#speculations on their personal dynamic

[wonder-worker]

"Any assessment of the emotional component of the reconciliation of [Empress Matilda and Geoffrey of Anjou] remains speculation: the chroniclers are silent on the issue of whether [they] grew to love, hate, or like each other. We do know, from their movements and actions, that Matilda and Geoffrey eventually arrived at a businesslike arrangement with a united viewpoint toward the dynastic, geopolitical goals that had dictated their marriage in the first place."

"Matilda and Geoffrey effectively transitioned from a Divide and Rule model to a Collaborative Union from 1144 onwards, in which they worked together throughout their marriage to ensure rulership over their territories and gained their rightful lands, as well as ensuring the inheritance for their children. Matilda and Geoffrey’s political partnership can effectively be argued as the most successful through applying different models of rulership. Ultimately the Plantagenets regained Matilda’s inheritance through Henry, conquered Normandy, and produced several male heirs."

— Charles Beem, The Lioness Roared: The Problems of Female Rule in English History / Gabrielle Storey, Co-Rulership, Co-operation and Competition: Queenship in the Angevin Domains, 1135-1230

[stolenkissesdiaz]

you’re giving up? 8x06 writer wrote buddie elf scene, buddie skateboard scene, buddie hildy coffee scene, eddie getting shot, buddie held hostage, eddie breakdown where chris calls buck, buck falling asleep on eddie’s couch, bi buck, “i’m worried about you” and YOURE GIVING UP?!?! IN THE EPISODE WHERE ITS A WELL EMERGENCY??? the same emergency where we see buck try to dig eddie out with his bare hands and eddie is hit with montages of his family that give him the strength to fight? where buckley-diaz scenes are included? THE CLOSE CALL THAT MADE HIM WRITE BUCK IN HIS WILL AND MAKE HIM HIS SON’S LEGAL GUARDIAN???? AND YOURE CLOSING?!?! bsffr rn.

[wackywatchdotcom]

i need to GRAB pomni. i need to throw her like a javelin

[madelee]

How I like to imagine the ZaDr dynamic. How they sift from enemies to something more. And what I fucking love about ZaDr.

Some thoughts.

Zim and Dib, two emotionally neglected kids. Having little to no friends or any emotional support system… They became the primary attachment figures for each other: Based on them being enemies this relationship/development… it’s bound to be very complicated and messy.

There are various emotions mixed up in their dynamic. The initial hatred, frustration, and antagonism because they literally are enemies… but also the feelings of bonding, caring, appreciation, respect, and understanding. Then when getting older, also attraction, passion, and all those fuzzy feelings get mixed in.

But essentially, all the positive emotions that one develops and gets to experience with a close person like love, adoration, connection, tenderness, compassion, or simply joy… all those also get mixed up with the ‘negative’ ones.

The brain quite literally connects feelings of affection and connection with violence, aggression, cruelty, abuse, and brutality. This is trauma bonding, reward-based learning, and positive conditioning.

Them being obsessive and excessive as a fundamental part of their core personality only adds as a multiplier.

When this happens in a critical life phase (being young and in adolescence), having nearly no other positive influences in life and being neglected (emotionally especially), this connection the brain made will get so deeply internalized and won’t ever truly go away.

It could also connect to your sexuality and all that.

(There are real-life equivalencies)

What I’m getting at is, all this makes just so much sense!

This dynamic and their relationship is super complex and nuanced because of this.

Their relationship is incredibly intense and yes totally toxic but also compassionate.

Them fluctuating between high psychological distress/tension (hating, fighting, obsessing, loving, being in denial about your existence, generally trauma responses e.g., through neglect, loneliness, abandonment) and then them experiencing the sweet release through the aspects of their dynamic (connection, closeness, intimacy) as mentioned.

This stuff becomes quite simply addictive to someone.

This is why they can get crazy shit feral/hardcore with each other and also feel pleasure while doing so.

Like cutting each other up (or open), taunting, fighting, beating each other...

But because I’m a sucker for ambivalence and stark contrast, I like to imagine them being very, very cute with each other as well (occasionally even without showing the bad stuff while being cute), still toxic, still abusing and batshit crazy but absolutely meaning everything to each other and deeply caring.

Fluffy but in an obsessive and excessive way.

They will always somewhat be mean to each other and never shy to argue, even if just in a teasing and more lighthearted manner.

This is their love language after all.

This is how they show they care, and it’s what they know.

Also, this is just how they are personality-wise: thick-headed, intense people with strong opinions and even stronger egos.

And let’s not forget about stupidness, dorkyness, and comedy sprinkled in.

ZaDr is a fantastic way to deep dive into complex inner psychological human workings and I love exploring this.

(I love love love intense emotions.)

It’s even comforting in a way, if you ask me.

Hate and love are so close for a reason.

It’s the most intense we can feel.

And I mean, I guess we all (or many of us) can somehow relate to not liking or even hating a close one (even if only sometimes). But when a real deep bond is established with someone and when affection is also part of your connection (even if only sometimes), this stuff just doesn’t go away. Toxic relationships are messy and certainly not easy nor black and white. You just understand this emotion… of how complicated you can feel about someone, and what complexity this can bring with it.

Note that, this is how I like to imagine it. One can have a totally different perspective on it and this is valid as well!

Also this is romanticized, fiction and reality operate differently. Cognitive dissonance baby.

[the-great-lolita]

So many of the age headcanon posts keep saying that Papyrus's Undernet username 'implies that he is in his early 20's'- mf his username is CoolSkeleton95, that has literally nothing to do with being 20 lmfao

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

I think part of why I'm a little bit softer towards Quackity's finale, or simply unsure of how to criticize it, is that, perhaps more than any other ending we've seen, the meta elements are... very difficult to ignore.

DSMP was a roleplay server. Even at its most highly produced and pre-written, it was still a roleplay server. Moreover, it was a roleplay in which all of the characters shared a name with their player, the lines between the fiction and the OOC friendships were frequently blurred, and very few people had much if any experience with roleplay and its associated pitfalls such as the dreaded "character bleed." That is an environment ripe for joy and excitement. It's also an environment rife with turbulence and wounded feelings.

So, the first thing is that this doesn't just represent an ending for c!Quackity, it represents closing a chapter in cc!Quackity's career. When he got the chance to stream in his native language without fear of being judged or mocked for it, k!Quackity was born. When he embarked on a project that reconciled his two audiences, there was q!Quackity. c!Quackity was a storytelling triumph as far as MCYT goes, but where was he to go next?

On a narrative level, I find it interesting that the two survivors, and the traits portrayed that helped them decide to continue living, represent what were once c!Quackity's best traits - k!Quackity's determination and sense of justice, and q!Quackity's love and desire to connect with others. Combined with c!Slime's parting words of "Thank you for teaching me what it's like to be human," this might underscore a point that c!Quackity was ultimately a learning experience, both for the writer and the other characters. He might be gone, but he still left some positive impact. The ones who came after him chose not to continue a negative cycle.

However, the other snag here is... the other people. Yeah. No need for detail, you know who I mean. The controversies, the racism mentioned above, the legitimately awful treatment of those within and without the DSMP circle. A lot of us won't excuse the writing because of that. And I get it - we, the audience, can easily separate the story from the people behind it. If this were a film franchise or television show, it would be easy to replace the actors and move on. Not so in a roleplay. Not so when the actor and character have bled together so much.

I've got to get a little personal.

Within the last few months, I've dealt with a similar experience - someone who I frequently roleplayed with and who I considered a close friend became incredibly abusive to one of my other friends, to the point where he needed to be distanced from our lives and cut from future plots entirely. Logistically, that is a hard thing to deal with, especially when your character was closely entwined with theirs and dozens of others. But emotionally, it's even harder. You start questioning past interactions, wondering whether the signs were always there. You start noticing strange details in their writing that you know you might be reading too much into, but still make you sick to think about. In extreme cases, the thought of even playing your own character again becomes unbearable, because they were so clearly impacted by the choices of people you no longer want anything to do with.

I had an easier time adapting my character to the new course of events. My other friend, the one who had suffered his betrayal firsthand, nearly had her character disappear alongside his.

Sometimes, people cope with endings the way Tommy did. By saying, "No, I'm going to go back and end on a happy note, because my character deserves that, and the goodness was there." Sometimes, that just... doesn't feel possible. I really truly have to wonder if c!Quackity, for all the pride and care that was clearly taken in crafting his story, was just a holder of too many negative experiences and attributes for the writer to do anything but throw up one last cathartic hurrah and shelve him forever.

I'm not saying it was the ideal ending for c!Quackity. I'm not saying it was perfectly written, or that the absence of certain characters wasn't baffling or frustrating. I'm not even saying people aren't justified in hating how our favorite character's story concluded. Hell, I'm still not sure whether I like how brutal, how final, how bitterly tragic it was.

I'm just saying it's hard for me not to empathize.

[pynkhues]

Louis the mega-millionaire and his new-old boyfriend/forever husband who’s a songstress GIVGLING AND KICKING MY FEET I hope they have sex on every horizontal surface in Toledo Ohio

And some vertical ones too!!! Haha.

[idolbound]

I think people likely do suspect Meredith might be a little 💅 you know?

Obviously some followers of the Chantry take up vows of chastity, though from what I've been reading, while templars aren't required to take said vows, they do require special permission to marry as they may be required to move to other Circles or to do the Chantry's bidding elsewhere. As it were, if a spouse can provide their own support (e.g., owning land, having a role in another organization like the City Guard [I think of Aveline and Wesley, as he was apparently a former templar]), then permission is granted. This process likely deters most templars from formally marrying, or even maintaining long-term relationships.

That said, it's evident that templars in Kirkwall frequent the Blooming Rose often enough that Meredith eventually orders a raid of the place to find out which of her knights have been paying for sex and 'ruining' the reputation of the Order and its Knight-Commander. Obviously this demonstrates that templars seek and pay for sex without commitment nor worry about an actual relationship.

But, I am also certain that templars do have relationships beyond the Order - and perhaps, also, within it, though this is obviously discouraged and likely to earn reprimand for engaging in activities that could be seen as distracting from their duties (and creating a conflict of interest / tension among the ranks).

Now, with that context in mind, let's get back to Meredith.

Of course, already in Act 1 people are terrified of Meredith, and those who serve her do not want to break rules or cross her. She too wouldn't have any interest in being involved with someone serving under her, though I'm sure there are speculations about her interests. After all, we know from World of Thedas vol 2 that, when she stormed the brothel, she came across a very naked, very erect Jethann and politely and quietly excused herself. I'm sure Jethann has talked about this incident and rumours have spread; either the Knight-Commander is indeed, just a paragon of her faith and upholding a strict vow of chastity, or she isn't interested in men. While not a common assertion, someone, somewhere has probably drunkenly theorized about it. Like all the other rumours about Meredith, I think this one would certainly be among them.

Additionally, and this is in the game itself, but if Hawke is male and 'flirtatiously' compliments Meredith, she shuts him down by saying "I do not wear this armour for how it looks" and all but rolls her eyes at him. If Hawke is female, she simply says nothing (again, likely that they forgot to record a line / chose not to), but sometimes actions speak louder than words!

Now, in my own personal headcanon, I believe that as a Knight-Templar, Meredith had to deal with her templar brothers finding her attractive and desiring her in that way, which in response, she had to assert over and over, her utter disinterest in them. Most of these boys and young men thought they were rejected because Meredith was so focused on her studies, but others really found it hard to believe she would reject them. Obviously, this started the rumour mill about Meredith, both among her own cohort and beyond; after all, she was already a contentious initiate, since she already had an 'in' to doing well in the Order ahead of her peers because she was Knight-Captain Kell's unofficial adoptive daughter. Her blatant rejections towards her fellow knights' advances only added to that, with speculations ranging from the fact she already had a secret lover outside of the Gallows, to the fact she simply preferred the company of the fairer sex.

While it was true that Meredith was intensely focused on her duties and becoming the best Templar she could be, she was well aware of her romantic interest and sexual attraction toward other women early on (likely around age 16-17). I think as a ward of the Chantry that Meredith likely developed some close, possibly homoerotic friendships with other girls who grew up alongside one another, but obviously as Meredith became a templar initiate and stayed in the barracks of the Gallows, some connections may have been lost over time.

As an adult and new Knight-Templar, I believe Meredith - young, tall, and handsome - did have numerous illicit affairs with Chantry Sisters over the years, including when she became Knight-Captain, but stopping when she became Knight-Commander. As I've discussed, Meredith is hypersexual and this affects her relationships, but during this time, because of her duties, she is never able to form a long-term romantic relationship, preferring short-lived and secretive sexual relations, hidden by the cover of nightfall and the shadows in the darkest corners of the Chantry. While she has always been hypervigilant about, well, just about everything (due to her PTSD), there have always been wandering eyes and listening ears that notice such things.

In the timeline of Kirkwall, as mentioned above, I don't think such a rumour would become known by Meredith as most people are frightened of her and wouldn't dare mention it, but I do think the templars who have known her since the beginning, and those who have perhaps seen or heard a little too much, might know about where her preferences lie. In Thedas, for the most part, it would seem that having same-sex attraction is not seen as inherently bad or evil, though according to Brother Gentivi, in some places it is considered a quirk of character or sometimes scandal if done indiscreetly , or it can be accepted provided a noble still contribute to procreation and reproducing heirs for bloodlines.

In this case, given Meredith's position as Knight-Commander, and the other actions (or inaction) she takes regarding the templar-mage conflict and ruling the city, people knowing her sexuality is truly just another piece of gossip shared over ale in Lowtown, though one that may invoke further judgement by some.

[wellnoe]

media club plus is extremely good secondary fatt material, a great group of people to make up the core cast.

[agnesandhilda]

personally I'm a huge fan of how every fanon isakainess scenario involves kaiser getting sent to the cuck chair in some way

[wonder-worker]

Is it true that RichardIII and Anne Neville are friends from childhood before marriage?

Hi! I'm not as familiar with this phase in Richard's life, but to quote David Horspool from his book Richard III: A Ruler and his Reputation:

"Some people who were also under Warwick’s roofs at this time would become Richard’s loyal friends and companions, even to their deaths. It may be tempting to suggest that Richard’s future wife, Anne Neville, Warwick’s younger daughter, would have been among them. Certainly Edward IV’s own example gives the lie to the idea that all high-level medieval marriages were matters of diplomacy and political calculation. But Anne was four years younger than Richard, and it is perfectly possible that they lived at different Warwick houses – and boys and girls were, in any case, educated separately. So while Richard’s future bride would not have been unknown to him, it is fantasy to conclude that ‘in childhood they had known each other well'."

I should also point out that their personal dynamic, whatever it was, wouldn't have really been a factor in Richard and Anne's marriage to each other. Theirs was a transactional marriage similar to most aristocratic unions at that time, made (primarily) for Richard's political and financial benefit and (secondarily) for Anne's security and inheritance. What they personally thought about each other would have been irrelevant when making the match.

Hope this helps!

[thetangycheesemanwithaplan]

Why are they dressed up at the firehouse? (my theory)

TL;DR: Chief is going to run for mayor-Bobby is promoted as the new chief- Hen promoted to captain of the 118 permanently

The only time we've seen them dress up in their dress uniform is for either a funeral (Kevin) or for a passing probation celebration (Eddie). Now I would imagine dress wear would also be worn for any sort of commendation they'd receive for their hard work. But this is not something we've seen (although they deserve it) yet and honestly i don't think it would be a general like award for the team because the only thing that's been big enough to maybe warrant ceremony would be the cruise ship and the Chief would not give them a commendation for this. One because they went against orders and two because he's already stolen credit for it. Plus there at the firehouse and I feel like something like this would be done somewhere more public (like a city hall or something) but if the ceremony was only specific to one or maybe two people it would make sense it would be held at the firehouse. I'm also ruling out funeral cause I just don't think its that and theres no one to celebrate a probation with

I think it'll have something to do with the Chief and with Bobby. Now we know the Chief is gunning for the mayors job (politics oh boy) we've seen this in the way he's handled the incident with Hen (and the guys connections who he was protecting) and also in the way he took credit for the cruise ship rescue. Like Chief reeks of politics and so I feel like he's setting himself up to move into running for mayor (or any role within politics but Maddie made a comment about the Mayor soooo this is the path i'll choose) And I feel like Bobby is at the point in his career where moving up would make sense (I don't see him retiring ever). I feel like the chief has approached him and offered him the role of chief. I think they set up a ceremony with the ruse that Bobby will receive some sort of commendation for his years of service with the LAFD and so everyone has gathered for what they think is to celebrate bobby and it is just not in the way they think.

Chief announces he'll be running for mayor(moving to politics) and that in the transition period that Bobby will be being promoted to chief. Everyone is shocked but everyone is clapping and celebrating, Bobby get's up and makes a speech about his time at the 118, how they'll always be his family and that he's leaving them in good hands. Bobby then announces that Hen will be captain. This is a complete surprise as Hen wasn't expecting but then Denny, Mara and Karen appear and join in the celebrations as the news sinks in. Bobby steps down and says to Hen the job is hers only if she wants it and Hen accepts.

Also we get Ravi full time on the A shift as a fun little treat

Thanks to @buck-up-buck and @whollyjoly for letting me ramble. I also ramble in the tags XD

[allegorism]

ngl, if furina does end up being another "two sided" archon, i'm going to be so disappointed

[fellhellion]

granted this is just me applying some broad strokes of the 90s backstory to miguel's movie iteration and this may just end up unapplicable but idk. i honestly think there's something really interesting to be mined from the entire thing with gabriella not just being about desiring a fantasy of a happy family life, but also being an opportunity to genuinely grapple with miguel's relationship w fatherhood, both regarding himself and the fathers in his life. something something never being able to envision yourself as a father or perhaps not even considering that it could be something you wanted until you saw a mirror of yourself do it and be so happy with that in his life.

[anaburbononburbon]

One of my favorite series!!!!

Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Five

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, jealousy, manipulation, brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 4k

At breakfast, an unfamiliar soldier comes to apologize. Ghost’s jealousy rears its head.

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

It’s the noise that hits you first. A visceral gut punch of sound that sends you reeling toward homesickness. The dining hall is packed with people. They sit at long tables and round ones, talking and eating and talking. Living their lives. Simply existing.

But the realization of where you are is far stronger than any yearning for home and community. There are no children chasing each other, their joyful cries echoing off the walls. There is no lazy strumming of a guitar from the corner. No cheerful faces eager to greet you, to invite you to the table, to break bread and ask about your day.

The room is full of soldiers. Blood-drenched creatures. Unknown faces. Male gazes.

A sweaty staleness hangs in the air, mixing with the salty bite of bacon on the griddle. This space is a gnarling twist of enemy territory and diner. A submergence in a warped reality of the past. There is something hauntingly nostalgic about the wood walls and metal ceiling, as if you’re child again at summer camp.

When it rains, do the droplets ring against the metal? Do they sing soft pings to the soldiers as they eat?

“Two legs,” growls Ghost from behind you, the fabric of the balaclava a teasing scratch against the curve of your ear. “And yet you refuse to walk.”

Asshole. Fucking asshole.

And you allowed this man to tongue your pussy? To slide his cum-coated thumb into your mouth? It doesn’t matter how good he made you feel, or how, for a fraction of a moment, the reality of your situation melted away, leaving you only with lust. Survival cradled you, and delivered you into Ghost’s arms because it’s all you know.

Foolish.

Reeling Lieutenant Riley in didn’t have to involve you spreading your legs for him. A kiss or two would have suffice. But loneliness is a fickle disconnect of melancholy, leading you quickly toward a mistake that could have upended everything. You don’t know Soap, but you silently thank him for knocking on the door and dissolving whatever haze invaded your senses when Ghost had you under him.

The easy thing would be to snap at Lieutenant Riley. It’s what you want to do. But this is not the place to tell him off or cause a scene even if he deserves a bit of lip. You are surrounded—caged in by people who’d have his back before yours. There are no friends here. Not even Ghost.

You glance over your shoulder, that whiskey gaze of his biting back with a hint of a spark.

Ghost. Lieutenant Riley.

Your sentinel. Guardian. Protector. Captor.

Best to be the quiet doe here and bow before the stag.

“I don’t know this place,” you reply softly, lowering your gaze in submission.

Ghost’s head tilts slightly, assessing. “No,” he agrees. “You don’t.”

Timidness is the key to his gentleness as much as your dagger tongue. It’s a bit debilitating—nearly a whiplash. Navigating Lieutenant Riley is a windstorm. But like any storm, it will pass. You need only weather him.

Ghost’s gaze turns outward into the dining hall, eyes narrowing. “Stay close to me,” he murmurs, and the tenderness in his voice makes you pause.

Like the gunshots that seemed never-ending, Ghost spoke to you in the same tone, covering your ears, coaxing you to look only at him. These fleeting moments of kindness and affection make no sense. It’s like he wants to possess you and yet smack you down with equal measure.

You sense a phantom hand on your lower back, simply hovering, a breath away from touching. Ghost doesn’t need to touch you to herd you where he wants. A few steps, unbidden, and you move forward into the communal dining hall. No longer hiding just inside the door, you’re out in the open now, on display.

Soldiers at tables nearest you glance in your direction. Their voices become murmured whispers or fizzle out entirely. Here, you are an oddity. Perhaps an apparition. This is not a place for civilians, and the way some of the men leer is a clear indication that if Ghost weren’t standing next to you, they’d approach. The very threat of it forces you to take a step closer to him.

Whether Ghost notices your nervousness or not is an entirely different matter. Lieutenant Riley walks with heavy confidence, his head held high as if he’s proud that you’re at his side, and the men staring at you means nothing. For you, it takes more effort to act like him, to pretend that this isn’t a curling nightmare.

You want to go home. You want your bed and your books and your archive.

Ghost’s footsteps are easy to follow. One. Two. One. Two. With his phantom hand at the small of your back, Lieutenant Riley keeps you at his side and just to the front of him, urging you closer to the front of the communal dining hall where a massive buffet lines the wall. Soldiers move along the queue at different intervals, filling their plates with the morning fare. Unlike Lieutenant Riley and the rest of his team, not everyone is in all black. There are plenty in green fatigues, even dark blue that remind you of sailors. A few are clad in tactical gear like they’re trying to shovel some food down before taking off. There are others that are completely dressed down, more casual but still in uniform.

A whiff of cooking food drifts toward you, stirring your stomach to rumbling.

Ghost’s hand finally connects, purposefully steering you to an open spot in line. A small spike of anxiety flares. It’s just a goddamn food line but you don’t know the order of things, and you’re surrounded by strangers.

But the worry is silly, because you don’t even lift a finger.

Ghost brings you to an open spot and promptly grabs a black tray, placing it in front of you. A plate appears, followed by a few napkins and silverware. You stare; a bit surprised by how he handled it so calmly. You didn’t have to think about anything. Not a single neuron fired.

Ghost nods toward the immense line of food. “Eat whatever you want.”

Whatever you want? Truly?

Briefly glancing over the long buffet line, you turn back to Lieutenant Riley, a hint of disbelief in your tone. “I can do that? Put whatever I want onto my plate?”

Ghost inclines his head. “You’re under my protection.”

As if that answers your fucking question. Sometimes he’s so damn cryptic.

“And what about you?” you ask. “Are you eating?”

Eating in this room with all these eyes on you is daunting. Eating alone sounds worse.

“Already ate,” replies Ghost with a husky drawl.

Images of Lieutenant Riley’s naked body invade, reminding you of your lusty mistake, and how nice he looked when his lips and chin were glossy with your arousal.

“You hardly finished,” you mumble, quickly glancing away in embarrassment.

Ghost makes a humph sound, and though you can only see his eyes, the curling pinch of lines in the corners tells you enough. This man is fucking smirking.

He starts to lean in, and your heartrate quickens. The intimacy is akin to a shared secret.

“Lieutenant Riley!”

Both of you turn abruptly. Ghost pushes off from the metal rail, his shoulders straightening, demeanor changing completely due to whoever’s just addressed him. You scan the unfamiliar faces, only for an older man to appear through the crowd. It’s clear from his uniform that he’s above Ghost in rank, but you wouldn’t be able to say how. Military ranks and the hierarchy of authority isn’t clear to you. And this isn’t the “Price” you met last night. It’s someone else. Someone you don’t know.

“Grab what you want, love. Find an empty seat. I’ll come to you,” says Ghost, not even looking at you as he says it.

Then he’s gone. Poof. Like cigarette smoke drifting into the air.

The large communal dining hall suddenly shrinks, becoming insufferable and stuffy.

Run. Run.

Run. But where to? Where the fuck can you go on a goddamn military base? If you bolt out of here, Ghost would chase you, knock you down and shove his boot into your back. Or maybe he’d take you back to the private barracks, toss you onto the bed, and deal out a bit of punishment. Either would be fucking embarrassing, and no matter how much the animal in you wants to flee, you remain firmly in line, staring at the food as you breathe in through your nostrils and out through your mouth.

Calm. Calm calm calm. Zen. Deep breaths.

You’re fine. Everything is fine. You’re safe.

Saliva pools in your mouth, and the fresh aroma of baked bread creeps up your nostrils. Food. You can focus on that. You can feed yourself and then take the next step after, whatever the fuck that might be. Before you are a plethora of options. Back home, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all set affairs. Everyone eats the same unless someone has a dietary restriction for medical reasons. There is no display. No bounty. No cornucopia of a feast.

After the world fractured, this amount of food was unimaginable.

Fluffy pancakes. Greasy bacon. Scrambled eggs. Potato hash loaded with vegetables. There are bowls full of color fruit. Oatmeal with different toppings. Grits. These are American classics, but they aren’t the only options. There are fried eggs over rice and even a stuffed flatbread that smells faintly of cumin. It’s made to accommodate many tastes. Options for everyone. Beyond that, you glimpse baskets piled high with fresh bread, and next to that, condiments. You even spy a bottle of hot sauce and a container holding kimchi.

For a moment, it feels like before, as if you were waking up in a hotel and down in the lobby standing before a continental breakfast.

Is this normal? Do the people who live in the safe zones always feast like this? Or is this simply reserved for those willing to pick up a gun for the sake of humanity? Are they fed well to keep them happy?

There’s no use in worrying over what you don’t know. Eventually you’ll find out. Lieutenant Riley intends to take you to the safe zone after all, and once there, you’ll get your answers.

Grabbing the scoop for the scrambled eggs, you dig in, lifting up a heaping amount to place onto your plate.

“I’d avoid that.”

The masculine voice nearly makes you jump right out of your skin. You drop the scoop, the egg returning to the chaffer with a splat. Little specks of egg go flying, landing on the surrounding metal.

“You’ll be in the latrine the rest of the day.”

Jesus.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of the sudden newcomer.

He’s a bit shorter than Lieutenant Riley, perhaps by a few inches, and he wears a similar uniform of all black fatigues. On his upper bicep is the flag of the United Nations and the United States.

He shrugs. Inclines his head. “Or you’ll be fine. Bit of a hit or miss. Depending on the day.”

There’s a slightly southern lilt in his voice. Not Deep South like Mississippi or Louisiana. It’s too neutral. Perhaps northern Arkansas. Maybe even southern Missouri.

But it’s not like you’d ask. In fact, you’re fucking annoyed. There’s already one annoying man in your life. You don’t need two.

“Which is it?” you ask, feigning a smile.

The stranger gazes over the glass, gaze narrowing slightly. Finding whatever he’s looking for, he nods in affirmation. “It’s a good batch.”

How long do you have to amuse him before he’ll move on?

“How can you tell?” you ask, adding some of the eggs to your plate.

He runs his fingers through his dusty brown hair. “It’s who’s at the griddle.” You open your mouth, a reply on your tongue, but this stranger trudges on. Continues talking. “If Four Fingers is on the griddle, you’re good. Always cleans between whatever he’s cooking.”

No. No. This is fucking weird.

“I’m sorry,” you say, holding up your hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Please get the fuck away from me.

And where the fuck is Ghost?

“Sergeant Noah Fields.” He extends his hand in a warm greeting. Reluctantly, you take it. The shake is firm but not overly domineering. “I was with Lieutenant Riley’s group,” he says when you drop your hand.

Not really helpful, and you don’t hesitate to say so. “You were all wearing balaclavas,” you reply, taking a step forward to indicate that you’re leaving the conversation. “Can’t say I recognize you.”

Sergeant Fields doesn’t take the hint.

“No, ma’am,” he laughs, some of that southern drawl making a quick appearance. “Suppose you wouldn’t.” he shrugs, walking beside you. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Everything compounds, pushing you back into a place you don’t want to return to. Running for your life. The whizz of bullets flying through the air. A gun at your temple. It wasn’t only Lieutenant Riley that you met. There were others. Three for sure that touched you. Many more looking on.

And which one is he?

You take another step, skipping what looks to be eggs baked into a tomato sauce. A whiff of spice drifts up, and your nose twitches.

“Listen,” continues Sergeant Fields, tone sheepish. “I ow you an apology.” You pause at the hash, briefly glancing at him but saying nothing as you scoop some onto your plate next to the eggs. “A big one.”

“Do you?” you muse, returning the scoop to its cradle.

Where is Ghost? He’d put an end to this conversation. For that, you’d be grateful.

“It’s why I’m interrupting your breakfast.”

That’s obvious.

“And what are you apologizing for?” you prod, entertaining him for the sake of it.

While part of you would enjoy blatantly ignoring him, you also know that you’re not in any position of leverage. Ghost has stepped away. There is no brooding buffer to chase off Sergeant Fields.

He grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent agitation. A little red flag waves in your head. It’s clear that he’s working up to something, but you don’t know him. They all wore balaclavas. This man is a complete stranger.

“Look,” you say, starting to lift your tray. “Whatever it is—”

“No,” he interrupts. “No. You deserve an apology.”

You go to step around him, but Sergeant Fields backs up, forcing you back to the buffet rail. “Stop. Just—stop. Did Lieutenant Riley put you up to this?”

“Did—” He blinks. Startled. “No.” He rubs at his chest. “I’ve been wanting to apologize since we’ve arrived at base. Heard from the others that you’d been cleared. That you’re being taken back to the safe zone.”

“Per the mandate,” you say slowly.

Sergeant Fields disregards this, moving on. “I treated you poorly. Called you…”

A coldness creeps in, turning your bones and blood to ice. Only three people talked to your directly. And only one called you a name that made you snarl.

These fuckers don’t let their breeders out of their sight.

“Breeder,” you finish for him. “You called me a breeder.”

This motherfucker. Ghost might be a bastard, but this asshole is a fucking villain. He didn’t just call you a “breeder.” He did much worse—insinuated worse.

Sergeant Fields flushes slightly. “I did,” he affirms like a kicked dog.

Time to dig in. To show a bit of fang while you have the upper hand. “And you stuck your fingers in my mouth to look at my teeth.” The venom in your voice is lethal.

The sadness on his face deepens. “I did,” he confirms, denying nothing. “And I’ve come to apologize. To ask forgiveness.” Sergeant Fields sighs. Licks his lips. “I thought you were with—fuck.” He pauses. Starts over. “I judged you. Treated you poorly. That was wrong. Even if you were with them, I know how they treat their women. I should have been kinder with you. And I wasn’t.”

You don’t know this man, but you may not see him again after this. Perhaps you’re about to stroke his ego, but there is nothing on the surface that indicates nefarious intent. Sergeant Fields doesn’t leer, and he doesn’t glance away to stare at your body. He looked you in the face as he gave you his apology.

“I accept, Sergeant,” you sigh.

His solemn demeanor changes, a grin spreading across his face. “Noah. Please.”

“Noah,” you repeat.

“Well, ma’am.” He points to the chaffer next to you. “I’d recommend the pancakes. The grits aren’t too bad. Just add some honey and butter. Or if you’re of the savory kind, a fried egg with a dash of hot sauce.”

“Noted,” you smile, because this is much better conversation, even if you’re ready for Ghost to come rescue you. “Is this standard? The variety?”

Noah takes a step back, allowing you plenty of space to slide your tray down the line. “A few things rotate. Depending on availability. All the safe zones trade with each other.”

So, there are more? But how many?

“Sometimes, the safe zones south of us send citrus. It’s always a rush to the line when lemons and oranges make it here. Bananas, too. But we see those maybe once a year.” Noah snags a bowl of colorful fruit, placing it on your tray. “You can imagine the mayhem when they send us avocados.”

As you open your mouth to answer, a large shadow falls across the two of you. Noah’s charming smile melts like a vaporized ice cream cone. Straightening, Noah becomes stiff and stoic, staring just off to the right of your shoulder.

You turn slowly and find your masked kidnapper hovering there, arms crossed over his chest, the middle of his brow a sharpened v.

“Sergeant Fields,” growls Ghost.

Oh. This is interesting. There’s something here. Something you might be able to manipulate.

“Lieutenant,” you greet with a sunny smile. “You’re back.”

You’re far too cheery, and Ghost knows it. When his gaze slowly slides in your direction, his irritation with Noah turns into a silent “really?”

“Noah was helping me.” You turn toward Sergeant Fields. “Isn’t that right?”

He visibly swallows. “That’s right, Lieutenant.”

Ghost is unwavering. That whiskey-brown gaze of his locks onto Noah like bloodied daggers. “I can take it from here, Sergeant.”

“Course, sir,” nods Noah. He briefly turns toward you. “Glad we can start over.”

As he walks away from you and Ghost, you start sliding your tray down the line. Ghost grabs the edge, halting all forward movement. You don’t even entertain him with an answer. Instead, you attempt to shove your tray into his hand.

“What did he say to you?”

You narrow your gaze. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“What,” says Ghost slowly. “Did he say?”

Fucking hell, this man is insufferable sometimes.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “We made small talk.” You jerk the tray again, but Ghost keeps his hand firmly in place. “Is there an issue, Lieutenant?”

“First names. Fresh starts,” he lists. “A flirt.”

“Let go of my tray.”

“What did he say to you?” repeats Ghost.

“You know, Lieutenant,” you sigh heavily. “I think you’re jealous.”

It’s a flicker. An ember that flares then cools. Ghost’s pupils dilate slightly then retract. It’s unnerving the way he’s staring at you.

“Stay away from him,” he breathes, the command smoke-laced.

In this, he wants you to obey—to submit to his authority. The commonality here is that Ghost can take orders as well as give them. But unlike Sergeant Fields, you won’t allow Ghost to push you around. Not all the time.

“Look at you, Lieutenant. Didn’t even deny it.”

The tease is a poke. Like a needle under the nail.

“Like I said. Stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“He’s untrustworthy.”

“Wow,” you exclaim. “That is super helpful. Thank you so much for explaining. I totally understand now.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” replies Ghost, releasing the tray.

The release in pressure nearly sends you stumbling. With a huff, you brush by Ghost, purposefully catching his arm with your shoulder. Keeping your focus on the trays of food, you add more to your plate. Some of the options are foods you haven’t seen in over six years. It’s all sitting there in front of you, begging you to take it.

“Do you know him?”

Ghost’s question startles you.

“Do I know him?” you ask, a bit baffled.

“Glad we can start over?” he prompts, repeating what Noah said just minutes ago.

You roll your eyes. “Fucking ridiculous,” you mutter. Lifting your tray off the rail, you walk around Ghost, heading for the baked bread.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You grab the tongs and pick out a few pieces still steaming from the oven. “Am I allowed to eat my breakfast in peace?”

“No.”

“Wonderful,” you muse flatly, moving over to the beverages. “Aren’t you going to eat?” you ask, changing the subject.

“Told you,” replies Ghost. “I already did.”

“I don’t count.”

Ghost leans against the counter, his back to the carafes of coffee, his front facing the dining hall. There’s movement in your peripheral. Someone approaching. You don’t even have the chance to see who because Ghost growls at them like a dog giving a warning.

“Really?” you side-eye, grabbing a glass of water.

“He was staring at your arse.”

Placing the glass on your tray, you turn toward Simon, one hand resting against the counter. “Who the fuck are you talking about?”

“Sergeant Fields.”

“Oh, please,” you guffaw.

“Noah. Since the two of you are on first names.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Ghost grabs your water glass and moves it. “Balance is off. Tray will tip when you lift it.”

“Can we just have a normal morning?” you ask. It’s a simple request. “Without—” You gesture between the two of you. “Whatever the fuck this is.”

Ghost’s upper body shifts in your direction, but you suddenly realize that you’re not finished. That you’re not actually wanting an answer.

“Also. How the fuck would you even know that? He was standing directly in front of me. When did he even have the time?”

Ghost inclines his head, speaks casually. “I caught him staring before he came up to you.”

“You’re making shit up.”

“I don’t lie.”

You lift your tray off the counter, deciding it’s best to go find a seat and leave Ghost behind. This conversation is exhausting. And your eggs are going cold. But before you even take a step, Ghost is right there, grabbing the tray out of your hands and putting it back on the counter.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

Ghost moves in. Dangerously so. “I. Don’t. Lie.”

“Do keep stroking your own ego.”

His voice lowers, becomes that soft croon when he spoke sweetly to you. Promised you things. Promised you protection. “Please,” and you realize he’s begging. “Stay away from him.”

This is beyond ridiculous. It borders on possession. Ghost may have ripped you from your life only to thrust you into a new one, but he’s not anything to you. He’s simply an instrument. Something you can wield so that you make it out the other side alive.

You take a step forward, leaning into him in the same way you offered yourself. “I was willing this morning,” you whisper. “I…wanted you.” Your confession is sin-drenched, and it pulls the reaction you want. The middle of Ghost’s brow softens, and then there is nothing but pure longing. “In a way,” you continue. “I think I still do.”

It’s not untrue. It felt good to be beneath him, for his hands to roam and touch, to taste and consume.

But this confessional is not to please him.

You withdraw the allure. Find the devil in you.

“And now you’re fucking hurt because another man spoke to me.”

Even the balaclava cannot hide his sharp inhale. “Sergeant Fields is a fucking snake.”

You say it slowly, each word like the prick of a dagger tip. “Choke on my dick, Lieutenant.”

It starts a soft, musing chuckle. Then a laugh. All that fire within you extinguishes, put out by the flood that is Ghost.

“Oh, dove,” he purrs. “You’ll look bloody gorgeous choking on mine.”

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[mysticdragon3md3]

📝🔬💥🛡️❤️‍🩹🌋...🩼👨‍🔬👨‍🔬🔨💕💕💕⚖️

I think I finally figured out how to reconcile how insufferable Jayce sounds in the transcripts of his official lore journal notes.

At first, I thought that maybe it was written with more of a lean towards League of Legends version Jayce Giopara. His characterization seems much more egotistical, whereas Arcane seemed (to me) to just drop the word once, mostly to adhere to League lore. Like, Jayce could bask in the applause of his speeches, but he didn't seem to make it all about him.

But now that I think about it, it makes sense for Jayce to sound petty and egocentric in his notes. He was studying a field that everyone else would have thought was crazy. He was probably defensive about it, all the time. He would have to be. Justifying studying magic, in Piltover, the city built as a refuge against magic, would need a lot of defending. He probably had no one who would stand by him, after finding out what his all-consuming research was. And then in the end, even his mother called him crazy for studying it. No wonder he tried to kill himself when the Council ended his research.

But it also really proves how good it was for Jayce to have Viktor in his life. Finally, someone who fully believed in his research, that it had intrinsic merit. No wonder Jayce immediately shared his dream with Viktor as "our Hextech dream". (Though I'm sure Viktor's inherent scientific curiosity made him interested in Hextech, he probably more or equally valued it, as a way to help others, particularly in Zaun...given how one of Viktor's defining motivations is improving others' lives, the way he wished he was helped as a child.)