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mercurygray · 10 days

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Apologies Owing

Well, they're finally here - the pilots, that is. The base's WACs have some opinions they'd like to share.

A follow up to this piece - and an announcement! I'll be trying to post all of Cord's drabbles on AO3 at Pavilioned In the Fields.

The talk over dinner was about nothing but the officers.

There was no consensus yet, it seemed, over who was the handsomest. Netta was stumping for Brady, the one who'd ridden his fort straight into a rut in the middle of the airfield and had walked away without a scratch, but Anita and Mary Dacre both wanted to speak of no one but DeMarco - or rather, the dog he'd brought with him, who had kindly consented to pets and treats and much crooning while his owner stood by and beamed at himself for the genius idea of getting the husky to find his Friday night dates for him. (Mae, too, seemed taken by the idea of the dog, though she was a little too world-wise to let the pup's gorgeous blue eyes win her over to his owner.)

"I liked the one that blew us a kiss," Nina said, almost loyally, still mooning into her soup about it nearly three hours later, elbow firmly planted on the table while she started wistfully into space. "What'd you say his name was, Phoebe?"

"Biddick," Phoebe said, wisely taking the middle road and saying nothing about anything apart from name, rank and serial number, reaching around Nina's elbow for the salt. "Curtis Biddick. Flies with Richard Snyder."

"The one who looks like Leslie Howard?" Becky looked like that was more her speed. "Now there's a man I'd let do a few close maneuvers."

"Curtis Biddick," Nina smiled dreamily, staring off into space obviously having heard nothing Becky had said. "It was so romantic."

"You gotta watch out for boys like that, Nina, they're usually more trouble than they're worth," Mae said, locking eyes with Phoebe across the table and exchanging abbreviated smiles.

"You all can have fun with the squaddies, but I feel like aiming a little higher," Ethel said with a cutthroat grin, inspecting the arch of her brow in the convex of her soup spoon. "That blonde who drove in with Major Egan looks like he really could be in pictures."

"Cleven," Phoebe supplied, before anyone could ask. "Major Gale Cleven. He's Egan's best friend, apparently. He came up to tower, didn't he, Cord? With Major Egan and Demarco?"

"He did," Cord said, non-committal while she wiped some sauce off the corner of her mouth and considered whether she wanted to try chasing down the last of her peas. "Seemed nice enough."

"Hmmm." Ethel looked unimpressed, and perhaps a little put out that Cord, of all people, had gotten an eye in to the main chance that she clearly couldn't appreciate properly. "Nice enough to have a girl at home?"

But no one ventured an answer for her - the half of the table that was facing the doorway all clammed up at same time as the man himself approached the table, uniform immaculate and blond hair swept just so over his very handsome face. The table stood up as one, Nina accidentally flinging her spoon into her bowl with a clatter.

"Ladies. Was wondering if I might have a word alone with Lieutenant Callaway." His voice was all gravitas and gravel, and Ethel looked like she'd die of envy the way she was glaring across the table at her lieutenant.

Mae's eyes, on the other hand, flashed with delight, and Cord looked around the table to see that nearly everyone else was smiling the way girls smiled when they thought you had something to keep a secret about. She felt hot with betrayal. Now just what do you all think - "I think we're all finished, Major, we can leave," Mae offered, gesturing to the rest of the table to get going. "We'll catch you up, Cord." Mae promised, beaming back at her friend, following the rest of the group out the door and back to barracks.

Cord took a breath and studied her shoes for a moment, hoping that none of that heat had made it to her face, and Cleven hadn't seen any of their hinting smiles - or heard what Ethel had just said. She waited until the crowd cleared the door to speak. "Sir?"

"Seems I owe you an apology, Lieutenant."

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say ...wasn't that. "…What for, sir?"

Cleven's gaze was patient, though it looked like that patience was being tested a little at the moment. "Whatever John's done here for the last month."

It took Cord more than a moment to realize he was talking about Bucky Egan. She'd plumb forgotten his first name was John, if she'd ever known it at all. He introduced himself to everyone as Bucky. "…that's very kind of you, Major Cleven, but I'm not sure that's your apology to make, sir."

"Well, a fellow can try." He smiled - a brief thing - and Cord realized why Ethel thought he'd do well in movies. Underneath those baby blue eyes ran some very, very still waters. Well, they'd have to be, to have Egan for a friend. "He - he means well, usually. He's just not…real good at thinking things through sometimes."

You can say that again. "That's…not a quality one looks for in an executive officer, if you don't mind me saying, sir."

Cleven chuckled - a sound Cord was getting the impression most people didn't hear very often. "No, it most certainly is not. But he has others - a damn fine flyer, a good man to have with you in a fight, and a - a good friend."

The quiet fortitude was growing on her - a strong contrast to Egan's boisterous take-all-comers antics. And he'd come here, when he didn't have to, when nothing said he even needed to, to apologize, on the sole basis of one meeting this morning where she'd stood her ground and been short with his friend. He noticed things, Major Cleven did - and that counted for something. "He must be, to have you making apologies for him on your first day here."

Again, the smallest of smiles. "He'd do the same, if it had been me that had stepped wrong. I'm just trying to…pay the favor forward." He took a breath, and looked at his shoes. "He, ah - he mentioned you were from Ohio."

"Dayton," Cord supplied, wondering when this had turned from an apology into an interview.

"Pretty prime flying country out there at Wright-Patterson," Cleven said quietly, glancing at her with softly curious eyes.

"Yes, sir, it is. I practically grew up there - my dad worked on the base, as an engineer. Worked pretty close with the test pilots."

"Is that how you got into the tower?"

"More or less, sir."

"Heard Brady say you were the calmest voice alive, talking him in today."

The 'for a woman' that had doubtless followed the original comment went unsaid, and Cord measured out her own smile. "Well, there's two types of pilots, sir - those who've had a belly landing, and -"

"-those who will." Cleven finished the old chestnut with a smile. "They teach you a lot about belly landings in Dayton, Lieutenant?"

Cord took a deep breath, remembering the rumbling, skating feeling of the plane underneath her, the nameless terror that the brakes no longer worked and her steering was in God's hands, waiting endlessly while the machine skidded heavily to a halt and she planned her exits, preparing to make a run for it. "A fair bit, sir."

"Hopefully we won't give you any more." He caught her gaze and held it. "Let me know, if he gives you any more trouble? We can't have our controller off her game."

She looked him in the eye and knew, instinctively, that he meant that, and if she said something, he would take her at her word - something not too many men on this base would do. That counted for something, too. "You'll be the first person I tell, Major."

He nodded, glad to be heard and understood, and turned to leave, before thinking of one last thing. "And maybe you'll let your friend know the girl at home is named Marge?" His smile was nearly imperceptible, and Cord almost laughed to see it. So he had heard. That's a very dry sense of humor you have there, sir. "Wouldn't want anyone …getting the wrong idea."

She nodded, happy that there was something here she could do for him. Oh, we're going to get along so well. "Of course, sir." Well, Ethel, serves you right. She could just see the other woman's face when she told her that Cleven was definitely off the market.

The understanding, it seemed, was mutual - Cleven gave a little nod and put his hand in his pocket. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

"And you, Major."

He went back outside, and Cord's eye followed him through the windows to the group of pilots joking and laughing in the road outside, probably getting ready to go into town. What reason could he have given for stopping in the mess hall? Or maybe he didn't need one. Egan hooked his arm around his friend's shoulders, and Cord caught a glimpse, again, of Cleven's fleeting smile - wider now, laughing with his friends as they set off for the village and the pub. And they're best friends? Well, they do say opposites attract.

Cord tidied her seat and exited the mess, surprised to see Mae was sitting on the bench outside the mess, apparently waiting. She got up as Cord stepped outside, grinning from ear to ear. "A word alone with Lieutenant Callaway, huh? You got something you want to share with the class, Cord?"

"Oh, buzz off, Mae. He just wanted to -" She paused, feeling, suddenly, that the apology was not for public consumption. "To thank me, for helping Brady land."

Mae nodded, a little impressed with the new Major. "The way she's going, I think Netta's gonna thank you too."

You can read more of Cord here on tumblr at her tag.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #cordelia callaway #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #john egan x oc #stop the presses everyone i have written gale cleven

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irishavengersassemble · 1 year

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Game of Survival: Part 1

After tragedy strikes Rafael Barba’s little sister moves back to New York City for a fresh start. Will she be able to move on with the help of her loving big brother and perhaps find happiness with a certain lieutenant in SVU.

Hey lovlies. I know its been forever, but I had this idea for a series and I just had to write it.

Series takes place at the beginning of season 18 of Law and Order: SVU and has references to One Chicago. Reader is canonicallly bisexual and in her mid-thirties.

Pairings: Olivia Benson x Barba Reader Sonny Carisi x Rafael Barba

Header belongs to me.

You let out a small sigh as you took in the familiar office that you’d not stepped foot in for over a year. Taking in the cozy office of your older brother you settled on the comfy brown couch knowing it would probably be a while before he came back from court.

He was always busy that didn’t mean that he didn’t have time for you, given you lived hours away and you both worked insane hours.

You usually didn’t hear from each other apart from a weekly phone call whenever you both had time which didn’t seem often these days.

Glancing down at your phone your e/c eyes landed on the different apartment listings that you’d been scanning through.

Nothing had caught your eye in all honesty this had been a spare whim of the moment decision one that you’d not regret.

You’d needed a change. A change had been needed for a while and you’d finally decided it was time, time to head home and start over and get a fresh start so to speak.

Severide and Casey had helped you pack up your things over the weekend and you’d made the long drive from Chicago back to New York with nothing but your car and a small U-Haul.

A deep huff fell from your lips as you found the couch growing more comfortable by the minute the long drive catching up with you.

The next thing you knew you were being startled awake as Rafael’s surprised voice filled your ears stirring you from the dreamless slumber you’d fallen into.

“Y/N? Y/N Wake up. What the hell are you doing here?” Your older brother retorts his voice holding so many questions ever the lawyer.

You groaned opening your eyes finding your big brother of nine years sitting beside you on the couch. He was dressed in one of his well-tailored suits his light brown hair combed back in a neat style.

“Hi, Rafa. Sorry, I fell asleep. It was a long drive. Ummm. I’m back in New York permanently this time. I moved out of Kelly’s place this weekend and drove the twelve and a half hours straight through.” You said knowing your brother was processing what you’d told him his mind was always a step ahead of the conversation.

He knew that the past few years had been hard for you and that ever since the incident you’d been trying to pick up the shattered pieces of your life.

What was left of it. How you’d been able to keep going at all had been a surprise to you.

It was evident the only reason you’d made it this far was the love and support of your family and friends. Those closest to you the people you considered family had helped you through the roughest time of your life they’d helped you pick up the pieces and try to throw your life back together.

Rafael sat there for a moment glancing over at you with a concerned brotherly brow.

He knew it had been hard for you after you’d lost Leslie, you’d been a broken shell of the woman you once were.

The woman who had a ferocity and a fire in you a fierceness that hadn’t dimmed even with the rough life you’d come from had disappeared.

You were softer now than you’d once been quiet and calm, gentle, they’d always been attributes you’d carried yet they seemed to control you these days.

Rafael had been surprised when you’d told him of your plans to go from paramedic to police officer after losing your fiancé several years prior.

He’d worried his mami and abuelita had worried, yet you’d managed to pass through the academy with flying colors and soon became a damn good cop with an even better reputation.

“Well, this is entirely unexpected but it's great to see you Hermana.” Rafael purred pulling you into a tight hug pressing a kiss to your head as you clung to him finding comfort in his embrace.

“I take it you don’t have an apartment or anything settled out yet which is fine. You can stay with me until you find a place.”

“But what about Son-“ You started not at all wanting to impose on your brother and his boyfriend who was over at Rafael’s so much you were surprised that your brother hadn’t asked him to move in yet.

That wasn’t any of your business and you really weren’t the best person to come to when it came to relationships or relationship advice.

Your big brother’s voice filled your ears startling you from your thoughts that had been getting away from you over the past few weeks.

That’s another reason you’d decided to move the city was too different, too quiet, and no matter where you look Leslie was everywhere.

A change had been necessary, you’d wanted to heal actually heal, and being with your family had seemed like the best way to go about that.

“Oh don’t worry about Sonny. You know he loves you. You’ve gotten along. You staying with me won’t be an issue.

I’m sure you’d much rather stay with me than mami anyways.” He chuckled knowing your mother would have his head if she heard his comment.

“Alright, Rafa I’ll stay with you if you insist.” You sighed pulling out of your big brother’s hold rolling your eyes at him.

Rafael could be many things a sassy pain in the ass for starters, but he’d been the best big brother ever since Lucia had taken you in and adopted you when you were eight years old.

Even though Rafael was nine years older he’d always made time for you and though you were close with your mother you and Rafael had been thick as thieves for as long as you could remember.

“I do insist just like I insist on taking you to lunch. Come on. When’s the last time you’ve had a decent meal?” Your big brother quipped raising the infamous Barba brow in your direction.

A sigh fell off your lips Rafael knew you better than anyone having a little sister who was a first responder and working the crazy hours you did you’d often forgotten to eat.

“Last night…” The words tumbled out of your mouth as Rafael’s face hardened giving you a knowing expression forcing a deep huff from your lips as you continue.

“Okay technically it was the night before Herman and the rest of the gang threw me a going away party at Molly’s.” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you stood standing to your feet as Rafael walked you out.

The light brown-haired man rolled his eyes knowing an order of your favorite Chinese food was calling your name.

“Come on let's get some food into you before you blow away or pass out on me.” Rafael sighed throwing an arm around your shoulders as he led you toward the elevators.

“Rafa I’m fine. You act as though I don’t eat. Trust me when I can I do. You know this. I have the Barba genes maybe not literally but metaphorically.

With Abuelita and Mami’s cooking, it was only a matter of time before I become a foodie just like yours truly.” The words tumbled from your mouth as you gave the man a once over followed by your first real smile ever since you’d stepped foot back into your hometown.

“I’m not a foodie.” Your brother sassed knowing that he actually was a foodie and when he’d started dating Sonny that had only intensified. It didn’t help the chatty Italian man was an exceptional cook and one of his main love languages was acts of service.

You were grateful that Rafael had found someone like Sonny, he was warm and loving and made sure that Rafael was taken care of and you appreciated it more than he’d ever know.

It had been hard being away from your family for so many years, but when the opportunity presented itself to move to Chicago alongside joining Firehouse 51 you’d been unable to say no.

Back then you’d been a fresh-faced twenty-four-year-old who was ready to pursue your dream of being a paramedic and saving lives.

Now after a decade in Chicago you were back in New York for a fresh start you knew this would be good for you and that’s what Leslie would have wanted for you as well.

She’d have wanted you to be happy and continue your life not wallowing in the grief that had been all-consuming for the past two years.

You owed it to yourself and you owed it to her to find happiness again. That’s what she’d wanted for you to enjoy living again even with her gone.

It was the only way you knew to keep her memory alive. You needed to start living again and maybe in time you would.

Going out for dinner with your big brother was a good start you felt much calmer as you leant into Rafael’s side glad that you had such a strong support system behind you.

#law and order svu #one chigago #law and order x reader #olivia benson x reader #rafael barba x reader #leslie shay #barisi #matt casey #kelly severide #christopher herrmann #chicago fire x reader #sonny carisi

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firefighterbracket · 1 year

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Quarter Final - One Chicago

#one chicago #cfire #chicago fire #stella kidd #leslie shay #polls #round 3

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thebisexualagendasblog · 1 year

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1917 + text posts, part 2

(Part 1) (Part 3)

#1917 #1917 movie #1917 lieutenant leslie #1917 (2019)#1917 schofield #1917 film #william schofield #george mckay #tom blake #dean charles chapman #text posts #1917 blake #world war one

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neopronouns-in-action · 8 months

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Before we begin, I highly recommend reading

Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, by Edwin Abbott Abbott

(Project Gutenberg link, where you can read and download the book for free. You can also find many audiobook versions on youtube and the web archive)

(BTW, the word "romance" here is not referring to romantic love, it's the older version of the word that means a story with adventures and amazing quests.)

and

Transgender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to RuPaul, by Leslie Feinberg

(Web archive link where you can read and listen to the book for free)

to best appreciate this short story.

___

Neopronouns in Action #062: Flatland Warriors: Ponder the Meaning of the Words, or, The Breaking Point.

The audiobook version of this story can be listened to here on the web archive: "https://archive.org/details/neopronouns-in-action/Neopronouns+in+Action+062+00+The+Breaking+Point+-+Context.mp3"

Neopronouns:

da/dar/darl/darkling

phi/phim/phis/phirself,

tuo/tuak/tuar/tuaresi,

Which all follow the same rules as he/him/his/himself:

Replace he with da, phi, or tuo

Replace him with dar, phim, or tuak

Replace his with darl, phis, or tuar

Replace himself with darkling, phirself, or tuaresi

EX:

"He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting him use, since he lost his. He's going to buy toys and train the puppy himself.”

Becomes:

"Da is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as da gets a fence set up around darl yard so the puppy can go outside without dar having to walk it. Darl uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting dar use, since da lost darl. Da's going to buy toys and train the puppy darkling.”

"Phi is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as phi gets a fence set up around phis yard so the puppy can go outside without phim having to walk it. Phis uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting phim use, since phi lost phis. Phi's going to buy toys and train the puppy phimself.”

"Tuo is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as tuo gets a fence set up around tuar yard so the puppy can go outside without tuak having to walk it. Tuar uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting tuak use, since tuo lost tuar. Tuo's going to buy toys and train the puppy tuaresi.”

= = =

Flyssa sighed as da rested in darl room, trying, unsuccessfully, to tune out the conversation da could hear from the doorway to the parlour.

Dearg had been forced to “invite” Lieutenant Kellite over for dinner after the lieutenant let slip several overt implications that Dearg could going to be accused, within the General's range of hearing, of impropriety if phi didn't prove that “He kept north a good, respectable house”, by spending the night plying phis superior officer with the best wines, meats, and deserts phis meager salary could afford.

Flyssa, of course, had no salary. Lines were not allowed to hold jobs, or own any property of their own. Da couldn't even go out to the market to buy groceries without an escort from either Dearg or one of phis polygon siblings or close cousins, or da would be arrested, most likely executed on the spot, and Dearg, having taken responsability for dar from darl father when they were married, would be charged with criminal negligence and attempted manslaughter.

Lines must be kept under the strictest control, you see, because they were dangerous and unpredictable. Being a line, they had only two faces, and two points, both sharper than the sharpest of trigons. Having no angles, they had no capacity for thought. They were barely even human.

All this was, of course, the reality mandated into law by the higher polygons. Started by those who proclaimed themselves cirles, and passed south, by force, through the descending ranks of the people forcibly labeled the lower classes.

Things had been like this longer than Flyssa had been alive, but not longer than darl grandna had been alive. When Flyssa had still been a child, and not old enough yet to be allowed to leave the house even with an escort, Grandna Tuokeli had told dar endless stories of what life was like before the Configurationists had come.

When tuo had been a child, when their country was still called by its true name of Ib-Wa, there had been no laws segregating people based on their numbers of sides, and lines had been allowed to do any job they wanted, they could go where they wanted, do anything anyone else could do. There were some tasks that only lines and the thinnest of triagonals could do, due to their thinner size allowing them to fit into smaller spaces than other shapes, but that was just how physical reality worked, it wasn't made north one day by a bigot and then mandated into law that pretended it had to be true by pure virtue of being a law.

And now Flyssa was an adult, darl grandna had had to flee the country several years past, and lines weren't even considered to be shapes at all, let alone shapes of equal value and ability as any other.

Dearg, mandated as a trigon of the lowest class, was regarded as only a single, miniscule step above Flyssa as far as the ruling powers were concerned. Phis angle, and thus, according to the Configurationists, brain, was so acute as to hardly exist. But it was an angle, and it did exist in its meagerness, and that was more than Flyssa had.

So Dearg was given the "honor" and "privilege" of serving in the Configurationist's army as a common foot soldier. The hours were long, the work gruelling, and those who did the work were regarded with complete disdain. The "equillateral" trigons who oversaw the "isoseles" were cruel, and viewed torture and execution for the smallest of infractions as "good old Circleday entertainment".

Bribes, such as the dinner Dearg was currently being forced to play host to, were a constant demand of the officers, further stripping the soldier caste of resources and putting them in constant debt. And if you refused to cave to the demands of your superior officer, or failed to supply them with the favors they demanded, it was inevitable that you would be the next one put in the torture block or publicly executed, with real mistakes blown out of proportion, or fabricated entirely out of thin air.

Most of the food and drink laid in front of Lt. Kellite had been snuck in in the middle of the night by their neighbors, all of them soldiers or families of soldiers stationed either in Dearg's regiment, or the other patrol whose territory overlapped with theirs in this corner of the city.

The officers had to know their demands were impossible for a single soldier's salary to supply, given that they were the ones who set the ration limits and pay rates, but anyone who dared to point out these facts to them was executed before they could finish getting the words out. If you wanted to survive as a member of the soldier caste, you had to jump when the officers said jump, and don't let things like basic math or logic or the price of fruit this time of year get in the way.

It had taken the pooled resources of twelve other households to supply the extravagent dinner Lt. Kellite was currently loudly enjoying in darl parlour, with Dearg eating phis portion with much quieter, carefully forced cheer and politeness, trying to hide phis hatred behind the proper demeanor of a host.

Flyssa could see through the charade like it wasn't there, and could only hope that Lt. Kellite was either less perceptive, or at least wouldn't care that the pleasantry was false. His every spoken breath, after all, was insult on insult, hidden behind a thin facade of complimentary-sounding words.

There were many among the soldier caste who'd given into their rage from the constant insults and lashed out at the offendor, only for all the other officers to proclaim them mad out of their minds, or so genetically barbaric that they didn't even understand the idea of a compliment. The "victim" (the officer), after all, never said an unkind word against them, and this was how the brutal, out of control soldiers repayed his kindness?

Clearly, these unprovoked attacks on innocent men of good standing was more proof that the "isosceles" were good only for the most dangerous, taxing manual labor as soldiers, or to be confined as exhibits in schools for the children of the higher ranking polygons to learn the art of recognition by feeling.

It took all of Fylssa's willpower to remain in darl room instead of rushing out to give the Lieutenant a peice of darl mind as the least drastic of all the options da had been considering since Lt. Kellite strode through the front door like he owned it.

In truth, he did. His family controlled this arm of the military, and they owned the land this house was built on. As part of the soldier caste, Flyssa and Dearg were only allowed to live on land controlled by the military. The salary Dearg was given for phis service was immediately returned in the form of rent and payment for food, and for any fees phi was charged as punishment for misconduct, either real or imagined.

Flyssa was trying to focus on darl part of the internal ledger of supplies available to dar and darl neighbors, purposefully trying to drown out the sounds from the parlour by immersing darkling in the task of mentally retallying the stores, so, horribly, dar missed it the first three times Dearg tried to call dar into the parlour.

Phi actually had to come into darl room to get dar, followed by the scornful laughter of the Lieutenant that was so raucus it finally knocked dar out of darl reverie to see darl husband's terrified eye looking in at dar through the thin doorway.

"Flyssa," Phi whispered desperately, "He wants to see you, he insists you must join us for desert. We can't keep him waiting, I already called three times."

Quietly horrified, Flyssa whispered back, "I'm sorry!"

Dearg winked at dar in the pattern for reassurance, while out loud phi raised phis voice to say, loudly enough that Lt. Kellite could hear with anger that wasn't faked, though its target was false, "When I tell you to come and greet our guest, Woman, you come! Don't you dare make me come and fetch you again and make our illustrious guest wait on you like a commoner! Attend to your configuration!"

This last statement was met with a very loud, very drunk repetition from Lt. Kelllite, and followed by another burst of laughter.

As part of the show they had to put on together, Flyssa said nothing, and followed Dearg back into the parlour in the silent, meek subservience befitting the lowly wife of a lowly soldier.

Dearg entered the room first, as propriety demanded, and Flyssa stood next to phir to greet Lt. Kellite in the formal, "Greetings, my Lord trigon, Lieutenant Kellite. I greet you as a humble line, and swear my presence will not sting you."

The line had been first spoken by the wife of one of the higher-ranking self-proclaimed circles, and was now considered a requirement for any line greeting an unrelated polygon.

Lt. Kellite, who was at this point very drunk, laughed again, and called, "You have her very well trained, soldier! That was most dignified and proper...for a line of her lineage!"

Dearg was expected to laugh, so phi did, trying to cover north how angry phi was. Flyssa was expected to say nothing, so da remained silent. Lt. Kellite heard neither response over the sound of his own uncontrolled laughter.

When Lt. Kellite was done laughing, there was a tear in his eye, which he wiped away with one cilia, then blinked at the two of them as though seeing them for the first time.

He began to chuckle again. Why he'd demanded such a large bottle of wine when he clearly couldn't handle even a fraction of it, they would never know.

"Did you know that from this angle--" And he laughed on the word angle,"--you look exactly the same? All I can see are the glows of your eyes, like there's not an angle between you!"

Neither of them said anything, because there was no good response available to them. There was nothing wrong with Dearg's shape any more than there was Flyssa's, but that's not how the Configurationists saw it.

For a Configurationist to say that Dearg was indistinguishable from Flyssa -- a trigon from a line -- it was intended as the gravest insult imagineable. Lines were not considered shapes, they weren't considered human. They were regarded as unthinking creatures of pure emotion when even that much was granted to them, incapable of logic or real thought or self-conception.

The rules of Configurationist society demanded that Dearg be humiliated and infuriated by the claim that phi could not be told apart from a line. And those very same rules also demanded that phi be obedient and subservient, never contradicting phis "betters" or implying they were anything but perfect. Phi was an isosceles trigon whose angle was so acute phi was almost indistinguishable from a line.

There was no way to respond to Lt. Kellite's insult without losing, so phi chose the option least likely to get phirself killed, and remained silent.

Lt. Kellite eventually got over his own hilarity and calmed south enough to demand that Dearg return to the table, and that Flyssa serve them desert.

They acquiesced to his demands, Dearg returning to phis spot at the table opposite Lt. Kellite, and Flyssa moving to the cool room to fetch the pudding that had been hastily thrown together from ingredients from all the neighbor's stores.

Da gently probed the surface with a cilia, and was relieved to see that it had set properly, the surface jiggling firmly at darl touch rather than moving like the liquid it had started out as.

Moving carefully so as not to break the still-fragile texture, Flyssa carried the tray back into the parlour, careful this time to make sure da was paying attention to the conversation incase da was called on again.

But the conversation had drifted to the almost-harmless topic (No topic of conversation was ever truly safe with an officer, who could take any word as an insult worthy of capital punishment) of the weather lately, with Lt. Kellite forcing Dearg to agree with him that all the rain they'd been getting was making the lower classes lazier, letting them think they could get away with doing half the work at slower the pace.

Dearg was not allowed to point out that it was just a fact of reality that you physically couldn't move as fast in the rain as you could dry, so phi could only nod along and give agreeing-sounded noises whenever Lt. Kellite demanded, "Don't you agree?".

Flyssa was not allowed to say anything at all besides the required, "My Lord trigon, I serve you" as da deposited the the pudding dish on the table and backed away at a respectful speed to wait against the northern wall, careful to keep darl eye turned towards Lt. Kellite so he could see dar at all times.

This also had the affect of making sure da could hear his every word loud and clear, despite how much da wished da could shut them out.

"So, Private," Lt. Kellite boomed when he was halfway through the bowl of pudding, absentmindedly throwing the peices of the expensive dried fruit he didn't like over his shoulder so they fell to the southern wall, "How long have you been married to this fine young line here?"

The words themselves seemed positive, but the way in which they were said dripped with derision and barely-contained disgust.

"It will be five years this New Year's Eve, my Lord trigon." Dearg replied, not letting any reaction show in phis voice, and careful to use the Configurationist term for the holy night rather than its real name.

"She's got Irregularity in her line, doesn't she? Her grandmother was mentally unsound, wasn't she? Destroyed after dozens of failed attempts to treat her in the state sanitorium, if I remember right. That was her grandmother, wasn't it?"

Dearg did not let any emotion enter phis voice as phi replied, "Yes, my Lord."

"And it hasn't been passed south to this generation, has it?"

"No, my Lord." Dearg lied while Flyssa held darl breath in sudden aphrension.

"And five years, really?" Lt. Kellite continued as though he hadn't noticed their reactions. A dangerous note had entered his tone, though he still kept north the pretence of merriness. "Five whole years sheltered under my roof, and fed at my table, protected by my wall, and you've yet to produce any new isosceles to fill my ranks in repayment, nor any new lines to marry to your fellow soldiers."

He tapped one cilia against the table as if in deep thought. "Why is that, I wonder? Is she too ugly for you? Or perhaps she did inherit her grandmother's Irregularity."

He rolled his eye to look directly at Flyssa as he continued, "Some Irregularities are invisible on the surface, you know. The doctors only find them after an autopsy is performed. Perhaps I should have her destroyed and we can find out, and find you a new wife. Or perhaps--!" His voice rose higher to cut off Dearg's instantaneous, helpless protest, snapping his eye back to regard Dearg with all the force of a javelin, "Perhaps your vertex, being so acute, has rendered you immune to the wiles of the feminine persuasian. After all..."

His voice dropped to a confidential stage whisper. "You're so thin, you can hardly be told from a line yourself. It'd be only natural for your brain, so acute it's barely there, to be scrambled about which sex to be attracted to. I'll bet you're not even attracted to lines, are you? You can't help it. You don't have any children because you've only got eyes for proper shapes, don't you?"

Flyssa and Dearg held the same terrified breath, frozen in their places, too afraid to move or speak.

Lt. Kellite enjoyed their fear, and gloatingly let the silence hang over the room like a pall for almost a full minute, savoring every panicked heartbeat that made their eyes flicker in distress they couldn't conceal. From his angle, he could see both their eyes, and they could see his.

Finally, just as Flyssa was beginning to think that da would have no choice but to kill Lt. Kellite where he sat, and make a desperate attempt to flee to the north for asylum, just as darl grandna had so many years ago, the officer began to laugh, the sound like freezing ice in the veins of his unwilling audience.

Flyssa forced darkling to unobtrusively relax the tense stance da'd adopted, tried to slow darl racing heart. He was drunk, he'd had almost the entire bottle of wine by himself, he probably didn't even know what he was saying, and wouldn't remember it in the morning to accuse--

"I think your wife should return to her room, don't you, private? Let the two of us talk alone, man to man."

The words themelve were simple, neutral in their literal interpretation. The way they were said...

The room went silent again, the kind of silence that only death can carry.

Dearg was in shock, too horrified to react. Phi just sat there helplessly at the table, staring across at the Lieutenant, unable to speak.

"Leave us, line." Lt. Kellite said, in the off-hand tone of one accustomed to being obeyed without question.

There were many injustices that Flyssa had endured since da'd been born. Too many to count, too many to remember. Too many that da didn't want to remember.

Too many times, da had been the one shocked and helpless, unable to defend darkling. Outnumbered, overpowered, too beaten south and bruised to struggle. When da had been young, after darl mother had died, darl grandna had protected dar.

But darl grandna had had to leave the country to avoid execution, and tuo couldn't bring dar with tuok.

Many abuses da'd been forced to accept as da grew older, many da had learned, by the pain of necessity, to brace darkling against in the only hope of survival.

"I said leave us!" Lt. Kellite snapped, spinning to face dar, enraged by darl disobedience. "Are you irregular? Did you not hear me? Get out of here, woman! Go back to your room!"

Darl heart was beating so fast it was like a single drawn out tone instead of a drum. Rage was boiling in darl heart so powerful da couldn't believe it was only in darl mind.

It felt like the air itself was shaking with darl wrath, like the house should shatter around dar.

The rage was twisting and squirming in darl insides like snakes, and da could no longer hear darl own heartbeat over the roaring sound filling darl ears.

"What are you--?!" Lt. Kellite's terrified shout was just barely loud enough to reach darl conciousness, almost enough to break through the tsunami of rage sweeping over dar, but by then it was too late.

The transformation was on dar.

Flyssa couldn't see it happening, because darl eye was gone, but da could feel it. Darl once almost pefectly straight line shattered, but the fragments did not fall south, and darl mind did not break with them. New lines were forming in the cracks, shooting out and filling in darl sense of the space around dar as new cilia erupted from the surfaces, twisting and twitching to map dar surroundings.

Da had broken through the wall behind dar like it wasn't there, bringing the cold north wind to spiral and eddy in darl new angles.

Da could sense Lt. Kellite's terrified retreat in front of dar, every time he moved, darl new cilia caught the movement in the air like ripples in water, and Lt. Kellite was a struggling fish.

He was screaming, crying out for help, for reinforcements, for his soldiers to save him.

The fury, momentarily abated by the shock of the transformation, swept over dar again, and with a shriek of rage, da leapt in pursuit, slashing through the frame of the Men's door like it was paper, and out into the cold night and the honeycomb of houses that surrounded theirs.

Darl vision was gone, but darl hearing had been enhanced, and da could hear the families in the houses around dar shouting and whispering fervently in confusion and fear.

Da spun, trying to locate Lt. Keller through the wake of his movement, but the wind was strong and confused.

Then -- "He went west! North of Asi and Saber's house!"

Dearg's voice, behind dar, out of reach at a safe distance, guiding dar to darl target.

Trusting phim implicitly, Flyssa leapt towards the alley phi'd indicated, and tore off after Lt. Kellite, pealing out, in a sudden burst of inspiration, darl peace-cry, and discovering only as da began to sing that each of darl new stinging points contained a new mouth, too, each with a different voice.

Twelve voices rose above the wind, above Lt. Kellite's cry of fear, harmonizing in wordless emotion, filled with all the unspeakable rage that had finally burst free from darl heart.

Da was able to move faster now than da had ever been before, and unlike Lt. Kellite, da was familiar with their surroundings, knew intimately the map of hexagonal houses that belonged to darl friends and family and neighbors.

The only thing preventing dar from immediately catching north with him and tearing him to peices was darl unwillingness to injur any of darl neighbors by crashing into their houses or hitting anyone unawares. Lt. Kellite had no such worries, and charged ahead with reckless abandon. But he was hopelessly lost, unable to tell the houses and their inhabitants apart. They were just lowly Isosceles, barely more than lines, barely human. He'd never needed to know their names, or where they lived, who their neighbors were, before.

Even without darl sight, Flyssa knew where da was in relation to the rest of the town, and darl confidance only grew the further dar went, because as soon as da began to sing darl peace-cry, those watching the chase from the relative safety of homes began to gleefully join in.

Da recognized each of their voices, and used their identities to further cement darl location in darl mind even as Dearg continued to call directions behind dar.

Those in front of dar, where Lt. Kellite was fleeing, modulated their voices, raising the pitch whenever he got closer to them, and lowering it when he passed them, always with equal parts rage and laughter in their voices, his screams for help, of rage, of terror, drowned out as, every time he tried to force his way into a house, he was immediately thrown back into the street and forced to keep fleeing or be destroyed right there by the shapes who had emerged to defend their households.

His last mistake was trying to shove his way desperately through the Women's door on the Excal-Dagger house, only to be caught fast in the too-narrow gap, and unable to move to defend himself as the shapes within the house turned in a frenzy and began to assault his front side without mercy.

He managed to back out, blinded and bleeding, and turned to flee again --

And was struck straight through by darl longest point, cleaving his brain from the rest of his body in a single strike.

His blood was purple, the color of death, the color of life, the color of rebirth.

It tasted sweet, and the war-howls as darl friends, family, and neighbors painted themselves with his spilled blood and began to undergo the transformation themselves, baying for the blood of the sudden, unplanned revolution, tasted sweeter still.

#long post #very long post #very very long post #neopronouns #neopronouns in action #short story #short stories #original fiction #fiction #writing prompts #story ideas #Flatland #Flatland OCs #Flatland a Romance of Many Dimensions #Fascist Shapes in Space #werewolves #werestars #yes #I'm stealing that

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harvardfineartslib · 6 months

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Ria Brodell’s “Butch Heroes” series offers portraits of heroic figures whose stories are seldom told. They are individuals who were assigned female at birth but whose gender presentation was more masculine than feminine, who did not want to enter into heterosexual marriage, and who often faced dire punishment for being themselves. Brodell (they/them) is a non-binary trans artist based in Boston.

Here’s one example from Brodell’s “Butch Heroes” series.

Image: D. Catalina “Antonio” de Erauso, 1592-1650, New Spain, 2011 Gouache on paper, text, 11 x 7 in.

Biography of Catalina de Erauso (Edited version)

Catalina de Erauso was born in San Sebastián, Spain, to a noble Basque family and was raised in a convent from an early age. Before taking her vows, she fled dressed in men’s clothes and assumed the name Francisco de Loyola. Francisco worked as a page for a few years before deciding to seek adventure in the New World, sailing to Panama as a cabin boy. After arriving in New Spain, Francisco enlisted in the Spanish army under the name Alonso Díaz Ramírez de Guzmán and became a successful soldier. However, Alonso got embroiled in much trouble, including trouble with women. After deserting the army, Alonso was pursued by authorities for various offenses and eventually wounded in a duel. On the verge of death, Alonso revealed that he was a woman. Alonso recovered and was examined by midwives who confirmed that she was a woman and a virgin. Eventually, Catalina de Erauso became a celebrity known as the “Lieutenant Nun.” She petitioned King Philip IV for a military pension and visited Pope Urban VIII with a request to be allowed to continue to dress as a man. She was granted both requests. Drauso returned to New Spain as Antonio de Erauso and retired as a mule driver and merchant.

Queer holdings : a survey of the Leslie-Lohman Museum collection Edited by Gonzalo Casals and Noam Parness. Munich : Hirmer Verlag, 2019 HOLLIS number: 99154382110903941

#LGBTQHistoryMonth #LGBTQHistory #LGBTQ #Butch #ButchHeroes #ButchHistory #Queer #NonBinary #NonBinaryTrans #NonBinaryArtist #RiaBrodell #HarvardFineArtsLibrary #Fineartslibrary #Harvard #HarvardLibrary

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grandmaster-anne · 1 year

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5 March 2023 The Duke of Gloucester attended the Stairway to Heaven Memorial Trust’s Service at St John on Bethnal Green Church, 200 Cambridge Heath Road, Bethnal Green, London E2, to commemorate the Eightieth Anniversary of the Bethnal Green Tube Disaster and was received by Mr Leslie Morgan (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London).

#duke of gloucester

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aimeedaisies · 7 months

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Court Circular | 14th September 2023

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, Patron, British Equine Veterinary Association, this morning attended the 2023 Congress at the International Convention Centre, Broad Street, Birmingham, and was received by Mr Leslie Ratcliffe (Deputy Lieutenant of West Midlands).

Her Royal Highness, Patron, the Butler Trust, this afternoon visited Stonnall Road Approved Premises, 85 Stonnall Road, Aldridge, Walsall, and was received by Mr Stewart Towe (Deputy Lieutenant of West Midlands).

The Princess Royal, Visitor, Dorothy House Hospice Care, this evening opened the Firefly Woods at Winsley House, Winsley, Bradford-on-Avon, and was received by Lieutenant General Sir Andrew Gregory (Vice Lord-Lieutenant of Wiltshire).

#princess anne #princess royal #court circular

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agentcable · 4 days

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Chicago Fire Season 1 Ep. 1 "Pilot"

After the tragic loss of one of their own, the men and women of Firehouse 51 are trying to recuperate. It has been a month, and Lieutenants Matthew Casey and Kelly Severide are still at odds over Andy Darden's death. However, they must put their differences aside when their colleague Christopher Herrmann's life is at risk. Paramedic Gabriela Dawson is facing disciplinary action for performing a risky procedure in the field to save a girl. Peter Mills arrives at Firehouse 51 for his first day as a Firefighter / EMT Candidate. Casey attempts to resolve his relationship wit hhis fiancée, Hallie.

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

Two fire trucks are racing towards a scene on the grey streets of Chicago, Illinois on a drab afternoon. The mood inside the trucks is determined but light, and the crew jokingly jabs at one another as the driver speeds down the road. Upon arrival, they discover that a victim is still trapped in the attic. Head of the rescue squad, Lieutenant Kelly Severide, enters first with confidence and fearlessness. Lieutenant Matthew Casey and Andy Darden climb up the ladder. Darde breaks in a window without instruction, but Casey realizes the conditions are still unstable. Casey yells at Darden to stay out, but Darden is already inside.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Severide realizes there's no vent. Thick black smoke gets sucked upstairs, indicating an imminent explosion. Severide hollers for everyone to get down., but it's too late. Trapped, Darden perishes, engulfed in flames as Casey watches helplessly from the ladder.

A month has passed. The entire firehouse is grieving the loss of one of their own. Casey and Severide, who were once close friends, are now experiencing a painful rift due to the death of their mutual friend. Chief Wallace Boden notices the tension and calls them both in to discuss the unnecessary animosity between the leaders. At the firehouse, a new candidate named Peter Mills replaces Darden. Firefighter Cruz gives Mills a quick tour.

In Chicago, paramedics Leslie Shay and Gabriela Dawson respond to a shooting that took place during a drug deal. While treating one gunshot victim, the other injured person emerges from the closet, armed and dangerous. Gabriela handles the situation assertively and persuades him to drop his weapon. Although fear is evident in her eyes, it is apparent that she has dealt with similar life-or-death situations before.

Peter is already on babysitting duty at the firehouse, lecturing a group of kids visiting the station. He explains that this firehouse is special because it has both truck guys and a rescue squad. He proudly explains that the rescue squad is versatile and can handle any situation, including water rescue and extraction. Mills hopes to follow in his father's footsteps one day and join them. An alarm sounds and the firehouse is a flurry of activity as the firefighters put on their gear and load the truck quickly but calmly.

They race towards a bridge where a mother and daughter are trapped in a car after a collision. All actions are carried out in a logical sequence. The scene is intense, and the two are responsive but severely injured. Gabriela assesses the victims while the firefighters remove the doors from the car. Mouch notices a bent windshield and believes that the driver was ejected into the water. The squad immediately sends down two divers. While shadowing Mouch, Mills notices a suit jacket in the car. He surveys the crowd observing the scene and notices that everyone is bundled up except for one anxious-looking businessman. Trusting his instincts, Mills tackles the man, suspecting him to be the driver.

Tension escalates at the firehouse over a mistake made at the scene. The truck and squad are at odds until Chief Boden intervenes, scolding the men for their behaviour. He reminds the team that it has been almost a month since Darden's tragic death and that they need to move past this together. Moments later, Darden's wife Heather arrives, and Casey hands her Darden's belongings, which were cleaned out from his locker earlier that day. Fourteen years of memories collected in a single box. She has two children in the back seat and is struggling to hold it together.

Leslie meets Severide in the hallway and hands him a vial. Severide locks himself in a bathroom stall and injects the medicine into his right arm, which was cramping.

Casey runs into Gabriela outside the firehouse. She invites him to a bar the next night, but he declines, saying he has a date night planned with his girlfriend, though he seems a little wary about it. The scene cuts to Herrmann's house. He and his family are packed up in their van, ready to move back in with their in-laws. Their house is in foreclosure.

Casey is biting into a piece of old pizza when Hallie, his girlfriend, arrives at his apartment with fresh food. After some awkward small talk, Hallie places an engagement ring on the empty counter. We learn that Casey has moved out, and their engagement has ended because he wants to start a family, while Hallie, who is a full-time hospital resident, is not ready for one. They are stuck in the worst kind of relationship limbo. Neither of them wants the same thing, but neither of them can bear to move on.

The crew at the firehouse is pressuring Mills to hit on Shay, unaware that she is gay. Meanwhile, the Chief calls in Leslie and Gabriela to question them about a young girl they encountered during a recent emergency. Gabriela had to perform emergency surgery on the girl and inserted a needle into her heart to save her life. However, this has put Gabiela's job at risk. Casey decides to cook Sunday night dinner for the crew. However, Severide refuses to eat his food and makes a show of it. Casey confronts him outside, and Severide expresses his anger about Casey allowing Darden to enter the scene before it was ready. The sadness and guilt about their friend's death trap both men in a cycle of blame.

At night, some of the truck crew go to the local gym to watch police officers fight each other. This is a regular fight club event, and Chief Boden is fighting a police chief who apparently slept with his ex-wife. The rest of the crew is spread out across the firehouse, listening to Otis's account on the walkie-talkies. However, another fire alarm interrupts them, and the crew quickly rushes off to a house fire down the street.

The fire in the apartment building is intense. Casey is shouting out directions. Casey and Herrmann are searching all the floors for people who are still trapped in the building. Cruz and Mills are doing the same on the roof. The Chief arrives on the scene and warns Casey that they need to leave as black smoke starts billowing out of the windows. Casey and Herrmann are on their way when the brittle floor collapses, sending them tumbling down to the basement.

Upon arrival, the squad find Casey and Herrmann unresponsive. Severide is lowered into the basement and successfully wakes up Casey, but Herrmann is struggling to breathe. They manage to safely evacuate Herrmann from the building. However, Casey and Severide remain trapped downstairs with the flames closing in. Casey is able to reach a higher floor and grab onto Severide, but the two begin to slip. Casey appears unable to hold both his own weight and Severide's. However, Mouch suddenly appears and grabs Casey's feet, assisting in their safe ascent.

Gabriela and Leslie are outside working on Herrmann, who is badly hurt. He is sent to the hospital with a possible tension pneumothorax, but the rest of the crew has made it out safely.

The next morning, Gabriela receives a call from her lawyer informing her of an upcoming trial regarding the emergency surgery she performed on a young patient. Despite the patient being stable and soon to be released from the hospital, Gabriela is facing legal action.

The crew gathers in the hospital waiting room, anxiously awaiting news on Herrmann's condition. Casey steps outside, looking weathered and exhausted from the day's work. He calls Hallie and asks her to come over. Despite their issues, she is still his primary source of comfort.

#USA #TV Serie #Action #Emergency #Drama #2012 #One Chicago #Chicago Fire

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