#i miss senator so much

[figscigfigs]

my favorite moments of episode 9 of neverafter:

zac’s immediate nat 20 and then more and more zac nat 20s

“i just put one and three together” “oh yeah… two”

“who is she” “my mom”

the fact that the fairies know the authors?????

ylfa’s flashback convo to grandma… just the whole first half is so silly goofy like up to honkin big i was just giggling!!! (then it got very scary and bad)

“just… give us a second”

the callbacks to gerard’s first origin story and the castle conversation were so so fun! (“i get why you love balls”)

gerard's love steps and everyone writing things down and mother correcting it was so so good (step 1: be a frog”)

a golden mace made out of your dead mom’s fancy heirloom is rad as hell

“and they all lived happily”

pinocchio and ylfa kiss?????

BABA YAGA!!!!!!!! (and em’s reaction to baba yaga which was extremely similar to mine)

rosamund’s brilliant poison apple plan

“i was also scared and didn’t think it was rad”

“let’s try to get a little bit of rest while i sing”

“i know what work is… and i’ve done it… a lot”

“it was me that said that… look at my face carefully and not hers”

“BUT HE’S A FROG HE CAN BE WET”

rosamund’s immediately accepted proposal (bc same peter)

[invisiblearsonist]

I don’t blame anakin for loving her one bit.

he’s just like me fr because I too would do everything for her

[parttimesarah]

❤️🖤😊😁🖤💛

[catominor]

oh my god i should write sulla metellus pius masters of rome yaoi too . so much to do so little time...

[skitskatdacat63]

catie hello :))) roman empire seb nando au?? saw the sketch you made during suzuka & would love to hear your thoughts!! <3

Aaaah Claire hello!!!! I think you're talking about this one, right?

I joked in the tags "Hadrian and Antonius who?????"so I guess that would be the basis??? Seb is a favorite lover of Fernando's and when he dies, Fernando deifies him 😥

This Seb is obv from a different au, but this would be how I'd vizualize them:

[tranakin-skywalker]

Maybe it’s because I have terminal Star Wars brain rot and watched AoTC on repeat as a pre teen (whoo autism) so I pretty much have the entire movie memorized line by line, but it annoys me so fucking much when people ignore things that happened on screen to misinterpret Anakin's character

[ay0nha]

Don't Bite the Hand That Feeds | Lucius Verus Aurelius

SUMMARY: "Your brethren trust you, you are the embodiment of redemption.” They spoke around Lucius, spewing anything in hopes of saturating his mind.  “Where is your image of hope? Where is the person who will relieve you of the grief you share with your people? Where is your Empress?"

PAIRING: Lucius Verus Aurelius x f!reader (arranged marriage for political reasons)

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, not much, mentions of alcohol, old-timey language, Google-accurate Roman empire things, dancing, arranged marriage, talks of lineage, angsty-ish, quotes from various people like Nina Simone and Octavia Butler sprinkled into dialogue,  etc. 

A/N:  I quickly wrote this in a few days with the amazing help of @astrd00. This is just sort of an introduction to my fic idea so apologies if it's a little boring. Arranged marriage trope sort of colleagues to friends to lovers. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment it really helps me to keep going! More to come, enjoy!

The Latin translates to: a water drop hollows a stone, not by force but by frequent falling.

Everyone clung to the fog of death in the air with stiff fingers, unwilling to let their proof of newly promised freedom go. They celebrated in the streets, disregarding the savagery that occurred only months ago. The public enjoyed the amnesia, looking to Lucius not solely for responsibility but as a new object to place culpability. 

Yet, the heaviness permeated Lucius’ marrow. He hid it well behind the mask of authority. Even a sharp eye would miss the way it restrained him, intentionally ignorant of a flaw in their new leader.

It might have even been seen as a strategic move, a way to humanize the gladiator who seemed to defy the Gods. Strategy outside the arena was new, different from the portrayed brute that dusted his hands with sand. What lay in his palms now was similar to that of a child’s heart, beating rapidly with a not-yet-known burden of life. It was heavy and warm, begging for unwavering loyalty from its possessor. 

Lucius remained delicate with his hold, but the heart wanted more from him. Strength and honor would soon no longer suffice. It needed sustenance worthy of devotion and destruction. His eyes were steady on this phantom heart until those around him required his attention. 

“Emperor—” A magistrate repeated, voice raising enough to tease an echo. The new title sat heavily on Lucius’ shoulders, contorting his body into a position that mimicked Atlas.   “Our suggestion should not be taken lightly, it is for the prosperity of your Rome.”

Scrutiny wasn’t found in his tone or bitterness behind the remark but rather in genuine regard. However, there was an intention behind the ownership of Rome, a hint at the generational promise.  

“The public can wonder, speculate, but they do not see beyond the issue.” He continued, watching the twitch on Lucius’ face. “You may not like the mere thought, but gutta cavat lapidem, non vi sed saepe cadendo.” The magistrate paused, his words lingering. “How much longer until Rome is hollow once again?”

“This order is a fallacy.” Lucius finally made contact, eyes surveying those around him. “There is a need for trust, yes. And yet, you ask for deception?” 

“You misunderstand us, Emperor.” Another member of the senate spoke, hoping to alleviate tension. “There would be no deception in this union, only fortification of the reigning; an image for the people to find themselves in.”

 “Your brethren trust you, you are the embodiment of redemption.” They spoke around Lucius, spewing anything in hopes of saturating his mind.  “Where is your image of hope? Where is the person who will relieve you of the grief you share with your people? Where is your Empress?”

—

You smiled through the wine-fueled chattering of the ceremony, appeasing those who had just witnessed your union, but your focus moved beyond the conversation and revelry.  Above you was a darkened sky that mimicked night. Rain poured down, tempting you to fall prey to its numbing hold. 

The Gods are favoring your union, you were told when the sky opened. Divine intervention.  

But you knew the Gods were fickle, always testing your will against temptation. It was a test sent for you, one that an elaborate wedding and an emperor declaring your shared existence hid well. 

So you ignored the call of the humidity, being dutiful to your new role as empress. People bowed to you and nearly cried at how beautifully you paired with your new counterpart. Even as you sat on the marble throne beside Lucius you couldn’t deny their exactness. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll soon pass out from the wine.” You spoke softly, eyes ahead at your guests as you spoke to your husband. His grip on your hand fidgeted exposing his anxiety.  

Lucius paused, determining if honesty was worthwhile. His self-awareness was enough to remind him how unfamiliar he was with the environment that consumed his senses. 

“It is for them.” You nodded ahead to the crowd. The room was hot from the amount of bodies swirling around.   “Remind yourself of this when their faith falters.”

Lucius looked at you, attention trained on your profile. Even with a soft veil over your features, you were so absolute. 

“I know my purpose here. You are still learning yours.” You continued. “All I ask of you is that when they falter you place your trust in our bond.”

“I will place it where it is due.” There was your gladiator. The defiance comforted you. 

“Those around you are untroubled by that; all they crave is to spit on the fallen. It doesn’t matter if you are one of them, they are quick to turn.” You sharpened. “Be careful; join the sinful and you will be remembered with spite and desperation.”

You spoke of hidden things, of politics that lingered like venom in the bloodstream of the empire. Lucius knew not to mistake your words for ulterior motives. You were direct in your vows to further his image of a new Rome, it was why you were chosen to be by his side. Your mind was clear. You read the room perfectly, unraveling every detail of what was inherited. 

“My legacy does not motivate me,” Lucius stated. His ears attuned to you and you only, enraptured in how deeply you spoke as if it was a common thought. “I will not look to them for fame.” 

“You will, conscious or not. And once you do, you will not be able to look away.” You smiled pitifully as though you knew something he didn’t. “Just as they watched you fight, you misunderstand the impact of what is before you.”

“You believe that little of me?” There was a swirl of censure in his chest despite the small smile pulling at his lips.  

“There is opportunity to win, but that is a fool’s goal—

“To win?” Lucius scoffed. “Even you have been mislead, then. Thinking that there is a conquest waiting to happen.”

“I do not wish to insult you.” Your thumb adjusted against his fingers. It was in your nature to be candid, but at times you placed your frustrations unfairly. You softened. “Your promise of growth will help amend this.”

Lucius wished to pull away from you. He needed to think, to be separated from the feigned festivities adjoined to love. This was love; love created not between two people, but shared by you and him for Rome. 

That was not to say you were birds of a feather. 

Your strengths were found in your experience. Although young, you were no novice to how to hold your chin high while delivering truths to the senate. You learned from your uncle, an official who raised you on the true meaning of government. You were clever. The public viewed you as such. You were of noble status and fit to stand before them. 

What you lacked was a specific connection that Lucius brought to the people. He was one of them, raised humbly, hands worn from the earth’s harvest and war forced upon him. Lucius spoke well to them, building comradery with every way of life. 

“I would never ask you to compromise your beliefs. I know better than to think you’d behave.” You teased at his rebellion, hoping the guard that was up would calm. “Besides, a well-mannered lover is an offense.”

 “We are not lovers.” It was sterile in tone but revealed emotions long since buried.

“And we are not enemies.” You were quick, reading between his words to find the insult. 

“My lord!” A raspy voice begged for attention. “My lady!” 

You stood, bowing politely to the affluent man before you. He took advantage of the night; jewels adorned every finger that pulled at the elaborate fabric of his outfit. 

“It is time.” The rasp withered when he lowered to speak to you directly. His arms went wide as if inviting a hug, but he spun skillfully to face the audience. 

“Time?” Lucius looked to you. 

The man boomed over the forgotten rain. ““It is time!” 

Standing, you didn’t release Lucius’ hand. There was resistance on his end, wanting to remain sedentary and silent to wait out the rest of the night. 

“Our dance.” You answered to his wide eyes. Your guests cheered, clearing space. “It is customary to rise together and move as one. It will complete the ceremony.”

He rose at your words, not much of a choice otherwise than to follow. 

The fabric of your dress swam behind you, kissing the floor with each step toward the middle of the marble floor. The dress looked like water cascading down your body, hiding each bend and swell of your body. Yet, it highlighted something else, something deeper. It was subtle but powerful, like the way a garden seemed to breathe life into a space. 

“May the rain create a river to fertility.” The man held a contagious grin that spread around the room. 

Prosperity and posterity.  This is what they wanted. Lucius alone was not enough. The bloodline was more important than a single figure. It hadn’t needed to be discussed as it was the obvious forethought for your unification. 

The officials of the republic were more concerned about your fecundity and frame than the knowledge you held. It was a typical belief, one that you expected. Your fingers itched to bring your willingness to support the new decree to play and if this was your path to it, so be it.  

You remained clinical at the thought. It was a means to an end rather than something to be meditated on. The way Lucius hardened at the man’s words told a story from another perspective where the political became personal. You did not miss the ring on his pinky that rubbed against a new gold one. 

“Does the great gladiator know how to dance?” Your voice flowed to Lucius only knowing the opportunity rarely presented itself. 

The music shifted from something fast-paced to something more melodic that would encourage you both to move swiftly but attractively. You knew your words would hit a nerve, but it was strategic to motivate Lucius’ hesitant hands. 

“It is a back and forth. A push and pull.” You guided your hand to press against his palm, meeting together as if you were to pray. “Just like the arena, no?”

Lucius’ eyebrows pinched together. Not out of curiosity or frustration. He was genuine in his response. 

“Rarely is a touch this…subdued.” Soft.  

“Shall I spin you in circles, then?” Your painted lips were easier to see now that Lucius was close. He saw as they rose through your veil with the quip. “Disorientate you to the point of submission?”

Your arms weaved behind your back still connected to Lucius’. The dance was simple, one practiced as children. There were very few steps and wistful gestures that even the familiar still enjoyed. 

“Those are my only options? Coercion or blind fealty.” 

It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise. You vetted his blank gaze for proper determination of his upset. 

It was odd to see Lucius so close, your memory had failed to cast such a strong light on him. Once overgrown hair had been trimmed to only curl at the nape of his neck. Dirt was cleared from every line of his face.  He was still rugged, but you saw through the exterior to find a boy.  

A boy who had been stripped of child-like wonderment and care. Instead, he held his broad shoulders high and an expression that lingered from his exile. Lucius’ skin perked every time your dress acted as a barrier between the two of you, a warning that whatever you offered had to be earned.  

“I do not ask much of you, Emperor...” You put it simply, knowing your worth and wisdom. You needed to be promised his word that against anything you would be beside each other.  “...so I will not ask again.”

“You are not satisfied with the trust of the marriage alone,” Lucius stated his question like an observation. “You wish I promise myself to you in ways which I may not be able to provide.” 

“Able or willing?” 

Your faces were close, noses mirroring each other as you turned on beat.  You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps.  

“The past and the future press so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.” You spoke again before he could answer.  “You must decide where you belong.” 

The music returned to Lucius’ ears. Its melody weighed down your words, letting them settle deeply in his mind. His head spun with thoughts busy on reasoning.  Perhaps he was too guarded for his own good, but he’d gotten himself this far relying only on himself. He had held in a great deal. Often he felt he couldn't speak until the waters overflowed their banks and broke through the dam. 

Those around him garnered support, but this was different. You understood what freedom was; it meant no fear. Fear rolled right off of you. Fear was like a pet to you: something you picked up to get a better look at but that you soon grew tired of.

The music slowed coming to an end. Lucius removed his hands from your body but didn’t venture far. His calloused fingertips followed the seam of your soft veil to meet the laced end. Once there, he gently revealed your true manner. 

Your features were accentuated by an internal glow. There was no modesty in your gaze, it shattered any notion of strength. There was no insight into your emotions. What Lucius found was someone gifted. It was a marvel he hadn’t heard of you until you presented yourself as the wise option for him to marry. 

Although you ran in many circles, your name wasn’t whispered among the council. They didn’t believe beauty and wit could fit within the reach of a woman. Yet, here you stood. A new challenge to be accepted. Lucius resisted the urge to swallow quick breaths as if he were going to endure a blow from Viggo. His body agitated in preparation, but looking at you so wholly all he could muster was concession.

 “You have my word.”

[pathologicalreid]

wavelength | s.r.

in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: child in hospital with unnamed illness, seizures, pregnant!reader, boy dad!spencer, MRIs, head injury word count: 1.96k a/n: this is my little reid family from three's a family, but as usual, you don't have to read that one to understand this one. (it's one of the cryptic pregnancy ones so maybe keep that in mind lmao) - welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda, i missed it

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thumbs enough to press the call button, tapping the green icon, you press your phone to your ear, listening to the rings as you keep your other hand on the bed in front of you.

Sniffling, Leo holds your hand in his much smaller one, “Mama?” His voice is little more than a whine, and you find yourself wishing he’d fall asleep while you wait for his turn in radiology.

“Yeah, lovey?” You whisper, squeezing his fingers gently as he looks at you with sad eyes.

His eyes were sad in a way that only a three-year-old’s could be, not quite understanding why he had to stay in the hospital, and continuously asking for his parents. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, his voice soft as he shifts on his side in the hospital bed.

Your shoulders slouch ever so slightly, trying not to show him how much of his displeasure you shared, “I know. I’m so sorry.” They were holding off on giving him more medication, but it just made him miserable.

Starting to wonder if they could just give him something to help him rest, you distantly hear your name being called, taking a moment to be confused before you remember that you called Spencer.

“Hey,” you greet a little breathlessly, “Are you working?” You move your hand, smoothing back Leo’s hair in an attempt to coax him to sleep.

You hear a shuffling of papers on the other end of the call, answering your question well enough before he responds verbally, “We’re just trying to finish a few things up before calling it a night.”

Bowing your head, you sigh, “Right, you have that senate review next week.”

Spencer groans at the reminder of the meeting, “And finding some of these files is proving to be difficult. I think Garcia’s just about had it, but we’re all starting to get to that point. Why the call? Not that I’m unhappy to hear your voice,” he clarifies. “Did Leo get to sleep alright?”

You falter slightly knowing that Spencer is already stressing about work, “Honey,” you start softly, “Leo’s alright, but I had to call an ambulance for him about an hour ago.”

“What happened? You said he’s alright?” He asks, fear changing the pitch of his voice.

Swallowing thickly, you watch Leo continue to fight sleep, his brown eyes watching you while you’re on the phone. “They think he had a seizure,” you whisper, keeping your voice down so that your son doesn’t catch onto your anxiety.

There’s a shuffle of papers on the other end, “Is he sick? Was it a febrile seizure?”

“Uh, no, hold on,” you flip through the pamphlet, “They called it a drop seizure when we were in the emergency room, and they did an EEG.” You explain, reading over the papers in front of you for the nth time.

Spencer talks to someone else in the room, hopefully letting them know that he has to leave, “What happened?”

Tears prick your eyes, and you look up into the fluorescent light to will them away, “I was just getting him ready for bed, and he went to go potty, and he just fell. He hit his head on the tub and I just… I panicked,” you admit the last part. “I was not very collected, and the 911 operator knew that,” you tell him, watching Leo’s eyes finally fall shut.

“I wouldn’t have been either,” Spencer assures you, “What hospital did they bring you to?”

Rattling off the name of the hospital, you risk assuming that Leo’s asleep enough for you to step back, enabling you to speak at a higher volume, “Can you leave work?” You weren’t even thinking about how busy the BAU was when you called, you were just thinking about getting Leo his dad. “They want to do an MRI, and he’s allowed to have someone in there with him, so he doesn’t get scared,” you explain.

“But you can’t,” Spencer needlessly reminds you.

A huff of frustration escapes your lips as you look down, eyes focusing on where your shirt catches on the soft swell of your lower belly. “No, I can’t,” you say miserably.

A nurse walks through the door, sparing a pitying glance at you, the pregnant mom whose toddler was in the PICU, before checking on Leo’s vitals. Spencer clears his throat, “I’m already on my way.”

You lose track of time, sitting in the reclining chair that lives in the corner of the PICU room, and memories of Leo’s first month of life start to flash in front of your eyes. He was a thirty-two-weeker, and he spent twenty-nine days in the NICU before coming home for the first time.

You felt like a failure then, and you feel like a failure now.

Tapping your fingers on your belly, you watch Leo sleep, his body curled up on the hospital bed and collodion stuck to his forehead. You remember finding out you were pregnant again, the overwhelming joy that mixed with the stunned fear like oil and water—Spencer had to remind you to breathe.

Something caught your attention, a small, high-pitched beep from one of Leo’s monitors sent a group of people flying into the room, standing around your son and listing off things that your fear-addled brain couldn’t comprehend.

He’s there when you stand up, Spencer stays at your side for all twenty-one seconds of Leo’s second seizure, watching as strength returns to his tiny body and his eyes open, “Mama?” His small voice calls out for you, afraid of being surrounded by doctors and nurses that he doesn’t know.

Slipping away from Spencer, you make your way back to the hospital bed, hovering over your son as you cup his cheeks affectionately, “I’m here, baby.” Hiding your face to wipe tears away, your fear that he still feels ill is only exacerbated by the fact that he doesn’t insist that he’s not a baby—he’ll always be yours, though.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let him see past you, the way his eyes light up at the sight of his father, “Daddy!” He chirps, trying to reach out for Spencer.

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer says, his voice tight while he crouches in front of Leo, “Mama says you don’t feel good.”

Leo shakes his head, “I hit my head,” he recounts mournfully, “then we had to go in the loud car.”

Your husband frowns for a moment before he realizes Leo’s talking about the ambulance, “Did they tell you I get to go with you to get your tests done?” He warps the narrative to make the MRI seem like a fun activity—something they get to do.

“Can mama go?” Leo asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, leaning into you as he does so.

Gently, you wrap an arm around him, dressed in a pediatric hospital gown with all kinds of wires and electrodes attached to him. “Mama has to stay up here,” Spencer breaks the news to him, sparing you a sympathetic glance, “but she’ll be here when we get back. Then, we can tell her and the baby all about it.”

The baby won’t be able to hear outside voices until you’re much further along, but when Spencer tried to explain that to your toddler, the only response he’d gotten was Why?

As it turns out, even Spencer Reid has a limit to the number of questions he can answer, so you let Leo talk to the baby. “I’ll be right here when you get back,” you reassure Leo, taking a shaky breath when he wraps his arms around you.

He’s in tears by the time they come to get him, only willing to go to radiology if they let his daddy carry him there.

You’ve let go of the hope that this was all just a freak incident, but the looks that the nurses have started exchanging squashed that optimism immediately. Taking the opportunity to lie on the hospital bed, you try to reassure yourself—if Spencer didn’t seem worried, you shouldn’t be worried.

Though Spencer wouldn’t show his concern to you, he certainly wouldn’t do it with Leo in the room.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by something being set on your side, your eyes cracking open just enough to watch Spencer lay Leo down on the bed next to you. “Hey,” Spencer whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I was trying not to wake you up.”

Cringing at the brightness of the room, you watch Leo as he curls into your side, “How did he do?”

“He was great,” Spencer says, gently ruffling the sleeping boy’s hair. “He fell asleep about halfway through,” he informs you, carefully pulling a chair up to the bedside.

You hum, making sure Leo is snug in his blanket before turning back to Spencer, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”

Spencer shakes his head dismissively, “It’s okay,” he whispers, mindful of the hour—it’s nearing midnight now.

Reaching a hand up to cover your mouth, you hiccup a sob, “I’m a bad mom.”

“You are not a bad mom,” Spencer responds quickly, peeling your hand from your mouth and taking it in his hand.

Your lower lip quivers, “This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been born so early.”

Spencer’s face softens, squeezing your hand comfortingly, “That wasn’t your fault. That was a situation that you didn’t have any control over.”

Deep down, you know he’s right, but your mom guilt that was on the surface level made the truth hard to see. “I couldn’t even hold his hand while he got an MRI,” you cry, small tears falling from your eyes.

“Honey,” Spencer murmurs, carefully wiping the tears from your cheeks, “You’re pregnant. Even more, you’re high risk,” Spencer reminds you as if it’s something you’re soon to forget. “There’s no way I would’ve let you in that room. You can blame that on me if you’d like.”

Leo shifts next to you, garnering your attention for just a moment before you turn back to Spencer, “I thought an MRI was better for pregnant women.”

Sighing, Spencer looks at you fondly, “Compared to a CT, an MRI is the better option if it’s medically necessary. Logically, I’m well aware of this, but I do find myself more protective over you these days,” he admits, eyes flickering down to your bump.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I should’ve been watching him before he hit his head.”

Your husband dismisses your concern immediately, “We’ve been teaching him privacy, he’s proud that he gets to go potty on his own.”

“Why won’t you let me feel guilty?” You ask, frowning at him.

He hums in response, “Because you aren’t guilty. Your baby is in the hospital, and you might have some unresolved issues from when he was in the NICU.” He takes a deep breath, “and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re tired, and you have a lot of conflicting emotions and hormones that you’re struggling with.”

Leaning your head back on the pillow, you sigh loudly, “You know me too well.”

“I also know that our son loves you, and what happened tonight was not your fault,” he reiterates. “Whatever is going on with him, we’ll figure it out, okay? The four of us are going to be just fine.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod in understanding and listen to the soft whistle of Leo’s nose as he exhales. “We’ll be just fine,” you echo, intertwining your fingers with Spencer’s and preparing yourself for what’s bound to be a long night.

[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old�� and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[david-talks-sw]

I'd say where the dissonance really starts, when it comes to the portrayal of the Jedi in more recent Star Wars stories, is the perception of what the Prequels are about.

They're not about the Jedi.

George Lucas said over and over that they're about:

How a democracy turns into a dictatorship, we see this in the background of the films, as the Republic descends into becoming the Empire.

That first theme is then paralleled with a second theme: how a good kid becomes a bad man. We see this in the more character-driven and personal exploration of Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side.

The Prequels’ focus is on Anakin and the Republic, these films are not primarily about the fall of the Jedi. In fact, I’d argue they aren’t about the Jedi at all!

And when you look at the original backstory, you’ll notice that it also primarily focuses on:

The political subplot of the Republic’s downfall and Palpatine becoming the Emperor.

Anakin’s turn and his betrayal of the Jedi. 

So, there too… the Jedi themselves aren’t really that big a part of the Prequels’ original idea. They aren't mentioned much, beyond their trying to save the Senate and getting wiped out.

The Star Wars movies aren't about the Jedi, they're about Anakin and Luke, they're about Obi-Wan and Padmé and Han and Leia, the Rebellion vs the Empire, the fall of the Republic.

They're not about Ben and Yoda and Mace and Ki-Adi and Plo Koon and Shaak Ti and Luminara.

Just like Harry Potter isn't about Dumbledore and McGonagall. Just like the Lord of the Rings isn't about Gandalf.

On a functional level, the Jedi are:

POV characters who witness the events unfold with their hands tied, they're our anchors, whose eyes we see through to see democracy crumble into dictatorship.

Embodiments/vectors of the message George Lucas wanted to get across through these movies, which is the conflict between selfishness & selflessness, greed & compassion (Sith & Jedi).

But that's about it.

However, if you ask today’s fans and Star Wars creatives, most will say the Prequels are about the fall of the Jedi Order.

This is a take shared by a big chunk of the fandom, including various filmmakers, authors, and executives involved with Star Wars, so much so that the time period the Prequel films cover has now been redubbed by Lucasfilm as the “Fall of the Jedi era”.

Which leaves us with a question... why? Why the dissonance?

My guess? It's because the Jedi are cool. They're awesome.

And deep down, they wanted the Prequels to be about the Jedi. About the Jedi Knights at their height, errant warriors like the Knights of the Round Table.

And they didn't get that. They got a bunch of diplomats serving a political institution. And that didn't make sense, right? That's not what they expected so it's bad. And it's Star Wars. It's Lucas. It can't be bad, right? So like... what were they missing?

Oh... wait... what if... that's the point? That the Jedi were supposed to be Knight Errants and being guided by the Force instead of like - ew - space ambassadors for the Republic. Yeah now it all makes sense.

The Jedi in the Prequels aren't what we wanted them to be and that's their failure! Like, it's not just that I didn't like them because they weren't likeable to me, it's that I'm not supposed to like them because the narrative totally says so--

-- it doesn't.

The Jedi preach and practice the same Buddhist values as George Lucas, mirroring what he says in interviews almost verbatim.

The relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin/Qui-Gon mirrors the dynamic between Lucas and Coppola.

The designs of the Jedi and their temple had to be toned down because they looked too bureaucratic and systemic.

This is Lucas we're talking about. "On the nose" is his middle name. He named the drug-peddling sleazebag "Elan Sleazebaggano." He ditched an elaborate introduction of General Grievous in exchange for just "the doors slide open, in walks Grievous and he's ugly."

If he had really been hell bent on framing the Jedi as elitist squares who lost their way and were mired in bureaucracy, he would've made them and the Jedi Temple look like the authorities in THX-1138.

They weren't likeable to some fans because, well, they weren't developed or shown as much as someone like Anakin. Because it's not about them. It's not their story. It's Anakin's. It's Luke's. It's their respective friends'. Or maybe it's an adversity to "perfect goody two-shoes" characters (which the Jedi are not). But hey, it's a movie for kids. Some 2-dimensionality is forgivable.

Bottom line, had more time been spent on the Jedi, had Lucas made the Prequels into a limited show and give them a whole subplot, had he decided to do away with the 30s serial dialog and let someone else write the dialog, maybe the reception might've been different.

But that's what we got. And guess what it's fine.

It's more than fine, it's fucking awesome.

I proudly and confidently say that I love the Prequels, with and without The Clone Wars.

I love my space monks, I love that they're diplomat wizards, I love that there's such a variety of them, I love that Mace is a no-bullshit guy who genuinely cares about his fellow Jedi and how screwed the Republic is, and Yoda is wise and kind but also a gremlin weirdo who'll embarass you in front of a classroom full of kids, and Ki-Adi has a penis for a head, is constantly calm and yet goes down like a champ even though they take him by surprise. I love that Shaak Ti can kung fu an army full of Magna Guards and still have the energy to charge at Grievous. I love that Obi-Wan is a sass machine who is also hilariously oblivious to the fact that he's just as terrible as Anakin.

They're awesome even if they're not perfect. They're awesome because they're not perfect.

But the movies are not really their story.

They're Anakin's. They're Luke's. They're the Republic's and the Rebellion's. And the fight against a space Nazi emperor/empire.

[figscigfigs]

my favorite moments of episode 11 of neverafter:

“i’m just an old gay man”

“beautiful… for someone like you”

ylfa’s conversation with the bbw and trying to come to terms with the loss of her childhood and her grandmother (literally cried)

the pickle secret

pinocchio making a bonfire and giving gerard the credit #pondlife

death meeting the sword of truth

blonde wig on the bbw

brennan describing horrific crime committed by mother’s son… ally nodding the whole time: “sounds like jack”

the fairytale infodump of a desk

the immediate squing flashback i got when zac said he’d hold onto the letters

“i would love to ball out on toy island”

the bbw’s ayda ass response to all the jokes (“...under the light of the crescent moon", "which of my partners told you that", “you've observed me mate??", and “i don’t work at a bank”)

“manic pixie witch situation”

“i’d never fucking heal this gander”

“is the gander hannah montana”

the training bra bit

the continuation of non-sexual, platonic adult sleepover (“we’re gonna watch mean girls”)

“a cat is the king of yarnington”

(he/him) (he/him) (he/him)

necromancer snow!!! (possibly)

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Could you write for a female concubine that both Geta and Caracalla are in a relationship with?

The concubine of two gods

Geta/Caracalla x concubine!reader

warning : comfort, kissing, touching, mention of smut (rather smutish) nothing explicit, no use of y/n, nicknames : sun, heart, goddess

Summary : Her past uninteresting, her future uncertain, but in the present she had her place, she belonged to the emperors of Rome. A single concubine for the care of two gods, two men who desired and possessed her. She was theirs and had no choice but to obey...

info : Thank you so much anon for the request, I am so pleased to get one for Gladiator II. I love the idea, I wanted to do something similar myself someday, so this fits all the better. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

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

A scandal in the eyes of the senate, two emperors who had only passed their twentieth birthday a few moons ago without an heir were having fun with a concubine rather than looking for a wife.

But the Senate's secret was kept under wraps and the people hardly noticed, so Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla were all the more furious when the golden hands were placed around their handsome possessions.

The blue eyes of the imperial siblings had settled on them, both had been on a quest for something more fun, someone who was not tainted by lowly origins.

A woman who was a nobody and lived only for the bedie, ,,Give us our desire and we'll give you the world” Geta had promised her when he had put the tight gold bracelet on her, engravings of Apollo carved into it. It belonged to Geta and the chain that could be attached to the gold bracelet had a leather handle made by Caracalla.

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

Emperor Geta

°For Geta it was Olympus, the sky he could turn to at any time when he disappeared from the light of attention. After a Senate meeting or a visit to the Colosseum, she was waiting for him, would always find him and he didn't have to search to catch sight of her. ,,My heart” he greeted her, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, kissing the golden rings he had made for her, she was his property.

°Above all, he could do anything he wanted with his property, satisfy his lust for her in every conceivable way. At night in his chambers, he went to her under the furs and pillows, saw the emperor without make-up and golden clothes, while he ran his hands over her golden body. Lips that tasted hers, that kissed and tasted her body, grips that would leave colorful stains like a mosaic and two bodies that demanded lust, ,,My...you are bound to the emperor” he reminded her and fingers closed tightly around her jaw.

°As lustful as nights and days could be, she was just as magnificent when she was at his side. He appeared with her in the safety of the palace, two gods whose hearts seemed to wander through the corridors, ,,More divine than they will ever be” she flattered him and adjusted the golden laurel wreath before they entered the senate together. With her at his side, he had the missing piece in his government, what he had in ideas and plans, she had in eloquence and influence behind him to make it happen.

°His past known to her but hers all the more mysterious, something that harmonized when they joined forces in the Senate against the "false" friends and he held her hand as they witnessed the stabbing of some senators, ,,Thanks to your grace" he whispered to her, a hot breath and a kiss on her neck a sign for more, for the night. But especially when the sun went down and the moon came out, the light of the goddess gradually lost its meaning and only the young man Geta remained, without make-up, without gold, only with a name that she spoke with her lips.

°When he lay there on the bed in pillows and furs, the goblet of wine in his hand and looking vulnerable, she was there to keep him from being alone with his thoughts. She would run her hand through his hair, kiss him and run her hand over his hands where the gold lay, ,,You will never lose your power...my Emperor” she would murmur to him, looking over the rim of the goblet at him and resting her hand on his chest.

°Two hearts that beat the same in dark hours when the burden of a ruler becomes too much. For when her olive ring felt too tight, he was there to loosen it, a reminder of his power, but in the same breath it was he who wrapped his arms around her, not letting go because he needed her not only physically, but also to have his human side protected by her.

°Above the gold, he and she were two gods when they wanted to be, but underneath they were two humans caught up in a larger thing. Love and devotion was the only thing holding them together before they became Emperor Geta and his nameless concubine again with the rising of the sun...but with the sun, a second desire settled over them, one with a lust for blood.

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

Emperor Carcalla

°Caracalla did not see the divine when he saw her, he saw an amusement that never ended. Like a personal spectacle, a coliseum, a fight, a never-ending blood...more like a pet he dragged behind him on a leash...but in the figure of a woman in whose arms he wanted to lie when his existence became too heavy.

°His interest in politics was hardly an open secret, he could hardly make decisions himself without Geta being there. But now that he had the need, the desire for something for the first time, he didn't let himself be dissuaded. ,,If brother gets you at night, I'll take you during the sun,” he made his intentions clear, his smile revealing the gold tooth, the same sound of the leash rattling as he started to move and she had no choice but to follow.

°A follow she did day in and day out from the colloseum where she sat next to him, his hand wrapped around hers, sharing his excitement with her when one of his gladiators killed the opponent and blood spurted through the counter, ,,You bring us luck sun!” he proclaimed and a kiss as a reward. An intimacy he lived out with her in a different way what Geta wanted to have control over, Caracalla wanted to see everything free from her.

°When lights from the sun were reflected in mirrors, the emperor's chamber was illuminated and a trail of blood ran around the room, a throaty moan could be heard every now and then between the laughter. ,,Wonderful! My goddess is as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside!” he shouted as if he were entertaining an audience as he applied the knife once more, her naked body ran across the room, the chain slept across the floor and one of Caracalla's hands lay on the knife while his other lay under his toga.

°Despite his fits, he knew better than to take her than to pursue his lust physically with her, but both benefited from such a game. With each thrust as he pulled her to him, her skin warm and bleeding, her gasps and moans as he kissed her just to taste and lick her blood, his amusement grew, ,,Such a good king,” she replied, the pleasure in his eyes turning to a smile and another moan leaving his lips.

°Despite all the blood and lust, he was eager for her anchoring, for the woman in whose arms he loved to lie like a child who could do no wrong. A child who listened to stories of war, he giggled when another one died and stretched out to her touch when she gently stroked his cheek and gave him a kiss on the head, ,,My handsome emperor” her praise turned him on, soothed him and made him clasp the chain tighter.

°For Caracalla she was everything, a wife, an entertainment, his desire, the mother he ever wanted to have and he was almost like a child born with a golden tooth in his mouth. A king who was addicted to her and her feelings for him went deeper than that of a concubine and her emperor, it was recognition and love that united them both when the sun was in the sky before she went back to his brother at night because she was sworn to both of them for all time.

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

@potatoesenpaii , @sigiismunda , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @somepallings , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs , @trampstampbrbie

@orphdices , @k-yurieee

[ssahotchnerr]

girl i am BEGGING you to write a hotch story with his beard and reader doesnt know he has it because he never told her and when he comes back shes more in love with him!!! you can take it any direction you want

off guard

hehehe 🤭 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, heavy suggestiveness, fluff and bearded aaron 😵‍💫<3

after what felt like forever, came the long awaited knock on the door.

"finally." you breathed out as you threw the door open, immediately tucking yourself into aaron's chest and wrapping your arms around his middle.

the longer he was in your hold, the more you tightened your arms - as if you would blink and he'd be right back in pakistan, miles and miles away from you yet again.

it was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. the moment you received the message aaron was back in the states - prematurely and under urgent circumstances - you had insisted the second he had wrapped up, no matter the time, to come directly and strictly to your apartment.

lucky for you, he had already planned on doing so regardless.

"god i missed you." aaron sighed out in relief just as much as you, the empty void in his heart filling at last, making him feel whole again.

he had spent countless nights fantasizing of you being in his arms, the feeling near and distant simultaneously, as if he could reach out and grasp it. for the first month overseas, he had difficulty sleeping even, so used to sleeping beside you - the familiar weight of you laid on him, matching his breathing to yours, or the fact you were simply near.

the longing for you had been torturous. and at last here you were, right where you belonged.

"i almost can't believe it," you mumbled into his t-shirt, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "five months was too long. too, too long."

you loosened your hold, just enough to peer up at him, just now getting a look at him. however, you found yourself taken aback, any eased, impending cries halting at once.

it was your aaron - your loving, wonderful aaron - staring back at you, but it didn't look like him.

his hair was longer, his body a bit more lean, but the major difference; a beard graced his face.

you've seen aaron with some stubble - not shaving during a weekend off, or his occasional five-o-clock shadow. but that was the result of a mere few days. this was months in the making, and it wasn't unwelcome in the slightest.

endless words could describe the sight before you, but your mind and mouth had run both dry. it was hot, to put it bluntly.

"jack hates it too." aaron admitted as his hands fell to your waist - not daring to part contact, mistaking your hesitancy for dislike. "i was going to shave it, but you did say to come right over-"

"hey- no." you blurted out, blinking up at him. "who said i hated it?"

his eyebrows furrowed, surprised. "you don't?"

"absolutely not," you insisted, looking almost offended at the proposition. you touched his cheek, feeling the coarse hair under your soft fingertips and igniting something deep within you. "quite the opposite, actually."

"really?" a pleased smirk formed on his face, his eyes darkly intrigued and amused.

"just when i thought you couldn't get more attractive." you smirked right back, toying with his shirt. "trust me, i like it more than you know."

aaron's fingers dug into your hips, backing you into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind with his foot.

"please tell me you have tomorrow off, because you won't be stepping outside this apartment if i can help it." you pleaded, your voice coming out as an eager whine.

"well, the team is to be evaluated by the senate committee, hearing date pending. so for the foreseeable future," aaron bit down on his bottom lip lightly, his eyes locked on yours. "i'm all yours."

"good. mainly because i missed you, but that," you eyed his beard again, a heavy breath escaping you. the ends of your lips quirked up into a mischievous smile, and aaron's lips found yours hungrily. as he frantically continued to back you towards the direction of your bedroom, you mumbled into his lips. "we can have fun with that."

[trans-axolotl]

"Much ink has already been spilled on Harris’s prosecutorial background. What is significant about the topic of sex work is how recently the vice president–elect’s actions contradicted her alleged views. During her tenure as AG, she led a campaign to shut down Backpage, a classified advertising website frequently used by sex workers, calling it “the world’s top online brothel” in 2016 and claiming that the site made “millions of dollars from trafficking.” While Backpage did make millions off of sex work ads, its “adult services” listings offered a safer and more transparent platform for sex workers and their clients to conduct consensual transactions than had historically been available. Harris’s grandiose mischaracterization led to a Senate investigation, and the shuttering of the site by the FBI in 2018.

“Backpage being gone has devastated our community,” said Andrews. The platform allowed sex workers to work more safely: They were able to vet clients and promote their services online. “It’s very heartbreaking to see the fallout,” said dominatrix Yevgeniya Ivanyutenko. “A lot of people lost their ability to safely make a living. A lot of people were forced to go on the street or do other things that they wouldn’t have otherwise considered.” M.F. Akynos, the founder and executive director of the Black Sex Worker Collective, thinks Harris should “apologize to the community. She needs to admit that she really fucked up with Backpage, and really ruined a lot of people’s lives.”

After Harris became a senator, she cosponsored the now-infamous Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act (SESTA), which—along with the House’s Allow States and Victims to Fight Online Sex Trafficking Act (FOSTA)—was signed into law by President Trump in 2018. FOSTA-SESTA created a loophole in Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, the so-called “safe harbor” provision that allows websites to be free from liability for user-generated content (e.g., Amazon reviews, Craigslist ads). The Electronic Frontier Foundation argues that Section 230 is the backbone of the Internet, calling it “the most important law protecting internet free speech.” Now, website publishers are liable if third parties post sex-work ads on their platforms.

That spelled the end of any number of platforms—mostly famously Craigslist’s “personal encounters” section—that sex workers used to vet prospective clients, leaving an already vulnerable workforce even more exposed. (The Woodhull Freedom Foundation has filed a lawsuit challenging FOSTA on First Amendment grounds; in January 2020, it won an appeal in D.C.’s district court).

“I sent a bunch of stats [to Harris and Senator Diane Feinstein] about decriminalization and how much SESTA-FOSTA would hurt American sex workers and open them up to violence,” said Cara (a pseudonym), who was working as a sex worker in the San Francisco and a member of SWOP when the bill passed. Both senators ignored her.

The bill both demonstrably harmed sex workers and failed to drop sex trafficking. “Within one month of FOSTA’s enactment, 13 sex workers were reported missing, and two were dead from suicide,” wrote Lura Chamberlain in her Fordham Law Review article “FOSTA: A Hostile Law with a Human Cost.” “Sex workers operating independently faced a tremendous and immediate uptick in unwanted solicitation from individuals offering or demanding to traffic them. Numerous others were raped, assaulted, and rendered homeless or unable to feed their children.” A 2020 survey of the effects of FOSTA-SESTA found that “99% of online respondents reported that this law does not make them feel safer” and 80.61 percent “say they are now facing difficulties advertising their services.” "

-What Sex Workers Want Kamala Harris to Know by Hallie Liberman

[scribescrawls]

On a more silly note, imagine the High Guard after the whole killing Sentinel thing happened/banishment and a few weeks later call a meeting with Optimus and they go “hey so I know we’re at odds at the moment but are we ever going to get payed for the last 50 cycles?” cause I mean technically I don’t think they were ever officially fired so much as declared dead to the general public and secretly being hunted down during that time. Do they go up to Optimus and are just like “so I get that we don’t really work here anymore but like can we still get our severance pay and our backlog of paychecks?” Cause I’m pretty sure since they were military the government was paying them before the whole Sentinel betrayal thing and any funds any of them had has probably been seized by the state (aka Sentinel during that time) or frozen sitting somewhere in account of being presumed dead. Does Megatron not want to have this meeting but the entire High Guard are grumpy about it like "no I want to get payed! I want my stuff/money back!" so now he has to sit across from Optimus in the most awkward meeting after their fall out as Starscream shouts across the table negotiating if they still qualify/are entitled for the Cybertronian equivalent of military/veteran pension for their previous cycles of service.

Cybertronian Civil War on hold due to the nightmare of bureaucracy and paperwork because tracking down at minimum 73 different case files of each High Guard member and getting them all in order when probably half of the information was purposely destroyed by Sentinel means it will probably take a while. How many times has Shockwave and the rest of the High Guard have to sign documents to declare "yes I am alive" "no I did not fake my death to commit tax fraud". Or dealing with banks and other organizations going "please provide proof that you are indeed Starscream." Starscream going "I'm literally Starscream and standing in front of you what other proof is more clear! You are literally looking at a photo of me on the datapad!" "Apologies, but unless you have x, y, z document I am afraid we cannot simply take your word that you are Starscream. If you are missing these documents please fill out these thirty forms as alternative verification of identity". Also imagining Thundercracker going "hey do you think my buy five get one free drink stamp card still works. I've been sitting on that free drink for 50 cycles…"

Funniest thing if Shockwave was a senator before joining the High Guard and there was a small period of time where he actually was declared dead before it got cleared up back in the day when the Primes were still alive, but now they can't find the paperwork that cleared up that it was an error and he was still in fact alive so now he's been declared doubly dead.

Shockwave: It's document 37C!

Elita: Repeating it for the fifth time will not change the fact that it does not exist!

Shockwave, done with being declared dead: It exists! It's added every time my taxes get filed each cycle! Did I suddenly imagine the last thousands of cycles of my life!

Elita, losing her own temper: There is no document 37C! Listen here Blinky, I can easily resolve this matter by getting you declared dead for a third time for real!

Optimus stressed and trying not to cry: Maybe we should call for a break in the meeting...

When the break is over no one can find Optimus who has decided to play hooky from his responsibilities because he'd tired and feels like he's going to lose it dealing with all the sudden responsibilities of being leader of an entire planet. I like the idea that it's Megatron who finds him. Megatron going "if I have to suffer through these meetings so do you" (he was secretly also ditching the meeting and accidentally bumped into Optimus because the place is technically their old spot that they sometimes went together, both thought it would be abandoned and no one would find them there). It's awkward, there are hurt feelings on both sides, but maybe they slowly get to talking and at least commiserate how much they hate paperwork. Also funny if they find out they both also have to resolve their own "declared dead by Sentinel" paperwork considering he said they both died after the Iacon 5000 lol.

Also I think it would be funny if these meetings drag on for so long that Optimus is just like instead of commuting back and forth from the surface to Iacon every day just stay here in the city it will save time. Banishment temporarily rescinded. Even more funny if they also have to deal with the Quintessons so half of these meeting turn into war meetings to deal with and fight the Quintessons off their planet where both sides are like "we're not on the same side!", but also eventually have to work together to win. So it's basically an officially we're not on the same side, but all actions say otherwise lol. I like to think Bee likes to hangout with Soundwave during meetings and finds him so cool, and Soundwave actually likes listening to Bee yap finding him endearing.

They eventually realize that it would be easier (and less paperwork) to just reinstate the High Guard and at this point so much time has passed that they've basically been doing their old job anyway as they fight the Quintessons together. Banishment permanently rescinded for all parties involved. I like to think megop over the course of these meetings and fighting together against the Quintessons make up. Things can't go back to the exact way it was between them, but that doesn't mean they can't rebuild something new between them. I like to think both groups have differing ideas of how to lead and how to deal with situations, but I like to think eventually they get to a point where they can compromise and work with differing ideas depending on what's best for the situation at hand similar to the 13 Primes who probably had conflicting and contrasting personalities and approaches but were able to use these differences to work together and make them stronger as a united front.

Cybertronian Civil War avoided through the sheer slog of paperwork and bureaucracy.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

huh...

Recently I was researching Malleus in preparation to write some things for my "10 years later" blog event. And you know what I noticed?

MALLEUS SEEMS TO HAVE LIKE NO CLEARLY STATED POLICY POSITIONS WHATSOEVER 💀 Across 4+ years of content (voice lines, vignettes, events, main story, etc.), Malleus does not really indicate how he plans to rule once he ascends to the throne. I keep thinking I missed something and go back to comb over everything, but I swear to you that it was pretty threadbare. The closest examples I could find were him being familiar with the concept of noblesse oblige (those of higher status have a duty to aid the weak), thinking it prudent to maintain friendly relationships with representatives of foreign lands, and going along with various traditions and ceremonies. I guess you can also throw in Malleus saying he was told by his grandma that the Draconias are meant to use their powers to protect the smiles of their people? But there's nothing concrete, like how exactly Malleus would achieve his goals once in power or what his specific goals are. (This is not counting fan speculation, such as him potentially eliminating the current senate due to how they treated Lilia so callously.)

Malleus will often talk about how the things he's experiencing are different than what he knows of back home. Malleus will talk about how others wait on him (his birthday is a national holiday, he has private chefs and tutors, etc.). But he doesn't talk about how he would rule. That's like... so wild to me considering that he's the crown prince of Briar Valley. I would have expected at least one or two dedicated voice lines about such a BIG for Malleus, especially with how often he speaks about himself being a royal and being groomed for the position of future ruler of his nation. Malleus sometimes shares about his grandmother, who is the current ruler, but again never specifies what her ruling style is like or what her policies are like. It's also strange to me that Sebek, Silver, and Lilia also never speak about Malleus's positions on anything. The best we get is Lilia trying to encourage Malleus to get out of his comfort zone more and to make the most of his time to learn about his non-fae peers. That doesn't speak to any of his current thoughts though, only what Lilia hopes will enhance Malleus's understanding now and perhaps inform his decisions in the future. We're mostly left to assume how Briar Valley's political landscape works--but even then, there's not much to make of it, besides being aware of the senate, a reliance on magic, and the general adversity to humans and technology.

Compare this to Leona, the other prince of the cast (not counting Silver, since he learns of his prince heritage very late into the main story and may not even feasibly have a country or people to his name anymore). Leona is the second prince of Sunset Savanna, meaning he's not even expected to become king someday--yet we consistently hear what his thoughts on policies and political planning are. He comments that he worries for his country's future due to how lax, kind-hearted, and extravagant his older brother and acting king Falena is. On top of that, Leona's own views on what would most benefit his country are explicitly laid out. He doesn't care much for stuffy traditions or living in harmony with nature (a value many of his countrymen have); he prioritizes progress and thinks proactively about it. Even on his own birthday, Leona talks about how the gift he received from Falena could be better served as a gift to a neighboring country to bolster the relationship between their nations. The mining and energy internship he chooses in book 7 is also geared towards making sustainable advancements back home (presumably to make use of his country’s natural resources while minimizing damage to the land). We get a very clear sense of how Leona would go about improving his country, even if not from the position of king and even if his ideas wouldn’t be received well by his people or by the land. (If this topic interests you, then please check out this post, where I discuss Leona vs Falena's priorities and ruling styles.)

So what's up with Malleus, an actual king-to-be, not talking about politics at all????? Is it maybe just something Malleus is not thinking about (it's possible that he could become king much later in life, since he’s not considered an “adult” until 1000 years old)? Is he maybe focusing on his current school experience? Or is it that he just... keeps the plans to himself since they aren't immediately relevant? Or is it that he feels he doesn't need to implement many changes once he does become king (since he seems to already be accustomed to his grandmother's way of ruling), so there's no need for him to consider it now? (Briar Valley itself and Malleus are particularly old-fashioned and appear to have issues adapting or changing with the times.) Is it that Malleus secretly dreads his ascension because it means he can no longer go back to his carefree school days? Maybe it's just the Twst devs intentionally keeping Briar Valley vague for meta reasons/to maintain Diasomnia's mystique??? It could be any combination of reasons.

I guess I'm a little frustrated myself at this realization because a personal gripe I have with Malleus is how he's treated and talked about like he's a great leader (especially by Diasomnia; *stares at Sebek shouting and Lilia's book 2 speech*), but we never get real instances of him acting like that great leader he supposedly is. It feels like lip service (think about how often Diasomnia and the general cast hypes him up) without him being able to back it up. When has Malleus led anyone in a serious group effort? How does he intend to lead in the future? I feel like it's mostly him wandering off to do his own thing or to clear the challenge with his OP-ness. But if Twst is really going to sell us on Malleus being a "great leader", then he should be given more chances to be one. It's such a wasted opportunity that we don't get to know more about this. The only instance I can think of (off the top of my head) where Malleus "leads" is GloMasq, and even then I don't know if I would count it??? Because Malleus isn't really leading the group so much as he is tagging along with them because there's safety in numbers given the situation. Everyone else throws themselves out there to protect him and the other event SSRs... and the way Malleus acts kind of implies he would march up that tower and try to decimate Rollo with or without anyone's help if he could. That doesn't really read to me as him taking charge, even if he's technically going to these great lengths to protect his country, which primarily relies on magic (ie their way of life would be destroyed if Rollo's plan succeeds). Maybe I'm missing something though??? If you can think of any examples of Malleus being a leader and/or times when he mentions how he'd rule Briar Valley, let me know. it's very possible that I have overlooked an example, given the extensive amount of content out at the moment. Sharing general thoughts on this topic is also fine.