#queens and conspiracies challenge

[frappegoddess]

Batfamily as Tiktokers but it gets progressively worse with each time they post:

Bruce, coerced by his PR intern and corporate underlings: Doing trendy tiktok dances at galas with his kids to appeal to the youth, except he's a beat off and 'Pop like this' involves too much hip movement apparently. + An occasional drunk post about having once given Oliver Queen head.

Dick: Posting work out routines and complex aerobic pieces except theyre really just thirst traps.

Jason: Roast Gotham's criminals with me (Politicians with receding hairlines are featured too...)

Tim: Creating elaborate conspiracy theories upon the secret hideouts of Gotham's supervillains, all turn out to be true. + Bruce Wayne Batman theories

Steph: Accidentally starting trends and dance challenges while poorly attempting to sneak into Wayne Manor undetected.

Cass: Break my new ballet shoes with me + Only communicating through intricate expressive dance routines to confuse my millennial dad.

Damian: Why my dog is better than you + how to paint The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli, because the hooligans on the internet lack artistic competence.

Duke: A tiktok as to why my brother duck-taped me to a chair because he didn't want me to see what flavour kool aid he was making.

Babs: Crazy shit that only happens in Gotham - a 35 minute compilation.

Alfred: Day in the life of a butler for a billionaire I've raised since he was 8 + How to make sure your bruschetta doesn't go stale.

[bekaterrier]

A few other wonderful shows I wanted to shoutout for BIPOCtober, with BIPOC creators and/or leads:

A Ninth World Journal: Based on Numenera, a tabletop roleplaying game, and written, produced and performed by David S. Dear (plus guests). Set one billion years in the future… it’s the story of Januae, a man who randomly teleports to strange and dangerous places with no way of controlling it.

@meteorcitypod: In 2008, a freak meteor shower hit Detroit, killing hundreds and displacing thousands. Hundreds of people were quarantined for radiation exposure. 10 years later, Bianca Diaz, a vlogger returns to tell the stories of the dead, the missing, and the remaining citizens of Detroit, now called Meteor City. Shortly after returning, Bianca realizes that Meteor City, New Detroit, and the people left behind are not what they appear to be...

@witcheverpath: An interactive horror anthology podcast. Their current story is Message in a Bottle. A siren misses what was taken from her, but as she swims out to sea, she discovers a bottle that may change the course of her life.

@radio-outcast: A fantasy-western audio drama. When Helix, the Messenger God of Sound, gets yanked from the 1980s and sent to the 1880s by her abusive ex-lover, the God of Time, she must forge unlikely alliances with two humans: Jesse, a cowboy out for revenge, and Charles, a conman running from his past. The three of them embark on a journey across the American West, each with their own goals and secrets waiting to be revealed

@vegapodcast: A Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast!: In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch...until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet

@noadventurespod: A fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting the Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Harlem Queen: A Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, gangster "Numbers Queen" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance (the story takes place around 1926-32). She fought the "big boys" (Lucky Luciano and Dutch Schultz) and won.

@herebedragonspod: When the body of a previously unknown aquatic creature washes up on shore, four women are called together for the expedition of a lifetime. Tasked by the U.S. Government to find and record evidence of this new breed of sea monster, Harper Bennett, Pippa Cambell, Lt. Commander Adrienne Scarlett and Dr. Natalya Atlas set off into the untamed wilds of The Bermuda Triangle.

@unwellpodcast: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery. Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents.

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back: A not-so-romantic comedy about two star wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate.

[acurtist]

Irritating Character Tropes:

1. Meddler: Had to share explosive commentary about everything and everyone.

2. Gossip-monger: Make up stories and spread them far and wide like a virus.

3. Riddler: Speaks in puzzles and keeps people on toes the hidden meanings in their tales.

4. Jester: Everything and everyone is a joke. Must crack a few ones to earn them wages.

5. Rat hole: Has to sneak in in nook and crannies like a rat to uncover secrets.

6. Interrogator: Wouldn't stop asking same questions with different angles.

7. Petty Thief: Kleptomaniac and pickpocket extraordinaire.

8. Quarreler: Need to pick a fight about everything and anything.

9. Idiot: Speaks out of turn, doesn't know what they are talking about.

10. Lame Poet: Make everyone suffer with their awful compositions.

11. Liar: Conjures up lies out of thin air without skipping a heartbeat.

12. Plotter: Manipulative, calculative, untrustworthy, and narcissistic.

13. Personality Divergent: Sucks living daylights and happiness from people around them.

14. Chaotic: Unorganized messy scatterbrain.

15. Peeping Tom: Needs jail time.

16. Impersonator: Either mentally disturbed or suffering from insecurities.

17. Man child: Regardless of gender acts like a child that needs supervision and extra attention.

18. Foul-mouthed: Starts and ends every sentence with one cursive word or the other.

19. Daydreamer: Always have head stuck in cloud and couldn't focus for more than 5 minutes.

20. Overzealous: Strict adherence to authority figures. Will not hesitate to commit crimes.

21. Righteous Prick: Nothing they do can be wrong or at fault.

22. Existentialist: Make others depressed with their annoying cynicism.

23. Overly-enthusiastic Schmuck: Out of touch with real world and impervious to any challenges. Thinks goodwill is enough resource and help.

24. Undoctor: Has a home remedy for every disease and ailment. Usually a chain-smoker with a protruding belly.

25. Know-it-all: Grammar Nazi, encyclopedia, general knowledge enthusiastic. Insufferable.

26. Geek: Lack of boundaries and respect for privacy.

27. Dare Devil: Needs to get hurt before setting anyone else on fire.

28. Psychoanalyst: Wouldn't shut up about what you actually think, need, and want.

29. Fortune-teller: Spew nonsense out their ass and present it as divine revelation.

30. Manufacturer: Breaks more things than repairs.

31. Conspiracy Theorist: Busy in organizing telepathic peace talks with president and alien civilization.

32. Over-committed Logician: Acts like a machine until an emotional explosions.

33. Otaku/Fic Connoisseur: Spoilers spoliers everywhere.

34. Drama Queen: Nonstop emotional blackmailer.

35. Fatphobic: Anorexic, suffering from health and psychological issues.

36. Glutton: Overweight, hates skinny people. Could use some exercise.

I mean the list doesn't ends. I can honestly think of just as many more of these.

Gotta add them all!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Century Egg Macaque is very confused and bitey

referencing this Century Egg au post (Macaque bit a bunch of gods to protect Wukong when the king's health crashed after the Egg's delivery).

Macaque was at Wukong's bedside, newborn Xiaotian wrapped snuggly in his scarf asleep, when the doors to the former Attendant's bedroom opened.

The black-furred monkey's fur is immediately standing on end like a frightened cat - he rarely would miss the sounds of approaching footsteps, but his mind must be far too occupied to notice.

The appearance of the Queen Mother herself does little to calm Macaque's nerves, especially upon seeing the large monkey-claw-shaped gashes on her forearms.

At the sight of his guilt and possibly fear, the Queen lets out a sighing laugh.

Queen Mother: "Do not worry Liu'er Mihou. I know what it is like to worry so much for someone that you lash out at all that separates you. You but up a fair fight, even with so much magic sedative in your bloodstream. " Macaque, quietly: "M'sorry about the arm ... it just when... when Wukong's eyes closed and he lost his strength I felt...?" Queen Mother, knowing: "Hopeless." Macaque: "Yeah." Queen Mother: (*kneels to get a better look at the baby*) Queen Mother: "They're truly beautiful. To think such a tiny thing could bring the entire Court of Heaven to a standstill amazes me." Macaque: "We're calling them Xiaotian. Wukong picked it." Queen Mother, her voice fond: "It's a fine name. One that all of big Heaven and the Realms beyond will know soon enough." Macaque, nervous: "What do you mean?" Queen Mother: "You trial was successful in a way. King Yama has agreed to acquit your unlawful resurrection in light of the circumstances. Preparations are being made to charge the White Bone Spirit with conspiracy to commit treason." Macaque: "But there's a catch isn't there?" Queen Mother, nods: "You will be required to face her in a secodary trial, and protect yourself against her own defence." Macaque, shuddering: "Ugh..." Xiaotian: (*grumpy squeak! at the sudden movement*) Macaque, quickly checking the baby: "Sorry bud." (*kisses face*) Xiaotian: (*satisfied grumble*) Macaque, eye locked on the baby's face: "If... if it means they and Wukong stay safe from her, I'll do it." Queen Mother: "I knew you would. I must warn you though... Erlang awaits a rematch." Macaque, surprised: "You're joking me..." Queen Mother, amused smile: "It is true! In your fury to protect your mate, you gave him quite the injury. I've never seen him with such bruises!" Macaque: (*smiling proudly to himself*)

Erlang has like a huge bruise covering his face, and his eye is swollen shut for weeks after the Egg's arrival. Word quickly spreads (via Nezha being annoyed that Macaque "practically ignored him" during the frenzy) about the general's injury, and celestials are shocked to learn that it was cause by no other than the Great Sage's mate! And by accident no less! Erlang is taciturn about the matter, though that could be because his lip has swollen over too.

Macaque gets challenged to a lot of duels over the coming weeks - most he ignores or shadow-portal's away. This is where he learns that his silly Brotherhood-era nickname is apparently his legal title in Heaven. He cringes each time an official unironically refers to him as "Great Sage Informing Wind", Tieshan giving him a cheeky sibling-esque smile all the while.

The day that Wukong finally awakes from his medical coma; Macaque had been asleep at his side, clealry run down by the (still awake) Xiaotian excitedly running his tiny hands through either parent's fur.

Wukong makes a joyous gasp at the sight of his baby - healthy and here. It takes a moment for Macaque to stir awake before he realises that his King and Mate (!!!) has finally awoken! Kisses and hugs abound before Macaque thinks to alert anyone else of Wukong's return to the conscious world.

Bonus: Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, and the Ao-Longs have been running around the Celestial Realm as often as possible during this time (tho Tang worried at first if the time dilation myth was true) and the whole realm is super confused but just accepting that the Monkey King's pilgrim brothers are just Here now.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 10.3k.

Reading Time: 41 min.

Warnings: None, omfg??? Me??

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadyladyx @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As you stepped into the ancient Gothic library, the heavy wooden door creaked behind you, sealing you within the hallowed halls of knowledge that had stood for centuries. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and the faint mustiness of time, a fragrance that wrapped around you like a shroud as you navigated the labyrinth of towering shelves.

Dim, flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows on the walls, revealing the solemn architecture of the almost 2,000-year-old building. The ceiling arched high above, adorned with intricate, time-worn frescoes that seem to watch over the countless tomes below. The air was hushed, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages or the distant echo of footsteps.

The shelves, made of dark, polished wood, stretched endlessly in all directions, each one bearing the weight of centuries-old texts and forbidden knowledge. Some books seemed to sag under the burden of their age, while others stood tall and proud, their leather-bound spines cracked and weathered. Dust particles floated in the air like eerie specters, catching the magical glow of the candlelight, like tiny pixies living in a forest of learning, where they kept silent track of the branches most chosen, and the branches that hadn’t seen sunlight in decades.

You ran your fingers along the spines of the books, feeling the rough texture of ancient leather and the smoothness of well-worn pages. The occasional draft sent a shiver down your spine as you uncovered volumes that seemed to emanate a mysterious energy, their covers adorned with symbols that sent an excited chill through the very core of your being.

The library became your refuge in the middle of the never-ending chaos of Ministry life; a place where the noise of the world outside was subdued by the unhallowed whispers of long-forgotten histories and forbidden knowledge. The weight of the powers that be and the pressures of the everyday world evaporated as soon as you crossed the threshold, to be replaced by the warm embrace of worn books and the ageless knowledge that had endured countless tragedies and disasters.

Compared to the hectic world outside its doors, the library’s air felt like a bubble of peace and quiet. There was something almost sacred about the ambiance induced by the flickering candles and the ethereal glow of the old books. You knew you were leaving the busy Ministry hallways behind when you heard the heavy wooden door behind you creak. This was your second home’s unholy atmosphere, and in it you were its queen.

Surrounded by soaring shelves that appeared to extend forever, you effortlessly made your way through the intricate web of knowledge. The books whispered secrets only those tuned into their complex language could understand, bearing witness to the growth and fall of civilizations. As you wandered among the literary treasures, the smooth oak flooring reverberated with the gentle rhythm of your footfall.

The volumes were bound in leather and some had symbols on them that suggested powers beyond this world. They were waiting for you to touch them, begging for attention that they hadn’t received in Lucifer knew how long. Turning a page felt like travelling through time, and as your fingers danced over the antiquated bindings, you were deeply connected to humankind’s collective wisdom.

The library was not merely a repository of books; it was a living entity, a companion in solitude, a guide through the vast tapestry of human history and the mysteries that transcended it. The ambient sounds of turning pages and the occasional distant murmur of scholarly discourse became a symphony that orchestrated your moments of introspection and revelation.

In the dead centre of the library, atop a reversed pentagram, stood a statue of a snake made from white marble, sat upon and winding around a black, marble pedestal. The snake’s jaw was unhinged enough to comfortably hold an apple between its sharp fangs, the apple itself had been painted the most delectable shade of richly dark red, and polished as though it were a real apple, so shiny you could see yourself in it. It represented the most famous of His triumphs: presenting “God’s children” with the knowledge they’d need to withstand his criminal behaviour. Standing in front of the snake, you very much felt how Eve would have: curious, enraptured and tempted.

The pentagram the snake lived upon was also a marvel to behold. The pentagram itself was carved into the pentagonal shaped stage, each of the corners of the star lining up perfectly with the points of the pentagon. Each straight side leveled out the different heights of the flooring using two, wooden staircases separated by a thick ramp - the ramps themselves covered in artistic portraits of all animals associated with Him, showing goats, cats, bats, owls and crows - all animals that have been demonized by the bible. All incredibly intelligent animals, no wonder the Catholics feared them. In a circle surrounding the pentagram were intricately carved atropa belladonna flowers and vines, floral representation of His existence. The petals of the belladonna were subtly stained a purple hue to replicate their natural colours.

The front desk sat in front of this statue, a ways back from the large, Gothic doors but in their line of view. You hated when you had front desk duty, because you could always feel the snake’s eyes burning through your soul, tempting you to dive into the shelves and devour more knowledge, as if Lucifer himself were watching you and guiding you toward salvation.

The library was your first job since joining the Ministry all those years ago, and you had fought tooth and nail to stay there for as long as possible. Every other job within those unhallowed halls required human interaction, but in the library and the Ministry’s archives, any interaction you had with fellow humans was always about books and knowledge. You didn’t have to worry about petty small-talk with strangers, you could just share what you knew or point others in the right direction and you’d fulfilled your social quota for the day. The Siblings you worked with, Sister Aisha Banerjee and Sibling Riley Martinez would often berate you for your quietness, but they were more than happy to take a more social role as you went about your business organising the shelves and staying out of the clergy’s way.

The front desk was an enjoyable distraction from the maze-like bookcases, and with you, Sister Aisha, and Sibling Riley gathered around it, there was an undeniable feeling of community that sprang from shared experiences among the old books. You heard Sister Aisha’s laugh as she saw you hobbling from the shelves excitedly with another new book she hadn’t seen.

Sister Aisha, her warm smile illuminating the dimly lit room, looked at you with a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Alright, our silent guardian, spill the tea. What fascinating secrets have you unearthed today in the depths of the archives?”

You chuckled, appreciating the good-natured banter and slamming the heavy book on the front desk. You cringed a little at the sound. “Oh, just ancient prophecies and forgotten alchemical recipes. You know, the usual light reading.

Sibling Riley, sipping their tea with a mischievous grin, chimed in, “I’m convinced this one here has memorized the entire contents of the library. Probably knows the Dewey Decimal System in her sleep.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Maybe I should add that to my resume. ‘Expert in organizing, cataloging, can speak multiple dead languages and decipher Satanic codes, and can recite the Dewey Decimal System in a hypnotic whisper.’”

“That’s hot.” Sister Aisha said. “What’s that, though?”

“Ah! Thisparticular book just so happens to be the lost diaries of Papa Indesiderabilis.”

Sibling Riley, “The infamously ugly one? He kept diaries?”

Sister Aisha, “What I’m more concerned with is why he called himself Indesiderabilies?”

You grinned at Sister Aisha’s question, she’d asked the right question and she only had herself to blame. “Well, turns out Papa Indesiderabilis wasn’t just concerned with dark arts like we thought; he was also quite the poet. Seems he had a penchant for self-deprecation.”

“A penchant for personal poetry.”

“Try saying that five times fast.” Sibling Riley challenged.

Sister Aisha nodded and wet her lips, cracking her knuckles and beginning the challenge. She failed.

Sibling Riley chuckled, setting down their tea. “So, what secrets does the infamous ugly poet have to share with us mortals?”

Flipping through the aged pages, you scanned the text. “Poetry mostly, surprisingly eloquent for someone with such a gloomy alias. But here’s the kicker - he wrote about the beauty he found in the ‘undesirable.’ Called it a reflection of the soul that society deems unworthy. It’s oddly poignant.”

Sister Aisha raised an eyebrow, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Papa Indesiderabilis, the poet with a flair for the dramatic. Who would’ve thought?”

Sibling Riley leaned in, their eyes glinting with curiosity. “And the Satanic codes? Anything juicy?”

You winked, running your fingers over the text. “Oh, the codes are there, but decoding them might require a bit more than just wit. Maybe a dash of the supernatural.”

A mischievous gleam sparked in Sister Aisha’s eyes. “Well, if anyone can summon the supernatural, it’s our quiet library guardian here. Maybe you can ask the spirits for a decoding key.”

You chuckled, “I’ll add ‘Ghost Whisperer’ to my ever-expansive resume.”

Sibling Riley leaned back, swirling the remnants of their tea. “You know, this Papa Indesiderabilis might have been onto something with that whole ‘undesirable’ perspective. It’s like finding beauty in the shadows, isn’t it?”

Sister Aisha nodded in agreement, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the ancient desk. “Some people’s beauty should remain in the shadows, I fear.”

Sibling Riley rolled their eyes. “She’s back on her Cardinal Copia bullshit again.”

“Listen, it’s not my fault the leader of the Satanic Church isn’t as hot as they used to be.”

You picked up the book with both of your hands, as they continued to argue. “I’m leaving before Sister Imperator comes and tears you a new one.”

“Look, we had Papa Terzo before and he was the epitome of dreamy. Now we have this random ass Cardinal who looks like the arse-end of a baboon!”

Sibling Riley picked up the defense, “How are you still out here riding the dick of a dead guy?”

“He shouldn’t have died, though.”

The argument about the aesthetic preferences of the Satanic Church’s leaders continued as you swiftly made your exit. The atmosphere at the front desk shifted from decoding ancient texts to decoding the mysteries of Sister Aisha’s particular brand of humour, or rather, her taste in men.

The sound of Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley teasing each other echoed in the air as you navigated your way back through the maze of shelves. As you walked, the atmosphere seemed to carry the warmth of camaraderie, an intangible presence that wrapped around you like the scent of ancient parchment. The occasional teasing and lively debates reached your ears, creating a symphony that harmonized with the hushed whispers of the books.

You couldn’t help but smile as their voices faded into the distance, the library itself seeming to absorb the energy of the shared moments at the front desk. The sacred space, filled with the echoes of laughter and banter, became a living testament to the unique camaraderie that flourished among those who sought solace in the company of ancient tomes.

With each step, you felt the library envelope you, not just as a guardian of its secrets but as a participant in the ongoing narrative of those who found both refuge and joy within its hallowed walls. The laughter and teasing were threads woven into the rich tapestry of the library’s history, making it more than a repository of knowledge—it was a living, breathing entity that thrived on the human connection forged within its silent halls.

Monday’s Black Mass was one of your favourite events in the whole weekly calendar. Your Ministry life was routine and conventional, but the excitement of this ceremony provided a little something extra to the ancient tomes and sacred halls.

A faint energy began to fill the air as the day went on, indicating that the Black Mass was coming. When 6 p.m. hit, you became acutely aware of the shadows created by the dimly lit hallways and flickering flames had an enigmatic charm that matched the covert activities as you made your way to the Basilica di Lilith.

The Ministry had multiple places of worship, but only one that was open for anyone at all times: Basilica di Lilith, named after Adam’s first wife before Eve was even thought about. A beautiful woman who was cast out of the Garden of Eden for asking for equality and dared to disobey Her husband. ‘Our mother who never was’ cursed to live the remainder of Her life as a demon and feared by all of humanity forevermore, unwelcome and unwanted by all except the Satanic Church. To honour Her and give Her the respect she truly deserved, the main space of worship was dedicated solely to Her, and was largely decorated and maintained by Her daughters.

Lilith’s basilica was the largest and one of the most beautiful buildings the Siblings had ever built. Pristine, white stone stood tall and proud over the congregation, carved into Gothic archways and propped up by filigreed Italian columns on either side of the dark wooden pews that outlined the centre aisle. The ceiling was cream coloured with pointed arches that connected to the three storey tall columns in both the nave and choir loft.

There were four rows of pews that extended far back - almost the entire length of the church. Gothic arched windows had been created specifically for the church, the three main ones that decorated the sanctuary depicted Lilith’s time in Eden, Her fall and Her demonification.

Right in the centre of the sanctuary was a statue of a disrobed Lilith with Her arms outstretched, fair hair blowing in the wind and cloaked by Baphomet, standing behind Her with one hand over Her stomach and one on Her shoulder. This was created to represent Her significance in the Church, and reminded them that though they worshipped Lucifer, Lilith was just as important as Him. The statue was placed in a small, dark wooden alcove built in a Gothic exterior style, including steep arches, a small gabled roof and turrets. In turn, the statue was a bright, white marble to really pop out against the alcove. It stood approximately two meters tall and weighed more than humanly comprehensible.

You took your seat at the aisle with both Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley to your right. This was your seat because it had a perfect view of the pulpit. A perfect view of him.

Shrouded in secrecy, the Black Mass promised something out of the usual. A spirit of rebellion against conventional standards permeated the environment as the Ministry members discreetly glanced at one another and whispered quietly to one another.

The complex and dramatic ceremony, along with the ritual’s grandeur, left an impression on the senses that went beyond the typical respect one has for knowledge. The Black Mass’s forbidden charm was in its departure from tradition and the unholy rituals that characterised the remainder of the week, and even the holy rituals of the Church’s righteous counterpart.

The entrance of the Clergy Officials, adorned in their striking black and red regalia, created a palpable sense of awe among the congregation, signaling the imminent commencement of the Mass. With a collective sense of respect, everyone rose to their feet, including you and the rest of the congregation, acknowledging the solemnity of the moment.

You observed with a profound admiration as these figures, each a pillar of the dark hierarchy, took their seats, their presence casting a formal and commanding aura over the gathered worshippers. Their eyes, veiled by the mysterious depths of their Cardinal makeup, seemed to hold a captivating gaze, as if they could perceive the profound depths and innermost sanctuaries of those in attendance. The air was filled with a sense of reverence and curiosity, as the congregation awaited the unfolding of the sacred rituals led by these enigmatic figures.

Following closely behind the officials, with an air of regal authority, came the figures you found most intriguing: the Sister Imperator, and the charismatic Papa Nihil. Their commanding presence exuded an aura of formidable power, their very essence a testament to the captivating legacy that had entrenched itself within the heart of the Church.

The subtle smile etched across Sister Imperator’s face as her gaze met yours sent a shiver down your spine, her confident expression contributing to the enigmatic atmosphere. She radiated assurance and authority, a leader who had navigated the complexities of the Church with unwavering confidence. You felt a warmth of excitement, a potent mixture of anticipation and curiosity as you observed the central figures of the congregation.

And then, there he was, entering with a confident stride. The cardinal’s robes were a symphony of rich, deep crimson, a color that seemed to capture the essence of devotion and authority. Crafted from the finest silk, the fabric cascaded in graceful folds, accentuating the dignified stature of the wearer. Each stitch, meticulously placed, whispered of skilled hands that had labored to create a garment befitting its esteemed purpose.

The robe’s skirt, adorned with intricate gold and black embroidery, depicted sacred symbols and religious motifs that told tales of faith and tradition - the Grucifix mostly. The golden threads shimmered in the ambient light, casting a subtle glow that highlighted the reverence with which the garment had been crafted.

A matching red sash, elegantly tied across the cardinal’s chubby waist, bore the weight of centuries-old wisdom, but also hid the many buttons that ran the length of the garment. Its edges, crisply pressed and perfectly straight to show his precision and need to look as clean as possible.

The Cardinal’s sleeves, were straight, yet too long for him, as was the rest of his attire. As tidy as these lines were, as much care went into keeping it pristine, it was far too big for him like it had been handed to him from someone else that used to wear it perfectly. The cuffs, ended up creating “sweater paws”, and ending midway down his palms, which, themselves, were hidden beneath leather, black gloves.

Underneath the bellowing short cape, emblazoned on the cardinal’s chest in shiny, gold chains, the scarlet robes bore the distinctive pectoral Grucifix, a symbol of faith and authority. The Grucifix, adorned with jewels that glittered like stars in the night sky, reflected the divine significance of the cardinal’s role within the Church.

A majestic cape, cropped to above his elbows, flowing like a river of cardinal red, cascaded down the cardinal’s mid-back. Its edges framed the figure with an aura of spiritual majesty. As the cardinal moved, the cape danced in silent rhythm, a visual hymn to the sacred responsibilities carried by those who wore such garments.

Atop his head sat a typical cardinal’s hat, unfolded at the front into a bat wing, a traditional element of the Satanic Clergy.

The cardinal turned and his gaze stopped you dead in your tracks. An all-too familiar face looked at you with mismatched eyes hidden beneath the traditional, dark black, circular paints surrounding them. His face was long and rectangular, weathered with age and displaying all the signs of a life long lived. Long? Perhaps not. He was only in his early-fifties after all. But his face had wrinkled gently around his forehead and eyebrows as if to announce the world that he was wise beyond his years. His nose was large and pointed at the tip, creating a striking profile that you could have spent the rest of your life looking at if you were allowed to. A pencil moustache adorned his upper lip, a mousey-brown strip of hair that was offputting to most, but to you it added maturity to his character. His top lip was painted black, again, another traditional piece. His strong jaw met at his chin, creating a “butt chin”, another quirk that made the Cardinal, well, him.

Cardinal Copia entered the hall, his visage a captivating blend of charisma and authority in your eyes, as though he effortlessly accepted his position. As he ascended the dais to lead the congregation in the unholy proceedings, you felt a surge of fascination, a potent mixture of respect and curiosity directed at the figure who now wielded power in the name of the malevolent forces that governed the realm of darkness, and his lineage who had taken a comfortable seat on the wooden pews of the front row.

Cardinal Copia had always seemed somewhat enigmatic to you, a character whose uniqueness and charisma had once been palpable, but it appeared that he had undergone a transformation of sorts, now imbued with a newfound confidence that emanated from his position as the leader of the dark congregation. He was introverted and possessed a unique charm, which made him a target for some members of the Ministry. Rumors about him spread like wildfire, and all of them were more captivating and mysterious than the last. Rumours you wouldn’t give the time of day to. Given how much everyone loved Papa Terzo, the idea of him being succeeded by a Cardinal who had his own distinct identity was an intriguing prospect. Cardinal Copia often stumbled over his words and spoke quietly, had a unique posture and a gaze that always lingered for moments too long. A leader tasked with taking command of a congregation, he defied conventional expectations. He never should have stood a chance, yet there he was, captivating the audience with his speeches and reading dark texts, challenging the conventional norms with a voice that echoed with an enigmatic resonance.

The congregation, an eclectic mix of followers, now hung on Cardinal Copia’s every, captivating, word, their devotion to the sinister doctrines palpable in the reverent silence that pervaded the hall. As he intoned incantations and recited dark liturgy, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of fascination, a thrill that mingled with your respect for the man who had once been a mysterious figure but now held a position of dark power.

You were engulfed in a world where the lines between the known and unknown dissolved as the Black Mass took place and the murmurs of long-forgotten secrets became more audible. Your comprehension of the mystical arts was enhanced by the forbidden knowledge that was shared at these meetings; knowledge that extended beyond the text of worn books.

You saw Monday’s Black Mass as more than just an occasion; it was a meeting with the enchanted, a trip into the dark where the unusual and the forbidden came together. And a chance to see the Cardinal who lead you all down the path of dark righteousness, a man whom you admired wholly and fully. A man whom you daresay even loved - but he didn’t know you. He barely even knew that you existed.

There were times that he would enter the library and ask for assistance when you were on the front desk, and you’d always stutter over your words and talk so quietly from the nerves that he could barely hear you. It got so bad, that when you saw him enter, you’d run from the desk and fetch another Sibling to deal with him, while you hid in the shadows like a coward. You didn’t want him to forget you, but sometimes it felt like him forgetting you would calm your nerves entirely. Sometimes, during Mass, he’d make eye contact with you and give you a small smile, or acknowledge your presence, and you’d feel your heart skip a beat. You reveled in the possibility that, just for a fleeting instant, he recognized you as more than a face in the darkened congregation.

But those were just dreams for the books that held your company. Words on pages that had no business in the real world. The distance between your heart and the truth of your commitment grew with every page you flipped and every muttered chant you heard during Mass. A bitter realisation gnawed at your spirit as you stood in the shadows, watching the Cardinal lead the congregation with a compelling presence.

The quick looks and disappearing smiles were like fragile ghosts, stalking your dreams with the painful awareness of love that was never returned. Your feelings appeared to dwindle into the background the more you hid in the shadows, like a ghostly presence that hovered but was never acknowledged.

The books were your lonely companions, silent witnesses to your silent yearning, the weight of unspoken confessions weighing down their ancient pages. In stark contrast to the terrible reality that played out behind the black halls of the Ministry, you frequently found comfort in their stories and sought sanctuary in the worlds they presented.

The gloom that crept into your heart persisted as the Black Mass went on. What was always a joyous occasion to honour the dark had joined into an agonising and bittersweet reminder of the unfulfilled bond you so desperately sought. The Cardinal’s voice reverberated across the auditorium, every word a sharp reminder of the gap that existed between your quiet respect and the recognition you so desperately wanted in the real world.

The final act of Gratiarum fell upon the proceedings, indicating the end of Mass and the sinking of your heart. All clergy members lined up in the aisle, taking their position in the queue and moving forward to receive their final blessings. The Catholics would usually call this part “Eurachrist”. Whereas the Satanists called it Gratiarum.

The word Gratiarum wasn’t a standard Latin word, rather, a bastardisation of “gratia” that translated to “grace” or “thanks” in English. “Gratia” was often used in expressions of gratitude or to convey a sense of goodwill, and thus transformed to the closing ceremony of Black Mass where one would kiss the statue Lilith’s cheeks to thank Her for bringing life to you, for holding you in Motherly comfort, for giving you all the knowledge and courage you could ever possibly want. You’d then receive a final blessing from the Head of the Church, usually a Papa but in this case, Cardinal Copia, before he bids you farewell and sends you on your way.

As the congregation progressed in the queue, you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest. The air became thick with a bittersweet mix of reverence and longing. Each step forward echoed the inevitable end of the ritual, a departure from the sacred space where your unspoken emotions swirled in the shadows.

Finally, it was your turn. You approached the statue of Lilith with a mixture of solemnity and yearning. The cold, carved features seemed to hold the weight of centuries, and yet, in this moment, they embodied a profound connection to the divine. You softly kissed Lilith’s cheeks, sensing a momentary warmth that hinted at an ethereal connection.

“Thank you, Mother.” You whispered into her stone ear. “For everything.”

Then came the pivotal moment. Cardinal Copia, the enigmatic leader of the dark congregation, stood before you. His eyes, veiled by the dark makeup, held a depth that seemed to pierce through the shadows. He paused, briefly, staring at you for some reason you couldn’t comprehend. Your brain, of course, now overthinking and feeling the pressure of the silence, forced a whispered, “ciao” to fall from your trembling lips, an action you regretted immediately when you realised he’d heard you.

The Cardinal’s face changed from dutiful to flooded with warmth, eyes sparkling with adoration - the kind of look you’d give a puppy when it did something cute or particularly hilarious. “Ciao, bella.” His smile grew wider, eyes brightening as your cheeks heated at the sound of his voice speaking his beautiful mother-tongue. He paused for a moment, drinking you in, before a clearing of the throat pulled him out of his brain.

“Your Dark Eminence,” called one of his Ghouls from seemingly far away, but as it happened, he was immediately beside the Cardinal, “the blessing?”

“Ah, sì, grazie.”

As he extended his hand in blessing, the ache in your heart intensified. The brief touch felt like an electric current, a conduit of unspoken emotions that lingered in the air.

The final blessing resonated like a melancholy melody, and as Cardinal Copia bid you farewell, you felt a pang of sorrow. The Black Mass, a weekly sojourn into the mystical, was ending, and you were left with a heart heavy with unfulfilled desires. The shadows seemed to close in, casting a veil over the sacred space that held the echoes of your silent devotion.

You left the hall, the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams accompanied you like a silent companion. The Gratiarum had concluded, and you were left to carry the lingering ache of longing as you stepped back into the mundane world, where Lilith’s statue and Cardinal Copia’s fleeting acknowledgments remained confined to the sacred space of the Black Mass.

Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley, your companions in the Ministry, were astute observers of your unspoken affections toward Cardinal Copia. They possessed an uncanny knack for teasing and never missed an opportunity to poke fun at the not-so-subtle nuances of your feelings.

Their banter echoed in the dimly lit corners of the library, creating an atmosphere of playful mockery. Sister Aisha, with her warm smile and mischievous eyes, often led the charge, while Sibling Riley, known for their quick wit, contributed to the good-natured ribbing.

“Look at our silent guardian, blushing like a schoolgirl whenever the good Cardinal so much as glances in her direction,” Sister Aisha would remark, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

Sibling Riley would add, “I’m convinced they’ve written sonnets about Copia in their secret diary. ‘Oh, Cardinal, with your mysterious gaze and awkward charm, won’t you ravage me in the night?’”

“‘Won’t you enter upon my chambers and live out my wildest fantasies?’”

“‘Oh, Cardinal, your nose is so big, may I use it to rest a while?’”

“‘Won’t you hold me on this frosty, winter’s morn, dear Cardinal?’”

The two would share a laugh, their camaraderie evident in the banter that danced around the ancient shelves. Despite the teasing, there was an underlying warmth in their jests, a testament to the deep bonds forged within the Ministry.

You, on the other hand, would play along with a good-natured eye roll, attempting to deflect the attention. “Oh, please, I don’t have wild fantasies.”

Sibling Riley scoffed, “Baby, we’re all librarians. We live our lives surrounded by books-”

“Non-fiction, mostly!”

“None in this Ministry are more depraved than us.”

“Besides,” you jabbed a finger into Sibling Riley’s chest, being careful to avoid any of their scars, “I’m just appreciating his leadership skills. It’s not like I have a shrine dedicated to him hidden in the darkest corner of the library.”

Sister Aisha, never one to let an opportunity slip by, would respond with a sly grin, “Sure, sure. Just leadership skills. And the way you stutter whenever he’s around? Classic admiration, my friend.”

Sibling Riley, “Ciao.”

Sister Aisha grabbed hold of Sibling Riley’s hand, and lowered her voice, “Ciao, bella.”

Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley revelled in their playful banter, the lingering embarrassment from your verbal slip during the Gratiarum weighed heavily on your shoulders. You attempted to regain composure, shooting a playful glare at your companions.

“Alright, enough with the fantasies. Can we get back to the Dewey Decimal System and ancient prophecies, please?” You retorted, hoping to shift the focus away from your unintentional confession.

Sibling Riley smirked, looking at you with a mischievous gleam in their eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t judge. Cardinal fantasies aside, we’re still a team.”

Sister Aisha, with a chuckle, added, “Besides, it’s not every day our silent guardian reveals a hidden shrine of adoration. Who knew our dear librarian had such a passionate side? A passionate side that gets her worked up over ugly, middle-aged men.”

You feign a dismissive wave, attempting to downplay the comment. “Worked up? I assure you, it’s merely an appreciation for his leadership skills. I’m here for the dark knowledge, not a beauty contest.”

Sibling Riley raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in their eyes. “But you can’t deny, he’s got that awkward charm going on. It’s like watching a cult leader struggle with small talk.”

Sister Aisha nods, her warm smile persisting. “And let’s not forget the nose. A real showstopper. Perhaps that’s what captivates our silent librarian’s heart.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that attempting to defend yourself against their banter is a losing battle. “You two are relentless. I’m getting back to work, and I suggest you do the same.” You turned to walk away, waving them goodbye as you headed to your stack of books that needed organising.

Sibling Riley, still grinning, raises their tea cup in a mock salute. “To the mysteries of the Ministry and the enigma that is Cardinal Copia.”

Shooting them a middle finger seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

The days turned into weeks within the confines of the ancient library, the world outside continued its relentless march through time. Seasons changed, and winter descended upon Rome with a ferocity reminiscent of a freight train on icy tracks. The city, once bustling with life, now wore a quieter demeanour as the chill settled in.

The library, insulated from the external world by its towering walls and centuries-old secrets, became a cocoon shielding you from the biting cold of winter. The scent of ancient pages and the soft illumination of candlelight provided a comforting contrast to the frosty breath of the outside world.

With each passing day, you continued your duties as the guardian of knowledge, organizing shelves and deciphering cryptic texts. Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley, your companions in this sacred space, brought warmth with their laughter and camaraderie. The front desk, where banter and conversations flourished, became a refuge from the winter chill that had gripped the city.

Outside, Rome transformed into a winter wonderland, with frost-kissed architecture and the occasional snowfall turning the historic streets into a serene landscape. Yet, within the library’s hallowed halls, time seemed to follow its own rhythm—a rhythm marked by the turning of pages, the soft murmur of shared conversations, and the enduring presence of ancient wisdom.

As the Ministry’s only archivist, you found yourself being inundated with work to be done, that took you away from the main library life. A welcome change, but a cold one: holed up in one of the offices, surrounded by ancient, indecipherable texts that hadn’t seen the light of day in so, very long. This time you were translating some Akkadian texts from Ancient Babylon. The weight of responsibility lay heavy on your shoulders, yet there was a sense of excitement and purpose in deciphering the cryptic symbols and long-forgotten languages.

The chilly atmosphere within the office felt like it was mixing with the echoes of old Babylon, taking you back in time. The long-mysterious story was revealed by the Akkadian manuscripts, which included elaborate ancient letters.

Warm light streamed from the burning candles onto the parchments, revealing snippets of a civilization lost to the pages of history with each brushstroke. The language that you once heard in Babylon’s bustling marketplaces and opulent temples now whispered its secrets to you in the calm of your office.

You found yourself acting as a bridge connecting the past and the present while surrounded by the stillness. The tales of ancient Babylon painted themselves onto the chilly desolation, bringing to life the traditions, convictions, and dreams of a people long since extinct.

The beat of the language became into a wordless chant as you dug further into the nuances of Akkadian grammar and syntax, a melody that spoke to the wisdom of ages past. The books brought to life stories of kings and gods, conquests, and trade that had lain forgotten for generations, transporting you to a world long since forgotten.

That was, until, there was a knock at the door.

Disturbed, your head shot up to the source of the sound and you cleared the surprise from your throat. “Come in!” You called, eyeing the door handle as it turned and the door was pushed open.

Sister Aisha stood there. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Sister. You’re needed at front desk.”

“No bother at all, Sister Aisha. What’s happening at the front desk?” You inquired, your mind quickly shifting from the mysteries of ancient Babylon to the present demands of the Ministry.

“C-” She paused, or rather, it was more of a hesitation than a pause. She clearly thought you didn’t pick up on it, but you did. “Someone needs your expertise. They’re asking questions we can’t answer, and Googling it is too much hassle.”

You sighed, trying to think your way out of this as quickly as possible. “But, Cardinal Whitman said this was urgent, I really shouldn’t-”

“Sister, this is far more important than anything Cardinal bloody Whitman has to trap you with. You’re needed… now.”

The urgency in Sister Aisha’s voice caught your attention, and her candid revelation about the nature of the situation raised an eyebrow. As you gathered your most important belongings, a sense of curiosity mingled with a tinge of apprehension.

The weight of responsibility settled over you, and you couldn’t help but acknowledge the gravity of the situation. The front desk, once a place of banter and camaraderie, now beckoned with a sense of urgency and mystery. You followed Sister Aisha through the twisting corridors, the rhythmic echo of your footsteps matching the pulse of anticipation that gripped the Ministry.

Sibling Riley stood there, keeping their guest entertained - though the look on his face made it seem like he was less than enthusiastic about the company he was forced to keep. A man stood to the side, his face hidden to you as he was deep in conversation with Sibling Riley - a cardinal, by the looks of their attire.

“Ah, here she is now, Your Dark Eminence.” Sibling Riley said, gesturing to you and Sister Aisha as you approached.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you realised who it was - Cardinal Copia. The unexpected presence of Cardinal Copia at the front desk sent a shiver down your spine. You exchanged a quick glance with Sister Aisha, who wore a knowing smile, as if she had orchestrated this rendezvous herself. There was an air of secrecy about the unexpected encounter as the mystery surrounding the library seemed to deepen.

Sibling Riley, with a mischievous grin, introduced you. “Your Dark Eminence, may I present our diligent librarian, Sorella ______.”

Cardinal Copia turned toward you, his dark eyes meeting yours. The air seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension. You cleared your throat, struggling to maintain composure in the presence of the enigmatic leader of the Ministry.

“Sorella ______,” he greeted, his voice resonating with an odd blend of formality and charm, and then he recognised you. “Ciao.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and the Cardinal quickly regained his composure. Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley covered their mouths and turned away from you, but it was obvious they were laughing.

“Ah, no. Chiedo scusa, Sorella.” He cleared his throat. “I find myself in need of your expertise. A matter of considerable importance, sì?”

You nodded, trying to conceal the flutter of nerves beneath a facade of professionalism, but words wouldn’t form.

“I am in search of information on a relic of great significance to the Church. Its history and location remain elusive. I trust you can handle this matter with the discretion it requires.”

You nodded once more, your weight shifting from one foot to the other. Despite the initial awkwardness, the weight of responsibility settled over you, and you steered the conversation toward the mysterious relic. With a newfound determination, you led the way into the depths of the archives, the shadows of ancient tomes casting a cloak of secrecy over the unfolding mission.

“Please follow me, Your Dark Eminence.” You told him, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Apologizing profusely for the perceived mess in your office, you led Cardinal Copia through the twisting corridors to the intimate space where your work unfolded. The dim light filtered through the ancient windows, casting a soft glow on the cluttered but meticulously organized shelves. The scent of old parchment and the mystical atmosphere of the room created an ambiance that seemed to intrigue the Cardinal.

“I’m terribly sorry for the state of things,” you said, a hint of nervousness in your voice as you tried to tidy up a few stray sheets of paper. “I didn’t expect such esteemed company.”

The Cardinal, however, waved off your concerns with a gracious smile. “No need to fret, Sorella. I appreciate the authenticity of a working space.”

His curiosity got the better of him, and, for a while, you watched as Cardinal Copia roamed around your office. He picked up sheets of your work, his gloved fingers delicately handling the pages. His eyes scanned the intricate details, and a contemplative expression crossed his face.

“You have a remarkable mind, Sorella,” he remarked, his gaze still fixed on the contents of your desk. “Your dedication to the Ministry’s knowledge is evident in every stroke of your pen.”

A mix of surprise and gratitude washed over you. The Cardinal’s acknowledgment held a weight that transcended the typical interactions within the Ministry. You took a moment to observe him, the way he seemed genuinely interested in the details of your work. It was an unexpected turn of events, transforming the routine nature of your duties into a rare moment of connection.

As he continued to peruse your writings, you couldn’t help but wonder about the relic that brought him here. The air in the office seemed charged with the anticipation of uncovering a hidden truth. With a newfound sense of purpose, you joined Cardinal Copia in examining the intricacies of the Ministry’s mysteries, the boundaries between librarian and Cardinal momentarily blurred in the pursuit of ancient knowledge.

“What relic are you looking for, Your Dark Eminence?”

The question lingered in the air as you joined Cardinal Copia in inspecting the contents of your office. His gloved fingers traced the lines of your work with an almost hesitant touch, and his gaze seemed to dance between the papers and your eyes. The room held a quiet tension, as if the weight of the ancient knowledge and the mystery of the relic were too much for even the Cardinal’s composure.

The Cardinal, displaying a touch of awkwardness that was endearing, began to explain his quest. “I am in search of an ancient text, written in Hebrew, of course, because they usually are. Well, not usually but our texts are either Hebrew or Latin… or Greek.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I am in search of this text depicting the original story of the Garden of Eden. It is said to have insights and perspectives not found in the widely accepted accounts of modern-day Catholicism.”

As Cardinal Copia explained the gravity of his task, your curiosity was stirred and you paid close attention. The weight of the request seemed to shimmer in the office. The Cardinal was looking for a version of the Garden of Eden story that went beyond the well-known legends.

“Why this particular text?” you ventured, your mind already racing to recall any relevant volumes within the vast archives of the Ministry.

The Cardinal hesitated for a moment before responding, his gaze fixed on the unseen horizon. “There are whispers, Sorella, of a deeper truth concealed within the ancient Hebrew, uh… scriptures. A truth that challenges the current understanding of our origins. I believe this text may hold the key to a different perspective, a hidden narrative that could reshape our perception of the Garden and its forbidden knowledge. And perhaps, it may benefit the Ghost Project in some way.”

Cardinal Copia pondered the question, his gloved fingers awkwardly tapping on the edge of a nearby shelf. “Well, I mean, it’s a thought. The Vatican’s got these archives, right? All hush-hush, keep Mama quiet.”

What?

“They might have stashed away things that didn’t quite fit the Sunday school narrative. Hidden truths and all that.” He cleared his throat.

The idea of rummaging through the Vatican’s records imbued the mission with an unusual thrill, and the clumsy charm of the Cardinal appeared to heighten the sense of adventure. Maybe the whispered mysteries of the Garden of Eden were hidden in a dusty corner, just waiting to be unearthed.

You sighed. “But, Your Dark Eminence, they’re not going to let two strangers go poking around the archives in search of a text that makes the enemy look good, let alone two Satanists.”

You sighed, a tinge of practicality creeping into the conversation. “But, Your Dark Eminence, they’re not going to let two strangers go poking around the archives in search of a text that makes the enemy look good, let alone two Satanists.”

The Cardinal shifted awkwardly, his gaze momentarily fixed on the worn carpet beneath your feet. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there. I mean, it’s not like we can just waltz in and ask nicely, huh?”

You recognised the difficulties of the effort with a nod of agreement. “Exactly. It’s a bit, you know, delicate. They might not take kindly to our little excursion.”

Cardinal Copia scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’m not exactly the best at, uh, delicate matters. I tend to… stand out, no?”

The thought of the flamboyant Cardinal trying to blend in within the hallowed halls of the Vatican brought a faint smile to your lips. “Yeah, subtlety might not be our strong suit. We’d need a plan.”

The Cardinal’s eyes brightened with a hint of mischief. “A plan, huh? Well, I’ve never been much of a strategist, but we can give it a shot, can’t we?” He thought for a moment. “Perhaps you could go.”

Your eyes widened in fear. “Me?”

“Sì! They’ll let you in - you’re pretty.”

Somehow your eyes widened further.

“Well, no.” The Cardinal began to panic. “I mean, no, aspetta, you are pretty but they might not let you in just because you are pretty.”

A mixture of amusement and disbelief played across your face as you processed the Cardinal’s stumbling attempt at reassurance. “So, you’re suggesting I charm my way into the Vatican’s archives? That’s the plan?”

The Cardinal scratched his head awkwardly, a sheepish grin appearing. “I mean, they say beauty has its advantages, right?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the proposal. “Sure, Your Dark Eminence. I’ll just flutter my eyelashes, and they’ll hand over the secrets of the Garden of Eden. Easy.”

“Ecco lo spirito! You sneak in, take the text, voilà! The text is ours, we convert people. I don’t die.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, non importa. So, what do you say, Sorella?”

“I mean, we don’t even know for sure that the texts are in the Vatican archives. They could be elsewhere.” The uncertainty in your voice mirrored the practical considerations that lingered in your mind.

The Cardinal shrugged, his expression reflecting a mix of determination and hopeful anticipation. “True, true. But, hey, it’s worth a shot, right? We won’t know until we try. Plus, it’ll be an adventure!”

“I don’t know, Your Dark Eminence. I think we should research this before we go charging into enemy lines.” The caution in your voice carried a weight of practicality, a desire to approach the quest with careful consideration.

The Cardinal nodded in agreement, though a subtle hint of dejection shadowed his features. “Yeah, you’re right. Research is good. I just got a bit carried away with the whole sneaking-in-and-taking-the-text thing. Old habits, you know?”

A small smile played across your lips as you appreciated the Cardinal’s honesty. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

He chuckled awkwardly, his demeanour lightening. “Apparently so. Let’s dig into those books and find out what we’re dealing with, Sorella.”

The Cardinal took off his hat for the ease of the search, and extended his hand in a kind and cooperative gesture. The library was waiting for you to explore, filled with old books and the smell of knowledge permeating everything.

Grinning, you pulled your hair away from your face, and took the Cardinal’s hand, feeling the warmth of the shared objective and the excitement of the journey to come. You entered the enormous library together, eager to solve the secrets that awaited you on its sacred shelves. The age-old walls, keepers of ageless stories, observed the unlikely pair set out on a voyage that combined the holy and the forbidden, constrained by the search for the truth and the whispers of information that was only known to a select few.

Within the sacred walls of the old library, you and Cardinal Copia leafed through the vast array of books, the air heavy with the odour of old parchment and the accumulation of wisdom. The Cardinal, for all his showmanship, addressed the assignment with unexpected concentration, his gloved hands slowly skimming over the book covers.

“Let’s start with texts on ancient Hebrew literature and biblical interpretations,” you suggested, leading the way towards a section dedicated to the rich tapestry of ancient languages. The Cardinal followed, his eyes scanning the titles as he navigated the labyrinth of shelves.

The Cardinal copied you as you took out books and started leafing through them, murmuring under his breath some Italian words now and again. The common spirit of your studies seemed to hum in the library, a mute testament to centuries of inquiry.

Whispered discussions and pages turned into a haze of hours. Every now and again the Cardinal, who was remarkably well versed in old languages like yourself, would give insights that even you found surprising. It became clear that there was a curious mind hiding behind all the showmanship and theatricality.

As the hours went by, the library engulfed the two of you in an enclave of research. Occasionally, the Cardinal would erupt in an animated exclamation or a lighthearted giggle, his facial expressions capturing the peculiarities of the old tales he had come upon.

“Listen to this, Sorella,” he exclaimed, drawing your attention. “Apparently, in the 15th century, there was a clandestine group of scholars who sought to preserve forbidden knowledge. They hid texts in secret locations, protecting them from prying eyes.”

Your eyes widened with intrigue as you leaned in to read the passage he pointed to. “That sounds… convenient. Do you think our text could be among those hidden treasures?”

The Cardinal scratched his head, a habit that seemed to accompany moments of contemplation. “It’s a possibility. Let’s keep digging.”

You searched through the library’s maze-like passageways as day gave way to night, travelling through different eras and fields of study. The Cardinal never wavered in his enthusiasm, his charisma being apparent despite the library’s impressive collection.

Nestled among stacks of old language books in a quiet nook, you came upon a mention of a Hebrew manuscript that described a different account of the Garden of Eden. You both felt a surge of excitement as you discovered a possible lead.

The dim light of the library accentuated the excitement shared between you and Cardinal Copia as you uncovered a potential lead in your quest for the alternative narrative of the Garden of Eden. The mention of a Hebrew manuscript held the promise of hidden truths and forbidden knowledge, tantalizingly close yet shrouded in mystery.

“That’s it, Sorella! We’re onto something here,” the Cardinal exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anticipation and determination.

You took great care of the Hebrew manuscript’s specifics, noting its author, title, and any other characteristics that would be useful for the search, writing them on the palm of your hand with a ballpoint pen. The whispers of scholars spanning generations seemed to reverberate off the library’s ancient walls, pointing you in the direction of a revelation that had been hidden for a long time.

“Let’s cross-reference this information online,” you suggested, glancing at the Cardinal. The two of you gathered your findings, an eclectic mix of historical accounts and tantalizing clues, and made your way to a computer terminal situated in a secluded corner of the library.

The Cardinal drew up a chair next to you as you got comfortable in the swivel chair, his curiosity unrelenting. As you browsed the digital world, the excited smiles on both of your faces were lit up by the gentle glow of the screen and the hum of the computer You were incredibly aware of his presence beside you, the feel of his breath on your cheek sending shivers down your spine. From this vantage point, you could smell him, his cologne dancing in your nose and nearly distracting you from the task at hand.

You typed the Hebrew manuscript’s details into the search engine and waited impatiently for the results. The screen blinked, revealing a list of entries that each provided a potential location for the illusive text.

“There it is,” you breathed, pointing at a specific entry that seemed to align with your discovery in the library. The title read, “Eden’s Veiled Chronicles: A Hidden Perspective.”

The Cardinal leaned in, his eyes scanning the screen. “That’s our text! But where is it now?”

Your fingers danced across the keyboard as you refined the search, hoping to unveil more information about the current location of Eden’s Veiled Chronicles. The search engine yielded unexpected results, leading you to a digital catalog that cataloged private collections worldwide.

“I think we’ve hit the jackpot,” you said, excitement lacing your words. “The manuscript is listed in a private collection in London. Of course it is, the English have everything.”

Cardinal Copia’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. “London? Well, that’s not too far-fetched. What’s the collection called?”

You continued typing, uncovering the name of the esteemed collection that housed the coveted manuscript. “The Crimson Archives. It seems to be a repository for rare and ancient texts, and they have Eden’s Veiled Chronicles in their possession.”

The Cardinal leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “So, we need to get our hands on this text. Any ideas?”

The library appeared to pulse with the energy of exploration, a quiet witness to your journey. A wordless understanding developed between you when the Cardinal’s eyes locked with yours. Obtaining the manuscript from The Crimson Archives emerged as a concrete objective, a first step towards deciphering the secrets contained in Eden’s Veiled Chronicles.

“We’ll need a plan,” you mused, your mind already whirring with possibilities. “Perhaps a diplomatic approach to begin with. Let’s try not to spend money if we can help it. A letter expressing our genuine interest in the manuscript and a willingness to make a fair purchase.”

The Cardinal nodded, his eyes reflecting confidence. “I like it. Let’s compose that letter and see if we can secure an audience with the head of these archives.”

As you delved into drafting the letter, the library’s ancient walls bore witness to a new chapter in your quest—a chapter that extended beyond the confines of its hallowed shelves. The digital realm became your ally as you navigated the complexities of acquiring forbidden knowledge, and the pursuit of Eden’s Veiled Chronicles took a decisive turn towards the intriguing possibility of securing the manuscript from The Crimson Archives in London.

Negotiations took far longer than anticipated. The man in charge of the Crimson Archives was burdensome to say the least. He dragged out proceedings, and made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t part with the Chronicles, at first. You weren’t even allowed to see them. Then he changed his mind, and would be willing to let you go and see it, but no touching. Then you could copy it, but it wouldn’t be allowed to leave the archives, then it was able to go for a hefty sum. Every new suggestion put forward by the Ministry ended up costing more and more.

The Cardinal wasn’t an impatient man, but even he was having difficulty finding the patience to deal with the Crimson Archives. Every day for a month, he would come into the library and ask for you, give you updates to how the Ministry’s lawyers were dealing with the guy and ask about you - how your day was going in comparison and if there was anything he could do to help you.

One day, he arrived as you were stacking the shelves, and watched as you placed the books in their proper places. Your voice, as quiet as it was, still sounded like an earthquake in comparison to the deathly silence of the shelves surrounding you. At first, he thought you were humming, a tune that he couldn’t quite place. But as he got closer, he was able to make out the lyrics.

I don’t wanna end like this

But the sting in the way you kiss me

Something within your eyes

Said it could be the last time

‘Fore it’s over

His heart leapt in his chest when he realised you were singing one of his songs from the Ghost project. He’d heard siblings sing along to Ghost, of course. They’d been doing so since his father created the band back in the 50s, so he’d grown up hearing his peers sing along to his father’s voice, then the voices of his brothers in his adult years. But there was something about you singing his own lyrics that had him enthralled by you - almost bewitched.

Your voice was beautiful, even more so than the Ghoulettes who had joined his team. You were soft with your tone, gentle with each lyric that melodiously fell from your lips. You were perfect. He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt you, purely for the fact that he just didn’t want to. With every passing second you sang his song, he found himself becoming more and more infatuated with you.

As the last note lingered in the air, he found himself applauding softly, unable to contain the genuine admiration that welled up within him. “Bravissima, sorella,” he praised, his voice carrying a blend of awe and appreciation. “I must confess, I didn’t expect to hear my own songs sung so beautifully by someone within our sacred walls.”

“Y-Your Dark Eminence!” You turned, a subtle blush painting your cheeks as you realized the Cardinal had been an unintended audience to your impromptu performance. Your words were stammered out of nervousness, not just because of your present company, the fact that you’d been caught, or even that he’d been watching you for Lucifer knew how long, but the radiant Cardinal had travelled to your side and had begun dirtying his hands with ‘peasant work’, as Sibling Riley called it, but if Sister Imperator saw this, both of your heads would roll.

The Cardinal just shot you a polite smile, “Buongiorno, Sorella. I hope you’re well.”

“I was. Your Dark Eminence, I appreciate you helping but I-”

“Alphabetical by author’s surname, sì? Then by language? Anything else I should know?”

He was a bit too perceptive, that or you were too predictable. “No… that’s it.”

“Eccellente!” He picked up each book individually, carefully and with kindness - no different to your own movements. You watched him for a little while, partially to make sure he was doing it correctly, but also because you were still in disbelief. Unlike the Papas before, the Cardinal had taken it upon himself to help you out unprompted, something like this, at least not that you could recall - especially in your own lifetime - had ever happened. Yet, there he was, rolling his sleeves up and getting on with it, emulating you completely. It was astounding. “Sorella, I don’t mean to be rude, but, uh, you’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry!”

“Have I made a mistake?”

You turned back to your own duties and continued. “No, Your Dark Eminence. No mistake.”

Copia chuckled. “‘Your Dark Eminence’. You’re very polite.”

“Th-thank you.”

“It’s a mouthful, isn’t it? You know,” he trailed off for a moment, his voice getting low, “you could call me Copia. Much less trouble, no?”

He made sure to keep heavy focus on the books, not wanting to see your face. You could see his brows furrow in… fear? Nervousness? You couldn’t quite pinpoint it exactly, but he certainly wasn’t relaxed.

He asked you to call him Copia. It certainly wasn’t something he was supposed to do. He was head of the Satanic Church, for all intents and purposes, he was Papa just without the title. He should be given the utmost respect at all times. You wanted to call him ‘Copia’. You wanted to hear how his name would roll off your tongue. You were very close to doing so, but you stopped yourself just as you were about to. If anyone heard you, you’d be in serious trouble - it would make trouble for both of you. You shouldn’t. You expressed as much to the Cardinal, ending with a soft and genuine, “thank you.”

He smiled and finally looked at you. He wasn’t sad, or disappointed. There was just warmth in his eyes. “I think, Sorella, you may be the kindest soul I have ever met.”

You forced yourself to turn away from him, lest he see your bright red cheeks and your heart on your sleeve. Your face was warming at the feeling of his compliment, and something else was, too. You had to tighten your stance and clench your thighs to stop your core tingling at a mere compliment. Up until that point, you had no idea just how whipped you were for the Cardinal, and just what strength of an affect he had on you.

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[ventismacchiato]

WAIT everyone was sharing their btl hcs🤭 i have a few rotting in my notes so let me just

- star making scara film cute tiktoks w her and he obliges which makes childe sob cuz when he wanted to scara was like 🤨no.

- kazuha being the funniest person ever when high which results in everyone making goofy ass edits of him

- heizou and star being bffs after the drama settles down,, she would make presentations abt dumb conspiracies with him on stream (i mean heizou would prob hate star for the BETRAYAL cuz he’s a drama queen but i feel like he’d get over it when scara does i love him let me be delusional pleek)

- this was alr mentioned but scara having edits of star on his fyp while still being upset😭😭 i think he’d be like get ts off my page but would have a folder for star edits later

- imagine star wearing heels and being taller than scara so she posts a mirror pic where you can see the height difference and everyone points it out while he spams the comments with „take this down immediately”

i have more but ifeel like they’re uninteresting so for now i’m leaving this here and running away

- 🐡

i had to edit the tiktok one it was too cute they probably film dances together or do dumb challenges

KAZUHA BEING HIGH COMPILATIONS 😭 and heizou always has to come in and shut the camera off before kazuha embarrasses himself even more

THEY WUD DO COLLABS AND DEBUNK CONSPIRACY THEORIES

he’d report all of them then go back and add them to his saved folder

btw yn is gn so i’m gonna gender neutrify this (ik any gender can wear heels but) let’s say they wear combat boots or those converse shoes w the high heels and scara lowk loves the height difference but he spams the comments asking for them to delete it

come back and give me the rest

[laurarolla]

So Destiny 2, yeah? There's an element I've seen running through this season that, when combined with a common theory of how we will cross through the portal into the Pale Heart, gives me an idea about a possible old detail that could be important next season.

This year, each season sees the Guardians and their allies using dangerous powers to overcome a substantial challenge, pushing themselves to their limits in the process but pulling back from the edge just in time. Mara Sov empowers us with access to the ascendant plane that puts substantial strain on her, Sloane uses her partial taking to facilitate communication with Ahsa at the risk of being driven mad by Xivu Arath, Eris Morn becomes the Hive God of Vengeance while refusing to give in to the temptation of dominating the whole of the Hive in perpetuity, and next season, the big prediction is that we will use the incredibly dangerous Wish magic to open the portal to the Pale Heart.

I'm left to wonder if the dead ahamkara have the power to actually help us in this case, as while their magic continues after death, it seems far less powerful. But what if there were a living ahamkara to help us, or rather, a soon-to-be living one?

Credit to @thefirstknife for snapping a picture of this:

In the middle of this room, only in the game during Season of the Lost about two years ago, is the last egg of Riven, the last ahamkara. Fynch's little conspiracy theory from The Witch Queen campaign was right: there is one left. And while this little detail is years old by now... this is Bungie we're talking about. They wouldn't put this here without some idea for it, and they hopefully wouldn't forget it when the perfect opportunity to use it rolls around.

After all, what could be a more fitting way to push dangerous power to the limit than to entrust our future to a godlike child?

[hayanwulf]

Strangefrost / arranged marriage au

When Stephen agreed to be the audience for his husband's training match, he did not, not in a million years think it would end with loki kissing him in a hallway..... half naked.

I blame you for my obsession with this AU now.

(pre-Avengers 1; alive TAO)

Normally, Stephen declined all small invitations to the more trivial events of Asgard.

Even though one of his responsibilities as the Asgardian Prince’s spouse involved “accompanying his spouse to all formal callings on Asgard that require The Prince’s presence,” Stephen had been rather bold with his defiance, only visiting Asgard for the utmost important events.

Why should he bother, anyway? Asgard always seemed to make it blatantly clear that they, in fact, gave zero damns about the customs and culture of Kamar-Taj and its sorcerers. (Although Loki himself was a different deal entirely; the slippery snake always found a way to sneak himself into Kamar-Taj’s events or rituals, even the ones he wasn’t invited to or straight-up prohibited in. Perhaps, Stephen thought, that it was Loki’s own defiance.)

It wasn’t merely about the culture or formalities either. In fact, Odin’s disinterest towards Earth was almost palatable in the way he treated The Order’s sorcerers. It was also plenty evident that Asgard, as a whole, seemed to hold the opinion that magic was inferior to physical prowess. At which point Stephen had to wonder why had Queen Frigga reached out to The Ancient One regarding an alliance between their realms at all.

Such a mystery, that.

At least Stephen was not required to permanently live on Asgard. Now now, and not after he would eventually inherit the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme from his mentor. Rather, it was going to be Loki who would be required to permanently move in with Stephen.

Stephen was almost convinced that this whole deal was just so Odin could get rid of Loki. Which, well.. Loki was the greatest troublemaker to ever exist in the nine realms, so Stephen would really not be surprised if that really were the true reason.

(Though he certainly did not appreciate the fact that Loki now his trouble now, and would continue to be for the rest of their lives. Vishanti, why had he agreed to this?)

Political conspiracies aside, this newest invitation he was being offered now was.. Well, interesting, to say the least. For one, it wasn’t some formal invitation to some royal event.

For two, the person extending him the invitation was Loki himself.

“What do you say, sorcerer?” Loki purred, leaning fully and casually into Stephen’s personal space where he sat at his desk, reading a book. Well, certainly not reading anymore, seeing as Loki’s body was blocking any and all access to it.

“And why would I accompany you to some ordinary training battle?” Stephen retorted.

At that, Loki leaned his back against the desk and smirked a dangerous smile. A smile that promised nothing but trouble for Stephen. “Because you want to. You want to know my power, want to see for yourself just how capable I am. Don’t you, dear husband?”

Stephen set his jaw. It was true.

Theoretically, Stephen knew that Loki was powerful, was perhaps one of the greatest sorcerers in the Nine Realms, trained by the witch Frigga ever since he was a babe. He knew Loki was unparalleled when it came to illusions, knew that he could shapeshift as though it was part of his nature, knew that he had an unexpectedly high proficiency in ice manipulation.

But the theoretical knowledge and the practical knowledge had historically had a large discrepancy.

And, sure, Stephen could pretend all he wanted that there were very practical, competitive reasons for wanting to know Loki’s true power level, that he simply wanted to know just what was he expected to stand equal to, when he became the Sorcerer Supreme.

But deep down.. it was mostly just a curious fascination.

Loki slightly tilted his head when no answer followed. “Or.. you could always accept my challenge for a spar.”

Stephen pinned Loki with a glare. No, that was not going to happen. Not until Stephen knew that he could match Loki’s power, until he was sure that he’d be capable of besting Loki in a spar.

He feigned humming thoughtfully. “Not sure if you’re worth the effort... Maybe I’ll decide after I see a preview.”

And so here they were, in one of Asgard’s sparring arenas.

Stephen, alongside Thor, stood behind the boundary fencing around the arena, rows upon rows of empty seats overlooking around them. In the arena stood Loki alone on one side, his only weapons of choice his two daggers, and on the other side stood The Warriors Three, all wielding weapons that appeared to be heavier than Stephen’s body weight. Stephen winced a little.

He turned to Thor and asked. “Doesn’t this seem a little unfair to you?”

Thor laughed. “I must agree with you, wizard. It is quite disproportionate. Lady Sif should've joined us today to stand with The Warriors Three.”

Stephen gave the Asgardian Prince a disbelieving look. Thor didn’t seem to notice, his eyes fixed on the scene.

When the battle began, Stephen understood exactly why the fight was utterly unfair.

The Warriors Three, they possessed physical strength like none other, wielded weapons as though it were an extension of their bodies, displayed brilliant battle IQ and teamwork as though they were born with those skills.

But Loki..

Stephen was flawed, for wanting to know Loki’s power levels. Because Loki wasn’t simply powerful. Loki was magic and elegance and intelligence. Loki was rhythm and unpredictability and chaos.

Stephen wasn’t sure if he had ever seen someone look so.. beautiful, while casting a spell. As if they were not in a battle but a fashion walk. Loki seemed to be playing with his opponents, as a cat would play with its prey: not for food but for entertainment. The way Loki led them around with illusions, it was like watching a puppeteer dangle their puppet on strings.

On one instance, when Fandral was about to attack the real Loki from behind, Loki spontaneously changed into her female form, making the virtuous warrior halt where he stood, for shame on him if he dared to hit a lady. She then promptly kicked him, making the poor bastard land on his ass several yards away. Stephen couldn’t quite help the laugh that escaped him.

Right; most importantly, Loki was trickery and mischief.

Having been on the receiving end of that mischief way more times than he’d like to admit, Stephen had always found Loki to be more than a little annoying. But seeing it now, from this perspective.. It made something warm and soft bloom in Stephen’s chest. Something akin to.. endearment.

Wait.

What the fuck?

As Stephen tried to process that little particular feeling, the rest of the battle flew by in a haze.

He almost, almost missed the smug smile Loki shot him at the end. As though he had achieved whatever objective he’d had.

Stephen had initially planned to simply watch the battle and be on his merry way back to his planet.

So he was not quite sure what was it that made him chase after Loki when the Asgardian left through the back door of the arena.

And watched his husband shed his upper tunic right there in the hallway, before he had even reached a room, giving a full unobstructed view of his spine.

Stephen froze.

Loki was gorgeous. Despite his lean appearance, he had a well-built body, back muscles that looked powerful enough to life a mountain. Muscles that were currently covered in a thin layer of sweat, sheening beautifully.

Stephen swallowed as his heart fluttered at the sight.

Loki turned around — perhaps sensing Stephen’s presence — and now Stephen had a full view to Loki’s abs, which did not help the case of his heart racing.

Oh god, why was he feeling this way?

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Thought you were going to leave.” He smirked. “Or have you come to admit just how entranced you were by me, so much that you never took your eyes off of the real me?”

God, ever so infuriating, Loki.

But..

But it was fine, Stephen decided, to feel.. endearment towards his husband.

“Not as terrible as I expected you to be,” he conceded.

Loki hummed. “And?”

Stephen paused for a moment. Then, in two quick strides he closed the distance between them and pressed a quick kiss to Loki’s lips.

When he backed away, he was greeted by Loki’s gobsmacked expression. He hid his own little smirk.

“Come by for Thanksgiving,” Stephen said, and then left through a portal before Loki could’ve responded.

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

The Guardian view on the Princess of Wales: she has the right to heal privately- Editorial

A cancer diagnosis is shocking for anyone, but particularly for younger people, in whom cancer is much rarer. In the UK, adults aged 25 to 49 account for 9% of new cases. For people with dependent children, this dreadful news can be even harder to manage; sometimes the person most upset by bad news is not the patient. It was clear from Friday’s video recording of the Princess of Wales that the impact of her illness on her three children – aged 10, eight and five – was foremost among the reasons why the news was kept from the public until then. Her explanation resonated with millions of people, whatever their opinions about the royal family. The sharing of more details about the future queen’s health was inevitable. Her three-month absence, after a 13-day hospital stay and abdominal surgery in January, led to an information vacuum. The coincidence of the king’s cancer diagnosis – and the fact that the pair were in the same private London hospital at the same time – served to magnify interest in the royal family’s health. The issuing of a digitally altered photograph of Catherine with her children to mark Mother’s Day (10 March in the UK this year) was a disastrous misstep. Far from cooling the rumours about her absence, the furore surrounding the image’s withdrawal by picture agencies – on the grounds that it had been manipulated – poured fuel on the fire. However, one former adviser said at the weekend that while the choreography of Friday’s announcement might have changed as a result, the timing did not. The family was determined not to tell the public until the children broke up from school. By appearing on camera, and making the announcement herself, Catherine has done what she can to calm the media frenzy. In a two-minute message, filmed by the BBC, she thanked people for their support and understanding – a message echoed at the weekend by Kensington Palace. But she was also very clear in her appeal for “time, space and privacy” while she undergoes chemotherapy. This is an appeal that must be granted. Even for holders of high-profile public roles, illness is a deeply private matter, unfolding as it does inside the body. Catherine, who is 42, made a point of being positive in her statement, saying she is “well and getting stronger”. But cancer is a serious illness and chemotherapy is a challenging treatment. Curiosity about her condition comes with the territory. She is the wife of the future head of state, not an ordinary citizen. Netflix’s The Crown, Harry and Meghan’s move to the US and Prince Andrew’s disgrace have all fed the global appetite for royal drama – and blurred the line between fact and fiction. In our social media age, anyone with an account has a platform to share their fantasies, however cranky – indeed the algorithms of some platforms seem to positively encourage it. But in recent weeks the rumours swirling around Catherine have become prurient and unpleasant, as gossip has shaded into conspiracy theories. No single politician or media organisation has the power to end such speculation. But journalists and public figures can set an example. Those who treated Catherine’s illness as a voyeuristic guessing game should be ashamed – as some have already admitted. Most of us have no idea what it would be like to have such personal information so widely shared. Despite her global celebrity, Catherine is entitled to privacy regarding her health. Once the apologies are out of the way, some reticence is called for.

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman Showdown Round 1 Part 2

Erza Scarlet (Fairy Tail) vs Olivier Mira Armstrong (Fullmetal Alchemist)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Erza Scarlet

She uses her magic to store over 200 different weapons (mostly swords) and armor that she can summon at any given time; Her most used magic abilities are Requip: The Knight and Sword Magic! She can use these to swap out her armor and swords, and use her swords to perform magical attacks. She's one of the few characters in Fairy Tail to use swords, and definitely the most iconic one. <3

her magic ability is to move things ib and out of a pocket dimension and she uses it almost exclusively to wield a ton of awesome swords and armor; she pretty and hits people

has a bunch of different swords with different abilities. called queen of fairies for her legendary skill, took out 100 monsters on her own.

Her magic ability lets her summon swords and armor to increase her power or specialize her abilities; Fairy Tail isn’t good but Erza Scarlett is :)

Olivier Mira Armstrong

Her sword is a family heirloom and she can hold up against or defeat very formidable opponents; She is so unbelievably cool

Extremely cool and intimidating military general with a signature heirloom sword.

She has a really fancy family heirloom sword. Stabs a man and throws him into liquid cement to suffocate alive after he tries to get her to abandon her men to be part of a nation-wide conspiracy, challenges a subordinate to a duel of life and death (with the sword), nervous tic is tapping on the hilt of the sword. She demanded that her father retire and make her the head of the family instead of her brother, and then fought against said brother (including with the sword)(won the fight), among other things stabbed a homunculus into the head; I loved this character because her personality was so refreshing. Really blunt and rational, but will show her love for her subordinates and family through actions rather than words. When the main characters first ask her for help, her motivations are entirely selfish (gaining knowledge to use for power). It is established several times that she really is scary, and isn't afraid to immediatly fight someone on the spot to prove a point. Literally pulls a "I'm getting so old, I'm afraid a women like me will never find a husband," to manipulate a superior. All in all, she could stab me and it would be the greatest accomplishment I had made in my life so far.

Her sword has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations. She is an expert in sword fighting and military strategy. She always holding it when commanding her troops.

She wields a saber passed down as a family heirloom; while she also sometimes uses guns and tanks, this is her primary weapon, which she used to kill the super-strong Homunculus Sloth the Indolent several times (she did, however, need help from others to kill him permanently, due to Sloth's ability to regenerate from death); As a Major General, Olivier is the highest-ranking woman in her country's military; she is also the moral highest-ranked military officer in her country, as she joins in a rebellion once she has confirmation as to how corrupt the military leaders are.

[richincolor]

Book Review: Liar's Test

Title: Liar’s Test

Author:  Ambling Kwaymullina

Genres:  Fantasy

Pages: 257

Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers

Review Copy: ARC by publisher

Availability: Available May 21st

Summary: A gripping YA fantasy with a deadly contest to win a crown, a fierce heroine determined to right the wrongs done to her people, and a smoldering love story that could change everything...

I didn’t want to rule the Risen. Wreak a little havoc upon them, though? That was something else entirely.

Bell Silverleaf is a liar.

It’s how she’s survived. It’s how all Treesingers have survived, after they were invaded by the Risen and their gods. But now—thanks to some political maneuvering—Bell is in the Queen’s Test. She’s one of seven girls competing in deadly challenges to determine who rules for the next twenty-five years. If Bell wins, she’ll use the power to help her people and get her revenge on the Risen.

But Bell doesn’t know how much she’s been lied to. She’s part of a conspiracy stretching back generations, and she’s facing much bigger dangers than the Queen’s Test. She’s up against the gods themselves.

Getting hold of that crown might just be the least of her problems.

Aboriginal writer Ambelin Kwaymullina has created a fast-paced, twisty narrative and an unforgettable heroine inspired by the strength and power of Aboriginal women.

Review: If you’ve been around Rich in Color for a while you know that I love reading books from around the globe, so when the request to read a YA novel by an Aboriginal writer came, I jumped at the chance. The story sounded interesting and as a fan of fantasy I was looking forward to it. I was not disappointed. The story drew me in and with its fast paced storytelling kept me intrigued right up to the end. 

The highlight of the book, aside from an awesome and likable character in Bell, is the worldbuilding. It was very clear that Kwaymullina took her time creating Bell’s world as the rules of her society, the different religions, the mythologies, and even the supernatural aspects of the world was so clear that Risen society felt completely real. I fully understood Treesinger beliefs and their ways of life which gave Bell her strength to survive in such a hostile environment. What also was impressive to me was the complete history of the world that was slowly revealed through the story as Bell figured out the truth behind her own personal heritage. Each chapter was a mix of revealing more of this complex world while mixing it with a story that had political intrigue, a mystery that needed to be solved, and an overthrow the government type of thriller. 

The heart of the novel is Bell Silverleaf, who when we meet her is dying but is brought back to life through a supernatural power. We realize she is someone special but because she is trapped inside a temple, she has been oppressed for much of her childhood.  Bell survives by lying to who oppressors, pretending to share their religious beliefs, but by holding fast to the beliefs of her Treesinger people. She is courageous and thoughtful and really rises to the occasion when she is entered into the Queen’s Test against her will. Since she is such a survivor, she leans on those skills in the test but also discovers how much of a leader she can truly be and how much she actually really cares not just for her Treesinger people but for people as a whole. The growth that Bell went on as she learned to lean into her power was what really connected me to her. I enjoyed going on the journey with Bell and wanted to continue on her journey after the end of the novel (I don’t know if there is a sequel, but I hope there will be). 

I really enjoyed Liar’s Test as it was a fun, immersive read that allowed me to escape into to another complex world for a brief moment. The story was full of plot twists that kept me guessing and drew me deeper into the story. This novel was so different than so much other fantasy and it is a world that I would love to visit again and again. 

[monsieuroverlord]

October 2024 solicits are posted!

The Storm and Mystique solos kick off, we continue through From the Ashes, and we also get the aftermath of the Blood Hunt event with a new Blade solo.

source here

Storm #1

Written by Murewa Ayodele, art by Lucas Werneck, main cover by Mateus Manhanini

"Ororo Munroe has lived many lives. She’s been a thief, a goddess, an X-Man, a queen and now an Avenger! She is the most prominent, most respected and most powerful mutant on the world stage – and in that role, she intends to be a force for positive change! First up: A major meltdown at a nuclear facility in Oklahoma City draws Storm from her Sanctuary in Atlanta – and into a moral conflict that will test her iron resolve! Guest-starring X-FACTOR’s FRENZY!"

Dazzler #2

written by Jason Loo, art by Rafael Loureiro, main cover by Terry Dodson and Rachel Dodson

"London Calling!

DAZZLER and her entourage travel across the pond for the next stop on her world tour. But when a live studio session goes dangerously awry, it’s time for DOMINO and STRONG GUY to shine! But who is the mystery villain out to cancel Dazzler’s performances – permanently?! Featuring action, heartbreak and another original set of song lyrics!"

NYX #4

written by Collin Kelly and Jackson Lanzing, art by Enid Balam, variant cover by Edwin Galmon

"• Genius. Student. New Mutant. Young Avenger. X-Man. As PRODIGY, David Alleyne has been all these things and more – but now he faces his most difficult challenge yet.

• Facing down his past and looking his present in the eye, Prodigy must fight to understand what mutant culture really means to those left behind by Krakoa…

• …and how far he’ll go to protect the mutants of New York City from a devastating – and dangerous – conspiracy of their own."

Ultimate X-Men #8

art, writing, and main cover by Peach Momoko

"WHO ARE THE CHILDREN OF THE ATOM?

• What are mutants? Where do they come from? And how has the Maker’s Council been keeping them under control?

• All these dark questions and more start to unravel as our heroes investigate a murder that, for some reason, the authorities keep covering up!

• And Shadow King advances his sinister plots!"

[anoramactir]

book recs! tagged by @rosenfey & @jennystahl. blows kisses to both of you <3 i'll tag @a-treides, @katsigian, @dekarios, @shellibisshe, @devilbrakers, and @frankensteined.

last book you read. the salt grows heavy by cassandra khaw.

horror/fantasy, kind of a little mermaid retelling? i had mixed feelings about it. there was definitely an interesting plot in there, but i thought it was bogged down by purple prose. felt more like a challenge to write the prettiest sentences possible - and there were v lovely lines! - than a story at times.

book you recommend. fight club by chuck palahniuk.

hard q, but i went with this one because i feel like the reputation the movie + it's fans have makes people avoid it. i could repeat all the soundbites about it being a brilliant satire & criticque of toxic masculinity (especially if you read the narrator as closeted) but tbh... i'm reccing it because i think it's fun. that's really it.

book you couldn't put down. bunny by mona awad.

disclaimer: i've seen this one hyped as the weirdest shit you'll ever read in your life but i didn't think it was that weird. lower your expectations. i did like it enough to finish in three days, though. idk what to say about it that won't spoil the plot— kinda heathers meets frankenstein? more eerie than scary.

book you've read twice or more. the queen's thief series by megan whalen turner.

society if this was the old school ya fantasy that blew up on booktok instead of shatter me: ☀️🌊🌳 i read this one back in high school and it rewired my brain permanently. attolia irene is the only girlboss that matters. i come back to it every few years (rereading book 4 now) & i think it still holds up.

book on your tbr. last call at the hotel imperial by deborah cohen.

it's a non-fiction about a group of reporters that covered ww2. i picked it up randomly at a bookstore because the cover was pretty, lol.

book you've put down. the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon.

i know i'd love it if i finished but it's just so long. 😭 i've tried like three times and i always lose steam about halfway through. at this point i'll finish it by 2050.

book on your wishlist. hollow places by christopher hadley.

ambie actually recced this to me ages ago and i've been dying to read it. it sounds so interesting! but it's not available as an ebook or at my library, and i'm banned from buying physical books until i get through my stupidly tall tbr stack. one day.

favorite book from your childhood. howl's moving castle by diana wynne jones.

nobody is surprised. it's probably my favorite book of all time. a+ vibes, characters, romance, everything. i own three copies and refuse to get rid of any. if i could find an autographed version, i'd own four.

book you would give a friend. interview with the vampire by anne rice.

i need you all to become obsessed with lestat & louis and then watch the amc series so it gets renewed for season 3. please & thank you.

book of poetry or lyrics you own. time is a mother by ocean vuong.

haven't read it yet, but i've heard great things!

nonfiction book you own. girl sleuth: nancy drew and the women who created her by melanie rehak.

goes into the creation of nancy drew & how it evolved through the years, especially how it was shaped by the original ghostwriter and the daughter of the creator, and their decades-long beef with each other. i came out of it with a parasocial grudge against a woman who died in 1982.

what you're currently reading. a conspiracy of kings by megan whalen turner.

book 4 of the queen's thief series. crown prince sophos has been kidnapped and sold into slavery and it's all very dramatic.

what you're planning on reading next. moby dick by herman melville.

i've never gotten around to this one and i feel like i have to eventually. there's a 75% chance i'll get sidetracked and pick up something totally different, though.

[chicken-wayng]

I use any pronouns. If you'd like to keep it simple just refer to me as Wayng or You Can Call Me Al. I was born on 11/26/2003 in the U.S. South, which is a purgatory I long to escape from but admire its great beauty. Truly this state is natural and beautiful, it's just that the majority people are horrible and ugly. So this Tumblr account is where I feel I can be my most honest self.

🪻 If you want to be mutuals you have to ask, otherwise I assume everyone is a bot

🪻 I identify as an asexual lesbian. I'm intersexed but I am entirely attracted to the female gender. I love women. They're beautiful.

🪻 I like to share about my current hyper-fixatations this isn't a HOTD account. Rhaenicent just grabbed me by the throat and promised to never let go

🪻 No kink/tag/trope shaming here. It is what it is

🪻 Team Black?❌ | Team Green?❌ | Team where the Queens kiss and raise their umpteen kids together! ✔️

🪻 If you wanna play Minecraft dm me, I have an awesome survival realm

🪻 @lawrusso-samtory-kiaz-hawkmeat is my Cobra Kai blog

🪻 @evandiazkinard is my 911 blog

🪻 I block accounts for even minor offenses, I just don't wanna see bs. I'm here for a good time. I try to treat everyone with the kindness and respect I hope to get and if that's not obtainable I don't waste the efforts. For anyone needing a sign to do the same: HERE IT IS💜

🪻 I love conspiracy theories

🪻 I love fantasy, it's my favorite genre. I love everything about it, but really the dresses, mermaids and dragons allure me.

🪻 Feminist👩‍🎤🧑‍🎤👨‍🎤👩🏻‍🎤👩🏼‍🎤👩🏽‍🎤👩🏾‍🎤👩🏿‍🎤💜

🪻 I love turtles. I believe that we all rest on the back of the Great One. My great nan was from Puerto Rico and she told me a folk story that I swear is the real origin story💯

🪻 I love all shades of purple, growing up The Color Purple was one of my favorite works (book and movie). I truly feel and do believe that whatever higher power is up there gets offended when we don't stop to admire it.

🪻Have I mentioned that I love women💜🩷🤍🧡❤️

I enjoy writing fanfiction and to help sort through my works easier I wanted to make this masterlist.

ChickenScratchCollection

This is my parent collection where I bookmark my favorite works, my own works and collections, and any completed challenges.

ChickenWayngTranslations

These works are translations to help the original fic writer get their work to more people; ALL CREDITS GO WHERE CREDIT IS DUE

No seriously request anything and if I wanna write it I will

All collections/challenges here are open!

A.A for Fic Writers

This is a collection for Anonymous works. I like making collections and my bestie requested I make this one for them💜

2024 Yellowjackets

2024 Sapphic Stories

(Please feel free to check out + join the Tumblr Community for this yearly occuring Collection!!!)

Bi Bi Buck

*read like Bye, Bye, Bye by NSYNC*

(Smut) Butcher is having a good dream - a really good dream. Except, apparently, it's not a dream at all.

[dangertoozmanykids101]

TOOZ WRITING PROMPT

Hey y'all! I have got a great fun prompt for you today! You won't believe what I found! Now although the inspiration involves a video of a super young Chris Evans, any muse can be the star or participate. ALWAYS! Because this is just a prompt - you're the writer in control. And I'm dying to find out what y'all come up with. So guess what—

TOOZ FOUND A TREASURE !

How the hell are there still things out there I haven't discovered yet? Am I the only one who didn't know anything about this?

Baby Chris Evans is teaching us about Biodiversity: Wild About Life.

He's just a baby! So young. What a little cutie!

Now for...TOOZ WRITING PROMPT

One or more of our collective muses has been asked to make a documentary or Public Service Announcement (PSA) to raise the public's awareness about something specific, something important, something ridiculous, something imminent, dangerous, horrifying, apocalyptic, something that turns out to be catastrophic, something that fizzles out, something that is a hoax or conspiracy, something that is manipulative or oppressive.

Did I mention something ridiculous?

We SHOULD each challenge ourselves to write a serious one AND a ridiculous one - a ridiculous cause that is taken seriously, of course. You know, a crack fic: a story that the author must've been on crack to come up with such a wack-a-doodle idea.

Disclaimer: I AM NOT SUGGESTING NOR CONDONING THAT WE ALL SMOKE CRACK IN ORDER TO WRITE A CRACK FIC! It's just a figure of speech. Come on, right?

Ohh but imagine if our muse fucks up the PSA or documentary up so badly that they have to go back on the air and recant parts of it, if not the entire thing.

This could be the most important thing they've ever done or said. The most important fight they ever signed up for. Their message may successfully change the world, or save it.

Or maybe their message was completely wrong - the wrong information, the wrong choice, the wrong course of action. (Is it too late to save the world, or stop the broadcast?)

This could be absolutely humiliating. It could ruin their reputation and any future career. And say goodbye to any chance of a proper private life after this. Will the public even notice or care?

The Captain America PSAs always send me into giggles. I've included several video links. I'm dying to find out what y'all think? If any of you have more ideas. SQUEAL!

Of course, it's adorable when Sam & Bucky argue about Steve's PSAs.

And I couldn't help adding a couple more.

These aren't all necessarily PSAs, but just inspiration. Especially seeing our muses with kids makes me swoon.

I ran out of room for videos.

If anyone has more inspirational videos, please share!

This post got accidentally posted almost two weeks ago before I had actually finished it. Yikes! I wonder how often I did that?

@nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @nonsensicalobsessions @talklokitome @latent-thoughts @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @deceitfuldevout @so-easy-to-love-me @wolfsmom1 @gigglingtiggerv2 @americasass81 @acidcasualties @muddyorbs @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @spectre-posts

[blackjackkent]

OK, I am, in this case, doing a heinous bit of metagaming, because it's my game, my blog, my story, and I feel like it. XD

I'm told that we don't have the option to rescue Ravengard after killing Gortash, and we want to do that pretty much right now immediately, which means we have to get Ravengard immediate-er. The problem, however, is since we convinced Wyll to turn Mizora down, we have no leads.

Except Google. >:)

(Credit where due, @zenjestrr was also ready to help me with this, but they're not around just at this moment and I am impatient. XD )

Anyway we're going to a temple of my favorite goddess in all of the Faerunian pantheon: The BITCH QUEEN OF THE SEA! (AKA Umberlee/the Wavemother - we went to a temple of hers in BG2 as well and I thought it was hilarious then too). Why is Hector going into this place? Who knows! We're going to attribute this to general religious curiosity, or perhaps Selune pinged his divine sense about something being weird as he wandered by.

Figuring out how to get there is a little challenging. The main obvious path cuts through a Guild shipping area and they are NOT happy about us wandering through. But eventually I found the way to trot around and walk down towards the temple.

And OH MY GOD. LOOK WHO'S HANGING OUT IN FRONT OF IT.

"It's not a lie! If you would just listen - I can explain!"

Oh boy.

Volo is currently being shouted at by a loud, passionate, frightened crowd holding torches, who have tied him to what appear to be several large barrels of gunpowder.

"You have done quite enough 'explaining', Volothamp Geddarm! You have poisoned the very hearts and minds of these good, kind, gentel citizens with your lies! Your delusions! Your conspiracies! Though you hide behind a mask of stories, we have seen beyond the veil! We see what you really are! Fearmonger! Attention-seeker! AGENT OF CHAOS!"

Loud cheers of agreement from the crowd. Hector approaches, listening with brow furrowed. Volo was a blowhard, somewhat arrogant, and very difficult to convince not to perform amateur ocular surgery, but conspiracy? It doesn't seem his style.

And then...

Narrator: Your parasite stirs in recognition. This man is infected.

Well. That explains it.

"Today, citizens, we rid ourselves of this cankerous sore. Today, we burn away all falsehoods. Today, we will be divided no longer, for today we rise in TRUTH!" the man bellows, turning to the crowd around him.

Hector shoots a look at his companions, considering how he might insert himself diplomatically into the situation before Volo gets blown up - but Minsc gets to it first.

"Volo?" he says brightly. "Volothamp Geddarm? This man is no enemy of the people! This man could not even hurt a mouse! I know - I have seen him try. Release this man at once!"

Immediately the leader of the mob focuses his eyes on their small group of strangers.

"What's this? Another heretic in our midst?! Another mind, clouded by the disruptor's lies. Another soul to cleanse. Well, we are nothing if not gracious. Let us see if we cannot lift the veil from their eyes too!"

"No - please, NO!"

GDI Volo.