#harkening back to those heady days of Person of Interest

[leupagus]

Also I really want to talk about Edwin Akufo because

a) hottie

b) THAT ENTRANCE, THOSE FINGER GUNS, THAT SMILE, A LEGEND JOGS AMONG US

c) the little thing about him not shaking Ted’s hand, then shaking Sam’s, and Ted going on his first of SEVERAL face journeys in this episode being like “...harsh but fair”

c.1) Ted seriously, what the FUCK was that hakuna matata joke, also why did Sasha Garron... include that whole exchange??? Unless it was to allow Edwin to say in the most gentle, “oh my god you’re like labradoodle-level stupid,” “Well, Timon and Pumbaa are cartoons,” which to be fair Ted might not... know.

c.2) Watching Ted and Edwin interact could have been horrifically embarrassing and kind of was in that first moment but like - Edwin’s so incredibly self-assured and affable, it kind of works?

d) he’s SO CHARMING, like SO CHARMING. Like Ted-levels of charming but with Rebecca-levels of poise and that whole scene in Rebecca’s office I was like, “whatever this guy wants he should have,” even though then I was like “wait but he wants Sam nooooo”

d.1) the suggestion that instead of the owners deciding, let Sam decide for himself was real interesting, and even more interesting that Edwin was the one to suggest it. From what I gather, a lot of times players under contract don’t usually get much of a say, so Edwin wanting to put the power into Sam’s hands is telling (also obviously because he thinks he can charm Sam’s pants off, but still!)

e) BUYING OUT THE FUCKING BRITISH MUSEUM (lol) AND THEN FILLING IT WITH ACTORS, A LEGEND INDEED

e.1) “I’m a billionaire who doesn’t believe billionaires should exist” either this guy is gonna turn out to be a Big Bad (which he BETTER NOT BE) or he needs to have his own spin-off show

e.1.i) I would watch that show

e.2) “You both just met a cool person” the implications here just make me wave my hands around because literally any interpretation of this callback is INCREDIBLE

e.3) The fact that the other guy was Banksy

e.4) THE FACT THAT SAM NEITHER KNEW NOR CARED, Sam you’re the fucking best

f) the fucking pop-up restaurant, this fuckin’ guy. “Is this filled with actors too?” “With friends.” GOD.

f.1) The Nigeria/Ghana rivalry they rib each other about throughout their interactions - like, I can see what Edwin’s talking about in re: raising the African continent’s profile and stature in the world, but they’re still a continent, not a country, and there are national and regional differences and like, I’m honestly really impressed that this was made clear

f.2) mardia has weighed in and making Raja Casablanca into a top-ranked soccer club is... a tall order, basically. Like, VERY TALL. But it is a real team!

f.3) I love him

g) I think Sam might love him too? Like if anyone wants to write the post-season Edwin/Sam fic where Edwin just relentlessly tries to buy Sam’s affection and Sam is like, “you should probably calm down” I would not object?

in short:

RIVAL BILLIONAIRES???

#this is all obviously written from the POV of a white lady #but I just want to like #sit down next to Edwin and learn all about his plans #ted lasso mothereffers #also I can't believe that this show has given me RIVAL BILLIONAIRES #harkening back to those heady days of Person of Interest #ted lasso #edwin akufo #who I hope will need his own tag because I love him your honor #and his 'I may or may not be fucking with you LET'S FIND OUT' smile #sam obisanya

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Is it just me or has this week been going kind of slow? It feels like Thursday, but no! It is WEDNESDAY! >:D That means it’s time to shaaaaaare! X3

So, I’m finally getting back into writing, but I’m doing bits and pieces at a time. I think I may have put too much pressure on myself, so everything I wrote and then read looked..bleh. 

However! Due to an ask that @the-dreadful-canine sent me, I found some inspiration! >:D

Thank you @noire-pandora for the tag! I send you all the hearts in the world! <3

Halamshiral brings out the best in the both the wolf and the dragon~ >:3

"She was friendly.", Fane said, face blank, arms crossed as he let his eyes follow after the elven servant that had just left where he and Solas were against the walls of the Winter Palace; the two of them keeping to the shadows and niches the soft darkness held.

He had sought out the Elvhen man, thankfully without much interference, to mention another spike in the air around them. There was magic somewhere in the palace, but he couldn't pinpoint its exact placement. Solas had agreed with his assessment after the first time, and the few times Fane had passed through this particular hall, the one lining the small courtyard, he had noticed his sky's brow furrowed slightly and his eyes glued ahead as if he were listening for something.

So far, neither of them had had any luck determining a focal point, but it had to be a rift; his mark proved that. It wasn't flaring violently, but the pulse was deeper than usual and his arm burned as the magic scorched through his veins. It was why, even after notifying the other about the fluctuation in the Veil, he had lingered.

Now, Fane wished he hadn't as his eyes continued to watch the retreating servant girl, her cheeks rosy and her eyes shining with something he knew all too well: infatuation. That would be fine on it's own, he wasn't one to judge or condone another's feelings as his very nature encouraged them to blossom, but the person that gaze was directed towards…

That was another story entirely. Why did he feel so...bitter? This prison of marble, gold, jewels, and stone was infuriating and confusing.

Solas chuckled, his eyes, too, following after the young woman, but they were still, clear, uninterested, but yet, Fane felt odd. "Indeed she was. Many of the servants have been. I believe they find my presence intriguing, and perhaps, comforting.”

"Makes sense. You have a certain air here. More relaxed, even if every shadow holds a knife. Confident, really. Makes you approachable.", Fane muttered out his observation absently, glancing down to be met with questioning orbs of blue-grey; the color was mixed due to the shadows dancing within and around them. They looked midnight in hue and they were trained on him now; no one else. “The responses to me have been the exact opposite. Not surprising, but annoying. I tried to question a pair of them outside this hallway, and they shooed me off.”

Solas gave him a small, but reassuring smile. “So I saw. Merely a precaution, I think, vhenan.”, he said, casting midnight orbs around once more, essences of lavender glinting from starlight. They landed upon a small group; three servants, each elven and they appeared to be wholly uninterested in ferrying about between the nobles. “Servants have long walked within the halls of power, unnoticed, but ever-watchful of those who see them only as inconsequential. Wariness is their greatest weapon against those who flaunt without reservation. The elves along these walls and in these dark corridors know what you represent, and so they keep you at arm’s length. ”

Fane hummed, pursing his lips a bit. "So, they’re fearful of me. Again, not an uncommon reaction.”, he said. albeit a bit bitterly. Typical. He should have known that was the case. Dressing a wolf in sheep’s clothing didn’t not make it a wolf, after all.

Except, he was a dragon. A dragon playing politics, playing with power. Fane was surprised he hadn't combusted as soon as his boots had touched the inner gate's threshold. The night was young, though. Sadly. Unfortunately. Miserably. How his sky, who was now leaning against the pedestal of a bust, appearing calm, collected, and enthused as eternal irises gazed up at him had done this almost day in and day out was baffling and honestly? Terrifying.

Solas shook his head. “No. Not of you as you are, my dragon.”, he denied simply, glittering jewels of deepest blue shifting like the sky just visible through the windows they stood beside. “They’re fearful of the power you possess. Elves have long been the victims of misused power. They wonder if you are the same as the Grand Duke, the Empress, the Duchess, or any here that have dealt a heavy hand without provocation.” A sigh and a warmer smile, midnight shifting to the paleness of moonlight. “However, I have seen gazes begin to linger among the groups each time you pass. They hold hope; a dream of opportunity. You are proving you are not the same, ma’isenatha. Unlike many, who believe themselves entitled. Continue to do as you’re doing, and a society will open up to you. Be patient, be mindful, and be true in a place rife with lies.”

Fane raised an eyebrow, keeping their gazes locked. “So, continue being a near ass to every atrociously dressed fop and priss that gets it in their head to waltz up to me?", he questioned before growling in the next moment. "The last prick I had the misfortune of walking within sight of nearly got a claw up the ass when they touched my arm.”

The mage smirked,  but it seemed...dark, eyes sharpening like metal at his last statement. “I would not call how you’ve been carrying yourself being a ‘near ass’, vhenan. It is far more nuanced than that.”

“Oh? How would you label my attitude then?”, Fane asked, keeping his eyebrow raised before a light of mischief and nostalgia flashed within blue, turning his curious expression into a blank slate. “What’s that look for?”

Something about the air was shifting due to this conversation. It wasn’t magic or anything, but it was...heightening, taking on a heady blend, power and emotion, present and past mixing with odd harmonies. Solas had mentioned something like that when they first arrived...

Solas hummed, eyes taking on a softer edge, primal darkness dispersing in both the curve of his mouth and the depths of his eyes. “It is nothing.”, he dismissed, the glint of nostalgia apparent upon every sharp line and curve of his sky’s face. Razor sharp eyes of blue steel shifted away casually once more, a single finger beginning to tap against where hands overlapped. “Suffice it to say, I am...pleased with this side of you as I am with every facet of personality you gift me with. The evening has been full of surprises, and hopefully, it will end on a high note."

Fane scoffed, leaning back a bit to rest against a windowsill; the marble was cool against the back of his legs and it helped soothe both his mind and the scars upon his legs. The material of his pants were better than most, but not what he was used to. “You’re just tempting the world to answer with that call, my sky.”, he said with a sidelong glance in Solas’ direction.

Solas responded with a sidelong glance of his own. “And what if I am?”, he retorted. There was something...cheeky about the elf’s tone and it wasn’t something Fane heard often, if at all. Yes, things were shifting, but not detrimentally so.

Fane kept his face blank, but he felt..light; a feeling of warmth in his chest apparent. “Then I would have to intervene on its behalf.”, he quipped, dropping his voice a few octaves and narrowing his eyes. These words falling from their mouths, mixing with shadow, candlelight, hushed whispers, and quiet refrains were interesting. They came with ease, they fell with grace…

...they sang with pride. That would usually terrify Fane, one of seven sins that could, but right now, with the sky gazing up at him from the side, body lax and garbed in black much like his own was, and expression titillating, ethereal, he was anything but frightened.

He was enthralled.

Solas hummed, eyes tempting with silent wishes. “My voice would harken a dragon to respond, would it?”, the mage pushed, or rather, pulled him in with that hushed question; the silk that Fane associated with his sky’s voice wrapping around his hearing like a gossamer sheet.

Fane shrugged a bit, bringing his arms up to cross them as he did so with his legs a bit; boots scuffing against pristine marble. He leaned back further against the ledge of the window now, but part of him wanted to inch away, ascend to the sky gazing up at him from hooded lids. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember,”, he began before pausing, a tight feeling of warmth ensnaring his chest as Solas’ eyes flashed with quiet indigo and so he pressed back with velvet. “...Fen’harel?”

*screeches* Why do I love these two being suave fools?! The brain worms are strong in this Chili’s tonight! 

Tagging (with no pressure, but all the court intrigue! >:3): 

@oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @dungeons-and-dragon-age @blueheaded @drag-on-age @shift-shaping @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and anyone else who’d like to share and revel in the court! *cackles* 

#wips wednesday #my writing #i'm very proud of this scene #it is equally steamy and silly :3 #i was debating whether to put down the steamy bits but i want to flesh those out a bit more >:3 #this all came from an ask because i blurbed and i was like 'I like this. LET'S FLESH IT OUT >:D' #*pats self on back* #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #is that jealousy I see Solas~? #and what about you Fane~? #*cackles*

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with ODIN BELLO, who is THIRTY-FOUR years old. He is often called OTHELLO by the CAPULETS and works as their CAPTAIN. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.

TW: ABUSE

He believed that cruelty was bred in his BONES. No one could fault him for such a belief – the evidence was there, before his very eyes. It was there when he awoke to his mother’s weary gaze, new bruises blooming across her skin. It was there when he went to sleep, his father’s lecherous sneer branding the back of his neck as he reached for another bottle. But he believed that kindness was there too, quieter than the cruelty, yet it was all the more consistent. It was in his mother’s gentle hands, softly brushing his hair back as she rocked him to sleep. It was there, in his own hands, as they bled from fending off street rats from beating a stray dog. So there it was in his very making, a juxtaposition of CRUELTY and KINDNESS woven into the sinews of his skin and bone. He has his mother’s smile, and his father’s eyes, they whisper as he passes his peers in the streets. Which do you think he’ll turn out to be?they murmur, eyes darting between his mother’s purpled wrists and his father’s hard stare.Which will I turn out to be?, he wonders. His God above refused to tell him. His demons below refused to let him hear the end of it. And so he went in search of the answer himself.

He graduated his class with high honors and enlisted himself in the army. Cruelty and kindness were practiced in balance, meant to evoke a subsequent HARMONY – a perfect place for a boy like him to utilize what was bred into him in equal measure. But then he began to grow reckless, the structure of such a place suddenly feeling constricting, the order that it demanded became rather suffocating. But he refused to quit, believing that this was the only place where he could ever find harmony. Such a far-fetched idea for a CURSED one, such as he. The army that he had bled for honorably discharged him, his superior officers assuring him that it was for his own good. So he returned home with his head bowed, frustration with God’s plans for him ever-more apparent on his features. The smile ghosted across his face less easily, the laughter that once charmed so many now flew from his lips sharp and edged. He had the answer to his question in his very grasp, but, of course, it was STOLEN away.

So, he tried to steal it back by establishing a life in Verona. It seemed that, in a city laden with WEALTH and BLOOD, he would find himself at peace. There were those who said that the city turned its back on strangers, its barbed thorns meant to ward off those who dared to step onto its hollowed streets. But the name he had established for himself preceeded him, the Veronans welcoming him into their embrace as if he had been a bambino running in the streets with all the other children. A noble man, they cheered, a hero. And so he donned the uniform of an officer of the law and became their protector, their knight in shining armor. They saw the kindness that hung at the edge of his eyes, the fairness that was at the source of his every action. And so he made a home for himself in Verona, found himself warming to the likes of the Capulets and – eventually – being accepted as one of them. Then, he fell in love. He was swept by Eros’ heady perfume when he met her, the woman that ENSNARED his heart.

There were whispers that his wife was cheating on him, small hints here and there – mostly those egged on by his confidante, Ivan. But then he began to see past the VEIL that he had cast over his own eyes – he was a man of cruelty, was he not? How had he forgotten the roots that had steeped themselves into the sinews of his being? So, amidst the accusations that tore from his lips – and those of others – he left what he called his heart and his home, isolating himself with contacts in Spain before any could see the DESCENT of the man that all of Verona had called a hero. Alas, one can only resist the harkening cry of the city before being pulled back into its mantle, and he was no exception. He returned not as an officer of justice, but as a soldier, or perhaps as cannon fodder. There is war permeating the air, and in war all must become soldiers and be ready to entrench themselves in blood. All must learn a little bit of cruelty in a time where there is no room for kindness. All must learn to be a little kind in a time where the world only knows to be cruel. 

DELILAH BELLO: Ex-wife. He had loved her – and, though he denies it, he still does. But his head was insinuating one thing, his heart contesting with another, and before he knew it there was a disarray that caused unforgivable doubts and grievances to pour from his mouth. He knew of the affect that it would have on her status and reputation, but there was a poison that had beset him and he was helpless to think clearly. But he has made his peace with it, for she was far too gentle and far too kind to Odin, who knew such virtues only in moderation. There will be the day when he will atone for the sins that he had committed against her. Until that day comes, however, he will try to take the lessons he has learned from her. He will try to be kind. 

PANDORA PHAN: Target. If there was anyone who could possibly be his equal in intellect and strategy, it would be Pandora. She matches him wit for wit, but he matches her blow by blow. Though she is an emissary, and he a soldier, he longs to tear her down so as to make her demise his crowning achievement. He will corrupt the incorruptible, tear down the pedestal of the infallible. Cosimo Capulet put his faith in the stranger of Verona for a reason, and all Odin has to do one simple thing, do as he does best: dust his hands with dirt, dip them into blood.

BELLAMY SANTO-DOMINGO: Partner/Confessor. When he became a professional bodyguard upon his return to Verona, he had hoped that his partner would be understanding. He had also hoped that such a person would be a Capulet. Unfortunately, only one of his two wishes was properly fulfilled. Although he and Bellamy got along well enough, Odin is careful to play his cards just right so as to get this Montague to flip. He plays the part of a broken-hearted man, a hero who has fallen but is trying to make amends. A couple of well placed words here, pathetic moments of bonding there – and soon enough, the Montagues heart will be tied to his fingers and he will be able to play him like a docile, thick-headed puppet.

IVAN RAHAL: Poison. He has been a fixture in his life. They both grew up in the same hometown, both enlisted at the same time and went on the same tours together. Ivan has been a faithful friend and Odin could never fault him for the transgressions that have occurred between them. But, as of late, he wonders if his beloved friend truly does have his best interests at heart. It was he who told him of Delilah’s faithlessness, of the offenses she has whispered against him. He isn’t sure if he’s capable of making such accusations, for this man was practically his brother, but Abel was betrayed by Cain. So is it really so far-fetched as to believe that this man intends to draw blood from him too?

Odin is portrayed by YAHYA ABDUL MATEEN II and was written by ROSEY. He is currently OPEN.

#trevante rhodes fc #lsrp #lsrpg #bio rp #active rp #cap #m #odin bello #o #om