#And we keep breaking our Treaties with them. We need to do better. In the Dakotas they've removed Tribal ID as acceptable ID for voting.

[curiousorigins]

Also just to further complicate this debate. In much of the Western U.S., a Scone is pretty much Fry Bread, Sopapillas or Beignets and is the base for a Navajo Taco. (Again called in that case called Fry Bread because that is what Indigenous Americans call it. For them it came out of their cleverness in using the particularly insufficient Government rations they received when they were forced onto barren reservation lands.)

Depending on where in the Western U.S; it is traditionally served with honey and butter, at least when the particular recipe comes from White Americans that have been in the Western U.S. for 3 generations or so, sometimes Jam. Sopapillas have their own particular way of being served, (honey, and syrup; or savory) and sometimes dramatic differences in recipes; those come from Latin America. Beignets I'll admit to knowing almost nothing about them, a part from the Princess and the Frog; usually with powdered (confectioner's) sugar.

Obviously the nearer you are to a Rez, the more likely it will be called Fry Bread. Whereas if you're in a white former frontier/pioneer land it's probably called Scones and if you're in a Latino Heavy place in the West... Sopapillas it will be. Having never made it to the American South, I can't say how common Beignets are... it's possible it's just a Former French Colony thing, I know Fry Bread also happened there... but it's possible that's partly the influence of the Reservation System.

A lot of cultural exchange happened between even Faraway Indigenous Nations because of how necessary supporting each other was in trying to keep the American Government from decimating them. (Both regular genocide and cultural genocide wise. Because the U.S. definitely are colonists in the worst kind of way and learned Imperialism as an M.O. from the Brits.) But from my understanding Fry Bread has been claimed to be from the Navajo. (But I also live in a Navajo corner of the nation... so... It's also possibly the case of Simultaneous Invention. )

But yeah, Look up California Scones or Utah Scones if you want to see those. Sopapilla to see those and Fry Bread too. Scones/Fry Bread may be square or they may be free form blobs. I learned to make them freeform but they were temporarily commercialized with SconeCutters and were square then. From my understanding Sconecutters as a restaurant is no more. You could get them with Chili Cheese, honey butter or as a subway like Sandwich from there. Now for rising base, there's some debate about whether they're traditional Scones with yeast, without yeast or with baking soda. I learned to make them with Yeast. They are always deep fried though and turned over when one side is done.

I was around 20 years old the first time I ordered a scone at a restaurant and was given something that looks like the example of the American Scone. Every other time I got Fry Bread. (And I loved Scones/Fry Bread... so plenty of ordering ;)) I'd lived in the Western U.S. my entire life at that point and was 4-5 generations (depending on the family side) there. Funnily enough I thought it must have been an English Scone. Until it kept happening at various Cafes when I traveled.

settling a debate, reblog for reach

[xiii-e]

XIII▸ Well. I suppose I should introduce myself.

XIII▸ Hello, to all those I haven't met- which, will be most of you realistically. I'm Project XIII-E, otherwise refered to as Thirteen-E. Just Thirteen works too. After certain recent... events shall we say, a representative of the Union DoJ/HR insisted that I be given the oppertunity to meet with people outside of Harrison Purview while discussions regarding my status are underway, since things are dragging out somewhat.

XIII▸ So... this omninet account was created, with the assistance of Helios-8 [◂▸Hi folks o/ ] a fellow Project who understands all of this better than I do. He's volunteered to be my minder while I'm figuring all this out. For now, I suppose- more about me? What's important... I'm a trained field medic and basic mechanic, intended to opperate as a mobile assistance personnel wherever the fight is thickest. I can patch you, or your mech up from most things. I'm a Lancaster pilot; not the most common thing in the legion I know, but IPS-N knew what they were doing with the old lannies. I've made some alterations. M1 Leatherback is my pride and joy. I'm registered under the callsign Cicatrice, but my name is preferable. It's easier to say, and to spell.

XIII▸ Oh the uh- the Project thing. That might take a while to explain. I'll... I'll summarise it later. [ADDENDUM: summary_attached] That's all I can think of, from the top of my head. I'll do my best to aclimatise to any cultural differences outside of Harrison space during my time here. Please feel free to ask me questions, about myself or my stated expertise. It might be nice to make some more lasting connections, outside of deployment.

XIII▸ Signing off for now. I look forward to meeting you.

// loading echo.exe ... //... //... // now running echo.exe

◂▸ alrightyy, Turtie's got themself introduced, now it's my turn. howdy folks: My name is Helios-8, but I accept Lio if flashclone naming conventions turn your stomach. That's what me and Turtie are, by the way. Project-produced HA sanctioned flashclones. Being able to say that openly is why I run this nifty piece of software that keeps things below the line for any HA techs who might get on our case about legal distinctions, treaties, terms of service etc. Legally, we didn't say any of this shit.

◂▸I'm on a seperate datapad, I get my own that I can tinker with since I'm defined as an employed citizen in the tech sector, whereas Turtie's... well, it's complicated. Suffice to say they're not that. I'll explain in time. Important thing is, anything they want to say that might get them in trouble, they'll run through my interface and protective software. You want to see what either of us don't want HA seeing, we'll throw it into the void under the cloak of ECHO here. Something between insurance in case this all goes tits up, and a sort of controlled exposure therapy so Turtie can learn how to speak their mind.

◂▸I think it's important they get a break from the bullshit the Projects put us through, hence why I put myself forward to be their handler between deployments. My project line wasn't anything like Unlucky Thirteen, but- ehhh, that's a story better saved for the big expo. Sorry for being cryptic about shit. It'll come to light in its own time. This was meant to be an introduction but, I think you'll find out what you need to if you get talking to us.

Or don't; we'll be treating this thing like a diary anyways, and when ECHO's feeling up to big files I'll drop some of the more interesting pieces of history I have squirreled away too >:]c But, your eyes are enough. You saw us. You know we were here, and we were real, and that we were people too.

I'll try and keep things organised: ECHO should automatically tag anything she's cloaked with echo.exe if you're looking for our back and forth, and I'll file any large files, exposes etc that may or may not actually come from me under turtleshell.dox ; for incoming chatter, just check out You've Got Mail

◂▸anyway, cheers for reading. see you round the net -Helios-8

-----

// ooc: hiii this is @mossydice / @mossylocks depending on where you may know me- and this blog is a bit of an experiment!! I'm pretty shy overall so how much actual rping I manage to do is Very up in the air, but at the very least this'll serve as a fun in character blog for me to exposit about my scrungly Thirteen-E; I won't get to play them for probably another year or so yet, so this is a fun way to explore their character and some of the lore specific to them that I've come up with in the mean time!! ^-^ I look forward to doing more ic writing!! If you want to talk about anything, ask any clarifying questions etc please feel absolutely free to pop into my dms \o/

IMPORTANTLY: Thirteen-E's whole deal can get a bit gritty in places, so I'll be trying to include cw's where I think they might be revelent. However this whole blog is going to play heavy into dehumanisaiton and the comodification of human bodies if the flashclone premise didn't make that obvious, so if these are topics you'd rather not read about at length in your fiction, no hard feelings!! thanks for stopping by o7

[horizon-verizon]

Your opinion / analysis of this situation when Aemond has the crown on his head?

“It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

It’s pretty simple, really, for me.

Aemond has been told to go for power and it has defined his entire life, yet he is also trying to perform submission for the sake of duty and for power to go into someone who has not done the labor he feels he has done, which goes in direct conflict with his nurtured self and the very notion of feudal privilege. But that’s a green for you. Don’t know that they hate or even resisting against the thing they are advocating or using for their own ends.

I think this is also the very self-conflict that drives him to burn the riverlands, rape Alys and take her as his war prize, hate his Velaryon nephews, etc.

.........................................................................................................

This SCENE occurs before the scene anon pulls the below from:

“You must rule the realm now, until your brother is strong enough to take the crown again,” the King’s Hand told Prince Aemond. Nor did Ser Criston need to say it twice, writes Eustace. And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror. “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed. Yet Aemond did not assume the style of king, but named himself only Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent. Ser Criston Cole remained Hand of the King.

(“The Red Dragon and the Gold”)

 Aemond becomes the “Prince Regent” after Criston tells him that he has to. After fighting Rhaenys and Meleys, Aegon got gravely injured and had to remain in bed for most of the year and so was out of the action and unbale to really rule.

I see Aemond as wanting to be the one “destined” instead of Aegon (like how a firstborn son is to be the inheritor of certain privileges, authority, and status) and that want coming from a lifetime of putting socially acceptable behavior and expectations before his own desires. 

It is an intense form and hint of self-repression, basically. 

@rhaenyragendereuphoria says THIS about feudalist societies: “However, no one is given rights in these societies, not even men - not the way we would define rights. Their idea of "right" is just as arbitrary as their idea of "freedom". They are societies based on privileges, and privileges are always revocable, unlike rights.”

And more HERE:

Feudalism is a system of servitude based on giving up your freedom in exchange of protection by a higher lord. It binds serfs to their lords, and lords to other lords all the way to the king. Yes, the whole "Protector of the Realm" is propaganda, but it's what they believe the job of the king to be. They will give it to the strongest who can protect them from foreign invasions: and it's hard to think of stronger than "family that literally owns dragons". This fandom has feudal mentality completely upside down, thinking they loathe their subjugation because subjugation is an affront to freedom. Feudalism IS subjugation. What they loathe is to submit to a weakling. They despise (and hunt, and murder) the Free Folk, calling them "wildlings", because they'd rather be free than be bound by feudal oaths of subjugation. Feudalism is the rule of "might makes right". At its roots, it's a military hierarchy of warlords who bind each others with feeble and fickle treaties until one of them decides to break them and attempt to conquer the others, and either wins or fails. This is not the system under which our notion of imperialism or colonialism can exist. It's nit even fascist/nazi per se as the latter can only exist as a reaction to feudalism going extinct, after it's been supplanted by constitutional and democratic regimes. Fascism/Nazism is feudal LARPing.

You see, Aemond looks for validation in doing what he thinks and has been taught is his “duty”, which is this submitting and fighting to keep someone else, no matter how dangerous or incompetent they are, in power. And in his case, that is Aegon II, his own brother. 

You know, aside from making even more protests or even defections against the Greens if he had just taken the crown and the position of king.

Often in historical/fantasy dramas you will come up against characters who have to find a way to satisfy their familial obligations (honor your father, and your mother -- it’s not just Christian) versus their feudal obligation to their ruler because sometimes these things come into direct conflict or ask the person to sacrifice something they value dearly.

Or we can think about Ned Stark, what he decided for himself, Lyanna and his family versus what he knows Robert would have wanted from him.

[the-firebird69]

There are a few things to talk about our son situation seems to always deteriorate rather than get any better they don't like you don't like what you're doing here sitting here extorting him and it's worse than before and he's right there too many parameters there's too many things out there and we need to reduce threat and we're going to go ahead and do that and we're going to make sure that you pay for what you're doing we need you to understand that you're being watched everything that you do is watched and this episode with the ebike issue with the battery. You're going to have to pay for it and we're going to have to reduce your income of course BG was involved but our son needed a break from climbing up on that thing yet the way you did it was unwelcome and you're messing around with the credit card and you're bringing everything down to the last second and you're constantly trying to make him sick and you're all dying and you're disgusting you're not getting squat you're a repulsive bunch of s*** what we're going to do is talk about how to free you from being alive we don't need you here and we're going to start doing stuff to you real soon

-we have a few things to discuss and he needs help and we need to start doing things and not complain and what he's saying is we need to act to change it complaining is not going to change it and we're going to do that right now we are enacting some programs here the ships are too close they're in violation of every treaty there is on Earth with everybody about these spaceships and the guy doesn't listen to anybody we have to use absolute force and we're going to on him and others like John remillard this guy is going to die and it will be Tommy f and he's going to try and get into the apartment and we're going to have to force him out and it's ridiculous it's one stupid bad joke after another so we're going to go after the max and others who are promoting this kind of behavior on what really is a 3-year-old body with a young young man who's 55 years old compared to you you're ridiculous people he says to us I want all this action and I'm forced to do tons of stuff and we're hiring massive armies because of You morons there's no way to explain it to you except to defeat you completely stick you in a cage and show you what we did and we're going to have to do that he says and that's the way it is they're very dumb they're obtuse they don't know how to fix things they don't know how to do things correctly and sit there and try and persuade you emotionally and it hasn't f****** worked practically ever there's no teaching them they have to learn the hard way if there's a concrete wall they're going to sit there for 50 years looking at it thinking they can get through it and I'm actually seeing something you people are very dumb you're extremely stupid and what it seems right we should take advantage of it and we must and we have to get the numbers up there that's what we're going to do you want to fight each other that's fine we really needed you to and we should be happy about it and actually we're saying we're not it is just a mess and we have to fix it and we have to get there and we have to get above it and we're going to right now we are going to have to piggy back to this ebike it's selling too many we did it with the aristo motor and we have we have trillions of them out there this one's a better bike it goes further it's made for men and women it folds there's almost nothing wrong with it if you put a shock on it the gears will get messed up so you can't so the seat kind of bounces a little I mean it's almost perfect except they come with nobbies that's about it it's really the best they can get so we're going to work on that and we have other things to do today

-one thing is we do not appreciate your attitude here you are a bunch of dangerous mofo and you keep saying it and saying it and saying it and it's ridiculous we do not want to hear from you about all this dumb s*** you're talking about we don't think you understand how to do practically anything right and our son worries about doing things correctly and you're giving him s*** because he's trying to do it right you know about the battery we know how to charge it correctly and he's wondering if he should give it a break and we think he should and then do the other one later and the brand new they don't fill up sometimes and you don't have to charge it all the way

-further we don't appreciate your talk your looks you're rolling your eyes your childish a****** comments you people have no lives at all you're these rich idiots you're not smart enough to know what to do with the money in your current situation and what you're saying all the time is you'd rather die than try and figure anything out might hurt you to try and think and we don't need you we really don't the effort is way too much to bother with all the s*** you come up with and he wants to help me to help him test his bike so I'm going to do that

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues

They're trying to suck the fun out of everything and we really have to concentrate here if we have a complaint we have to address it properly and really if our system is not working right we have to have a series of meetings and not feel a bashed about having them

Hera

I'm going to do that then we're going to set up a series of meetings it's not going right on the money and it's pretty far off so we're going to have to do that it's a good idea and we're going to put some effort in and it's a lot better to get team teamwork and assistance and I'm trying to take it all on and manipulate and it's not working that well

Thor Freya

We're going to the meetings and we're going to start working here more so we see what he's doing and saying he's trying to get us to move on it because it's heinous and we're also going through it too and we know it's heinous when he's sounding the alarm we do act but it's really not as much as we could be doing

Nuada Arrianna

We need to Target whether it's effective and use it we know what we can do do and get away with and we're going to work within those and test it and come up with a program testing as well there's no sense in not doing it both

Savage Oppress

What are you saying is we have a lot of stuff that works and we're not deploying it and it's approved we need to know why and we have other things we can test while we're doing it but we need to have some sort of large mobilization here and our son and daughter say we have a plan to do it and we need to break it open and start doing it now's the Time even though it doesn't seem it the idiots are isolated in bunkers he's morons are covered the whole system is set up for it and we're going to go ahead with it now

Olympus

[lawluenvy]

any other canadians out here just so sick of all of the LIES?!?!?

we are not "nice" people.

are we better than the average american??? MAYBE. not even a definite yes in fact personally i would lean towards a no except that since we do learn about a smidgen more world history than americans we happen to be a bit less obnoxious traveling and discussing other countries cuz well at least we know they even exist but y'all the bar is SO! LOW! so it's just a very small maybe.

just like the american bible belt (we have our own btw in case you forgot about alberta) we may appear to have warm hospitality and good manners but under that sunny façade we are just as miserable and immoral as every other colonial country founded on genocide.

we have committed atrocious war crimes and countless other crimes against humanity

we are the japan of north america - exporting this false image of a "polite" country that "can do no wrong" with a disgusting verocity all while blatantly ignoring our long list of problems because "hey at least we're not american!"

but guess the fuck what not being american is NOT a good enough standard - it's fucking embarrassing that this is our only point of patriotic pride; we have "free" healthcare and we're not the US! yay for us! we deserve a fucking gold star sticker on each of our fucking foreheads

in case you needed to be reminded there is a pipeline being built less than 50 metres away from MY APARTMENT (i am fucking furious) right now because our ugly ass prime minister is just as deceitful and dishonest as any other politician cuz guess what they're the exact same scum here that they are in the US and care only about satisfying the lobbyists that line their pockets and who are those people if not our very own oil conglomerates of our very own texas (alberta) and toronto is a shit hole and vancouver is a shit hole and lets not forget openly and proudly racist and islamophobic as fuck quebec!! every single inch of this land has blood on it and while those past deplorable acts were not directly all of our faults because at the time a lot of our ancestors were immigrants probably treated like shit too whether they were chinese, mexican, irish, italian, ukrainian- doesn't matter- but as the canadians that live here and run this country today we are a mockery to everything we proport ourselves to be by convincing ourselves of the same fantasy american's founding fathers created for them as our very own british and french overlords did for us and by spending all our time paying attention only to the ways that we are better than americans (if thats even true???? like tf you on?) we actively uphold everything that is still so very wrong about our own country.

i am just so. sick. of coming across media content painting canada as a lovely place where "you cant actually die" because its literal paradise on earth and so you just "respawn" ---

if shit like that were true then what the fuck happened to all the kids murdered by catholic and protestant churchs in residential schools? where did they go? why are we only just now barely beginning to unearth their bodies and return their remains to their homes where they belong if we can even identify them at all?

we say please and thank you all the time???

where the fuck was that please when we slaughtered all the bison of the plains for money and to starve out the prairie tribes occupying the land we declared with 0 authority was ours without asking to share???

where the fuck was the thank you for "letting" us stay here in shoving all of the survivors into reserves through manipulative and demeaning treaties and then several decades later offer reconciliation and reparations just to drop a billion dollar pipeline through some of these people's only clean water source for those "lucky enough" to have one in the first place!

where the fuck was the please when that ugly white tesla sped up to keep me from merging and breaking the rules of the zipper merge for the fifth time that day driving home in rush hour because he's "important" and "has places to be" and doesn't have time to let peasants get in front of him as if he's gonna get home any faster than me like wtf is wrong with you???

where the fuck was the thank you when i gave karen (HER NAME WAS LITERALLY KAREN) a discount on her box of cookies that were labelled as clearance when they were not actually on clearance because someone (probably another customer) put this one box of cookies in the wrong spot on the shelf and she threw a fucking temper tantrum all like "dont you know who i am? i shop here every week and now because i'll never come back because you're trying to say i lied to you and i dont appreciate this accusation" like BITCH HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THE FUCKING POLICY PLEASE DO NEVER COME BACK IF I SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN IT IS ON! SIGHT!

and what about all the anti vaxx protests during a global pandemic?

what about all the conservative christians that tried to make school boards reporting the extra curricular activities of their children in GSAs to parents mandatory for the express purpose of being able to then beat them, send them to conversion therapy, and kick them out when it doesnt work the second they get home after that phone call???

what about all the lying liberal losers who think "sure black, brown and gay people deserve SOME rights" but they are "fiscally conservative" and still think that corporations maintain the right to poison our earth, sabotage our economy, hold the working class hostage including themselves because "hey maybe one day i'll get to be the rich bastard who can step on and rip people off and get away with sexual assault charges against minors and subordinates at school and at work" cuz as long as they can hold onto the dream that they get to be the asshole one day then its totally fine!!! everything bad about humans is cool so long is doesnt personally affect them cuz other people dont exist!!! yay!

everything is just great and fine here all of the time!!!

tims is the best!!! even though they stopped making jelly filled powdered donuts, have the grossest icing on the randomest special edition bakery items, water down their coffee, and pay their indian immigrant full time managers barely above minimum wage!!!

the rcmp are so great they wear funny hats and ride horses even though 90% of them actually dont and we have video footage of officers assaulting their suspects too!!! what about that international student who got yanked out of her dorm by the roots of her hair by a white woman during a "wellness" check??? y'all forget about that??? what about robert pickton? the highway of tears??? missing murdered indigenous women??? native poverty in vancouver, black poverty in toronto, the "starlight tours" in saskatchewan?

canada is not a good country.

stop spreading that delusion around.

and to my fellow canadians:

being better than america isn't the flex you think it is.

grow the fuck up.

[neptunianashes]

Milei has never talked about dolarization as crazy as it sounds, he has always talked about choosing a foreign currency and said that argentines should vote to choose which currency to use when our currency dies. This could mean Argentina could choose the Euro, it could choose the Brasilian Real, it could choose the chinese yuan and it could choose the united states dollar. When he talks and the currency is not the central point of the conversation he quickly refers to dollars as a given, that is because historically and also in the current present, we use the usamerican dollar as an unofficial currency to use as savings because we cannot save money using our peso with this much inflation, so our currency we use it for taxes, daily shopping, groceries etc but for more long term expensive things like a buying a house or buying a car we use the united states dollars. So it would be very weird if in the voting we vote to convert to the chinese yuan or the Euro, because the dollar is already what argentines use. That’s why he talks as a given the dollar. That being said... with the current political crisis in the world, it wouldn’t be bad to choose wisely, Brasil just parted ways from the united states to get closer to China, the United States is about to enter an era of decline and if we choose the dollar it might not be the best idea to choose the dollar and it could be better to choose the yuan if China keeps growing or the brasilian real because they have stability and above that no matter what party wins in the future they will always be allies because we trade a lot being neighbors. We could have avoided all this bullshit economic crisis if the fckin peronist wouldn’t had been so corrupt and ruined the country doing everything bad unlike what the left in Brasil did with Lula doing everything right to keep their economy strong and don’t lose credibility like the stupid Argentina did all these past decades of constant crisis. Milei is very united states leaning, people want a stable economy to live in peace so if he can do it and not the peronists then because of his alignment people will choose the usDollar instead of the chinese yuan or brasilian real. No matter the result, the influence of Argentina in the world has dimished with poverty rising to very high levels and a government that can’t even keep their citizens content, Argentina faces many years and decades ahead for a recovery, this crisis one after the other has costed Argentina a great deal on the international playground being unable to grow and maintain the prestige and importance Argentina once had in the world. Milei will become a major ally of the united states and will probably be relentless to push China away of the country, this will make them understandably very angry because after Brasil Argentina is the second most important ally of them in the region, I don’t know what will happen with their bases in Argentina, because Milei is so against China that I don’t see him trying to negotiate a middle ground between the united states and china. Moreover in 2040-2050 the treaty of Antarctica will end and in a few decades the countries in the Antarctica treaty will have to decide what to do, if extent it or break it and exploit Antarctica. If the latter happens then I don’t see Argentina recovering so quickly in 20 years to fight for the sovereignty of our argentine bases in Antarctica against The United Kingdom who wants to take them claiming they have our Antarctic territory to claim because the Malvinas islands in the southern sea. Even still what Milei has done to Argentina was divide the country even more, if he manages to succeed in finally stabilizing the economy of Argentina then whos come after him, will the argentine society keep truthfully to liberalism and continue the change or Ofelia Fernandez will become the president in 16 years and spiral things back to peronism again? Argentina needs to create a long term plan as a united country once again no matter what side wins, otherwise we will continue to have internal conflicts that will not allow us to be stable and have some influence in the international scene if we can’t even be serious within our own borders. 

[krillbeans]

LITERALLY, LITERALLY FUCKING THIS

I mean...

We got actual solid quantitated proof that Morty is not as dumb as some of the characters are making him out to be. We've seen time and time again how Morty shines when he's being hands-on, when he's being diplomatic, when he wants to do good. But he keeps getting put down by other people and the universe itself, to the point that he himself believes he's an idiot.

Also, not to compare to his sister but

Morty is a different type of smart from Summer. And if the default stats for the attribute slider are to be believed, smarter than Summer.

He makes mistakes, sure, he lets his weiner do the walking sometimes too. He's surrounded by people who are a specific type of intelligence. The kind Rick values. But that doesn't mean he's not intelligent himself, that he's incapable, that he's dumb as Rick is smart.

Even without the attribute slider quantifying his intelligence, we've seen him be kinder, more resourceful, resilient, and much more mature than anyone in the Sanchez-Smith family. He's the family counselor at 14 years old, and being with Rick parentified him tbh. He's a fast learner, he's efficient, can think fast on the go, but he's not as cruel, selfish, or calloused as anyone in his family. If you dropped him on a hostile planet, I won't be surprised if he causes an uprising, or better yet a peace treaty to be brokered.

Here's some Morty Prime moments I remember off the top of my head:

S1E10: Our Morty (Prime), caused the Morty uprising with his speech, which kickstarted their escape. One of the instances that shows his people smarts.

🟡️

S2E4: He was the one who solved the entire episode's conflict by analyzing the situation and figured out who's a parasite or not.

S2E6: When he got stranded on a prehistoric planet in Kyle's Teenyverse, he went to go live in the forest with the Tree People after getting fed up with Rick and Zeep's dick measuring contest. My boy not only survived for months out there, but he learned the Tree People's language, culture, and straight up became their "leader".

🟡️

S3E1: Shows one of the instances that reveals how self-aware he is of Rick's flaws, and how a relationship with Rick could never give you a normal life. He understands how fucked up his grandpa is, and he doesn't romanticize or idolize him even if he does love him.

S3E4: The previous tags have already pointed out his ability to disarm a neutrino bomb from frequent (too frequent) experience. Each SAW bit, he was able to solve because he knows both Rick and blackout drunk Rick so well.

S3E5: He was able to manipulate Rick into taking his dad on an adventure, just so he could take a break from Rick and the scifi shenanigans/emotional labor that comes with being around him. Unfortunately, it turns out even his mother needs to be kept in check too.

S3E6: The "Healthy" side of Morty was a dynamo. He was able to give advice and inspire confidence in people, my dude has rizz, he bagged 3 girls in one ep. He became a successful stockbroker in wall street, living in an apartment he bought for himself. He was gone three weeks, and he was able to travel from Austin, Texas to New York, get a job, get a girl, and get a penthouse suite. Thats more than any other 14 year old could do in that amount of time. Heck thats probably more than my detoxified self could do at my age. When he traveled from Texas to New York, I bet his organic "in-the-moment" loving self ditched the jet pack to live the life on the road.

S3E9: Morty is aware and familiar with Krootabulon culture and language, once again showcasing his strengths when it comes to interacting with people. I'm willing to bet that Morty is great at learning new languages and is quick to pick them up.

🟡️

S4E1: He's got extensive knowledge on using Rick's weapons, and I'm pretty sure some weapons he's using for the first time in action since Rick keeps a passcode on them. Even if he's got guidance from the crystal, you still have to be quick thinking to do as it guides with the little information you get from the scenes it gives you.

S4E2: Hes got to keep his dad from making stupid mistakes too. Fixing it even. Like the episode with Pluto back in season 1.

S4E3: Morty has passions, Morty can write. From closeups of his script, it's not something I would call a masterpiece, but he put his heart into it and he got a Netflix deal for it! I'm proud of him, Rick is just a manipulative petty old man.

S4E7: The first (blatant) instance of Rick and Morty valuing mental health, with Morty consoling Rick more than the other way around.

S4E8: Shows an instance of Morty being emotionally supportive of Rick when he was "beating himself up" over "not being able to make the do-over device". Unfortunately that was Rick just being cruel testing the remote out.

When he was stranded in the mountains with Carey, he was able to survive for as long as he had, most likely from the skills he picked up from surviving on hostile planets when adventuring with Rick. However, the Teenyverse episode was pretty early on in the adventures and he was able to hold his own for months, which means even without Rick's extensive influence, he still has the resourcefulness and perserverance to survive in a desolate place while also caring for the other people he's stranded with.

🟡️

S5E1: Fairly similar to the fourth season's first episode. Extensive knowledge on Rick level weapons and holds well in a fight.

S5E3: I'm just gonna say it, that pizza delivery scene was badass. My jaw dropped when I first watched it. He was clever during the fight, and he wasn't just using the base elements of the rings: dirt, fire and air. When the water user said "cold water" to produce ice, Morty countered with using dirt and fire to create lava, realizing that the elements could be modified. Used air to safely get the last ring, and he was out of there in less than 40 seconds. It was an open and shut battle, and he left no survivors. He's quick and efficient when he thinks he's doing good and honestly I'm a lil scared.

S5E7: Once again shows that Morty is Rick's emotional crutch. He's the designated moderator for when Rick gets too into his head, the voice of reason. It sucks that nobody listens to him when he only means well. In the end, he was still the bigger man and never sold out his family despite how they treated him. He understands how his parents behave and correctly predicted how their conversation with Summer in the living room would shake out (forgiving her immediately).

S5E9: When this episode's promo came out, fans initially thought that Morty was using the portal gun to go on solo adventures for fun. In reality he was fixing Rick's messes. Throughout the show, we've been shown that there are ugly parts to the Adventures, the parts Rick leaves behind. Ricks never look back, but Morty wants to have accountability for the wrongs he was involved in. He wants to do right, he wants to make things right. In fixing the messes, he was efficient in the short time he's got too. A city was flooded because the spaceship crashed through their dam, meanwhile a Lava Monster was attacking locals because Rick stole its gem. Morty killed two birds with one stone by draining the flood from one world onto the Lava Monster on the next. Additionally, he knows how to operate his mini bike-ship which I think is really cool and kinda cute. One of the items in his to-do list is "Tip Jar" which I like to think was just Rick not tipping after a meal as an asshole move to the staff, and Morty just went back to be decent and tip.

🟡️ (man you guys weren't wrong about the lack of Morty these previous

seasons)

S6E1: After being stranded in Prime dimension, Morty assembled basic weapons and collected survival shit just before meeting Jerry Prime again.

S6E9: He was able to use basic physics to dismantle his first entire religion! He then tried to solve his own problem by rallying the Knights of the Sun once again through,, stem stumping means.

S6E10: Morty holds up amazingly in that solo battle with the president, it's almost effortless how well he's able to fight with the lightsaber despite using it for the first time. It's kind of inconsistent how he has great swordsmanship in this episode, and also Promortyus, but in the previous episode he needed the Blade sword Al to fight the Sun King. Maybe it's the duel jitters.

🟡️

S7E2: At this point in time, Morty is trustworthy and capable enough to run errands for Rick alone and off-world. It's only been mentioned a few times, like back in season 5 with his bike-ship being his transport for running errands. He keeps his calm even in his "kidnapping" situation, and he's able to shoot his way through the crime restaurant before being grabbed by Chuxly. Apparently, he's also got interplanetary underworld contacts. He's also a great shot during the Jerricky fight (hwa-cha!), but he was nonchalant enough to assume this is just another day for him.

S7E5: Morty was kinda sidelined this episode, but during the Prime/ C-137 fight, he was able to recalibrate a damaged Rickbot Prime to use as his own weapon, implying he has knowledge on weapons engineering

S7E6: During one of his non-adventures, he and his bullies got stranded on a desert island after he turned back from boat to human (courtesy of Rick's implants). They were gone for maybe more than a month, but it was Morty who provided them with food by climbing trees and getting fruit. He probably took charge of the situation when it came to survival. I found it funny that the bullies didnt even give Morty their pants or jacket to cover him up so he just walked around in leaves for weeks.

S7E8: Once again, Morty is pretty observant when it comes to cultures. He was able to recognize that the Scribble-Doodle googas were the original species where numbers and letters came from. He pointed out that they weren't so different. (tbh this episode was a "Morty episode" with hardly any Morty in it, and he kinda just acted as a moral mouthpiece instead of a character). Morty learned to appreciate Math, probably because he was taken out of a boxed-in classroom situation and associated Math with things he's familiar with, making math interesting. Lol neurodivergents be like

Anyway that is to say, Morty's a smart and resourceful kid. He's not smart in the way Rick, Summer, and Beth are. In fact, I think he's the kind of smart that's sincere and responsible about it. He's only 14 but he knows so much, and to an extent how to take care of himself. It's to a worrying degree even. He has to be the bigger person every time, he has to be the mature one in the room. That's neglected highly empathic neurodivergent child who was forced to grow up too fast behavior if I've ever seen it.

We've seen that Morty is people smart, emotionally mature, and good with weapons. He could thrive in an apocalypse with his survival skills and on top of that, probably keep a community alive through it (because he may be a bleeding heart, but he's a bleeding heart who puts in the work). He's a fast learner who could think on the fly, learn different languages, and adapt to cultures easily. He's picked up things from Rick and applies them in real life. He's a visual and practical learner, he learns on his feet, so he falls asleep and can't focus in school where he just sits in the back and listens. He is learning and growing but his environment wasn't conducive to that. Now that he's in an environment that helps him learn through experience, it still sucked cuz he was constantly in danger, plus he had to parent his own grandfather through it and deal with his verbal abuse the few seasons before 7. Rick used to always put him down in the earlier seasons, even as Morty was developing as a sidekick-now-partner.

Just remembered a tidbit from season 1 that summarized that.

Death by a thousand cuts amirite?

Hi

I got a theory

So, i feel like Morty is probably smarter than most people but school makes it hard to express his brilliance. I feel that Beth had such a chaotic-neautral parenting style so when Rick started taking Morty on adventures, he was able to quickly adapt to the mind-fucking situations and Ricks cunty attitude. Like yeah there’s Morty’s Mind Blowers but i feel like Rick will show Morty the memories when he’s better able to understand. Morty truly sees the bigger picture that most people don’t.

This post is about Morty C-137 btw.

Most Ricks have a Morty, and every Morty has a Beth. Jerry and Beth together makes Morty his smart, adaptable, kind, compassionate self.

Just my Morty stan thoughts

[octerminal]

Avoiding the ME1 LI Romances

...And also what to do if you’ve already triggered them.

This is a post I’ve been wanting to remake forever, and with the remaster around the corner I thought now was a good time to finally get on it.

A few things first: I say “avoiding the ME1 LI romances”, but in reality this is mostly going to be about Kaidan and Ashley. While there are a few ways around Liara’s romance I’ve discovered, I have never been able to find a simple way to avoid triggering it. (I’ll get to that later.)

This post will be split into three sections: Kaidan, Ashley, and Liara. Kaidan and Ashley’s sections specifically will go over how to avoid triggering their romances entirely, and then the dialogue choices you need to take if you want to end the romance if it’s already been triggered. I have also included a few bonus things for the both of them, such as avoiding the flirting during the scenic view cutscene in the Citadel Wards. For Kaidan specifically, I have also included content about his mechanics in ME3.

Please note that most of these have been accomplished on console. I have gotten several PC users who do attest that, at the very least, Kaidan’s portion works for them. But on the off-chance that platform influences other parts of Kaidan’s, or Ashley and Liara’s, I thought it was worth mentioning. It should also be said that, obviously, these are all using the original games as a basis, though I am not expecting MELE to change any of this.

I will also be using both my Kaidan transcript and Ashley transcript as reference for their dialogue. I recommend following along there if you find Tumblr’s formatting confusing.

Final note before we begin: this post is not an open invitation to hate on any of these characters. ME1 is turning 14 this year and ME3 recently turned 9. Anything you have to say about these characters and their romance mechanics has already been beaten to death, brought back to life, and beaten to death again. No one wants to hear it, least of all me. Please keep your comments to yourself and be civil.

KAIDAN

“I WANT TO AVOID TRIGGERING IT ENTIRELY, WHAT DO I DO?”

Kaidan’s romance can be triggered after the first main mission has been completed. For many players, I imagine this is Therum, but it really doesn’t matter which mission it is.

Kaidan will prompt the conversation, as he will for every other post-main mission conversation so long as his romance remains active. This conversation will be about his time at Brain Camp. You can read the conversation in his transcript if you find it easier to follow along, though I have done my best to format this post as cleanly as possible.

KAIDAN: Commander, do you have a minute?

SHEPARD: (You can choose whatever dialogue option you want. It makes no difference yet.)

KAIDAN: Off the record, I think there’s something wrong here. This Saren is looking for records on some kind of galactic extinction, but we can’t get backup from the Council? Sorry, Commander. There’s writing on the wall here, but someone isn’t reading it.

SHEPARD: (Again, you may choose whatever dialogue option you want. It still makes no difference yet.)

>FIRST CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

KAIDAN: I hear ya. It - It just seems like a group that’s been around as long as the Council should see this coming. It’s funny. We finally get out here and the final frontier was already settled. And the residents don’t even seem impressed by the view...or the dangers.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Zip it, Lieutenant.): I’m sure your letters home are very poignant. Just keep this kind of sentimentality out of the CIC.

KAIDAN: Yes, ma’am. Sorry to have wasted your time. I’m right about the mission, though. I know it. (The conversation will end here and his romance will not trigger.)

>SECOND CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

SHEPARD (Paragon - Cute way to look at it./Neutral - An old-fashioned view.): Well, well. You’re a romantic. Did you sign on “for the dream,” Alenko? Secure man’s future in space?

KAIDAN: Heh, yeah, I read a lot of those books when I was a kid. Where the hero goes to space to prove himself worthy of a woman he loves. Or, you know. For justice. Maybe I was a romantic in the beginning. But I thought about it after Brain Camp - ah, sorry, “Biotic Acclimation and Temperance training.” I’m not looking for “the dream.” I just want to do some good. See what’s out here. Sorry if I got too informal. Protocol wasn’t a big focus back in BAaT.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Just be ready.): I trust you won’t have any questions when whatever’s coming hits the fan?

KAIDAN: None. I’m not questioning the mission. I’m just concerned. Sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am. It won’t happen again. (The conversation will end here and his romance will not trigger.)

The final chance to cut off Kaidan’s romance before it triggers happens after Shepard asks him about Brain Camp. This opens up a lot of investigation options and you may exhaust all of them. If you want to avoid hearing Kaidan imply that he thinks your Shepard is attractive, avoid the “Time to talk, then./Time to “get physical,” then.” investigation options. Once Kaidan is done speaking about Brain Camp, you will get one final chance to avoid his romance.

>THIRD CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

KAIDAN: Anyway. This was supposed to be a casual debrief, not a bull session about stuff that happened years ago.

SHEPARD (Renegade - You’re right.): I pretty much gave up waiting for the good part.

KAIDAN: Bad habit, ma’am. I do tend to run off at the mouth. I will work on it for my next review. Sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am. It won’t happen again. (The conversation ends and his romance does not trigger.)

You will notice all of these are renegade options. There is literally no way around this if you want to avoid triggering Kaidan’s romance. You don’t get any renegade points from them, and Kaidan does not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

Here is an easy way to tell if Kaidan’s romance remains active. Conversations between him and Shepard will end like this:

SHEPARD: We’ll talk later, Kaidan.

KAIDAN: I’d like that.

“I’VE ALREADY TRIGGERED IT, HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS?”

The good news is that getting out of the romance is fairly simple. The game gives you a lot of opportunities before it triggers the love triangle with Liara (assuming her romance has also been triggered, anyway).

If Kaidan’s romance was triggered, you will have an opportunity at the beginning of his second and third post-main mission talks. These are a bit more complex to transcribe, so I really recommend just reading them in my transcription if you need the exact dialogue options to understand.

But the gist: You can’t go wrong with choosing the renegade dialogue options. This is always the dialogue option that will end his romance. You are almost never going to end his romance with a paragon or neutral dialogue option. He will always prompt this conversation by wondering if he’s gotten his signals mixed up, if there’s someone else you’d rather spend time with, if he’s being too casual, etc. Once he does this, just shoot him down with a renegade dialogue option.

Again: you get no renegade points from this. He will not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

Here is an example. This one occurs in his second post-main mission talk if Liara’s romance hasn’t been triggered:

KAIDAN: I’m just saying...try to leave yourself a way out. I’ve seen what cutting corners can do and I’d hate to have that happen to you, Shepard. Commander.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I don’t need approval.): I’m your commanding officer, Alenko. Are you questioning the way I handle things?

KAIDAN: No, Commander. Just concerned about the reception of the brass if things go sour. I apologize for bringing it up. I know we’re getting the job done.

SHEPARD: (You can choose whatever response you like; they all lead to the romance ending.)

If you have repeatedly not broken off the romance with Kaidan after a certain point and Liara’s romance is also active, it will trigger the love triangle scene. This is one of the last points you have to break off Kaidan’s romance, but it will lock you into Liara’s romance instead. If you are wanting a no-romance run, I recommend choosing one of the other options instead.

There is also a separate way to end the romance outside these three opportunities. In the third post-main mission talk, you must pick the dialogue option that triggers the argument that can “renegade” Kaidan’s opinion on the Council. You must not choose the charm or intimidate option here, and you must then pick the renegade dialogue options. The conversation should go like this:

KAIDAN: So yeah, I hated that turian. But he wasn’t “a turian” to me. He was Vyrnnus.

SHEPARD (Renegade - All turians are the same.): You can’t deny the turians are imperialists. And the asari, the salarians - they’re manipulators.

KAIDAN: Shepard, I outgrew the blame game years ago. If the Alliance is missing its chance, it’s because of men like Udina. Not the rest of the galaxy holding it back.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I’m not so sure.): When anyone out here listens to us, the Council starts up with their treaties and heel-dragging. We can only rely on ourselves.

KAIDAN: We’re not doing the galaxy any favors if we try to force our way into a seat at the grown-up table. They aren’t - malicious. They’re just slow to change. My story doesn’t get any better if Vyrnnus is a good guy.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Whose side are you on?): I don’t need you kissing the Council’s asses, too.

KAIDAN: Look, Shepard. You’re in command, and we’ll all follow your lead. But don’t ream me out for having an opinion. I thought we respected each other more than that.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I can’t respect this.): I can’t believe you’d side with aliens over your own kind. I think we’re done here.

KAIDAN: Yeah, I think we are. It’s--It’s too bad we...It’s just too bad, Commander.

This argument will end his romance. He will also not be renegaded. This is obviously a much more convoluted way to end his romance, but I’m throwing the option out there because it’s 1) hilarious, and 2) way more dramatic, if you want to roleplay ending the romance for whatever reason.

MISCELLANEOUS

Depending on the dialogue options you take for the scenic view on the Citadel, Kaidan will always flirt with you. This does not lock you into, or even trigger, his romance. It is entirely possible to not have him flirt with you at all in this scene, and still initiate the romance later. But if you do not want him to flirt with you, simply do this:

[image ID: ME1’s subtitles showing Ashley saying “Or maybe they just don’t like humans.” with the dialogue wheel below it giving the following dialogue choices, starting from the top: “What’s not to like?”, “Let’s move out.”, and “That’s enough, you two.” end ID]

When you get to this part of the scenic view cutscene, choose any dialogue option but the top “What’s not to like?” one.

Also, even if you’ve already avoided or shut down Kaidan’s romance, Liara will still ask if there’s something between the two of you if her romance is active. Tell her that there isn’t (because there isn’t). Her saying this does not re-trigger Kaidan’s romance.

Congratulations, you have now survived ME1’s romance mechanics. Enjoy experiencing unromanced Kaidan for the rest of the game.

ME3 BONUS: “OKAY, WHAT ABOUT HIM FLIRTING WITH ME IN THE HOSPITAL THOUGH?”

I have tested both of these personally multiple times and they have always worked for me, but again: see my warning about different platforms at the beginning of this post. If it doesn’t work for you, please let me know.

If you have not romanced Kaidan previously: don’t buy him the alcohol as a present. That’s it.

If you have romanced Kaidan previously: on Mars, tell him your relationship is over. It is a renegade dialogue option, but it is necessary to avoid the flirtation in the hospital. This route also means that you can buy him the alcohol and he will still not flirt with you.

Please note that going renegade on Mars does not lock you out of his romance. It merely prevents him from assuming you’re interested during your hospital visit.

ME3 BONUS: “OKAY, WHAT ABOUT HIS APOLLO’S PROPOSITION THOUGH?”

This only happens if you have not locked in your romance with your preferred love interest first. For Garrus, this is the bottle shooting date. For Tali and Traynor, it’s inviting her up to your cabin. For Liara and Miranda, it’s her Presidium date. So on and so forth.

This means there is no way around it if you romanced Jacob or Thane and do not want to pursue a different romance after them. If you do get this scene: again, just turn him down. It is never brought up again. He does not act like he’s in love with you going forth. You will get his unromanced date in the Citadel DLC, as well as his unromanced London goodbye.

ASHLEY

“I WANT TO AVOID TRIGGERING IT ENTIRELY, WHAT DO I DO?”

Ashley’s romance can be triggered after the first main mission has been completed. For many players, I imagine this is Therum, but it really doesn’t matter which mission it is.

Ashley will prompt the conversation, as she will for every other post-main mission conversation so long as her romance remains active. This conversation will be about her concerns about the aliens aboard the Normandy.

Note: Ashley has one less opportunity to avoid triggering her romance in the first post-main mission talk compared to Kaidan. You may also read the conversation in her transcript if you find it easier to follow along, though I have done my best to format this post as cleanly as possible.

ASHLEY: Commander. You have a minute to talk?

SHEPARD: (You can choose whatever dialogue option you want. It makes no difference yet.)

ASHLEY: I know things are different aboard the Normandy, but - I'm concerned about the aliens. Vakarian and Wrex. With all due respect, Commander, should they have full access to the ship?

SHEPARD: (Again, you can choose whatever dialogue option you want. It still makes no difference yet.)

>FIRST CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

ASHLEY: This is the most advanced ship in the Alliance Navy. I don't think we should give them free reign to poke around the vital systems. Engines. Sensors. Weapons.

SHEPARD (Side - You're out of line!): That's enough, Chief. You always second-guess your superiors?

ASHLEY: Sir! No, sir! I'm sorry. I was out of line. I'll get back to my duties, Commander. (The conversation will end and her romance will not trigger.)

If you do not pick the above option, Ashley will elaborate her stance further until you get to the dialogue wheel with the second (and final) chance to avoid her romance.

>SECOND CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

ASHLEY: My family's defended the Alliance since it was founded. My father, my grandfather, my great-grandmother - they all picked up a rifle and swore the Oath of Service. I guess we just tend to think of Earth's interests as our own.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Just shut up.): I expect you to keep your family politics to yourself, Chief. The mission will be difficult enough without you picking fights with aliens.

ASHLEY: Aye, aye, Commander. (The conversation will end and her romance will not trigger.)

Note: You can still pick the investigation dialogue options that discusses her service and family history. You just have to pick the renegade dialogue option outlined above afterward, instead of any other option.

Like with Kaidan, you do not get any renegade points for picking this option and Ashley does not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

Here is an easy way to tell if Ashley’s romance remains active. Conversations between her and Shepard will end with the following:

SHEPARD: We'll talk later, Williams.

ASHLEY: Looking forward to it, sir.

“I’VE ALREADY TRIGGERED IT, HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS?”

Admittedly, you have fewer easy opportunities to end Ashley’s romance than you do Kaidan’s, and most of the early game ones require Liara’s romance also being active. You are still offered multiple different opportunities out before the game ends, however.

If Ashley and Liara’s romances are both triggered, you will have an opportunity at the beginning of Ashley’s second and third post-main mission talks to end the romance. The gist is the same as Kaidan’s: You can’t go wrong with choosing the renegade dialogue options. This is always the dialogue option that will end her romance. You are almost never going to end her romance with a paragon or neutral dialogue option. She will always prompt this conversation by bringing up your relationship with Liara. Once she does this, just shoot her down.

Again: you get no renegade points from this. She will not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

In both the second and third post-main mission talks, the conversation will go something like:

ASHLEY: Surprised to see you here, sir. Thought you’d be chatting up what’s-her-name. T’Soni.

SHEPARD: (Pick the neutral or renegade dialogue option here; they both lead to the same dialogue branch.)

ASHLEY: Scuttlebutt says you’ve got a bit of a thing for her. I could understand why. The crew’s off-limits, with the regs against fraternization. And at least she looks like a woman.

SHEPARD: (Pick the neutral or renegade dialogue option here. They both end the romance.)

One of the easier exceptions to this that doesn't require Liara’s romance being active is in the second post-main mission talk when Ashley gets Sarah’s vid-mail. It will go like this:

SARAH: - Oh, before I go. You said you’re serving with Commander Shepard now? We saw him on the news here. He’s cute! Later, sis.

ASHLEY: Tell me you didn’t hear that.

SHEPARD (Renegade - That’s unprofessional.): I don’t need to tell you it’s inappropriate to gossip about how “cute” your commanding officer is.

ASHLEY: No, sir. You don’t. Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. (Conversation and romance ends.)

Please note, however, that this will lock you out of the remainder of the conversation and you will not learn about Ashley’s family.

If you have repeatedly not broken off the romance with Ashley after a certain point and Liara’s romance is also active, it will trigger the love triangle scene. This is one of the last points you have to break off Ashley’s romance, but it will lock you into Liara’s romance instead. If you are wanting a no-romance run, I recommend choosing one of the other options instead.

There is also a separate way to end the romance outside these three opportunities. In the third post-main mission talk, you must pick the dialogue option that triggers the argument that can “paragon” Ashley’s opinion on the Council. You must not choose the charm or intimidate option here, and you must then pick the renegade dialogue options. The conversation should go something like this:

ASHLEY: But hey, once we save the galaxy, maybe the Alliance will get its act together. Start acting like an actual government.

SHEPARD (Paragon - The Alliance is all right.): The Alliance isn’t perfect, but it does well enough.

ASHLEY: Have to disagree with you there, skipper. Giving aliens the run of our most advanced ship? Kowtowing to the Council?

SHEPARD (Paragon - It’s not like that.): The Alliance should be able to stand on is own. We can’t. Yet. Why not learn from the races that have been standing for the last thousand years?

ASHLEY: How can you say that, given everything we’ve seen out here? They’re already acting like Saren is our problem. Already siccing us on the bear. The Council races will always think of themselves first. It’s - human nature. We can’t afford to trust them. Not if the survival of humanity is on the line.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I’ve heard enough.): Whatever feelings I might have for you, we have to work with the Council. I can’t let you second-guess our superiors.

ASHLEY: Shepard, I’m a soldier. You’re my commander. If you give me an order, I’ll follow it. I don’t expect you to treat me differently from anyone else under your command. And if you have been - quit it. I thought you knew me better than that.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Do I?): Seems like every time we run up against aliens, you whip out the “Earth first” card. I can’t have my authority undermined.

ASHLEY: I never intended to “undermine” you, Shepard. I believe in you. I wish you’d believe in anyone but yourself. With your permission, sir, I’ll return to my duties.

This argument will end her romance. She will also not be paragoned. This is obviously a much more convoluted way to end her romance, but I’m throwing the option out there because it’s 1) hilarious (that final line, oof), and 2) way more dramatic, if you want to roleplay ending the romance for whatever reason.

MISCELLANEOUS

Like with Kaidan, depending on the dialogue options you take for the scenic view on the Citadel, Ashley will always flirt with you. This does not lock you into, or even trigger, her romance. It is entirely possible to not have her flirt with you at all in this scene, and still initiate the romance later. But if you do not want her to flirt with you, simply do this:

[image ID: ME1’s subtitles showing Ashley saying “Or maybe they just don’t like humans.” with the dialogue wheel below it giving the following dialogue choices, starting from the top: “What’s not to like?”, “Let’s move out.”, and “That’s enough, you two.” end ID]

When you get to this part of the scenic view cutscene, choose any dialogue option but the top “What’s not to like?” one.

Also like with Kaidan, even if you’ve already avoided or shut down Ashley’s romance, Liara will still ask if there’s something between the two of you if her romance is active. Tell her that there isn’t (because there isn’t). Her saying this does not re-trigger Ashley’s romance.

Congratulations, you have now survived ME1’s romance mechanics. Enjoy experiencing unromanced Ashley for the rest of the game.

LIARA

“I WANT TO AVOID TRIGGERING IT ENTIRELY, WHAT DO I DO?”

As I mentioned in the beginning of this post, I have found no easy way around Liara’s romance. If anyone else has, I genuinely mean it when I say I would absolutely be open to you telling me, because I would love to know.

The only way to avoid triggering Liara’s romance that I have found are the following:

Simply not talking to her for most of the game (not ideal)

Completing Therum only after you’ve done at least two main missions (also not ideal since it will require Noveria being completed without her)

Completing Therum only after all the other main missions have been completed (again not ideal, though every player should at least do this once if only for the unique content you get from it)

Okay, so what if you want to complete Therum first but still avoid Liara’s romance? I have found one way to accomplish this, but it requires you to be in a romance with Kaidan (or presumably Ashley, but I have only tested this with Kaidan).

After you recruit Liara, you may check up on her in the med-bay but do not initiate conversation after that. If she prompts you by saying, “I get the feeling you want to ask me something, Commander,” do not pick the yellowed dialogue option:

[image ID: ME1′s subtitles showing Liara saying, “I get the feeling you want to ask me something, Commander.” with the dialogue wheel showing the following options: “Investigate”, a yellowed option above “Investigate” labeled “I’d like to talk about you.”, and “Goodbye.” end ID.]

After you complete another main mission, you can check back in with Liara and speak to her normally. This conversation should be the one you’d normally get after Therum, where you learn about why she likes archaeology and how she finds Shepard fascinating.

After you complete another main mission, you must talk to Kaidan or Ashley first. To clarify: at this point you should be at the post-third main mission mark. For Kaidan, you will be getting the “Vyrnnus and Rahna” talk that you can read in his transcript; for Ashley, you will be getting the “Williams Curse” talk that you can read in her transcript.

After you speak with Kaidan or Ashley, you may speak with Liara as normal. This conversation should be picking up on where you left off last time. Liara will talk about how she’s looked into Shepard’s history and Shepard can press her for why she’s so interested in them. Liara should then say something like the following lines:

LIARA: I admit, your connection to the Protheans had something to do with my initial interest. But it has grown beyond that. My interest in you, however, is strictly professional. I want to make that clear. It is obvious you and Lt. Alenko already have some type of relationship. I would not want to come between you.

Her romance will not trigger for the rest of the game.

Please note: Again, I have only tested this with Kaidan. But it should, in theory, work the exact same for Ashley considering many of hers and Kaidan’s other romance mechanics are identical.

“THAT’S NICE, BUT HOW DO I END HER ROMANCE IF IT’S ALREADY TRIGGERED?”

You will follow the same steps as in Kaidan and Ashley’s portions. When she prompts you with whether or not there’s anything between the two of you, you must turn her down. You can never go wrong with the renegade dialogue options here. Again: you get no renegade points for it, and Liara treats you no differently going forth.

She will also usually bring up Kaidan or Ashley depending on what Shepard you are playing, and mention that it seems like there’s something between the two of you even when you do not have their romance active. If you aren’t romancing the VS, just tell her that she’s got it wrong, because...she does. It does not re-trigger either of their romances.

YES I AM ALMOST DONE TALKING

The game really does give you ample opportunities to avoid or end the romances (which is only fair considering how easy they are to trip), so hopefully I have outlined at least one you are comfortable taking.

There are other ways to end both Kaidan and Ashley’s romance that I did not mention (such as during the locker scene, or if you try to un-paragon/renegade) - the point of no return you mainly have to worry about is en route to Ilos. I imagine most players will have their romances sorted out by then, though, so I’m not sure it’s worth mentioning unless you’re wanting to do it purely for roleplay reasons. (In which case: you may read those in their respective transcripts if you’re curious.)

I cannot say I have tested every single romance cut-off, but I have tested most of the important ones players are most likely to take. I am assuming the romances are cut off based on the fact Shepard and the VS’ farewells will change depending on their romanced status (as I outlined in their respective sections), which I do feel is a safe bet. But if you try one of these and find that it did not end the romance: I’m sorry, and please do let me know (and also what platform you play on).

If you read all of this: thank you for your time, and I hope you find this guide useful!

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

PART 1 🌸 PART 2

Namjoon Werewolf Au!! 

Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!

Arranged marriage sort of?

Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers. 

Part 3

“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed ,  eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.

She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?

“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.

“I didn’t want to be a bother..”  She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.

Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.

Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.

“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.

It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.

“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”

Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to.  Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?

“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.

Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.

“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”

Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.

It was fascinating.

Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.

Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.

What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.

But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.

The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.

And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.

“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.

“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.

“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.

“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”

“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.

“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.

“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.

Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.

“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”

That made Namjoon pause.

“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.

“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”

Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.

“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.

“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.

“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”  

Seokjin scoffed.

“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.

Namjoon sighed a bit at that.

“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”

Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”

“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”

Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.

“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”

“Why did you pick her?”

Namjoon stayed quiet.

“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.

“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”

Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.

“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”

“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“Joon-ah….”

Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.”  He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”

“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.

“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.

No. No , you will not chicken out of this.

“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.

“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”

“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”

She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.

“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.

“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.

“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”

She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.

“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.

She turned around swiftly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.  

It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.

“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.

Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…

“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.

Namjoon nodded.

“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma,  opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.

“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.

“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.

“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”

Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.

“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”

“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.

“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”

Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.

“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.

“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.

“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.

Lady Kim sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.

“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.

“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.

“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”

Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.

“What?” She whispered.

“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.

Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.  

And then she bowed again .

“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.

She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.

“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.

“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.

“What is it, child?”

“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.

He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.

She looked…. Cheerful.

That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.

Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.

Which reminded him.

Why was her neck bare?

“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.

“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.

Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.

“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.  

“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.

“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.

“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.

“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.

Jiah didn’t respond at once.

“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.

“Potions? Potions for what?”

“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”

Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.

“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.

“Yes…that and your mother.”

“My mother?”

“She’s very kind to me.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.

“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”

Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.

“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.

They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.

“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them.  If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.

Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.

Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life. 

Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy. 

[rphelperblog]

Gossip Girl Rp Memes

[inspired by @heldheart​ ]

“I’m not a stop along the way. I’m a destination.”

“Three words. Eight letters. Say it and I’m yours.”

“If you’re going to be sad, you might as well be sad in Paris.”

“Once men have tasted caviar, it baffles me how they settle for catfish.”

“Whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness didn’t know where to shop.”

“We’re sisters. You’re my family. What is you is me. There’s nothing you could ever say that would make me let go.”

“You can’t make people love you, but you can make them fear you.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the crazy bitch around here.”

“Hilary Clinton is one of my role models. I do not break treaties, you ass!”

“Can you make sure they don’t seat me behind Caroline Kennedy? She may be American royalty, but she’s a giraffe.”

“If you really want something, you don’t stop for anyone or anything until you get it.”

“Here’s my advice. Have a little faith, and if that doesn’t work, have a lot of mimosas.”

“Nate can’t wait to see you. Trust me, it’s like riding a very cute bike.”

“A hot lifeguard is like Kleenex — use once and throw away. You could ask for a better rebound!”

“Don’t go all Notebook on me. Not now. I need you.”

“I have an idea for you: quit. Your boss is a bitch. Let’s go to lunch.”

“Destiny is for losers. It’s just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen.”

“He ended up treating me like something he owned instead of something he earned.”

“We’re not servants to our emotions. We can control them, suppress them, stomp them out like bugs.”

“You need to be cold to be a queen.”

“Don’t let people tell you who you are. You tell them.”

“I didn’t come back for you.”

“I’ll just stay home, eat lots of gelato, and write about how true love is nothing but a myth.”

“I’d ask you how you are, but I don’t really care.”

“You know my mom: If it’s not broke, break it.”

“There’s something vibrating in your pocket, and I really hope it’s your phone.”

“I hate that stupid headband.”

“I remember everything you’ve read to me. In case you haven’t noticed I don’t really let go of things so easily.”

“I like the way I feel when he looks at me. Like I wanna believe in myself.”

“Earn the spotlight on your own merits. You’ll feel better.”

“Even if it’s the biggest kamikaze disaster of my life, it’s my disaster.”

“You are no one until you’re talked about.”

“When Prince Charming found Cinderella’s slipper, they didn’t accuse him of having a foot fetish.”

“I don’t read Gossip Girl. That’s for chicks.”

“She doesn’t know me. Nobody knows me. It’s cool. It’s fine.” “Yeah, well, your fashion emergency was solved so I figured my work was done.”

“I need your photographic memory and your passion for social upheaval to help me write the book about the Upper East Side. The book I should have written from the beginning.”

“You can’t fight against who you are.”

“You gonna strangle him with your scarf?”

“You don’t just give up because things are hard.”

“You know it’s love when you start talking like an assassin.”

“I just want to be the person you can bring anything to.”

“Do not knock The Sound of Music. It’s got guns and Nazis. And Julie Andrews is hot.”

“Affairs with married people, threesomes — it just so happens everyone’s problems are within my area of expertise.”

“I just don’t get it. I organized everything the way she likes it. I mean, I even made sure my bowtie matched her dress.”

“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with keeping your options open. I don’t think your parents are going to be mad at you for choosing your own path. Unless… they’re related to my parents.”

“People like me don’t write books. They’re written about.”

“We always knew it was one of us.”

“Life with you could never be boring.”

“Either switch that thing off or bring it to bed. Vibration is a terrible thing to waste.”

“Let’s catch up. Take our clothes off. Stare at each other.”

“I’m honored to be playing even a small role in your deflowering.”

“I’ll find another way to save my family legacy. One that doesn’t involve you.”

“Don’t mock the scarf. It’s my signature.”

"People Like Me Don't Write Books. They're Written About."

"Nothing Like A Scorned Lover To Scorch The Earth. I Can Hardly Wait."

"I'm Not A Stop Along The Way. I'm A Destination."

"Even If It's The Biggest Kamikaze Disaster Of My Life, It's My Disaster."

"I Didn't Come Back For You."

“Some Might Call This A Fustercluck. But On The Upper East Side, We Call It Sunday Afternoon.”

"Three Words. Eight Letters. Say It And I'm Yours."

"If You're Going To Be Sad, You Might As Well Be Sad In Paris."

"We're Sisters. You're My Family. What Is You Is Me. There's Nothing You Could Ever Say That Would Make Me Let Go."

"You Are No One Until You're Talked About"

"You Know You Love Me. XOXO, Gossip Girl."

“My impulsive tendencies have no place in my life as a legitimate businessman.”

"In Poland, we have a saying, 'Love is like head wound.' It make you dizzy, you think you die, but you recover. Usually."

"The money, the drugs, the privileges. They keep us numb so we don’t notice it’s better in the real world." 

"I hate that stupid headband."

"Haven’t you heard? I’m the crazy bitch around here." 

"Once men have tasted caviar, it baffles me how they can settle for catfish."

"Don’t let people tell you who you are. You tell them."

"Here’s my advice: Have a little faith, and if that doesn’t work, a lot of mimosas."

"You’d really go out with some guy you don’t know?"

"So all my heartfelt attempts to save our friendship had no impact, but the aroma of cheese and dough turned you instantly sentimental?"

"Sometimes, you have to allow yourself to be weak in order to grow stronger." 

"What's the difference between gossip and scandal? So glad you asked. Anyone can commit a minor indiscretion and generate a day's worth of buzz, but in order for gossip to birth a true scandal, it requires the right person to be in the wrong place. Take one 'it' girl on a pedestal, add a crowd eager to see her fall, and give them the means to knock her down."

[luckhissoul]

caracarnn​:

Of course, Rand knew that Mat wasn’t going to go about telling him about how to place on the throne but he did say a name and that eased up the thinking for the moment. Beslan, he had been told of him. That meant that he would have to have a talk with the boy. This Queen Tylin might not like it very much but she was already deposed and there really was nothing that she could do about changing it. She had been Queen awhile and if she put up a few more complaints than Rand was going to throw on her all of those whispers of Darkfriend sympathetizers and Seanchan allies. He could come up with the rumors himself, after all hadn’t Carridin once been secured in this city as the ambassador? That would be enough to keep her quiet. Bloody nobles, all they ever did was want the world to twist to their beat. Rand had known that back in Tear when he had attempted - and succeeded? - in bringing them to heel. 

“I’ll think about her son.” he states simply, measuring the thought in his head. What was to be done with Ebou Dar now that the Seanchan had been driven back? Would they try to come back? Or maybe they would attempt to make a deal, a treaty with Rand? That could be possible. Rand would listen as long as they fell into the carefully set line that he would draw up. The Last Battle was coming and he was the Dragon Reborn, there was nothing anywhere that said that he was going to be striving with all these nations. They would break, they had to break in order for them to meet at the end. In order for the world to see The Dark One defeated. He would hear anyone’s case but that hardly meant that he would agree. “It would be all the better if I had you but…” he shrugs his shoulders then. “…both you and Perrin. Light, you two are hardly making any of this Dragon business unbearable.”

His voice fell, something cold crawled over his skin and he felt it coil there in the center of his chest. Cold. He felt so cold and everything, including the relief at seeing Mat alive, was there flickering beyond the Void. He lived his life there now and he was glad for it. All that he felt was the driving determination that would lead him towards the end, the one that would keep the world alive. That was the most that he could ask for, wasn’t it? 

“We’ll leave the city. Tomorrow.” he states as he steps forward to wrap his arm around Mat’s shoulders so he could lead him from this room. “Tomorrow we’ll head out and just outside the city I’ll make a Gateway to head back to Cairhien, there’s plenty to do there.” he explains it easily, readily even. “But there’s no arguing about The Last Battle. we all know our place.” And Mat was definitely someone who had a place then. Tarmon Gai’don would indeed call the Ta’veren to arms and there would be no more room for objections or denials then. “If I can accept my fate shouldn’t you be able to accept yours?”

it’s what he wanted to hear, isn’t it? that they were going to leave the city as soon as possible? that they would head all the back to cairhien and he wouldn’t have to think about this place anymore. he would be with the band again, maybe. and he could dust off ebou dar from off of him. it would be easier, once that step was taken. light, he’d be glad once he could turn his back on this place. it’s an overwhelming thing, the need to just run off. he’d go all the way to the flaming last battle if it meant that he could just leave. hadn’t he been counting on this? on rand coming here and somehow pushing back the seanchan, pushing back everyone and just taking it all over. carving a way out for him. but then he feels - burn him, burn it all. it’s a small kind of feeling. and he can still see tylin out there bowing before rand. that was how he had left her. he had never thought that he would see the bloody woman so low. 

he swallows harshly but his throat feels dry, a little sore with the motion. he watches the door a moment, hearing rand’s words but not entirely registering them. he just stares blankly for a moment before his eyes drift back. looking at rand like he had almost forgotten he was standing there. standing there and leading him out of the room. the pressure on his shoulders bears down on his hip, making him stumble just a little with his steps. he hadn’t been prepared to get moving, had he? funny that, he wanted to leave this bloody place so badly and yet he feels almost sluggish in his steps. passing by the hall that they had walked through, leading from where they had left everyone else. but not taking that turn back, thankfully. there’s this funny feeling that gets a little twisted up in his chest. but he ignores the feeling. 

he turns to look at rand instead. giving a small shrug of his shoulders. light burn him, but he knew his place. he knew that the flaming pattern wasn’t going to give him any rest. the pattern didn’t care that he’d rather be off in some inn, gambling with a pretty girl or two. or at the very least getting some bloody rest. the last battle was coming, rand had said it enough since coming here. and if it wasn’t the bloody pattern it’d be rand who was tugging at him constantly. rand needed him. well, at least this way he didn’t have to make the journey back to him. 

he turns just briefly so that he can catch sight of rand’s face. he looks different now. vastly. even worse off than when he had come to him frantic in the middle of the night. light, but the bloody idiot looked worn through, and his eyes, there was something off about them. like a storm, a rage, like some so cold that mat couldn’t place them on the kid who he had grown up with. he was the dragon reborn, dancing with madness, and ready for the last battle. he remembers hearing stories that the dragon was going to come to save them all. the thought sends a chill. “what are we going to do in cairhien?” but wasn’t there something else he wanted to ask? 

[liquid-luck-00]

Truth / Lies

Bio!Dad Bruce

Bio!Dad Masterlist ~~~ Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette slipped out of the apartment early the next morning. She ran through the city, the early morning air stung her skin, waking her up more with each step.

Last night was a whirlwind and she didn't let herself think about it. But now she was.

Three months, almost four.

She has only known she was a Wayne for four months.

If this had happened sooner. She shuddered at the thought, yet it still flitted across her mind. She would have married her brother had this happened sooner.

Would she have recognized Damian from the 10 seconds she spent looking at his photo that day. No, she wouldn't and that thought terrified her. If it happened before then, she wouldn't even know she had a brother.

Would Bruce have recognized her, maybe, but then again that was assuming he knew what she looked like. And knowing what and how this happened, they wouldn’t have even met until after the fact.

She didn't even realize she had made her regular circuit until she was back in front of their apartment building. She opened the door and made her way up.

Hopefully Tim was gone, and they wouldn't need to explain last night.

She opened the door and there was not only Tim, but also Dick, Jason, and Bruce. At the table was a statuesque Damian.

"How much did they get out of you?" She tentatively asked.

"They threatened to call Manhunter." Was his answer.

Okay they know nothing, but oh no, oh no, oh no. She sat next to Damian turning into statue number two.

"Mini, the two of you disappeared last night what happened." Dad tried to stay calm, but his patience must have been tested by Sol already.

"Two truths, one lie." She side eyed Damian.

"We were in Nanda Parbat." Damian started.

"We avoided one mind numbing wedding." Marinette continued.

"The order has a larger moral back-bone than the league."

"You two aren't seriously playing this game to stall, are you?!" Tim seemed close to a mental breakdown. Then again, he hasn't slept in a week, so them disappearing may be the straw that broke him.

"Nanda Parbat and the league are tied so 1 and 3 are true." Jason figured.

"I would agree if this wasn't the second time, they said they avoided a wedding." Tim sighed.

"But it doesn't add into any of the others." Dick added.

"This morning their excuse was they were avoiding a wedding." Tim supplied.

"The truths are 1 and 2." Dad spoke definitely.

"Care to fill in the rest of the class B." Jason scoffed.

"Mini looks down for a fraction of a second when she lies, and she didn't when she said 2. Leaving 1 or 3 as the lie. Damian doesn't have a tick but using what he said 1 is true." He explained.

"There is no way for them to make that round trip in such a short time." Dick thought aloud. "Unless the order is filled with magic users. Meaning it is possible. And kidnapping kids could count as a lower moral backbone."

"Okay, so you're right, but kidnapping isn't the reason the League has a larger moral compass." Marinette assured.

"Do we want to know why the League of fucking Assassins has a larger moral backbone than an order of supposedly good magicians?" Jay was the one to speak the question on everyone's mind.

"Well if not saying or attempting to stop marrying two underage people is any indication." Damian scoffed.

"I honestly think it was their idea in the first place." Marinette mused aloud.

"Please for the love of god tell me you two weren't the ones getting married." Tim finally put it together.

"We avoided one hell of a headache inducing wedding. What do you think." She confirmed exasperated.

In a second (4) Errors could be seen on the faces of their family.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" Dad was the first to recover, but his voice was eerily level, scarier than his even tone as Batman.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Neither of them put up a fight, doing exactly as they were told. Not 20 seconds later all six of them were back in the middle of the League of Assassins following a clearly pissed off Bruce Wayne.

Thank kwamii that everyone else seem to know exactly where they were going in this compound because she sure didn’t. She walked right next to Damian the entire time and they were both watching their fathers back.

Twist and turns one after another and they finally came to what she can only describe as a throne room. When she saw the piece of shit that is Damian's maternal grandfather once again.

"Ra's." Was all her father stated. It is no exaggeration when she says that the color drained from that man’s face. She apparently wasn’t the only one contemplating exactly what had gone down last night. And the inevitable reaction of her family. What she failed to notice however, but her father didn’t was next to him was the same monk, still there. "Name." He ordered.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce growled in that instant she stopped breathing.

"Holy shit did Bruce just..." Jason stage whispered to Dick. However, she still couldn’t breathe and just watched the exchange. If she didn’t know her father’s rule to not kill, she would think he would be about to kill both Ra's and Su-Han, but she did know that rule. She’s pretty sure her father my break it though.

---

Bruce immediately was in a state of shock.

As Batman he had contingencies and plans in place for everything and anything. But this, this never was a probable scenario ever.

Once his shock faded, he saw red, he was absolutely livid. Children, his children, were almost married, for what. A feud that neither knew even existed.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" His voice was dead even, attempting and failing to keep his anger in check. Thank God Hawkmoth was no more.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Mini handed Damian the glasses, who immediately opened a portal. He walked through with his kids in tow, but he did not stray from his warpath. He found Ra's and another man, who wore the symbol on Mari's box.

"Ra's." Was all he said, knowing he had the man's attention the moment he entered. He showed no attempt to be bored. or uninterested. In fact, if it didn't seem impossible, Bruce would go so far as to say he was scared. He then looked over at the second man. "Name." He spoke again.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce demanded.

"It is not like you to visit." Ra's seemed to dance around his question.

"Why my kids?!" His voice rose and patience dwindled. So much so he didn't notice his two youngest slipped out of the room. While the older three seemed to be eating cookies and pastries, watching the show.

"Them being related was an unforeseen factor." Su-Han answered. "For there to be peace the two organizations needed to be unified."

"And both of you rubbed your cumulative two brain cells together and thought marrying two kids together is a valid response."

It was Ra's turn to speak. "Both of your children happen to be the next in line to command both respective organizations. Marriage was simply a contract between the two individual organizations to maintain peace. Although that failed to occur."

"Why did marriage come before I don't know, a god damn Peace treaty." He stopped to breathe.

"Given our history." Su-Han tried to make a point, but he didn't let him.

"You want history, I hear they have been around since the time of the Ancient Egyptians and the Ancient Babylonian Empires."

Both men stood there seemingly trying to formulate any response that could work. “Marriage was the most reliable method to promote unity between the two.”

"Bullshit, you both wanted something quick and easy." An explosion was heard in the compound, sending Ra's into a fighting stance. "You both wanted to make it their responsibility to keep the peace. And when it would fail you would use it as an excuse to return to fighting one another."

A full minute of pure silence when no one so much as moved drawled on. Until the doors opened, and in walked his children, as a fox and a horse with two Kwamii in front of them.

"Are you two the ones responsible for the explosion?"

They looked at one another, then back at him. Damian was the one who answered. "Yes."

"What did you four do?" He asked, although he only did so more out of obligation than curiosity.

"We may have destroyed all the Pools of Miracles." Tikki flew forward and answered.

"You destroyed the Lazarus Pits / Pools!" Was shouted by Ra's and Su-Han.

"Yes, so it's magic cannot be further twisted." Mari stood firm.

"And for the monks to stop using it to extend their lives." Damian added.

"Can I spite them now?" A cat Kwamii he never met before asked him.

"I should be more disappointed, but I'm not." He sighed. "Go on ahead."

"Pigtails your family is the best." The cat cheered. "Now for you two."

The best way to explain what he did was that he phased through each of their hearts and floated on back. The entire time he were a grin that rivaled the cheshire cat.

"Plagg, what did you do?" Tikki tentatively asked.

"What's the fun in telling you now. Plagg cackled. With that they all left, back to Paris. Never mess with his kids, because one they can God damn take care of themselves and two, he may not kill but he will supervise if even one of them is hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden @meme991001 @wannajointhecrabcult @melicmusicmagic @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @fidget-eep @miraculouslydumb @iamablinkmarvelarmy @laurcad123 @hauntedwintersweets @fc-studios @fusser90 @madking-warqueen @buginetye @little-lady-bird @thebooki3h @iamabrownfox @galla02006 @syrencall @gimpedmercy

[archangelsunited]

Inheritance Pre-Fall Snippet

AU NOTE: Yeah, I forgot this existed. It goes with my previous post about the First Human Riders. It is not edited.

----

           The day Vrael became the head Rider “officially”, Skabne and Sherree were called back to Vroenguard.

           They were two humans amongst about fifty or so elves, which was always a pleasant experience, but not one that was uncommon.

           “It has come to my attention.” Vrael said, pointedly not making eye contact with either of them, “the humans are still dying at an unprecedented rate.”

           Skabne didn’t laugh, but there was an edge of an ugly smile on his face.  His large brown dragon, Miremel, was also showing her large teeth.

           Sherree didn’t say anything, but her back was tense- and her knuckles were white where they gripped her dragon, Hirador’s, green tail.

           Hirador was especially tired of being around elves. He wasn’t particularly fond of humans in general, dwarves even less, but he would like to lick some elves until their skin was as tender as his rider’s temper.

           A little bit, a little late. Better than nothing. Miremel spoke to him, noticing his tension. Hirador didn’t hiss at Miremel, but it was a near thing. Miremel was very talkative, very easy going- it came down to a very quiet rider, Hirador was sure.

           “Several generations of humans have passed-”

           Four or five. Sherree’s thoughts were like angry wasps, flying all over Hirador’s head.

           “We need to train several new riders, human and elven- three human, five elven.”

           Huh?

           What?

           Hmm. Skabne’s thoughts turned into a variety of images- an eagle flying down to catch a rat, a crocodile waiting in the deep- it all flashed so quickly Hirador could not keep up. Skabne did place a hand on Sherree’s shoulder- as if to keep her still.

           “Skabne and Sherree will be put on the council-”

           Suddenly there was a cacophony of noise. The elven representatives, several older riders, several younger riders. The only one quiet was Oromis. He had already been on the council for a decade, and when he was recommended there was cheering.

           Glaedr roared over the noise. The entire area went silent.

           Which is why Glaedr was one of Hirador’s favorite dragons.

           “The council has already voted.” Vrael’s voice was calm.

           Hirador felt Glaedr touch his mind.

           The outcome was close. Oromis was the deciding vote.

           Hirador let loose a cloud of smoke from his nostrils, covering the gathering. He watched many of the dragons slide around their riders, as if bracing for an attack.

           Hirador was tempted.

           And in this you have shown why Skabne and Sherree are valuable. Umaroth projected at the riders. Both control their tempers and thoughts, while none of you think before you speak. Many of you have spent your time with the elves or in personal meditation, some have gone with our wild kin. Yet when Sherree went to the dwarves, no one else accompanied her. When Skabne was planting crops and negotiating treaties, none but Sharree stood beside him.

           We have come close to breaking our oaths and treaties with the humans. We have neglected our duty. If any of you had shown the initiative Sharree and Skabne had, you would also have a place on the council.

           “Umaroth, it is well known that Sharree can not control her temper.” It was one of Sharree’s former teachers who spoke. The rest of Sharree’s teachers joined in, nodding.

           “And yet,”  Vrael said dryly, “She has been able to keep her temper as her character is insulted by an elf who could not help but insult her family for many years.”

           “I did no such thing.”

           “You did. You do.” Vrael said. “We are meant to keep the peace between the races, yet none of my riders can interact humbly with humans. This isolation must end.” Vrael moved on to the multiple other aspects of integrating humans into the ranks- and the crowd grew more and more discontent.

           How do you think this will go? Hirador’s rider asked Skabne.

           We are absolutely fucked.

[gffa]

IF YOU STRIP CONTEXT OF THE REST OF THE SHOW--HELL, EVEN OF THE REST OF THIS EPISODE--FROM THIS SCENE, I can see how we should be siding entirely with Ahsoka, especially on the heels of the walkabout arc and her conflict with being drawn back towards the Jedi and the Jedi Order. Her points aren’t wrong, in the sense that she’s right that Obi-Wan is playing politics with this, but she’s stripping context and consequence out from the choice he faces and that’s specifically why he says, “That’s not fair.” and even Ahsoka herself says, “I’m not trying to be.” Her accusation is not fair. Because, let’s say that Obi-Wan did exactly what Ahsoka said--that he prioritized the people of Mandalore over saving the Chancellor.  We’re setting aside that this was a manipulation on Palpatine’s part and that Mandalore is a trap, only what we can see from Obi-Wan’s point of view and his motivations, his good faith assumptions on why rescuing the Chancellor is important. If they chose Mandalore over Coruscant, what would happen is: - They would be drawn into yet another war because they had broken a treaty, when they’re already stretched to the breaking point for this first war. - The Chancellor may be the one in trouble, but what does Ahsoka think will happen if the Chancellor dies or is ransomed back?  The Republic would be in chaos, the war effort is already balanced precariously, and none of them know that the Separatists aren’t the real threat.  Whatever good reasons many of the Separatists may have, they murder, enslave, and oppress the worlds they attack.  If the Republic loses the war, that’s what happens to every world in the Republic. - The Jedi might be more popular with people if they saved Mandalore, but would it really benefit the galaxy as a whole, given a good faith assumption on what these characters would know?  (There is no right answer to this question, of course.) Ahsoka is very nearly arguing for popularity over doing the more important thing, because this isn’t a situation where there aren’t consequences.  Mandalore needs their help, but so too does Coruscant and it’s not just about the Chancellor, it’s about the Republic as a whole.  And it even comes down to--why are politics bad?  I get that Ahsoka means that choosing your actions based on politics is a calculated sort of thing, but why is that bad?  Because Star Wars: Propaganda basically posited that that was the problem, that the Jedi didn’t play enough politics, that’s why their image was so bad. Ahsoka’s case for Mandalore could be argued to be the same thing--you want to win back the public’s faith, then you have to take this path.  That right there is politics, too. EVERYTHING IN THIS WAR IS POLITICS.  NOTHING CAN ESCAPE IT.  BECAUSE POLITICS IS EVERYTHING LIKE WE ARE LIVING IN A WORLD THAT HAS DEMONSTRATED THAT TO US VERY CLEARLY.  AND WE SHOULD ALL LEAN INTO POLITICS, RATHER THAN SEPARATING OURSELVES FROM THEM. If politics were inherently bad, we wouldn’t see characters like Padme Amidala, Bail Organa, and Mon Mothma--or, hell, even Leia Organa herself--as heroes.  Because politics are important!  You don’t have to be (and shouldn’t be) a full-time politician for politics to still be important.  That working within a system to help better it and be able to reach more people is a good thing. Further, this doesn’t come without context of earlier in the episode, Obi-Wan is specifically shown to be incredibly desiring of helping people--he basically caves to Anakin’s strategy based on Anakin’s argument that they can help people sooner:

That is right there in this very same episode.  Obi-Wan agrees to a reckless strategy specifically when Anakin points out that it can help people sooner. Obi-Wan Kenobi is not someone who doesn’t want to help people, that’s his whole thing! Further context, which isn’t specifically related to this particular issue, but does give context to Obi-Wan Kenobi as a character is everything with Bo-Katan seething over whether Satine even meant anything to him.  She did.  And she still does.  But he cannot allow his feelings to cloud his judgement--and that is something that is key to being a Jedi.

It reminds me of George Lucas’ commentary on attachment: “But [Anakin] has become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padme and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation. And it feeds into fear of losing things, which feeds into greed, wanting to keep things, wanting to keep his possessions and things that he should be letting go of. His fear of losing her turns to anger at losing her, which ultimately turns to revenge in wiping out the village.“  –George Lucas, Attack of the Clones commentary “He turns into Darth Vader because he gets attached to things. He can’t let go of his mother; he can’t let go of his girlfriend. He can’t let go of things.”  –George Lucas, Time Magazine interview (2002) The thing about Obi-Wan/Satine is that it was pretty clearly created to be a foil to Anakin/Padme (and, boyyyyyyyyy, is that abundantly clear in the scene with Bo-Katan where Anakin is STARING at Obi-Wan as he says this, as we all know Revenge of the Sith is looming riiiiiiiiight over our heads), where Obi-Wan and Satine do make the right choices about the vows they’ve taken to other aspects of their lives.  That they are balanced in a way that Anakin and Padme are not. Dave Filoni says it himself in the commentary for the Bad Batch arc, in this very season: “I mean, even Obi-Wan was in love with someone.  That’s not abnormal.  It’s very normal.  What you choose to do and how you choose to have a relationship, what you sacrifice, then that becomes a bigger deal when he’s made an oath to the Jedi Order to be selfless, to put everyone else ahead of himself.”  --Dave Filoni Obi-Wan’s feelings for Satine are very much a parallel and contrast for Anakin’s feelings for Padme, and we know exactly how that’s going to turn out for Anakin, because Revenge of the Sith looms incredibly large over this entire episode and this entire arc. ”He’s made an oath to put everyone else ahead of himself.” is something Obi-Wan has done and continues to uphold, so accusing him of politics is like--what does Obi-Wan gain by playing politics then?  He’s putting other people ahead of himself, so playing politics must be for that reason, too. Furthering this context, especially in tying it to what it means to be a Jedi, is commentary from “The Lawless”:

”And in that moment, that critical moment, he cannot seize on his anger and his hatred for Maul.  Though that’s probably there, deep within, he can’t seize on it or Maul will win, he knows that.  I think we learned a lot about Obi-Wan and what it means to be a true Jedi, which is what I see Obi-Wan as.“ –Dave Filoni, on “The Lawless” All of this is important to understand that, when Obi-Wan Kenobi talks about the choices one makes, about not letting his feelings cloud his judgement, he’s coming from a place of established narrative reliability. We want to side with Ahsoka, because her hurt is so genuine and valid.  Because she sees a problem with the way the galaxy views the Jedi and we know that the Jedi’s doom is soon upon them.  (And this is where I get wary of the show’s narrative potentially trying to say, “Well, they’re kind of responsible for their own genocide because they just weren’t nice enough to people and only helped so many people, that they should have done more and more and more.” because, no, fuck that idea for real, the Jedi are not responsible for their own genocide, certainly not based on anything in the canon!)  She wants to fix this problem and she’s coming at it with a choice that she thinks would restore faith in them. The problem is that the Jedi are being asked to make choices between what’s popular and what they see as doing more good for more people.  And there’s a great line from the Age of Republic - Padme Amidala comic that ties into these themes as well:

“But trying to serve the greater good doesn’t exactly make you popular.”  (Oh, hey, look!  More politics!) On first blush, the idea of helping the people of Mandalore over saving the Chancellor seems like the right thing to do because we know Palpatine is Sidious, we know that it leads to ROTS, we know that ROTS leads to the Empire, especially when Ahsoka ties it to the Jedi Order becoming unpopular with the galaxy.  But Obi-Wan points out that she’s not being fair.  He points out that the Republic is on the line.  I’m pointing out that everything is politics, one decision over the other isn’t less political just because it’s more intimate.  And it doesn’t come without context.  It’s not just the Chancellor, it’s bigger than that. And serving that greater good--as Obi-Wan genuinely sees it--doesn’t always make them popular. And still even further, this isn’t entirely about the Jedi Order’s politics, but it’s about Ahsoka’s own hurt at how the Jedi had to play politics with her, too.  She’s still hurt that they expelled her--though, as always, context shows that she gave them absolutely nothing to work with, she immediately distrusted them before they even heard anything, she refused to even send them a message, she attacked clones on her way out, she was seen colluding with a known Separatist war criminal, she was found with incredibly damning evidence, and still wouldn’t actually talk to them or ask them directly to trust her, and ultimately none of her own actions saved her, it was a Jedi who saved her--that this doesn’t negate that they made mistakes as well, they should have visited her in the jail, they were playing politics and it doesn’t matter to Ahsoka that their hands were forced--and that’s driving her conversation with Obi-Wan, especially as someone who is part of the Council that she feels betrayed her. And Obi-Wan’s coming at this from the point of view that she let her emotions cloud her judgement over what happened, that she reacted blindly rather than trusting them in the critical moment (and the theme of trust was allll over that arc), and she’s still coming from this from a place of emotion, but that he respects her choices in the end and he obviously still cares very much about her.

All of that is underlining the conversation and one of the things that makes it such a hellishly complicated scene here in “Old Friends Not Forgotten” is that both of them are pretty narratively reliable. They’re both coming from a place of deep care and a desire to help people. They’re both coming from a place wanting to do what’s best for people. Which is why I love that I think Ahsoka genuinely loves the Jedi Order and why she says, “people who truly need us”.  It furthers my feeling of how I think, had Order 66 not happened, she may have come back to the Jedi eventually, if this difference could be resolved, but at the very least she certainly never hated them.  This is all coming from a place of love for the Jedi, for her family.  Even if she’s on a different path, even if ultimately she’ll say, “I’m no Jedi.” in Rebels, that’s about what she’s willing to do, what lines she's willing to cross, that a Jedi wouldn’t, and that it doesn’t mean they’re not still her family and that she wants good things for and with them. And why I love that she may not be being fair here, she may be stripping context and consequence out of the choice she wants to make, she may be letting emotion cloud her judgement, but she’s still so incredibly valuable and I do think they should have listened to her more.  The Jedi’s genocide is not on them, the murder of an entire people can never be on the victims, but I do think Obi-Wan has so much weight on his shoulders that he has trouble seeing the forest for the trees.  And that’s not a horrible thing, especially because Ahsoka’s shoving the trees aside here. But that there was no right answer here.  Mandalore is a trap.  Mandalore is going to fall to the Empire anyway.   Coruscant is a trap.  Coruscant is going to fall to the Empire anyway.   It doesn’t matter if they choose Mandalore or Coruscant.  Order 66 is already set to be triggered any minute now, nothing can stop that.  Them being more popular wouldn’t have saved them from it, not in a galaxy where the Republic general public was apathetic enough to not stand up against the Separatist themselves, instead allowed a clone army to be commissioned and the Jedi to be drafted into the war.  They wouldn’t stand up for themselves against the Separatists, they weren’t going to stand up for the genocide of a tiny religious culture, either.  It doesn’t even matter if the Jedi fought in the war or not--fight and be killed.  Don’t fight and they’ll be like Mandalore and be forced into it anyway or killed. That the Jedi were forced to make shitty choices in situations where there weren’t any right answers and get blamed for not having magical answers to problems that they cannot possible solve. What really brought that home to me was the way the scene ended--when Anakin offered an actual reasonable, viable solution (something that most people don’t offer the Jedi when saying what they should or shouldn’t do, they’re rarely given actual, workable options) where they could do both, Obi-Wan pretty readily jumped on it.

This shows that of course the Jedi want to help, whenever and wherever they can.  Not going to Mandalore isn’t that they don’t care or that they don’t want to help, but that there are two tire fires put in front of them and they didn’t see a reasonable way to do both, and Coruscant, as the capital of the Republic, which is the only body that can possibly stand between the Separatists and the enslavement/oppression/murder of thousands of worlds, must be protected. (Just look what happens when the Republic and the Jedi fall--the Empire inflicted atrocity after atrocity on the galaxy, which says to me that the Jedi were right in that the Republic had to be defended because it was all that stood between the galaxy and a lot of really evil things happening.) Ultimately, the only thing that the Jedi could really do that mattered is that they helped save people--people like Hera Syndulla--and they did do that.  And the accusation that they’re not trying to help people is not a fair one.  Even when it comes from a place of deep care.  And that’s why this scene was ouchy in such a good way, it really was an amazing episode to watch!

[fascination-street-writing]

Somewhere to Begin | Pannacotta Fugo x Ghirga!Reader

He has always adored you, like the sun and the moon and more - but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece iii for @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero​ -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Post Break-Up, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Regret, & Explicit Sexual Content (Aged-Up Characters)

You had promised your brother Narancia to never involve yourself directly with Passione; even the occasional stay for a meal at Il Libeccio made him antsy, yet you failed to see the harm in sharing a plate of bruschetta with Fugo, or a pot of hot tea with Abbacchio – two of his closest companions. It was only fair that you ought to spend time with the men who gave you unbridled protection at the behest of nothing more than goodwill and magnanimity. Not that you needed such security, but it kept street thieves from picking your pockets, at least.

You had promised him indeed, and now that he lies in the casket before you – clad in the suit from your mother’s funeral that you never thought to see him wear again – you intend to keep it. Giorno had offered to have an outfit tailored for your brother, but you refused him with consternation that your he would not be buried in something from the boy responsible for his death.

“No,” you had told him, cold as the wall of ice that has crept around your heart, while clutching the woolly material to your chest. “This one will do nicely.”

And so, the mortician severed the seam along the back of the jacket and draped a silk sheet over Narancia’s legs so that no one would be wiser to fact that his ankles stick out past the bottom hem of his trousers. It was bad enough that you could not afford the casket on your own. You knew better than to believe it when Mista told you that it and the headstone were paid for with the money yielded from the liquidation of Bucciarati’s assets. If that were true, then why not pay for a new suit, too?

Trish snatches a single white lily from the memorial wreath and tucks it between your brother’s still, clasped fingers. She hides her grief behind a pair of sunglasses that do not match the overcast weather that looms above your heads. You had not wanted to wait so long for the funeral – for two months, Narancia’s body had been left in the morgue to chill on ice, par Giorno’s insistence that the service must wait until his transfer of power over Passione has finished.

Thus, for two months, you had lain awake at night, shuddering at the melancholy and its melody that reminds you how you your brother died without saying farewell – his platonic little soulmate. Giorno may have his victories and suffer for them, but you would not let him entomb Narancia in the mausoleum with Bucciarati and Abbacchio.

“He’ll be buried next to our mother,” you said to the new Don with indignancy. “After everything you’ve taken from me, let me have this. Lascia che mio fratello torni a casa – let my brother come home.”

Your wish was granted, though you suspect it only so because he was growing tired of fighting with you over burial rights and passages. The congregation is kept small, consisting only of yourself, Mista, Trish, a tortoise named Jean-Pierre Polnareff, regrettably Giorno, and a handful of bodyguards, though the latter kept their distance from the immediate service; it would not come as a surprise to you, should you learn that the men in black suits were employed to protect their Don from the mournful sister of the deceased.

The handkerchief clutched in your grasp is damp with past tears. Not even your father had come, despite your pleading that he ought to pay his respects to his only son. Too preoccupied with his floozy of a new wife and her children from two previous marriages than to love his own – you never needed him in your life anyways, because you had Bucciarati. Now, you suppose that you must be a proper orphan.

You do not weep when the casket seals and cleaves the line of sight betwixt you and your brother forever. You do not weep when the mechanical apparatus lowers the coffer made of Osage orange wood into the steel vault that already holds your mother in oak. You do not weep when the gravediggers shovel the dirt mound back over the crest of opened earth.

You do not weep until Mista clasps your trembling hand, pulls you to his chest, and embraces you amidst the anguish that burns you alive. His is the consolation that you needed, but never thought to ask for, though it is not his touch that you long for. One by one, the attendees disperse for the train of luxury cars and you remain alone with the gunslinger who had been courteous enough to come without his oddly patterned beanie hat.

“Why don’t we get going?” Mista urges to coax you away from the gravesite – away from yourself and the suffocating agony. “Giorno’s having dinner for us all, back at the estate.”

You pull away. Rivets of mascara stain his white dress-shirt. “You can go on ahead,” you tell him, not quite liking the way your voice strains in your throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then, let’s go grab some coffee or something –”

“I’m fine, Mista.” He frowns and averts his gaze. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Oh?”

You tug your cardigan closer to your chest. “I’m going to collect Narancia’s belongings from our dad’s house. Not sure what I’ll do with it all, but I know it can’t stay there.”

Mementos of life, from when things were far simpler and your brother far more alive. Family photographs with tattered edges and holes of where your father should have been, wedged between unread and abused schoolbooks. Worn out blue jeans with patches of fabric scraps from your mother’s old dresses that you had sewn on for him. A collection of empty glass soda bottles. CDs and cassette tapes of Snoop Dog, Tupac, and whatever other American rappers had appealed to his tastes.

“Alright, I guess. Promise me you’ll call when you get there.”

Soon to be packed away in cardboard boxes and to be stacked precariously in the living room of your studio apartment – another gift from Bucciarati – with nowhere else to go. You simply cannot afford to rent a storage unit downtown.

“I will.”

Mista does not offer to help, because he knows you will refuse it. With that, he takes his leave of you in the cemetery. Left to your solitary devices, you clench your fists and stew on hatred and loathing for none other than Giorno Giovanna. You do not blame Narancia for his eagerness to trust the boy so quickly; his charisma, as appealing as it entreats to the willing, is an infectious disease.

If not for Giorno, your brother would have been buried two months ago. If not for Giorno, your brother might still be alive. And perhaps you must resent Fugo too, for what he has done – or rather, the lack thereof of doing; yet for everything, you are incapable of such feelings, as you have always been fond of each other. The optimistic heart within you stands that he has saved you from suffering more – that in his choice to stay behind in Venezia, it only meant you would not have to bury him, too.

Because surely, his unrestrained anger would have gotten him killed – if not before, then certainly after Narancia’s death.

With a quivering sigh, you turn from this dreary place and meet his illegible violet stare. A row of crackling headstones separates you from the boy whom you love more than life itself. Fugo clutches a pretty bouquet of daffodils wrapped with parchment paper and a white-string bow – your favorite flowers, though you wonder whether they are meant for you or your brother’s fresh grave.

You do not know, nor will you ever, as he sets the flowers atop the nearest monument and makes off, as if on sabbatical to you.

And it fills you with nothing more than bitterness.

“Everyone misses you,” Mista confesses between a sip of tea and a bite of strawberry cake. “You should come around sometime soon.”

Nearly a year has passed since the funeral, and you have yet grace anyone from Passione with your presence, with the exception of Mista for weekly sojourns to Il Libeccio to catch up on life – because, as you have learned, much can happen in seven days’ time. With each occasion of crossing the archway’s threshold into the private dining room at the back of the restaurant, you find yourself preening for two heads of black hair – one neatly combed and clipped, the other a sprawl held in place with an orange headband ���, taut lips painted in black, and Fugo. And every time, you are left with the kind of disappointment that curdles your soul like sour milk.

“Who misses me, Mista?” you reprimand, pointing your icing-lacquered fork in his direction. “I barely even know Trish, and I have no interest in ever speaking with Don Giovanna again.”

You wish Giorno would call off the bodyguard who trails you every waking hour of the day; it makes you feel like a child who has proven herself untrustworthy to her parent. But you have done nothing deserving of such punishment. You suspect that his intent is an extension of the olive branch treaty that does not exist between you two – a reiteration of Bucciarati’s protection that should not have to be reiterated, because he should not be dead, either.

Or, alternatively, he wants to irk you so far that you might barge into his office one day – fuming with unspent determination to admonish him regarding his dominion over your life – just to trap you in a conversation wherein he might attempt to suspend your animosity towards him. Alas, you are simply not interested; you will scorn him, because it is all you can do.

“Forget I asked . . .” Mista trails off, swirling a dollop of whipped cream with his knife. “So uh, by the way, have you seen Fugo lately?”

Just the utterance of his name has you perking in your seat.

“No.”

“Hm, well, rumor has it, he’s working at the public library. Shaking people down for late fees or something like that.” It is not implausible to imagine Fugo in the position of extorting old ladies and young children for overdue fines – but, you know that it is only a jest. Regardless, he has always been the type of boy to surround himself with books instead of people. “Why not visit him sometime? He’s not affiliated with Passione anymore. Or, not now, at least.”

You stab at a strawberry. It bleeds beneath the weight of your fork.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Mista’s question is one that you ought to be asking yourself, as you sit here at the scratched pine desk of the library – pretending to study for an upcoming exam on the history of art in Pompeii – though you look up from your scrawl of notes every few minutes to see if Fugo should pass you by; perhaps pushing a cart of books to be put away, or branding return cards with a plush red stamp to mark the date in two weeks’ time.

You have seen him only once more since his implied attempt of reconciliation at your brother’s funeral. It was by chance that you should wander into the same café as him that day; and by extended odds that – while you stood over his table with a sad smile and a cup of coffee – he stood abruptly and left without finishing his own drink. He had not even bothered to wish you well.

Today, you catch him on your way to the reference section. The look of hurt in his eyes – like salt instead of sugar on the tongue – brings a scowl to your face. “Please, Panni,” you plead, and though your fingers ache to catch his hand with your own, you refrain for you know the gesture is a crossing of the line between you two. “Can’t we just talk?”

“No,” he says, so dry and unrecognizable. “I’m not getting paid to do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Panni, I – Please, don’t do this. I already lost my brother: don’t make me lose you, too.”

A fuse switches in his head, and you have been the one to flip it. He clutches the encyclopedia in his hands with such fervor that his knuckles pale, and for a moment, you wonder if he means to hit you with it. And maybe he thinks it too, but he drops it atop the ground as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He takes a step back, as if you have scorned him – maybe, after all, you have.

The cover spills open, and the pages bend against the hardwood floor. You wish he would do the same to you – to disclose his grievances and let you in. Instead, it is the toxicity of acrimony “Don’t ever come near me again,” Fugo warns. “Haven’t you realized by now that I never want to see you again? Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.”

You will save the tears for when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tonight before bed to wash away your makeup from the day, amongst other regrets. But you will never understand the guilt that suffocates him – a noose that is just taut enough to keep him breathing – each time he looks at you, and even when he does not. You are everything he has ever wanted and more.

And you are the emblem of everything he has ever done wrong.

“I still care about you,” you tell him with an affirmation that will not fix the desolation. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He bites his lip and looks away.

“I know you’re hurting. I am too. So, can’t we heal together?”

“Are you stupid?” You grimace at his words. “I told you to go.”

There is no chance to dispute it, nor to bid him an aggrieved adieu, because he is gone again. Burying him might have been easier, after all; a corpse cannot remind you of what a fool you have become.

And so it seems to you that dying dreams are the best ones.

Adulthood is – as you have found in your years of treading its waters – a dreadful inevitability. You and your brother’s boxes have outgrown that compact studio apartment, though for years, you had made it work perfectly fine. When Giorno pulled the strings to terminate your lease and forcefully relocate you into a sizeable townhouse in the Chiaia district, you wanted to hate him for it – for his reminder that you cannot sever your connection to Passione. Yet, boggled down with university loans, you were in no position to turn down his assistance.

And he knew it, well.

A pretty townhouse located in one of the nicest regions of Napoli cannot bring Narancia back, nor can it attune for every bit of suffering incurred since his death; but if it is a strain upon the aging Don’s wallet, then it is all the better.

On the day of your fourth birthday spent in solitude, you treat yourself to a tub of gelato and a dress from the costly boutique across the street that you will never wear because you have no need to. It will hang in your closest amongst other unworn gowns, still pinched with price tags, that you have impulsively accumulated over the years – a hereditary habit of your mother’s that had caused more than a few spats between she and your father. You know your vice, but there is something so gratifying about it.

You sink into the tweed couch that does not quite match the architect’s vision for the living room – with its crown-mould white walls and hardwood floors the color of wenge; too clean and proper for what furniture you have kept from your former residence. Silver spoon clenched between your teeth as you page through television channel after channel, you balance that melting gelato on your lap. Perhaps you should have grabbed a straw from the kitchen as well.

The evening passes by, uneventfully so. You have spent it spoiling yourself and replying with fabricated enthusiasm to incoming text messages from study mates, who wish you well on this happy day – as if you have a reason to remember your twenty-first beyond the accomplishment of finishing the entire tub of would-be-frozen lemon curd without incurring a single regret or twinge a of brain-freeze. You have gotten rather good at knocking back shots without needing to stop for breaths, too.

At the ringing of the doorbell, you are torn from the real estate program that you have invested so much time these past few hours. Mista, no doubt – come to deliver a gift and takeout because he knows you have not eaten properly tonight. You have no room left in your belly, but whatever he brings will make for a decent meal tomorrow.

You do not bother to tidy up, and when you open the door, you wish you had. Illuminated only by the balcony light stands Fugo with a bouquet of daffodils, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a remorseful, sheepish smile upon his handsome face.

Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.

“Uh . . . “ He trails off before he has even begun, perhaps taken aback by the widening of your eyes and the disheveled appearance that, despite your own judgement, he thinks to be the most beautiful vulnerability in life. He speaks your name with the kind of tenderness that you have not felt since you were teenagers. “Buon compleanno.”

You need not ask how he found you, because you know without question that either Mista or Giorno had told him. “Why are you here?” you ask.

He clutches the flowers a bit tighter. You do not move to take them; however, you have already decided on which vase you will place them in. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And give you these.”

The bottle of wine feels far too heavy in your arms – and the daffodils, as if they might float off in an unforeseen gust of wind. “And, to apologize. For too many things that I can’t ever make right; although, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try.”

“Fugo, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please, [Y/N]. That day in the library, all those years ago . . . I never stop thinking about the horrible things I said to you. It killed me – it ate me alive; I thought for all this time and before that you hated me, because of what happened to Narancia. Because I wasn’t there to save him.”

“It hurt when you told me to get out of your life, but I listened, and I did it.”

He brings the heel of his hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes. The curling of his other fist is a gesture that terrifies you – although, not for your own sake. “I couldn’t face you. I was scared to look you in the eye, because I thought you hated me,” he mutters like a broken record as his voice cracks with agony. “I thought you hated me, because of him.”

He stops, throwing his head back with a groan. The apple of his throat bobs up and down as he chokes down a sob. He refuses to look at you when he speaks again – too afraid to come undone before he has made his peace with you, his greatest loss. “We were young. Probably too young to even understand what love really meant. But, dio dannazione, you were the most important thing to me, and I understood that more than love.”

His words have always held the capacity for swaying you, as if they replenish the empty spaces within. It is why, as you open the door wider, you let him fill you once again. Fugo contemplates the crannies of your living room, hovering above the couch that you insisted he take a seat upon – he remembers when you bought it, because you had dragged him to the furniture outlet that day. He pretended to be annoyed, though in truth, he was beyond elated that you had chosen him over Mista, or even your brother.

“I guess I should put these in a vase,” you say about the bouquet of flowers. “They’re beautiful, Fugo. Thank you.”

He nods, suddenly entranced by a photograph of Narancia that sits atop the fireplace mantel. You do not notice his unease.

“I’ll grab us some glasses, too.”

You find your vase in the kitchen cabinet niched into the alcove above the refrigerator. Its emerald swirls glisten under the twine of the recessed lights that add no character to the room. So much for a birthday spent in reclusion, you chide alone. Deep within you sits a fire that longs to ignite – to send Fugo away in some thwarted act of retribution for the very loneliness he inflicted upon you years ago; as if to say that the rejection suits you well.

Of course, you cannot deny that your heart leapt into your throat when you saw him standing before the front door, a vision of a man who still held those inklings of boyish charm that you fell for in your adolescence. They say you should not dote over the first person beyond your mother and father to call you pretty; it is weakness to complacency. Your life has never been one of convention – and so by that right, who there is to insist that you must abide?

Bearing a content grin, you trim the stems one-by-one to better fit the vase. In synchronous rhythm to the next, the green stalks bounce from the cluttered countertop to the floor. You have only just stuffed the flowers back into the vase when the shattering of glass resonates its way into the kitchen.

The photograph of Narancia lies amongst bits of broken frame and wreckage. Face buried in his palms, Fugo crumples until his knees meet the ground; he shakes, as if smothered by a chill. When his hands fall to smack the coffee table – baring his grief, in all its pandemonium – you catch them and force his arms around your waist instead; his fingers lock together, holding you in place. He whimpers against your stomach. Already, you can feel the wetness of tears through the fabric of your overstretched shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

Your own fingers curl through his strawberry blonde hair – a means of stability as you too have begun to cry. “It’s just a picture frame,” you promise, and it is the grandest thing he has ever heard. But it is more than a box made of wood and glass – it is an impossible longing. “I’m not upset at you.”

“I . . . Okay.”

Mindful of the mess, you rock him backwards until he is lying down. You join at his side, take his hand into your own, and wait in silence for the moment when his misery will dissipate for clarity. Regardless of the circumstances that have brought him here tonight, you are grateful for it – even if your birthday is spent wallowing in irrevocable regret.

Above all else, you know that he has always adored you, like the sun and moon and more – but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

Your thumb coaxes over the back of his knuckles. “There’s a crack in your ceiling,” Fugo announces, nonchalant and monotone.

“Where? I don’t see one.”

He raises an unoccupied finger, and you follow its gesture to the corner of the ceiling, just above where the moulding meets. It is no longer than the length of hair from his head, and quite honestly, not an underlying issue of foundational complications. Still, you indulge him. “Oh, wow. I never noticed.”

In this hasty repertoire of patterns, you fall into stillness again. “Panni,” you whisper with the utterance of his endearing name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezes your hand.

“But it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Truthfully so, you cannot send him on his way in such a state of disarray.

“I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

However, you do not make it far because he has – inspired by a need to express his devotion and apologia – pulled you atop himself, hands braced on your hips as you balance on bent knees and grasp his shoulders. Tenderness is becoming of the boy – no, the man – who looks up at you as if you are the embodiment of everything good that exists in one life to the next. It is a side that he has never shown to anyone other than you.

You covet it like a piece of cherry-flavored candy, even when you lean down to capture his lips and nip at his tongue that likewise explores the long-forgotten caverns of your mouth. It is a distraction of meaning and not; from the broken frame, loss, and perhaps everything in between. Every attempt to catch a breath of air is met with resilient protests of needier touches and not before long, you lie on the couch – shedding your clothing like the skin of the woman you no longer wish to be – and let him in.

Bare chest to bare chest, you cup his hardness as he places his fingers to your untouched folds. You mean to tell him that you love him, but the penetration of unpracticed digits to your core stifles the very thought from your scattering mind. In dark closets and empty rooms, you two have had your share of imprudent experimentation with one another’s bodies in the past – and nothing more than warm, tentative touches that lead to girlish giggles and boyish huffs.

Fugo pinches your nipple, drawing a plush gasp from you; it urges him to do it again until at last you are throbbing with need from your lower half, your pelvis jerking upwards to meet his for the stimulation of wanting. His breath ghosts your face, and you think you smell wine – a drink for good luck, you think, because despite the distress manifesting in his soul, his mannerisms are otherwise as habitual as you might recall from moments of normalcy.

It feels wrong – to be filled with such wanton, salacious desire within the very hour that you have both spent in mourning of your brother and everything else that has been discarded to the wind, to be picked up by someone else. Yet tonight, you will not sleep with Fugo to forget your blue heart, nor for celebration’s sake as you embark upon another year of being – you will sleep with him, because you have grown tired of learning how to end your days without him.

“I haven’t . . .” You trail off, mesmerized by the way his violet eyes look at you; though puffy and stained red from crying, you take them in as he cocks a brow, imploring you to finish your thought. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“Good,” he sighs, and you think he is trying to hide a smile. “Me neither.”

Braced by his arms, you are flipped onto your stomach. The tweed upholstery bites into the soft flesh of your breasts with each jostle elicited by the curling of a finger within you. You push backwards until you swear you can feel his fingers against your cervix.

“Oh my god,” he groans, flexing out as if to move deeper. “Ti senti così bene.”

“If it feels good, then do something,” you whine, hands dug between the cushions for support.

But, to your chagrin, he takes his time to admire the way your folds pulsate around just two fingers. You glisten like a gem – his gem. Indignant with petty annoyance, you pull away and straddle the lithe, albeit toned, legs that dangle off the edge of the couch. Arms thrown around his neck, you sink down until you have reached your fill of his manhood.

“I did tell you to do something,” you sigh at Fugo’s displeasure, biting your lip as you adjust to the size of his shaft. “Didn’t I?”

He kisses you once and moves grasp your backend. You savor the feeling of him ingulfing you. “I was distracted.”

You would laugh if not for the anticipated bulging inside you as Fugo buckles into your heat. The sight of your jostling breasts with each bounce of you on his cock is a page of some heavenly doctrine – one that he should study and commit to forever. He moves with strength that he reserves for moments of rage, and even his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises for the days to come. You do not mind; they will help you to remember the best night you have had in years.

With a cry that blossoms into a moan that tells him that he has treated you well, you ride out your orgasm and slump against his chest in your own exhaustion. When he reaches his peak, he slides out; you reach for him – dampened with your slick – and finish him until white pearls bead at the tip and trickle over your working fingers.

Foreheads pressed together, you flash tired grins before settling against the cushions, your head pressed to his chest and his arm braced around the small of your back while his fingers trace shapes against your perspired skin.

Panting, his heart skips every few beats – like a song, sung only for you. Content with that which has returned itself to you, you fall asleep to the sound of this lovely little love affair.

| 4966 Words |

[kiljoytrout]

Oath of the Cherry Orchard

Based off this illustration by Emily Amiao as well as some details from her animatic The Other Side (check it out on her yt emilyamiao)

Summary: The rebels have won. Now all that's left for Yun on his long list of plans is for him and Elias to sign the sacred oath of the cherry orchard and formally end the war. But when mysterious characters cause familiar screams and snow bleeds red under the cherry trees, it's up to Yun to make some difficult decisions

Word Count: 3.3K

The cherry trees had been dusted in the fine sugar snow of late winter, but now they were covered in the sweet red syrup of fresh blood.

Pointing a gun at the head of his father, who in turn was ready to blow the brains out of the last prince of the Everstied royal family, Yun couldn’t figure out where everything had gone wrong. The subterfuge, the turmoil, he had thought it was all over. The crumbling remains of the Anwei Democratic Party and the prevailing rebels had come to the sacred cherry orchard, the place where Anwei was first woven together, in order to make an oath of peace, to stop the bloodshed that had torn the nation at its seams. Yun had known the possibility of treachery, expected it even, but not even his meticulous planning and preparation prepared him for what had occurred.

Elias had always been slightly apprehensive about the oath.

“ You’re certain the orchard is secure?”, he had asked earlier, for what was likely the hundredth time since the ceasefire.

“ For the last time, it is!”, groaned Yun, tossing a hair ribbon to Elias before taking a glance back at his uniformed self in the mirror.

It was indeed, for Yun had thought of absolutely everything: sniper in the peach grove, weapons check at the old Capitol entrance, dubious area patrol dismissed. Yun was an expert in pointing out the fatal chinks in his opponent’s armor, the weak spot that guaranteed victory, and there was nothing of the sort in his own. Or so he had thought.

When they had arrived at the cherry orchard, the diplomats from the ADP weren’t there yet. Elias raised his eyebrows at this, but Yun shrugged it off. Unlike Elias, he wasn’t used to people being at his beck and call; at any rate the delay gave him time to strategize terms for the closing treaty, which traditionally occurred after the ceremonial peace oath. Elias started squinting at the distance, shaking his head slightly to himself, before looking again at absolutely nothing. After about thirty seconds of this, Yun started to get irritated.

“Cool it, Elias. The trains from the old Capitol are practically snails with windows, it's no wonder they’re late.”

“ There they are, coming through the peach grove”, Elias responded, pointing to where Yun could now barely see the shadowy bulks of three figures walking through the garden towards them.

The two of them with thuggish bodyguard builds were lugging the sacred scrolls needed for the oath towards them. The man in the middle was taller, with an imposing stature that clearly defined him as the person who people would bow down to and the person who expected it. Yet, he had a cold crookedness to his features that was strikingly familiar. Elias blinked, rubbing his eyes before voicing what Yun had already figured out.

“ That’s-”

“Yes”

Yun knew that he couldn’t harm him, that the old Capitol had been purged of weapons and that the sniper were waiting at the only other entrance in the garden to institute peace by any means necessary. But even if every rifle in Anwei was at his disposal, he didn’t think he’d ever feel completely safe from him, the man who now faced them, sacred scrolls in hand.

“Son”

“ Father”

Both spat the words with so much venom that a string of obscenities would have been a more welcoming greeting. After a few seconds of tense staring (which took Elias jamming his riding boot into Yun’s shoddy shoe to dispel), his father sighed and looked up at the cherry trees, sweet red drops sprinkled with snow.

“Now that your insurrectionists are done tearing up the country it's about time to institute some peace.”

Yun snorted. Only his father could make the rebel’s historic takeover sound like a victory for the ADP.

“ How was your trip?”, asked Elias, his tone dripping with the polite contempt required by his princely position.

“ Rather taxing, but I’m sure it was necessary”

“I take it you didn’t appreciate the weapon screenings?”

The two guards knit their eyebrows in confusion at this, but Yun’s father took it in stride.

“ Seemed rather out of place for a diplomatic meeting, but then again my son has always liked his smoke and mirrors. Shall we get on to business?” he said.

“Sure.” 

Yun stepped forward, shaking snow off the shoulders of his navy jacket. He extended his frostbitten hand, not trembling a bit in the bitter cold because it was all finally over; his struggles with his father, the arduous battles to take back Anwei, they were all as hollow as cherry trees in the dead of winter. His father’s sneer twisted itself into a satisfied smile as he reached out his hand-

“Yun.”

Yun glanced sideways, but Elias wasn’t there anymore. Instead he was moving closer to the ADP guards, fingers fluttering at the edge of his now empty sword sheath like they always did when he was about to fight.

“Yes?”

Gaze never breaking away from the ADP, Elias continued “ What direction is the old Capitol entrance to the orchard?”

“ East”

“And where did our friends here just enter the orchard from?”

“From the Peach Grove in the -”

Yun stopped short.

“West.”

They had been tricked. No wonder the guards had looked so confused about the screenings, somehow they had bypassed them entirely. But what about the snipers in the Peach Grove and the Pear Garden? Wouldn’t they have sent a message that the ADP was sneaking in another way? Then Yun saw the barely discernible muzzle of a blackmarket gun poking out from between the holy scrolls, and he knew what had happened. For a single moment, nobody spoke, instead flaying each other's eyes, for any remaining sense of humanity, dignity, and civil peace to stop what was inevitable.

The guard on the left reached for the scroll. Whether it was to grab the gun or to pass the oath, Yun would never know, because Elias reached into his elaborate hairdo, whipped out three silver bladed throwing stars, each with the ornate gold accents of the Eversteid crest, and sent the first one ripping straight through the guard’s throat. Any other time Yun would have balked at the failure of his no-weapons plan on two levels, but sudden death appeared to be the ultimate catalyst to snapping out of it.

The resulting scuffle happened so fast that Yun could barely keep track of what he was doing let alone everyone else. The second guard had stooped to the ground in a futile effort to revive his cohort while Yun’s father rushed Elias, who was now swinging five throwing stars at an arm's length. Just when Yun absorbed what had happened, the second guard, thirsty for vengeance of any kind, picked up the gun that had spilled out of the scrolls and aimed it right at him. Yun dove out of the way, just as the first bullet whistled over his head, with a silencer so quiet, he could have missed the sound of gunfire in the falling snow. He scurried over to where a second gun had fallen from the scrolls, feeling it's cold metallic barrel freeze his fingertips, before hastily emerging from the underbrush to confront the second guard.

But the second guard and Yun’s father were several feet away, next to the struggling form of Elias, who the guard had tackled to the ground. His long lavender hair was fanned out behind him, and his treasure trove of throwing stars had been tossed into the snow.

“That one certainly gave us some trouble”, said Yun’s father as he plucked a late cherry off of a tree, the red juice running down his chin as he bit it.

“ That’s for sure. What about the other one?” the second guard replied, binding Elias’s hands with rope, as the latter yelled obscenities muffled by the heel of the guard’s boot.

“My good for nothing son is probably hiding like a coward in one of the other orchards. We’ll find him soon enough”

“Those traitors better pay for what they did to Kierek”, the second guard said, nodding towards the corpse of the first guard, Eversteid throwing star still in his throat.

“ We can take care of this one soon, and my son will be captured and sentenced once we reinstitute order”

“The orders were to kill them bo-”

“I said he will be captured. Do you understand?”

The second guard nodded, noting the violent gleam in his boss’s eyes.

“ But this one has no other use. The royals are too pigheaded to ever give up any information and we don’t have the time for a public execution.” said Yun’s father, spitting out the cherry pit.

“Dispose of him,”

The guard raised the gun to Elias’s head; Yun burst from the bushes and sprinted as fast as he could. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in his chest, he was going so fast that the snow fall had become an endless tunnel of white, with Elias at its center. The guard had no chance. Yun plowed through him like a meteor, driving him straight into the snow bank and knocking the gun out of his hands. Yun turned around to free Elias, but standing in his way was the crooked man who had made his life a series of slanting scowls and stolen smiles.

“Don’t you dare”,

his father snarled, the third gun cocked at his side, and his foot on a gasping Elias, who he had given a brutal kick in the ribs.

“Let him go!”

Yun had meant to sound intimidating but in the icy cold his voice thinned out to little more than a squeak, prompting a smirk from his father.

“Such big talk from a greasy little nobody. Just stand around waving that toy some more and we can wait until Roklin comes out of the snowbank and captures you.“

His father was where Yun got his ability to spot weak spots. And Yun’s father had always known exactly where his son’s were.

“We both know you’re really not going to do anything. Even when you were little you were always loudmouth with no spine, crying for mommy, so why don’t you-”

While Yun’s weak spots may have been the same as when he was younger, his temper was twice as short. He rushed his father, blood pounding in his ears, but stumbled on a stray root before faceplanting right back onto the snowy ground. He heard the crack before he felt the pain pumping through his broken nose. The brackish tears came instantly as did his father’s wolfish laughter, hoarsely echoing dead wood.

Amidst the relentless pounding in his head and nose, Yun’s foot kicked aside the stray root that had caused his bloody humiliation. A rather metallic stray root. Yun jolted up, reeling as he snatched Roklin’s half buried pistol from the snow and pointed it straight at his father.

“You wouldn’t have the guts,” scoffed his father, aiming his own firearm at the temple of a wheezing Elias.

Click. Yun cocked the gun.

A moment of silence. The cold wind whipped Yun’s bloody, tearstained face; snowflakes melted in his loose, dark hair; his earring, a miniature rebel flag, waved back and forth in the bitter breeze. He couldn’t be that boy, could he? The one holding a gun to his father? The one who had to make a shot that would haunt him for the rest of his days? No. In that moment Yun was nothing but a cherry tree: frosted with snow, watered with blood, and staunchly rooted in a history that would never be chopped down.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this”

Right as he pulled the trigger, a steel wall slammed into him. Smothered under the heavy armor of the second guard, who had managed to pull himself up from the snowbank, Yun extricated himself just in time to hear the dull thud of a bullet meeting flesh. But the low canine howl that Yun had steeled himself for never came. Instead, a sharp, shocked cry, that could only come from one person.

When he was five, Yun and his friends were running around in the grass, when one of them fell and cut their knee on a jagged rock. The world seemed to separate into colors at that moment : the treacherous gray of the rock, an eggshell pale face of shock, and of course, the crimson that had stained the grass below their feet. The injured child was quickly escorted back home by their guardian, where their sobs were staunched with a piece of candy. But Yun couldn’t stop crying. He had felt no physical pain, his skin was intact, his blood was unspilt, but he had seen all of that and more in his friend’s eyes, the fire, the horror, of being at one moment whole and the next moment not, that Yun had felt it more acutely then if the wound were his own. If that was bad, then seeing Elias, prostrate on the snowy ground of the cherry orchard, a red sea flowing out of the gorey hole in his shin, was a thousand times worse.

Spooked, his father lunged aside, just in time to collide with the second guard, who charged past him through the orchard with seemingly endless adrenaline, his icy obligation to his commander melting away to wet fear.

“ Elias!” screamed Yun, running over to him, ripping off his own uniform jacket and wrapping it around Elias’s leg in a desperate attempt to staunch the gushing blood that poured forth like the pulsing rivers of Anwei. Elias’s face had the same shock as the boy from Yun’s childhood, but so much paler, and with every second he resembled more and more a sculpture made from the snow he was dying on. “Hold on hold on hold on” Yun hiccuped, tying the makeshift tourniquet as tight as he could. Tears blurred his vision, but in the periphery he saw a crooked man gathering the torn scrolls of peace from the ground.

The sight made Yun forget all about Elias and he dropped the tourniquet, concentrating all of his drained energy into raising his blood splattered pistol at the back of his fleeing father. Before he could pull the trigger, his target turned around, but instead of booking it out of the orchard, raised his arms in a scorching surrender.

C’mon just do it, just do it, just do it, Yun thought, Prove him wrong just this once. But his steely self commands froze at his finger, which remained entrenched at the top of the trigger, refusing to push down. Amidst his rancid rage, exhausted adrenaline, and salty tears, he knew one glimmering truth. If Yun pulled that trigger, the last remains of his energy would be spent, and he would collapse into the snow next to a wounded Elias. They would die, they would disappear under the earth, and they would be cherry trees half dead in winter, embracing branches, bleeding fruit, screaming snow.

But Yun always had a plan, and even when he didn’t, the end goal was always the same.

Elias.

Yun would never give him up, even as acid burned through his veins when he pried his frostbitten fingers from the bloody pistol and dropped it into the snowbank, even when his father slinked off through the peach garden with an unreadable expression on his crooked, familiar face, even when he realized how far away the orchard gates were and how he had ordered the night patrol to stay away for his goddamn security measures; no matter how beautiful it was, the cherry orchard would never take Elias as long as Yun could still trick his paper form into the softest pulse of life.

Slippery warm blood, bone breaking cold, rotten raw heart; that was all he could remember for weeks afterward. Mia, Elias’s little sister, and her girlfriend Celine visited him at the hospital everyday, trying to coax him into revealing how a simple peace oath led to all of this. They told him that he was a hero, that he had half-carried, half-dragged Elias past the orchard gates, that a little girl had found them collapsed near her swing set, more dead than alive. But the only question he ever wanted an answer to was always met with avoided glances, shaking heads, and uncertain words. Lost a lot of blood, infected wound, critical condition.

But after a lot of begging, bribing, and borderline blackmailing, Yun was finally allowed a brief visit. The doctor took him down an endless fluorescent corridor, stopping in front of a room with a rusty sign reading Post Operation.

“Only ten minutes!” chirped the nurse as she opened the creaking door, and bolted away, green tea pipe in hand for a smoke break.

Yun crashed into the room, but stopped short when he saw Elias, wrapped in a thin blanket on a too small cot, where he could see a single sock-covered foot hanging off the end. The patient, on seeing him, gave a slight smile, and tried to raise himself up to sitting position.

“Let me” said Yun, walking over to the bed, fluffing and stacking the pillows for a head rest as he observed the tinctures and bandages littering the dinky nightstand.

Among them was a pamphlet emblazoned in cheerful yellow with: Adjusting to Your Amputation. Yun snapped his head back towards Elias, who averted his gaze towards the end of the bed. Without asking for permission, Yun yanked the blanket off the cot, exposing next to a bandaged and blistered leg, a stitched up stump connected to a polished wooden crutch.

“ They’re putting a more refined one in next week. I’ll need to use a wheelchair at first, but after some time I can adjust to a cane.”

The guilt took a second to set in, but when it did, Yun wanted to submerge himself in the oiliest, blackest sea and never come out.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,”

“Why are you crying? I’m the one with the botched leg,” said Elias, the amused tilt to his statement falling flat when he saw Yun’s crushed expression.

“Oh my god, this is my fault, I can’t believe I shot you, I should have aimed better, I should have shot him faster, oh my god, oh my-”

“Hey, HEY!”, said Elias, grabbing Yun’s flailing hands with the reflexes of an ace swordsman.

“Look at me. Look at me. You got me out of there. It’s like I used to tell my sister whenever she messed up at something: whatever mistakes made back there are dead, but you aren’t. It's going to be an uphill battle from here and I need you supporting me, not blaming yourself.”

Yun nodded.

“Okay?”

“Okay”

“Now come over here and tell me about the new siege on the Old Capitol. But first close the door. If that horrid nurse comes back here stinking of burnt tea again, I’m breaking out my sword, prosthetic or not.”

At this, Yun’s tears finally dried into loud snickering; Elias chimed in with some decidedly non-aristocratic chuckles. This continued until the nurse in question barged back into the room, smoke curling from her nostrils as she demanded they keep it down. Yun and Elias practically roared with laughter; a loving crack of relief as deadwood came back to life.