#at this point if they force her to pick and expect us to root for just one pair like the show is so over. itd be straight up bad writing

[autisticjoshrusso]

sick and miserable about avery's conversation with the captain and the way they seem to be establishing her as polyamorous as an immutable orientation rather than a behavior or choice </3 and her men are fucking stupid </3 SO sorry they're doing that to you sweetie oh my god.

[moondirti]

Who from the 141 speaks the best arabic do you think? From one arab girl to another, it’d be so hot if any of them were fluent 🫠

if my memory serves me correctly, we get a bit in the first campaign from price. to me it seems to be a basic knowledge. a few sentences he picked up on the field and memorised to make his job easier. evac orders, cardinal directions, how to ask for water, food, medicine. that kind of stuff. pure utility, though that’s his approach to most things.

i like to believe (call it bias or whatever) that gaz is fluent. this ties in to my headcanon that he’s the only member who attended and graduated uni, but he strikes me as someone intensely curious about everything. introducing him to something, be it language or cuisine or a skill he hasn’t mastered yet, is like knocking down the floodgates. it’s his time in urzikstan that does it. hearing the way it rolls off farah’s tongue (let’s ignore doumit’s canon pronunciations), or how she’s able to translate a long, winding, clumsy sentence to something short. beautiful.

there’s a word for everything, he finds. one for the state of gossiping with your friends over morning coffee. one to congratulate someone on their cleanliness after a haircut. one that means may you be the one to bury me, for it would be unbearable to live without you – that is used so casually in conversation, kyle is stunned when he learns the true meaning. it doesn’t hold the same expectation, the same trepidation, as it does in english, though it retains its weight all the same. he wonders what makes a language so special that its intrinsic devotion has found a common place within its cultures, and he sets to find out.

this turns into a thing. more rambling under the cut.

the largest learning curve is the alphabet. the sounds that don’t exist in his mother tongue. he’s especially hard on himself when it comes to enunciating them properly – half the beauty is in the way words flow together, and there would really be no point in indulging in arabic’s more lyrical aspects if he’s off pitch. he gets the hang of it eventually, of course, one too many vocal exercises later.

the weathered dictionary he picks up at a second hand store teaches him that most words have three letter roots, and that it isn’t so easy as to look them up alphabetically. picking up new vocab becomes infinitesimally harder, then. for twelve million choices, the distinction between some words comes down to diacritical marks. necklace, decade, contract, held, complicated, and knots are all spelt the same way, yet pronounced ever so slightly different — a fact he learns the hard way when he tells the cashier at the kibbeh place he frequents that he likes her decade.

reading. reading is what helps him get over that.

(he probably should touch on basic grammar first — nouns, verbs, particles, sentence structure, that sort of stuff — but figures he'll pick it up as he goes, basing his methodology on an inability to remember any rules for the english language. he grew up hearing it, reading it, watching it, surrounded by it, so it just is what it is now. why work so hard on task books made for kids, then, when he can just get right into the meat of the matter? acclimatise through force.)

he picks up stacks of books upon books upon poetry. naguib mahfouz. ghada al-samman. al-mutanabbi. mahmoud darwish. it takes him a month to get through the first, and another month for the second. which only means he really takes his time with them, roving over the same line until it's etched into his memory. the cadence, the beats for pause, the way a word he has to punch from his throat is followed by one that lilts, all sing-songy. eventually, he starts to (inadvertently) mimic that sweeping manner of speech, employing it in contexts which certainly don't call for it.

the cashier — the very same one whose age he mistakenly stressed, despite the fact that she couldn't have been much younger than him — is far too nice to say anything about it, smiling instead, endeared, while he waxes poetic about meze.

farah calls him out immediately the next time they catch up.

apparently, no one speaks in classical arabic anymore, go figure. it would be like talking in shakespearean english, she tells him. he imagines it, iambic pentameter and all, and cringes, newly determined. his own research unearths (though it wasn't really a secret) the fact that there are roughly 25 different dialects belonging to different regions — and while some are pretty similar (syrian and lebanese), others could classify as a whole other language on their own (moroccan).

reddit tells him what he already knows; that the best way to learn is through exposure. there are no dictionaries for patois. and farah, despite her total enthusiasm at his interest, is far too busy of a woman to help.

(really, it just gives him an excuse to finally do what he's been meaning to.)

the next time he's craving kibbeh, he's fixed on not making a fool of himself when he asks the cashier out to lunch.

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

[exhuastedpigeon]

Maybe I relate a little too much to Eddie because I'm also an eldest child in a Catholic family who was forced to grow up too quickly because my dad traveled 2-3 nights a week for work from the time I was 9 until, well he still does, but my god Eddie Diaz is my favourite guy.

He tried to drive his mom to the hospital when she went into labour because he was supposed to take care of her while she was nine months pregnant and his dad was out of town but he crashed the truck! They told it like a funny family story and Helena passive aggressively teased him by saying 'I thought he'd call someone not try to drive me himself!' as if they haven't been asking him to "drive" already. His parents had already put so much responsibility on him and so many expectations that his first thought wasn't to call for help, it was to do it himself. Because asking for help made him "weak". Because he needed to "be a man".

He got his first girlfriend pregnant and did what his parents wanted him to - he married her and he provided for her and his son. He just did it by following in his dad's footsteps and did that by running away. And then they threw it in his face and said Chris should stay with them because he needs stability and he barely knew Eddie because Eddie worked so much. Helena never would have said that to or about Ramon, but she said it about the son she turned into a mini parent to help her while she was raising her kids even though he was one of those kids.

His wife died and they tried to use that against him to make him move back to Texas even though he had put down roots in California. He built a good life for himself and his son without any of their help and because it wasn't the life they wanted for them, it wasn't the right life.

The second they had the chance to have Chris come stay with them they jumped at it. They will always view Eddie as the 10 year old boy who crashed the truck and not as the man he's grown into. He's learned how to ask for help and has built a family who offers help freely, without strings or guilt attached to it, but to him he's 10 years old and he's making a mess of things.

Ten years old is still a child. It's years away from being a legal adult. It's supposed to be an age where you make mistakes and learn who you are while having the safety net of your parents to help pick you up when you fall.

He was ten years old and he crashed a truck and they tease him about it still because they genuinely don't realize what growing up the way he did did to him. They (mostly Helena at this point) don't understand how they contributed to Eddie's pain. They don't see any of it because to them it wasn't important, they barely remember it. But he does. He remembers all of it.

"The axe forgets; the tree remembers"

[yannaryartside]

I am tired of Sydney being a “knight in shining armor” for these immature men

The trailer of s3 made me reflect on a big problem with the show for me so far. The use of Sydney on the plot overall and in the character arcs of men. This is a rant, if you happen to be on the side of the fandom that think these men are perfect and Syd is valued as their support, feel free to scroll.

Part 1: the woman

Sydney Adamu is insecure on her leader/social skills and her creative habilities. That, and her kindness, is what makes the audience root for her. She is releatable but most important she is real, she has taken it impulse by impulse, creating on the fly ways to succeed in a industry not very welcoming to people with her personality (or that look like her). All of that makes sense in a story of an underdog.

But yet, the show has normalized at this point how much shit she takes from a group of really emotionally immature people. And how much they expect her to figure it out answers to the problems that they themselves cause.

Thinking about it like an animal getting into a new pack without the capacity to defend herself from any attack. The shitshow she tolerated in s1 has never been properly addressed and it seems like the worst storm is yet to come in s3. She fixed the logistics of the beef and implemented a hierarchy. Things that Carmy was incapable of doing due to his story with the staff and his own mental turmoil. In s2, she was the only professional chef actively making decisions and efforts in the future of the restaurant. Carmy even reprimanded her for not making the decisions he was supposed to do. And she reminded him “you wanted the final say, this is on you)

Syd is not helpless in any way, but she has applied kindness and fairness most of the time to this point, and I wonder if this time that is gonna cut it. I am mostly tired to get her back to that scenario again. If anything, the part that got me the most excited of Richie’s redemption is how she could actually rely on him. And then it came the trailer.

Part 2: the men

The part that got my blood boiling in the trailer is the response “Show me a functional one” from Richie and Carmy.

We are in season 3, and with all the growth and all those balls, these men seem to expect her to fix an issue, wich core is actually their own emotional immaturity. I am sick of it. “Mother, maid, therapist”🎶

She must deal with Carmy’s recklessness and the fight between him and Richie. A very green new staff and a unqualified old staff mostly. All of that creates the dysfunctionality in question, and I wonder where her character will go to resolve it. The restaurant had a shaky base (particularly on front house staff and line cooks) and now Carmy is getting on everyone’s nerves. Putting fire to an already unstable chemical.

Part 3: Heroine’s Journey

It would take a pro to resolve all of this shit, and the people involved (and responsible for the problem) turn to this young, inexperienced woman for guidance and answers because the only person in the kitchen with actual industry experience is trapped in his own destroying tendencies.

That is not only the underdog story that is human vs forces of nature, another common plot structure. Forces of nature incarnated in unstable men and our hero is a woman. That is so fucked up and yet so real. That is the value I give to this scenario.

I really don't think that, besides Tina and Nat, there is a single member if that kitchen aware of how much Syd was alone last season picking Carmy’s slack. And even they were barely able to help her. Everybody else was to happy for Carmy loosing his virginity apparently. All this scenario could very well repeat itself this season on how much they are insisting on Claire and Carmy getting back together.

I know the show is about leaving toxic cycles and the people who can help you get better. Sydney is supposed to be made from a different matter than the Bearzattos because otherwise, the toxicity will continue. I just wish she could coldly let them know how much of a pest they can be sometimes. And not be treated as unfair because she left her “role” in creating a new system. Anger is boundarie setting emotion and it can be very constructive, and expressed without the chaos of the Bearzattos. She did this in s1 and if done again I think this time the general audience (except the racist/misogynistic obviously) will understand that this tough love is necessary as well.

Let's not normalize (in this show) women taking shit to be good women and a reward for seeing the potential of men. It is not like society is not doing that for us already.

Sydney is not a punching bag, and she knows it, she definitely will stand her ground this season, wich can be very encouraging to young woman entering a workforce that is not designed to support them. I think she will go to Ember to work closely with Chef Terry (Olivia Coleman) to get knowledge of how women can shape this toxic places. It will be her version of forks. The toxicity may escalate to a turning point for her. She tolerated (and transformed) s1 and s2, we know what is in her heart. The point will definitely come, because this is the time for evolving or dying, for everyone.

But again, I need these men (besides you, Marcus, you are going to be her rock) to start taking responsibility for the shit they are fucking up. That would be nice. I am sure there will be moments of it since this growth is literally the show's theme. I am just kind of tired of the “Mother, maid, therapist🎶” undertone of it all. It could be applied to Nat and Tina as well.

[broodwolf221]

timeline: post Regrets questline

Mythal & Solas: No Gods, No Monsters; No Good, No Evil

Just started Act 3. As of this point, I certainly do not see Solas as evil, but I also don't see Mythal as evil. But before I dig into my reasoning for that, I need to touch on my theories around spirits(/demons).

In-game, the delineation between spirits and demons is strict, and begun by a member of the Chantry. In truth, I think the line is much fuzzier, and that the implied safe vs. dangerous discrepency is false. Or rather, I think it's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, but not one that reflects on the inherent, intrinsic, and unalienable nature of spirits(/demons).

Wisdom is a spirit. Perceived as a positive force. Yet, the pursuit of wisdom can make one callous, disrespectful, demanding, obsessive... at the same time, it can make one balanced, responsible, considerate. Thus, Wisdom is not a positive or a negative force. But the nature of spirits is such that they pick up on how people interpret them, and are more often perceived as gentle beings.

In a similar vein, Rage, perceived as a negative/threatening demon, is simply an emotion. Rage can be fury at injustice, a driving force, an energy; it can also be widely destructive, careless, impulsive.

All this to say: Wisdom is not Purely Good, and Pride is not Purely Evil; Benevolence is not Purely Good, and Retribution (iirc) is not Purely Evil.

With that in mind...

We see that Mythal (Benevolence) asks that Solas (Wisdom) leave the Fade and join her. He protests, but ultimately concedes. To me, this is a choice. There's no coercion or force, simply that he is willing to follow Mythal, even to do things he does not agree with. She was the one asking, but he was the one who said yes.

Mythal wants help to control Elgar'nan (I have theories about what his Aspects are, but that's another post). This is why she turns to Solas, someone she trusts, and someone who specifically embodies wisdom. On top of the trust, it is logical to recruit Wisdom, because she needs his, well, wisdom. But the problem with wisdom - especially with Solas' wisdom - is that it has always been at a remove. It is an academic wisdom, that of a distant observer. Even when he is inexorably involved, he does not understand how to sway the Evanuris, he cannot fulfill what Mythal would have him do.

The longer all the Evanuris are existing in physical bodies outside of the Fade, the more they change. Elgar'nan, whatever he might have been originally, becomes tyrannical, obsessed not just with receiving worship, but with receiving love. Being a respected general was not enough for him. Being a god-king was not enough. He always needed more.

Mythal, as Benevolence, sought to protect her people. That was the role she had taken on, the reason she had taken flesh in the first place, a means of cooling Elgar'nan's temper. But the longer she is in court, the more politicized she becomes, the more cunning, and with what is required and expected of her constantly shifting, the more she begins to feel that the worship might be right. Elgar'nan desires control and love; Mythal, in contrast, believes that the Elvhen need guidance. Where Elgar'nan's rule is rooted in tyranny and self-fulfillment, Mythal's is rooted in a firm maternalism.

Solas protests as Wisdom would. Is their power and respect not enough? How dare they work for the Elvhen only to turn around and rule them? But by this point, both Elgar'nan and Mythal were committed to their course... just as Solas was to his.

So, Solas becomes Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf.

Cunning, manipulative, a warrior and a general.

Mythal's corruption was absolute power corrupting absolutely, coupled with her need to continue being an Evanuris, since she was the only truly stabilizing force (presumably).

Solas' corruption was the ends justifying the means, because they had to, because he had no option but to use every possible method at his disposal. You do not win against would-be gods by playing by the rules.

To me, they mirror each other. Were their positions reversed - were it Wisdom who stood beside Elgar'nan, were it Benevolence who begged them to lay down their godhood - I think it might have gone similarly. At the core, they are very similar spirits, very similar people. But the specifics of their circumstances shaped them, changed them... and given their nature, that change spiraled into centuries, reaffirming itself and branching off.

So this whole essay is just to say... I don't think Mythal is the evil villain any more than Solas is. I think they are both deeply flawed people, whose circumstances have led to a narrowing of their perspective and an insistence that their respective courses were the right ones.

And of course, "beginning with good intentions" does not mean someone cannot become a villain... I just think that's not really what either of them are. Because, for all her flaws, Mythal tried until the very end. And then past that end. She kept trying. Yes, her focus was limited; yes, she did horrible things to the Titans (things I still don't have full context for, and maybe nobody does, but things that are very, very hard to consider ever being justified. But it is possible to consider that it might feel necessary.)

But it's also worth noting that, whatever she did in the past, Mythal - specifically Flemythal - tried to convince Solas to accept modern elves in the present. Which was not something I expected. But her time in the world has changed her; I imagine her joining with a mortal woman has also changed her. So Mythal, for all her past mistakes, was really on team Inquisition and Veilguard in the end. Trying to preserve the current world, rather than permit Solas to change - to restore - the world to what it had once been, what he destroyed in his genuine attempt to seal away the Evanuris before they destroyed everything.

But for Wisdom, for Pride, to tolerate having caused exactly what he was working to prevent... it's no wonder that Solas is so incredibly dedicated to repairing this, to alleviating this particular regret, out of all his many, many regrets. The world changed because of what he did. So many died. It was not the destruction the Evanuris sought to wreak, but could it truly appear any better when you wake up countless years later to a world that feels like a pale imitation of what it once was, and know that you're the cause?

Wisdom is an academic. Lonely, isolated, insular. Theoretical and abstract. Pride is a force, a momentum, an energy and drive and conviction. Together, in one person, driven by the deepest sorrows and regrets, his history lined with horrible actions to prevent worse actions, only to get still worse actions as a response...

Solas wanted to alleviate suffering. Mythal did, too. But the situation was such that neither of them could do so without getting dirty.

[theealluringstoryteller]

Against the world around us

chapter 3

The rewrite

Water trickled down the smooth soft curves as Omorose stood up from the lukewarm water. She had hoped that the hot bath would ease her mind before she had to make her way to the ceremony where she would meet her potential husband. A total stranger she had to decide if she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Left to her own devices the relaxing water didn’t stand a chance against the moment that awaited her. A moment she had to bare alone. Aurelia had left to the Empire due to some important issues but apologized before she had left and Omorose’s loved ones wouldn’t be in attendance. She couldn’t gather enough courage to send word that she had agreed to an arranged marriage to a stranger. The tongue lashing she would’ve received from Nina alone made her fear the idea.

A soft knock brought the Baroness out of her thoughts. Quickly she stepped out of the tub, water pooling at her feet as she reaches for her plush bath robe.

“Baroness!” A voice called from behind her door.

“Just a moment!” She huffed out tying the soft material to her body.

Soon the door opened revealing a middle aged woman that held an arm full of fabrics.

“King Rhett sent me! He wanted you to be dressed in traditional Intacian clothes for the ceremony.”

Allowing the woman into her room the Baroness pointed a manicured finger to the gown that laid out on her bed.

“I already have my gown picked out.” Omorose states closing her bedroom door.

The older woman studied the gown picked out by the Baroness. It was floor length, made of expensive silk in the color of white, the dress featuring a silver beaded sleeveless corset top with the beading trailing down to the rest of the gown and gleamed under the soft light.

“It’s a beautiful gown your Grace, but, king Rhett-”

“I’ve already decided! He’s picked out everything else. Let me have this.”

Twisting her lips shut the handmaiden set the contents in her arms onto the foot of the bed.

“Fair enough but, the veil is required.”

She informs the Baroness picking the thick material from the pile of other fabrics. Seeing the veil Omorose mentally groan but,kept quiet out of respect.

“You’re expected down there in an hour or so and you can’t be late.” The handmaiden stated leading Omorose to her vanity “And you’re nowhere near ready!” She added forcing the young woman down into the seat.

“This hair will take up majority of our time!” The handmaiden fussed gathering all of Omorose’s luscious curls into a make shift ponytail.

“Ever thought about straightening it. would save you tons of time!” She went on to say starring at the heap of hair in annoyance.

The Baroness loathed the idea of ruining her curls for a straighter look. The smell alone made her sick to her stomach! The thought brought back the memories of her being forced into the chair of the long time employed hair dresser who took their time parting sections into her hair and going over each with a hot metal comb. Her mother smiling in the corner making backhanded compliments.

“I prefer my hair in its natural state.”

“Really? It’s quite unruly.”

“Despite what you think I believe it adds to my beauty.”

Frowning the handmaiden watched the Baroness easily tame her hair. Her comb gliding through thanks to the method of wetting and moisturizing her strands and combing from the ends to the roots. It took less than what the handmaiden believed it was going to take.

“Perfect!” Omorose smiled applying a cream that rejuvenated her curls.

“Well at least allow me to do your face! King Rhett didn’t send me here to be a wallflower.” The handmaiden insisted.

“King Rhett! Presenting first army commander Castin Hammer!” Was announced silencing the whole room.

Shamelessly Omorose, stared at the tall dark haired man, who wore a cocky smile on his handsome face. His bright blue eyes were filled with a light mischievous gleam. Castin stood tall a few inches off from king Rhett it was more built from the constant work of being a commander.

Heart racing as he peered down at her with such a characteristic look. She nearly developed a childish crush on him right then and there. She could tell he was a charmer but his down fall was quickly revealed to be his cockiness.

That was the only thing that could explain why Castin felt bold enough to gift the Baroness such a skimpy gift during their first real meeting and in front of so many witnesses.

After the removal of her veil, the gasped of shock confirming that Rhett made the right decision when it came to the bride, Rhett thought the Ceremony would go smoothly. Castin would make his proposal, offer his gift and the Baroness would accept leading to everyone celebrating the official engagement between two people and two nations. It quickly soured with Castin’s boyish behavior and Omorose’s reaction to it all.

Omorose’s heart went from racing to a complete stop hearing the humiliating sound of laughter. She couldn’t hear anything other than the laughter. It made her eyes sting and a limp form in her throat she couldn’t swallow. The movement of Castin’s lips explaining his crude gift was clear as day and slowly turnt her humiliation into rage. Her hand flew up making contact with his face. The harsh slap jerked Castin’s head to the side leaving him shocked.

Cursing under his breath Rhett took a hold of the situation hushing Castin while trying to calm the Baroness down. The night ending with Rhett watching Omorose angrily leaning after their short discussion where he got her to see a bit of reason as to not back out of the arranged marriage idea.

“I need this delivered before the early morning.” Omorose demanded pushing the envelope into the royal carrier’s hands. Her voice horsed and her eyes red and puffy. The carrier looked concerned. It was four hours after the sunset there was no way it would be delivered on time.

“I’m sorry your Grace-”

“You don’t understand! Either this letter gets to the Fentress estate by morning or I’m leaving here tonight and arriving there by morning. Take it up with you king.” She tells the carrier not sparing them a chance to get another word in as she turned away determined to get back to the confinement of her room.

By midnight a knock sounded on her door this time King Rhett’s voice was heard.

“The letter was sent by air. It should get to your estate before the sun rises.”

Omorose relaxed a bit hearing that and began resting her tired eyes still wet with tears but Rhett continued.

“Baroness, I would like to invite you to breakfast so we can further discuss the arranged marriage.”

“I’ve already made up my mind! Pick another suitor or find another Imperial who is actually willing to put up with that sleazy dog you call a friend!” Omorose spat then whispered “which would be impossible. We were all raised with self respect” under her breath.

“Please, I know Castin made a horrible first impression but he is still the best choice-”

“That’s insulting to the rest of the Intacian men, no?”

“He’s a good man!”

“Foolishness! Who am I? Savannah?”

Confused as to who Savannah was Rhett chose to ignore that and continue with his pleading.

“I understand your frustration but, please Omorose hear me out over breakfast tomorrow.”

Closing her eyes Omorose sucked in a breath before releasing it in an attempt to calm herself

“I refuse to be made a fool of twice-”

“It won’t happen again! I swear on my life.”

Giving in Omorose reached for her pillow covering her face to middle her scream as she cursed herself for doing so.

“Fine… but, if I regret this there will be things far worse than hell you’ll have to deal with.”

Since the moment Amara gave the last push, heard the first cry of her baby and turned from it Nina stepped up. Still covered in blood and other fluids Amara took the tiny bundle away to care for her. Taking the role of mother without the title. Constantly having to hold her tongue when Kendrick and Amara made decisions she didn’t agree with for the young girl cause they were her actual parents and Nina was just a servant who took care of the actual tasks of a parent.

Nursing, nurturing, cleaning, comforting, dressing,protecting, speaking life into their Omorose. She was far more a mother than the woman that bore the child. Far more of a father that impregnated the woman that bore the child. Despite the social norms and what society thinks Omorose was Nina’s daughter in Nina’s eyes. She knew that girl like the back of her hand. There was no secrets of Omorose’s that Nina wouldn’t keep, no fears she wouldn’t ease out of the Young Baroness’s mind. They were tied in a bond meant for mothers and their daughters. A sacred connection that didn’t have to develop over nine months with an umbilical cord attaching them together.

So when Nina got the letter in the late night she was on an Air ship moments later heading to Intacia.

Her mind racing with different thoughts.

‘Now she wants me there, foolish girl.’

‘why did she even agree?! Foolishness! She was taught better! And this pig headed idiot! Lingerie? Was he raised in a brothel! Who convinced this man that lingerie was a good gift for a first meeting! A whore would’ve been over the moon perhaps but someone like Omorose!’ Nina sucked her teeth glaring a hole into the wall in front of her. She couldn’t wait to set that boy right. Clearly he needed to be set right and so did Omorose.

“The Baroness is expecting you later in the day-”

“Take me to her now!”

“I can’t do that! She’s in a meeting with Commander Castin at the request of King Rhett.”

Nina’s eyes felt like it lit a hungry flame on the Palace servant’s skin. “Oh another meeting with the philandering Commander so he can offer her something more crude? When will the line be drawn?” Nina questions “After he gifts her with a replica of his cock? A useless little paper weight that would be.”

“The king gave strict instructions-”

“Your king clearly lacks intelligence!”

“There’s no need for disrespect-”

“Oh what gotten enough of it last night at the expense of the Baroness?” Nina hissed rolling her eyes. “Take me to her now or I swear by the Goddess-”

“Nina I assume?” Rhett cuts in finding his way into the grand foray when another servant went to get him.

“Omorose? Where is she?”

Rhett nodded sensing the no nonsense attitude the woman held.

“The Baroness agreed to try and get to know Castin alone-”

“You left my Rosie, in a room with a rabid horndog?”

“He won’t do anything unless she asks for it? Castin may be many things but he is not the type to hurt women in that nature.” Rhett assured.

Nina let out a humorless laugh as she walked towards Rhett.

“Take me to her now! Or I will turn this palace upside down!” She threatens throwing in a few Intacian curses for added measure.

Taken aback Rhett raised an eyebrow “you’re Intacian?”

“And proud!”

“And you’re still serving the Baroness?”

“Serving?” Nina spat feeling insulted.

“I never served Omorose! I raised her.”

Rhett couldn’t believe his ears “Did you say raise?” He asked not believing it. An Imperial raised by an Intacian.

“Since her mother gave birth I’ve raised her! Since she was mere seconds old!”

“This might change everything-”

“King Rhett…it sounds like Commander Castin has upset the Baroness once again.” A servant announces waiting for the King to following him up to the room where he left the two.

“Damn it Castin!” Rhett huffed turning his full attention on getting to that room before anything worse could happen. Nina followed closed behind eager to see Omorose and talk some sense into her.

Opening the door Rhett took note of the Baroness pissed expression as she stood from her chair while Castin still sat in his nonchalantly.

Rhett tried to get a sense of what made the Baroness so angry while apologizing profusely to the young woman.

“I’ll accept the proposal!” Omorose announced refusing to look in Castin’s direction. Her announcement shocking everyone.

“Finally.” Castin sighed rolling his eyes causing Rhett to glare at him fiercely. “You’ll marry him?”

“Only for the sake of the kingdoms. This marriage will hold no other purpose besides that.”

Dumbfounded Rhett spilled words trying to get the Baroness to list to him but his voice fell on deaf ears.

Nina quickly followed Omorose her fingers reaching out to harshly pinch her side like a mother would do to her misbehaving child.

“Ow! Nina! Stop!” Cried Omorose as they turned a corner.

“Marriage! Rosie? You agreed to marry that… that” she trailed off trying to think of an insult.

“For the kingdoms Nina! To unify the kingdoms.” Omorose pouted rubbing a smoothing circle where she was pinched.

“I didn’t ask you here to scowl me for agreeing to marry that bastard! I asked you to be here because going through it alone was too much to bare last night and I can’t bare to continue without you.”

The scowl expression melted from Nina’s face as she pulled Omorose into a hug. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to right your parents wrong Rosie! I know that’s the only reason why you agreed.”

“If not me then who?” Asked Omorose peering at Nina’s now soft expression.

“Anyone but you! You deserve more than a man that gifts you lingerie during your first meeting! You deserve a man that will respect you from the beginning.”

“That may be true but setting things right is more important than a fairytale man.”

“I regret teaching you to be selfless. I should’ve let you be influenced by your parents selfishness instead.”

Laughing Omorose rolled her eyes before looping her arm around Nina’s.

“We have much to catch on.” She tells her mother figure as she lead her through the halls to her room.

[sunwarmed-ash]

Fucking friday- fic preview 2

@sweeteatercat asked for what I had so here's yet another DBH one-shot I'm working on

complicated hankconvin, angst and draaaaaamaaa

A lot can change in a near decade. 

Androids, for instance. They went from cell phones to sentient beings with rights in half that time. Case and point, the heavy influx of android officers post revolution and the reinstatement of one specific RK800 to the police force. 

Hank Anderson is another example. He has gone from, top of the academy, number one father and husband, to disgraced, angry, grieving father with a disciplinary record as thick as his dick. 

Then there's Gavin. Gavin who’s never been the same since Toni.

The world changed, but he just didn't. Couldn't. He felt halted in place by that one specific, traumatizing moment in time. His skin sure didn't forget the event, how could he expect his mind to?

Now, It's 2040. The Robot Revolution that started in Detroit and shook the world has started to balance back out. Things are different, some good, some bad. And that includes life at the DPD. 

In terms of androids and Hank, they are great. Too phcking great for Gavin’s preference. The star pupil and mentor duo are all just about married at this phcking point. The plastic replacement is even living with Hank and Sumo. Where Gavin wants to be. And it hurts so bad that Gavin has missed every one of his chances with Hank. 

Connor makes Hank laugh at something, so loud Gavin can hear it all the way across the bullpen. It fills Gavin’s throat with bile spurred on by his irrevocable jealousy. Connor wasn't even human, and yet Hank has gone from Connor’s biggest threat to his biggest obsessor.

So much for still blaming them for killing Cole… 

Gavin’s gotta get out of here. He can't watch them anymore. He needs air. 

“Going to smoke,” he says to Tina who barely even acknowledges him, nose deep in her phone swiping through Tinder. Gavin wishes he could trust casual sex enough to use the app. But not after Toni, Jason, and Eric. 

Never again. 

-

His hands are shaking so hard he drops his lighter three times onto the half frozen surface of the smokers patio. He phcking hates today. Hates Anderson. Hates his plastic replacement. Hates that he will never be good enough for anybody again… Hates that he’s so ruined.

He’s three pulls into his third cigarette when his fist comes in contact with the bricked pillar. Pain shoots through his split knuckles and radiates up his dominant arm into his shoulder. It still doesn't hurt as much as being alone does. Having nothing and no one. He’s old (37), he's damaged, (seuxally truamatized beyond repair), no one wants him (why would they?) Not in the way he wants them. Ever.

All that’s left for him is a lifetime on this endless, repetitive cycle. Forever. 

Something drops and splashes behind him. It takes him a moment to check back in and realize who and what it was. 

The what, was coffee. Rapidly cooling and soaking into the bottom of his pant leg. 

The who was Connor, Anderson’s new phcking soulmate, who stands there with his dumb mouth open wide enough to catch flies. His eyes are on Gavin’s hand, which now that Gavin looks at it he can see it’s bleeding. Alot. 

The overwhelming feeling of being caught sends Gavin’s defenses reeling.

“PHCKING WHAT?”

Gavin watches as Connor shows fear for the first time ever. Good. leave me the phck alone. 

“I-I…” Connor said, looking at the empty styrofoam cup and reaching to pick it up. He doesn't look at Gavin’s hand again, but he finds Gavin’s eyes and that's worse. “Detective…”

“The phck are you doing out here Connor?”

His LED flashes yellow.

“I...I was bringing you a coffee.”

Gavin scoffs. Yeah fucking right. 

“Why?”

“A peace offering.”

A peace offering?!

“For what? Am I not leaving you alone enough?"

“Yes. Well, I suppose that's the root of the problem. I don't, want you to ignore me.”

Was Connor joking? Did Gavin fall and hit his head? 

“You want me to go back to picking on you?”

“No. I just- a fresh start? For the both of us. Maybe? We are coworkers now and I think it-”

Gavin’s disbelieving scoff is mean. 

“No thanks. I’m not really looking for any friends.”

Connor looks genuinely upset by the rejection and Gavin doesn't know what the phck he exspects. What the hell would they even have in common? Except for a hard on for Hank. 

“Very well. Can I get you something for your hand Detective? It's still bleeding.”

“Get the phck out of here Connor.”

-

When Gavin comes back from the bathroom he can feel Connor’s eyes on him. He ignores him. He doesn't understand why the android suddenly cares. No one has cared about or even paid attention to Gavin Reed in a very long time. 

-

“Hank I have to tell you something.”

Connors' tone has Hank's eyes widening in fear.

“Oh, okay shit, is everything alright?”

Connor's LED flicks between red and yellow.

“I- don't know. I think I witnessed something I feel compelled to report. But I’m worried about betraying this person's confidence.”

“Uh, okay, well, um, is someone else’s life in danger because of this… event?”

“No.”

“Is this person a danger to themselves?”

“The potential for that… is high.”

“Shit… It's someone here?”

“...Yes.”

“Do I know them?”

Connor laughs ironically.  

“Yes.”

Hank’s quiet for a moment and then, 

“...Shit.” 

Connor’s LED is a steady pulsing red.

when Hank’s trained detective eyes land on Gavin who had just sat back down from the bathroom, Hank stands and sighs.

“I’ll handle it.” Hank promises.

[graylinesspam]

Been thinking about Ahsoka trying not to look injured. She's a soldier she knows better than to show weakness in front of an enemy. Or a subordinate.

Their transport was shot down fifteen miles from extract. She drags herself from the smoking heap of twisted metal on her elbows. A trail of blood following her slow drag forward.

The wound is nasty. The whole outer side of her thigh is crisscrossed in slashes. The muscle torn through by the twisted metal and jagged rocks. With shaking hands she picks away at the pebbles embedded in her flesh. Her mouth stretched open in a snarling hiss at the pain.

She tears away what's left of the left leg of her leggings and shoves her gauntlet in her mouth to bite down on while she secures the makeshift bandage over her leaking wound.

There are others awake now. Dragging themselves from the wreckage and she panics. She cannot lead in her condition. They will carry her through the jungle. And they will all die. Because if Ahsoka stops moving, even for a moment, she will pass out. And she is the only one with the force awareness to lead them through the minefield between here and the evac point.

She wrenches herself to her feet and tries to take stock of her surroundings. On a rock only two feet from her a loose kama is wedged under a rock. The lost armour of an unlucky arc trooper.

She snatches the fabric up and secures the strap high around her waist. Its a long piece of stiff thick fabric. Warm, blast resistant, and fire proof. Its made to fall just below a trooper's knee. But even secured around her waist it falls to her calf.

It hides her wounds well.

As her boots crush through the charred rubble the other troops fall in around her.

"How are you Commander?" yak asks. He's a Seargent in Carnivore company. Experienced enough but still not entirely familiar with Ahsoka. These troops are not her closest brothers. And right now that will serve her.

Because this isn't the time for her to be a sister. This is the time for her to be a Commander.

"listen up men. We have half a day to make it to evac. That's ten miles of uncharted separatist controlled territory. There will be droid patrols and there will be a mine field between us and the flat lands. We have thirty minutes tops before someone comes to investigate this crash.

I want you to gather what gear we need. No more that two spare ammo canisters a person. Enough rations for yourself for the next 20 hours. Do not overload yourselves.

Now go."

The three remaining men rush back to the rubble to dig out the medkit a d whatever else they might need. Several take the opportunity to patch up their own wounds and relieve themselves in the surrounding trees before they regroup with Ahsoka.

They move out with ten minutes to spare.

The jungle, if thats what this biome is called, is significantly more dry than Ahsoka expects for such lush and wet greenery. Something about deep root systems and underground springs. She probably should have paid more attention to the breifing.

The ground is hard and dry under her boots. She marches forward with purpose. Her gait is a standard precise series of movements. The kind of perfect pace you might see in a training holo. But her muscles scream at her with every jostling step. Shreiking for relief.

Several times they stop to drink from the wet flat leaves they break off of the plants around them. But their pauses are brief. The droid patrols are tight. And they have to keep moving to stay ahead of their range.

Ahsoka maintains her demeanor. She is the commander now. Nothing else. She does not slouch. She does not twitch. She does not grimace. She keeps her face passive. Her posture is rigidly regulation. Shoulders squared, feet apart. She does not lock her knees.

She rarely speaks, instead relying on hand signals to direct her men around the enemie's movements. But when she does speak, her tone is hard and authoritative. Something she learned watching Cody direct his men.

By the time they've hiked five miles through the bush and the trees part for a wide field of tall feather grass swaying in the breeze, Ahsoka has already bled through her makeshift bandages. The tips of her montrals and fingers have started to go cold from blood loss and her sock grows wet and sticky with blood.

But that deceptively peaceful field is the minefeild they've been waiting for. A hundred seperatist charges are scattered under the dirt.

She turns to the men. "I want you to stay with me. Tight on my six. We make it through this field together. Follow my steps. Do not stray. Do not take a step, do not breathe without my permission. Is that clear?

Three visors nod at her. Not a moment of hesitation to the movement. They trust her implicitly. She is the only one that can get them through this.

They form a single file line. Close enough that Ahsoka can feel Yak's body heat pressing into her back.

She studies the edge of the field before she finds the path of least resistance. A place in the force where the danger feels quieter. And she follows the feeling. Every single step is a risk, guided by the force.

The energy it takes to converse so closely with the threads of fate drain her further. Her vision flickers until she decides to close her eyes instead of fighting the dizziness. She walks blindly through the field.

Shuffles is probably a more accurate term, fitting four people through the narrow path of safety is a challenge, but like all of the previous its a challenge that she meets.

It takes them two hours moving in tight zig-zag through the field, inching forward like a bug climbing the grout between bricks.

They make it through to the otherside. Small celibratory shoulder pats are exchanged before they spread out in a more comfortable distance. They take the opportunity to change their bandages and drain the last of their leaf water. And Again Ahsoka stands at attention amongst them. Unwilling to wilt even for a moment.

They set out to March again. Though the trek through the grassland is much easier than climbing over tree roots it is still a hard march. Several times they have to duck down into the grass and lay on their bellies to avoid the scans of passing droid patrols in the distance.

The heat of the kama leaves a sweat ring around her waist. And the constant shifting of it over her wounds makes them more inflamed with every step. But still they push forward.

Five hours it takes to walk ten miles. They're still five short from the neutral zone but her troops are flagging fast. Even the slow trek through the minefeild isn't enough to keep their stamina up in their injured states.

Ahsoka finally takes the time to sneak away and change her field dressing. Real gauze and bandages staunch the bleeding better. Though she considers burning her wounds shut for a few nerve-racking minutes. She decides against it. The pain would probably knock her out and she can't afford that yet.

She rallies her troops again. Barking orders for them to get up and get in line. The evac point is just down a hillside. Five miles will feel like three going downhill, she promises them.

No one groans in anything more than pain but she can feel their unwillingness none the less. They might need some rest but Ahsoka doesn't have the time to spare on that right now, she needs to get her troops out of here.

They stumble and fall and curse and groan and complain. But they get to the bottom of the hill. They get out of enemy comm range and Ahsoka can finally activate her tracking beacon.

It takes another twenty minutes for their gunship to arrive. Yak, Sneak, and Burner take turns keeping an eye on their six and laying face down in the grass, trying to catch their breaths. The exhaustion flows off of them in waves. Ahsoka has to focus on blocking it out to keep herself from collapsing.

When the ship finally lands they all limp aboard. But Ahsoka steps up calmly behind them. She could drop the command persona now. But its the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor. So she stands tall and grips the overhead bar on the trip back to the ship.

When the gunship makes it back to the hanger Echo and Kix are waiting with a small team of medics to asses the team on their return. It took longer than predicted. Hours longer and though they aren't surprised they are anxious to find the reason. Rex couldn't make it down but he insisted Echo check on the new Arcs and Ahsoka.

When the gunship doors slide open a battered and bloodied commander steps down her clothes singed and stained. A kama secured over her hip like a real clone commander's.

It's shape is significantly more feminine on her. Hugging her waist and draping over her hip and down her thigh. The slightest of her waist and the curve of her hip accentuated by the silhouette. But it speaks to the same authority that anyone would expect from a commander. A kama is a sign of rank. Those that choose to wear it do so as a reminder to their subordinates that they earned the addition to their armor. A kama commands respect. It announces authority. Echo had trained long and hard to earn the authority that sits around his hips now.

The same authority that Ahsoka uses to quickly direct Cadaver to roll his gurney up to the trooper with the twisted ankle that she helps down from the ship. His brothers limping down behind him.

Her voice rings with a calm urgency that no one disobeys.

Each man is passed to a medic and carted quickly away. Neither of the Arcs made it back. Ahsoka walks deliberately up to Echo and Kix as the others rush by.

"How are your injuries?" Kix says helping her onto the gurney with one hand. Once she's hauled herself on and they are more alone than they were before Ahsoka nearly collapses into the thin bedding of the gurney.

"medium, I think." she hisses through her teeth. Tears break the line of her eyes now. Her demeanor is completely different in the presence of her brothers.

"Hiding anything under your new accessory?" Kix demands in a way that says he already knows the answer.

"mmhm" she wheeze's through the pain.

Echo expertly pulls the kama from her waist exposing the gauze wrapped mess to Kix as Coric pushes the gurney faster towards the medbay. They all have to job along to keep up.

The wound was mostly concealed before but the blood trail from her thigh to her boots and back out of the seams between the leather as it pooled concerns them all greatly.

"I don't know how you were still walking." Kix hisses as he peels the gauze away and reveals the shredded mess of her leg.

Echo's stomach roils at the sight of her ground flesh.

"never stopped" she replies simply. "not for a second."

Kix rolls his eyes. "what, do you want a medal. You could have collapsed."

"but I didn't", Ahsoka stresses. "I never fainted. I walked all the way here and got on the gurney myself. No one had to carry me." she insists.

It seems very important to her that they know that. They she never faltered, not even for a moment.

So when Echo is filing the reports, or relaying the story in the barracks later that night, he makes sure to tell them that.

She looked like a real Al'verde climbing off of that gunship. Like wolffe or Cody or any respected ori'vod. She's grown into the role.

"Too bad she doesn't wear a kama, it looked really good on her." Coric adds from his bunk. A yawn overtaking him the next moment.

Mumbled agreements fill the bunks around him.

[total-drama-brainrot]

I’m curious to see your opinions on the ROTI finale since I think Jo vs Cameron would’ve been a much better set up. They’re still brain versus brawn and Jo’s still highly intelligent so it’d force Cameron to use more of his own brawn. Plus it’d be a good callback to that “you’re crazy if you think you can win total drama without getting physical” line Jo said to Cameron back in ep2.

I can finally answer this anon now!!

I was actually all for the Zoey Cameron Friendship Finale the show kept "teasing", since- as much as I like him as a character- Lightning doesn't really have much... substance? He's a fun comedic relief character, sure, but the audience doesn't really have any reason to root for him; across the series he's been shown to be callous and self-serving, he doesn't really have much character depth, and the only time we ever see him break from the almost plastic façade of Sha-Lightning is when his pops is involved.

Which is a whole different can of worms I'd love to delve into, but I'll probably have to marathon a "Lightning Moments" montage before I can really comment on his relationship with his dad.

But my ideal final two would've been Cameron and Jo, like you said.

Jo's been set up as more of an actual person than Lightning ever was, and she already had a pre-established pseudo rivalry with him before her elimination (which, I get why Lightning suddenly became super hostile towards Cameron for "stealing his win", but it kind of came out of nowhere). I think having a final two who actually respect each other is a lot more fun to watch than Cameron cowering away from Lightning for three-ish episodes before pulling an Iron Man suit out of his ass.

Not that I didn't like Lightning and Cameron's dynamic in the last episodes, though I wish Cameron had more moments where he actually stood up for himself, since that was the whole point of his character arc (which almost seemed to die with Jo's elimination, since he loses a lot of his spine once Lightning's whole animosity arc comes into play).

Cameron was actually my favourite part of the last few episodes. I like the concept behind his character, and I mostly liked how it was executed- barring some character recession in the final two episodes. He's my pathetic bubble son.

As for Zoey... I really didn't care much for her. Not that I dislike her, she's just, uh, sort of there? She spends the majority of the season oblivious to Mike's DID, but as a relatively kind and friendly presence among a cast full of comparatively bad people, which was a nice contrast! She's what I sort of expected Dawn to be, just preppier and with a miscommunication-central romance plot. Plus, her central character focus of making friends is really sweet, even if she does come across as a bit of a pick me.

And then she pulls Commando Zoey out of her ass (which I did initially like, as a 'nice girl finally snaps and goes apeshit' arc- exactly what I wanted for Priya is season two of the reboot) and her whole character does a 180 for two episodes, with the sole purpose of teaching both her and Cameron the Power Of Friendship, only to discard that whole lesson when they don't get the Friendship Finale. I wanted to like Commando Zoey but her behaviour in the Larry episode just kind of left a sour taste in my mouth; it was like the writers couldn't decide if they wanted her new disposition to make her a last minute twist antagonist or not.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Titan Modern AU- Chapter Two

Summary: Meredith takes guard duty as seriously as she does everything else in this job. While giving a warning to an ill-informed youth, Meredith witnesses the shooting of a Torejar police officer. Her Field Medic training kicks in and she rushes over to assist.

Words: 1,712

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes @warriorbookworm, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch, @hippiewrites

Warnings: shooting, blood, guns, violence, gunshot wounds, If I've missed anything please let me know.

Notes: This was a much tougher chapter to write than expected. There's a lot going on, but I've tried to keep everything as consistent as I possibly can. Also, yes, Meredith is using military time, as she rightly would.

Meredith steadfastly ignored the children that were doing everything in their power to try and make her move or speak,

“C’mon Larry, we’re gonna get in trouble.” one of them, a young pre-teen with blonde hair said, just as his companion took another step towards the woman. The taller of the two snorted disdainfully,

“Quit being such a wuss. It’s not like they can actually do anything!” he retorted. Meredith kept her eyes straight ahead, but was making a note of just how close the teenager was getting to her out of the corner of her eye. The teen stepped forward another two paces until he was standing directly next to Meredith, who still didn’t move. At least not until the kid reached out to try and grab her Shanter off her head. She quickly reached out, grabbed his wrist then quickly pushed him against the wall, twisting his hand behind his back,

“Bad move, kid. Lookin’ is fine, touching is a nono.” she stated. She glanced back to see what the blonde-haired kid was doing. He was standing rooted to the spot, face drained of colour. Meredith nodded to him then returned her attention to the teenager that was now struggling against her grip,

“Oi, geroff!” he complained, “So I reached out to touch you, that ain’t illegal!” he protested. Meredith shook her head,

“Actually, son, I think ye’ll find that it is.” she retorted, “Under Fangthane law, it’s illegal to harass an officer of the Stronghold Guardian Corps while they are on duty. Touching any part of the uniform counts, as does blocking their line of sight. I was just bein’ nice earlier.” she told him. The teenager snorted,

“Yeah, well we ain’t in Fangthane are we? This is Toreguarde and this is assault!” he cried. Meredith snorted,

“The Consulate counts as bein’ on Fangthane soil, pal. Now, I’ve every right to read you your rights and arrest you, but I’m feeling generous. I’m happy to let ye go with a warning, provided you don’t do it again.” 

Meredith didn’t get to hear the youth’s reply as a lanky Fangthanian man wearing a rumpled suit rushed past, quickly followed by two Torejar people wearing what seemed to be leather duster jackets atop dark blue uniforms. Probably members of the Toreguarde police force then. The Fangthanian pulled out a gun just as he was about to round a corner, aiming for the woman. Right as he pulled the trigger, the tall, lanky man shoved his partner to the side. Two shots rang out, causing every civvy in the area to scream and run for cover. The man took both shots, one in his shoulder, the other in his leg, and fell to the floor. 

Meredith immediately let go of the youth she had been warning and ran over to the prone officer, right as the other woman picked herself up. A crowd immediately began to form around the group as Meredith pulled the male officer’s coat open to have a look at his shoulder, then glanced down at his leg. Both were bleeding far more than she would have liked. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and looked up at the people milling around her. She pointed to one of them,

“You, call an ambulance!” she snapped, then pointed to another, “You, go in the front door of the Consulate. There’s a first aid kit on the wall on your immediate left. Grab it and bring it back here!” When neither person moved, Meredith growled, “Move it!” she snarled, already moving to place as much pressure on at least one of wounds the man had sustained as possible. 

The two unwitting volunteers nodded, one pulling out a mobile phone, the other dashing off towards the Consulate. Meredith grimaced, realising she didn’t have enough hands to stop the man on the floor in front of her from bleeding out since she couldn’t reach his leg from her current position. She looked up again, noticing that the female officer was hovering uncertainly nearby, her face pale and hand hovering over the holster of her pistol,

“Oi! I need another pair of hands here! You want this man to bleed out or not?” Meredith snapped irritably. 

The dark-skinned woman quickly shoon her head, as though coming out of a daze. She quickly knelt down next to her partner,

“Farren!” she yelped. She looked up at the other woman, “What do you need me to do?” she asked. Meredith gestured to the gunshot wound on the man’s leg,

“Put as much pressure on that as you can manage. With any luck I’ll be getting a hold of that damn first aid kit pretty soon, but I reckon that leg’s gonna need a tourniquet.” she replied. The officer nodded and placed her hands on her fellow officer’s leg. She winced at his hiss,

“Sorry, Farren.” she apologised. She looked over to the woman that was helping them, green eyes meeting blue,

“Thanks, I don’t know what I’d be doing if you weren’t on hand.” she said. Meredith shook her head, concentrating on the task at hand,

“Ye can thank me after we’ve got your pal here stabilised.” she replied. She looked up at the man with the mobile phone she’d directed to call for an ambulance, “How long?” she called. The businessman nodded, looked over to Meredith and placed his hand over the speaker,

“They’ll be here in two minutes.” he called back, quickly returning to the call. The woman that Meredith had told to get the first aid kit pushed through the crowd and handed the box to the Fangthanian woman,

“Here, is he going to be alright?” she asked. Meredith glanced up at her taking the box with one hand and opening it with practised ease,

“Hopefully.” she muttered. She pulled out a pack of gauze and a roll of bandages and quickly began patching the officer’s shoulder up. It wasn’t her best work, but it would have to do. She looked up at the crowd of people again, glancing briefly at the leg, which was still bleeding profusely through his partner’s hands,

“Anyone got a belt they can live withoot?” she called, her accent slipping with her rising anxiety as she felt the man’s breath begin to falter. Another businessman stepped forward, quickly unbuckling and unthreading the belt at his waist,

“I need a new one anyway.” he said, handing the item over. Meredith nodded, taking it. She shifted a little,

“Reckon you can keep some pressure on that shoulder for me while I try to tie this leg off?” she asked. The man nodded and quickly placed his hands on the bandage as Meredith took her hands away. Satisfied that the shoulder was taken care of Meredith shuffled next to the female officer,

“‘Scuse me.” she murmured, trying not to shove the other woman away too much as she manoeuvered into a position that would allow her to tie the belt around her patient’s thigh. The Torejar officer stared at Meredith as she worked. She opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of approaching sirens caused her to look in the direction they were coming from instead. 

The paramedics were quick to take stock of the situation and thanked Meredith for her quick thinking and resourcefulness as they loaded the male officer onto a stretcher. Meredith groaned and dusted off her hands as she pulled herself up again. She looked over to the female officer, who was hovering nearby. She was pale and sweaty and half in shock, Meredith noticed.

“You gonna be alright?” she asked. The Torejar woman nodded, wiping her bloodied hands on the towel one of the paramedics had handed her,

“I will be.” she said. She looked up at Meredith and held out a hand, “Thank you. You’ve saved the life of a good detective.” Meredith shrugged and shook the offered hand,

“I was only doing my duty.” she replied, “Part and parcel of being part of the SGC, Miss..” she trailed off, eyeing the officer expectantly. The Torejar woman coughed im embarassment,

“Oh, yes, sorry. There wasn’t time for introductions earlier. Detective Elowyn O’Toreguarde, Toreguarge Investigative Branch.” she replied, “The man whose life you just saved is Detective Farren Breakwood, my partner.” 

Meredith nodded and snapped off a quick salute,

“Constable Meredith Gruksdottir, Clan Ironforge, of the Fangthane Stronghold Guardian Corps.” she replied. She smirked a little at the slightly confused look that Detective O’Toreguarde was giving her.

“Gruks… dottir?” the detective murmured. The Torejar quickly shook her head and smiled, “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Constable, but I’d best go with my partner and make sure he’s not going to do something stupid when he wakes up. I’ll probably be by in a day or two to get a witness statement, if that’s alright?” she asked. Meredith nodded,

“Of course, Detective. I’m typically on guard duty between the hours of 09:00 and 17:30, with a lunch break from 13:00 to 14:00 hours.” she replied, “You’d be best getting the statement either during my lunch hour or after I clock off for the evening, as I’m not permitted to speak unless necessary during guard duty.”

Elowyn quirked an eyebrow at the reply and nodded again, scribbling a note into her pocketbook,

“Duly noted.” she muttered, “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it then.” she said, quickly bowing her head slightly before dashing off into the back of the ambulance just before the doors were slammed shut and it drove off to the nearest hospital.

Meredith shrugged, looked back to the front entrance of the Consulate and sighed, noticing that the two boys from earlier were long gone. Well, as long as the older one heeded the warning Meredith had been giving him, then there wasn’t anything else for it but to get back to work. She tilted her wrist, checked the time and marched back to her position. She still had another two hours before she could clock off, and it wasn’t like there was anyone else to take over. Maybe she could get away with handwriting a report summary until she could get to a computer to type up a full one?

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

@blupjeansweek May 29th: AU

[remember when I said I'd write the arcade date from Starblaster Lanes?]

“How have I never realized that this place was so close to my job?” Lup asks, following Barry through the front door of the arcade. A rush of air conditioning tumbles over them. It’s dark inside the arcade, the windows treated with a deep tint. The flooring isn’t the garish nightmare carpet Lup was expecting to see in an arcade, rather some dark tiles with faint specks of holographic glitter adorning it. A synthy 80s pop playlist plays quietly, under the sound effects from countless arcade cabinets.

Barry hands the guy by the door some cash and gets a nod in return. “It’s one of those things that either you know someone who goes here all the time and they drag you here, or you just never find out about it. It’s not the flashiest building, you know?”

And it’s true. The facade of the building is a dilapidated looking brick. No large sign like its neighboring businesses, just a peeling decal on the front that lists the hours and the price for an all-day entrance. 

“How’d you find this place, then?” Lup’s astounded at the sheer variety of cabinets. Lots she’s heard of, countless others she never could have even dreamed up. 

Barry moves through the arcade with a confident kind of comfort; he’s in his element and it’s clear to see. “I moved here when I was first starting grad school and I didn’t really have a ton in common with my classmates. They were nice enough in lecture and everything, I just never got around to really getting to know them. So, I took a lot of walks and stumbled into this place by accident, But it was like my paradise, you know?”

Lup stops in front of a game that features what looks like Godzilla, King-Kong, and a werewolf. She nods to Barry. They pick the Godzilla and werewolf, respectively. “I get that. Embarrassing as it is, that’s why Taako and I dig the bowling alley so much. We got into so much shit in middle school that our aunt just started dropping us there with some cash on days she was at work early. And now we work there. And it’s lame, probably, but it was a nice place to lay down some kind of roots.” She grimaces as her character bites into a piece of building that was concealing a toaster and falls down, defeated. 

“It’s not lame! It’s nice, feeling comfortable somewhere.” Not too long after the demise of Lup’s giant lizard, Barry’s werewolf falls victim to a similar fate. They both share a laugh about this and meander to other cabinets, idly playing a few, laughing when they lose. 

Lup eyes the massive mural in the back depicting all manner of pop culture icons, and she and Barry take time pointing out the best ones. Lup’s especially fond of what seems to be Dot Warner, though she appears bereft of her brothers.

At long last, they approach the Space Invaders cabinet. Being his home turf, Lup lets Barry take the first crack at the machine. He racks up quite the respectable score; nothing that takes down his personal best, but something to knock poor old Bob outta seventh spot. 

Lup claps and rubs her hands together like a villainous cartoon spider. "Alrighty, that was a pretty good showing but there's a new sheriff in town." She sidles up to the machine and meditatively hits the new game button.

She dies fairly quickly.

"Yeah, see that's what we in the biz call a trial run," Lup says casually, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. Barry laughs good naturedly. She bounces on her toes a few times before readying herself in front of the machine again.

She does markedly better this time, the trial run seeming to have worked magic. When she exhausts each of her lives, she's delighted to realize she's managed to snag a spot on the board. Near the bottom, but there nonetheless. 

"Just going easy on me, huh?" Barry asks, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Exactly right. Couldn't unleash my full force right here. Then you might get turned to goo and I can't in good conscience subject the employees here to goo cleaning," Lup says seriously. 

"You're just so kind and thoughtful."

"I am. I'm like the Princess Diana of this arcade."

Barry looks at her, bewildered. "I certainly hope you're not," he sputters.

Lup grins. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't bode well for either of us, huh?"

"It wouldn't!" Barry nods toward the tiny snack counter in the back corner, boasting two empty stools and delicious 80s prices. "How about I buy you a soda while we figure out how to muscle our way into the line for the N64 over there?"

"Think you could throw in one of those dubious hot dogs on the rollers?"

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think we can make that work."

Lup grabs his hand as they slowly make their way to the counter.

[calliettes-posts]

I feel like the writes surposely don't want us to pick a side. they want to highlight how anaïs wants to do good for everyone, but is losing herself while doing so. the no make up at home, the drinking with her friends but then no weed, the coming out that quickly for Bobbie... Everyone in the plot is expecting too much from anaïs. My thought is that they writers just want us to root for anaïs and anaïs alone. Because her finding her voice will be the things that changes all her dynamics for the good.

You know what, I like this, Anais needs to step up and start speaking up for herself, and in the end, rather than choosing between Bobbie and her friends, she'll choose herself, and that'll change the dynamic for good, and everyone will learn from it, Bobbie and the friends will learn to stop assuming that Anais is fine with everything just because she never says anything, and Anais will learn not to stay quiet for the sake of peace and stop being a people pleaser

Also, about the dynamic change, since Anais is the unofficial peace keeper of the group, her choosing herself will force the friends to think and be confronted about the times they took her for granted, and for Bobbie, she'll get her wish of Anais standing up for herself and being fierce more, but also be confronted with the fact the she more or less also took her for granted, and admit that she's no better than her friends just she pointed out their hypocrisy, but ignored her own

I just wish the writers would've set it up in a less dramatic way lol

[fantasyinvader]

Looking more at it, Edelgard doing everything simply for power makes everything click more. I mean, the game talks about how people have done shitty things for power and how bad it was. Lying, stealing, killing, all things Nemesis and Edelgard have in common. And the game depicts this as not a path of ascension but rather regression. So it's tying into that while also serving as a basis for all of Edelgard's hypocrisies.

Why does Edelgard concentrate power on herself rather than give it to the masses after all her “fuck the rich” bullshit? Because she was lying to gain more power for herself.

Why was Edelgard okay with sacrificing people and experiments that turn them into monsters despite saying she wants to create a world where that won't happen? Again, lying for power. This includes turning herself into a monster to become more powerful despite her words about how beasts shouldn't rule humanity.

Why does she lie to her own army about Arianrhod despite raising issue over a false history? Power, hat trick.

Creating her own Church? Power, and because the teachings of the CoS tell her that she has to be responsible with her power and use it to protect her people. That's literally what the nobility was founded on, yet she rejects that despite saying she wants to put the world back to how it used to be. She views the idea of a leader sacrificing themselves for their people to be evidence of how twisted the world is, while she has no problem sacrificing others for her ideals.

Even her dismantling the nobility and installing a meritocracy is rooted in this, as she gets to pick who does what rather than filling those positions being outside of her power. Case-in-point Caspar's Japanese endings, where he's the head of the Imperial army but is said that the army is “often out of control.”

People have done shitty things for power, and Edelgard is the shittiest of them all.

But then I think about how Edelgard is portrayed in Azure Gleam, where she undergoes mental regression and is the puppet of Thales. As controversial as this is, I don't think it's out of nowhere. Houses proper said that Edelgard was merely a pawn of TWSITD in Verdant Wind, the route where the game goes into detail about who TWSITD really are. Edelgard had been manipulated by Thales (directly at least) since the experiments, using her father as a tool to do so. It was their narrative that turned a vulnerable Edelgard against the Church and towards the conquest of Fodlan.

Verdant Wind said this, Azure Gleam showed it. And considering how the flow of time is a thing in this game, even referenced in the Japanese name, I just can't help but feel that Edelgard suffers from arrested development. She is still the traumatized kid who was experimented on, saw her siblings die and was gaslit by her father. She will continue down the path her abusers set for her until the very end, and if she wins she turns the tables on them.

But she wants power. Power unrestrained by responsibilities and expectations due to her birth. She wants to be free to do whatever she wants with that power, make others believe what she tells them to, have who she wants perform whatever duties while she takes over not just Fodlan but the lands beyond she can take. Even Brigid's independence is done with her dictating the terms. As ruler she views her country as an extension of herself and is willing to use force to get what she wants says it's for the good of the country. Of Fodlan.

Rule through military force, hadou, which she is also supposed to represent.

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

Lime for the poll runners’ ask game?

Lime -> participant(s) you’re rooting for the most?

i don't want to sway the votes so i won't do any propaganda for them after the poll starts BUT it's Wu Zetian/Li Shimin/Gao Yizhi from Iron Widow i just love the way their relationship develops so much and as someone whos unable to actually pick up a book and focus on it, the fact that i read iron widow in 4 days is amazing im still proud of that as silly as it is

yknow what ill use this as an opportunity to ramble about them askdgakdjk spoilers ahead but ill try to keep the major stuff out

for context the book has pacific rim style mechas, but instead of being drift compatible or whatever its usually a male pilot and his concubine whose life force he usually drains in order to pilot the thing, but theres a LOT of propaganda that makes girls want to be concubines, or families might wanna send their daughters for the money. im simplifying it a LOT especially cause theres more info u only learn later on as zetian herself finds out but anyway

at the start of the book zetian and yizhi are besties who obviously have feelings for each other. zetian is poor while hes very rich so their friendship is kind of a secret and they meet in the woods which i think is cute, point is its p clear zetian tries to mantain a distance, not allowing herself to admit her feelings. for reasons i wont say zetian decided to become a concubine to one of the like bigger more badass guys even if she doesnt believe the propaganda and knows she might die, she only tells yizhi this the day before

he shows up at her house the next day begging her family to let him marry her?????? which is sweet because he wants to protect her but that isnt gonna work bestie sorry she's a woman w a mission

so anyway she goes to the concubine thing and shes surprisingly powerful "for a girl" which yeah thats a super common trope but shes so much more than just the strong protagonist. shes extremely powerful in every sense of the word imo and i love her so much and i wish the world hadnt been so cruel that she had to become so strong. but anyway the guy she wants to pilot w picks her. MAJOR SPOILER they have to pilot the mecha on day 1 cause they're under attack and uhhh she kills him lol lmao she drains her life force instead which supposedly is UNHEARD OF

so they cant just kill her off cause that'd look bad instead they send her to be the concubine of the strongest guy (all of his concubines die after 1 fight) and thats Li Shimin my beloved my little meow meow hes looked down on and kinda treated like an animal cause hes a criminal and the only reason he gets to be a pilot is his powerful qi. anyway shes forced to live w him and turns out hes just a lil guy. like hes very big and scary looking but hes just a tired man pls he needs a break. she fucking survived piloting w him which nobody expected. so now theres a lotta stuff going on i wont get into but some ppl arent happy w this duo cause they're both very powerful and not exactly happy to serve. and Shimin has a drink problem.

IN ENTERS GAO YIZHI hes back babey!!! and he decides to help shimin w his alcoholism. its funny cause when they first meet his crush on li shimin is so fucking obvious zetian is like "huh i always suspected he liked guys too" but li shimin is just pissed cause this is the guy who wants to make him stop drinking

theres like 1 moment of jealousy that i can remember when li shimin realizes zetian and yizhi have a thing going on but its settled very quickly and they all kiss.

back to the drift compatible thing: at one point in the final battle zetian and shimin need more power and yizhi literally lends them his qi (its extremely rare for a third person to help) and its beautiful and they are so in love and i cant wait for the sequel

idk if any of that is coherent i kinda stopped thinking and just typed sorry for rambling on ur ask im just very passionate about them i love them so much i love iron widow so much i love xiran jay zhao so much (the writer) (you might know them from the live action mulan analysis video that went viral back when that movie came out) (check out their yt channel)

[petrichoraline]

I binge-watched this into the dark hours of the night and I had a lot of points I wanted to make but I'll just vent (a bit spoilery)

this show is funnyyy, it had me laughing at points I wasn't supposed to (like when dome would appear standing in the distance out of nowhere like a horror movie character but sweet music played on top) and it also does endearing very, very well.

the main characters' dynamic is interesting. they're a very lowkey couple in a way, domestic and sweet but when the conflict is conflicting the tension is palpable. thorn can be very sassy and petty (kind of despite himself) and fah tends to need direct guidance - their fights remained consistent in nature and the conflict though frustrating made a lot of sense. these are young men with a lot of doubts about their future, their goals and relationships. theyre put in kind of impossible situations and acting out, saying the wrong thing, having trouble with controlling emotions are normal - it's difficult to watch but not because it's nonsense as is the case with a lot of forced conflict in media.

ai and saen had the best only one bed scene I've seen in A WHILE like I couldn't think of a better one, it had beautiful sound design, enough time dedicated to setting the scene and building the tension AND some lovely acting that made the switch in their dynamic so romantic and natural. they also had a cute development, even when softened up ai maintained that sharp tongue and saen kept looking at him with the same adoration and handling his comments with patience (the graduation gift reaction wouldve hurt me but not saen, that man is so used to it 😂)

dome and vee had me going crazy in the first episodes, I really enjoyed the tension but I was rooting for pan the whole time. i was yelling about girls in bls lmao like these dudes had me stressed for a girl I was so sure was gonna be sweet about it AND SHE WAS. at one point I was like "if you grab that empty beer bottle and take revenge I wouldn't be mad tbh", that girl was GRACIOUS. also "I told him that if he found someone he could leave anytime" girlll 😭💗

honestly vee didn't seem too remorseful at the beginning so his guilt really taking over in the second half felt a bit out of nowhere but also right. I think hes usually a playful guy and the consequences didn't really dawn on him at first, not to mention he didn't expect to actually fall in love. dome is a cutie but that man pissed me off, I think the reason he struggled his much being hes now into a guy made the conflict compelling and understandable but it still was so unfair towards his girlfriend, I was screaming BREAK UP on like ep.2 not because I cared about his rs with vee but because he clearly doesn't want to be with her and he should set he free (and ironically it turned out she was the one who tried to give him that type of freedom)

also the hyperventilating scene..I felt that, it was so good.

the colours, cinematography, music choices, humour and drama are really engaging. I started the show a while ago (quite a bit after i had decided to watch it due to good recommendations), stopped for a bit, got to the end of ep.3 and put it on hold for a while because tbh the first episodes weren't too much fun, they had this one single flashback happen like five times in an episode like they were making sure those kids got their exposure 😂 but it really picked up from there, i binged 9 episodes at once, i didn't skip scenes, used the speed up button only once and didn't feel the need to check my phone which is a lot lol

it's fun, it's sweet, there wasn't much basketball after all (which was good for me cause I wasn't in it for the sport, I thought it was a volleyball show 😁) but there was plenty of tenderness, the way characters display affection is so nice and thought out. there's a nice squad, the friendships are not really a main focus? but you can feel the support (glad we got an aii/thorn moment, I was sure those two would get along)

I recommend it even if the first few episodes are a bit on the dull side, what it does well it does really well and it's a worthy watch 💖