#... The 34th Sighting ...

[bowbow-the-clown]

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[whoworewhatjewels]

Who Wore What Jewels Weekly

Who Wore What Jewels Weekly

We are rounding up the best jewels of the week. From Anne Hathaway wearing not one but two Bulgari high jewelry looks in Tokyo to Rihanna’s cheeky F*ck  you Y/Project earring to the epic brooch moments spotted on the likes of Succession star Brian Cox and Emily In Paris cutie Lucas Bravo.  Scroll down to see who wore what jewels and vote on your favorite! Enjoy! WHO: MJ Rodriguez WHERE: …

[frostedlemonwriter]

Last Line Tag

@csdarkfantasy Tagged me a day or so ago. Sorry for the delay!

I will be tagging @that-chibi-writer @words-after-midnight @veradragonjedi (haven't tagged you in forever vee) @tabswrites and an open tag!

Okay so I never do just a line. Have a few from a new story I am working on.

She made her way across the intersection of 34th and 46th, Emily noticed the sidewalk come alive with vibrant lights emanating from a massive LED television mounted on the side of a towering mega-building. The luminous glow cast an aura that mesmerized, illuminating the beautiful face of Juju. A Portuguese Sylph—a charming type of Elf that hailed from Western Europe—and pop idol. The faint hum of music accompanied the captivating sight. Which promoted her latest album, although Emily found that rather uninteresting what it showed next did. The advertisement showcased the newest flavor of NuCoke soda, an infusion of Wasabi and Ginger, now that captured her attention, if only for a moment. A voice would repeat itself on a loop, which added to the chaos of all the ads and noises the Warrens produced every moment of every day. “It’s like sushi in a can! A taste explosion with every sip!”

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Mr. and Mrs. Bennet (Pride and Prejudice)

Favorite thing about them: They're both funny characters in their different ways: Mr. Bennet intentionally, Mrs. Bennet unintentionally.

Least favorite thing about them: Well, they're both basically terrible parents to their daughters and terrible spouses to each other. Mrs. Bennet's own foolish behavior makes all the troubles she worries about much worse, while Mr. Bennet's habit of doing nothing except mocking it all is both unkind and irresponsible.

On a meta level, I do sometimes wonder if Austen's portrayal of Mrs. Bennet shows classism (since her socially ignorant behavior stems at least in part from her lower-class background – although her brother Mr. Gardiner doesn't share her faults), and/or internalized misogyny (while Mr. Bennet's flaws are made clear, we never quite lose the sense that Mrs. Bennet is meant to be seen as worse). I understand why so many readers think her portrayal is unfair and mean-spirited, though I'm not sure if I agree.

Three things I have in common with them:

Mrs. Bennet:

*I can be neurotic.

*I can be over-enthusiastic.

*I sometimes make social faux pas.

Mr. Bennet:

*I prefer reading to socializing.

*I can be irresponsible, especially with money.

*I like Elizabeth Bennet.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

Mrs. Bennet:

*I'm not a middle-aged British woman.

*I'm not married and don't have children.

*If I had daughters, even if I lived in Georgian England, I would rather they stay single than be married to the likes of Mr. Collins or Wickham.

Mr. Bennet:

*I'm not a middle-aged British man.

*I'm less witty than he is.

*If I had children, I would remember my duties to them.

Favorite line:

Mr. Bennet:

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least."

"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."

Mrs. Bennet:

"Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied."

brOTP: Mr. Bennet: His favorite daughter Elizabeth, if anyone. Mrs. Bennet: Her sister Mrs. Phillips, and her favorite daughter Lydia.

OTP: Each other, if only because that's what they deserve. Ideally, though, other people whom they never met.

nOTP: Any of their daughters or their daughters' husbands.

Random headcanon: Mrs. Bennet's first name is Jane. Just because the 1995 miniseries calls her "Fanny" doesn't make that name canon, and in the 18th and 19th centuries, it was common for one daughter in a family, usually the eldest, to be named after her mother.

Unpopular opinion: We don't need to choose whether to side with Mr. Bennet or Mrs. Bennet. This isn't a case of "one is right, the other is wrong" or "one is the good parent, the other is the bad parent." They both have sympathetic qualities, yet they both have glaring faults that nearly ruin their daughters' futures too. The old-school viewpoint of "Mr. Bennet is the likable, sensible parent; Mrs. Bennet is an idiot" and the more recently popular viewpoint of "Mrs. Bennet is just trying to secure her daughters' futures; Mr. Bennet is the bad parent" are both faulty and reductive.

Song I associate with them: None.

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration:

And this one:

Mary Boland and Edmund Gwenn in the 1940 film (dressed in costumes from the wrong time period, but I couldn't resist the sight of Hollywood's iconic Santa Claus from the original Miracle on 34th Street looking very unlike Santa as Mr. Bennet):

Benjamin Whitrow and Alison Steadman in the 1995 BBC miniseries:

Donald Sutherland and Brenda Blethyn in the 2005 film:

[bomb0some0dodongos]

Happy 34th birthday to Fire Emblem, and the pantless man who started it all!!

And happy 19th birthday to Path of Radiance, my first FE, my only ever love-at-first-sight, and the game that singlehandedly redefined the course of my life forever.

To commemorate, I'm putting my first ever genuine effort into FE1, because naturally everyone needs to pick up another game when they are in the middle of 5 other game playthroughs already (It's true, I've never played more than a few minutes of FE1. It's just so hard to slog through when FE11 exists.).

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Traditions

hi :) would it be okay to request a fic where its eddie and readers first christmas together? and reader loves spending it with eddie and wayne because they have their own traditions and make the holidays special whereas readers family isnt big into the holidays and dont make it a big deal (you can make it angsty or not doesnt matter) love your eddies fics sm!

Request by anon.

Warnings? None

Likes or reblogs are always appreciated 💞 I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

💞💞

Christmas was well on its way and she was spending Christmas with Eddie, their first Christmas together.

While she loved the holidays her family wasn't into it at all while Eddie and his uncle Wayne had their own special traditions that she thought was so lovely.

For the first time, they were letting someone else (her) into those traditions and she was so excited and very grateful to them.

Literally, the minute Eddie saw her sad face while she told him and Wayne her family didn't celebrate Christmas that much, they both looked stunned and immediately invited her to join them.

Truly she hadn't expected it and had already set about making sugar cookies, gingerbread men, and Christmas cupcakes which were met very enthusiastically by both the Munson men.

Now that it was Christmas eve night and Wayne had made her and Eddie the most delicious hot chocolate.

Whipped cream, cinnamon sugar, and marshmallows on top of the most decadent chocolate. She was even gifted her own mug a Garfield one to match Eddie's.

Stockings were hung, candles were lit and fairy lights twinkled all aglow. Everything was so perfect and to make it even better Miracle on 34th Street was on tv.

"Son, you wanna turn the tv off and join your uncle while you play something on your guitar, we do this every year honey, ever since Eddie could play"

Delighted she cuddles up on the couch and listens as Eddie begins to play rocking around the Christmas tree.

The sight of him in his element playing while his uncle brings out some more hot chocolate is wonderful, it fills her with such a warm feeling.

Eddie keeps catching her eye, his brown eyes fill with love as she listens to him enthralled.

When he's finished she gives him the biggest kiss and he pulls her onto his knee kissing her until they are both laughing with unbridled joy.

For supper, the treats she brought over are consumed along with the special mulled wine that Wayne explains Eddie helps him make and they have been doing it for the last few years.

Wayne regales her with tales from when Eddie was growing up.

"Eddie used to wait up every year on Christmas eve, thought it was darn cute of the boy that he was waiting to see Santa... Well that's what I thought" Wayne chuckles and she looks to Eddie for an explanation.

"I waited up for Krampus. The douchebag never showed up sweetheart" this makes her grin because of course Eddie would do that.

As night begins to fall flurries of snow outside distract Eddie who grows excited.

"Eddie we will have snow for Christmas day" she beams as they watch it fall and sip on the mulled wine.

Around eleven they head to bed and once they know Wayne is fast asleep Eddie kisses her and they begin to make love long into the night.

Before they go to sleep and as she curls up into Eddie, he turns to her and asks if she wants to make a tradition of their own.

She's so sleepy but nods eagerly.

"Like what?" he grins and begins to stroke her hair softly.

"How about I tell you a Christmas story sweetheart?" she peers up at him.

"D&D?" his gaze fills with nostalgia.

"You know my mom, what I can remember of her any way she told me stories all the time. Think that's where I get my love of storytelling from."

She kisses his cheek.

"You're the best storyteller I know Eddie" a proud grin caresses his features and he begins to weave a tale of magic, wonder, a noble knight, and a beautiful princess who come together to rescue Santa Claus from corrupt elves and trolls.

It's incredible and she listens as Eddie does all the voices perfectly and the tale is captivating.

Eventually, Eddie begins to tire and he finishes the story with a happy ending he pulls her into his arms and cuddles her close.

Little did they know that little tradition would be the first of many for them 💞

[august-donovan]

August’s 34th birthday was one for the books. Since his incarceration at seventeen, birthdays had become a day like any other for a decade. And then he was released and birthdays were something that he had to readjust to. To this day it is still hard for the man to openly accept gifts or recognition. He hated being in the center of attention. Addie asked him early on how he wanted to spend his birthday, she was always accommodating of his introverted self. It was something about her that he absolutely loved. Naturally, August requested a lowkey day with just them, his son, and their combined dogs. And that’s what she gave him. 

His day started off with a bang, quite literally. Ares was jumping up and down on his father’s bed, pounding on the bottom of a cooking pot with a wooden spoon as he sang Happy Birthday off key. It was loud and disorienting from the jumping but August loved every moment of it and he would have this as his morning alarm every day for the rest of his life if he could. August sat up in bed, laughing as he watched his young son finish his rendition of the song. Once he had, August clapped proudly for his son before he opened his arms to catch the child as he leapt towards him. “Happy birthday, daddy!” Ares said, his blue eyes shimmering up at him. 

Adaline made her presence known now—she had been standing in the doorway, silently laughing—now she approached the bed, a breakfast tray in her hand. Tied to one of the handles was a balloon that read “happy birthday” in a curvy font. Ares was bouncing up and down on his dad and then crawled beside him so he could see the food. “Look what we did!” Addie said cheerfully, showing August the pancake that was covered in candles, it looked more than 34 to August; he had a feeling Ares had too much fun adding the candles so he kept going until there was no more. 

— — — — —

The next morning, August was the first one up. With Addie and Ares still sleeping, he took it upon himself to make them breakfast after they had spoiled him so much the previous day. He was standing in front of the kitchen island, rapping along to Phora that was coming from the speaker on the other end of the counterspace. In front of him, he was slicing up strawberries, bananas, and apples. When he saw Addie coming into the room, he couldn’t help but smile at her. She was so beautiful. He felt his heart racing at the sight of her. As soon as she was in his arms, this explosion of love only intensified. His hands slid down her waist to pull her closer—bam! The loud knock at the door startled them both, sending Addie and August a few inches apart. 

August slid his hand along Addie’s jaw in an attempt to lull away the concern in her eyes. “Stay here,” he whispered and started for the door. Every footstep he took grew heavier and heavier the further away from Addie he went. August had no idea who was on the other side of the door, but he knew whatever was the reason was bad—the urgency in the knock revealed this. Slowly, August peeked through the side window and saw several officers standing, one with his gun tight in his hand but aimed towards the ground. 

His breathing intensified immediately. It was happening and there was nothing he could do about this. He thought about his son sleeping upstairs. He could hear the dogs barking loudly, still secured behind the bedroom door thankfully. His thoughts went to Addie and how scared she must be in the kitchen wondering who was banging on his door this early in the morning. August wanted to run to her, to try and explain this away, but how could he? Another loud bang came from the barrier in front of him and August jumped again. He didn’t want to open the door but he had to. He wanted to be strong but bravery ran out the back door the moment he peeked out the window and saw the officers. 

“August Donovan, we know you’re in there, open up now. This is your last chance to go willingly!” came the booming voice of an officer. 

August gripped the doorknob now but still he couldn’t open it. He felt his eyes burning with fear, his heart was hammering against his chest, and he wondered if his heavy breathing was turning into a panic attack. “Open it,” he muttered to himself, swallowing hard, and then he yanked it open as fast as he could and raised his hands up to show the cops he meant them no harm. 

The largest of the bunch grabbed August by the scruff of his neck and slammed him into the wall, pulling his hands behind his back so swiftly and aggressively that he felt his muscles pulling in his shoulders. August didn’t resist. He didn’t react. He didn’t speak. He was compliant. His mind was already trying to pull him back in time to those terrible days in prison. Having guards slam him into walls just because, being frisked for no damn reason, being attacked, degraded. It wouldn’t have surprised him if one of the men had taken a jab at him right now. He could hear someone reading him his rights but he wasn’t listening. All he could think about was Addie and Ares, they were here. She was right there, just twenty feet away in the other room. He tried to keep his composure, even as they tightened the handcuffs too much on his wrists. He didn’t react. He stayed calm. And then she was there. 

Addie ran towards him as they started pulling him out of the home. She pulled at his arm and August wanted to curl up into her warmth and light, breathe her in and calm his anxiety that was festering. She pleaded with the men. She was so adamant that this was a mistake. She had so much faith in August. It was gut wrenching to see her cry and plead without being able to wrap her in his arms. He pulled against the grip of the officers and leaned into her now, needing to inhale her aroma to keep with him now. 

Officer Logan was demanding that she let him go. Don’t let go, he wanted to scream at her but he knew better. The cop walked towards Addie now and August felt rage. If one of them laid their hands on her, August would go ballistic and then this would really be a shitshow. “Baby, you gotta let go,” he whispered against her face when Addie held onto him tighter. “Baby, let go,” he said more sternly and now he was trying to pull himself away from her so the cops didn’t touch her. They didn’t deserve to touch an angel, even just to move her away. August stared at Addie for a moment and then he was being roughly turned the opposite direction to head out of the house. 

He tried to look back once but the cop slammed his head forward and he had to swallow his embarrassment. No…this was humiliation. He was dragged out of his house in front of his girlfriend. 

— — — — —

August was dragged into an interrogation room and left to stew for what felt like days. So much time had passed that his stomach started to grumble from hunger. He was cold, his feet still bare. He didn’t even have a damn shirt on. He tried to sit back in the metal chair, but the handcuffs restricted him and kept him slouched over the cold table that they were connected to. He knew they were watching him behind the glass and because of this August tried to remain as stoic as possible but his mind was a different problem. 

He kept slipping back to his former life behind bars. Everything about the cold interrogation room reminded him of his endless nights in lockup. He could almost hear cell doors slamming in the distance and he told himself it was just in his mind…but it felt so real. 

Another stretch of time went on before finally the door opened and a beefy detective came into the room, huffing as he sat at the table. He laid a folder on top of the table between them and looked at August. “Well, Mr. Donovan, you’re in a lot of shit,” he said, tapping the manilla folder and wheezed. “With your record, we could put you back in prison for the rest of your life. So, let’s just make this easy on you, yeah? Tell us where your brother and former CO Warren Cold are and we’ll let you go.” 

August stared blankly at the detective but said nothing as he had since he was first taken in for questioning though he wasn’t sure if they had something to charge him with. 

“So, that’s how it’s gonna be?” said the large detective, pointing a stubby finger at August. “How about a night in the tank then?” he barked, “seeing as you don’t wanna stay in this room.” He grabbed the folder off the table and walked out of the room. 

A few moments later, Officer Logan appeared. He unhooked August from the table before twisting his arms to handcuff them behind his back as he led him out of the interrogation room and to inmate take in. He was handed off to another officer who was instructed to send him to the tank and made note that he was “uncooperative.” After August was forced to undress for a cavity search and then issued a state jumpsuit and shoes, he was taken to the “back of the house” as one cop put it. 

This was the dirtiest part of the jailhouse. The lighting was dim and faulty, there was no air conditioning, the floor had a film of grime on it, and the cells were rusted, walls drenched in various stains that August didn’t want to investigate. The officer opened the door to one of the cells and shoved August inside of it before closing the door. Before August could even turn around to have his handcuffs removed, the cop was gone. 

“Asshole,” August whispered and sat on the bench that was built against the wall, it shuffled under his weight, it was wobbly. He tried to loosen the handcuffs on his wrists that were beginning to rub raw. 

He was exhausted and hungry. Over the next hours —or maybe just minutes— he would catch himself drifting off to sleep and would wake up just as his back was beginning to droop against the nasty wall. This conflict continued until his exhaustion was too much to handle and he fell asleep. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 

The cell door opened unexpectedly and the deafening noise of three hundred inmates cheering arrived. August stepped out of his cell, his cellmate at his side. Below them a riot had broken out. The COs tried to get a handle on the situation, but there were too many inmates. August stepped back into the cell, leaning against his cot. “Yo, we gotta go out there Gus. If we don’t, that’s picking a side and we’ll be marked.” Craft started out of the cell, taking a left hook from a rival gang almost immediately. The large man bolstered his shoulders to make him appear larger to August, but this didn’t scare him off. In fact, it gave August the courage he needed and he stepped up, punched the giant in the nose and sent him tumbling over the rails to the lower deck. August helped his cellmate up before they ran down the staircase to find anyone affiliated with the Hilltop gang. 

While Craft squared up with a CO who attempted to apprehend him, August was ambushed by Juan and Pedro, two of Carlos’ men who had recently been incarcerated. “What’s up, bitch?” said Pedro, walking towards August, Juan moving in to keep him pinned in. “Carlos said we’d find you here. He told us to give you a message.” 

Fire pierced through August’s side and soon he was seeing white spots. He felt faint and flush, staggering backward which was when he saw Manny, a third gang member who had snuck up behind him and plunged a homemade shank into his lower back. 

August gasped as he woke up from the memory nightmare. He felt fire expelling from the scar of the wound, he tried grabbing at his side (with difficulty due to the handcuffs) wondering if he had been stabbed again—did one of the guards slip in while he was sleeping? He slumped down on the floor, his chest was tight and he was having difficulty breathing. How could he go back to prison? The thought of being locked up away from his family, his son, Addie…it made him want to die. The man curled up in a ball in the corner of the dank and drafty cell and he felt the dark cloud shrouding him.

[wayfaringstrangxr]

Starter for @inquisitivelydamned

Aziraphale had been so busy with his new duties that he hardly noticed the days passing by. Despite the endless list of things he must do, the arcangel isn't so excited about it, he feels incomplete. Most things would be so much simpler if Crowley were there, they've been through so much together and knew so much about Earth and humanity... Most angels didn't even know the average time of a human life and it was pointless try to explain anything.

Week after week Aziraphale would send a note to Muriel back at his bookshop. The note always had the same two questions: "You haven't sold any books, have you?" and "Did he changed his mind?" and the answer was always the same as well: "No and no."

This was the 34th note Aziraphale was writing and he simply stared at the paper for a long time, wondering what he should write. After several minutes - or perhaps hours - he still has no idea. He seem to be missing something important, but he couldn't remind what it was. So a thought came to his mind; He would visit the bookshop. No one would miss him if he left for a hour or two...

Taking the lift below, Aziraphale opened a big smile to the sight of the bookshop, his heart become warm and his cheek gain color again. Closing to the door, the sign could be read "closed", which made him happier, because then no books would be sold.

The angel entered the bookshop and took a deep breath, smelling the familiar scent of the store. "Hello Muriel!" He says happily. "I thought about popping in and say hello myself." Aziraphale raises his head to stare at a sudden movement and lift his eyebrows at the sight of a man standing across the shop. He had red hair and a funny tattoo of a snake close to his ear, sunglasses covered his eyes and Aziraphale asked himself why he would wear sunglasses inside.

The bookshop was closed, so the angel got curious. "Who are you?"

[alien-in-residence]

Taking Back Terra ch.1 Towerfall

106 years post-war, the Imperium 34th Army, in loose cooperation with the dishonored 28th and 82nd Brigades, holds an iron grip on the planet Earth. Much of Eurasia is under direct control by the 34th Army. The Dishonored Brigades content themselves with terrorizing the backwater American continents. Central to this occupation, is the control of Terra’s handful of Space Elevators. With these, the Occupation can isolate any human resistance fighters, and ship prisoners off-planet. Human-made but no longer human controlled, these space elevators stand like baneful towers over an occupied Terra.

The video screen flickered on and off as it hummed to life. The picture was grainy, black and white before slowly adding each color in the spectrum. It buzzed in the recognizable way that neglected alien tech often did. The picture became clear as the audio also burst from its speaker, “State your business.” The voice was kurt but betrayed fear in its bass vocalizations.

“Open the door or we’re opening it ourselves,” a Human told the screen.

“You’re not allowed on the platform. Leave your weapons and return to your assigned ghetto,” the screen replied. The blurriness cleared up to reveal a Yonk, one of the Imperium’s most erudite sub-species.

Lt. Surya Harish had never had a conversation with a Yonk before. Sure they were always the ones broadcasting propaganda, but she’d never had the screen talk back. She motioned Pvt. Druk to start placing charges. On her side of the video call there were gunshots and the sounds of decompressing air from rail-guns. The Yonk on the screen was flinching with each particularly loud shot. Surya tried to meet the Yonk’s eyes as her squad set up breaching charges.

“You’re a psion, aren’t you?” she asked the screen. The alien wiped a nervous mucous from its gills. “Do the math, psion. Predict what’s gonna happen here.”

It steadied itself and responded, “The ground patrols are going to flush you out of the halls and off the platform. If you don’t surrender and return to your ghetto, they’ll kill you.”

Surya smiled and made sure to show her teeth before putting her head back in her helmet. “Wrong guess, beanstalk.” She gave the signal and the squad breached the door. The Kiran in the room were huddled just beyond the line-of-sight of the video call. They were right where Surya knew they’d be. Her squad mates were efficient, going for the soft spot just below the neck where the Kiran nervous system centralized. Surya didn’t even get the chance to fire off a shot, they had the room secure before the broken door even hit the floor.

Her helmet adjusted her hearing, letting the occasional pops and booms of battle back into her audio feed. The Yonk was huddled by his control console, clutching his ear holes. He met Surya’s eyes and tried to slink away. “Stand up,” she commanded him.

He shivered, still in shock, but stood up. The Yonk, like most, was almost 3 meters tall. He wiped at his gills, clearing a large build-up analogous to vomit. Surya was intimidating to the psion even though she was a little over half its height. She met his bulbous eyes while her squad secured the rooms and halls attached to this command center. She didn’t need to supervise or give commands, they were good at their jobs.

Surya let her hand rest on her rifle trigger as she stepped closer to the Yonk, invading its notoriously large personal space. “Stop the elevator.” she commanded through her helmet’s speaker.

The Yonk kept to its protocols, “We can’t stop the freight while it's en route. Only top-side can do that.”

“Bullshit, bring the elevator back down.”

“Space elevators are complicated tech. You don’t understand the inner worki-”

Surya interrupted him by pointing her rifle at his head, just as fatal for his species as for hers. “Don’t lie to me, beanstalk! My people made these elevators. Don’t think to tell me how they work! Now stop the elevator and bring it back down.”

The Yonk looked like it might try one last ruse but Surya fired a single shot, deliberately missing his skull by a few centimeters. His gills went white and he suppressed the instinct to vomit a second time. Surya trained her gun on him the whole time he punched in the commands at his console to stop the space elevator’s freight car and send it back down the gravity well.

She called her commander without letting the Yonk hear her, “Mission accomplished, Major. Elevator’s secure and the cargo’s been stopped from getting to orbit.” She looked at the read-out, her helmet translating the alien text even though she’d learned to read it years ago. “46 minutes til it’s back on the ground, over.”

Her helmet fed her the Major’s response, “Received, Lt. Harish. Change of plans. Things are going better than we’d hoped. We’re holding this platform. Repeat, the rescue op is canceled. This elevator’s ours now, over.”

Surya smiled so big it might’ve popped off her helmet. “Received, major-” she checked her heads-up-display seeing that her squad had finished securing the command wing and only Jamis was injured. “-command wing is under our lock and key. What are your orders, over?”

The major took a minute to respond, likely they were coordinating too many squads at once to change tactics and hold the platform. Smash and grab had been their go-to for years. “Lieutenant, hold that command wing. The other squads are locking down the rest of the buildings as we speak. You see any alien stragglers you take em down for me, over.”

Surya confirmed her new assignment and let her squad know, telling them to move Jamis away from any exits and get him a med kit. The Yonk had been standing there in silence as she said all these things within her noise-sealed helmet. He was no longer hiding his fear. After this extended silence she finally spoke through her helmet speaker, “Knees, Yonk. Drop to ‘em.”

The tall alien carefully descended to his knees and placed his double jointed arms behind his back. He was clear on what was happening. Surya shackled his ankles and connected the specially designed restraints to his wrists as well. She then zipped the final shackle around his neck, completing the device designed to hog-tie his species.

She spoke over comms to her squad as she did this, asking, “Squad, how many captives?”

Private Hool responded, “3 Yonks, lieutenant. One of the Kiran tried to surrender but it was a ruse, it stabbed Jamis in the leg with its dorsal arms.”

Not a bad haul and only one injury, Surya thought to herself. “Find a broom closet, throw your Yonks and mine into it.” She stood up and hauled her hog-tied Yonk into a hallway where one of her men grabbed him and gathered him with the others. Yonks were surprisingly light for the tall frame. “After that closet’s good and locked, make this command wing secure.”

Her squad was confused for a second until Specialist Rourke asked, “Is evac not coming?”

“Nope, evacs canceled. In fact, all the evacs are canceled. This is our platform now.”

Surya’s squad erupted in cheers as they responded to the shift in tactics. She let them have the celebration for 2 seconds before cutting them off over comms. “Save it for later. We gotta secure this command wing and help any squads that need it. Rourke, Xiang, seal up the entrance we came in. Hool, check on Jamis. Jamis, don’t die. Rest of you, check ammo and set up sight-lines.”

Her squad snapped to their tasks with a learned efficiency. They were tired of smash and grabs. This was the op they’d been waiting for. Surya was about to set her mind to the next thing when her HUD chirped at her.

“Squad Beta. Squad Beta. This is Squad Gulf. Bogeys headed your way, over.”

“Gulf, this is Beta. How many and from where?”

“7 or 8 Kirans escorting a Psion captain. They’re headed through the maintenance wing, east of you. We’re in pursuit but they’ll reach you before we do.”

“Confirmed, Gulf. Over and out.”

Surya relayed the info to her squad and collected them all into a position facing east, minus Jamis guarding the prisoner closet. “Specialist, eyes!” she barked over comms.

Specialist Rourke fired up his Odin tactical helmet and fed the important data to the rest of the squad. 9 heat signatures: 8 Kirans in tactical gear and one lanky Yonk. They were level with the squad and 60 meters away, making their way carefully through the maintenance section. Surya’s squad moved into cover, poised for an ambush.

The maintenance wing was connected by three walkways on this level. There were two walkways 10 floors down, three walkways 20 floors down, and then the ground level of the platform. The 2,3,2,3 pattern continued upwards as well with 2 walkways 10 floors up, then 3. It alternated all the way up to the 100th floor where the walkways merged into a flat platform covering the whole gap and forming a roof for the chasm.

The Kirans and their one Yonk were still level and now 30 meters away. A shockwave hit the gap from outside the platform. A few of the remaining intact windows shattered. The humans had taken down another of the Kiran gunships and it was spewing smoke into the air as it sank into the Black Sea.

Surya felt herself wanting to cheer so she wrangled her squad, “Eyes sharp, 20 meters and closing. Fire at will on my mark.” The aliens rounded another corner, now it was just a straight shot to the walkways. Her squad was concealed so the ambush’s timing was all up to her. The leading Kiran was nearing the door, signalling his squad to wait. “Weapons free!”

The chasm between the command wing and maintenance wing erupted into gunfire and explosions. The lead Kiran was mist, torn into shreds by Surya’s squad. The remaining enemy fighters fanned out into side rooms, a couple shielded the Yonk. The human squad got 2 more confirmed kills in the space of the next second. Five fighters and one yonk left. A pause and one Kiran tried to stand and return fire. He got punished for his gamble. Four left.

The heat vision was useless now, with bright spots from bullet holes and still-hot plasma rounds. Rourke cut the odin and joined the squad in pinning down the enemy. Surya got a ping on her HUD, squad Gulf was 80 meters away and moving fast. Beta squad kept the enemy pinned, winging another ambitious Kiran. When Gulf arrived the Yonk tried to get his guards to surrender but got stabbed for his trouble. The three remaining Kirans went suicidal, charging at the human squads but getting nowhere, their grenades detonating in their hands.

Squad Gulf was cheering over comms before Surya even realized the firefight was over. Surya called up their Sergeant and thanked him for the heads-up. The celebration was cut short again when each soldier’s helmet came alive with a message from the Colonel. Her gruff voice came through shakily then cleared up, “Troops, we did it. I got confirmation that the Base Psion just surrendered. She was en route to an escape plane when our forces captured her and her top brass. This tower is ours.”

A few of Surya’s squad took off their helmets and howled like animals. They beat their chests and hollered while the Colonel let the victory sink in. New assignments started streaming in through the HUDs of those still wearing their helmets. Gulf’s commander wrangled his squad and they set about checking the Maintenance wing for structural weaknesses. Surya checked her helmet and paused in shock for a half second. The orders were addressed to Captain Harish. Next to the message was a medic’s update informing that her Captain Tarevnya had succumbed to her wounds during the landing. She’d been field promoted. The message wasn’t sent to the rest of the squad so she decided that the news could wait.

“Beta squad, form up!” she shouted over comms. The few that had taken their helmets off returned them to their heads. “New assignment. Foxtrot is going to hold down the command wing. We’re going top-side. I’ve told their CO that Jamis is injured. He’s gonna stay here while we secure the elevator cargo.”

The squad snapped to attention and barked their confirmation in a disciplined “Ma’am yes Ma’am!”

-

Ironically enough, most of the elevators at the base platform of the space-elevator were non-functional. Spc. Rourke found the squad a freight elevator still working in the maintenance wing and got them all top-side.

The top of the space-elevator platform was a massive hexagon, formed by the 6 wings of the base below. Pre-war, the elevator had mainly been an industrial lift. It shuttled goods from the region into orbit then out to the solar and extra-solar colonies. To the north of the platform was Crimea and to the south was the rest of the Black Sea. The fighting was still on-going from the shoreline. Sit-rep stated that the enemy was in full retreat.

Four other squads were assembled on the pad. The space elevator cable itself couldn’t have been more than 20 meters thick, but it extended all the way up into orbit. The freight elevator was slowing its descent. The Lt. Colonel of the freedom fighters, a Kiran defector, was also standing on the platform. His dorsal and ventral arms were folded at what was military rest for his species. He wore a human beret that looked out of place on his octopus-like head.

“Rourke, what do you see on the freight car’s cameras?” Captain Surya asked of her specialist. He was patched into the central tower’s data feed and was looking through the cameras on the freight elevator.

“No Kirans and no Yonks, Lieutenant. All clear.” She still hadn't informed her squad of the field promotion or the Captain's death. She figured the news could wait till after the rescue was complete.

“Are you sure, specialist? Kirans love to hide in blind-spots.” Her use of ‘specialist’ suggested that she wanted absolute certainty.

Specialist Rourke flipped off his data-visor and made eye-contact with Surya through her helmet. “I’m certain, Lieutenant Harish. The psions don’t leave blind-spots in slave freighters.”

Surya resisted her knee-jerk reaction to apologize. Rourke broke his stare and went back to his data-visor. How could I have forgotten about Rourke? Piss-poor start as captain, she thought to herself.

“Touching down,” Rourke announced to everyone on the pad. A gust of wind hit everyone still assembled as air-brakes blasted the elevator car, bringing its already slow descent to a stop.

Surya looked around at her squad and the others. Many still had battle marks or blood on them. “Helmets off, everyone,” she said over comms. Her squad followed orders and placed their helmets on belt clips. Most of them got the message immediately, tidying up their clothes and cleaning off some of the nastier battle debris. The other squads followed suit, making themselves less intimidating.

Surya looked to the Lt. Colonel, his mandible tentacles flowing with the wind. He met her eyes and instantly understood her meaning. “This is a reunion for humans,” his vocalizer said. He saluted and left the pad.

She returned the salute and started to say, “No offence-”

Lt. Colonel Zava interrupted her with a hand gesture, “No need to explain, I understand.” And with that he left.

The freight car was a hexagon in matching shape with the platform. It was itself 6 stories tall. As it docked to the landing pad, stairs and walkways ascended and clamped on to the car. With a final mechanical clunk the doors opened. It was a sight to remember. Hundreds upon hundreds of humans were huddled together in the freight car. Most of them had shuffled to the back, away from the doors. There was fear in each of their eyes as the doors opened and they returned to a world filled with sunlight.

A few cautious souls ventured out from the car when they saw that the platform was filled with fellow humans. The pioneers inspired the rest and soon the rescued slaves were pouring out, not quickly and not gracefully. They stumbled forward, bewildered and tears in their eyes. The rescued fell upon Surya’s squad and the others, crying and hugging. They were eager to touch their rescuers, kissing faces or armor plates where they could.

It was difficult, not just logistically, but emotionally to have to wrangle the rescued. It broke the soldiers' hearts to then load these poor souls back into smaller elevators and off of the platform. At the base of the 100 story platform, the freedom fighters had assembled all their remaining hover-craft and boats to carry the freed humans.

When the top platform was finally cleared of the rescued, the Lt. Colonel returned from out of nowhere. “That was prudent decision making back there, Captain Sorya.”

She saluted and thanked him. “I hope it wasn’t over-stepping, sir.”

“Not at all, captain.” His mandible tentacles curled in a way that was supposed to mimic a human smile. “I imagine the first thing you wish to see after being liberated is not the face of one of your oppressors. Especially an ugly mug like mine.” He chuckled to himself while Sorya stood uncomfortably silent. “In any case, I wasn’t just talking about the rescue op, your squad did an excellent job securing the command wing. And 4 psions captured.”

Sergeant Xiang had been waiting to speak but finally worked up the courage, “Lt. Colonel Zava, did you mean to call her captain?”

Zava curled his mandible tentacles inward in embarrassment. He addressed Surya, “I’m sorry, I thought-”

She interrupted him and addressed her squad, “He meant to call me Captain. That’s because I'm the Captain of the platoon now. But that still means I’m in Beta.” The platform was silent except for the howling wind. “Tarevnya didn’t survive her wounds from the landing. I thought it best to tell you after we were done with the freight car.”

Her squad was silent, but none of them were angry. Death was the reality of war. Surya had proved herself after the botched landing. None of them were doubtful of her command. As clean as a transition you could hope for given the circumstances.

The Lt. Colonel finally pierced the silence with his vocalizer’s semi-mechanical voice, “Beta squad, you are hereby ordered to take a break. Logistics has already converted one of the loading bays into a mess. Get some grub and find a cot. Report for reassignment at 0800.” He checked his watch on his ventral arm, “That gives you little over 18 hours to get some well-deserved rest. Dismissed.” The squad saluted and were left to themselves.

[usafphantom2]

IMAGES: B-1s join F-22s and South Korean F-35s, in the latest Bomber Task Force mission

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 02/04/2023 - 12:00 in Military, War Zones

A pair of B-1B Lancers and U.S. Air Force F-22 Raptors fighters flew alongside F-35 stealth jets from the Republic of Korea on February 1 - the third bomber flight near the Korean Peninsula in recent months.

The jets also trained on February 3 with the USAF F-22s, U.S. Marine Corps F-35Bs and Republic of Korea Air Force F-35As (ROK).

The B-1s later flew to Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, to start another deployment of the Bomber Task Force.

The Ministry of Defense of the Republic of Korea announced the first round of joint air training on February 2, saying that the aircraft met over the Yellow Sea, west of the Peninsula. The South Korean Air Force announced the second round on February 3, according to several media reports, noting that it also took place in the Yellow Sea.

A spokesman for the Pacific Air Forces confirmed that the B-1 came from Ellsworth Air Base, South Dakota, and the F-22 came from Elmendorf-Richardson Joint Base. A PACAF statement announced the mission of the Bomber Task Force (BTF).

The combined flight marks the first combined air training between ROK, or South Korean Air Force, and the U.S. Air Force in 2023, although American bombers have become a frequent sight in the skies near South Korea recently.

At the end of December, the B-52 Stratofortresses of Barksdale Air Base, Louisiana, flew next to F-22s and the F-35s and F-15s of ROK around Jeju Island, south of the peninsula. And in November, Ellsworth's B-1s flew over the Peninsula for the first time in five years.

In both cases, bomber flights represented demonstrations of force soon after North Korea performed missile tests.

These most recent flights occurred just a few days after Secretary of Defense Lloyd J. Austin III visited Seoul and promised, alongside South Korean Defense Minister Lee Jong-sup, to increase the size and scope of joint US-ROK military exercises. This includes greater participation of fifth generation fighters and strategic bombers.

Ellsworth's B-1s last participated in a BTF in the Indo-Pacific between October and November last year.

“It is a privilege to be back in the Pacific area of responsibility and be at the forefront to dissuade our opponents and support our allies,” Major Abraham Moreland, deputy director of operations of the 34th Expeditionary Bomber Squadron, said in a statement. "The relationships we have with our allies in the region are crucial to the security of the Indo-Pacific, and the partnerships we build while we are here give our crews the critical training and experience they need to succeed in this environment."

U.S. missions reassure South Korea and respond to the growing pressure from North Korea, where Kim Jong Un intensified missile tests and recently launched drones on South Korean airspace.

B-1B b Bomber on the runway of Andersen Air Base in Guam.

With the increase in tensions, South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol caused controversy by saying that his country may be forced to ask the U.S. to redeploy nuclear weapons on the peninsula or to develop its own nuclear weapons. And a recent independent bipartisan commission recommended that the two countries begin “pre-decisive” discussions about what would be needed to redistribute tactical nuclear

Source: Air Force & Space Magazine

Tags: Military AviationB-1B LancerF-22 RaptorF-35 Lightning IIROKAF - Republic of Korea Air Force/South Korean Air ForceUSAF - United States Air Force / US Air ForceWar Zones - Korean Peninsula

Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[plaudiusplants]

Love Potion No. 9 is NOT for drinking

Something that smells like turpentine and looks like indian ink? That got made up right here in the sink??? You do not put that in your mouth. Not to mention the aftereffects of the speaker downing the whole bottle - "I didn't know if it was day or night. I started kissing everything in sight" - This man is about to get a sexual assault charge if he kisses the wrong thing or person. Oh look! "But when I kissed the cop down on 34th and vine, he broke my little bottle of love potion no. 9" Wow shocker who ever could have seen that coming?? Technically there is no proof that he has been arrested but my god, what else is going to happen??

Additionally, this person can no longer tell if it's day or night. I haven't done a whole lot of drugs, so correct me if I'm wrong but that sure as hell sounds like an overdose. There should not be so much of a thing in your body that you can't tell what time of day it is.

Madam Rue is not trying to get arrested for fraud. She is already part of a minority group that gets discriminated against. If she gets arrested for selling love potions that cause indiscriminate sexual harassment it's not going to go well for her.

This man doesn't even listen to a single word of advice she may have before he "held [his] nose, [he] closed [his] eyes, [he] took a drink."

Anyway, clearly this client is in the wrong. How, therefore, should it be used?

I propose that love potion no. 9 is meant to be used sparingly (my god, sparingly) as a perfume. It's obviously not meant to go in your mouth and using too much of it causes bad things to happen, like kissing your local cop. Use it like vanilla. (Yes, yes, this is the loves vanilla extract website. Work with me for two seconds.) A little bit of it can smell nice and make people want whatever that smell is. Too much of it is an assault on the nose and makes people avoid it.

It smells like turpentine - it's probably either the close confines of Madam Rue's shop, or possibly there are variations that smell better to different genders or people, or it could be that it's not supposed to smell nice to the person who's wearing it in order to avoid using too much!!!!!!

It looks like indian ink - once again, this shit is not meant to go in your mouth!!!! You are not supposed to swallow it!!! Why are you putting something the colour of vantablack in your mouth??????

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[tfbsattic]

Huey, Dewey, Louie, and a Magyar PM’s Demise

While touring Budapest during the Balkan Explorer Tour via Expat Explore in 2023, the free day coincided with Philippine Independence Day – also MY 34th BIRTHDAY. Being a Disney fan myself, the city’s sights brought up DuckTales.

And I do mean the original 1987-1990 run.

Photo taken 6/12/2023.

So what does a Disney animated series have to do with Budapest – or rather, the whole country of Hungary? Ask any resident who was between 3-12 years old and living in said country on December 12, 1993, and they’d likely tell you that something somber interrupted an episode of it.

Picture if you will being a kid watching Disney Sunday, the equivalent of America’s The Disney Afternoon in a post-Cold War Hungary (or a few other European countries) on that day. The theme song plays as normal.

“It will never leave,” said Doug Walker, the Nostalgia Critic. “it will never leave. It's like an addiction. You think you're over it. You think, “I only know a few lyrics of the song…’”

“Life is like a hurricane Here in Duckburg Race cars, lasers, aeroplanes It’s a Duck blur Might solve a mystery Or rewrite history." “DuckTales, woohoo! Every day that I've been making DuckTales, woohoo! Tales so daring, do-bad and good Luck tales.” “D-d-d-danger lurks behind you There’s a stranger out behind you Gonna find you What to do?” “JUST GRAB ONTO SOME DUCKTALES!” “WOOHOO!“

“I mean once you hear it once, it will never, ever go away. And you wanna know what the creepy thing is? I think this show stayed on the air strictly because of the theme song! I mean think about it, what do you actually remember about this show?”

Many a Magyar ‘90s kid’s disturbingly thorough answer came to a head during Uncle Scrooge’s breakfast conniption in the Catch as Cash Can story arc episode, “A Whale of a Bad Time.” He was dismayed and enraged when he lost half of his fortune via the boat containing it being eaten by a sea monster. As Huey, Dewey, and Louie restrained him, every TV screen in every Magyar household open to DuckTales desaturated, changed to static briefly, and went black for 15 minutes.

The Magyar Televízió logo appeared in a gloomy grayscale, accompanied by a track of the 3rd movement of Fredric Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 2 in B♭ minor, Op. 35. It signified to Magyars of all ages – even and especially the perplexed ‘90s kids trying to make sense of whatever abruptly interrupted their DuckTales fix – that someone very important had died.

That someone very important was József Antall, the first democratically elected prime minister.

Shortly after his inauguration in May 1990, Antall was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He underwent surgery that October, with him having an interview on the response to the taxi blockade in ihis sleepwear. His cancer recurred in May 1991.

Antall died in his sleep due to complications on December 12, 1993. Magyar adults and well-informed teens who knew and loved him were bereft of a strong leader in Hungary’s post-communist history, whereas befuddled kids wondered why the TV cared more of about a prime minister’s death over a Disney animated series.

Those children who grew up back then were dubbed the “DuckTales Generation.”

“I wanted to switch channels to see if there was another cartoon,” recalled one Magyar adult, “but my parents wanted to watch M1 because – unlike me – they knew who PM Antall was and why the news of his death was important.”

“As a result of the shock, I rushed to the bathroom,” recalled another, “but I could barely tell what had happened all the way through. My mom cried to my dad, ‘Antall is dead!’ And then they looked at me, over my head. The children watching DuckTales at the time experienced a minor trauma as they were torn out of the safe world of Disney magic – and the unknown, incomprehensible blackness came.”

“Chopin's funeral march and the deep blackness cast a pall over the country for just a couple of minutes.”

“I called my parents, ‘Dad, I think (Antall) had died,’” recalled the owner of conservative blog Meanwhile in Budapest.

The death announcement of Antall wasn’t the only kids’ show interruption in history. On June 2, 2020, Viacom-owned TV channels (including Nickelodeon) around the world interrupted TV shows with an 8:46 PSA.

The white text, “I Can’t Breathe,” faded in and out to the cadence of a sound effect of a human breathing. The duration matched the one in which Derek Chauvin held his knee down on George Floyd’s neck till he suffocated. Either a Color of Change text number or the Amnesty International website (depending on country) appeared alongside it.

The PSA scared some kids, which lead some of their parents to rant about it on the Viacom channels’ social media accounts, some with some political rebukes.

But whichever their political views, most Magyar children who grew up when a death of a beloved dignitary interrupted a Disney TV show in the ‘90s knew that their moment was a blindingly brighter lightbulb memory. Even a traveling exhibit by Magyar artists on the childhood children in Hungary spent between the late ‘80s and noughties was APTLY named after that episode of which doleful breaking news interrupted it.

As Walt Disney said, “Life is composed of lights and shadows, and we would be untruthful, insincere, and saccharine if we tried to pretend there were no shadows. Most things are good, and they are the strongest things; but there are evil things too, and you are not doing a child a favor by trying to shield him from reality.”

Simply put, life HAS BEEN like a hurricane, anywhere in the world, whether kids and parents like it or not.

Especially in early ‘90s Hungary.

Photo taken 6/12/2023.

[iammistressofmyfate]

I blame @mychemicalrachel

PYNCH SOULMATE!AU CW // I reference Adam's canonical trauma

Everyone has a soulmate but it isn't necessarily love at first sight. You have to learn to love them (it helps knowing that they're yours though) Their name appears, like a tattoo, a year before you're to meet them.

Ronan and Adam are fifteen.

Adam is surprised to see a boy's name but not unpleasantly so. He's sort of been sorting out that he likes boys as much as he likes girls. He thinks Ronan is a unique name.

Ronan has all sorts of fantastical, romantic ideas and daydreams about how Adam is. What he'll be like. He's the boy of Ronan's dreams! So he'll be absolutely perfect.

When Ronan and Adam meet, it takes them a while to come together. Ronan has experienced immense trauma and Adam (at the time) was experiencing trauma on a daily basis.

But they slowly and thoroughly learn and understand each other. Like calling to like.

Life waxes and wanes around them but they never waver. They're lucky to have met one another so early in life, to have more time to cultivate their relationship.

They love each other more than they had when they'd met and they would continue to grow in love as time went on.

*insert all manner of fluffy, domestic-y nonsense, some hurt/A LOT of comfort, and smut here*

5 year intervals - 15 to 60 maybe 🥺 Goodness, give me happily married elderly Pynch celebrating their 34th wedding anniversary (apparently the gift for that year is Opals 😭)

[frostedlemonwriter]

Find The Word Tag

Thanks @indecentpause for tagging me. I don't think you ever had before. Kind of surprised, no lie.

My words are run, risk, rain, and red

Not sure how many of these I will actually have but lets find all. They are all from different WIPs, though.

Run:

Eithne sprinted with all her might. Her heart pounded in her chest. The sight of the Norse warriors as they crushed their defenses stunned her sense. With valiant efforts, she slew many an invader. But the voice of her husband Talorc, the man she had married just a few months prior, echoed in her ears. His once sturdy figure, now felled by arrows and an axe, haunted her. Yet, his words remained clear, “run, my love. Warn them!” That’s exactly what she did.

Risk:

Encircled by a tightly woven ring of drengr, their fur shirts clung heavily with the stain of dirt and the pungent stench of blood and sweat. The ground beneath their feet bore witness to the day’s grueling training, marked by vivid crimson stains. Standing within the circle, two young women, their vibrant blonde hair kissed by a deep, fiery red hue. Despite their petite stature, their sinewy frames exuded a palpable sense of strength and power. Unarmed, their swords and shields lay discarded on the earth, as the unmistakable twins continued to maneuver around each other with practiced grace, their movements filled with anticipation. Their intense verbal battle from the previous night hung in the air, now demanded a physical resolution. Bound by pride, their shared heritage forgotten, the sisters were now entangled in a desperate struggle for blood—the risks of a flyting sometimes, Teagen thought as she watched. The three teenagers had reached that age that allowed indulgence in the honey-wine, golden waves of both glee and truths. Like Loki, old grudges would sometimes shapeshift into fresh forms within its heady haze.

Rain:

The relentless rain hammered against the windowpane on the twenty-fifth floor, its rhythmic pitter-patter created a soothing melody. At the bustling intersection of 34th and 42nd, the neon lights from the LED advertisements permeated the studio apartment, cast a vibrant kaleidoscope of colors. The room shrouded in a soft, ethereal glow, like a pink-purple cloak draped over the darkness. A petite woman lay askew on a bed, its meager size more fitting for a pubescent preteen than a grown adult. The blanket lay abandoned on the floor, evidence of her restless tossing and turning during the night. Just below her right ear, a glimmer caught the light—a sleek chrome and plastic AUX-C3 port, the newer model known for its enhanced data transfer capabilities compared to the outdated JC1 models.

Red:

Perched like a predatory bird atop a towering hill, which commanded a breathtaking view of the quaint village of Arcadia, some miles off the rugged coast of northern Maine. Embraced by an ancient forest, cloaked in the eerie darkness of sugar maples, red pines, and balsam firs; venerable sentinels as ancient as the very land itself. Their vibrant foliage, ablaze with reddish-oranges, yellowish-browns, and an array of hues painted by Mother Nature, adorned the landscape. Nestled within this enchanting setting, an imposing manor house stood, held the title of the largest building in the region since its completion in the mid-1740s—an accolade that it still kept to this day.

I will be tagging @toribookworm22 @veradragonjedi @that-cyber-writer @marauderingpaige and an open tag, as usual.

Your words are tall, star, distant, devotion, and renown

[tarisilmarwen]

Whumptober 2023 - "Tokyo Blue Rose"

(Yep, more fic from the Re.alization Fix-Fic universe. I am not hurting Inaho this time though, lol.

Prompts used:

No. 20 "People don't change people, time does": Blanket/Found Family/"You will regret touching them."

Alt. 5 Body Modification.)

---

She stared through the glass numbly, looking in on the ICU recovery room.

They'd put Inaho in a medically-induced coma for his recovery. Asseylum could see the thick bandages wrapped around his head, over his left eye, and burned with grief at the sight.

She watched his chest rise and fall, trembling with anger and guilt and shame.

She had done this. By being selfish and choosing the boy she loved over her friend, she had condemned Inaho to months of torture and hell at the hands of one of her own Martian Knights, condemned so many of their pilots to a brutal and swift end at the hands of Inaho's remote-guided Tharsis.

There hadn't been time, Yuki had assured her, over and over. You had to make a choice.

She'd made her choice. And she'd hated it. And hated herself for it.

Even more so now.

By her side, her fist clenched tightly. Her lip trembled, heat threatening to well up in her eyes.

She wished Slaine were there, to put his warm hands on her shoulders, slip his fingers into hers. Make her feel less awful.

She tugged on the connection between them, reached out through the Ea that entwined them, and felt an automatic and instinctive reassuring mental touch back. It was enough.

She inhaled slowly, forcing herself to turn away from the window. Her mind replayed the rescue, all the horrible details playing fresh against her eyes. The dark control room where he'd been stored. The wires plugged into his head. His shrieking as the Versian AI took control of him.

The door on the far side of the hallway opened with a metal clatter. Asseylum looked up to see Inko trotting through, a heavy folded blanket clutched in her arms.

The other girl stopped awkwardly. "Oh! Princess!" She hesitated for a moment, clearly wrestling with whether or not to curtsy.

Asseylum smiled ruefully, expression warm. They had dispensed with such formalities months ago.

After a moment Inko shook herself. "How is he?" she asked anxiously, as she came up to the window.

Asseylum swallowed back a bitter pill of anger, dropping her eyes towards the floor. "Stable," she said. "They were able to remove nearly all of the implant."

"Mmm," Inko just hummed, looking through the observation window with wan, worried eyes.

The princess raised her head, and pointed at the bundle in Inko's arms. "What's that?" she asked.

"Huh?" Already deep in her distracted thoughts, Inko blinked in confusion. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her brain catching up. She held up the thick folded cloth. "It's... it's his favorite blanket," she explained, her voice beginning to tighten as she spoke. "Lieutenant Marito let the 34th Unit sneak me into Shin-awara so I could go find it." Her hands were clenching into its soft folds, Inko's gaze growing distant and unreachable. "He's never liked the texture of hospital linens so I thought... something from home might..."

She trailed off, gasping shortly for breath and composure, almost warbling by the last words, and Asseylum's heart wrenched for her. She and Inko had grown quite close in the months since the disastrous attack on Saazbaum's landing castle. Asseylum counted her now as one of her dearest friends, closer than a sister. She looked at Inko and saw her like a mirror image of herself, intimately understanding her uncertainty, acquainted with her pain. Inko's feelings for Inaho were painfully obvious, her devotion to him as deep and as strong as Asseylum's for Slaine, even without the tether of a literal soulbond connecting them.

It was a minor miracle Inko didn't hate her, for the choice she had made on the landing castle.

Asseylum offered a thin smile, and pinched, encouraging eyes. "Ah, I see." They stood in silence a moment and then Asseylum urged, "Go on, I think the doctors will let you in."

Inko didn't need to be told twice, clutching the blanket to her chest and rushing stiffly towards the ICU doors.

Asseylum's smile faded, anger pulling at her again as she watched Inko speak with the head surgeon, watched her be allowed into the recovery room and hesitantly approach the sleeping boy on the bed.

Gripping her fists, she turned on her heel, and stalked with purpose out from the hospital wing of the base.

She visited her room first, pulling off the plain soft long-sleeve blue shirt and tan slacks that she regularly wore these days. She reached into her closest for her ruffled white dress. What she was planning to do required full formal Versian regalia.

She dressed swiftly, if struggling a little bit due to Eddelrittuo's absence. (Her handmaid had been put into a schooling course with a private tutor, and was busy being instructed in math and science and literature, which Asseylum of course made her share with her when they were reunited at the end of the day.)

She marched straight into OPS when she was finished, announcing her plan at once. The UEF military hierarchy was skeptical at first, but Marito backed her up—as she knew he would—and moments later Asseylum was sitting poised and composed in front of the cameras, preparing to deliver another announcement and wartime status report.

Her stomach fluttered nervously, hands shaking where they were clasped on the table, but Asseylum forced herself to be the perfect picture of grace and calm as the TV cameras were pointed towards her, a makeup girl powdering down her face.

This was her arena. And she would fight with the weapons she had, with her words and face, her ability to call to arms or cool tempers.

"All right, Your Highness," the man behind the camera told her. She nodded at the man, watched him count down the seconds on the hand he held aloft. "In three... two..."

She heard the cameras click on and knew she was being broadcast all across the UEF feeds, piped into the TVs of civilians across the globe, and even—they often hoped—reaching up to the moon base and the landing castles still in orbit.

She inhaled slowly, then launched into the speech she'd prepared.

"This is Asseylum Vers Allusia, Princess of Mars, true heir to the Versian throne," she began, reciting her standard greeting with firm authority. "I am coming to you live from UEF headquarters, with an update on the war efforts."

She paused a moment, gripping her hands together tighter.

"Two days ago, at approximately oh-seven-hundred-hours, I led a small team of insurgents on a covert mission to breach the moon base where the Versian traitors have dug in," she said. A little bit exaggerated from the truth, but her handlers had assured her all good propaganda had a bit of embellishment involved. "On that mission, we recovered the kataphrakt pilot Inaho Kaizuka, formerly presumed missing in action after the Battle of Novosibirsk."

Bile flooded her mouth, but she swallowed it down and continued, seamlessly.

"We believe Kaizuka was being used to remote-pilot the Tharsis, the flagship of the Versian invasion fleet, which has caused devastating losses to us in our fight to restore peace between Mars and Earth. He was not doing so willingly, but under extreme duress, as a prisoner of war."

She let the horror of that revelation settle for a moment before continuing.

"I urge any Knights still loyal to Count Saazbaum to answer honestly if they can tolerate the torture and imprisonment of a child, if they are willing to have that blemish on their names and tarnish their honor so, simply for the sake of continuing this pointless conflict."

The words came so naturally to her now. Before all of this, she could never have even conceived of calling out the men she'd thought loyal to her, to the throne, questioning their motives and character. The war had made her cynical, turned her hopeful calls for peace into bitter condemnations of her own men.

Her face stayed the same, even as the anger and despair and grief stormed inside her.

"Inaho... was my friend," she said. Her voice softened, and she had trouble looking into the camera instead of past it. "He was fearless, and clever, and fought bravely. Even though he was no older than me..." she trailed. Her momentary show of vulnerability was playing well to the audience, apparently, because the producer was gesturing at her urgently, letting her know someone on the Versian side of the conflict was listening.

Asseylum hardened her eyes and looked directly into the camera, as if she could see Saazbaum's face before her. She pictured his smug, disdainful smirk and addressed her next words directly to him.

"To those who had a hand in turning him into a weapon against our peace efforts, who mercilessly used him against his own people and friends..." Her eyes burned. "You will regret hurting him," she promised. "We will continue and redouble our efforts to end this war and arrest Count Saazbaum and any of his accomplices for his crimes against the Emperor and the Versian crown, against human decency itself," she declared. "Make no mistake; those who would do such horrible despicable things are no people of mine. They bring shame to themselves, and to Vers."

Her throat was starting to tighten, but she made herself speak the words with firm clarity.

"And they will face a reckoning."

She let that hang in the air for a few portent moments.

The producer gestured for the feed to be cut, and after a moment the cameraman complied, everyone sensing the broadcast was done.

Asseylum let out a heavy exhale, her palms turning flat upon the desk she sat behind. She tugged again on her bond with Slaine, felt his automatic response back, and couldn't hide the relief that she sent out, tingling, over their connection.

He was alive and whole—both her boys were, now, her soulmate and her friend, the one she loved and the one she had to sacrifice, and she thought she finally understood Rayet's desire for revenge, to hurt someone responsible for her pain, because all that comforted her now were pleasant thoughts of a bullet in Saazbaum's skull, for what he'd done to Inaho, to Slaine, to her, what he'd made her choose, what she'd had to scramble frantically to fix.

You did this, Princess, she heard him say like an echo inside her mind. You, not me.

Asseylum shuddered, and held back her tears, staying a perfect porcelain picture of composure even as she died inside once more.

The murmuring voices and shuffling in the room were background noise on her numb ears and senses as heavy, dark guilt gnawed her from the inside out.

[paradoxicwashere]

Mr Freeze: The Man Who Lost Everything

Buckle Up everyone because I'm obsessed with the Snowman and am about to make it everyone's problem. Here's my pitch for reinventing Mr Freeze with his own mini-series.

Alright, first hurdle to jump is that I *hate* the New 52 retcon that Nora was never his wife. It's dumb and it ruins everything that makes Freeze great. I don't know exactly what Rebirth did but I'm sure it, or one of the other yearly universe ruining events was catastrophic enough to undo that stupid, stupid retcon.

So here we go! Long start up with the actual pitch a little ways down.

Mr Freeze was reinvented by Batman: The Animated Series with a new tragic origin that made the character everything he's become today. But the one problem with the character is his story is quite literally, frozen. Every appearance he is trying to cure his beloved Nora and every time he fails. Something has to change, and Nora finally being cured / awoken has already been explored beautifully in both the Adventures Continues & The Arkham Games. So we have to go in the other direction:

Out in the arctic, Victor works against the clock - freezing Nora slowed down her condition, it didn't stop it. He has one last chance, he races to finish the formula that will save Nora. He has but moments to save her.

He fails.

The Serum wasn't ready in time. He missed it, he didn't even get to say goodbye. Nora Fries has passed on, and Victor failed. He's broken, of course. He was so desperate to save her he didn't even see her go.

And then Batman arrives. The Dark Knight, perusing the hijacked Research Vessel. He finds it in the middle of a blizzard. Victor, kneeling in the center of it. His rage fueling the storm. But Batman dosen't stop him, he dosen't throw a batarang, he dosen't even raise his voice.

He offers Victor his hand. He knows what it's like to lose your entire world and dosen't want Victor to suffer alone. He couldn't ever get through to Victor when he was blinded by desperation, but now - maybe grief can bring clarity.

Later, back in Gotham - Police get a report that the villainous Mr Freeze has been spotted walking into a store on 34th and 12th. They arrive only to see a slightly surprised Florist with a $20 note on her counter. Elsewhere, Victor apologizes for being late as he lays flowers down on Nora's grave.

Victor has new purpose. He couldn't save Nora, but she isn't the only one to suffer her disease. He will finish the cure, and in his mission he will come to blows with the Company that ruined his life in the first place: GothCorp.

My Comic follows Mr Freeze re-imagined as an Anti-Hero hellbent on war with GothCorp, the corporation that turned Freeze into the cold-hearted Doctor in the first place and stole key parts of his research, research that he wants back. With a few new allies Freeze will do whatever it takes to complete his research, spending the rest of his days doing everything he can to leave a good Legacy on the world

For Nora.

TLDR: When he fails to save Nora, Mr Freeze is given a chance by Batman to honour her legacy. He turns his life around and is reborn an anti-hero with his sights set on reclaiming his stolen research from GothCorp so that he can finish his cure for the disease that plauged Nora.

And now some additional ideas:

Victor enlists the help of a desperate Gotham University student to drive his mobile laboratory and do some of the less dangerous work that he cannot do due to his inability to blend in. In trade he compensates them and helps with their degree.

Victor and Red Hood get along splendidly - and they both operate under Batman's rules that they're allowed to operate in Gotham as long as they do not kill.

The other villains didn't respect Victor as a threat until he reminds them how dangerous he can really be. He makes sure they know to stay out of his way upon his return.

GothCorp want to use Victor's cryo-tech to permentantly suspend patients of 'incurable' diseases as a way to wring money out of the families of the patients. The joys of American Healthcare.