#they both served in war

[brighteuphony]

I love Chiyo- and I kind of headcanon her as a Witch of the Woods (Sands???) archetype- a bitter old woman who has sacrificed too much, experienced and committed more atrocities than anyone can imagine, and who knows the truth about what lies in the hearts of men to live among the villages anymore.

In my AU she's got a pretty dark backstory. Back in time when Villages were just getting established, women weren't allowed to be shinobi in the same capacity as men. There was too much warring and death among the clans to risk women, so they were only ever allowed to serve as spies or medics. (Chiyo started off as a medic).

And like any military/fascist dictatorship, serving the state was more important than anything else- so women who were kunoichi were given missions to steal and return with powerful bloodlines. Even before villages, this was a common fear among clans (which is why so many of them have protective measures and inbreed/arrange matches very carefully).

Chiyo was one such woman, who took a X-rated mission in her youth because she was told it would 'serve her nation'. There was a powerful bloodline whose Kekkei Genkai could harden sand to something akin to Steel- something Suna very desperately wanted.

Chiyo succeeded in her mission, but despite the veneer of 'serving your nation', when she returned, she was considered, in her words, "Just another whore."

Then when her son didn't manifest the bloodline- it was worse, but Chiyo was happy because that meant her son was HERS. (This is when she met Enji, and he saved her son's life at great cost- so Chiyo owes him a blood/life debt.)

Then the war came, and they needed women to fight so now serving the nation meant something different, and Chiyo became a full fledged 'shinobi' and turned her healing towards poison and death- especially when she had to fight the Salamander.

Then she sealed Gaara and that was the atrocity straw that broke the camel's back and she dipped out Suna and retired to an oasis. She's still a healer, but adamantly refuses to serve shinobi.

Once again, thank you so much for these asks and all the support for this AU?

@youngpeacearbiter

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[prideprejudce]

AU Reds Poster: Alicent joins Rhaenrya as her advisor and wife after escaping her father's influence.

She escapes Kings Landing with Helaena and her grandchildren just in time. Unfortunately, her father has already sunk his teeth into her two sons who are ready to fight for their right to the iron throne. How will Alicent choose between her family and her beloved Rhaenyra when the time comes?

[lesbianpegbar]

i think one thing that’s funny about ajin (aside from everything about it) is that if you only know about it from the anime or general cultural osmosis you think that kai is gonna be a secondary protagonist and our yaoi bait but when you read the manga it’s like no he’s. gone. for dozens of chapters. and then they just drop this other guy who looks kinda like kai if you squint into the narrative and he is Always there and fills that role instead. sorry guys the childhood friend is gone here is this kinda stupid random construction worker instead have fun

[plusultraetc]

okay but what if seeing quirkless pro hero Deku on the news inspires quirkless former-pro Takami Keigo to try the whole hero thing again, but this time on his own terms

[essektheylyss]

Obsessed with the solidarity between Brennan and Zac over their religious epiphanies in the last seconds of their falsely religious PCs' lives....

Versus the absolute dichotomy of Raphaniel Charlock's erroneous writings being discovered by the eventual Pontifex of the Bulbian Church compared to the final gift of Lapin Cadbury to a young duke of Candia.

This is what Calorum's all aBOUT, BABEY!

[alienoresimagines]

*Going to see Harding before the Münster mission briefing*

Bucky: Sorry it took me so long to arrive, I broke down on the way here.

Harding: Oh, is your jeep ok?

Bucky: Jeep?

Harding: …

Bucky: …

[rosykims]

can you fucking imagine if instead of the mourn watch or lords of fortune factions we'd instead had an inquisition and agents of fen'harel faction . personally i have not stopped thinking about it once since finishing veilguard but maybe thats just me

[tweedfrog]

Thinking abt human sacrifice in westeros in ASOIAF I rlly rlly do love the idea that it was practiced openly in the north but died out (except on skagos allegedly) when the Andals came and now people view it as barbaric but it just happens en masse but they call it something else....Northerners tithing men before the beginning of winter and giving them to the Nights Watch based on luck of the draw....Southerners setting up whole tourney circuits and melee battles where men die brutally for entertainment. It's all still there you just call it a different thing!!!!

[astrolaboo]

“i didn’t get attached to the twins story to care about them / i don’t get why kill yord and jekki so soon what was the point of them then”

in my honest opinion? skill issue on your side my dudes

[morninkim]

"Years of fighting. Bots and Cons falling left and right. Dying on our behalf. No more. We settle this now, Megatron." "Just the two of us then? To the death? Ahh, brings me back to the pits all those centuries ago. Very well then, today will be the day the great Optimus Prime finally falls by my hand." "Only one of us is walking away from this rock functional, old friend. It will not be you."

~ Audio from Optimus Prime's remains at the sight of his final confrontation with Megatron that ended the Great War. circa 2003.

Audio encoded by Soundwave, Memory bank recovered by Ratchet

[jomiddlemarch]

By Yonder Shining Star

He had not expected to begin with a reprimand.

“I don’t bite, you can stop lurking in the doorway,” Dr. Blythe said, not glancing up from the chart she was writing in. Foyle suspected she would have sounded much the same if he’d come upon her while she finished closing an incision after a long surgery, the same wry tone that had a hint of impatience in it. There were few enough female surgeons in England, even fewer egalitarian ex-pat Canadians, so it didn’t take much to infer she must be brilliant and driven, used to those around her finding her an anomaly. An Original, they would have said once in London society and been more accurate perhaps, but not a remark he’d offer if he wanted to get anything helpful from her. That’s why he was here, he reminded himself. It had been a long while since he’d needed reminding about his work.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I’m—”

“You did mean to interrupt and you’re Detective Superintendent Christopher Foyle of Hastings,” she said as she laid the pen down. He’d heard her described as “attractive enough” and had wondered enough for whom before he met her. Now, he found himself pinned by her grass green eyes, startled into silence like a green lad, feeling a fool as he hadn’t for years.

Decades really. Sam would burble in wonder to see him struck dumb while Milner would only give a brief and comradely nod of recognition.

“You’re well-informed, Dr. Blythe,” he said.

“You expected that,” she said. “That’s why you’ve come, to pick my brain, to winkle out some piece of information, some cipher that will break the code you can’t. To solve your case. It is a Godawful mess, I’ll give you that. The pathologist’s report was quite detailed. Almost literary.”

“I’ve come to ask for your help,” he said simply. Because he thought she’d prefer it and because it couldn’t think of what else he might have said.

“You might as well sit down. You’ll have to forgive me—I can’t offer you a cup of tea or even a biscuit,” she said. “I haven’t an assistant who sees me fed and watered.”

Something about the way she’d said it was an alert.

“The other surgeons do. Any of the nurses are glad to fix them a cuppa,” Foyle offered.

“I don’t know about glad, exactly, but it’s in that general way. I’m meant to fend for myself. It’s my own fault I’m not much good at fending. I was spoiled, growing up, with our housekeeper Susan. There was never an evening without a little snack prepared and her solution to any problem was the teakettle on the stove and a slice of fresh pie,” she said. She had a square jaw and her auburn hair was sprinkled with grey and tucked back in a practical snood, but there was a certain whimsical nostalgia in her expression. “She was a splendid bustler, our Susan, and that you may tie to, Mr. Foyle. And now I’ve run on and run and you want my help or whatever help you think I can give you, so you may as well begin winkling.”

“You have a way with words,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me. I’m by far the least eloquent person in my family. It’s no accident I’m a trauma surgeon,” she said.

“It was an observation,” he replied. “And it’s because of your family I’ve come to speak with you.”

“It’s Walter,” she said, any dry humor entirely gone from her voice, from those arresting green eyes. Saying the name of her brother dead these twenty odd years aged her; Foyle saw the lines her face fell into when she despaired, the nights of grief that never entirely abated. 

“Yes. Because of what he wrote, Dr. Blythe,” he said, wondering if the clarification would bring her any relief. Wondering at himself for thinking of that first. Rosalind, who’d ever been generous, would not begrudge him an interest, a possibility, but he worried what it meant for his duty to the dead men, whose murders he was charged to solve, no matter that other men were dying across the Channel, that he risked making Diana Blythe’s hand unsteady when she held a scalpel or a needle trailing suture. 

“A poem,” she guessed. Hoped? The alternative was most likely one of his letters, perhaps one he’d written to her, one she wouldn’t want to surrender or corrupt by handing it over to be part of a criminal investigation.

“Yes. The poem, the famous one,” Foyle said.

“The Piper,” she said, her color back. “He’d have hated it, positively loathed what happened with that. All the breathless sentiment, the rallying and the women who memorized it, that sickly sweet melody Tremaine wrote for it—I swear it would be tattooed over half of Canada and all of PEI if people thought it was within the bounds of polite society. It’s not even close to his best work, I want you to know—”

“I know. I met him. In the trenches,” Foyle said.

“Fuck,” she said softly. And then, “I beg your pardon, I shouldn’t speak so—”

“Plainly? You can’t imagine I’d take any offense,” Foyle said. “I met your brother only a few days before he died.”

“Before Courcelette.”

“Yes. I was very young and he wasn’t much older, but he’d been fighting for several months longer than I had, maybe a year. I didn’t think anyone could live that long in that hell and still find something worth living for. Could still remember anything beautiful,” Foyle said.

“It was that bad?”

“It was worse,” Foyle said. Something in her face told him she would not challenge this, nor would she make him explain. Rosalind hadn’t done either, which was why he hadn’t cracked up entirely before Andrew was born. “Whatever he wrote to you, it was worse.”

“He didn’t tell us anything. Not even me,” she said. 

“You were close,” he said.

“I thought so. The night before he died, he wrote a letter. To our younger sister Rilla and a friend, Una. She was in love with him, Una, we all knew that, but he didn’t love her that way. I thought we were close, closest to each other over everyone, but he didn’t write to me,” Diana said.

“Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps he knew you would be able to tell if he held something back. If he lied to try and protect you,” he said.

“Perhaps. Is that what you did, Detective Superintendent Foyle? Did you lie and keep secrets?” she asked. No one had ever dared before, not Rosalind, who’d admitted once she did not want to know everything about him.

“Christopher. My name is Christopher,” he said. “A long time ago, I was Kit. That was when I knew your brother.”

“I’m Diana. How does Walter’s poem have something to do with a triple murder?”

“There have been five murders thus far,” Foyle said. “It’s complicated, will take some time to explain. There’s a Lyons round the corner, quiet enough this time of night. We might have that cuppa—”

“If there have been five murders and somehow my brother’s poem is crucial to finding the killer, I’ll need something stronger. Bitter will do. I’d offer to stand you a pint, but I imagine that’s not considered ethical,” she said.

“No, nor gentlemanly,” he said, surprising himself.

“We’ll go Dutch,” she said, getting up from her desk and walking around to take down her coat and cram her barely fashionable hat upon her head. The coat flapped around her legs, obscured in a pair of drab tweed trousers, an unremarkable pair of brogues on her feet. She was beautiful.

“We haven’t much time,” she said, passing him at the door.

“I know it’s late. You must have an early surgery tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes, but that’s not what I meant. I ship out in a few weeks,” she said.

“France?”

“France,” she said. “I never wanted to go before. And now I can hardly wait.”

“I won’t waste your time,” he said.

“No, I don’t think you will,” she replied.

[dukedooku]

So I have a star wars fic I started writing in highschool and haven't updated since the summer before I was in college, but I'm reworking it so the timeline makes sense and there's an actual end point plot wise

It's a fix it where Plo Koon receives a vision and stops Sifo-Dyas from dying when he was supposed to die from Dooku's conspiracy with the Pykes (32BBY), but I've done more research and now plan on adding mandalore and jedi reformation plots to it as well

Do I just make a new Ao3 story or rewrite chapters and just say in the newest chapter that old ones have been updated?

[redrosesandcharmingsouls]

Bear with me for a second …..Earien x Mirdania .Both of them with prejudices/mistrust over their other kind ,them not clicking of both their strong personalities ,either one of them having to go to the other’s place a la study abroad thing (who is also for strengthening the alliance between men and elves after years of mistrust) and the other being assigned to guide the other ,they getting into a kind complicated but very devoted homoerotic thing .

[thetruearchmagos]

Fun fact: thanks to such things as 'the linear passage of time' and 'human aging', making a character exist at all in one WIP means putting an upper limit on how far back in time you can reasonably drag them and still have them actually be old enough to do anything interesting

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel for the unhinged character bingo!

yessss YEEEESSSSSSSSS