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arctophyllax · 6 months

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THIS CONTAINS ZEVLOR-RELATED SPOILERS, MAINLY ACT II

Can’t believe that they got us to attached to Zevlor when you chose to help him in Act I and then you can find him again in Act II and you learn so much about him and his story is so well thought through. The rescue gives his character so much depth and the fact that when you don’t rescue him Orin kills him and sends his corpse to your camp alongside a letter and a painting and in that letter she describes how she tortured him and that he screamed and he calls him “our pet” LARIAN IF HE’S “OURS” WHY CANT WE KEEP HIM AFTER WE RESCUE HIM.

They made him a reoccurring character, gave him a story with so much depth and gave us choices that determined his fate SEVERAL TIMES. And they expected us not to fall for him? They expected us not to want more?

When we first meet him he seems insignificant but the longer you play and (if you) actively go looking for him he suddenly seems like such an important part to the story.

Zevlor’s story explains faith and the Absolute’s power over people’s minds, how it affects their will and their memory and their actions. The guilt that comes with a broken oath and the self loathing that comes from being of a race that had no choice in who they are. The bittersweet memories of fighting alongside comrades and losing them before suddenly being ripped out of that world and exiled. How prejudice and racism affects someone’s life so deeply and how someone can get thrown into a role they weren’t ready for in mere seconds. How the goodness of the heart doesn’t leave some people no matter what horrendous things they go through and how some others will still find a way to hate them.

There is more to his story than what you can read in dialogues, more than you perceive without thinking too much about it. But to every Zevlor simp, if you haven’t played through Act II yet— or anyone who did but didn’t pay any mind to it:

Read the subtext. Dig for symbolism and meaning, learn about his past—the reason why the fall into Avernus made the prejudice again tieflings near unbearable, the book in Zevlor’s quarters in Act I, how it talks about the misery of being of infernal heritage:

“…It is not as if we were well-loved before the archdevil's gambit. Our people have always struggled against the notion of 'devilkin', as if a single drop of infernal ichor inescapably corrupts. How amusing, when so many others willingly sell their souls to fiends, yet their culture as a whole escapes the blame…”

How he blames himself constantly for any tiefling under his care lost. How his anger at Aradin was his way of grieving over Kanon. How his facade dropped instantly when we offered to help. He isn’t used to help, he didn’t expect us not to despise him and his family.

He is used to hatred and not to love, we were one of the first people who chose to help him like that, to take the burden off his shoulders. I imagine the only other one was Halsin when he granted them a safe place.

In short: we should absolutely be able to date him (the perfect moment to recruit him would be after we save him in Act II). We should be able to show him what being loved feels like, that we look past his infernal traits and don’t see them with hatred or fear but instead with love and adoration.

The pics attached are the painting and the letter Orin sent alongside his corpse.

#bg3 zevlor #zevlor #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 act 2 #tav x zevlor

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bbyfacedx · 2 months

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thinking about the first crota fireteam and how crucial eris was to recruitment. the mission in itself was to avenge guardians lost to crota but there was a specific tint of focus toward avenging wei ning, something eris didn’t have much of a personal stake in aside from being a friend of her’s and eriana’s. and yet, she went on to recruit people who were obviously incredibly important to her; sai who seems to trust her with complete faith, vell who saved her life once and is willing to do it again, omar who only agreed to go because eris supports the cause, toland who she’d probably looked up to even in his exile, who has genuine faith in the mission despite everything.

and then, they die one by one and eris is entirely helpless to stop it. maybe it would be less bittersweet if they’d accomplished anything close to their original goal, if eris could come out of the hellmouth knowing her team’s deaths weren’t in vain. but they don’t, and they are, and everything was all in vain from the very beginning.

it’s interesting how eris emulates them, keeps them alive through herself. like sai, she trusts herself to carry out this insane hive ascension ritual with little concern for the personal risk. like vell, she adventures out into a hostile frozen wasteland and fights to protect others no matter the cost, even those she barely knows. like omar, she keeps talismans and charms and gives them to others who need reassurance, a reminder she’s in their corner. like toland, she’s the hive expert who still seeks to teach and mentor despite her more self-imposed solitude.

and of course, like eriana, her passionate love and craving for vengeance are constantly at war with one another. her sorrow, he guilt, her anguish over what she’s lost, competing with her desire to help, to mend, to protect what little she has left, to save a world she still somehow has faith in. the difference between them is that eris’ love will always win. she will not be led blindly into any pit again, not by her thirst for revenge, not by her despair, not by the darkness, not by the deep.

#ann.txt #eris morn #destiny 2 #toland the shattered #omar agah #sai mota #eriana 12 #vell tarlowe #ann writing #first crota fireteam

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steveyockey · 8 months

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In 2009, I was sentenced to life in prison. Early one morning, I boarded a bus in shackles and a disposable jumpsuit, and rode to Calipatria State Prison, a cement fortress on the southern fringes of California. Triple-digit temperatures, cracked orange soil, and pungent whiffs of the nearby Salton Sea made me feel as though I’d been exiled to Mars. After six years in the chaos of the county jail, however, I could finally own small luxuries, like a television. The thick walls of Calipat, as we called the place, stifled our radio reception, but an institutional antenna delivered shows like “Access Hollywood,” “Entertainment Tonight,” and “TMZ.” I was irritated by the celebrity gossip, but it was a connection to the outside world, and it introduced me to snippets of Swift’s performances for the first time. Here and there, I’d catch her on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” or “Fallon,” and was surprised by how intently she discussed her songwriting. I didn’t tell anyone that I thought she was talented.

In 2013, when my security level was lowered owing to good behavior, I requested a transfer to Solano state prison, the facility with a Level 3 yard which was closest to my family in the Bay Area. I got the transfer, but my property—a TV, CD player, soap, toothpaste, lotion, food—was lost in transit. I shared a cell with someone in the same situation, so, for months, we relied on the kindness of our neighbors to get by. Our only source of music was a borrowed pocket radio, hooked up to earbuds that cost three dollars at the commissary. At night, we’d crank up the volume and lay the earbuds on the desk in our cell. Those tiny speakers radiated crickety renditions of Top Forty hits.

During that time, I heard tracks from “Red,” Swift’s fourth studio album, virtually every hour. I was starting to enjoy them. Laying on the top bunk, I would listen to my cellmate’s snores and wait for “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” to come around again. When it did, I would think about the woman I had lived with for seven years, before prison. I remembered bittersweet times when my sweetheart had visited me in county jail. We’d look at each other through security glass that was reinforced by wire. It didn’t seem fair to expect her to wait for me, and I told her that she deserved a partner who could be with her. But we didn’t use the word “never,” and deep down I always hoped that we’d get back together. When I heard “Everything Has Changed,” I had to fight back tears of exaltation and grief. Swift sings, “All I knew this morning when I woke / Is I know something now / Know something now I didn’t before.” I thought back to our first date, and how we had talked and laughed late into the night. We had to force ourselves to get a few hours of sleep before sunrise.

For the past two decades, sleep has not come easily to me. Often, when I get into bed, I think about the day I was arrested at the scene of my crime. Some neighbors called 911 and reported gunshots. I can still see the grieving family members of the man I killed, staring at me in the courtroom at my trial. I’m guilty of more than murder. I abandoned my parents and my sweetheart, too. There’s no way to fix this stuff.

Taylor Swift is currently the same age, thirty-three, that I was when I was arrested. I wonder whether her music would have resonated with me when I was her age. I wonder whether I would have reacted to the words “I’m the problem, it’s me.” Hers must be champagne problems compared with mine, but I still see myself in them. “I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror,” Swift sings, and I think of the three-by-five-inch plastic mirrors that are available inside. For years out there, I viewed myself as the antihero in my own warped self-narrative. Do I want to see myself clearly?

In “Karma,” Swift sings, “Ask me what I learned from all those years / Ask me what I earned from all those tears.” A few months from now, California’s Board of Parole Hearings will ask me questions like that. What have I learned? What do I have to show for my twenty years of incarceration? In the months ahead, when these questions keep me up at night, I will listen to “Midnights.” The woman I love says she’s ready to meet me on the other side of the prison wall, on the day that I walk into the daylight. Recently, she asked me, “If you could go anywhere, do anything, that first day out, what would you want us to go do?” That question keeps me up at night, too.

#I don’t give a fuck what you think about Taylor swift this is a beautiful piece #reading

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gendrie · 4 months

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Jon watched them leave, and Arya watched Jon. His face had grown as still as the pool at the heart of the godswood. Finally he climbed down off the window. "The show is done," he said. He bent to scratch Ghost behind the ears. The white wolf rose and rubbed against him. "You had best run back to your room, little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking. The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You'll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers." Arya didn't think it was funny. "I hate needlework!" she said with passion. "It's not fair!" "Nothing is fair," Jon said. He messed up her hair again and walked away from her, Ghost moving silently beside him. Nymeria started to follow too, then stopped and came back when she saw that Arya was not coming. Reluctantly she turned in the other direction. (Arya, AGOT)

this whole moment is giving me major endgame foreshadowing vibes (especially but not exclusively wrt the outline) at the end of this chapter jon states that "the show is done" and he's referring to the fighting down below but it could be interpreted as a nod towards the end of the series in general. i think thats fair given the nature of the next line.

jon follows up with a warning for arya and it is clearly some very heavy handed foreshadowing. it refers to arya's general arc trajectory from beginning to end: she will be hiding and sewing all through winter but when the spring comes her needle (the symbol of her identity, home, family) will remain locked between her fingers.

this line is totally a carryover from the earliest asoiaf plotline when arya was going to travel to the wall and beyond in the first book. the imagery doesn’t fit quite as well as it would have if arya was spending significant time in a frozen, snowy environment, but the overall idea is still relevant.

after this warning arya, with passion, cries that "it's not fair!" and jon's only response is that "nothing is fair". when this dialogue was written jon and arya were going to have a tortured love affair throughout the trilogy. arya and jon would, after much angst, discover they weren't siblings so they could actually be together......except i think they still would've been driven apart for whatever reason (most likely jon's self imposed? exile to secure bran's throne). its unfair but theres nothing either of them can do about it. i have no doubt arya will want to follow jon (and ghost as we see nymeria, arya's soul bonded animal, try to follow), but that is not her fate.

"reluctantly" arya has to turn and walk in a different direction from jon. she returns to her room. in the end i think jon will have to go north again, for good, and arya will stay in winterfell because somebody has to accept that responsibility if bran rules as king of the seven kingdoms. arya and jon will remain connected thru their wolves and the warg bond they share. that will be a tangible connection that endures since i think ghost and nymeria will be by their sides when all is said and done just as they are in this moment.

grrm has consistently said he's working towards the same ending he's had in mind since 1991 and this does really feel like exactly the kind of bittersweet note he'd end things on.

#asoiaf nonsense #imo there is a 0% chance of j*nrya happening in the books #so do not get it twisted lol #but i think the bottom line is going to play out the same #just without the romantic/sexual aspects #which i think people get hung up on

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tessa-liam · 10 months

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Turning The Page

Chapter –1 - Memories

The Royal Romance, Alternate Universe

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son.

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression

Rating: M🔞Warnings – crude language, not Beta’d - please excuse all errors.

Words: 1951

Turning the Page

Memories - Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: While remembering bittersweet memories of her time in Cordonia, Riley comes to the realization that there are still unanswered questions to pursue from the night of the Coronation Ball.

Music Inspiration: Far Side of the World, Holden Miller, The Way We Were, Lucy Thomas

A/N: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Week #41, Prompt #1, “You make me feel like I’m worth it.”

A/N2: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.

“...I can’t do this anymore.” Riley answered softly.

Daniel’s heart broke in two as he looked at his dear friend. Her tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes told him everything that he needed to know.

“It’s okay, Riley,” Daniel said. “It’s not your fault. You were put in a difficult position.”

Her bottom lip trembling; those words spoken, was all it took for her to break down.

…. Remembering the day she danced with her prince at the Coronation Ball, and he said,

‘I hope you never have cause to regret coming here.’

‘Why would you say that?’

‘Well, so much has happened, and...’

As the song winds down, Prince Liam’s hands linger on her waist, his eyes searching hers.

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Is something wrong?’

***

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders Daniel pulled her close to his chest, breaking the memory.

“I should have known that I was in way over my head. The signs were all there.” Riley spoke between sobs.

“This situation is so fucked up. Falling in love with a man from across the ocean, whose duty to his country dictates his future. Whose life is not his own. His world is so foreign to you. A world unavailable to....”

Riley took a deep breath and met his gaze.

“Stop. Just stop. ...Please.”

“Mommy?” “Dan Dan?” A little voice called out.

Daniel looked over at Riley’s son, walking with his pail towards the sandcastle that they had all made together.

“Hey, buddy, what do you have in your pail?”

“Fo howse,” he pointed to the sandcastle.

“One sec, Ri. I will be right back.” Daniel kissed Riley’s forehead quickly and walked towards the little boy.

Riley closed her eyes, continuing to remember the words Liam spoke to her the night they visited the Statue of Liberty.

‘...but I’ve always known that my role would require me to give up much of what I desire.’

‘You’re the prince. Can't you do what you want, at least some of the time?’

‘If only. My whole life I’ve prepared myself to do what’s best for Cordonia.’

Looking at her son. Looking at Liam’s son.

Riley had an epiphany.

***

The royal council meeting lasted well into the evening. It was almost 9:30 pm when the last council member left the boardroom at the palace. Liam stood up from his chair and started to walk down the long hallway to his study. His plans for the rest of the evening included shooting hoops with Drake and a stop at the beer garden later to wind down. Pouring himself a finger of Scotch he sat down at his desk and reclined his chair. Pulling out his phone, he checked for any missed messages or calls, but nothing of interest was received. The one and only person he wanted to desperately hear from still eluded him.

Three years ago.

The love of his life.

Walked away from him.

Three years of being alone.

Even though he constantly had people around him; Regina, Leo, his guards, nobles, his friends. But never her.

He would never blame her for walking away. The situation was. Is. So very unfair to her. So undeserved.

And if he was being honest with himself. Very unfair to him. His entire life, he was groomed to serve the Cordonian people and the monarchy. To fulfill ‘his duty’ to Cordonia, without question.

When Riley captured his heart that fateful night in New York, he felt the walls of duty surrounding him start to crumble.

When Riley followed him to the masquerade ball to join the social season, his world shifted in its axis. Thinking that he would never see Riley again, he was given the best surprise. Just to think that she travelled all the way from New York City to be with him.

‘I know we have something special. I want to see what it can be.’

And now, after all the years, his guilt still consumed him.

How he wished he could find out how she was. To make sure she's OK. Hopefully. She moved on with her life. Tears welled in his eyes. He missed Riley. Every day he thought about her and wondered where she was. He missed her voice. He missed her smile.

He remembered everything, and could forget, nothing.

Wanting to relax he stretched his legs and reclined his chair more. His eyes drifted shut and he was almost asleep when he heard a knock on the door.

“Come.” Liam called out in response.

Opening his eyes, he saw Madeleine scowling down at him.

Liam grinned at the thought. It had to be her. No one else would have been able to make such an impression on his guards, to let her in without his permission.

“You know, Madeleine, I think I have seen enough of you for this evening. Please go away and do whatever you do in the evening.”

Liam was well aware that Madeleine kept her own Cordonian arrangement with a dignitary from Morocco. He was in the capital this evening on business, planning to rendezvous with her tonight.

“You know Liam, I am not a child. I understand that you are in a position of authority, and I know that you cannot spend all your time with me.”

“I do need you to come to my chambers and spend the evening with me.” She stood waiting for his answer as Liam felt her gaze burning through him.

At least once a month, Madeleine tried to persuade Liam to sleep with her, but to no avail.

Tonight, was no exception.

“You have not answered my question. Are you coming to my chambers or not?”

“Madeleine, it is a generous offer, but there is no way in hell I want to spend my evening with you. I have plans. Not that it is any of your business. I am spending time with friends tonight.”

“Do you realize, Liam, we have been married for almost four years now and yet no heir. How long will this last? Our people are waiting for news!”

“Isn’t Eduardo waiting for you, Madeleine?” Liam scoffed.

“You will not even touch me. For as long as I see fit, at the very least he pays attention to me. How long will you wait for Riley to magically reappear? She left you Liam. She left you high and dry. She could not handle it. Stop embarrassing yourself, Liam. This country wants an heir. It is our duty to supply one.”

There was a short knock on the door and Drake popped his head through the doorway.

“Li, my apologies for interrupting.” Drake gave Liam a ‘knowing look’.

“Queen Madeleine.”

Liam stood up from his desk, glowering at Madeleine and turned towards his bar cart. Picking up a bottle of Macallen, “Drake, my man, come have a drink with me. This one is leaving.”

Madeleine ‘glared daggers’ at Liam as she watched him pour whiskey into two lowball glasses, Huffing, she turned around and walked out of his study, not acknowledging Drake. Drake raised an eyebrow, “was I interrupting something important?”

“Hell, no.” Liam shot back his drink and slammed the glass onto his desk.

“Let's play some ball.”

***

“I need to ask a favor of you, Daniel.” Riley called out.

“Anything, Ri, of course,” Daniel replied.

Standing up from the sand he reached down and scooped up Riley's son into his arms. Walking towards her, Riley smiled as she held out her arms.

“Li Li, come to mommy, sweetheart.”

That is all it took for the giggles to start. William squealed and successfully wrangled out of Daniel’s grasp to get to his mom.

Shaking his head, “this kid will kick my butt one day!”

“What's up, Riley?”

Taking a deep breath, “well, remember that certain table that you asked me to serve the night before I left for Cordonia?” Riley sheepishly looked at her friend.

“How could I forget?” Daniel raised his eyebrow in question.

“Yes, well....”

Riley looked down, not able to meet his eyes.

“Remember, there were four men. Liam, of course, was one. Tariq, as well, was there.”

“Oh yes and I remember there were two others with them.”

“Yes, that’s right, Drake and Maxwell. I need you to contact Maxwell.”

“OK, Riley. Sure, that sounds easy enough. I remember that I still owe you a favor for looking after that table that night for me.”

Riley smirked at the look of horror that suddenly fell on his face for saying that aloud.

“Anything Riley.... What is his address?”

“Actually, I need you to call him.”

“OK, call him. ...and what do you want me to say?”

“I need you to ask him to come here. to New York City.”

“Riley. Are you sure that's a good idea? Won't he tell Liam your whereabouts? Aren't you concerned?”

“Daniel, I am going to ask Maxwell, as my friend. To help me get some answers. But first I need to talk to Maxwell and explain everything to him in person. He needs to come here alone. And I need you to sell that reason to him to come alone, and not to bring anyone with him. Could you do that for me?"

Daniel paused. Looking at his dear friend. “Yes,” he said begrudgingly.

“I sure hope you know what you're doing.”

“So do I, Daniel. So, do I.”

“For you and this little one, I want nothing but happiness from now on. You deserve the world.”

“Thank you, Daniel...for everything.

“You make me feel like I’m worth it.”

***

...if we had the chance to do it all again tell me, would we, could we?

♥️♥️Thank you for reading♥️♥️

📌@ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @jared2612 @irisk12 @thesvnsins @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @walkerdrakewalker @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @choicesflashfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#liam rys #the royal romance #tessa liam writes #trr #riley brooks #king liam #trr fanfic #trr liam x mc #king liam rys #always liam and riley #choicesflashfics #choices fic writers creations #turning the page #trr liam

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bottlepiecemuses · 7 months

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One Piece Shows Even If You Topple The Celestial Dragons There Could Be Other Types Of Tyrants To Take Their Place

As One Piece shows in the series, the world is under a dictatorship that is run by a tyrannical king who is hinted to be hundreds of years old and hides in the shadows so no one really knows that there is really a true ruler with puppet agents following his orders. All under the rule of Imu through the world government we see systematic oppression and authoritarian practices seen as normal by the people of the world or weakly excused as a price to pay to have any sort of peace. And the emphasis in the story is that this is an unfair system and that one day they will finally topple. However, despite all of this I do think there is another theme that comes with how tyranny stinks.

It's the fact that who can replace a corrupt system if it was finally out of power. When you look at the pirate side you see many figures like Kaido and Big Mom who are offered as an alternative authority for people who seek protection. Despite the fact they themselves are in conflict with the world government, it doesn't mean they would bring the dawn to the world and end the darkness.

First we have Big Mom who espouses equality and peace among all people and lets her subjects eat in a land of plenty. However, despite her claims of being a kind, just ruler the reality is more bittersweet on the surface. Big Mom at heart is an overgrown child who never truly grew up and as a result she has a self-centered view of things where everything she does is good and those who don't obey her are bad. As a result, she endorses ruthless methods to get people to comply what she wants like forcing them join her tea parties or have a loved one killed. Or the fact that those who try to leave her crew have to give up their life or appendage like the case with Pedro. There is the most galling fact that she makes the population give a portion of their lifespan to fuel the homies that litter the land or make them be exiled. It's really is a deal with the devil where everything seems grand on surface, but it's really shitty underneath the surface. It has the face of kindness but the hands of a tyrant that strangles you if you don't do what you claim. It's barely better than what the world currently has where the world nobles are overgrown royal brats who demand everyone cater to their needs and never return the favor.

Interesting enough Kaido as well speaks about equality and merit for all based on strength. Unlike Big Mom, he doesn't emphasize peace but war and thinks it's the true equalizer and endorses anarchism. However, as seen in Wano this also leads to a form of tyranny through might makes right. Those who are stronger can easily overpower those who are weaker. This as as a result leads to just as much of a world of bullies like the World Nobles who trample everyone they think as inferior and exploit those who can't fight back. It would be just another world where the weak have no voice and they will always be trampled by the ruling class. In this case, it would be the warrior class instead of the noble class who wouldn't act any different. The world would know no peace and everyone would be fear for their lives like in Wano under his 20 year rule. It is why he doesn't become the new joyboy because he becomes another tyrant that stamp on the freedoms of others while saying he is bringing up equality.

And that is where Luffy comes into the picture because unlike those other two he's actually someone who liberates whoever he goes without conditions or drawbacks. Even though Luffy never intended to be a hero, he always manages to still make the world a better place because when he sees injustice he knows and emphasizes with the suffering people go through. He might not do it out of selfless heroism but he does show gratefulness by returning a small favor by liberating them from whatever oppressor a new friend is under. Luffy ultimately is the perfect counterpart to those who would be just as bad as the government if they were truly in charge. It is for that reason he's the new Joyboy because he understands the importance of freedom and that someone who doesn't undrestand that is no different than the world government.

#one piece #luffy #five elder stars #big mom #kaido #imu

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kotlc-deleted-scenes · 6 months

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Exile Deleted Lines (Raw text, screen-reader friendly)

Any relevant description provided by Shannon on the quote image will be included before the quote itself.

1. An Alden-line about Grady. Quote text:

"I'm guessing this is another of Grady's creative punishments," Alden said behind her. "One time Jolie ditched school to go to Atlantis with her friends and he made her help the gnomes harvest reekweed. She smelled like moldy feet for days. His smile turned bittersweet. "It's good to see him returning to his old self."

2. Sandor & Sophie FTW!!!! Quote text:

"I need you to wait here," Sophie begged, "because you'll wake Grady and Edaline up if you stomp down the stairs with your giant goblin feet."

"I have giant goblin feet?"

"Really? That's a surprise to you?"

Sandor frowned as he examined his toes.

Sophie sighed. "I'm sorry. You have very nice feet. Perfect and gray and why are we talking about this? Will you help me or not?"

3. Quote text:

"Anyone hungry?" Grady asked, striding into the room again, carrying a tray of mallowmelt. "I brought you guys a snack!"

Sophie narrowed her eyes as he set the tray down in a place that forced Keefe to farther away from her. "You never bring up snacks when Dex is here."

"Awww. I think your dad wants to make sure I'll come back." Keefe snatched a piece of mallowmelt and took a bite, spraying crumbs as he added, "Don't worry, Gradyio, I'll be over here a lot."

"You will?" Grady asked.

Keefe nodded, taking another huge bite. "What can I say? Foster needs me."

It was impossible to tell who sighed louder: Sophie or Grady.

4. Quote text:

Sophie tried to redeem herself after the awkward start, but everything she did right only made things worse. Lady Cadence kept shouting random words at her: platypus, stellarscope, chandelier, tribunal, stegosaurus. And with every correct translation, Lady Cadence grew more annoyed, until she sank into the high-backed chair at the front of the round, mostly empty room and buried her face in her hands.

"Do you realize what I've had to give up to be here?" she snapped. "Decades of research—gone. All so I can train a little girl who doesn't even need me."

"I'm sorry." Sophie mumbled, fiddling with her, oversized silver cloak. "I can tell Dame Alina—"

"You think I haven't already tried?" She rubbed her temples. "I've been fighting the decision since it was handed down weeks ago. Sadly Miss Foster, you and I are stuck with each other."

They stared at each other in silence until the chimes rang and Sophie was free. Until next the week, at least. It was going to be a very long year.

#kotlc deleted lines #exile

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scoundrels-in-love · 11 months

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Seeing an object and thinking of them + VashMeryl

Hi love, thank you so much for prompting and your continious support!

Also on AO3.

It's been a year, but every bit of red in the crowd still makes Meryl want to chase it down. She knows better than to act on it, but her eyes always follow it nonetheless, the surge of hope crashing violently into reality when it is not Vash. It can't be him, she knows. He'd have no reason to be here, even if he were alive. (He is, she corrects herself, more and more stubbornly with every passing month.)

The red haunts her dreams, too. Red coat in vast darkness that she can never reach. He walks too fast, then runs and finally - flies. Until the shadows explode and consume him and then her. After those dreams, Meryl stays after hours at Bernadelli's, digging through bare bone scraps of information until she feels like crying or screaming, or she lets the stream of people take her somewhere, anywhere until she is washed up to some street with tiny stores and tinier, packed restaurants that will never make it to a newspaper’s ad section, but the food will outshine any five star place.

These are the places where she ends up indulging her red longing. One time it is a hair pin with dainty red flowers much like the ones Vash loves. The soft sound the blossoms make brushing against each other brings music to her step.

Month later, an auntie convinces her to try on a red lipstick that would not have left a smudge on his coat, that's how perfect the color match is in her mind's eye.

Meryl looks unfamiliar and mature with it and she kind of likes it. Enough to buy it, though there is nowhere and no one to wear it for. She wonders if Vash would like the shade on her, if he'd say it suits her and his gaze would linger on her lips just a moment longer in a way that'd tie a warm, tingly knot in her chest. Knows he wouldn't. She wasn't - isn't - his type, if he has any at all. She is a friend at best, a nuisance at worst.

(She'd been bait, the reason he'd come to JuLai and yet, Meryl knows he'd have done it for anyone at all. And yet, it haunts her - that she'd been that random pebble thrown to start a rock slide.)

Those are purchases that Meryl can excuse, though. It is when she buys a red coat, far too large for herself, and lays it down on her bed that she breaks. She misses him and she is clinging to red like it's a thread that could bring him back to her by sheer wanting. She has to stop, but she can't, she has never known how to give up, because that's been like losing herself. And so she keeps the coat and on the worst nights, hugs it to her chest or drapes it over herself when she curls up in her bed and pretends it's Vash's. It's a bittersweet, layered cake of lies that she serves to herself again and again.

On the hollow days, when she feels all too alone, Meryl buys other things too - an assortment of lollipops in a colorful packaging, a pack of cigarettes that Roberto liked and another of a better brand than the cheap shit Wolfwood would usually smoke. Some day she'll leave them at the makeshift grave marker they made for her mentor, a little sign for the undertaker that she remembers and is waiting for him when his self-exile is over. Two heads are better than one, she knows he will realize it with time.

It's almost frightening how quickly things become a routine, that this is just their usual general store run now after half a year, though the far longer cultivated awareness and tension has not dulled.

It is what makes Vash freeze mid-step when the blue catches his eye. It's such a deep, vivid shade that his heart does a pirouette before he realizes it's nothing less or more than a bottle of nail polish among other brand new, sparkling colors set on display. Still, he splits from Lina and goes over to inspect it, marveling at the pearly shimmer in the sunlight before the price tag makes him set it down with a sigh.

It seems that most people in the town share the sentiment, because it waits for him there the next time they come to town and the next and the one after, too. Vash always stops to appreciate it with a wistful smile, thinking about the woman that this would suit perfectly. Until one time, it's gone from display and he hopes his disappointment isn't too apparent.

Two weeks later, Lina and her grandmother surprise him with a small feast, announcing it's his 'birthday'. The day he'd woken up in their care, blissfully foggy and a mere shard of himself. It's nothing like the birthday he thinks of when he hears the word (a cake and red recording light and laughter of a family), but it's sweet and warm nonetheless. And when the evening is nearing bedtime, Lina pulls out a tiny bottle in an achingly familiar blue shade, a wide smile on her face.

"I saw you always looking at it. So I thought we could paint your nails, so you have somethin' nice every day."

He is moved to tears and doesn't even hide it.

When she is gently, carefully applying deep blue strokes of paint to his short, in some places cracked fingernails, Lina muses it must be his favorite color, since he's always drawn to it and he neither denies or confirms it. He's cut red out of his life, both to distance himself from the person he used to be and for feeling like he's failed the one who taught him to love it. But blue… blue he can indulge in when he finds it.

The nail polish is called Serenity Blue and Vash thinks it couldn't be further and closer to the truth all at once, because so very little about Meryl herself had been calm. She was always in motion, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel or along the edge of her notebook, foot drawing lines in the sand absentmindedly when she leaned against the car waiting for them. Even in her sleep she would shift often, as if existence itself wasn't comfortable for her.

And yet, Meryl poured peace into him, gently and thoroughly, in the evenings when she'd sit down next to him and let him talk about nothing and everything. Stars, ghost stories he'd picked up over the decades, music they both liked. And in the silence, too, when her shoulder brushed against his and she tilted her head back to watch the sky, firelight dancing across her features like a performance he could watch for ages.

Her genuine interest pulled more honesty out of him than anyone else had in years, at least about the little-big things that have nothing to do with blood and death and loss other than in the intrinsic, human way people weave it in their art and always have. And in that, too, Vash had found serenity that only she brought.

He misses it, misses her. Feels selfish for it. Meryl is far away and safer for it and he's already put her through hell. And she'd marched through it, just so she could pull him out of his. This borrowed, fragile peace with all its sharp edges he's having here, with Lina and Sheryl, is her gift to him, too.

Lina always offers to paint his nails when the color eventually chips away and he regretfully watches the bottle slowly empty. When there is no more left, he puts it away in his drawer, next to a notebook with a cover in the bluest shade he could find. It's not deep enough, but it makes him smile a little each time he sees it nonetheless. He fills it with articles that she's written, with shorthand notes about his life here and sometimes memories about her, Wolfwood, Roberto that come to him suddenly and he's afraid to lose to time.

He should let them go, but he can't, not yet. Can't stop looking for something blue in every shipment to the general store, can't stop from brushing fingers over a pack of cigarettes in his pants pocket, though he never lights one. And wakes up the happiest in the mornings when his dreams have been blue.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vashmeryl #rainy writes stuff #my fic #lovely people

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tljisthegoat · 7 months

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TLJ becomes even more bittersweet when you know Rey loses Ben despite doing sooo much to bring him back. And at the last moment. He's snatched away from her. By The Force.

I could definitely see Rey cutting herself off from The Force for a long time after this.

Her going to Jakku again as a form of self-exile until she feels ready to bring back Ben or die trying.

I'd love to see The Millennium Falcon be where she feels the most relaxed. It would make sense since she'd want to give it to Ben.

There's sooo much potential storytelling you can do with Rey. I just hope they don't waste it again & again & again.

Best idea is to give Rian Johnson a Disney+ show about Rey & have him fully explore her dark side and desire to reunite with Ben again.

#rey nobody #rey #reylo #her story is heartbreaking #she fought sooo hard to bring back ben and lost him anyways...

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sanitysomething · 28 days

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Making a song I like fit c!Tommy's exile arc: An Analysis (It's gonna be a long one lol)

c!Tommy always had a hard time getting words out when he got anxious. That part's self-explanatory. I'm more interested in the next line. Dandruff is annoying, something to get rid of, something to cure yourself of. That's what c!Dream saw c!Tommy as, and maybe what c!Tommy starting seeing himself as when he was kicked out from Lmanberg by Tubbo. He was being scrubbed out by his best friend along with his enemy.

This part is where c!Dream's manipulation started to take hold. Weeds, generally being unwanted, can represent bad or unusual thoughts, or thoughts that have been planted (ha!) unwillingly. c!Tommy became unsure, confused, and generally distressed in exile. His mind became covered in a blanket of poison ivy and bittersweet berries. And the stalker thing. c!Dream always painted himself as c!Tommy's friend, even when c!Tommy knew something was off or wrong about their "friendship." But he still struggled to compute that c!Dream was fully dangerous to him.

This next part..... I may stretch a little bit lol. Cheekface has got some nonsensical lyrics (which I love), but Imma dig a bit deep than face value to try and get the meaning I want out of it. Dropping buttered bread on the buttered side, or not having a place to put your phone before a surgery, are both things you don't really expect to happen until it does. Then it's obvious. The buttered side is heavier, so obviously it's going to fall on that side. Exile was set up to punish c!Tommy, so obviously c!Dream was going to make c!Tommy miserable. But every time his stuff was blown up, or his cow was slaughtered, or his party was ruined, c!Tommy slowly started to brush things off. He started to see it as normal, nothing to truly push back against. There's the initial shock and fight, but it was bound to happen anyways, right? He knew deep down it was coming. It was in the nature of the environment.

These lyrics... THESE are the ones that've been stuck in my head for days. c!Tommy might not have seen himself as someone who needed to change (at least in the exile arc), but c!Dream sure did. He saw someone who could be molded, chipped away at. c!Dream wasn't looking for any good, really. He was looking to destroy. To get rid of all that shiny, bright, marble and leave behind a pile of dust. Maybe it didn't start out like that. But after hammering away at c!Tommy's personality for so long, he stopped with the careful chiseling, and went right for the wild swinging. Maybe subconsciously c!Tommy let that happen. To see if he could be "fixed" so he could return to New Lmanberg. So c!Tubbo would accept him back easier. (this last part is all speculation tho and I can't remember if anything hinted to that, just a hc I guess!

#ctommy #dsmp #ctubbo #Not tagging dream because fuck that guy #I literally couldn't get this idea out of my head #for weeks #even tho it's cringe and totally self indulgent #I think I deserve a little treat #I recommend “Listen to Your Heart.” “No.” by Cheekface if you want a similar message #Or No Connection by Cheekface if you want something more aligned with c!Tubbo

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gefiltefished · 9 months

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70 for cidutha :>

my magnum opus of bittersweet breakup fluff...finally complete 🥲

ty my love!! 💖

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70. kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference || 1,504 words (Endwalker spoilers!!)

---

Cid has never seen so many flowers in one room before. Every surface heaving with bright sprays, ornately wrapped parcels and bundles of letters wherever a gap can be spared. And he has never felt smaller than he does as he stares at the quietly sleeping Warrior of Light, her bed the only space clear of offerings.

An unnatural part of him says he shouldn't even be here, as she's no longer his...no, she never was his wife, was she? Had he not sat on his hands for so long, been so content with what he'd assumed was happy stability for so many years, would she still have turned away from what they had? Would it have been enough?

'Don't wait for me. I love you, more than you'll ever know, but I...I can't do this anymore. Just let me go, please.'

Those parting words have echoed in his mind for the past few days, first whispered to him before she left to hunt her quarry in the far reaches of the universe. And still they rumbled when the Ragnarok returned, thundering as he saw the weary procession of the Scions leaving the ship, her stretcher borne between them.

Now here he stands, in this veritable shrine to her bravery, ignoring her last words to him and yet too craven to go to her side, for fear of shattering whatever illusions he has of this simply being a nightmare they've both yet to wake from.

He takes a deep breath, shuddering in his chest as though the room has frozen over, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides while he watches her for a few moments more; still and bruised but breathing.

And then he leaves.

And he doesn't come back.

Sequestered in the depths of Thaumazein, he avoids the question he doesn't have an answer for. Doesn't want to know. The others soon learn to stop asking, though the murmurs and worried looks between them prickle him all the same.

Days, perhaps a week? Longer? Difficult to tell how long has passed underground, this self imposed exile timeless by design. But eventually he has to leave, what further work he can do with the Ragnarok exhausted for now.

As is he, bleary eyed and stone legged as he staggers out into the dawn.

He barely registers where he's going as he walks down the myriad staircases away from the Forum, the place at present mercifully empty of any wandering scholars with their noses buried in a tome to sleepwalk into.

The salt of the sea hits him, bright and sharp as the sunlight splitting through the crystal of the aetheryte as he passes through the plaza, starting down the steps towards the harbour. As he does, a familiar, much heavier scent is carried on the wind; tobacco smoke and Thavnairi rose oil.

Utha is perched on the wall before the last staircase and leaning on a pillar while she takes another drag, smoke curling on the faint breeze. She doesn't look up as he slows, but continues his approach, instead keeping her gaze fixed across the water. A little ache twists in the pit of his stomach, every past sunrise they've shared together seeming so far away now. The last few steps are agonising, the thought of turning back an easy one to indulge.

But he owes it to himself and to her, to not leave things where they stand.

Finally she looks around, eyes a little wide on seeing him. The bruises around the corner of her mouth and eye are less swollen and dark, her arm bound in a sling just visible beneath the heavy woollen cloak slung around her shoulders. Gods only know what state she's in underneath it all and the ache in him pulls harder, with guilt now, for not knowing. It's been easier to ignore, to imagine himself more deeply wounded, without seeing her.

Utha shifts gingerly in her seat, stubbing out her cigarillo and pats the space next to her. He accepts the offer, hopping up beside her, though stares down at his hands in his lap. Neither seems to want to be the first to break the silence, unbearable though the tight, fraying thread between them is.

A pair of students come down the stairs, arm in arm, excitedly whispering between themselves as they spot the two. One, a young sea wolf, can't quite contain herself and presents herself to Utha with a nervous grin, her au ra companion urging her on.

"It…it is you, isn't it?" She stammers, anxiously fiddling with her glasses. "I don't mean to bother you, but I-"

Despite her obvious exhaustion, Utha still graciously nods, offering the younger woman a small smile.

"Aye, it's me. What can I do for you…?"

"Oh! Er, Beralona, miss," The pink haired roegadyn replies breathlessly, reaching for her friend's arm to pull her forward. "A-and this is Ryuko."

The raen shyly waves, nodding.

All the while, Cid says nothing, offers nothing but sullen indifference. Ordinarily, he'd be all too happy to chat and listen to the singing of Utha's praises, but his patience for it all is running thin right now. And it's clearly palpable, the girls looking between themselves nervously.

"We won't keep you any longer," Beralona mumbles. "Just wanted to…to say hello."

"And thank you," Ryuko adds, Beralona nodding quickly. "To you as well, Master Garlond."

Cid starts at this mention, finally acknowledging the girls with an upward glance and a short nod.

"Don't let Kokkol hear you say that too loudly." He manages a half smile, Utha snorting at the quip while the Sharlayans shrug, nonplussed. They wave goodbye and carry on their way, leaving the air a little less heavy in their wake.

He turns to Utha, reaching over for her hand. She takes it, squeezing his fingers tight as she looks back at him sadly.

"What are we doing here, love?" Cid asks softly, running his thumb along her bruised knuckles. Utha sighs with a stuttering breath, shaking her head.

"I don't know," She says quietly. "I shouldn't have left you with that hanging over you before, I know-"

"Why did you, then?" The question is firmer than perhaps she deserves right now, but Utha doesn't flinch either, looking right back at him.

"Because it's hard, Cid. It's fucking hard to hold myself together for anyone, when there's so little left for me."

It's his turn to avoid her gaze again, cowed by the brutal honesty. She sighs, Cid watching her pinch her brow from the corner of his eye.

"You know the last thing I ever want is to hurt you." She drops her voice to a near whisper now, leaning in close with her good arm around his shoulders and cheek pressed to his. He leans back against her, the warmth and weight of her so close to him too tempting to ignore after all this time.

"But I can't give anything more right now, not even to you. And it would be cruel of me to ask you to carry on like that."

"What if I wanted to anyway?" Cid murmurs, wrapping his arm around her waist as he sinks deeper into her.

"It doesn't work that way," Utha says with a sad laugh. "and you deserve better than that, besides."

"Do I?"

She nudges his chin up with a finger and thumb, looking at him with weary fondness. "Yes."

"I'll take your word for it, then." He sighs, lips curled as she kisses his temple. Reluctantly, they sit up, the warmth of the now risen sun a pitying substitute for holding one another. Stretching, Utha gets to her feet.

"I ought to go. Wanted to try Dickon's new pudding before Krile figures I snuck out of bed again…only so much archon loaf anyone can endure, y'know?"

She grins at him, despite the gleam of her eyes watering.

"It's not so bad when you get used to the- ah, who am I fooling," Cid grimaces, following her lead. "It's foul."

Utha nods sadly, turning to walk down the steps.

"But-" He quickly adds, all but running after her. She stops, low enough on the staircase to be eye to eye with him. "Might I ask for one more favour, for old time's sake?"

"Seeing as it's you…"

Cid smiles, sniffling as he reaches down to hold her face and presses the softest of kisses to her lips, Utha winding her arm around his neck, deepening it. They hold each other there, silent tears on their faces saying more than words need to.

"Go," He whispers, fingers lingering on her cheek as he draws away. "Have your fill and more, my love."

She mouths the words 'thank you' and quickly turns away from him before she thinks better of it and Cid watches over her every step, the sun a halo around her silhouette. This last sunrise will be bitter by tomorrow, bittersweet in the weeks to come, but right now it's honey in his mouth.

#ffxiv #cidwol #if u need me ill be sobbing over my cigarette okay BYE

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philosopherbouquet · 10 months

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Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Warnings: No Warnings

Chapters: 5/5

Fandom: Transformers - All Media Type, Transformers: Prime

Relationships: Megatron & Optimus Prime

Characters: Megatron (Transformers), Optimus Prime

Additional Tags: MegOP Week 2023 (Transformers), MegOp week, Fandom Week, Post-War, Bittersweet, Past Relationship(s), Past Brotherhood - with feelings!, Friendship with some shipping tones, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Not Canon Compliant, Non-Canonical Violence, Non-Canonical Character Death, Complete

SUMMARY:

Through Unicorn, Megatron learned the true meaning of oppression and thus ended the war. Now in self-exile, he wanders the endless cosmos with only his thoughts and a ghost for company. For MegOP Week 2023

@megop

#megop week 2023 #megop week #brotherhood #megatron #optimus prime #fanfiction #maccadam #transformers #tfp #a03 link #bitterness #non canon compliant #tfp fandom

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denimbex1986 · 2 months

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'In "All of Us Strangers", a lonely screenwriter from London named Adam decides to visit his childhood memories, for the needs of his work, and return for a while to the neighborhood where he grew up. There he finds his father's house and meets the ghosts of his parents, who were victims of a fatal car accident when he was twelve years old. By talking with them, Adam has the opportunity to share the loves he didn't have time to express to them, the thoughts, fears and feelings that for so long remained unspoken. Their meetings become more and more frequent and thus Adam slowly manages to come to terms with himself, his sexuality but also the loss of them, coming out of his shell to meet the other lonely tenant of his apartment building, the mysterious Harry.

Drawing inspiration from the novel “Strangers” by Taichi Yamada, Andrew Haigh (“Weekend”(2011), “Looking”(2014-2015)) writes and directs a love story dedicated to the lonely, the different and the outcasts, those who they get lost in the noise of the big city and drown in the quiet of urban isolation. A touching reunion with the bittersweet aspects of a tragic past and a liberating love affair that illuminates two cloudy and exiled existences evolve in parallel, in a surreal cinematic journey that oscillates between harsh reality and the healing imagination of a desperate mind. Heigh takes us atmospherically through the life of his protagonist, Adam, revealing little by little, the scars left by the death of his parents, his battle with grief and the weight of his unaccepted sexual identity. His need for acceptance, his fear of rejection, the wounds that have remained open for decades bring the ghosts of his past and present to life and become the occasion for a liberating and painful self-exploration full of tearful twists and emotions.

Between the suffocation of the concrete jungle of London and the idyll of the suburbs of 1987 - as characterized by the protagonist in the script he writes - Adam rediscovers a deeply buried part of himself and relives his past, this time on his own terms . With an excess of nostalgia that effortlessly conveys the sweet melancholy of faded childhood memories, Haigh casually transports us back in time, to times of childhood innocence only to remind us, with the most violent shifts, of the bleakness and misery of a lonely adult life. . Only balm for the abysmal nights and bored days is love, the romance of Adam and Harry, a refuge of love and tenderness that teaches the importance of companionship in the greatest darkness of our days. The authenticity and spontaneity that governs the relationship between the two protagonists, but also the effortless connection that develops through their imperative need for human contact, shines like a beacon of optimism, mutual understanding and trust in a time when, as the title testifies, we are all between us strangers.

The iconic priest from "Fleabag" (2016-2019), Andrew Scott stars alongside Paul Mescal of the excellent "Aftersun" (2022) and together they give two riveting performances, in the roles of Adam and Harry respectively, bringing to life a multi-faceted duo , two tortured aspects desperately looking for some hope, in a world that is consuming more and more of them every day. The lack of family comfort and the thirst for love, without inhibitions and criticisms is their common denominator calling them to unite their solitudes and turn their backs on everything that hurts them. As Adam visits his parents, Claire Foy (“The Crown” (2016-2023), “Women Talking” (2022)) and Jamie Bell (“Billy Elliot” (2000)), stuck in space and time of their death, he finds his twelve-year-old self and sheds the seriousness and harshness that his age imposes on him. The most impressive thing is that while parents and child look the same age, the dynamic that exists between the three characters so clearly highlights the roles that we immediately understand the relationship between them, even the condition that exists is completely paradoxical and unnatural.

The Verdict

In “All of Us Strangers”, Andrew Haigh invites us to a tender story of love, self-discovery and self-acceptance with hints of surrealism, which draws attention for its performances, its immersively melancholic atmosphere and the authentic emotions it conveys, bending even the most calluses. Traveling from busy London to the idyllic suburbs of the 80s, the film balances between the nostalgia of childhood memories and stifling urban isolation of the big city, dragging us on a bittersweet journey between the present and the past. The authentic love affair of the extremely talented leads Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal and the touching reunion of a child with the parents he lost before he could enjoy them make "All of Us Strangers" an incomparably moving psychological drama that will be remembered for a long time to come. .

All of Us Strangers Review

Great 8 A melancholic psychological drama from Andrew Haigh, colored with notes of nostalgia and surrealism, which steals the show for the intensity of emotions and the honesty of its performances.'

#Andrew Haigh #Weekend #Looking #Andrew Scott #Taichi Yamada #Strangers #Fleabag #Paul Mescal #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #All of Us Strangers #Aftersun #Women Talking #Billy Elliot

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