#GET OUT OF MY COUNTRYMEN'S FACE TOO

[teecupangel]

Hi teecup, I hope ur having a great day/noon/night!

Forgive me if the things i'm about to say don't make much sense. It's been a vey, very, very, difficult time for me and my countrymen here, and my ability to make coherent sentences have declined drastically. So, yeah... BUT! That doesn't matter haha.

Anyways, I had a thought. And i'm not even sure how or why i got it but.... hear me out now...

Our boy, Desmond, gets thrown back in time as usual, same old same old, right? Exept, this time he doesn't end up in the Big Three™'s time-line. He ends up in Al-Mualim's time. *insert mind-blown emoji here cuz i can't find it rn*

And ik that i'm not a certified AC Expert like u and many others, and i haven't really finished any of the AC games yet (i've only seen bits of AC III and have only started AC 2, I also haven't finished AC 1)

But I do know that he wasn't really that creepy and evil in his youth/ b4 he became The Old Man of the Moutain, so i was thinking maybe Desmond ends up in that era of Al Mualim or is it Rashid al-Din Sinan? I know that he's based on a real historical figure but i'm not so sure if he's called that in-game?

And knowing Desmond, he'd probably get the urge to kill Rashid (i hope i'm using the name correctly) the time he figures shit out and connect that dots. But he would end up not doing that, cuz u know, it might fuck up the time-line and Altaïr might end up not being born, creating a domino-effect.

I want Desmond to meet Rashid before he starts to becom the Al Mualim we know today, so that Desmond can see how he was b4 the evants of AC 1.

Maybe Rashid's an arrogant ass, or a nerdy loser, or a popular assassin- who knows! The possibilites are endless!! (or maybe he's an obsessive bastard who gets obsessed with Desmond cuz he's just full of mysteries and wonders :Dc )

And blah blah blah, plot here, plot there, Isu-bullshit this, time shenanigans that, and BOOM they meet.

And romance ensues? :3 (romace wil absolutely ensue :}}} )

NOW, BEFORE- BEFORE YOU TIE ME TO A STAKE AND BURN ME ALIVE FOR THIS- i think it'd be a cute idea, and who knows? maybe Rashid was hot in his prime *insert lenny face cuz even after all these years i still don't know how to type it and is too lazy to cop paste it* and maybe he liked to solve mysteries and had a thing for the unexplainable. And Desmond is the most unexplainable, most bizarre thing to have graced the earth :33333.

Now that i've got this idea out of my system i'm gonna go pray for the down fall of my coutry's shit for brain, good for nothing military government/hj.

bye! *evaporates*

I hope you’re doing alright and I’m sorry that it took two months before I could answer your ask TTATT

As far as I know, he was only called Al Mualim because of legal reasons but Rashid ad-Din Sinan was the leader of the Assassins in Masyaf during 1191 so it’s safe to assume Al Mualim is AC’s version of Rashid (historically he died in 1193, not 1191.

.

Okay. We can make this work.

We put Desmond at around the same time he’s the recruit and we make it hard for him to realize he’s Al Mualim until it’s too late by doing one simple thing:

Desmond doesn’t know Al Mualim’s real name.

He always knew it as Al Mualim. As far as he knew, Al Mualim was his actual name.

Then he remembered that Al Mualim can mean mentor and bangs his head on the nearest flat surface.

His mission has been clear from the start.

Become an Assassin, take out Al Mualim before he does shit, find Umar and adopt him then play matchmaker so Altaïr would be born.

And no.

Desmond wasn’t going to think about the whole “can you truly be sure that the person who will be born will be Altaïr if you change the circumstances of his conception?”

Yeah.

His head hurts just thinking about it so he won’t.

For now, he’ll focus on his training while keeping a look out for anyone who gives of Al Mualim vibes.

What’s the Al Mualim vibes?

Manipulative old man vibes.

The problem is…

Rashid is one of the recruits in the same batch as Desmond and he becomes Desmond’s closest friend.

And there was no way Desmond would ever be friends with a future power hungry asshole like Al Mualim.

No way.

.

The way their relationship becomes romantic really depends on the kind of personality young Rashid would have.

A nerdy loser who starts making a name for himself because of his intelligence and tactical mind would start off as the kid Desmond sorta looks after. When he starts to show that his strength lies in making plans and quick judgments, he becomes the man whispering on Desmond’s ear. Providing plans and suggestions while giving Desmond a heads up on the less savory words people say about him. Desmond would never think this Rashid is Al Mualim because he’s nice and truly do want to help Desmond. This is also how Rashid would show his love for Desmond and, really, Desmond would think they’re bros and when he realizes that Rashid actually loves him, he’d think “oh, I am Ezio’s descendant”

An arrogant ass Rashid would butt heads with Desmond but Desmond would find himself fond of the man because he reminds him of AC1 Altaïr. This is the Rashid who would definitely be counted as a tsundere and their relationship would start when Rashid just flatout tells Desmond that he wants to do unspeakable things to him while they’re arguing. Desmond is offended because “tugging on my pigtails doesn’t work in real life, dumbass!” and Rashid is just “???” because what the fuck are pigtails??? Lots of awkwardness until Desmond realize that butting heads with Rashid is really how they flirt.

Now. Popular Assassin Rashid is more on the side of polite but is absolutely Desmond’s rival. Whatever it is, the two of them are always competing. Unlike the arrogant ass version, this Rashid is always nice to Desmond. The whole “no hard feelings” and pure competitiveness are what drives their relationship. This is the one where the two of them spar privately one time and things happen. They would try to distant themselves from one another for a bit until they finally talk it out. Rashid honestly didn’t think he loved Desmond until the whole ‘after-sparring’ thing.

Whichever you pick as Rashid’s background, he will become obsessed with Desmond but it’s more on the side of “I will do everything to make Desmond happy” which is good for Desmond but not really good for anyone against him.

.

Desmond is the one who adopts Umar in this one and Umar imprints on him like a baby duckling to a mama duckling. Everyone actually assumed Umar is his bastard son. Desmond ignores it even though he’s only like… a decade and a half older than Umar.

Rashid definitely treats him like Desmond’s son. He’s Umar’s favorite of all of Desmond’s friends.

And really, Desmond should have seen that as a hint of Rashid’s ‘future’.

Speaking of the future.

He’s been looking for Al Mualim this entire time and he has his suspects (Rashid, however, is not on the list) but honestly?

He’s just waiting for the person who would be picked as the one to lead the expansion to Masyaf since that would be Al Mualim.

Desmond has, unfortunately, fucked up the timeline so badly that the person chosen to lead the expansion?

It was Desmond.

.

Sidebar: Faheem would be that cute younger brother who turns grumpy when he grows up. Desmond will forever grieve the lost of little cute Faheem. Faheem is always embarrassed when Desmond talked about his ‘past’.

[romanitas]

friends, pals, countrymen, etc - here we are nearly ten years later with the final installment of my percabeth spy au. still kind of shocked after all this time i managed to finish it, but thanks for coming along for the ride! <3

here it is on ao3 ! this one's for you, spy au anons. -

Annabeth goes to the stupid aquarium. 

It takes her over a week to decide to use the tickets, if only as a favor to Sally. It takes her another few days of backtracking through old notes, determined to make sure she goes on one of the days Percy isn’t volunteering. She logics herself into it by determining it’ll be a conclusion - she’ll create the real ending for herself where she started it all first. One more visit, because she honestly doesn’t know if she’ll be able to hit up this particular aquarium ever again. She can say goodbye and create her own bookend. 

She wears her owl earrings, matched with a pair of leggings, with pockets, and a long tunic with an old jean jacket split open at one elbow. She doesn’t get to dress down much, with most of her wardrobe often carefully calculated for the task at hand. Today her only task is to look at some fucking fish and maybe get a strawberry milkshake from the overpriced cafeteria. She doesn’t even brush her hair. She thinks about inviting someone to come along, given she has two tickets, but she’s struck with the notion that she wouldn’t even know who to task. 

Reyna? Ridiculous. She’d get called out immediately for it being a bad idea. She almost texts Frank, but decides she needs to do this by herself. Maybe there’s a family she can pass off the other ticket to and that can be her good deed of the day. Sally would approve. 

She arrives at the lunch rush, slipping into the jellyfish quarter while most of the families are scurrying off to eat. She likes to say she thinks long and hard about her life, but mostly she allows herself to be distracted by the way they light up against the dark tanks. They float aimlessly and Annabeth wonders what the sensation is like as she watches them swim idly around, to be so weightless and mindless. 

She walks through the shark tunnel, dodging around running children. She spends a moment studying the arch of the tunnel itself, smiling to herself before she realizes. Maybe there’s a world out there where she did go the architecture route instead of espionage recruitment out of college. She doesn’t want to think about that, not when there are fish to observe. There are so many fish. Too many fish. If she’s honest with herself, they start to blur together after a while, and only the brightly colored ones stand out. 

Part of her hates to admit it, but she starts to feel calmer. Steadier. Like when she walks out of this place, she’ll be Annabeth Chase again and ready to stop moping like a goddamn idiot. 

She probably shouldn’t have saved the penguins for last. 

There are babies now, and Annabeth finds herself smiling at them in the tank. They don’t look too young, but she can’t tell how far from infancy they are at this point. She’s no expert. She just has wikipedia. She tries to remember what she’s read or learned about them, and even though she’d rather not think of the source, she’s not sure she’ll ever forget the facts. 

She’s watching one of the babies slowly and carefully slide into the water when she hears him. 

“Annabeth?”

Her entire body freezes, and she wants to disappear, maybe into one of the artificial icebergs. She looks sideways in the glass and finds the warped reflection of Percy Jackson staring at her from the left. Unfortunately for her desire to submerge, the glass is only transparent for eyes and not bodies. She takes a deep breath without moving her chest and slowly, carefully turns around, looking into his face for the first time in weeks. 

He looks tired. 

Percy stares at her, befuddled, but he’s made the first move by calling out to her. She hadn’t seen him. He could have just walked away and left her ignorant to his existence, but he hadn’t. And maybe it’s just his ADHD, but she selfishly thinks maybe he made the choice to get her attention - which means she has no choice of her own but to acknowledge him in return. 

She swallows. And then she gestures stupidly at the baby penguin behind her. “Did you know baby penguins have to be at least four months old before they can swim? It’s their feathers. They aren’t waterproof at birth.” 

He continues staring at her, and she has to fight the urge to literally run away. “I do know. I’m pretty sure I told you that.”

Shit, he did, didn’t he? She had pre-gamed enough penguin facts to steer their first conversation, but anything and everything she learned since came from his wealth of aquatic knowledge. “Oh. Yes. I just - there are babies now.” 

“Born just over four months ago,” he says, and his tone is the faintest bit teasing.

“Hatched by the males,” she adds on, without thinking. Like his attention to her architectural rants, she seems to have absorbed far too much about penguins, because she could keep going, and it’s only force of will that she doesn’t. 

His mouth quirks, almost a smile. She doesn’t know what to do with that. She wasn’t sure she’d get to see him smile again, stuck with the image of only his anger as a final parting gift. 

“Did you put a tracker on me?”

Annabeth doesn’t know what to do with that either, and she sputters. It’s ungraceful. Unprofessional. And she feels ashamed, despite the way his tone still sounds like a joke. “No - Percy, no, that’s - ”

He grimaces. “Sorry. It was a joke. I’m trying to not be awkward. It’s not working.”

She would very much like the earth to swallow her up. 

“I wouldn’t,” she insists, finally. Like she needs him to know that. 

He pauses. “Jason?”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. She hates this turn of conversation, but she wants to let him steer it this time. “There were never any trackers.” 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, pivoting away on his own. 

“I’m visiting the penguins,” she says, with only sincerity. He studies her, like he’s trying to gauge how truthful it is. She fidgets, then adds on, “You weren’t supposed to be here.” 

He actually looks shyly taken aback. “I changed my days at the station. I thought it might be…” Safer, is the word he wants to use, she knows it, but instead he lets it hang in the air. “So I had to switch my day here too.”

Annabeth thinks she really should have accounted for that, because Percy can be obtuse but he’s not stupid. It was probably one of the first things he would have done, and she feels stupid for not considering it in her own plans. 

“Your mom gave me the tickets,” is what she says next in lieu of anything else. That’s part of why she’s here, duty to a simple kindness from Sally Jackson. 

Percy’s expression becomes puzzled. “You saw my mom?” 

Oh. That surprises her too. She assumed Sally would have passed it along. She nods. She does not say anything about her own conversation with his mother, because that means he really is here by pure happenstance, and she doesn’t know what to make of that. Everything about her interactions with Percy Jackson from the start has been pure calculation, and right now she feels like she is flying on the seat of her pants. There’s no end game, no goal, just spontaneity. 

Maybe she should lean into that instead. 

“She bought me a coffee.” 

“That… sounds like her.” He pauses. “I didn’t tell her anything. About - you know, your job stuff. All she knows is we broke up.”

He says it like it’s such a normal occurrence. They broke up, like a real couple does. They broke up, they’re no longer together, and not because she shot a man in front of him and lied about her entire existence. “She was probably too nice to me,” she admits. 

Percy looks up and studies her again, and she swallows nervously, both under his expression and the way he doesn’t refute her comment about his mom. “What did she tell you?”

There is a part of her that feels like she shouldn’t go there, but the other, louder, part of her doesn’t want to lie to him ever again. “She - she said you were miserable.”

His shoulders deflate. “Well. She’s not wrong.”

Annabeth stares at him. 

“Look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair. It makes the dark strands stick up in multiple directions, and she needs to clamp down on the urge to fix it for him like she used to. “I was really mad. Part of me still is. But… it was real to me, you know? I can’t just erase what I feel. I’m still working through it.” 

Her expression falls, her shoulders heavy too. “For what it’s worth,” she starts, not sure it’s worth much of anything, “I’ve been miserable too.” 

Percy’s face scrunches up. “Even though it was fake?”

She bites her lip. “I might have met you under false pretenses. But I wasn’t lying to you, when I told you it wasn’t fake to me anymore. I spent so much time with you that I found myself wishing more than anything else it was real. I promise. If you believe one thing I say, believe me now when I promise that I’m never going to lie to you again.” 

He looks up at her, green eyes scrutinizing her like she’s under a microscope. Instead of trying to hide or put up a front, Annabeth simply lets the unhappiness hang on her like a shroud. Her bag is falling off her shoulder, the dark circles almost feel physical beneath her eyes, and her hair is a borderline rat's nest. She was always very carefully put together in front of him, even when she was trying to appear casual. Nothing about her right now is pre-planned for Percy. In some ways, she’s glad for it. 

He just watches her, and his frown deepens. She bites her lip and resists the urge to look away at the penguins. 

“Okay,” he says, after a too long silence, and she stares at him like he spoke in Greek. “I believe you.”

Her jaw drops, but she smoothly closes it. Her voice is quiet, anxious, startled and hopeful all at once, and she can’t seem to compartmentalize any of it. “You do?”

Percy purses his lips, like he can’t believe what he’s saying either. “I’ve never seen you like this,” he says, gesturing, and Annabeth’s face goes red at her dishevelment. “It feels like I’m looking at the real Annabeth, you know?”

She barks out a laugh, then covers her mouth. “Sorry, that wasn’t - I’m just not really fit for polite company. Fish notwithstanding.” 

“Yeah,” he says, and he grins a little. “I think that’s why I believe you.” 

Annabeth swallows anxiously and blinks back a sudden onslaught of tears. “I’m sorry, Percy. I know it was my job, but you’re so… good. At some point, it started to feel like I wasn’t pretending. I realized I really, really liked being around you. Being your friend, being with you. You didn’t deserve me lying to you, regardless of how it started.”

The last time she apologized, they were arguing. Now he just looks at her. “Thank you,” he says. It’s not quite forgiveness, it’s not an ‘it’s okay’ or the standard follow up etiquette of apologies, but it’s better, she thinks, because it feels genuine. Like he is accepting the truth of it, that she is sorry, and the fact that he believes it settles in her in an odd way. 

“Are you still… you know. Uh, working?” 

She nearly laughs at his word choice. “I’m on break. And I’m not - I was pulled from the Jupiter Industries stuff. So I’m not… working.” 

“So you’re literally just here at the aquarium for fun?” 

She hesitates, though she doesn’t know why. “Yes. And, well, you know - Sally gave me the tickets. I felt like I should use them, after our conversation.” She pauses. “I think she’s worried about you.”

Percy runs a hand through his hair again. She knows he hates stressing his mother. She knows so many things about him that she can’t seem to put down. “She always worries too much. Can I ask what else she said to you?”

It’s phrased in a way that she could turn him down, but Annabeth has promised herself as well as him that she’s in the running to be honest. 

“She asked me if I wanted to fix things with you. I told her I didn’t know if I could.” It’s not all she asked. Annabeth just doesn’t know how to bring the other part up, or if she even should.

Percy frowns. “Do you… actually want to fix things?” 

Annabeth draws in a quiet breath. “I miss you,” she admits, and his face twists with surprise and what could be relief, but maybe she’s projecting. “But I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t know if I could. I hurt you. It’s not up to me to forgive myself for it, no matter how much I miss you.”

His frown deepens, but he doesn’t look unhappy - more like thoughtful. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me,” he mumbles. 

“I don’t think she wanted to interfere too much,” she offers quietly. “There’s one more thing.”

Percy looks up at her. 

Annabeth swallows again, but this time she’s pushing down her pride. “She asked me if I loved you.”

He looks at her carefully. “What did you tell her?”

She keeps his gaze. “I said I did.” She curls in on herself a little. “I do.”

Something in Percy Jackson deflates, but not in a way that suggests loss. It’s like he’s stopped carrying a heavy box. His shoulders sink, even if his face looks as confused as it does lighter. “It’s like everything in me wants to believe it. And I think I do,” he starts. 

Annabeth’s stomach flutters. 

“It’s crazy. Like, it’s so crazy to me that you still love me, because everything about it is so… wrong? No, not wrong - but we started wrong. We started wrong, but everything I felt was still so real. The bad and the good. I was really scared at that restaurant, for the obvious reasons - but I think I was scared about what it meant for us too.” Percy puffs out a breath of air, and his eyebrows crinkle. “I don’t have a good sense of self-preservation.”

Annabeth can barely breathe. She holds herself back from reaching for his arm. “Do you think… we could start over, and do it right?”

Percy studies her again, wary but curious. “What, like a do-over?”

“I guess. A re-meet.”

“A real meet-cute?”

She cracks a small smile. “I mean, I did run into you randomly in the aquarium.”

“Happenstance fishes.”

“We’re by the penguins,” she corrects, automatically. “Happenstance birds.”

Percy cracks his own smile, dimple pinching his cheek. “Did you know the babies don’t swim until they’re four months old?”

Annabeth’s smile widens. “You know, someone might have told me that already,” she starts. “But I could use a refresher.” 

“I’m still on shift,” he says, a little awkwardly. “But I’ll be done in about two hours.”

It takes a few moments for what he offers to sink in. It doesn’t seem fair or right to her at all that Percy Jackson is here before her, yet again in front of the stupid penguins, willingly telling her when he’s finished - offering to spend more time with her. But it’s better this time. There’s no frustration on her part, no trying to drag it out of him - he’s offering because he’s also offering her a chance, and Annabeth knows she is going to take it, regardless of how much she deserves it. She’s going to work to deserve it. Neither of them were forced to be here. She isn’t coercing him into a date. She’s letting him lead it. 

And he’s still choosing to see her. 

“I still have to visit some octopi,” she says, nerves alight, “But I could meet you back here in two hours…?” 

Percy’s silence is scary, but Annabeth gives him the time. It’s a final shot for him to back out if he wants to, and she won’t even blame him if he changes his mind even now. But he’s Percy. And somehow, she isn’t surprised by his answer. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Annabeth is going to cry all over again. She holds out her hand instead, and even though he gives her a confused look, Percy takes it. She shakes it, relishing the feeling of his palm against hers, the warmth spreading through her fingers as he squeezes it. She thought she’d never get to experience his touch again. 

“Hi,” she starts, feeling silly, but allowing herself to run with it. No more thinking or calculating, she’s just going with this strange flow. “I’m Annabeth Chase.”

He laughs, his own smile edging on silly too. “Percy Jackson. Hey.”

“Do you work here?” she asks, trying not to smile and failing completely. 

He shakes his head. “I just volunteer. I’m a firefighter.”

“You got some kind of affinity for water?”

He breaks into a grin that’s almost a laugh. “I’ve always liked the ocean.” He pauses then, hesitation slipping into his face. “What about you?” 

She studies his face, the kindness and the anger and everything in between flashing through her head. She’s already memorized it, but she can still bask in it anew. She doesn’t really know where she’s going from here, least of all with Percy, but she once again opts for honesty, even if nothing comes of it. “I’m thinking I might get into architecture.”

Percy looks surprised. “Sounds like a big change.”

Annabeth pulls her hand away, straightens her shoulders. “Sometimes a person comes along and gives you a whole new perspective on things.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll see. I’m working on it. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” 

“I think,” he says, hesitating, “You should do what makes you happy.” 

She laughs. “Again,” she says, quieter this time, “I’m working on it.” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of hyper-competent.”

“Only kind of?” 

Percy snorts. “I just mean, you’ll probably figure it out.” 

She looks at him in wonder, that he could still stand there and offer a kindness to her after everything. It doesn’t surprise her, if she really thinks about it. She fell in love with him for a reason, after all. For a lot of reasons.

“I want you to know me,” she says suddenly, which goes against every single part of her existence as a spy, but Percy has already broken through all of those rules. She wants to be known, by him specifically, which is wildly scary and completely against all manner of protocol, but she is no longer lying to him. She promised. She promised and she wants to open up everything about herself that she’s kept quiet for him to witness. 

Percy’s mouth opens and closes like a nearby fish. “I know you like owls. That wasn’t fake.”

She blinks, and he gestures at her earrings. She touches one instinctively. “They’re my favorite. So is strawberry, and I do really love Gaudí, and I’m starting to really like penguins too.” 

“The penguins are pretty cool,” he says with a very small smile. 

A quiet settles over them after that, but Annabeth finds it’s not uncomfortable. There is going to be some awkwardness, but the thing about it right now is it doesn’t feel scary. All the scariest parts are behind her, and right now she is only looking at the new possibility of Percy Jackson in her life, in whatever capacity he allows. She’ll take any of it. He gets to set the pace this time, and she’s more than willing to allow it. 

“Thank you,” she says, finally. “For giving me another chance.” 

His grin is haphazard, lopsided, and maybe a little self-deprecating. “When I saw you standing there, there was a part of me that wanted to keep walking - but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Maybe it makes me a little stupid. I really want to know you too. I want to keep knowing you.”  

“I’ve been stupid too,” she says with a shrug. “So we’re off to a great start.” 

“A start,” he says, huffing a laugh. “Not many people get to do that twice.” 

“No,” she agrees. “I thought I was coming here for an ending.”

Percy blinks at her. “I don’t really know what’ll happen, Annabeth.”

“That’s okay,” she says, breathing in deeply and relishing the way the air fills her lungs. She doesn’t know either. But that’s better than finality. “We can work on that too.”

His eyes flicker with a softness she knows she still doesn’t deserve, but she relishes in that too. “So… I guess I’ll see you again in about two hours?” He pauses. “We can get smoothies.”

“I like the Strawberry Whirl.” 

He pauses again. “I knew that had to be true.”

Annabeth laughs, and Percy beams, and she thinks somehow, some way, they’re going to be… okay. It might take time. She doesn’t know what it’s going to look like, fully expects a lot of difficult bridges, but it feels like a real chance she hadn’t expected. They could be friends. They could end up more. They could go absolutely nowhere and fall apart much more naturally, more smoothly, without blood and bullets - but she’s going to try very hard to avoid that. She’s going to be herself, and maybe that’ll be good enough for him to stick around. It’s the only way she’s going to enable the mere chance of it. 

As far as she’s concerned, anything involving Percy from now on is always going to be real. 

[eugenedebs1920]

Trumps desperation is dangerous. To see the schedule and theme to each rally like this. It’s dangerous. These fabrications have gone beyond bending the truth, they’ve gone beyond stretching reality, they’ve gone beyond false accusations, these are wild, outlandish lies! I guess my faith in my fellow Americans may have been a bit overinflated in its belief that we are, for the most part, a reasonably intelligent, overall good, decent people. This is by far not the first time I’ve heard/read/seen a Trump rally, but it’s getting off the rails. The more i interact with my fellow countrymen, whether in person or via social media, the more I’m observing that people believe the sh*t he says. They believe these wild, far fetched, absurd, lies. Maybe I’m just cynical and over analyze anything that I hear into a, is this real, is this contorted, is this false, or is this complete bullsh*t, categories, never taking anything as a hundred percent, full on fact (unless it’s math or something. I’ve had people argue that too though) always leaving room for growth, giving my perspective some space for the potential that new elements get introduced to the situation. I especially don’t take anything a politician says, or claims, or promises at even face value. But I only see the world through my eyes. Sometimes what you observe can be deceiving. What the most dangerous part about trumps mendacities are is the rift, the division, the wedge driven between us. I don’t know how many of you have used a steel wedge when splitting logs, but if you do it wrong, which I have many times because I’m an idiot, and that wedge gets driven in there dumb, it’s a frickin pain to get out. I worry that’s happening to us. I was talking with a guy I’ve never met, don’t know him in the real world, some guy who commented on whatever rambling diatribe I was going on about. I was trying to tell him, ‘we/Dems/I don’t hate you. I don’t have a problem with you person Y. I have a problem with the candidate you support, because I think he is dangerous. Dangerous for our democracy, dangerous for our country and dangerous for our society. Yet you person Y. It’s not you I have a problem with.’ I think that’s a major revelation we need to keep in mind. WHY are we so mad at the other side? WHY is there such hostility towards each other ? WHY is there such distrust between us as fellow Americans?. It’s because our would be, so called “leaders” are sinking that wedge further and further into the core of America. I worry it’s going to be real hard to get out.

[birdears]

*jwqs spoilers*

The PDL author's note for JWQS chapter 230 is one of my favorites. The author responds to readers who feel Qi Yan is too enthusiastically helping jingnv's cause and abandoning her own people.

Translation (mine, rough and imperfect) and thoughts below.

Please also read Melts' translation of the AN, which is more spare and very accurate and very good. In my trans, I wanted to emphasize some nuances that were interesting to me.

It's been a while since I last wrote a long author's note. Today I must write another.

Yesterday I saw a commenter say Qi Yan is another GuiZu LanHai (TN: internet term for traitor to one's people or country, fanboy who kneels to the enemy). They argue Qi Yan took on so much hatred and unresolved revenge, but she's still helping JingNv and turning her back to her people. I respect every reader's viewpoint. Discussion is a good thing, so I thank you here. And then I thought about it. I believe I have already scattered among several chapters the reasons Qi Yan has for acting like this, so here in the author's note I'll simply sketch out those reasons for this reader, as well as other friends with the same confusion.

First, some superficial reasons:

1. Qi Yan doesn't have many countrymen left. The remaining grass plains people are Tu Ba fighters who ceded to Wei. Qi Yan hates them as well. Cheng Li tribe by now has practically been exterminated.

2. Qi Yan hasn't abandoned his quest for revenge. But unlike Ba Yin and Xiao Die, she experienced more spiritual and psychological anguish [after the genocide], while they were tortured physically and materially. That past shaped them differently.

3. On the one hand, Qi Yan has feelings for Jing Nv. On the other, Qi Yan personally brought about NanGong Rang's death and confessed to secrets that had been repressed for years. A psychologist might say Qi Yan has gotten [cathartic] release for the hatred and blame in her heart.

4. I wrote Qi Yan to be constantly changing throughout the story, from the early Qi Yan who wanted to destroy the entire Wei kingdom, just like Ba Yin and Xiao Die, to follow her growth as she sees more of the world and slowly shrinks the target of her revenge. But the NanGong family, XingJing Fu, TaiWei Fu, Ding Yi clan -- I have kept these as her enemies from the beginning to the end. So while Qi Yan loves JingNv, she still killed NanGong Rang.

It's just that Nangong JingNv has been taken off the list...

5. Let's not forget, Qi Yan is herself of mixed race. Her mother is a Wei woman.

6. Qi Yan is helping JingNv because she loves her. She isn't betraying the plains. As the emperor, for JingNv losing means death. Qi Yan believes she has already exacted revenge for her people. Her remaining enemies she will manage one by one. She doesn't want to start a war.

This is not a betrayal of the plains. So long as they don't send troops, the plains can maintain its current state. Its peoples have experienced brutal violence and injustice, a debt that indeed Wei can never repay, but the peace it has now... whoever destroys it will bring about a new tragedy.

These are mine and Qi Yan's thoughts, which I have folded into the novel. Qi Yan is not a woman who kneels and licks and never will be (TN: lit. kneeling and licking, like a simp, obsequious, fawning). She faces so many difficulties. Even I, the author, can not fathom everything. That's the kind of thing each person can only know for themselves.

Letting go is more difficult than getting revenge.

But Qi Yan hasn't let go. She has only stopped hating the ordinary people of Wei.

Falling in love with NanGong JingNv, that was an accident. And it also... well.

Thank you everyone who donated. There will be an update tomorrow.

There's one pronoun shift in the author's note where PDL refers to Qi Yan w male pronouns. I liked that, so I kept it.

So something I feel the commenter misses is just how much brutal revenge Qi Yan has already visited on Wei people. Remember how Ding You practices his medicine on scores of dying homeless Wei people? Those people are suffering because of Qi Yan. She exacerbated famines. She created poverty where it wasn't there before. She deepened the inequity of a, yes, already horrible empire. People are suffering as a result. Add also, the many commoners she murdered herself to protect Xiao Die and get her political way.

So that's why I think PDL says "Qi Yan believes she has already exacted revenge for her people". Qi Yan spent years pushing Wei to the brink. She no longer wants genocide of its people, hence hesitating to move troops... but she has doomed it as a country and a government.

Also, she has already fucked with her enemies. We as readers have watched her do unspeakable things! She has killed or contemplated killing several people, including children. Nearly a whole clan. She grit her teeth and murdered people who were directly responsible for the genocide of her people.

When Qi Yan sent a note to NanGong JingNv while visiting Ba Yin on the plains, I was like... really, dude? With Ba Yin right there? He endured torture, slavery, abuse, dehumanization. He's raising your sister's child, a product of rape. I thought it was messing with her arc... like, already valuing your wife above your people? This early in the story? But like PDL says, Qi Yan wants to avoid war. And it doesn't serve HER people to go to war... it serves Jiya's. Her love for her wife is significant, but it's not the complete reason for her actions. She is also reflecting her own values.

Also chilling: Her tribe was actually, genuinely destroyed. No one is left.

I believe PDL has been clear that Ba Yin and Xiao Die are justified for taking a hardline stance against the Wei. I also love that unlike Jiya's tribe and the masked person, they are more hesitant to actually commit genocide because of the same experiences that make them hate Wei... and a realization they dont personally benefit from it. They aren't nonviolent, but Qi Yan is definitely more scary. They have their own principles they stick to, while Qi Yan often compromises hers. I like that. PDL is ABOUT it.

[aureli-us]

HI, I may be a bit late to this, but from the ask game:

1, 4, 11, 13, for Tharya? 😍

SORRY THIS TOOK ME 93728292 YEARS TO GET TO!! i promise i've had this in my drafts forever i just had to finish it... for anyone interested the original ask game is here and i'd love to hear more requests!!

1) Does your OC have a voice claim? If so, who?

UNFORTUNATELY not! i have looked around a couple times though. in my head she has a an american accent since that, to me, is natural - but lately i've been looking into scandi accents and such! i'm sort of leaning towards a finnish or norwegian accent, moreso finnish a bit, i just prefer the way it sounds. in relation to miraak's accent she would probably have a bit of trouble understanding him early on since i assume his accent would sound (and is) very thick and archaic to her ears, and he speaks the common tongue slowly (on purpose). in-game he overpronounces/pronunciates things quite...thickly? i imagine his accent would be much heavier than tharya's, though possibly also recognizable to the nords as related to their own. tharya's accent would also be noticeably different to her countrymen bc her father is from cyrodiil, but idk what real world accent cyrods would have. same goes for her siblings! but unfortunately everyone besides miraak has american accents in my head lol

4) What song describes your OC & their partner?

okay i'm really bad at making playlists BUT i do happen to have a tharyaak one....i will link it here hehehe but my favs for them are probably:

lay all your love on me - abba

wish i knew you - the revivalists

put your head on my shoulder - paul anka

just the two of us - grover washington ft. bill withers

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

HONESTLY what a question. tharya was born of my very first skyrim OC fane - the character i first created when i got the game + finished the main quest for the first time ever with. i was never 100% happy with fane though, and somehow as i grew increasingly bored with not knowing what to do with her, i decided to change her name. at first it was just that, but then i wanted to change her appearance too; i wanted an LDB who looked like the most boring run of the mill LDB possible: a blonde nord. i wanted that so i could give her intense characterization and depth that would pull people in after sort of tricking them with her appearance of being just another white blonde nord LDB. that's also why i made her a mage. i wanted her to exist as this dichotomy. a lot of tharya's emotional depth comes from me since she is my oldest running OC and i needed a place for my problems, so they became hers: estranged from her brother, struggling with femininity, self-image, love, intimacy. some of it i also just dreamt up to create a more battered and wearied LDB: alcoholism, her constant wish to return to sovngarde, her reckless self-endagerment, her feeling slighted by the world not recognizing her after killing alduin. i want her to be a tired hero who is kind and warm, but has fought with all she could ever give to be kind and warm. and, if you spit in her face, her kindness and warmth are not feeble, nor endless. sometimes she skips being nice because she's sick of it all.

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

HMMM. well besides early miraak lemme think... if i had to pick, maybe........

MAN i don't think she really does??? maybe i'm just blanking. i can't even in good conscience say miraak because they weren't REALLY rivals to begin with, more like star-crossed enemies....tharya's biggest rival may sort of be herself, at least in earlier years. she kind of got way too into her own head after killing alduin and it let to a pretty substantial depressive/alcoholic episode. i can't say ulfric either because she really didn't consider ulfric a rival, he was a lesser opponent, and an unfortunate duty to carry out. so idk if she has a set rival really in the sense we could think of a hero vs rival way. cool to think abt tho!

[viric-dreams]

Jones Has a Coffee Date

The café is nearly packed, and the wall of noise hits Jones’ ears the moment he opens the door. It’s more than the usual lunch rush—students huddled at the large tables, gesticulating wildly at their notes and each other. In one corner, a trio of tomb colonists set out a game board and a pair of dice. A couple brush passed him, wandering out into the humid London air hand-in-hand. There’s too much going on for him to keep track of; too many faces to watch for suspicious behaviour. But there’s not much that he can do about it. 

He spots the man at a circular table against the back wall, near to the kitchens. The man wiggles his fingers at him in a silly approximation of a wave. At least the bastard had the sense to pick an unobtrusive spot in this chaotic café. With a deep breath, Jones puts on his best pleasant face and wades his way through the sea of patrons. 

A few feet from the table, his foot catches against the leg of a neighbouring chair and he stumbles, arms just barely reaching out to brace against a table in time. The couple occupying it startle at his landing, cups rattling, but drinks ultimately unspilt. From the corner table, the man chuckles at this, his laughter a dry and sour thing. 

“Jonesy, you made it!” He opens his arms wide to punctuate the greeting. He’s too loud, even in such a busy place. Jones slides into the seat across from him to try to close the distance. 

“I’m glad you came,” the man says. 

Jones nods in acknowledgement. “You asked.”

You gave me no choice. 

He grins at this, and Jones feels his stomach turn. 

He’s not saying anything more, just sat there holding that ridiculous, grating expression like he has nowhere else to be today. And perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps London’s finest truly have nothing better to do than to schedule coffee dates. 

“I don’t mean to keep you from your work—”

“No, no, Jones. Don’t worry about me. Worry about you. Now, how do you take your coffee?” 

Dear Christ, he doesn't have time for this. The Kolomanian Delegation’s celebration dinner is two hours from now. They’re far too close to the hotel for comfort. Any of his “fellow countrymen” could see him here talking to a constable, and even in plainclothes, the stench of the man is potent enough to even the most dimwitted of spies.

“An espresso, please.” 

This seems to delight him.

“One of those fancy drinks? I like that about you, Jones.” 

Please be quiet. Please stop saying my name.

The constable waves over a waitress with a wild swing of his arm. 

“One coffee for me, bring sugar. And green tea for my friend here… And we’ll take something to eat too. Maybe those little cakes.” 

If he’s hoping to get a rise out of him, Jones refuses to grant him that satisfaction. His hand curls loosely around the mug, letting the warmth permeate into his palm, whilst The Smug Constable takes a too-large bite of a jellied mushroom cake. His own remains untouched on its plate. 

“These things are really good,” The Slovenly Constable says, his mouth half full of pastry. Crumbs spill out onto his jacket, “You’ve got to give them a try.”

“I’m sure they are.” His hand wraps tighter around the mug. 

The tea tastes of nothing, only heat. He’s not sure if this is the fault of the beverage or his abused taste buds, desensitised to worrying amounts of coffee and that bitter aromatic the doctor had given him. All so that he can do his job. A job he’s unsure the constable is aware of. 

For nearly two months they’ve had this back and forth—the man calls and he comes. This uncomfortable dance that’s taken place since the ominous moment he’d come into Jones’ life, claiming to know who he is, that he’d finally put two and two together after that fateful arrest on New Years Eve. But he’d be willing to look past his sin, let the cop killer be. The Forgiving Constable is a generous man, after all. Jones simply needs to do him one little favour and it’ll all be forgotten. 

And here they sit, finally in the same room. A proper meeting—no last minute being stood up this time—and getting nowhere, that favour left dangling, unspoken. Instead, he sits across from the bastard in his chair, an errant glob of jelly in his ugly beard that he won’t wipe away–why won’t he wipe his face–picking away at this cake, as if he has all the time in the world and—

“Are you enjoying the Games so far?” The way he makes it sound like such friendly small talk makes his blood boil. Like two friends having a casual chat. 

How much does he know? 

Does he suspect Jones has been acting as a double agent? Very few agents of Black are even aware, only adding to his feelings of unease in the field. Likely, the man’s just fishing. 

“I can’t say I’ve seen much of it. Been keeping to myself, mostly.”

Will he call out the blatant lie? If the man clocks it as one, he doesn’t seem to give any indication of it, polishing off the cake to take a deep swig of coffee, before picking up the one from Jones’ plate. The jam remains, stubbornly clinging to his facial hair. 

“Is that so? I’ll bet you’ve got all sorts of fun little hobbies with all of that time on your hands now. You enjoying your freedom, jailbird?”

The snarl becomes a smile before the constable has the chance to spot the expression. 

“Indeed.” Jones replies sweetly, bringing the cup to his lips. This time, he doesn’t even register the heat, outsmoked by his own slow-roiling anger. This is another dead end. The Jam-Covered Constable has no intention of making requests, it’s simply another one of his silly plays. Jones knows this game, and has had enough of it. The man’s had his fun today, let him call again if he’s serious about–

“I saw our mutual friend the other day.” The man swipes at his lip with the back of his hand, just missing that spot of jam, hanging precariously. “He asked about you, you know. ‘How’s ol’ Robert doing? You keeping an eye on him?’” He leans forward, his sour breath wafting across the table, “What do you think I should tell him?”

Tell him I’m going to claw his eyes out of his fucking skull. I’ll break his fucking fingers and push them down his throat.

“I’m doing well, thank you.”

The constable frowns at this and reaches across the table. His hand wraps around Jones’ wrist, prying it from the cup. “Are you sure about that? You look so frail. Nothing like the man I arrested on New Years. Have you been eating, Jonesy?”

He wants to leap across the table and grab him by his stupid collar, smash that smug face of his into the table until it’s nothing but pulp and mushroom jelly. Over and over again until they have to pry him off of what’s left of him. Dig his fingers into muscle and bone and–

“...should take better care of yourself. A man who lives alone can’t afford to be ill. Not when he has to keep working.”

Jones gently slides his arm free from the man’s grip. He makes no effort to hold on. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and when the constable makes no effort to continue the conversation Jones sets a few Echoes down onto the table. “I take it we’re done here, then?”

The man stares at him a moment, before leaning back in his seat. The derisive demeanour slides back onto his face.

“I’m looking forward to the next one, Jonesy. I might have a favour to ask of you then. Perhaps. But for now, be good.”

His hip clips the side of a table on his way out of the crowded café. He doesn’t even feel it.

[philtstone]

if you’re still taking prompts from that list, I’d love to see your take on the nemesis one for any of your modern AUs!

sorry it's not an EXISTING modern au but it is. a modern au. partially inspired by many many many things most significantly a post i literally cannot find again no matter how hard i look... also by anne from anne of green gables. anyway, this is mostly just vibes. and my own salad shirazi opinions. in that order.

In Arwen's house growing up family dinner was always a shared time of day, so it makes her glad that the small apartment her father moved into last year honours the same principle.

“It’s not that he irritates me,” eighteen year old Eowyn, fresh out of her first term of university and with her long gold hair in a tangled braid down her back, is explaining from the dinner table. “I hardly get irritated easily — it’s just that he’s so sweet and friendly all the time, I am sure he’s up to something.”

“Eowyn dear,” says her uncle. His attention is mostly absorbed by the newspaper in front of him. “If you might repeat that first part aloud, and reflect on it a bit.”

Eomer snorts from the sink. Gandalf had tasked him with washing the dishes — he had more or less nothing to contribute to meal making. Eowyn makes a face at him.

“I am good tempered. It’s just no one who’s normal is that nice. Certainly not a man.”

Gandalf, who’s in the midst of a very complex chess game with Arwen’s father, chuckles a bit. 

“Indeed?” Ada asks, with a wry smile. Eowyn blushes.

“Do not tease her, you men,” Arwen says, sweeping in to add hot water to the tea cups. The pale green flats of the fragrant tea leaves sent in express overseas mail by her maternal grandparents swirl in the kettle’s pour. Authentic green tea has a potency Arwen has not found in anything purchased around here. “You know she isn’t talking about you, and anyway, she’s right.” 

While Gandalf says, “Do tell us more, then,” charitably, Arwen returns to the small kitchen island. The rice is coming into its own in the cooker. Rice is always a comfort; it unites across cultures and races. Admittedly to this day Ada will prefer jasmine to basmati, no matter Arwen's own fascination with the latter. She sets about peeling two thick skinned cucumbers and dicing them, along with tomatoes from Mr Bilbo's garden, into a bowl. Then comes the shallot, and its lilac purple skin. Arwen has always loved the colour lilac. She has a nightgown a shade lighter than this onion, which her fiance sighs over dreamily every time it’s taken out.

Behind her Aragorn chops tarragon for the lentils, which are bubbling. He has embraced jasmine rice since childhood. His hair is tied out of his face and just barely escaping the doom of a man bun (Aragorn is too sincere about everything to accidentally look like the smarmiest versions of his countrymen) and he smells of fried onion and rose oil, like he often does when in this place. In matter of fact he smells like this kitchen is decorated: the multiple little knick knacks lining the sil, the old silver, the warm reds of the woven rug in the floor (one of an innumerable number kept in Iverworn’s house), and the cracked old laminate tiling – brown. There is some comfort in the idea that Gilraen's old apartment is still in the family. Only now, Ada has his little shrine in the den which doubles as his study, and a few more photographs have been added to the baby pictures lining the front hallway.

On the other end of the table Gimli and Legolas sort through Bilbo's rock collection while the old man gives running commentary on where he found each one. Arwen’s cousin is being educated on geology in the process. Frodo and Sam and the rest are still at school; Aragorn has volunteered to go pick them up in a half hour.

“This ought to go in the sedimentaries pile, Legolas. You see the distinctive layering – to really know we’d check for carbonate, but I’d say this is a solid limestone.”

“I don’t understand. Many of them have layers. That one with the crystal –”

“Running in parallel. Look, they’ve sedimented. It’s in the name, for Mahal’s sake. The geode, a sedimentary rock? Preposterous.”

“I found that one in Dale you know. It was, oh, twenty years ago or so now — I’d just had a pint with your dad, Gimli – you remember what he was like twenty years ago, wearing those garish red turbans (though they suited him well) – and when we came out on the street there it was by the lamp post, a little lump of a thing. I thought to myself, why, that looks just like Lobelia’s terrible laddoo – you haven’t tried them, but they’re glorified pebbles, with how dry and small she makes them – and then I turned it over and thought, where might a pretty piece of rock like this come from in the middle of such a town? But then, Dale is very metropolitan …“

Absently, Arwen begins humming to herself.

“Won’t someone put on some decent music?”

“Don’t look at us old men, Eomer. Haven’t the youth got a stereo system?”

“Oh, it's all Bluetooth now. Ah — I have your rook there, Elrond.”

“No he hasn’t; that’ll put his queen in jeopardy.”

“Keep your eyes on your lentils, Estel, my own function perfectly well. He’s been doing this since he was a boy.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” says Gandalf, with the wise knowing of someone who was there to witness such behaviour in person.

Between it all, everyone is somehow still managing to listen attentively to Eowyn as she expounds her theories and suspicions.

“He’s asked four times if we could study together after class. Four times. The next major exam we have is worth sixty perfect of the grade and I’m sure he saw me speaking with the professor last week because I was so determined to pass it. No one passes that exam, according to the third years –”

Arwen stirs the lentils and wonders if they ought to take a little bowl to the shrine.

“Perhaps he’s looking for a friend,” says Gandalf philosophically.

“Maybe he’s a creep, like Wormtongue was,” suggests Eomer darkly.

“He’s only starstruck by a girl in the engineering course,” says Bilbo, with a bit of (not unkind) humour in his voice. Then he reaches into his large duffel, which he lugged indoors with Aragorn and Eomer’s help, and extracts a box of fresh sweets for the table. These, Arwen hopes, are better than Lobelia’s – though she is sure they will be much too sweet for her own taste.  

“There are girls in engineering these days, old friend,” Gandalf interjects with a raised eyebrow, but Eowyn is not really paying attention to either of them.

“Last week at lab he gave me a book about zoological diseases I mentioned off hand almost a month ago,” she says with that earnest way she has. “That doesn’t have anything to do with engineering. Do you think he was trying to throw me off my game before our lab quiz?” 

It is very hard to keep a straight face at this inquiry, but Arwen – and many others present – manage it. “Have you considered that he might have just thought you’d like it?” asks Arwen.

“But that’s none of his business,” Eowyn says, as though this was obvious. 

“How did he know you liked it then?” asks her brother, baffled.

“We’ll — I told him,” says Eowyn. She flushes a bit. “But he initiated the conversation. We should have been talking about closed circuits.”

“Or nothing at all, apparently,” says Ada gravely.

“You don’t know him. He’s got a look in his eye. I can just tell.”

“Oh look, I’ve found him on Facebook.” 

And so Legolas has, and they all converge around his smartphone while Eowyn glares defiantly. 

“Faramir, is it? You know, he kind of looks like you, Estel.”

“Yeah – if you were much scrawnier and looked like a dweeby engineering student.”

“They look nothing alike,” says Eowyn hotly, crossing her arms – Arwen cannot help but catch Aragorn’s eye (he looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh, not helped at all by Gandalf, who is looking right at him, and skillfully masking his own merriment besides) “and Aragorn would never be such a — a — a snake, anyway.”

Arwen agrees with this hypothetical assessment, at least. She rummages through the fridge and retrieves the fresh clutch of herbs she needs for her salad.

“But what has he done, Eowyn. The poor boy. There is a bit of dweebishness there, isn’t there … indeed …”

“Look at the last name; isn’t that Denethor’s boy?”

“Oh yes, that would explain it. Engineering? Of all things? I always thought he had a poet's soul when he was a kid.”

“I wonder how they’re doing – haven’t spoken to the man in an age, you know.”

“Denethor you mean?”

“Well, not since the incident with that poor tree in the synagogue’s front yard,” says Gandalf sadly. “You were there Aragorn, you remember –”

“Hmmm,” says Aragorn grimly.

“Well I told you,” interrupts Eowyn. “I haven’t got proof, just suspicions! He’s trying to psych me out of this program. But I tell you – I won’t let him!” 

Arwen wonders if perhaps Eowyn had grown up around sisters, she wouldn’t insist so very hard on sticking it out through a degree she is not really interested in. These ruminations are interrupted by a soft touch at Arwen's waist. “Hm?” she says.

“I’m off to pick up the kids,” Aragorn begins in a low voice (the assembly continues to chatter behind them). She smiles at him, then stops: for reasons unexplained he is suddenly offering her a horrified expression he usually only reserves for conservative Tik Tok mommy vloggers and occasions where Pippin is about to grievously injure himself on the park playset.  “... What are you doing?” he asks.

“Adding the mint,” she says serenely. 

“Fresh?” Like she must be mad.

“Doesn’t it have mint?” 

It is his grandmother's recipe, after all; silly man.

“Dried.”

“Your mother always said it had to be fresh.”

“Fresh dried mint,” he clarifies, gravely.

“Really Estel.”

“Take over the lentils.”

“That was your job — and you’ve got to pick up Frodo and his friends.”

“In ten minutes.”

“You’re going to ruin it. Mr I Can Subsist On A Can Of Beans.”

“I can subsist. That doesn't mean you can add fresh spearmint to a perfectly good salad. It tastes completely wrong.”

“Estel …” But Aragorn has already ducked beneath the counter to reach deep into the recesses of their spice cabinet and retrieve an extremely dusty repurposed jar of dried mint, now cradled in his brown hands. The half-peeled label is for sour cherry preserves, which Arwen is sure no one in this family has bought from a store since they discovered the tree in Ada’s backyard.

“This is hardly fresh,” Arwen says archly.

“I dried it last week,” he says, all innocence. His t-shirt is worn and ratty enough that its low collar shows off her old necklace. She can see the jade flower and her own name etched in the characters of her mothers language at the center.

She sighs. Kisses his cheek; takes the mint. “Go fetch Mr. Bilbo’s wards.”

“They’re going to make a mess of my car,” he says, as if he did not happily volunteer for this task.

“Your car is already a mess, my love.”

So he goes, grinning. Arwen adds the mint to the salad and renters the fray.

“Eowyn,” she says. “Perhaps the next time he asks to study, you might take him up on it. That way you can get close enough to catch him at his awful scheme.”

Eowyn's mouth widens in a ponderous oh, as if she had never thought of this. Arwen pats her shoulder comfortingly.

“Food will be ready in ten minutes,” she says. Ada is smiling at her — a true smile, not without its own edges of memory, but no longer the bittersweet thing of three years ago. Arwen smiles back.

[scotianostra]

On June 6th 1944 Allied forces stormed the beaches of Northern France on what became known as D-Day.

There were no doubt many acts of bravery on that day when the tide started to turn against the Nazi regime that ultimately ended World War Two. I shall concentrate on one, but will also tell you about a German sniper that day and a wee tenuous brave Canadian.

‘Piper’ Bill Milllin landed on Sword Beach on the Coast of Normandy as part of the 1st Special Service Brigade in the second wave of the operation.

Pipers were banned from being on the frontline during the Second World War because of the number of casualties seen during the First World War. The enemy figured out that the piper helped boost morale to the Allied troops, and they were slaughtered because of this. This led the War Office to restrict their presence in camps as well as on the frontline.

Millin pointed this out to his Commanding Officer  Brigadier Lord "Shimi" Lovat  Fraser, hereditary chief of the Clan Fraser, who was a law unto himself. “Ah, but that’s the English War Office, Millin,” Lovat told him. “You and I are both Scottish so that doesn’t apply.”

As Bill Millin embarked from the landing craft and waded through chest high water making his way toward dry land, high above his head he carried his pipes, the only weapon he would need that day. Around him bullets flew, mortar shells exploded Bill_Millin1and his friends, comrades and countrymen died, but Bill carried onward.

It was what came next that made Bill Millin a legend! Lord Lovat, the Chief of Clan Fraser and Brigadier of the 2,500 commandos, instructed the 21 year old Bill Millin to fire up his pipes and play a tune to inspire the men. And with the five words ‘Give us “Highland Laddie” man!’, the Legend of ‘Piper’ Bill was born.

Amid the carnage and destruction Bill Millin played as he had never played before. While marching up and down the beach of Normandy, Millin played the tunes ‘Hielan’ Laddie’, ‘The Road to the Isles’ and ‘Blue Bonnets over the Border’, and at one point added ‘The Nut Brown Maiden’ for a redheaded French girl who had strayed out of her home.

The day would see Millin and his unit march four miles inland to a point known as Pegasus Bridge, which was a strategically vital point for the German 21st Panzer Division. D-Day was the turning point in the Allies’ battle against Hitler and ‘Piper’ Bill Millin stands a reminder of the bravery and sacrifice made by ordinary people in extraordinary times.

Facing the soldiers coming ashore that day was Horst Hrubesh, German machine gunner, he too can be seen as a hero of sorts, if you read the poem he penned, I will let you decide;

Scottish soldier play your pipes

Even though your in my sights

Just like me you have a wife

I aim above your head

For full five minutes i fire up high

Keep my bullets up in the sky

No mad piper, you will not die

I will not lay you dead.

Now at my Nazi captains call

He wonders why you do not fall

They drag me from my post in haste

Another gunner i am replaced

In a cell now i await

Whats sure to be a bloody fate

Jack boots stamp across the yard

By my cell with windows barred

Soldier friends i stood beside

Now gather in a long straight line

Blindfold no i did decline

To see their faces full of guilt

As they take my life for i shalt not kill.

Horst Hrubesh was German , but not a nazi, he paid the price for his act on D Day.

The third person to get a mention today is James M. Doohan who landed ashore at Juno beach. Later that day se would be shot 6 times, survive and go on to become Scotty on Star Trek.

Doohan was a commissioned lieutenant with the 14th Field Artillery Regiment of the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division, and was tasked with invading an area of Normandy code-named Juno Beach. As the meme states, Doohan successfully led his men across the beach littered with anti-tank mines, and also managed to take out two German snipers:

Lieutenant Doohan was however not shot by a German sniper. He had been shot by a nervous, trigger-happy Canadian sentry.

Doohan said. "We landed safely, thank God, through those Y-shaped steel barriers you see in the film, tracer bullets, all that, none of our men hurt, and dashed 75 yards to the 7-foot tall dunes," Doohan said. 

"Crossed a minefield, found out about it later: It was meant to blow up tanks, and we weren't heavy enough. Moved up through a down - hardly a town just a village - called Graye Sur Mer, saw a church tower that was a machine-gun post, firing off to our left. 

Doohan took out the machine-gun post with a couple of shots. "I don't know if they were killed or wounded, but it shut them up," he said.  The Canadian soldier later said he didn't notice the gunshot wounds in his legs until he got to the medic who told him;

'You also have four bullets in your left knee.' I said: 'Well, I walked here.'"

[ultra-creepy-fucker-things]

Meet Cresenta

Behind his imposing height and razor teeth, she could sense an odd innocence to him, the gentle demeanor of a man accustomed to seeing death only in the old and the sick. Cresenta smiled like a shark smelling blood.

Content Warning: cannibalism

Cresenta sat at the head of the massive table, built to seat hundreds of nobles at a time. Currently, it held only one. Or two, if anyone was so inclined to consider Seth a noble.

The two ate as they spoke, Cresenta was grinning, her chatter excited and eyes aglow, while Seth was guarded, weary.

"It's so nice of you to hear us out, your kind is normally so... Violent, aren't they?" Cresenta was saying, "I never considered you could resolve anything through reason"

Seth narrowed his eyes at the young women, trying to drown the sense of unease stirring in his gut. Canny as she was, Cresenta was nothing like her great grandmother. Seth had nothing to fear. Not from some mewmen girl less than half his size.

"Odd" he grunted, "I've always thought the same of mewmens"

Cresenta rolled her eyes at his jab but did not acknowledge it otherwise. She kept a steady smile, pinning the far larger man with unwavering eye contact. "I must thank you again for agreeing to cooperate with us, I knew you'd be able to recognize the need to unite your people under a real leader"

"My people have a leader" he said, "And I will not surrender my position"

Cresenta laughed, snapping her fingers, and her servants removed their emptied plates and replaced them with their next course, their movements smoothly choreographed. Seth's massive gharial-like head tilted down, nose wrinkling as he sniffed the air.

"Goatpig steak, of the finest quality for my guest of honor" she smiled in a way that missed innocence by a mile.

Seth poked at it with his fork, alarm bells ringing in the back of his head. It looked like any other meat, but the smell... It did not remind him of any goatpig he'd ever had, though the heavy use of spices made it hard for him to place. He cut off a piece and took a wary bite, swallowing quietly before pretending to chew. Septarians weren't set up for it, but he found that acting like he could made these talks go much smoother.

"I don't understand-" Seth began, only for Cresenta to cut him off.

"A monster not understanding" she said, "ha ha, who could've imagined?"

Seth glared down at her, unamused.

"As I was saying, your majesty" he ground out, "this 'election' is unnecessary. I don't know what you're trying to do" he lied, "But I would rather you talk. To us. Directly"

Cresenta only seemed to be half listening, her unsettling grin widening as he ate. Seth snorted. Why summon him if she didn't care what he had to say? Mewmens. He'd never understand them.

Cresenta laughed, "that is what I'm trying to do, silly!" she said, "it's just so hard to do when you seem to lack any legitimate leadership"

Seth banged a fist on the table, getting to his feet, "We do have-" he cut himself off, groaning, "Queen Cresenta" he said instead, letting distain creep into his tone "If you aren't going to take me seriously, then I'm going to return to my countrymen" he got to his feet, imposing figure coming nowhere near the high ceiling of the grand hall, which now only served the two of them alone. Seth shivered at how his voice echoed in the too-vast space.

Cresenta let out a titter that rose into a cackle. She cut a piece off her steak and held it up. "For shame" she said, voice pitched in excitement, "I hoped I wouldn't need to tell you"

"What-?" Seth began, before realization cut him off, cold dread washing over him and settling in his throat, in his stomach.

"Then again, I suppose your kind are to savage to set up a fire, no, you just tear into each other bloody and raw, don't you?"

Seth's face fell, horror dawning on his features. "You fucking BITCH" he roared, anger and disgust making a sickening cocktail in his stomach. He slammed clawed hands on the table, crest bristling, and frill flared as he bit back vomit. He had damn well known it wasn't fucking goatpig, but he'd had enough faith in her to think-

"Lizard meat tastes so good when it's fed on corn" daintily, she put the fork to her lips, making a point of chewing well before she swallowed, "you look like you've got a lot to spare" the woman was practically leering at him.

Trembling, Seth took a step back, biting his lip to keep from crumbling under Cresenta's predatory gaze.

""I am a governing member of the council" he said "To capture me would mean war."

"Typical monster" she snorted, "putting words in mewmen mouths, making everything seem so much worse than it really is. It's no wonder we run Mewni" she waved a hand, dismissing him, "Of course you're free to go"

Seth backed away, eyes trained on Cresenta until she was obscured by the powerful oak doors of the great hall, and then he turned and ran out of the castle.

[leonsliga]

I know I'm spamming with this. But I just can't be anything but heartbroken.

https://twitter.com/iMiaSanMia/status/1767184731739697196?t=CO3GdBoIlDoNywEz-kPLVw&s=19

He said this just a day before being kicked out.

He had done the ads for their kits. And all the promo stuff.

Completely blindsided. How strong can a person be honestly? He had to get over being the scapegoat for tuchel, for twitter hate, for bayern bad run, for flick and now nagelsmann? He was prepared and probably had his bag packed for the break. How could they do this to him?

I mean what more can he do. If playing so well (I think we disagree here, I feel he has had a very stable solid season with not a lot of bad matches) can't get him in over a boy (whom I'm happy for I guess or I will be once this wave of sadness tides over) who has had like 2 months of experience, then what in the gd world will?

What's he gonna play for. If nagelsmann is saying leon was furious hearing this... I hope he didn't tell him he couldn't play. Why is the football world so unfair to him really ?

Do you think he'll make it to the Euros Bri? Honestly?

I hope he does.

Feeling so resentful towards the NT team.

It’s ok to spam me! I don’t mind 💜 I’ve been absolutely heartbroken too, so it’s comforting to know I’m not alone in that hurt.

I saw his interview response too, and knowing he said it just before the news broke is devastating.

He’s only ever wanted one thing: to help the team, and I think that’s what hurts so much. How could he not feel inadequate after hearing that Nagelsmann didn’t want him—after learning that his hard work to get back to his best wasn’t enough?

He’s been through so much this season (and last season too). Like you said, he spent most of it as Tuchel’s scapegoat. And as if he hadn’t been punished enough, he’s also had to face the wrath of disgruntled fans and his fellow countrymen:

You’re right; he probably had his bag all packed and ready to go, only to get a serious case of whiplash not long afterward, when he learned he wouldn’t be leaving.

We can agree to disagree here :) I think my critique is that while he’s put up decent performances in most matches, Bayern expects the exceptional. So when I say he’s had some rough patches, it’s because I know he can be even better. He’s shown us that before (Bayern’s treble-winning season being the chief example), and he’s shown us that again against Mainz. And like you’ve pointed out in the past, Leon’s far from Bayern’s biggest problem anyhow 🤷‍♀️

This round of call-ups was bittersweet for me too. I’m super proud of Aleks, but I’m also devastated for Leon, even if it is just a few matches. It’s a lot to process.

I know Nagelsmann mentioned it “wasn’t a pleasant conversation” with Leon, but he can’t really blame him for that. How would he feel if he was in Leon’s place—if he was denied the opportunity to represent his country?

My opinion on whether or not he’ll play for the Euros? I think it depends on his performances in Bayern’s upcoming matches. His fate is in his hands. If he keeps up his string of good performances, I don’t see why he wouldn’t be called up. Maybe it’s the delusion talking, but that’s my opinion. I still believe Nagelsmann left Leon off the NT as a test of sorts—as a means to see how he can deliver under pressure.

At the very least, much like you, I hope he’ll be there for the Euros too. We’ll have to see what to develops, as much as I hate to say it 😵

[msfbgraves]

The cruelest thing Daniel’s Pop ever did was make him go back/playing with his feelings so that he’d go back to Terry after the rape, knowing how hurt and scared Daniel was. Using his 18 year old son to save the family via marriage to a murderer was bad, this was way worse. Pop is an interesting character, but a horrible person. Great story btw!!

I see how it can read that way, Nonnie, and if my parents would do something like Daniele's Pop does, I think it would be straight up cruelty. But I don't completely agree. You know how mobsters never say anything outright? The implication here is, "You want him dead, caro? Say the word, he's dead. You won't have to do it, or be implicated or even be sure that's what happened. But I will kill him for you, and you can come back home. Except I'm not sure that is what you want deep down." Because it's not, his Daniele wants a divorce. And that cannot happen. It would weaken the power of marriage as a political tool, but more importantly, as this is aboverse - Terry wouldn't stand for it. It would mean war. A hell of a lot of killing. Amanda says the same. Would the kindest thing have been to grant him that divorce anyway and help him hide? Sure, if he could pull it off, but this beautiful young man would be preyed on by Alphas and betas alike. It's not feasible, the pups could get hurt, it's all kinds of trouble. Also, if Daniele does not want him dead - and Antonio is more than willing to kill, as is Michael - isn't there something left they could at least try to build on? He'd take his son and his pups in, of course, but ultimately he'd have to wed him to someone again, there would be too many suitors to hold off forever... It's do or die, and that's what Daniel resents. He's more American than his Pop. Individual happiness can trump the concerns of the whole family structure in his head. To both his parents that's unthinkable. Family is everything. Everything. The only safety that exists. And if that means sacrificing some individual happiness, that's a price you'll have to pay for the unconditional belonging. Even canon Daniel isn't above that. Sure, Louie is a pain in the ass but he's family. Vanessa's family and if he has to bring them to California to have them near it's what you do. If Lucille has to drop her whole life to nurse Louie sr. she does. But in this story Daniel rightly asks: what's in it for me? How much personal happiness can I sacrifice before I can't bear it anymore? But he has an infant with this man, a toddler and three young children, whom he loves above all else. He can see in Michael what happens when that loyalty and warmth isn't there, or at least not enough of it to curb the ego. It's terrifying to Daniel. Still, loyalty has a cost, and so does love. It's a choice mothers face the world over. If he'd up and left - left the pups, left his family, everyone would think he was the monster. Society can make it so there are no good choices and yes, I think about the toll of a loving family too. It's not all Sunday dinners and warm hugs.

Still I understand where his Pop is coming from. To him, the family is worth almost any price and he's just lucky as the patriarch, other people pay it. He wasn't always, though. He's done unspeakable things to build a sanctuary and fight his way out of poverty, for himself and his wife and pups, for his brother, his neighbors, his countrymen.

[edwinspaynes]

THE MERRY THIEVES & CO 🏳‍🌈🏴‍☠️🚩

Written as a gift for @emmalovesfitzloved.

CHAT TRANSCRIPT between wilde-wanderer, eldricheternalflames, thomas-the-tree, kit-li-the-science-guy, kickitwithcordy, grumpycatcarstairs, sciencebitchgrace, annaisgay, and sugared-tea-sweetheart. 23 June, 2023. GROUP CREATED by wilde-wanderer GROUP: THE MERRY THIEVES & CO 🏳‍🌈🏴‍☠️🚩

wilde-wanderer: FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN. LEND ME YOUR EARS, FOR I COME INTO OUR HALLOWED CHAT BEARING NEWS™ OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE.

grumpycatcarstairs: Jesus, Fairchild. There's no need for you to send messages in all caps. Don't you know that it sends Thomas into a needless tizzy whenever you do that?

thomas-the-tree: Why do you always assume that my alarmed expressions are Matthew's fault? I just got a 100 day Duolingo streak, and this apparently gets me some 3 days of free Super Duolingo (?) Though I don't know what that means.

grumpycatcarstairs: Maybe I know. You could have looked up to ask me. I am literally three (3) feet away from you right now.

thomas-the-tree: Do you know, joon?

grumpycatcarstairs: No.

kickitwithcordy: Oh, stop flirting, dadash. Now, Matthew, what was it you wanted to tell us?

annaisgay: If that's flirting, he's awful at it. #sorrynotsorry, @/grumpycatcarstairs.

grumpycatcarstairs: Lol shut up.

thomas-the-tree: He's making this face. 😒😒😒

wilde-wanderer: I give 0 fucks about Alastair's facial expressions, lol. Do you want to hear my news or not?

eldricheternalflames: Why don't you just tell us, Math?

wilde-wanderer: I got the lead in The Importance of Being Earnest! I am so excited. You all know how much I love that play!

kickitwithcordy: OMG Matthew, that's so so amazing! Come to dinner at Curzon Street tomorrow so that we can celebrate? James will buy us a Charlotte Russe cake. I know it's your fave 😋

wilde-wanderer: Can't say no to that. Though I'll also expect @/kit-li-the-science-guy to bring some lemon tarts.

kickitwithcordy: Was my offering not enough!? 😢

sugared-tea-sweetheart: Once can never have too much sugar.

wilde-wanderer: THANK YOU ARI! You are a blessing on this earth.

annaisgay: You are. And you're right, darling, you need to consume as much sugar as you can, so you can be sweet when I kiss you.

grumpycatcarstairs: God, I'm going to puke.

thomas-the-tree: You're stuffing your face with tahdig right now, don't lie to the class.

grumpycatcarstairs: And YOU'RE playing that awful Flappy Bird knockoff game instead of crushing it in Duolingo.

wilde-wanderer: VALID. Flappy Bird was the best thing ever. Fuckin hate that it got deleted like what in the name of Oscar Wilde was that

kit-li-the-science-guy: sry fam, just got the notification. grace and i were trying to see whether or not goblin blood served as a good retardant for flames that had a small spark of heavenly fire in them, but unfortunately. there were complications

sciencebitchgrade: basically he started a minor fire in our parlor. it happens.

wilde-wanderer: OMG YOU BLEW SHIT UP WITHOUT ME? My heart is breaking within my tender bosom. You do know how I so love to see the fruits of your labors.

thomas-the-tree: That's what she said! That's what she said!

grumpycatcarstairs: That's incorrect, but I support you anyway.

eldricheternalflames: I support you, too.

kickitwithcordy: Me three!

kit-li-the-science-guy: anyway lol

kit-li-the-science-guy: you want grace and i to make u lemon tarts

kit-li-the-science-guy: ???

wilde-wanderer: More you than Grace, really.

sciencebitchgrace: why would i ever want to be left out of the baking

kit-li-the-science-guy: why would i ever leave her out of the baking

eldricheternalflames: It's frightening how well-suited you are.

kit-li-the-science-guy: thank u :-)

kickitwithcordy: Anyway!!! To catch Kit and Grace up, we're having a massive blowout at my (and James's) flat tomorrow. There will be a Charlotte Russe cake, maybe some games

kit-li-the-science-guy: games? can we play bomberman? also yea grace and i will come w tarts

wilde-wanderer: I second Bomberman. Also Super Smash Bros. Please. And Pin the Junk on the Hunk

grumpycatcarstairs: No. Am I the only one here with sense? Well, me and Grace.

sciencebitchgrace: the answer to your question is a resounding yes.

sugared-tea-sweetheart: I'm also sensible.

annaisgay: Sure you are, dearest. That's why I caught you singing to Percival earlier.

wilde-wanderer: OH ANNA CAN YOU BRING PERCY TO THE PARTY

annaisgay: Transporting him to Marylebone from Percy Street (or to Curzon Street) would be nigh on impossible, so I'll say no. I'm willing to do a lot for you, Math, but not dragging a massive snake through the streets of London.

wilde-wanderer: Ugh, FINE. Waste my youth.

sugared-tea-sweetie: I'll work on her, don't you worry.

kickitwithcordy: What if I don't want a stuffed snake in my entryway?

eldricheternalflames: OUR entryway. And you really don't want to show Percy off as yours? Just for one night!?

kickitwithcordy: Every guest at the party is in the group chat. Besides, I suppose, Oscar, assuming that you're bringing him? 🐶🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻

thomas-the-tree: Wow, Alastair is right. You do use a lot of emojis.

thomas-the-tree: Not that that's a bad thing! It's a good thing. You're emotional. Emoji-tional. I really like that about you. But also I just want to say that Alastair is correct and no one can really contradict him in the future.

wilde-wanderer: Is Alastair making you say that?

grumpycatcarstairs: I don't make him do anything. He supports me because he loves me

eldricheternalflames: That's true. Remember when we all hated Alastair? Thomas always stood up for him.

thomas-the-tree: stopstopstop

grumpycatcarstairs: You had a crush on me LOL so embarrassing

eldricheternalflames: It was, dude. He was SO sappy

wilde-wanderer: Oh aLaStAiR wItH yOuR bEaUtIfUL HaiR hOw i CaNnOt hELp bUt sTaRe ----

grumpycatcarstairs: Update: He's blushing

kickitwithcordy: 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

eldricheternalflames: I love you SO much, Daisy. Snarky but sweet. Thank you for being just as you are. 😘

grumpycatcarstairs: Sappy meter: 10

kickitwithcordy: I love when you use emojis in solidarity with me.

annaisgay: I'd give them a 9. Remember when they went to prom back in high school?

wilde-wanderer: They went into an empty classroom and fucking WALTZED. Who the fuck does that? Romantics, that's who. James will go down in history as a Wife Guy when he and Cordelia finally tie the knot, and I'm the best man, and I toast him as a Wife Guy.

eldricheternalflames: You'll go down in history as the weird dude who gives bad toasts.

eldricheternalflames: 🤡😇😳😲😜

wilde-wanderer: No, I'll go down for being the World's Greatest Actor. Fam I'm ERNEST. I'm in an OSCAR WILDE PLAY. I am living the dream, communing with my idol, nurturing the hyperfixation!!!

wilde-wanderer: Speaking of my party, what time?

kit-li-the-science guy: were we talking about the party?

sciencebitchgrace: kinda

annaisgay: Yes

kickitwithcordy: He just said 7 PM. Since I'm extorting James into going to King's and purchasing the cake, I feel that going with his schedule would be a good sport.

thomas-the-tree: We'll see you there!

grumpycatcarstairs: We'll see you there.

thomas-the-tree: Jinx you owe me a kiss

wilde-wanderer: Sappy meter: 10/10. 🖕

CHAT TRANSCRIPT between kickitwithcordy and eldricheternalflames

kickitwithcordy: Sorry I'm texting from the bathroom. Doing my hair and other ladylike things. When are we going to tell them?

eldricheternalflames: That we tied the knot? I'm sure that they'll notice the ring. Unless you want to take it off for the night? I'd totally understand

kickitwithcordy: Never.

[kuriboo]

for the yugioh ask meme: Yudias!!!!! >:3c

YUDIAS! BNUYY BOY! disclaimer: i am only through episode 101 of go rush

tall bnuyy boy

Why I like them/why I don’t

Yudias is in-tune with himself, unfailingly kind. He's a bit stubborn about it, in a good way. He does not stop supporting his friends. He believes in the power of Rush Duels like they're a higher power, which, to be fair, they kind of are in the text. He has a collection of 8.88 million emotional support catboy countrymen who follow him around everywhere in a tiny spaceship (i miss them dearly). He stopped an intergalactic war with the power of card games. Even when he's faced with extinction and genocide, he puts on a brave face for his friends, gives his boyfriend his last wish, and when he breaks down, it's because everything hits him all at once when he witnesses rush duels being disrespected.

He's also got self-confidence issues. I love me a guy with self-confidence issues, because, same.

What I like about their appearance

His human-like appearance would be perfect if it weren't for the UTS orange. I do not like the UTS orange. But. His hair is beautiful. Look at his little horns under his hat. I also really like his hat, when it's not orange. The pink shirt is SO funny. The scenes where he's wearing a middle school uniform are 10/10 in appearance.

Above is a perfect boy.

As for transformed? His shorter hair is cute, too, though I'm surprised I don't prefer it. I usually prefer shorter hair on characters because longer hair characters just remind me how much I hate it when my hair gets too long and it just feels so wrong... Maybe it's the headset that isn't doing it for me. I do love the bnuyy parts of his hair most when transformed, but I do like his hair, just slightly less than when he's not transformed.

Do I prefer their dub names or original names?

He's a protag, so... yknow. I will say I tend to type out protag/related names as Yu instead of Yuu, but that's a me thing.

OTP

I know that Zwijo/Yudias is the canon and most popular ship, and I do like them! However! My otp has to be Yudias/Yuhi

Please look at them. That is all. Thank you

NOTP

Idk about this one? I've never seen a ship thrown out there that I like, hated, for Yudias. Oh, wait, I have one

Yudias/Chupataro

If you mention Chupataro in my presence I will eye beam you. I hate that guy.

OT3

Zwijo/Yudias/Yuhi for sure. I am a sucker for ot3's like this and then taking the characters that interact the least and going insane about them. Once I've caught up on go rush, I will be going insane about Zwijo/Yuhi. They are both Yudias' boyfriends.

Tonight the group chat is selling me on Zwijo/Yudias/Yuhi/Phaser. I see the vision. I think it's cute. Let's add more boys to this polycule.

Favourite card they use

Definitely, her. She's gender, she's pretty, she's the moment.

Favourite moment they were in

It's really hard to pick one. Burgalarly was so funny. Any time Yudias uses eyebeams is a classic. I am very fond of the moment he played his new Maximum against Phaser.

HOWEVER, the best moment, on further reflection, HAS to be the galaxy cup finals

PROBABLY THE MOST HYPE DUEL BEFORE EPISODE 100, though 100 may have surpassed it. But god I loved this duel so much. The switching off of Yudias' opponents. Yudias being the guy we're cheering to lose. GOD this duel was insane. I wanna rewatch it again sometime. Cannot wait to rewatch this when it's dubbed.

Least favourite moment

this entire episode can go burn in hell

Would I fuck, marry or kill them

Marry in a heartbeat. He's not my go rush overall favorite (that's Yuhi rn, if we look at Yuga as a sevens character) but Yudias is very high up there.

thank you everyone for listening to me talk about yudias. in conclusion, you should watch yugioh go rush.

[voidedleylines]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 19: Taken

In which common interest are discussed

Rating: G || No CWs apply || Post-HW setting || Thancred Waters & Yugiri Mistwalker

Enjoy!

Yugiri watches from above the Stones as Freyalin interacts with F’lhaminn and the Doman children. Her face from any outsider is stoic but there’s a light smile that plays on her lips.

It’s been awhile since she’s seen her or any of the Scions, after the business with the Crystal Braves…ending how it did, Yugiri will admit she didn’t know if she’d see anyone again, but she was heartened to know most had survived.

She spares a thought for Minfilia, she was a kind woman who took her and her fellow countrymen in when no one else gave them a second glance. She was strong yet gentle and she will be missed. She looks towards Freyalin again at that thought, musing that she most of all knows that.

“Well, it seems my hiding spot has been discovered,” a voice rings out. She jumps and looks to see Thancred there, sly smirk on his face.

“Apologies,” Yugiri bows, “I did not mean to invade. I can take my-”

He waves his hand to get her to stop, “Nonsense, ‘twas merely a jest. It’s not surprising a woman of your skill set wouldn’t also want to take in the views from up here.”

At that she watches in mild embarrassment as he follows her line of sight. He does not react at first and she goes to rebuttal but he just gives a small laugh, “Taken with her too are you?”

The ‘too’ in that sentence reveals much about the state of personal affairs between the Scions. Thancred’s face however does not give much away, as he looks at her from the corner of his one uncovered eye.

Yugiri shakes her head, “I…she has changed much since last I saw her.”

“Indeed,” he says. “Even I am not privy to all that happened in Ishgard, but I can tell enough through the whispers that it wasn’t easy.”

Yugiri nods. They both watch her in silence. She wonders how he could’ve caught her red handed so quickly, but she figures she already knows that answer.

“She is strong,” she says.

He smiles and nods as he closes his eye and brings his arms across his chest, “Aye. Stronger than she even knows. And growing stronger still I suspect.”

Yugiri shifts her focus now to the Doman children as they run and play. She thinks of her home and the feeling inside her grows. The feeling that soon, the winds will turn and they will see their land free again.

“I hope so,” she says, partially to herself.

Thancred glances at her again and nods in understanding. “First. The Griffin must be dealt with, or all this newfound peace will be for naught.”

Yugiri nods, “Right.”

The two stand there in silence for a little while longer as nothing more needs to be said. A mutual understanding falls between them instead, as the sun sets over Mor Dhona.

[daitranscripts]

Cassandra Conversation

I'd Like Your Advice

Cassandra Masterpost

PC: Do you have any advice for me?

After meeting Hawke, before WEWH Cassandra: It seems we must look into the plot to assassinate the empress as well as meet this ally of Hawke’s. If I were you, I would see to the empress. Orlesian aid could be invaluable to the Inquisition.

After startling HLTA Cassandra: This matter with the Grey Wardens must be dealt with—quickly. That ancient Order gets into far more trouble than they’re worth. I should have listened to Leliana’s suspicions sooner.

After HLTA, WEWH not completed Cassandra: Now that the Grey Warden threat is dealt with, we must investigate the assassination plot. One can only hope it is not too late. More chaos in Orlais only helps Corypheus.

Post-HLTA and WEWH Cassandra: Hmm. It seems that Corypheus searches for elven artifacts? That’s hardly surprising. Tevinter power is based on what those vultures scavenged from the ancient elves. Whatever advantage he hopes to gain, we need to stop him at once.

Post-WPHW Cassandra: Find Corypheus. If he vanishes, he will only rebuild his power and come at us again. And he will come. Whatever mad play the magister has in mind, you star as his nemesis. I shudder to think what a creature like that could concoct next, given the time.

About Cole Cassandra: Tell that demon… what does it call itself, Cole? Tell it to leave. He may not mean harm, but that does not mean he will not harm us. Spirits are not creatures to take at face value. Be cautious with him, Inquisitor.

About Dorian Cassandra: Treat Dorian with caution. It’s possible he could be what he seems: a Tevinter mage wishing to do better than his countrymen. What if he is not? At best, his presence makes the Inquisition appear to have questionable allies.

About Sera Cassandra: Watch the treasury carefully. With that Sera present… PC: You think she’s here to rob us? Cassandra: Possibly not, but I would hardly put it past her.

About Vivienne Cassandra: It’s good that you recruited Enchanter Vivienne into the Inquisition. She is ambitious but has always shown sense in her dealings with the Chantry. My advice would be to watch her but heed her when she speaks. That one wastes no words.

General:

Cassandra: You know what you need to do, Inquisitor.

Cassandra: Nothing that I can think of, no.

Cassandra: Nothing that you could not think of yourself, Inquisitor.

Cassandra: We must keep an eye on the College of Clerics. The moment they elect a Divine, things could change quickly.

Cassandra: We must guard Skyhold carefully. There is no telling when Corypheus will next attack.

Cassandra: Watch the new recruits. Leliana says spies are inevitable, and I agree.

Cassandra (sided mages): We must root out the red templars. They form the bulk of Corypheus’s forces.

Cassandra (sided templars): We must root out the Venatori. The Tevinter Imperium cannot be allowed to gain a foothold in the south.

[idolswrestlingadventure]

Royal Rumble (1998)

Here we are, brand new year and what will become a recurring set of events to play through the year. Until we get the one per month era of modern times. More wrestling, in your face! But first, historical context, what happened in 1988? Personally, I was 4 years old, so not a lot for me to recall aside from trains and mushy food.

The 1988 Winter Olympics were held in Alberta, Canada.

The 1988 Summer Olympics were held in Seoul, South Korea.

The Soviet Union begins to collapse with the Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian movements.

First McDonalds opens up in Yugoslavia.

The space shuttle Discovery launches, the first after the challenger disaster.

Netherlands wins the Euro’s 88 hosted in Germany.

The first WORM virus is distributed by the internet.

George HW Bush is elected President of America.

Notable Births: Skrillex, Jessie J, Jesse Plemons, Haley Joel Osment, Vanessa Kirby, Lizzo, Ana de Armas, Adele, Awkwafina, Conor McGregor, Tyson Fury, Melissa Benoist, Alicia Vikander, ASAP Rocky, Emma Stone, Zoe Kravitz and current member of Damage Control, Dakota Kai

Notable Movies: Die Hard, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Coming To America, Rambo III, Rain Man, A Fish Called Wanda

Notable TV Shows Launched: Roseanne, Red Dwarf, The Wonder Years, Mystery Science Theatre 3000, Rab C. Nesbitt, Who’s Line Is It Anyway, Family Fued, Wheel Of Fortune, Stoppit and Tidyup, Home and Away

Well, we’ve got 5 PPVs for 1988 starting with this Royal Rumble, so let’s get going! 

This episode of Magnum P.I. is a bit different than usual...

Ricky “The Dragon” Steamboat V “Ravishing” Rick Rude - A comment given to me by a friend is that modern PPVs tend to be two contestants who swap between aggressor and victim every 5 minutes, and this match seemed to be some of this at the start. Ricky absolutely had the upper hand for the majority of the match and glad to see the tradition of cheating whilst the referee is knocked out never goes out of style. Good match, Ricky continuing to be one of my favourites from this era -Tier 3-

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...shut the fuck up

Now for some reason, we get a benchlift record attempt by Pino Bravo. Who, for some reason, and I can’t work out if this is a bit or not, constantly keeps shouting at the crowd to be quiet. His weirdly French manager also insists upon this, often going into fits of verbal dementia at what is happening whilst Jesse Ventura insists the record attempt is valid, almost too much. It’s weird how much screen time this is getting, but if it’s about macho steroid injected men doing manly things, then I suppose it fits the bill. Just very, very strange to watch.

Somewhere the creator of the Human Centipede is looking on...

The Jumping Bomb Angels V The Glamour Girls - Jimmy Hart is back, I kinda am tired of seeing him everywhere. His only gimmick is being incredibly annoying and giving the crowd something to cheer for when he’s knocked out. Luckily however this match is actually pretty good. The Bomb Angels showing some amazing agility and bringing a lot of energy that The Glamour Girls seem to miss. The Bomb Angels grab the win in a surprisingly good womens match for the era! -Tier 2-

The look the couple across the bar give you...

Side note: Jesse and Vince McMahon are being weird commentating on this match, they argue all the time and it doesn’t sound like a bit, either that or I’m getting worked somehow. Just sounds like Vince is being petty with Jesse’s usual bullshit. Bring back Gorilla Monsoon…

"One million dollars or I'll host Deal Or No Deal"

Storyline Update: The Million Dollar Man offers…a million dollars for Hogan’s belt. When Hogan refuses to surrender it, he decides to offer it to Andre The Giant to take the belt from Hogan. We don’t see the match on this occasion, but we do see the contract signing. Where a nervous Hogan gets a table thrown at him by a weirdly irate Andre. Seeing as Hogan stays the champion for a billion years, I don’t think anything gets resolved here.

Turns out squeezing the turnbuckle meant something else here...

The Royal Rumble 1988 - So at first I thought, hey Royal Rumble sounds fun. No holds barred ensemble of the greatest wrestlers in WWF at the time, all in the ring with fun knockouts. But sadly it’s just a cluster-fuck of men pretending to struggle with a set of ropes. A few fun moments and appearances from notable faces, but overall a middling event with “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan taking the win -Tier 7-

Another side note: Jesse Ventura still being the strangest commentators ever, talking about how Vince is a pussy and would rather be reading Poetry and drinking Wine than watching wrestling…

Putting their heads together literally...

The Islanders V The Young Stallions - Never mind the Stallions, check out the Islanders! There’s some WWF history right there. Father of Tonga Loa and Tama Tonga, Sam Fatu being Rikishi’s brother and Jacob Fatu’s father. The Samoan heritage runs strong in wrestling! The Stallions showing their supreme art of steroid use and I’m pretty sure neither of them can lower their arms to their sides. This was a pretty standard match, nothing exciting sadly, even the crowd seemed somewhat checked out. -Tier 6-

Notable Dialogue:

Vince: "Did you his [a samoan] toes, looks like he could hang upside down on the ropes" 

Jesse: "That's a bit racist Vince"

Verdict: 5 Samoan Forefathers Out Of 10