#I need to build her

[yeyayeya]

NOOOOO

I GOT THE FEH PASS FOR SOREN

WYDM SELENA ALSO GOT ONE

NOOOO

my daughter…

[honeypiehotchner]

kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently

Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance

It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.

“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”

“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”

You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”

“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.

You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.

Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.

With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get. 

Despite this, though, things have moved…slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly. 

It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.

Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.

He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.

Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.

Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.

The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.

You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.

He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.

“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you. 

He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom. 

“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.

You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”

He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”

“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”

You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.

“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”

He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours. 

You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.

When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.

“Well,” you laugh.

“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”

You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”

“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”

“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”

“That could be forever, for all you know.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”

“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”

He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter. 

“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again. 

“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”

“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”

“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”

He smirked. “I noticed.”

You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then…”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

“And then come back here for a movie?”

“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face. 

The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 

“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”

“…kind of.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”

“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”

Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.

The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.

[heartorbit]

a fool and a sinner

[blinkpen]

fairy castle snail

[puppyeared]

i like him

[redwinterroses]

There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day. 

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though. 

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes. 

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem. 

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall. 

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye. 

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back. 

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead. 

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.” 

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!” 

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes. 

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there. 

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault. 

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light. 

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

[whenthewallfell]

~ and if I can dissolve I do ~

(hanahaki au below the cut)

AU where Peeta develops the hanahaki disease during Catching Fire and the only people that understand the significance of it are Mrs Everdeen and Haymitch, both of which he swears to secrecy since he's going to die in the arena anyway. Snow also recognises the symptoms (rumour has it he underwent surgery shortly after his time in D12) when Peeta is unable to hide it from the cameras during the Quell. The flowers are removed as part of the hijacking process, but whether it was successful or not is uncertain - dandelions are a stubborn weed after all, and their roots grow deep.

[nihilismtrcit]

✅ live in a tlc apartment in san myshuno

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Culture Shock

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lord-squiggletits]

One of my favorite parts of phase 2 (and indeed one of the few moments I resonated with IDW Prowl) was when the neutrals were coming back to Cybertron and Prowl said that he refused to let Autobots be pushed aside and overruled after they were the ones who fought for freedom for 4 million years (the exact wording escapes me atm).

And I mean, that resentment still holds true even once the colonists come on bc like. As much as it's true that Cybertron's culture is fucked up, and as funny as it can be to paint Cybertronians as a bunch of weirdos who consider trying to kill someone as a common greeting not important enough to hold a grudge over.... The colonists POV kind of pissed me off a lot of times, as did the narrative tone/implications that Cybertronians are forever warlike and doomed to die by their own hands bc it just strikes me as an extremely judgemental and unsympathetic way to deal with a huge group of people with massive war PTSD and political/social tensions that were rampant even before the war?

Like, imagine living in a society rife with bigotry and discrimination where you get locked into certain occupations and social strata based on how you were born. The political tension is so bad there's a string of assassinations of politicians and leaders. The whole planet erupts into an outright war that leads (even unintentionally) to famine and chemical/biological warfare that destroys your planet. Both sides of the war are so entrenched in their pre-war sides and resentment for each other that this war lasts 4 million years and you don't even have a home planet any more. Then your home planet gets restored and a bunch of sheltered fucks come home and go "ewww why are you so violent?? You're a bunch of freaks just go live in the wilderness so that our home can belong to The Pure People Who Weren't Stupid And Evil Enough To Be Trapped In War" and then a bunch of colonists from places that know nothing about your history go "lol you people are so weird?? 🤣🤣 I don't get why y'all are fighting can't you just like, stop??? Oh okay you people are just fucked up and evil and stupid then" ((their planets are based on colonialism where their Primes wiped out the native populations btw whereas the Autobots and OP in particular fought to save organics. But that never gets brought up as a point in their favor)) as if the damage of a lifetime of war and a society that was broken even before the war can just magically go away now that the war is over.

Prowl fucking sucks but he was basically the only person that pointed out the injustice of that.

And then from then on out most of the characters from other colonies like Caminus and wherever else are going "i fucking hate you and your conflicts" w/ people like literal-nobody Slide and various Camiens getting to just sit there lecturing Optimus about how Cybertronians are too violent for their own good and how their conflicts are stupid, with only brief sympathetic moments where the Cybertronians get to be recognized as their own ppl who deserve sympathy before going right back to being lambasted.

Like I literally struggled to enjoy the story at multiple points because there was only so much I could take of the characters I knew and loved being raked over coals constantly while barely getting to defend themselves or be defended by the narrative so like. It was just fucking depressing and a little infuriating to read exRID/OP

[gremnda]

[is incredibly late to the party] Pirates, you say?

[confused-stars]

Wriothesley as an extension of the Fortress itself

a living, breathing part of its organism, his heart beating in tandem with its machinery. that deep hum that's always present in his mind and lulls him to sleep at night is Meropide's ancient power coursing through his veins and he doesn't even know it, let alone understand it

he was a blank slate when he arrived, a non-person by his own choice, and so the Fortress claimed him as her own

sometimes he seems to know exactly what is happening five floors below, and inmates joke that it's some sort of magic, but they know that the Duke is simply well-informed and uses the in-built security system to keep on top of things... surely that's all there is to it

a young Wriothesley was once pursued by a handful of other inmates who wanted to kill him for a perceived slight. he ducked into the shadowed hallways of the lower levels, took turn after turn, and eventually made his way to a safe room where he could hide for the night. the next day, he learned that the other inmates never made it to their morning shifts

his footing is always sure on the walkways, he never loses his way, and he can always tell when there's something up with the machinery at first glance

sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with the taste of copper in his mouth, and he mistakes it for a memory of blood... but every time, he gets up and he finds that something has happened that requires his attention - usually the violent kind

he doesn't think there's anything special to it all, but Sigewinne sees. Sigewinne knows. she'll cross that bridge in a few decades, when Wriothesley realizes that he's stopped aging

[lode-builds]

glass cathedral - an experiment in concepts and shapes and textures or whatever and refusing to ever ever finish the back of the build EVER

[gordon-freeman-phd]

It's time to suit up, Gordon.

[seagull-scribbles]

💥Loud and Proud💥

[nevertheless-moving]

Hesina Willshaper AU

Step one canon divergence: Amaram's army doesn't do the kind thing. Kaladin's listed next of kin are sent a letter stiffly informing them that their son is a deserter and, thanks to the highmarshall's mercy, has been sold into slavery.

Step two canon divergence: a light spren has started following Hesina around.

The letter reaches hearthstone.

Hesina cries the bones of the first ideal through labor pangs. Their wretched diamond lamp grows slightly dimmer during childbirth.

Hesina and Lirin discuss if there's anyway they could possibly find their son and pay his slave debt. They're not optimistic.

Hesina talks with her lightspren.

Lirin and Hesina talk again about trying to find their son, now that Oroden is starting to be weaned.

Hesina appears to have grown taller. No one but the two of them seem to be aware but they're worried other future changes might be more noticeable.

Hesina and Lirin realize that she can mold rock as if it was clay with stormlight. A spark of hope for freeing their son emerges.

The two leave town.

They find a slave market in the nearest city. They see other parent's sons, but not their own.

Hesina swears to free those in bondage. Stormlight starts coming easier.

They make a tunnel. Rebellion follows. Lirin is horrified by the violence (the violence is not actually that bad all things considered. a couple guards dead. some bystanders frightened. Fair amount of property damage as they rob the military barracks food supply, steal every sphere that's not nailed down. and also steal the spheres that are nailed down. (Lirin won't admit it but the stealing from lamps part is kindof fun.)).

Many of those they freed flee. Some return to slavery willingly, scared of retribution. Many decide to follow the Radiant woman who has vowed to see others like them freed.

The group proceed to the next town. They find another slave market. They make a tunnel. There is more resistance than last time, clearly they were warned something might happened. Hesina kills a man.

Lirin is terrified by what his wife is becoming.

Hesina swears to shelter those without homes. The lightspren forms an unbreakable hammer, perfect for knocking crem free from buildings. And for knocking down men.

A now larger motley group seeks shelter in a mountain town razed in one of Alethkar's many skirmishes over the last decades. Hesina builds homes. Lirin begs her to stay here, to stop fighting before she goes to far down this path, not to go to war. The slaves they've freed are split, many wanting to stay, hide, some wanting to fight and free more, with a radiant at their head, there's a real chance to change things. Hesina lingers, practicing, spends some time falling in and out of shadesmar.

Lirin and Hesina separate.

Lirin stays with Oroden and the noncombatants. Hesina leads those who want to fight to another city, still trying to find their son, still trying to free everyone's children.

The town settles into a routine. Hesina and Lirin miss one another. This is the first time they've gone longer than two days without seeing each other in the last 25 years, and the two days was only when Lirin had to travel to where someone had overturned a cart on the road nearby and Hesina had to stay and watch the children, too young to travel. besides that, it had been every day. they keep turning to talk to each other.

While the army is gone, the free town is attacked by those trying to reclaim her property.

Hesina swims deliberately through shadesmar for the first time. reaches lirin just in time.

Lirin accepts that not fighting won't stop the violence. (It breaks him just a little bit)

Hesina shouts that one person's freedom ends where another's begins. She vows to fight against powers which would rather see their people in cages then homes. A thousand light spren rise up to grant her strength.

(yes I know she's moving fast through the oaths. but she's always been a thoughtful woman and she raised two children who asked difficult questions and now shes mother to another several hundred. honestly she had already worked through some of these concepts before they became actionable on such a grand scale.)

Lirin vows to support his wife through whatever trials the Almighty seems inclined to put her through.

The lightspren, who has started to get some memories back, remembers Oathgate Spren not terribly far from here by physical realm measurements, guarding a hidden human city

the stone remembers the way the radiants once traveled.

The path to a kingdom in the sky is slow — there are many cages to break on the way.

Kaladin doesn't know it right away, because people weren't exactly telling slaves about the freedom riots, but slave wagons start having harder and harder times reaching the shattered planes after him.

Someone mocks Lirin for having a wife so determined to pursue the masculine art of war. Lirin gets pissy and decides to show them by learning to read and write to help support the administrative side of his wife's kingdom wide asskicking.

The highprinces lead a fairly successful misinformation campaign about the slave riots, lots of accusations of rampant violence, the dregs of society lashing out, you can probably imagine

The ongoing rebellion is large enough that word trickles to the bridge crews, encouraging bridge four's hope for escaping, while also making it substantially more daunting, as the crews are even better guarded than canon.

Rumors of a female radiant swirl around. Most people assume it's a woman in shardplate with some sort of tunneling fabrial, which is still pretty crazy, but several major players Take Note

A very large and tired huddled mass of people reach Urithiru. there's just enough squires, and two new willshapers with their own oaths, to make tunnels through the shattered planes and reach the oathgate without being seen by the alethi armies

the parshendi army is another story, but some are willing to take a chance listening to the neshua kadal, and come with them.

The political implications of Dalinar freeing 1000 slaves is slightly more complex, especially considering the rebellions have been impacting Sadeas the hardest

About a week after being freed, Kaladin hires a spanreed intermediary to write home and find out if his hometown is alright (again, a lot of misinformation and rumors about the violence of the riots)

Is informed by Laral that his family left town looking for him shortly before the riots started, were presumed dead

Kaladin is under the impression that 1) his parents are dead because of him 2) the Rebellion is not the righteous fallback plan that he and the men were hoping it was.

Hesina has many reasons to go to the shattered planes. Nearest part of the trade network for food and necessary goods. Many slaves to be freed from there, and a part of her still hopes to find her son, even thought its been so long. Home of Alethkar's political leaders, the source of Alethkar's slavery.

I have spent. A LOT of time imagining many possible reunions between kaladin and his mom in my highly specific high oath hesenia au. She has a couple faces she could wear when visiting the planes. Brightlady. Radiant. Cagebreaker. Queen of Urithiru (not her real title, they're tentatively trying the Listener council model, but they know what the Alethi will understand). Even darkeyed mother, if she and Lirin approach slowly from a different direction. Honestly, pleased as I am with all of the above, a lot is flexible, the key here is kaladin going "MOM??" In some fashion One possible Reunion Here

Thank you @sorchasolas for conversation and the urithiru ideas and for leading me to actually write all this down <3