#like an hour has caused a great catastrophe

[littleapplle]

let's make this bed get squeaky!

after an unexpected wanderer attack, you show rafayel how fun it is to be a girl. - 2.9k w. - not proofread.

cw.: fem!rafayel, very implied fem!reader (srry!!) feminization (if you squint), raf isn't a woman but does get turned into one temporarily, porn with a bit of plot, nipple play, worshipping (if you squint), face sitting, so cunnilingus, 69, scissoring? humping... something in between idk... kinda subby raf too... self indulgence. alot of that. i'm the pervert here.

note: this was vv inspired by this art by @.beechu-beechu !! one of my fav artists here on tumblr and twt, pls check their work out!! <3 as soon as i saw fem!raf my brain MELTED. also this was a bit rushed, sorryyy !!><

“Love, you don’t have to freak out! The Hunter Association will find a way to revert it in no time. Relax!” — To be honest, you were too calm about it.

“Relax!? How am i supposed to- Oh, my bodyguard failed to save me from this catastrophe and now i have to pay the price with my beautiful body!” Rafayel cries in response, his voice far too dramatic and feminine.

And what has really happened? Well, a few hours ago. you and your boyfriend went out for an outdoor date in the middle of a small forest in Linkon City so Rafayel could, maybe, find inspiration for his next work.

It just so happened that the area you both decided to visit was a dead zone, your hunter watch was malfunctioning and did not warn you the area had wanderers nearby. Luckily, you were still in your hunter uniform and armed so it should be no biggie. The wanderer, a small creature you’ve never seen in any of your missions, had its back covered in pinkish spores that once Rafayel shouted out for you, exploded on his face, making him cough for air.

Wanderer defeated and your lover safe, you’re left with an… unique form of Rafayel.

“...Rafayel?” You call out for him cautiously, worried for his safety while waving your way through a cloud of pink dust.

To a few choked coughs, your ears perk. You’re alone with Rafayel but it’s not his voice you hear. Or so you thought.

The mist slowly dissipates in the air, and you’re finally able to see more than just the shape of his body choking for air dramatically. With narrowed eyes and a hand covering your mouth and nose – still concerned the mysterious dust is toxic – you call out his name once more before a gasp escapes your throat.

“Rafayel…? Wha- what is wrong with you?!” Comes out a little too harsh but your shock is genuine. Was this caused by the wanderer? Offended, he is quick to frown and bite back. “Wow cutie, i get seriously attacked and the first thing you ask me is that? What a great bodyguard i have! How can i file a complaint?” 

“That’s not what i meant!-” You stutter, “Uhm…” struggling with your words and confusion bubbling in your system, you move your hands to your boobs, trying to move his gaze down to his chest. Oh. Oh. His blouse did feel a bit tighter after all.

“What the fuck?!” 

Yeah… you’re sure that he spooked every single animal in the little forest with his scream.

Back to the present, you find yourself back in Rafayel’s home, trying to convince your boyfriend that being transformed into a woman by a wanderer isn’t the end of the world and that yes, it is temporary. 

“Raf, you’re gonna be fine. I heard Tara say something about a new type of wanderer lurking around earlier this week. We’re gonna find a way to turn you back, m’kay? You assure with more confidence now that your confusion over the situation has dissipated completely.

To your words he — she — does not answer, too busy sulking while staring at his new face in the pocket mirror you carry in your bag. 

“Besides… you’re quite the pretty girl, raf.” The sweet giggle that escapes your lips makes him frown.

 “Can you quit bullying me? Those cheap journalists are never going to shut up if they see me like this!” Rafayel cries. “I wanted to have a nice day out with you. ow… can’t have a single normal day in this city.”

That makes your ears perk and your body scoots closer to his form on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder after kissing his puffy cheek. “Aww! ‘S no biggie, baby. We can still have fun indoors. I’ll just have to show you how fun it is to be a girl.”

You spend the day doing things you’d already do with him while enjoying quality time together but with some additional goodies. His purple hair is so long now and even softer! You take your time brushing it, massaging your nails on the scalp before trying multiple hairstyles.

Pigtails, buns, fishtail braids, boxer braids, ponytails… oh, you’ve tried every. single. one. Which he can’t really complain about! Who doesn’t love having their hair played with?

Rafayel is already used to the next activity, so he doesn’t even bat an eye when you ask him where he placed the nail polishes you bought a few months ago. 

“Pick a color baby!” You chirp, holding the tiny bottles in your hands. 

He does just that. Picking a lilac shade and offering his cold hands to you, Rafayel scoots closer to you on the couch. “You’re enjoying this too much.” He points out.

For a moment, you don’t answer, busy with the tiny brush between your fingers and trying not to smudge the milky paint in his short nails. “Hmmm maybe i am.” You giggle, “Can you blame me though?” 

It’s his turn to not answer, he thinks he’d sound too petty if he did. Rafayel loves the pampering, and even though he’d rather drown in the deepest and darkest waters of his long forgotten home than to admit this right now, he’s obsessed with you showering him in affection. Nothing is new, you’re sweet as ever and like a sea sponge, he absorbs all he can happily. 

Rafayel isn’t an insecure man, especially with his body. He knows he was sculpted by the seas with care and passion, born with the body of a god, something worthy of unending worship. So you eyeing him up and down was never a problem, but now? Oh, he feels small, he wants to dig up a hole on the hot sand and stay there for eternity, accompanied by the sand crabs.

Shame is a feeling he’s no longer used to and hates the taste of, he notes.

Noticing his silence, you put the brush down to look at him. 

“You okay, raf?” Genuine, innocent concern. 

“It hurts.” Puffing his cheeks, he frowns and closes his eyes.

“What hurts? Are your wrists sore agai-” — “No! Not that.” Rafayel whines, peeking at you through his long(er) lashes.

“Well, i’m not in the mood to play guess with you, fishie.” Arching a brow at his dramatic discomfort, you chuckle as he whines once more, “Heavens- they’re sore!”

And you have to bite your lip to not burst into laughter. Having the pleasure of seeing Rafayel, usually confident and sharp with his words, blushing like a literal girl was truly a sight you’d never thought you had to see.

“Your boobs?-” — “Don’t say it like that!” You swear that the big and tall windows of his home could’ve shattered in an instant with his horrified scream. 

“Awww, babyyy! Don’t be shy! We’ve all been through that, ‘s just part of girlhood!” You poke his cheek, aiming to tease him just a little more. Leaning in closer, you sit on his plump thighs.

Oh and he looks so done. 

“Stop acting like i’m a woman!-” He basically cries out in embarrassment.

“Oh but you are!” Interrupting him, you continue, “And as your girlfriend, and girl best friend, i’ll help you with your girl problems, raffy-”

“I’ll spit bubbles on you!” Rafayel interrupts back and you finally break down laughing on his lap.

Rafayel swears to himself that he wants to bite your head off so you stop teasing him, he hates how he can feel the tip of his pale ears get warmer each second and something inside him growing hotter. He’d bury your face on hot sand right now and yet he doesn’t move you from his lap.

As your laughter settles and you breathe in to calm down, you place a kiss on his burning cheek. A silent apology. “Seriously though, you’ve turned out to be quite… busty!” You giggle but continue before he can throw a fit again, “Can i massage you baby? Would you let me do that f’you, raf?” Whispering against his cheek, you nuzzle the bridge of your nose on his skin.

He just nods, still frowning in shame and with eyes closed shut. 

Your fingers trace his collarbones in sickly light touches, hands snaking down to the foreign feeling on his chest. 

He shivers and twitches under you once your hands cup his tits through his white blouse, the absence of a bra making your touch feel a little too intimate for his already overwhelmed brain. Your fingers feel him in circular motions, gently applying pressure to where his nipples take place.

Rafayel squirms, throwing his head back and trying to hide his face in his long, purple hair. “You’re so responsive, baby.” You coo, purposefully brushing your thumbs on his nipples, which ignites a yelp from his tight throat. 

The sensitive pebbles grow hard not so long later, making themselves visible under his light shirt. He curses you in his mind, the innocent and sweet way you talk to him could get him going anytime. Rafayel bites his glossy lip hard. 

Fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, you give him your sweetest smile. “Your body hasn’t changed at all baby. You still melt down when you have your chest played with.” You lean in, closing the space between you two and press a kiss on his trembling lips. “The only difference here is that you’re the prettiest,” kiss, “most whiny,” another kiss, “and cutest girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” and a last peck to seal your words like a spell.

Your lips leave his but the phantom sensation of your mouth against his stays. Your lips find home on his jawline, placing featherlight kisses on the milky white skin. 

“Can i take this off, raf? I might need a more serious inspection if you’re sore like that, hm?” Pinched by your fingers, the first button of his blouse comes undone, exposing more of his cleavage. “Y-yes.” Is all Rafayel answers, not much more than a shy whisper.

And that is the only sign you need to keep going. Your hands work gently but still eager to finish the job and reveal what’s under the expensive fabric. He helps you with the sleeves, accepting his fate and that even if he tried to shy away and hide, you wouldn’t let him. And how could you? Not now. Not when his perfect, spotless skin is exposed to the cool air of the living room, the sea breeze guided inside by the open windows making his nipples react at the temperature and stand tall.

Your lips, never far from his neck, kiss down his collarbones and the fat of his tits. His reactions are exactly what you’d expect, low whines and nonstop squirming under your touch. With open mouthed kisses to his areola, a cute light brown you note, you’re quick to give his nipple a playful lick, igniting a squeak from him. 

“D-don’t- do that-!” Rafaye’sl protests are ignored by your ears, while your lips suck on the sensitive pebble, your fingers pinch the other one, rolling it gently yet teasingly between your thumb and index finger.

Pop! – Is the sound your mouth makes as you let go. “Fuck..”, you eye him with hunger, and even though his eyes are squeezed shut, he seems to notice by your silence. “Stop staring. You’re ridiculous.” Of course he has to try and bite back.

“Am i now?” You kiss the corner of his lips, interrupting any petty answer he was about to give you. “Shit- need you to sit on my face. Can you do that f’me, baby? Please?” 

Rafayel feels like a virgin again, the foreign, weird and achy feeling between his legs makes his brain foggy. He wants to say no and shy away, spit a thousand bubbles at your face as he promised but he just can’t.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t freak out anyway. 

“N-no! That isn’t even your thing- i’m like, twice your size-” Before he can continue his protests, you’re already lying on your back on the big couch of his living room. “Please? Jus’ wanna let my girlfriend know how good it feels, mhm?” It is your turn to whine, beg.

He stares at you in horror but the pathetic look you give him wins. He kicks his pants and boxers off but his judgemental stare doesn’t falter. You can’t help but moan at the sight of his new, bare body. 

Rafayel was surely the prettiest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on and now, prettiest woman too. He sits on your lap, facing you, testing the waters, hoping it’d be enough to quiet you down. “Closer, ‘fayel.” You urge.

This time he finally gives in with no complaints, shifting on your lap and closer to your shoulders. There, he turns on his back, hovering on top of your face before you grab his plush hips and push him down impatiently.

“A-ah!- don’t just do that-” He mewls.

You taste Rafayel before you can’t even see how wet he is. Spreading his ass with both hands, you pepper his cunt with eager kisses. He trembles at the new feeling, squirming and accidentally grinding against your lips, only igniting more whines to leave his pretty lips.

Your head spins at his sounds, brain mushy with how submissive you could get him to behave, at how fucking hot he sounds and how good he tastes. 

Finally diving in, your lips suck on his folds gently while your hands, once on his ass, help his hips move against you for more constant stimulation. 

“Fu-uck!- Dun stop. Please.” Rafayel squeals before a tiny lightbulb lightens up on his head.

Rafayel leans down, trembling on top of you as he pulls down your shorts just enough so he can have access to your panties. He doesn’t take it off, doesn’t have the patience to, only pulls them to the side and greets your awaiting pussy with a kiss. 

In this whole mess, you didn’t even realize how your arousal started to build up during this whole time. Too busy with Rafayel, looking at Rafayel, teasing Rafayel. You’re sure that he — she — is the siren that will drag you to the bottom of the sea with pretty mewls and then consume you. 

As he should, you think. You’d die happily.

To the kitten licks on your clit, you shiver, parting your legs open to help him. “Getting- mgh- bold now, baby? Thought you’d let me do all the work.” Muffled by the weight on top of you, you tease anyway.

You don’t give him much space to speak, wrapping your lips around his clit and sucking at  a steady pace. You’re not able to see his reaction but his mouth lets go of your cunt, his lashes tremble and close shut in pleasure. “Gonna cum, rafe? Oh- mgh- y’er such a sweet girl, raf.” You praise sweetly. 

Rafayel really tries to keep up with you but with his mushy brain, his head only rests against your thigh while he moans lowly. His clit throbs on your tongue thanks to your gentle words, you laugh mockingly under him. “Fuck- dun’ like when i call you pretty girl  but your body tells me otherwise, love. You don’t get much from lying here, raf.”

Shut up. Is what he really wants to tell you, maybe flick your forehead and say all the petty things he can think of. His thighs shake violently and with another loud and melodic cry, Rafayel cums. 

You keep going for a little longer, kissing his folds and clit and sweet affection before a strangled whine makes you pull away. 

He helps himself out of your face, sitting on the couch with his head resting on a blue pillow with the face of someone who just came back from pound town. Rafayel doesn’t bat an eye when you manhandle him closer to your body.

His lips find yours in an instant, kissing you with need, like he just came out of the ocean for the first time and his lungs aren’t used to the summer breeze on the beach. He sucks on your tongue, swiping his own on your under lip in a sloppy kiss.

You two fight for space on the couch, now feeling a bit cramped. Rafayel’s legs tangle on yours messily and he finds himself on your lap once again, grinding and humping against you like this is exactly where he was meant to be. Smiling on his mouth, you can’t help but tease him. 

“Insatiable much? Pretty girl can’t take her hands off me hm?” You chuckle but are quickly interrupted, moaning loudly when his clit accidentally bumps on yours, which Rafayel takes advantage of.

And you let him, your only guidance being the phantom touch of your hands on his waist. “You can’t really ever keep your mouth shut, can you?” He sighs, “Not near you, ever.” 

You’re quick to cum too, with hitched breath and hips buckling under his in search of more stimulation, any moans are silenced by his lips insistently glued to yours.

Noticing your body melting on the couch cushions, Rafayel lets himself relax on top of you, too. With a last kiss to your neck, he buries his face on your shoulder blade.

“I’ll file a report about what happened later, m’kay? Dun stress.” — “Hmmm.” Is all he’s able to answer while your free hand massages his scalp, slowly drifting him off to sleep.

�� ࣪ ˖ reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading! (*´▽`*)

[thekinslayed]

You Adored Me Before

summary | Aemond comes to claim what has always been his.

warning | 18+, minors dni

tags | oral sex (f), mentions of war, death, and injury, infidelity, aemond is the king of consent and pussy eating champ

wordcount | 4.9k

note | this is my first fic in almost 4 yrs, so i'm still a little rusty! i had tried to make aemond a little dark but i am a hopeless romantic at heart and this is super self indulgent oopsie :D part 2 is in the works, but i am debating whether i should write more parts bc i do have some ideas! i would love to know what you think <3

song rec | Good Looking - Suki Waterhouse

(dividers by @targaryen-dynasty)

1/2

She had been on her knees for hours when she had heard it. Thunderous flapping, the wind picking up speed as a shadow covered the light streaming into the small window of the dark castle’s own sept. 

It couldn’t be.

She had heard of her old friend’s infamy as he spread havoc throughout the realm. Kinslayer. Terror of the Trident. Every time she heard word of a new catastrophe the young prince had brought upon innocents, she thought back to the day she had left him. Biting back tears, he held her hands in a vice-like grip. Promises of their reunion fell from their lips before she was pulled away by her then future husband into a carriage, snatching her away to a new life without him. 

From her place in front of the altar, she looked upon the face of the Seven. She could hear the panicked pattering of feet in the halls. He has come for us! One had said, as though he were the Stranger himself come down on to soil. Her knees bid her to get up. Her eyes begged to turn to the window to catch a glimpse of a head of silver hair. Her ears strained to hear any sign that his monstrous mount had landed, and he had crossed their gates. Though, she moved not an inch, and merely closed her eyes once more in prayer. 

He could feel the fear upon the eyes that stared at him as he made his way through the fortress. A low chuckle escaped his lips at the pitiful sight. As war waged on, Aemond had learned how much he liked instilling this fear into people. It made claiming what he desired all the more easier. 

The Prince Regent was led to the vast hall, where lords of the smaller houses in the region had gathered to welcome him, and to discuss the matter which required his attention. A young man was sat upon the high table in the hall, one reserved for the members of the great house Aemond was called to. It was an old house, closely connected to the crown and loyal for many years, up until the war. Their Lord Paramount had bent the knee to Rhaenyra and had been part of the thousands that marched for her cause. Now, the highly respectable lord laid injured in a tent, hanging onto a thin line between life and death. As his health dwindled, the matter of his succession came to question. 

The Lord Paramount had left behind a daughter, merely a child of five namedays. It wasn’t hers, no, but from his first wife that died bringing the babe in the birthing bed. His brother, the young man stood beside Aemond before the men, had contested on the child’s claim to power for the reasons of her age and sex, arguing that their house would not survive with a babe as its head during a time of war. This had brought about much discourse among the men, those fiercely loyal to their previous lord pushing for the fact that the child had every right to become lady of the House, others agreed with the second son. 

As a form of good governance, the Prince Regent took it upon himself to solve this matter. The lord’s brother had promised Aemond that he shall bend the knee to Aegon should he become lord of the house, and she shall free to be his once more. And so, as Aemond sat in front of the old, dull faces of the lords that had argued and argued upon the matter, he had turned his head to the man beside him ever so slightly. He was beginning to grow impatient.

“Where is she?” Aemond demanded. His lone eye scanned through the room for any glimpse of her, but to no avail. 

“I was told she is in prayer, your grace. It is how she spends her days as of late, ever since she had heard of my brother’s condition.” The young man explained, uneasy eyes studying the prince’s reaction. The last thing he wanted was a knife through his skull before he could become Lord Paramount, all because his good sister would not stop praying for the life of a dead man. 

Aemond pretended to attentively listen to whatever the lords had droned about for what felt like hours more. A finger tapped against the armrest of his chair, his patience dwindling the longer this farce continued, when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

She had slipped into the hall quietly, discreet, like a mouse. The lady stood behind some of the men that had crowded along the sides of the hall. Aemond’s eye widened as he caught sight of her, having to move his head to get a proper glimpse of her in between the bodies that covered her. His throat had suddenly felt so dry, prompting him to take a sip of the wine that had sat there, previously untouched, before turning his attention back to her once more. Their eyes had met, and she had given him a meek smile. 

“Your grace, if I may…” said another, standing up to say his piece of the matter still at hand. Aemond was snapped out of his reverie, turning back to the center of the room once more. Having ran out of what little patience he had in the first place, the Prince Regent stood from his seat, silencing the last lord that had spoken. 

“I appreciate hearing all of your thoughts on this matter, but as your Prince Regent, I believe it in your best interests to have a figure of leadership that shall serve you during these precarious times. There are no exemptions in war, and your lands, your people, shall benefit with having a capable Lord Paramount to protect you all.” Aemond said, an air of finality in his words. The young lord beside him smirked in victory, before bowing to the prince. Before the new Lord Paramount could express his words of gratitude, the prince turned to him once more, speaking low enough only for them to hear, “And might I suggest sending the girl to a sept as soon as possible, my lord, to prevent further… disagreements.” 

All the while, a pair of curious eyes had stayed on Aemond. Her eyes scanned down his form as he spoke to the people. It seemed not much has changed about him; it had only been less than 3 years since she had last seen him after all. However, the more she studied him the subtle changes upon his form became apparent to her. His form, lithe and slender, had become quite hardened as his body became exposed to battle. His face had lost most of the plumpness from his youth, shedding away to reveal the sculptured structure of his handsome face. Her Aemond, who had always carried himself with pride, had taken on a different aura to him. A sense of authority now surrounded him, one that came with taking on the weight of the crown, she figured. Like a true Targaryen prince, Aemond was the image of regality, and of power that can only come from dragon blood. 

As the crowd dispersed and the matter had been settled, Aemond’s eye searched for her once more. Though as the hall emptied, she was not to be found. She had slipped through the figures that crowded her, leaving behind a dumbfounded prince still standing in the great hall. 

Her handmaidens had only left merely a few moments before the door to her chambers opened, startling her. 

“Gods.” She said, turning to the figure standing in the doorway. “I am aware you have just become Lord Paramount, dear brother, but you are still required to knock upon entering my chambers.” The lady chastised him, pulling her robe tighter around her figure to protect her modesty. 

“Do not start with me tonight.” Her brother-in-law warned her, coming to stand before her seated figure on her chaise. “You have embarrassed me with your shamelessness. Your husband may have allowed for this kind of behavior, but I shall not allow you to continue with this insolence.” He chastised, angrily pointing a finger at her. The lady watched as he paced in front of her. Her eyes caught the way a vein pulsed upon his temple as he clenched his jaw. 

“What have I done to anger you so?” She asked, confused as to why he has come to her with such vexation. Her husband’s brother stopped pacing in front of her, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

“You are no fool, girl. Do not start acting like one now!” He berated her. The lady only furrowed her brows at him further. “Do you know why he has come here? Did you really think the Prince Regent would take the time in the middle of this hellish war to settle an affair between mere lords?” He sneered at her. In his indignation, spit flew from his lips as he spoke, some landing on her which made her frown in disgust. 

“He has come for you. He has asked for you, yet you act like a child and ran away hiding doing gods know what!” He exclaimed, wild hands moving around in the air. She only looked at him, not uttering a word as he continued to pace once more. 

The lady knew. Of course, she knew. Before she had left King’s Landing, before she left Aemond, she had promised him she shall return to him once more. A married woman she shall be, but they shall see each other again. And now, she found herself almost a widow, and her prince had come to fulfill his end of their promises. He had come for her. 

The lady was snapped out of her reverie when the Lord Paramount ordered her to visit him in his chambers. “W-what? My lord, as much as my husband’s conditions worsen, I am still a married woman!” She rebutted, standing up from the chaise to face him. “Do you consider me for a whore?”

“My brother is almost as good as dead, dear sister, and the Prince Regent has requested for you, in return for making me Lord Paramount. I shall not have you denying him.” The young lord declared, leaving no room for the lady to argue. “You know what he has done to the Riverlands, my lady. There is not much preventing him from burning my house once we displease him, and you will not be the cause of my demise.” He warned, pointing his finger at his face once more. She resisted slapping his hand away from her face, her blood starting to boil as he looked at her with such disdain. The lady had never gotten along well with her brother-in-law, only tolerating each other in her husband’s presence. With him gone, there was no point in pretending to be in good spirits with each other. 

“That hardly seems to be my problem when I am soon to be widowed, my lord.” She countered defiantly, though she had been taken aback when he had laughed darkly in her face. 

“Deny the dragon and my house will burn, yes, but so shall yours, good sister. I am aware you have been looking forward to reuniting with family once your husband has passed, but believe me, you and I will not be saved once dragonfire starts to rain from the sky.” He spoke. The young lord approached her, watching as uncertainty began to cloud her eyes. “Your home shall perish in flames, taking with it your father, your brother, sister, and everyone you have ever cared about.” Her eyes turned away from him at his words, looking towards the ground as her confidence dwindled.

“You are all he wants. Do not deny him, and you may just be the person to save us all.” 

Aemond had been staring at the flames upon the hearth, lost in thought, when a knock sounded from the door to his guest chambers. “Come in.” He had muttered, and the door open to reveal the very person he had come for. His dear lady. 

His heart swelled at the sight of her, though his face concealed his feelings well as he stayed seated on the settee. “My lady.” He said, watching as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. 

“Prince Aemond.” She curtsied to him. It was then Aemond noticed she only donned a nightgown, covered by a robe that was tied around her waist. The gown did little to hide her figure, her curves accentuated by the tightness of the rope. He could see the swells of her breasts that dared to peeked through, the sight making his cock stir as a warmth grew in his belly. For three years, he had dreamed of this very moment, of her standing in front of him once more, for him to take as he pleased. He had imagined all the ways he would take her, how he would show her his affection which he never had the chance to make her feel. He would show her what she had missed out on all these years. She would be his, and his only. No husband to stand in between them.

“You have called for me, my prince.” She said softly. The air in his chambers carried a tranquil feeling, and she dared not to disrupt it. Aemond merely nodded at her words, before getting up from his seat to walk to the serving table where a pitcher of wine and some glasses sat. "I have, my lady." He affirmed, pouring two glasses of wine before turning back to approach her. She fiddled with the hem of her robe, her eyes trained on her slippers as she felt him stand before her.

"I had been hoping to have a moment alone with you, but I have been told you are quite preoccupied during the day." Aemond said, voice as gentle as always with her. A cup of wine came into her view, making her let go of the fabric her fingers toyed with to accept the drink he held out to her. He led her to sit on the settee, before settling down on the chaise opposite her where he could take a good look at her. Anxiously, she took a sip of the red liquid in her cup, hoping it would help her feel more at ease. 

"My apologies, my prince. I have been spending most of my hours in prayer as of late. With my husband's condition turning for the worse, I can only pray to the Seven to help him when I cannot." The lady explained, a rueful smile on her lips as she met his eye. Aemond sucked in a deep breath at the mention of her husband and nodded in understanding. 

"It is a shame what has befallen a respectable lord like him, my lady. You have my sympathy." The prince sympathized, silently observing as her eyes left his gaze and focused on the cup in her lap instead. A silence passed through the two, the only sound being the crackling of the burning wood in the hearth. It wasn't as unpleasant as she had expected, rather it was almost comfortable, familiar. Aemond's eye stayed on her figure, taking in as much of her as he could lest she slipped away from him again. He wanted to hear her speak more, to hear the voice he had started to forget as time kept them further apart. 

"Was he good to you?" Aemond asked, breaking the silence. His lady looked up from her lap and met his gaze. Her eyes shone as the fire danced in the reflection of her irises. 

"Yes, he was." She responded, a sad smile on her wine-stained lips. "He never lifted his hand to hurt me. He was never cruel."

The one-eyed prince couldn't deny the relief he felt upon hearing her words. Aemond had worried for her well-being ever since she had been whisked away to be married off and had only hoped she was being treated decently. “Good.” He nodded.

"I never... It was not love, but we had respect for each other. That is much more than a woman could ever ask for in her marriage and he was gracious enough to grant me this kindness." She spoke. The lady’s lord husband was a good man, that she could not deny. He had been distraught over the loss of his first wife on the birthing bed and was merely pressured by his men to take another wife in hopes of birthing a son. She was almost twenty years younger than him. He thought her kind, sweet, and well-mannered, hence the reason he had made the marriage proposal to her father. Though the young lady’s womb never bore fruit, her lord husband had treated her well, making sure she was well taken care of before he left to fight for his queen. The lady felt indebted to him, for he might have just saved her from a life of misery and heartache, bound to a lord who treated her as a mere broodmare.

Aemond swallowed down the envy that bubbled in his chest as his lady smiled fondly as she remembered her husband. Perhaps he should feel at least a sliver of shame course through him, but none ever came. Here he was, in another man's house, coveting his wife as the lord laid wounded in a tent somewhere. However, he had stopped feeling shame for his actions a long time ago, right when Vhagar had swallowed Lucerys and his minuscule dragon whole and he had accepted the person the realm would come to know him as.

I have only come to claim what has always been mine. He thought.

“And you, my prince? I hear you are betrothed to a Baratheon girl.” The lady mentioned. It was her turn to ask the questions that plagued her mind about him, the wine and the growing warmth in the room making her feel more at ease in his presence. Though I had heard more talks of a bastard witch, she wanted to say. 

Aemond hummed at her words, a slender finger tracing the rim of his cup as he listened to her. “I was. Though there has been a change of plans.” He admitted. It was technically the truth. Borros Baratheon did not appreciate having been the host to the two princes when Aemond had killed Lucerys in the sky. The lord of Storm’s End most certainly did not appreciate when Aemond offered one of the Four Storms his nephew’s eyes when he returned, drenched from the rain and a bloodlust in his amethyst eye. “If the time came for me to marry, it would be after the war, but there is someone in my mind I plan to ask.” He stated, looking at her in the eye as he spoke. Aemond wasn’t one to play games, he wanted to get straight to the point. There was a reason for his being here, and they both knew the reason why. 

“Aemond…” She trailed, understanding what he was hinting to. Her prince stood from his seat, walking over to stand before her seated form. A hand cupped her jaw, making her look up at him with big, shining eyes. His thumb caressed her skin, gooseflesh rising everywhere as he did so. 

“Do you have any idea how much I have longed for you, hm? How much agony your absence has brought upon me?” The prince queried. His hand upon her jaw trailed down her neck, pushing past the hair that covered her skin. Fingertips traced her collarbones, before toying with the hem of her robe. Her hand covered his, stopping its ministrations.

“My prince, please, I am a married woman.” There was a slight crack in her voice as she spoke. Aemond could see the inner struggle in her eyes. Honor begged her to remember her vows, but the aching desire her heart only felt for the man before her threatened to spill through and overtake any sense of integrity she had.

“What use is a husband if he lay on a cot in a tent somewhere, rotting away? He has one hand in the Stranger’s grasp now, my lady. Let us not keep up this folly any further.” Her prince refuted, his eye darkening.

“That is not fair.”  She argued, yet her tone was as weak as her resolve. It was not fair to her, not when the reason her husband is dying because of him, of a war he started. 

“You must know by now little is fair in these games we play, my lady. If one wishes to survive, he must have the wit and the will to take what is his, lest he allows it to be taken away from him. I had been a fool to let him take you from me, now I shall take back what is rightfully mine.” His hand returned to her face, grasping it to prevent her from looking away. She could see how his pupil dilated as he emphasized his words, instilling a strange feeling in her belly. It was in this moment she saw a glimpse of the man he has become. The Kinslayer. Terror of the Trident. This was a man she did not know, yet was familiar. The prince studied her face as she starts to frown, feeling her start to pull away from him. His hand softened its grip on her face, thumb caressing the soft plump of her cheek. 

Her heart thumped in her chest as Aemond lowered to kneel before her. A breath hitched in her throat as his hands gripped the fabric covering her. His face lowers to kiss her thighs, almost in reverence, before nuzzling his face into her lap. Tears started to well up in her eyes, though she did not know why. To feel his touch upon her flesh once more tugged on her heartstrings, the benevolent devotion she held for him buried deep now threatened to make itself known. 

“Aemond.” The lady had whispered; he whispered her name in return. Rough, calloused hands found her waist, squeezing her gently as his lips continued to pepper ardent kisses on her thighs. A shaking hand came to caress his head, feeling the soft silver tresses she had longed to feel under her fingertips once more. She cupped his jaw, urging him to lift his head so she may gaze upon his face. 

In the privacy of the walls that enclosed the pair, it was then she was able to see her old friend, the prince that she knew. As he looked at her with adoration and a glimmer of sadness for what should have been, she is reminded of the young princeling that followed her and Helaena around the gardens in their foolish youth, hoping to spend any waking moment with her as much as he could. 

Keeping his lone eye on hers, his hands left her waist to caress her ankles, dipping past the fabric of her nightgown to trail his touch up her legs. His lady let him lift the fabric to her knees, revealing her flesh to his eye. Their eyes stay locked on each other, Aemond’s silently asking. When no rejection came from her, the prince’s lips return to her thighs, now on her exposed flesh. Kisses course upwards, but a hand comes to his shoulder, halting his trail as she stops him. With his eye trained on her, his warm, larger hand covers hers, lifting it to breathe in the scent of her flesh before planting a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. 

“Will you let me?” He asked, his words a soft whisper. She was barely able to squeak “yes” as a shudder passed through her spine, her resolve long crumbled into pieces since he kneeled before her. She allowed him, of course, she allowed him. The young woman would let him devour her entire being, soul and flesh, if he asked to. She knew in her heart she had no will to deny him, as weak for him as he is to her.

She held her breath as her nightgown is further lifted, baring her core. The air feels cold on her center, despite the fire that continued to rage on the hearth. Aemond’s lips descended down once more, kissing, and sucking on the meaty flesh of her thighs. Small marks started to litter her skin, marking her as his. Warm breath blows on her center, making her clench involuntarily. She gripped onto the fabric pooled on her sides as two fingers spread her folds, exposing her arousal.

“Fuck…” She heard him murmur, a gasp left her lips as his tongue licks a stripe up her slit, catching her off-guard.

“You taste divine.” He marveled, leaving her no opportunity to respond as he tastes her once more, relishing in the small whimpers that started to leave her lips. His tongue continued to lick her folds, giving an occasional deeper dip into her core. Aemond pulled his face away from in between her thighs momentarily to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed as her chest started to heave. Before he could admire her flustered state any further, her hand came up to the back of his head, urging him back down to her center. He smirked against her skin, before continuing his ministrations against her folds. A thumb gathered some of her essence before spreading it on her pearl, rubbing it in circles. It was then she began to moan in earnest, the grip on his hair tightening as her hips started to cant against his face. 

His finger prodded against her slit, switching out his tongue to breech her entrance. Aemond almost moaned as his middle finger was enveloped by warm, wet, muscle that clenched as he curved it upwards. His name left her pretty lips, whining as he found a rough patch, sparking a sure of pleasure in her belly as he continued to massage it. Another finger soon joined, and Aemond’s lips sucked on her pearl. Pulling away, he watched as her face contorted in pleasure, eyes rolled back and brows furrowed as moans openly fell from her lips. A flush had spread on her cheeks, down her neck, and some of her chest that was exposed from where her robe didn’t cover her. Aemond committed the sight to memory, wishing he could paint this moment on a canvas to immortalize it.

“Do you like this?” He cooed, though he needed no answer. Her grip on his tightened, making him groan as she lost herself to utter bliss.

“I—Oh, Aemond…” She moaned out, making Aemond’s cock strain against his breeches at the sweet sound. Selfish as he may be, the focus would solely be on her tonight. There would be more opportunities for them to explore each other’s flesh, this he was sure of. For now, he needed her to give in to the desire that threatened to overwhelm them both, so she may be free from the restraints impeded on her by her marriage. 

His mouth and fingers alternated in pleasuring her core, though Aemond had found that she seemed to enjoy his tongue on her more, the tighter grip on his hair and the louder moans echoing through his guest chambers were enough proof. With his finger circling her pearl, he led her to the precipice of her release. Her thighs quivered as her peak overcame her. A warmth spread through her whole body as she spilled on his tongue, her core pulsing as he continued to catch every drop of her essence until she was oversensitive. She had never been so overcome with such fire, had never found herself so lost in the throes of pleasure. Her husband had touched her before, but not like this. Regaining her senses, she looked down at the one-eyed prince who was already looking at her with a look filled with ardor. His chin still had trails of her essence which she wiped with her thumb. Her hand stayed on his face as their eyes met, communicating with their gazes, before pulling him in to seal her lips against his. He kissed her back hungrily, teeth clashing as their tongues danced. Her hand pulled on his doublet, urging him from his knees. A hand leaned on the back of the seat, the other on the back of her neck. 

She had trailed her hands down his chest to cup his cock that bulged from his trousers, but he had stopped her, his hand gripping her wrist before she could do so. Their lips pulled away, his lady looking at him in confusion. “What is it? Is something wrong?” She had asked, a worried look on her sweet face. Aemond caressed the side of her head comfortingly, his nose breathing in the scent of her hair.

“Not tonight.” The prince said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. If he were to take her now, while she remained someone’s wife, Aemond knew this would weigh heavily on her conscience. He dared not to push her to do anything that she would regret and made her pull away from him. Aemond would have to be patient, though he knew he would not have to wait long. He had ideas on how to free her from the vows that prevented her from fully being his, but for now, he would have to wait.

His lady would be all his for the taking soon enough.

[aurifulgore]

Ok, y’all. I just want it to be understood how important the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) is.

Tampering with NOAA would have more impacts than just the main one I've heard - privatization of weather tracking. Of course it would be catastrophic. That means their weather forecasts, guidance, and warnings would not be available for free. Weather is going to go subscription based if this happens, I bet. This undoubtedly would cause the most immediate impact on our daily lives.

Before long, however, more will come.

NOAA also administers the Coastal Zone Management Act. Under this act are the National Estuarine Research Reserves (NERRs), National Coastal Management Program (CZM), and the Coastal and Estuarine Land Conservation Program (CELCP). 

There are 30 reserves established totalling 1.3 million acres. More are on the way.

No, this isn’t just our oceans! This impacts our freshwater coasts of the Great Lakes.

Grants and funding for institutions, including the University of Michigan. They manage the Science Collaborative, which funds research and exchanges to address coastal management needs of all 30 reserves or projects in collaboration with them.

Blending new technologies with indigenous knowledge with regards to management of wetlands and estuaries, strengthen food and economic stability, water quality, coral reefs, and resilience against climate change (ie. Ola i ka Loʻi Wai, Hawai’i) 

Restore ownership of indigenous ancestral lands (ie. Conservation of Cape Foulweather Headland, Oregon)

Identify for underwater archaeological sites for research and surveys, create a draft tribal climate action plan (ie. Penobscot Nation’s involvement in the Northeast Regional Ocean Council, Maine)

Work with each participating state (regarding the CZM, as it’s voluntary to participate) to address challenges along their coastlines. Maybe reach out to your representatives to see why they’re not involved - looking at you, Alaska!

Population enhancement of coral reefs, manage the Coral Reef Information System, minimize negative impacts of fishing on reefs, mitigate impacts of land-based pollution on coral reefs (Coral Reef Conservation Program)

And much, much more.  I’ll note that the aspects of the projects I highlighted above aren’t all they do. These are just a few I want to highlight here. Links can lead you further and I encourage you to take a few minutes to explore.

Another important note: both our oceans and freshwater lakes impact our biggest trade partners!! If dismantled, it would be yet another way that our foolish president will negatively impact our economy and relationships with our most crucial neighbors of Canada and Mexico. NOAA’s efforts also help support one third of the US's commerce. One third. 

Here is a map which breaks down the 1.3 BILLION in awards from the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law and Inflation Reduction Act. This includes goals towards economic development, flood, etc…

Oh and they also help with oil spills. No one likes those.

And space weather, geomagnetic storms/solar flares ie. impacts to GPS, power grids.

I really stress people to look at what the agency does overall, as well as what they do in your state. It’s more than just weather. You can find that information here. 

Just please understand what we will lose if NOAA is gutted, or even just incapacitated for a long time. We already have little time to lose to slow the impacts of climate change and these are just some of the ways they're leading the charge with that.

It’s vital for us to understand what we will fundamentally lose, and it doesn't end at weather/hurricane predictions.

On a personal note, my dad has put what I can only estimate as hundreds of hours of work into one that was begun before the pandemic. If you can, I’d appreciate it if you’re in that area that you participate when you can, or if anything, donate to the UW Green Bay’s NERR General Fund. He’s also involved with portions of the Lake Superior NERR, so your time, if possible, or a donation if you can, would mean a lot to us.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Catastrophe

BuckTommyWhumpWeek, Day 7: Canon Typical Injury (on BOTH Buck and Tommy) | AO3 version

“The one time we don't go to Micelli's, and this happens.”

Buck's smile is crooked and pained as he says this. Tommy’s, however, is worse: there’s a bright, red streak running from his lower lip down to his chin. It’s not a good sign.

“I liked the cannoli,” Tommy says. His chuckle seamlessly turns into a cough, and he clutches his side.

“Shh,” Buck mutters. “Don't make it worse.”

“I'd like to say it can't get any worse, but...”

They exchange glances. It can always get worse, they both know that. But who could have guessed?

───── 2 hours earlier ─────

It was a nice restaurant: a good table in the back, fabulous food, and a great view from the 23rd floor down on the brightly lit city. But most importantly, it wasn't Micelli's. According to Buck, there was some kind of curse on that place because their dates that started there had never ended well. If you asked Tommy, it was either bad luck, coincidence or karma, but hey, as long as he didn't have to accompany his boyfriend to the cemetery again to break a curse... His boyfriend. This felt good, and they had worked hard for it, so this new six-month anniversary definitely needed to be celebrated. There was champagne and chocolate-filled cannoli for dessert. And, somehow, a promise lingered in the air that this time, it would be better. This time, it would work out.

“So,” said Buck, who’d barely touched his cannoli — the man was baking like a pro now, and he was adorably competitive — “this time I have something for you.”

Buck pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his linen jacket. It was a special occasion, so he’d dressed up, and in the candlelight, Tommy couldn't help but look at him and think that this was his guy. However...

“I don't have anything for you,” he replied. 

“You're paying for dinner,” Buck grinned. 

They looked at each other, both probably thinking about the last dinner where those exact words had been spoken. But tonight was supposed to be different. A special kind of new beginning. 

“Well, then maybe you should eat your dessert to make it worth it.”

“Oh, I know just the dessert that's really worth it,” said Buck, nudging Tommy under the table with his foot.

“Evan!”

“What?” Buck replied with a not-so-innocent smirk, holding out the envelope. “Take a look.”

“I hope those aren't Lakers tickets,” said Tommy, causing Buck to roll his eyes. 

“Conversation is key,” he returned in a tone suggesting he’d had one of his therapy sessions lately. “To listen, pay attention… I think I know what you like.”

“Ouch, Evan,” said Tommy, but he smiled and took the envelope. “But you really didn't have to...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck made an impatient gesture. “Go on, open it.”

Tommy placed the envelope next to his plate. “Okay, but let me eat this chocolate before it melts,” he said, reaching for his spoon. 

“Tommy!” This time, Buck's foot searched for Tommy's shin under the table.

“Very mature, Evan. All right...”

 The second Tommy reached for the envelope, a scream rang out.

───── .:**:. ─────

“We have to get out of here,” says Buck. 

It's more than just a statement; his words resonate with determination. Not despair, you have to give him that. Their situation is tense, to say the least, but Buck knows there's always a way out. That's what life has taught him — and Bobby, of course. 

“Obviously.” Tommy slides a little higher up the wall behind him, trying to sit a little straighter. It looks painful and uncomfortable, and he grimaces. Then he says something that makes the knot in Buck's stomach grow a little bigger. “I don't know if we can, though.”

“Hey,” Buck urges, and even though he tries to sound confident, his voice sounds shaky in his own ears. His hands are bloody, which doesn't exactly make him look credible. “Hey. Of course we can We're firefighters, okay?”

Tommy grins, which looks a little creepy with the blood on the corner of his mouth. 

“Evan. You realize that's kind of the problem, right?”

Well, yeah. He's right, of course.

───── 1:45 hours earlier ─────

It was a high-pitched scream, and it could have meant anything.

“Did someone lose a tooth?” Buck asked, craning his neck. 

“Why a tooth?”

"We had a call once, someone was eating a steak and lost a canine. There was a huge commotion, blood everywhere, someone at the next table fainted. In the end, it turned out to be insurance fraud, but the guy was an idiot and had accidentally torn out his entire upper row of gums.“

”Yuck," said Tommy, looking around, as did a few other people.

A scream in an almost full restaurant could mean anything... not necessarily a broken tooth, thank you very much, but it also didn't sound like the cry of joy of a woman who had just been proposed to. Part of the dining room was behind a pillar, so he couldn't see very far. 

“Was probably nothing,” he said.

But fate, karma, chance, or perhaps a curse had something else in mind. Now, there were noises that could now be heard clearly above the clatter of cutlery and the quiet conversations at the tables. Something that disturbed the idyll, a rumbling sound as if something had fallen over. And then, again, something that almost might have been a scream—but one that broke off abruptly.

Two people emerged from behind the pillar, and with that, the evening was finally ruined.

───── .:**:. ─────

“Why,” says Tommy, and it doesn't really sound like a question, “is going out with you so difficult?”

“Hey. That's unfair.”

Buck is still grinning, but there's nothing funny about their situation. But both of them only know two ways to deal with something like this—dark humor and action. Except the latter is pretty difficult right now. And it's really not Buck's fault.

“You have to keep pressing,” Tommy says, pointing to Buck's left shoulder. 

He's squeezing one of the restaurant's formerly white cloth napkins against it. Now it's covered in red stains, but not nearly as soaked as the one Tommy is pressing against his side. That's actually worrying. Just like the sweat stains on his forehead and his deliberately shallow breathing, because every breath feels like he's inhaling fire.

“There has to be a way out,” says Buck. 

His eyes scan the walls, the ceiling, the floor for the umpteenth time. They are in a storage room: shelves full of cleaning supplies, rags and, luckily, piles of packs of napkins. The kind you use to gracefully dab your mouth in a really good restaurant, but yes, surprisingly well suited for stopping blood. But apart from that, no windows, no ventilation shaft, no secret trapdoor in the floor. In other words, no way out except the door that stands locked in front of them. 

The sounds from outside are muffled, which only adds to the surreal feeling. There are voices, shouting, someone’s sobbing. A clatter and a scraping sound, as if something is being dragged across the floor. The hairs on Buck’s arms stand up. Does he have the chills now or is it just his circulation? Finally, his gaze falls on a mop next to the door, and a plan forms in his head. It's a wild and rather half-baked plan, but looking at Tommy, he knows they have to do something. Well, Buck himself is longing for a decent dose of acetaminophen, but that's not the only reason every fiber of his being is screaming for action. There are people out there in danger. There is something in him—and in Tommy—that wants to help, even when they need help themselves. There's no denying that's the case. But if they don't do something, anything, things will end badly, he can feel it. Not just for Tommy. 

“I have an idea.”

“That,” Tommy points out, “already got us into trouble today.”

───── 1:30 hours earlier ─────

The two people entering the restaurant’s main dining room made a fascinating couple. A man, no taller than 5'8", but with the look of a street fighter—gold chains, shaved head, and tattoos—and a woman who towered over him by at least a head. She had short, purple-dyed hair and wore a floral dress that would have made her inconspicuous at any of the tables. And it wasn't actually their appearance that seemed remarkable and attracted the attention of many of the guests. Most stared in horror, some with their hands over their mouths, at the guns the two were armed with. He was carrying a short-barelled rifle, she had a small submachine gun. Whoever they were, they were obviously dangerous, and they made no secret of it. 

“Listen up,” the man shouted, casually raising his rifle. Meanwhile, the woman playfully aimed at various restaurant guests, who flinched when the barrel of her weapon came close to them. “We’re gonna play a little game, I'm sure you know it. It's called give me all your money. Oh, and don't forget your jewelry and other valuables! Polly, this is my lovely wife here, is gonna collect it. Stay calm and this will be over quickly, and we'll be on our way.”

“She's no Polly, she's not,” Buck muttered.

“Not the problem right now, Evan,” said Tommy.

Buck bent forward conspiratorially. “No, just think about it. Who robs a restaurant with machine guns just to steal jewelry and money?”

Buck watched a lot of crime shows. That and his friendship with Athena didn't necessarily qualify him to know a lot about robberies. But just like Tommy, he knew that people lied, all the time. Most fires were caused by carelessness, but no one wanted to admit to throwing away a cigarette. At almost every accident somebody said, “No, I don't take any medication,” when in truth beta blockers were the least harmful thing they’d taken. Lying, covering up, concealing—all of that was part of a first responder's life. And maybe Buck had a radar for it.

Tommy took a closer look at the two of them. The woman, who was definitely not named Polly, strolled between the rows of tables and motioned to the guests with a wave of her gun to pack their belongings into a duffel bag that had been slung over her shoulder. When she turned around, she pointed her submachine gun toward the entrance, where a restaurant employee nervously clutched the counter. 

“Now, now,” she said. “We're keeping our hands off the phones, or they'll be gone in a second. I was the 1999 sport shooting queen in Fremont, Nebraska.”

As if to demonstrate, she aimed her gun at the umbrella stand next to the entrance, where the coat rack was also located. The stand was empty, of course, a mere prop; it hadn't rained in two months. She still aimed at it as if it were a great feat to hit an object the size of a floor vase from a distance of less than 30 feet. And maybe it was.

“Oh, come on, we don't want to waste ammunition. Or draw attention to ourselves,” she  then said. “But I won't tell you again, waiter. Toss the phone across the counter.”

The man did as commanded; he frantically pulled the phone out of the charging station and threw it toward the pillar, where it fell to the wooden floor just before it could hit it. 

“Hey!” The surprised call came from an older man who appeared seemingly out of nowhere behind the pillar, from a corridor that led to the restrooms. Then, the chaos really began.

Polly fired a shot.

───── .:**:. ─────

“For once, it's not my fault,” says Buck, and for once, that’s actually the truth.

“We both have a hero complex,” Tommy mutters.

“Maybe. But we need to do something. You're losing a lot of blood.”

Tommy can't argue with that. Buck shuffles to the door and listens, “I think they're still negotiating,” he says. 

“Batshit crazy, those two. They'll never get out of here alive. All the shooting is bound to have brought the cops down. They'll be here soon.”

“I assume they've popped a few pills,” Buck agrees, “but I also think the original plan was different. I think they planned to make it look like a robbery, but then kidnap the district attorney or something like that. Then things went wrong because of the guy who was in the bathroom for so long. And now...”

“Now,” Tommy adds, “their only chance is to use the district attorney as both hostage and leverage, because the police are bound to be here soon.”

“And that plan is a lot worse for the rest of the guests in the restaurant.”

Tommy nods grimly. His face is pale—even for him, what's going on out there is anything but good. Buck grabs the mop and bangs it frantically against the door.

───── 1 hour earlier ─────

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the restaurant, following the bullet. It ripped open the left shoulder of the poor guy who’d not even noticed the commotion outside, just because he’d been in the bathroom for a bit longer. He screamed as he hit the floor, toppling over the carpet which soon turned red with his blood. 

Several more people in the restaurant let out screams. Tables shook and dishes crashed to the floor as some of them reacted in panic. Then, a second shot rang out, and Polly's husband—or whoever the guy was—yelled, “Shut up!”

The next moment, there was dead silence. Plaster crumbled from the ceiling onto him, and he angrily wiped his hair. The shot had gone upward, leaving a hole in the ceiling. 

“And you two sit back down,” he yelled, waving the rifle in Tommy and Buck's direction. 

The two exchanged a glance. Instinct and responsiveness, two qualities that make good firefighters, were probably why both of them had stood up immediately when the first shot rang out. 

“This man is injured,” Buck replied calmly. This wasn't exactly standard training at the LAFD, but the numerous advanced training courses they had to attend these days also included the possibility of being threatened with a weapon. “We're firefighters. We can help him.”

“Firefighters, huh,” said the guy, and Polly called out to him, “Finn, baby, what do we do now?”

“Quiet,” he yelled in her direction. “Let me think. I just need to think!”

Finn—if that was his name—scratched his head with his gun and looked around the room.

“I think the cops will be here soon,” Polly said.

“Let's just check on him,” said Buck, pointing to the injured man lying on the floor, his eyes wide open with shock and pain. The floor beneath him was already covered with an ugly red pool of blood. 

Tommy searched Buck's gaze. “We can end this in a flash,” he whispered. 

Buck frowned. “What are you thinking?” he muttered under his breath.

“I have an idea,” Tommy hushed. And really, this time, it was his fault. Loudly, in Finn's direction, he said, “Look, so far it's just robbery with assault. You don't want this to turn into murder.”

“What, you a lawyer or something?”

“I knew that was nonsense, firefighters, haha,” Polly sneered. Tommy glanced at her and shook his head.

“Nope, that’s true, we're firefighters.” 

He spread his arms, although he suspected that this gesture of harmlessness meant next to nothing to the two of them. Basically, they were predators, unimpressed by their prey. But he wasn't going to make it that easy for them. 

“We're trained in first aid,” he added. “If you let us help the man, you'll improve your own chances. You know very well that the shots will bring the police. Some resident, or maybe a passerby, is bound to have heard them.”

“I locked the door, baby,” Polly called out.

“That won't do much good,” Buck said, and he could see from their faces that they knew it. 

“I don't care about that guy,” Finn said. “We're not here for him.”

Buck and Tommy exchanged looks that definitely meant I told you so on Buck's part. Meanwhile, Finn strolled between the tables, his gun clutched tightly in his arms as if he were cradling a baby. When he stopped, he aimed the rifle at a dark-blonde woman in her mid-forties wearing an evening gown. She was sitting with a man in a suit who looked considerably more frightened than she did. It suited her that she was unimpressed—she presented herself in the same way in the public hearings that were broadcast on television. The woman was well known.

“Isn't that the district attorney? Valdez?” Tommy asked quietly.

“Told you this wasn't a simple robbery,” Buck muttered. 

“Do you want my necklace?” the woman asked calmly. She was indeed wearing a very pretty gold necklace with a small ruby. Finn shook his head. 

“This is getting a little out of hand,” he said. “I'll tell you what I want...”

Whatever he wanted was drowned out by a cry of surprise as Tommy suddenly lunged at him.

───── .:**:. ─────

“Hey,” Buck yells, continuing to bang the mop handle against the door. “Hey! Help! Hurry up!”

“What are you doing?” 

Buck turns his head briefly. “I'm getting us out of here,” he says grimly. 

“I've already ruined the element of surprise,” says Tommy with an embarrassed grin. 

“Hey,” Buck repeats with much more emphasis, “it's not your fault, okay?”

“Evan. We're lucky to be alive.”

“We're alive because Polly and Finn” — now he draws quotation marks in the air — “are one card shy of a full deck. They're stressed, so they overreacted. Your plan was good, this isn’t your fault. Tommy, you're bigger and heavier than that guy, and I know you don't take unnecessary risks. It was civil courage. They were threatening twenty or thirty people, and they shot one of them. You could have overpowered Finn. The fact that his gun went off was… a calculated risk, and bad luck. And if I hadn't been so stupid and thrown myself in the way, it might have worked.”

“It wasn't stupid. It was brave, Evan.”

“Oh, come on.” Buck digs his fingers into the handle of the mop, as if it was symbolizing Finn's neck. “I was scared shitless in that moment, Tommy. But I still don't think those two really wanted to kill anyone.”

“Well, except that Polly did shoot.”

The mere memory makes Buck wince. Being shot felt like slipping with a circular saw, well, sort of. Not a pleasant memory either. In any case, Polly hasn't exaggerated; she can shoot, and accurately. It's just a graze, but Buck's arm still burns. He'll survive. But nothing had gone according to plan for Polly and Finn – neither the injured man nor the fact that Finn's gun went off while he was wrestling with Tommy. Even the shot at Buck had been just pure reaction on Polly's part. And all of that was, in a way, luck. Because if the two of them had entered the restaurant with the firm intention of causing a massacre, well...

Buck turns around, hammers the mop against the door again, and starts screaming for help.

“Evan, what are you doing?”

“They're stressed, I told you. We just need to turn up the heat a little.”

Finn and Polly had quickly restored calm after the shooting. That hadn't been particularly difficult, as the remaining guests were completely terrified at that point. However, they had locked Buck and Tommy in the chamber because, in Polly's words, “Feels like out of the frying pan, into the fire with two firefighters, haha.” Of course, they also took their phones—the two of them are stressed, but unfortunately not completely stupid. Buck is still worried about the guy who was shot in the restaurant, although he suspects he's not too badly injured. Polly is truly an extremely good shot, even in a panic. Or she’s just lucky.

“What do you mean? Evan, the police will be here any minute.”

Buck continues to bang on the door with the mop handle. He would pound on it with his fists, but his shoulder would probably object. 

“Sure, the police will be here soon,” he says, “but this has escalated from a robbery to a hostage situation. That changes everything. It delays everything; negotiations could take hours. There are tons of people out there in danger, and there's this guy who's been shot, and then you need to get to the hospital, Tommy, and if I can knock one of them over the head with this mop, we can overpower the other one. I know you don't like to hear this, but you've lost a lot of blood, and I'm worried and... Tommy?”

It's just an impulse, instinct maybe. Or maybe Buck expects Tommy to interrupt his staccato babbling, like he always does when his thoughts start spiraling. But when he turns to look at him, Buck drops the mop. 

“Tommy!”

───── .:**:. ─────

Eyes shut, Tommy's head is slumped onto his shoulder.

“No, no, no, you won’t!”

Buck drops on the floor and gently pats Tommy's alarmingly pale cheeks. He carefully lifts the napkin, which has long since lost its pristine whiteness. It sticks to Tommy's clothes, and for the first time since they've been in here, Buck realizes that Tommy’s shirt is completely soaked. For a very long couple of seconds, he’s frozen. Then, as if the engine of an old, broken-down car suddenly starts again, a jolt goes through his body.

Two fingers on Tommy's carotid artery: there's a pulse. Maybe a little weak, but definitely there. Buck jumps up, almost knocking over the shelf in his attempt to get a fresh cloth to press it onto the wound. It really doesn't look good: while Buck was only grazed by Polly's shot, Finn's sudden gunfire hit Tommy squarely. Following an impulse, he carefully feels Tommy's back. He should have done that long ago, shouldn't he? Tommy's back is soaked with sweat, but there's no exit wound. 

This isn't good, none of this is good, and Buck's thoughts are racing. His own wound is burning; it's a bit like someone is holding a lighter to his skin, every movement making his nerves scream. Tommy, however, must have been in incredible pain, and he hardly let it show. Tommy just sat there, endured it, and still took care of Buck; and all that after trying to protect the restaurant guests. He's a real hero, and Buck feels damn useless. Guilt washes over him like an ice-cold rain shower. They just got back together. Is there really a curse on their relationship? After six months of happiness, is it all over again—this time for good?

What a stupid thought. Who is he, some uninvolved passerby? A defenseless spectator, like the people in the restaurant? The thought suddenly drives Buck forward; the old, broken-down car has fuel again. Bobby would have liked that comparison. But he mustn't think about Bobby now.

“I'll never listen to you again, Tommy,” he groans as he very carefully shifts the man into a lying position. “I mean, of course I'll listen to you, but I have to listen better, right? Haha. Earlier, I gave you a lecture on that, remember?”

Tommy doesn't respond. Buck stuffs a few of the napkins under his boyfriend’s head,  then pushes a box under his legs, frantically throwing out the cleaning supplies in it. At last, he checks the bleeding again and mutters, “You're stubborn, though. Would it be so bad to admit weakness once in a while?”

Fortunately, the brief period without firm pressure hasn't caused any further damage – the bleeding seems to have stopped. There's still shouting outside; it sounds like Polly. She seems to be the more dangerous of the two, and if she loses it now... Focus on Tommy, he thinks. Tommy is breathing, his pulse is steady, but he's lost a hell of a lot of blood. Buck crouches beside him, almost automatically pressing the cloth onto the wound, thinking that he was probably a little unfair. Tommy has admitted his weaknesses, he has opened up, and not just because they’d decided that this would be a prerequisite for both of them if they were to try again. It was a journey with heavy baggage on each part, and something neither of them had ever done before. Buck had always been abandoned, and Tommy had always left before things got serious. And they’d both always acted like this for the same reason: injuries, that weren't visible on the outside, but yet so deep that they still hurt years later, like scars when the weather changed.

“But still,” Buck says, as if Tommy can read his mind, even though the man isn't even conscious, “still, we make mistakes. We fall back into old patterns. I didn't pay enough attention to you, and you weren't honest. But you know what? I get it. And we can work on that, the two of us. Don't you think? I—”

A key turns in the lock, and then the door to the small chamber is thrown open with a jerk.

───── .:**:. ─────

“Get out,” Finn demands, pointing his gun at Buck. 

“What?”

“Come on, get out of there, both of you!”

Now that the door is open, the sounds which had been muffled just a moment ago rain down on Buck. Someone is sobbing. The injured man near the entrance is moaning. Polly seems nervous, wiping her hand over a few tables, deliberately knocking plates and glasses to the floor. Maybe she just wants to scare the guests, though Buck thinks they’re already completely panicked. And there’s yet another sound, still a little distant but getting louder. The reason for Polly's nervousness: sirens.

“W-we can't.” Buck gestures to Tommy, still lying motionless on the floor. 

“Shit,” says Polly, who suddenly appears behind Finn, glancing over his shoulder. She waves her gun at Buck. “You alone then.”

“What for?” 

“Shut up,” Finn scolds, waving his rifle. But Polly puts a hand on his shoulder, clicking her tongue.

“Look, fireman. Even with just one of you, our chances of getting out of here are increasing exponentially. The cops aren't going to endanger one of their own.”

Buck pinches his lips together. The two of them obviously want to use him as a human shield. And part of him wants to agree, just to protect the rest of the guests in the restaurant. To give all of them a chance to get out of this alive, especially Tommy. But...

“No,” Buck shakes his head. “I'm not leaving him alone.”

“Excuse me?” Polly pushes past Finn. Her voice has a surprisingly gentle undertone that sends a shiver down Buck's spine.

He straightens his back and stands up. Buck knows the effect his size and muscles have. It's not for nothing that he often walks hunched over, making himself small; but that's over now. Polly, however, doesn't look particularly impressed. Maybe she just has completely lost her mind.

Buck points to Tommy. “Maybe it would work, we'd go out, the cops would let you through. But then you'd have a man on your conscience. A firefighter. I need him in a hospital right now, or he'll die.”

He's exaggerating, at least he hopes so, but it's not hard to add a hint of desperation to his voice. That one spark of fear. Because it's there, deep inside Buck, turning his stomach. And it seems to be working. There's something in Finn's eyes, an uncertainty. He actually takes a step back, glancing nervously at the crowd of guests.

“Polly,” he says, his tone warning. But Polly shakes her head.

“This is bullshit.”

She drops the bag with the loot on the floor, raises her gun and points it at Buck, who raises his hands defensively. Then she pushes past him with a grin, stops next to Tommy and nudges his left leg with her foot.

“We've got a few injuries, sure, that's a bit unfortunate,” Polly says calmly. “But firefighters... Phew, I'm telling you, they’re tough.”

Her grin is smarmy now. Then, suddenly, she pulls her foot back and kicks Tommy in his injured side. Buck sees red.

───── .:**:. ─────

The anger that rises within him rarely surfaces, but it’s still familiar to him. Buck never really allows this searing, gnawing feeling to take hold; these destructive thoughts, this tingling sensation in his fingers that automatically clench into fists. It’s a feeling that erases thoughts, an instinct that drives him to act.

Danger is just a state, a situation to be analyzed, assessed, and overcome. Bobby's words. Buck has worked very, very hard to be the person he is today. Someone Bobby could be proud of, and he was. Even when he screwed up. Even when he acted impulsively. And if that's not impulsive...

Buck's fist shoots forward. He’s never really done this, at least not to a woman, and normally, he wouldn’t. Polly, however, is dangerous, and Buck knows better than anyone that gender has nothing to do with it. His hand hits Polly in the stomach. She doubles over and groans, part out of pain, part out of astonishment. Buck grabs her, drags her by the arm, twists it around. Polly drops the gun, but then she wriggles in Buck's grip like a toddler covered in sunscreen. She screams and yells, Finn yells too, and for a terrible and surprisingly long moment, Buck thinks Finn is going to shoot. Or that he won't be able to hold Polly.

But Buck hasn't forgotten what he learned when he was eight, at summer sports camp with the wrestling class. Buck forgets very little, just like his muscles, and when he flexes them and wraps his arms around Polly, she can struggle all she wants.

“Now,” he gasps, “here's my advice: if you don't want to shoot your lovely wife—and boy, you know she can shoot better than you—then you give up. The police are almost at the door.”

Finn's face is red like a tomato; it wouldn't be surprising if he had a stroke right there and then. But it's anger, Buck knows that, and anger makes people do irrational things. Finn bites his lip until it bleeds.

“Shit. Shit, shit!” he repeats over and over again. 

“There's a back exit.”

Frantically waving his gun, Finn turns around. Behind him stands one of the restaurant’s employees, a waiter perhaps, or the manager, and he flinches. 

“What?”

“A back exit,” stammers the man, pointing to a window at the rear of the restaurant. “It's... it's actually an emergency exit.”

Finn stares at him, then back at Buck. No, actually, he's looking at Polly, who is standing stiff as a board in Buck’s iron grip. 

“Baby,” Polly whispers. Finn blinks. “No. No, no, no, you're not doing that.”

“I'm sorry,” Finn says without much regret. He picks up the bag, slings the strap over his shoulders, and adds, “It's not worth dying for. Not for anyone here.”

Without looking back, he runs off. Polly starts screaming, now wiggling again, but Buck holds her tight, even though the muscles in his arms feel like they’re about to tear.

“You stupid asshole, I'll find you,” Polly yells, but that doesn't stop Finn from opening the window and climbing out, just in time: the sirens are wailing right outside the restaurant.

From there, everything happens very quickly.

───── .:**:. ─────

It is, of course, Athena who’s among the first to secure the scene.

Buck loves the red string theory, much to Tommy's discomfort, but not just when it comes to his own relationship. Sure, Buck truly believes that everything in life has a meaning and that two people who belong together will find each other in the end. It's strange that Tommy, with his penchant for rom coms, doesn't share his belief, but Buck is sure he'll convince him eventually. In any case, Buck believes that he is connected to everyone in his life by an invisible red string, not just Tommy. Certainly Athena, who secretly adopted him, just as Bobby had done. And that's why it's no coincidence that it’s Athena who finds them both when the police storm the restaurant.

“Buck,” she says with not much surprise as she suddenly appears in the doorway, and he exhales a breath he thinks he must been holding for a very long time.

He barely notices how she reaches for Polly with raised brows, handcuffs the woman and hands her over to one of her officers to lead her away. Buck just breathes, “Tommy,” and then he's back on the floor next to him, holding his hand, stroking it, and murmuring something that is meant more to calm himself than Tommy, who’s unaware of anything anyway.

Athena glances at him, turns around and shouts, “EMT!” Hesitantly, she bends down and places two fingers on Tommy's carotid artery. Visibly calmer, she then asks, "What was going on here, Buck? No, wait. I don't really want to know, and you’re gonna make a statement anyway. Of course you're in the middle of this mess, what else would one expect... By the way, you belong in the hospital, too.”

Buck shrugs, ignoring his aching muscles, not to mention the ridiculous wound.

“I’ve to take care of the mess out there,” Athena says. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Fortunately, Buck has never before seen the paramedics who are now rushing into the small room. He has made progress with Tommy, oh yes, but there are conversations Buck has still avoided. Conversations he has still shied away from, and they’re gonna be with his friends and family. Well, that can't be put off any longer now, can it.

“Yes,” he says, and in that moment, it's true.

Athena lets out a sigh. “You're every inch Bobby’s boy,” she gently tells him, and the sparkle in her eyes could mean anything as she turns and walks away. 

Tommy's fingers twitch under Buck’s. He hasn't let go, and there isn't enough room in the small room anyway; the paramedics are calling for a stretcher. 

“Tommy,” he murmurs, gently stroking his cheek. 

“Hmm,” Tommy whispers, blinking. “'s wrong?”

Buck grins, feeling a lot lighter. “Oh, nothing much,” he replies. “Just a bit of chaos, nothing special.”

“I just want one date with you without anything happening,” Tommy mutters, the corners of his mouth turned up despite his obvious pain. 

The stretcher arrives, and Buck flinches sympathetically as Tommy is lifted onto it. He runs alongside, assuring him that everything will be all right, and in this moment he knows it's true. It's not the familiar surroundings of the ambulance soon after that make him realize this, but they certainly contribute to it. Of course, Buck going with him is against protocol, but who cares? Maybe this crew has heard of the 118’s motto, because they don’t object.

They drive off, and Tommy asks, “What was in it, anyway?”

“Hm, in what?” asks Buck, and he thinks one of the paramedics is mumbling that the dose would actually knock out an elephant, and he knows that Tommy is only keeping his eyes open with sheer willpower. But he doesn't tell him to relax or any of the other nonsense people usually say to hide their own restlessness. Because this is Tommy, and he deserves his attention.

“In the envelope.”

“The envelope, oh dear.” Buck knits his brows together. “I-I think it's still on the table. Maybe Polly took it because she thought there was money in it. Or a gift card. Do you think we'll get it back soon? It's evidence now...”

“So it's neither money nor a gift card,” Tommy mutters as one of the paramedics draws up a syringe. “Then what is it?”

“Oh. Tickets for your favorite band.”

“Tickets? Plural? You don't even like that band... I hope you weren't suggesting I go with Eddie.”

Buck can't help but burst out laughing. “Nah. Sure, they’re not really my thing, but you like them,” he finally says, “and that's why...”

“I like you,” Tommy interrupts him, slurring his words now. “I even love you.”

“Sweet,” says one of the paramedics, and then another dose goes into the IV, and Tommy closes his eyes. There’s the blissful smile of being high on his lips.

Buck feels like he's just been hit by a truck. Except it doesn't hurt, no, on the contrary. Something has hit him with full force, but it feels good. Damn good.

“It's just the painkillers,” he says, stroking Tommy's hand.

“No, honey, that was definitely real,” the paramedic interjects, smiling.

Buck looks at her, he looks at Tommy; Oh, he thinks. Oh.

[kurosaaki]

what is happening in Valencia (Spain)?

More than 200 people have died and 2000 people are missing since the catastrophe that happened in Valencia, Spain, a couple days ago.

Valencia is one of the most popular and beautiful regions in Spain, often visited by lots of international — and national — tourists to have a great time in the summer.

Meteorologists said a year’s worth of rain had fallen in just eight hours in parts of Valencia — specially, in small towns — this Tuesday. In Spain, this phenomenon is called “Dana”, which is basically a “cold drop”, which causes saturated air to rise rapidly, leading to heavy rain, thunderstorms and tornadoes to happen.

For reference to americans: hurricane milton caused 27 dead, these massive storms in valencia caused more than 90 deaths in a region that is much, much smaller... the weather services warned about the danger, and political authorities still did nothing to send people home from their jobs. the civil alarms reached our phones at 8pm, when many were already trapped in cars, basements, malls, factories. the loss, especially human loss, is incalculable (from: @/woundposting on tumblr)

People who worked overnight for big companies were not even able to go back to their homes and ensure their safety — some of them, lots of them, even lost their lives in that same night. It has been three days now and there are still more reports of disappearances and deaths, and the government is NOT acting like they should. This is a tragedy, which could have been avoided if they only did one thing right, and no one is taking responsability — not the government, not the big companies who didn’t let their workers go home, no one.

It is always the working class people who help the working class people.

Since this is a situation that has took the whole country by surprise and horror, I will put more info under the cut if you want to know more, and if you want to donate to some gofundme’s.

Horta Sud is a county in Valencia that has been the most affected by the floodings. People are leaving their houses because they're scared of the infrastructure getting damaged and even walking by foot to Valencia capital to get food.

Letur (Albacete) is a town that has been destroyed by the floods. You can help rebuild it by donating to this gofundme that's directly coordinated with the town hall.

Hambre Cero is a Spanish food bank non-profit that was founded after the earthquakes in Indonesia. They're currently active in Palestine and Lebanon but they'll also be giving food to those who need it in Spain.

El Refugio de María a dog shelter in Sueca (Valencia), is completely flooded, leaving the dogs visibly distressed and without a proper place to sleep. You can donate to their PayPal: maria.g.may@gmail.com

Protectora San Antón is a shelter for cats and dogs in Jerez de la Frontera. It's flooded and the animals don't have a comfortable place to sleep in. If you live in Spain you can bizum them @ 635011715. If not, PayPal protectorasananton@hotmail.com

Help Sara and her family rebuild their home in Valencia:

there are many more links in twitter. the ones i have put here in this are from a thread posted by @ diangneylo. you can find the link to the thread here, with many more links: https://x.com/diangneylo/status/1851960706536534104?s=46&t=xf1Z6STThFP3w_mF4ugamA

[claymoresword]

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.

[ampreh]

[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.

[insomnova]

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)

or

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 👍

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: March 30

2019

Language of Love: Part 1 (Season 3) [david/patrick, NR, 67,708] by PandorasDaydream

Patrick Brewer just moved to town. David has an idea for a new business and needs help.

Remodeling the bathroom [david/patrick, M, 1,776] by DearBalladeer

A little moment from s04 e02 that fills in some of the building blocks leading up to the need for a sleep over at Stevie's.

2020

Drabble Day 2020 [multifandom, T, 1,400] by winterlover

These were drabbles written in 24 hours for multi-fandom Drabble Day 2020, "Quarantine Edition", so be warned for fun, crack and feelings.Check out the Insane Journal for the funny prompt-posts: Drabble Day

Getting Over Getting Older All the Time [david/patrick, E, 68,939] by @distractivate

“Well I’m going to run some errands,” David says, brushing a stray bit of fuzz off his navy blue sweater. “But we’re still on for birthday dinner?” “Yeah,” Patrick nods. He’s pretty sure David knows the annual birthday surprise party stopped being a surprise after year two or three. David doesn’t even inflict fictional catastrophes on the café as a decoy anymore. But Patrick plays along anyway. In some ways their whole partnership is built on playing along. OR David and Patrick have been business partners for a decade until, on Patrick's 40th Birthday, everything changes.

Tea-Kettle Love [david/patrick, G, 5,078] by ArabellaStrange

Patrick thinks about New York. How do you plan to be unhappy? How can you avoid it? (coda to "The Pitch"—because why not, all the kids are doing it.)

2021

India [gen, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

Power of Touch [david/patrick, G, 1,692] by @pine67

The feelings of home, comfort and warmth rouse David from his sleep. A happy sigh escapes him as he snuggles closer into his husband. Mmm, that's nice, it's not every day that he gets to wake up before Patrick.

Summer Vacation...in Schitt's Creek? [buck/eddie, G, 12,023] by artbyweb86

Buck and Eddie go on Vacation. They end up in Schitt's Creek. They meet David and Patrick. Form new friendships. The usual chaos. Some mild injuries/hurt/comfort.

sway with me [david/patrick, NR, 5,490] by @maxbegone

“Okay, fine. Yes, I’m thinking. I have my ‘thinking face’ on.” David makes a noise in triumph, pressing his face back into Patrick’s neck. It’s warm there against the tense muscle. He moves to stand upright and to massage it. “What about?” He asks, digging into a knot. “Additions to your little garden?” “Maybe.” Patrick sighs, head lolling to the side as he keeps his gaze trained on whatever point it’s on in their yard. “I was thinking about putting up a hammock.” “Sure, honey, but it’s raining.” “Not right now,” he replies lightly. “We have to buy one first, anyway.” “We?” David freezes. “I’m sorry, but I’m convinced those things are seconds away from snapping at any given time.” Patrick smirks at him. “That sounds like a rational fear.” “Yes it is, what’s your point?” Or, Patrick wants a hammock and David wants nothing to do with it. the Hammock redux.

this must be rare, 'cause nothing else can compare (not that we're aware of) [ted/alexis, T, 11,770] by @turningtimeinthetardis

It all starts because of a pun. Two puns, if you really wanna be precise.

You can turn me on with just a touch [david/patrick, E, 1,519] by @kiwiana-writes

Patrick knows he’s not great at giving up control. Not completely. Even when he ostensibly does, there’s still that tiny part of him that’s trying to direct things — with varying degrees of success, depending on David’s tolerance for it. But now, with no visual or audible context clues for what David is planning, all he can do is just… wait, and trust. And he’s never had a problem trusting David.

2023

Gold & Glitter [david/patrick, T, 160] by @wearpersistencewell

David loves that Patrick loves his family. Based on a schittscreekdrabbleblog prompt.

2024

A Mood Book to Fashion & Passion: I Carry These Heart-Shapes Only To You [david/patrick, M, fanart] by LovePreciousLove101

Happy Easter/Ostara long weekend all. In celebration of the festivities I have a special #fanart experience for those who love #Heart-Shapes by LadyFlowDi and ShipstoSail. (And FairManor’s accompanying #podfic) It’s my first ever Mood-Book to Fashion & Passion. What started out as a few sketches & watercolours of scenes I loved, to distract me from a boring bout of COVID19 in Feb, has turned into a project 80 images strong. A combo of illustrations, AI-mishmash, Canva-esque arty-fartyness and repurposed pics of our fav gang. There are 🐣 Easter Eggs 🐣 in each of the ten chapters and an Epilogue for those obsessed by this fic as much as me to enjoy. Dig into the details. If you haven’t read it - Warning - Spoilers ahead. (Also - why not? Get onto it now. Its genius) I’ll keep posting throughout the weekend for those looking for something to do while bingeing chocolate. I am in awe of this fic and Podfic. To the talented artists behind them - thank you for your generosity & inspiration. I dedicate my #fan-art to all the peeps in the Schitty Book Group who write & read & have brought me joy. Big love x

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2022 2019: 2 fics/69,484 words 2020: 3 fics/75,417 words 2021: 6 fics/32,794 words 2023: 1 fic/160 words 2024: 1 fanart Total: 13 fanworks (12 fics, 1 fanart)/178,174 words

[satureja13]

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

[siren-of-fire]

[For archive this theory post on Tumblr as well]

Ok let's theorize (overcook) here and figure out the guard thing. It's super obvious this is all talking about the euphrates angel incident. How do we get that you ask?

Small recaps of euphrates incident from the book of revelations:-

4 angels are described as having been prepared for a specific hour, day, month, and year to bring devastation. Unlike other angels in biblical texts, these four are described as being “bound,” implying they are fallen or restrained for a divine purpose. Upon their release, they lead an army of 200 million horsemen, bringing widespread destruction. The army is said to kill a third of humanity, signifying a massive and catastrophic event. Again back to Bad's depiction of everything you can tell the whole "need to" matching with the divine purpose said above (those 4 angels were bound for a very very specific period and cause).

Now let's talk about what could this guard thing be. Angels were "bound" there so surely there must be a "guard" keeping them from escaping so who could it possibly be is the question?

There are two theories I have here.

1st theory- seeing this whole thing was a god's will there could be a God's own divine control keeping them in check, keeping them "restrained" until their release (this point is backed up by the biblical text in itself, I can explain that in depth but that would be very nerdge)

2nd theory (the more interesting one) is that it was Angelic Watchers who were loyal angels assigned to watch over the bound angels to ensure they remained in place until the prophesied time. Watchers are a type of biblical angel. There are mentions of there being both good and bad watchers. If you somehow need more proof to believe Watcher angels being this "guard" TrBad talks about then here you go- The term "watcher" (Aramaic: ‘iyr) refers to angelic beings tasked with observing and executing God's judgments.

In Daniel 4, King Nebuchadnezzar has a dream of a great tree being cut down, and in the dream, he sees a "watcher," a holy one, descending from heaven to announce the decree of God's judgment.

Some scholars suggest that, like in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, watchers could have been overseeing the four bound angels, ensuring they stayed restrained until the appointed time of their release in Revelation. They act as messengers and enforcers of divine will, possibly overseeing events and ensuring that God's plans are carried out precisely. (Again there are more points like the bounding the Satan one that back this up even more).

Knowing all this you see how Bad's wording start to make so much sense. "They were kind Guards but not exactly that", they (like Bad) had a purpose and were assigned to do something and knew what they were tasked with just like he was being the angel bound under there (you see what I mean). Bad was bound under the euphrates with when the time comes to destroy half of humanity and those watchers/guards to oversee those 4 angles and make sure they don't escape (one of them being Bad) and when he did escape he had to kill them cause "they were in the way of his purpose.

The Euphrates angels were likely under divine surveillance, possibly by angelic watchers and the first thing Bad did after escaping when the time came was kill that guard. Ofcourse he was bound there for centuries so he must talk and was familiar with this "guard" very well (He says "we were definitely close", "we were pretty pretty close", "we had known each other for so long" cause why wouldn't you be close with the guard when you were literally there bound for centuries waiting for the right time to set free).

Now let's talk about one other thing Bad mentions is the appearance of these "guards" who Bad describes as indescribable beauty and funnily enough the non fallen watchers are found to have been awe inspiring, extraordinary beauty and radiant in appearance....coincidence, idk :D

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight - Mortal Kombat: The Movie

Sonic the Hedgehog and Detective Pikachu helped usher in an age where actual effort was put into adapting video games to the silver screen, but contrary to popular belief neither were the first aversions of the curse on video game movies. That honor probably goes to 1995’s adaptation of Mortal Kombat, a film that feels like it should have everything going against it and yet has somehow amassed an impressive cult following. It's directed by Paul W.S. Anderson (the guy who likes to shove his wife Milla Jovovich into everything and butchered Resident Evil), it has a PG-13 rating and so can't get super gory, it isn't using all of the characters, and just in general it seems an odd game to want to turn into a film. On paper, this looks like it should be a catastrophic failure. But most would say it's not.

Since I’ve been seriously getting in to the series lately and dumping a few hours every night into MK11, I decided now was as good as ever to revisit the film and see if it holds up now that I’m a bit more knowledgeable about the series. I first saw it when I was a goofy teenager who barely knew anything about the series; how do I feel now that I’m a goofy adult with marginally more awareness of the series?

One might find cause for concern upon seeing this film is rated PG-13, but worry not! The rating is just as it should be. Go and look back the MK games of the 90s; the once scandalous blood and gore is pretty quaint and silly these days. And even that aside, teens were the ones who were making the series big so locking them out would’ve inflicted a Brutality on this film’s box office. Nowadays the series is pushing gore to the limits and giving devs PTSD, so the new ones being R-rated is warranted, but I’m not holding the tamer violence against the old one.

And while the violence is mostly tame and bloodless, the action still manages to be pretty rad. The three ninja fights—Scorpion, Sub-Zero, and Reptile—manage to be a lot of fun, and Shang Tsung as the final opponent is solid (helped by the awesome theme music blasting). Sub-Zero’s is a bit weaker than the others, but I’m a bit more forgiving since we got to see him score a Flawless Victory earlier. Scorpion and Reptile get the best fights in the film; the former dukes it out with Johnny and gets a spectacular death, while rhe latter’s fight is so good you forget he’s janky 90s CGI fpr a bit.

Even the weaker fights are entertaining. Sonya’s fight with Kano shouldn’t work, as Bridgette Wilson-Sampras wasn’t able to go through the training needed to make the fights look convincing in time (which I don’t hold against her; she was a late replacement for Cameron Diaz after the latter injured her wrist). But Sonya is cool and Kano is an absolute blast, so it evens out. Johnny vs. Goro does seem a bit anti-climactic after all the buildup the Shokan prince got, but Linden Ashby delivers some great quips and delivers his iconic nut punch so I give it a pass (it’s not like Goro fared any better in the 2021 film). And if nothing else, the effects fpr Goro are extremely impressive.

Really, the writing and performances of the characters that carries this film as much as the action. Ashby and Wilson are great as mentioned above, and Robin Shou as Liu Kang is stellar; he’s such a charming lead who has great chemistry with his costars. It makes me all the more frustrated he was relegated to the background in the 2021 film, because he’s a really good character here so why bother to make an OC? Of course, the big three here are Christopher Lambert as Raiden, who is equal parts funny and mysterious, and Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa and Trevor Goddard as Shang Tsung and Kano respectively, who were so good in their roles that they changed the games to match them more.

Of course, this just makes it more obnoxious when a character isn’t handled well. Kitana in particular is kind of dull here, and I frequently forgot she was even in the film, and as cool as their fights are Scorpion and Sub-Zero being brainwashed slaves leaves zero room for them to have a personality. And of course there’s Goro, who is reduced to an absolute jobber, and Jax who is little more than a cameo. And then there’s Kung Lao, who is weirdly absent and exists only as an ancestor to Liu Kang. It’s like for every character who is done justice another one is either omitted, watered down, or mishandled.

Still, I think a lot of the flaws this film has can be easily forgiven due to the fact it captures the spirit of the games perfectly. The games were a product of the radical, edgy 90s culture, and everything about this movie screams "1990s supernatural martial arts film." It's a relic of a bygone age, and one that's actually aged remarkably well all things considered. Even today, it's still a fun, cheesy action film with some great performances, solid story, kickass soundtrack ("Techno Syndrome" and "Control" being the standouts), and plenty of ridiculously dated effects to laugh at. Even without any bloody Fatalities, this movie has a lot of heart.

Shame about that sequel, though.

[TO BE KONTINUED]

[ctcaptaincorgi]

So yesterday I was curious to know about how Taris was doing after the events of SWTOR. Does it ever recover from Malak's bombardment? And I was very happy by my discoveries. First of all, much to my surprise, Taris is canon! In fact, Senator Kin Robb (from the Clone Wars) is senator of Taris. Second, Taris did recover! It never became as big as Corsuscant again, but it became inhabitable, which I was relieved to learn that in spite of all the tragedies that befell it, it overcame.

I decided to read on the canon Wookiepedia, and apparently the bombardment of Taris is kinda sorta canon in the "we know it's Malak, but we're not going to out right say it" kinda way. Because all that's said is this.

All these details do fit in with legends lore since, it eventually did become an urban world again. Also not to mention that the outcasts, the only people who did survive the bombardment for a few hundred years, did have to live in makeshift homes, especially after leaving the promised land.

But more than that, y'all remember in Rogue One the woman who said, "If it's war you want, then you'll fight alone!" in that war room in response to the idea of attacking Scariff? Well, that lady was the senator of Taris during the imperial era.

Her name was Tynnra Pamlo, and in the novelization of Rogue One, she says a little more

I don't know about anyone else, but I feel that this adds so much to what she says, even in the movie. To be aware that she is a senator of a world and people who have been catastrophically devastated by war and sith empires. A tragedy so great that it took thousands of years to even begin resembling what was lost. It's an event that they'd certainly teach future generations about. How an empire could destroy a world and society within a matter of hours, no matter how great and prosperous, and reduce it to nothing but rubble and ruins. They'd likely still know about how a ruthless sith leader chose to commit mass genocide hoping to kill one woman who opposed him. I'd understand why someone from Taris would be against the empire, but at the same time wouldn't be interested in openly fighting it, especially at the threat of a weapon that could completely destroy a planet and leave nothing behind. Not to mention with a seemingly significantly high chance of defeat. With that kind of history, wouldn't there be a real cause for concern for the death of your people, especially for a planet who has seen it before?

Sorry, that's just my thoughts because I really appreciate how this can connect and deepen the world and characters who live in it. Plus Taris' story is interesting to me.

[nokk0]

@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

[rabbitcruiser]

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

[oseberg-shipper]

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.