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liminsendhelp · 20 days

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Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

Tags: slight description of reader (chubby, muscular, strong, denying gender as a concept), possibly slightly sociopathic/autistic reader, profanity, denial of authority, evil scientist on the way to becoming. tags and warns are the same as in the last post, srry, I don't have time to make it more civilized and readable. Enjoy

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Feck, the next Si thing is gonna be called "coming undone" cos I like korn and I'm funny. just saying

It was decided to start tomorrow.

After breakfast. Which you and Price would attend together. You sleep off the night, decide to skip the rewashing of your bones from a bunch of failed abortion victims smoking at the wall opposite. The thought of talking to them makes your stomach turn. It's disgusting.

At seven in the morning, you're standing at the gym door waiting for Price. You have a huge tracksuit. It's black, it's old, but it's intact. You brought it for the occasion. The lucky one when you'd have to participate in experiments and you didn't want to sacrifice normal clothes for stinky rodents. You end up using it for the same thing.

You hear footsteps at the end of the corridor. "I agreed to this so I could go through the archives. Not to get military training." "And yet. You're here. That's gratifying."

Half an hour. Half an hour of warm-up, treadmill leading to exercise, baffled breathing, and endless sweat. He asks if you need to rest twice. But, God, you just smile and refuse to take any extra indulgences. He's already treating you almost gently. It's infuriating. You're not that weak.

So you grit your teeth and do what you have to do. For the sake of it, you push yourself with workouts at night, and days when some crappy scientific "War and Peace" can only be read while doing push-ups.

"Ever lifted anything?" "Only people." "Weight?" "Last one was three months ago. I was carrying some bloke in my arms. Five kilos bigger than me." You know you're digging yourself a deeper hole than you need to. But really, it doesn't seem like a test, just a regular workout together. Price is calm, attentive and strong. In his wrinkles you see traces of history. There's an skies in his eyes. You wait for your judgement. Your tongue tastes like blood, your throat is sore. You can barely keep your breathing steady without seeming even weaker. Pryce's gaze stops at your neck, the accelerated pulsation of a vein under your skin. "Rest." "I…"

A heavy hand covers your shoulder. A slight push, and you're sitting on a bench with a bottle of water. Wanted to test, now patronising? You blink, blatantly expressing your outrage.

"Don't be stubborn, you can't stand up straight." "Make a nasty joke yourself, I'm tired." You say finally, opening the bottle.

He hums, stepping away to finish his workout without exhausted you. In the couple of days you've known him, it's become strangely easy to imagine the curve of his mouth beneath his silly beard. No. His t-shirt is scuffed up. His body is hairy, too. Ugh. Even that fucking snail trail is straight and… Better than yours. That's not jealousy.

"Ghost." You drop it after a couple of sips. "Always knew how to surprise me."

Changing weights on the barbell. Heavier, heavier, and heavier. You find yourself not wanting to pull more answers out of him, content with fatigue and the sight of someone else's strength. Imagining yourself as an emperor is much easier, watching a gladiator. Enough. Scratching your lower lip with your teeth, you sigh and leave for the shower.

"Wait by the stairs when you get out."

You raise your thumb in the air without turning around.

Seven minutes and twenty-five seconds later, you're standing, washed, dried, and changed. You share a locker with a nice girl who has agreed to give you her number (phone number too) for the nice bonus of three cigarettes. That way you don't have to go through the annoying process of having your name confidentiality violated. Retreating to the stairwell, you open the door to observe but not be observed. Hidden in the shadows of the lower stairwell, next to the mops and a couple of buckets. You wait in silence for him for the fifteen minutes that remain before you leave for the enemy camp. This would all be a lot easier if he were at least a medic. That's what you've been thinking about for hours now. And it's awful. It's disgusting. You know you're falling in love before you're ready to admit it.

For what? That intelligent look in his eyes? How soft he seems compared to everyone else here? Like a boulder amongst the shards of glass and metal. For a little patience and understanding. No, medic's too soft. You'd have less trouble with your feelings if he was a serial killer. A maniac. But he's not crazy. You feel the humming walls of empty space echoing inside his soul. Price seems like a good man, even as Captain. And the fact that he's good at separating himself from himself doesn't let you relax for a second.

Overdeveloped emotional intelligence scares the hell out of you. Because it means he sees you, too. Like that's not a turn-on. Anyway.

He'll be leaving to play hide-and-seek with death in about a month. Official word is that your downsized staff will be moved to new quarters in about three months. Remodelled. Who do they think you are? You signed so many agreements during the transition, there's no doubt something's brewing. On your first day at the base, you joked that they wanted to organise you into a science underground. Dr Moon didn't laugh. So one month, and you'll never meet again. Until then, your only purpose is research.

Ghost didn't eat. Not in front of you. Two days passed. The first interviewees were Soap and Gaz. They were on the list of those whom Price himself was prepared to provide as interviewees. The night before the third day, you did go out for a smoke. It was unbearable.

Five interviews. Three on the first day. Unfocussed answers, half-friendly, half-professional atmosphere. You filled in the blanks not only with the obligatory material, but also with voluntary additions. You had their medical records on hand in printed form. Folders of examinations from the past years. You asked, and only one of them confessed to having lied in the last year. His arm was still sore from the wound. The others were silent. Their incredulity was forgivable. It was only fair, considering you'd still be going through their files as meticulously as possible. Or maybe you wouldn't. Ordinary blokes, nothing criminal. They've all got morals twisted in the same inhumane way that any military man has. Something about duty, about calling, about wanting to help people. Their good intentions were just an assumption. The stupid cruel jokes they allowed themselves while you watched them that evening said more than necessary. Ordinary blokes, ordinary brutes, ordinary dogs. On the second day, Gaz and Soap happened. You don't see Kyle as "Gaz." He's more of a beagle with the intelligence of a parrot (in a good way). Perhaps because of your prior acquaintance, he finds himself a little more relaxed in your company. And allows himself to deny you a look at his medical records. What the fuck. Fuck. You don't smile, just nod, knowing you'll be going back to his files anyway. But, you're willing to do the favour and consider the other candidates first in your work. You pray to your luck that Soap doesn't turn out to be that smart. Unfortunately, luck responds by making him just incredibly annoying. He's joking. No. He tells shit jokes. And not the fatherly type, oh, all the ones that crawl out of Johnny's mouth and fall in a gooey mass at your feet - vulgar, filth.

"That's why you're not married." "How do you figure?" "All your jokes are from porn."

So you're annoyed. Soap has poured such a flood of information on you about every wounding he's done that you're left in no doubt - he's just messing with you. And you have to sit through mountains of reports and thoughts, trying to piece together in intervals the scraps of callus masses that have stuck to your efforts at systematisation. At three o'clock in the morning you pull your petrified arse off the chair and go for a smoke.

So, the wall opposite the wall of smokers. This time, they don't stare at you when they notice you. You're just waved at. Don't get mad. Let them get you emotional once, and you've already lost. You spend a second forming your mask, before walking up to the group with a wry grin. "There she is, the captain's mutt." "Envy is bad, poopsie." You're tired enough from hours on the job not to make any sudden fist movements towards his unbroken nose. Especially since the soldier behind him is already slapping his backside and hissing about how he's going to kick his arse for treating a woman like that. "I meant the wag!" "Fine, so you think before you say shit, hm?" "That's what everyone's talking 'bout!" "About the fact that I'm his…" You take the cigarette out of your mouth, and exhale the smoke downwards without taking your eyes off the joker. The light in your hand is aimed precisely at him. He's silent. "Come on." He's silent. "Come on, keep going." He sighs and scratches the back of his head. You take another puff as the soldier picks up the excuses.

"You mean that rumour I'm his girlfriend?"

A spit in the sky. Exactly at the star. The soldier coughs it up crumpled.

"Well, or fucking him, you can phrase it however you like." "Stop it!" "What's so confusing to you? Quite possible conclusions. It's 'k. You need to amuse yourself. So, keep talking." You take another puff, this time exhaling the smoke exactly into his face. He tolerates it. "You don't think I'm in any kind of relationship with him, do you?" "Sat down with him the first day you were seen together, driving around, fraternising with his crew."

"Standing out, then. Coming out of nowhere, doing whatever I want, talking to people you'd be scared to look at, let alone breathe next to." You cluck and shake your head in feigned sympathy. "And the only option to achieve all that appeal is sex. Am I understanding this logic correctly? And since I'm someone's… mutt, I can't be touched or Daddy will come and fuck you after he rips those uniform trousers, hmm?"

He snaps, says something, but you cut it off with such a disappointed sigh that the soldier immediately thinks of his mother. "I'm leaving. I'm late to pee in the corners and ask for a bone." You say and you bark unemotionally. You didn't think it would start so soon. Well, if it does, it'll be quicker for those idiots to finish all the rumours. Or they'll finally decide you two are together. You weren't going to deny it, you weren't going to change their minds. That would only convince them you were right.

In training, you feel as drained as possible, still completing all the exercises. You don't leave early, as you've done the last two days, but stay, watching Price for a while. He clearly senses that a question is about to follow. You decide not to leave him waiting for long. "Are you married?" "No." Looking still equally thoughtful, you nod. Your lips tighten, your fingers drumming on the bottle cap. "Would you say that your attitude towards me is different from the others on the base?" You say as he finishes the set. "Yes." Short questions, as if you're interrogating him. "Should I be wary of your groupies?" "Are there precedents already?" "Oh, more. There's already a nickname."

About an hour earlier, just before you leave, you're caught by Dr Moon, who doesn't bother to hide her smirk calling you 'Captainess'. Adorable.

"Mutt, Captainess." "They're bored." "Same opinion."

He walks over to the bench you're sitting on, wiping his face with a towel. You hand him a bottle of water. "On the other hand, if they think you're a little more important, will make contact sooner." You raise an eyebrow. "When you come to interview them, I mean."

Of course he's got it all figured out from the start. You have a sneaking suspicion that your reputation might be playing backwards. Or it's just another test. Sometimes you thought your paranoia was taking too important a position in the decision-making battles. But, if you go straight and ask now, would it be… even more suspicious and straightforward than it is now? It's silly, but you say nothing, nodding, going off to separate showers with Price and not thinking about the scrambling anxiety.

Ghost is, again, not eating. He's not with his team twenty-four hours a day, yet he's almost always with them, as if he doesn't think he can fight them off. Not as a guard dog, but as a piece of the puzzle. Except he feels the urge to complete their picture, or does he just not want to feel lost?

You cross out the questions on the sheet again, knowing it's futile. Idiotic. Why the fuck did he say yes? Fuck.

You're not nervous, but Ghost can't help but inspire caustic respect for his strength and stealth. "Totally unlike me," you lie to yourself. It's easy to recognise a mortal possessive when you're the same. When the place of emptiness is taken by something, that something only comes back out gutted. After the last time, you try to stay away from anyone. And all that understanding, respect, keeps you from asking the same annoying questions. You've managed to interview everyone left behind. A reduced list of questions, a learned tactic. Habit. That part of you, laying fallow, covered in the dust of reclusive work, takes root in the top layers of the mask. Sociality, that's it. Ghost is late. You sense it even before he doesn't show up in the appointed frame of time. The sun hasn't yet had time to roll down the axis definitively. You don't switch on the overhead lights, letting the natural light do its job. So far, there's plenty of it. A depressing sight really. But soon, pretty soon, the night will be stretched out for most of the day. Mid-autumn, after all.

When Ghost comes in, you're standing against the wall, making yourself some tea. Not bagged, but real, leafy tea. That's the third reason the rank and file co-operate with you. A handful of insults, a couple of cigarettes, a pinch of good tea. You notice that all the tension around you goes down. You, too, become a piece of the mosaic in this picture. So, in the warmth of the passing day, you mutter a simple tune, adding thyme to a large mug.

Ghost watches, appreciating the immediacy, the humanity of that soft and inner, beyond the shell. It is as if there is no threat, no limits to the room. There is only warmth, steam from the hot tea, and even the sunlit dust stops, afraid to leave the moment of peace. And you stand, making your delicious tea. Settled, at home for a second, completely unafraid. Like a snail getting a new shell. Like you've always been here.

Something, inside, in a cut for the soul, where he doesn't dismiss the possibility of foolish and civil happiness (if not for himself, then for his loved ones), quietly clicks.

Not a maniac, just a lost girl.

The dust specks still drift in the air the same way, the light framing the artistic shagginess of your hair. Nothing changes for a second, three, ten, and then Ghost sees your ears rise, your back tense, your humming quieten. You don't look away from the window where you've been staring at the ant milling about for the last minute. But you let him know you know, as if he hadn't noticed it himself.

"Do?" You lift your mug of tea. "Do." The door closes behind him.

When he leaves, you're devastated. Because, he really did answer questions. But you can't take any of this into work. It's too much revelation and secrecy. It's too much revelation and secrecy. Ghost almost put his cards in your hands, willingly. Another test? No. Is this how your relationship with Price affects your reputation? There's two empty mugs in the corner, next to the sink. You don't wash them, so you can keep the confirmation of his ghostly presence and the story you'll take to your grave.

#tf 141 #john price #price x reader #limin #price #captain price #captain john price #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #x reader

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ubervillez · 3 months

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Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce 1/5

When I saw @extraayogurt 's architecture/design lot for their hood I loved the concept so much I knew I had to add it into Belladonna Cove. The idea is so clever and imaginative and would never have occurred to me in a billion years, so lucky for me they were so kind to share this nearly cc-free lot!

It's the lot I play with when I'm stuck on a current lot I'm working on or feel like I've hit a block and just want to decorate something without thinking too hard. It's got all of these cute little sections that I'm slowly filling up and I can change them when I want!

I like to have a show in the background while I'm simming/doing anything and lately it's Mad Men! I think seasons 2-5 are some of the best in TV! It's funny (to me) to kind of see glimpses of what I was hyper focusing on throughout my game. Like in my last save, one of my Sims had two pets named Cassian and Nesta because I had just finished ACOSF and was still obsessed.

SCDP would have been interesting as an architecture/interior design firm instead of advertising lol this lot is certainly more fun decorating it as such instead of making it into an ad office.

#ts2 #sims 2 #the sims 2 #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 pictures #thesims2 #ts2 pictures #sims 2 interior #ub: 2024 #cate maxis makeovers

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clonerightsagenda · 7 months

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Sometimes I think about how Kepler's role was cast gender blind and Gabriel said if the character had been a woman she would have been named Miranda. Would the Tempest parallels still have been invoked then? Would Miranda Kepler be a "my father will hear about this" nepo baby? Would she still break with Goddard and would that turn into a huge family drama? Would Pryce's backstory change or is Cutter going around filling his company with sinister adopted daughters? Rachel is lucky he didn't scoop her up when she was younger. Imagine being 40 and the baby of a family full of eternal 25 year olds.

#pryce: having to make a cringe prosthetic for my fail baby sister who has embarrassed us once again #wolf 359

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septima-severa · 1 month

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I finished reading Thrawn...

Oh my God.

Don't give Eli Vanto a cigarette, give him a full shipping container of them instead.

What the heck have I just read? This story is... very interesting, to say the least. I have fallen down the Thrawn rabbit hole deeper than I had anticipated, and well, curiosity killed the cat as they say. Before this, I knew only a few things: he is a Chiss, he held the rank of Senior Captain with the Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet (for that I have to thank my rather shallow digging on Tumblr, not the Ascendancy books that I might or might not read sometime in the future), and the Empire found him exiled on some godforsaken planet. Except that this man claimed almost at the end of the book, while "negotiating" with the Nightswan on Batonn, that he hadn't been sent to exile by his own people in the first place. Now I can say that I don't understand a blasted thing here. So, had he been exiled, or was it a ploy to probe at the Empire's existence to deem whether sleazy Palpatine was a future threat to the Chiss Ascendancy, or what the heck is going on here?

Also, I got more than I bargained for. I guess sending Eli Vanto, whom Thrawn nurtured for bridge officer corps instead of Eli's dreamed career with some supply chain, to the Ascendancy made sense in a way. Right now, I still know nothing about the Chiss, but the whiff I caught around the internet tells me that they might be superior to the Empire also in the navy training... Well, I guess I'm fine with that.

But Arihnda Pryce. I've never watched Rebels, and I knew her only from some stories circling around. And I've never liked that woman. Then Zahn describes her as a badass who learned how to cheat politicians in the best school of life (by that I mean Coruscant, of course), and I liked that idea. Shows nicely that the Empire has the same plague going on in high places as the Republic. But then she pulls that crazy stunt at Batonn in the end? I hate her. And I take it very personally. How dare she? What will she gain from butchering a whole mine of people? Was her murdering the ISB agent the only motive necessary to detonate the explosives? Really, this was some arc I didn't anticipate.

It was almost laughable how Thrawn went through one court-martial after another, only to have the charges dropped and himself promoted. It might be hilarious to read the scenes of those court-martials themselves. Except there weren't any direct ones. What a pity.

And tell me, why was ISB Colonel Yularen satisfied with that simplistic explanation of Thrawn's? And did he eavesdrop to the entire conversation with Nightswan or not? It would be funnier if he held the blueberry man at the blaster point for some time longer. Like... Those about ten pages of this scene were the best of the whole story, to my opinion, and I would gladly have them framed on my wall if I wasn't bristling over the idea of destroying a book. That was some content giving me chills and laugh of my recent life, both at the same time. And it also left me immensely hungry for another serving. I just need to know where this story will lead the reader to!

Frankly, not many books do this specific thing to me. Maybe because I generally avoid reading a series, because these started growing madly like mushrooms after the rain, and we know what some authors do to their readers: abuse their trust by postponing the next book, giving lame excuses (we are looking at you, G.R.R. Martin, you are the leading jerk of them) - or they write so quickly I can't read their rather sloppy story anymore. How lucky for me that this Thrawn trilogy has been published already. And it's not sloppy at all.

Let's go read some more!

Maybe I will then abandon my wish to play a round or two of Dejarik with this warlord mastermind.

#star wars #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #book review

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heartlandians · 2 months

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Exclusive Interview: Spencer Lord Discusses the Mystery Around His Character in Heartland, Teases Family Law Season 3, and More

Spencer Lord is one of the industry’s most exciting new voices. After leaving a career in the corporate world behind, Spencer dove headfirst into acting and has gone on to land coveted roles in projects, including Riverdale, The Good Doctor, and Family Law. It’s his vulnerability, subtlety, and emotional depth that have captured the hearts of audiences around the world.

Currently, Spencer can be seen starring in the latest installment of Heartland. In Season 17, Amy (Amber Marshall) and the rest of the Heartland family know better than most that while dreams can sometimes come true, more often life takes us in unexpected directions. Spencer shines as Nathan Pryce Jr., a mysterious character who rolls back into town and holds a special place in Amy’s heart.

Pop Culturalist was fortunate enough to speak with Spencer about Heartland, bringing the many facets of Nathan to life, the upcoming season of Family Law, and more.

PC: You graduated with a mechanical engineering degree and worked as a project manager. What ultimately led to the transition to your work as an actor? How challenging was that pivot? Spencer: I went to university because it was the next “logical step” and pursued a technical degree because I was always praised for my aptitude in science. When I entered the workforce, I think I started to be more honest with myself. I was unhappy, sometimes severely depressed, and eventually realized I needed a huge change if I was going to feel whole. That’s what I know now. At the time, it was just, “I hate this job, I want to love what I do.” So, I started going to scene study classes, got some work at a restaurant, and quit my desk job.

In some moments, I thought I might be an idiot, giving up a steady gig for something as fickle as a career in acting, but I never once second-guessed myself. And I immediately fell in love with it. I love venturing out and trying new things, not knowing what’s next—like wading through water in the dark. And I get bored easily, so the irregularity of this industry ironically soothes some of my deepest anxieties. In a lot of ways, the pivot from desk job to struggling actor was the easiest decision I’ve ever made.

PC: Who or what has had the biggest influence on your career? Spencer: I could bore the hell out of anyone reading this and write a ten-page essay about the people, places, and things that have influenced me along the way. But I think I can boil it down simply to community.

My sense of community has grown and flowered into one of the most beautiful aspects of my life. I’m so, so lucky to find myself among a group of friends who care deeply for one another and inspire each other in myriad ways.

PC: You’ve had a lot of success already in your young career. When you look back, is there a particular moment that stands out? Spencer: The first class, signing with the first agent, being dumped by the first agent, signing with the agent I should have been with all along, the first booking, being on set for the first time (and every time), working with some truly lovely people along the way… I could go on, but it’s all been a sort of fantastic magical mystery ride, and I’m always just doing my best to appreciate every moment of it all.

Most recently, I got to work in the foothills of the Rockies, riding horses around on vast swathes of ranch land in Alberta. That was pretty damn cool.

PC: You recently joined the cast of Heartland. What can fans expect from Nathan? What was it about this particular character and series that resonated with you? Spencer: Mystery is starting to become a theme here because that’s one word that I would use to describe Nathan. But the mystery is really born from a damaged sense of belonging that he feels coming back to a community he was forced to leave after his parents separated.

I was raised by my mother as well after my parents separated and my dad moved away. As a boy, I idolized my father. Later on, as a man, I realized that I hadn’t really discovered who I was because I had modeled myself after someone who simply wasn’t me. I think Nathan is experiencing something similar. Having to step into his father’s shoes with regard to the ranching business while retaining his unique personality and autonomy is his challenge, all while bearing his father’s name.

Shirking the expectations of our parents ain’t always easy, and Nathan feels that.

PC: Your character finds himself returning to a town that he left several years prior, and it isn’t well-received by all, a situation you’re bringing much depth and nuance to. As an actor, how did you create the space for yourself to tackle the journey that Nathan finds himself on and shedding those walls? Spencer: What a compliment. Thank you. I must say, I found the writing did most of the work over the course of the season. Mark Haroun, the showrunner, really wanted Nathan to have a real rawness to him. He did a beautiful job slowly revealing Nathan’s character in a way that felt natural. All I had to do was, as you say, create space and say the words.

That’s always our job as actors. We’re blessed with words on a page which, if we’re open to receiving them, inspire us to action. I’m always trying to be more open and create space for spontaneity, in my work and in my life. As for how I do that, I’m not sure. Self-discovery for sure. Curiosity. A lil’ dash of yearning for adventure. In the end, it’s all a big… you guessed it. Mystery.

PC: This series is built on the relationships among the characters. Which was your favorite to explore this season and why? Spencer: This might be the obvious answer, but Amy and Nathan’s interplay pulled me right in. I appreciated the chance to explore a friendship that grows through adversity, has highs and lows, and isn’t just a simple “I like you, you like me, let’s be best buds.”

Nathan is emotionally stunted by a tumultuous upbringing, reintegrating into a community he was forced to leave behind and taking control of his dad’s ranch. Amy’s family runs a competing ranch, and her father and grandfather don’t care for Nathan’s business tactics, but she shows Nathan kindness in spite of her family’s jaded opinions of him. To me, these are very interesting circumstances.

These are the nuances and complexities that bring the characters closer to life, and that is my jam.

PC: Season 3 of Family Law will be released on the CW on January 17, 2024. Congratulations, by the way! What are you most excited for fans to see with regard to Aiden? Spencer: Thank you! I think the fans will get to see a softer side of Aiden, and a little more of an idea about why he’s so attracted to Abby.

PC: Playing Aiden is the longest you’ve lived with a character. Has anything about the experience surprised you? What has been the biggest takeaway thus far? Spencer: I take things as they come, and so far with Aiden, that’s been a pretty great experience. I think the biggest takeaway so far has been to allow that to happen, taking things as they come. The world of TV can change so fast, and when you sometimes have very little time to digest the material, the most you can hope for is a story that is exciting and dynamic, and that flows through you with ease. Susin Nielsen, our showrunner, and her team of writers, thread that needle so wonderfully. I’m very grateful to work with them to bring Aiden to life.

To keep up with Spencer, follow him on Instagram.

Source

#heartland #spencer lord #interview #pop culturalist #season 17 #nathan pryce #other projects #family law

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anoray · 9 months

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Ahsoka vs Thrawn pisses me off, because that conflict wasn't built up well at all and rather than get a Rebels season 5 devoted entirely to the characters, we have their arcs revolve around Ahsoka like Ezra, Hera, Sabine deserve better than this shitshow.

Sabine calling Ahsoka "master" lmao what a joke.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts! I think the biggest story development problem I have with Ahsoka spearheading the hunt for Thrawn and Ezra is that she was gone after the end of Season 2. Thrawn entered the picture in Season 3.

Ahsoka never had any involvement in all the trials and tribulations the Rebels went through with Thrawn. Ever. And Thrawn is really the main nemesis for Hera because he invaded her home on Ryloth, he took her Kalikori, and he used it against Hera when she was being tortured by Pryce by goading her about the loss of her brother. To add salt to the wound, Thrawn basically expressed that Hera should feel lucky her family's treasured heirloom would become part of his art collection rather than be tossed away upon her execution . That is all on top of the Rebels who were under Hera's wing on Atollon who got wiped out by Thrawn. So, if anyone has a major bone to pick with Thrawn, it is Hera Syndulla, not Ahsoka.

As for Sabine and Ahsoka, I am curious to see what kind of backstory the show provides regarding their relationship plus how it moves it forward because these two had absolutely zero onscreen time together in Rebels. Because they never had any direct connection to begin with, it was hard to feel excited about them teaming up for the grand search for Ezra at the end of the Season 4 epilogue. Frankly, it will be a real slap in the face to Kanan and Ezra if they make Sabine Force-sensitive with Ahsoka her master. That said, I don't think they'd tease such a huge development in the trailer if that's what's really going on, but I guess we shall see what we shall see.

I intend to view Ahsoka with an open mind and wait until all the episodes air before forming any final opinions. For now, I'm crossing my fingers that this "Season 5 of SWR" per Filoni keeps the Ghost characters front and center as they so deserve if this is indeed the continuation of their story.

#star wars rebels #ahsoka show #things that make you go hmmm #please don't let this show suck #it already doesn't have kanan so there's that #thanks for the message anon!

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laytonnpcbracket · 9 months

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ROUND 1 POLL 65 SIDE A

About the NPCs (may contain spoilers -- proceed with caution!):

Clover Pryce was the proprietor of the Lucky Clover, until an accident lead to her untimely demise in her own shop.

Otherwise known as: Katja Adler (German); Kate Adler (Spanish); Éléonore DePrie (French); Sora Prez (Italian); Bonnie Fortuna (Dutch)

Tom is Babette's dog. Flora kidnapped him.

Otherwise known as: トム (Japanese); 톰 (Korean)

#professor layton #pl #clover pryce #tom pl #professor layton and the diabolical box #layton's mystery journey #round 1 #side a

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klaasje · 2 years

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Just wanted to say if you had any stray Jean/Kim thoughts I would love to read them :O

After Martinaise, Kim takes Jean under his wing.

A week before he officially transfers, Harry is placed on indefinite suspension/sick leave/informal recuperation while Pryce fights his corner against the Moralintern. Harry is lying low with Lena (at Lena’s insistence). Morel is across the river at the university, reporting his research on the phasmid. Kim is at the 41st. He immediately realizes that Satellite-Officer Vicquemare is grieving, lonely, and out of his depth.

Case in point: he stays too late every night, pecking away at an ancient typewriter. Dark shadows loom under his eyes. Torson and McLaine (and everyone else), amuse themselves by cracking jokes about Tequila Sunset ditching the RCM for good. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times they’re corrected or who corrects them: nobody at the 41st appears to have any faith that Harry will be coming back at all.

All of this is making Jean worse at his job. Kim has noticed, and he has decided to point it out. This does not go as planned.

“You think I’m not up for this? You think… what, that I don’t have the guts to run a task force—?”

“No, I think you’re smart,” Kim says evenly, unrattled by this posturing. “You have sound instincts, you’re good with your people, and you know how to lead. You’re also understaffed and overworked. I can help.”

Jean doesn’t say anything. Internally, Kim allows himself a little exasperation. Men can be so territorial…

“I’m not territorial,” Jean blurts out. “I’m not an asshole.”

Kim waits, quiet and curious, for the rest of this sentence. Jean lets out a strangled growl of a sound and drags one hand down his face.

“This situation is making me behave like an asshole,” he says through gritted teeth, “but I’m not. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Likewise,” Kim says honestly.

Jean’s grey eyes flick up to meet his. They look weary and contrite.

“I’m sorry, he says. “If I act above my rank, lieutenant, it’s because I work above my rank. I don’t have a choice. I know I’m out of my depth in this, believe me… but it’s been months since I followed any orders. That’s all. It’s not intentional, I’m not trying to undermine you.”

“I don’t want to give you orders,” says Kim. Jean’s brow furrows.

“Pissing contests don’t interest me,” Kim explains to him, not unkindly. “I’m not here to requisition your partner or take your job. I just want to do my job, part of which is working with you.”

“Okay,” Jean says. He looks equal parts bewildered and relieved.

“Okay,” Kim agrees. “Good.” He pauses. “Do you feel any better?”

Jean nods stiffly, scuffling the floor with the toe of his shoe.

“I’ve been wanting to apologise for a while, actually… I can’t imagine how this must look to you.”

“How do you think it looks to me?”

“Oh, like a shitshow,” Jean says bitterly. “C-Wing is a disgrace to the force, at this point. The only saving grace was our clearance rate, and now even that’s gone to ground. They’re going to take us out back and shoot us.”

Over the course of a month or so, Kim redistributes Jean’s workload until it’s suitable for one person. He shows him radio computer passwords and gives him advice and tells him all the things lieutenants are supposed to be told. They begin the long administrative slog of clearing Harry’s case backlog together. They’re lucky: it ends up being a quiet summer for homicides. The new cases that pop up are run of the mill shootouts and drug busts, so they can delegate them further down the decomptage. But this is Jamrock, and nothing good lasts forever — which is how Kim finds himself, three months to the day since that first Monday in Martinaise, grimly helping to wrestle a body bag into the Kineema’s holding cell, while torrential rain sluices bright blood into the storm drains and gutters.

It’s filthy work. Jean stumbles once it’s over and done with, pale-faced. Kim steadies him with a hand on his back. Jean glances back at him and nods.

Summer ends. Everything is complicated. Bureaucracy is excruciating. Martinaise is full of loose threads and ghosts. Harry has been taken to La Delta for questioning. Jean is not dealing with this as well as he says he is.

Cunoesse throws stones at them from the roof of Cuno’s shack while they investigate the greenhouse drug stash. One hits Kim’s glasses dead-on and cracks the lens. Cunoesse cackles like a howler monkey. Kim takes his glasses off and turns around without a word. He hides it well, only stumbling once by the broken fence, but Jean still notices. Kim can tell that he notices, because he hears Jean’s footsteps change pace behind him — he slows down, like he’s watching. They continue walking. Kim squints. The Kineema is almost in focus across the plaza. As they get closer to it, its chassis blurs into a hazy blue fog.

“You don’t have to walk behind me, detective,” Kim says. His voice is as mild and unruffled as it ever is.

Jean snorts.

“Considering the amount of insubordination I subject you to, I think the least I can do is walk behind you.”

He opens the Kineema’s side door and steps back so Kim can climb into the driver’s seat. The engine is still cooling down. It’s warm inside, and the misted up windows cocoon them. Kim takes his glasses off and goes to rub his eyes. Jean grips his wrist.

“You have glass on you, hold on,” he murmurs.

Kim nods and tips his head back. Jean studies his face, waiting for sunlight to catch on the pieces and make them glitter so he can carefully pick them away one by one. Kim’s dark eyes remain open, watching him.

“How do I look?” Jean asks.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kim says drily, which makes Jean laugh. “There should be a spare pair in the glovebox, could you…?”

Jean leans over him and pops it open. He passes the new glasses to Kim, who wipes the lenses briefly on his white undershirt before placing them on his nose. The world slides back into focus. The car’s engine clicks softly to itself as it cools. Kim breathes in the comforting smells of waxed leather and fuel oil.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jean says gruffly. He steps back and away, sliding into a loose parade rest, ready to walk behind Kim again.

Three days later, they snap at each other’s throats. They have to spend the night at the Whirling, because it’s October in a coastal city and the first gale of the season is raging with savage enthusiasm outside. The hostel, at least, is doing good business despite the weather: it’s bustling with dockworkers and camion drivers. Jean is lounging by the counter of the bar, talking to a faceless someone. The karaoke music is very loud. Kim does not like music or the look of whoever Jean is talking to. Jean is like “I can talk to whoever I want,” in a shitheaded, bullish way. Kim points out, “when you’re not on duty, yes, you can.”

Jean says, laughing in disbelief, “are you PULLING RANK on me?” which leads Kim to say, “officer,” in a very sharp and disapproving lieutenant-y voice. Jean snaps into silence like a reprimanded schoolboy. Kim shuts his eyes.

“Jean,” he says. “A word, please.”

They go upstairs. Jean is silent and sullen until they reach their room, and then he is silent and sullen inside their room.

“I’m not a junior officer, you know,” he mutters, whirling around as soon as the door closes. His patrol cloak flaps irritably at his heels. “I’m not a teenager, this isn’t juvie.”

“I know that,” Kim says.

“Okay.” Jean’s voice is tight with barely repressed rage. “Then why are you treating me like this?”

“When we’re in uniform, we’re on the clock. We represent the RCM. Our jurisdiction here is tenuous as it is, it isn’t helpful to undermine it by… fraternizing, so to speak, with the local population.”

Jean starts to laugh. It is a horrible laugh.

“Is there a problem?” Kim says icily.

MISTAKE, his juvie instincts warn, lurching suddenly to life. BEWARE. YOU HAVE ENGAGED WITH HOOLIGANISM.

“You know, if you’re not going to sleep with me, I’m still going to sleep with other people.” Jean is loosening his tie with sharp, jerky motions. His voice is shaking a little. “You can’t control me, that’s not how the world works.”

Kim is shocked into silence. His mind is nothing but white noise.

“If you don’t want to, fine. I won’t take it personally. But don’t you dare tell me who I can and cannot—”

“That’s enough,” Kim interrupts, coming back to himself; aware, on some level, that he has broken his own cardinal rule and raised his voice. He cuts Jean off. “We’re done for today. You’re dismissed.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You’re dismissed,” Kim repeats firmly. “You’re hysterical, officer. I’ll drive you to the station in the morning and handle this myself.”

Jean laughs in disbelief.

“I’m hysterical?”

Kim tips his head forward for a moment, exhaling through his nose. Jean lets out a breath and looks away. There’s just enough light pollution filtering in through the curtains to make his lashes shine wetly. His mouth trembles for a moment, wavering, before he appears to wrench it under control.

“I’m your superior officer,” Kim says, at last. Saying this makes him feel very weary, all of a sudden.

“Interim superior officer,” Jean mutters.

“I outrank you, regardless.” Kim hesitates, before adding, “and I’m too old for you.”

“I’m thirty four,” Jean says, incredulous.

“I’m forty three,” Kim points out.

“Good for you, who gives a fuck.” Jean is scrutinising Kim’s face now, still flushed and rumpled from crying, but his professionalism (or sheer stubbornness) has won out. He looks handsome like this, which isn’t helping Kim’s resolve. “None of these are actual reasons, are they? You’re just avoiding the question.”

Kim rubs the bridge of his nose where his glasses rest. A headache buzzes, mosquito-like, in his peripheral vision, threatening to rise up and swallow him whole.

“You’d distract me,” he says. “I can’t afford that right now, and neither can you.”

“So, just to clarify,” Jean says slowly, “you can’t sleep with me because if you did, you’d never get any work done?”

Kim shuts his eyes.

“Yes.”

“But you want to sleep with me.”

Kim cracks an eye open. Jean is studying him intently. His expression is impenetrable.

“Do you want me to?”

“Don’t be stupid, please, it doesn’t suit you,” Jean murmurs. They’re so close, now. Chest to chest, nose to nose. They’ve edged towards each other without realising.

In the morning, after the rain has stopped, they get coffee in little styofoam cups from the Frittte around the corner. They drink it on the bench in the bombed out square, looking out at the unsettled sea. The tide is coming in.

“I want to take the lieutenant’s exam,” Jean says. “Properly, I mean.”

Kim sips his drink and hums approvingly.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll put your name forward.”

“Thank you.”

Kim nods in acknowledgement. Their boots tap together under the bench.

“Last night…” Jean murmurs. “It can’t happen again, I know that. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Well, I am,” Jean says. “Take it or leave it.”

They settle in comfortable silence. Kim watches a military aerostatic drift over the bay, its rotors casting shadows and ripples on the water.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

Kim glances at Jean.

“He’s in La Delta,” he points out. “Not Ozonne.”

Jean’s answering scowl is deeply indignant.

“Nevertheless,” Kim says smoothly, as though he hadn’t seen it, “If you want my opinion — yes, he’ll come back.” He pauses. “I don’t think anything could stop him from coming back.”

He’s needed here, he thinks, but he chooses not say this part out loud. Jean has dealt with enough derangement from the chain of command. There’s no need to add to it unnecessarily.

Jean nods, tracing a circle on the bench arm with his index finger. There’s a bruise peeking out from his shirt collar which Kim tries very hard not to look at. The post-storm sunlight has turned his hair a tawny shade of brown. Revachol is tired but stirring, blinking awake, shedding summer like an old coat.

“If he doesn’t come back,” Jean murmurs, “if he leaves me, what do I do?”

“You write him a station call,” Kim says mildly. Jean barks out a hoarse laugh. “But somehow I doubt it will come to that.”

#THANK YOU FOR THIS… WE SHARE A WARRIOR’S BOND #ask #anonymous #fic tag #this is supposed to be part of a longer fic but hopefully it makes sense in its current form (hot mess first draft) lol

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blackmonitor · 2 years

Note

You got your own fic. I’m jealous! But on the other hand, one cannot look at your wonderful art and not feel inspired.

For most of my life, stories have drifted through my consciousness, some of them given life - most of them disappearing into the ether-sphere. Lucky for me, I have enough ability to choose what comes to life and what lies dormant.

The same cannot be said about my artistic abilities, or lack of therein. Try as I might, I cannot bring to life those images that are inspired and then permanently trapped in some sort of art purgatory. Much like the unfinished Prisoners sculptures that one can view in Italy.

When @myevilmouse created your fic, I remember thinking of one of the famous lines about the Iliad, the face that launched a thousand ships, (loving how “ships” takes on a new meaning in fic). I got to thinking at this point that it goes both ways: fic can be inspired by art, and art can be inspired by fic.

You and Mouse have entered into a unique artistic relationship that demonstrates this two-sided approach to creativity. However, whilst most of your creative impetus seems to be inspired by by the @myevilmouse Thrawn-Pryce series, the recent Thrawn on vacation seemed to have a life all to its own…and what a life Mouse gave us!

I would like to take this time and ask a few questions (as I am want to do) and get more familiar with what inspired you down this road into the world of Thrawn and friends.

Pardon me if this is well trodden territory, but can you give me a little background on how you became a digital artist?

How did you swerve into the dense world of Star Wars - particularly Mouse fic?

Most importantly, the Bonus Question:

Must you read, see or watch something to inspire a creation, or does it just pop into your head? (Remember, my imagination has many prisoners in it that never see the light of day)

Your art makes me happy when I look at it. There is something light and uplifting about the style. I hope that you continue to gift us and grace us on a frequent basis for a very long time.

Be well

First of all, thank you for this beautiful ask! I enjoyed even reading it!

(And now, excuse my bad English 😅)

I found it fascinating reading about the beginning of your ask. And I get what you described as art purgatory...

"...Thrawn-Pryce series, the recent Thrawn on vacation seemed to have a life all to its own…and what a life Mouse gave us!"

I agreed. She is so talented at doing that!! And every single of her stories that I have read so far is perfect for my taste! I'm thrilled that I found her and her excellent fanfics and that she tolerated me so far and even encouraged me with her super nice words through a few hard days!

Background of how I became a digital artist:

Oh, is this real life? Is someone interested in that? And someone like you called me an artist 🥹 Well, sorry, I have no short answer for this, it's a bit complicated.

My father was a photographer, and he changed to digital photography in 2000. I was ten years old back then, but because I always had an affinity towards technology, I was super interested in that. He bought his first Photoshop and started to learn how to retouch. I spent a lot of time in my father's photography studio, and I began to help him out, learn how to be a retoucher, and use photoshop. I worked with him for long years. I loved the background works of photography.

I enjoyed drawings but didn't feel that they were good or anything. I mostly just decorated my history books at the school and did some fanart for myself to decorate my wall. Then I attend a photography school after high school. I met a wonderful person, a painter, K. who was an art teacher there. We needed to make an art portfolio of our previous drawings, and everyone had a proper portfolio because they came from art schools - models with drapes, isometric studies, fruit-piece, beautiful works and all.

In contrast, I had only silly fanarts from World of Warcraft, a drawing about horses, and one lineart about a Xenomorph or Boba Fett; I don't even remember now, lol. But he became my mentor, grabbed me by my arm, looked at my silly little doodles, and said: Young lady, you need to work on this. You have potential!

It was flattering AF. There were students there who learned drawings for YEARS! They could draw anything way better than I. But he decided to help me out and gave me his attention.

So he guided me, and with his help later, we figured out that I have a little talent for making sculptures, and he helped me get into a university, where I had the opportunity to meet a great sculptor and learn from him. I won't mention his name for a reason. But I went to this university, and finally, I could study drawing and sculpture, not just as side courses next to photography. A dream came true.

And I learned many things there. My style (heavy lineart, which was praised by K. back then) is stupid, and I'm worthless and have no chance to become an artist. That a woman should not be a sculptor, and I'm not special, I have no talent, my art is boring and silly, and I should not be there. Most professors looked at me weirdly and tried to break my enthusiasm, and they didn't help me get better or give me any advice. Because of my "childish lineart," I was mocked for years. And this was more than enough to crush me. I quit after three years.

I started to draw digitally during those years to get positive feedback on what I desperately wanted. I got a few. But still, I stopped every form of art for years.

Throughout my life, I got used to mocking what was towards me as a person. I have buckteeth, and people mocked that, freckles - that too, I'm a nerd with glasses - mocking, clothing (I dressed as a metalhead for a decade) - mocking, religious beliefs or because I played World of Warcraft as a woman... I met with a lot of negativity.

But it's just words from other ordinary people. When someone who is supposed to guide you, their job is literally to make you better, teach you how to become an artist, says that you have no chance to achieve anything, that's another thing. Saying stuff like your personal style is valueless, and didn't even try to help me improve because I'm not worth it... my dream became a nightmare.

I was able to move on, and my life went in a better direction, just without any form of art. But with some professional help, I could rediscover that I want to create things again. But then I recognized that I lacked digital skills and knowledge, which I lost over the years.

But now, as a stay home mother, I have the free time to reclaim those lost things and improve. My husband helps me a lot and provides me with everything I need to help me with my dreams.

So I started to draw again on my iPad and discovered Tumblr. I'm practicing, improving, to be better. I try not to measure it by notes/likes, and I try to make stuff that I enjoy. So that's the story of my digital art.

"How did you swerve into the dense world of Star Wars - particularly Mouse fic?"

I was always a Star Wars fan. I loved the OT and the Prequels (I know, I know, but I do!), and I love reading the books equally. I loved legend Thrawn and have a soft spot for Boba and Luke too. Then the new Thrawn and Eli Vanto joined to the party.

And one night @foreverforty2 sent me a link with the Imitation first and the Interpreter shortly after. I read them. And it's started.

I love the writing style of @myevilmouse. It's so mature, with lots of detail, and always feels real. Researched beautifully, and there was nothing that stopped me from jumping on the Thryce train. 🚂 Choo choo!

To answer the bonus question: BOTH.

I have a list on my phone, so I collect ideas there. When the rare occasions happen when I have nothing to draw, I just look for inspiration there.

About my prisoners (or art purgatory): I have a few. I sometimes sent stuff like that to a few people, then sometimes mouse posted them like the Thrawnbine stuff 🤭 But I have no problem throwing away halfway done stuff to the trash, then starting from the beginning again. Of course, I have a few WIP, which I probably won't finish, but I still took them to a point where I found them enough to upload.

Thank you for your thoughts, the praising, and of course, your questions! You provide the opportunity to share something about myself. Sorry for the long answer 🤭

#Ask #ask box #blackmonitor #story of my art #too long answer

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 7 months

Text

The Pains We Endure | Chapter One

Masterlist | Ao3

Summary: September 1st, 1889. Edith Pryce begins her new position as assistant librarian at Hogwarts, a role few think is necessary. The school's gruff potions master is not the kind of company she usually keeps. When Edith must ask for his assistance, she finds that there is more to him than meets the eye, but it is easy to get on his bad side. (Aesop Sharp x OC)

Chapter Rating: PG

Chapter Warnings: None!

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Victorian Romance Lite. I made up strain of belladonna (I think?) for my plot, don't hurt me. Doing my best to meld historical accuracy with what I think the wizarding world is like, and honestly just making choices I think will suit the story. Takes place the school year before the events of Hogwarts Legacy. 1 of 6.

—

Though it was a warm September morning, Edith shivered in the shadow of the castle looming before her. Hours before any students would arrive to start their term at Hogwarts, Edith stared at the heavy wooden doors in trepidation. It had been a mere seven years since she had walked these halls as a student. She never dreamed she would return as a member of staff.

Not that the title of assistant librarian was prestigious. But Edith was lucky to have it, lucky to be at Hogwarts in the first place. There was no place safer, after all.

“Right this way, Miss Pryce,” Mr. Moon prompted her to follow him through the now open doors. “Your belongings will be taken to your room; have no fear.”

The quiet, empty halls transformed Hogwarts into an entirely different place from her memory. Cold isolation greeted her, rather than the warm welcome home she anticipated. Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls as Mr. Moon led her through the corridors and up stairs until they reached the faculty tower. He stopped in front of a room that appeared to be a lounge, a fire blazing in the hearth surrounded by several sofas and chairs. Clearing his throat to get the attention of the room’s single occupant, Mr. Moon spoke, “Professor Weasley? Miss Pryce is here.”

Matilda Weasley smiled widely when she saw Edith step into the room. “My dear Edie. It’s wonderful to have you here, at last. You had a pleasant journey?”

The tension building in Edith’s shoulders suddenly vanished. Edith swept over to the older woman and took her hands, beaming. “Matilda, it is so good to see you. You don’t know how grateful I am for your help in securing this position.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear girl.” Matilda gestured toward a low table sitting in front of the fireplace. “I’ve just made tea. Would you like some?”

“You know a good of tea is my weakness.”

Seated on the sofa, Matilda placed a hand on Edith’s shoulder. “How have you been holding up, my dear?”

Edith nodded through a sip of her tea, almost spluttering as she swallowed. She expected questions. Just not so soon. “Some days are worse than others. I try to remember I’m fortunate to be here, but sometimes it feels incredibly unfair. But I’m ready to focus all my attention on this job. You won’t regret this, Matilda, I promise.”

Shaking her head, Matilda smiled. “I am not worried in the slightest. I think you’ll find yourself right at home with the rest of the staff. Headmaster Black is looking forward to meeting you later.”

Ah yes. The man’s reputation preceded him, but Edith wasn’t worried. She had grown adept at staying out of the way, and she would be no different with the headmaster. He would hardly know she was there if Edith had her way. Fading into the background, everyday hum of life at Hogwarts was her ultimate goal. To simply exist in basic comfort until she was forgotten. Well, forgotten by one person, at least.

The uneven gait of limping footsteps brought their attention to the doorway. The man who stood there paused, his surprised gaze landing on Edith. His shoulder length hair matched the dark brown of his eyes, the scruff on his chin unable to hide the scar that ran down the right side of his face. He recovered from his surprise at the newcomer’s presence and joined them, taking a seat in the armchair across from Edith.

“Ah, Aesop. This is Miss Edith Pryce. She is our new library assistant,” Matilda said in introduction. “Edith, Professor Aesop Sharp, our potions master.”

Edith bowed her head in greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Professor Sharp.”

Aesop’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Library assistant? I wasn’t aware we needed one.”

The girl before him certainly looked the part. Her black hair was pinned up neatly, dark eyes glittering with the intelligence of someone who often had their nose in a book. She even dressed like a librarian, in hues of blue and grey.

Edith shifted beside Professor Weasley. The man’s tone said it all. A useless girl filling a useless position. She expected others to feel the same; not everyone would be as welcoming as Matilda.

Hogwarts had never needed a second librarian before. It was painfully obvious that Matilda was doing her a favor, and Edith expected rumors and suspicions. She was prepared to weather them.

“I thought Miss Scribner could use an extra pair of hands,” Matilda said. “And a second pair of eyes, given the mischievous batch of students we have found ourselves with these past few years.”

Aesop’s gaze slid between Edith and Matilda, looking unconvinced. “I’m sure Miss Pryce’s presence will prove very useful.”

Edith didn’t think he meant that in the slightest.

—

The next few days were a whirlwind. Edith felt like a first year, trying to get her bearings around the castle anew while adjusting to her new job. It wasn’t especially difficult, simply carrying out tasks Scribner didn’t have time for - or didn’t want to do herself. But it kept Edith occupied, and she enjoyed feeling useful.

It was not even a week into term when Scribner gave Edith an assignment she wished she could refuse.

“Doxies. I don’t know how they got in here, but if we don’t get rid of them soon, we’ll have a full-blown infestation on our hands. I need you to speak with Professor Sharp.”

So she had left at once.

Edith took a breath, steeling herself as she approached the potions master’s office. She had already come to know his gruff demeanor, and she wasn’t looking forward to asking him for a favor.

Nevertheless, it was her job. Professor Sharp sat at his desk, looking over some papers. His brow knit in concentration, and perhaps pain, he looked severe as ever. She rapped her knuckles softly on the open door. “Professor Sharp? I’m sorry to interrupt.”

He glanced up from his papers, but did not spare her a long look. “Not sorry enough, it seems. What is it?”

Though uninvited, Edith approached his desk. It wouldn’t do to shout at him from the doorway. “We have a small doxy infestation in the library. Miss Scribner said you have a potent recipe for doxycide, and we wondered if you might have some available?”

Aesop rose, scanning the shelves that lined the room. “I don’t have any prepared, but I can brew a bottle. It will take a bit of time. I can bring it to the library this afternoon.”

Edith clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you, professor. That would be much appreciated.”

She turned to leave when a glint of silver on his desk caught her eye. “This badge… were you an auror, Professor Sharp?”

Bottles clinked as Aesop continued to pick out the ingredients he sought. “I was.”

Edith stared down at the badge, musing over what it represented. “Facing dark wizards requires a great deal of bravery.”

Facing them without bravery always ends in disaster.

A scoff. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.” She heard him pause. “You can probably guess how that ended for me.”

She thought of the way he favored his bad leg. An injury magic had yet to cure. How long had Aesop lived with his pain? Longer than she had lived with hers. “Injured in the line of duty?”

Aesop turned to her. “I barely escaped with my life. My partner was not so lucky. If not for my own overconfidence, things might have been different.”

Edith stared down at the auror badge. A memory swirled upon its polished surface, one that entered her mind unbidden. The flash of green light. That terrible scream. The breaking of her heart. “Bearing responsibility for another’s death is not easy.”

“Miss Pryce?”

Edith looked up to see him raising an eyebrow at the sadness in her voice. “I apologize, professor, I have taken up enough of your time. I shall leave you to it.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she left the room. There had been something in his eyes when he looked at Edith. A flush of annoyance. A bit of impatience. Aesop thought he understood her, of course. But no one really understood Edith.

Not even herself, sometimes.

Edith returned to an empty library. She stared up at the two stories, the rows of books and shelves, the alcoves and reading areas. So many perfect places for doxies to hide.

“Can’t clear them out if you can’t find them,” she muttered to herself.

So she began the arduous task of seeking out the doxy nest.

It took at least two hours to search the lower floor, and Edith found herself frustrated at the end of it. She had found nothing but a few stray creatures that quickly flitted away when revealed from their hiding places. Which left the entirety of the second floor needing the same thorough attention.

Edith climbed the spiral stairs, squinting at how dark it was compared to the fire-lit comfort of the floor below.

“Who left those curtains like that?” The question was posed to the empty air as Edith’s gaze landed on a half-covered window. Sighing, stalked to the window and flung open the curtains.

With little shrieks and gnashing of tiny teeth, a cloud of doxies flew out of the drapery. With a yelp of surprise and terror, Edith turned and ran back down the stairs. The doxies pursued, flying much faster than she could run. Almost tripping over the last few stairs, Edith snatched up a book left on a table. One doxy flew into her face, taunting her, lunging at her, its teeth bared.

Edith swung the book, knocking the doxy out of the air. With an affronted noise, it zipped away and out of sight. The rest of the cloud of doxies scattered. A few stayed behind, crowding her like gnats as they flew at her face. A few more swings of the heavy book sent them back to their hiding places, except for one. It dove at her, tangling itself in a loose lock of her hair.

Edith yelped as it tugged on her hair, trying to free itself. Her weapon was useless, for she could not swipe at the little beast without hitting herself in the head. She struggled against the doxy, eyes burning as it felt like it was trying to rip her hair out.

“Arresto momentum.”

The doxy froze, and Edith wasted no time freeing herself from it, throwing it to the ground. Professor Sharp cleared his throat, and she spun around to face him. “Do librarians prefer books even to wands?”

Sighing in relief, Edith laid a hand over her chest. He looked back at her, an eyebrow raised in bemusement, holding the doxycide aloft.

Edith tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear, trying to restore a little of her decorum. “Professor Sharp, your rescue is most timely. These little monsters are simply exhausting.”

With a soft thump, Edith laid the book on the desk, happy to be free of its weight. She reached out for the bottle of doxycide, and felt her fingertips graze his skin as she took it. He drew his hand back quickly, both of them pretending it hadn’t happened.

“Do you know how to use it?” Aesop asked, his stoic gaze landing on Edith’s face.

Edith nodded, smiling reassurance. “Yes, I’ve tangled with doxies before. I shall manage.”

“Use it sparingly, if you can. I won’t be able to make another batch for a while. This is the last of the silver belladonna leaves from my stores. This particular strain is difficult to procure here.”

Professor Sharp didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in his tone. Edith’s polite mask remained in place when she answered. “I will apply it prudently. You have my word.”

There was a rustling sound on the upper floor, and Aesop caught sight of a few doxies flying around.

Edith sighed. “I had better get to work. Thank you again, Professor Sharp.”

“Take care not to let them bite you,” Aesop called over his shoulder.

“That is indeed my priority.” Edith called down from the spiral staircase, ready to wage war with the doxies.

—

The library was closed for two days while the offending creatures were removed. On the morning of the third day, Aesop entered his office to find a little woven basket sitting on its surface. He eyed it warily as he approached, then realized it was full of immaculately harvested silver belladonna leaves.

Aesop lifted the basket and peered at it, finding no sign of whence it came. But then, there was only one person who knew that he had used the last of this ingredient. With a huff, he set the basket back down on the desk and headed back for the hall.

The library was busy with students catching up on two days of lost studying. Edith scurried to and fro, directing students to books they sought, replacing books abandoned on tables, and occasionally cleaning up doxy droppings that she had missed. It took Aesop a few separate attempts to flag her down.

She approached, giving him her full attention, still holding a book. “Something you need, Professor Sharp?”

Somewhere in his mind, Aesop might have noticed how pale Edith was today, seen the dullness in her eyes, noted the way her fingers lingered at her temple when she brushed her hair back. But he took none of these things into consideration when he spoke.

“I assume you are the one who left a basket of belladonna leaves on my desk?”

Edith looked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You said you were out, didn’t you?”

“And you were kind enough to gather the leaves because you think I am not capable myself.” He accused her.

Aesop had seen the look on her face when she asked about his auror badge. Her tone of voice when she asked about his injury was full of patronizing sorrow. He would not suffer some slip of a girl waltzing into the school and feeling sorry for him.

“I beg your pardon?” Edith’s eyes were wide with confusion.

Edith lowered her voice, her next words a hissed whisper. “I don’t know what I have said to give you this impression, but I assure you, pity is the last thing I feel.”

“Then why go to the trouble?” Aesop asked. “I’m capable of replenishing my own potion supplies.”

Edith scoffed, blinking in disbelief. “It was merely meant to be an offering of thanks, in exchange for using the last of your supply on the doxycide. If I have offended you, Professor Sharp, I will gladly take them back and put them to another use.”

“Where did you get them, anyway?” Sharp asked. “It grows in difficult to reach places. Am I to believe you’ve been climbing cliffs around the highlands?”

“On the contrary, Professor Sharp. I cultivated it.”

“Cultivated it?” Sharp asked, disbelief filling his tone.

Edith nodded.

“Silver belladonna, unlike its common counterpart, is difficult to grow in controlled conditions. Hence its rarity.” Aesop was aware he sounded like a badly quoted textbook, but he couldn’t conjure any words of his own.

“Yes, I know. I’m very good with plants, professor,” Edith said sharply. She wasn’t about to admit it was one of the few things at which she excelled.

Aesop opened his mouth to respond when a first year approached Edith with a question. “We can discuss this further another time,” Aesop suggested as she turned away.

“I hardy think so, Professor Sharp,” Edith said over her shoulder. “I have nothing else to say on the matter.”

Aesop stood there for a moment, staring after her. It was the first time he had heard such a flippant tone from the usually soft-spoken Edith. Shaking his head, he made his way back to his classroom. He needed to find a jar for those leaves.

But it was just the beginning of a very trying day.

Incompetent first years, students using the library’s closing as an excuse for incomplete assignments, and the ever-exhausting Garreth Weasley were just a fraction of what he had to contend with. The addition of an approaching rainstorm left Aesop’s leg aching, and his disposition souring every minute. He sighed in relief when the last of his students filed out of the classroom, signaling it was time for dinner.

Aesop sunk gratefully into his seat at the Great Hall, looking forward to a hot meal and a moment of peace. Though, since he seemed to have insulted Miss Pryce, he wasn’t sure peace was on the menu. Perhaps he should apologize?

“I think the term is off to a rather successful start, all things considered,” Matilda was saying.

He saw her gaze slide to the empty seat at the table. “Is our new library assistant not joining us?” Aesop asked dryly.

“Miss Pryce sends her apologies,” said Professor Weasley. “She has taken to her room with a rather nasty headache.”

“Poor dear,” Miss Scribner commented. “I think she’s exhausted from dealing with those doxies. She was quite thorough, but I don’t think she has the constitution for that sort of work.”

Aesop did not comment. He felt a tug of something unexpected as he heard of Edith’s absence: disappointment.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x oc

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crystalelemental · 11 months

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Unit Teambuilding - Irida

Barring Flareon, I think Glaceon is my favorite Eeveelution. It's such a cute design, and while I hate ice in real life, Ice types are actually one of my like...second order favorites. Psychic, Grass, and Fairy outrank them, but I do love Ice types. So it always bugged me how bad Glaceon was in the main games. Ice is notoriously bad, and Glaceon is one of those Eeveelutions with almost nothing to its name. But once again, Masters delivers to me something beautiful. A Glaceon that isn't just good, but is legitimately one of the best Pokemon in the game. And Irida’s the guaranteed lodge unit next month per the reveal trailer they put out, and is highly likely to have Flareon as the opposite to Adaman’s Vaporeon. What a time to be alive.

General Overview Ice Zone has entered the meta. The type that needed this buff the most...got it last. Incredible. On the plus side, they picked a doozy of a sync pair to give it to.

Irida's main claim to fame is her field effect setting. Ice Zone is accompanied by her passive, Watch for Ice, which summons Hail upon its use. Both effects go live simultaneously, which is a massive benefit to many Ice-type pairs. Moreover, her main passive, Space Spreads over Hisui, ensures all comps benefit from these conditions by protecting all allies from Hail, powering up their moves during Hail (amount unspecified, probably 20% given SS Lana), and quickly charges gauge. Her main attack, Icy Wind, debuffs speed per hit and is AoE, and her grid offers both Satisfied Snarl 9 and Mind Games 9 for a lot of debuffing potential. Her Buddy Ice Beam is a one-shot -4 to special defense as well, making her incredibly fast-acting for Gauntlet. Irida's got the second strongest Ice-type sync nuke in the game, losing only to SS Silver, but being around 50% stronger than Ghetsis at full capacity. Like Adaman, Irida has some really nice tools for tanking on the special side, and her final passive is Vigilance, which is not only fantastic as a side to protect from rogue Sure Crit AoE moves in Gauntlet, but gives her a lot of freedom with lucky skill as a tank. Irida has a metric ton of utility.

So okay, what's the downside?

Starting from the top, Irida has no MPR on her Zone. This is incredibly damning, as unlike a pair like SST Red, her expansion of the effect is not innate, and it's only Extension 3, leaving a lot to be desired. While she gets a third application, it's only through entry, which is a damning method of access, as you burn a lot of your timer on team setup. Her debuffing covers a wide range of stats, but is only -1 per hit, which is very slow-acting around her other traits, so she’s slow to set up multipliers. To compound this issue, her buddy move kinda sucks ass. -4 special defense is nice, but it's single-target, and 1MP. This is not something that impacts all targets in a 3v3, and the lack of repetition limits its impact on stages where special defense buffs happen regularly. Her sync nuke, while respectable within her type, is only okay by broad Tech standards of the current meta, and to access that full power sync, you MUST give up Hail Alert, which is its own nightmare because her sync's natural ability is Hail being active. Lastly, while her tank set exists, being hit with First Aid 2 and no other pop healing means she will not be as consistent nor reliable as Adaman, who tops out at 70%. I don't think she'll be pulling in his solo rates for Gauntlet.

As an added frustration, Irida's support skews special. She's SC Ingo in that way, where the debuffs are focused on one offensive type, leaving the other fairly high and dry. As a result of her choice, she works well with Ghetsis, Lorelei, Pryce, and BP Candice, but in exchange, she works worse with the top Ice-type damage dealers in Hala, Winter Leon, and SS N, as well as options like Summer Steven, Candice, SS Silver, Winter Nessa, and the most tragic of clowns, Wulfric. Because more Ice-types are physical than special, her decision is questionable. But, as a tradeoff, the Sinnoh Spirit Master Passive, combined with her ability to support any team, even if they're not reliant on Hail or even Ice-type, serves her much better than Adaman. Adaman had so few options to work with in Sinnoh it's hilarious, but Irida has a metric ton of specially offensive partners in Sinnoh. Cyrus, SS Cynthia, NY Dawn, Lucas, SS Cyrus, and especially Fantina love her contributions. And debuffing special attack is a rare commodity that, partnered with boosted move damage and protection from Hail, means she works well with Devastation/Overpower picks like Alder and Diantha, who are tough to shop for.

I'm going to be honest, Irida is like...the ideal design for a sync pair in my book. She is exactly the right level of stupid good at her job, but notably flawed to not feel disgustingly overpowered. Fantastic range of support through a unique zone, a struggling weather condition, and debuffs. Acceptable but not exceptional damage contribution, so she helps net the KOs but doesn't overshadow her partners. Fun variety with potential tank sets. Irida offers so much without feeling overbearing, and after the absolute bullshit of third anniversary and Galar Neo Champions, I legitimately thought DeNA just forgot how to balance a Master Fair. Glad to see we're back on "Good but still fun."

EX and Move Level? Same as Adaman. Given sync is a big draw, Irida could really use the 3/5 for damage. 1/5 can be used just fine for support, but you do lose out on the valuable Mind Games and field effect extensions, so be mindful of what you're using her for.

Team 1: Irida, Pryce/Lorelei, SC Jasmine/SS Dawn/P!Mallow Let’s start with a simple one. Pryce finally gets to matter with Irida. Hail gives Starting with my personal favorite angle, Irida salvages the missing pieces of Lorelei. Oh, and Pryce too. Both are specially offensive options that are Not So Great. Pryce loves having the full 60% move damage bonus of Hail with extension, while Lorelei just needed as much as you can hand her. Support is striaght-forward. SC Jasmine offers quick-acting crit and Safety Net strats. SS Dawn is a great pick for Ramp Up 2 Lorelei, thanks to her own All Ramped Up. P!Mallow is a slower option that works really well for Gauntlet.

Team 2: Irida, Ghetsis, Lodge Dawn/Melony Another F2P adjacent team. Ghetsis is a great beneficiary of Irida, thanks to her speed debuffs setting up his natural multiplier. This frees him to use Noble Roar Double Drop to instead set up multipliers. The choice of support is a matter of power or consistency. Lodge Dawn powers up Sinnoh Spirit, and you will be seeing her a lot on this overview. Irida and Ghetsis both need +2 special attack, and after that can focus on gauge and bulk, which is all Dawn does. Melony is the alternative, that offers Precision Pals on trainer move to ensure Ghetsis' Glaciate always lands

Team 3: Irida, BP Candice, Glacia/Lodge Dawn Another F2P adjacent one, and I reference this specifically because I have a vision of making BP Candice workable. Glacia is another that offers the exact +2 special attack needed, and can buff crit rate per attack, solving some of Candice's setup. Irida once again offers every form of damage increase possible to provide to Candice. The specific joy I have is in the idea of EX BP Candice. Did you know she has Super Syncer? Explode sides with all the powerup Irida offers, then SEUN Blizzard with max capacity. I gotta try. Glacia's a notable partner due to the appreciation of Hail. She gets more recovery and much improved physical defense this way, and Irida's reduction of special move damage through Master Passive is much appreciated. But if you want full Sinnoh, Lodge Dawn is here as always.

Team 4: Irida, V!Agatha/V!Bruno/Colress, S!Steven/W!Leon/Hala Irida may not support the physically defensive offensive pairs, but listen. She doesn't need to. Physical defense debuffing is incredibly easy to support. Many do it themselves. More importantly, we have Variety Agatha as an ideal candidate, and Bugsy's Scyther as a backup, who pack Leer as a debuff. If you're really ambitious, there are Screech options too. If needed, given their effective self-setup, you can run Colress for Screech support instead of a support, or let Irida tank, depending on the stage’s offensive abilities. I also want to draw particular attention to Hala, who's always been a pain because he lowers speed and wants it to stay lowered for his multiplier. Irida packs two forms of gauge acceleration. She can help patch up Hala, but you’ll want a support with good speed.

Team 5: Irida, Fantina/Giovanni, Lodge Dawn/Lodge Morty Let's begin the non-Ice discussion. Irida's passives blocking hail damage and offering a DPS boost while Hail is up, means she supports anyone. With a Master Passive to boot, this can add up to a lot of extra firepower. Fantina is probably the biggest winner of this, given her tech nuke of Smarty-Pants. Irida's Mind Games 9 and Buddy Move allows Fantina to get to full power sync easily. Lodge Dawn gets the stats Fantina needs quickly, while providing full Sinnoh Spirit benefits. Otherwise, Morty provides better matched Theme skills for Fantina. While not Sinnoh, I'm going to add Giovanni as someone with Smarty-Pants/Brainteaster that Irida supports, so we can keep track of how many types she's working with.

Team 6: Irida, SS Hau, SS Mina/Lodge Dawn SS Hau is a particularly funny option with Irida. Thanks to his passive skill of applying +1 special moves up next on every field effect activated, his combination with SS Mina was already known for producing some good damage. What happens when you add in someone who adds two effects on entry, and per use of their Zone? What happens when they further boost your Buddy move's DPS through a Master Passive and added damage under Hail? Irida and SS Hau will truck stages really well. Mina is better defensive backbone and more field effects, Dawn is better Master passive effect.

Team 7: Irida, Alder/Diantha/Karen, Lodge Dawn/SS Mina Really trying to justify pulling Mina here. Irida can debuff special attack! This is a rare multiplier to worry about, but it functions well for both Alder and Diantha, who need that debuffed as fast as possible. Lodge Dawn offers a the usual, but also has Struggle Bug for even more special attack debuffing. SS Mina allows Alder and Diantha to start blasting turn 2. Of note, both Alder and Diantha are DPS units. We're playing to Diantha's Devastation nuke a bit, but her DPS is where it's really at. And Irida offers two stacks of bonus damage, of at least 20% each. 40% more move damage, on a dude with Hyper Beam, and a lady with Hit the Gas 5/Fairy Power 5 Moonblast. While not as overpowering, Karen also benefits from these debuffs.

Team 8: Irida, Cyrus, Lucas As mentioned, Sinnoh has plenty of powerful special attackers, and Irida can tank. What better way to use that ability than a dual strike comp of two solid DPS units, with ideal self-setup? Lucas and Cyrus want for nothing offensively, and the Dragon Zone effect overriding Irida's Ice Zone doesn't matter so long as Hail remains. This is also Full Sinnoh, so 50% bonus move damage on Roar of Time. Have fun. While you can do Rain with Hydro Pump, this kinda invalidates Irida's main reason for being here, and relegates her to a glorified special defense debuffing tank. Who loses some bulk because no Hail. I'm not going to say it can't be done, only that it shouldn't. And who knows, if SS Cynthia ever gets a grid expansion like she desperately needs, maybe she’ll work well in a comp like this instead.

Team 9: Irida, NY Dawn, Support Dragonair Another way to use Tank Irida is to place the frail support bot on the side. Dragonair tops off Irida's special attack, and notably caps Dawn's crit rate thanks to Dawn's double buff. Dawn complements Irida's tanking well thanks to an immediate -4 Attack through Featherdance. Interestingly, you can swap Dawn as the main tank. She's evasive, and gains nice benefits from the Master Passive as well. There are options

Team 10: Irida, Cheryl, Thorton/Darach/Volkner/BP Candice Let me tell you about Cheryl. Cheryl and Irida are BFFs now. Irida can actually tank, while Cheryl has a tough time with physical assaults. Irida cannot heal herself reliably, but Cheryl provides +2 to both defenses on a healing trainer move. Cheryl also tops off Irida’s special attack, and provides a bit of speed as well. For Gauntlet purposes, Thorton is a good flinch rate, Darach debuffs attack where that may be needed, Volkner supplies paralysis (and flinch), and BP Candice just does the damage thing. All of these are chosen for Sinnoh reasons, but you can use something more consistent for a specific role as needed.

Final Thoughts I feel like you can always tell when I’m really excited about a sync pair, because I’ll have like ten team options when I talk about them. Irida’s going to be a delight. I love her kit. I love that it’s Glaceon. I love that she actually compressed Ice Zone and Hail into one unit, defying my expectations. I love that they threw in Mind Games 9 for no reason. I love that she can tank. I love how well she works with some of my favorites in Sinnoh. I love that she has legitimately great supportive effects beyond her primary role. I’ve always leaned more Team Diamond Clan, but Irida is so the favorite now.

Reverence ended toward Almighty Sinnoh (False Time), now Almighty Sinnoh (Blessed Space) is my True Deity.

#unit teambuilding #irida

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