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fortunatelylori · 2 days

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A defense of Eloise Bridgerton and her friendship with Penelope Featherington

I should probably start this post by pointing out the fact that I’m not the biggest Eloise fan out there. In fact Eloise has consistently annoyed me for two seasons straight with her I’m “not like other girls” shtick and the writers using her as a prop for modern feminist talking points.

Mostly what I disliked about Eloise was the bluntness and lack of charm used to put across the themes of women’s role in recency society and the lack of options for girls not interested in playing the marriage mart mind games.

Jane Austen, for example, makes many of the same points regarding women in her novels but instead of beating us over the head with it, she uses wit, eloquence and wisdom to get her points across.

But, above all, I disliked just how self involved Eloise was, what a major chip on her shoulder she had. She’s a privileged girl from an immensely powerful and rich family that spends her days whining and being dismissive of everyone around her.

She spends most of season 1 picking fights with Daphne for no reason and the second season making fun of Colin and running around town like a chicken without a head not so much because she wants to find out who Lady Whistledown is but because she’s bored and wants something to do (something other than talking to men potentially interested in marrying her because she’s gay she’s not like other girls).

Even as I’m writing this, I’m questioning whether I’m even the right person to defend Eloise because, as you can clearly tell, I don’t much care for her. But I do think Polin and Penelope fans are really misjudging Eloise and wanting to make her the villain of season 3 due to her resentment towards Penelope and her anger at the Polin engagement.

So I guess I have to be the hero without a cape in this instance.

Here it goes …

It’s very easy to look at the friendship between Eloise and Penelope in season 1 and 2 and conclude that Eloise has always been a bad friend to Penelope. After all, almost every scene they have together is about Eloise, her interests and passions, her frustrations at the ton and the marriage mart, her inability to fit in with societal expectations, her quest to find out the identity of Lady Whistledown etc, etc. There’s almost never room for Penelope to even get a word in because Eloise talks and talks and keeps on talking.

But I’d like to put forth another interpretation and say that perhaps this dynamic in the relationship isn’t all on Eloise. That it’s Penelope herself that prefers it that way. That she’d much rather talk about Eloise and her issues than to reveal anything truly meaningful or vulnerable about herself.

A scene that supports this theory is the scene they have in season 2, episode 1:

youtube

This is about as open and vulnerable Penelope ever is with Eloise and in this scene we can observe several things:

Despite her being more open than usual, Penelope is still lying to Eloise. She talks about how she enjoys being a wallflower because she can have all the fun without the pressure that comes with being in the spotlight. In reality we know Penelope would love to be in the spotlight but is frightened of being rejected. She’s not having fun hugging the wall at all and yet she’s unable to share that with her friend.

As soon as Penelope opens up, albeit only partially, Eloise is quick to notice that, despite pretending not to enjoy the balls and the marriage mart, Penelope actually likes all of these things. This shows not only that she knows Penelope pretty well (as well as Penelope herself will allow Eloise to know her) but that, despite disagreeing on the topic, she’s supportive of Penelope and listens to her.

It’s also worth comparing the way Eloise behaves with Penelope vs. the way she behaves with Cressida in season 3.

Cressida and Eloise’s relationship is much more balanced and equal because Cressida stands up for herself, pushes back at Eloise when she needs to (like explaining why she needs to marry Lord Debling despite not being compatible) or when Eloise accuses her of telling everyone about Colin helping Penelope find a husband.

And Eloise learns to adjust. She becomes a more supportive friend, sharing her knowledge of birds so that Cressida can impress Lord Debling, making conversation with him when Cressida doesn’t know what to say and coming to her house to visit her and offer support.

My point is: Eloise is not perfect. She’s self involved and dismissive of things she isn’t personally interested in but is willing to put in the work for a friend if said friend is honest with her about what they need from their friendship.

Which leads us back to Penelope. Eloise is the most meaningful relationship in her life (Colin is as well but that’s a much more fraught relationship for Penelope because she wants to be lovers not friends) and yet she refuses to share the two most important aspects of her life with her friend: her love for Colin and her being Lady Whistledown.

Let’s leave Colin to the side for now because Eloise being his sister complicates matters as far as Penelope telling her she’s in love with him.

But why doesn’t she tell Eloise about Lady Whistledown? Particularly in season 1, when she’s just starting to write the scandal sheet. She has no idea where Lady Whistledown will even lead, if she’ll keep going etc. She’s basically doing it because she’s a writer and she wants to have fun talking about the society she knows so well.

So why not share the fun with her friend? It’s pretty clear Eloise doesn’t even know Penelope is a writer and hasn’t seen anything she ever wrote before Lady Whistledown because, otherwise, she’d know it was Penelope doing it.

Also let’s not forget that, in season 1, Eloise was Lady Whitledown’s number 1 fan. She can’t stop talking about how amazing and brilliant she is.

And yet Penelope says nothing. She’d rather grin proudly behind Eloise’s back than go: “Actually this woman you like so much … I am she. She is me.”

She again fails to do it in season 2, despite knowing that Eloise helped her in escaping the queen’s men at the end of season 1.

And then the worst part of their friendship begins as the pressure from the queen mounts and Eloise is more and more determined to find out the identity of Lady Whistledown. Penelope chooses to gaslight and manipulate Eloise for weeks.

It’s not just Eloise’s relationship with Theo and her attending political meetings that put her in harm’s way and eventually forces Lady Whistledown to write about her in order for the Queen to stop suspecting Eloise. It’s Penelope’s refusal to be honest with her friend.

Penelope is so determined to keep Eloise in the dark that even at the end of season 2, when she walks into her bedroom and sees Eloise, she still tries to gaslight her one last time.

Penelope: You’ve been reading too much Whistledown. Her voice is echoing in your head.

Penelope is stuck in a pattern of toxic behavior because that’s what she’s learned to do from her family. She cannot be honest about Lady Whistledown or anything truly meaningful, despite how hard it is for her to remain isolated and in the shadows:

Penelope: You have no idea how horrible it has felt to keep this from you! From everyone! For so long.

It’s no wonder that, in their fight scene, Eloise tells her:

Eloise: I do not even know you.

That’s because Penelope herself has made it so that the people closest to her, Eloise and Colin, don’t actually know the real her. She’s given each of them what she thought they wanted and needed (she’s very similar to Colin in that way) but not enough of the real her.

So when the Lady Whistledown revelation happens, there’s nothing for Eloise to fall back on in order to try and understand Penelope.

All of a sudden her best friend feels like a stranger. A stranger that has exposed her intimate affairs to the whole world and who tells her this:

Penelope: At least I did something. All you ever do is talk about doing something. You have all of these great ambitions, these great plans but I am the one who actually did something great and you can’t stand it, can you?

Now, because we, as the audience, are privy to Penelope’s inner world and we know just how riddled with low self-esteem she is and how she’s used to those closest to her being dismissive of her or her achievements, it’s easy for us to see that Penelope tells Eloise this in anger. Particularly after Eloise tells her:

Eloise: I look at you now and all I feel is pity for you. Sequestered here, in this very room, writing your secret little scandal sheet, tarnishing everyone in town all because you are too afraid to stand up for yourself in reality. You are something else, Penelope. An insipid wallflower, indeed.

Eloise’s words hit too close to home. Too close to the reality of Penelope’s isolation and fear of being alone and abandoned so she hurts Eloise back the only way she can. By pointing to the fact that despite talking and talking endlessly about all the great things women, and she in particular, could be doing, Eloise isn’t actually doing anything.

Basically, these two manage to hurt each other worse than anyone else could because they’re best friends, because they know each other and what makes the other one tick.

But from Eloise’s perspective? In this moment, where she’s been betrayed by her best friend? Well, Penelope doesn’t feel like a friend at all. She feels like someone who got close to her only to exploit her so she could write a scandal sheet and make money off of her misery:

Eloise: This was personal.

Penelope: Eloise, I’m so sorry. I was only trying to protect you.

Eloise: Is that what you were doing? By writing about me in your latest sheet? By telling the entire world about things I trusted you with? [...] The only person you were interested in saving was yourself. All so you could keep making money at the cost to everyone else. At a cost to Miss Thompson. To my brother. To my entire family. To your entire family. [...] All because of your self serving manipulations.

Which brings us to Eloise’s reaction to the closeness between Colin and Penelope and the announcement of their engagement.

To Eloise’s credit, since their fight, she’s tried her hardest to be an adult and not punish Penelope more than she needs to. She’s very hurt by what her friend did and she can’t trust her but she also doesn’t want to hurt Pen.

She’s kept the Lady Whistledown secret and refuses to tell Colin why their friendship fell apart because she doesn’t want Penelope to lose the one friend she still has.

She also misses Penelope which is why she ends up telling Cressida about Colin helping her find a husband. She’s trying to figure out what’s going on with her friend and the only way Eloise knows how to figure stuff out is by talking … and talking … and talking … in full earshot of everyone at the ball.

But despite all of this, as far as she knows, Penelope is still the girl that divulged her secrets, ruined Marina Thompson’s reputation and hurt Colin, not only by revealing Marina’s pregnancy but by taking cheap shots at him only weeks before her brother waltzes into the Bridgerton drawing room to announce he’s engaged to Penelope Featherington.

What kind of sister would Eloise be if she wasn’t angry at Penelope for that? If she didn’t want Colin to find out the truth as soon as possible?

Personally, I think she’s showing real restraint. She cares so much about Penelope that she’s not dragging her brother into the study the moment she hears the engagement news to tell him that he’s about to marry the dreaded Lady Whistledown.

Which brings us back to my earlier point: Penelope never trusted Eloise enough to tell her she was in love with Colin. Maybe if Eloise knew that Penelope has had a crush on Colin since she was 10 years old, she might be able to understand this engagement better.

But from her viewpoint, all she’s likely to see is that Colin is an impulsive romantic who once again has gotten engaged to a girl who is lying to him and using him to avoid social ostracization.

I know that by the end of the season Eloise and Penelope will have mended their relationship and they will go back to being the besties we know they are.

But what I would love to see in part 2 of the season is Penelope actually being brave and honest with the two people that she loves most in the world. Not just about her being Lady Whistledown but about the reasons why she became Lady Whistledown. It’s only by her decision to be vulnerable and open that she can actually mend her relationship with Eloise.

Friendships aren’t just about being there for your friend, about listening and giving them what you think they need but also about allowing your friend to be there for you. To allow them to truly know you: your fears, your sadness, your hopes and dreams. That’s the only way for a friendship to thrive.

#eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #Youtube

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lightlycareless · 20 hours

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Do you think at any point in Naoya’s life that he was ticklish and do you think that as an adult he might still be ticklish? Lately, I’ve been thinking about how if Naoya maybe had one part of his body that was still pretty ticklish that he tries to keep quiet about since he doesn’t wanna embarrass himself until somehow Y/N finds out 🤭

Heya!!

Aww, this was unbearably fluffy cute ngl. Anything that has Naoya acting like an actual, dorkish human is enough to have my heart all ajghajksgha uwu. Hope you enjoy this small thing I wrote!

warnings: fluff. mentions of pregnancy. .....pee I guess. hahahahahaha it's meant to be cute, everyday pregnancy things I swear lmao. a bit of highschool au.

happy reading!!

Ticklish Naoya is one of those things that no one ever saw happening mainly because… well, it’s not like anyone is testing it out to see if it’s true, you know?

No one had it in their minds to approach the heir, place their hands on his sides and tickle him to see if he’d have some kind of reaction.

No one, except that is, you.

It was a silly bet, whether ignited by your curiosity or perhaps your need to be unnecessarily close to him, either way, you’d find yourself in that exact situation one fateful afternoon, under the pretense of wanting to get some hands-on training experience with the only other excellent sorcerer you trusted!

And of course, having a small crush on you as well but yet to confess it, Naoya didn’t deny the opportunity, completely unaware of your ulterior motivations, until it was too late.

“You said you wanted to… test your accuracy?”

“Mmhmm.” You innocently nod. “I’ve been having issues with my aim as of lately, maybe I need to be tested under pressure? No holding back punches if you know what I mean!”

“Are you sure?” Naoya asks, hesitant to pursue this course of action if there was the slightest possibility you were to end up hurt, and worse—by him.

“Yeah! I’m sure.” You insist. “We won’t have to do much, I just wanted to test this out.”

“Alright, then. What do you want me to do?”

“Just… stand there, first—” you say, carefully gently guiding him into position; it’s almost surprising to see him willingly go along with your ideas, for he was often… dismissive of others. Well, he did say he didn’t find you as annoying as the rest, but was that all there is to it? A part of you hopes not.

While your initial purpose was to find out if Naoya was ticklish, you couldn’t help but get a bit sidetracked by the firmness of his muscles underneath your palms, his intoxicating scent you’ve grown to solely associate with him regardless of where you found it, and why not, the height difference that became even clearer now that you were a few mere inches away from him.

All these things, besides others, inevitably made you wonder how it would feel to be embraced by him, held tight against his chest as he rested his head above yours, professing his affection for you as he swore to never let —

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he asks, cutting through your daydreams.

“Oh—Nothing!” You chirp, scrambling to hide the embarrassment of your cheeks by looking away, to no avail of course, because for an equally smitten man like him, he could be nothing but attentive to you, pondering if he’d done something in this short moment of silence to enact that kind of response from you, or more likely… how adorable you looked, his mind quickly assuming this would be your reaction to when he finally kissed you.

Unless this was caused by someone completely different. He held no proof of this short-lived accusation, but his mind was eager to accept this burning jealousy, loathing the notion that you already belonged to—

“Are you ready, Naoya?” It was your turn to distract him, Naoya blinking as you take position before him.

“Ye—Yes. As ready as I’ll… ever be.”

Going back to your initial purpose, you had to be very careful not to show your cards if you wanted things to go as you wanted.

So, you played along, asking him to do the things you wanted in hope of getting his guard down, which worked, Naoya following your lead, down to the smallest details… until it was finally time for the grand finale, the moment you were eagerly waiting for!

After a few rounds of training and acting like you were still unhappy with your results, you’d find yourself in a position where Naoya’s back faced you, in a completely innocent, unsuspected manner that almost had you feeling bad for misusing his trust: but your curiosity proved to be far greater, much stronger, and when the opportunity presented itself…

You tackle him! Hands quickly landing on his sides to tickle and pinch him as much as you could to earn a reaction from him, which you were joyfully granted, much to your enjoyment and surprise.

“No way, Naoya—you’re actually ticklish?!” you’d giggle, continuing your attack as he began to squirm underneath your hold.

“Y/N—what in the—what are you doing?!” Naoya gasps, confused by your abrupt actions—was this part of your plan all along?! Or did someone—did someone pay you to it?! Is this being recorded??! “Stop it, now!!”

But you didn’t, no matter how red his face got or how much he attempted to pull you away, you simply couldn’t, because his reaction was far better than anything you imagined!

“I would’ve never thought!” you continued, enjoying the fluster on his face which you naturally thought cute, or his laughter… things you’ve never seen on him before that just made your infatuation grow even more.

“Enough!” Managing to regain his strength through your attack and embarrassment, Naoya is finally able to take your hands and pull them away from him, moving you before him to place you in the same position as him.

You don’t need anything else to happen to understand the gravity of your miscalculations, to remember there was a reason why everyone urged you to steer away from provoking Naoya, as tempting as that was, because one way or another, you’d always end up paying the price.

Just as he intended to do so now.

“Let’s see if you like that!”

“No—wait, Naoya—!” and so, he pressed his fingers to your sides, erupting a loud laughter from you which you desperately tried to hold back, whether by pressing your lips together or trying to ease his hold on you, but he’s always been much stronger than you; and whatever struggle you put up he quickly squashed, all for the sake of revenge.

Though that desire would disappear soon after upon hearing your sweet laughter for the first time (so close, that is) alongside your warmth and scent that reminded Naoya why he harbored such strong feelings for you in the first place… never wanting this moment to end, not even when you uttered the following.

“Naoya, stop it! Seriously!!” you laughed. “You’re—you’re going to make me pee!!”

And then, whether because you wanted to highlight your urgency, or simply because it felt right to do so, your face turns around, raising your gaze to his and locking on each other’s eyes—

A simple, quick gesture, but more than enough to make everything stop, your laughter, his smirk, his hands…

In favor realizing the “compromising” position your innocent prank had put the two—the closeness, the… the intimacy!

A fact that has you instinctively pushing away from him, face red (and not from laughing too much, not anymore) as you try to push aside these growing feelings of embarrassment, thinking perhaps it was best to walk away now before this situation grew into a bigger misunderstanding!

Well, fortunately for you, the answer would easily present itself when he said the following statement.

“Y/N—Did you—Did you pee yourself?”

“WHAT?!” You shrieked, Naoya flinches.

Of all things he could’ve said, he just had to go with that one.

“Why—why would you even say that?!”

“I mean—you—"

But you didn’t even prove Naoya a moment to explain himself before you were already out of the training grounds, swiftly making your way across the hallways and back to your dorms, where your startled roommate would worriedly ask if everything was ok, why were you so exalted, and weren’t you supposed to be with Naoya?!

“I just did the most embarrassing thing in the world!” you cried as you plummeted on the bed, pulling the cover over your head as you wished the earth would just swallow you whole! “I made a clown out of myself in front of the boy I like, and I will never, ever be able to take that back!!”

“Y/N, surely you’re exaggerating—” she attempts to comfort you.

“No! You don’t get it!” you gasp back. “I’m never showing my face ever again, ever!”

Your roommate simply sighs, taking a seat by your side and patting your back.

“… Oh, he’ll hate me and make fun of me forever. I just know it!”

Unless… fast forward to a few years, you might be proven wrong.

“You know what I just remembered, Y/N?” Naoya says, looking up from whatever report he was going through that evening.

“What?” you murmur, taking another bite of your endless craving—mochi.

“That one time you tried to tickle me, but it backfired so badly, you ended up peeing.” He smirks, your face instantly turns red.

“What?! I didn’t—I didn’t pee!!” you cried. “That’s not—You and I remember that day very differently!”

“Really?” he snickers. “I remember you avoiding me immediately after, can you blame me for thinking so?”

“That’s—I was just embarrassed for being so close to you!! And to make it all worse, you had to say that! Of all things, seriously! Did you actually think I was going to stay around ???” you fret. “I mean… I genuinely thought you were never going to speak to me again after that.”

“You know it would take much more than that for me to stop talking to you.” Naoya says. “Though it’s quite ironic now, isn’t?”

“What is?”

“You tend to do that quite frequently nowadays.”

You blush.

“Only because I’m pregnant, you idiot!!” you frown, smacking him on the arm, Naoya laughs. “Hey, it’s not funny!”

“But it is true, my love.”

“You’re making it sound like I have some severe bladder issues…” you exclaim. “I’m carrying your baby; in case you’ve forgotten!”

“How could I forget I’m having a family with the love of my life?” he says, moving closer to you to take you into his arms, placing his hands over your growing belly.

“Sweet talk isn’t going to save you, Naoya…” you frown, even when angry, your hands still seek his touch.

“Perhaps not, but maybe… chocolate will?”

“…And?”

“And maybe some diapers too—” he jests, you gasp.

“That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch!”

“I’m just kidding, princess!” He laughs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Nothing but an innocent joke.”

“Won’t be so innocent if I ignore you for real this time!”

“Then I guess you won’t be eating those chocolate I got you from that place you love…”

“… those from… Kyoto?”

Naoya nods.

And just like that, the whole ordeal was forgotten immediately after.

Until he finds out something else to tease you with, because just as they said, whatever you unleash on Naoya, he’ll unleash on you, tenfold.

relentless naoya is relentless. he's a total tease, about time I wrote it. Also, DAMN I think I've never written y/n being totally smitten by him??? like pinning after him?? it's either her towards geto or him towards y/n. lmao

anyways, i'm still in that fluffy domestic mood, and this was the perfect opportunity to show that. akgasgasjiga I mean, it's cute right??? I like it. y/n being spoiled by naoya........ though he's a bit cruel sometimes.... haha. aw, I love them.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this!! Thank you so much for your patience!! 🥺💖 I really did enjoy writing this, as I always do with all the things y'all send me.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

Edit: omg I never really answered your question, but yesssss I do think he was ticklish. But let's be real, who is going to know that?????? You'd probably come to find that one out when hugging him and sensing him tense up. :) for a variety of reasons. Hehe

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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okaydays · 13 hours

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Colin was out with friends for the evening, so Penelope reheated some leftovers for dinner, and then assembled all the things she needed for a quiet night in - lit candles, soft music echoing from their new bluetooth speakers, a cup of tea that was still hot on the coffee table, a comfortable blanket.

She’s sitting on the couch with said blanket and her carefully chosen book (Love in the Time of Cholera), and she should be having a great time. Back when Penelope was at her mother’s house, with all the commotion and whining, this was the kind of evening she’d dreamt about. Just her, quiet and cosy. No one to bother her.

But she lives with Colin, now. And while he is, occasionally, a bother, it’s never really unwelcome. Not when he could bat those blue eyes, shoot her a winsome grin and spin her around to the music like they’re ballroom dancing.

A quiet evening to herself seems boring in comparison.

What Penelope wants, in truth, is exactly what she has now - a little comfortable moment, but with Colin’s arms around her instead of a blanket. Leaning against him, maybe with his own book, instead of just the sofa arm.

She misses him, really. And it’s only been an hour or so.

Oh well. Penelope nestles back further into the couch. He won’t be back for a while, so the book will have to keep her company for now.

“Tell him yes,” She reads. “Even if you are dying of fear, even if you are sorry later, because whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life if you say no.”

Around fifteen minutes later, the front door opens. Penelope almost knocks over her mug of tea with how violently she jumps. And then - oh, it’s just Colin. And then - oh, it’s Colin!

‘Colin!’ she exclaims, interrupting her internal monologue by just stating it out loud. ‘What are you doing back so early?’

He’s leaning against the doorframe, flashing her that grin she adores. ‘Got all cosy, did you?’ he asks, looking around at the lit candles and bluetooth speaker and the blanket they got from his mother as a housewarming present. ‘Mind if I join in?’

Penelope moves along the sofa and lifts up the corner of the blanket in invitation. Colin slides right in, and they adjust - he’s now sitting where she’s just vacated, arm slung around her shoulders, and she’s leaning into him with one leg over his and one on the coffee table.

It’s even better than she imagined.

‘Missed you,’ Colin says after a minute. She’d gone back to her book and he was on his phone, reading an article, but she looks up at that.

‘They were talking about sports or something, and I thought, ‘I’d rather be home with my girl,’ so now I’m here,’ he says, looking right back at her.

Something warm unfurls in Penelope’s chest at that. At the pet name, at the fact that he’d preferred her boring evening to a fun night out, at the fact that he was now here and that it was exactly where he’d wanted to be.

Colin kisses her once, gently, and when she leans in again, he moves over to kiss her forehead instead.

‘We can do that later. You were prepared for a quiet night, right? Don’t let me get in the way of that,’ he says, equally as gently, and Penelope shakes her head.

‘You don’t get in the way. You make it better,’ she admits, and he smiles. Pulls her in closer.

‘Glad we moved in together,’ he says, and puts his phone on his thigh so he can reach over and carefully open her book back up, from where she’d been keeping track of her page with her thumb.

So Penelope goes back to her book, and Colin goes back to the article, and the track switches to a new piano piece. And then when her tea gets cold, he goes and makes her a new one, just the way she likes it.

Tell him yes, the book said. She’s so glad she did.

(Also on ao3)

#here have some late night writing #big fan of couples just parallel playing together #also disclaimer I have not read love in the time of cholera I just thought the quote fit #this is them in modern day #Woop #I’m so tired but so inspired #polin #Bridgerton #Penelope featherington #colin Bridgerton #polin fics #Bridgerton fics #my writing

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separatist-apologist · 2 days

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Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

Feyre and Nesta come to Autumn the night before Elain’s wedding, tanned and a little blonder than normal. It was too late to intervene—Elain had already been fitted for the dress she’d wear tomorrow and was, essentially, under lock and key. No guards, but an endless parade of servants that seemed to pop up any time she tried to leave the room.

Elain knew that was Lucien’s doing. He’d been sleeping on the sofa she now sat on each night, keeping watch so she didn’t try to escape and vanishing before she woke up. They’d barely exchanged a sentences worth of words since she’d foolishly climbed over the balcony.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asked as Nesta paced back and forth. If she told her sisters the truth, they were likely to do something foolish. Something that got them all in trouble. Nesta was already trying to angle out of her marriage and didn’t need Elain mucking that up.

“Excited,” she lied, catching the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “And nervous, of course. We barely know each other.”

“Is he kind?” Nesta demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes,” Elain replied, not bothering to add that he was rude in equal measure.

“All mother talks about is how handsome the Vanserra’s are,” Nesta said with a dark scowl. “I see nothing special about them.”

Feyre shrugged. “They’re not ugly.”

“They’re hardly beautiful, either,” Nesta argued. If Feyre said the sky was blue, Nesta would argue it was gray and if Nesta thought the Vanserra’s were ugly, then Feyre found them to be impossibly beautiful. They had always been that way, leaving Elain to mediate.

“There is a charm to them, certainly,” she agreed, not taking any particular stance. “I am acclimating well. How are things at home?”

“Dull,” Feyre said as Nesta opened her mouth. “I paint and Nesta plays piano and we wither away, waiting for our turn to be good, dutiful wives.”

“They’ve banned arranged marriages in Summer,” Nesta said sharply, her tone rife with implications. Run to Summer, she seemed to say. As if Summer would risk a war with their neighbors simply to harbor her.

“Perhaps other courts will follow suit,” Elain said noncommittally. It was too late for her. Tomorrow she’d walk willing with Lucien through a priestesses temple, watched by her family and his as they pledged fidelity and honor to the other. It was a farce and one Elain was committed to seeing through, now. If her sisters managed to escape their own prescribed fates, she wished them well.

But there was no more escape for her.

“Have you seen anything?” Feyre questioned. Elain bit her bottom lip.

Yes, she wanted to say. How did she explain that what she’d seen was a particularly steamy affair with the man she had sworn she wouldn’t touch until she was forced to. Elain refused to think about it lest Lucien scent the accompanying arousal that always followed and got the wrong idea.

Visions were imprecise, a snapshot of what could happen and not necessarily what would. A wrong turn, a different word spoken and the entire world rearranged itself.

That did nothing to remove the image of Lucien without his clothes shifting over her, or the expression on his face—

“Elain?”

She blinked. “No, nothing. I haven’t looked, though, either.”

“Well, maybe you should tonight,” Feyre suggested. Elain only smiled, certain she did not want to know what the next day had in store for her. Let it remain a mystery, even from her. If she saw herself beneath him, she’d panic and never make it down the aisle.

There was something she wanted, though, and Elain found exactly how to get it later that afternoon. Cadmus poked his head in, expression guarded.

“Lady Elain?” The second eldest Vanserra looked the most like his father, his red hair browner, his russet eyes lacking some of the ringed gold the rest of his brothers had. Even his features were those of the sharp elegance of the High Lord rather than the softer edges the Lady bore. “How are you?”

“I…” A dagger glinted off Cadmus’s belt, silver hilt inlaid with vibrant rubies. “Can I borrow that?”

Cadmus looked down at his body, hands hovering over the weapon. “My dagger?”

Elain made her eyes big and round as she bit her bottom lip, and hoped Cadmus was no better than the males back home. “I don’t know how to use it, if you’re worried for your brothers safety”

“What’s to know? Stick the sharp end in anything soft,” he said with a wry smile before unstrapping the hilt. “If you do stab my brother, try not to kill him.”

Elain blinked. “Just…just like that?”

“It’s become almost a tradition to provide my new sisters with a weapon to use against my brothers. I’m starting to think Vanserra’s like to be threatened.”

She frowned. “It’s not like that.”

“For you, maybe,” he chuckled, watching as Elain quickly hid the dagger beneath an ornate pillow. “If you’re frightened, though, you could tell me.”

That was curious. “Why? What would you do?”

“What any good brother would do. Knock him around like he’s a youngling again, and hope his good sense returns to him.”

“That’s…unexpectedly kind,” she murmured.

“We’re nearly family, right?” he said gruffly, glancing back toward the hall. “Anyway ah…don’t kill him. And uh…if you need any help, ask Arina. You know, for plausible deniability.”

“Right,” she agreed, holding back the urge to laugh. The Vanserra’s could be so unintentionally funny when they wanted to be. Absently, Elain wondered what Nesta would make of Cadmus. Nothing positive, she decided.

Nesta was supposed to marry a High Lord, which was a tragedy given how she hated all of them. Maybe all men, truthfully—Elain had never once seen her sister betray any interest despite the numerous men who had been interested in her.

Elain hid the dagger beneath her pillow once Cadmus left, just in case Lucien decided to try anything. Elain knew she was likely going to have to let him touch her, but if he tried anything she didn’t like, she’d whip the dagger out just to remind him that he might be married to her, but he didn’t own her.

It made her feel a little better, though only marginally. As she made her way through the palace, Elain found servants hanging floral arrangements and cleaning every surface for the upcoming spectacle. Everything smelled like cinnamon somehow and if Elain was braver, she might have made her way to the kitchen to see what they were cooking.

If she was braver still, she might have asked to help.

Instead, Elain emerged into the gloomy afternoon with a heavy sigh. It felt like the world was mourning, too. She intended to meander through the apple orchard again, kicking the rotting fruit on the ground with the toe of her boot until she didn’t feel so angry anymore.

Instead, she found Connall and Tanwen standing off to the side, flanked by two smoke gray dogs, each holding a rather large axe. When they saw her, their eyes lit up.

“Baby sister!” They called in unison, making their way toward her. “Want to smash some pumpkins with us?” “Smash some what?” she repeated as one of the large dogs wound its way through her legs, sniffing at her clothes with curiosity.

“Pumpkins,” Connall said, russet eyes glinting with mischief.

“It’s an old tradition,” Tanwen added. Of the two, Tanwen was taller and built more like a warrior. Connall was slighter, with a prettier face and hands that didn’t look like they’d done a hard day's work in their life. Tanwen’s hair was longer and braided off his face while Connall sported a shaggier look that seemed like it was popular with whoever he was courting.

With a face like that, Elain guessed everyone.

“Smashing pumpkins is a tradition?”

They nodded solemnly. Connall added, “Whenever the Forest House is overrun, we come out here and destroy the heaviest looking pumpkins we can find. C’mon, join us. Beats sulking through the grounds.”

“I wasn’t sulking,” she replied, though she fell into step between them.

“Sure you weren’t,” Tanwen said, elbowing her gently. “I’m sure you are merely contemplating the marital bliss you’re soon to find with little brother.”

“I don’t know how to swing an axe,” Elain admitted. Connall’s smile sharpened.

“We’ll teach you.”

The pair, accompanied by a dog she later learned technically belonged to Arina—Apollo—and another that Tanwen was fond of—Artemis—made their way toward a sprawling pumpkin patch. Elain was fascinated as Tanwen and Connall picked out three large pumpkins, hauling them each one by one before dropping them at her feet.

“Ladies first,” Tanwen said, cheeks ruddy from exertion.

Elain considered them, before pointing at one that was still a little green and covered in warts. Connall picked it up for her and set it atop a tree stump before handing her the smooth, wooden handle of the axe.

“Hold it like this,” Tanwen began, positioning himself behind Elain so his arms were wrapped around her. Warm, callused hands covered her own as he positioned them on the handle.

“Pull it back like this—not too far or you’ll drop it and hurt yourself. Use the power from your thighs, okay? And then swing hard—”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The three turned and Elain realized Tanwen and Connall must have known Lucien was nearby. He looked furious, though it was hard to take him seriously with Arina skipping merrily at his side.

“I’m debauching your wife, what does it look like I’m doing?” Tanwen said, throwing a rather charming wink in her direction. “She doesn’t know how Autumn Court females treat a male on their wedding night—”

A snarl ripped from Luciens throat before he settled himself, running a hand through his windblown hair. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Elain demanded, pointing the axe at her soon-to-be husband.

“Lucien’s just grumpy—”

“I’m not grumpy,” Lucien interrupted as Arina laughed, hands clasped in front of her body.

“Your sisters gave him a good dressing down.”

“It was pretty funny,” Eris Vanserra chimed in, wrapping an arm around his wife's neck to kiss the top of her head. “Nesta Archeron has a barbed tongue and no sense of propriety.”

“That’s not true,” Elain protested, interested in what her sister said. “You’re thinking of Feyre.”

“It was both of them,” Lucien grumbled as he rubbed his jaw. “I thought the ladies of the Spring Court were sweet.”

Elain took that moment to swing, her sharpened blade slicing easily through the pumpkin. Tanwen whooped as Connall and Eris laughed and Lucien…Lucien merely watched, his expression unreadable.

“Who told you that?” Elain asked him, dress covered in pumpkin guts.

It felt good, though, in that moment, to wipe the look off his face. She was sweet.

Just not for him.

LUCIEN:

Lucien tugged at the golden cuffs on his maroon jacket. He was deeply uncomfortable and somehow sweating despite how early it was. He hadn’t slept at all the night before and given the noises coming from behind the door that they were about to share, Elain hadn’t either. It hadn't been crying, exactly…but something akin to mourning had been happening. It occurred to him that perhaps Elain had her own Jesminda that she missed.

Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care much. Instead, he perched himself in a tree outside the palace, closed his eyes, and prayed.

Bring her back to me. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything.

Easy words for a male who knew the Mother would not indulge this request. Lucien would have traded anything to see Jesminda right then. To hear her tell him it was going to be okay and somehow, someway this was all going to work out in their favor. He wanted to feel her hands on his face, her mouth slanted against his. He wanted to bury himself inside her and sob into her shoulder as he told her about the nightmare he was living.

And to do so would be the ultimate betrayal of the love he felt for her. To see her was to condemn her to death. She was gone, and Lucien knew she wouldn’t come back, and if she did, he wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t acknowledge her.

Wouldn’t look at her.

It didn’t stop him from pretending anyway. What kind of male was he, he wondered? His wife was inside preparing herself to marry him and he was outside wishing she was someone else. Daydreaming about another female. Would he think of Jesminda as he betrayed her later that night?

Lucien half hoped Jesminda hated him. He certainly hated himself.

Lucien remained outside until Eris tracked him down, dressed in a deep brown jacket and cream colored pants. His brother swung himself easily into the tree, grunting softly as he sat on the opposite branch. “Brooding?”

It was almost comical. It was a scene they’d played before, only in opposite roles. Lucien had once gone looking for Eris the day of his wedding, finding him in the same tree likely with the same look of frustration on his face. Eris had wanted a way out, too, and he’d known what was waiting on the other end for him was his mate. There was something to work toward, at least.

Lucien didn’t care what Arina said—he didn’t believe he could love someone as deeply as he loved Jesminda and not be mates.

“Just thinking,” Lucien said, wishing Eris would mind his own business.

“You’ve got ten more minutes to find a last minute loophole,” Eris warned. “Though, I think you should marry her.”

“Of course you do.”

“She’s better than the females at court. Do you want father to pick one of them?”

“I want him to let me choose my own wife,” Lucien snarled, unable to keep his anger down.

“Love is for the lesser fae,” Eris said, ignoring the fact that he was in love with his wife. That was merely luck, Lucien supposed. “You are simply a cog in fathers political machinations. You know that.”

“Why not Tanwen? Or Cadmus?”

“Because Elain is a second daughter with no magical ability, unlike her sisters,” Eris reminded him, a cold edge creeping into his voice. He ought to have known better than to look for comfort from his brother. Eris had done his duty no matter how little he’d wanted to, giving Eris a mate and Beron a foot in the solar courts. “He needs sons he can marry off to all his most important nobles. Count yourself lucky that isn’t your fate”

“Is this luck?”

“Elain is nice,” Eris reminded him. “She’s not scheming and you’re unlikely to find her in Tanwen’s bed.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucien asked, a surge of jealousy flooding through him. He didn’t want her, and yet didn’t want anyone else to want her, either. She was merely off limits. If he could have, he’d have ordered them all not to speak to her, either.

Swinging his legs out of the tree, Eris landed smoothly back on solid ground. The world was mocking him—after two weeks of rumbling thunder and moody fog, the sun had come out blazing, igniting the world in a golden glow.

“I’m certain. Now get down before father realizes you’re missing and takes the lash to your back on your wedding night.” Lucien considered it only briefly, but ultimately chose to join Eris on the ground, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

Eris didn’t look at him at all, adorned in a crown of burnished leaves similar to the one Lucien wore. As they stepped back into the Forest House, Lucien felt the full weight of it for the first time in his life. Never had he ever felt more like a High Lord's son, the weight of his responsibility and duty dragging behind him like chains wrapped around his ankles.

He was drowning, and it didn’t matter. Lucien followed Eris through the labyrinth of halls toward the adjoining temple that spiraled deep into the ground, housing their family jewels and a private library you need permission to enter. Lucien knew on any given day, Arina would be down in the dark reading by faelight.

Priestesses historically were not welcome in Autumn. Beron found them too scheming, but feared angering the mother by shutting them out entirely. His solution was using daughters of Autumn, deemed unlikely to marry by their families, and making them priestesses with fathers that had a vested interest in curbing their ambition. Housing them in the palace allowed the High Lord to keep a watchful eye on them via his wife, who was charged with overseeing the priestesses along with the ladies at court.

Now the head priestess stood at the end of the temple, adorned by multicolored light from the stained glass behind her. Rows of benches held their families, though Beron sat behind the priestess on a throne built specifically for him, lest anyone forget the true power of Autumn.

Elain was waiting in the atrium just outside, dressed, hilariously, in a fluffy gown of white lace and pale pink ribbon. Her hair was piled high atop her head, as if someone with a grudge had decided to try and make the beautiful Elain as unappealing as possible.

It was working, too. Lucien couldn’t help his barking laugh when he saw her, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead. Elain turned, eyes wide with horror that melted into irritation.

“Be quiet,” she hissed, shoving the traditional red ribbon of Autumn against his chest. His brothers filed in behind them, not daring to make eye contact or otherwise react.

“Who did you piss off?”

“This was my mothers wedding dress,” Elain informed him, chin held high in the air. “And the traditional bridal clothes of Spring.”

Lucien only shook his head, thinking of how lovely Arina had looked draped in red. There was no point in starting his marriage by telling his wife she looked awful, but…well. Lucien wondered if Elain felt beautiful right then.

“Come on,” he murmured, offering her his arm. Elain took a breath, eyes glassy, but otherwise nodded her head. She had more conviction on her expression than Lucien felt, and it was sobering. This was happening, he realized. Under the watchful gaze of not just his father, but the High Lord of Spring, Lucien was marrying this stranger. Lucien could barely breathe, couldn’t think as he stood in that beam of light, eyes trained on Elain without actually seeing her. Elain seemed to be employing similar tactics, repeating the words when demanded but otherwise standing utterly still.

Something was building, some emotion Lucien thought must be radiating out of him. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t hatred, though it felt somehow like both mixed together. Holding the ribbon in his hand, Lucien began winding it around their wrists until the long sleeves of her ugly dress pushed upward, pressing them skin to delicate skin.

The scene of Elain invaded his senses once again, making him dizzy. He needed fresh air, to get far, far away from her. Elain looked up at him through dark lashes, their eyes connecting just as the priestess pronounced them married. Something solid slammed into him.

No, not slammed.

Snapped.

Lucien stumbled backwards, forgetting for a moment they were still tied together. Elain came with him, falling into his chest and oh, he wished she wouldn’t touch him just as his traitorous body ignited with pleasure.

Touch her, smell her, taste her—

Lucien righted Elain, trying to apologize but unable to get the words out. If he spoke, he might just blurt the truth out.

You’re my mate.

If Elain knew, she was doing a far better job than he was hiding it. Her expression was one of confusion but not of recognition. If she didn’t know, good. There must be some way out, he reasoned, even as every other part of him rebelled at the thought. The Mother was mocking him. Elain Archeron was mocking him, with her beautiful face half lost under the weight of her gown and hair. Who had done this to her?

Lucien wanted to kill them.

“Are you okay?” Elain whispered, ignoring the crowd promptly descending upon them.

It wasn’t a lie when he said, “No. I’ve never been less okay in my life.”

And it was all her fault.

ELAIN:

Elain wanted to cry. The Lady of Autumn had done her best to try and make Elain look presentable, but it had been her mothers wishes to see her dressed like a traditional bride of Spring—the sort that had fallen out of fashion centuries before. She could still hear Lucien's barking laugh in her ear and the look of disgust on his face once he’d tied that ribbon around them.

It shouldn’t have mattered, truthfully, but Lucien had looked every inch an Autumn Court prince and she…she’d looked ridiculous. Embarrassing. Only her mother was happy, which seemed to be the only thing that ever mattered. Who cared if Elain was suffering internally so long as everyone else got what they wanted?

Stomping from the great hall, where a lavish feast in her honor had been prepared, Elain made her way outdoors into the sunshine. It was only there that she began pulling pins out of her hair like a petulant child, tossing them to the leaves with reckless abandon.

Why couldn’t she make peace with what was happening? Everyone else in her position had. Arina and Eris were in love, her parents were in love, the Lady of Autumn and the High Lord…tolerated each other. And Elain couldn’t even muster that.

She hated Lucien with a passion that clawed at her chest and threatened to strangle her. She didn’t want him to touch her, not like this. Not when the sight of him cringing away as he disentangled himself from her and promptly walked away without so much as a reassurance that things would be okay.

She’d left him downing a cup of wine and imagined he’d be so drunk he was incapacitated for the night. That was a good thing, right? So why did it make her feel so awful? So ugly, so…so unwanted. Cast aside by everyone, loved by no one. She wanted to curl up somewhere and wait to see how long it took them to notice she was missing.

Elain turned her attention to the forest, determined to march right in. She bet Lucien noticed when it was time to do his husbandly duty. Then he’d be missing her. That's all she was good for anyway, right?

Elain didn’t make it two steps before someone stopped her. It wasn’t Lucien or his brothers, nor was it her sisters or anyone from the Spring Court. The male standing before her oozed darkness, with shadows trailing after him like a cape and eyes so vividly blue they looked like twinkling, violet stars.

Elain took a step back on instinct. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, knowing exactly who stood before her. She’d never met him, nor his father, though she had heard the rumors about the High Lord of Night. They said he’d killed Tamlins father.

They said Tamlin killed his.

Rhysand didn’t need to wear a weapon to seem lethal. Tall and powerfully built, she was certain if he wanted to, he could end her right there. His lips curved upward into a smile and too late, she remembered the people in his court were rumored to read minds.

“I hear congratulations are in order. Married to little Lucien…how delighted you must be.”

“I…” Elain trailed off, heart hammering like a jack rabbit.

“I don’t think I’d leave my new bride to wander the grounds,” Rhysand continued, jamming his hands into his pockets absently. “But perhaps the males of Autumn are more…liberated…here.”

Elain’s mouth was dry. “Can I help you with something?”

Rhysand cocked his head, a lock of blue black hair trailing into one of his eyes. “Can you help me?” he asked, pondering this question with faux concentration. “I suppose you can. I’m looking for—”

“Rhysand!” Eris Vanserra barked, crunching onto leaves without ceremony. “Decided to show your ugly face for once? Or will I find your spy lurking in my woods again?”

“There’s no need for hostility,” Rhysand purred, eyes trailing behind Eris toward Feyre, who’d clearly been trailing Eris. “I’ve come to speak with your father.”

“Does Elain Archeron look like the High Lord of Autumn?” Eris demanded, his annoyance plain.

“She is far lovelier, I’ll admit, though your father has his charms—”

“Stop talking,” Eris muttered, nodding his head toward the doors so Rhysand would follow. Elain watched the High Lord of Night even when Eris’s fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her back inside with him. Rhysand was looking at Feyre in her spring green gown, hair half braided off her face. There was something curious about his expression—as if he’d never seen a female before and wanted to study her.

Feyre wrinkled her nose back, betraying her unguarded disgust before turning on her heel and flouncing back inside and to Elain’s surprise, Rhysand chuckled. He didn’t know how skilled Feyre was with a weapon, training in secret with a sentry she’d once been friends with before Tamlin found out and had him sent to the border. It was too late, then. Feyre was a menace with a bow and arrow and not horrible with a sword, either. No one could control her and in truth, not many tried.

Elain wondered what Tamlin would do with a wife that liked to stalk the woods for monsters. Monsters like Rhysand, Elain thought, wondering if Feyre hadn’t sensed his presence and come looking for the disturbance. She half wanted to see the showdown, if only to watch a High Lord get trounced by a noble's youngest daughter.

Feyre was nowhere to be found by the time they all landed in the Great Hall. The once lively feast fell silent—even the musicians stopped their playing to watch, wide-eyed, as Rhysand strolled into the room. His eyes slid over the long tables piled with food, the people stopped mid-dance, and those that sat at tables holding goblets, drinking until their fair skin was ruddy from wine.

He grinned when he saw Beron. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Beron looked murderous, though he stood quickly while eyeing Eris trailing just behind. Elain watched as Cadmus fell into step beside his elder brother, the two flanking their father when he came down the elevated platform that held the throne he’d been lounging on. Everyone tried to pretend this was merely business as usual.

The music restarted and chatter resumed as Beron and Rhysand made their way out of the room, but Elain knew every immortal ear was straining to hear what was whispered between them. Why now, she wondered? Tamlin was gripping his goblet so tightly Elain could see the whites of his knuckles and Nesta’s eyes danced with silver flames, arms crossed over her chest.

Elain started to make her way to Nesta to ask when Lucien caught her attention. He was drunk, she realized. Stumbling forward, he grinned broadly not at her, but at someone behind her. Elain didn’t turn to see the female he was making eyes at, unwilling to even acknowledge how humiliating his behavior was.

“You reek,” Elain hissed, catching Lucien by the arm and turning him around. “Go drink some water.”

“Telling me what to do already?” he asked, eyes strangely glassy as he looked down at her. There was an intensity to his expression she didn’t think she liked. It was as if he was undressing her with his gaze.

“Yes. Water. Now,” she hissed quietly enough that no one but Lucien could hear.

“And if I say no?” he challenged. Elain wanted to cry.

“You are not the only one experiencing misery, Lucien, and yet am I out here making a fool of you?” she demanded, hating the way her voice cracked beneath angry tears. “You could at least keep it behind closed doors.”

Lucien considered this. “You’re right. I…” he swallowed, sliding his hand over hers in the crook of her elbow so she had to join him as he went for water. “Sit down and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Do it, or I’ll feed you from my hand like a baby bird,” he threatened, pulling out a chair from a neglected, empty table. Lucien dropped beside her, gulping down icy water as Elain picked food from a platter in front of her and spread it over two plates.

“Here,” she said, pushing a plate toward a wide eyed, strangely ashen looking Lucien.

“I—I’ve eaten already,” he said, gingerly moving the plate further from view. “You’re kind to offer, though.”

He was so strange, she decided. If he didn’t want to eat, he could suffer, then. No one could say she hadn’t tried, though. Elain began chewing, lost in thoughts of Rhysand just outside the forest grounds and her family that would vanish before the night was over. Her stomach tumbled as she thought about what the night had in store for her. Perhaps if she closed her eyes tightly it would be over quickly without a lot of fuss.

“Was there another male?” Lucien asked abruptly, interrupting Elain’s considerations. Looking at him, she found that same burning intensity from a few moments before. She didn’t think she liked when he looked at her that way.

“What?”

“Back in Spring. Was there a male you…preferred?”

Elain shook her head, though she wanted to ask why it even mattered? She was here, wasn’t she, wishes be damned?

“None?”

“No, Lucien. I’ve been set aside for you my entire life.”

“Sure, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “That didn’t mean you had to…”

Elain wished a hole would open beneath her and swallow her up. Surely he wasn’t implying that he wished she’d been with someone else mere hours before he was about to be with her? If she’d been less of a lady, she might have launched herself across the table to throttle him.

“Please do not worry about it,” she implored, desperate for this conversation to end. “Let’s just…lets just get through this afternoon.” Lucien eyed her dress again, but kept whatever comments he had to himself. “Fine.”

His reluctant compliance was better than expected. And Elain would take what she could get.

LUCIEN:

“You’re acting strange,” Arina said, catching Lucien in the hall on the way to his new bed chamber. His old one had been cleared out without ceremony, and he’d bet if he went to Elain’s room, he’d find her folding his clothing like a good little wife

“I’m not,” he lied. Lucien was desperately trying to avoid his brother and Arina, if only because he was afraid that might see him and just know somehow. Or smell it, more likely—the way he could currently smell the mating bond Arina and his brother shared wrapped around her like a lingering perfume.

It smelled like sex. Lucien hated it. It was like a warning pushing up against him, reminding him that she belonged to someone—a male who might rip Lucien’s throat out, should he feel like it. Elain seemed oblivious to what was happening which was the only mercy Lucien could find in their miserable situation. How long could he keep her in the dark before she realized? Before she felt the pull, the urge to touch him, too? Before someone scented him on her and told her?

“What’s going on?”

“Besides being actually married to a stranger, nothing at all. I, for one, have never been better—”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Arina snapped, clearly irritated. “There’s something else about you.”

“I’m just…” Lucien ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It's my wedding night, Arina, and my wife hates me. Put the pieces together.”

“I doubt she’ll be upset if you put it off.”

“Or she’ll run and tell her father to get out of the marriage,” Lucien retorted, though truthfully, Elain simply didn’t seem like the vindictive sort. His mind drifted back to lunch, watching as she put together two plates as his mind warred. On the one hand, the part of him driven by instinct had been screaming and clawing for him to simply accept it from her, thus cementing the bond before she ever had a choice.

The other, more rational part of him, wanted to throw that plate across the room before cursing at the Mother for what she’d done. It was supposed to be Jesminda. It was Jesminda. Lucien’s heart beat erratically at the realization that all the times he’d laid with her and sworn she was his mate, when they’d laced their fingers and talked about when it might snap…all of it had been a farce.

Lucien couldn’t stop thinking about Jes’s own mate. He was out there somewhere. Maybe she’d find that male and she’d realize what they had paled in comparison. Would she laugh a little at their silliness? How young they’d been, how foolish to believe what they had transcended the gods.

Lucien would have left Elain if Jes appeared right then. If she’d asked him—he wouldn’t make her beg—he would have left. Damned Elain, his life, his mating bond, just to see her again. And he knew that if Jes learned he had a mate, she’d bow out entirely. When the bond snapped, there was a finality to it.

He was a mated male. He owed it to Elain to try and make things work, and maybe he owed it to himself, too. That didn’t mean Lucien wanted it, either. Gods, he didn’t know what he wanted other than to drink himself into oblivion and wait for some obvious answer to present itself.

“When Eris informed you that you were his mate, what did you do?” Lucien asked, interrupting Arina’s self-important lecture about being a good husband.

“I suffocated the air in the room until he got on his knees and apologized,” she said, eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s different, Lucien.” Elain probably couldn’t nearly kill him—he’d been told she had no magic to speak of—but he imagined her reaction would go nearly as well.

“Just…let me deal with my marriage my way, okay?” Lucien ordered, unwilling to be nice to Arina at that moment. Butt out, he wanted to add, though slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him was response enough.

Inside was something out of Lucien’s personal hell. Elain rose to her feet when she saw him, eyes bright from what seemed to be some amount of crying. Her hair was unbound and artfully arranged around a night dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lucien blinked, frozen in place as his eyes moved of their own accord.

BETRAYER

“I—put on a robe, please,” Lucien managed, turning in a circle like some kind of animal. She was his. He had no claim to her at all. The competing desires threatened to unmake him. Lucien heard Elain sniff.

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Not like this,” he breathed, certain he would have felt that way even without the mating bond. “I—we could just…go to bed?”

“What about…you know?”

Lucien took a steadying breath and turned again, relieved to find Elain had wrapped a throw around her body. Her face had a little more color, her eyes a little less red.

“If I offered to just…pretend…would you tell someone?”

“No,” she breathed with the saddest look of hope on her face. “I would swear we did.”

Oh, thank the Mother. “Then we’ll turn the lights off, get into bed, and in the morning go about our business as if we did.”

Elain nodded, dropping the blanket gently to walk to their bedroom. Lucien nearly choked at the sight of her from behind. Mother spare him, she’d be the death of him. Lucien didn’t need to like a female in order to admit she was appealing and Elain…Elain was just as pretty from behind as she was from the front. His eyes slid down her spine, landing on the soft curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, the sway of her ass.

Cauldron damn him.

Elain turned as Lucien steadied himself on the frame, wondering if sleeping beside her was a good idea at all. Servants talked—and everyone was nosy. If he was caught sleeping on the sofa, his father would know and put Lucien in a deeply uncomfortable position. Lucien wouldn’t put it past his father to demand to watch. He’d like enjoy knowing that he ruined every other coupling they’d ever have.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned, holding up a trembling finger. Was he looking at her in some particular kind of way? Lucien was certain he wasn’t. Still, he merely crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed his new wife.

“I was lost in thought,” he said, forcing himself to look only at her face. As if that made things any better. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his teeth ache. She’d always been beautiful, which had warranted the space—if he spent too much time in her presence, he might find he liked her, and liking the woman who’d been forced upon him felt like giving in to his fathers demands.

Or worse, admitting Beron might have been right about him.

Elain still eyed him warily as he crossed the room, grabbing a pair of linen pants neatly folded in a drawer that had her scent all over it. In the bathroom, Lucien splashed cold water on his face and ordered himself to get together. The mating bond was making him stupid. He didn’t want her…and yet he did. Physically, anyway. Lucien wondered if he could get away with escaping to one of the nearby cities for a few weeks just to clear his head long enough to stand in her presence.

He returned to find Elain dividing the bed in half using pillows. “That’s not necessary,” he mumbled, reaching over her to toss one to the floor. “And obvious.” “I don’t want you getting any ideas,” she replied in that prissy way of hers.

Lucien bared his teeth. “Trust me, lady. My only idea is sleep.”

“I thought all males wanted—”

“I’m not an animal,” he growled, fully aware he was a liar. “I don’t relish the thought of forcing myself on someone, wife or otherwise.”

“And if I never want you?” Elain asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’ll tell all of Pyrthian you are terribly infertile and I’m a martyr—”

Elain launched a pillow at his face. “You’re not funny.”

Lucien flopped into bed, one hand thrown over his face. “You wound me.”

“I don’t believe anything could wound that over inflated ego of yours,” she responded. Lucien was learning that despite her meek appearance, his wife had a sharp tongue. He rather liked it, if only because it absolved him of any guilt he might feel for his own remarks.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lucien said, settling against the pillow. “You could tell me, you know. If there was another male.”

“There wasn’t. There isn’t.” There was something bitter about her tone.

“Never?” he questioned, his curiosity making him stupid.

“Never.”

“You’re not…?” Shut up shut up shut up— “You’re not curious?”

“Stop talking, Lucien.”

“If it were me—”

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m telling you to stop while you’re ahead,” Elain gritted out. “Find someone else, if you’re feeling frustrated, but don’t try and frame my lack of experience as an opportunity.”

“Cauldron, Elain, I wasn’t…” But he was. Lucien knew it was a bad idea. If he got himself in her with the mating bond pounding in his chest, he was likely to take things too far, to do something he regretted. He couldn’t help himself no matter how badly he wanted to, and her proximity was clouding his judgment. He tried to pull up an image of Jes, but his mind shifted to Elain in sheer white lace and the rosy pink of her nipples—

Lucien rolled over, frustrated more with himself than anything else. There was no way he was going to sleep, no way he trusted his dreams not to betray him.

Not for the first time, he wished he was dead.

But maybe it was the first time he’d wished for it the loudest.

And the gods did nothing.

#elucien #im planning to update 3 on tuesday #ill be out of town all weekend

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tiredfoxtf · 15 hours

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No, Minecraft haven't gotten "worse" over the years. No, new updates haven't "killed" Minecraft. No, Minecraft itself didn't become "boring".

If it was a case, everyone would be still playing on idk a 1.12.2. But no one does that. With every update it gets more painful to play on old versions. I could never reverse to playing without gorgeous mangrove wood, new beautiful terrain and ever useful elytra. And I am not alone. There's a reason people play on newer versions of the game, why modders continue to update their mods newer versions. There's a reason why people are excited for Trial Chambers and new wolves variants. Minecraft only gotten more fun.

I'm sorry to be the one who breaks it to you, but if you think Minecraft is boring now it's one of the two: 1) You're playing Minecraft wrong or 2) Minecraft is not a game for you.

1.You're playing Minecraft wrong. Which is, admittedly, a pretty hard thing to do in my opinion. Minecraft is a game about getting resources and using them to create your own world. It's a sandbox of which you are the sole player (or not, if you are in multiplayer), where you challenge yourself on what next amazing thing you can create. You can be a builder, making castles and spaceships, you can be a redstoner be it a practical redstone or logic redstone, you can be a modder making your own little elements, adding them to the game in a way you would like (a bit of a more advanced hobby than the others). You can join public servers to play entirely vanilla mini-games. Become a parkour master or pvper on the different public servers. Call your friends and make a private multiplayer world, where you race each other in resources or work together to create something, prank each other, build elaborate traps, escape rooms anything and everything.

The goal of the game is NOT to kill the Ender Dragon. The goal of the game is NOT to get maxed out netherite gear. The goal of the game is NOT to get every achievement even, but achievement hunting CAN be a fun game to play with your friends. Or speedrun all of the achievements/to kill end dragon, trying to optimize your skills.

Otherwise killing the ender dragon, getting a full gear and equipment are just part of the experience. Just like fishing, mining, getting wood. Minecraft is Not an rpg, where you go on quests to finish a main plotline, where you level up and monsters get harder, no. All hard content is Optional. That's the point. Not to say irrelevant when we talk minigames servers. Minecraft is a sandbox, survival is just one of the gamemodes.

2.Minecraft is not a game for you.

And that's OK! Although Minecraft is a beautiful game, it may not be for you. The games that are for everyone, are for no one. Not all games born equal in the eyes of a player. You probably like other games! Like Terraria or Starbound, maybe you enjoy Zelda games, maybe you are a Genshin player. They are very different games, if you bored playing Minecraft, it's time close it and to play something you enjoy.

#> tired shitpost #anyway #rant over #mc rant again yes yes #im just so tired of people dooming a game that's going to outlive their children

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hauntingrabbits · 2 days

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Batman my little pony AU.

More info on these under the cut!

1. Sundown Mane/Batpony (Bruce Wayne)

His backstory & general situation is pretty much identical to every other batman out there so I wont get into it.

Other notes:

-His cutie mark is a masquerade mask that I tried to make vaguely bat-shaped. The general public sees his Cutie Mark through the lense of his reputation, and he leans into it heavily to obscure the truth. In interviews, he presents it as being tied to hosting galas (it’s the reason he started hosting those huge masquerade balls in the first place) and/or his fashionable looks, but in truth it’s far more representative of his stealth and disguise capabilities, as well as his masked night time hobbies as a whole.

-He’s not an actual bat-pony in any way, the bat wing appearance is just the costume (intentionally designed that way for intimidation, battle, and obscuring his identity further). Though most citizens assume he’s a true bat-pony, other rumors range from him being a vampire, to an Earth pony with false tech-based wings, to a magically disguised alicorn, to a spirit of the night.

-If Batman were actually to be a pony I think he’d 100% be an earth pony, because his big thing is relying on skill and tech rather than power and he has the whole “normal guy amongst gods” thing going on. HOWEVER. There are actual bat ponies in this show. How am I not supposed to utilize that somehow for the guy whose name is BATMAN? Also with Sundown I think being a Pegasus just fits the playboy personality front he puts up. I don’t know why, its just vibes.

-I think he just doesn’t fly much while patrolling as batpony, instead using his wings for extra jump or for intimidation and cover like with his cape. They’re probably steel-tipped or something too. He doesn’t rely on flight for advantage and trains entirely grounded because he doesn’t want to be dependent on flight and find himself lost if his wings are ever incapacitated.

2. Apollo Honeyscales/Two-Face (Harvey Dent)

Fascinated by the Equestrian legal system and craving a more organized society than what was offered by his generally disorderly and solitary fellow Chimeras, Apollo moved to Gotham to pursue higher education. Unfortunately, ponies are often intimidated by, if not downright terrified of Chimeras, so though Chimera cultures usually give each head equal social weight and three individual names, Apollo quickly adapted to instead try to present himself as pony-like as possible. He used a singular name and pronoun for his whole body, presented the less intimidating, herbivorous-looking goat as his “main” head, and eventually even took to having a faux Cutie Mark applied for media and court appearances. Prior to the attack, the lion and the snake head were never seen talking in public, and even in private the only ponies to have heard them speak were his close friends Sundown Mane and Glider Gold.

After being attacked with acid in court, Scales succumbed to injury and had to be amputated, while Honeybite was left alive but severely scarred. With this event, Apollo’s and Honeybite’s already fragile mental states from years of pony society othering them, the weight of their job, and personal repression finally snapped in their grief and anger, leading Honeybite to fully take the reins and create the criminal persona of Two-Face. Attempts from both Sundown and Glider and to reach out since have been unsuccessful.

Other Notes:

-According to the wiki only one chimera shows up in the whole show so. I made stuff up. -Chimeras typically being solitary is based on the fact we only ever see one in the show. This solitary nature would make it hard for them to have a widespread legal system at all, let alone to enforce it; thus Apollo’s original fascination with the foreign pony legal system. The Chimera in the show also has individual names for each head, each with a slightly different style (the goat following pony name conventions with the name Pumpkin Cake, the tiger following a slightly more violent version of pony name conventions with the name Sweetkill, and the Snake bluntly just being named Snakey). I tried to follow similar conventions for Apollo. I was most happy with the name Scales, because it followed the blunt snake naming convention while also sort of doubling as a scales of justice reference. Apollo is just a reference to Harvey’s nickname in some of the comics, and Honeybite is just for fun.

-His perfectly split coat is unique even among other chimeras, and as Apollo he was generally considered attractive and “exotic” by Equestrian media outlets.

-The temporary Cutie Mark application was done professionally. (Surely ponies have perfected this art, right? Like this has to be something pony society does and has services for, right? Ponies covering up embarrassing Cutie Marks, blank flanks covering up an embarrassing lack of a Curie Mark, Ponies getting Cutie Marks done for costumes, theater, movies, etc… you get it.) Apollo’s choice of a faux Cutie Mark is meant to serve as both a way of further integrating himself into pony society and a proclamation of his legal skills.

-Apollo was a genuinely great lawyer. Ponies on defense were often so preoccupied at the terror of having a lion and a snake silently stare them down that they wouldn’t realize it was actually the goat they should’ve really been afraid of until their entire case had already been ruthlessly torn to shreds.

3. Glider Gold (Gilda Gold)

Even prior to their relationship and subsequent engagement, Glider had long been Apollo’s closest friend and confidant. She saw the way his job and keeping up his image was tearing him apart long before the acid attack, and she deeply regrets not trying harder to get him the help he needed before it was too late. Multiple news outlets have been trying to get an interview with her and their efforts only increase every time Two-Face shows up in the news (despite Sundown’s efforts to dissuade them). She hasn’t been the same since the attack and Apollo’s disappearance, losing interest in her work and finding her friendship with Sundown heavily strained as they both feel the weight of Apollo’s absence.

Other notes:

-I wasn’t even going to draw Gilda originally because she’s such a minor character in Batman stuff but as I was writing out Apollo’s background she nudged her way back in. I like her too much.

-This version is based on her very first iteration where she was a sculptor. Her green coat is a reference to that version’s accompanying Two-Face (also his first iteration), who had green scarring.

- The choice for her to be a pegasus was mainly just to go with her silly name, but I do think being a pegasus would be beneficial to a sculptor. No ladder required to work on high details just fly up there.

-I am not immune to the bruce/harvey/gilda agenda

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solargeist · 8 hours

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I love that you went from the watchers being this mildly terrifying force that doesn’t realize they’re terrifying (and traumatizing Grian) side eyeing that one 3L comic you made about the watchers making it a “game” for Grian (still very much thinking about the “yaaaaay you won!”) to now Oh My Gosh A Tiny Being Can We Adopt Him pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

ehehe i was trying to get my footing !! I think I have a grasp now on how I like writing them now ....

However !! The Watchers still very much traumatize Grian, even though they genuinely do love him, I've said that since the beginning, thats their babeyyyyyyyy Watcher, but still a Watcher nonetheless.

Aethers not exactly excused from this either, she loves him and cares abt him, but shes an angel, she just doesn't understand. She has an issue with..... Toxic positivity ? Shes not very confrontational and doesn't want to have hard conversations with him, its easier to hide things or just comfort him by rubbing his back or hair when hes upset. When Grian asks to visit Evo again early on, she already knows all the players have left, but lets him see for himself anyway. Its like when a kid begs to eat something like cocoa powder, not understanding how bitter it is, so you just let them. So its not a big deal to her, but is to Grian, its the horrifying realization that he is completely alone, all of his friends left, he feels abandoned and betrayed. All good things must come to an end though, she says, nothing lasts forever, except us ! haha !

Not to mention the purposeful sleep deprivation and isolation, the full control over what he eats, where he goes, what he does. Its not very fun being a kid, its hard and no one understands.

Aether didn't originally want to be a parent, nor was she exactly ready for that, so she just did a lot of things that were normal to her, what she went through or what other Watchers had told her. But ! She does care abt him, enough to bend the rules just a tinyyy bittttt sometimes bc ~technically shes allowed to since he's her kid, yes he can go home if he has a headache or eat fish if he asks for it wym.

Theres also Flora, his aunt, she has no interest in kids and sees Grian just as a Watcher in training, this means she's a lot harder on him, but bc he's her sister's kid she doesn't act on this all the time. She also projects her own issues on him, how can you survive or do anything in life if you're not strong ? Here fight this phantom creature you've literally never seen before. Thats as far as their relationship goes, she teaches him to fight. She pets his head sometimes anyway. (kind of like how parents will sometimes force their kids to play sports, or take extra classes, or get frustrated with you over math and you cry over disappointing them)

I don't think the Watchers are intentionally evil, but I don't think they're goofy dumb birds with baby fever either, they're complicated !! There something abt how people who love you can hurt you, and religion can try to save you and it'll doom you instead. (ok they can be a little bit dumb birds sometimes, but they're also righteous angels at the same time)

Its also kinda scary being 25 years old, and then being brought to some place you thought you had equal grounds on, but everyone is taller/stronger and treats you like a child or even a pet, that alone would have some side effects, i imagine.

They're very fun to write abt.

Grian also doesn't often get to see the sun.

#edit: OH I HOPE I DONT SOUND MAD OR ANYTHING !!! I JUST WANTED TO RAMBLE !! <3 /LH #ask #THEY'RE VERY INTERESTING TO ME !!!!! i devote so much time just rotating watchers in my brain #theres also something in there abt being neurodivergent and not fitting into society. you end up traumatized regardless #<- cubito grian is autistic to Me #the watchers have a profound effect on grian's emotional state #the little xelqua stuff is just for me <3 silly side adventure things

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bestworstcase · 2 days

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actually comparing the divine ultimatum in the sanctioned version of ‘the two brothers’ to what the god of light really said to ozma is interesting. the received version is:

if your kind has learned to live in harmony with one another and set aside their differences, then we shall once again live among you, and humanity will be made whole again. but if your kind is unchanged, if you demand our blessings while still fighting amongst yourselves, then man will be found irredeemable and your world will be wiped from existence.

and the sanctioned version is:

If they are worthy, we will take their forms and walk among them as equals. If not, we will take back our gifts and start over elsewhere. […] Humanity will make it plain. If they come together in unity and find a way to destroy the evil in the world and within themselves, then they are worthy. If not … we will let them burn.

there are… two interesting alterations here.

#1, "we shall once again live among you and humanity will be made whole" becomes "the gods will take human forms and walk among us as our equals." gestures at ‘the gift of the moon’ and ozpin’s commentary thereupon…

One interpretation of this story focuses on the fact that the people caused the problem in the first place. But in my view, it is only natural for us to want to bring more light into the world and “reach for the sun.” And on the brighter side, if you’ll excuse the pun, people were also part of the solution. They not only replaced the sun, a celestial gift from the all-powerful God of Light, but also improved upon it through their own ingenuity. Most importantly, they could not have accomplished this magnificent, godly feat without uniting for a common purpose in a way they never had before. The world once was divided between day and night, light and darkness, but by coming together, and overcoming their inherent jealousy and resentment, people made the darkness just a little bit brighter for all.

…wherein ozpin sidles right up to the precipice of I Stand With My Damned Wife: it’s "only natural" to "reach for the sun," used here explicitly as an allegory for the gifts or blessing of the "all-powerful god of light," whom humanity "replaced" with something better through their own "ingenuity" (even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man’s passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds) by uniting for a "common purpose" (when banded together, unified by a common enemy, they are a noticeable threat).

he also echoes the closing passage of ‘the shallow sea’ here in naming jealousy and resentment as the problem ("And the descendants of the Humans who turned away from our god’s great gift have always carried envy in their hearts. To this day, they resent us for reminding them of what they are not and what they never can be."), which suggests he did understand exactly what salem meant when she quoted that myth in relation to the brothers—that the brothers were jealous and resentful because humankind had risen anew without them and had no need of their old masters any longer.

he’s still talking about humankind setting aside their differences and coming together, of course, but whereas in previous commentaries ozpin frames this as a difficult ideal to strive for lest we all destroy ourselves, here his tone turns hopeful: coming together is more than possible, humanity has done it before to replace the gods’ design with something greater.

gestures at until the end. "to live free, or die, it’s all the same/the enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming/in waves of shame/we’re desperate to make amends…"

the essential problem for ozma is this: by the time he becomes headmaster ozpin of beacon academy, he’s come around to salem’s thinking on the mandate, to whit that redemption is impossible and thus the only choices are to accept death or to try, once more, to fight for humanity’s freedom. yet he still believes in the infinite divine authority of the gods—he is certain that rebellion can end only in death—and moreover he believes that what he’s done is unforgivable, that it is impossible to make amends. and he is also unwilling to just give up and submit humankind as it is now to the final judgment; his hope is gone but his conscience compels him to keep trying, because he can’t bear to condemn the whole world to death.

hence the book. on its face ‘fairytales of remnant’ is a propagandistic hit piece on salem but read from cover to cover it’s also a desolate apology and plea for forgiveness: history is important and we must listen to each other, he writes in the forward. here is the story about (the witch) the warrior in the woods, who deserved more help than she was given. here is a story about a foolish man who sacrificed his wife and children to appease the cruel, fickle sun. here is the myth you quoted to me once: i didn’t understand you then, but i do now, and there is a deeper truth in this story than i knew. here is my favorite story; it’s about a huntsman who still grieves his wife and a family that finds each other again after parting ways in acrimony.

here is a story about a foolish king who destroys himself out of fear that he will make the wrong choice, and the love that saves him. here is the nightmare i have about you, told as a cautionary tale against projecting our own evil onto the face of others we fear. and here’s a story about we humans scapegoating those who were changed, hating and fearing our own loved ones because they do not look the same. here is a story about me, and my failures, and the girl whose trust i shattered, and i will leave it to you to decide if i am worthy of forgiveness. here’s the story that tore us apart; the only good ending i can imagine anymore is the one where humanity replaces the gods. and this story is about my grief, my despair, and why i keep trying.

and here is a story about you, and the hero i was before all of this; look far enough ahead, and the hero becomes a villain, but hopefully the reverse can be true, too. here is a story about humanity coming together to replace and perfect our god-given gifts; maybe we can’t be fixed, but we could start over. i keep telling these stories because i am afraid and uncertain and i want to believe that all of it really mattered.

like beacon tower, built in the image of her prison, the book is a cry for help hidden between the lines of a hollow condemnation. in the thousands of years between then and now, he’s corrupted "the gods will return to rule over us all" into "the gods will be remade in our image," because ozma doesn’t want to save the world unless she can still be in it.

and #2, ozma says the quiet part out loud.

"if you demand our blessings while still fighting among yourself," the god of light tells him, "mankind will be found irredeemable."

take these words at face value, and the divine mandate doesn’t actually sound unreasonable: mankind mustn’t approach the gods with a sense of entitlement, and they should try to cooperate with each other and work through conflict peacefully. that’s within the realm of difficult, but not impossible. but…

taken into context as the divine answer to salem’s defiance and the rebellion against the gods, his true meaning is that mankind must come together in obedient submission to their creators, repudiating salem and all she stands for. it is her "selfishness and arrogance" for which all of humanity stands condemned.

ozma grasps this. i’d wager he understood it the moment salem told him of the rebellion and why the gods ended their "experiment" the first time. and so his telling of the task he’s been given is more honest: humanity must "find a way to destroy the evil in the world and in themselves" to prove worthy.

in ‘the two brothers,’ the "evil in the world" is explicitly the grimm, whom the god light disdains as unliving creatures formed from malice and hate for no purpose but "destroying all that is good in the world." the god of darkness protests that the grimm are more than that, chiding his brother to remember that they are the same. and the brothers made humans by combining their natures into one being, just as dark made grimm and light made animals by "[giving] their essence to their creations."

what then does it mean for humans to "destroy the evil in the world and in themselves"? keep in mind that the humans in the myth do not do anything even notionally wrong: the brothers go to war with each other and "wreak havoc," and terrified humans "prayed to their gods and asked if they were being punished, […] asked for forgiveness, […] begged for mercy." this is mankind’s sole participation in the divine feud, crying out to the gods in anguish why are we being punished? (COUGHS IN JOB.)

in ozma’s account of this story, there is no wrongdoing, no sin to redeem—no justification for humanity to be condemned. instead, the brothers attempt to go their separate ways and find that they can’t, having given too much of themselves to their creations to leave the world, so darkness suggests that they take back their gifts, "reclaim our power and wipe this experiment from existence." no no, says light, we should give them a chance to prove worthy first.

so it is clear—there is no ambiguity about this at all, because there is no wrongdoing—that the "evil within themselves" that humanity must find a way to destroy is darkness itself; the "essence" darkness gave them, the gifts of knowledge and destruction he blessed them with. the evil in the world is the grimm, and the evil within is the part of human nature that came from darkness.

now. ‘the two brothers’ is of course factually inaccurate, and we know (from the answer to "what is ozpin hiding?") that the omission of the whole rebellion isn’t because ozma doesn’t know about it—he does. he knows. rather, the rebellion is something he actively chose to hide.

why?

the mythical narrative deliberately elides the divine justification for condemning mankind to death in favor of emphasizing the pettiness and indifference of the brothers toward their creations—they intend to destroy humans for no other reason than to regain their former power—and also making a direct equivalence between grimm (the evil in the world) and dark’s gifts to humanity (the evil within), both of which mankind must find a way to destroy in order to appease the god of light. the absurdity of this is underscored by darkness’ explicit admiration for human resilience and resourcefulness in the face of adversity; he’s fascinated by their use of his brother’s gifts, choice and creation.

this is, again, not secret. this is a book that ozpin published and made the cornerstone of the huntsmen academies’ curriculum; ‘the two brothers’ as recounted here is a mainstream, widely-known religious story. ozma is the one who established this religion in the first place, and he’s had thousands of years to nudge the doctrine in the direction he wants it to go.

which is I Stand With My Damned Wife. lol

ozma didn’t believe salem when she "blamed the end of the world" on the gods, but once she told him about her rebellion—as she must have, for him to know about it—he agreed with her that she had done no wrong. the story he has been telling about the brothers all this time is one that casts mankind as innocent victims crying out for mercy, for forgiveness, blaming themselves for the cruelty inflicted upon them by uncaring gods. "the desperate humans prayed to their gods and asked if they were being punished."

in his heart of hearts, this is what he believes. that salem is blameless. that she didn’t deserve this. that she’s right.

he could save the world by uniting the whole world against her and calling on the brothers to condemn her, but he can’t—not only because this world just isn’t as dear to him without her but also because to do so would be a grave injustice, and he knows it.

he doesn’t believe that the final judgment can be averted, and he believes a second rebellion is as doomed to failure as her first attempt. the only salvation for remnant lies in destroying salem—who is the evil in the world (grimm) and the evil within (defiance, easily swaying the hearts of men)—but, she cannot be destroyed.

which gives him time.

ozpin doesn’t have a plan for defeating salem. that’s not the same thing as having no plan at all, necessarily, and salem believes he does have a plan.

gestures at "we shall once again live among you and humanity will be made whole" transforming into "we will take their forms and live among them as equals." and the gift of the moon. and "if you look far enough ahead, even a story with a happy ending may reveal itself as a tragedy, and heroes may turn out to be villains… hopefully, the reverse is also true."

(ozma’s character in ‘the girl in the tower’ is called The Hero. ozpin isn’t referring to her, there, but to himself.)

he’s… trying is maybe too strong a word, but ozpin wants to achieve salem’s preferred outcome (humanity replaces the gods) without a rebellion; ‘the shallow sea’ contains deep truths, he writes, and in ‘the judgment of faunus’ he remarks that faunus depict the god of animals as a "wise and noble" figure while humans portray them as an untrustworthy trickster. in the context of the theological disagreement between salem and ozma, ‘the shallow sea’ becomes an allegory for her opinion of the brothers—she rhetorically positions the people of remnant as the faunus, herself as the god of animals, and the brothers as the envious, resentful humans who refused to leave the boat.

in ‘the judgment of faunus’ a god offers to adjudicate between a group of humans and animals who cannot resolve their feud. if they can’t live in peace, they warn both sides, they will "kill one another off, and perhaps destroy the world in the process." when they agree, the god combines them into one being—the faunus.

in ‘the two brothers,’ the gods of light and darkness are portrayed as two halves of a sundered being, the primordial dragon, who—like the humans and animals in ‘judgment’—are "more alike than [they] realize" but "have grown to see only the worst in each other." they create humanity in an effort to resolve their feud, combining their natures into one being, but this fails to stop the conflict between them. their battle "wreaked havoc" and threatened to "tear the world apart." in the end they agree that, should humanity prove worthy, they will shed their divinity and become mortal men; otherwise, they will "let them burn" and part ways from each other forever.

in… other words, in ozma’s myth, it falls to humanity to decide the brothers’ fates: will they be changed into something new and so find peace, or will they be driven apart forever, destroying themselves and their world?

gestures at ‘the judgment of faunus.’ a god happens upon the bloody battlefield and asks why are you fighting?

gestures at ‘the two brothers.’ desperate humans cry out to the gods why are you punishing us?

gestures at ‘the shallow sea,’ which salem used allegorically to equate the brothers to envious, resentful humans who rejected the chance they were given to change and heal, and so returned to their previous unfulfilling lives. with herself implicitly positioned as the god of animals. this one, ozpin suggests, contains deep truths that everyone should take the time to consider.

looks into the camera like i’m on the office.

he includes ‘the shallow sea’ to represent salem’s theological argument against the divine mandate and offers ‘the judgment of faunus’ as a counterpoint, following the pattern of her allegory: the animals and humans represent the gods of light and darkness, and the unnamed god represents humanity (or perhaps just ozma, mirroring salem’s self-identification with the god in ‘the shallow sea’). i can end your conflict if you agree to let me choose who is right, says the god. (and is that not the intent of the mandate, in the end? for humanity to side with the god of light against his brother, for whom salem is only a proxy? to choose which brother is right?) and then the god’s answer is "neither. both. you are the same."

the primordial dragon and the division of the two brothers is made up. it’s not true. but ozpin chose that version of the story and paired it with the ending where the brothers promise to make peace by becoming human, by combining their natures within themselves and thus restoring their true nature as One Whole, light-and-dark and dark-and-light.

which is ozma’s plan.

or at least, it’s what he thinks might be the answer, even if he isn’t quite sure how to make it happen.

the god in ‘judgment’ is either wise and noble or a duplicitous trickster, not to be trusted, depending who you ask, says ozpin. the only way to unite the world to the brothers’ satisfaction is by destroying salem—removing her from it completely. salem can’t be destroyed… but.

but.

the brothers are fallible. she had lied to them, turned them against each other…

they can be deceived. tricked.

ozma is so fucking good at lying. he drove her into exile, erased her from history. what few people there are who know about her are sworn to secrecy and dedicated to keeping her at bay. if the gods had returned one year before the story began, what would they see? an elaborate performance of unprecedented global peace ruled by a powerful, benevolent cult of the light dedicated solely to slaying grimm for the good of all, with salem barred from participation in civilization, completely ostracized and forgotten.

it doesn’t matter if it’s fake. it only needs to last long enough to fool the brothers while ozma convinces them that he can settle their feud once and for all, if only they grant him the power to make it so and promise to abide by his judgment.

if he can trick them into giving up their power and becoming mortal men, then Everything Will Be Okay. it squares the circle, fulfills his god-given task without sacrificing salem to appease them or sacrificing humanity in a futile act of defiance. but it will only work if the deception is absolutely perfect and that brings him right back to square one, he needs there to be no perceptible conflict in the world when the brothers return lest they rule against humanity and he needs salem to be truly gone—not the common enemy everyone in the world stands against, but gone, so thoroughly rejected and forgotten that she has no presence in the world at all.

aaand the only way to accomplish that is by legitimately fulfilling his task, at least superficially. world peace, no salem, the leading power in every kingdom is a virtuous institution inculcating light’s values in noble warriors who protect the peace. it can collapse like the house of cards it truly is as soon as the brothers have taken the bait and shed their divinity but until then, it has to be so real that even oz himself believes it.

#man knows the cake is poison #but believes it HAS to be eaten #so he’s trying to have his antidote and eat it too.#by doing what he does best (lie)#the infinite man sacrifices himself in the mistaken belief that his world will be spared…the girl is the only one who remembers the truth…#fairytales of remnant is funny. ozpin like surely salem will understand my intricate coded messages explaining my clever plan #(narrator voice) She Didn’t.

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st4rymoon · 8 hours

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your dating Steven and accidentally leave out an aphrodisiac, he takes it and Marc and Jake are surprised, Steven begs for you to fuck him and out of pure pleasure he starts rapidly switching between personalities

This made me kick my feet up and giggle….

𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Preview: a harmless gift from your friends was meant for you to surprise Steven with but you forget to let him know not to eat them. It’s cruel that the aphrodisiac was in his favorite form of dessert.

Warnings: unknowingly ingesting an aphrodisiac (drug), p in v, fingering!, needy moon boys, unprotected sex, cream pie, roughish sex, pet names, alter switching, moments of anxiety

Not proof read !

You truly didn’t understand why your friends thought it was funny to give you chocolates with a little something in them. They said to eat them whenever you wanted to surprise your boys. Your best friend said it had her and her boyfriend going at it for hours and you weren’t really sure how you’d even bring up the subject to them.

While steven worked a late shift you decide to take a quick shower, ridding yourself of the days stress and leaving the box of chocolates on the kitchen counter completely unaware of your mistake.

Steven walked into the flat with his usual enthusiasm whenever you came over but arrived to an empty living room and the shower running. He smiled to himself before he placed his things down and made his way to the kitchen.

He was famished.

“Chocolates!” Steven gasped as he lunged toward the dangerously veneral food that would soon leave not only him, but Marc and Jake begging for your attention.

You were still in the shower whole Steven downed the sweet box of chocolates, only leaving 3. He gulped at the burning feeling growing on his cheeks. His clothes began to feel oddly warm, his body beginning to shoot tingles all throughout.

“Bloody hell” Steven shivered as he felt a familiar feeling slowly creeping. “Oh god” Steven whined as he removed his jacket in a hurry.

Why was he wearing so many damn layers. Why was he wearing socks? Why was he wearing a shirt? The urge to remove the now over heated clothes began to wash over Steven.

“Steven sit down” Marc spoke with a worried tone in his voice. Not only could Steven feel the effects, but so could Marc and Jake. Both were equally as worried being chocolates full of an aphrodisiac were the last things they were thinking of.

You stepped out into the living room, towel in hand as you noticed Steven on the couch. A smile began to form on your lips as you saw him begin to lie down.

Your eyes widened as you noticed the mess on the counter “oh no, oh no Steven please tell me you didn’t eat all those chocolates?” You gasped as you rushed to his side.

“I did darling I did I’m sorry” he began to whine “shit Steven! My friends gave me th-“ before you could even finish your sentence Marc began to front “What the hell are in those things” he panted.

Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead as he squirmed on the couch “some herb that makes you horny” you chuckled “they said milk would help, let me get you some milk ok” you hurriedly ran to the fridge.

“That explains it, I usually feel like this when I see you in those pretty knee highs” you heard Jake speak “I’m sorry I’m so sorry it didn’t crossed my mind to put these way” you anxiously muttered as you brought over a glass of milk to Jake “is Steven ok?” You asked.

“Of course I am love” Steven fronted as his flushed complexion began to grow a bright shade of pink “Steven drink the milk please” you sighed “we don’t want to I mean you left the chocolates out” Marc huffed as he began to take off his shirt.

You’ve never seen all three of them front so quickly, you were worried to say the least “how about you go lay on the bed and I’ll call my friends to ask how we can fix my mistake ok?” You smiled.

“Whyyy” Marc cooed as he pulled you into his arms “look at you freshly out of the shower and smelling of lavender, technically wrapped up in a pretty bow for me to have my fun with” he hummed as he sat you on his lap.

“Marc you have some kind of drug in your system do we really think it’s a good time to have sex?” You sigh as he begins to rock onto your clothed mound. “It’s just supposed to make me horny right? Well I always am and right now it’s just getting amplified” he cooed in hopes that you’d give in and let him release the herb himself. Marc’s hand wrapped behind your neck and pulled you into a kiss with his other hand snaking up your thighs.

“See it feels good” Marc hummed as he sloppily kissed you. It was impossible to lie how sexy Marc was right now, how rough and needy he was getting. “Mami Mírame porfavor” Jake purred as your eyes closed shut.

You gasped as Jake’s hands lifted you off the couch and walked you over to the unmade bed you and Steven didn’t bother making. The primal moan that spilled out of Jake had you moaning in unison “so is that a yes muñeca? Usa tus palabras, dime” he purred.

“Yes yes please” you whined as Jake’s fingers curled into the hem of your panties and pulled them down in one swift motion. You cried in pleasure as you felt Jake’s calloused fingers push into your gushy cunt.

A low groan rumbled through his chest as he felt you drench his fingers in warm slick, the stringy sticky cum creating a lewd loud with each of his movements.

You clawed at his biceps as Jake’s eyes watched you with a wide grin, his eyes growing dark as your moans grew louder. “J- Jake please” you gasped as he pulled his fingers back and into his mouth.

Your legs squeezed together as Jake rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Leaving you only in a tank top and him completely naked “what a nice gift from your friend, next time you should take one” he purred as his hands hoist your hips up and added a pillow under you.

“Get comfy love” Steven spoke as he pushed Jake back “I’m the one who ate the bloody chocolates so I can indulge first” he coyly smiled.

Steven’s hands were shaking as he stroked himself, aligning himself between your legs before he fucked the drug out on you.

You’ve never had sex this intense with Steven, his hands were on the shelves of his books as he fucked you onto the sheets. You stared up at him dumbly as he panted and gasped with each thrust.

Steven let out whimpered frustrated moans as he pressed himself as close as he could, no matter how deep he got he felt like it wasn’t enough.

The way his books shook and fell flat on the shelves as he thrusted made him smile, he felt like he could go on for hours. “Stev- ohhh godd Steven Steven!” You sobbed as he rolled his hips messily and slow.

You were met with a raspy moan and a heavy hand on your throat “my turn” Marc spoke as the once slow pace picked up once again.

The room was dimly lit by the shining of the moon through the curtains as Marc pounded deep into your throbbing cunt. You clawed at his arms as he hungrily kissed you, both of you swallowing each others moans as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your face was a complete mess, mascara and hair all over the face as he chuckled at your cries. You began to notice Marc’s thrusts growing messy, he turned into a moaning mess as he filled you to the brim.

“Jus’ like that yeahhh fu- fuck” he seethed. His cock still rock hard as he settled inside you.

“You going to be good and let Jake and Steven have their way?” Marc pouts as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You dumbly nodded with a breathy “yes”

It was going to be a long night but there was definitely no complaints from any of you.

#smut #marvel smut #moon knight smut #moonknight smut #moonknight x reader #jake lockely imagine #jake lockely smut #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #moon knight

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