#this also applies to harrow… because ARM SCENE

[yarrowhark]

the thing with ianthe is that she would find many other parts of the body more arousing than what majority of people are conditioned to find “sexy” (genitals, breasts, butts etc.). I genuinely believe that ianthe would rather survey limbs and feel around every connecting tendon, every lining muscle and every hair follicle to get herself off. honestly i think she would even find sex appeal in an ear.

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

And so begins the aftermath of the battle...

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: A little bit of smut. Just a little. 😜

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten. Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight, Twenty-Nine, Thirty, and Thirty-One!

Chapter Thirty-Two

The darkness inside you subsided as you watched on intently to see if Theo would survive. The men who had stood guard at the hall's entrance parted, urging those inside the doors to tear down the barricade. Moving quickly inside, blood dripping profusely from Theo's back as Arondir carried him, he laid him down on the nearest table, Bronwyn screaming for supplies. A man you did not know handed Bronwyn a rag, which she used to apply pressure on the wound and hopefully stop the bleeding.

Galadriel knelt down beside Theo then, her blonde hair damp with sweat from the fight, and she gazed upon him with calm eyes, a reassuring smile blooming on her face. Running her hand through Theo's hair softly, tucking it behind his ear, you took in his pallid complexion. "You're going to be alright, I am certain." the she-elf spoke defiantly to the boy, who struggled to manage a smile in response, his lips trembling, eyes wincing from the pain. Galadriel whispered words in Quenya to him, but you could not make out what they were or their meaning. You imagined it to be a prayer of some kind, beseeching The One to secure Theo's health.

It was then you noticed Halbrand was not with you. Your eyes searched the hall for his crown, and after a few moments you found him. To your surprise, he was helping the rest of the survivors get the assistance they needed, walking between his people to ensure they were being cared for. It surprised you only because you expected Sauron was still present. But just as your own darkness had receded, so too had his. You locked eyes with him from where you stood, and took in his hazel orbs looking back at you. A small smile aimed at you before he turned back to his people in need.

You also turned back to the harrowing scene before you, placing a tender arm on Bronwyn's back, but she shirked it off, rejecting your comfort. This took you aback a moment, but you considered her reaction to be understandable, given her only child might be dying. She needed her full focus on the task at hand. "Arondir, can you retrieve the athelas from my pouch?" The elf did so without response, and you watched as Bronwyn moved fast to crush it within her fist, before lifting up the rag momentarily and placing the herb on the wound before returning the pressure again. Blood had trickled down Theo's back in that brief moment, and even though he was still bleeding, you were pleased it was no longer gushing from him. Bronwyn's treatment was working. But had he lost too much blood already?

Galadriel was still lightly brushing a hand through Theo's hair, the other one gripping his left hand tightly. Theo's eyes were closed as consciousness appeared to have fled from him, though he was still alive, as his torso rose and fell with the lungs that still took air into them. "Bronwyn… will he live?" you dared to ask, unable to shake your fears for the boy. She responded quietly without looking at you. "Yes. I believe he will." At that moment you felt Halbrand at your side, his hand immediately in yours, his kiss atop your head. "Come my love, give them some space to care for him. There's nothing you can do."

Suddenly, your stomach dropped. "Where are my brothers?!" you cried out, scanning the room frantically. Unable to make them out anywhere in the crowd, you let go of Halbrand and began to search for any sign of them. You hadn't seen them at any point during the fighting, so you assumed they had remained inside the hall where it was safest. Although, it would not shock you if Târikun had found a way out into the battle. He loved a good fight, no matter the opponent. Their names passed your lips, as loud as you could muster, your eyes stinging with the mixture of tears and sweat on your face.

Eventually, a broad smile entered your expression, as you saw Târikun hailing you over to where he stood. Reaching him, the two of your shared an immediate embrace, relief washing over you. However, that relief was short lived. Azrahin spoke your name from where he lay on the bench at your feet. His right thigh was covered in blood, a tourniquet wrapped around it. "Azrahin!" you cried, dropping to the floor. "What happened? Are you going to be okay?" "He'll live." spoke Târikun confidently. "I was outside the hall when the orcs first attacked. One of them got me before I could retreat to find a weapon."

You inspected his wound more closely, and noticed his blood was beginning to dry, the red liquid spilling from him no longer. "You're a lucky man, Azrahin." Halbrand declared to his brother-in-law. "Lucky that orc had terrible aim, more like." he countered. "What about you, sister?" You saw his eyes dart first up to your bloody head then down to the partly red and black skirt of your wedding gown. It was the first time you had even thought of your leg wound since it happened, as the pain from your head had taken over. Widening the slit of fabric, you saw the gash that ran down your right shin. The bleeding had ceased, the only consequence you might suffer would be a lengthy scar upon your skin. "I hope you ended the bastards that did that." Azrahin stared up at Halbrand, his voice indicating a tip towards anger.

"Oh don't you worry. I did." your love confirmed with a smirk. In that moment, with your darkness now back in the depths of its cage, your mind locked onto one person. Garion. Halbrand had murdered Garion. Olwenna's smiling face appeared to you then, in memories of your joyous time travelling on the road together. You remembered how kind Garion was, to everyone, no matter if they were kin or stranger. You remembered that playful nature he had with the children, teasing them about their dessert back at the inn. You remembered the way he and Olwenna had gazed at each other adoringly. You remembered his blank stare as he lay unmoving, the last expression he would wear now forever in death.

Halbrand had smirked at Azrahin as he spoke of committing this act. Was he glad for the man's demise? Did he feel no remorse? Or was Sauron speaking for him now, the dark lord who had saved his dark queen? You supposed you should be thankful for the knowledge that no more innocent lives were lost at your hands. Besides, Halbrand was only defending you, protecting you. You had done the same for him in the past. Your scales were balanced.

You could hear mournful cries coming from near the entrance to the hall. People had started to do the noble thing and bring inside the bodies of the dead so their loved ones could begin to grieve. It was only a matter of time now before Olwenna discovered the love of her life was gone. And the shameful thing was, you couldn't move an inch to be the one to tell her. You didn't want to risk planting any seeds in her mind that either you or Halbrand had been behind the killing. 'Orcs' had taken Garion's life, and it needed to remain that way. You felt sick.

"Azrahin, can you walk?" you asked him, hopeful. "I might be able to, with some assistance." he nodded at Târikun, who just rolled his eyes. "Good. Let us go." "Go?" spoke Halbrand, unsure of your decision. "I do not feel well, my love. I must retire for the night." "Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, gently cupping your face, and you noticed the ring against your skin once more. "No, our people need their king, now more than ever. We may not have the wedding night we desire…" you clasped his face in your hands, his stubble brushing against them as you pulled him closer to you. "…but there is always tomorrow night." "And the next night…" "And the next…"

Just as your lips finally met, Târikun interjected. "Yes okay we get it, you're in love, you're married. Can we go?" You felt Halbrand smile against you as the kiss ended. Releasing each other from your touch, you moved to help Târikun get Azrahin to his feet. "I'll be back at the same inn, Halbrand, if you wish to come find me." "I thought you didn't want to stay there?" spoke up Azrahin, wincing a little with the slight pressure on his leg.

You glanced at your big brother, smiling. "I want to be close to mother. Besides, we've been making new memories there now." Halbrand gazed at you lovingly as you bid him farewell, and you began to wander slowly with your brothers through the masses. People stopped you here and there, wanting to make sure their queen was well. Soon you came upon Theo, Bronwyn, and Arondir once more, and noticed that the young boy seemed to be stable. The elf stood holding his love wordlessly. You bowed your head at him, and he responded in kind just as your mind drifted to the other elf in the hall. Stopping your brothers a moment, you turned around and scanned the room for Galadriel. When your eyes found her, only a few metres away, you saw her tending to other injured parties, offering whatever aid she could. She didn't see you watching her. Smiling, you placed Azrahin's arm across your shoulder once more, and resumed your journey back to the inn, looking forward to rest. Garion and Olwenna's faces followed your every step.

When next the sunshine found your face, you were surrounded by the warmth and comfort of your sheets, and your love. Eyes opening slowly, you took in Halbrand's sleeping form beside you, watching his immaculate chest rise and fall peacefully. The rest you had gotten must have been sorely needed, for you had no recollection of Halbrand joining you in bed. All you remembered was saying goodnight to your brothers before washing the dry blood from your head, face, and leg, and lying down finally, desperately begging the ghost of Garion to leave you be.

You had relived the moment of his demise as you slept, remaining torn, but filled mostly with sorrow for his loss. Thinking of him again now as you gazed at the man who crushed his neck, reality began to set in that he was truly gone forever, and that Olwenna was now a widow. Would you even be able to face her? She had given you her friendship and her loyalty, to you and to Halbrand. She did not care if he was Sauron or not. And not for the same reasons as Bronwyn. But because she felt she knew him, and knew you too. Yet now… you had committed the ultimate crime against her, betraying her. Perhaps Galadriel was right, there was no light left in you.

Galadriel… your heart ached for her. You hoped against all hope that she was beginning to see the truth. And given the fact that you and Halbrand were presently still alive and intact, that had to mean something good. Considering the she-elf had been allowed to roam free, at your own behest. You knew you had made the right decision, regardless of Halbrand disagreeing. She had been an essential ally to have during the battle last night, with many lives still breathing today thanks to her actions, thanks to yours. Hopefully Galadriel witnessing you and Halbrand fighting against the orcs had been enough to sway her to reason. For now… you did not think you would be able to convince her again.

Desperate for distraction, you let your hand gently wander along Halbrand's torso, your touch feather light as it moved over his warm skin. Only a few seconds of this passed before your love stirred from his slumber, breathing deeply through his nose a moment as he turned to face you, his hazel eyes opening. You nuzzled up into him without any hesitation, and he enveloped you with his body, comforting heat radiating out from within him. Kissing the skin your lips were met with, he sighed and gave you a squeeze. "How did you sleep?"

"Not as bad as expected. My body was completely drained enough to bypass the persistent thoughts of… what happened last night." Halbrand kissed the top of your head before letting you slide up to face him, your noses barely inches apart as you laid on the same downy pillow. "Garion tried to kill you, my love." he spoke adamantly. "If I had not arrived when I did, or acted how I did…" You watched as his face began to twist in anger a moment, before returning to its previous state. "I know," you started, fearful for the discussion to follow. "But aren't you concerned for us? We let the darkness take hold again, Halbrand. For the first time in a long time yes, but it happened."

You searched his eyes, watching as he considered your words and their meaning. "And for the first time… no innocent lives were lost." he countered you. "That is progress, is it not? We fought together, side by side as king and queen, our darkness under our control. Only using it to destroy our enemies." Listening to Halbrand reconciling Garion's murder in this way was actually convincing you that progress had been made. He was right. No innocent lives had been lost at your hands. Garion had attacked you, whatever innocence remained in him forfeited by his actions. "But… Olwenna…" you reminded him.

"We will comfort her, give her whatever she needs. Assure her that her husband made a noble sacrifice in saving your life. There is nothing we can do to change what has happened. We can only support those that grieve now, as we move forward." Tears couldn't help but form in your eyes. "Why did he have to do that? Why couldn't he listen to me?" Halbrand stroked your cheek gently, comforting you. "Vengeance is a force that can rarely be reckoned with."

"Speaking of vengeance… what of Galadriel? What did you say to her in the jail?" Your subject change keeping your grief from falling down your face. "Oh we reminisced about old times, yelled at each other, glared at each other. The usual." "Halbrand." you chastised him. He smirked at you, "I'm telling you the truth. It was not pleasant. Although, one vital point I made amongst it all she found incredibly difficult to deny." "Which was?" "That she is not without darkness herself." Your eyes widened at his words. "I reminded her of something she once said to me: 'sometimes to find the light, we must first touch the darkness.' No one being on this Middle-earth is either one or the other, not even the Lady Galadriel herself. The shadow cannot exist without the sun." "And the dawn must always follow the night."

"Precisely. I'm beginning to understand our purpose even more, my love. We can remain in the light, yes, but we can also use our darkness to our advantage. We can control it, and make it a force for good. Last night is proof of that possibility. And with Galadriel by our side once more… her destiny is intertwined with our own. She will serve us well. Strengthen us like we could only imagine."

You smiled then, a feeling of relief washing over you. Hope was flowing through you now, truly. With the two of you coronated, and Galadriel all but swayed, there were no loose ends hanging over you. The truth of Halbrand's identity was even out in the open now, his people knew him to be Sauron, and it seemed they did not care. You and your love were allowed to lay here, legs wrapped around each other in this comfortable bed, as husband and wife, king and queen, with only a bright future ahead of you.

Though there was one thing missing. Not taking your eyes off your love, you let your hand wander slowly down his body, beneath the sheets, beneath his waist, taking his manhood in your grip. Halbrand let out a small gasp at the sensation of you stroking him, and it wasn't long until he was completely aroused. "We still haven't consummated this marriage…" you breathed seductively. Halbrand grinned at you before closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you ravenously and deeply, causing you to moan as his tongue moved over your own. Your movements on him never stopped, only increasing with the kiss you were losing yourself to.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You heard Târikun calling your name from behind the wooden door. Halbrand broke the kiss. "It seems the world wants to keep us apart, my love." "Just ignore him, he'll go away." you uttered quickly before crashing your lips into his once more.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Silly sister!" you heard Târikun bellow, unwavering. Sighing, you reluctantly released Halbrand's length as he released your lips from his. He smiled at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Sorry. I shall have to see what he wants." "Don't be. We'll have tonight, my love." He kissed you quickly on your forehead as you rose up out of the bed, clothing your body in your nightgown. You glared at Târikun as you opened the door to him. "Sorry to disturb, your highnesses," "No you're not." you retorted.

Târikun couldn't help but snicker. "No I'm really not. But as it turns out, it seems a lot of the townspeople are asking for their king and queen. There's talk of a feast this afternoon to celebrate the victory over the orcs." Your brother's words caused Halbrand to sit upright as you turned to smile at him. "I thought it would be best to let you both know." You placed your hand on Târikun's arm. "Thank you, brother. We'll be down shortly." "Will you though?" he jested, winking. You just rolled your eyes and closed the door on his giggling face. "I should go check on Azrahin. Then I suppose it's off to the hall?"

Halbrand was up and dressing himself in a deep red tunic, and dark walnut coloured trousers. "Before that," he spoke, striding towards you, taking your face in his hands, "There is a place we have to see." "What's that, my love?" "Our home." Pride filled his voice as he let his lips graze yours again, the sweetest of flavours, the taste of royalty.

Tagging: @denzit @heronamedhawks @pursuitseternal @restless-tides @coraleethroughthelookingglass @hikarielizabethbloom @vaguelyvibin @imjustsuperweird @gil-galadhwen @michon-ne

[firjii]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1206

Fandom: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

Rating: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim Additional Tags: arocace relationship, MartinLives!AU, PTSD, Post-Canon Fix-It, Bosmer, Older Woman/Younger Man, tense switching

Summary: Alive but not entirely well some time after the canon events of Oblivion, Martin and the HoK have settled into a quiet retirement in an attempt to heal their various traumas and support each other in ways that few other people could. Written approximately in the style of some in-game documents rather than as one specific scene.

Plain text version under the cut...

The shadows come back easier than they can be banished, but Martin knows that. He’s seen it from the start.

She’d come to Kvatch so suddenly, so randomly, so accidentally. Even seasoned soldiers would have had difficulty understanding what had happened there. By all rights, she should have died: a wood elf with more experience in running away than fighting, a sporadic archer at best, a mage who could only be called a mage because she excelled at a single spell. And some would say she was getting on a bit, even by elven standards. But she knew a great deal about potions, so she’d survived, if only because she’d been weighed down with flasks and herb pouches when she’d gone through the gate.

He’d watched her struggle after that.

With nothing else to compare such an experience to in her life, she’d veered from shock to disbelief to cockiness and everything in between. Common people had looked on her after that with fear, wondering if she’d sided against them, with or without realizing it. She’d hated their suspicion, but nothing in the rumors was beyond what she’d wondered herself. Soldiers and battlemages and bards had stared on in admiration, curious to know the specifics of the tale. She’d hated their gazes but had only rarely squirmed in discomfort. She’d fully realized that if it had been someone else, she’d be among the adoring throngs.

She’d often referred to it as a dream. Martin had lost count of how many times he’d seen the disconnect in her: wanting to be prepared, but learning in secret, furtively, often alone, all because she’d also been in denial about anything like it ever happening again. The impossible couldn’t happen twice – could it?

Martin barely made it out alive in the end – the Hero isn’t the only one who has nightmares.

But she knows this. She never once denies him his time when his eyes become gloomy and dour because a daydream has turned into a flashback or a nightmare. When he wakes in the night screaming, she simply wraps another blanket around him and holds his hand until he falls asleep again. She does it because it is no more or less than what he would do. She does it because it’s all that can be done sometimes.

More than occasionally, their nightmares synchronize on the same night. When it happens, they draw arms around each other, if only to remind each other that they’re not alone in the darkness. They’re not in another realm or another plane anymore. They’re in Mundus, on Nirn, in Cyrodiil, in the little cottage that Martin so carefully chose for them.

On those nights, they seldom fall back asleep easily. Instead they listen for the signs that they’re home: the cattle and goats murmuring amongst themselves the next valley over, the odd bark from a dog, the chickens in the backyard that Martin so painstakingly picked out for them. She’d often remarked that pets were somewhat unusual in Valenwood but that it was the first fact about human culture she’d heartily embraced. He’d thought against getting a dog – they were too much like wolves. Cats and several other small creatures made her nervous. But she was fond of birds. Chickens are just enough to keep her mind busy without being overwhelming, and she enjoys learning all the uses for eggs in Cyrodiilic cookery.

She won’t go outside any more than she needs to. Cities make her panic. Traveling, no matter how gradual and quiet, has made her faint – more than once. The sight of open fields and hills usually makes her sick.

But after awhile, she lets Martin leave for short intervals – an hour or two to speak with a farmer, an afternoon to retrieve herbs and mushrooms, a half day in a town or city. She gladly listens to his stories. He makes a point of only telling her interesting or funny or happy things. There’s no need to mention that the Imperial City is still scrambling a bit to keep things together. There’s no need to tell her that harrowing near-misses of other sorts still happen throughout Cyrodiil.

Instead, he fills her mind with jolly jokes he overheard during lunch. He remarks on the unusual wares he’s starting to see in the shops – at times a sign of reestablished trade with the far corners of the province, at others merely proof of the chaos and banditry that comes with decimated villages and ruined estates.

He also brings back a few more books every time. She appreciates all of them, from history accounts to recent political commentaries to poetry and novels. She claims to be illiterate, but he’s seen her methodically examining books often enough that he knows she simply prefers it when he narrates them for her.

She smiles, and for awhile – maybe only a moment sometimes – her shoulders aren’t quite so hunched forward, her hands don’t quite fidget about so much, her face isn’t as sickly. Her eyes dance when he comes to an exciting part in a story. She rarely speaks, but she always listens. In time, she even prompts him to re-read certain volumes.

And he always smiles to see it.

They are strangely bound together now: more than comrades, less than lovers – not that he minds – and always, always a careful balance as subtle as one strand of a spiderweb yet as steadfast as the moon cycle. Few people understand it, and even fewer can see that it will be their way of life until they die. Martin knows enough to admit that it is as unavoidable as it is fitting. And why should he want to avoid it? Why would either of them want to avoid it?

Gradually, he finds her sneaking moments at twilight for fresh, cool, sometimes rain-tinged night winds. Sometimes she doesn’t entirely cross the threshold of their home – sometimes she only opens a window – but her face feels the moonlight and open air.

And he always smiles to see it.

She cares for him as deeply as he cares for her. She’s even shown glimmers of craving him. Such it was from their first days traveling together after Kvatch. Yet she still fears too much. She still crumbles too often. She usually shudders if she is embraced, even if the attention only comes from a mild little tot seeking to admire the hero who has become the focus of so many stories.

In the ten years they have known each other, they have only shared a kiss thrice. He is content to let her lead, and if she never asks for more beyond that, she will still be perfect in his eyes.

But in time, she holds his hands when he offers them, the simple reminder of another’s presence enough to scatter the storm clouds in her eyes for awhile.

And in time, she asks him to brace her when the storm clouds consume her a little too much. Quiet times indeed, entire hours spent staring at the hearth, her face ever a melding of heaviness and exhaustion and desperate fear – but softened at the reminder that he can and happily will share her load.

And he always smiles to see it.

[vateacancameos]

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 1555 Fandom: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus Characters: Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Gideon Nav Additional Tags: Autumn, Established Relationship, Foliage, Picnics, Post-Canon, Post-Alecto, Banter, sort of but not really a wedding, perfect lyctorization, lyctor? i barely know her, One Shot, Victory Tour Series: Part 4 of snapshots of autumn Summary:

Part of the snapshots of autumn series, which tells stories of ladies in love during autumn, this story can be read independently.

Harrow and Gideon have won against God after several years of hardship apart. They deserve some time alone. Harrow grumps. Gideon frolics. The end.

Story:

“Holy shit, I’ve never seen this much color in my life,” Gideon groaned, head whipping every which way as if she’d miss something if she wasn’t looking at everything at once.

Harrow rolled her eyes and flapped her arms, hoping for a breeze. It was too warm, and the sun beat on her dark hair, making her sweat in her black robes. Gideon had stripped down to a tank and trousers in the shuttle, leaving her robe in a messy pile on Harrow’s seat.

“Are you frolicking?” asked Harrow, absolutely zero percent surprised, but feeling like she needed to at least make an effort at being annoyed. Gideon once said her resting bitch face was one of the things she loved most about her, so she tried to make it at least once a day. Gideon had argued that the point of RBF was its natural state, but she’d kissed Harrow anyway, then promptly wiped her mouth and “yeched” at the paint that had stuck to her lips.

read the rest under the cut

“Why shouldn’t I frolic?” Gideon yelled, halfway across the meadow they’d landed in. “We’re the good guys that beat the bad guys. We deserve a victory tour, adoring fans, parades, music lauding our heroic deeds.”

“Then why are we in a garish field on a foreign planet by ourselves?” Harrow pulled her robes away from her neck in hopes of coaxing a breeze to cool things down. The only thing it coaxed was a whiny bug that bit her on the back. “Ugh.”

“Because you don’t like crowds or music or anything fun, oh night mistress of zero fun.”

“So you brought me to hot meadow filled with bugs, sun, and bright colors? Are leaves even meant to have that many colors? I thought they were all green.”

“We did the dank and dead church thing yesterday. My turn to pick. And it’s not hot, it’s just a little warm from the sun. Also, Camilla said the colors were fantastic here this time of year. It’s called autumn.”

“I know what autumn is, dumb ass.” Harrow crossed her arms over her chest, even though it was far too warm to have anything touching.

Gideon sighed dramatically, made a final prance, then loped over to skid to a halt in front of Harrow, who raised an eyebrow. Gideon simply grinned.

“What are we doing here?”

“Looking at pretty colors! Have ever seen red this deep? Orange this bright? Gold this glimmering?” She waved her hand at the nearby trees at the edge of the meadow.

“Yes, I saw red this deep yesterday evening when you pricked your thumb while testing your blade. I see orange this bright always when I look at your ridiculous hair, and gold this glimmering every time I look in the mirror.”

Gideon winked one her own now-black eyes, which still threw Harrow off. At least they were the familiar black of the Ninth, and not the creepy oil sheen of God’s own. Thank God (no pun intended) that Gideon shared very little physically with her birth father, apart from their brown skin. And the horrendous sense of humor, but that wasn’t physical and therefore could be ignored by tuning the woman out. Which happened less these days, as Harrow was still so grateful to once again be able to talk to Gideon face to face, no longer parted by the River or physical distance.

“Come on.” Gideon grabbed Harrow’s hand, hauled her back to the shuttle, where she rummaged around until she reappeared with her robes and a knapsack that she slung onto her back. She grabbed Harrow’s hand again and this time hauled her to a nearby stand of trees, where she threw her rumpled robes onto the shaded ground in a sort of flat manner, then pulled the two of them down on top of it.

“Nav! You’re going to ruin your robes.”

“Better mine than yours. Although, you really should take those off. You’re going to roast. And there’s no need for roasting, I already think you’re hot.”

Harrow’s glower was hot enough to start a fire, but Gideon just laughed.

“Come on! We are the champions! Take a load off. Eat some lunch. Enjoy the views!”

“The colors are making my eyes hurt.”

But the protest was half-hearted. It was hard not getting caught up in Gideon’s enthusiasm. After the past couple of years, they deserved a break from the madness, and although this was so not her scene, she had to admit it was a nice change from space and people and death. She closed her eyes to feel the thalergy of an un-flipped planet, safe from future run-ins with Resurrection Beasts. The life wriggling around her was an unfamiliar shock, even after all the time she had spent flipping thalergy to thanergy during her training. It was nice to not think about wading into the disgusting, brackish waters of the River and taking all of this away. It was nicer seeing Gideon happy and goofy and alive, even if her eyes still weirded Harrow out. A small price to pay to have the person who understood her best back by her side. Forever. Well, for myriads at least. The perks of perfect lyctorization. This terrible meadow didn’t even seem that bad when she put it in that context.

Gideon sprawled on her side and leaned on an elbow as she dug through the knapsack, materializing a few half-smooshed sandwiches, apples, two bottles of something, and a box strong enough to come out of the knapsack unscathed.

“White bread, no crusts, bland tofu and cheese for Miss Picky,” Gideon dropped the sandwich in front of Harrow’s crossed legs, “and a gorgeous everything sandwich for me.” She kissed the package before unwrapping and taking a big bite, some sort of pink sauce dripping down her chin. She grinned. “Eat! And for Me’s sake, take off the damned robes. You’ll sweat out any calories otherwise. Plus, I have to sit with your stinky ass the whole way back in the shuttle.”

Harrow pinched the bridge of her nose. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not God. You can’t curse in your own name, Griddle.”

“God, daughter of God.” Gideon shrugged. “Same same.”

“Not remotely. Thank- somebody.”

“Thank me.”

“Definitely not.”

“Please, Harrow?”

“I’m not thanking you.”

Gideon waved a dismissive hand and furrowed her brow. Harrow knew that furrow. It meant she was about to be mother henned. “Not that. I mean, please relax. Eat. Enjoy the colors. Soon enough we’ll be back on dreary Ninth. Home sweet hole-in-the-planet. You’ll be busy running the House, I’ll be … I dunno, posing for tourists to feel my amazing biceps? Re-enacting the battles I fought in? Whatever.” She looked remarkably serious for once. “I just wanted us to have a little time to ourselves, before things get crazy again.”

Despite the solemnity, Harrow felt a grin lift a corner of her mouth. “This isn’t a victory tour. This is a honeymoon, isn’t it, Griddle?”

“What? No. Not- No.” Gideon looked away, scratching the back of her neck. “Just, ya know, some … quiet time.”

“What if I want it to be?”

Gideon whipped her head back around, eyes wide. “You’d want– But it’s– We’re not married.”

It was Harrow’s turn to pretend nonchalance. She shrugged. “Well, it’s just that there aren’t too many immortal people in the universe, and you’re the only one I can stand. I’m not about to go search out another partner, just after I got you trained up.”

A suddenly shy smile played at Gideon’s ever expressive mouth. “You like Pal and Cam well enough.”

“At a distance. I’m happy sending letters and visiting on occasion. But you’ve been by my side most of our lives. It’d be weird for you to leave.” Starting to panic after showing her hand, Harrow began to backtrack. “That is, if you want to. I know you hate the Ninth. And you have friends scattered all over. I’m sure you want–”

Her mouth was stopped by another mouth, warm and soft and comforting yet somehow exciting.

“Yes.” The words were whispered against her lips before the kissing began anew. Having this, for eternity, Harrow could get used to.

They eventually fell back onto a robe-covered ground softened by leaves that crunched. Harrow looked up into the fiery canopy above them as Gideon traced soft squiggles up and down her bare arm (yes, she’d finally removed the robe). The orange really was remarkably close to Nav’s hair. She could finally see the beauty in it that Gideon had seen upon landing. She didn’t want it forever, but for now, it was … very nice.

“So,” Gideon whispered into her ear. “I just realized that as your cavalier primary, and us being basically married, I can now say that I–”

“Don’t you dare, Nav. I had to hear it from Magnus already. I do not need an encore to that terrible joke.”

Gideon cackled and kissed Gideon’s cheek. “You’re no fun.”

🍁🍂🍁

Forever perfectly preserved on Harrow’s desk was a black metal frame, the clear plex displaying three leaves—one as red as blood, another gold as coins (or eyes), and the last the same riotous orange of Gideon’s hair. When asked what they were for, Gideon always answered first: “a marriage certificate.”

[zoestagg]

An Adventure: The Outtakes...

“There’s something weird on my tummy.”

I turned around from where I was sitting in the front seat and looked. Frankie had her shirt up, and was scratching at a black dot on her stomach. We were sitting at a gas pump, about ten minutes from the airport. Ryan came back to the car.

“Will you look at what she’s talking about?”

“Uhhhh. That’s a tick.” NOPE NOPE WHAT HARD NOPE.

“Right,” Because the terrorists want you to have bad eyebrows AND nothing to do roadside surgery with, “Can you go see if the gas station man has tweezers?”

Adventure, isn’t always pretty. He didn’t have any, but he did have the amazing tip that the next building over was a chemist. Frankie and Ryan and Frankie’s uninvited guest hightailed it over, returning in a few minutes with a box of “Tick Be-Gone.” Ryan laid her down on the back seat and blasted. When it didn’t “brush away” as advertised, I went in and grabbed its backside between my fingernails and gently pulled. It was like time and space went slo-mo and I could see it scraping its way out. It felt WEIRD.

The lovely gas station man came over to see how we were getting on. I triumphantly presented the corpse of the creature.

“You’ve been up on the tablelands, then?” He took a photo of it and zoomed in. “Yep, looks like you got him!”

I had no idea these “hims” were even a thing to worry about. We had been rash-guarded against stingers, carried umbrellas to ward off cassowaries, but nobody said, “Right mate, there’s a whole class of paralytic ticks up there in the rainforest.” I’M AN IDIOT but also NOBODY SAID.

We thanked our local first-responder, and made our next stop the Family Bathroom at the airport to frantically check the rest of us. Later, in the car safe on the ground on the other side…

“So what was the MOST alluring part of today—checking each other’s behinds for ticks, or shoving McDonald’s into our faces in the dark like animals?”

Travel is for romantics.

SO MANY things went right on this trip. Beyond amazingly, top ten experiences ever, RIGHT. But it’s the harrowing that somehow stand out in sharp relief. The four hours of white-knuckled fighting to keep my lunch where it was before the sea demanded that it was going to win; sobbing from a five-hour fight against a current and headwind I was not ready for, facing another 21kms of effort; and the shriek from behind me as I knelt, crippled in grief on a rock in a river in the middle of nowhere, Queensland.

It’s become Frankie’s favorite story to tell, her terror and my worst nightmare turned into the greatest fish tale of all time.

I don’t even know if I’m ready to tell it—I still don’t know how it happened. In one moment I was taking a picture of all of us in the dappled light on a rock in the rainforest, and the next moment my phone was in the air, and the next, horrifyingly like time stood still, in the river. Gone. Sunk. Completely out of sight.

Yes, it’s just a phone. BUT it’s MY CAMERA. All the images I’d taken, the videos of Frankie talking about the animals she was seeing, the pictures of Ryan and Frankie I’d snapped as they walked ahead of me, the WAY I EXPERIENCE THE WORLD and THIS TRIP was GONE.

I don’t care about the thing itself, that’s just a thing. But as it sunk in what had just happened, I dropped to my knees and howled.

“No. No no no no no NO NO PLEASE NO.”

Yes it’s a thing and not a person, and part of my brain started trying to apply perspective, to tell myself it was just images and the memories were still there, but my body could only stare in shock and grief at the watery, murky crevice that had swallowed my art and my heart.

Snapping turtles lazed by, surfacing from below. The tiniest part of me thought maybe one of them could DO ME A DAGGONE SOLID for the truckload of turtle food we’d showered them with and haul my phone up. There was a convenient ring on it and everything. While I wallowed, Ryan started thinking.

I’d already plunged our protective umbrella into the water, and there was no bottom. It seemed to go to the center of the earth. Ryan got a thinner stick and started probing. I was counting the minutes it had been submerged and ticking away hope with every second, and then a shriek ripped through the canopy of leaves.

Frankie had been on the bank of the river during the commotion, and told to keep an eye out for danger. She turned around to scout, and through the leaves crunched BOTH cassowaries. The giant creatures stood a full foot taller than her and suddenly there was no us between her and them. Later, she will tell the story full of delighted bravado, “O-M-G-Y-A,” We have not been able to pin down the meaning of the extra letters, other than that they sound cool when you’re five-teen, “I had a TOTAL panic attack! The dinosaur birds were RIGHT THERE.”

The whole scene would not be out of place in a vacation disaster romp where Amy Schumer and Adam Sandler get in over their heads in an exotic locale.

I took my mourning to the river bank, manning the umbrella to protect my brood, while Ryan remained upside down trying to save the day.

“If you’re just trying to bring up the corpse, it’s not worth it.”

He put the long stick in the opaque water again, drew it out and measured it against his arm.

I turned to watch Frankie and the birds again, and glanced back a moment later to see-

HIM PULL MY PHONE OUT OF THE WATER. My camera, my memories, my IMAGES. He bounded back to the bank, and we all simultaneously collapsed and bumbled through the underbrush, trying to get as far from the trauma as possible.

“Maybe I can get the images off onto the stick even if the screen is dead,” Ryan said as he started to squeeze water out of it.

Suddenly, the screen lit up.

“IT WORKS.”

Oh my god, it works. Hope started to seep into the places grief had carved. It works. I have all of the photos and videos, I have everything backed up, and I have a hero. I don’t know how he found it, I don’t know how he saved the day, but he did. And he always does.

There will be more, I have the most of all to say about the most beautiful and easy parts of the trip. This is not a post complaining about what went wrong, not in the slightest. This is a post saying how it almost doesn’t matter what the picturesque parts were, it’s these outtakes that made it. That made US.

Because photos happen in the sunlight. Memories are forged in the rest.

[orbemnews]

Minneapolis Police chief says Derek Chauvin's actions were 'in no way, shape or form' proper “Once Mr. Floyd had stopped resisting, and certainly once he was in distress and trying to verbalize that, that should have stopped,” Arradondo testified during Chauvin’s criminal trial. “There is an initial reasonableness in trying to just get him under control in the first few seconds,” Arradondo said. “But once there was no longer any resistance and clearly when Mr. Floyd was no longer responsive and even motionless, to continue to apply that level of force to a person proned out, handcuffed behind their back — that in no way shape or form is anything that is by policy. It is not part of our training, and it is certainly not part of our ethics or our values.” In particular, the chief said Chauvin’s kneeling on Floyd for nine minutes and 29 seconds was a violation of the policies around de-escalation, objectively reasonable use of force and requirement to render aid. “That action is not de-escalation, and when we talk about the framework of our sanctity of life and when we talk about the principles and values we have, that action goes contrary to what we’re talking about,” he said. Minneapolis policy at the time allowed for some neck restraints, but what Chauvin did was not appropriate, Arradondo said, looking at an image of Chauvin’s position on Floyd. “The conscious neck restraint by policy mentions light to moderate pressure. When I look at (the image) and when I look at the facial expression of Mr. Floyd, that does not appear in any way, shape or form that that is light to moderate pressure.” Also on Monday, police Inspector Katie Blackwell, who was in charge of the department’s training program last year, testified that officers are taught to use their arms when doing neck restraints. “I don’t know what kind of improvised position this is,” she said of Chauvin’s kneeling. “That’s not what we train.” Blackwell testified Chauvin was regularly instructed in defensive tactics and the proper use of force. Since he trained officers in the field, Chauvin had additional training. Their testimony cuts at the heart of the defense’s argument that Chauvin acted within his police training and employed an appropriate use of force. Earlier on Monday, the doctor who treated Floyd at a Minneapolis hospital testified that he believed Floyd likely died of asphyxia. The proceedings comes as prosecutors shifted their focus from what happened to Floyd to a closer analysis of what it means legally. The first week of the trial in Minneapolis centered on a blow-by-blow breakdown of Floyd’s last day, including video from a bevy of cellphones, surveillance cameras and police body cameras; harrowing testimony from bystanders who watched Chauvin kneel on Floyd; descriptions from paramedics and police supervisors who responded to the scene; and Chauvin’s own statements about what happened. With that groundwork established, the prosecution is turning to prove Chauvin’s actions that day should be considered murder and manslaughter. That will require analysis from medical experts who will explain Floyd’s cause of death, as well as testimony from police experts who will say that Chauvin used excessive and unnecessary force. Some of that use of force analysis has already entered the trial. Last week, Chauvin’s direct supervisor said his use of force should have ended earlier, and the department’s top homicide detective testified that kneeling on Floyd’s neck after he had been handcuffed was “totally unnecessary.” Chauvin, 45, has pleaded not guilty to second-degree murder, third-degree murder and third-degree manslaughter. Defense attorney Eric Nelson has not indicated whether Chauvin will testify in his own defense. Testimony in the trial began last Monday and is expected to last about a month. Police chief highlights importance of de-escalation Arradondo began with the Minneapolis Police Department in 1989 as an officer and rose through the ranks over the course of his career. He said he continues to take the department’s training every year. In his testimony, Arradondo described the department’s training programs and the core value of treating everyone with “dignity and respect.” He said that officers are required to be familiar with policies, including de-escalation and use of force. “The goal is to resolve the situation as safely as possible, so you want to always have de-escalation layered into those actions of use of force,” the chief said. The use of force must be reasonable the entire time it’s applied, Arradondo testified. “The sanctity of life and the protection of the public shall be the cornerstone of the use of force policy,” Arradondo told the court. “It is my firm belief that the one singular incident we will be judged forever on will be our use of force.” Floyd’s suspected wrongdoing — he allegedly used a $20 counterfeit bill — would probably not rise to the level of severity to use force, Arradondo testified. This type of crime typically does not lead to an arrest because it is neither violent nor a felony, he said. In cross-examination, Arrandondo acknowledged that officers have to take everything into account when using force, including the actions of bystanders. He also said that an officer using their voice to warn about a potential use of force — for example, holding a chemical irritant and warning bystanders not to approach — would be appropriate. Finally, Arradondo said that one angle from body camera footage shows that Chauvin had his knee on Floyd’s shoulder blade for a few moments once paramedics arrived. Last year, Arradondo fired Chauvin and three other officers involved in Floyd’s death, which he said was “murder.” “Mr. George Floyd’s tragic death was not due to a lack of training — the training was there. Chauvin knew what he was doing,” Arradondo said in a June 2020 statement. Doctor says Floyd likely died of asphyxia The Hennepin County Medical Center doctor who treated Floyd and declared him dead last May testified Monday that he believed Floyd likely died of asphyxia. Dr. Bradford Langenfeld, an emergency medicine physician, said he treated Floyd for about 30 minutes on May 25, 2020, as hospital staff unsuccessfully tried to restart his heart. Based on what paramedics reported and on Floyd’s medical condition, Langenfeld said the “more likely possibility” of Floyd’s cardiac arrest was hypoxia, or lack of oxygen. “Doctor, is there another name for death by oxygen deficiency?” prosecuting attorney Jerry Blackwell asked. “Asphyxia is a commonly understood term,” Langenfeld responded. On cross-examination, Langenfeld said that hypoxia can be caused by many things, including drugs such as fentanyl, methamphetamine or a combination of both. The doctor’s testimony goes to the prosecution’s argument that Chauvin’s kneeling was a substantial cause of Floyd’s death. Chauvin’s attorney, however, has argued that Floyd died due to his drug use and other health issues. Earlier Monday, Judge Peter Cahill spoke to jurors outside of the view of cameras about an allegation of juror misconduct. He ruled there was not been any misconduct and the jurors were credible. CNN’s Ray Sanchez, Brad Parks and Omar Jimenez contributed to this report. Source link Orbem News #Actions #Chauvins #chief #Derek #form #GeorgeFloyd:PolicechiefsaysDerekChauvin'sactionswere'innoway #Minneapolis #Police #proper #shape #shapeorform'proper-CNN #us

[dipulb3]

Minneapolis Police chief says Derek Chauvin's actions were 'in no way, shape or form' proper

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/minneapolis-police-chief-says-derek-chauvins-actions-were-in-no-way-shape-or-form-proper/

Minneapolis Police chief says Derek Chauvin's actions were 'in no way, shape or form' proper

“Once Mr. Floyd had stopped resisting, and certainly once he was in distress and trying to verbalize that, that should have stopped,” Arradondo testified during Chauvin’s criminal trial.

“There is an initial reasonableness in trying to just get him under control in the first few seconds,” Arradondo said. “But once there was no longer any resistance and clearly when Mr. Floyd was no longer responsive and even motionless, to continue to apply that level of force to a person proned out, handcuffed behind their back — that in no way shape or form is anything that is by policy. It is not part of our training, and it is certainly not part of our ethics or our values.”

In particular, the chief said Chauvin’s kneeling on Floyd for nine minutes and 29 seconds was a violation of the policies around de-escalation, objectively reasonable use of force and requirement to render aid.

“That action is not de-escalation, and when we talk about the framework of our sanctity of life and when we talk about the principles and values we have, that action goes contrary to what we’re talking about,” he said.

Minneapolis policy at the time allowed for some neck restraints, but what Chauvin did was not appropriate, Arradondo said, looking at an image of Chauvin’s position on Floyd.

“The conscious neck restraint by policy mentions light to moderate pressure. When I look at (the image) and when I look at the facial expression of Mr. Floyd, that does not appear in any way, shape or form that that is light to moderate pressure.”

Also on Monday, police Inspector Katie Blackwell, who was in charge of the department’s training program last year, testified that officers are taught to use their arms when doing neck restraints.

“I don’t know what kind of improvised position this is,” she said of Chauvin’s kneeling. “That’s not what we train.”

Blackwell testified Chauvin was regularly instructed in defensive tactics and the proper use of force. Since he trained officers in the field, Chauvin had additional training.

Their testimony cuts at the heart of the defense’s argument that Chauvin acted within his police training and employed an appropriate use of force. Earlier on Monday, the doctor who treated Floyd at a Minneapolis hospital testified that he believed Floyd likely died of asphyxia.

The proceedings comes as prosecutors shifted their focus from what happened to Floyd to a closer analysis of what it means legally.

The first week of the trial in Minneapolis centered on a blow-by-blow breakdown of Floyd’s last day, including video from a bevy of cellphones, surveillance cameras and police body cameras; harrowing testimony from bystanders who watched Chauvin kneel on Floyd; descriptions from paramedics and police supervisors who responded to the scene; and Chauvin’s own statements about what happened.

With that groundwork established, the prosecution is turning to prove Chauvin’s actions that day should be considered murder and manslaughter. That will require analysis from medical experts who will explain Floyd’s cause of death, as well as testimony from police experts who will say that Chauvin used excessive and unnecessary force.

Some of that use of force analysis has already entered the trial. Last week, Chauvin’s direct supervisor said his use of force should have ended earlier, and the department’s top homicide detective testified that kneeling on Floyd’s neck after he had been handcuffed was “totally unnecessary.”

Chauvin, 45, has pleaded not guilty to second-degree murder, third-degree murder and third-degree manslaughter. Defense attorney Eric Nelson has not indicated whether Chauvin will testify in his own defense.

Testimony in the trial began last Monday and is expected to last about a month.

Police chief highlights importance of de-escalation

Arradondo began with the Minneapolis Police Department in 1989 as an officer and rose through the ranks over the course of his career. He said he continues to take the department’s training every year.

In his testimony, Arradondo described the department’s training programs and the core value of treating everyone with “dignity and respect.” He said that officers are required to be familiar with policies, including de-escalation and use of force.

“The goal is to resolve the situation as safely as possible, so you want to always have de-escalation layered into those actions of use of force,” the chief said.

The use of force must be reasonable the entire time it’s applied, Arradondo testified.

“The sanctity of life and the protection of the public shall be the cornerstone of the use of force policy,” Arradondo told the court. “It is my firm belief that the one singular incident we will be judged forever on will be our use of force.”

Floyd’s suspected wrongdoing — he allegedly used a $20 counterfeit bill — would probably not rise to the level of severity to use force, Arradondo testified. This type of crime typically does not lead to an arrest because it is neither violent nor a felony, he said.

In cross-examination, Arrandondo acknowledged that officers have to take everything into account when using force, including the actions of bystanders. He also said that an officer using their voice to warn about a potential use of force — for example, holding a chemical irritant and warning bystanders not to approach — would be appropriate.

Finally, Arradondo said that one angle from body camera footage shows that Chauvin had his knee on Floyd’s shoulder blade for a few moments once paramedics arrived.

Last year, Arradondo fired Chauvin and three other officers involved in Floyd’s death, which he said was “murder.”

“Mr. George Floyd’s tragic death was not due to a lack of training — the training was there. Chauvin knew what he was doing,” Arradondo said in a June 2020 statement.

Doctor says Floyd likely died of asphyxia

The Hennepin County Medical Center doctor who treated Floyd and declared him dead last May testified Monday that he believed Floyd likely died of asphyxia.

Dr. Bradford Langenfeld, an emergency medicine physician, said he treated Floyd for about 30 minutes on May 25, 2020, as hospital staff unsuccessfully tried to restart his heart. Based on what paramedics reported and on Floyd’s medical condition, Langenfeld said the “more likely possibility” of Floyd’s cardiac arrest was hypoxia, or lack of oxygen.

“Doctor, is there another name for death by oxygen deficiency?” prosecuting attorney Jerry Blackwell asked.

“Asphyxia is a commonly understood term,” Langenfeld responded.

On cross-examination, Langenfeld said that hypoxia can be caused by many things, including drugs such as fentanyl, methamphetamine or a combination of both.

The doctor’s testimony goes to the prosecution’s argument that Chauvin’s kneeling was a substantial cause of Floyd’s death. Chauvin’s attorney, however, has argued that Floyd died due to his drug use and other health issues.

Earlier Monday, Judge Peter Cahill spoke to jurors outside of the view of cameras about an allegation of juror misconduct. He ruled there was not been any misconduct and the jurors were credible.

Appradab’s Ray Sanchez, Brad Parks and Omar Jimenez contributed to this report.

[shianhygge-imagines]

Finished Episode Gladio and Chapter 13.2....

They’re both quite short in terms of an RPG DLC... but they were enjoyable. My brain is desperately trying to take the information from the DLC and apply it to my writing... Oh god... I’ve got ideas for Gilgamesh already...

Slight spoilers under the cut.

Okay... so despite my disappointment that the DLC was way too short... I’m slightly pleased with what they gave us. I’ll start with what I think about Episode Gladio...

I was expecting it to be a very... very... very tough episode to play through, and a good part of it was quite easy... until you go to fight Gilgamesh. Personally, it was the fact that beating up enemies with columns of stone did a devastating amount of damage that made it both too easy... and enjoyable. 

I liked learning more about Cor. That 30 years prior, he challenged Gilgamesh. Cor was also a bit of a hothead with a lot of spirit... but he was 15 years old at the time, and had managed to slice off Gilgamesh’s left arm. That Cor, at the age of 13, was the youngest Crownsguard member in history. That his title of “Immortal” was originally derogatory because even if he got his ass handed to him by Gilgamesh, he was allowed to live while all others have died.

I also liked learning more about the events 2000 years prior. That it was implied that Gilgamesh was the first Chosen King’s Shield. That those cursed in the episode, had followed Gilgamesh. But this revelation... also brought up more questions. How was Gilgamesh and the rest of the Souls cursed with the task of testing future Shields? And who was the first Chosen King? We know that Ardyn was one, but was he Gilgamesh’s King? If so, it would make sense that with Ardyn’s curse of eternal damnation, his Shield would be cursed as well. If this is the case, then it’s really quite sad.

At the end of the Episode, we get a peek at Episode Prompto, which is basically the teaser scene, extended. And we are given the sight of a sunny yet frozen landscape as Prompto hesitantly shuffles towards a prone figure laying in the snow. Upon closer inspection, it’s a fallen magitek soldier, and judging by Prompto’s face of anguish as he raises the gun to shoot the soldier, it’s going to be harrowing.

Moving on to Chapter 13.2... it wasn’t quite what I was expecting... I, once again, thought it would be longer, especially with how long Chapter 13 was in the original playthrough. Instead, I beat the level in under 20 minutes. The only things that stuck out to me in this playthrough, was that Ardyn was a lovable dick as per usual... that we learned a little more about Gralea falling into ruin... and the fact that they made me watch Ravus die. No. I love Ardyn and everything, but he finished Ravus off while disguised as Noctis, and that’s just no. NO. MY POOR BABY RAVUS!!!

[justsimplylovely]

Hundreds of migrants from Africa are stuck in Tapachula because of Mexico’s willingness to bow to Trump and stem the flow of migrants African migrants protest outside the Siglo XXI migrants detention center, demanding Mexican authorities to speed up visas that would enable them to cross Mexico to the US. Photograph: Isaac Guzman/AFP/Getty ImagesNeh knew she was taking a risk when she got involved with English-language activists in mostly-Francophone Cameroon.She had no way of know that her decision would eventually force her to flee her country, fly halfway across the world and then set out on a 4,000-mile trek through dense jungle and across seven borders – only to leave her stranded in southern Mexico, where her hopes of finding safety in the US were blocked by the Mexican government’s efforts to placate Donald Trump’s anti-migrant rage.“It is just too much,” sobbed Neh,at a protest camp set up by migrants from across Africa outside the main immigration offices in the sweltering southern city of Tapachula. “We thought our suffering was almost over. And now we’re stuck here, treated like the lowest citizens on earth.”Not that long ago, Neh worked as a microfinance officer and lived with her husband and three children in a small town in the West of Cameroon. Earlier this year, she joined a group campaigning for anglophone independence. She insists her activism was peaceful and that she never supported rebel groups, but amid spiralling violence, she was arrested, beaten, and raped by soldiers. One night, an officer took her from her cell and told her to start running. She imagined she was about to die – but instead she ran into the arms of her husband who had paid a bribe for her freedom.Hustled into hiding, Neh was then put on a plane to Quito where she joined the growing number of migrants from around the world using Ecuador as the jumping off point for the passage north. mapThe harrowing journey requires crossing the the lawless jungles of Darien Gap between Colombia and Panama, where migrants risk wild animals, raging rivers and predatory robbers .For seven days, the 37-year-old hauled herself up and down mountain slopes, hanging on tree roots. Crossing a river, she was almost swept away by the current; an insect bite paralyzed her arm. And each day, her group passed the bloated and half-eaten corpses of others who had died on the same trail.The next stage of her odyssey was more straightforward. With the help of bribes and official paperwork, Neh travelled by bus across Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala. She began to dream of a new life in the US, reunited with the three children she had left behind.And then, in Mexico, everything ground to an halt. She joined hundreds of migrants from Cameroon, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Angola, Eritrea, Mauritania, and a smattering of other African countries who are stuck in Tapachula because of Mexico’s willingness to bow to Trump and stem the flow of migrants.Until recently, African migrants were waved through Mexico by immigration officials who had no interest in stopping them. Photograph: Isaac Guzman/AFP/Getty ImagesTrump’s main target has always Central Americans who account for most of the migrant flow through Mexico. But the crackdown has caught up travelers from all around the world.Their situation has only been exacerbated by US policies. Earlier this month the US supreme court ruled that the US authorities could deny asylum to anybody who passed through another country to get there.Meanwhile, US officials have pressured Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador to accept asylum seekers from third countries, even though they are among the most dangerous countries in the world. “We have been taken hostage. We want our freedom,” said José Pelé Messa, a TV presenter who fled the Democratic Republic of Congo in 2010 – first for Angola, and then Brazil, which he had left earlier this year when the security situation there made life untenable.Around him, the inhabitants of the protest camp were gearing up for another day of boredom, under the watchful eye of a group of National Guard officers in riot gear.Railings were draped with blankets and clothes sodden in the previous night’s downpour. Migrants – grouped by nationality or language – pored over documents in Spanish that they couldn’t read or scanned their phones for news from home. A pregnant woman prepared soup on a small wooden burner outside her tent. A couple of toddlers were using discarded plastic bottles as drums.Pelé gestured at the desultory scene: “I took my children through the jungle for this? I’m a corpse. I just haven’t started rotting yet.”Until recently, African migrants were waved through Mexico by immigration officials who had no interest in stopping them.But after Trump’s threat of trade tariffs in May, Mexico’s government scrambled to clamp down: flooding the south of the country with law enforcement, and stepping up cooperation with the US policy of sending asylum seekers back into northern Mexico while their cases are processed.For migrants from countries in Africa, who are much harder to repatriate, it has meant being kept in limbo. Photograph: Isaac Guzman/AFP/Getty ImagesFor Central Americans trying to get through southern Mexico the crackdown has brought more raids, record numbers of deportations, and greater vulnerability to criminal attacks as they are pushed into less visible routes.For migrants from countries in Africa, who are much harder to repatriate, it has meant being kept in limbo.Previously, Mexican immigration authorities had typically issued African migrants with documents ordering them to sort out their status or leave the country within 21 days. Now these documents, which had previously served as de facto transit visas, order them to leave by the southern border. “Mexico is using us as an instrument of politics to please Donald Trump,” said Serge, 21, who also fled the conflict in Cameroon. “This is creating a lot of anger among us.”Frustration in the camp has bubbled over several times, leading to some scuffles with the authorities. This weekend a small group of desperate Africa temporarily blocked a car carrying Filippo Grandi, the head of UNHCR who was visiting Tapachula. One pregnant woman threw herself in front of the car’s wheels crying and pleading for help.Migrants are particularly angered by the perception that they are being coerced into applying for asylum in Mexico – where few feel safe and almost none want to stay.“Mexico is playing games with us,” said a 36-year-old engineer from Eritrea who identified himself as Mr Testahiwet. “This is the way to get to America and we want to go to America. Mexico is the wrong place to ask for asylum.”Some are so desperate they have begun looking for ways to get through Mexico undetected – though their skin colour and their lack of Spanish makes this hard to do.One recent dawn, at a major crossing point on the Suchiate river, not far from Tapachula, around 10 Cameroonians clambered onto a raft made of huge inner tubes and headed towards the Guatemalan side. The migrants sat in a glum and nervous silence as they were punted across, and then piled into cars with blackened windows, presumably driven by people smugglers who had promised to get them through Mexico by another route.Back at the camp, Kelly, another English-speaking refugee from Cameroon, said she hadn’t been able to speak to her children for weeks. Back home, she had been a physics teacher, but she fled her job and her home when the rebels enforced a school boycott on pain of death.“You leave when you can’t take it anymore. You start running, and you keep running until you can stop,” she said. “We are not looking for greener pastures – we are looking for safety.”

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/2nNhzJc

[lottathorts-ontis-blog]

REVIEW- Carrie: The Musical

Telekinesis... abuse... murder... song and dance?

Carrie: The Musical, an adaption of the cult classic Stephen King book/movie, first attracted attention as a Broadway flop. And upon seeing Louis Ellis' debut production of the 2012 rework, you still can see why. The fledgling theatre company did what they could with the cheesy script and excessively average music, however their high production quality was unable to make up for poor fundamentals of the show.

Putting the composition issues, and there are PLENTY, aside, this production was a valiant attempt at a fresh take on the iconic story. Unfortunately, Carrie is not in need of a fresh take. Tonazzi's Director's Vision notes that recent productions have been "moving further away from its 80's horror roots, and has focused more on the essence of Stephen King's writing: how extreme circumstances can lead to such a harrowed ending." This statement, when viewed in conjunction with the actual production, highlights the two biggest interpretational issues: 1) that this story is just as effective when separated from it's intended mode of presentation, and 2) the extremity of the circumstances.

To address the first, Tonazzi goes on to iterate that the focus of the production was "how to navigate individuality". While this is agood subject in and of itself, it is not the point of  Carrie. This is a story that is as critical of the audience as it is of the characters, playing upon the teenage revenge fantasies that we all experienced at some point. We are deeply satisfied when Chris and her pose are brutally executed, because we've all dreamed about having secret powers that would enable us to re-take power that we perceive to have been stolen in a public and terrifying spectacle. It may not have been as extreme as we see in Carrie, but they were there to various extents. It is the gore and monstrosity of 80's horror that turns the tables on the audience, throwing our own desires back in our faces and reminding us of how horrifying our own thoughts can be. This is where the true scare of Carrie lies, within ourselves. That being said, I can see why Tonazzi has opted to move away from this interpretation, as presenting it on stage and with a relatively low budget definitely has the potential to come off a gimmicky and lame (two words I would not apply to this production), which would erode the point even further. It may be better to try and take the show in a different direction than to do the original one badly, so I recognise the difficulty of his choice here.

As for the second, the critique is much simpler. Margaret White's abuse of Carrie was not extreme enough. I will admit that I did a double take upon re-reading that sentence, however it is the abuse of her mother that really hammers home how Carrie got to the harrowing point that she did. We see a shadow of what we need when Margaret forcibly washes between her thighs after that scene- however this is the extent of the discomfort. Some of the fault must lie with the writing, never-the-less, the absence of the infamous closet and escalating violence resulted in her decision to murder her child seeming inconsistent with her character! Michelle Lansdown tried her best to indicate the fanatical murderousness brewing through her vocal and facial expressions- which were brilliant- but this was sadly not enough.

In terms of performances, this production featured some stars to watch. Kirralee Elliott's Carrie was thoughtful and moving, and her vocals were to die for (HA!). Rachel Tunaley and Sinead Cristaudo were absolutely infuriating as Chris and Norma, which is exactly what they're meant to be. I hated Chris with a passion, so Tunaley ought to be congratulated on her visceral and rage-inducing performance. Fantastic work (as ironic as that sounds). Nic Savage's George was relatable and funny, despite the fact that the jokes at his expense were stupidly homophobic. Yet again, bad writing.

Zara Stanton as Musical Director presented a wonderfully tight ensemble and polished band. The high quality of the performances and direction could not completely distract from the averageness of the composition, but I can honestly say that she did the best job possible with what she had to work with. Balboni's choreography was for the most part effective, except for some overly and unnecessarily sexual moments in the ensemble and the constant rocking on "You ain't seen nothing yet, it's gonna be a night you'll never forget". While it came across as ominous the first time, by the fourth it had lost it. She did a great job in the mass murder scene, timing the deaths fantastically. This is a hard scene to do on a low budget, but again, I think she did the best job possible. I also enjoyed her costume design, which featured an 80's vibe, but remained sufficiently modern to compliment the use of iPhones throughout. Tonazzi's set was excellent, presenting a minimalist but creepy atmosphere that was an appropriate backdrop for the show. Tragically, Elliott was not under the blood when it tipped and had to stretch out her arms,which really detracted from the scene, but you could see what was intended and had it been pulled off it would have been brilliant.

All in all, this show demonstrated that there is a deep well of untapped potential in Louis Ellis Productions. I am excited to see what they create in the future, and can only hope that they pick better shows to do to their clearly high standard.

Carrie: The Musical is showing at The Depot Theatre 25 July- 4 August.