#i feel like this is the show’s way of addressing those dangers and concerns but i do hope it’s handle well

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

I really really hope that we’ll actually get to see JJ deal with the deepfake issue and that it won’t get brushed aside or just used to fuel another storyline (e.g. Emily’s/BAU VS Voit).

Yeah same here. I hope they handle this storyline with grace and caution bc it’s such a scary thing that’s already happening in the world today and probably the most disturbing storyline CM has ever done.

But I’m also afraid that some part of the storyline might be linked to Emily’s storyline bc she’s dealing with her leadership failures and her relationships with the team falling apart. I actually was about to make a separate post about this “theory” but I think you gave me a good prompt haha.

So far into the three eps, JJ was the only person in the team that talked highly and positively of Emily as a leader despite everything (other than Penelope but like she’s got her own shit with Tyler lol). And it was before she found out about the website. In the car scene with Luke, JJ talks about how Emily’s “practicing discretion isn’t lying… that’s good leadership.” She could’ve easily said that Luke was simply following orders and not have the whole thing be about Emily’s leadership for a quick second. This would’ve been setting up for how JJ might doubt Emily later on aside from her knowing about the site right now.

But of what we should know about JJ’s storyline now is that there will be some “not so happy agents”, according to AJ, and it deal with “vulnerability… [and] compartmentalizing”, as Aisha and RJ said about JJ’s storyline bc AJ didn’t know how to talk about it while not giving everything away lol.

So far season 17 has been great and got me hooked but I am nervous of how they’ll handle JJ’s storyline bc it’s such a serious matter and shouldn’t be brushed aside so easily. This isn’t her getting injured on the job. This will stick with her for the rest of her life and will resurface whenever, however many times, and in whatever way by whoever many has seen or contributed to the site. That coupled with the fact that JJ’s family won’t be in this season, so she’s really just dealing with the discovery alone :(

[bloop-bl00p]

“Fîls de joie” What Poison could have been.

TW: Mention of Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Rape, Drugs, Addiction, Manipulation, Mention of Fetish and sex in general, mention of Sex works, Raphielle II don’t go harras him and respect his pronouns

I’m trying to be a writer and I understand writing about taboos and controversial things is difficult. I only write about what I know which is the effect of emotional and physical abuse and religious traumas. Notheless if I’m trying to do something out of my domain of expertise I’ll research it to respect the concerned part of the audience.

Vivienne Medrano said that people who’ve been sexually abused helped write episode 4. Part of me wants to believe it, it’s most likely true, it’s the best thing a writer can do, let knowledgeable people help and not just rely on sites about psychology. But, with how rape and assault are presented sometimes it really feels like she’s lying.

Angel Dust is the only character whose abuse is presented as serious.

Stolas kept belittling Bliztø and kept talking dirty even when the Man was in danger

You cannot tell me that he couldn't hear the gunshot through the phone, in this scene, he keeps making his disgusting speech. Blitzø was practically forced to make the deal as he wasn't in a situation where he could process his thoughts clearly since he was trying to survive

And it was a joke.

Angels Dusk kept harassing Husk throughout the series but he never once apologized. Yes, it stopped after Looser Baby but he should have a mindful conversation with Husk and genuinely say sorry about his behavior.

“It starts with sowwy🥺” What’s the point of having this song if the characters don’t follow through with the lesson?

Those scenes were mostly jokes.

And I haven’t mentioned Sir Pentious getting dragged while being drunk in a sex room, or Moxie being kissed by Succubus despite mentioning he didn't want any of that.

AAaaAaaaAh look at these men, being uncomfortable because they are touched and talked down despite verbally addressing their discomfort! That hilarious!

I want to believe she cares, I’m a fan of these shows, I know it doesn't look like it but I’ve been hooked since the Pilots. Not only was I disappointed at the final result but I was also shocked to learn Medrano is simply just an asshole with too much money in her bag.

Poison failed where Fîls de Joie succeeded:

Before reading any of what I wrote you should listen to it, there are English subtitles. And honestly, it's a good song on its own.

What’s the context of Fîls de Joie?

A sex worker died and her son is holding funerals for her. You can guess it with the wordplay in the title, Fille de Joie (Girl of Joy) is one of the many ways to say prostitute in French. Fîls (son) de Joie is a way to say that he’s the son of a sex worker.

While sung by the same man, you can notice that Stromae gives us four POVs in the song, the son in the chorus, a client, the pimp, and a policeman.

Everyone besides the son is a hypocrite and relatively an asshole. But even if those verses are self-centered and a pathetic attempt from these men to bring sympathy to themselves, despite never hearing the story directly from the Woman, you can guess exactly how her life was and you sympathize with her. It tells us a story, her story.

This woman was a good mother, and it shows how much the son insisted on leaving her alone, speaking proudly of her despite acknowledging her flaws, and even repeatedly calling her a hero.

But HEY! (But HEY!) Leave my mom alone Yes I know, she’s not perfect, it’s true She’s a hero (She’s a hero) And I will always speak of her with pride

The client is trying to be excused from his actions by stating he’s lonely and addicted to it.

Being alone is not easy And it’s been years since my last time

The hardest part, well, it’s the first time And now what’s hard is to decide when the last time will be

But he’s also verbally violent even stating that as long as he got the money he could pretty much do everything to her.

Maybe this time around we can do it with me insulting her. Yeah everything is negotiablе in life, if you got the money And after all, I’m probably her best customer

With that alone, you can probably guess that it’s not the only violent client she had but she has to endure it because she needs money. Considering that she has a son it’s probably to support his education or something related to her well-being and his.

Then comes the pimp, he brushed off all of his misdeeds by saying he gives them shelter and food and should be grateful for it.

Why does everyone hate me? I’m the one feeding them Their lives would be way more mediocre. Without me, their lives would be shitty

Not only that but his good actions are not for the sake of it, he should have his part of the deals. He doesn't want them to feel like princesses eventually calling them hookers in a very dehumanizing way.

That has a price, Missy. Well duh, in this life, everything comes at a price. Nobody ever told you? They say I’m guilty of human trafficking But 50, 40, 30 or 20% is not nothing

They better not delude themselves and think they’re models Ladies—or should I say: hookers!

Not only does this woman have to endure constant violent behavior from her clients she barely gets enough money despite being the one at work, receiving either 50% or even 20% of what she actually gained. The rest goes to an egocentric pimp that only sees her as merchandise.

While we can technically understand where the policeman is coming from, he’s just doing his job, he’s making a mistake apparent in the other’s verse but much more evident in his.

He doesn't see her as a human.

I know that it’s your job But I gotta do mine, don’t I?

Take back your ID and what’s left of your dignity You’re pathetic, pfft Find yourself a real job!

This song doesn't tell us the story of a prostitute but the story of a financially struggling Mother who juggles between abusing clients and a society that only focuses on the top of the iceberg, the fact that she’s selling her body.

Stromae tries to appeal to our compassion and teach us that it’s important to understand why someone will go their way to sell sex for a few pennies. And rather than rejecting them, we should help them.

Another thing I like about the clip as a whole is the Military. They don’t have a Belgian or French uniform but they wear multiple of them to show that this dehumanization isn’t linked to one country but it’s global, every countries and cultures take part in it, and it needs to be fixed.

What does Poison tell us?

Angel got stuck in an abusive situation and was forced to do sex work for his pimps, it focuses more on the sexual assault rather than his life.

He obliviously regrets his choice resulting in him blaming himself for getting into such a messy situation. A situation he’s seemingly addicted to despite himself, he knows it’s bad but he can’t help it.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow. Up your poison

The poison can also be a metaphor for the drugs he seems to take directly from Valentino’s brand. A drug he either takes himself or is forced to inhale.

He uses the same substance to forget his situation and numbs the pain while also putting on a false Sex-addicted mask to convey that he’s fine and stay on Valentino’s good side. A direct consequence of his abuse is his addiction and his hypersexuality.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear

At the end of the song he’s waisted, traumatized, and finally breaks down as he finally has a short time to process everything that happened. Because here’s the thing, Poison is a fantasy, it’s a mask he puts in to forget the emotional and physical weight that was put on him, hence why it’s so flashy and pretty. The few glimpses of Angel being visibly distraught show that all the parts where he isn't are him disassociating.

See I can analyze stuff and I totally understand what they were trying to do with it but the difference with Fîls de Joie is, that we didn't know the life or personality of The Mother and we learn it through the song.

Angel Dust and Valentino’s relationship is highlighted throughout the shows and Poison doesn't add anything new to the table. The song is POINTLESS. Husk already looked at us and told us that Angel Dust being sexual was a whole persona he puts in.

You can say that the song humanized him since he was basically the “AaahaAH SEX” character but the locker scene already did and… I don’t like the story behind the making of it, why you ask?

Because Vivienne let Raphielle’s work affect her writing.

Visually speaking I believe you can present a disturbing concept with equally disturbing imagery, I understand that the point was to make you uncomfortable and the Dance sequence was Angel Dust disassociating while what was happening was displayed on the screen.

But… can someone explain why they let the work of someone blatantly fetishizing Angel and Valentino's relationship leak into the final product? I don’t even care that Raphielle or Vivienne have a nonconsensual fetish but we can all agree that his content depicting the two men will be inrentently for gooning purposes right? Or am I crazy for saying that?!

Okay, I wanna be clear, Raphielle can do everything he wants what I care about is that his fetishistic content was referenced in the shows.

→ Here’s one of his works. Go at 2:45 if you wanna skip the sexual stuff

→ Click here for more proof

The idea of Angels Dust being “sexy” while his image is projected on screens is from Raphielle II, his work is for sexual gratification but Medrano still referenced it despite Raph being pretty vocal about it.

And that’s not all.

Yes, Vivienne, it’s great marketing to make a cum joke about visuals displaying rape. Because in case y’all forgot all of the sex scenes in the clip are non-consensual from Angel Dust's perspective.

Am I supposed to believe that this woman cares when not only she has a double standard only showing rape and sexual assault as a whole in a bad way when it comes to her favorite character?

Am I supposed to believe that she cares when she associates herself with a fetishizer and references his work in her show?

Why did Stromae managed to make me care about an unnamed fictional dead woman in the spam of 3:57 when she just irked me in 20 minutes with her so-called “well done” representation of sex workers?

Is that really what people call a realistic presentation? How does someone manage to fumble so hard on every aspect of the series, I’m starting to believe that Hazbin Hotel is just rage-bait with the lack of respect she puts into it.

That’s all for me if anyone wants to add anything, the comments are there.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So you've talked a few times about how Plagg and Tikki failed on a fundamental level as mentors, and how Fu wasn't even really a mentor at all, but I don't think I've seen you bring up Su-Han as of yet, and I'm curious to know where you fall on that particular character.

I personally feel he could've been useful for expository purposes, and/or served as a catalyst for Marinette's growth into the role of guardian/team leader (you know, if the show were interested in character growth, or suggesting it's protagonist isn't omni-capable), but instead he showed up in four episodes, caused several problems, raised more questions than he ultimately answered, and honestly makes me question why he was included in the first place.

The order of the guardians is back after 170+ years and the most lasting impact this has on the story is... they teach Jagged Stone Kung Fu? Were you on the writing team, how would you make effective use of this plot point (Or was it a bad idea to begin with?)

Su-Han is an incredibly weird character. I'm honestly not totally sure why he exists, but I'll give you my best guess and then we'll talk about how he could have been used because I do think that he had potential.

It feels like they only introduced the guardian temple back in season three because they wanted to explain how the peacock and butterfly got lost - even though their explanation just raises even more questions if you know anything about archology - then they realized, "Oh shit, we probably need to address the guardian's return somehow, don't we?"

But if they let a whole mystic order descend on Paris, then we don't really need our two heroes, so instead we get one rando who walked (or I guess jumped?) from Tibet to Paris in order to be the writer's whipping boy because that's really how Su-Han is used. He's not here to help or to be a mentor. He's here to voice audience complaints so that the writers can shut those complaints down with nonsense logic.

For example, this exchange from Ephemeral is what kicks off Marinette's awkward and concerning plan to lie to her partner about an identity reveal:

Su-Han: This really takes the cake! Ladybug: Grand Master Su-Han? Su-Han: Nine! You used nine Miraculous to defeat a single villain, when Cat Noir could have just used his Cataclysm! Ladybug: I had to. Cat Noir was missing! Su-Han: What do you mean "missing"? You can't just let the holder of the one of the most powerful Miraculous go about as he pleases! What if he started making his own decisions, or act it out? Like Shadow Moth?! Ladybug: Cat Noir? Act like Shadow Moth? Wow. Are you blowing this out of proportion just a little? Su-Han: Not at all. In fact, you should find out who Cat Noir really is, so you can have better control over him. Ladybug: What?? No way! We can't know our true identities! It would be too dangerous if Shadow Moth got a hold of one of us! Su-Han: I. Don't. Care!! Deal with this problem quickly, otherwise I will take back his Miraculous as soon as he shows a whisker! And I'll choose the new Cat Noir myself! Ladybug: Okay, okay, alright. What if you knew who he was, would that work? Su-Han: I... I suppose so. But I'm warning you, if you don't succeed— Ladybug: I get it. Cat Noir will be replaced.

Does Su-Han read like an Adrien salter to you? Because he does to me! He's presenting a valid argument in the most obnoxious and inflammatory way possible by making it about controlling Chat Noir instead of having the argument focus on the issue of, "Hey, maybe more than one person should know who has this extremely powerful miraculous just in case something bad happens to that one person?" An argument that holds more weight than he could possibly know because of the whole senti issue making Chat Noir a potential perfect sleeper agent.

And at the end of the episode, we get this exchange even though none of Su-Han's concerns have actually been addressed:

Su-Han: So, do you know who Cat Noir is yet? Ladybug: No. Su-Han: What? I thought I had warned you— Ladybug: I don't want to know. I've proven to you a hundred times that I'm a good guardian, and Cat Noir and I have proven to you a hundred times that we were exceptional superheroes, and you! How many times have you told us that we were messing up, when that was totally untrue? You're judging us based on your own fears, and not on our actions! Su-Han: (groans) You're right, little Ladybug. Perhaps I'm worrying over nothing. What's for sure is that one doesn't come across a guardian like you every century. (reaches out his fist) How do you say again? Ladybug and Su-Han: Pound it.

You can tell that the writers wanted Su-Han to be the bad guy here. That his pushing for an identity reveal was at fault and you - the audience - should feel bad if you ever agreed with him, but his base argument is never actually addressed. Marinette just says he needs to trust her and so he does for some reason? Remind me, which of these two is supposed to have years of experience and which of them has been a hero for less than a year and in that time has totally failed to even try to retrieve the miraculous that she's supposed to be recovering? Writers, please stop saying that Marinette is the best guardian ever when you don't let her do anything that feels all that special. I'm not saying that she's terrible, she's doing what was asked if her, I'm just concerned that this is considered way above average quality.

On top of that nonsense, there's also the problem that Marinette's counter argument would have worked right from the start, so her rushed deception plan doesn't feel like a true act of desperation like it was clearly supposed to be. Instead, it just makes her look like a horrible person even though that obviously wasn't the writer's intent. This is what always happens when they speed run these complex what-if or backstory episodes. It never works out like they clearly want it to.

Chat Blanc did it by making Adrien look bad for hiding his identity so that he could date Ladybug. Derision did it by making multiple characters look unhinged and/or evil. Ephemeral does it with the frankly baffling lie plan which is only there so we can have a proper identity reveal moment between the leads. That's literally why the episode is written like that, btw. They wanted to let Adrien confess his identity in a big romantic moment, so they forced a scenario where that would happen even though it makes Ladybug look terrible.

Anyway, back to Su-Han.

If Miraculous was allowed to have serious plot lines that spanned multiple episodes, then Su-Han could have been a great edition to the cast. Season four is a pretty big tonal shift for the show. Things start to feel a lot more serious in this season with the Ladynoir conflict and Marinette struggling to be the guardian. It also comes right after the season where we learned that Master Fu wasn't a true guardian. All of this is the perfect setup for a true mentor character who shows up to fix things and maybe even give out some new powers!

Imagine how much better this season would have been if it was about Su-Han helping Ladynoir! If he saw the conflict and stepped in to guide them through it. You could even have him be closer to Adrien than Marinette to balance Marinette and Fu's relationship.

For example, what if the guardians didn't have the wacky staff that tracks down miracle boxes but not miraculous because then Gabriel would be defeated too easily? What if Su-Han just shows up and Marinette doesn't trust him, but Adrien does? And so Su-Han helps Adrien the most while Marinette keeps Su-Han at arms length just like she does Adrien because that's what Fu taught her to do and Fu was wrong about everything! This could still lead to the season four ending, but instead of it being a nothing burger where season five continues all of the same problems, instead season five is where Marinette embraces Su-Han and really starts to understand what it means to be a guardian and a partner? Things Fu never taught her because he kind of sucked at his job.

That's just one way to make Su-Han work. A way that keeps canon intact up to the start of season five because, while I hate season four's writing and "conflict" resolution, I can admit that there was potential in the base idea. You could also scrap all of season four and rewrite everything to keep things more light hearted while still letting Su-Han be a total upgrade.

You could even go the exact opposite direction and set Su-Han up to be the next big bad! Why have sentimonster freedom be a conflict (even though it really wasn't) when you could make everything about Kwami freedom? It's a really natural progression to go from defeating Gabriel to fighting for... institutional changes(?) in how the miraculous work. Let Kwamis pick their holders and remove their bonds so that Gabriel never happen again!

I really do mean it when I say that this show is bursting with potential. I wouldn't be so enthralled by how bad it is if it didn't have potential to be amazing.

[thehothcast]

cassian andor general romance hcs

word count: 994

warnings: none, just a miniscule reference to sex

message from the authors: first post on the account! love that for us. we both (okay just me, fine - grace) went a little feral writing these, enjoy the show! (i was moral support for grace and additional idea giver, hope u love! - rosa)

ok so! i think cass is very easily scared off when it comes to this kind of thing: love. he’s skittish when he’s unsure, and although romantic dalliances aren’t new to him, approaching a situation where he’s not privy to if you reciprocate or even if you ever could, is new to him. he’s always been the one in control of the dynamic, or at the very least an equal, with both participants on the same page (or thereabouts, see him and bix i suppose.)

the man seems a lil avoidant, like he’s just wary of people in general so i'm not so sure how well he’d respond to hearing from a third party that you had a crush on him, whether that be a close friend of yours or an unfamiliar group of fellow rebels. he’d immediately feel like expectations were being pushed onto him and people were anticipating him to react in a certain way. he doesn’t like that, it feels like someone's yanked open the curtains that were obscuring him from the bright light of perception? so even though he returns your feelings for sure, he’s not going to react well to that kind of direct address/situation and would most likely pull away from you in an attempt to take back the control he feels he’s lost.

in the end i think if one of you were to make a move to further the relationship, it would have to be him because he doesn’t like feeling caught off guard or put on the spot. even then, he’s definitely not confessing the true extent of his fondness for you (even though it totally consumes him, this is a man that feels deeply, just look at those eyes babe). 

cassian is someone who expresses their love through actions and deeds, not so much words, at least not immediately, that’s a little too vulnerable for him at the moment.

let's be honest, his version of getting the message across to you is patting you on the shoulder and telling you “that’s really good” as he oversees your group’s blaster training. like the affection is there and you totally get free passes where others don’t, but overall there’s really nothing concrete to suggest he thinks of you as anything other than a friendly comrade, which is probably how he likes it for now.

again, addressing it head on either by yourself or having another person plant the notion into his mind is not the way to go about this. he’s like a stray animal, you see him from across the street and desperately want to pull him close and love up on him, but even the most careful approach will have him skirting away from you in a flash after one wrong move.

honestly the only way to go about this i think is to just let him do his own thing, find a quiet and subtle way let him know you’re open and will be waiting with open arms, and he’ll come to you eventually. i’d say he’d come to you in his own time, and I wouldn't be lying but let's be honest, that first really meaningful look (see elevator scene in rogue one 😩) and pleading of your name is going to come in a moment of high-stakes and danger. what can I say, there's nothing like a life threatening situation in which either one or both of your lives are in jeopardy and desperation and stress infect every decision made, to provoke a momentary lapse in resolve and allow some painfully concealed concern and devotion to seep out of one's every orifice <3.

then there’s the subject of his name. obviously he introduces himself as cassian (unless he’s undercover but that’s a whole other can of worms, you’d get there in the end), so you’ve not really any reason to suspect otherwise until you pose an innocent question about the origins of his name, which leads him to hesitantly surrender his birth name to you. this is only something he’d ever consider doing if he truly, deeply trusted you and felt ready to open up even just a little bit. again, it’s all in his own time, there’s no pushing cassian. psst, don’t be afraid of using his real name, he’ll answer to it…just pick the right moments iykyk

when on missions, clashes tend to happen. cassian believes he knows best (and maybe he does. he probably does lets be fr we’re dumbos), so you’ll every now and again notice him speaking for you or making decisions on your behalf. obviously as an independent entity, this will most likely get on your nerves so it’s an issue that’ll have to be addressed in a sit down session with him. he honestly doesn’t mean it in a controlling way, he probably sees it as him relieving you of any unnecessary burdens, so you’ll have to make it clear to him you’d appreciate it if he lets you stand on your own 2 feet and would, well… for a lack of a better phrase, ‘just butt out’. at the end of the day, you’d rather be equals, partners in crime, not so much some micromanaged talent. come on, it’s understandable cass.

just for funsies... he’s probably unbuttoned his shirt a little more than necessary at least once. just to see if you’d respond to it. he’d seen the style begin to take off amongst the more cocksure pilots (that’s what he tried to tell himself. it was really just fueled by a shy desire to have you look at him like that, like the rebel full of swagger that he knows he isn't). it lasted a grand total of 12 hours before he caught a glimpse of his reflection and cringed a little bit, vanity be damned. the next time you saw him, his shirt was buttoned back up all the way again and he will never acknowledge the fact ever again. 

[vivaislenska]

Seatbelt Situation / hurt!Tech & comforting!Wrecker

Relationship: Tech & Wrecker mostly (Omega, Echo, and Hunter are there to help, too)

Basis: Missing scene from TBB 2x2. While they're fleeing Serenno, Tech's injury gets the better of him. Wrecker shows his love.

Word count: 3,295

Warning: mildly graphic description of injury

This was originally written to show the reactions of the other brothers when they learn of Tech's broken leg. Then, Tech get the love and comfort he deserves that wasn’t shown in the episode. Also, I ended up lightheartedly grumbling about a small dialogue detail on Tech's behalf.

It's also posted on AO3. Feedback, corrections, and more ideas are welcome! Reblogs are appreciated :]

The final, trailing TIE fighter goes up in flames when it gets a punch from Havoc Marauder's aft laser cannon. It sails like a comet in the night sky and careens into the cliffside, lighting up the ridge and treeline in a brief flash of vivid luminosity. Immediately after, Wrecker feels Hunter guide the Marauder downward to the wide, flat clearing to make their pickup. 

Debarking the gunner’s mount, Wrecker waives his habitual tidying of the bedroll and pillows on the deck to transform the small compartment back into Omega's bedroom. They may no longer have an Imperial tail, but there's likely more on the way, and they're not out of danger yet. 

He descends the ladder to the main deck with one sweeping, practiced backward lunge. He’s on his way to the cockpit to help Hunter anyway, so he stops by the open side port to hurry his wayward siblings inside. 

He hasn’t heard much from any of them since they agreed on the necessary radio silence, so it’s an immense relief to see Echo, Tech, and Omega all in one piece and all standing there, poised to board. There’s a fourth person too; an elderly gentleman who might be a Serennian local. He’s sure Tech will fill him in about every single detail, but they really need to get out of here. He motions them in with a smirk but nothing else, so as not to compromise his façade of silent, menacing, muscle-bound sentinel in front of the Serennian stranger. 

Echo is the first to climb the ramp, and as soon as he does, he scampers into the cockpit to join Hunter. Good, because he’s better at copiloting than Wrecker anyway, and Wrecker wants to be by the ramp in case of any unwanted trouble near the open hatch. He maintains his post directly across the hold from the open side port, watching, waiting. 

Ugh, what’s taking them?  

Omega is next to come up the ramp, aided by Tech to hop onto the first rung at the bottom. She's holding something small in her hands when she steps aboard, but only has eyes for Wrecker when she makes her way into the cabin. Now that Echo and Omega are home, a large chunk of Wrecker’s tension has eased, but it won’t do so any further until he sees Tech come jogging up. 

“What’s taking him?” Wrecker grouses verbally this time, his eyes not leaving the clearing below as Omega gives him a quick hug and takes a seat. 

“He’s coming!” Omega reports. “He’s just saying 'bye to Romar.” 

That was probably the last thing Wrecker anticipated Omega would say. Who the hell is this Romar? And Tech is… saying goodbye to him? As if this mission couldn’t have gone any more sideways than it already has. But these are concerns to be addressed once they’re all safely well away from Serenno, and not a moment sooner. Tech knows they’re in a hurry here, so why’s he wasting precious time? 

Wrecker’s about to voice as much when he finally sees his younger brother come bounding up the ramp. It’s about time, too. They’ve blown their cover so hard on this “covert” mission that more squadrons of TIE fighters are definitely in hot pursuit of them. Not wanting to waste another moment, Wrecker's hand hovers over the control for the ramp to close. 

But Tech, likely to make up for those seconds spent saying his goodbyes, engages the mechanism remotely and beats him to it. The side port's hydraulics hiss obediently as Tech ascends the ramp. Any moment now, Tech will come trotting into the hold and zoom past Wrecker in a hurry to get to the cockpit and help with piloting. At least that’s what Wrecker’s expecting. 

What he isn’t expecting is for Tech to come tumbling down the last stretch of the ramp as it nestles into the bulkhead.

But that’s exactly what does happen. In a graceless, stumbling mockery of the agile somersaults that he’s actually capable of, Tech comes sliding down the top of the upended gangway to land in a sprawled heap, on his ass, on the deck of the Marauder. 

Wrecker, having just put a hand on Omega’s safety harness, snaps his head over to witness Tech’s ridiculous entrance and can only stare, mouth agape, at his younger brother in silent bewilderment. 

“Tech? What the-!?” 

Tech, having landed in a seated position with his legs sprawled out in front of him doesn’t reply. He only looks up at Wrecker, blinks his giant, goggled eyes once, twice, and then starts to sway. 

“Tech!” Wrecker yells in alarm, wondering what the kriff happened in those split seconds between when Tech was standing there, conversing with a local, bounding up the ladder with haste, and then now. As much as he wants to rush to Tech’s aid, he finishes securing Omega’s safety harness first. Once it clicks into place and endures one or two of his aggressive, tentative tugs, he’s hurrying to Tech’s side and bellowing his younger brother’s name again. 

“Tech!”  

“It could be from his leg,” Omega says from her seat, her voice rife with fear and concern. “He said he broke his femur! The left one!” 

Whatever the reason, Tech now has collapsed fully on the deck, and Wrecker is careful to sidestep said leg as he makes his way over to him and gathers him in his arms. He removes Tech’s pack and slams it up against the only magnetic storage mechanism he can reach from this angle. His little brother is breathing steadily but out cold. 

“I gotcha, buddy,” says Wrecker nesting Tech’s smaller frame in front of his own, then scooting backward to get them both safely into a crash seat. “Sorry if this hurts, but we’re about to make the jump outta here.” 

Carefully but swiftly, Wrecker drags Tech up from the deck, wincing a little as he doesn’t have the time to make sure that no weight (however much diminished by his very capable maneuvering) is placed on Tech’s reportedly broken leg. But broken leg or not, it won’t be helpful for anyone if neither Wrecker nor Tech is strapped into a crash seat when they depart Serenno’s atmosphere. So Wrecker makes the executive decision to prioritize flight safety. 

Tech makes no objection to the abrupt maneuvers anyway and remains completely out of it. His helmeted head bumps inertly against Wrecker's cuirass as the larger clone pulls them both into the same seat and under the same crash harness. 

“You all strapped in back there?” calls Echo urgently from the cockpit. “We’ve got heat!” 

“We’re good!” Wrecker yells back, not pausing to tell them that no, they aren’t officially strapped in yet and that they might be testing the limits of said safety mechanism if Wrecker can actually get it locked around the both of them. “Go!” 

Wrecker can feel the Marauder humming with urgency as she's primed to flee them to safety, and he knows he only has mere seconds to make this seatbelt situation work. 

“Alright, buddy, suck it in!” he tells his unconscious brother as he reaches up with one hand to pull on the harness while keeping his other arm protectively coiled across Tech’s chest. 

Tech does not, in fact, suck it in, as he’s still mercifully unconscious, but Wrecker does as he hugs his little brother's frame as tightly to him as he can possibly get. Though he’s very lean and a good six inches shorter than Wrecker, Tech is still fully armored and laden with tools and gadgets. Combined with Wrecker’s own massive and armored frame, it's going to be a tight squeeze… 

The crash harness screeches in complaint as Wrecker jerks it into place in front of them and forces the locking mechanism to engage. And just in time too, because the Marauder makes a few evasive twists and turns before lurching onto a predetermined hyperlight trajectory. 

Despite the safety harness having been successfully muscled into doing double duty, Wrecker still holds onto Tech fiercely. He takes care to grapple his legs and arms around Tech’s own, pinning Tech’s limbs safely in place and (hopefully) preventing further aggravation of whatever injuries they’re working with here. Worried about what Tech’s wounds specifically entail, Wrecker hugs him all the tighter, resolved to keep this carbonite-like lock on him until they can safely unbuckle and assess what Tech got himself into this time. 

Finally, the automated alert chimes, informing Marauder’s crew that it’s safe to move about the shuttle. Omega undoes her harness at once, leaping down to her feet and hastening to Wrecker’s (and Tech’s) seat. She finds Tech’s pulse, lifts his helmet off, then crouches down in front of them, likely to try to make some sort of initial medical assessment. 

“Oi! A little help back here!” Wrecker bellows to the lads upfront, knowing that the urgency in his voice will have Echo and Hunter both rushing aft in an instant. 

And they don’t disappoint. Both brothers come hurrying out of the cockpit, eyes alight with concern that only swells when they land on Tech, slumped unconscious in Wrecker’s lap. 

“What happened?” Hunter demands, running to the crash seat and helping Wrecker unlatch and lift the safety harness into the up position. “Careful now. Let’s get him on a rack.” 

As they work to shift their youngest brother onto one of the racks, Echo produces one of their sturdy trauma kits and slides into his role as assistant medic. 

“He broke his left leg,” Echo says sadly, flicking a medical scanner to life and running it along Tech’s form. “And he’s been running around on it now for hours.” 

“He... broke his leg!?” Hunter repeats, devastated. “When?” 

“When we crashlanded that cargo container,” Omega supplies. “A heavy crate fell on top of him.” 

“How heavy?” Hunter asks, eyeing the medical scanner’s red flashes of warning over Echo’s shoulder, undoubtedly dreading the prospect of a dire report. 

“He said—Wrecker, get his tool belt off, will you?—” Echo says, recounting the events as he delegates the tasks that he’s less suited to and gathers supplies from the medical kit. “He said his ‘left femur’ was fractured by ‘150 kilograms of pressure.’ Something to that effect. And the med scanner agrees. It’s closed, but he’s got a pretty nasty oblique fracture. Diaphyseal. And fighting on it didn’t do him any favors.” 

“It’s that bad?” Hunter asks sadly. “You think he needs a specialist?” 

“It is,” Echo says morosely. “And I do. His leg's already swollen to twice its normal size, and the fracture's been harmfully manipulated.” 

“Oh yeah, he does,” Wrecker agrees, empathizing greatly with the misery that accompanies a broken long bone. “Better go find an med center and plug it in now, Sarge. Sheesh, he musta been in a lot of pain.” 

“Adrenaline masked most of it, I reckon,” Echo says, planting a small torch between his own lips, then gently sliding Tech’s goggles up to check his pupillary light reflex. 

As Wrecker watches Echo conduct the test, something dawns on him. 

“No,” Wrecker decides. “No-no, he was really hurting.”

“That’s not what it looked like to us,” Echo says, stowing the light, consulting Tech’s stats further, and searching through their supplies for something they can use as a splint. “He was handling it.” 

“It’s just… 150 kilograms… of pressure? He said that?” Wrecker asks, lending a hand in the rummaging. “Tech said that… just like that?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” says Echo glancing at Omega and receiving a confirmatory nod from their sister. 

“That’s what bugs me,” Wrecker tells them apprehensively. 

“Why?” Hunter asks, still looking stricken at the discovery of his brother’s injury. “That’s a typical Tech report. Even if it’s to do with his own kriffing bones.” 

“But that’s not quite right, is it?” Wrecker tells them, as the sheer amount of pain that Tech must have really been in from the injury finally dawns on him. He reaches over and gently cups the side of Tech’s face, wishing there was any possible way that he could take away some of the pain Tech had endured and was still going to have to endure for a while longer because of this. “Well, kilograms ain’t… a unit of pressure, is it?” 

“What?” Echo asks, his tone supplementing Hunter and Omega’s visible confusion. 

“Kilograms ain’t… well, you know… used as a unit of pressure. It’s a… unit of mass,” Wrecker says carefully, his tongue feeling cumbersome in his mouth as he repeats the information that Tech, himself, had helped him learn. “I’m just saying, he musta been really kriffed if he said that is all, and I hope we got something strong in that kit to give him when he comes ‘round.” 

Hunter and Echo blink in surprise at him for a moment before a shared look passes between them, and they grasp the gravity of Wrecker’s remark. 

“I’ll get in touch with some friendlies,” Hunter says, somehow sounding even more resolved than he’d been moments ago and making for the cockpit, “I’ll find us an orthopedic specialist we can trust. Let me know when he wakes.” 

“You got it,” Echo says, now searching for a stronger hypo to administer to Tech. 

It’s only a few moments later, as Wrecker is easing off the last of his younger brother’s armor and gear that Tech begins to stir. 

“Tech? Tech, hey,” Echo says encouragingly, “you with us?”

Intermittently, Tech becomes aware of voices and all the ambient noises of his beloved ship in flight. Though… the sounds are all muddled and greet him as though they’ve been hurtling through time and space to chase and catch up to him. The voices are talking quietly over him. Which is fairly unusual. 

Ah. Serenno. He must have succumbed to his injuries on Serenno and lost consciousness. Again. 

The previous time it happened, it had been Romar who roused him from his ill-timed syncopation. This time, however… he isn’t quite sure. He summons all of his strength and forces himself to wake up. 

Just as he’s blinking his heavy eyelids open, pain lances through his left leg like a bolt of lightning, and he sucks in a breath through his clenched teeth. Instinctively he tries to curl forward and reach for the limb, which is now ablaze with a pain that he’s seldom (if ever) experienced quite like this before now. 

Gentle hands grasp him firmly, forcing him to lay back down with his arms securely, benignly at his sides. Yes, his left femur, he recalls. Fractured substantially and now with an accompaniment of soft tissue damage and further injury from rigorous use of the limb immediately after the precipitating event. He starts to hyperventilate at the memory of it and the implication of how said injury will impact his effectiveness to his team... to his family... 

“Easy, Tech,” says a gentle, deep baritone voice directly above him. Echo. “We gotcha. You’re okay.” 

Tech cracks his eyes open but is only met with a blur of indistinct colors and shapes. He can’t help but gasp in alarm. His goggles hadn’t been compromised, had they? He really didn’t suspect they had and would be distressed beyond measure if that were the case. 

“They're right here,” says Omega’s voice, a small shape bobbing around the periphery of his bleary view. Small hands gently lift and slide his goggles from his forehead down onto his face so that his corrective lenses are seated properly in front of each eye. He sighs in immense relief when his surroundings come into sharp focus to reveal that he’s supine in the main hold of the Havoc Marauder with Echo, Omega, and Wrecker, all either directly next to him or nearby. 

“Hunter?” is Tech’s first thought, and the question is on his tongue before he can even think through and catalog the probable answers. They all need to be together. It’s a priority. 

“In the cockpit,” Echo assures him. “Finding us a safe place to get you looked after.” 

“Oh,” Tech says. “Am I the only one injured?” 

“You are,” Echo confirms. “But enough so for the lot of us, Tech. I’m just glad you waited until you got to Marauder before passing out.” 

“I did so in the forest as well,” Tech reports pragmatically. “Romar located and assisted me.” 

“Oh, so when you ate it on the ramp coming back, that was round two?” Wrecker chimes in, sounding indecently impressed. 

“I did not ‘eat it’ coming back aboard Marauder,” Tech huffs, though he reasonably can’t recall what exactly happened that lead him to the predicament he’s in currently. 

“Did too,” Wrecker insists, radiating his perplexing approval for when any one of them pushes through an injury severe enough to ultimately render them unconscious. “Omega and I both saw it.” 

“Yeah, sorry, Tech, you kinda did,” Omega admits. “Wrecker and I were scared.” 

“Apologies for that… entrance,” Tech says with a sigh. “That sounds somewhat more dramatic than what I had intended.” 

“S’alright!” Wrecker says, as Omega makes for the cockpit, likely to update Hunter. “You made it, and that’s all that matters!”

“How’s your pain?” Echo asks soberly. “I can cut it. Keep you comfortable for the ride, at least.” 

“It is tolerable,” Tech reports, cringing at the idea of their ever-dwindling medical supplies being expended on him. 

“Nah, I’ll cut it,” Echo decides for him instead. 

“I suspect I do not have any say in the matter?” Tech hedges. 

“You don’t,” Echo confirms in a tone that is patronizing and infuriating and, indeed, meant to be both. Adding to the infuriating aspect. “The med scanner doesn’t lie.” 

“That is because it has been properly calibrated. Are we—agh!” Tech’s next question is interrupted by a sharp stab to his jugular vein, chased by a burning, cold sensation. He flinches involuntarily at the abrupt contact but doesn’t begrudge the relief that follows. The intense pain in his leg ebbs and morphs into innocent numbness very rapidly, and he'll now be able to focus more adequately on all pertinent tasks. But still, “that gesture warrants warning to the patient,” he grumbles at Echo.

“He never does that,” Wrecker gripes, commiserating with Tech likely because of the injury sustained when they first fled Kamino, pursued by... 

Crosshair. Tech's heart aches with a pain that doesn't even touch the pain that was caused by his broken femur. No, it's too much to think about right now. He has to focus on their next move. What they need to make ends meet and keep them safe. 

“I know what the module says to do,” Echo tells them regarding his proclivity to employ surprise hypo attacks, “and I know what Kix says to do.” 

“Oh, so they are mutually exclusive concepts,” Tech complains, “and you practice the latter.” 

“Ehh, the lessons intersect here and there,” Echo says with a smirk, gathering what he’ll need to perform the application of traction, depending on how long their voyage to get medical help will be. 

“Well, that is very comforting to know,” Tech says drily. “And do Kix’s teachings dictate that I be allowed my datapad to distract me during any impending procedures?” 

“They do,” says Echo lightly, grabbing Tech’s coveted datapad from where his gear has been piled and placing it in Tech’s lap. Wrecker grabs something soft and carefully helps Tech prop his head up enough to read.

Tech gladly accepts the help and the offered datapad. He toggles it to life and settles in. He has a lot of work to do, and he can’t let something like an inconvenient femur fracture deter him from providing for his family.

And... just maybe… eventually recovering their lost brother too.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this little fic. The kg of pressure idea isn’t meant to be wELL aCtuALlY, but I’ve never seen pressure expressed in kg and it doesn’t make sense to me 😅. I think Tech really was jacked up by that wretched crate, and that’s why he said that. They showcased his resilience (among other qualities!) in this episode and it was fantastic

I plan to post my fics to Tumblr, make recs, and share the fics of others from AO3. I'm also experimenting with making some dividers/banners (thank you so much, @freesia-writes)! I got some serious undergrad EE course vibes when recreating Tech's technical doodles lol.

[palmviolet]

true detective rewatch s1ep5 thoughts — two meta posts in one day now we're cooking on gas

— each episode post seems to have had a different central idea thus far, i guess because each episode presents a different variation on the big themes. this episode's theme is: time. here the whole circularity of the series is made most evident, as rust presents his thesis statement: time is a flat circle. this episode is so concerned with time because it's the episode that crosses the most time periods, encompassing '95, '02, and '12 at once. it addresses rust and marty at each different phase of their lives as we see them, showcases the dramatic changes they go through, highlights the effect time has on them while rust insists that this effect will be circular, undone.

— on some level this is metatextual. as a television show it can be rewatched, rewound, paused. and its nonlinear structure means we the audience somewhat take on the role of those extra-temporal beings who can see time for what it supposedly is — a circle. when marty talks about feeling “like the future’s behind you, like it’s always been behind you”, it's ironic because his future is already behind him, as a character frozen in television time, cursed to repeat it. this is the function of rust's specific statement of despair regarding the children at ledoux, that they'll be in that room 'again, and again, and again' — it invokes the tradition of procedural crime television, in which horrific murders are rehearsed to the viewer's satisfaction, week after week after week, differing only in minutiae. the metatextual details of TD (including its preoccupation with the exploitation of the camera — think the photos of dora that incite the ledoux connection, the photos taken at shepherd's flock) are designed to reflect on this critically. not to condemn us for watching it, necessarily, but to condemn a state-led condonation of violence that is reflected in societal media habits.

— and then, as @black-market-wd4o astutely pointed out in the tags to this post, there's the way rust and marty each sit within this metatextual engagement with time. rust considers the infinite circularity of time as a source of horror; marty believes he has all the time in the world. he longs for a time that is frozen and unmoving in which his daughters will never grow up and become sexual beings (echoing rust's twisted relief that his daughter will remain forever an innocent child) and he will remain virile and strong forever.

— but in this episode, time begins to catch up with him. we see marty studying himself in the mirror, worrying over his gut and his thinning hair, looking longingly at his rodeo belt buckle kept in his locker. this is the same buckle he's wearing during the ledoux showdown — a symbol of his performative strength not only as a sportsman but as a character of the american west, a man in the tradition of the old frontier heroes, protecting his women from the 'savage' native population. rodeo is more complicated than that but at its heart it captures the american death drive as it marries with the colonial project — and the buckle represents marty's chase for immortal infinity, paradoxically acquired by confronting real danger, just as he felt in that moment of power over ledoux.

— but rodeo is staged. at every turn in the series, marty's macho strength is undermined by rust's lived experience, and his first moment of real violence is against a defenceless prisoner. marty's past heroism was never heroism at all, and so his longing for the past is a longing for something that never existed — hence, he's already living in a sort of eternity.

— similarly with the eternal past, at the end of the episode rust returns to the school they visited in '95. he finds it full of devil traps; the final shot is of him holding one up to the light, framed by a broken window with stars drawn on it. the meshing together of childhood (a school) and death (the devil traps) collapses time. here's the shot:

he's facing left, which to a western audience (ie. an audience that reads left to right) implies a looking-backwards, a reversal, and the stars invoke both ledoux's 'black star' but also the stars and the darkness he talks about in the series' final scene. framed by the window, he's trapped in this cross-section of past and future (death and childhood; childhood and death) but the window is also broken, implying a possible escape from the circle.

— a final small point regarding laurie: we don't get much of laurie, but what we do get is more subversion. we see her and rust cuddled on the couch as she's flicking through channels on the tv; then we cut to marty in 2012, as the detectives ask him what went wrong between laurie and rust. marty says, “what always happens between men and women. reality.” but what we just saw wasn't reality; it was the television. it's another metatextual point about an ingrained misogyny that isn't real, that is favoured and propagated by fiction but does not need to have a basis in real life. marty and rust only believe that reality precludes respect for and peaceful coexistence with women; we, the audience, ought to know better.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Can I request something slightly angsty with Connor / Nines X reader. Where reader works with them but is quiet and shy. Total opposite of other humans in the station , the tension between androids and humans is still present. Reader always showed kindness towards them but one day reader was hit /abducted by an android or something ...they see the bruises /injuries . Fluff in the end maybe ?

A/N: I know you asked for fluff, Nonny but things took a dark turn. Sorry I promise I'm not evil like that.

Word count: 1.3k

WARNINGS: GN!reader, kidnapping, angst, hurt/ little to no comfort

Working side by side with androids proved to be a challenge for a lot of people. Whether it was the undoubted difference between man and machine or just human’s lack of understanding, there still was problems surrounding the android- human relationship. And couldn’t be more evident than in the field of justice.

Risking one’s life in order to protect another was already risky enough but trying to find a balance and protect both sides was far more dangerous and complicated. Undeniably it was the risks of the job- (Y/N) was well aware of that, yet that couldn’t stop them from doing what they felt they was their destiny.

Having the two infamous RK models as their partners definitely made them more confident in their work; not only did their advancements were of good use to their investigation but they also possessed qualities most humans didn’t. Perhaps it was their superiority that repulsed most humans, yet for (Y/N) that wasn’t the case if anything they were fascinated with the two prototypes. Before getting paired up with the two, they have been observing them from afar, noting their behavior and way of work. They had respect towards the androids, much like with any other android and human alike. The androids reciprocated these feelings; up until working closely together, the three haven’t had many conversations, yet they were far enough to prove (Y/N) didn’t have any problem with them- so they didn’t have any problem with (Y/N).

The lack of tension between the three made their work much easier in terms of collaboration. Working with the androids was easier due to their strong emotional and intellectual qualities; without having to explain themselves, the RK androids gave (Y/N) their much-needed space- something not every human colleague did. On the other hand, (Y/N)’s acceptance of the androids aided in them being more relaxed whilst on duty. Together the trio was a match made in heaven, formed to end brutality for both humans and androids, though the easy flow of communication and mutual understanding didn’t aid them much in the cases they were assigned with.

Many times, their well-being was on the line; as much as it was baffling (Y/N) had grown accustomed to the feeling of it, almost losing their life if it meant getting closer to their end goal. Their last case happened to be one of those instances.

Nothing seemed to be off at first, the routine report for suspected violence. Driving up to an address in a slum part of town, (Y/N) wasn’t surprised by the sight of houses in wretched condition. It seemed that darkness had fallen upon the entirety of the living block, despite the sun, breaking through the dark clouds.

“That’s our given location.” Nines spoke, denying the suspicions that were arising in (Y/N)’s mind.

“Detective, stay behind us.” Connor asked of them, concern was visible in his features. They nodded in response; following behind them, (Y/N) held their gun, ready to fire if necessary. Dust articles danced in the air under the dim sunrays that barely broke through the thick layer of debris, covering the windows; the dense air of the house caused (Y/N)’s breath to grow erratic and shallow. If they didn’t get killed by a criminal then the poor conditions of tis house definitely will- or at least so they thought.

Sudden force cut off their airflow and brought them backwards; not ever a muffled sound could escape their mouth as a damp cloth was pressed against their mouth and nose that made their muscles relax and their eyelids close.

Panic overwhelmed the two androids at (Y/N)’s disappearance. Their task at hand soon was completely disregarded as the detectives began searching for their partner. Whether it was their android nature or their determination to find (Y/N), the two managed to keep their composure. Following any trail that could lead to where they were, Connor found a note. Alerting Nines of his find, he showed his successor the piece of paper. The navy ink glistened, suggesting their partner and their kidnapper weren’t far, though the message, written on the letter, didn’t bring them hope. Red lit their LEDs as they scanned the words.

“We don’t have much time.” Connor pointed out. “Should we call for back up?”

“They won’t come in time; we can reach the location faster by foot.”

Not wasting a single second, the androids rushed in the direction of the address given in the letter; millions of questions ran in Connor’s head. Was (Y/N) okay? What was the kidnapper’s motive? But most important of all: were he and Nines going get there in time? He tried to push these thoughts aside and focus on locating (Y/N).  Unlike his predecessor, Nines was furious; akin to a lightning, he ran down the block with his partner’s safety being the only thing on his mind.

In record time the androids reached the place; they were face to face with yet another lonely house much like the one they were investigating a mere minutes ago. With their guns pointed at the entry, they got in; the rooms were empty for the most part, except a few pieces of furniture that stood out. Going upstairs, they split in searching the rooms. Entering an open space, Connor was met with the sight of a silhouette of a person sat on a chair in the middle of the room. Nearing them, he was relieved to see it was none other than his partner, though that sense of relief was short lived for they were knocked unconscious with dozens of bruises covering their arms and legs, piece of paper hung from their neck.

Stay away or next time I won’t be that gentle.

If Connor had a heart it would’ve sank in his stomach; delicately, he checked their pulse as if he was afraid they would crush under the tiniest of touches. He let out a puff of air once he sensed the weak thump. Anger engulfed his entire being as guilt stung his conscience.

Having checked the other rooms, Nines found Connor frozen in place, quiet weeps echoed across the room. Placing his hand on the shoulder of his predecessor, Nines took a glimpse of (Y/N); the icy blue of his irises vanished behind the voids of his widening pupils.

“We have to get them to the hospital.” The usual calmness in Nines’ voice was disrupted by worry; Connor could only nod in response, his hands, balled into fists, rested atop his lap as tears ran down his cheeks.

With upmost care, Connor picked (Y/N) up; his teary eyes glistened as the glassy drops rolled down his fair skin and their lifeless face. Connor couldn’t bring himself to look at them, yet he was afraid they would vanish if his gaze were to wander off of them. Nines was ahead of the two as he opened the front door. Outside the air was now colder, the cool breeze floated in the air, causing the golden leaves to dance under its influence. Taking off his coat, Nines gently placed it atop (Y/N)’s form.

“An ambulance should arrive in two minutes.” He informed his fellow android but he stayed silent. Glancing at Connor, he was met with his pained expression. Once again Nines placed his hand atop his shoulder and gave him a gentle pat, silently reassuring everything will be alright. Connor’s head lowered as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s all my fault.” He fought back tears but to no avail.

“We both know that’s not true, Connor.” Nines tried to calm him down with words he himself didn’t believe. “I guarantee you we are going to find that criminal and bring him to justice.” Connor glanced at his partner, a flame of determination flickered across the soft brown of his irises; he nodded at Nines’ words but for now he watched over (Y/N), silently promising himself to catch whoever did this to his partner.

[wanderingthroughsands]

VI. Don’t believe your dreams

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

"The night we met" by Lord Huron

"You did mislead me after all, Dreamlord," I nearly shouted, stepping away from him in a surge of sudden fear and anger that overtook me. "You said you would find a way to take my power back, not that you would imprison me here and use me to control it!"

"I said I would show you how dangerous your power is for both your world and mine if not controlled properly." The sense of shared purpose I had so naively seen on Dreamlord's face just moments ago gave way to a familiar darkness that immediately sharpened his features. "I also said I would reveal this to you so that you could choose the solution you would accept. So, I give you two solutions now, Rebecca Surrey. The first is to surrender your life and the power given to you by my Nightmare. The second is to remain here and serve the Dreaming in the way you were created to."

"Serve as a Nightmare? And you truly thought that after years of awakening people from Nightmares, I would now want to become one?"

Lucienne watched us with a look of concern on her face, but she didn’t utter a word, pressing her body tightly against the wooden desk.

"How is this any better for me than an eternal flight from you?" I asked, feeling my brows draw together in an unwanted pleading expression.

"You have seen how your existence disrupts the harmony of both worlds," Dreamlord spoke in a tone I had heard before, when we first met in Fiddler’s Green. In this whirlwind of various emotions, I couldn’t understand why, but the sudden disappearance of understanding from his eyes made me feel… hurt. "If you flee, the damage will not cease. If you return to the waking world with your power, the threat will continue to loom over the Dreaming, and you will also continue to harm your loved ones. You are a reasonable person, Rebecca Surrey. I can allow you to live, but only here, in my realm. And only if your power is controlled."

"This is no solution," the air around us thickened, and I knew there were only seconds left before either he or I made the next move. And I was so determined not to be late with mine. "You are just the Master of Dreams, not the master of life and death."

"Uh, Rebecca..." Lucienne tried to interrupt, but I didn't allow her, still addressing Lord Morpheus directly:

"Here’s how I see it, and I suggest you listen to me carefully this time. You can find me in the waking world, you can chase me through Dreams and Nightmares, you can even kill me, but you should know this: whatever you decide to do to me, it’ll make you nothing more than a liar and a murderer. And murderers, Dreamlord, never find peace. Not even those who exist eternally."

I clenched my eyes shut the moment he abruptly reached out towards me. In that brief instant, the thought flashed through my mind that I was too late, and upon waking, I might find myself in a place that would be an eternal nightmare for me.

Yet, I woke up in my own bed, my heart still pounding with fear. The electric clock on my nightstand showed a few minutes before five in the morning. The room was silent, interrupted only by the sounds and lights of passing cars outside the window. I rubbed my eyes, feeling as if they were filled with sand, then dragged myself out of bed.

Every hour of that day stretched on like years. My mom returned from her night shift just as I was getting ready for work. I must have looked off because she asked me at least ten times if I was sure I wasn't sick and if I wouldn't rather stay home today. The commotion in the office over the promotion of the new book allowed me to hide behind my screen, only occasionally joining the conversation when someone addressed me directly. Veronica was complaining about another rough night, but this time Sophie joined in too, with a story about her nightmare full of bear caves and a storm during camping. I listened to it all, but my mind was elsewhere—back in the beautiful library of the Palace of Dreams, with a man whose deep gaze offered me a glimpse of a life I just could not accept.

Lost in thought, I stared at an illustration for Rose Walker’s book, depicting Lord Morpheus and his raven. In the image, Dreamlord had no face, and I completely understood why Rose and her graphis designer chose to depict him that way. No one could capture those eyes that held the entire universe. No one could convey those expressionless lips that passed judgments based on divine laws, way beyond human life.

No one could paint that smile that lacked any emotion.

Before leaving work, I canceled a meeting with two friends, fearing that my presence might bring Nightmares upon tchem, too. I used the excuse of feeling unwell, and since that rarely happened, they weren’t upset with me, just concerned. Robert texted that if I needed anything, he could come over to my place, to which Tanya immediately replied, "Becca is too smart to pull such an old trick, buddy." I smiled at my phone screen, regretting that I couldn’t talk to anyone close about what I had experienced over the past week and the person I had met in the Dreaming.

Not wanting to go home, I wandered aimlessly for a while through the nearly empty park where I had first seen Dreamlord. Who knows, maybe if not for that day, I would have never started my journeys through Nightmares. Aside from the fact that as a child I never once had a bad dream, nothing extraordinary had ever happened in my life until then. I lived each day as it came, searching for the moment when I would finally feel at peace and in my rightful place, whether through meeting new people or achieving the next milestones leading to adulthood. I just wanted to stop feeling like something was wrong with me.

And when I thought I had found that place, it turned out that there really was something wrong with me. And that "wrong" touched not only my loved ones but also the world that had brought me solace for the past five years.

I prolonged my evening reading by the faint light of a lamp for as long as possible, just to avoid having to go to bed. I could hear my mother bustling about before leaving for work, and then she peeked in for a moment to wish me a good night. "Good night" really felt like a grim joke at that moment. Around ten in the evening, I decided to put on a movie, something exciting enough to keep me in the waking world for at least another two hours.

But before I could start my laptop, I heard a short, sharp tapping on the other side of my window.

Matthew was perched on the windowsill, shaking his wings to rid them of raindrops. After a moment of inner conflict, I decided to let him in and then watched as he settled on the back of my chair, while I sat on the bed, studying him intently.

"Sorry for the late hour," he said, shaking off more water, this time right onto the navy blanket draped over the chair. "I had to wait until your mother left for work."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, tugging at my pajama sleeve.

"I heard what happened in the Dreaming. Boss wasn’t exactly pleased with your departure, you know?"

"Lord Morpheus would only be pleased if I agreed to do everything he demands," I scoffed.

"That’s usually how things work for us," Matthew’s voice held a hint of amusement, or so I thought. "But maybe you’ll be happy to hear," he added conspiratorially, "that ever since you disappeared from the library, he and Lucienne have been searching for a way to strip you of your power without actually taking your life."

My eyebrows shot up, and my curiosity suddenly intensified.

"Really?"

"The last time something interested him this much was probably when the Vortex appeared. When I first met him, human life didn’t matter as much to him."

"And when exactly did you meet him?" I asked, leaning in slightly. "Before or after he was imprisoned?"

A flash of surprise glimmered in the raven’s yellow eyes.

"He told you about Roderick Burgess?"

"Not quite. He only mentioned that the Nightmares escaped the Dreaming while he was in captivity."

"Some magician trapped him in his basement over a hundred years ago. Imprisoned in a magical circle, he was unable to return to his realm for a long time. And when he finally escaped, he found the Dreaming in complete ruin. You probably remember the news reports about the sleeping sickness that affected people because of his disappearance. I met Lord Morpheus when he was trying to rebuild the Dreaming and recover the artifacts that had been stolen from him."

A pang of guilt surfaced somewhere near my heart, and I couldn’t suppress the nervous clenching of my lips.

"He probably doesn’t have a very high opinion of humans after that, does he?"

"He didn’t," Matthew admitted. "But recently, something’s changed in him. We all see it. He seems to care more about your kind."

"Oh, and that’s why he tried to kill me yesterday, huh?" I asked skeptically, staring down at my clasped hands.

The raven flapped his wings vigorously, then hopped onto the bed next to me. He moved close enough that I had to look at him, and when I did, I saw something in his eyes that reminded me of a man.

"Look," he began, shaking himself once again. "I was once just like you. I had a life here, a job, a family. That was my only purpose. I think I even loved this world, and I loved taking from it as much as I could—sometimes even too much. And then, I ended up in Lord Morpheus's service. And you know what?" He paused, waiting for a sign that I was listening intently. "That's also quite a good purpose to exist. Boss gives people hope, without which this earthly life would be meaningless. Serving him, whether as a messenger or as a Nightmare, isn't as terrifying as you might think. Had you asked me about this a month ago, I probably would never have admitted it, but now I believe you should accept the offer he made to you."

"You don't understand, Matthew," I sighed, trying to sort through the racing thoughts in my head. "I just cannot agree to become a Nightmare."

"Why not?"

"Because my whole life, I've done everything just to avoid becoming one," I said, standing up from the bed and taking a few long strides across the room. Throughout this, the raven never took his eyes off me. "I know there's a darkness inside me left behind by the Nightmare known as the Corinthian. I try so hard to ignore it but the truth is, I feel it every day, not finding joy where others would instantly see it. I don't want to, and I’ve never wanted to be what Corinthian made me. Everyday I keep trying to suppress that darkness, to learn how to truly enjoy life, to help others, not torment them... to fulfill dreams, not to destroy them."

"Is that why you wake people from Nightmares?" Matthew asked, tilting his head.

"And that's why I won't accept Dreamlord’s offer," I said, defeated, as I sat back down on the bed, my gaze drifting to a spot on the wall above my desk. "If he takes this power from me, maybe he'll also take the darkness that comes with it. And there's nothing I want more than to finally stop fighting with myself and get rid of it forever."

We both fell silent for a few moments, lost in our own thoughts. Letting out what had been buried inside me for years brought unexpected relief, and for a brief moment, I felt that I might finally be free of the Nightmare's burden. To be honest, the conversation with Matthew had helped me more than anything else that had happened in the past few days.

"I don’t know what your next encounter with Boss will be like," Matthew said, almost as if he were thinking out loud. "But I do know that he no longer intends to kill you. He’s genuinely trying to find a way to help you. If you stop running, he might just succeed."

"Thank you, Matthew," I smiled, gently brushing my fingers along his wing. " It may not seem like it, but I truly appreciate you coming to see me tonight."

"You weren’t particularly nice the first time we met…" he quipped with a hint of sarcasm. "But it turns out you’re not that bad after all. Even with the part of Nightmare living within you."

As the raven flew off into the night sky, I closed the window, turned off the lamp, and with a heavy sigh, lay down on my bed. I didn’t want to escape into Nightmares if it meant causing more harm in the Dreaming. I couldn’t say I wasn’t scared, but something in Matthew’s voice convinced me to face Dreamlord that night, with the inner conviction that after all, we both wanted the same thing. To give hope. To create, not to destroy.

To help, not to annihilate.

[blocksruinedme]

(hi there! sorry if this is disrespectful or anything, feel free to delete this ask! i was just concerned because in the comments of jimmy's recent videos, it seems that he might make a video reacting to fanfictions...

very concerning! especially because it seems like he didn't contact the creators of the edits in newest video beforehand. no offense to him, but i genuinely do not trust him to handle fanfiction in a respectful way. he's very hard-working, but he's getting dangerously content-brained!

anyways, the reason i'm sending this ask to you is because you seem to frequent his streams a lot. VERY sorry if this is disrespectful to ask, but if you do attend his next stream, is it ok to ask that you try and send a message in his chat? i would myself, but he streams after midnight where i live T^T i really hope that someone well-versed in the rules of fandom spaces (maybe scott (ｰ ｰ;) ) can talk him out of it, but i would be very grateful if any chatters could discourage him during his next live.

thank you very much for reading!!)

-a shy chinese anon who experienced the banning of ao3 in china because fans of a celebrity mass-reported an rpf fic to the government :<

(Hey shy anon, I didn't show up until a little after the ban, but I was on the english side of that fandom so i know a lot. my eternal condolences, I'll never stop being upset about what happened!)

It is not at all disrespectful to ask politely, which you have! I am not going to send a message in his chat because it is an absolute hellhole, but people I know have left thoughtful comments on his youtube, which I think is 20x more useful. He sees those in his own time and can think about it. Chat is running nonstop, super fast, you get instant reaction in the chat from all kinds of sorts - seriously i love jimmy and i have nothing against younger people, but holy hell that chat is mostly intolerable to read. Most streams I don't even have it visible. Jimmy has very little time to think in response to chat messages, it can't be nuanced, and the first thing he says is now public record.

Overall, I don't think Jimmy will react to fanfic. If he does (and I've been wrong predicting Jimmy before!), it's going to be something like Wholesome Seablings Adventures. I can not imagine Jimmy reading ship fic - unless I guess it's incredibly pg canon-ship? There's all kinds of "pg youtubers", and Jimmy's more on the Katherine side of thing, appealing to families and genuinely little kids. If you look at the saucy things he lets in, you generally need some real non-pg context for it to feel non-pg. (there's always exceptions)

When people demand he address shipping he tries to say as little as possible. He's been shown nsfw fanart while he was streaming. He knows what is going on and he's not going to touch that. He's thoughtful when it counts, and since these aren't stream reacts, he has time to think hard about what he's actually going to use. So if he did do fanfic, there would be plenty of never seen footage of Jimmy of going "holy moly!" and moving on. When it matters, he is generally thoughtful and respectful.

Like the time he realized he was confused about asexuality (he didn't know about aromanticism) and slowed down to be really careful he didn't say anything accidentally hurtful. (for context shelby is ace but dates and he knows that. look at his poor little face trying to understand.)

Maybe he'll mess up this time, I sure hope not, but I'm not personally freaking out.

Also, exactly one time he opened tumblr on stream, it was the sexyman poll, and he read my reply to the post (i'm the one who called him a wet paper bag of a man, my claim to fame.) I showed up to apologize, he was a sweetheart, and he said this about tumblr, that he knows we want our own private space. He's respectful at heart.

I am not on tiktok, but until your ask, I'll admit it never occurred to me he might contact the creators before reacting. Thinking on it, I guess I think of TikTok like youtube, where it is loudly tossed out at the whole world for attention, but I'm not on TikTok.

And why do I think ao3 is different? Well, I have no coherent answer besides "vibes" and "more contained audience" and "everyone knows everyone is on youtube and tiktok".

Here are some more Jimmy clips I've wanted to share on tumblr for one reason or another.

In the end, I have been hyperfixating on this man for sixteen months and I believe it'll be okay. If I'm wrong, well. We'll make it through this, gang. We'll take care of each other and keep going. Nothing's stopped us yet!

If you want to say something to Jimmy, leave a yt comment, don't go into his stream, please, not there, you'll just provoke people and he might have to respond to that, please

Everyone out there who read ao3 not logged in - go log in, people are locking things.

People on ao3, lock or don't lock, as you see fit!

(also joel lizzie and oli did fanfic readings/reenactments/whatever years ago, including writing their own snippets, i got through like 90 seconds of one, youtube at your own risk.)

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Brainrot Housekeeping: A little note about Dorian

This is my heads-up that I've decided to try messing around on their platform and translating some of my headcanons into the Arcana's visual novel format.

This is not a promotional post. (hence why you won't be seeing any links, story titles, or profile handles)

It's mostly so that if anybody sees something posted by an author over there using my ideas/moniker, it's probably me and not a thief. Also, this blog is far and away my priority over that - if I start to feel overwhelmed or burnt out, that's going to be the first thing I stop doing. Not this :)

I'm putting more thoughts below the cut since the main point of this post is to be transparent about my activity to avoid misunderstandings:

I've been in conversation with plenty of people about Dorian. I've heard from people whose lives were transformed for the better because of it, I've heard from people with mixed feelings, I've heard from people whose lives were wrecked by it. It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who's been on my page for a while that I'm fairly skeptical of them myself and don't always see eye-to-eye with them on how things seem to be run.

Anybody who's talked to me personally about it knows that I have boatloads more opinions, but I realized that those are based off of what I've heard much more than off of what I've experienced. So for transparency's sake, here are my reasons for trying this out:

First, the most important thing I've learned to do is to try encountering something for myself when I keep hearing and developing strong opinions about it. Sticking to this personal value is what got me out of Rai's server and influence (if you don't know and you want to know, read my pinned "to the arcana fandom" post) and ultimately what helped me get the resources I needed to help my friends get out of serious danger too. If I want to join the conversation about the clear divide between Dorian's vision for the Arcana and the fandom built around the original game, I have to try both sides out for myself.

Second, I'm a curious person and it seems like a new way to fuck around and find out (something I do constantly, though I rarely show it on here :P). I'm a creative, I love these characters, and the chance to see my own words in the original format sounds like fun.

To finish off, these are the goals and parameters I'm setting myself when it comes to however active I end up being over there. I'm putting them here again for transparency, but mainly to help me keep myself accountable:

My main goal is to try a new experience and have fun in the process. To do that, I'm going to keep my mind open without losing critical thinking and only make what I feel like making and when I feel like making it

Nothing I create is going to be motivated by a desire to be "successful". I'm already successful - I have a steady job IRL, a group of amazing friends, and this gift of a page that lets me be creative and find joy with other people around one of my many interests

Being active over there is going to be a bottom priority. If my tasks are getting to be too much, that will be the first to go because the only value I place in it at this time is experiental

If I find I can't stick to these goals, whether it be motivation, mentality, or just a loss of interest, I'll stop my activity over there and re-evaluate what I'm doing vs what I want to be doing and why

If I encounter something that's deeply concerning to me, I'll attempt to address it proactively through the proper channels available to me. If those concerns remain unaddressed and I think people need to know about it, I'll talk about it openly and honestly

I won't use my blog or server to promote any work I publish over there. Concurrently, I'll do my best to avoid any promotion off of the Dorian app

That's all from me for now about this! I'll be linking it in my pinned post so people who want to know more about me can look at it, but I won't be putting it on the arcana tag because I don't think it's relevant at this time.

Cheers!

brainrot

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

okay so i know no one cares but the internet is for yelling about your feelings and so i shall do just that! i think education on kink is so misinterpreted by the Youths on the internet (which proves they're too young and immature to even be having convos abt kink...) and there are also many minors who are into all that tiktok written porn and wattpad shit which has sorta leaked onto tumblr as well. and like i can't know who reads or writes that shit but it Smells Of Youth lol, and like and god knows that i read porn as a minor but ...... adksjhfgfdasdjhf you know?? at least i was aware i was in spaces not meant for me lol and behaved accordingly.

so i read a short lil ficlet that was on my recommended page (ofc a larissa/reader thing lol) that i think shows exactly what's wrong with the younger generations (not to sound like an old lady but you know what i mean) and that is that they are more concerned with appearances rather than the content -- that is, something checking all the boxes of safety rather than it actually being safe.

in their crusade for Righteousness and Political Correctness (even tho i hate using that word bc that's what far-right ppl use when they don't like that minorities want to be treated with respect) they forget that like. you can't slap a "this is okay label" on something that isn't okay and that magically makes it okay.

what i mean by that is that in that ficlet -- and it doesn't matter which one it is bc they are all basically the same fic regurgitated over and over again with slight changes -- we are clearly talking about a fucked up scenario: a principal pursuing and wanting to fuck her student! but THEN she says "if you want me to stop just say red" as if that makes it all okay?? it shows a fundamental misunderstanding of safewords and what they are for. nothing was negotiated or talked about, she DEMANDED that this clearly young person call her mommy even though no preferences were discussed prior etc etc.

and my beef with this is like, if you're gonna write a fucked up scenario (and god knows i love those), you should not try to signal with your narrative choices that what is happening is okay, unless it is a literary choice that somehow serves the story. but what i've read and keep reading feels like aha! not problematic bc we are all over 18 and we have safewords! so nothing could ever go wrong :) please, treat a fucked up scenario like a fucked up scenario! commit to your fucked up fantasy goddamit! stop trying to virtue signal! you're writing about a principal fucking her student and abusing her power, which is okay and you should be able to write about that! but she's not uwu mommy askjdhfsg you know?? and i think that's why so many people got mad at me for writing my fucked up shit (inevitable specifically) and it's bc i wrote basically what the narrative they keep writing about would look like in real life lol, and i didn't do any of the performative stuff they do to make it Okay and Not Problematic. someone would end up hurt, i promise you! it's okay to have your fucked up fantasies, just don't pretend they're not just that -- fucked up fantasies that need to be carefully managed if you ever want to engage in something that mimics it in real life.

it's really dangerous that all these Youths keep using bdsm terminology without understanding what it means. safewords, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare... if you write a sexual assault scene and slap aftercare on it, it is still sexual assault. if someone coerces you to have sex with them (and there is more way than one to coerce a person to sleep with you without using any force) but say oh you can have a safeword and i'll stop :))) that is still sexual assault lol. you saying the words doesn't mean anything.

also, i'm not saying there aren't inherent power dynamics in any relationship, not just with age gap stuff which is a popular trope in these fics, but like they need to be addressed and managed if you want to write a Healthy Relationship(TM). there is a social power imbalance between men and women and yet het relationships exist and work! but if you don't wanna write that, if you wanna write your "mommy that sorta rapes me but not really" fantasy, by all means keep doing it but pleaaaase call it what it is! otherwise it's just confusing and harmful for all the young people on these webbed sites.

i am all for fucked up shit, both reading and writing it, and there should be space for everyone to unload their bullshit on the internet. however, problems arise when fucked up shit is being sold as Good(TM) bc it checks certain boxes and basically passes as Not Problematic uwu on a technicality, rather than examining the actual content. there are ways to examine fucked up desires and the dark side the human psyche, but what is not productive is slapping buzzwords on stuff and saying oh it's Moral(TM) now. fiction doesn't have to be moral. please give up on that notion! but if it's trying to be, then it shouldn't endorse prettily packaged sexual assault lol.

[ramblings-of-a-fangirl-blog]

Embracing Mental Health? Looking At The Companion’s Approach

I want to write about The Companion's focus on mental health and their related projects.

When The Companion first announced their book, several of my friends and I had mixed feelings. While the project had the potential to help many, it also had the capacity to cause harm, and we weren't sure which way it would go, since The Companion had not proven to be a safe space by then. By now, these initial concerns have not only been confirmed but have even surpassed our expectations in a negative way, sadly.

It’s clear that the people at The Companion never have experienced a certain... form of mental health struggle, because if they had, they would be well be aware of the issues and dangers that come with the way they are handling the project, and they would therefore be talking and acting differently. To some degree that’s a good thing, as I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy to have the experiences I had and am having, the experiences that part of my fandom friends have, the experiences that a lot of traumatised people go through. However, there are people who – as far as I’m aware – aren’t struggling with mental health themselves and still have voiced the same concerns, showing that it's possible to recognize the problems with The Companion's approach without having experienced severe mental health struggles firsthand.

The Companion is months into lauding themselves of promoting mental health awareness, yet they haven’t been consulting professionals. This is apparent in their lack of adherence to trauma-informed practices. I won't delve into the principles of trauma-informed practice, such as safety, trustworthiness, choice, collaboration, and empowerment, or the topic of trauma and its consequences as that would go beyond the scope of this text and you can look that up. These principles are however essential for handling sensitive topics like mental health.

When The Companion announced the book, our primary concern was the safety of the submission process. What would they do to ensure us that submitting stories would be safe, to show us they are trustworthy? How would they handle the story selection transparently? How would they support those, whose stories were not chosen, to minimize the risk of flashbacks, mental breakdowns, or re-traumatization due to rejection? The answer has become clear: they won’t. They have not made any effort to assure contributors that their stories will be handled safely and respectfully. Instead, they have set numerous guidelines for what “they’re looking for”, what constitutes a “good” story, turning it into a writing contest. If your story isn’t chosen, it seems it’s your fault for being a bad writer. They also disregard dyslexic individuals or non-native English speakers, as submissions with “typos and grammatical errors” might also be rejected. They aren’t just not providing information on how they will handle rejections in a trauma-informed manner but placing the burden of rejection squarely on the writer. Their message is essentially: “Be vulnerable, be open, be emotional, but if this process or the rejection leads to mental health issues and triggers you, that’s not our problem, it’s not even something we’ll address in any way because it doesn’t even cross our minds that it could be a problem.”  Safety is among other things fostered through giving information and thereby the chance to mentally prepare oneself, to know what to expect – what’s going to happen, when and how. Give me as much control about the process as possible. However, the submission process lacks more information. When submitting, contributors agree that their stories can be used in “any other project and format,” which is such an unclear wording that it offers no reassurance at all that I will have control over how my story will be used once I submit it. There is no information on if and how a submitted story can be edited. And there’s the info that the submission can be withdrawn but not a clear deadline. The fact that they’re not publishing all questions at once, while to some degree understandable, goes again against the principle of providing control and safety. If I know what all the questions are that gives me the option to calmly decide for which question my story would fit best. Of course, an easy dismissal could be, “If you’re too unstable to submit stories, don’t participate,” but considering this is all about embracing mental health, such a stance would be cynical.

Beyond the submission process, there have been other red flags throughout the project. Starting with the price: $99. For that amount, I can buy three handmade quiet activity books for children, which literally take hours to make. It’s hard to believe the printing of one single book costs $99, and hard to believe one could set a price before having any content ready. Transparency about the cost would help, and no, vague descriptions like "little details," "holes in the cover," or "a thread" do not count as transparency. I can buy an awl for $4 and make my own holes, and a piece of thread costs less than $1. These titbits of information do not explain the cost. We are unable to imagine what could justify the cost but even if we assume the book actually costs $99 to print, this price makes it unaffordable for those most in need. If the price is not something that makes you think, you likely can afford therapy well. You are privileged. Still, how can you not see that the price is an issue for others and that a book about/for mental health should never cost that much? I can get books by actual professionals like Bessel van der Kolk or Bruce Perry for a fraction of that price. Also, what about the Kickstarter? A Kickstarter to pre-order books and to cover all additional expenses for design and whatnot would’ve made sense. Yet not only is it unclear what a Kickstarter is needed for now, it also was originally announced to be starting at Basingstoke and without any information it just got postponed. I repeat: Creating safety by giving information would be the trauma-informed approach but that’s not happening. “But it will be available for free online!” All the promotional focus has been on the physical book's aesthetics, how good it will feel in your hands, how shiny it will look, how many details it will have. Those struggling with mental health and financial instability won’t get that tactile experience. So... is it more important for the book to look as fancy as possible or to be affordable and accessible to those who truly need it? The Companion’s priorities seem clear: appearance over accessibility. After all, it’s all they’ve focused on during the promotion: “This is how good the book will look” instead of “Here’s how we will make the story collection process safe for you,” which – again – is what most actually traumatised people actually wanted to know. The priorities are... weird. Making the book less shiny to make it more affordable doesn’t seem to be an option and by that, they fail the goal of supporting people struggling with mental health, in my opinion.

In fact, throughout this whole process, there has been so much focus on the marketing part and hardly any on the ‘embracing mental health’ part, outside of the interviews. Most recent example from the pin campaign: The email I just received, “Pledge until midnight to get these freebies.” But also other examples from the book, like the fact that the pre-orders had a limited number. “Give a sense of urgency and scarcity to get people to buy quickly” is a marketing strategy that, in my opinion, has no place in a project that is about mental health, where people need time to make decisions, where people need time to save money, where people don’t need to be put under additional stress, and where people might take time-outs of social media and newsletters for mental health reasons. Another focus has been counting numbers. “Let’s get xxx subscribers! Let’s get xxx people to join the waiting list!” Again, a potentially fun way to promote a project or a company. Yet again, focusing so much on such a superficial thing instead of a trauma-informed approach and instead of, say, a discussion about how to support people struggling on social media, makes the priorities weird again. ...because throughout the months I’ve seen various people writing about being at a low point in terms of mental health, in reply to posts by The Companion, and the supposedly so supportive fandom didn’t react.

What even does “embracing mental health as a fandom” mean, outside of the interviews? The Social Hour chats? The Companion did a good job at showing right away that this was not a safe space for me, by starting with the question of “What smell reminds you of childhood?” and expecting nice, fluffy answers. My answer is “vomit” and it’s not memories I want to talk about, nor do I want to listen to other people’s nice, fluffy childhood memories. That question made it clear right away: Not well-suited for people with cPTSD. The 60 for 60 challenge to get people thinking about things? The first post I saw was the question “What if you were forced to do a do-over, how would you relive your life in 2024 as a 15-year-old?” and my first thought was, “if I had to relive my life as a 15-year-old in the situation that I was in as a 15-year-old but with the knowledge I have now, I wouldn’t. I’d off myself.” And that thought was immediately followed by anxiety and flashbacks. Only on a second look at the post did I see that it didn’t specifically state that it would have to be the same situation that the person was in as a 15-year-old, but then, that quickly also made me want to ignore that challenge. Positivity chitchat? Positivity is good. Looking for glimmers is good. Toxic positivity isn’t. The focus on post-traumatic growth, a concept that hasn’t actually been properly validated by research, isn’t. Yet this is what The Companion aimed at with their questions for the green room sessions not once but twice: “The last few years have been really tough for many of us and our lives have changed. What’s one way your life has changed for the better you’d like to share with the group?” “Reflecting on the challenges you've faced, what's one positive insight or lesson you've gained that you'd like to share with others?” A friend commented that they’d dare The Companion people to ask Amanda with a straight face what positive insight she gained from experiencing eight miscarriages. The questions can be answered if your mental health struggles aren’t related to trauma or if they don’t go beyond a certain depth of struggle. Together with the financial situation, the target group of this project seems to be people with good income who struggle with life challenges such as the death or sickness of loved ones, bullying at work, etc. All very serious issues and things that are bound to have a negative impact on mental health. That’s just one subgroup of people struggling with mental health, though. And I’m not saying that there aren’t people with PTSD and cPTSD who have benefited from what The Companion is doing, I’m sure there are. I'm also not expecting The Companion to be a trigger-free space – that's impossible given the different life experiences of people. However, having a professional supervising the process and adherence to trauma-informed principles is not too much to ask.

The middle-term consequences? While I'm speaking primarily from my own experience, some friends share similar concerns. The middle-term consequence is that what comes with these projects is an additional stress factor for conventions, it makes me feel additionally unsafe. I can unsubscribe from The Companion’s newsletter, avoid their social media and just not keep track of these projects anymore. I have however been going to Stargate conventions and conventions with Amanda regularly. I ended up struggling with additional anxiety after The Companion’s panel at Basingstoke. I’ve skipped the last two conventions in the USA despite having the time and money to attend. The heavy presence of people who are clearly not trauma-informed and the fact that I can identify them by their T-shirts and hoodies, makes me feel unsafe. If you actively support a company that's selling a book that’s aimed at mental health and costs $99, I don’t trust you.  For the moment, I’m not sure what that means when it comes to Amanda. I owe her so much. I’m not sure if I would be here if it hadn’t been for her kindness and care. I appreciate and respect her deeply and am immensely grateful. Yet, I struggle to understand how she’d support a $99 book and that makes feel disconnected from her, too, even if I don't doubt the good intentions, and I know of others who are feeling similary. I don’t know what this will mean, moving forward. The thought of the potential loss of one safe person and one safe space is stressful. In addition to the impact on conventions, there’s the danger of people feeling once again (and by ‘once again’ I mean given their traumatic past experiences) excluded. The message seems to be: “You’re not alone. But no, not like that. If you’re not stable enough, here’s a list with professionals. You don’t get to be part of this clique because we’re not going to care about being trauma-informed and a safe space. You’re too broken for our group.” (On a side note, I find it interesting that none of us can connect to the whole hype around the enamel pins. If I were to wear a mood pin, I’d choose something simpler like the Mood Tracker by AtelierEumori. However I very probably wouldn’t tell strangers my mental health state to start with as it would feel unsafe and with safe friends I would talk directly if needed, so I wouldn’t use a pin to start with, but then different people have different preferences. If the pins by The Companion help even one person that’s good.) So, for me and some of my friends, The Companion’s approach not only fails to support a subgroup of people struggling with mental health but actively contributes to further distress.

“You’re just a hater, looking for something to complain about.”  I don’t actively participate in social media; I primarily use it to stay up to date with news from the pages I follow. I have, however, seen some public criticism directed at The Companion. It’s notable that this criticism is often met with dismissal or even attacks from The Companion’s followers, while The Companion itself remains silent. Outside of a form after the initial interview with Amanda, there hasn’t been an option to provide anonymous feedback, nor has The Companion created a safe enough space for non-anonymous feedback to be feasible. I know of persons who have refrained from voicing the points, the critique I’m discussing here because they fear hateful responses. This is particularly problematic because a key feature of trauma is the experience of being silenced. Personally, I wasn’t allowed to voice or even have an opinion as a child and teen, as daring to voice any protest would immediately result in additional abuse. This situation presents again a risk for re-traumatization and further marginalizes those already struggling with their mental health. The silence that comes from people not daring to speak up leads to a sense of “I’m overreacting, I must be a bad person.” Déjà-vu. Only once I started speaking with others I noticed that I’m not at all alone with these concerns, that I’m not the only person who’s experiencing a negative impact on their mental health from what The Companion is doing. The aim of this post is not to get The Companion to change, the damage is done. The aim is to make others who might feel alone with these thoughts feel less alone.

Edit: It's 'you should forgive your abuser' now. I’m speechless… Just a quick reminder for all survivors out there: No, you don’t need to forgive to heal.

[dmagedgoods]

Okokok I've been waiting!!!

🛡️🩸🕷️ going through the Shield Maze

🦊 during their first meeting

😈 when reunited in Act III

And of course

😇 during the proposal

Seelah and Salvadore in the Shield Maze 🛡️ Seelah: For one of those high-up, lordly snobs, he doesn’t seem to be too bad. Looks to me like he has a plan. And I think he cares. Iomedae, I hope we’ll find those kids that run into the maze. It could be too late already. Maybe we should have listened to that other guy and shown the sword. It would have been honest at least. But I guess he didn’t want a bunch of children throwing themselves against demon hordes. They could need some real training first. And some real food. 🛡️ Salvadore: I assume having a Paladin in the group will be of advantage. At least thanks to her, I can turn around without expecting a knife between my shoulder blades. She knows how to fight and she can follow orders. For the dangers ahead, this is something to work with. ~ Camellia and Salvadore in the Shield Maze 🩸 Camellia:

How wearisome. Another knight in shining armor. And as expected, he makes it appear as if falling into this hole was his personal decision to guide us back into the light. Well, it shall be all the same to me, his eagerness to lead will prove useful to finally step out of this disgusting place. 🩸 Salvadore:

She is well trained with her rapier. It speaks in her favor that she took her lessons seriously. Lower nobility often shows higher amounts of enthusiasm and ambition than those at the top. Nonetheless, her style in battle seems a touch … concerning. – The intensity, the … hunger? Well, maybe I’m overinterpreting her passion. Many soldiers enjoy the killing too, after all. ~ Wenduag and Salvadore in the Shield Maze 🕷️ Wenduag: Conceited fool, stumbling blindly into the darkness. Show me if you are strong enough and I will grant you a weapon beyond your wildest dreams, nourishing my own power. Oh, you will play right into my hands, stranger, and never notice until it will be far too late. 🕷️ Salvadore: The way they move when she walks … Can she use them to hold her pray like a real … They seem fully functional and twitch and curve and … Did she say something? This has to stop. Getting distracted by her extremities like some kind of naïve boy who stumbled into the world for the very first time. Disgraceful. ~ Nenio and Salvadore during their first meeting 🦊 Nenio: It is reassuring to discover that the mental abilities of at least a few specimens among the crusader armies lie high above the intelligence of the average cultist. Note to self: Measure the intellectual capacities of the leopard when separated from the boy. The way it reacted in battle suggests an increased understanding of its surroundings and situational thinking. Must find out if this phenomenon is caused by mutual influence. 🦊 Salvadore: Hubristic. Respectless. And appallingly clueless for someone pretending to be a scientist. Did she think this little test of hers was even vaguely challenging? Enough of this. We lost too much time with this nonsense. She can come along, no doubt that she would get herself killed in under twenty-four hours if she was left to navigate the city on her own. Nonetheless, she will have to learn to address me by my proper title. But there is at least one thing even more concerning than the utter lack of manners of someone calling herself an academic: I can’t believe this whole land lies in ruins through the hand of people with the intellect of an earthworm. ~ Woljif and Salvadore when reunited in Act III 😈 Woljif: He means it? I can … stay? The running off will just be forgiven and forgotten? No hard feelings and all that? Maybe the chief is not as much of an uptight upper-class bugger as I thought. But of course he would take me back! He needs me after all. ‘No stealing, Woljif, put this back Woljif, I swear you will spend a week in a cell, Woljif.’ Ha, I bet he missed it and the stuff I got for him! 😈 Salvadore: I didn’t expect to see him again. Well, it is good to know that he made it. He seems surprised. Did he expect me to judge him for behavior this predictable? I knew that he would run sooner or later when I freed him from that cell. And I know he will run again. It does not matter. He is none of my soldiers and we have no contract. His abilities are useful for our group and for the crusade and I will make good use of them as long as he provides them. Well, I may admit that I missed his fanciful, confusing stories. ~ Daeran and Salvadore during the proposal 😇 Daeran: Look at him, all radiant in white, striding like this place was his already. There isn’t the slightest doubt in him that he will make it, is there? – That he will put an end to it all and stand victorious. This ridiculous confidence, this unwavering certainty, it was there right from the start. How did he manage to infect me with it? It makes my head spin. Am I floating? I can barely feel the ground. Oh, it all be damned! This future will be mine, it will be ours, I won’t allow some ugly crack in the world to take it from me! He better makes true on all those high promises! And I’ll give him another reason to! 😇 Salvadore: Lord Arendae. He can’t possibly mean … Has he ever appeared more vibrant than in this very moment? More alive? Lord Arendae. No, he is not joking. A promise to gift him forever.

He has planned to ask him, he has already drawn the first drafts in his mind, of all the sophisticated details as soon as the worldwound would be closed. It has been so clear to him: Of course, it would be him, Knight Commander Salvadore Arrigo, who would do this step and propose. And Daeran would tease him, would draw back an inch, withholding a clear answer at first, before smiling at him – a smile that would give away the truth of his feelings and …

Yes, this very smile is here, it is here right in front of him. But they stand near the dreadful ruin of this former fortress, blood falling down on them, the hardest battle of their lives right ahead – and there never has been a moment more perfect, more complete.

Lord Arendae. Lord Salvadore Arendae. The world seems to dance around him and he realizes that he has stared in speechless silence for far too long.

He straightens his back, emotions flooding from his heart, through his veins, too strong to be held by his body, he may as well be torn apart by their intensity.

But he manages to compose himself enough for the answer. An answer given with every fiber of his being.

[asktheforgottenballerina]

Friendship [I couldn't think of a better title] | Hello Puppets and Hello Puppets: Midnight Show

A/N: tagging @graceandtheidiotsquad and @youreternallover but anyone can read }:). Basically my take on an episode of Mortimer's Handeemen.

Warnings: arguments, but that's basically it I think.

[The Mortimer's Handeemen theme song plays.]

[For the opening scene, we see a woman with messy, black hair and brown eyes. She wears a red sweater, casual leggings, and a black jacket, open. She seems to notice the viewers' presence, addressing us as if we were actually there.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Oh, I almost didn't see you there!

[She chuckles, pulling on the neck of her sweater.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Today we're going to be learning all about friendshi-

[Suddenly, a crash and a yell is heard from the other room. Olivia's expression suddenly changes to one of concern.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Oh no...I'd better go and check that out.

[OLIVIA walks into the other room, to see her younger brother OWEN GUBBERSON holding RILEY RUCKUS back as she seems to still be attempting to lunge at NICK NACK. BELLA THE BALLERINA and DAISY DANGER are helping him attempt to break it up.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: What On Earth Is Going On Here?

OWEN GUBBERSON: ...I have this under control, Liv!

[he says, while clearly not having this under control]

[strangely, the puppets seem to be...moving on their own, almost? Neither of the humans question this.]

NICK NACK: You - You stupid wench! You wouldn't appreciate good art if it hit you with a wrench!

[RILEY RUCKUS manages to break free from OWEN and punches NICK NACK in the face. OLIVIA facepalms.]

[Once again music starts to play. Cue a musical number!]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: So you've gone and called someone stupid-

BELLA THE BALLERINA: And in response, they damaged your eye-

[She gestures to her eye.]

BELLA THE BALLERINA: But here is where the conflict must end, lest you both end up blind.

OLIVIA GUBBERSON:

Sometimes the problems at play Are not all plain to see So we lash out at our loved ones Disregarding our bond sanctity

DAISY DANGER:

There are several sides To us that may seem abstract at first Until we discover where everything fits, and People can be like a half-missing puzzle set; As we find the pieces Things make more and more sense!

OWEN GUBBERSON: Nice Imagery, but I'm not sure I follow.

DAISY DANGER: Well, hon, I'll give you an example!

I had this problem where I'd Often hide my less-than-awesome feelings So when I would feel like sobbing, I'd just smile and crack jokes! I thought that that was coping, only joking Never showing sadness Hoping it would go away!

RILEY RUCKUS: Did that work?

DAISY DANGER: Nope! I felt bad!

NICK NACK: Aw, Daisy...

DAISY DANGER: It's okay!

OWEN GUBBERSON: How's that?

DAISY DANGER:

Everybody gets sad Even when you have people to care for And therefore You don't have to hide your pain Life without rainy days Is incomplete

RILEY RUCKUS: Or impossible, really. Rain goes to plants, plants feed animals, plant-eating animals feed animal-eating animals and humans feed animals corn and inject them with hormones until they can barely walk anymore!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Riley? How does all that relate to rain?

DAISY DANGER: Putting it simply, rain is a necessary piece of the puzzle that is life!

RILEY RUCKUS: So true. Are we done singing or is this just one of those musical interludes?

BELLA THE BALLERINA: On the subject of storm clouds... 'Cause, you know. You need. Storm clouds to make. Rain I'm just gonna get into it...

You once knew me as real gloomy This weird spooky, broody gal 'Cause I knew you'd listen to me As too scary to ignore I thought that I could take it All the hate could just be shaken But when you lo— care for someone! Not much hurts more than their scorn I also felt bad

NICK NACK: Come, now...

BELLA THE BALLERINA: In a different way!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Different how?

BELLA THE BALLERINA: By bad, I mean, well, bad, I did what I thought that I had to, which is bad too! I don't have to act all tough sometimes love is enough...

DAISY DANGER: Or what we need!

RILEY RUCKUS:

That was a quaint little review Of things that we already knew Now, can our discourse resume? There's pressing matters at hand

OWEN GUBBERSON: Actually, that was for your benefit.

RILEY RUCKUS: I don't see how that could be relevant.

DAISY DANGER: Riley, please!

OWEN GUBBERSON: Our goals benevolent!

RILEY RUCKUS: You know me, I don't care for sentiment.

NICK NACK: OMG!

OWEN GUBBERSON & RILEY RUCKUS:

This serves as a testament To the fact-

RILEY RUCKUS: That to me, you're negligent-

OWEN GUBBERSON: [at the same time as Riley] that you have a temperament!-

BOTH:

Which is FINE!

RILEY RUCKUS: It just works to your detriment-

OWEN GUBBERSON: you just haven't accepted it-

BOTH:

You not letting me finish is proving my-/if you let me finish they'd get to the-

BELLA THE BALLERINA: HEY!

[the two snap their attention in her direction]

BELLA THE BALLERINA: You're lost!

RILEY RUCKUS: I'm right here...

BELLA THE BALLERINA: It's okay!

RILEY RUCKUS: You're acting weird...

BELLA THE BALLERINA: I was lost once too, but thanks to all of you life sucks less now!

ALL: We're your best pals!

BELLA THE BALLERINA: No one wants to be a joke...

ALL: But a life free of jokes is incomplete!

NICK NACK: Guys do you mind if I contribute to this weird, vent-ey song?

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Please, do!

NICK NACK:

I've got an issue That feels new-school; I don't wanna say I'm too cool But I'm just too fab for you fools And I feel like you don't get me!

OWEN GUBBERSON: You've insulted us while venting!

NICK NACK: ...Sorry!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: It's alright, Nick, honestly it didn't hurt me, it's clear you're the one who's hurting.

NICK NACK: Huh?

BELLA THE BALLERINA: You feel low!

NICK NACK: That's not true!

DAISY DANGER: It's Okay!

NICK NACK: Don't Assume!

OWEN GUBBERSON: You don't have to save face!

BELLA THE BALLERINA: In almost any case we embrace you!

NICK NACK: [sarcastic] that's rich!

DAISY DANGER: No one hates you!

ALL: Everybody's got flaws!

DAISY DANGER: But with no you at all, we're incomplete!

OLIVIA GUBBERSON:

There! Now you see! Everybody goes wrong And we put it in song So it's easier To hear it!

OWEN GUBBERSON:

This puzzle's tough I'll admit But in time We'll find where everything fits!

[musical number end.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: So, do you too have something to say to each other?

NICK NACK: [heavy, dramatic sigh] I'm sorry I called you stupid. And a wench.

RILEY RUCKUS: [muttering, annoyed] sorry I hit you.

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Well, I'm glad we got that one sorted out.

OWEN GUBBERSON: I could've handled it.

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: Of course you could, little brother.

OWEN GUBBERSON: Hey! You're only 12 minutes older than me.

[Olivia only chuckles and turns to the audience again.]

OLIVIA GUBBERSON: See you all next time!

[Once again, the theme song plays.]

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

A seal-skin around my shoulders (part 2)

Elendil x Selkie!reader

*****

You remain silent as you follow Elendil away from the beach and, for the very first time in your life, you enter the world of the Land-people. The city is called Armenelos, your guide tells you, the great and mighty capital of the kingdom of Númenor, ruled by the noble King Tar-Palantir. All those names mean little to you, but you cannot help being impressed by the great buildings rising all around you, the large streets full of people, men and women and children clothed in all the colours of the rainbow, animals you don't have names for moving among them or being fed by their masters. One of them -a large beast with four spindly legs and a long face, that a man older than Elendil is riding- passes you by in the street and sniffs you with interest, as if it has perceived you do not belong to the same race as the people of the city, making you jolt.

"It is just a horse; you needn't worry, they are not aggressive." Elendil explains, and you mumble that you were not scared, just caught off guard. The Man on the back of the animal has noticed you are naked under the cape and he is looking at you in a way that you do not like; you avert his eyes, and Elendil is quick in taking your elbow and leading you away.

So many people; so many things, and sounds, and smells even, you don't know and cannot name; you recognize the language spoken in the city and could answer if someone were to address you, but most of the topics and concepts you hear are incomprehensible, which makes you feel even more alone, and defenceless. You grit your teeth, determined not to show any weakness or fear, but deep down you heave a sigh of relief when the Man next to you announces you have reached his abode.

He lives alone, which is both a reassurance -the fewer Land-people you enter in contact with, the safer you will feel- and a cause of concern -Elendil seems friendly, but who knows what his intentions are once the two of you will be alone?- but still you try to remain impassive as he opens the door and invites you in.

"I will find something for you to wear." he promises, and a minute later he has offered you some of his clothes - a tunic and pants, he explains as you struggle to put them on, and a pair of boots to wear on your feet; nothing is exactly of your size, but at least now Elendil seems able to look at you without embarassment. "Are you cold?" he asks, and when you nod, he turns to a structure on one side of the largest room of the house; he kneels, fumbles for a minute, and then...

"This is... fire?" you wonder, coming closer as you already feel the warmth caressing your face and hands; the thing the heat is coming from looks almost a living being, the flames dancing as you and your friends were last night, unaware of the danger you were in.

"It is; do not touch it, or you will get burned. How do you know that, by the way? I doubt you can kindle a fire underwater."

"Obviously not. But my grandmother, our elder, knows the world of the Land-dwellers more than most of us, and she taught me some things. It is... beautiful..."

Elendil smiles, as if he found your amazement endearing. He invites you to sit next to the fire to warm up, and a minute later he has brought you a small bowl with a kind of scented, flavorful water; it is called tea, he explains, and on land it is often drank when a person is cold, or has gone through a traumatic event.

The tea is delicious, pleasant on your tongue as well as your nose; you sip it slowly, as Elendil asks whether you are hungry, or hurt after the altercation with your would-be captors. He is acting as if you were old friends, or he had received the visit of an honored guest, and you cannot help appreciating that kindness and helpfulness... assuming that those emotions are genuine, and he is not actually planning to earn your trust and then betray you.

You openly look at each other as you drink your tea, curiosity and uncertainty clear in both your and Elendil's eyes.

"I need to find my seal-skin." you state in the end; you are not ready to fully trust this Man, since you have been taught to be wary of them since you were old enough to swim by yourself, but they cannot be all evil, just like all Selkie are not kind and good. "Those Men stole it from me."

"It will not be easy..."

"It is mine. I want it back. Does the law of the Land-dwellers allow a person to take another's property without repercussion?"

Elendil assures you that actually the kingdom's laws are quite strict when it comes to theft or robbery; on the other hand, to demand justice would mean to reveal your true nature, and at that point, while the King is a fair and merciful ruler, who knows what dangers you would have to face, or if your rights would be considered equal with those of Númenor's subjects?

"Then what should I do?" you wonder, frustrated as you try not to give in to panic; you are alone, without friends or allies among people who have no reason to help you, and you have no way to lawfully reclaim your most prized possession "I cannot remain here!"

Elendil reflects for a while, running his fingers through his hair. "We could try and find the Men who stole the seal-skin from you, and force them to give it back." he proposes in the end, and you are struck by the ease he says we with... as if, even though he belongs to a race that wouldn't readily recognize your rights, he has already decided to assist you and take your side "Did you hear them call each other by name? Did they have any recognizable characteristic, like a scar...?"

You are forced to admit you wouldn't be able to describe your attackers, apart from a general impression: they were both tall and robust, with dark hair, and spoke with the same inflection as him. "But maybe we could go back to the... alehouse? And ask whether someone knows the Men who last night were saying they had almost captured a Selkie."

"It is a good idea." he admits, and he smiles "I will go now".

"I will come with you."

"It is better if you don't. You will be safer here."

You tell him that, while you appreciate his help and hospitality, you have no intention to remain idle while he attempts to find something that belongs to you. You look exactly like a Land-dweller, and as long as you don't draw attention on yourself, you will be safe.

Elendil sighs; he tries to explain that the only clothes he was able to give you are his, and people will notice you are a woman dressed as a man. But in the end he relents, gives you a cape to cover yourself, and leads you outside.

"Please, keep close to me." he admonishes you, as if you were a little girl unable to take care of herself, but you bite your tongue and swallow your pride: you do need help, and as long as you remain on land, your very survival could depend on him.

In a few minutes' walk you have reached the busiest part of the city; Elendil moves confidently in the intricate net of streets, some larger and cleaner than others, while you have to make an effort to remain focused on the need to find your seal-skin, rather than being distracted by... well, by everything taking place all around you. A group of children are playing with a ball in a square, following rules that seem to change whenever the players want, while two elders discuss outside a building - a potter's shop, you will discover in time; a few men, most of which bare-chested, are adding bricks to the wall of another building. Women chat happily as they wash clothes in a large stone basin, and a man sitting in a corner is using a bulky instrument, teardrop-shaped with a long neck, to produce a pleasant music; a small crowd has gathered around him, listening to his performance.

So many things to see. So many things you do not understand, and you would like to ask about; your head is almost spinning for the whirlwind of colors and sounds and movements all around you, but rather than nervous, you feel curious, almost excited, to discover this world you never thought you would see, even though you have been forced to stay...

"What is the name of that instrument?" you ask Elendil, who has stopped next to you to listen to the minstrel.

"It is a flute. Do Selkie... know music?"

"We do. My grandmother used to own a flute, that one of our ancestors had carved with the wood of a tree growing close to the shore; I loved to hear her play when I was a child." you recount; you think about your grandmother, and your voice trembles at the thought that you may never see her again "But the flute broke a few years past, and I have never heard music since then. It is very pleasant."

He agrees, and he smiles as he does it; he has a nice smile, the small wrinkles around his mouth suggesting that it comes naturally to him, and for a moment, and for some reasons, you find yourself smiling back.

The alehouse is a small white-walled building, consisting of a single room where many Men -not a single woman in sight, except for the ones who serve- sit around the tables drinking, talking and playing games with small cubes. Elendil talks to the owner, and then a few other people; no one seems particularly interested in listening to him, but after a while he is able to interrogate them about the Men who bragged about having almost captured a Selkie.

"Why do you care? That is the most absurd story I have ever heard, and I heard many, working here."

"What about that coat, then?" someone contradicts the owner "It looked just like the one of a seal."

"Of a seal, exactly; they probably skinned one of those and now look for someone gullible enough to pay a fortune for it..."

In the end, the best Elendil can do is to have the owner promise to spread the word, so that your would-be captors know someone is interested in their story and looking for them. You wait next to him listening, until you notice that a Man older than Elendil is looking at you insistently; in the end he says something to his companions, stands and walks up to you.

"Are you his woman?" he asks bluntly; you blink, and "No." you answer honestly, and you regret it a moment later, when you see his mouth open in a lascivious smile.

"Then why don't you come sit with us?" he proposes; the other four Men sitting at his table are laughing, an unpleasant and derisive sound.

"No. Thank you, but no."

"Oh, do not be a prude now! Just a minute...!"

The Man grabs your arm; you, who detest being touched without permission, try as you might to push him away, but that only serves to make him even more determined. No one is laughing anymore, and two other Men stand to approach, the three blocking you against the wall...

"Is there a problem?"

Elendil's smile is strained as he slids between you and the Men, who almost reflexively step back; he is alone against three, and younger, but there is something in him, an authority and a self-assurance that appears to intimidate his adversaries. "Good day, friends. May we help you?"

"We were talking to the girl, boy; and we know you are not her husband, so get away." the first who approached you answers.

"I will, and my friend will come with me; our friends are waiting for us. Come, dear, we better hurry."

He takes your hand and, gently but firmly, leads you to the alehouse's door, the Men he had to take you away from looking at him with resentment, but silently.

"I am sorry." he says as soon as you have left the alehouse behind you "That place is not the most... respectable in the city, especially for a beautiful woman."

You are so focused on the need to recover your seal-skin that you pay no attention to that penultimate word. "Then why were you there, last night?" you challenge him; you know you should be grateful for the help he is giving you, as well as the way he has just intervened on your behalf, and you are, truly! But still, you have never been so defenseless, and you know him too little not to feel ill at ease "Is this the kind of places you usually visit?"

Elendil assures you that last night had been his first visit to the alehouse, and he only went because a friend was celebrating his engagement. "You have no reason to fear me; I only want to help you." he swears, aware that you have all reasons to doubt him and he has no way to convince you, but still determined to prove his good faith; you simply nod, feeling instinctively inclined to trust him, to put your life in his hands, and wishing you didn't have to.

"What do we do now? I cannot wait for the word to be spread until someone identifies the Men who stole my seal-skin." you state, and Elendil admits it is too fleeble a hope to count on it.

"We can try at the market, and then at the harbour; sooner or later we will find someone who knows them." he tries to reassure you, and while you dearly wish it were sooner rather than later, you accept that it may take only the Great Father knows how long to locate the people you are looking for.

You follow Elendil around the city for long enough that your feet begin hurting inside the boots he lent you, and while he speaks to dozens of people, asking again and again the same questions and receiving most of the time the same answer, you look all around you, trying to make sense of that world that is at the same time exciting and terryfing.

Elendil perceives your curiosity, and is all too happy to act as your guide. At the market he is stunned to realize you have no concept of trade, or money, since your people have always procured food for themselves, elders and children being provided for by the others; on the other hand, Selkie tribes often exchange their catches when certain aliments are rare or absent in their respective feeding grounds, so you understand what bartering means.

"Are you saying that these little things have the same value of a fish?" you ask, skepticism clear in your voice, as you look at the little silver and golden circles that Elendil is showing you, and that he keeps in a pouch hidden under his tunic.

"Even more; if you have enough you can buy even a house, or a ship. In fact, you can buy whatever you want with them."

"I cannot believe it, they look like something our children would play with..."

Elendil smiles, and invites you to use one of the coins yourself; you reach a stall together, where you exchange one silver coin with two small portions of a food Elendil explains is called bread, one of the most common aliments in all land kingdoms, with small pieces of blueberry ("It is a fruit. Err... do you know what a fruit is?" "Of course I do! Do you think there are no trees growing near the Sea?") inside. You take one of them and sink your teeth in it, having suddenly realized how hungry you are, and the taste is so delicious you almost moan out loud. So soft and savoury, and completely different from anything you have ever eaten before; a few bites, and your hand is empty.

You wish you could have another one, but even though you don't know how money works yet you perceive that it would be unfair to ask Elendil to buy you more food, especially after everything he is already doing for you.

"That was delicious! Thank you for... paying for it."

He smiles, as if he were happy to please you. "I am glad you like it, blueberry bread is also my favourite. My mother used to prepare it at home, when I was younger."

"My grandmother used to make me eat cuttlefish meat even though I did not like it, because apparently it makes young Selkie grow strong."

"Interesting..."

Leaving the market, you walk some more to reach the most populated area of the city, where Elendil hopes the Men who stole your seal-skin may have gone to try and sell it.

"How many coins do you think they could have for it?" you ask, and your voice is full of bitterness as you speak, but Elendil takes your hands in his, looking as determined as if you were looking for a way to save his life, and not the property of someone he had never met until last night.

"We will find it." he promises; the blue of his eyes is almost blinding, deeper than any ocean you have ever swum in "I promise. I don't know how, but you will have your seal-skin back."

You don't answer -you would not know how- but you believe him, you trust him; about that, and everything else, from that moment on.

As you slowly leave the market, Elendil points to a tall, slim building visible against the horizon: it was built by the first King of Númenor, Elros, whose mother was said to have transformed in a Sea-bird.

"Is it true?" you ask, fascinated.

"Well, I am not sure." he admits "But it is a beautiful story, don't you think?"

"It is. I wish I could do it as well..."

The smell of salt in the air reveals that you have reached the great port of the city; Elendil points to the different types of ships anchored around you, some barely big enough for two people and other with enormous white sails, gently rippled by the wind, whose wooden belly could contain your whole tribe and that Elendil tells you can sail to the other end of the Sea, transporting the wares of merchants, or an army heading to war, or diplomats and courtiers sent on a mission by the King.

"One day I will be captain of one of those ships." he proudly promises you "I have joined the Sea Guard only two years ago, but within five years I will have my own command, you wait and see."

He is full of enthusiasm as he speaks of his dream, the ambition that has been in his heart since he was a child to serve in the Sea-army of his people and make a name for himself as a soldier and seaman; he wants to explore the farthest parts of the Sea and the lands surrounding them, and uphold the name of his family fighting for his kingdom.

"It is a beautiful aspiration." you comment. Elendil has a deep, musical voice, and there is sincere enthusiasm in his words; it is pleasant to listen to him "I also wish I could travel; explore the depths of the Sea away from the territory my tribe lives in."

"Have you been forbidden from doing so?"

"Oh, no. But my only living relative is my grandmother, and I want to take care of her; one day, when I am free from other obligations, I will go."

After a while you leave the port to continue your search in another part of the city, and in the end you decide to return home as the sun begins its descend towards the horizon, and torches are lit on the buildings' walls and in the squares against the dark of the night. The last hours have been highly instructive, even pleasant, as you explore the world of the Land-people as no Selkie must have ever done before, but you can barely contain your anxiety now; you are tired, and famished, your feet hurt, but even though you spent most of the day searching for them, consulting countless people and asking to be informed if someone hears about them, the two Men who stole your seal-skin appear to have vanished. None of the many men and women you made an appeal to has any idea of their names, of where they live, and while a few people admit of hearing about someone claiming they had seen Selkie dancing and almost captured one of them, they can offer no help in finding the thieves.

Even though your predicament doesn't concern him, Elendil is as disappointed and worried as you are. "I am so sorry." he says at the end of your fruitless search "I though... a Selkie's seal-skin is not something one can normally find in a market, if someone were selling one the news would have spread. Maybe the thieves had already a deal with a buyer, and they left the city to bring the loot to him."

It makes sense, which means that by this time your precious seal-skin could have been brought to any part of the kingdom, but whatever the reason, your already faint hope to find it and get it back, feels even scanter. What will you do now?

"Forgive me, I really wish I could help you..."

"Do not concern yourself." you reflexively answer, and after all it is appropriate, because the one who has cause to be concerned is you "I already knew the odds were against me, but I had to try. Elendil, I really appreciate your help; I will never forget everything you did to me."

He frowns, realizing you are saying goodbye. "Wait... what are you going to do now? Will your friends be waiting for you at the beach?"

You really wish they would. Selkie can come ashore whenever they want, even though traditionally they only do it on full moon nights, and you are sure your grandmother and the other members of your tribe are terribly worried about you; but you doubt someone is waiting for you at the beach where the dance took place last night, to make sure you are all right and help you find a way to return home.

"The Men who stole my seal-skin know where we were; they were waiting for us." you remind him "If they were still in the city, what would keep them from returning to try and capture one of us, or me, again, guessing I would also go back to speak to my people?"

"But if they were, we could force them to return your seal-skin."

Again he says we; instinctively, even though you are sure not by accident, as if the desire and the decision to help you, to make your problems his own, are so natural he has no need to think about it. You look at him, and for a moment, only the time of a beat of your heart, you wish you had the opportunity to know him better.

"It would still be too dangerous. A Selkie's seal-coat has not been stolen since before my grandmother's mother was alive, but my people have rules for circumstances like this. As a Selkie stranded on land, I have to find a way to return to the Sea without assistance, or resign to never see my home and my people again; the others may not interfere, no matter how worried they are, because it would be dangerous for us all. I can only rely on my own strenght... and if I cannot find my seal-coat, I will spend the rest of my life alone on land."

"It sounds... cruel..."

"You are a soldier. Would you not sacrifice yourself for the safety of your people?"

Elendil doesn't answer; he seems conflicted, as if he understood your decision, but could not help finding it unjust. "No." he decides in the end "I cannot accept it. I cannot leave you to fend for yourself in a world you do not understand and where you cannot count on anyone. Come with me."

"With you?"

"You can sleep with me - err, at my home, until we find your seal-skin. I have a spare room, you can stay as long as you need."

One look at his blue eyes, the conviction and the determination in his gaze so intense and unwavering, is enough to make you realize you won't be able to change his mind, because he wants to do what is right, and what is right, at the moment, is to host in his abode someone he has never met before, that he has no objective reason to trust, and who for all he knows might never be able to return home - which is, probably, the main reason behind his offer.

You have many dear friends among the members of your tribe, but no one has ever done anything like this for you, and certainly you would not have expected to see such selflessness from a member of the race you have always been taught to distrust. He is waiting for your answer, but you cannot speak, because a lump in your throat forbids you from saying more than...

"Thank you." It is barely more than a whisper "I... I am very grateful. I do not want to bother you, and if you change your mind..."

"I won't. Do not worry, I am glad to help. Come now." he gently adds with a smile, as if he perfectly understand what you are feeling, as if he can see in your heart and your mind like no one has ever done before "Let us go home. Once you will have eaten, and slept, we will decide what to do."

Wordlessly you obey, the red light of sunset bathing your figures as you and your new friend set out for home.

Tagging @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

[madmag94]

Fairly substantial Andor spoilers and discussion

One thing I’ve really appreciated about the last 2 episodes of Andor is how it suggests at the wider rebellion, while still keeping focused on the characters it’s chosen to focus on. Andor works extremely well at building on the foundation laid by Star Wars: Rebels, to create a more well rounded picture of the rebellion. Plus, it all works within the Star Wars framework to tell a story benefits and is benefitted by its own fictional universe.

For instance, last episode in what is so far my favorite episode of the season, we see Saw break down the various factions within the rebel movement, from the Separatists to the Neo-republicans, on and on and on and none of them can agree. Watching this scene, given that it was the first time many of thee factions and characters were mentioned, I was a little worried they’d just be left off and never addressed again, but now this episode manages to avert that and bring in those cells again to confirm that yes they are doing things and they’re going to be a running concern as the alliance is consolidated.

The other brilliant piece is how this builds on Rebels. We see in rebels all these different cells, even small ones like Phoenix Squadron, fighting to survive, but usually they’re willing to help each other out and cooperate. In rebels, building an alliance is easy (except for Saw Gerrera who likes to stand out). But Andor builds on this and shows the hard, dangerous, scary work that’s needed. Some of my favorite parts of Andor so far have been the Mon Mothma scenes showing how she can fund the rebellion without attracting attention. The high stakes dances played by both her and Luthien to keep the rebellion solvent and operating. It brings whole new dimensions to the low level boots on the ground rebel activity we see in Rebels.

It goes both ways too, not only does Andor provide a critical level of grim realism to the rebellion in other media, but the fact that other media exists is still palpable in Andor. You know the rebellion will unite, it will find its heroes, it will take its place in the sun and defeat the empire and bring hope back to the galaxy. We’ve all seen rogue one and a new hope we know how it goes. But this all means Andor is allowed to go to those dark grim painful places without feeling pessimistic, because we know it has to turn out right in the end.

Andor stands apart from the rest of Star Wars, but the fact that it’s there lends so much depth and complexity to the ideas from previous projects, while the hope embodies by the rest of the franchise keeps Andor from bogging down in its own cynicism. It’s a perfect symbiotic relationship producing some of the best television, and some of the best Star Wars storytelling, I’ve ever seen.