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claymoresword · 9 months ago

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I Choose Her | Chp: 20

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: y/n & draco, character death, violence, general heavy themes, fluff, y/n & hermione are endgame , events follow canon (in theory)

Note: here it is.. the final chapter ! (technically it's not over yet since we still have the epilogue, which i will try my best to get out within the next week, fingers crossed)

i also want to thank you guys so much for being here. whether you just found this fic recently or you've been here since the beginning, i hope you know i appreciate your support so much. it's the reason we even got to this point! i'm truly going to miss writing this story, more than you know. especially considering it has been apart of my life for over a year now, which is crazy! but anyway, love you guys, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

Hours since the Dark Lord and his followers had officially retreated.

The sun was now steadily taking its position in the sky, illuminating the mortal world. Heedlessly enforcing the illusion that tragedy no longer looms over Hogwarts and all wizard-kind.

That is, of course, as further as one could possibly get from the truth.

The atmosphere amidst the Great Hall unfailingly reminds everyone of a suffocating reality. It is thick with grief. Cold, dark and devoid of life– much like the dead that lay within it.

Hermione has yet to leave your side since you found a space to sit amongst the rubble. She continues to cling to you like a lifeline. Harry has been gone for hours, and Hermione, with a bit of coaxing, has finally stopped crying.

Ginny however remained hysterical– till her father was forced to subdue her with a Laxo charm. Still its effects wear off too quickly, and Ginny is far too vulnerable to justify repeated use. So her parents have settled with putting her to sleep instead.

She rests her head on Ron’s shoulder, blind and deaf to the destruction around her, even if only for a short while.

“Are you alright?” A foolish question, but Hermione, ever sweet and gentle, doesn't berate you for it. She nods, wordlessly slipping her arm around you before nestling her face into the crook of your neck.

Hermione desperately seeks an escape through you and there is nothing more you wish to do than to give her just that. You want to be her helm in a sea of catastrophe, as much as she is yours.

Nothing matters anymore, only her.

As you slip a comforting arm around your girlfriend, you take a scan of the hall, quickly regretting your decision to do so as you divert your eyes away from the row of corpses laid across the floor.

It is then you spot a familiar face that causes your stomach twists even more, you are overcome with the sudden urge to wretch.

Draco appears just as pale and miserable as he approaches you. Gingerly taking a seat, cautious not to interrupt your embrace with Hermione. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak.

“I thought you left the castle with the rest of them.” You find yourself muttering, surprising Draco and especially yourself.

Hermione lifts her head, once she realizes you were not speaking to her.

She takes notice of the platinum haired man next to you, and you feel her tense within your hold. Hermione’s expression visibly hardens, and you recognize that it would be smart to continue putting yourself in between her and Draco for the time being.

“No, I– I couldn’t. My parents.. they were looking for me, but I– I hid.” Your best friend remarks, he is unable to keep eye contact with you.

Guilt is ever corrosive, and it was consuming him alive. You see it in the very way Draco carries himself– so far removed from the person he once was.

Much like yourself.

It seems as though Draco is entirely expecting you to push some blame onto him. As if the destruction here today was caused solely by him. Though things are hardly as simple as that– besides, there is little reward in kicking a man when he is already down.

“At least you refused them. I know it isn’t easy.” You state. A feeble attempt to uplift him.

“Doing the right thing rarely ever is.” Hermione chimes in, as she puts her head on your shoulder once more. Her demeanor has softened, and in any regular instance, this might even fill you with joy.

“Does it even matter now? It’s too late.” Draco wallows, and a part of you wants to contend his statement, but that would also mean lying to him.

“And my mother and father– I’ve disappointed them.” He adds and now you let out a humorless chuckle.

“We have that in common. Mine certainly aren’t going to acknowledge me as their daughter now.” You say, and your best friend almost seems comforted by the notion.

“Mine either.” Hermione quips plainly, her attempt at lighthearted banter only shatters you.

You turn to place a lingering kiss against her forehead. Hermione accepts it as a faint smile plays on her lips, one reserved only for you.

‘As long as we stay together it'll be fine.’ You remind yourself for the dozenth time.

Draco sighs.

“There was no point to any of this.. it's all gone to shit.” He utters, exasperated, and Hermione nods in agreement.

Another chuckle slips out of you, this time from true amusement. Possibly from exhaustion or simply just a reaction to the ludicrous position you have all found yourselves in. You are sitting in what was once the Great Hall; the safest and warmest place in all of Hogwarts is now reduced to nothing but dust, piles of stone and death.

You ought to be studying for your end of year exams, yet instead, you have been battling Death Eaters.

People you considered friends have attempted to harm you more than once, and now it is not even certain if you would survive long enough to see nightfall.

Despite herself, Hermione begins to laugh with you. Draco only scoffs at this, he averts his gaze but you manage to catch the smile threatening to form on his face.

The moment does not last much longer as a noise in the distance abruptly steals your attention. The air in Hogwarts is no longer desolate, it has been awoken once more, and you quickly find out why.

Neville is first to rise off the floor, swiftly walking out into the courtyard. Students and teachers, reluctant but curious, follow suit.

You leave Draco behind as you move through the crowd, Hermione quickly falls in next to you and Ron settles a few paces behind.

Your worst fear is realized.

They have returned, to finish what they started.

A large army of Death Eaters approaches Hogwarts, the Dark Lord leads them at the front of the brigade. As they get closer, you notice Hagrid towering over the rest, he walks with something large in his arms.

Your face falls in horror once you make out exactly what it was he was carrying. Harry Potter, limp and lifeless.

Hagrid held him as though he weighed no more than a feather. It is a devastating sight, but you can’t seem to look away.

You feel the sudden urge to pinch yourself, to force yourself awake.

You are trapped in a grim nightmare, Harry cannot be dead.

“No.” Ron utters your thoughts out loud.

Hermione is reduced to soft sobs as she turns away in distress, you feel compelled to pull her in for an embrace once more.

“Who is that, Hagrid’s carrying?” Ginny’s voice echoes through the courtyard. She is awake, only to be struck in the face with atrocity.

“Neville, who is that?” She calls, much louder and desperate.

“Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord responds to her question with glee.

“No– no!” Ginny cries, but she is quickly silenced with a wave of Voldermort’s hand, he forces her to the ground.

“Silence! You stupid girl.” He bellows as Arthur frantically helps his daughter back on her feet, dragging her as far from the enemy as possible.

“Harry Potter is dead, from this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldermort claims and he is only met with a stunned silence.

"Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord declares again in celebration turning to his followers. He laughs, maniacal and bone chilling. Death eaters soon join in, a roar of erroneous joy.

Blind rage gives Hermione the strength to finally look upon Voldermort, you release her from your grip, but maintain close proximity.

“And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us, or die.” Voldermort states, his arms outstretched– a forced gesture of welcome.

Once again, you can all only afford to stare at him in disbelief.

“Draco!” Lucius calls for his son angrily, and you only realize then that you’ve entirely lost sight of your best friend.

The crowd parts slightly, and you finally spot him at the other side of the courtyard, standing amongst Seamus, George and Dean.

“Draco.” Narcissa coaxes her son in a far gentler manner, but the distress and worry within her gaze is plain for you to see.

Draco stares at his parents for a prolonged moment and then turns to look towards you. Your breath hitches in your throat, the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he means to share the burden with you.

You manage to shake your head at him, signifying disapproval, but it seems he was not looking for advice, it was merely a look of remorse. He was just apologizing for something he was about to do.

Your shoulders slump in disappointment when Draco tears his gaze away from your own, he limps towards his parents, slowly, as if in a trance.

“Well done, Draco, well done.” The Dark Lord embraces him stiffly for all to see, your jaw tightens when his stare lands on you.

Any fear you felt in that moment has been overshadowed by plain hot resentment.

“Y/n!” Your own father calls for you the same way, you can still feel the weight of everyone’s stare upon you as you refuse to budge.

“Y/n, come here, now.” Your mother warns, but it does nothing to convince you, if anything it has the opposite effect.

You feel Hermione’s hand slip into your own, motivating a streak of confidence.

“I am fine right where I am, mother.” You remark plainly, and you catch the way Voldermort clenches his pale gray hand into a fist for an instant before composing himself.

“Well, I must admit, y/n, I am very disappointed in you. I have no doubt your parents feel the same.” He states, and it works to gain a rise out of you.

However before you can retaliate with something reckless, Voldermort raises his wand to point it at you. “Crucio.”

The next thing you recall is the ground coming up to meet you, and trying to break your fall. A blinding pain that travels from your arm to the rest of your body.

Hermione is crouched over you as you continue to seize on the ground in sheer agony.

“Stop it! Please, stop!” Your girlfriend's pleas fall on deaf ears.

You faintly hear Voldermort’s mocking laughter amidst your own gripes of pain. Certain you are about to faint, you clench your eyes tightly, but then, it all stops.

Air violently floods your lungs, you feel the ground again, this time you recognize that you are laying firmly on top of it. You feel Hermione’s desperate hands clutching your body.

The Dark Lord looks upon horrified faces– he is using you as a warning. “I will say it again. Join us, else you will suffer a worse fate that y/n. So I invite you to step forward now.”

Hermione begins to help you back on your feet, but not before kissing your temple. She smoothes out your disheveled hair, a frantic effort to soothe you, or perhaps herself.

“Please tell me you're alright.” She pleads, an anguished whisper. You ignore the sharp pain still pulsating throughout your body to give Hermione some peace of mind.

“I am, I'll be fine.” You reply, taking her arm to resume your place.

Neville slips past you then, this sudden gesture is followed by a wave of gasps.

You observed as he limped through the crowd and towards Voldermort, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Not Neville. Not him of all people.

“I must say, I hoped for better.” Voldermort hurls the jibe, brusque and overconfident. The roar of laughter that comes from his followers only causes your scowl to deepen, it is a jarring noise, deeply unsettling.

“And who might you be, young man?” The Dark Lord asks, feigned geniality.

“Neville Longbottom.” Neville admits only for the laughter to come again.

You shift your weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Hermione mistakes it for a sign you may collapse again so she moves closer, allowing you to lean on her; this only makes you want to weep.

This isn't right. It was never supposed to happen like this.

“Well, Neville I am sure we can find you a place in our ranks–”

“–I'd like to say something!” Neville's voice bullies over Voldermort’s.

From the looks of it, this would nearly cost him his life, as Voldermort lifts his wand, almost like a reflex but he lowers it just as quickly.

With an air of composure, he responds, but his pretense is waning.

“Well, Neville, I am sure we are all fascinated to hear what you have to say.” Voldermort’s smile only makes him appear even more displeasing to the eye.

“It doesn't matter that Harry's gone.” Neville announces, and you instinctively look to the man in Hagrid’s arms.

This can't be the end.

Only half a heartbeat until you avert your gaze again.

“Stand down, Neville!” Seamus possesses enough gumption to warn his friend, but Neville brushes him off.

“People die everyday!” He insists.

“Friends, family..” Neville trails off.

Again, you feel compelled to keep Hermione close as you notice the way she has been pursing her lips to fight back more tears.

Ron can't seem to pull his eyes away from Hagrid, and his dead best friend.

“Yeah, we lost Harry tonight, but he's still with us, in here.” Neville continues, gesturing loosely to his chest, just above where his heart is.“So is Fred, Remus, and Tonks, all of them.”

“They didn't die in vain!” Neville shouts with a newfound confidence.

“But you will, because you're wrong!”

He challenges the Dark Lord, bold and open, and it makes you wince.

“Harry's heart did beat for us, for all of us!” He continues.

“So it's not over!” Neville exclaims, and the old hat he had been holding droops to the floor. Within it is revealed an unmistakable relic: the sword of Gryffindor.

He unsheathes the steel for all to see.

Then just as suddenly, the unthinkable happens.

Harry slips out of Hagrid's hold, his body collapses to the ground, but he is not dead, he braces his hands on the ground before rising.

Harry Potter, alive.

“Merlin's beard..” You gape, and Hermione grasps your shoulder, then she laughs, shock and pure relief.

Harry sprints past the Dark Lord, quick, like a cat. He attempts to fish out Draco’s wand from his pocket but it slides past his fingers.

Harry isn't given the opportunity to retrieve it as he is forced to dodge the mania of curses being hurled his way.

There is only chaos in the courtyard now as Death Eaters begin to disapparate by the dozen, abandoning their leader.

Everyone else, desperately seeking shelter, out of the courtyard, back into the castle or elsewhere, anywhere away from harm.

“Come on, we have to go.” Hermione drags you with her, but you turn back for a moment to watch as Draco bravely pushes past the chaos, picking up his wand, unbelievably, he tosses it back to Harry.

“Potter!” Your best friend shouts just before you lose sight of him in the crowd. Although Harry catches the wand just in time.

“Confringo!” The Chosen One exclaims, Nagini writhes violently as the curse injures her.

The snake. You have to kill the snake.

Harry shares the sentiment as you get to the castle's doors, he falls in next to you, Ron and Hermione. “We need to kill the snake, I'll lure him into the castle.”

You merely nod in response, Harry continues to deflect the curses being hurled at the four of you.

“You'll need this.” Hermione says, retrieving the Basilisk fang from her bag.

The Dark Lord is rapidly inching closer now, fury has become him– yet he has never seemed so meek, utterly powerless.

He is losing, if he has not lost already.

Nagini is all he has left.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You anticipate it, but Hermione shoves you out of the way just in time as a mass of rubble comes crashing down from above.

You stumble, before coughing out a lung full of dust, squinting as it obstructs your vision. Hermione’s grip on your arm is the only thing tethering you to the present.

Harry bumps into you, just as disoriented. He has lost sight of Ron and worst of all, he can't see Voldermort.

Another large crash causes you all to flinch, it didn't take long at all for the Dark Lord to find you once again.

Harry throws another curse, powerful enough that he loses his balance, the Basilisk fang unluckily slips out of his pocket, bouncing off the stairs and to the flat ground in front of you.

You reach for it, but before you can retrieve the object, the tooth disintegrates right before your eyes.

“What–” You aren't given the chance to despair as Harry reminds you of an alternative.

“I’ll keep distracting him. Find Neville, he has the sword. Kill that snake.” He states, the sound of curses violently clashing masks his words, the Dark Lord remains oblivious to your plan, for now.

“Let's try the Great Hall.” Hermione suggests.

“If we can even get there.” You quip, actively trying to work out a way through the rubble.

You follow after Hermione, and soon, Harry disappears through the thick wall of smoke and dust, purposefully luring Voldermort towards the Astronomy Tower.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Here, this way.” Hermione says as she steps through an opening and further down a flight of stairs.

Just when you both think you are out of danger, a noise stops you dead in your tracks.

You spot the large snake coiling around the bannister before slithering across a pile of bricks towards you.

Its hiss sends a shiver down your spine as you reach for your wand.

Hermione on the other hand, acts on pure instinct. Grabbing a piece of stone, she aims it at the snake.

It successfully clips Nagini on the side of her head, but this only succeeds in agitating the beast.

“Oh.” Hermione utters as the snake recoils, ready to attack.

You both lift your wands in preparation but the snake is hit again, this time by a larger curse that disorients it.

“Go on, I'm right behind you.” Ron emerges,

pushing the both of you to continue on your search for the sword.

You only manage to get to the bottom of the stairs before Ron can be heard groaning in pain.

The snake had managed to trap him in its grasp, it was coiled around his body, an unsettling sight as it attempted to strangle the life out of him.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaims, chasing back up the stairs without a moment's thought.

“Stupefy!” She exclaimed, and the snake loosens its grip on Ron just enough for him to wretch free.

Hermione drags him to his feet and you can only watch in horror as the snake attempts to come at the both of them now.

“Incendio!” She tries again but the fire fizzles out as soon as it touches the beast, as if the snake was made of ice.

It is your turn to sprint up the stairs but the snake whips its head around, baring its fangs at you as warning. You halt abruptly, forced to keep a distance, grasping your wand tightly.

Hermione shares a pleading look.

It is useless. There are three of you against Nagini, and yet you were helpless without the sword.

This is not going to work. The snake won't die. Distracting it will only mean seriously harming or even killing one of you.

Your mind reels, you frantically scan your surroundings, looking for a solution.

Then, you are graced with a miracle. Neville appears behind you, barrelling up the stairs, panting, his face caked in dirt and dried blood. He has the sword of Gryffindor in hand.

Hermione let's out another scream that snatches your attention, the snake has attempted to come at them again, and again, Ron has now resulted in shielding your girlfriend with his own body.

You have to kill it now.

As you take another step, Nagini shifts her point of attack, now preparing to lunge towards you.

“Y/n– here!” With only seconds to spare, Neville tosses the steel in your direction. You quickly drop your wand before you manage to catch the sword by the hilt, still unaccustomed to its weight, you grasp it with two hands.

Just like handling a beater's bat, you swing it, firm and hard, slicing the beast across its body mid-air.

There is no blood, instead the snake explodes into a rain of thin black ash, it is unlike anything you have ever seen before. It is all you can look at as you let the point of the sword fall by your feet.

For a while all you can hear is the clang of metal hitting the ground and a faint ringing in your ears, muffled by the sound of your own heavy breathing.

Neville's touch on your shoulder snaps you out of a trance. “It's over, it's done.”

Enough sense returns to you as you shift your gaze towards Hermione. Her expression mirrors your own.

The four of you are miraculously alive, and the snake is dead.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

In the aftermath, it did not take much convincing for you to agree to join Hermione, Harry and Ron for a walk along the bridge.

Thankful for fresh air, the afternoon sun was also a welcomed feeling upon your skin, for the first time in days, it felt like you could breathe.

As Hermione struts ahead, you manage to grab ahold of her arm, forcibly tugging her closer to your own body.

She then lets out a noise in surprise once you capture her lips with your own, but she melts into the kiss just as quickly, your hand slips to the small of her back as she opens her mouth wider to welcome your tongue.

You continue like that without care for a while, until Ron deliberately interrupts your moment by verbalizing his thoughts.

“Bloody hell, give it a rest, you two.” He remarks, but his tone lacks its usual malice as he clears a path by kicking away pieces of rubble.

You grimace as you feel Hermione pull away from embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Weasley.” You retaliate, and for reasons unbeknownst to you, the sound of Ron's laughter makes you smile.

You part Hermione’s hair away from her neck, tilting your head slightly to leave a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck.

She smells like sweat– but, in truth, it has never been an unpleasant scent to you. Nothing about Hermione was ever unpleasant.

Even now, sleep deprived and unwashed, she was perfect.

You notice the way Hermione trembles at the sensation of your warm mouth upon her flesh.

It only works to entice you further, but before you can kiss her again, Hermione displays some semblance of self control.

She braces her hands on your chest, shoving you lightly. “Not here.”

With a pout you meet her gaze and she only rolls her eyes at that, before rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips.

“We both could use a bath later.” Hermione mutters suggestively, running her fingers through your hair.

A smirk tugs on your lips at that, but before you can retort with something clever, Hermione's gaze shifts to Harry.

The Chosen One stood at the edge of the bridge, where there was once a bannister, now just a stump of concrete and marble.

Harry is observing the wand in his hand as Hermione addresses him. “How come it didn't work for him, The Elder Wand?”

“It answered to somebody else.” Harry replies, turning to look at the three of you.

“When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. but the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.”

“It was Draco, who disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, from that moment on, the wand answered him.” Harry explains, looking down to inspect it once more.

“Until, the other night, when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.” He continues and your eyes widen at the realization.

“So that means–” You gape, and Hermione turns to you in disbelief.

Harry nods. “It's mine.” He states, nonchalant as ever.

“What should we do with it?” Ron inquires, and Hermione merely grimaces.

“We?” She scolds.

“Ron's right, I mean, that's the Elder Wand. Most powerful in the world, with that, you'd be invisible.” You remark in support, now Hermione directs her scowl towards you, and you shrug innocently.

Although your expression twists once your gaze flits to Harry once again, he grunts as he struggles to break the wood in half.

You advanced forward to intervene, but it was too late. The wand snaps in two, like a twig.

Harry turns around, chucking pieces of the most powerful wand in existence off the edge of the bridge.

You chase after it as far as your eyes can see before it disappears, forever.

“What the fuck–” Ron mutters under his breath in shared disbelief, yet Hermione only watches the both of you with amusement.

Then she grabs you by the collar, dragging you away from the ledge.

You are forced to follow as she falls in next to Harry, strolling back to the castle.

Resisting the urge to confront Harry about what he had just done, you drape an arm across Hermione's shoulder, she welcomes it, intertwining your hands as you walked.

“I'm starving.” Ron remarks, trailing behind you. An effort to shift to a different, much simpler topic of conversation.

“So am I.” Hermione replies.

“Yeah.. reckon The Three Broomsticks are still open?” You joke, and Harry is first to laugh, followed by your girlfriend and eventually, Ron.

You allow yourself a smile, it is one of relief. You relish in a careless joy you once thought you'd never get to experience again.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #hermione granger smut

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ampreh · 1 year ago

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[TRF] Norma II

• Related to this : The Rust Factory - Norma (<- comics)

• Related to this : The Rust Factory - Norma (<- comics) I had SO much fun doing the vintage style of flash backs and imagination: I would have kicked myself for ignoring this very impactful style for its time.

Audrey pic: Context - Extract from the 2022 RP "It was the story of a corporate that had made a great scientific revolutionary invention! It was called D-Sire, a simple, medicated, fabulous everyday object that people couldn't live without. But during the process of improving the product, which was intended to target wider markets to make more profit, the D-Sire had unfortunately gone awry, causing a great catastrophe unparalleled among mankind. All cities had been wiped off the map, leaving only willless mutant humans and animals. The heroine had to flee her city, survive and fight her way back to the creator of the D-sire, who had abandoned his company and changed his identity. Coal was terrified of this cheap soap opera with its terrible special effects made of modelling clay and the saturated offbeat sound of the black-and-white picture on the small TV screen." A more than obvious reference to the AU Truffula Flu. And a huge reference to @audtreegrace, @miru667 's character. So of course, I don't have all the context since it's a vast AU with lots and lots of details, but I've got enough of a basis for my friends to recognize and that's good enough for me :> Nathan has already confused Audrey Grace with Audrey, the actress from their series HAHA. Alas, the Audrey and Ted of his world won't be born for several years. He didn't find the actress, but he did find a good friend with whom to talk for hours about anything and everything ♥

Norma Bellini pic: Well, Norma pin-up, because why not! In vintage calendar mode, because I love vintage aesthetics. And yes, those are the right dates I went to check on good old calendars haha. At first I wanted to do it in a swimsuit, but then I preferred the picnic. I love picnics.

Too big to fail pic: I had to do it! Of course I had to! The only time I've redone such an iconic portrait was for the first version of Cashtea-ler in the Let It Flow fanzine, in 2022 (I should do a new one with his new head). Nathan Cole (@1940s-onceler | @nalak-bel 's), in black and white in his best soot-colored suit!

Compilation : Just Normaler, to appreciate Normaler. On a more serious note, I like the idea that Nathan was guided throughout his first times by ladies, and not the reverse. I love this not-so-little whining man.

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americankimchi · 2 months ago

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dragon age veilguard review: spoilers for the entire game ahead

alright now that it's been a few days and i've had time to 1) get over the honeymoon phase and 2) really think on the game beyond the emotional high of the endgame mission/endgame choice, i can finally type this up

my final score for this game is 8/10, if you just care about that part and wanna skip the rest.

preface, i've only finished one playthrough as an elf mage grey warden, and played every companion/region quest*/side objective to completion**.

i played it on the underdog difficulty and it took me ~74 hours (i left the game open and went to do something else a few times, so it should probably read closer to ~70). this is a screenshot of the final auto-save after i beat the game

veeery long review under the cut ✌️

*exception being minrathous since i picked treviso instead, so the region quests got shafted

**didn't find all the chests or all the collectables, but i got close. also, i missed neve's first companion outing because i forgot to do it prior to the minrathous/treviso choice and didn't realize recruiting davrin was a cut-off point. aside from that i finished every quest i could grab my hands on.

OKAY SO i want to start this off by saying that i thoroughly enjoyed this game, enough to want to replay it again (i currently have two concurrent playthroughs as a dwarf shadow dragon and a human antivan crow going) and will probably be modding it to high heavens once that boat gets sailing, and that i believe it deserves that 8/10 score with all my heart. it was a great time.

that being said.

DIALOGUE REACTIVITY BASED OFF CHARACTER CREATION:

anyone who plays dragon age veilguard and only veilguard is getting a very surface level experience of what thedas is/has to offer culturally. i'm saying this because the excuse being "this is tevinter, why would it be the same as the southern half of thedas" isn't enough to explain a lot of gaping holes in the game's setting.

for instance, i played as an ELF MAGE GREY WARDEN in the middle of TEVINTER during a massive catastrophe brought about by the returned "ELVEN GODS"

having played all the games prior to dav, i did so because i knew that there would be

high tension with my PC being an elf in the notoriously cruel-to-elves country of tevinter, the old empire of which caused the fall of arlathan, and who enslaves elves to the point of it being a huge story beat for a previous companion (fenris)

a mage in a magocracy, where the script is flipped between mages and templars as compared to the south which recently went through years of a mage-templar war

a grey warden - their relevancy in thedas ended around 10 years ago due to corypheus basically tricking them all into hearing their calling, and 22 years prior veilguard during the fifth blight. at the beginning of the game, being a grey warden is more of a coincidental occupation than a narrative beat like it is in origins, but there's always something going on with the wardens so i picked it as a 'i'll pick this to experience the game first and then go for what i suspect is the best narratively relevant origin for my second playthrough' option

of the three descriptors, ELF/MAGE/GREY WARDEN, which do you think had the most story-relevant screen time?

that's right.

the grey warden one.

i won't say that there was nothing about being a mage, but i can remember probably on one hand where the option to chime in as a mage was relevant to what was being spoken about. (a conversation about spite, a conversation about scout harding's new abilities, and if there were more they weren't memorable enough for me to recall off the top of my head) which was fine on paper if you don't know anything about dragon age's entire deal wrt mages. i believe the only real mention about tensions between mages and templars happened in minrathous when we met up with neve's templar friend rana. i think the line reads something like "oh templars are just here to make sure the magic doesn't go out of hand. we don't even take lyrium like our southern counterparts" and then the game moves on to other things

which is crazy considering just how seriously the mage vs templar conflict was being leaned into for the previous three games, enough to the point where i was getting absolutely sick and tired of hearing about it. well the monkey's paw curls a finger because not only did i not hear about it, it felt like it never even happened.

TO BE FAIR: we're playing in tevinter (and antiva. and rivain. and the hossberg wetlands. and—well, you get the idea) and there's a general air of tevinter snooty superiority when they consider the 'south', so perhaps it wasn't fair for me to think "oh, they'd talk about it right? they'd bring it up more than once", but my being a mage seemed to just not even register for any characters in tevinter. not that i wanted them to roll out the red carpet or anything, but i can't remember a single moment where an NPC was like "oh right, you're a mage too". maybe they did, and i just don't remember it. but it didn't seem to matter at all.

but alright whatever, if we want to write that off as being "we're in tevinter. that has no bearing on circumstances here because it's a MAGOCRACY" fine i'll let it slide.

but the fact that my being an ELF didn't seem to be a Huge Deal when in tevinter threw me for a fucking loop. was there some sort of massive societal upheaval in the ten years between dragon age inquisition (dorian: i thought keeping slaves was fine as long as you treat them well) to veilguard (i found a single codex entry of a letter where dorian says "hey guys. we should stop keeping slaves. like genuinely what the fuck is wrong with us for even doing that in the first place") but the fact that NOBODY SEEMS TO BLINK AN EYE at my rook's elven heritage. ESPECIALLY since the main antagonists of this game are ALL ELVEN GODS seems like a wildly missed opportunity to introduce some tension. UNJUSTIFIED TENSION, but tension nonetheless.

the wardens had a lot of content, which both surprised and delighted me thoroughly. i'll never speak a word against them of course, and i did love how it showed that the wardens were here to do a job, and not play nice about it. the first warden was, in my humble opinion, one of the best characters in the entire game. annoying, gruff, called my rook warden basically the equivalent of a stupid rhino in a china shop not knowing what's best for the wardens/their oaths and impulsive in a way detrimental to everyone in his surroundings. literally one of my favorite lines happens when he and rook are beefing in the middle of the cobbled swan:

like. that was so satisfying.

the fact that the first warden isn't a villain, he's actually a fantastic grey warden. he'd sacrifice himself to kill an archdemon, and in fact "steals the glory" for himself. like was he an asshole during that exchange? yes, but it's undeniable that he was going to his death voluntarily and with a grim fervor. that's peak grey warden. nobody can say he'd ever shirk his duty. his character flaw was that he's a terrible leader, has the military tactics of a damp slice of toast, and generally doesn't inspire his subordinates to feel any sort of true loyalty to him. see here where my rook aggressively relieves him of duty and after a tense exchange where it seems like combat is about to start, evka saves the day by taking charge. and she does take charge pretty quick. nobody seems to really oppose the real quick promotion.

and then it's back to business as usual. archdemon trapping, anyone?

which was a problem i had with other factions in the game, namely the antivan crows. like yes, not every group is a monolith sharing the same ideals/morals/etc. but having played dragon age origins close to two decades prior where a massive point of contention was between zevran and the crows and the trauma that came from his upbringing as a crow... to then get thrown into treviso to see that the house we're dealing with is a bunch of leathery robin hoods was an unexpected turn. like. guys? weren't they villains? why are we all relatively good people (barring illario) here??? if anything, i thought that there'd be more politicking and backstabbing (literally and figuratively) but everything here seems kinda...... harmonious in comparison to whatever the fuck house arainai was doing. i might have missed a codex entry (i didn't read them all) explaining why the tonal shift happened, like maybe someone somewhere wrote about how house arainai imploded post-fifth blight when a crow went, well, rogue, and exposed the crows for the literal torture they put CHILDREN through, but nothing. like the game straight up lets an NPC whose name escapes me form a new house composed OF children at the end. like. what........ this isn't neverland, why are we forming the lost boys with knives here. hello??

on the other hand, i feel like the wardens had more options to expand on the fact that uh. yeah. grey wardens don't come from great backgrounds. like when you could conscript the mayor of d'meta's crossing much to everyone's displeasure, or the first warden actively being an obstacle to real progress (but not a villain! just extremely blind to the real dangers!), etc. etc. still not great in terms of "we employ literal murderers and criminals of every kind so we can toss them in the direction of darkspawn as a literal meat shield for thedas" but at least it's something.

but i digress. back to the point:

felt like the amount of dialogue options i had where i could bring up my warden expertise not only outstripped the mage/elf tags, but was so prevalent that sometimes it felt like the game was specifically catered to me being a grey warden. this is obviously just because i haven't played enough of the other origins to really feel out how much content they have in comparison, and it's partially just because of how obviously biased i am towards them as a group, but the FLAVOR of being a grey warden was present wherever i went. we'll see how well this opinion holds up after i finish my other two playthroughs.

THE COMBAT:

genuinely the best combat in the series. the fact that you can dodge-roll and more importantly PARRY in this game is an unexpected boon that i can't praise bioware enough for. the abilities themselves are smooth, the detonations provide a nice chunk of damage AND crowd control where you can just unload, and the damage types/weaknesses being a genuinely relevant part of the game to the point where if you have a lightning abilities/weapons equipped and you're facing down a hoard of antaam, you're going to have an extremely bad time*.

* on higher difficulties. i've heard on lower ones that it doesn't matter and you can just brute force your way through the game

i will say the "quick recovery" doesn't feel quick at all, even if i'm hitting the button for it frame-perfect, i can still get knocked down as the animation for quick recovery is going off, which was annoying. would've liked the i-frames to have saved me from getting turned into paste by the three ogres punching me down at the same time but alas.

also, they tend to target you even if you have a warrior (davrin/taash) on the team. unless you're actively casting taunt, they will run past your party members to hammer down on you. which was. annoying.

STILL I LOVED THE COMBAT, i went spellblade as a mage and my build was absolutely disgusting at the end. with a combination of fully stacked out duration+strike abilities, arcane bomb stacking abilities/weapons, and not even glancing at the other two trees for the majority of the game, i felt like i was a rogue that could conveniently cast chain lightning. it was crazy fun.

but also a steep learning curve. mythal took me 17 entire real life minutes to beat. LMAO.

i love that you don't need to restart the game if you want to play a different subclass, you can just refund your skill points and explore the game to your heart's content that way. not that i did, i picked one tree and stuck to it the entire game come hell or high water (or a lightning resistant high dragon 10 levels above me) and i had a blast with it.

THE STORY (THE EVANURIS, ROOK, & VARRIC):

hooooo boy. okay. this is going to be about the MAIN STORY ONLY, companion and region specific stuff will be in its own section later.

the writing for the main story was actually pretty enjoyable the further along in the game i got. every single main story mission was an incredibly cinematic experience; my favorite being the siege at weisshaupt mission—but only because it's kind of hard to quantify the endgame section as a 'mission' when it felt like an entire act on its own.

the amount of personality rook has was a breath of fresh air, and the voice acting for male british rook (alex jordan, who also coincidentally voices my favorite character in wuthering waves: jiyan♥) was SOOOO good. every line delivered felt like it matched the scene's energy/the personality i picked, so the flow of dialogue felt natural enough to be part of a tv show or movie.

although i do wish there was more option to be a little bit more of a bitch. a little rat bastard. not evil because i don't think dragon age would ever let you be evil in the way owlcat games lets you turn into a literal swarm of bugs consuming all (including companions) in its path, i thought there'd be a chance to be like. well. a little mean to people. i can be rude, but not mean. if that makes sense.

i do feel that rook was done a disservice by not having a hawke-like session 0 where we can see, precisely, why they're already so attached to varric and scout harding, but maybe that was left on the cutting room floor. i'm not a fan of tell don't show, so the game telling me "hey remember when you and varric did this thing that we're not going to actually show you" was pretty annoying. i wasn't expecting a dragon age origins-type prologue segment where i move through the world as a warden pre-veilguard, but i do wish we had like. a short cutscene flashback sequence or something to really immerse myself into the character. like let me put my shoes on before i start running the race!

still though rook felt really present in the story. like they slotted really nicely and smoothly into the leadership position which. i mean yeah who else, right? even though they did have plot armor in the sense that i didn't really understand (in-universe) why ghilan'nain and elgar'nan didn't just squish my rook into a pulp and scrape the dagger off the smear he became every time they came face to face... i suppose we wouldn't have a game, otherwise lolol

moving swiftly on, the boss fights felt appropriately built up to, and never did i feel like i was woefully unprepared for the task set up before me (although i must admit i was slightly taken aback by the three-headed hydra at weisshaupt. delightfully so, but it did stunlock me for a few seconds sjkhfj)

from the prologue -> endgame, i suspected something was off about varric once i realized "hey, how come nobody's talking to him anymore?" while the answer of "varric is actually a manifestation in rook's mind caused by solas trying to mold him into someone who could replace solas in the fade prison he crafted" was admittedly beyond the scope of what i came up with:

1. everyone in this game is a monumental asshole (funny, but disappointing narratively)

2. he died but bc he died next to the fade magic + we live in the fade now he's just a ghost only rook can see?? (true, but to the left)

i didn't really consider solas had a hand in it which is funny as hell considering. well. blood magic was mentioned at the very start of the game by solas himself

the reveal was very satisfying, and on my current playthroughs it's very entertaining to see everyone (especially solas, but my companions too) very carefully skirt the subject of varric's death by speaking about it in terms oblique enough that everyone in the know understands it as 'varric is fucking dead' vs. rook's manipulated memories understands it as 'varric is laid up in the infirmary'

the evanuris were very well designed, ghilan'nain being a creepy flesh centipede woman with tentacles and blight covering her head to toe was genuinely one of the most refreshing villain designs i've ever seen. elgar'nan was comparatively boring, but considering his whole deal is to be the elven god of tyranny having him just be a conventionally attractive man was a statement in and of itself.

their boss fights were standard, elgar'nan's being the easier of the two specifically because i wasn't trying to haul my ass through waves of darkspawn, but even ghilan'nain's wasn't that hard either considering all i really needed to to was burst some blight growths and could fully ignore the darkspawn if i wanted to. i had more trouble fighting the demon of desperation in minrathous than i did the story boss fights, but that was a trend for most games i feel. the side objectives containing the optional, harder fights and the mandatory quests softening the blow from the main story bosses so the player can get through them at a steady pace.

i do feel like the majority of the story was well written, but suffered greatly from pacing issues brought about by the format of the game itself. while there was a steady pressure brought about by the urgency needed to stop them from crafting the red lyrium dagger, the fact that i could just wander about the world picking up and completing side quests at my leisure before tackling the broader problem at hand did have me slightly confused about how long the game's time frame really was. i think it takes place over the course of a few months, or maybe a year total? if it was mentioned, it went straight over my head.

though i suppose that's a problem most RPGs have—the risk of allowing the player to have agency in picking what to do next means that. well sometimes they can spend hours trying to pick up every collectible while minrathous burns in the background.

though i did wish there was more dalish presence in a game focusing around the elven gods. like i know the veil jumpers are in the game as a faction but. they don't really feel dalish. they just feel like a bunch of archeologists who happen to be elves. a bit of a disappointment, there. also, they were constantly imperiled by something which really put a damper on the "we are also a competent group of people" vibe that i got from pretty much everyone else. the dalish aesthetic was just that, aesthetic. the veil jumpers being posted up in arlathan forest just seemed like they were there due to their occupation and not their heritage. bellara goes into it a little bit through her quest line, but i don't know. there wasn't that sense of unity and closed ranks the way it felt in da:o and da2. the less we speak of the dalish in da:i the better.

as for solas himself, i'm positive that the way you speak to him reflects his demeanor to you over the course of the game (i picked every aggressive/stoic option i possibly could, and the results i got were extremely entertaining; i have so many recorded videos of rook and solas duking it out but due to size constraints i haven't uploaded them anywhere ajkjdj) but at one point they went from "actively antagonistic" to "actively antagonistic but with begrudging respect"... on the side of solas. my rook was extremely honest about hating him every step of the way. extremely honest.

still, i loved how the game kept track of the progression of their relationship. the way every time a new talk with solas started i'd see a little "yeah last time you kept yelling at each other so we're keeping that energy" popup on the side of my screen. the way rook and solas could constantly. well i don't want to call it 'banter' because at every given point my rook would call him out on his bullshit and solas would strike back with a precise cut deep enough to bleed, watching them snipe at each other so aggressively vs. what i suspect is a much softer and more amicable conversation if you go the more diplomatic route was nice to see.

during endgame, since i completed every side objective (the solas's regrets chain of quests + the mythal encounter/fight) i had the option to:

deceive him by giving him a fake prop of his dagger

convince him to stop (unlockable by doing the aforementioned quest chain)

fuck it we ball; 1v1 me right now you bald bitch

obviously, i threw aside all other options and went for the 1v1. when i say i was HOWLING WITH LAUGHTER watching my rook go "I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS" and throw a haymaker to the face........... /wipes tear. it was beautiful. and then my rook STABBED HIM IN THE GUT, SEALING HIM INTO THE FADE FOREVER??? ten years i waited for this. ten YEARS. HALLELUJAH.

though it is very funny after all those years of seeing posts like "UMMM ACTUALLY THE VEIL SHOULD COME DOWN" and then the game is like "nah. that shit stayin up for a while" like kjHDJKLSHGFJK

anyways. i enjoyed stabbing him and watching him get yoinked into the fade. i'll do the merciful ending eventually but i had to do it to him at least once.👍

THE COMPANIONS:

though obviously i have a few characters who i enjoyed more than the others, i did like all of them!!

taash's questline was very good in terms of the cultural aspect (i can relate to feeling torn between two worlds) but the gender identity was somehow both heartwarming and. extremely awkward. it felt a little bit like watching an intro to gender studies 101 powerpoint presentation. like i suppose it was to explain the concept of being nonbinary to people who've never considered gender beyond what color cake to buy for a baby shower, but it did have me raising an eyebrow a few times. not in a bad way but in a very "this is obviously catered to people who don't know a thing about it, and i appreciate that bc it serves as a nice jumping off point for people to really get to know more, but it is a little clumsy in execution". i think my favorite scene for taash is when they're with neve in the dining room talking about how "nobody REALLY likes being a woman" and neve's just there like. oh. you sweet summer child. JKHDSKLAGHFGJ THAT WAS SO GOOD!! but i think the strongest part of their character arc was them trying to figure out who they are in relation to their cultural identity. especially the bit where they fought with their mom about it alllll the time. like where my second generation kids who don't really relate to their ethnic background at!!!!! RISE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!

the way i had to google if i was first or second gen. apparently it's "first to be natively born in a country = second gen" so i'm going with that

and the scene where they're screaming "TAMAAA" when shathann dies...... bro i teared up. i ain't ashamed about it. that was heartbreaking af.

still uh. it was kinda funny (read: eyebrow raising) that a character whose entire arc is coming to grips with multiculturalism and a break from the gender binary..... ends up being presented with a binary choice on whether or not to pursue their connections to their qunari heritage or their rivaini roots. like uh. guys. guys??? why do we have to pick??? aint the whole point of multiculturalism is that it's. uh. multicultural??? i suppose you could argue that it's the "oh you're just supporting taash into embracing a specific part of their culture, you're not really telling them to abandon the other!" but like. eh. EHHHHHHH. it didn't FEEL like that. esp. when it's presented as an either-or scenario.

THEIR PARTY BANTER WITH LUCANIS WAS THEEEE FUNNIEST SERIES OF LINES. i love those two together omg. and taash + scout harding!!! wagh!!!!

EDIT: i was gonna add a section abt the lords of fortune for taash's segment but forgot. which is very on brand bc they were forgettable at best and invisible at worst throughout the entire game. i don't want to say that they were irrelevant but like. uh. yeah. 💀💀

neve. neve neve neve. has hands down the absolute worst voice acting in the entire game. like i'm sorry to say that every single line was monotonous and genuinely lacking in any real connection to the words being said. i have to wonder if the voice actor for neve isn't used to working in a booth and more on camera, because truly with every line she spoke i became more and more disinterested with the conversation. the concept of a mage detective in the depths of minrathous rooting out corruption sounds so compelling, and it was, but unfortunately any deeper connection i could've forged with neve was hamstrung by the fact that i was bored to tears by the voice acting. even the conflict generated between my rook and neve due to him picking treviso (an obvious choice for a warden. they were going to blight the waterways) fell flat. because the lines were delivered flat. disappointing, considering how interesting the content of the game she features in is. like the sequence where i'm running through run-down ruins with NPCs tethered by their own blood jetting out of their bodies as they function as living speakerphones for a blood mage hell bent on revitalizing minrathous in her own twisted way. that's sick as hell. it WAS sick as hell. i loved every second of that. i just didn't love neve's voice acting. a shame, bc i was really excited about her pre-release. :(

scout harding's questline confused me not because of the content, but because it felt like this should've been a separate game entirely?? like why are we discussing the tranquilized titans and their horrific half-dead, half-dreaming state solely through the lens of a companion quest? why aren't we visiting orzammar or kal-sharok for more than 2 minutes and talking about the fact that the lyrium they've been mining for centuries is the blood of their ancestors?? like it's mentioned once or twice, but only during side-quests. like the solas's regrets quest chain or scout harding's companion quests. like isn't this a huge deal? why are we slotting this into a game about the elven gods?? the reveal that the evanuris essentially genocided the titans in order to craft their own bodies is a tale of horrific violence and violation and we........ just kinda. don't talk about it? after scout harding's quest is over? and the fugliest armor set known to man is unlocked? (toes. why does her armor have TOES.)

i did appreciate the fact that the game let us tell her that her anger was justified bc like. ngl if i learned all that and then the only option presented to me was to forgive the fuckers that did it i think i'd go crazy.

aside from that weirdness, scout harding is bestie. i love her. sorry that i KILLED HER OFF THOUGH!!! WHAT!!! okay unironically though i love that. i love that you can PERMANENTLY kill someone off. it adds depth. it adds STAKES. i wish more people would've died at the end. like bellara just being. fine? after being trapped in blight for who knows how long was baffling as hell. like she's not FINE but she's not dead. crazy stuff. how does being a warden sound bellara. u got a swift career change ahead of u. my rook's a warden tho he'll put in a good word for u dw

SPEAKING OF BELLARA. her questline was sad as hell but also like. how many times am i going to deal with cyrian bro like why couldn't we just knock his ass out. i know for the plot he has to keep going back to his evil masked ghost overlord anaris but like. eh.

his death scene was very sad though. bellara :((

CYRIAN UNMASKED LOWKEY....... KINDA FINE THO..... 👀

same as scout harding's i wish bellara's whole thing had more to do with the dalish. NOT THAT IT WASN'T I MEAN IT WAS ALL ABOUT BEING DALISH but it was more veil jumper than anything. man the veil jumpers were disappointing. just a faction built to fumble at any given chance. the only competent person is bellara and she's on the squad........... whole faction just fell apart without her 💀💀

bellara is my cutie pie bestie babygirl though <33 im so excited to romance her WAUGHHH even if i hate her hairstyle like girl what the hell is that on the back of your head!!!! they had to nerf her otherwise she'd be the Perfect Companion 😔💞

emmrich was sooo sweet. literally just an amiable old man on a journey to help his friends and students and his BONE SON!!!! SKELETON CHILD....... manfred my love......... unfortunately i did honor manfred's noble sacrifice and help emmrich into becoming a lich but like. that shit. feels like it should've been saved for post-game, somehow?? like in the veilguard equivalent of a trespasser or whatever. like what do you mean we just have an immortal lich companion just chillin. just vibin outta the necropolis. is that allowed?? are there other liches outside the necropolis???

???

the drip is immaculate though ngl. he easily clears everyone else's veilguard outfits <-she has only seen half of them due to only having the one finished playthrough

i didn't really use him much outside of his companion quests + fighting undead, so i don't know much about him with regards to party banter. sorry emmrich ;-;

davrin was. oh my goodness. have you ever seen a man so beautiful. the soulful brown eyes. the jawline strong enough to cut diamond. the EXPOSED CHEST. GOOD HEAVENS..... /SWOONS

literally the dreamiest dragon age companion ever like im sorry he clears literally everyone else ever made. and i say that even with zevran existing in the universe. (if silver fox zevran had at any point showed up in this game this opinion would swiftly change.)

i didn't romance him and i regret it bc i feel like there would've been something to the whole brothers in arms -> you and i are the only two people on this team who perfectly understand each other; you and i are dead men walking but we go to our blighted graves with grim smiles and clear eyes; should the calling come for one of us, it will end up claiming two, etc etc—unfortunately you recruit lucanis first and i didn't pivot 🫡

THE ONLY COMPLAINT I HAVE FOR DAVRIN: his entire arc focuses around assan. not JUST assan, like assan is the conduit through which davrin works through a lot of stuff, but it feels like. well i don't think there was a single scene where assan wasn't there. which makes sense because GRIFFONS. MY GOD. THEY'RE BACK. but also. i feel like if davrin had some space from assan in like a single mission/quest/etc. it would've been good. absence making the heart grow fonder and all. like i'd kill and die for assan but like 60% of the way through davrin's arc i was lowkey getting tired of it all being about our favorite bird son.

lucanis.... lucanis lucanis lucanis. he's the one my rook romanced and uh....... i'm gonna be honest. i wasn't really feeling like i was in a romance at all until the very end of the game. there's a line where lucanis was like "that's what i love about you" or whatever and i was like. huh? what? when was this established? i don't think we ever had a conversation or an event that would lead to this conclusion??? did i skip it? did i forget??? taps game is this thing on???

like i'm not saying the romance was BAD. (aside from some questionable animation choices. like why was lucanis standing so close to my rook like BACK UPPPPPP 😭😭)

all of the romance scenes were sweet and enjoyable and full of typical Bioware Cringe Romance Lines™ (affectionate) (honorary) but it did feel a little like. 80% of the game we had tepid to mildly reciprocal reactions to any of rook's flirtatious dialogue choices, and then when i got the choice to lock in the romance for lucanis it's like. OKAY HIT THE GAS, BUDDY! IT'S TIME TO FLOOR IT. 0->100 in an instant. i love a slowburn, but this was less of a slowburn and more me silently watching a mile long fuse burn up for like 60 hours until it thunderously explodes all at once.

unrelated but why does rook not have a bed in his room. why is it just a couch. they were suckin' n' fuckin' on an ancient elven la-z-boy in the fade. amazing stuff.

ASIDE FROM THE WEIRD PACING ISSUES I EXPERIENCED (hopefully it wasn't universal) THE ROMANCE WAS SWEET. 10/10 WOULD RECOMMEND

as for his personal character arc. why the hell did lucanis become first talon??? like speaking as someone who found out post-game that he straight up SAYS in his tevinter nights short story that he doesn't want to be first talon. at no point in the game did i think "yeah this guy is fit for and desires a position of authority" like um. viago is right there. i could see the argument if treviso was blighted (don't know if teia and viago survive that; i saved treviso in my playthrough) but like. VIAGO (AND TEIA!) ARE RIGHT THERE BRO...............

him not killing illario is whatever i can understand not wanting to have the blood of family on your hands. it's the becoming first talon that's crazy. although i suppose the whole filial duty to caterina angle........ but since when was the antivan crow org following the right of primogeniture??? WHATEVERRR

also. antivan crows?? are not a moral organization??? what happened between da:o --> veilguard. why are they all robin hoods. weren't they child slavers who mercilessly tortured them into becoming assassins. there's an argument for "oh that was just house arainai" but i was expecting more morally gray/amoral assassins for hire and less "TREVISO WILL BE FREE. DOWN WITH TYRANNY" like huh???? are we red jennies all of a sudden. are we shadow dragons. whats goin on here.

FINAL THOUGHTS:

wow that's a lot. girl has a phd in yaponomics fr. at the end of the day, veilguard is a good game. i mean, i'm playing again it right now on nightmare mode this time. (CALIVAN'S FIGHT.......... WHAT THE FUCK................ i didn't die to his little minions OR to his pride demon summon i kept dying to his fuckass sextuple cast magic missiles that get spammed constantly like BRO CAN YOU RELAX. CHILL BRO CHIIIIIILLLLLLLLLL IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS!!!!!!!)

i think this game could easily make space for a few more DLC, something like trespasser or mass effect's citadel DLC. hopefully they do because the epilogue slides were PITIFUL. PALTRY. and dare i say? PATHETIC. the romance slide for lucanis and rook being a single line of dialogue that they split between them. i was gobsmacked.

dragon age i say this because i love you and i have loved you for so long and will love you forever: BRING BACK WORLDSTATES. PLEASE. I DON'T NEED A MASSIVE CALLBACK. I DON'T NEED CUTSCENES. I WOULD BE CONTENT WITH THROWAWAY DIALOGUE. WITH A CODEX ENTRY. A LETTER SENT IN-GAME. PLEASE. BRING BACK WORLDSTATES AUGHHHH

although i don't think it'll matter bc if i'm reading those hints right we're going across the sea in the next game to deal with the uh. what was it called? something storm?? that the qunari were running from or whatever???? so i dont think anything we did here in thedas matters. it'll be like me:a except. you know. dragon age.

WAIT. PAUSE. THIS GAME HAS A SECRET ENDING??? <-SHE JUST GOOGLED "DRAGON AGE STORM"

FOR FUCK'S SAKE. WELL THAT'S ON THE TO-DO LIST NEXT THEN.

anyways i love this game. 8/10 would get my ass beat by the demon of desperation and its 5 billion summoned minions again 👍

#personal #I HOPE THIS IS LEGIBLE 👍👍👍#dragon age #liveblogging dragon age #liveblogging dav #dragon age spoilers #veilguard spoilers #unrelated to this review but i keep taking screenshots of my current rook T-posing in the middle of the lighthouse.#he's just so beautiful. i've really outdone myself

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satureja13 · 3 months ago

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Sunrise at Mos Verdantis 🌄 It's the day of the Starfleet tests they'd been preparing for for days now. And the whole night through. Jack and Kiyoshi didn't even bother to enter their tent. They are afraid being just the two of them - this close together - would only lead to trouble again ö.Ö' Somewhen in the early morning hours, Jack fell into a restless sleep. Kiyoshi only wishes it would be easier for Jack to accept what they are feeling for each other, so he doesn't have to blame himself so much for what they did a few hours ago. Kiyoshi already worries enough for both of them. He just hopes Jack will be fit enough to concentrate on the tests.

Vlad and Ji Ho are sitting on their bench, still learning. Ji Ho is quickly scrolling through a book of extraterrestrial lifeforms he hadn't had the chance to read yet. He still has a lot of questions since he had never been overly interested in Science Fiction. Ji Ho pointed at a picture: "So there are birds attacking space ships? ö.Ö' "

Vlad: "That's not a bird. It's a Mynoc. A silicon-based parasite. They were often seen leeching power from spacecraft and could absorb matter from a ship's hull causing it to breach, and if not caught in time, cause catastrophic failure." This Boy still has so much to learn...

Jeb looked at his phone: "It's time to get ready." Sai sighed from the depths of his soul. They can't leave those behind who fail, so they'll all have to succeed. All for one and one for all.

Rubyn already set up their special exam chamber. The Boys think it's awesome - and thoughtful of Rubyn to prepare an enclosed space for them. Like this they won't get distracted! They're already over-revved as it is ö.ö

Rubyn: "May the force be with you!"

Said, closed the chamber and started the Holodeck Exam Simulation... Wild animations flickered on the walls that surrounded them, R-3X blared out cryptic commands and they got attacked by spaghetti and meatballs from above! Saiwa: "What the ... ???" Oh no. That was it for taking the exams in tranquility and silence... Sai shouted: "I don't think this is the original Starfleet exam protocol, Rubyn!" Rubyn, from the peaceful outside: "You're right! That would have been too expensive either. It's my own ^^' But it's generally accepted in this part of the quadrant!"

The poor Boys giving their best under worst conditions! Jack can't believe he signed up for this...

After - a much too short - amount of time, the computers were replaced by the B-64 Training Bots. Fighting and dodging the spaghetti bullets! 🍝

Luckily the Boys had already been trained in the Defense against the Dark Arts Classroom at the Magical School beyond the Veil for this!

Meanwhile, the Little Goats and Kumo started to pack the Boys belongings - and made sure to also add the Romantium ore. For future fun.

It was already noon when the Boys finished their tests and Rubyn gathered them to reveal the final results - and if some of them have failed...

But they all passed! Yey! Well done, Boys!

They are so excited! Their first time in space! But poor Jack was still crestfallen and Kiyoshi felt bad. This is such a great moment for Jack. Not many love space and space ships and all things space as much as Jack does. And Kiyoshi ruined it for him. By not being able - again!- to keep his cool and resist woohooing Jack...

The Boys picked their stuff together and Rubyn took them on board of the Millenium Falcon - to transfer them to Albaleyh's ship. Their home for the next weeks. Or months?

And this is how the Boys left their home planet 🌏 to boldly go where no Boy has gone before 🚀

'When it's love you give. I'll be a man of good faith Then in love you live. I'll make a stand. I won't break I'll be the rock you can build on Be there when you're old. To have and to hold When there's love inside. I swear I'll always be strong Then there's a reason why I'll prove to you we belong I'll be the wall that protects you From the wind and the rain. From the hurt and the pain

When it's love you make. I'll be the fire in your night Then it's love you take. I will defend, I will fight I'll be there when you need me. When honor's at stake This vow I will make

Don't lay our love to rest 'Cause we could stand up to your test We got everything and more than we had planned More than the rivers that run the land We've got it all in our hands Now it's all for one and all for love Let the one you hold be the one you want The one you need 'Cause when it's all for one it's one for all When there's someone that should know Then just let your feelings show When there's someone that you want When there's someone that you need Let's make it all, all for one and all for love'

Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart, Sting - All For Love What a song! Sends shivers down my spine whenever I hear it. OST from 'The Three Musketeers' 1993

Rubyn kept some of the photos she took and put them on the wall in her workshop.

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

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spearofthetenno · 11 days ago

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When does a man become a monster?

OOC: ((For one's knowledge, this is set running alongside the fight between 3000 and Amir. Unfortunately for the Scaldra involved, Venahn is no longer in the mindset for mercy and nor does anyone know where they are.)) Second OOC: ((Yes I am an EPIC: The Musical Fan how could you tell?))

TW: Canon typical violence, It's Warframe friends.

The radio was still screaming static as Scaldra Squadron Thunder Hammer pushed through on with their patrol. The captain had been very clear-extremely clear in fact-that they were to keep this patrol up. To have one another's backs and keep together. But with their radio seemingly busted they couldn't do either. It was either that or the sheer concentration of techrot in the area was now wreaking havoc on their gear.

What they definitely couldn't have known is that having three banshees in a generally close area causes any form of communication within a fifty-mile radius to seemingly just cease working. And considering the number of Drifters now gathered for a major throwdown...that was perhaps the least surprising thing of the day.

The streets, once covered in thick snow, now ran red with blood and green with efevon. Ran like rivers, some intermingling and pooling into puddles of brown, whereas others cut through the white and the grey with their own simple streams. Burning APCs and shattered tanks lit up the roads, acting akin to beacons and pyres. Lighting the road for all those who followed their foolish forebearers into now what seemed like the mouth of hell.

Scout teams had been sent out hours ago, Viktor had wanted to make the most of this opportunity and see if there other ways to bring it all down. To break the Hex from within, kill the monster in it's very own lair. of course, he has his own stake in this mess. Of course, all those had now gone silent. And now it was obvious what had befallen them. Death, death and slaughter on such a scale that seemed industrious.

They could see the Mall now, a relatively inconspicuous building all things considered. If one didn’t know the contents within, one could have easily walked past it and not known a damn thing. They stopped in a nearby alleyway as they tried for sol-knew how manyth time to fix their radios again. Trying to cut through the rabid static.

That's when they saw it, a figure that cut a spartan's silhouette through the burning night. It's form was golden sword steel, streaked with dark chrome and maroon-red that seemed to glimmer in the fire light to its back. The crest that ran the back of its head cast the form of those noble heroes of old but it looked uncanny. Human yet not quite. It was a devil without question, terrifying as it clutched a spear that stood taller than most men in one hand and a great round shield in the other. Blood was dripping off its form, not entirely drenched but that maybe because some of it had long since dried upon its form. It hadn't seemed to notice them just yet. Seemingly it was on some sort of patrol, judging from the multiple footsteps trails it had likely left in the snow.

The squadron were veterans, they had at the very least read the mission reports. Of the Hex and how they ripped through squadrons like they were nothing. Some had even been witnesses, watched as the Hex performed superhuman feats on the regular.

But Protoframes are different from a warframe. Entrati had to cut the thin line between human and sheer infested killing machine that Ballas had created. A human body could only be pushed so far before catastrophic damage occurred; such damage that would most certainly render them useless if not outright killing then. Press the Helminth Strain too far and you'd have a monster with no ability to control it, the first generations of Ballas's creations had proven that in laboratories slick with blood.

Warframes had no such considerations. And neither did their tenno with their void devilry beaten into their bones. Ballas, for all his horrid nature, had perfected his Magnum Opus. The Warframes were war incarnate themselves with very little to stop them.

They didn't even have the chance to scream before the devil was upon them like a wolf upon prey. It was upon them with what seemed to be a clap of thunder that rang in their ears and dazed their sensors. The team lead who had been at the front of the squadron raised his voice to yell out an order but was nearly instantly silenced as Styanax's spear pierced through his throat and punched out the back of his skull.

The Jaeger to his right raised his rifle in retaliation, trigger finger at the ready but he never stood a chance. The devil lunged forwards in less than a heartbeat and rammed the edge of its shield directly into his chest. His armour and ribs shattered like cheap glass as he was flung into the closest building with a sickening snap.

The Flayer raised his sickles but it was futile. Styanax moved with such grace that he may as well have cut at water. It rammed the butt of its spear into and then through his stomach. He didn't even get the chance to gasp in pain before the devil withdrew his spear and twirled the spear into a reverse grip and drove it directly into his chest and ended his suffering before it even began.

The Barbican raised his shield to shelter himself as he dared to step forward to challenge this devil at it's own game. Styanax looked at him with only the groan of biotech gone too far before it drew it's shield arm back and flung its shield at him with the force of a tank round. And Tharros hit with the force of something more then just a tank as it sheered through his shield and directly into him-cutting the upper portion of his chest from the rest of his body.

Tharros returned just as quickly as the RATATATA of AX-52’s rattled against the sword steel skin of this devil. Someone was desperately yelling, desperately hoping that some god send thing would come and save them.

The only reply they would get was death as the Devil launched his spear through the cry and into them. The rest of them ducked, trying to scatter as the body was pinned against the brick wall behind them. The devil closed the distance in the time it took to blink, sending the two Scaldra closest to it flying into a lamp post and a wrecked car with a gnarly crunch. Two more Scaldra died without so much as a whimper as spear tip met flesh.

Perhaps the last man alive, a humble jaeger, was a coward. Or perhaps he was simply the wisest of his squad and saw the writing on the wall. Or perhaps he was simply experiencing shell shock from the sudden and unexpected violent shock of watching most of his team die in front of him.

More likely, it was a combination of all three at once. For no place in that oh so gloried Hall of Heroes was worth this horror. To be on the receiving end of a Warframe with a fully realised Tenno pilot with absolutely nothing to lose.

The only thing that could truly stand up against a Warframe and a Tenno in an equal fight was perhaps a Sentient with their supreme fire power or maybe a Dax warrior with an unholy amount of Kuva in their veins. Both made and forged for the fires of war, purely for battle and nothing else. And that was a big if, especially with Warframes that could shatter a meteor with a punch or freeze time at their own pleasure or move faster then lightning. Had they not ended the Old War with the Sentients? Did they not have piles of Orokin bodies and those who would serve those golden lords in their kill tallies?

A Scaldra, no matter how trained or experienced, could never hold a match to that kind of skill or mastery. They were mortal men and women with only a lifetime to spare.

But it was not a Warframe that killed the last Scaldra Jaeger. No. No it was scruffy older man probably no older then 35, dressed in armour that the Jaeger couldn’t recognise but had itch that it was familiar somehow. The thing that controlled that spear wielding devil was not a creature straight out of myth or perhaps the font of hell. Instead it was a man with dark hair partially tied back, scruffy stubble and claw scar that ran down his right eye.

He grabbed him, pinning the man against the wall with the sheer force of his charge. Cold steel pressed against the Scaldra’s throat but not yet cut. Somewhere vaguely, the Scaldra saw that the man’s right hand was some kind of prosthetic-designed akin to bone but hard as steel. No. Harder than even that.

“Mercy!” The Jaeger begged. Desperately.

The man looked him in the eye, and instead of void light or hellfire as some would have had them believed, the eyes that stared back were sol gold. Maybe, on any day other than this day, he would followed the man’s request. Let the man go and let him run.

But not this day. Not this night filled with bloodshed and betrayal of such a magnitude that made this man. The Drifter who controlled Styanax, who lost his leg to Ballas and then his arm to Duviri. The seemingly sole shield of the innocents of this place.

The death came quickly and Styanax left just as quickly as it had came.

#at spear’s point: ic #ooc: ((Okay technically not))#Story writing #warframe 1999 #Warframe #ooc: ((really going into the sheer horror of fighting a fully fledged Warframe and drifter as a normal Scaldra dude))#ooc: ((like what the hell are you meant to do when your enemy can passively block your bullets or cut an apc in half?)#ooc: ((There is a horror to the Warframes that I think every Scaldra deals with))#ooc: ((No matter what you do. It’ll never ever be enough to put one of these monsters down))

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bbcphile · 11 months ago

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Today is my one-year anniversary of my neurosurgery!!

I had tethered cord syndrome--basically, where your spinal cord is stuck to the spine, so things like breathing, moving, and general existence tug on your brain, spine, and entire nervous system and can cause pretty bad nerve damage.

By this time last year, it was bad enough that sitting up for longer than 10 minutes made my spine burn like it was on fire, I couldn't do "basic" things like emptying the dishwasher without having to sleep for the rest of the day, I was losing my ability to walk, and my brain fog was too all-encompassing for me to do much but sleep--the idea of writing ANYTHING more than emails to my medical team, especially fiction or meta, was laughable.

I was miserable and also terrified that this surgery--which had the potential to cause other threatening problems--was the only thing that might give me hope for a future that contained more than watching my body and mind break down and die.

My amazing neurosurgeon had warned me that the goal of the surgery was to prevent things from getting worse, but that if I was lucky, I might regain some function, and that many people see dramatic improvements by the one year post-surgery mark, and that these improvements can continue up through the end of the second year post-surgery.

The recovery from the surgery in the hospital was absolute hell, but even then, despite the 10/10 pain, I could tell that my brain wasn't being yanked by the tether like an obnoxious elementary school boy pulling on pigtails anymore.

And things have only gotten better since then.

I can do chores around the apartment again, I can sit and walk more easily, much of the nerve damage in my lower half has healed, and I'm now even able to write for up to 8-10 hours a day again, which was something I didn't think I'd ever get to have back in my life.

And I'm still having improvements, and my neurosurgeon is optimistic they will continue.

I know there will be flares of my other chronic medical things, because that's part of these conditions and of being disabled. So things will always be up and down. But maybe the ups and downs will stay at this newer baseline. Maybe the baseline might even rise some more.

I've traditionally . . . not been great at believing I can have good things. I've had enough catastrophes and devastating realizations come after the best moments of my life that I am very very wary of letting myself truly believe something has worked out.

But, looking at this huge milestone, at the progress I've made, at the 27000 words of my MLC fic I've written with lots more planned, at the life I'm letting myself start to envision again--

--maybe it really will be ok.

And even if it's not, even if I lose all of this tomorrow, maybe it wouldn't be forever.

Maybe, if I came back from hell once, I could do it again.

Let's hope I don't have to find out.

#about me #medical things #tethered cord syndrome #hEDS #neurosurgery #reflections #on a lighter note #I amused myself this morning by jokingly calling it my stabbiversary

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nokk0 · 10 months ago

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@kirbyoctournament

Ok... I'm really nervous...

Introducing Fal!

A cute little Cibernetic Assistent pondering why his owner stopped all activity and disappeared with no clue behind... Was there something wrong with him?

He recently arrived on Popstar, and there a lot of things he want to know, a lot he want to see

Who and what is he?

Fal is the last living Cybernetic Waiter. These creatures are AI one of the many artifacts created by the Ancients. These AI were crafted with extensive knowledge of the world they used to guide mankind. The Cibernetic Waiters were known to have different ranks, like how there are different angel ranks. The Waiters also guide the travelers to treasures, and once guided rulers. However, they were disposed of, erased and forgotten, like many creations of this race, now extinct

Fal is a model that was improperly disposed of. This resulted in a catastrophic scenery in which Dark Matter, attracted by his sadness, mutated inside him and used Fal's power as its own. A really similar energy that NOVA'S Heart

Personality

Fal is a very emotional and reclusive person, more jaded on the inside than he appears on the outside. He is a bit childish and shows great enthusiasm and joy in everything he does. Fal is easily excitable and makes a lot of gestures while talking. He's attentive and intuitive, and does his best to make communication between individuals as smooth as possible. However, he is a bit paranoid of his environment, driving him to be mistrustful to people which he interacts

Fal uses his friendly attitude to hide his instability caused by the abandonment of his Owner (although it is obvious that his Owner passed away)

More details

♥ Fal suffers from Hafefobia: Fear of being touched or touching others. This fear is derived from his inability to interact physically with others before arriving at Popstar. Despite his enthusiasm from trying new things, his paranoia drives him to thinking things that can or can't be true

♥ He is a employee of Haltmann's works Company, and one very productive. Despite being an extremely productive and efficient employee, Fal's lack of tact generally causes Susie to reprimand him very often. He shows some self-awareness about his actions, but he is often overrided by his worries and the self-reflection fades away very quickly

♥ Fal has picked up the habit of evaluating people as soon as he meets them. He even build goggles that are able to obtain the information of those on his sight

♥ Very similar to Star Dream SOUL, who had purge President Haltmann's soul, as it is explained in the True Arena, most of the dark matter that was corrupting Fal was eroded as well, but he did not get rid of all of it, since it is was fairly difficult to completely get rid of it once it seeps into the core. He still has some dark matter within his systems to this day, just not enough to be fatal… unless he is near to other Dark Matter

♥ The Dark Matter affects significantly him, and reacts to his distress. Is a tortuous cicle were he frightened more and more and then he just... Freezes completly. After a seconds, he recover, without remering anything in the past 3 hours

#kirby oc #my draws #i'm really nervous.....#fal #nokk0 art

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rabbitcruiser · 4 months ago

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Patriot Day

Honor those who died in the September 11th terrorist attacks, as well as those who risked their lives to save others, on the ground in New York and on United 93.

Patriot Day falls on 11th September (also commonly known as ‘Nine-Eleven’) and is remembered globally as the anniversary of the catastrophic terrorist attacks on the USA of 11th September 2001.

Learn about Patriot Day

Embedded in the memories of everyone who lived through it, this was the day four jet planes were hijacked and crashed into the New York World Trade Center and the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, causing the deaths of 2,977 people. The fourth plane (United Airlines Flight 93) was directed at Washington DC, but its passengers bravely attempted to take back control and it crashed into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

The large majority of those lost after the attacks on the Twin Towers were working at or above the points of collision; thousands of people who had gone to work that morning like every other day, found themselves suddenly stranded at the top of a burning skyscraper. A number made the choice to jump from the flaming buildings rather than wait to be caught by the flames or for the building to collapse. No one could forget the terrifying and heartbreaking stories and images captured by the news footage of the day.

In the wake of the World Trade Center collisions, many brave men and women from the emergency services risked their lives to try to help rescue victims of the attacks, and of them 411 lost their own lives attempting to fight fires and rescue people.

History of Patriot Day

Patriot Day is recognized by US law as the official day of remembrance for these tragic events, and has been observed every year since. Each year on this day, American flags are flown at half-staff to honour and commemorate those lives lost. The US President asks fellow Americans to observe a moment of silence at 8.46am (Eastern Daylight Time), the time of the first plane collision into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

While the events took place within the USA, the shock and grief experienced in response to the attacks was shared across the globe, and for this reason Patriot Day will be observed not only in America, but all over the world.

How to observe Patriot Day

There are a number of ways that you can observe Patriot Day. One way is by paying honor to those who were on the ground on September 11th, as well as those that lost their lives. There are a number of different ways that you can do this. Thanks to the Internet, we are able to reach out to people that we never would have been able to, and so you can always post a message on social media.

If you don’t know much about the attacks because you were too young at the time, it is a good idea to spend some time doing a bit of research about the occasion. On this date, four airliners carrying passengers, which were bound for California from northeastern airports in the United States, were hijacked by terrorists of al-Qaeda (19 in total).

Two of the planes crashed into the North and South twin towers of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan. This was United Airlines Flight 175 and American Airlines Flight 11. Both of the 110 story towers collapsed within an hour and 42 minutes. All of the other buildings in the World Trade Center complex collapsed either partially or completely because of the resulting fires and debris.

The third plane crashed into the Pentagon. This was American Airlines Flight 77. This resulted in the west side of the headquarters for the United States Department of Defense collapsing partially. The fourth plane was flown in the direction of Washington D.C. This was United Airlines Flight 93. However, passengers thwarted the hijackers, and the plane crashed into a field in Pennsylvania, potentially saving many lives.

There is a great film that focuses on the fourth flight – United Airlines Flight 93. The film is called United 93, and it was released in 2006. The film aims to take you through the events of what happened on the plane, focusing on the passengers responding to the hijackers in order to direct the plane away from Washington D.C. The film received critical acclaim, winning a number of awards.

The film is a great watch. It shows how the passengers came together to revolt against the hijackers, despite knowing that their lives were at very high risk. While they ultimately lost their lives in the end, they stopped the terrorists from reaching their intended target, saving many more lives in the process.

It is also a good idea to use this day to pay honor to the people who died on the 11th of September. This not only includes those on board the aircrafts, but those who died as a consequence of the collapsing buildings and the brave men and women who risked their lives to try and help those in danger. In total, 2,977 victims died on this day, with there being more than 6,000 injuries. Most of the people who died were civilians. However, there were also 71 law enforcement officers who died and 343 firefighters. Why not spend some time reading up on them to show that we will never forget!

Source

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oseberg-shipper · 1 year ago

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I wish I could explain to other disabled people and to doctors how exercise works for me, so that doctors could do a better job of helping people get exercise and other disabled folks could use exercise the way I have if it works for them.

Cause the way exercise has been explained and sold to me my entire life has not worked for me at all. But the way I'm exercising now really helps.

I have EDS, degenerative disc disease, spinal nerve damage from Cauda Equina Syndrome, endometriosis, and many other issues. I used to laugh at people when they told me exercise would help. All I ever did trying to exercise was hurt my body and my feelings. I got repetitive stress injuries at the drop of a hat, so as soon as I'd established any kind of routine, I'd hurt myself and be unable to exercise, and then I'd lost my groove and just felt terrible and guilty about it.

Exercise was sold to me as the least I could do to buy my right to exist as a fat cripple.

Last year, I had a lull in active health disasters, and I was worried about becoming so deconditioned that I'd catastrophically injure my back again. So I started a walking program under the guidance of my PT, who knows about EDS. She helped me get fitted with walking sticks to keep my form and give me more of a whole body exercise. She also showed me how to walk. I went to a great little medical shoe shop and got two pairs of sneakers and orthotics fitted by a butch.

I started with 15 minutes of walking, and .25 miles of walking, every other day. I didn't have to do anything else, just on the day it said, walk either 15 min or .25 miles based on what it said on my paper. Eventually, in a few months, I got up to a reliable 3 miles/1 hour walk. I saw the river in all the seasons. I felt the wind on my face and the rain and the sun. I bought exercise clothes and suited up, even for short walks, to make sure my parts all stayed where they should be.

The hardest part was not going ham. Not extending my walk, not going further and faster. The second hardest thing was getting back on the horse when a flare or injury made me take more rest. Also, the distances I was doing were actually too much. My legs hurt all the time and I had to take meds to help with the pain sometimes.

Then, this mystery stomach problem I have started. Intense epigastric pain and vomiting. I had to stop exercising because I was simply not taking in enough nutrition to be safe.

Once I got the vomiting under control, and was able to consume more calories and especially protein, I got back out there. Now, as long as I'm not desperately ill, I walk 1 mile around my neighborhood with my sticks. My back feels better while I'm walking. When I skip a day, my back hurts more. My bowels move better when I walk. Essentially, I've gotten my body physically dependent on exercise. Because that's what our bodies evolved to do, and we offloaded some things like digestion onto the assumption that we'd be moving our bodies.

I hate hate hate the way we talk about exercise in this culture, because it's denying people in pain a tool that could really help them, by wrapping it all up in this horrifying morality play.

I wish there were apps out there for folks like us, that encourage you to exercise but don't link stuff to shame or weight and don't punish you for taking time to recover or prioritize other things. Because it was really really hard to get into exercise and I had to spend a lot of time doing something I really really didn't enjoy, that stole spoons from me, before getting to a point of fitness that allowed me to actually benefit.

#body acceptance #fat acceptance #disabled pride #disability #actually disabled #exercise #fuck the protestant work ethic #spinal injury #cauda equina syndrome #degenerative disc disease #endometriosis #walking #fitness

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pisspope · 2 years ago

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husband fell asleep holding and stroking a lock of my hair in his hand and it was so gentle and frankly ooc for him. gave me the inspo for this so thank u mikey for feeding me

Lock & Key

reiner x reader

cw: nightmares, general angst, mentions of sex, spoilers if u squint, y/n has long hair

Reiner has had nightmares for as long as you've known him, probably even longer. Dreams about things he's done, things he's thought of, even things he has yet to do. He'll wake up with a jolt, eyes wide open, heart beating out of his chest. Then he realizes where he is, that he's safe, that the end of the world has come and gone and he's made it out the other side. And he slowly fades back into sleep.

The first time you sleep together is the first time you see this side of him. It had been a whirlwind of a night, a house party you can barely remember besides snippets of laughter and a general aura of contentment all around. Pieck made a really great stew, you're sure of that. But what happened after you remember in high definition: a vision of golden eyes, the comfort of powerful arms, a feeling of fullness unlike nothing you'd experienced before. And bliss. You fell asleep cradled by hands and arms that, for the first time, were being used for a purpose other than violence.

So it's a shock when Reiner shoots out of bed, hands shaking, head scanning around the room like he's seen a ghost, but then again maybe he has. "Reiner?" you ask, the taste of his name different after the night's endeavors. "You all right?"

His head whips to look at you, eyes bloodshot. But after a moment he softens. "Y-yeah, of course! Just-" he moves to get out of the tangled nest of limbs the two of you have made, "need to get some water."

You can't help but panic a little bit as he speed walks out of the room, his bare feet thumping against the hardwood. Is he regretting what we did? I know it was sort of sudden but-

The sound of glass breaking interrupts the beginnings of your catastrophizing. Pulling on whatever article of clothing you can find in the loose pile on the floor, you fly downstairs to check on the man of the hour(s). When you see him in the kitchen, something causes you to slow.

He's kneeling dejectedly over the remnants of some kitchenware, calloused hands picking up the big pieces one by one. His broad shoulders are shaking, his head held low as he focuses on each tiny shard. As his breathing shudders, you realize he's crying.

Oh, no. You think, gears turning. I was such a bad lay that he's crying.

"Hey, Rei?" you start, gently. He turns to you, eyes shining with more tears left unshed. "You okay?"

He doesn't answer right away, instead opting to take the bigger pieces of glass to the trash can. As he throws them out, he sniffles. "Course I am." he wipes his hands, flashes a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Never better." Liar.

Okay, time to play damage control. You breathe out, working up your courage. "We don't have to do this again if you don't want to. I like you a lot but if it's gonna make you feel this way we can pretend it never happened." You say it all in the span of one breath, trying to rush past the surge of embarrassment that's rising in your chest.

Reiner looks down at you, his face contorted in some sort of distress. The sadness has left his eyes, replaced with panic. "What are you talking about? Make me feel what way?"

Is he playing dumb? "Like this! Breaking glasses and crying on the floor?" you just want this conversation to stop happening, to go back to bed and relish in what will only be a fond memory from this day forward.

He freezes. "You think I'm crying because we had sex?"

Fuck, you didn't expect him to just come out and say it like that. You nod, fight back the sting of tears behind your eyes.

Before either of you can clock each other's movements he has his arms around you. He's kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, anything he can get his greedy lips on. He holds your face, forces you to look up at him. "I will never regret what we did tonight," he kisses you on the mouth. "Ever."

Your stomach flips. His eyes hold that same intensity from before you fell asleep, that same gaze that held you enraptured as he had pushed deeper and deeper into you. There is no question of how he feels about you. But then… "Why were you crying?"

He pauses in his mission of kissing every plane of your face, pulls away and takes your hand in his. "I, uh..." he clears his throat, "have nightmares. Have for a while now. Don't like talking about it."

"Oh man, Rei, I'm sorry," you say, trying to show that you care without coming on too strong. "I made it all about me when you were the one hurting."

He chuckles, that velvety baritone giving you a small shiver. "It's all right, Y/N," he pulls your hand to his mouth, gives it a feather light kiss. "I needed the distraction."

You smirk, feeling the tension in the room shift from sadness to something more primal. "If it's all the same to you, I can distract you some more?"

He returns your smile with a playful grin of his own. Without a second thought, he picks you up off the ground, pulling your legs to wrap around his hips. "I'd like that very much."

~~~

From then on, it's a common occurrence. Reiner stays the night, he wakes up with his heart racing, then he falls back to sleep. You do your best to not ask him about it, to feign ignorance even, in order to respect his wishes. But it's hard. Especially when he starts sleep talking, calling out names you haven't heard in years.

When he starts calling your name in his sleep, you can't hold yourself back anymore. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it, but you can't just lay here and do nothing. "Reiner baby," you whisper, trying to coax him gently from the dream. "Wake up, honey."

He groans like he's in pain, turns his head in your direction, but doesn't wake up. His eyebrows are knit together, and his hands are balled into fists just inches from his face. You call out to him a few more times, whispering sweet nothings hoping it will make him stir, but there's no real reaction.

He had told you once before to not touch him during these fits, that there's a chance his dream-addled mind would lash out and hurt you. And you've heeded that warning up until this point, but desperate times.

You reach out slowly, bringing a hand to rest on one of his curled fists. And, graciously, no violent switch is flipped. Actually, there's no change at all. You try to slot a finger where thumb and forefinger meet, but he's wound so tight there's no way to get through. Not with something as big as a finger, anyway.

It's a long shot, but you separate a lock of your hair from the rest. Leaning down, you slowly, carefully, weave the lock through his fingers until it comes out right by his pinky. It's still attached to your head, so any sudden movements will be painful, but at least it creates a gap between the skin of his palm and the sharp edge of his fingernails.

And he relaxes. By some grace of god or Ymir or whatever, he relents. His features soften, his breathing evens out, and the sleep talk slowly fades to a droning snore. But that fist never uncurls. He holds on to that lock of hair like it's his lifeline, his link to the love that has just begun to flow between you.

It's an experimental process after that. Slotting tiny things in his massive fingers to see what else will calm him down. Pencils, pieces of hay, heck even uncooked spaghetti noodles. But nothing brings him that same peace as your hair. So, on one of those blessed nights where he sleeps dreamless, you pad to the bathroom and snip some off.

The lock hides in your bedside drawer, and on nights when Reiner tosses and turns and every exhale sounds like a struggle, you place the little talisman in his fist. And in a short time, he relaxes once again. You make it a point to wake up before him, to take the little tress from his now open palm and place it back in its hiding spot. He doesn't want you to worry about him; if he knew you'd cut a piece of yourself off, no matter how small, to stave away his nightmares, he'd never forgive himself.

So you don't tell him why his nightmares seem to be getting shorter, why the dark circles are starting to fade away. It's just a small miracle that neither of you talk about. He can keep his shotgun and his muscles and whatever else he wants to use to protect you from danger. But when he's hurting and scared from the things he's seen, you've got something to protect him too, small as it may be.

You'll tell him about it someday, when he stops holding you like you're made of porcelain, like he's a stone and you're his glass house. But until then, it's your little secret.

#reiner x reader #reiner x y/n #reiner braun #attack on titan #cat thots #fic #rei

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druidx · 1 month ago

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Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 46

CW: Blood, Medical, Heart attack AO3 ; Chapters: 01. 10. 20. 30. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45 Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting, @hannah-heartstrings, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @babyblueetbaemonster @mr-orion

Fires crackle in the disused yard. The wail of sirens sound in the distance. Her hand is wrapped around something metal and flaking; is coated in something cloying and swiftly cooling. There's an odd sensation in her chest. Cold… She can't focus on it. Part of her is screaming for air. Part of her is screaming not to. She leaves the choice too long. Her body takes an involuntary gasp. It's all she can do to not immediately scream it out, caused by the sharp, catastrophic sensation blooming inside her chest. She whimpers.

Strong male hands are on hers, peeling her fingers from around the pole thrust through Brauma's chest. "Brek?" It's nothing but a whisper. "Nay, milady." Agent Theodarsson's hands are on her shoulders now, keeping her steady. "The ambulance will be here soon. You must hold on."

The world tilts. Smaller hands on her back. Concrete under her cheek. Someone taps her face. Her eyes are so heavy…

Blue lights flicker against the building. The hazy starlit sky, replaced by antiseptic white.

A medic's face in hers, lips moving. Voice husky, lips barely moving, she says, "Detective Elowyn O'Toreguarde, 88th precinct, badge number 0-7, 1-1, 4-9." She thinks she repeats herself, over and over, as an oxygen mask is placed on her face.

The ceiling rushes by. Indistinct faces come and go.

A lady doctor with elegant features and a kind smile says something about being lucky. It's a shame Elo can't snort. She doesn't believe in luck, because luck's never believed in her. She knows she felt the sword go through her. There's no way Brauma could have missed. And yet – here she lies. Another mask goes over her face and the world goes away.

–––

The world comes back as golden and soft and warm. Elo's eyes open to the dim lights of a private room she could never afford. She's warm but numb, and suspects they've given her the strongest painkillers possible. Her vision is hazy, but there's a shape in the distant chair. "Brek?" Her voice is dry and scratchy. The shape uncurls into a much shorter figure. Over-bright green eyes stare from under dark brows. "Lady Elowyn?" It takes her a minute. "Yoruk?" Talking devolves into coughing. He's over instantly, helping her with the bed and drink, and it's some of the sweetest water she's ever tasted. As soon as she can, Elo asks, "Where's Brek?" "I convinced him to go home a few hours ago. He needed to bathe." Yoruk's wrinkled nose has Elo huffing out a laugh. It catches in her chest, and she puts a hand to the bandages. Catches like someone stabbed her.

Yourk sits gently on the edge of the bed. "Elowyn?" He says her name carefully, as if she's a Fabergé egg. Elo feels something in herself teeter and tip. "Yoruk, I never told you how grateful I am. F-for being Merri's love. I know I could never– I was an ass to you, that last time, and you didn't deserve it, not after you just helped us out of a bind and I'm just so sorry, and she's so lucky to have you, and you're gonna be great parents, and I can't wait–" "Elowyn, hush." He puts a careful hand on her shoulder. "There'll be plenty of time for this later." "Ain't enough drugs later." She shakes her head, sure that's what has her inhibitions low enough to dance limbo with the devil. "Yoruk, this is important. I nearly died tonight–" "Four days ago." "Four days! Fuck me…" He raises an amused eyebrow. "You were saying?" "I– I don't remember. Um. I love you both?" "I know well that Meredith has a great deal of affection for you. For myself," he gives a soft smile, "I look forward to finally being able to know my extra sister-in-law."

He helps her with another drink and places the cup aside. With a careful, hesitant air he pulls over a tape recorder and microphone set. "Milady, I must ask – what do you remember?" Elo settles back, sorting through the fuddle of memories. Suddenly she gasps. "Agent Theodarsson!" "What about Agent Theodarsson?" Yoruk asks, cautious. "His head… The King didn't–? I gave him an order, it's not his fault, I don't–" "Easy there." Yoruk places a hand on her shoulder, easing her back into the pillow fluff. "Nirric Theodarsson is fine. His ears may have had a sound thrashing, but they and the rest of his head are still firmly attached to his shoulders. Where it was always destined to stay." He glowers. "I feel Kóngurinn minn will likely have him on corridor duty for this, royal blood or no." "Yoruk… No, it's fine…" "That is for Kóngurinn minn to decide. Now, please, if you are able – what happened?" Her memories are spotty. She clearly recalls Brauma confessing to Evie's murder and refusing to stand down – but the raging fire of her anger at his blasé admission occludes much else. She relays as much to the tape recorder.

"Don't worry," Yoruk says when she's done, "the rest will come back with time." He switches the recorder off and moves it away. "Although, it must have been a fearsome anger to kill him as you did. Were I in any doubt about your ability to carry out your threat to me, I am no longer." "What d'you mean?" He tilts his head, brow furrowed. "You don't remember how you killed him?" Elo remembers electric blue, pointed like a candle flame, emerging from Brauma's back. "No." "You stabbed him with a piece of rebar. Blunt rebar. At point blank, with no run-up, from what we can tell." Elo feels herself harden at his admiring words. "He ambushed me," she says, voice thick, fingers clawing into the mattress. "It was supposed to be a quick conversation with an informant, then onto dinner to repair the rift he caused. I wasn't prepared for a fight, and the Gods only know what reparations will be needed now–" Yoruk puts a hand on her hand, bunching the sheets. "Elowyn. Is not my presence enough to show you that Kóngurinn minn still resides in your city?" He pulls back. "Besides, none of that is your concern currently." "Agent–" Yoruk holds up a hand against her burgeoning growl. "My Lady, the care you have for your city is admirable. That, even after dying, it's still at the forefront of your mind is an exceptional revelation of character. But right now, your only concern should be healing. Detective Breakwood told me to say that," he clears his throat, "'if you have any fool notion of leaving that bed and getting onto the streets, know there are armed guards outside whose job is as much to stop you getting out as anyone untoward getting in'. I'm not sure if he was being serious." Elo relaxes back against the pillows, suddenly tired. "Oh yes. He's being serious. I'd bet my last dollar he's got Komens and Henson out there…"

Yoruk surely notices her flagging eyelids, as he fusses around with her pillows and blanket. "You should rest now, my Lady." "Wait," she clutches at his sleeve. "Will you stay? Fill me in on what I've missed. Please?" Yoruk purses his lips, but then relents. "Yes. But only because you use the exact same puppy eyes and wheedling tone as my beloved does." He dims the lights further and draws a chair closer with a little huff. "I'm certain you and she were cut from the same cloth…" When he settles himself, Elo can see he's smiling and only mock-annoyed, so she settles back to listen. "Speaking of my beloved, she's livid, of course. The way she's carrying on, you'd think you'd gone to a party and forgot to invite her along." "In a way, I did." Elo smiles. "She chose to send Theodarsson as my date when she could have come herself." Yoruk gives her a long, beleaguered look, then shakes his head, muttering something in Icelandic. "I know you told me not to worry, but what've His Nibs and the council been doing?" "They signed your accord, and in between visits have been working towards the union you wanted. They all three are worried for you. Clayrmantle remains sensible as ever, but Strucker is like a bull with a sore head, and Kóngurinn minn is rightly annoyed at the manner in which you chose to keep your promise to him." "Oh?" "I believe his phrasing was along the lines that you had a 'damn foolish, backhanded way of keeping your promises'. I suspect there are some amends to be made there." Elo sighs. "I'd be glad to." Her eyes flutter closed as she listens to Yoruk tell her about visits from her mother and brothers, about the well wishes sent in, and about what he's heard on the grapevine about her team building their case with the help of the Art and Antiques Unit. "What about Farren?" she asks, sleepily. "I'm not at liberty to discuss his activities." Elo manages a confused murmur. Yoruk draws the blankets higher. "You'll see him tomorrow." Yoruk's voice drifts away, and she sleeps again.

–––

Farren wakes her next morning by wafting a fresh cinnamon swirl under her nose, and laughing when she sleepily grasps for it. He settles himself in the visitor's chair as she scarfs it down before the hospital staff can take it away. "Easy there, Bug. Don't give yourself hiccups." Elo regards him as she licks her sticky fingers. "You look like shit." "You're no picnic yourself." "But we both know why that is. What I wanna know is why you look like you got dragged ass-backwards through a hedge and then hit by a goods train?" A sparkle appears in those eyes that were flat as mud seconds ago. Colour comes to sallow cheeks and the hint of a smile tugs at his lips. "Been picking up your slack, sister. Who'da thunk there'd be so much of it?" He falls silent. The expression on his face has Elo putting her hand out, flat on the bed. Farren puts his next to it, fingers pressing up to hers. He doesn't look up. His voice is soft and empty and filled with pain, as he says, "You're s'posed to stay out of trouble. That's the deal. I kept up my end." "Brother, I tried. Fucker wouldn't listen." "You ever do anything like this to me again, I'm gonna beat your arse." Elo loops her fingers over his, her voice soft. "I'll even stand still for you." He looks wrung out, as he raises his head. "See that you do." Elo reaches out to cup his face. "What kinda partner am I, huh? Lying here sleeping while you've been busting your ass. Think you can smuggle me a typewriter? I'll do your paperwork for you." Farren lets out a wet laugh. "And get my arse demoted down to meter maid? I don't think so." He pats her on the leg. "You eat right and get more rest, then we'll see." "Brek, I'm serious. You shouldn't have to be taking up my slack. If there's anything I can do to help, name it." For the barest of moments, his eyes turn flinty and the smile vanishes. His hand tightens on her leg. Then the smiles are back. He says, "I'm being serious, too. Best way you can help me is by healing up." "What was that face for?" "What?" "The face. You think I wanted to get stabbed?" His brow wrinkles, then he sighs. "They told me you'd be off your gourd on meds. Guess they were wrong." "Answer the damned question." "Don't get excited, alright? You gotta keep your heart rate low." He clasps his hands together. "I'm just saying – you're a pretty good fighter. I can't believe you woulda made such a rookie mistake." "Maybe it wasn't a mistake. Maybe I did it on purpose, huh? Maybe it was… deliberate." Elo frowns, her memories returning in fits and starts. Farren leans forward. "I'm good, but he was better, with the sword. He never showed any sign of letting up and would have worn me down eventually. He was going to kill me and get off scot-free for all his bullshit. I couldn't run – he'd have chased me down and put civvies at risk. So… I set a trap. I don't remember getting the rebar, but… I remember letting him kill me so he'd be close enough for me to kill him. I wasn't going to let him get away with it. I wasn't going to let him become another Greydown." She looks up at Farren, blinking. She can see the wire under his collar. Her eyes turn to his, dawning horror on her face. "You got all that on record. I killed one of the Triumvirate and they chose you to hang me." His face freezes and crumples. He starts saying something about how they just wanted him to jog her memory, but it's hard to concentrate with the weird tightness in her chest. She puts a clammy hand to the bandages. It feels like her heart's taken up the tango. "Elo? Elo! Shit–!" The world spins and fades away. This time, Elo isn't sure she wants to wake up.

#oc elowyn o'toreguarde #oc farren breakwood #npc yoruk forhoksson #writing #HCWL Chapters only #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light'#titan fighting fantasy #fighting fantasy #ttrpg fanfiction #wandering words

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gatheringbones · 2 years ago

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[“William Quantrill was born in Ohio, made his living as a cattle rustler and slave catcher in Missouri-Kansas and Texas, and was living in Lawrence in 1859, although not yet politicized. Quantrill’s pro-slavery terrorism in Missouri coincided with the onset of the Civil War, when he and fifteen men set out to torture, kill, and destroy the properties and livestock of abolitionists and their supporters. In August 1862, Quantrill received a field commission as a captain in the Confederate Army.

By the time of the attack on Lawrence a year later, Quantrill was able to muster a force of hundreds of Bushwhacker guerrillas, nearly all armed with multiple six-shot revolvers. The group staged its attack at daybreak, when everyone in the town was still sleeping. Although the men of Lawrence had drilled and practiced for defending themselves and the town, they stored their firearms and ammunition in the city’s armory, so the sleeping population was defenseless when the lightning attack began. Over a span of hours, the guerrillas secured the main hotel as a command center, slaughtering 150 unarmed men and boys, most of the adult males of the town. They burned about a quarter of the town’s buildings, including all the businesses except two.

For the city of Lawrence today, the trauma of the massacre still resonates, especially for the descendants of the dead and survivors. “‘It was utterly catastrophic,’ said Pat Kehde, a retired Lawrence bookstore owner and great-granddaughter of Ralph and Jetta Dix,” reads a Wichita Journal account 150 years after the fact. “On the morning of the raid, Jetta tried to protect Ralph by standing between William Quantrill’s men and her husband. When Jetta stumbled as one of Quantrill’s men rode his horse into her, Ralph was momentarily unguarded and in that instant was shot and killed.”

“We are in an age where we have a war on terrorism, and we talk about terrorism all the time,” said Lawrence historian Paul Stuewe, “but we don’t think about the 19th-century terrorism.”“It is a calamity of the most heartrending kind,” said the New York Times following the attacks, “an atrocity of unspeakable character.”

Following the Civil War, John Newman Edwards, who had fought for the Confederacy, wrote Noted Guerrillas, extolling the Missouri guerrillas as great patriots of the Confederate cause, romanticizing the taking of life up close, claiming the guerrillas were almost superhuman specimens, trying to place them alongside the valiant Confederate Army to be commemorated. He was fascinated by the guerrillas’ deft use of the pistol, often attacking with one in each hand, rather than a rifle, which was the standard weapon used by professional soldiers. He wrote that before a battle, “a Guerrilla takes every portion of his revolver apart and lays it upon a white shirt, if he has one, as carefully as a surgeon places his instruments on a white towel. . . . He touches each piece as a man might touch the thing that he loves.”

Edwards also portrayed Quantrill and his guerrillas as expert horsemen, shooting while riding fast. In fetishizing the guerrilla revolver and the horse, Edwards heralded the beginning of the “cowboy” and “outlaw” hero of the post−Civil War decades, even though these figures had nothing to do with cattle or ranching or even the “West.”

Some of the most enduringly famous, or infamous, of the Missouri guerrillas—Jesse James, Cole Younger, Myra Maybelle Shirley (Belle Starr), and their brothers—came from land-owning slavers; some, like the Shirleys, ran successful business operations and were well connected politically. Their elevation to post−Civil War social bandit heroes would eclipse their former pro-Confederate deeds. In the two decades after the Civil War, the Winchester rifle was fetishized for killing Indians, and the Colt revolver for outlawry. In the process, gun violence and civilian massacres were not just normalized, but commercially glorified, packaged, promoted, and mass marketed.”]

roxanne dunbar-ortiz, from loaded: a disarming history of the second amendment, 2018

#roxanne dunbar-ortiz #history stuff #currently reading #cw racism #cw genocide

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tehamelie · 5 months ago

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Garp isn't a funny man (Community 1.3)

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It's taking a lot of energy to restrain myself from just plowing through the show at this point. Writing about it is so much more challenging than watching it. I hope at least somebody appreciates my sacrifice. (Hi @pink-squirrel ) Why didn't I become a reactor Youtuber?

Community S1E3: Introduction to film

See, people get worried about Abed cause he watches so much TV, but here's professor Whitman who's EXCLUSIVELY watching Dead Poets Society on a loop. Yeah I figure it's playing in his brain constantly. But only the happy fun parts with the unconventional teacher encouraging students to act on an impulse for once in their lives, of course not the sad parts when the boys go too far outside of the bonds of conformity and the world punishes them, or even the great but serious parts with poetry reading at night in the woods.

But let's not get too far ahead of the plots. Next we encounter Pierce catastrophically failing to use voice command on his phone and driving the whole study group up the wall with this relentless effort to adapt to new, useless technology. I don't want to be a Luddite (and the Luddites had a good cause that's been twisted around by their critics anyway) but I'm entirely on Britta's side here. Because Big Tech is not on our side, not because it's just really irritating to have to listen to someone loudly producing the same error on their device ten times in a row. Well, not only that.

Jeff enters to spread the good word of Whitman's easy A grades. Annie is against it, and it feels like it's more about how it's making a mockery of academia than a question of how much time she'd have to waste on not learning anything in this class. Except when Troy wants in she immediately sees the educational value. And Shirley joins in cause loves Robin Williams.

But Abed does not, in a shocking twist. Well, it's not that shocking. He values good filmmaking and novel stories and he correctly points out there's an element of cheap drama at the cost of credulity that fuels most of Williams' movies. But come on, suspend your disbelief a little and enjoy the tremendous force of his performance.

Rest well, Robin.

And we find out how Abed's life and education plans are restricted by the struggles of his father. "9/11 was pretty much the 9/11 of the falafel business." Britta, of course, immediately rallies to help him rebel by paying for a $70 filmmaking class. I have no idea if that's unusually cheap or expensive for community college, and it's a different joke depending on which, but both are funny so whatever.

Shirley worries Mr Nadir is going to cut Britta's head off with a "salami sword" for, I don't know, talking to Abed while being a woman? It's such an outrageously racist thing to worry about based on just the vague impression she has that the man might be fanatically Muslim, I think the group is focusing on the entirely wrong thing when they just seem to object to the term "salami sword".

But then, it does set up the great joke of Jeff setting a timer and betting Pierce will top her racism within one minute. Which he does.

"Are we going to study Spanish or keep getting involved in each other's personal lives? Hey, Troy sneezes like a girl!" Kind of an uncharacteristic tone for Jeff - caring about what other people say and do and all that - but maybe it's just to remind us he'll do anything to not have to actually study.

I started organizing a thought that these spots of marginally weak writing that seems focused on delivering jokes above all else, could be how Community has its sophomore slump in the third episode. But then the intro played and I realized I'd spent an hour picking apart just the cold open.

Next in Dead Poets Society class we learn more about Shirley. She says she's at the school "To get a degree in business to sell [her] baked goods and whatnot on the Internet," which, what does any of that mean? A highly unspecific "degree in business"? That you'll need to run an online bakery because? And wait a minute, who the heck is going to order a chocolate cake from the Internet? Are you going to send them in the mail?

As it turns out, she's really here to start her life after 15 wasted years. That story she had to tell herself to get out of the house and go to school evaporates. She really does become fully alive, alive with intention and earnestness, and she deserves her A for that moment of truth.

Only when we stop stopping our lives can we begin to start starting them, indeed. Okay, I'd fail Whitman here for that tremendously uncreative line. Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping couldn't do it worse.

Cue the standing on desks and accidents with collapsing desks. Ah, impulsivity is fun.

I like that Whitman sees right through Jeff. For being a word class lawyer, he's consistently terrible at being convincing. But it's nice Whitman wants to give him a chance anyway. He believes in Jeff, he wants him to have a genuine emotional moment in his life.

And the reveal, that the class is actually supposed to be accounting. That's comedy.

Over to Abed shooting a documentary. "It's like a movie but with ugly people." His dad shows up but doesn't talk to him, rather focusing on having a ridiculous argument with Britta, Could it be he has trouble speaking plainly with his son? No no there's never been a dad with that problem.

He seems to jump at the chance to disown him, in fact, and leave the mess of Abed for someone else to take care of. I guess he may just be speaking in anger.

Britta crying "They day I cut myself loose of my father was the day I finally started being *choke* happy" makes me feel such mixed emotions. One, great joke, II, I just want to hold her close, and C, also kind of just want to squeeze her.

The next day, I'm guessing, finds Jeff going into overdrive with his carefully calculated efforts to demonstrate his spontaneity. A Christmas tie with flashing lights, rainbow suspenders and bunny face slippers with bells on? The only thing matching his obnoxious tryhardness here is Whitman, who shows up to complain about Jeff drinking boring normal coffee before ordering a wedding cake. Yeah the act is getting pretty worn out. I'd like it if we saw at least a moment of him like, trying to listen to people, or just being sad, instead of giving the impression he spends every moment of every day relentlessly pursuing the most whimsical impulse.

And we get a whole scene of Pierce teaching Troy about deliberate sneezing. He wants to know more. This can't end well.

Back to Jeff flying a rainbow pattern kite and running through a finely choreographed scene of children playing. I think he'd actually have fun doing these things if he wasn't so desperately, overtly looking for Whitman's approval. And as Whitman continues to see right through him, wouldn't it be time to rethink this approach? Maybe Jeff genuinely doesn't know how to let his guard down and let the world in, even for a moment.

Cut to the study room where Abed gets everyone pizza. There's a whole subplot with Abed acting suspicious and spending too much money that's going to come together in a moment when he finishes the movie so I'm not worrying too much about relating it here, but in a vacuum this is a super weird scene where Abed seems to have fully disconnected from reality, barely interacting with people as they (well, Britta) desperately beg him to explain himself. Love the coffee delivery guy who has to stand there for what seems to him like an impossibly cruel, far too intimate family argument.

At last, everyone's there to see Six Candles just as Abed finishes rendering it. It's like he directed the whole series of events. Get it, because he's a movie director, and he spent the whole time directing his unwitting actors into giving the exact performances he needed to put together this movie to tell his dad he makes him feel neglected, unloved and guilty about his mom leaving them.

That would be a difficult thing to say in words, but it had to be said, and the men are now able to reach each other in a way that maybe neither thought they ever could, and they establish a level of trust, of compromise. That all happens immediately after the end of the film, before the tears dry, while the bright colors and snappy high-energy jingle of the COOL ABED FILMS logo still echoes in the room. Ah, the contrasts.

Cut to Troy sneezing like a big man, making Shirley jump while Pierce looks upon him with approval. Wait a minute, wasn't this episode about learning not to fake spontaneity? Yeah I realized that parallel just now.

But as this corruption of the innocent plot goes, I think the story of Troy's sneezes has the lowest stakes of any piece of dramatic storytelling ever written. I completely forgot how the show does that. Like, I remember the fun of all the extremely low stakes conflicts ("The stakes have never been higher" "Shut up Leonard"), but not how they make it work.

Like Jeff and Britta's kiss here. It's funny because Whitman is completely correct in his assessment that it's a turning point for their relationship (which is why he takes it as an acceptable act of day-seizing and gives Jeff the A), it does feel unexpectedly important for both of them, but where are the stakes? We may be led to believe this will be a Significant Romance, but that never actually happens. Their relationship gets more emotional involvement from Annie than from either of them. It's aggressively medium stakes drama all the way and it's beautiful.

The stinger, with Jeff teaching Troy and Abed about krumping, also beautiful.

#community rewatch

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