#riker: what the fresh hell

[theesirenteller]

Who's The Savior?

Manny, Mayans Mc X OFC

"Bunny, You alright there sweetheart?!" Tanner called out from across the desert. The ex-navy seal stood at the staggering height of six feet and four inches tall, with shaggy chestnut-brown hair, a Greek god-like chiseled build, and a babyish face that was fresh of any facial hair. One of the Mayans stood in front of him with the end of an AK-47 pressed against the back of his curls.  "Alright, you got our girl and we got your guy. Bring us the girl now!" Ordered Riker, A heavily tattooed blonde with wild, piercing blue eyes. His sun-kissed skin was covered in thick layers of ink. Toned and Muscular but not nearly as buff as his best friend. He had platinum blonde hair that was cut short into a sleek back mohawk. His trigger finger itches to unload his M4-carbine into the low lives before him, "Give her to us you fucks!" "Y-yes! I'm okay! Just be cool guys please," She called out with teary eyes and a pleading tone as she stood behind Manny. The tall and lanky male rested his hand against her shoulder as he led her to them. His touch sent unexplainable shivers down her spine. He provided her with this unspeakable security.  "Don't shed no more tears, muñeca, everything's gonna be alright."He whispered raspily and Bunny slowed down her shaky breaths.  "Thank you, Manny." She said in a soft tone that held a delicate whisper to it. His warm hand only squeezed her shoulder in response. Tanner nudged the captive Mayan forward as soon as Bunny was in arm's reach. Bunny went rushing into Tanner's arms and hugged him by the waist tightly. His large hand patted her back and gripped her waist with one of his hands despite holding his gun in the other.  "Fucking wetbacks," Riker seethed before he had unleashed the bullets from his gun. The thought of them doing anything to His and Tanner's girl caused an animalistic rage to boil within him. The man wasn't a stranger to using Mexicans as target practice either. He'd done horrific things to them in his military days and wanted to do worse now. Tanner followed along with his friend and shot forward until Bunny intercepted. "NO! No Riker stop!" Bunny screamed in horror as she watched the Yuma men drop. Without giving her actions much thought, she rushed in front of Manny who had dropped.   "Bunny what the fuck?!" "Get the hell up and away from him, woman!"  "No!" she cried as she sat on her knees beside him. He'd been shot in his knees and shoulders. "This is wrong!  He protected me, He's got a child to go home to for Christ's sake! You can't kill him! I won't let you." Both men gripped their guns tightly as they looked from her to one another. Silently debating with their eyes. "Tanner please…" Bunny pleaded with her more reasonable lover. "Alright sugar," The brunette sighed before shaking his head and slowly began lowering his weapon, "Put it down, Rike." "Fuck." Riker spat in annoyance before lowering his weapon, "Looks like it's your lucky day wetback." he smirked down at Manny, sinisterly. Despite coughing up blood and wheezing, Manny's eyes were stuck in a cold glare towards the redneck. "I'm so sorry, "Bunny whispered as she placed her hand against his cheek. The rumbling of motorcycle engines could be heard in the distance getting closer and closer. The pair held eye contact for a few lingering moments before the plump woman was snatched up by her blonde-haired lover and thrown over his shoulder. "Time to go princess," Riker announced as he pushed her into the backseat of the Jeep. "Move out! They're getting close." Riker hollered as he sent shots into the air in an attempt to prologue how close the Yuma biker gang was getting. Tanner did as told, placing his foot harshly on the gas pedal, and sped off through the desert. 

And months after the events of that weekend happened, Manny couldn't help but let his mind wander off to the bubbly, free-soul, beautiful brown-skinned brunette that saved him. Even when he was safely home with his daughter and family, he wondered how she was. If she was okay, how she looked, and most of all...He wondered if her lips felt as soft as they were when they'd kissed the night before the trade-off. What he didn't know was that she thought of him as well.

#theesirentellerstories #theesirenteller fanfic #manny mayans mc #manny montana x oc #manny mayans #manny montana fanfiction

[wardogsong]

@prettytm

"That the one with the budded cross tattoo on his neck? Right side, faded black ink. Keeps company with the Albanians?" Frank double-checks the intel he's given; making sure he's parsing it right. It'd be a shame to make a bad move because he's taken one too many shots to the head. In here? The mooks are all the same to him. Names come in one ear and go out the other with no nevermind to him. He's in here for one reason and one reason only and it isn't to party with these criminals unless they get it started with him first. For the most part he gives them all a wide berth and takes the same in return from the ones smart enough to know who he is and what he's done. It keeps the number of idiots gunning for his head and the prestige it'll bring them down to a reasonable enough number.

There's always gotta be one particularly special class clown though. Frank had known it'd come from the moment they put the cuffs on Billy in the park. It's why he'd let them put those silver bracelets on him too— gone through the whole sham of an additional trial for having busted out of Rikers during his first stint PLUS additional charges for everything he'd done after. The proximity of it all ensured they'd get sent to the same place. The law, well, they were hoping Bill and Frank would finish behind bars what they had started in the middle of the city— hell they offered Billy leniency that Frank could live with to take a deal and keep his trap shut about the truths he knew. Damning truths. Government shaking truths. Frank hopes when they get out of here Billy will either make them pay or sell to the highest bidder but in the meantime; he'll goddamn serve something that brings his weary soul whatever measure of peace he can squeeze out of this.

But he'll serve it safe. He'll serve it right. Not as the pretty boy fresh meat this kind of joint chews up and swallows.

So he brings Bill along to the media room where they all congregate at this hour and stares down the named dead man walking, nodding his way once and confirming yet again. "That him, Bill? This guy?" That final yes is all he needs.

He doesn't have long but he doesn't need long. It's tight enough quarters and the better part of the gathered masses give them room— self preservation of one kind or another kicking in. A few stragglers stay to back up their pal but Frank won't lay hands on them if they don't on him first. Of words? There are none. The whole crew can see Bill's busted up face; the marks of the fight he put up to keep from being assaulted. Everyone in here knows they are some kind of connected. The dots are easy enough for even these morons to put together. Hell, walking in together was statement enough. There is only violence left. A hard fast right hook that breaks nose and brings blood— a roar usually reserved for war and a follow-up flurry of decisive strikes meant to take a man down hard and fast and fatally. Once he's down Frank chokes the life out of him to the soundtrack of blaring alarms and running boots; the usual response to an inmate fight that needs breaking up except that by the time they surround and pry him off? It doesn't need breaking up anymore.

Just a call to the in-house morgue..

#prettytm #( ᴠᴇʀsᴇ ): ʙɪʀᴅs ᴏғ ᴀ ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴊᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ʙʟᴀᴄᴋʙɪʀᴅ & ʀᴀᴠᴇɴ #prison cw #violence cw #death cw #assault cw

[starfleetspacecadet]

@chewbaccaaah requested data and spot!! i love them thank you

#data #spot #tng #orig #star trek the next generation #data showing up to the bridge after this with scratches all over his face: good morning sir :) #riker: what the fresh hell

[storiesofsvu]

quarantining with Rita headcanons?

Okay. I’m doing this more IRL than the way they’ve been showing it on the show lol.

(Also obvs 2020 related tw. Also ignore the million typos cause I’m on my phone...)

Omg. First and foremost, homegirl is BORED AS FUUUUUCK. She’s so used to working insane hours, coming up with compelling/convincing arguments & how to destroy witnesses on the stand that as soon as that comes to a standstill she literally doesn’t know what to do with herself

She still has to occasionally meet with clients, I mean, there’s still more than enough people getting arrested. But she’s striking deals & hoping bails are set low enough her clients won’t have to spend fucking eternity at Rikers while they wait for trials to start back up. (Esp cause she’s so bored she starts to pick up pro bono/super discounted rates cases between all the protests/riots)

Rita’s extra doting on you, esp if you’re an essential worker, she’s not used to the roles in the house being swapped, but turns out she actually can make a pretty good stay at home wife. Dinner’s always on the table by the time you get home (even if it’s just take out), she’s the one suddenly doing the laundry right away to make sure your work stuff is ready to go, and usually greet you with a glass of wine/scotch whatever to destress you

You cannot tell me that she wouldn’t learn to make masks herself, homegirl’s gotta look good & within like a week & a half both you & her have matching masks for most of your outfits

In her boredom she ends up doing a LOT of online shopping, your entire kitchen gets new cookware (which you have to protest when it shows up cause she doesn’t even USE IT) she remodels at least one of the rooms in the house, finds some kind of online workout routine for when outdoor runs no longer seem feasable, and uses the more than leftover time to work her way through all those movies/shows that she’s “put on the list” yet never got around to.

If you’re also working from home, it’s a lot of lazy cuddles, comfy clothes, snacking and day drinking. It’s the most time you’ve been able to spend together in ages. It’s incredibly soft & domestic & you both greatly appreciate the time to slow down a bit. (Though of the two of you, she’s getting antsy as all hell as time goes on)

Once it warms up, she’s whisking you off to the Hamptons for some fresh air & sun, eager to have a change of scenery from the inside of your Tribeca apartment

She definitely jumps at the banana bread/bread making, definitely burns the first like, 4 attempts but once she’s mastered it, it’s pretty bomb. You’re definitely in the middle of a zoom meeting when the smoke alarm goes off & you just sigh & someone else laughs saying “rita must be cooking again?” You cant be mad, cause at least she’s keeping herself busy

When trials finally do commence she’s diving headfirst into it, suddenly oh so aware of how overloaded she got herself, lowkey stresses herself out but you remind her how good she is, and it’s not like she’s been staring down these cases for months, she’s so ready she could do any of them in her sleep

#rita calhoun #rita calhoun headcanons #rita calhoun x reader #tw: pandemic #tw: covid #tw: 2020 #tw: quarantine

[clarice-dagny-archived]

“I’m thankful that Morgan and I are both healthy.  It’s sometimes hard to see the silver lining in the holidays when Riker isn’t here to share them with us.  I’m thankful for the friends I still have that help me get through hard times.  Kai, Effie, Salem, even Elijah.  I’m thankful in knowing Riker is at least happy where he is even if I’m sure he wishes he was here with us at times.”

“I dunno.  I guess I’m thankful to be alive still since that Lysander guy could have ripped me to pieces.  I’m thankful I have a handful of kids I can call friends and it’s cool I have Logan around too.  Still don’t know what to think of Effie but I guess I’m thankful she doesn’t completely hate me.”

“I don’t usually do the whole ‘what I’m thankful for’ crap but I guess this year I’m thankful to get a second chance.  I was ready to call it quits after Auri kicked me out but Wendy helped me see there’s more to life and she was right.  I’m thankful to her and to Ember for keeping me going.”

“I’m thankful for all kinds of things.  The fact we’re still alive.  The fact I have friends and family to even care about.  I’m thankful for my husband and my kids, even if one of them isn’t here anymore.  I’m thankful for the council and the opportunity to help people.  I’m thankful for my siblings even if one of them is being kind of a bitch lately.”

“What am I thankful for...?  The fact I got more than three hours of sleep last night.  I’m thankful for my family.  I’m thankful my sisters put up with me like they do and that Noah still wants to get married despite the shit I put him through.  I’m thankful for my kids, which is something I never thought I’d say.  Thankful for my job, even if it’s stressful as hell at times.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m finishing this and then taking a nap.”

“I’m thankful for my friends and family even if I don’t have a lot of them anymore.  Thankful to the pack for taking me in when they did cuz if they didn’t, I don’t know what I’d be doing.  Uh...  Oh!  I’m thankful for that little Chinese restaurant in town that’s open like all the time because I’m too lazy to cook.  Also thankful for the black Friday deals because momma needs some new shoes.”

“I’m extremely grateful for everything this year.  My marriage mostly.  I thought I lost Effie for good but I had the pack to keep myself occupied.  Now we’re doing better than ever and I feel like I have an actual purpose, so I’m really thankful for all that.  I’m thankful that people are patient with me while I figure things out and I’m thankful we’re all here to ring in the new year.”

“I’m thankful for a lot of things.  My friends and family are the top of the list but I’m also thankful to still be an angel to help people.  I’m thankful to Daisy when sh came from the future so I could know about her and adopt her in the present day.  I’m thankful to Thomas who is still with me despite the skeletons in my closet.  I know without him, I’d be too afraid to try new things.  Which I’m still working on but I’m grateful he lets me take my take.”

“Do I have to get sappy?  Fine.  I’m thankful for my dads.  If they didn’t take me in when they did, I’d probably be dead by now.  I’m thankful for Tiber too.  I don’t know how or why he puts up with my shit but I’m grateful he does.  I’m even thankful for my freaky little brother.  I’d be even more thankful if he let us sleep but it’s whatever.”

“Thankful to be ‘alive’, I suppose.  Thankful that Bex and I have a fresh start.  I’m thankful to have met her at all.  Feels like she gave me a purpose and I look forward to our new life together, where ever that ends up being.”

“Fuck, what am I not thankful for?  I have an amazing wife and kid.  Soon to be kids.  I have amazing friends like Boyd, Azy, Ryan and even Silas.  I have an amazing pack that could have said ‘fuck you’ and turn me away but instead they gave me a chance and now I’m omega.  I’m thankful that even though people are dead like Riker and Reed, I get to keep going for them.  Wouldn’t be where I am today without them.  We done?  I want to get some more of Azy’s sweet potato pie thing before Boyd fucking eats it all.”

“I don’t usually do this kind of thing but I really am super thankful this year.  It was kind of shitty year to start with all the weird demon stuff and then Bex and I splitting up, but it ended up being a huge blessing in disguise.  I’m really thankful to have Esther and the kids and I can’t imagine my life without them.  I’m thankful she’s still with me even after the stuff I’ve put her through.  I’m also thankful to my friends like Remy who give me a kick in the butt when I need it.”

“I’m thankful for a lot of stuff.  Do you have time to go through the list?  I’m thankful for my amazing wife who I would be nothing without.  My kids, who are the light of my life.  I’m thankful for our health and our home.  I’m thankful for Lucy and know that even if she’s not here with us physically, she’s still in our hearts and watching over us like the amazing alpha she is.  I’m thankful Sebastian is still around, sorta.  I’m thankful for my job even if I’ve been bad about going in lately.  I’m thankful for the opportunities we have all the time and I’m thankful for our lives.  Things have been rough this year, like every year, but we’re still going and moving forward and I’m thankful for that.”

“I don’t know.  I’m thankful for being alive still, I guess.  Thankful for my kids.  Thankful I have a wife, most of the time.  Thankful for the friends I’m starting to make. ...that’s all I got.”

#{ group } #{ thanksgiving }

[popwasabi]

“Picard” S1 Review: Doesn’t boldly go but is nonetheless engaging

Produced by CBS All Access

Starring: Patrick Stewart, Isa Briones, Allison Pill, Michelle Hurd, Santiago Cabrera, Evan Evagora, Harry Treadaway

Many fans had high hopes for “Picard” going into CBS All Access’s continuing voyage into the Star Trek franchise.

Fans wanted to see the lore finally expanded into the future after its previous three ventures (Enterprise, Abrams Trek, and Discovery) took place in the past, bring modern themes and ideas to Star Trek’s futurist’s world view in a way that felt fresh and relevant, but most importantly continue the story of the franchise’s greatest captain; Jean-Luc Picard, of course.

(He’s the best captain. This is not up for debate. Don’t @ me!)

In some ways the new series succeeds at this. We get glimpses of the previously untouched world of Star Trek post “Nemesis,” new themes that are resonant with real world events and exploratory, even critical, of the Federation’s worldview, and of course plenty of Picard himself as he navigates the strange new galaxy he inhabits.

But Picard ultimately misses the mark due to rushed storytelling, half-baked side plots, and just plain poor execution overall. It’s sad because “Picard” and this very talented cast and production team have their moments throughout this first season’s ten episode run but somehow even with 10 episodes of content to work with fans still end up with a somewhat jumbled mess.

(Me by like the eighth episode.)

This isn’t to say “Picard” isn’t worth your time if you’re an avid Star Trek fan or just someone who likes Patrick Stewart in this role in general but the first season will leave you still hungry for more and not in a good way.

“Picard” continues the story of the titular captain, now retired admiral, many years after the events of “Nemesis” as a retired Jean Luc reflects on his life in Starfleet and of his late friend Data who gave his life for his. A synth ban has been enacted in Starfleet after a major riot on Mars some years prior and Picard is understandably sour on the idea, given his relationship with Data, while also fighting Starfleet on not helping the exodus of the Romulans after the supernova that wiped out their homeworld in “Star Trek (2009).” When a young woman comes seeking Picard’s aid after an attack by mysterious assailants, revealing that she is an android and the possible daughter of Data, and gets killed, it is up to the retired Admiral to find her twin sister before she suffers the same fate.

Before we get started let’s throw out some of the bad faith arguments on why this series wasn’t all that good.

“Picard” doesn’t suck because it has “politics” in it. At this point, if you are complaining about the existence of social viewpoints and political/philosophical discussions in your Star Trek, or let alone any series for that matter, I don’t know what the hell you’ve been watching the past few decades. Star Trek has always been more than just a show about cool-looking spaceships and laser beams, you neckbeards.

(Hell, even the other “Star” got more going on in it than that.)

It’s also not bad because of female representation or “girl power.” Again, Star Trek has always had this and frankly having a few more instances of the women of Trek taking center stage doesn’t even come close to rebalancing the scales on the overall massive representation of cis white men across the genre and even the series anyways.

Also get the fuck over the use of curse words in this series. While certainly some instances in this show felt awkward, the use of the word “fuck” does not dilute Star Trek’s overall story.

(It would have made earlier season’s funnier for sure.)

Now that that’s out of way let’s get into the real reasons that, for me at least, the series fell short of an otherwise promising goal of delivering great new Star Trek.

The main problem stems from the series overall jumping off point in its first episode. Picard is understandably still upset about the death of Data and having him deal with survivor’s guilt is a great way to bring this character into the future and reexplore the humanist viewpoints Data touched on in the older series. But also having Picard deal with his fallout from Starfleet, both from the synth ban AND the Romulan exodus, creates chasmic diverging plotlines that never quite come together. The story really needed it to be one or the other. Either Picard wanting to advocate for the continued existence of synthetic life or the rescue of the Romulans post super nova. The latter is touched on a bit through the addition of the character Elnor but doesn’t quite work given that majority of the Romulans in this series are portrayed as villains.

There is definitely a post Brexit, anti-immigrant hysteria message being told there but not enough depth and nuance is given to make it look like Starfleet was particularly wrong here to abandon them given that they do end up being spies committing espionage in the Federation and the clear villains of the first season. The showrunners could have brought these two stories together by perhaps making Soji a Romulan bent on bringing down synthetic life because maybe her twin sister died in the riots on Mars, making Picard have to choose between his commitment to both minority groups abandoned by the Federation but of course, that’s not what the series goes with.

Also suddenly shoehorning in a convoluted anti-synth worldview into the already ultra-secretive Romulan empire was muddled to say the least.

(A decent summation of the Romulans, pretty much ever. Also why is the only Asian actress in this scene in Osaka depicted as an alien, Mr Kurtzman?...)

Some of these ideas could’ve been saved through better editing and pacing though but not enough is done in this first season to mitigate these issues. Too much of plot is told through plain exposition; people sitting down and talking for five-ten minutes about prophecies and backstory instead of having the story simply show us instead. It makes the pacing often slow even by Trek standards and grinds the action to a halt even when there are lasers being shot at one another in the next scene.

Many of these plots get barely any attention too. The Borg cube, why it’s abandoned, and why Hugh is working for the Romulans through the Federation is given surface level development at best. Seven of Nine returns and at one point is momentarily hooked up to the Collective and she doesn’t really say much about it after it happens. The new character’s Rios and Raffi both have side stories given to their development that get touched on once and never brought up again. Dr. Jurati straight up murders her lover and is set to turn herself into the Federation and it’s just kind of forgotten about in the finale. And Elnor, well, he gets to do his best Legolas impression slicing and dicing fellow Romulans with his sword I guess.

(He is still best boi though :3...)

The main co-star however, Soji the perfect android, has a particularly rushed development going from a scientist unknowing of her nature, to supposed prophet of doom, to predictably the savior all in one season. Her arc needed more time to develop with perhaps her Romulan love affair with Narek being the first season’s main driving force and her realization as an android being the climax. 

Instead we get basically four seasons of Battlestar Galactica’s Sharon arc crammed into one season and it unfortunately makes the story feel half-baked.

(Ok, Boomer.)

Don’t get the wrong idea, all these new characters have great individual moments as well throughout the season but sooooo much side plot is shoved in already into a muddled overarching narrative that it feels like several seasons worth of storytelling stuffed and edited down into a ten episode arc. Why the series felt it needed to conclude this robust story about synth hating Romulans in “Picard’s” first season feels like an unforced error in this reviewer’s opinion even if Sir P Stew only has maybe a couple seasons of extensive acting left in him anyways.

But the season isn’t completely worthless, as much as this review has been spent dunking on its less than stellar parts. The cast is exceptional, even working with the spare parts they’ve been given. Episode 5’s “Stardust City Rag,” in particular, stands out as a good mix of old and new Trek, with a decent dosage of cheese featuring Patrick Stewart trying on a French accent in a space bar. Santiago Cabrera is delightful as the ship captain Rios while also playing various forms of himself in AI form in equally enjoyable roles. Evan Evagora is fun as the deadly yet somewhat aloof Elnor, even if his character doesn’t do all that much except cut up a few Romulans. Seeing Jonathan Frakes and Marina Sirtis reprise their roles as Riker and Troi respectively in episode 6 was heartwarming and felt the most like TNG out of all the episodes. And Jeri Ryan seems liberated in this series in this version of Seven of Nine, no doubt glad to be rid of that restrictive corset and Rick Berman’s meddling hands.

(Big “Fuck you, Rick Berman” energy going on in this scene.)

The production value is obviously high level as Trek has rarely looked this good on the small screen. There’s some great cinematography throughout the season whether it’s Picard’s chateau winery, the haunting nature of the Borg cube, or the synth homeworld in the season’s final beats. The spaceships look cool as always and the world of the future feels well futuristic.

The musical score is also top notch, with a great opening theme that feels very much in line with Trek at its futurist glimpse into a hopeful cosmos.

The season’s best moments though are between Picard and Data and will remind you why they were more than likely your favorite characters on TNG. Generally speaking, exploring the humanist themes of artificial intelligence in new Trek was a good choice and having Picard deal with survivor’s guilt kept the pulse of the muddled story still beating. Brent Spiner is still great as Data and will remind you all again how talented he has always been as an actor and though his age seeps through the makeup a bit he is nonetheless still a perfect android.

Though the finale as a whole is underwhelming, the characters do share a nice final moment that is both touching and reminiscent of everything a fan loves about Star Trek. It’s a great cap to an otherwise ok return to Star Trek for TNG’s top characters and its truly touching in the best way that this franchise has always been known to be.

(Deactivating my emotions chip because I just..can’t! I just can’t, ok! *Sobs*)

But great acting and high production value can only mask so many flaws with a convoluted plot and “Picard” unfortunately suffers from the bloated and uncooked nature of its many ideas. What the story really needed was three season arc not just ten episodes and it shows. I guess the plus side is with this particular plot wrapped up it leaves the door open for new ideas and a fresh start in the second season but it does feel like an overall miss for Picard’s homecoming back into the universe of Star Trek.

Overall, though there are worse ways a Star Trek fan can spend their quarantine than watching “Picard” and there’s certainly enough here for fans to latch onto and have hope for better things in the next season.

Hopefully things are less rushed or at least more focused in the second season and we can see a more proper return to form for both Picard and future Star Trek.

Here’s hoping the producers and writers make it so…

VERDICT:

3 out of 5

Let’s hope we get a return of Q in the next season.

#Star Trek #Star Trek Picard #Picard #Jean Luc Picard #Patrick Stewart #CBS #CBS All Access #Star Trek TNG #TNG #the next generation #Data #Star Trek Data #Brent Spiner #Sci Fi #science fiction #TV show #review #reviews #TV #gene roddenberry #Coronavirus #Covid19 #Covid 19 #Covid-19 #quarantine #lockdown #Jonathan Frakes #marina sirtis #battlestar galactica #BSG

[ask-q-and-picard]

(Ladies, gentlemen, members of the Continuum of all shapes and sizes, please do forgive my absurdly long, depression-fuelled hiatus; I’m doing much better now, so I hope you’ll all accept a lovely piece of Christmas fluff for your reading pleasure as my apology! I shall get to responding to anything I haven’t yet over the next few days, but basically, we’re back, and I’ve had far too much gin and chocolate on this frankly lovely day - bring on the madness, mes amis, and compliments of the season! <3 #celestialout)

(P.S. Oh, and @q-card - not quite the drabble I’m promising for new year, but perhaps the next best thing? xD)

Picard: Will, you were exceptional today. Your diplomatic prowess is a credit to this ship, and to Starfleet.

Riker: Coming from the undisputed king of this sort of thing, Captain, that’s truly high praise.

Picard: Oh, well, I have been known to be good with words, Number One.

Riker: That you have, sir. Still, no potential shirking intended, but I’d rather sleep for a solid eight hours than ever consider co-chairing an inter-species conference again.

Picard: Between you and I, I couldn’t agree more. I think we both deserve an evening of full relaxation, frankly. A glass of the family vintage may even be in order!

Riker: Captain’s orders, I hope?

Picard: Make it so, only do try and ensure you’re sufficiently alive in the morning...

Riker: I’ll take it under consideration, Captain. I want you to know that I’m absolutely not about to leave you at your quarters and request a single drop of Guinan’s secret stash. I wouldn’t be so irresponsible.

Picard: Well, of course you wouldn’t. 

Riker: Glad we understand one another, sir. Night!

Picard: Enjoy yourself, Commander, and thank you. I for one am prepared to have a very much quieter affair. No distractions, hopefully. A little reading, perhaps some ambient lighting - 

...

Riker: Stretching the definition of ‘ambient’ a little there, Captain... and is that a tree? Where in the quadrant did you get -

Picard: I... Number One, what’s the stardate?

Riker: 48634.44, I think - it’s been a long few days -

Picard: ... Ah.

Riker: Is everything alright, sir?

Picard: Completely, Number One. Don’t let me delay your free time any further. I’ll see you in the morning.

Riker: Are you sure you’re -

Picard: Yes, perfect - do enjoy, that’s an order. Goodnight!

Riker: ... Yes sir...

...

Picard: ... Q, what in fresh hell have you done?

Q: ... Oh, has he finally gone? Thank me, truly... and you ought to be aware, my dear! You’re quite the historian, for a linear mortal anyway.

Picard: 48634.44 - 2372, of course, but also December 25th, known to my distant ancestors as -

Q: Christmas! A wonderful time of the standardised Federation year, Jean-Luc! Humans don’t much bother with holidays nowadays, of course - you’re all far too preoccupied with advancing and measuring and diplomacy, as though such things ultimately count. Frankly, I feel you should all lighten up; your family’s wine is quite the treasure, but have you considered adding spices to it, perhaps a little heat? Mulled wine, darling - the greatest tradition of them all.

Picard: Q, I... it’s been a very, very trying few days, as you know -

Q: Well, yes, hence this. You and I, tasteful decorations - slightly too tasteful, in my opinion, but I’m deferring to you, mon capitaine - cinnamon buns, which I haven’t indulged in just yet but are already threatening to overtake almond croissants in my heart, spiced wine, a genuine fireplace... gifts! I have a gift for you, Jean-Luc. You’re going to love it.

Picard: ... You didn’t have to do this, Q. I’d be perfectly fine with catching up on some sleep, and perhaps enjoying a lazy embrace or two -

Q: I don’t ever have to do anything, dear - I’m omnipotent, an authority unto myself. I simply wanted to. Traditionally, Christmas is a time for family... for home. You are mine; I am yours, I hope. Felt appropriate. I can snap it away, of course, if you -

Picard: Don’t you dare. And yes, you are. Thank you, mon dieu, for everything. This is... cathartic.

Q: I... I am. That’s... I truly... you couldn’t possibly understand... wine. We were going to drink mulled wine. And buns! Yes, wonderful -

Picard: I seem to have developed a habit of overwhelming you, recently.

Q: ... I can learn to live with such things, darling. There’s a spiral galaxy in the Theta quadrant, though, that may be in trouble. I’ll fix it momentarily. Just... give me a second.

Picard: I would greatly appreciate that, Q. So this is... warm wine? A fascinating concept...

Q: Yes, with spices, cloves, other such delights - oh, stop talking. I’m going to kiss you now, Jean-Luc.

Picard: Thank the stars for that.

...

Q: So, cinnamon buns...

Picard: Mm, indeed. Indulge me, Q - do you have a new favourite pastry?

Q: ... I may interchange our breakfasts, once in a while.

Picard: ... Dear lord. I didn’t think it was even plausible.

Q: Well, I do so hate to be predictable, Jean-Luc. I imagine you taste of cinnamon, now...

Picard: ... Well, we are a scientific vessel. It would be something of a crime if we didn’t test such things.

Q: Hush, you handsome thing you...

...

Q: ... Gifts, dammit, before you distract me any further!

Picard: Oh, because of course I’m the distracting one here.

Q: You have no idea, Jean-Luc. Beneath the tree, that’s how you all used to do it. A present, meant to indicate your affection towards another - the grandest tradition of them all, wine aside.

Picard: That’s very kind, Q, but I haven’t -

Q: You can replicate me something later, man - get on with it! Honestly, this is worse than that time you were twelve - model starship, really? You’re a walking  cliché, dear.

Picard: ... What? You did not -

Q: Oh no, couldn’t possibly have, of course. It was certainly your dinosaur of a father who thought that was a superlative birthday gift.

Picard: I... did you ever do anything else -

Q: No no, I know how deeply you value your infernal linearity - do hurry up!

Picard: Alright, alright... is this earl grey, Q?

Q: That is not simply earl grey, Captain. That’s the finest of earl grey. I should know - I’ve been cultivating the bergamot for the past month, in a rather despicably mortal manner I may add. It may have a slight aroma of deep space; don’t be alarmed, it creates a divine flavour profile. I fully guarantee it shall have no negative effect on the operation of the ship, unless you happen to take it anywhere near the warp core.

Picard: ... I’ll take full heed of that, yes... this is incredibly thoughtful, Q. And there’s this, too... it’s a box. A small box.

Q: Well observed, darling. You’re good at this...

Picard: ... And it appears to be velvet.

Q: ... Yes...

Picard: ... And it seems suspiciously as though it may fit a ring -

Q: Ah, no. Not in my entire immortality, dear. Far too human, worry not.

Picard: ... Thank heavens.

Q: Quite. You’re not a million light years away, however...

Picard: ... Q, what is this?

Q: Super-condensed nebula. Unbreakable glass, naturally - can’t have you destroying the local galaxy if you happen to take a tumble. And no, I haven’t stolen a phenomena for the aesthetic gravitas, however in character that might be - I made the thing specifically for this.

Picard: It’s... Q, this is spectacular...

Q: Darling, at considerable risk of being entirely too saccharine, the universe, all its infinite majesty, has been my only sanctuary for millions of years. It would have been rather an oversight not to transfer a fraction of the honour to my new one.

Picard: Q, I... may be about to be incredibly distracting, my dear.

Q: Oh, I really hope so.

Picard: No hope required, I assure you, but... you’ve given me a piece of space, Q, and I haven’t gotten you a single thing.

Q: Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Jean-Luc. You’re here, aren’t you? As though I need anything else.

Picard: ... We may never recover from this distraction, you know. I trust you’ll rectify time eventually?

Q: Mm. Eventually...

#aesthetics #picard speaks #q speaks #now featuring our indomitable commander #god it's been eighty-four years #but mon capitaine she's baaaaack #I have honestly missed the hell out of this #here guys #take some adorable for our extended break #and because 'tis the season and my name's Holly #hope you've had a magical one guys whether it's a regular weekday or a holiday for you #I may have eaten too much #and I've certainly drunk too much #but full shoutout to me for being seven gins in and still working out a pretty accurate stardate #I'm the real seasonal MVP guys #obligatory blog Who reference number 1701 #... look I'm just saying #I'll canonise Q as Eleven if y'all want it #maybe Ten? #no hang on #to hell with this #he's obviously the Master #don't drink and blog kids #you too will get your Johns confused #though he's a bit more michelle #... dear god #AU Q as Missy? #who needs a bergamot tree or condensed nebula when you've got THAT image as a gift? #also I'm beginning to think I've got a personal trope known as 'space jewellery' #I definitely have two drabbles of this exact thing with an actual wedding ring

[maddyaddy]

A tale of Guadalcanal.

Not one of the men spoke on patrol. It was not simply because they might alert the enemy with careless chatter, though that was a consideration. No, something in the environs silenced the Marines. It was the oppressive darkness of the jungle, inescapable, mentally choking. Green as far as the eye could see, green to the left, and green to the right of them. Merely being in it made them recede into themselves, alone with nothing but their thoughts and their Springfield rifles.

Finally, Corporal Jones spoke in a hushed, whispery tone. “I can still hear them chatter. At night, y’know.” He was referring to the Japanese. The memory of the night battle on the east side of the Lunga perimeter, near Alligator Creek, was fresh in all the Marines’ minds. “I can’t make out what they’re saying. But they’re there. I know it.” His deep blue eyes were wide with horror.

Lieutenant Riker was silent for a time, then spoke. “You weren’t there when we cleaned up, Jones.” He said flat-out. His speech was equally tinged with fear and terror. “Some of them, they…” The craggy-faced sarge paused, unsure of what he’d say. Or whether to say it at all, even. “The wounded would blow themselves up to get at us. They simply wouldn’t just surrender; they’d try to get at us. Mickey lost his arm to a guy who was blinded by his own blood.”

Riker sighed. They let the silence hang there in the air. Guadalcanal was hell. They were all sure of it. Though they were only dimly aware of it, there was something deeply wrong here, with this war. There was darkness in the jungle, thick darkness, the type that God and prophets lived in.

One aspect of it being wrong was how personal it was. Their fathers had all fought in the Great War. That was an impersonal slaughterfest, where killing had occurred at long distances. Where you could barely see the enemy at best, much less look him in the eye. Where the artillery drumroll signalled unseen death. It wasn’t like that here, on Guadalcanal. Not in the slightest.

The Japanese detachment had conducted a frontal assault on August 21st. It was a risky maneuver under any circumstances. Their commander had chosen to do it at night, and against dug-in Marines. “It still bugs me, Alligator Creek. Jeez. What on Earth did they think was going to happen?” Riker almost sympathetically spoke of them. “What on Earth did they think was going to happen?” He repeated himself, his grip tightening around his rifle’s grip.

They had murdered their crack troops, killed them by the bushel. Machine-gunned them down, hit them with the 37mm cannon, and shot them with the Springfields. Every way the 1st Marine Regiment had to kill a man had been directed at those 900 men. And the Marines were skilled in the ways of war. Yet that didn’t feel like much comfort in the face of this futility.

Yet they had kept on coming. “Why? It was futile.” Riker’s voice was almost a whisper. His voice cracked as he thought of the fallen. “They couldn’t do it. They knew they couldn’t do it! Why did they try?!”

There was a crime here. A crime so gargantuan, it boggled the Marines’ minds as they paced through the Guadalcanal jungle. It was a crime of sending nine hundred men to their deaths. Of murder by way of Marine. Of inculcating a mindset so fanatical, it preferred death to life. They couldn’t fathom the Japanese mindset. It was a matter of observing something at a distance, and not getting the whole story.

So, as the platoon continued its patrol, they were left with one word on their minds.

Why?

[halfwayinlight]

Title:  Fauxrents, Ch 3 Rating: PG, possibly up to PG13 in future chapters Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi

It wasn’t surprising that the corridors of the Enterprise were empty at zero twenty, but Will didn’t realize exactly how tired he was until he passed Deanna’s door and nearly gained his and realized he was supposed to be three more decks away. To where she was staying with the Potts boys several decks below. Running his hand over his beard in frustration, he went ahead and entered his own quarters. He might as well take a quick sonic shower, change into his bedclothes, and grab a fresh uniform for in the morning.

Thus far, he was nearly a week into life as a parent-by-proxy, and things were settling a little. The boys were getting better at doing their homework and having it mostly completed by the time that either he or Deanna met them in the evenings. Deanna had found a few activities to better cover the gap between the end of the school day and shift changes.

They’d discovered that the boys liked playing various games and enjoyed swimming, which they had previously only done on shore leave. So at least twice now, including in the earlier evening, they all went for a long swim after dinner. It wore out the boys, and it was a good stress release. And besides, he knew Deanna enjoyed the water, even if she still thought it was weird that humans insisted on swimsuits. He would never stop teasing her about that.

He tried not to think about how nice his bed would feel right about now. The Potts quarters did have the main bedroom, but it still felt too strange to sleep in a couple’s bed that wasn’t his. The couch wasn’t nearly long enough. More than once he found Deanna asleep on it before he was ready for bed. And he envied how she always seemed to curl so neatly on it. It was about time to check with Data or Geordi about other options because he’d spent half the day with an aching back from trying to fit himself onto the sofa.

Perception, Will reflected, really was a strange thing. It felt like it took twice as long to walk to the turbolift, go three more decks down, and walk two corridors than it had taken for him to leave the bridge and get to his own quarters. The distance was only a little further, but the family corridors were silent this late.

This particular call out so late at night was a two-part issue. The first was a yellow alert from a dicey situation with the region of space and a borderline-hostile and certainly not friendly ships patrolling the region. He had managed to smooth things over without an actual incident and without needing to rouse the captain, who had been working far too much in the last weeks and needed sleep worse than Will. He’d asked Data to call him first tonight. And although it was the most pressing to the overall wellbeing of the ship, it had turned out to be the easier of the two issues needing his attention.

Once the alert was over, a call had come up from sickbay requesting senior staff. Will had turned over command to Data and dutifully made his way down. When he had walked into the ICU area, Will found the doctor on duty with four surly looking patients.

Ensign Sa’Naar was glaring at the floor, his left eye swollen shut. Starling and Ulani were two other ensigns, both fresh out of the academy and on their first assignments. Just new enough and resembling one another enough that Will still struggled to distinguish them from the other. One was being tended to by a nurse who was mending something in his hand. The other screened for internal injuries. And the ever-eager-to-prove-herself Von Treaes was sitting in the farthest bio bed protesting that she was fine in an uncanny mimic of the way Deanna usually handled her stays in sickbay. With no more success than the counselor, either. As she was clearly unable to get up from the table without assistance.

No one had wanted to talk for long minutes. In the end, it took the report of the security officer on watch tonight and a few previous odd reports to piece it together. And Starling had broken first, pulled into a private room. Twelve questions in, and the whole story behind the overly competitive ensigns had unraveled.

All four were confined to separate private cubicles in sickbay while they rested. Tomorrow he’d have to investigate everything. He had no issue with blowing off steam. Or friendly competition. There were plenty of tournaments during the course of any given year for all sorts of games and sports. But a fight ring on Deck 28 in some empty storage bays made Will’s blood boil. There was nothing sporting or okay about knocking each other senseless.

For now, though, his initial anger had burned off. It was far past time to be sleeping. He could only imagine what Deanna and the captain were going to have to say about this. That was a problem for tomorrow. Or at least six hours from now.

He’d fully prepared to have to move Deanna before he fell asleep on the couch in the Potts quarters. In fact, he was really looking forward to her familiar weight and warmth resting against him. He swore he slept better with her beside him. In all honesty, he was tired of the couch, though. It was too short and forced him to scrunch into awkward positions. Sending him twice to sickbay for a head ache caused by pinched nerves in his neck one day and muscle spasms in his back on another. Easily remedied by Beverly… but even she had questioned why he was putting himself through it. The simplest answer was that he had been too busy during the day to deal with a better bed solution.

The lounge was silent. Lights still on as they had been when he was called away a few hours ago. He trudged on toward the low light still on in the boys’ room, and he was fully prepared to lay down the law about how they had to go to sleep. Deanna would be wiped out in the morning, and she was never a morning person as it was.

But he found everyone deeply asleep. Both boys and Deanna, still in her maroon suit, were on Willie’s bed in a big cuddly pile. His breath left him in a rush. It wasn’t something he had known he’d ever wanted until he saw this. This small slice of domestic normalcy.

For long moments he wondered what it would’ve been like. If he’d said yes six years ago. If he’d met her at Risa. If he’d tried to make it work. If he’d turned down the Potemkin. If he had done anything to pursue what she had so clearly wanted. What he had feared. And now he was feeling foolish and wondering what, exactly, he had feared. If they would’ve had a kid already. Probably not right away. But in six years, they might have had one.

And he might have screwed that up, too. Or messed up a kid along the way. Probably not the same way his father had… but the specter of that lurked.

He was so, so tired. But he couldn’t drag himself away just yet. He was trying to absorb this moment and the way that Willie was sprawled across his bed, his hand curled around Deanna’s arm, reaching for assurance even in sleep. The boy’s pillow was damp with drool. And Jake was curled up, his back to Deanna’s. But still close enough to seek the warmth and comfort she offered.

A family to come home to, even if it’s only temporary. Why the hell did he run from this?

He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to seek out his own comfort tonight. Rubbing his face and beard, he made his way to the far side. Jake was lean for his age, not that Will was complaining. His arms slid under knees and shoulders, and he lifted quickly and moved the older boy to his own bed a few feet away. In retrospect, he should’ve pulled down the covers first. But Jake wasn’t complaining.

It was going to be a tight fit with both him and Deanna on the twin bed, but he was determined to make it work. One down, one to go. He carefully eased Willie’s hand from Deanna’s arm and tried to shift her without waking her.

A hand caught his arm and a groggy protest. “ ‘was warm,” she mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Sssh, I’m moving him over so I can sleep—”

“Not fair to kick him out of his own bed,” Deanna countered groggily. She pushed herself up, blinking owlishly and clearly attempting to muster the energy to get to her feet and trudge to the other room.

He sighed but nodded, his brain too tired to figure out how this was going to work now. But he slid an arm around her and let her lean on him as he tugged the blanket back over the youngest boy and led her back to the lounge, calling for the lights to dim. Will planned to tuck her into the sofa, but she caught his arm and pulled him down to the cushions.

The last days since they had suddenly taken on parenthood, each night seemed to end with both of them too exhausted to make many decisions. Maybe it was better this way. So he went with it and stretched out, trying to find a cushion to support his head and neck.

In moments, she was curling into the spaces left. Her head tucked under his chin, weight shifted somewhere atop him and supported by the back cushions. Reaching awkwardly and trying not to move her too much, Will snagged the blanket from the previous night and managed to get it more or less over Deanna. “’s that ok?”

Silence was his answer. She had fallen back to sleep as quickly as she had awakened. Almost alarmingly quickly. And it occurred him that this wasn’t keeping any kind of boundaries between them. But his thoughts were hard to hold onto right now. Because she was warm. And here. And it felt like something he imagined marriage to be. But before he could turn over that thought to examine it, the day closed in over him. And he slept.

#imzadi #otp: imzadi #star trek tng #counselor troi #deanna troi #will riker #commander riker #my fic #verse: fauxrents #my messed up space cinnamon nugget rolls

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Incrimination: Chapter 8

Authors’ Note: TGIF!!! Time to get back to what is going on with Rafael and see how he is fairing in Rikers. Perhaps a surprise visit from someone unexpected...read on to find out who!! Once again @rauliskafan love and appreciate the feedback you all give us!!! So keep it coming! :)

When this is all done, I’ll know how a case feels from every side. Might make me a better lawyer.

It was a lesson that he could have lived without.

“Rafael!”

Hearing Liv’s voice, Rafael whipped his head over his shoulder and watched her palm flatten against the air. The uniform leading him to some unknown fate took a small step back, and he inched towards the lieutenant, listening quickly as she spoke with a speed to rival his usual tones.

“Cutter can’t be swayed,” she started. “He’s concerned about the press.”

“But obviously not me,” Rafael replied, feeling his eyes roll as she touched his arm.

“He’s having you arraigned in night court. After that…”

“I know what comes next, Liv,” he said, cutting her off. “Natalia…”

“I can give her a ride to the courthouse.”

“No!” he said, a lump catching in his throat as he leaned closer. “I don’t want her to… Fin’s going to take her home. She needs to get back to the girls. To get away from…”

His voice gave out, the lump strangling his speech and his eyes blinking as they stared into hers.

“Rafael, I am so sorry,” Liv said. “Seeing you like this… it makes me sick.”

“Not doing much better from this side of the scene,” he replied as he lifted his shackled wrists, and she seemed on the verge of too many tears.

“We don’t have much time,” Liv told him.

“I know,” he answered. “Mike? What’s going to happen to him?”

“Not my call,” she admitted. “His father is furious.”

“I’ve put you in a bad spot all around,” he admitted.

“Rafael, I don’t care about that.”

“I do,” he said. “Steer clear of this, Liv. Don’t let it get any worse.”

“But I want to---”

“Just stay safe, Liv,” he said. “I’ll take care of myself.”

She looked ready to say something else when he straightened up and forced a smirk, wanting this to be like any other sidebar even as the difference was as bright as the red and blue lights flashing behind him.

“That better be a promise that you keep, Rafael,” she said before she was called back into the thick of it and had to turn on her heel.

Then she was gone. And for the first time in a long time, he felt truly alone.

The ride from the squad was cloaked in darkness with no way of knowing if he was still in the city or even this century. His wrists began to ache, but the pain of leaving Natalia was far worse. He had tried to look at her for as long as possible before he was hauled away. Naturally, he would see her again. At some point. But an uneasy rumbling sat like a jagged rock in the pit of his stomach.

No one was ever arraigned so quickly, no man, woman or minor ever sent to Rikers with such speed under the shadow of the moon. Cutter had his reasons, and in less than an hour, after another ride deeper into the abyss, Rafael Barba went from an ADA to a convict, a name to a number. It wasn’t just the three-piece suit swapped out for an ill-fitting orange costume. It was the looks as he was marched past other prisoners, having to appear out of place, and fearing that some of the many he had worked to put behind these same sets of bars were now out for his blood.

“Lights out, Barba.”

A shiver ran up his spine when the guard used his name, and Rafael tried to settle into the battered cot, covering his eyes with one arm to ward off the moon that glowed like ice through the palest set of stars. Try as he might, he could not block out the barriers now keeping him so far from home…

…or the sounds of the whispers bouncing off the thick walls, crawling out of unmarked graves with the most wicked laughter.

Barba?

That the sex lawyer?

Pretty boy ain’t looking so fine now.

He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

His arm slipped from his face, and Rafael tried to tune out the noise, the threats, curling to his side and imagining that he was home, with his hermosa flor. In his mind, his most fervent fantasies, her fingers threaded through his hair, her lips lightly against his temples, and her whisper a warm wind chasing the gray clouds away. But as the night dragged on, the constant threats mingled with inside joke sent his memory deeper into yesterday. To the nights when he tossed and turned as bullies’ voices echoed in his brain… to his father’s looks of disgust, his brutal hands only adding to the bruises already covering his body. His mother had tried and failed… did she even know what was happening to him now?

Come morning, Rafael was bleary-eyed and broken. Grateful for the first time in his life that a shower was delayed, he felt on edge in the cafeteria, sitting alone with a plastic tray of inedible food. His eyes constantly darted in every direction as he played with the meager meal. With the whispers assigned to faces, he swore he saw long ago defendants sitting at every other table. But when some of the sideways glances left the room for this or that work duty, he was left forgotten with his paltry plate. A wave of fresh memories washed over him, the short, strange kid abandoned while others made friends. Yes, there was Eddie… even thinking of Alex did his soul some good in that second. But he was slipping back into his singular brand of solitary confinement, the days when even his supposed success did nothing to let him believe in so-called lights at the ends of impossibly long tunnels.

Instinctively, he reached into an unfamiliar pocket for his phone. Because he wanted Natalia, wanted to hear her voice and let it be the lifeline to drag him out of this pit. One word from her lips would give him a glimpse of the light and let him believe in the fairy tale living in her eyes.

“Got a visitor, Barba.”

The same guard from the previous night had him on his feet the second he realized, remembered where he was, that his phone was locked away in another steel cage.

“A visitor?” he echoed.

“That’s what I said.”

Trying to ignore the frost in the guard’s tone, Rafael followed the other man’s lead as he dumped out the contents of his untouched tray. Fin took her home; the last thing he wanted was Natalia watching from the gallery, listening to the charges leveled against him. But now, after just one night separated from her side, he found himself desperate to see her, hoping---

“Let’s shake a fucking leg!”

The guard shoved him, the memories that had nearly swallowed him whole threatening to make like a merciless waterfall pouring over the edge of his brain. Somehow, he kept walking. Soon there would be Natalia, only Natalia, nothing but Natalia, and---

“Good morning, Mr. Barba.”

Stopping in his tracks, stunned, he narrowed his eyes and saw a tall woman with icy eyes and a mass of curls spilling over her shoulders. Before he found the strength to move, he endured a rough push from the guard and stumbled towards the nearest chair.

“Steady on!” the woman said in a clipped tenor. “We won’t have that on my watch.”

Bending at the waist, the guard gave the unexpected visitor a mocking bow, a sarcastic salute, and started back to the door.

“Apologies, Ms. Pond,” the guard said. “I’ll leave you and your… client to it.”

The door slammed shut, and Rafael trained his eyes on the woman, watching her sink into the opposing chair, silencing her phone with one hand and extending the other until he shook it in an instant of realization.

“Miranda Pond,” Rafael said.

“So you are familiar with me,” she smiled.

“I’ve heard your name… from Liv…” His speech stalled as he finally sat and started to collect his thoughts. “But I’ve… we’ve…”

“Never had the pleasure of going up against one another,” she said with a smile. “Pity. The fact is I’ve been tending to matters overseas. I’ve only been back for a few months. And here I was looking forward to a visit from my cousin when your father-in-law rang us both up.”

“Trevor?” Rafael croaked. “You… you know…?”

“Obviously,” Miranda said. For a few moments during the darkest night of his soul, his mind had drifted to the likes of John Buchanan or Rita Calhoun if he was to fight… and beat these charges.

“Now don’t go thinking that every Brit knows one another,” Miranda teased. “But my cousin and I are putting the reunion on hold. You remember Brenna Harker."

Nodding his head and swallowing hard, Rafael waited until his mind began to fire on the cylinders seemingly burnt out.

“You’re her cousin,” he stated plainly.

“Very good, Mr. Barba!” Miranda chirped. “And your current predicament aside, I rather relish the thought of getting back before a judge.”

“Probably better to have someone defending me who… who didn’t know the victim,” Rafael said.

“Exactly,” Miranda agreed. “Trevor called it the best of all possible worlds.”

“Quoting Candide?” Rafael managed to quip.

“Mr. Barba, I think we shall get along famously.”

Feeling at ease, he watched her reach into the slim valise at her side to reveal a manila folder.

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“The lab report. On the late Ms. Selby.”

“How did you get a hold of that?”

“I still have friends in high and low places who were only too happy to help. Have you truly looked at this?”

“No,” Rafael admitted.

“Why?” Miranda asked.

“I… too busy protecting…” His mind that had lingered on Natalia suddenly flashed to Dodds.

“Mike.”

“What of the sergeant?” Miranda asked.

“He doesn’t deserve to lose his shield over this,” Rafael started. “Is there something that you can do to help him?”

“You best leave that to Liv and her brothers and sisters in blue,” Miranda cut in. “I hear his old man is raising hell and branding it with a new address. We have your neck to worry about. This report is our first ace in the hole.”

Stretching forward, he just caught a glimpse of the diagrams and the medical codes before meeting Miranda’s eyes.

“Is that what I think I’m reading?” he asked.

“From the angle of the injury, it appears that Ms. Selby’s skull struck her bedside table. In another life, you could have easily claimed self-defense. Definitely a blight on your reputation… but not quite this.”

“I should kick myself, right?” Rafael darkly asked.

“You look kicked around enough right about now,” Miranda stated. “Yes, the cleanup complicates things. But what’s done is done.”

He let those words sink in and grasped the edge of the table.

“Are you still with me?” she asked.

“Here and feeling foolish,” he said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“That’s what your father-in-law is paying me for.”

“I thought that this was… was a favor,” Rafael countered.

“A girl’s still got to eat,” Miranda shot back. “Now ask away.”

His eyes traveled to his bare finger, and he closed his eyes tightly, seeing Natalia as she had looked the first time they attended the opera, bathed in pink, beautiful and smiling. Sometimes he wished she could have stayed like that, untouched by any and all tragedies.

“I… do you think that my wife… that Mike would be spared any further investigation if I just took a plea and… and the consequences?”

For a second, Miranda seemed shocked. But Rafael made no effort to take the words back. He focused on her eyes and saw her slowly shake her head until her smile expanded.

“Well what do you know,” she began. “Apparently royalty’s not confined to Buckingham. Here’s a prince of Manhattan looking after one of his lords and his lady fair.”

He nearly blushed. But that sight was meant for said lady fair’s eyes only.

“Be straight with me,” Rafael said.

“Possibly,” Miranda said, tapping the tip of a pen against the tabletop. “But I’m not here to cut a deal. Not yet anyway. And on that point, Natalia would agree.”

“You… you’ve already talked to her about this?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Miranda said. “Neither one of us went into this morning seeking conciliation prizes. And orange isn’t exactly your color.”

He almost laughed at the joke when his mind turned back to his wife, his eyes drifting to the empty chair at his sudden lawyer’s side.

“Where is Natalia?” he quietly asked. “Shouldn’t she be here?”

“Make no mistake; she wanted to join us.  But given the choice to sit here and worry and get out and take action, she opted for the latter.”

His heart started to swell with pride when he suddenly grasped Miranda’s hand.

“On her own?” he nervously asked. “Is she safe?”

“Quite safe, Mr. Barba,” Miranda assured him. “I told you the reunion was on hold. Natalia is in Brenna’s hands this morning.”

Was that safe? He remembered London. But the woman had come through then. And he had to believe… hope that Natalia would stay protected until he could touch her, feel her, forget this place and live in the light once more.

#rafael barba #Raúl Esparza #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #Olivia Benson #mike dodds #fin tutuola #a hard lesson in incrimination #a hard lesson series #rafael barba x oc #raul esparza

[intellectualviolence]

White Privilege in it's normal disobedient setting. Follow the law. #iwantthesmoke #Repost @shaunking • • • • • • West Village, New York City Dear @NYCMayor & @NYPD,⁣ ⁣ Answer this for me. ⁣ ⁣ This picture is from the West Village in Manhattan yesterday. Was taken by my friend @welcome2thebronx. No social distancing. No masks. No gloves. Nothing. CROWDED AS HELL. ⁣ ⁣ But super white. Why are your goons not going in there and brutalizing people, punching them, choking them, tasering them, handcuffing and arresting them, and sending THESE PEOPLE to Rikers????⁣ ⁣ Answer me that. ⁣ ⁣ Instead you send your goons like Officer Garcia, Badge #19234, to Black neighborhoods to brutalize and arrest BLACK KIDS AND YOUNG ADULTS who are just sitting outside for some fresh air. ⁣Same city. Other side of town. ⁣ 3-4 Black people congregate and you brutalize and arrest them and send them to Rikers where they might actually die and will be super likely to catch the virus. ⁣ ⁣ HUNDREDS of white people do the same thing, and crickets. You do nothing. It’s like they are in a different fucking country. They might as well be. ⁣ ⁣ @NYCMayor - you ran for office saying you’d be different and said you wouldn’t stand for this shit. You stand for it. You protect it. You defend it. ⁣ ⁣ @NYPD - you are genocidal. That’s what this is. It’s genocide. It’s apartheid. It’s one violent, brutal reality for Black people and one cheerful clean reality for white people. That’s apartheid. ⁣ ⁣ Fuck you both. And I say that on a Sunday when Lord knows I try to be focused and centered, but you are pushing us and trying us. And it’s not going to last. Follow @grassrootslaw https://www.instagram.com/p/B_u3K-FjldC/?igshid=1linvn76sfzqg

#iwantthesmoke #repost #19234

[dinacharya]

Chapter 2. aka, Adele 25 therapy

what are tumblrs for if not for ridiculous oversharing and creeping into people’s lives you have no business being in, right? 

disclaimer: it’s a saturday night, 11:45pm to be exact, and i’m 4 hours deep into listening to Adele’s 25 album on repeat. i’ve also micro-dosed. or maybe regular dosed, depends who you ask. For all intents and purposes here, I’m calling it a micro because i very much have a grip even if my trusty wall tapestry is doing pretty things, and I had a very clear intention diving in. 

the tl;dr is that this 25-year old’s solo post-break up trip is a fucking cleanse and this is the vibe I’m fully on right now:

lol so, how did we get there: 

well waking up from last night’s binge smoking, gaming & sugar session (which was honestly much needed - shout out to the peeps who were there for that) didn’t feel the hottest, obviously. but crushed that shit with more sleep and getting back into jillian michaels* in my living room and eating a healthy lunch and whatnot. 

*side note: i’m sure she’s made millions already, but in this era with all the IG fitness models and influencers out there i still think jillian michaels is queen and underrated. 20 mins of jumping around and flailing weights, guided by her via TV is literally all i need to be like woh bitch i’m back. haha. 

now: you know how there are just those random people in your life that perhaps weren’t around all that long or maybe they had an impact on you that you only realized later? or maybe you just never shared with them how much they meant to you, because you didn’t even know. so there are a couple of those i’m going to bring up here (no names). 

starting with one - a friend from my NYC juice bar days, we spent many a wintery days and hours cooped up in that tiny shop kicking ass honestly with grade A difficult customers. she was one of my favorites to work with - so fun to laugh, with gossip with, just share a space with. i have so many fond memories of night shifts there, snow falling outside the windows. people coming in for smoothies at 10:45pm making us wonder what the fuck? 

she was stunning, tall, beautiful effortless skin and bone structure and all that, she just glowed. she was always lifting up other girls around her while shaming herself. i get it, that’s just what we do, that’s what I do. but fact is she was a straight 12/10 no question. anyways, we lost touch. we all know how that whole restaurant went down in sad flames with our owner locked up at rikers (if you don’t know of the psycho saga via vogue’s coverage, and want to hear a first-hand account, that’s for another day, it’s honestly a fun one to tell). so all the people in my life from the restaurant, who were what felt like home to me in NY, kind of faded out with time.

anyways, she’s one of those people for me that still pops into mind from time to time and i just wonder what she’s up to and miss her. so today in my idle morning of moping around, she popped into mind and a quick social media search led me to find her humble page and podcast she’s just recently started - and i ended up listening to a couple episodes because, lord knows i’m a podcast nerd. but i had a chance to hear her story and how much i didn’t know of her background when we were friends back then, and what a light she still was to those around her was pretty amazing.  she did say that her time in nyc was a bit of a blur that’s hard to remember because she was struggling at the time. it hurts my heart to know that, but at the same time i definitely can relate. generally i’d say living in nyc, as a student or not, can feel very isolating and while i have a lot of very vivid memories and recollections, a lot of that time is also a blur for me now the more distance i get from it. 

anyways, so kind of reflecting on all that this afternoon while mozy-ing around in bed was one part of today’s journey. one bit that was also huge was hearing her talk about her overeating/binge & restrictive eating disorder during that time, which is something i’ve tried to vocalize to my friends and family and even doctor but generally isn’t taken all that seriously. when in fact these habits i haven’t addressed are probably the most crucial detriment to my health. it turns out there’s such a thing as overeaters-anonymous. like AA but for people with compulsive eating problems. that’s 100% me, so this was a HUGE discovery today for me that something like this exists. i’m not going to say i’ll walk straight into a meeting this second, but i’m definitely interested. as carly whose lived with me for the last 3 years could easily tell you better than anyone else, i have a hell of a fucking problem and i don’t even know if i understand it fully myself.

part 2:

coincidentally, around mid day I happened to get a text from an old NY roommate, someone I hadn’t heard from in over a year probably, so it was pretty out of the blue. I always perceived her to be like an older sister figure, a funny lady from Malaysia with a heavy accent and a strong attitude, doing her best to fit into American culture, dating apps, heavy into the astrology shit, and all. Anyways, she hit me up because she was concerned she couldn’t find me on social media anymore (quickly resolved) and she mentioned that she enjoyed seeing my DIY stuff on IG stories and that it was serving as inspiration for some future business she’s been envisioning once she gets out of corporate life in Pittsburgh, PA. It was all endearing and sweet. i have heard from friends before that my IG could be turned into something more if i wanted to, but i’ve never had the heart to put more structure to things that just feel like natural parts of me that i want to remain free, if that makes sense. but it’s still nice to know that out there somewhere in pennsylvania the random things i do in my kitchen and share into the IG ether can serve as a little inspo for a roommate from 5 years ago. also it was just a nice reminder to self that in the same way i have these people i admire and root for and wonder about from a distance, maybe there’s room for me to be someone like that for somebody else i’ve crossed paths with. that makes me happy. 

So, part 3: hello, Adele.

i haven’t been shy about admitting the last couple months have been a struggle for me. basically since turning 25. even leading up to the big number, all year really i’d been kind of dreading what this age meant. it just feels like it’s gotta be messy whether i want it to be or not. considering every prior year has been a positive & fairly steady uphill climb, i figured at some point i’d have to pause/break/falter. don’t ask me why, age has always been something i’m glued to. (it’s funny because i don’t own a clock, the one watch i have is tucked into my wedding planner e-kit and only comes out on those days. given my job title and being a virgo and all, time has oddly never been a day to-day concern for me. (those who know me know i am never on time for anything, sorry) but i’ve always been hyper concerned about my age and the expectations (self imposed, inescapable) that come looming with it*. so birthday season usually is just a very introspective time every year where i evaluate where i’m at, the progress i’ve made, what’s holding me back, what i’m proud of, what i’m not proud of. 

*quick side story, the person i’ve dated all year always would say our age difference was nothing. but that statement always irked me because it’s far from the truth. every year 20, 21, 22, 23, 24 i’ve felt i’ve learned exponentially about myself and grown. so yeah, there’s a HUGE difference, emotionally/self-awareness, all that, between 22 and 25 if you ask me. like bless my early 20′s for being stoned fun & shit, but girl’s been putting in work too ya know?

anyways, back on track: come time for my birthday this year i didn’t really want to think too hard about it and just wanted to have fun, and i did! it was definitely one of the more fun/eventful birthdays i can recall. 

but now, 2 months post-birthday, fresh off of a break up, I’m beginning to see more clearly why I pushed all that usual introspective evaluation under the rug. essentially it’s what i’ve done all year, pretending 22 - 25 is nothing, and that all the work i’d done to get here was whatever. i’d taken steps back self-esteem wise, kind of let my work fall by the wayside just as something to do and not something i was excited about (which is more my norm), and i realize i wasnt being present in the right ways to friendships that mean the most to me. All in favor of some shiny beacon of excitement, being sucked into this vortex of conditional relationships*  and “fun” where i frankly just had no place being.

*linked there ^ is a stellar article, when you’re ready for it

THANK GOD FOR MY FRIENDS. seriously i don’t say this enough. I have been FREAKING BLESSED by the people who choose to be in my life. like fuck yo i know it’s FACT i have not been the most pleasant to be around or hear from this year but the true ones persisted and showed me love when I needed it most, were there for me constantly through all the thick of it and still are. like those calls every day just to chat about what the fuck ever, those random “i’m thinking of you’s” and “let’s hangs” mean so much to me in my isolated world of working from home and just being a general homebody type. let me just promise to all of you once i’m out of this present messiness, that I’ll be back on track. i’ve hated being that girl, i’ve heard myself, and i’ve hated it. so while I’ve been kind of MIA morphing into something i haven’t been proud of, thank you to every single friend who’s reminded me there was still something here worthy of your time and your energy and your attention.

*now, much less saving me, I get to start showing up for you guys better too. 

i’ve explained this to close friends before who have experienced it with me - psychedelics are one of my favorite ways to get a grip on my life. of course, i understand their role in fun experiences too, but i’ve always valued it first and foremost as a powerful mind-opening tool. (so naturally, i adore michael pollan’s latest book “how to change your mind”.) when i’m feeling overwhelmed or at a crossroads or muddled, i’ve found it to be the most affective way for me to tune into myself, see things with a fresh perspective, and commit to the choices i need to. 

so having been on a fucking ride with these breakup emotions, knee deep in self-pity, not knowing what to make of the past year, past month, past week, & where i’m at... i was like, 

why the fuck not?

just what i needed on a night to myself to give my soul a fucking cleanse. it’s a convenient weekend to have the house all to myself. read: a good place to be singing at the top of my lungs haha and doing whatever the fuck my single ass wishes all night. somehow along the way, i managed to cook up a pretty A+ tikka masala sauce and prepped a brussel sprouts salad for a dinner with friends tomorrow night, don’t ask me how. i’ve had a spiritual fucking connection to every single song on this Adele 25 album, obviously. idk why it hadn’t occurred to me until doing this that i’m now 25 listening to this album :) so all of this is to say:

Thank you, Adele.

for being a girl i can identify with who marks progress with age, unabashedly tunes into her emotions, and provides breakup comfort like no other. even though i refused to listen to this album until like a year ago

(also can we just take a moment to appreciate that Adele posted this on her own IG profile)

Thanks to those who aren’t necessarily at the frontlines of my life, but have a place in my heart, whether you know it or not, and bring forth some amazing shit or tune in at the right times.

Thank you, most sincerely, to each and every one of my friends that I won’t name here. 

Close and far, you’re the ones pulling me out of a drudge of a year where I lost myself and you’re reminding me what I love to do and who I am and it feels good to get a footing again. 

~ ciao, finally @ 1:43am.

p.s. below is THE picture of what i’ve been like for the last couple weeks ~ can always count on a new girl reference to have my back heheh

*we can also mark this as the night where i FINALLY get over my weird thing about not liking “Hello.” That shit’s a fucking masterpiece who was i to say anything otherwise hahaha

#journal #woh this some reaaal journaling huh haha

[cybermoonmoon]

“911″

A tale from back in 2013 when I went the "911" route again. This is becoming more common as the years quickly progress to my ultimate fate. Swell. Anyway there I was again all sick as hell excreting liquids from everywhere. Why didn't my dad tell me what was coming. "Son remember when I told your dumb ass about what them bird's, and bee's was up to. Well now it's time for another little chat." "Look kid I won't shit ya!" "Getting 'old' is a first class Mother Fucker on skates, and no grease when it pork's you up the butt!" Can't you just see this on "Father Knows Best". So I calls "911" I tell the operator I'm some old guy puking green bile, and  rolling around on the floor in blinding agony .    Sez she: "...Oh another one,...what is it with you guys?" Sez me: "Hey ya wanna give me a break I'm dy'n over here." "Okay, okay gramps keep your dildo in I'll send ya a meat wagon." Well the fellah's show up before I lose too much blood, and other assorted primal liquids. They stuffs me into their oil burner, and off to the hell of American underclass medical help we go. Would have been better if I just died on my bathroom floor. As usual I comes to full of tubes. Oh bless the Morphine gawds! How I wish I could take a family pack of that neat stuff home with me. I began to plan on how I would sneak some out’a there. Eh drink it, and piss it out later?  Anyway while I'm planning this drug heist my nurse comes by...she looks nine years old.  ??!! You old fucks out there noticed that? Everybody not our age looks like a fetus. Well junior adjusts my urine bag which I didn't know I had on. ...oh morphine my heavenly angel. Another embryo changes the I.V. on my right side while Miss urine bag plugs in a fresh needle on my left. It looked like she was giving me an IV grape soda. "...well this should be interesting thinks I." Lights out. Whatever these girl scouts gave me put me in the realm of Elysium for a long stretch. I comes to while some Indian doctor is writing something over me.  "Am I dead yet?" I asks. He smiles, and sez "...Oh not quite yet" in a Pakistani accent.  You gotta be careful about that ya know.  Calling an Indian Pakistani or vice versa puts the fat in the fire. Knowing the accents of the Sub-Continent is a necessity in the Emerald City. Well the doc tells me I'm alive, and goes into stuff I already know, but pretend to be fascinated by. Again life is tricky. Ya has to know how to handle folks. Bottom line I'm all fixed more or less, but they want me to stay another night for observation. Which in fact means the night nurse reads her Facebook as I sleep in a bed next to the security section.  That's where the prisoners that get knifed  on Riker's Island stay. I went home that morning all patched, and plugged up. I'm healing, but no longer under the wonderful influence of all that morphine,...damn! More as I get older.