#the other had no one to guide him but now is the law upon himself

[whumpbby]

You ever think that this whole "Lan only love once" legend is a result of their upbringing leaving them unable to deal with negative emotions in a constructive way? The only options seem to be "get over it and we will never speak of it again and all is well" and "you can lock yourself up and if you never emerge that's sad but okay". Eh?

Like, a Lan would have a crush - the crush turned them down - and because of the insanely stoic way they're supposed to live as they can't just cry about it/get drunk/be visibly unhappy/express their sadness 'excessively'. And thus the normal thing that happens to normal people all the time boils into the Worst Thing Ever that Happened To Me and No One Can Understand This Pain and they decide that they'll never go through that again.

You know like normal people do.

Doesn't that make sense tho?

[blueiscoool]

Rome’s Ancient Arch of Constantine Struck by Lightening

During a storm on September 3, lightning struck Rome’s Arch of Constantine, chipping the structure’s marble surface. The 1,700-year-old arch and its neighbor, the Colosseum, were two of several sites affected by the thunderstorm, which produced 2.36 inches of rain in less than an hour. Usually, the city sees a similar amount over the entire month of September.

“A lightning strike hit the arch right here and then hit the corner,” a tourist at the site told Reuters’ Alberto Lingria. “We saw this fly off,” the tourist added while pointing to a fallen block of stone.

Finished in 315 C.E., the Arch of Constantine is one of Rome’s three surviving ancient triumphal arches, each erected to honor a person or event. This arch commemorates Constantine I’s 312 victory over the emperor Maxentius. That same year, Constantine devoted himself to Christianity—the first Roman ruler to do so.

The fierce storm also felled two large trees near the Circus Maximus, flooded the Trevi Fountain and flooded the Colosseum’s subterranean tunnels, reports CNN. After lightning struck the arch, staff of the Colosseum Archaeological Park quickly gathered its dislodged pieces and placed them in a secure location, according to a statement from Italy’s Ministry of Culture.

In the days that followed, some tourists stumbled upon additional pieces on the ground.

​​“My American group found these fragments, and we’re handing them over to the workmen,” tour guide Serena Giuliani told the London Times’ Tom Kington on the morning of September 4.

Specialists are now examining the condition of the fragments. Officials say the damage was limited to the monument’s southern side, where unrelated restoration work had started just days earlier, allowing for quick repairs.

At roughly 70 feet tall and 85 feet wide, the Arch of Constantine contains three separate arches, each framed by columns. The intricately decorated structure is adorned with recycled fragments, or spolia, taken from other ancient buildings, including monuments honoring Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius.

The arch is also decorated with carvings of Constantine, including a series of reliefs depicting his victorious fight against Maxentius in the Battle of the Milvian Bridge.

In 306, Constantine was leading Roman troops in Britain—then part of the Roman Empire—when his military declared him their emperor. His brother-in-law, Maxentius, also declared himself the emperor around the same time. After years of complex power struggles, the two rulers ultimately faced off in 312 at Rome’s Milvian Bridge, which overlooks the river Tiber. Panels on the Arch of Constantine depict the battle’s conclusion, showing Maxentius’ troops drowning in the river.

The arch’s recent encounter with lightning may have carried spiritual significance for its ancient builders, as “the bolts were believed to be the work of the gods,” per the Times. These spots were sacred for the Romans, who sometimes erected temples at such sites.

By Sonja Anderson.

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

The Hollow Crown

As the weeks went on, Edward slowly began to recover, but continued to keep his true identity to himself. The Brindleton family had welcomed him with open arms. All of them sat in the common room enjoying a meal, and sharing stories. John, the man who saved Edward, looked to him and asked. "You never did tell me, my lord—what were you doing out there alone? Noblemen don’t tend to wander into death’s grip without reason."

"A fair question, Master Brindleton." Edward responded. "The truth is, I was traveling with a small company when we were set upon by a bear, The beast never came close, but it was enough to send my mount into a frenzy. and I was separated from my men in the chaos, lost my horse, and—well, you know the rest."

Jacquetta, who had been silently listening as she set the last of the food on the table, finally spoke, her voice calm and measured, a small, knowing smile played at her lips before she finally spoke, her voice smooth and unhurried.

“Well now, my lord,” she mused, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Perhaps that bear was wiser than any of us give it credit for. It sent you running, but not into the hands of your enemies or into the grave. No, it set you on a path that led you here—to a warm fire, and a full plate.”

She let the words settle for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup before continuing. “Strange, isn’t it? How the things we fear most can sometimes guide us where we are meant to be.”

Edward lowered his gaze, Jacquetta’s words, though spoken in kindness, struck something deep within him, an unshakable guilt that had been lingering since the moment he first opened his eyes in this home.

These people had given him shelter, warmth, and trust, yet he had not offered them the same in return. He had concealed who he truly was, spun half-truths to keep himself hidden. And while he knew it was necessary—knew that revealing his identity could place them in danger, and that did not sit well with him.

As the grand hall of Windenburg Castle filled with the murmurs of gathered nobles, the heavy doors swung open, revealing the newly established figures of power. Prince Alvin, the boy-king, sat upon the throne, his small frame dwarfed by its grandeur. To his left stood Princess Jane, her expression composed yet triumphant, and in front of them both, Richard, Duke of Britechester, addressed the court.

"By order of the council and the laws of this realm, I, Richard, Duke of Britechester, have been named Lord Protector to Prince Alvin. Until he comes of age, I shall govern in his stead, ensuring the stability of Windenburg. In my absence, the regency shall pass to my mother, Princess Jane, who will act with full authority in matters of state."

A murmur spread through the court—some in agreement, others in unease.

Richard stepped back as Jane gave a graceful wave to the crowd, her expression composed. Then, in a final display of unity, the three moved forward together, standing before the court as one.

Night had fallen over Windenburg Castle, casting long shadows across the silent corridors. The air was cool, and the only sound within Queen Cordelia’s chambers was the soft crackle of the fire and the faint rustle of parchment as she turned a page in her book. She had remained mostly confined to these walls since her regency had been overthrown, finding solace in solitude.

The quiet was soon interrupted by the sound of her doors opening, followed by the shuffling of footsteps. Cordelia’s eyes lifted from the pages, her grip tightening on the book as she took in the sight before her. Lady Charlotte stood just beyond the threshold, her expression riddled with unease. Behind her, flanked by two guards, stood Princess Jane.

Lady Charlotte stepped forward hesitantly, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes full of regret. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I would not intrude if I had a choice.”

Cordelia set her book down with deliberate care before rising to her feet. Her sharp gaze flickered between Charlotte and the figures standing behind her. “Choice or not, you have delivered the message all the same. Now tell me—why have you brought her here?”

Before Charlotte could speak, Princess Jane stepped forward, her arms folded, an unbothered expression etched onto her face. “Because, dear sister, I am making an executive decision for you. You would be much better suited to Willowshire Castle at this time. I am having all of the Bagleys moved there tonight. And as for this chamber—well, I shall be taking it as my own.”

Cordelia’s expression darkened, her scowl deepening as her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You have always been an ambitious woman, Jane, but even for you, this is a pathetic display of desperation.”

Jane smirked, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. “You’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be. But if you insist on resisting, I’ll just have to make this harder for you.” She lifted her hand and pointed at Cordelia. “Seize her.”

Cordelia’s breath hitched as the guards moved toward her without hesitation. Her shock was evident—were they truly obeying Jane over her? She stepped back, raising a hand in protest.

"Unhand me!" she spat, her voice filled with rage as the guards grabbed her arms. "This is treason!"

She fought against their grip as they pulled her toward the door, her voice rising with fury. "You won’t get away with this, Jane!"

Lady Charlotte let out a quiet sob, her hands trembling as she watched helplessly. Jane, meanwhile, stood unmoved, a smirk still tugging at her lips as Cordelia was dragged from her own chambers and into the night.

The snow fell relentlessly as the night stretched on, blanketing the land in an icy shroud. Inside his carriage, King Henry sat in silence, the weight of failure pressing against his chest like an iron chain. The road to Windenburg had never felt so long, nor had his heart ever felt so heavy. As the darkened path finally led him into the castle’s courtyard, his weary eyes caught sight of a scene that sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through his veins.

A carriage stood in the courtyard, its doors open, with servants hurriedly loading trunks onto the back. A cluster of guards stood in the cold, their grips firm on a figure being forcefully guided toward the carriage. Even through the dim light, Henry recognized her instantly—his sister, Cordelia.

His fury erupted like a storm. He slammed his fist against the carriage door, signaling his driver to halt, before stepping out into the bitter night.

"Unhand her at once!" he roared, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "She is the mother of the king, and this is no way to handle a woman of such prominence! Have you all lost your wits?"

At the sound of his voice, Cordelia turned, her face etched with sorrow and defeat. Snowflakes clung to her hair, and her hands trembled slightly as she stepped forward.

"Brother," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Jane has stripped me of my place here. She has taken my chamber, my regency—my authority. I am to be sent to Willowshire tonight. Your wife grandson have already been sent ahead. And Edward—" her voice faltered, her breath catching in her throat. "Edward is gone, Henry. No one knows where he is."

Henry’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with rage. He turned back to the guards, stepping toward them with unmistakable authority.

"Enough of this disgraceful display. I will take my sister to Willowshire myself. If I hear of any further force against her, I will see to it that the hands that wronged her never hold a sword again. Do I make myself clear?"

The guards hesitated for only a moment before loosening their grips. Cordelia wasted no time—she rushed forward, throwing herself into Henry’s arms. He held her tightly, feeling the raw anger trembling beneath her sorrow.

"That woman," Cordelia seethed, her voice dripping with fury. "She has humiliated me, cast me out like a common wretch! That smug, grasping—" she stopped herself, inhaling sharply as she steadied her breath.

Henry pulled back, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "This is temporary, Cordelia. By the Watcher’s good grace, Edward will be returned to us, and this nightmare will come to an end. You must hold fast—our time will come."

As the carriage was prepared for departure, Cordelia took one last look at the castle she had once ruled. Her gaze drifted upward, toward the second-story window, where a familiar figure stood.

Cordelia’s lips curled into a sneer, her voice low and vengeful as she whispered under her breath, "Enjoy your stolen throne while you can, sister. For when the tide turns, I will see to it that you fall harder than I ever did."

There, in the dim glow of the window, Jane stood watching, her smirk still sharp as a blade, a silent declaration of her triumph. In her eyes, Windenburg already belonged to her.

[kamisatomay018]

May I request a Wriothesley version of the legend of the red string of fate please??

Yes of course!! Thank you so much for putting in your request and giving me the idea🫶

Soulmates huh? I like the sound of that..

Wriothesley x fem!reader

Fluff, based on the Legend of the Red String of Fate, Will contain spoilers from the chenyu vale world quest!

I hope you all enjoy reading!

“Tea bags, check..gift, check, tea leaves- check! Okay I’m ready to head off.” You muttered to yourself, cross checking your luggage before you depart from Chenyu Vale to Fontaine for a very important meeting. With whom you might be wondering? Well, it was none other than the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself.

Chenyu vale is known widely for its famous and aromatic Adeptea, and has always exported copious amounts of tea to Fontaine. However for the past 2 years, the tea’s quality started to decline, and so did the exports. It had come to your attention that out of all the Fontainians, the Duke of Meropide was particularly displeased about this situation, going so far as to penning a kind yet stern letter to the head of the village, asking about what has been happening to their tea. It was safe to say that this letter had raised quite the panic, for the fortress was the major buyer of the Adeptea and losing such a buyer was something your small yet humble village could not afford. What’s worse was that none of the people were able to understand what was going wrong with the tea, except of course for you and Grandpa Lu.

You were a prominent figure in Chenyu vale, known for your artistic pottery and fine brewing skills. You would handpick the slots of tea that was being sent to Fontaine yourself, knowing that they needed the best quality tea. Not only that, but you were also skilled in the Adepti art of Adeptus Fujin herself, which made you understand that the harmony of nature had been disrupted, leading to the tea quality’s decline.

Thankfully for all of you; the renowned traveler had arrived with their companion and with your aid and Fujin’s power, the problem had been resolved. The only problem that now remained, was the displeased Duke of Meropide. So you took it upon yourself to travel to Fontaine and offer an explanation and apology, for no one else understood the true depth of the situation. As compensation, you made him the most beautiful tea set, infusing in it a little bit of your power which would allow the tea to remain fragrant and hot for extended hours. You truly did hope that this would placate the man.

After bidding farewell to your mother, you got onto the boat that would take you to the renowned and magnificent nation of justice. Fontaine truly seemed magnificent, with its technological advances and strict judicial system. You had always desired to visit the city, although not in such a diplomatic way. No matter, you would make sure to get a tour of the city later. Upon hearing of your visit, the duke had been kind enough to write to you personally, informing you of basic but important laws that you must not break if you didn’t wish to extend your stay in the fortress from a few hours to a few days. The letter was…extremely lengthy, given the amount of ridiculous and extensive laws the land held. Archons, how did the people even remember them all? Well no matter, it’s not like you were going to stay there for long….right?

As you arrived at the Lumidouce harbour, you noticed two officials waiting for you, probably to guide you to the fortress. You bowed at them politely, following their lead while admiring the beautiful scenery of Fontaine.

“Welcome to the Nation of Justice, Ms. Y/N. We have been tasked by Monsieur Neuvillette to guide you to the fortress of Meropide through the Opera Epiclese. Please, follow us.”

Thanking them you boarded yet another boat, and then an aquabus where you met a cute little creature. Ah, that must be the melusines that the duke had mentioned in his letter. The melusine was so sweet, giving you a detailed explanation about the city, even answering your curious question. In the end, you quickly rummaged through your bag, giving her a little Qingxin flower as a thank you for her service. The smile that adorned her little face truly made your day better.

Eventually you headed to the back of the grand Opera Epiclese, where you saw a dignified tall man with a black fur coat hanging on his shoulder standing with his back faced to you. His aura seemed intimidating to you, however you kept your composure. “Duke, we have brought your guest.”

“Ah, you have my profound gratitude. You both may leave, I shall escort my guest from here.”

“Yes sir.”

At that moment, he turned around to face you, and you felt your entire world stopping. Your jade green eyes met with his ashy blue ones, and you swore you felt a spark through your entire body. A beautiful and delicate Res String tied to your little finger made its way to tie itself around his thumb, making you freeze in place. You had found your fated Soulmate. He was a godly man, perfect from head to toe. You had never seen a man as handsome as him, his every feature truly was perfect. You didn’t fail to notice the scars on his face and neck, making you realise he truly had been through a lot in his lifetime.

Meanwhile, Wriothesley was utterly stunned, yet confused. In front of him stood perhaps the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen, her delicate figure adorned with a pastel green outfit and jade jewellery, matching the colour of her eyes. A dendro vision was tied to your outfit while your long hair flowed freely down your shoulders. He was in awe of your beauty, it was as if some kind of force was pulling him in to you. However he was baffled to see a delicate red string connect the two out of you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Your equally shocked look did not escape his watchful eyes. What in Teyvat was going on? He cleared his throat, talking rather softly. “Uhm, Miss Y/N, how about we..head back to my office to talk?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, nodding immediately as you felt your cheeks blushing like anything. “Yes, yes of course Duke..”

He let out a raspy chuckle, shaking his head. “No need to be so formal, you can just call me Wriothesley.” Oh archons, why was everything about him so attractive?! You looked down with a shy smile, nodding. “Understood. Please, lead the way..”

He smiles slightly, enjoying your flustered state for some reason. As much as he desired to ask you about this mysterious red string, he chose to wait. Such important and private discussions were better suited for his office, where he could guarantee no one would eavesdrop. He led you down the elevator and through the boat to the Fortress, noticing how observant you were about every little detail. Hm..that would explain the Dendro vision. “Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide. I’m sure you must have heard a thing or two about this place, but I can assure you it’s not as awful as it sounds. Here in the fortress every exile and every prisoner is given a chance to start life anew, to work hard and earn their freedom and dignity back. If I dare say so myself, the fortress is essentially a place of rediscovery and rebirth. The law treats everyone fairly, and the fortress is no different.”

You listened to him in awe, admiring the way he spoke like a dignified gentleman. Although he looked intimidating and cold, his demeanour was quite relaxed and welcoming. “That is quite admirable, to give a chance to the offenders to start life anew.” He nodded at your words as he led you to his office. “Of course, that is not to say that criminals do not get their punishment. No one leads a cushiony life in here, and those who have broken the law and hurt others get treated the same way. The rest who actually wish to turn over to a new leaf are given the chance to do so. Many prisoners choose to stay here even after their sentence has concluded.”

That surely came as a shock to you. As…magnificent as the fortress was, it was devoid of sunlight and nature, it felt suffocating to you. Why would people live here willingly? Noticing your silence and the unasked question in the air, Wriothesley laughed a little. “I’m sure you must be wondering why they would choose to do that. Well Fontaine is a nation much different than the rest. Here, status, reputation and wealth matter a lot. Life up at the surface is full of pretensions and dramatic situations. Here in the fortress; everyone is equal, everyone is straightforward. They start with nothing, and through sheer hard work, earn their daily necessities. Perhaps that equality is what attracts people to stay here rather than going up to the surface and continue to play the part in the endless opera that Fontaine is.”

Only you knew how much you were admiring him at this point. Not only was he fair and just, he was also respectable and empathetic, treating humans as they were supposed to be treated rather than declaring them as unruly criminals. “I really admire the way you manage this place Wriothesley..to be able to view offenders as something more than their offence is an admirable quality. No wonder you are the Duke.” As much as he wished he could deny it, Wriothesley felt his heart skip a beat at your words. “You flatter me Y/N. here, this is my office. Let us go upstairs. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you. Ah before I forget, I brought you a small present to compensate for all the inconveniences you have had to face due to the small crisis in Chenyu vale.” Taking out a box, you opened it to reveal the most beautifully embroidered tea set that Wriothesley had ever seen. “This is a tea set I crafted myself, and I have infused it with a little bit of adeptal power. That will allow the tea to stay fragrant and warm for hours on end. I imagine that your work must be arduous and time consuming. So, you need not brew a hot cup of tea every now and then. I hope it is to your liking..”

Looking up, you felt your heart flutter at the way Wriothesley was smiling, his eyes shimmering as he admired the tea set. “This is simply divine, I cannot thank you enough for your hard work. There was no need for a present Y/N..but thank you so much, I will gratefully accept it.” Smiling happily, you stood up, getting the tea leaves out. “Well if you’ll allow me; I can brew us some tea right now. I do believe we have a lot of things to discuss Wriothesley..” He smiled and nodded, accompanying you as he watched you brew the tea. The aroma of fresh tea filled his office, instantly relaxing him. A while later you both sat down, drinking tea. “This is exquisite tea, you are exceptional at brewing.” You blushed at the praise, shaking your head. “Thank you..well then, I believe it is time I addressed something very important..” You raised your left hand, bringing to his notice the red string that connected the two of you. “Yes please go ahead, I am quite curious about this string.”

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for the worst possible outcome after you explained everything to him. “This is the red string of fate..Inazuma and Liyue have a..tradition where the gods have destined two people together as…Soulmates. The red string appears when two soulmates lock eyes with one another, and it signifies the union of two fated lovers…The red string may stretch endlessly, but it can never be snapped or broken. Of course…some people can…reject this bond, but that won’t erase the existence of this string..”

Wriothesley listened to your words carefully, also noticing the way you held your teacup close, caressing the edges anxiously. You weren’t looking into his eyes, and he knew that you were afraid that he would reject this bond. Truth to be told, as strange as this entire situation was, he felt so comfortable in your presence, so soothed and happy that it felt like home. He knew he was attracted to you, and wanted to be with you. Whether it was the string acting or his heart, he did not know and nor did he care. He gently held your hand in his, making your jade green eyes look at him with an expression so hopeful that it melted his ice cold heart.

“I do not wish to reject this bond. Even though I’ve only met you today; your presence has..comforted me. The fortress has always been cold and stuffy but your presence here feels like a breath of fresh air…I know that I feel connected to you. And if the gods themselves have fated us to be together then who am I to overrule their judgement?”

You smiled ever so happily, not being able to hold back as you hugged him, resting your head against his chest. Meanwhile wriothesley, though tense at first, melted into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you gently. His bigger frame completely engulfed you, as if hiding and protecting you from all evil. He was your home, you knew it. “If you are not rejecting this bold, then I pledge you my devotion and loyalty until my last breath. From now on, I am your soulmate..” you spoke, looking up into his beautiful eyes. He chuckled at your words. Gently cradling your face, smiling at the way you leaned into his touch. He knew you both would have to work a few things out, but everything would turn out to be just fine. He then held your left hand, tenderly kissing the place where the red string was tied.

“Soulmates huh? I like the sound of that. Then from this day forth, I am yours, just like you are mine.”

[mariacallous]

Not long ago, I was reading the newsletter TheRighting, for which the journalist Howard Polskin combs through the right-wing mediasphere so you don’t have to, when a back-to-back pair of links jumped out at me. The first, from Townhall, announced that it was “Time for Trump’s DOJ and FBI to Deal the Pain.” Republicans “control federal law enforcement right now,” an excerpt pulled out by Polskin read. “That means we get to set the agenda, and we need to ruthlessly and brutally use the law to defeat our enemies’ outrageous and disgraceful attacks upon patriotic Americans.” The second, from The American Spectator, focussed on the role that Elon Musk’s company SpaceX played in bringing home astronauts who had been stranded on the International Space Station, arguing that the supposed rescue reinforced the earthly premise of Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency, or DOGE: that the government is riddled with waste and other actors can perform its functions better. “If the private sector can recover astronauts,” the subheading read, “it can do anything.”

One of these links leaned into the idea that the government should be smaller; the other that it should be bigger. This juxtaposition—and apparent contradiction—seems to be everywhere at the moment. While catching up on the news on a Sunday in early April, I came across stories that attested, respectively, to significant forthcoming job cuts at the Internal Revenue Service and to the Trump Administration’s unprecedented plans to use the agency’s data to go after undocumented immigrants. The same day, Kristen Welker, the host of “Meet the Press,” asked Scott Bessent, the Treasury Secretary, about tariffs that have been called “the biggest tax hike on Americans in decades”—and then about the Administration’s plans to extend President Trump’s 2017 tax cuts. More recently, I read a story in the Times about a root-and-branch push to slash regulations across government, which Trump described as the “deconstruction of the overbearing and burdensome administrative state.” (A notice published as part of this effort, at the Federal Communications Commission, was literally titled “DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.”) I then clicked through to the paper’s live blog for that day, which led with Trump threatening to strip Harvard of its tax-exempt status should it not bend to his will.

Perhaps the two overarching themes of Trump’s first hundred or so days back in office have been that he has brazenly pushed the boundaries of executive power—over Congress, the courts, universities, law firms, the media, former bureaucrats who have slighted him, migrants disappeared without due process to a mega-prison in El Salvador—while, at the same time, empowering Musk and DOGE, among others, to pare back the federal government and withdraw it from long-standing areas of activity. At least at a glance, these narratives seem to channel a classic political divide, between those who think the government should stay out of people’s business and those who think it should take a more hands-on role. That Trump finds himself on both sides of the divide surely reflects, at least in part, the chaos of his approach to governance; whether he pursues a particular policy often seems guided less by philosophical rigor than by naked self-interest. There’s also the issue of execution. Some of his early policies—not least his tariffs—have been implemented in messy ways, and have at times appeared to be driven by incompatible impulses.

At the same time, the Trump Administration seems to be trying to appeal to a broad coalition that runs from traditional small-government Republicans to Silicon Valley techno-libertarians and the nationalist hard right. The latter’s priorities, in particular, involve expanding executive power in ways that are frequently at odds with an instinct to cut costs. The Administration’s breathtakingly ambitious deportation goals are perhaps the clearest example; Tom Homan, Trump’s “border czar,” has been prodding Congress for more funding. (“Our level of success depends on the resources I have,” he said in February.) This is before we even get into Trump’s desire to take over Canada and Greenland, which would expand the government in a very literal sense.

Moves that might appear to shrink or to grow the government, however, are not always as contradictory as they seem. Oren Cass, a prominent policy commentator who serves as the chief economist at American Compass, a conservative think tank, told me that “the simple small-government-versus-big-government dichotomy that dictated most of our political fights in the nineteen-nineties and two-thousands isn’t the right axis on which to understand a lot of the conflicts and a lot of the opportunities” of this moment. In part, he is right; we are in the midst of a political realignment that muddies old dichotomies. But evaluating exactly how government is getting both smaller and bigger under Trump 2.0—and, in some ways, getting bigger by getting smaller—is a revealing lens through which to view where this Administration, the country, and, perhaps, our broader political world may be headed.

During the Obama years, Jonathan Havercroft, an academic who teaches political theory, and who is now at the University of Glasgow, was reading Nietzsche in preparation for a lecture when he came across a reference to “misarchism,” a world view that combines aversion to government, as the entity that regulates social life, with support for a robust state that enforces order and traditional morals. Havercroft wondered if the concept might help explain the rise of the Tea Party, the Republican movement that emerged in furious opposition to Barack Obama and advocated for a mix of both libertarian and authoritarian policies. (The Tea Party was broadly anti-tax, as its name suggested, and opposed big-government programs like the Affordable Care Act, but many adherents seemed to favor stronger immigration enforcement and an aggressive approach to counterterrorism.) Havercroft and a colleague tested his hypothesis against data from the American National Election Study, found support for it, and predicted that this world view would continue to shape Republican politics long after Obama.

As the misarchist framework suggests, the idea of “the state” can be theoretically distinguished from the idea of “government,” wherein government is conceived as an entity that provides services and welfare and the key characteristic of the state is what the sociologist Max Weber called its monopoly on legitimate violence—as Havercroft told me, “what we today would think of as police power, protecting borders, military power.” The two terms have often been used interchangeably, particularly in the postwar era of democratic welfare states. Many countries, though, have combined small-government principles borrowed from neoliberal economics, with its emphasis on free markets as the main driver of social organization, with vicious crackdowns on freedoms of speech and association. Pinochet’s Chile, for instance, both privatized the pension system and disappeared people by dropping their bodies out of helicopters into the ocean. It has been speculated that the scale of Chile’s neoliberal turn would have been impossible without its accompanying authoritarianism. In a 1982 letter to the libertarian economist Friedrich A. Hayek, Margaret Thatcher acknowledged the success of Pinochet’s reforms, but noted that “in Britain with our democratic institutions and the need for a high degree of consent, some of the measures adopted in Chile are quite unacceptable.”

Many neoliberal economies have been premised on the notion that a strong state is needed to create a strong market—though that state, ultimately, might do fewer things. A Ferrari or a Porsche might be smaller than a Jaguar, Ernesto Gallo, an academic who has studied a growing body of literature on what is called “authoritarian neoliberalism,” told me. But the smaller car may be “stronger in terms of power.” Even in the age of Ronald Reagan and Thatcher, the idea of a spectrum running from small government on the right to big government on the left was an oversimplification. (In Reagan’s first Inaugural Address, he declared that “government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,” and then went on, for example, to significantly increase defense spending.) In 2001, a journalist launched the Political Compass, a tool designed to move beyond such simplifications by adding a social scale perpendicular to the economic one, creating ideological quadrants that have since become a staple of political-science classes. Singapore, for instance, is highly economically free but sharply socially authoritarian.

Trump, despite continuing to celebrate Reagan’s legacy, has in many respects moved away from the consensus that defines the former President’s economic policies. In 2019, Veronique de Rugy, a libertarian and senior research fellow at the Mercatus Center, at George Mason University, wrote in Reason magazine that Trump’s first Presidency would “end up being, by a large margin, a very pro-government intervention administration,” citing, among other things, his first-term tariff policy. Now that Trump is back in office, de Rugy told me, he is redoubling his pursuit of that policy in a way that constitutes “an utter abuse of executive powers” and mirrors “the very same arrogance that the far left has always had, that government knows best and can consciously reorganize the economy.”

Indeed, an ascendant wing of the Republican Party has actively pushed for a more muscular government—in the areas of family and industrial policy, for example—after reaching the conclusion that Reagan-style market orthodoxy has hollowed out communities, among other bad outcomes. Cass, who is generally aligned with this wing, accused DOGE of “cutting the things you actually wanted to be building up”; its approach to head-count reduction, for example, slashed an office overseeing subsidies for the domestic manufacturing of semiconductors.

But Cass sees DOGE more as a wasted opportunity than a faulty premise, and he sees spending cuts as a necessary part of realigning the government’s priorities; in his view, for example, it might take less government to enforce universal tariffs than to regulate individual free-trade deals, or to coördinate industrial policy than to retrain and support workers left behind by the market. But “the actual substantive goal of both building some things up while cutting other things down has to be paired to a rhetoric that recognizes that updated reality,” Cass said. And on that front “there’s still a ways to go.” Many figures in the Administration still speak in very classically “small government” terms. The Deputy Treasury Secretary complained to Politico recently that “the government’s gotten larger” and “more involved in people’s lives.” DOGE called for “small-government revolutionaries” to join its team; Musk has said that the U.S. should privatize “everything we possibly can,” and danced around with a chainsaw gifted to him by Javier Milei, the avowedly libertarian President of Argentina. (He also reposted, then deleted, a missive stating that “Stalin, Mao and Hitler didn’t murder millions of people. Their public sector workers did.”) Havercroft told me that Musk is acting like the “misarchist-in-chief.”

And yet it’s also fair to question how much Musk et al. are actually shrinking the government. (Bessent himself reportedly did this recently, during a shouting match with the DOGE head in the White House.) Musk once spoke of wanting to quickly slash two trillion dollars in federal spending, but he has since revised down that figure; so far, the cuts have fallen far short of his ambitious goals—and that’s if you take DOGE’s self-reported claims at face value, which is, erm, ill-advised. And many government workers fired at DOGE’s behest have subsequently been reinstated, because their jobs turned out to be essential or because the courts intervened to clip DOGE’s wings. Over all, spending is actually higher than this time last year, spurred largely by debt interest and automatic increases in Social Security payments, which Trump has promised not to touch, even though they make up a substantial percentage of the federal budget. (Whether you believe Trump’s promise, of course, is a different question; White House officials have suggested that the early cuts targeted “low-hanging fruit” to build political cover for less popular decisions to come.)

If that budget is “the debt-ridden dad on the way to buy a $250,000 Ferrari on the credit card,” Jessica Riedl, of the center-right Manhattan Institute, told NPR in early March, then “DOGE is the $2-off gas card he used along the way.” Last week, Riedl told Reuters that she believes the initiative will end up costing more than it saves. Other analysts seem to agree, citing the costs of firing and rehiring people and lost productivity—not to mention the legal bills it has racked up defending its work. DOGE, Riedl said, “is not a serious exercise.”

The extent to which the Administration has cut government spending may be debatable, but surely it wants to be seen as slashing away. Musk has talked about the cuts in terms of efficiency, but he has also cast them in Manichaean terms. The U.S. Agency for International Development, or U.S.A.I.D., for instance, was (among many, many other things) “a viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America” and needed to “die.” His army of engineers tinkers largely out of sight of the public, but Musk himself wants people—his supporters, yes, but, as with any good troll, probably more so his critics—to see him as a warrior and to pay attention to him, be that by posting hyperactively on X or by showing up in Wisconsin in a cheesehead hat and framing a state Supreme Court race as existential for civilization. After waving Milei’s chainsaw onstage at the Conservative Political Action Conference, in February, Musk sat down and proclaimed, “I am become meme”—hardly a classic expression of the desire for government to recede from people’s lives. (“DOGE started out as a meme,” he added, with a chuckle. “And now it’s real.”) If Musk, to a certain extent, has become a representation of the government, his ubiquity suggests that the government is growing, at least as an object that demands people’s attention.

The Administration has used Musk, DOGE, and other financial maneuvers to expand its power in more concrete ways, too. The gutting of U.S.A.I.D. threw down a gauntlet before Congress, which ultimately created the agency, and before the courts. Keen observers of authoritarianism see the mass firing of civil servants as a way station on the road to autocracy. The way the cuts and their associated efforts have been handled has certainly made federal workers feel targeted, demoralized, and even paranoid; there have been reports of some of them hiding their laptops and using white-noise machines for fear that their conversations are being recorded, and likening DOGE’s presence to a panopticon, a psyop, and a horror movie. This appears to be at least partly by design: Russell Vought, the director of the Office of Management and Budget and a key intellectual force behind Trump’s aggressive wielding of executive power, has said that he wants bureaucrats “to be traumatically affected. When they wake up in the morning, we want them to not want to go to work because they are increasingly viewed as the villains.” (There are wider fears that DOGE is trying to build a surveillance state by seizing control of people’s sensitive data.) The Administration is also pulling at the purse strings as a means of asserting power over organizations that receive federal money but are supposed to be independent—like the United States Institute for Peace and, reportedly, NPR and PBS—by sending in DOGE or attempting to claw back appropriations that Congress already authorized. Terminating grants, or threatening to do so, has been a primary instrument in Trump’s war on private universities. With cuts comes leverage comes power.

The DOGE part of all this might be at an inflection point. Musk, following weeks of reports that he is on the outs, confirmed recently—after Tesla, his car company, reported a huge drop in profits—that he intends to spend less time in Washington. (Ever the misarchist, he blamed recent protests targeting Tesla dealerships on special interests drunk on government largesse. “The real reason is that those who are receiving the waste and fraud wish it to continue,” he said.) Musk has suggested, however, that he will continue to spend around two days per week on government business. And it would be naïve to think that Musk taking a step back will spell the end of DOGE, though the volume might be turned down and Congress will at some point have to weigh in. (“DOGE is a way of life, like Buddhism,” he told reporters this week, when asked about succession planning. “Buddha isn't alive anymore. You wouldn't ask the question: ‘Who would lead Buddhism?’ ”) Musk has embedded allies across the government. Vought and others remain in place—and their plan to radically reshape the federal bureaucracy has much deeper ideological roots than some faddish crusade named after a meme. The ultimate boss, of course, is Trump himself—a man who surely cares less about the size of the government, in some philosophical sense, than about rooting out the parts of it that he views as hostile or disloyal and using what remains to enforce his whims.

One recurring motif of Musk’s tenure with DOGE has been that he thinks the government should be run like one of his businesses. Generously, his cuts might be cast in the Silicon Valley tradition of moving fast, breaking things, and then building them back up from zero. Similar has been said of Trump, albeit in a more old-fashioned sense. Businesses, Havercroft, the political theorist, told me, are often “actually quite authoritarian” in terms of how they are run.

Earlier in his career, Havercroft was keenly interested in the idea of the state, and how the concept grew out of the idea of the “estate,” or personal possession of the ruler, as depicted in Niccolò Machiavelli’s “The Prince” or Hilary Mantel’s “Wolf Hall.” “In one sense, I think Musk and Trump are trying to re-personalize the state,” Havercroft told me. “ ‘We’re now in charge, it’s my state, I get to run it.’ ” We spoke before Musk’s recent comments about withdrawing from government affairs. If the private sector can do anything, as The American Spectator would have it, it can certainly reabsorb Elon Musk. L’État, c’est encore Trump.

[raphaellight]

Mike vs Harvey: Genius, talent and hard work

Suits does present us Mike as a genius. Fotographic memory, mind capable of analyzing enourmous number of data in a span of minutes. He is also charming and fast-witted. A perfect lawyer.

And it was made a thing thruout most of the show. Mike is the Genius, the mind like no other. It would usually be a story about a scientist curing cancer or creating new technologies and exploring cosmos if it wasn't a show about lawyers.

And yet, by the end, Mike is not THE best lawyer there is. Even in his prime, Mike Ross never topped that one guy. The one that took it upon himself to mentor him.

How is it, that the Golden Child with superhuman brain can't top this man?

There are plenty of things to unpack. Just looking for a appropiate pic of Harvey I found an article discussing how to build confidence by emulating Harvey Specter. Suits isn't exacly the deepest show, but that one thing we can all realise on this particular fictional story. Brain power is not all there is.

Don't get me wrong, I do not sign under "there is no such thing as IQ, everyone is smart" ideas and Harvey is definitelly one of the smartest fictional characters. It just shows brain power doesn't always equals competence and greater talent doesn't always mean greater succes.

While Harvey can't recite hole passages of lawyers guide book he read 10 years ago or memorize hole aggrement down to a coma in ten minutes, his experience, lessons and passion he has for his craft make him excel at things brain power alone can't equate to. He reads people like books and knows exacly how to use it to judge the best business partners for decades in advance and how to convince said people to work with him. He has experienced enough to know when he can take a risk and bold enough to do it even against his own boss opinions. Even if Mike can quote all of the American corporate law, Harvey can quote enough of it needed to win any case he needs. And he is passionate enough that everyone knows he will do anything to win any case that comes his way.

I'm not here to give definitive answer on who's better lawyer. Seems like a contradiction to everything I wrote up until now, but at the end, Harvey specializes in corporate law where as Mike, driven by his idealistic ideas and need for helping others turns more towards lawsuits against unethical corporate practices, which he excells at. In later seasons, when Mike stops being MC, he is often referred as "jury charmer" or something like that, while Harver is "the closer" that rarely brings a case to actuall court. They have slightly different styles, take on different cases and, most important, have different motivations for practicing law.

A phew years back, a friend of mine told me to "stop focusing on whether or not can I understand a field and just enter it" when I voiced my own anxiety about finishing high school and putting myself on a more specialized carrier road. In the show about top of the top, lesson we need to take away is that, we can always fill in if we are passionate and hard working enough. Talent and genius can put people only so far ahead. Even Genius like Mike Ross can't top a man that puts his hole heart into something. And remember, both of them had to look for Louis Litt advice when they delt with finance law.

[hornymotionalcookie]

Here to do my part to fill Sam's tag with Sam centric content

Thinking about Sam's worth and him deserving the shield, the mantle, the cheering on by being the good man that he is, I membered another discord exclusive I wrote that tagged onto @thatmexisaurusrex ship of Sarah Wilson and Brunnhilde/Valkyrie, affectionately dubbed Ocean King (aka Poseidon), almost 3yrs ago now. So I went digging to share, maybe I'll eventually polish it up fer ao3. As is, it's unbeta'd.

Sam found himself sat upon the deck of his parent’s boat, his and Sarah’s boat now. It’d been a day and he'd snuck off from the packed reception spilling through his family home, their backyard, the driveway, the porch – every space occupied by community and villagers from New Asgard coming together to celebrate Sarah’s and Hilde’s marriage.

Delacroix had once again shown up and shown out, bringing a feast that could easily feed an army twice over and spent the day tending the food and their guests so that Sarah and Hilde could focus on each other more than the hosting duties. It was a damn good day and he was stuffed, exhausted and so deliriously happy for his baby sister. Even now, he couldn’t fight the smile that rode his face all day seeing Sarah honored and adored as Hilde said her ‘I Dos’, vowing to protect their newly joined family (she’d turned in kind to each AJ & Cass, her loving smile growing at becoming Sarah’s partner in parenting), their homes and Sarah’s heart. As Sarah spoke her own heartfelt words, there was a battle between tear-streaks and cheek-stretching smiles but two displays of joy agreed to share the space on his face for the day.

Sam sat, sipping at one of the hidden brews in the boat's cooler, shaking his head at the goodness that could still exist in their world and was therefore caught entirely off-guard by the appearance of one very large, very loud, golden-haired guest.

“Son of Will! There you are! It is most good to see you on such a momentous occasion!”

After Sam swallowed the beer he’d almost choked on in his shock, he sputtered a laugh, strained voice greeting his visitor, “Good to see you, too, Thor. Thank you for the near-heart attack." He motions Thor over grabbing another beer and handing it to him as he got settled on the deck next to Sam. "How goes space travels with the new crew?”

“It has been an interesting task to navigate from a secondary position… for Quill. Me, I’m used to guiding the stars and space. But it is interesting to have a strong-willed second, although challenging. Well, not challenging, nor difficult, really. It wouldn’t be a particularly fair fight if it were to come to that, but I’m pretty sure we’ve both come to an understanding now.” He flashes a shit-eating grin at Sam, some of his words in jest, some he fully means, Sam knows. Hilde talked at length about Thor’s competition with Quill as they traversed the galaxies in forms of bedtime stories for AJ & Cass. “How has it been adjusting to your new role, Captain?”

“You know, it’s been a journey, man. Everyday’s a new fight in terms of players, but the same struggle. It’s a lot, but when trying to do what’s right and navigating the rules set in place defining right from wrong, it’s a delicate balance that I’m never sure I come close to reaching by the day’s end. So, today, in this, with Sarah and Hilde undertaking this world and all its many obstacles together, it’s one of the best days I’ve had in a long time, to see what can happen when we let our differences unite us instead of divide us.”

“That was beautifully said, Son of Will. I suppose now, this makes us family, perhaps brothers-in-law as you Midgardians say.”

“I suppose it does, huh?” Sam laughed in turn.

They move the conversation on, conversing on leadership roles, the responsibility of holding positions of not just power, but influence and the pressure to do the best by your people. They relate to one another in their unique, opposite perspectives, recognizing the strength each possesses in taking on a mantle or stepping down from one, in being chosen to lead and in leaving one with great skills not in your stead, but in place to build and strengthen their people on their terms.

The conversation inevitably leads back to the day Steve left, “You really had no idea of his plans then, no inkling?”

Sam shook his head, lips stretched thin before launching into the story of the day, “Your hammer, Milton—“

“Mjolnir.”

“That’s what I had meant. Before Steve left, before he stepped on that platform and unbeknownst to some, chased his piece of happiness, he set it down to hug me and shake hands. I thought he was just being a big ole sap, like ‘You’re coming right back, what’s with all the touchy feely stuff, man?’ I remember laughing and slapping him on the shoulder, grabbing the hammer to hand it to him, not thinking, just wanting to see him off so we could all grab the big green guy to grab a bite.” Thor stifled a gasp, stilling as Sam continued relating the tale, a small smile on his face, “And I remember he gave me this funny smile when I did, right, almost like he was proud of me or something, ya know. I didn’t understand it then, that smile, and even after all I’ve gone through before I picked up the shield, something about it just stuck with me."

“You, Son of Will, are worthy.”

“Come again? Also, you can call me Sam, by the way.”

“You, Sam, Son of Will, are worthy. Mjolnir has an excellent sense of who to trust to wield its power—“

“We’re still talking about the hammer, right?”

“Indeed. And any capable of lifting it have a worth most high. I imagine Rogers smiled then because he already knew that you were the right man for the job and the ability to lift Mjolnir was just further confirmation of that fact. From personal experience, it is a great comfort to know for certain that who you choose will lead well, perhaps even better than you.

“In you, Rogers proved himself an excellent chooser in friends and judge of character. The latter is true of Milton – uh, I mean Mjolnir, as well as I. And you, Son of Will, Samuel, are more than worthy to lead the Avengers anew. In you, Midgard has gained another great leader.” Thor claps Sam on the back as he in turn is blinded by Sam’s megawatt smile in the setting sunlight left in the sky. Sam turns towards it and the light plays off of the shining bright brown of his eyes.

Thor’s hand slid to Sam’s shoulder, squeezing in affectionate camaraderie. As he watched the light in Sam’s amber eyes brighten with golden hues, he squeezed again in secret intrigue, and again in consideration at the firm muscle under his palm. Then memory came back to wreak pain on Thor and he dropped his arm from Sam’s person.

Sam turned to see the sadness envelop Thor and the resulting flinch in his face. The sudden sorrow reminds Sam of another giant, jolly blond he’d once flown with. He’d always be ready with a joke to break the tension, to bring tears of laughter instead of pain, but on bad days and losing more lives than they could save, Riley couldn’t give that same energy to himself. “Hey, you okay, man?”

Thor grimaced, “It is just for a moment, you reminded me of someone… someone close to me lost to Thanos’ cruelty he misrepresented as altruism.” Thor’s stare is directed towards the waters but is aimed inward, lost, as he relives Heimdall’s end at the hands of the Titan."

“Were you there when it happened?” Sam asks gently, recognizing the solemn moment they’ve arrived at.

Thor nods, voice soft, “Yes… and even with the powers I possess, I could not stop the moment from happening, could not save him like he’d done so many times for all of Asgard… for me. In all we’ve done since to restore the worlds, I could not bring back a very large part of mine.”

This time it is Sam reaching out a hand to rest on Thor’s shoulder, “I am so very sorry, Thor. To lose someone in that way… It never leaves you. ‘What If I had done this instead?’ or ‘What if I had done that instead?’ The millions of questions haunt you, I know. And all we can do is try to hold onto the smiles they gave us, the laughs, the joys, the love we shared and let it be our strength to get us through the inevitable rough day.”

Thor returns his gaze to Sam, seeing his own sorrow reflected back at him and chuckles despite the tenseness of the moment. “Again Son of Wil—“ Sam raises an eyebrow playfully. “Sam. You are a good man, a wise man. And though our sorrows stay with us, today is a day of joyous celebration.” He angles his head down the way towards the newlyweds that have snuck away from their guests to steal a moment’s sweetness to themselves.

“Happiness has taken ahold of our remaining loved ones again. Love anew is an occasion most deserving to be celebrated and I am so glad Hilde sent me word to share in it. It is an honor to share the joy of the day with her and her new Queen Sarah and the family and villages they’ve joined with their pledge. To share that and sit here with you, Sam Wilson, it is not only an honor, but a great pleasure.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Maunder Labyrinth Character Intros/General Information

-

A concept blurb for my haunted attraction yan series in which the Reader applies for a position at the location to make some extra cash for the upcoming season. This post lists the main cast plus a few of the rules they have to follow. Feel free to ask any questions

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SawBones (she/they)

Doctor; grouchy 24/7

A woman of science looked down upon by peers and loved ones for her unorthodox methods. Tricked into visited the Labyrinth by "friends" and betrayed by that same group right before the exit. Seeing the talent in her twisted mind she was given a second chance. Was gifted the bodies of all four members as a welcome present to her new home which she then stitched into a new pet who carries out patrols for her. Turns every guest she gets her hands on into a new guard or another trophy on her shelf.

Sawbones lost an eye to a guest before being fully twinned to the Labyrinth. Hates Hound for stopping her from chasing after them once they had safely escaped her section. Her sole comfort is a cassette player she had in her pocket before venturing to the attraction with a mixtape of the songs it once loved. It serves a deeper purpose as her real name is on the tape.

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Martyr (He/Him)

"You can trust me!" You can't trust him.

A once shy and awkward body with a tame love for horror now a homicidal fanatic. Lost his mind to the horrors and wonders of the Labyrinth, and slaughtered his friends as offerings for a hope to appease. Bangs himself up and dupes his way into large groups to slowly bump them off one before breaking into a frenzy and killing the rest in his lust.

Welds a chainsaw he decorates with stickers and prints guests might have on them. If something they own is cute enough he will let a guest go - if a ten minute headstart means anything.

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Jumpscare

...

...

....boo

Not much is know about Jumpscare. They reappear and disappear mostly as they please. There one second and gone the next. Devoid of expression and is alot jumpier than they look. Half of their scares are from being startled upon finding living guests while disassociating, and screaming their head off because of the realization.

Jumpscare is one of two actors who will not actively kill guests (unless they have a heart condition). They are interested in the outside world and offer places to hide in exchange for knowledge. Pulls back from this habit once Reader joins the crew and dumps their questions on them instead.

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Bedevil

"I see dead people...." "B, that's a mirror." "I know...."

Plagued by wails and visions of the damned. Has trouble telling guests from living or dead and will fly into panic when they attempt to interact- adding another voice to the choir that haunts them. Reader's name tag helps Bedevil differ them from others, but they cling to their side to assure their companion is still among the living. Has thought of asking Reader to quite, but is too afraid of being alone again.

-

Hound (they/them)

Do not remove their muzzle. Do not interact.

Hound is the other member who will not kill guests - they are also the most monstrous in appearance. Hound is reluctant in their cannibalistic urges, but feels they deserve to live same as everyone else. Eats the corpses of guests littered around and offers sanctuary for survivors in their bunker. It is the only safe zone in the main building.

Twins - Leader (he/him) & Follower (whatever you want)

Follower and Leader swap between manning the front and being guides for the tour. Follower is very assertive, dominant, and boastful. Leader is reserved, submissive and self hating. Follower will lead a tour safely through the maze unless a guest acts against them. Leader will do just about any order giving to them, but has a walkie-talkie at all times to receive them from their bother. If a guests asks for a discount - they will give it. If they ask to be let go - Leader will let them go.

Spector [It]

Enforcer of law, order, and punishment. Has free range of all corners of the Labyrinth and the ability to phase through walls. A tell tale sign of their arrival is the temperature dropping. The cameras around the attraction are their eyes.

-

Boogeyman

Your Boss.

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THE SEVEN IMPORTANT RULES ACTORS HAVE TO FOLLOW

Do not attack guests until signaled.

Do not fight amongst each other.

Once inside Hound's bunker no actor is permitted to attack guests until they exit.

Do not leave your assigned area.

Do not cover the cameras.

Do not take the hired helps name tag. Failure to comply to this rule will be met immediate termination.

Failure to comply otherwise will result in the mask given to you sewn into place. A second strike will give the jailer free range of punishment.

[neonscandal]

Do you think that when Gojo first heard that Itadori ate a cursed object he was instantly reminded of Geto? Do you think that somewhere in his heart he knew what was going to happen because nothing good came to the person, his Suguru, who ate curses. Do you think that's why Gojo was so insistent on helping out Itadori, because in some cruel way every time he looked at the teen he was reminded of Geto? Of Geto and how he didn't notice his best friend lover spiralling until it was too late already? Do you think--?

I love literally all of those observations because they imply, so heavily, that Gojo is always looking at the world through Suguru colored glasses. To an extent, I absolutely think that’s right.

But with that and before anything else, Gojo's understanding of the situation was observed and influenced through Megumi. Despondent, isolated Megumi.

Upon Gojo's overly casual interjection into the situation, I think his first impulse was curiosity with a sprinkle of ego. Like, is the kid saveable? But also, let's see how much stronger I am than Sukuna. We know Gojo loves the opportunity to go all out and it's so infrequent so why not take it out on the awakened King of Curses? But even his first notion was more geared toward whether Yuji could be a vessel.

Giving Megumi some autonomy over the situation was, I think, a bit of a test. Gojo isn't exactly a black and white judge of morality and Megumi is probably as endeared to Gojo as he is integral to Gojo's vision for the future of jujutsu. Less from a papa-Gojo standpoint (as much as we love to see it) and more strategically. I'm not one to overly imbue Gojo with the capacity for affection. Man is clearly plotting.

But, with a simple question, Megumi is prompted to outline what jujutsu law dictates while also refuting it due to his personal discretion.... It's a test of his character. As if Gojo wants to be sure the person under his tutelage will have the resolve to take on the current status quo as intended (like father like son ✨).

Now, seemingly acting at the behest of his young charge, he acts as Yuji's benefactor but we already know this isn't uncommon re: Yuta. As Yuji is integrated into society, we see how Gojo relates to him but I think he sees more of himself than Geto.

Please, just look at them.

His history with Geto remains a guiding force in why he does the things he does and why he seeks to protect the youth. But I question whether Gojo really had the emotional complexity to grasp the inequities of his strength and technique as compared to Geto's and how it subsequently weighed on his friend.

I do think he's able to exploit saving Yuji and pivot it into something to draw Megumi out of his shell. Perhaps to correct his own failure for the way he couldn't help Geto toward the end because he and Megumi have a similar disposition. It's why, in an almost completely abandoned school, he puts Yuji right next door to Megumi. It's the first step in curing the isolation of being The Strongest but also maybe the best chance they have of keeping each other sane.

[distant-velleity]

anyone want TGTWST lore? no? well too bad lol

~

Once upon a time...

If every universe is its own self-contained “seed,” and every alternate of it a new “sprout” branching outwards, then “Earth” and “Wonderland” must be two seeds planted in the same field. So close as to share concepts, but vastly differing in natural law and history. 

The flow of time in Wonderland had long since been corrupted. It became encased in an isolated samsara, where the same few people would be reincarnated and history would repeat itself. Their stories became twisted, lost to time and faded memories. Everything changed, and yet everything remained the same.

“I see,” observed a certain being who had taken it upon himself to watch both Earth and Wonderland. “Their desires for a ‘happy ending’ have changed the fundamental laws of that world. Then, if it’s a ‘happy ending’ they want… I will write it for them.”

So he undertook his next task, indulging himself in the name of ‘order.’ A story he wrote by taking bits and pieces and fragments from others, a System he programmed, a method of fixing the error as much as his powers allowed him to.

“Now… What shall I name this story? Ah, yes, this one sounds fitting—Twisted Wonderland. It’s what they call themselves, isn’t it?”

It was complete—or, rather, it was almost complete. There was only one problem: his story lacked the perfect main character. A novel is pointless without a protagonist; a game is pointless without a player. As the ‘author,’ the ‘administrator,’ he could not fill that role.

Therefore, he created a blank vessel and waited. And waited, and waited.

Until finally, a soul with that same desire for a “happy ending” came along. It was a pitiful soul, one that had ended its life on Earth far too early. It even bore resemblance to that of the Spectator’s original body.

“How amusing. Then, why don’t I give you this second chance?”

Gently, he guided the soul into the blank vessel and allowed natural desires and magic to adjust its shape. 

“You will gaze into their memories, get to know them, and eventually set them on a new path.  But for you, there is nothing but the vague promise of a ‘happy ending’ waiting. So I’m looking forward to seeing it—what choices you will make along the way and where that will take you.”

He smiled, and allowed the story to take its course.

“All things considered, it's a win-win situation, isn’t it? After all, 'endings' are just new beginnings.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Present day.

The presence before the 'protagonist' feels overwhelming, but not oppressive. Still, it sends an eerie chill through his whole body - he's survived eight overblots, and yet to come face to face with this kind of being...

“Who are you? Why do you… look like me?”

[superscribenova]

Marriage of Flesh Soriku (Canon divergence AU)

Kingdom Hearts x Fear and Hunger

“The perfect Marriage”

A surprisingly complicated Crossover i’ve had in my head about these two fandoms. The Brutality and grittiness of Fear and Hunger contrasts with the Dreamlike and bond-centric universe of Kingdom hearts.

It sort of goes like this:

When Sora finds himself in the Final world after Riku sacrifices himself for him, he collects the pieces of himself in the final world in order to regain some power and use the Power of Waking, when he does this and gains attempts to bring back his friends… he can’t. His heart is still far too fractured and he himself is already dead.

He can’t bring them back…or, at least, not all of them. He is able to bring back the one whose connection with him is stronger and died closest to him. Riku.

Following a tearful reunion in the final world…a chirithy appears and tells them that rewriting fate has consequences. That brining back a fading heart creates a singularity, the timeline they died in no longer existed, a new one was created where they never died. (Taken from an interview from kh3 ultimania)

Sora was ecstatic, because this meant that his friends were revived in the end!

…and then chirithy tells them that they can’t be part of the new timeline, or even the realm of light or darkness….

Because there were already other versions of themselves there. Ones that never died at this point in the battle.

This throws sora and riku for a loop, until chirithy tells that he didn’t have a lot of time with them until the universe decided they were anomalies, so he told them the essentials:

This was able to happen due to the final realm being strange with time, any and all changes done in the final realm are rare in the first place and one that affects the timeline nearly unheard of. Ultimately, most changes done in the final world were taken accounted for in the timeline.

Sora and Riku were far too weak to hold themselves for a permanent period of time outside the realm of kingdom hearts (all sora took from this was that it would be possible if they weren’t so weak.)

Magic as it is in their universe may not be the same wherever they go.

And that it would be nearly impossible to come back to the realm of light as this version of themselves because otherwise kingdom hearts would keep kicking them back out (like a computer reading a file named the same as another and being unable to save it automatically).

As they began fading away, he told them to be careful of laws that guide other worlds.

Now Sora and Riku barreled through the void between universes and crashed, they woke up seeing sand. Sora tried to stand up but was shocked by a pain in his right leg, it was broken. Alongside that, Riku’s nose was also bleeding. Sora tried to cast a cure spell, and was met with a stab of pain in his chest.

His magic wasn’t working here. And they didn’t have potions, so Riku took it upon himself to carry Sora for…however long it took to either find a place, or have sora’s leg heal.

In the end, they roamed for about two days, until in front of them, stood the dungeons of fear and hunger.

Just standing in front of the gaping entrance they were overcome with dread, they didn’t want to go inside, so they looked around at the barrels instead, there was nearly nothing except some food (which they decided to store). They also noted the dead horse and cringed at the sight.

Ultimately they decided to go inside to maybe see if they could find people or maybe even a doctor.

The dungeon itself was stuffy and musty on the inside, as well as rather humid. It was uncomfortable and cold for them.

Further from the entrance they found their first…being. A giant Hulking guard with….appendages that were unnaturally…large, along with a cleaver that could fit the same description. Neither of them were in any fighting condition, half starved, injured, and extremely weak. So they didn’t need to be told to book it.

Luckily they got away from it as soon as it noticed them and found themselves in a library, it had books of all kinds and made the mustiness somewhat bearable. So Riku took the time to look through the books and…well, he could read them, as a small mercy, the translation factor of their keyblades worked here.

There were too many books to really try and read now, but he saw a couple of introductory level books about gods and goddesses as well as magic. So he took those and sifted through them with Sora.

This is the point where they remember that chirithy told them about laws that govern each universe differ, and magic coming from gods was maybe one reason his own didn’t work very well, but he could still feel it inside him, which was weird. Unfortunately, the books were a little useless other than telling them magic came from gods and who was the god of what (as well as some rather disturbing rituals he had no real intention of arranging, and getting a morbid idea of what people were like im this universe…as well as the gods).

So the library wasn’t as helpful as they would have liked, but there was still a lot more dungeon left. As they explored, they ran into more monsters, it became increasingly more difficult as Riku still had to carry Sora and was beginning to worry that the leg might heal crooked, like like his arm did once.

One monster nearly took sora away, it had sora by his bad leg and he was screaming. Riku panicked and summoned his keyblade, which was frustratingly dull from his weakness, but ultimately with enough hits in, the monster had gone down…or more accurately, died.

At this point Riku noticed his hands were caked in blood and sora was coughing violently. Riku carried sora to the nearest entrance he could find and found….a courtyard…with corpses…..hanging.

Sora’s coughing stopped at the sight, whether because it was from the body being in shock from the horrifying sight in front of him, or from the fact Riku had released the contents of his stomach in to his side.

This wasn’t halloween town, where rotting green skin, dislocated heads, and gangly limbs were part of the spooks and scares, this wasn’t Port royale where the skeletal hollowness was part of a curse and fought through the lens of adventure and treasure. No, this was real, terrifying, and it could happen to them.

And they wouldn’t even be able to stop it, both their states were less than ideal and by any other measures, critical. They had no potions, no reliable magic, no where else to go...or even friends to help them.

They both had the creeping feeling that despite the hope they had in finding people to help them, they might not want to encounter the people of this dungeon at all.

To be continued

[farfromstrange]

just read ‘long distance’ and i was wondering if you could serve pain? jen walters was mentioned and reader exists, that means angst and maybe cheating (or even a hint of it?) please??? i love your fluff and smut pieces. also the angst (but i dont dwell too much since self harming is better left in the past for me) but i really like how you deliver pain. i hope this gets chosen and written, but no pressure ofc. thank you and may the spirit of creativity live within you.

Hi, nonnie! I'm sorry you had to wait so long. I wasn't sure if you wanted a part 2 or an entirely new fic, so I kind of used part of what I already mentioned in Long Distance and continued in this fic. I didn't do full-on cheating, but it's still angst, and well... there is no comfort. I hope you like it!

Burn | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt comes home after his work trip and tells you something that changes your life forever.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of Smut, cheating

Word Count: 2.7k

You’re not sure what happened. 

Matt spent a few weeks in Los Angeles to work on a case that would bring in some money. You didn’t mind; he does it sometimes. Since he, Foggy, and Karen opened the doors of their law firm again, work trips between the three have become more frequent. They’re making money now, and you would always support it.

You have also never been insecure about your relationship with him before. You and Matt have been together for years, even before the Blip, and you held onto each other when all of your friends disappeared. You thought you were happy. His job is going well; you are happy and don’t have to live paycheck by paycheck anymore. At least you thought so. 

While he was away, you talked over the phone regularly. He always seemed so relieved to hear your voice. You often talked for hours, and you texted him sweet nothings during the day. He told you he appreciated it. 

Every other night, you would retreat to your bedroom and he would guide you to orgasm after orgasm with the sound of his voice, and you would do the same. The toy he got you before he left for LA came in handy more than once since you could be connected over the distance now and still somehow control each other’s pleasure.

When he texted you he would be home earlier than expected, you were so excited, you took the day off, put on your best lingerie, and cooked dinner. You thought he would be happy to be with you again; he told you how much he missed you. He compared it very dramatically to a lack of air and that you were his oxygen, and you remember laughing at him. You have never loved a man as much as you love Matt Murdock, so it is only natural for you to get excited, right?

You talked about marriage before, maybe even kids. You planned a future together. Deep down, you’ve been waiting for him to pop the question. Foggy is an idiot and he let something slip one day, and ever since you have been vigilant. You thought that he might finally ask you after coming home from his trip. 

You thought. That seemed to be the common denominator. You always just believe and hope for the best; in the end, things don’t turn out how you want them to. 

You’re really not sure what happened, but something did happen because when Matt opens the door, he’s not even smiling at you. 

“Welcome back!” you greet him with the brightest smile you can offer. Maybe he’s just tired. 

But you know him and you know the difference between exhaustion and guilt; the man before you may be tired, but he is also struggling with the shame he inflicted upon himself, and it is not his duty as Daredevil this time. 

He drops his bag by the door. You lean in for a kiss. “How was your flight?” you ask.

You’re in denial. Something happened, but you don’t want to ruin it. You don’t want to ruin this. You keep telling yourself it’s going to be okay, but you just don’t know what happened to get you here–

He evades your lips, simply hugging you briefly before answering, “Good.”

Your body trembles. “Matt.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” he retorts. He moves to the kitchen and grabs himself a bottle of beer. “I’m just tired.”

You frown. “Is that why you can’t even look at me?” you ask.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart–” the usually so endearing nickname sounds so bitter now. “You know I can’t see,” he says. 

“You know what I mean.” You cross your arms. “Something isn’t right.”

His expression is serious, and it sends a wave of unease crashing over you. You try to push away the worry that gnaws at your insides, but it's hard to ignore the change in his demeanor.

He avoids your gaze, his eyes flickering around the room as if searching for something, or perhaps, avoiding something. Silence hangs heavy in the air, stretching the seconds into eternity.

That’s when you know that something happened, and it affects you because if it didn’t, he wouldn’t be so distant toward you. You taught him to always be open with you about his struggles, and he has managed to learn how to voice his needs, so it confuses you when he does neither and treats you more like a stranger than his girlfriend. 

There was only one time in your relationship he acted this way and that was the day Elektra stepped back into his life, and with it, yours. 

Your stomach churns. The hope you had built up crumbles, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “What happened?” you urge again. 

He leans against the kitchen counter, turning his head away from you. Tears are glistening in his eyes behind his red glasses. 

“Matthew, please,” you beg. “Talk to me. Tell me!”

The room feels heavy with tension. His shoulders slump, and for a moment, it seems like he's about to break, to let the words spill forth. But just as quickly, he straightens his posture and averts his gaze.

"I can't," he whispers. "I can't tell you."

You step forward, but he shies away as if being close to you is somehow toxic. It breaks your heart. He looks disgusted, and you wonder if it's because of you. Maybe you used the wrong body wash, but that would elicit a different reaction. You didn't do anything differently today, you're simply excited, that's all there is, but as you look at him, he seems to be the exact opposite. Stoic, empty, cold...

“We've always been honest with each other, Matt," you say, still walking up to him even as he recoils. "I cooked dinner for you, took a shower, got dressed... and now you won't even fucking try and look at me. You've been gone for weeks! Please, just... I deserve to know what's going on." You reach for him, but this time, he moves away wholly.

The distance between you becomes a void that you could easily slip in and drown. His body language is a storm, causing the waves to crash into the shore and choke up with their cruel claws. 

His grip tightens around the neck of the beer bottle, his knuckles turning white. You can see the faintest scars; you know he brought his suit with him, you just didn't think he would actually use it. "You deserve better," he says, more to himself than to you. There is the guilt you have been waiting for, but it still affects you because he is talking about you.

Your heart skips a beat. You have had this conversation many times in the past. "Better?" you ask. "Matt, what are you talking about? I don't want better, I want you." You laugh in disbelief, but he doesn't even smile. He's not trying to hide how much pain he is from the weight of his guilt, and it makes you scared for what's about to come.

His gaze flickers toward you, and his eyes reflect myriad emotions—sadness, regret, and something else you can't quite place. "You shouldn't want me," he loathes himself, “Not after... not after everything." 

"What?" You place a hand on his arm, forcing him to turn to you. "I love you," you say.

He shakes his head. He never shakes his head when you tell him you love him. It's like he's telling you the opposite, that you shouldn't love him or that he doesn't feel the same for you anymore; the feelings swirling in your chest are confusing, and you just don't understand. Your mind races, trying to connect the dots, desperate to make sense of his cryptic words. 

His grip on the bottle loosens, and he takes a shaky breath. "I- I fucked up."

Your heart sinks. The pain you had sensed, the distance between you, it all falls into place. The parallel between his behavior now and back when Elektra almost tore you apart. The pieces of the puzzle form a picture you never wanted to see find their way together.

"Did you... cheat on me?" you ask, the words catching in your throat. The mere thought feels like a knife twisting in your chest, but you don't cry, you simply stare at him, waiting for any kind of reaction. 

It's the thought you loathe the most, but you seem to hit the nail right on the head.

Matt's silence is confirmation enough. "Oh God," you breathe.

“It was just a kiss,” he whispers. 

“A– you kissed someone else?”

“Yeah.”

“Walters?”

He takes a shaky sip of his drink. 

“Oh, my God, Matthew!” The cork to your heart pops and you start bleeding out, it seems. “What?” you ask. “Please, tell me you’re just messing with me. Please!” You want to get on your knees and pray to God that he’s lying, but he’s so quiet and his face is so stern, you can’t help but believe him.

The one thing he promised you he would never do, he did. And that is something you once told him that if he ever did it, you wouldn’t be able to forgive him. 

The foundation of trust you had built with Matt feels shattered, and you struggle to comprehend how he could break his promise to you. Emotions swirl within you, colliding with one another, leaving you feeling lost and vulnerable.

He grabs your hand suddenly when you try to put some distance between you to sort your thoughts, his glasses now discarded, and he looks past you with so much pain in his eyes, you can feel your own tears near. He whispers your name. 

“No,” you say. “I can’t–”

“Please, listen to me. I can explain,” Matt says. “I can–”

“You can’t! You promised… I– wasn’t I good enough for you? What happened, Matthew? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing! You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Please, it was a stupid mistake.” 

“A mistake?”

He tugs at your arm again. When you don’t seem to budge, he sinks to his knees. Your throat tightens, your heart shattering on the floor next to him. He has torn it out with his bare hands, squeezed it too hard and now you’re nothing more than an empty shell, your very essence broken on the living room floor. 

“Please,” he begs. His hands rest on your hips and his unfocused eyes try to search for yours. 

The fact he only now thinks he has to fight for you instead of coming clear right away makes you angry, not just sad. You turned your back and that’s what prompted him to fight, even though he should have tried so much sooner. 

You loved him with all you had, and a foolish part of you still does, but hearing the words coming out of his mouth that he betrayed your trust in such a cruel way tears down the walls you have been seeing through rose-colored glasses and cut your love for him into pieces with a sharp dagger. 

Your best friend once told you that you should be careful, Matt would do anything to survive. Yet, you stayed around through the sleepless nights and the heartache. You worried about him every day and every night he went out as Daredevil to cleanse the streets, and you stitched him up without knowing what you were doing. You held him as he cried, offered him your endless support, and then some more, anything just to be loved by him, but he treated you so well. He gave you everything you needed, showed you a love no one has before and he was so dedicated, you felt at home with him. You trusted him with your life. You owe him your life, and yet, after everything you have been through together, one work trip to another State is all it takes for him to throw away years of history and kiss someone else? And Jennifer Walters, no less? 

You never thought you had to be worried about anyone catching Matt’s attention. You had been so confident before, but now? Now you just feel useless, imperfect, and like a damn fool. 

“Matt,” you whimper. 

He holds on even tighter. “Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You look up, but the tears are flowing freely now. 

“I’m sorry. Please, I don’t want to lose you. I love you so fucking much, baby. Please! I can’t live without you. Don’t leave me. I can make it up to you, I promise, just… give me another chance.”

“Yeah?” It pains you to tear his hands from your body, but you have to. “If you didn’t want to lose me,” you say, “you should have thought about it before you decided to kiss someone else.”

He says your name, begging you once again to just stay. Talk this through. Stay. He is like a serpent in your ear, and you want nothing more than to give in, but when you reflect on your time together, you don’t know if you should even think about giving in. 

Matt has been obsessed with justice from the start. He chose it over you more than once, and it took you many nights and many fights for you to get him to stay even for a night or two to be with you, the person he claimed to love most of all. And now you are supposed to stay after he did what he did? It may be stupid to react this way if it was just a kiss, but he never once said it was accidental, and that means he has thought about cheating on you. He kissed someone else, someone who isn’t you, and he set your heart on fire the same way he has set your life together alight. 

Maybe he kissed her because she’s like him–maybe he kissed Jennifer Walters because she understands, and he has often accused you of not understanding. Maybe in her, he has found someone who won’t keep him from New York City just for one date night. Maybe in her, he has found someone who doesn’t break down crying when he comes home late because she thinks he died in a fight with a criminal. And maybe in her, he has found the woman he actually wants to marry. 

Marry. The word makes you choke up. 

As if he read your thoughts, he crawls toward you and stops you from walking away. He digs his fingers further into your hips, retrieving a small box from his pants, and God, do you want to punch him right now. 

You were right about the proposal, but he was planning to propose and still kissed someone else, and that is a betrayal on a whole new level. 

“The audacity,” you whisper to yourself. 

Tears are streaming down his face and he looks as if he thinks pulling out a ring after telling you he made out (no, kissed) with Jennifer Walters in Los Angeles is going to fix everything. 

“Please,” he begs, “I only want you. I wanted to ask you–”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t you fucking dare, Matthew!” You pull away. “This is… I’ve been waiting for you to do this for so long, but you… what the fuck? No! Especially not now!” Your body Wracks with a sob. “I need time, and I can’t do this right now. Kissing Walters is one thing, but telling me you bought a ring for me and still kissed someone else? It hurts,” you say.

It hurts too fucking much, you can’t breathe. He was your oxygen too, in a way, but he has cut off the supply and now you are dying a slow and agonizing death.

“I’m so sorry.” His arms drop to his sides in defeat, but he remains on his knees. “I never meant to hurt you,” Matt cries, “I promise! I just… I made a mistake.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I–“

“I’m sorry for falling in love with you. That was my mistake.”

Ouch. Now you have taken his heart, pulled it out and shattered it with one twist of your wrist. But he deserves it.

Matt listens to the sound of your hasty movements as you pack some clothes. He listens to your tears, your sobs, and the shaking of your muscles as you shudder. He listens and stays right there on the floor, his head lowered as God’s judgment comes upon him. 

And within minutes, your heartbeat leaves his ears and you are gone. 

You left him, and he deserves every last ounce of pain it inflicts on him. 

He’s an Icarus who has flown too close to the sun, and you deserve better than him. 

It wasn’t Jennifer who brought him back to life, it was you and it will always be you, but he screwed that up, too, and he has to live with it now. Without you. 

The ring box slips from his hands and then, he allows himself to break down. 

Matt Murdock Angst Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife

[kaigarax]

And... You

Or This is How to Yearn For

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone even if it's just a dream."

It is of the utmost importance, regardless of someone’s age, gender or race, to be excellent in at least one thing. One must not merely excel at this single task but be fundamentally better than anyone else within similar circumstances attempting to accomplish that very same task and in a location relative to yours.

Of course, this entire theory can be ultimately tossed out and entirely forsaken if one does not wish to become important (in any way whatsoever) and hopes to maintain an ordinary life. It should be noted that by choosing to ignore this most radical and sensible piece of advice you are outright denying oneself of all human pleasures that fall into either category of dreams or desires.

This piece is, of course, only one of seven different instructionals to help guide you into a world of excellence. One should hope to not just entertain themselves with these pieces of work but look to apply them into their everyday life. Once again, it should be noted that all pieces should be read and thought on for a maximum absorption of the materials.

Now, without further ado, this is how to yield results.

---

Meetings.

Countless and countless amounts of meetings. All equally useless as they were time consuming.

If Law had known about how many early meetings the World Government, specifically the Marines, would have requested from him after becoming one of the Seven Warlords he likely would have reconsidered the idea entirely. He still would have gone through with the plan but more consideration would have been had.

Fortunately, the current meeting didn’t seem to be going as bad as he thought.

Usually, at least according to what he’d been told, Warlords don’t get involved with Marine issues unless absolutely necessary. Most didn’t even attend the meetings in the first place unless their position of power was threatened to be taken away. And even then it was still up for question how many of them would really show up.

Law, while a Pirate, was also a man on a mission. A task he needed accomplished in spite of everything else in his life. A need.

So, he’d bite his tongue and do what was asked. At least until the moment to strike would finally rise.

And then he spotted you.

---

Dr. Trafalgar Law, unsurprisingly, thought a lot about death. Not just did it come with the territory of being a doctor but also one of being a pirate. The lives of your crew heavily depended on you in both occupations.

He thought about all the lives he saved as a doctor.

And all the one’s he didn’t.

All the lives he took as a pirate.

And the one’s he didn’t.

Mostly though, when he thought about death, he thought about his own. About how, one day, death would finally come to reclaim him. Embrace him back in the grasp he had escaped so long ago when he was young. When it would finally reunite him with the members of his family that had all unfortunately died young.

Sometimes, he imagined that his death would come alongside revenge. A painfully fought battle that would require every single part of who he is and who he would be. A battle to the death.

Other times he imagined himself with gray hair, aging away the years until he was nothing but a pile of bones to be buried beneath the ground when he ultimately passes away from old age. A mundane way to die but peaceful nonetheless.

More often than not, though, Law thought of drowning.

Being a Devil Fruit wielder he imagined that drowning, more likely than anything else, would ultimately be the cause of his death.

Sure, not many Devil Fruit users (according to the information he’d acquired over the years) actually died from drowning (especially when surrounded by loyal companions) but the option was always there. The most dangerous threat to his life being the very thing he lived his life upon.

An all consuming force that pulls you down, slowly draining you of everything you are and everything you have until there’s nothing left. But such is the price one must pay when the power of the sea is stolen away. The curse of the Ocean, one might say. The gift of a devil.

When Law dreamed, which wasn’t very often, he dreamed of death. He dreamed of drowning.

The blue green waves grab hold of him by the ankles and slowly drag him down until he’s fully submerged. Watching as the light from the sky disappears and the water becomes cooler.

It’s pretty, at first. A contrast to his lungs as they burn for air.

And then, just when he’s about to give up, he sees you.

He’s not exactly sure who you are but he knows for certain it’s you. Diving into the water after him every time in an attempt to save his life. You’re a dream walker, he thinks. A figment of his imagination. Not someone he’s ever seen before but someone that’s been embedded in his heart for ages. Even before he had taken to the seas and his life changed forever.

He imagines you’re noble in nature. Jumping head first into the ocean after a stranger you don’t know.

Sweet. Tending to him quietly. Waiting for him to awaken from the sudden shock to his system.

Pretty. Beautiful even. A sight for sore eyes as he opens his own after an almost untimely death. He obviously wouldn’t have died, it was just a dream after all, but in the moment he didn’t know that. It wasn’t something his mind had yet registered.

And it’s a shame.

Law always tries his best to remember the features of your face. To remember the curve of your lip when you smile and the swoop of your hair. Tries his best to memorize even the slightest of imperfections but your face disappears from his mind and memory the instance he looks away. Much like how one might grasp for smoke is how he grasps for your name.

“Law?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

He shakes his head ever so slightly, “yes?”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Curious, are you about the inner workings of my mind?”

You lean forward, a curious look in your eyes. It’s as if you’re inspecting Law for the first time. You reach an arm out to touch him but don’t actually choose to make contact. Hovering over him as if contact will make him disappear.

You're hesitant.

Afraid.

And more so than everything else, you’re curious.

He can see the curiosity in your eyes. It’s something akin to a child’s excitement on Christmas day. Filled to the brim with an emotion he once so wholly felt. Just a moment away from bursting out.

But you stay still.

Hovering just inches away.

You’re a gentle lady through and through. If the term were to ever need definition, Law most certainly will point to you. And he likes that. Finds it, amongst other things, attractive. He’s never had anything against loud or outspoken women but something about a gentle soul like your own makes him curious. Gets his own soul stirring.

Law, on the other hand, is by no means a gentle man. He’s rough, rude and frank. But you don’t seem to mind. Especially not as he takes your hand on his own and places it on his cheek.

You flush.

Your hands are warm. Warmer than he thought they would’ve been. They remind him almost of clouds or a dream. Oh wait, this is a dream isn’t it? A memory of a dream? A dream of a memory? Simply something long forgotten?

“Are you real?” Law asks, his voice ringing throughout the empty field the two of you find yourselves in.

You laugh, “I was considering asking you that as well.”

“Well I think I’m real.”

“And what does that make me?”

Law hums, “a figment of a memory of a dream that I desperately try to hold onto as I wake up in the morning.”

You laugh again, “you’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

Law flashes you a grin, displaying the tattoos on his hands for you, “only for you~”

“Well then, I’m flattered.”

“As anyone would be, I expect.”

But you weren’t anyone; and that fact alone both worried and intrigued Law.

In his short time upon this world there had been a large plethora of people Law would get to meet. There were, of course, the obvious various amounts of different pirates from a nameless amount of crews; most men and most loud mouthed and ill mannered. Then there were the locals; often large communities of relatively harmless people with usually the best of intentions. And lastly, there was the Marines; mostly low leveled Marines until Law finally took it upon himself to make it known.

Well, there was also that one time where they ran into a Warlord and Admiral but that was hardly a fault of his own.

And then there was you. Little Miss Dream Walker, swaying her feet through the waves of the water as though he weren’t just drowning in it moments ago.

He asked you about that once. Why you always chose to save him. And you, in the most you fashion that Law thought possible, simply smiled. As if it were the choice that anyone would make. As if it were the only choice to make. Law would, of course, beg to differ but considering he was the one being saved he decided that it was an argument best left unargued.

You fiddled around with a series of multicoloured strings. Where you pulled them from Law is clueless of but he’s certain they must have come from somewhere. You frown slightly as you pull a white one out and throw it into the ocean. Law’s almost a little sad. He’s always been quite fond of the colour white. It does happen to be the only other colour apart from his wardrobe. Not that he’d ever tell you. It disappeared with the flowing of the waves, pushing it back and forth until it’s been pulled under.

“Have you ever been in love?” You asked, pulling out a green string from the bundle.

Law shakes his head in response, “not in a world like mine.”

“Mine?” You raise a brow, “do we happen to live in different worlds?”

“You never know.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“As I usually am.”

“Calm down smart Alec.”

Law smiled at that and so did you.

Your fingers looked tangled themselves up with a blue string. Law wasn’t sure why but he found that colour particularly distasteful. He reached into your mess of a pile and unwrapped the blue from your fingers meticulously. When he had finally unwrapped it from your hand he tossed it as far as he could into the ocean.

You laughed, “what’re you doing?”

Law shrugged which only seemed to cause you to laugh more.

He flushed, “so have you ever been in love?”

“What,” you teased, “curious about my love life?”

“No!” Law was certain his face was bright red as it was burning hot, “I only asked you because you asked me first! If anything I should’ve asked why you want to know about my love life.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Law rolled his eyes in response but that was one of the things he liked about you most. Even if he didn’t admit it you seemed to understand what he meant (even if he didn’t). And, yes, he was curious about your love life. About what kind of person might have captured your attention in the first place and if he might be the kind of person too.

He imagines you like someone smart. Kind? Most girls like kind guys, don’t they? Someone that likes them? And Law’s nice, isn’t he? Sure, civilians and other pirates (and Marines) might not think he’s a good fellow but his crew mates do and that’s got to count for something, right?

You think of him as a nice person, don’t you?

Ah, he’s too much of a coward to ask.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

Oh.

“Here.” You hold out the jumble of strings which has now transformed into a series of black threads woven together intricately.

Law hesitantly picks it up from your hand, bringing it up to the light in an attempt to inspect it better, “what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Wear it. It’ll help me find you.”

“How so?”

You smile, “because only you would wear a black bracelet like that.”

Fall in love with someone even if it’s just a dream.

---

“Hey!” Law called out.

You turned, the cape of justice hanging off your shoulders, swishing around your body, “can I help you?”

He approached you, grabbing your hand and leaving practically no distance between the two of you, “who are you?”

“Vice-Admiral Sengoku.”

You…

You?

You were Vice-Admiral Sengoku?

Law’s eyes narrowed, “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smiled playfully, “I’m pretty sure I know my own name Sir.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sengoku. Sengoku (Y/n)."

[askcarlislecullen]

Will you and your family all live together one day again? Maybe even anytime soon?

You know, I very rarely answer questions that are at the top of my inbox. These days, I sift through them with a good bit of discrimination and some of them sit for years and still others I never deal with. But this is a provocative question which the asker may not realize is very timely, as Esme and I are preparing our home to be closed for a month while we make what has now become an annual sojourn to Europe. So as we pack, and prepare gifts, and reminisce, and think about the time soon to come with our children less than two weeks from now, we have also been asking ourselves this rather thorny question.

And I think—I think—I am at peace with the fact that the answer is likely no.

I never intended to be the leader of a large coven. No one is more surprised than I that seven others found fit to stay with me all these many years. That those I turned chose to stay, and that two others saw reason to travel and hold out for years to find us, and that my daughter-in-law chose to join us in this very life will never stop being surprising to me.

We've lived in many configurations in the little over a century we've lived as a coven of two up to a coven of eight. As a man and his brother in law, as a man and wife and her brother, as a couple and their boarders, as two couples and their brother. It wasn't until Alice and Jasper joined us that we even broached choosing cover stories that more closely resembled the family we imagined ourselves to be, and even then, some frequent and sudden moves in the early days there necessitated that we take different covers and often, live apart.

Then came those intense seven years over the turn of the last decade, in which our sense of family was abruptly sharpened as if by a gravitational pull by raising our miracle child. We got to experience for the first time the visceral realness of existing as parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents. And if I had to put a finger on it, I suspect it was that moment, of for once, not playacting at being a family, that allowed our family to evolve.

The distance forced upon us by the pandemic was painful, I won't lie. But this new reality where we can travel when we choose to, when our adult children or our adult granddaughter and her fiancé freely come to us for a spell and then go their way, is strangely healthy.

I lay a great deal of blame for the dysfunction of our family dynamic squarely at my own feet; when I turned Edward I needed badly his adoration and his unwavering love. I needed someone to guide, to counsel, to bring into manhood. But there was always a part of me that was a little bit afraid of letting him fully step into that manhood, holding an iron grip, terrified that if my child was no longer a child, I would lose the identity that a century ago saved my life. And without consciously intending to, I arranged everyone else so that I wouldn’t have to let that go.

Isabella and Renesmee changed that. When Edward became a husband, and so soon after, a father himself, our relationship shifted. And I found that in adding "Renesmee's grandfather" to my identity, much to my relief, I didn't cease being "Edward's father" but that there was suddenly room for me to live even more fully into being "Esme's husband" and also sometimes just "Carlisle."

I put up less of a façade with my children now. It is easier to admit to them when I also am afraid or worried or sad. They in turn don't seem to worry as much about pleasing or disappointing me. We feel free to treasure one another's company, and, when we feel we can't treasure it, to be apart.

Now does this mean the ten of us will never again be under one roof? Hardly. For one, we already regularly do this for weeks at a stretch twice a year now, in the summer and in the winter. To say nothing of the fact that time periods which are long for humans are devastatingly short for us—in the future, we might choose to live together for years, or even a decade or more, who knows. But we will do so with the changed understanding that the arrangement is temporary, for however long "temporary" is.

And I suspect that is, in fact, the way we should've thought of it all along.

[hiraethhq]

Welcome to HIRAETH, Nina, Henry, Wesley, & Kol! Make sure to follow the checklist and send the link to your blog to the main within 24 hours.

OOC INFO

NAME: CC

AGE: 33

PRONOUNS: she/her

TIMEZONE: CST

MUSE INFO

NAME: Nina Rivera

AGE: 30

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cisfemale, she/her

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

STATUS: visitor

CLASS: Vice

HIERARCHY: Spades

ADDITIONAL:

OCCUPATION: Bouncer at the Alibi

HOUSING: Dante's descent

FACE CLAIM: Lindsey Morgan

GOOD: Honest, daring, realistic

BAD: blunt, stubborn, assertive

UGLY: [redacted]

BACKGROUND: 

Nina grew up in a chaotic home with a strict, controlling mother and a father who made it clear he had wanted sons. Her mother, with her military background, always needed to know where Nina was, while her father treated her more like a soldier than a daughter.

He never cared about her being fragile or needing affection. Instead, he taught her how to fight, defend herself, and never take crap from anyone. Makeup, crushes, and typical childhood fun weren’t part of her life.

She turned out a bit of a tomboy, and she was fine with that. She’s blunt, speaks her mind, and doesn’t care what others think. With her tough upbringing, a career in law enforcement seemed like the perfect fit—she thrived on adrenaline and chasing down danger.

The one good thing from Nina’s childhood was her best friend, Marlana. She would follow her anywhere and stand by her no matter what. So when Marlana planned a spring break trip for their friend group, Nina was all in. But what was supposed to be a fun night of partying quickly turned into a nightmare.

They unknowingly stumbled upon an organized crime scene, and before Nina could process it, she was watching Marlana clutch her injured brother in shock. That night changed everything. Suddenly, they were on the run, hunted by dangerous people, which eventually led them to Hiraeth.

Nina never felt strongly about Vice or Virtue, but she followed Marlana without question. Now, she’s taken on the role of a bodyguard, willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people she cares about.

OOC INFO

NAME: CC

AGE: 33

PRONOUNS: she/her

TIMEZONE: Cst

MUSE INFO

NAME: Henry Cartier

AGE: 36

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cismale, he/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

STATUS: visitor

CLASS: Tyro

HIERARCHY: n/a

ADDITIONAL:

OCCUPATION: n/a

HOUSING: carroll house

FACE CLAIM: Jonathan Bailey

GOOD: charming, loyal, adventurous

BAD: calculative, temperamental, stubborn

UGLY: [redacted]

BACKGROUND: 

Henry was the eldest of the Cartier family—by just two minutes. From a young age, his parents decided he would be their successor, a responsibility he never wanted. He spent his days buried in books, studying business and wealth, while his twin, Danny, was the carefree one, enjoying life in a way Henry never could.

Despite their parents’ expectations, Henry always put Danny first. Their bond was unbreakable. While Danny pursued architecture in London, Henry studied business, molding himself into the poised, calculating man his parents expected him to be. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care. He always checked in on his brother—until one day, Danny stopped answering.

The night Henry found him, the night he saved him, still haunts him. He nearly lost the one person who truly understood him, and the pain of it is something he can’t even talk about. So, he left everything behind to start fresh in Hiraeth alongside Danny.

The world of wealth and Vice may always call to him, but perhaps, for the first time, staying true to himself will lead him somewhere new. Maybe even to find his own virtue.

OOC INFO

NAME: CC

AGE: 33

PRONOUNS: she/her

TIMEZONE: cst

MUSE INFO

NAME: Wesley Reeves

AGE: 33

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cismale, he/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual

STATUS: Resident

CLASS: Virtue

HIERARCHY: Pawn

ADDITIONAL:

OCCUPATION: Busser at Frenchie's (+ Volunteer Guide)

HOUSING: Joan of Arc's

FACE CLAIM: Dylan O Brien

GOOD: Intelligent, Empathetic, hardworking

BAD: Clumsy, naïve, insecure

UGLY: [redacted]

BACKGROUND: 

Ever since he was a kid, Wesley had always wanted to choose Virtue. It represented everything he had ever hoped for—a place where he could truly belong.

His mother was around only half the time. When she wasn’t home, she was lost in her own world, getting high on tonics and barely keeping things together. His father disappeared from his life after his 21st birthday. Wesley never knew why, but he never held it against him. He had grown up in hardship, practically raising himself, but through it all, he kept his heart.

To others, Wesley was like a ray of sunshine. He was the funny one, the class clown, always making people laugh. He was smart—some might even call him a nerd—but he hid his pain behind humor. He never wanted to be a burden to anyone, so he kept his struggles to himself.

He loved being around people, which landed him a job as a busser at Frenchie’s. Helping others made him happy, and that’s why he also became an Volunteer Guide—to guide others in choosing the right class. Outside of work, he found comfort in art, painting scenes of nature and Virtue to express his creative side.

A few years ago, he reconnected with his father and has been trying to build a relationship with him. It’s not easy since his father is part of Vice, but he doesn’t want to lose the only family he has left.

OOC INFO

NAME: CC

AGE: 33

PRONOUNS: she/her

TIMEZONE: CST

MUSE INFO

NAME: Kol Sinclair

AGE: 26

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cismale, He/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

STATUS: Resident

CLASS: Vice

HIERARCHY: Jack

ADDITIONAL:

OCCUPATION: Owner of Cherry on Top

HOUSING: Beatrice's purgatory

FACE CLAIM: Felix Mallard

GOOD: attentive, adaptive, ambitious

BAD: Impulsive, reckless, blunt

UGLY: [redacted]

BACKGROUND: 

The Sinclair family was all about appearances—fancy parties, polite smiles, and a perfect image. But underneath, they were just strangers living under the same roof. Siblings, trapped in a world their parents created, each trying to find a way out.

Kol, the eldest, carried the most responsibility. He was supposed to be the perfect son—the leader, the example. He became a businessman, though he wasn’t sure if that was ever truly his choice. He was raised to be smart, to say the right things, to never step out of line. He protected his younger brother from the world, they were like thickest thieves. If Jaren was out on an adventure, Kol wasn't far behind.

As a kid, Kol had a rebellious streak. He didn’t want to follow rules just because someone told him to. But in his family, defiance wasn’t an option. His father was a powerful man, and Kol had to play the part of the perfect son, whether he liked it or not.

He had everything—money, status, success. People either admired him or wanted to challenge him. But deep down, Kol never felt like he truly fit in. Was Vice really where he belonged? Or was there something more?

He owns Cherry on Top, he enjoys entertainment and often indulges in the festivities. He takes his ownership seriously as he does in protecting his fellow vices.

Little does he know—he wasn’t meant to be a Sinclair. That at birth, he had been switched, meant to grow up in Virtue instead. sooner or later he will face a choice: hold on to the life he’s always known or search for the truth about where he really belongs.

[borealswatch-clangen]

Month 1 - Spring

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What would typically be a gentle silence among the cats of the wilderness instead felt tense and near suffocating for the pair sitting upon the firewatch tower. They had not spoken for several moments, and Clover-Sun kept here gaze clearly away from the eyes of her second hand, staring off at the woods ahead.

"Do you know what this means?" Despite her words breaking the quiet, Clover's mellow voice floats softly into Truman's ears, as if there was no interruption at all. The orange tabby looks at her, brows furrowed in concern. She finally raised her gaze and looked at him.

"You… I don't know-" Truman breathes in, "I don't know, Clover-Sun. It are you sure you can't read the fire? Maybe it was just that particular one…? Dogwalker-Sky didn't always have much to report--"

Clover-Sun lashes her tail, standing up on the wooden rail. "No- No. Its not just me, it's all of them. Truman, I'm not sure any of them could read the flames like… like we thought." She sighs, exasperated. "I- I guess I don't know, for sure. But I can't."

The leader sounded desperate, her voice aching at this revelation. If it was just her, then why? If it wasn't just her, and everyone before her couldn't as well, then… had they all been liars? No, there was no way they'd go generations without a single cat speaking this sort of truth. The thought that it was just her felt better, but still rooted a deep feeling of insecurity in herself. The fact was, she did not hold the power all her previous leaders held and… well, she had only two options. One of them terrified her deeply.

"We cannot tell anyone."

Truman's ears perk up, opening his mouth to respond to Clover-Sun but he couldn't find words.

She faces him head on, the molly standing up straight and taller than her second hand. "I know- I know, it sounds wrong but… For now, we need to not say anything. I think it will only worry everyone."

"Clover, I'm… I'm not sure…" Truman spoke softly, as if someone would hear them. "How much time do you want before you speak of it...? I think they'll be more upset if they don't know sooner. You can be honest, they'll still listen to their leader--"

"It'll be fine," Clover-Sun cuts him off, "I can still guide them as any leader before me did, and it doesn't hurt to just leave this detail out of it. They'll just… assume I can do it too, and that's fine enough if it keeps us all in order."

Maybe it wasn't too big of a deal, Truman thought. Clover was competent, he wouldn't doubt her choices either if he didn't know better. Though he couldn't help but be put off at the idea of holding this information back. Sure, she could lead them just as well as any other before her, but with not reading the fires… they would start to question things if Clover-Sun failed to bring up the fires at all. After all, its where their laws came from. It told them the best direction of life. The colony could only follow Clover's personal ideals so far before they wished to hear the most true of words from God himself.

The Second hand was taken from his thoughts when Clover-Sun jumped down from the rail. "Come on, God took the sun down hours ago. Let's rest, and worry in the morning."