performed the The Star Spangled Banner and Lift Every Voice and Sing – the swelling chorus resonant, resilient and transcending concerns of the moment. [...] When Biden took the stage, wearing a maroon gown with three black stripes on the arms and maroon tie, there was polite applause, though it could hardly be described as fierce.

There had been much hype around his Morehouse commencement address and whether, in light of unrest on other campuses around the country, it would be disrupted by protests over his handling of the war in Gaza. Some staff and students had called for Biden’s invitation to be rescinded over his support for Israel and their discomfort with an address during election campaign season. But not for the first time, Biden benefited from low expectations and will count the relatively modest dissent as a win. Outside the college, a lone protester brandished a handwritten “Genocide Joe” sign, watched closely by a police officer. Inside, a small number of graduates wore keffiyehs – the black-and-white head scarf which has become an emblem of solidarity with the Palestinian cause – around their shoulders on top of their black graduation robes. In his evocation, Lea cited a “Palestinian Jew named Jesus”, and said all children matter, from Israelis to Palestinians and beyond.

[...]

Biden was staring ahead. Fletcher added: “It is my stance as a Morehouse man, nay as a human being, to call for an immediate and permanent ceasefire in the Gaza Strip.”

Biden joined the applause and shook Fletcher’s hand. When it was Biden’s turn to speak, some students turned their chairs around to turn their backs to him and one graduate appeared to briefly hold aloft a Palestinian flag. A lone graduate at the back, wearing a mortar and blue gown, remained still with his back turned to Biden and his right fist raised throughout the entire address. It was perhaps a more powerful statement than any number of disruptions or sign waving. Biden, who has lavished attention on historically Black colleges and universities, sought to assure his audience: “I support peaceful nonviolent protests. Your voices should be heard, and I promise you I hear them.” He described the war in Gaza as “heartbreaking” and acknowledged: “Innocent Palestinians are caught in the middle of this ... It’s a humanitarian crisis in Gaza. That’s why I’ve called for an immediate ceasefire. I know it angers and frustrates many of you, including my family.”

President Joe Biden gave a commencement speech yesterday at Morehouse University. During that speech, he called for an “immediate ceasefire” in Gaza and said that “your voices should be heard” in response to the campus protests over the Gaza Genocide.

See Also:

HuffPost: Biden Tells Morehouse Graduates He Hears Their Voices Of Protest Over War In Gaza

[bylertruther]

i feel like if they were ever put into a Situation, dustin would be the first to eat human flesh. i will not be hearing any dissenting opinions on this matter bc they would be Wrong btw . thank you and goodbye

[shiyorin]

Привет🤗 Это снова я, я надеюсь, что нет ограничений на запросы от одного человека (если есть, обязательно дайте мне знать). Вы можете Льва Эль'Джонсона и принцессу-читательницу. Крутая аристократичная, хитрая леди, как Роксолана или Кесем Султан. Пусть у них будет аура жесткой, властной пары. Как мы знаем, у Льва проблемы с общением и эмоциями. Пусть она будет его полной поддержкой в этом. Тайвин Ланнистер и его жена Джоанна - "Только леди Джоанна по-настоящему знает Тайвина, и все его улыбки принадлежат ей и только ей. Клянусь, я даже видел, как она заставила его смеяться, и не один раз, а целых три!” О, и пусть она понравится Темным Ангелам😊 Например, все происходит до Ереси Гора. Но после Рангданских ксеноцидов. Тогда стало ясно, что Лайон упустил свой шанс стать Воителем Империума. И это первый раз, когда Лев привез ее на Терру. Но это так, примеры. У вас есть полная свобода действий🌹🌹🌹

Yes, I remember you, you have some interesting requests. Enjoy it!

In the name of faith, in the essence of love.

I swear to my queen, to be faithful till death.

You saw the world in shades of gray, where everything revolved around power and greed. To you, sugar and spice were nothing but luxuries for the weak and privileged, things that you had no time to waste on in this hostile world. Instead of letting the innocent fantasies of your childhood guide you, you focused on the only things that really mattered: power and survival. And in this world, to survive, you had to be ruthless, to fight like a beast, to show no mercy to your enemies, and to take what you wanted without fear or hesitation.

Caliban was a dying world, ravaged by the Great Beasts that roamed the forests unchecked. The people were few in number, and the Order that defended the borders was overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of the beasts. And you know this better than anyone, the weight of your position weighed heavy on your shoulders, and the fear of not being able to save your people from extinction haunted you every waking moment. You were constantly on edge, knowing that any slight mistake could mean the end of your people.

But everything has changed since that man arrived. The giant knight in shining armor... Maybe not so shiny. You hear that his name is Lion el'Jonson. A strange man, always silent, but extremely fierce, and you can clearly see in his eyes that there is always something hidden. That man called for a grand crusade to exterminate the Great Beasts of Caliban so that the people of this world could finally know peace and live free from fear. By his order the old traditions that allowed only the nobility to fight among the knightly orders of Caliban were dropped, swelling The Order's ranks further at the cost of some dissent within the ranks of the more traditional knights. This made many nobles dissatisfied with him.

And somehow, you made a strange decision, despite your initial doubts and fears, you decided to take a chance and put your trust in him. You knew that you were risking everything by choosing to bet on Lion, but somehow you felt a deep intuition that he was the answer to your prayers. You swear your house's support and aid to him, and you would do everything in your power to help him succeed. And, in the end, he did not disappoint you. The grand crusade took nearly a decade of constant warfare against the terrible dangers of the deep forests was a success, Lion received the title of Grand Master of The Order, and ruled over all of Caliban. A happy ending, but there is a variable you never expected.

You have become the Lion El'Jonson's queen consort.

You haven't guessed this, while this isn't bad, it's also not very good in a way. This is… You don't know, it feels so awkward. However you're fine with it, it's not clear why Lion wants you to be his queen consort, but you can infer that this must be a political move. No, you have nothing to complain about, as it also gives you and your house loads of new power. (You just hope he doesn't intend to put that thing inside you. That won't end well.)

For Lion. You make him nervous. The kind of nervousness that actually, genuinely makes him flustered, because he doesn't understand it. How can this woman make him such a mess? He blamed Luther and The Order for coming up with such a stupid idea and also blamed himself for accepting it. He figures it's probably a result of a temporary lapse in his iron will, but he's content with that, all things considered. If even a moment of weakness can make him feel like this, just how strong must he truly be to resist that?

Because, in a world of blood and guts, he's got you. A cold and ruthless woman of nobility that understands the games of power, and yet who chooses to side with him instead of against him. Someone with a sharp, critical eye. Someone who isn't afraid to speak her mind, and won't bend to his will.

He's not the kind of person to fall in love easily, especially in a world as brutal as theirs. The Lion's not the type that goes looking. So, naturally, he's a little hesitant about getting into it, but he's willing to give it the old college try. His nerves are a little shot, because this is a little uncharted territory for him. And yet, somehow, it also feels… right.

He'd never tell you, naturally, and you certainly wouldn't ask, but when you two get married, he'd probably put in at least a little effort into making the wedding itself enjoyable. He might even crack a smile! But only a little one.

You two have a very quiet domestic life. There's no passion or grand displays of affection, but the two of you are content. And, in your own way, you love each other. You two fit together, like puzzle pieces.

There's a certain kind of beauty to the simplicity of it, too. No frills, no showy gestures. Just a slowburn relationship built off of mutual respect and understanding. You two have both got enough going on in your life that you don't need your relationship to be grand or spectacular. Just being in his presence makes you feel safe, for some reason. It's like you're in some secure castle with this immovable wall before you. He's the kind of man to provide that kind of security and safety, without needing to advertise it in any way, shape or form.

But you and the Lion still have a very interesting dynamic. He's the man with an iron will, cold and calculating and you're a master at the games of the court. He keeps a watchful eye over you, but in spite of how you often seem to plot against him, you help to balance him: his iron will tempered by your cunning and ruthlessness.

The two of you are the most powerful players in the court, but while you make your moves silently and from the shadows, the Lion's very presence commands respect by itself. While he doesn't have your tactical prowess, he more than makes up for it by making every move worth the effort. He makes sure every move he makes counts, and he'll work through every move and checkmate you make in kind.

Oh, most definitely. And he'll never ask you to change, since he understands that it'd be pointless. He knows you're cunning and ruthless, but that's who you are. He respects that, even if he doesn't fully understand it. And he'll stick by your side, through thick and thin. He's got an iron will, after all.

The Lion's not a particularly flashy person, so he won't constantly shower you with affection or praise. Just a solid, reliable husband, who's always there for you whenever you need him. But it's not nothing, there are points where you get genuine affection from the man, like gifts and the occasional kind comment (or even the rare compliment or apology).

And he'll never force you to give him affection in return. A hand touch or two every now and again, maybe, but he's satisfied enough just being in the same room as you. His love is subtle, to say the least, but it's always with good intention.

And things didn't change much even when the Emperor appeared, of course he was surprised to see that his son had a wife. And not only a wife, but a wife who seemed to have actually tamed him. The Emperor was a little flabbergasted, though his reaction was less one of shock and more one of amusement. He wasn't one to meddle (or even care) about the relationships of his sons, but he was always a little entertained to see them form the bonds he was incapable of making.

The Emperor's reaction to the Lion getting married was essentially one of polite curiosity. A slightly inquisitive brow-lift, and a nod of acceptance. And the saying "Nice catch" even though you don't know who he said it to.

As for the Dark Angels, they were quite confused but they were also happy for the Lion (Although only a few people know you). They respect you for not only your tactical prowess but also because you can handle their gene-father.

The Lion always keeps his private life private, the only people who knew about his marriage were those who needed to know, even his brothers don't know this (except Alpharius… You know.) His marriage does not waver, even as the Great Crusade ramps up in earnest, with the Lion only returning periodically to you from his years-long crusades.

You were there when Horus was announced Warmaster, and you could just see the Lion's frustration. He wasn't having any of it. You may not know the exact specifics, but you can certainly say that the Emperor made the best choice, because Horus is a more charismatic and charming man. He's likable, he's popular (but in your opinion, his ego is way too big.) But that doesn't mean the Lion's worse. He's had his own triumphs, victories he can be proud of. He may be a little stubborn, a little unfeeling, but he's far from a bad leader. A different leader, certainly. But not worse, by any stretch. Just more reserved.

You know about his frustration about it (as well as other frustrations he's encountered in his life). And you take it in stride, because this is the way he is, and you can't force that. And that's okay. Besides, it's not too bad that Horus becomes Warmaster, right? Right?

[thekimspoblog]

Women's rights are more important than democracy.

If I am locked in a room with 99 guys. And we take a vote on whether it would be ok to rape me. It wouldn't matter if there was a 99% majority consensus. All that would mean is that I would need to kill 99 men so that the consensus matches what's in my best interest.

Thankfully, it hasn't come to that: abortion rights are what the majority of Americans want, and supporting a democracy furthers the pro-choice agenda. But just keep this thought experiment in mind, because it's not just about abortion.

Democracy is not some sacred cow, not something you can simply stamp as "the best system of governance" and end the lesson there. Democracy is - at the end of the day - a dilution mechanism. A system of checks and balances is a somewhat effective means to slow a tyrant's ability to do whatever tyrannical things they wished to do. But there is a flipside to that; maybe if an intelligent and idealistic older woman was plucked from the very bottom of the card deck and given absolute power to rule as she saw fit, she would quickly resolve a lot of the crises currently threatening our world. Because she would have empathy and first-hand experience that a lot of the incumbent powers don't. After all, it is not actually absolute power which corrupts, but the pursuit of power. Power corrupts, because no matter the good intentions a politician may have when entering a democratic system, the plutocrats who have already staked their claim are extremely savvy about playing the shell-game with her causes; they know they can force the idealist to compromise her values on one progressive issue, in order to get their permission to advance another aspect of the progressive agenda. So by the time the politician reaches any noteworthy rank in office, she has been so turned around that she has forgotten her original purpose.

What's more, no matter how liberal a democracy, there's one thing you must remember: dead men cast no votes! A system which hears everyone's voice is still only able to respond to those still alive enough to voice their concerns. The plutocrats understand this and have integrated it into the shell game. So our democracy has never been an alternative to violence, because the system we have still rewards direct and indirect violence as a tactic to silence dissent and force a specific desired outcome. On some level, we all know this: it's common sense, and yet still we preach that democracy is some sort of alternative to anarchy and violence. It's not! The parameters of what sorts of questions are up for debate, and who gets to debate them, are still drawn in blood.

And so, my platform is simple: abortion is not up for vote. Abortion is not up for debate. Pro-choice is the only acceptable position for the world to hold, and anything that threatens that conclusion must be crushed with an iron fist. Free speech be damned, misogyny must be intimidated into submission, until our sons never even think to question whether a life-saving medical procedure should be banned. If promoting majority-rule is the fastest way to ensure this future, I will promote democracy. If installing a feminist authoritarian from a minority group in a life-long position of unilateral power starts to look like a faster or more certain way of creating that future, I will do that instead.

Women have the right to defend themselves against exploitation; nothing we do, no matter how violent or short-sighted, will leave us as the villains of history when we have been backed into a corner like this.

[ljh-writing-blog]

New Fic - WW Protege - Need Feedback - YJ Universe or Batboys Universe

    Elina had heard the story of her birth, so to speak, many a time. She had many nicknames among the Amazonian women who helped care for her, the most prominent being "The Miracle Child." When she was a tot it was a story that amazed her, as a young adult she only had questions.

    Elina had been sculpted from clay much like her mother, Princess Diana of Themiscrya. She had pleaded to the gods for a child. Not only a warrior to pass her wisdom too but a child to nurture into a beautiful young woman with a pure heart. Someone to take her place in man's world when she is gone. For days she sat by the shore, sculpting the image of the daughter she wanted more than anything in dark clay resembling her sister Nubia's skin. Unbeknownst to Diana, the gods deliberated amongst the clouds whilst she lay with the small child made from clay.

*Olympus 15 Years Ago*

    The pantheon was full with gods and goddesses alike discussing the Amazon’s request. Many were on the fence, the Amazonians had already been gifted Diana. Some thought it pompous of them to ask for another blessing from the gods. Some thought it was a great idea, their explanation- "Diana's presence has increased the number of worshippers we have, another blessing could bring the whole world to believe in the ways of the Greeks."  The decision would ultimately be up to Hades and 'The Big Twelve': Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aries, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hermes, and Hestia. Hades had even made a trip to Olympus for the discussion. Most of them were on the same page, the gods leaning in favor of Diana's request. Man's world had new dangers every day, some that had been a threat for the gods, they need more individuals capable of keeping the threats at bay. "Silence!" Zeus bellowed loud enough for all Olympians to hear, the noise ceased at his demands.  "We have heard your logic and reasoning, this matter will be put to a vote of the gods. I, Zeus, believe we should bless the Amazons once more." Responding as they saw fit responses spilled from their lips. With only two dissenting, Hera and Aries, the decision had been made. Diana's dream would come to fruition.

    The child would receive the same blessings bestowed upon Diana: from Athena she was given wisdom, from Artemis she received eyes of the hunter and unity with all beasts, from Aphrodite she received immense beauty, from Hermes she was granted speed and flight, from Hestia she gained sisterhood with fire and the ability to discern the truth, and from Demeter immense strength. A few of the gods wanted to give the child their own blessing, after seeing what a success Diana is they wanted to give her all the tools to succeed as well. Aphrodite and Poseidon give her the ability to breathe and perform underwater as she normally would. Hermes gave her the ability to learn any language with just a kiss, partnering with Athena to give her great knowledge. Hephaestus gifted her with enchanted armor and a weapon to match, the armor would be too big for her for a while but the weapon would be a great tool to train her with. Not looking much like a weapon in its base form the magic happened when it was touched, all one needed to do was think of the weapon they needed at the time. The enchanted metal would form itself into said weapon, with the ability to change at a moment's notice with the user's thoughts. The last two blessings were a bit of a shock for the others, not expecting either god to be so generous. Hades presented the gift of a helmet of invisibility, conveniently changing the color of the metal at the last minute to match the enchanted armor from before. Last but not least was Zeus, from behind his back he took a lightning bolt. Many looked on in awe as he quietly enchanted the bolt to replenish itself when needed, placing it upon the stone table with the rest of the blessings he turned towards the others. "Should we contact the Amazons?"

*End of Olympus Scene*

Diana divulged to Elina that as she waited by the shore with her sculpted form Zeus came to her in a vision, telling her that she would be blessed with her child. Conditionally with the blessing of her child she is to teach her the ways of Diana's heart, to give her the same ideals that make her Wonder Woman. Diana would raise her to be a warrior the gods would be proud of, with their blessings and gifts she would be a hero. She had to be.

A/N: Trying to decide if I should write this in the Young Justice universe or a Batboys universe so help me decide? Would you read? Who would you ship with? Sorry not sorry about the tense changes. Any feedback is appreciated.