#collapse. losing foundation. change.

[iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker]

Ok, ok I get it. Calm yo tits. There’s no need to take that tone with me, and there’s no need to scream at that volume 😳 The attitude 🤣 Major Arcana across the board 😳

[ereborne]

Rejoice!  Rejoice!

I have been granted permission to do Periodic Experimental Restructuring of the Greater Database!

If I save my changes too soon I will have to redo everything coming from HR going to Payroll by hand by myself while sobbing, and if I save my changes too late IT will disarticulate all my limbs!  But within the ideal window, I can do anything I want!!

The actual literal word-for-word directive I received from the IT supervisor was “if you’re willing to put that on your head, then sure. go ham”.  I’m gonna go ham.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 4: Mend.

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: None?

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words: 3.6k+

A/N: So... My brain did a thing and I just went with it!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

Broken.

It was a simple word. Just a series of sounds combined together. Nothing more and nothing less than the strange association of letters that came to form a particular meaning.

It had been a long time since you'd experienced the devastating impact of a simple word.

Broken.

There was a distant echo to the word.

The frame was broken.

This frame that had been with you for so many years that today your brain no longer knew how to depict the passage of time. It was nothing more than a shadow. A shadow that seemed to stretch on indefinitely, so far away from you that you wondered whether it had a beginning or an end. All that remained was a sensation of emptiness. An emptiness that deepened at the back of your skull, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness of a lost soul. Or rather, was it an ocean? An abyss so deep and vast that the mere idea of plunging into it made you dizzy. It was like walking on the precipice of a canyon, and the fear of heights gripped your stomach every time you dared a brief glance towards that bottomless void.

Every time you looked back, you felt as if you were sinking deeper into the abyss known as time.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"(Name)!"

You ignored the throaty young voice trying to get your attention. It was the first time in 5 years that you'd found yourself back in the middle of the rubble of an abandoned city, and you'd spotted a building in the distance that looked promising for what you were looking for.

In 5 years, the city had changed drastically. Vegetation had begun to cover the walls of houses and plants of all kinds had invaded any building, standing or not, that crossed your path.

You had to be careful. The asphalt that had once been a heavily trafficked road was cracked all over, creating crevasses that were sometimes invisible because of the flora that had embedded in them.

"(Name) wait! It's dangerous!"

The young ape was doing his best to keep up with you, but you were way ahead of him. So much ahead that he kept losing sight of you as you navigated between the ruins of a recently extinguished human civilization. He congratulated himself on being able to follow your scent, because soon, despite his best efforts, you had disappeared into the meanders of partially collapsed buildings.

You moved deeper into the center of the city and finally came upon the destroyed front of the building you intended to investigate.

You remembered that, at the time, this building was nothing other than a shopping mall and what you were looking for could only be found inside such a structure. This was the third one you'd visited, and if the other two hadn't been a success, you were still holding out hope that this one would be.

You looked around, looking for a clue among the branches and leaves that had covered the walls of the stores that met your expectations. The window fronts were broken and the glass cracked under your weight with every step you took as you ventured further inside the mall.

The hurried footsteps of the ape travelling with you suddenly echoed through the building, and you watched him move from quadruped to biped in a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with curiosity and wariness at this place he had never set foot in before.

There was plenty to admire. The building still stood feverishly on its foundations, and no fewer than 5 floors rose above your heads. The once luminous signs were shaky, sometimes suspended by a single live wire or fallen over, the neon lights forming the letters of the store names broken and detached from their bases. Numerous plants climbed the walls and twisted around stair railings and poles and one tree, a poplar if you remembered the name correctly, had even taken root in the center of the hall.

"What… is that?" The young ape asked, slowly moving closer to you as if to protect himself from the immensity of a place evoking a past that only you had known perfectly.

You were focused on pulling out the stems of a wisteria that had woven itself around a large panel showing the floor plan of the building. As you seemed to be ignoring him, he leaned over the plan, taking advantage of your proximity to gently bump your arm with his slightly bent hand.

The slight pressure he applied to attract your attention had the desired effect, and you ended up meeting his green eyes. A look that kept reminding you of his father.

"A shopping mall." You answered him before focusing again on reading the plan.

He huffed as if in agreement, even though he had no idea what a shopping mall was. He got down on all fours again, deciding it was best to leave you to your business, but he didn't have the heart to venture too far from you either.

It was a world he didn't know very well.

Sure, he'd had all the stories told by Maurice, Rocket and sometimes, when you were willing, by you. But the stories were… stories. It was maybe the first time you'd allowed him to go with you beyond the woods. Maybe because you felt it was time for him to get to know the outside world? Or maybe because he'd grown big enough and strong enough to manage on his own in an unfamiliar environment?

When he watched you, he couldn't help noticing that he wasn't yet as tall as you when he stood on his own two legs. Another year? Less? Before he finally reached your height? He'd learned that his father was a few centimetres taller than you, and from that day on, it had almost become a personal goal for him: to become as big and as imposing as his father, a strong, powerful and reliable ape who could be trusted in all circumstances.

No one had ever forced this goal on him, and no one had ever expected him to be exactly like his father. He'd put this idea into his head all by himself, because he wanted only one thing: to be worthy of his father.

For now, he might still be too young to carry on the legacy, but this was his challenge: to prove that he could embody his father's values with pride.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as you started walking again, beckoning him to follow, and he wasted no time in following in your footsteps, as if he'd become your shadow.

" This way. Come on!"

You took the stairs and, eager to show himself braver than he felt at the moment, Cornelius decided to take the lead, carefully checking that the steps on which you would put your feet would hold your weight. Reaching the second-to-last step, he considered the staircase safe and jumped straight onto the landing, looking back to watch your progress. As you drew closer to the last step, he held out his hand to offer you his assistance, which you might consider useless given the ease with which you were moving, but he offered it anyway out of pure sympathy.

You smiled kindly and accepted, not unexpectedly, slipping your hand into his.

It was a habit. When Cornelius was younger, he'd developed the habit of dragging you with him wherever he went, holding you firmly by the hand. At first, you always had your back bent, having to adapt your posture to his small stature, and even more so when he impatiently ran on all fours to drag you to whatever he absolutely had to show you. Then, as he grew older, you managed to regain an upright posture, and despite the maturity he was gradually gaining right up to the present day, he would always take your hand to guide you to a place he wanted to show you.

He was proud to be able to hold your hand, just as he was proud to have Maurice and Rocket with him to teach him to become an adult ape, a future leader. You who had known his father, as Maurice and Rocket knew him. Being able to hold your hand was like being able to hold his father's hand. A form of continuity that he nurtured.

He asked you for directions in sign language, and after giving them to him, he guided you, keeping the lead.

Cornelius was still young. You could see it in the way he moved. His body was still trying to find a balance between the young ape he was and the adult he was about to become. His shoulders weren't as broad as his father's, and the muscles in his back still lacked strength, but that would soon change. Seeing him take the initiative to guide you through an unfamiliar place made you feel proud of what he was becoming. You knew him well, the unknown had never been his forte, but witnessing him defy the fear that once would have made him hide behind your legs, you could only be proud of him.

The store you were looking for suddenly appeared in front of your eyes and you stopped abruptly, causing a twinge in your shoulder as Cornelius continued forward. You gritted your teeth and the hissing breath you produced stopped Cornelius dead in his tracks.

"There it is!"

You withdrew your hand from his and began to rummage around the room. Cornelius followed your every move, not really knowing what you were so eagerly looking for. He simply felt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

And then, a sigh of joy escaped your mouth and Cornelius came over to crouch right beside you, nuzzling his shoulder against yours for some sort of comfort, he leaned forward slightly to observe what you were holding in your hands.

A strange square object surrounded by a piece of wood, slightly cracked on one corner. While you still held the object in your hands, he traced the outline of the wood to stop at the cracked corner.

"Broken?" he asked.

And you smiled at him, and shrugged.

"We can mend it." You answered, placing the wooden frame in your bag.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You were gone.

Not only had you left the house, Noa had heard you call your horse, and after a few minutes, the pounding of hooves leaving your clearing left him shaken. Raka gave him a quizzical look, but found himself without an answer.

He didn't understand. Had he said or done something wrong? Was it so bad that you decided to leave on horseback at nightfall?

His eyes fell on the blanket. It hid the object of all troubles. He was unsure.

If you'd put that blanket over it, you certainly didn't want him to look.

But on the other hand…

You were gone.

As if to give himself some form of courage, he let out a heavy sigh through his nose, determined to understand what was so precious about this object.

He gently pushed back the blanket. The broken pieces of wood clung to the fabric and fell back onto the transparent plate as they hung slightly in the air, gravity doing its work.

The tinkling drew Raka's attention, and he came closer to peer at Noa tracing the outline of a square shape with his fingers.

Noa picked up an angular piece of wood and noted that the corner was cracked too, then his eyes fell on the transparent plate. He pressed his hand against it, a cool sensation emanating from the object, which also formed a square. Its corners were sharp, and he concluded that the wood was used to protect against cuts.

And then, beneath the transparent plate, there was an image. The half-light didn't bother him and he could make out the silhouette of a… he suddenly grabbed the image from under the plate and pulled it up to his eyes.

An ape.

Noa quickly stepped up to Raka, handing him the image. A strange sensation bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't decide whether it was simply curiosity or excitement at his discovery.

Noa rushed through his signs, alternating the words "why", "how" and "who" as he addressed Raka. The latter was trying to remain calm in the face of Noa's restlessness, and decided to take the picture and turn his back on him, to protect himself from Noa's insistent gaze.

It hadn't taken Noa long to realize that this ape, whoever he was and wherever he was today, was the reason you'd felt such emotion. However, even if he had understood this, new questions piled up in his head and you became more and more mysterious.

"I've never seen such a thing." Raka stated after pondering the question. "Perhaps, the image of a book?" He asked then. "No." Noa suddenly replied, ignoring the wave of pride he'd felt at having found something Raka didn't know about. He resumed in sign language. "Echo was sad. I could see it. In her eyes."

Raka didn't seem convinced and Noa frowned, almost annoyed by the questioning Raka carried in a simple look at him. He pointed at the image, this time using his voice to make himself heard.

"Important." He began. "More than petals."

He paused, studying the image carefully. The ape looked… strong. Even through a simple piece of paper, Noa recognized that this ape was a powerful leader, like his father.

His father. A thought flashed through Noa's mind and he felt as if he'd forgotten why he'd come this far. A feeling of guilt scratched at the back of his mind, accusing him of taking too long to fulfill the promise he'd made to his father, in front of his gravestone. Noa had to close his eyes for a moment to focus again on the here and now.

"The image of a book." Raka persisted. "Books are too old for her to know."

If Raka was right, the emotion you'd expressed no longer made any sense, and Noa wasn't ready to admit that maybe you really didn't make any sense and were just like every echo he'd ever come across.

" You know them. Why not her, too?" Noa signed.

Raka seemed to ponder the issue for a moment before handing the image back to Noa.

"Human complicated. Tough to know what she knows, or doesn't know." Raka said.

Noa sighed, almost defeated. He was right about that, but he couldn't get his mind off the idea that this object was very important to you and knowing it was broken had triggered an emotion in you, and he had, for some reason that was completely obscure to him, an urge to hold on to that emotion. It might be the only way for him to get what he wanted: to get out of here with your horse.

Raka wanted to wait for you to speak. Noa was done waiting. He looked again at the broken object and wood around him. Maybe if he could fix it, you'd listen to him.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

It had taken you all night and most of the morning.

It had to cease. Those two apes had to leave your house and go back to wherever they came from, so you'd never again have to feel the things they'd awakened by their mere presence.

So you headed south. Beyond the river.

You'd gone south because the only way to see them go was for them to get a horse. You had once again strayed from the endless activities of the lists on your wall. But it had to stop. You were convinced of that. Once they were gone, you could go on with your activities. Once they were gone, you'd find again the ease with which you'd let yourself be carried along by time, and you'd no longer be on the verge of falling off the precipice every evening, in front of Caesar's own eyes.

You had returned just as the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky. A rope perfectly tight around the pommel of your saddle and a mare tied to the end of that rope who had stopped struggling to get back to her herd.

She was wild, but the proximity of your horse comforted her, and as you offered her apples to encourage her forward, she eventually gave in enough to follow you obediently without pulling back.

Once you'd reached your clearing, you untied the rope and tied it around your horse's neck, confident that the mare would stick around. She stayed away from you though, not wanting to be touched yet, and you knew it would take some time. However, you could congratulate yourself on the experience you had gained in the art of making a horse docile before you could train it. A few days, at most, and you could teach her to bear a saddle and bridle without biting. A few more days and she'd be ready to carry a human… an ape, on her back.

After removing your horse's saddle, you let him graze and showed the mare around.

Seeing her following your horse with no fuss made you feel as if you'd finally untied a knot too heavy to bear.

Yes, everything was going to be all right.

You sighed with relief and set off to find the two apes you'd left inside your house the day before.

Ignoring the aching and heavy feeling in your eyes, you pushed open your front door to find only an empty room. The previously loaned blankets lay neatly on your table.

The blankets.

Like a light bulb that's just switched on, your eyes darted to the fireplace and then to the blanket left on the floor, pushed to one side, the frame it previously covered vanished.

Your heart leapt into your ribcage to remind you of its existence, and a feeling of sheer panic rushed through your chest.

No, no, no.

They couldn't have done this. They couldn't have taken it away from you.

You rushed outside and before you could set foot on the threshold of your home, a large hand held you firmly in place before you made hard contact with its owner's massive torso.

Your eyes fluttered up to his green ones, and Noa caught his first glimpse of fear in the depths of your irises. He watched you while you no longer seemed to know where you were because of the sudden encounter, and when he saw in your eyes that you were coming back to your senses, he let his hand fall back along his body.

One step back.

You needed to find a space… less shared with his own, and you decided to take another step backwards.

Words tried to form on the tip of your tongue, urging you to ask him what he'd done with your frame, but these words quickly fell into the void of silence as Noa slowly handed you your frame, which he held delicately in his second hand.

You found yourself lacking the words that had rushed to you as your brain tried to put the pieces of the puzzle back together again.

You blinked once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

But no, you weren't dreaming, the broken frame you'd left under your blanket had come back to you in one piece.

Noa felt you were suddenly… overwhelmed. Your usually lifeless gaze seemed to find its way back to life, with a wave of emotion that you were obviously having trouble sorting out in your mind.

So he had seen sadness and fear, and now he saw a tide of relief rising in your eyes until it formed the first drops in the corner of them. But you were like… frozen. You looked at the square object in his hand as if suddenly you had no right to touch it, even though it belonged to you.

And then you looked at him, almost encouraging him to say something before you crumbled.

"Fixed." Noa almost whispered, letting his husky voice trail off as softly as possible, as if he didn't want to break anything inside of you, and he carried on, using his free hand to show himself, almost proud of what he'd just accomplished, silently telling you " me, I fixed it".

You couldn't help but look at him, letting him probe everything that came to your mind, as if to silently thank him for saving you from forgetting. Tears forming beads of rain on the edge of your eyelids, you signed back, revealing your relative knowledge of sign language in the process.

"Thank you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and the overwhelming emotion you offered Noa gave him enough courage to ask you one of the questions running through his mind.

"The image… who is it?"

Noa felt as if an eternity had just passed in silence as you pondered revealing his name. Did you have to tell him his name?

You gently slid your fingers around the frame, which had regained a youthful shape, and Noa almost felt like holding it back to force you to tell him who this ape was, but he didn't need to, your voice rising in a faint note.

"His name was…" You started, swallowing hard in anticipation of the emotion that awaited you around the corner. "His name was Caesar."

And this was surely the first time, after years and years, that you'd uttered his name to introduce him to someone else.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Insurance companies are making climate risk worse

Tomorrow (November 29), I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

Conservatives may deride the "reality-based community" as a drag on progress and commercial expansion, but even the most noxious pump-and-dump capitalism is supposed to remain tethered to reality by two unbreakable fetters: auditing and insurance:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reality-based_community

No matter how much you value profit over ethics or human thriving, you still need honest books – even if you never show those books to the taxman or the marks. Even an outright scammer needs to know what's coming in and what's going out so they don't get caught in a liquidity trap (that is, "broke"), or overleveraged ("broke," again) exposed to market changes (you guessed it: "broke").

Unfortunately for capitalism, auditing is on its deathbed. The market is sewn up by the wildly corrupt and conflicted Big Four accounting firms that are the very definition of too big to fail/too big to jail. They keep cooking books on behalf of management to the detriment of investors. These double-entry fabrications conceal rot in giant, structurally important firms until they implode spectacularly and suddenly, leaving workers, suppliers, customers and investors in a state of utter higgeldy-piggeldy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/29/great-andersens-ghost/#mene-mene-bezzle

In helping corporations defraud institutional investors, auditors are facilitating mass scale millionaire-on-billionaire violence, and while that may seem like the kind of fight where you're happy to see either party lose, there are inevitably a lot of noncombatants in the blast radius. Since the Enron collapse, the entire accounting sector has turned to quicksand, which is a big deal, given that it's what industrial capitalism's foundations are anchored to. There's a reason my last novel was a thriller about forensic accounting and Big Tech:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

But accounting isn't the only bedrock that's been reduced to slurry here in capitalism's end-times. The insurance sector is meant to be an unshakably rational enterprise, imposing discipline on the rest of the economy. Sure, your company can do something stupid and reckless, but the insurance bill will be stonking, sufficient to consume the expected additional profits.

But the crash of 2008 made it clear that the largest insurance companies in the world were capable of the same wishful thinking, motivated reasoning, and short-termism that they were supposed to prevent in every other business. Without AIG – one of the largest insurers in the world – there would have been no Great Financial Crisis. The company knowingly underwrote hundreds of billions of dollars in junk bonds dressed up as AAA debt, and required a $180b bailout.

Still, many of us have nursed an ember of hope that the insurance sector would spur Big Finance and its pocket governments into taking the climate emergency seriously. When rising seas and wildfires and zoonotic plagues and famines and rolling refugee crises make cities, businesses, and homes uninsurable risks, then insurers will stop writing policies and the doom will become undeniable. Money talks, bullshit walks.

But while insurers have begun to withdraw from the most climate-endangered places (or crank up premiums), the net effect is to decrease climate resilience and increase risk, creating a "climate risk doom loop" that Advait Arun lays out brilliantly for Phenomenal World:

https://www.phenomenalworld.org/analysis/the-doom-loop/

Part of the problem is political: as people move into high-risk areas (flood-prone coastal cities, fire-threatened urban-wildlife interfaces), politicians are pulling out all the stops to keep insurers from disinvesting in these high-risk zones. They're loosening insurance regs, subsidizing policies, and imposing "disaster risk fees" on everyone in the region.

But the insurance companies themselves are simply not responding aggressively enough to the rising risk. Climate risk is correlated, after all: when everyone in a region is at flood risk, then everyone will be making a claim on the insurance company when the waters come. The insurance trick of spreading risk only works if the risks to everyone in that spread aren't correlated.

Perversely, insurance companies are heavily invested in fossil fuel companies, these being reliable money-spinners where an insurer can park and grow your premiums, on the assumption that most of the people in the risk pool won't file claims at the same time. But those same fossil-fuel assets produce the very correlated risk that could bring down the whole system.

The system is in trouble. US claims from "natural disasters" are topping $100b/year – up from $4.6b in 2000. Home insurance premiums are up (21%!), but it's not enough, especially in drowning Florida and Texas (which is also both roasting and freezing):

https://grist.org/economics/as-climate-risks-mount-the-insurance-safety-net-is-collapsing/

Insurers who put premiums up to cover this new risk run into a paradox: the higher premiums get, the more risk-tolerant customers get. When flood insurance is cheap, lots of homeowners will stump up for it and create a big, uncorrelated risk-pool. When premiums skyrocket, the only people who buy flood policies are homeowners who are dead certain their house is gonna get flooded out and soon. Now you have a risk pool consisting solely of highly correlated, high risk homes. The technical term for this in the insurance trade is: "bad."

But it gets worse: people who decide not to buy policies as prices go up may be doing their own "motivated reasoning" and "mispricing their risk." That is, they may decide, "If I can't afford to move, and I can't afford to sell my house because it's in a flood-zone, and I can't afford insurance, I guess that means I'm going to live here and be uninsured and hope for the best."

This is also bad. The amount of uninsured losses from US climate disaster "dwarfs" insured losses:

https://www.reuters.com/business/environment/hurricanes-floods-bring-120-billion-insurance-losses-2022-2023-01-09/

Here's the doom-loop in a nutshell:

As carbon emissions continue to accumulate, more people are put at risk of climate disaster, while the damages from those disasters intensifies. Vulnerability will drive disinvestment, which in turn exacerbates vulnerability.

Also: the browner and poorer you are, the worse you have it: you are impacted "first and worst":

https://www.climaterealityproject.org/frontline-fenceline-communities

As Arun writes, "Tinkering with insurance markets will not solve their real issues—we must patch the gaping holes in the financial system itself." We have to end the loop that sees the poorest places least insured, and the loss of insurance leading to abandonment by people with money and agency, which zeroes out the budget for climate remediation and resiliency where it is most needed.

The insurance sector is part of the finance industry, and it is disinvesting in climate-endagered places and instead doubling down on its bets on fossil fuels. We can't rely on the insurance sector to discipline other industries by generating "price signals" about the true underlying climate risk. And insurance doesn't just invest in fossil fuels – they're also a major buyer of municipal and state bonds, which means they're part of the "bond vigilante" investors whose decisions constrain the ability of cities to raise and spend money for climate remediation.

When American cities, territories and regions can't float bonds, they historically get taken over and handed to an unelected "control board" who represents distant creditors, not citizens. This is especially true when the people who live in those places are Black or brown – think Puerto Rico or Detroit or Flint. These control board administrators make creditors whole by tearing the people apart.

This is the real doom loop: insurers pull out of poor places threatened by climate disasters. They invest in the fossil fuels that worsen those disasters. They join with bond vigilantes to force disinvestment from infrastructure maintenance and resiliency in those places. Then, the next climate disaster creates more uninsured losses. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Finance and insurance are betting heavily on climate risk modeling – not to avert this crisis, but to ensure that their finances remain intact though it. What's more, it won't work. As climate effects get bigger, they get less predictable – and harder to avoid. The point of insurance is spreading risk, not reducing it. We shouldn't and can't rely on insurance creating price-signals to reduce our climate risk.

But the climate doom-loop can be put in reverse – not by market spending, but by public spending. As Arun writes, we need to create "a global investment architecture that is safe for spending":

https://tanjasail.wordpress.com/2023/10/06/a-world-safe-for-spending/

Public investment in emissions reduction and resiliency can offset climate risk, by reducing future global warming and by making places better prepared to endure the weather and other events that are locked in by past emissions. A just transition will "loosen liquidity constraints on investment in communities made vulnerable by the financial system."

Austerity is a bad investment strategy. Failure to maintain and improve infrastructure doesn't just shift costs into the future, it increases those costs far in excess of any rational discount based on the time value of money. Public institutions should discipline markets, not the other way around. Don't give Wall Street a veto over our climate spending. A National Investment Authority could subordinate markets to human thriving:

https://democracyjournal.org/arguments/industrial-policy-requires-public-not-just-private-equity/

Insurance need not be pitted against human survival. Saving the cities and regions whose bonds are held by insurance companies is good for those companies: "Breaking the climate risk doom loop is the best disaster insurance policy money can buy."

I found Arun's work to be especially bracing because of the book I'm touring now, The Lost Cause, a solarpunk novel set in a world in which vast public investment is being made to address the climate emergency that is everywhere and all at once:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

There is something profoundly hopeful about the belief that we can do something about these foreseeable disasters – rather than remaining frozen in place until the disaster is upon us and it's too late. As Rebecca Solnit says, inhabiting this place in your imagination is "Completely delightful. Neither utopian nor dystopian, it portrays life in SoCal in a future woven from our successes (Green New Deal!), failures (climate chaos anyway), and unresolved conflicts (old MAGA dudes). I loved it."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/28/re-re-reinsurance/#useless-price-signals

[billskeis]

Heyy, I saw that you write for Tokio Hotel and I just-----

I have a request, just something I've been thinking. 2005 Tom with a female reader who broke her leg. Like she's part of a band too, and during a show she ends up falling off the stage and breaking her leg. And her fans are super worried and sad for her, but Tom takes good care of her. All fluff and such.

Thank you <3

˖ ࣪ ⟢ a broken leg & nurse tom

it was going well, super fucking well. the venue was overflowing with fangirls and fanboys as tokio hotel’s world tour boomed internationally. the crowd was going wild, as everyone got their groove on, shrieks and screams echoing, sweat and tears were shared. the night had always been young when the five of you performed.

pressing the mic into his lips, bill smiles at you and crowd during the encore, “thank you, berlin! for an amazing night!” waving to the hundreds—no, thousands of people presented before all of you.

he turns to you for a speech, expectance as it was rehearsed, but you were too busy looking behind you to tom, who was already watching you, with the same expression as your twin brother. he signified to you that it had went silent and everyone was now waiting for you to say something, “oh—OH! i just wanted to say.. you guys were amazing, and the whole reason we are here today, we love you!!!”

as you ran, you ran across the stage with bill, waving a goodbye to the many fans that you adored as much as you adored them. however, the adrenaline seemed to have gotten the best of you, a turn for the worse.

losing your footing, your body had unconsciously expected you to take another step upon the platform, only to be meet with the absence of a foundation, leading you to fall at least a metre down, hitting the ground with a significant impact.

pain. pain is all you could feel, your vision now blurred as your head spun from the unexpected crash. hazy, you skim around your surroundings to then avert all attention to your leg. it’s broken, it’s. fucking. broken. you wanted to scream, scream so loud that could break glass miles away, but you didn’t. it just, wouldn’t come out. gasps and voices concerns exchange through the crowd from your sudden collapse. everyone was worried.

“y/n!?! Y/N!!—oh my gosh, tom!!” bill screamed as he made it down to the platform first.

you winced, tears streaming down your face as you bit your lip, chewing so hard at the muscle blood threatened to bleed. balling at the grass beneath your body, you do everything in your power to distract yourself from the pain.

tom jumps off from on the platform, quickly followed by georg and gustav who all surrounded you. immediately, he scooped you within his arms, a tight grasp on your body to ensure your safety. he held you with no struggle, as if you were light as a feather. pressing you closer to his body, all tom could do was breathe. he couldn’t speak, he didn’t know the right words to say. obviously he wasn’t going to ask you if you were okay, that’s ridiculous.

with how close he shoved your body into his, you might as well be one body altogether. the pain was excruciating, overwhelming, and you could feel your consciousness blacking out, eyelids becoming heavy to hold, all you heard before you passed out was ‘i got you y/n. you’re with me now—someone get me a fucking ambulance!”

okay. now let’s get to the aftercare! tom, is crazycrazycrazy overprotective of you now. he BABIES YOU. even after being put in a cast, he literally would not let you get up to anything, even if it was as simple as going to the washroom or changing your clothes. he 100% would do it for you without hesitance.

“y/n. i will tell you once more and continue to tell you again. you cannot get up from this bed.”

“but tom..!”

“no buts, now lemme get you those snacks that you like so much ‘kay?”

*a month later*

“lemme get that for you schatzi,”

“tom. are you serious?” as the item you reached to grab was set beside you on the table.

spoils you fucking rotten. during your recovery, he stays every night to watch over you. again, he cannot take his eyes off you for one second or you’ll try to do something of your own accord again! c’mon now, let the man do his thing :3

cause every morning, he will go and get you flowers.

“you bought me flowers?”

“you didn’t think i’d buy you flowers?”

*your room is filled to the brim with bouquets of them*

every afternoon, he will go and put on a movie that you know he hates but you like because you deserve it.

“since when did you like the notebook?”

“i don’t.”

“then why watch it?”

“because you like it!”

“you don’t HAVE to watch it because i like it,”

“there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, y/n.”

every night, he will bathe you, soothing the water over your body as he gently washes you, soft touches of his hand on your skin to put you at total ease. would also 10/10 trace his fingers over your cast, and draw on it. stupid silly little doodles of you and the band, and your initials put in a heart together >\\\\<.

“feeling better baby?”

“mmhm! thank you tomi, i really appreciate it.”

“yeah? where’s my kiss :D??”

he found you crying one night because the pain of your leg, on top of not being able to do anything involving the band and helping with music just became oh so overbearing. so when he saw tears fall down your face as you wept quietly, swipes them off with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he looks to you with total admiration.

“i just—i feel so useless!”

“you’re not a burden. this isn’t your fault.” as he pats your head, now running his fingers through your hair, “let’s worry about this stuff after your leg is fixed hm?”

“but..”

“baby.” he looked at you with a stern but gentle look. he just wanted you to know that you’re his girl and he and the band would NEVER think you were bringing them down.

“okay..”

“that’s my girl.”

your fans were so concerned. from the incident to your recovery journey, many would constantly ask on any social platform how you were doing. however, tom was on top of it all. it’s so cute, he would constantly post selfies of you and him together, either watching a show, sitting around the house, at some point the healing was going well that you were able to go back to the studio to record.

the fans ate that shit up, knowing them, they definitely read into the pictures too much that they examined and noticed EVERY. SINGLE. LITTLE. DETAIL there could’ve been in each update photo. from your casted leg being propped up from within his lap, the hand holdings, how in the photos it’d just be the two of you. a new ship was set sailing that’s for sure!

*comments under tomkaulitz’s post*

“oooohhh i see u tom 😏”

“they’re so cute! glad to see y/n is healing well <3”

“i wanna be tom so bad”

— tomkaulitz replied to _ “you could never be me :D”

“tom! that was so mean!” as you leaned over the shoulder, watching as he typed out his reply, smirked, and pressed the ‘post’ button to send his comment reply.

“what?? it’s true, and you wouldn’t have it any other way 😁.” laughing at his phone as he kissed your cheek.

now i need a boyfriend so badly to take care of me WHO WANT ME???? btw he looks so cute here

whipped this out of my ass lowkey highkey and i hate it but :3

[jgnico]

The fact that Geto's motivation as a sorcerer was never something that personally mattered to him really did spell out his downfall. I know that it's been talked about before, but Yaga's decision to make sure that students enroll for selfish reasons rather than broad ideologies was such a good change for how the schools operate, not just in terms of ensuring that another Geto situation never happens, but also for students growth as sorcerers.

Being a sorcerer is always going to be a dangerous job, but having the will and desire to overcome for the sake of yourself will always prevail over the mentality of doing the right thing for the greater good. Sorcerers need to be selfish and ambitious to survive. That's what sets the current students aside from characters like Haibara and Geto and even Nanami.

Geto wanted to protect the weak. Haibara wanted to feel like he was helping. Nanami wanted to keep the students safe. And while, yes, these are objectively good motivations, they're all centered around the happiness and safety of other people and not themselves. Mentalities like that can only bring you so far, both for growth as a sorcerer and a will to live within the demands that jujutsu society places upon you. If the foundation that you build upon can't support you when you need it most, then you'll fall through the cracks; which is something that we see time and time again no matter what era the sorcerer comes from or how strong they are.

I think that the clearest we ever see this concept talked about is in chapter 58, when Gojo is talking to Megumi about what's holding him back. Megumi asked to be trained because he wanted to keep up with Yuuji, who's grown exponentially as a sorcerer in an incredibly short amount of time. But as Gojo points out, training won't help him because Megumi's ability and potential aren't his issues. His mentality is. Instead of being selfish and putting his all toward what he wants, Megumi thinks too much about what would help the people around him or how he measures up against them. Which is exactly the same kind of thinking that Geto had when Gojo surpassed him.

Even on the opposite end of the conflict between Sorcerers and Curses, this sentiment still holds strong. Comparing yourself to others stunts your growth. Lacking true ambition gets you killed. Not being selfish enough to fulfill your desires makes those desires ultimately pointless.

There's so much emphasis placed on motivation throughout jjk, whether that's Maki asking Yuuta why he enrolled, Geto asking Haibara why he's okay with being a sorcerer, Yaga testing Yuuji during his entrance exam, Yuuji asking Nobara why she wants to be a sorcerer, Maki wanting to build a world for Mai vs Mai only enrolling to follow Maki, etc etc, the list goes on.

Strength in terms of the power that you're born with (or aquire in Yuuji and Yuuta's case) will only get you so far. It doesn't matter how strong or weak or complex or simple your technique is if you don't have the will to unlock your full potential.

Gojo becomes stronger in Hidden Inventory because he wants to. Geto stagnates because he's accepted that he can't. Yuuta wins against Geto because losing isn't something that he can accept when it sacrifices the happiness of his friends. Geto loses because he knows that his family will continue to survive even if he doesn't.

Geto's problem when it comes to surviving as a sorcerer was never weakness. It wasn't conviction or morality or ideas. It was that he never learned to be selfish. He held onto the mentality of sacrificing himself for the greater good while changing the definition of what that meant, and it killed him just as surely as faulty foundation will lead to a house collapsing if it isn't fixed.

[sayafics]

As, Bs and Cs - Chapter I

A CRM!Rick Grimes x OFC fic!

This is quite a lengthy chapter to hopefully build up the necessary context and foundations to their connection.

Masterlist

Next Chapter

The world had ended over a decade ago, the walkers consuming the population bit by bit until there was nothing left. The Civic Republic scrounged up who they could, their numbers growing to the thousands.

Still, the ones they had were not good enough.

They were civillians. Normal people who did normal things and didn't understand like the rest of them.

The Civic Republic Military was losing more and more soldiers with every mission, becoming overwhelmed with the number of walkers that roamed outside their walls. There weren't enough people to replace them - enough competent people at least.

In a decade or two, the CRM could collapse, and it would be no one's fault but their own.

They are the ones who had saved thousands of people who couldn't fight, when they should have looked for more soldiers in their place.

The CRM was weakening, and if it crumbled the Civic Republic and all its people would pay the price.

That was when Dr. Greer had proposed a... curious idea.

The Civic Republic was not without its faults, and neither were its people. They had their fair share of criminals who would pay the price with community service, but there was a small percentage; almost minute; who were worse.

Major General Beale had wanted them sentenced to death for their crimes, but Okafor had protested. He argued in favour of their usefulness - the skills they needed to commit the horrors they did was what was necessary in the CRM.

They could find use of them, he promised.

And it seemed Dr. Greer had.

Dr. Greer was a geneticist before the world had ended, with a long and profound career in foetal medicine.

A controlled birthing population - a programme designed so the CRM could gain the soldiers they needed without gaining too many mouths to eat.

The programme had only been a whisper for the last few years, a quiet promise and a tempting future. But the opportunity to implement it had never arised.

Until now.

The Campus Colony had been set aflame, and with it, it had stolen over nine thousand souls.

The perfect opportunity.

Now, all they needed were the perfect lab rats. A way to prove the programme would work - a method to rehabilitate criminals and give the CRM what it needed.

Major General Beale had wanted Okafor to be the first to try, but as whispers of Rick Grimes' rebellious streak took hold of him, he saw it as the sole opportunity to truly have control over the man.

Rick Grimes had spent years trying to escape the Civic Republic, all of his attempts ending the same - in failure. But he had grown daring, even willing to cut off his own arm so he could have a chance to return to his life before the CRM.

When the man had finally agreed to join the CRM after years of rejection, the ease behind his decision only made Beale grow more suspicious.

Rick had changed his mind so easily and had given up on finding his friends and family in a blink.

It made Beale uneasy.

So he would do what he could to keep the man tied to the CRM, even if it came in the form of a child.

***

"I didn't sign up for this."

Rick's voice was filled with fury as Okafor stood before him stone-faced, having recounted what Beale and Greer told him as he passed on the orders to Grimes.

"Yes, you did. The minute you said yes to joining the CRM, you said yes to every condition Beale makes."

Rick scoffs, a hand running through his hair as he paces up and down the sparse space of his living room.

His voice deepened to a growl, "this wasn't part of the deal. This wasn't our deal!"

"I know," Okafor's voice softened. He knew what was happening was wrong, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Not right now.

"But you have to, Rick. If you don't, then someone else will. You're a good man, Rick. The others aren't."

Rick narrowed his eyes, growing sceptical of his words. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Okafor called it a controlled repopulation, a programme designed so the CRM could have the soldiers it needed in the future. But he saw it for what it was, and it wasn't anything good.

"Why do you care so much if I say yes?"

Okaford clenched his jaw, "because it's my fault she's here. And the least I can do is make sure she won't end up being partnered with someone that would hurt her."

"Your fault?"

A grim smile twitched on Okafor's face as he sighed and took a seat on Rick's couch, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shook with morbid amusement.

"I brought her here. As a 'B' not an 'A'. She lost everyone because the men in our ranks knew no control, and I promised her she would find everything she needed here. And now what? She's a 'C'? A criminal turned into a pet for Greer and her people to study her like she's a fucking lab rat."

A bitter laugh escaped his throat as Rick came to a stop in front of him. He waited, hoping the silence would urge Okafor on.

"My men and I were sent on a covert mission - a retrieval. But one of the recruits got spooked, lit up everything around him as fast as he could. By the time we got him down, it was too late. You could hear her screaming, like it was battering your brain. We went to look for her and found her and her people inside a small cabin a few clicks north."

"What happened?"

Rick's voice was sombre, he knew what had happened.

"They were all dead and she was dying."

Okafor looked up at Rick, eyes wet despite the blank look upon his face - "I brought her back. Said she was a 'B' and spent every day after convincing her to join the CRM. She said no, of course."

He scoffed before he continued, "when she finally got citizenship, shit. Let's just say the world really didn't change much from before. She got herself a life sentence, would've been given death if I hadn't stopped Beale."

Now that sparked Rick's interest, what damage could someone do to have Beale want to sentence them to death. Or better yet, what hold did she have on Okafor for him to still fight for her after the supposed horrors she committed.

"This is a second chance. For things to go right."

Rick shook his head vehemently, "no. This ain't right. This ain't no second chance. This is worse than death. Worse than torture. Look what you're signing her up to."

"But it's the closest she'll ever get. Look, if this works, if the programme is successful and you give them what they want, she'll get her freedom back. Five years, Rick. It's five years and then she is no longer your burden to bare."

Before Rick could protest further, a bellowed voice called him from the front door, the blatant order being punctuated by three heavy knocks.

At the sound of Beale's voice, Okafor's shoulders straightened, and he stood up with a stiff spine as he looked into Rick's eyes, a hazy vision of pleading behind the stoic mask of an obedient solider.

"Say yes, Rick. Don't fight against it. They'll make you take someone anyway. Just let it be her. No one says no to Beale."

Okafor didn't give Rick a chance to reply, skirting past him as he swung the door open and stood at attention, saluting Beale in greeting. Rick followed him instinctively, copying his every move.

Beale nodded at the men to stand down, marching past them. Behind him followed a stern-faced woman, narrow-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she pursed her lips in distaste at the sight of Rick's apartment. She made her way towards Beale, nodding at Rick and Okafor before she looked over her shoulder and called, "bring in the girl."

They all turned to face the door now, the quiet jingle of chains growing more ominous as the faceless figure of Alara Hunter drew closer.

Rick held his breath when he finally caught sight of her.

She was flanked by four soldiers, their grip on her arms and shoulders so tight Rick could see her skin blanching under their touch. She was dressed in a thin vest, blue jeans, and socks. Her hands were cuffed, and so were her ankles, each one attached to a single chain held by the soldier on her right.

He couldn't help but furrow his brows as he lifted his eyes to track her face only to find half of it concealed behind what appeared to be a muzzle.

Her dark eyes darted across the people standing in Rick's apartment before flickering back to where Rick knew Okafor stood. He could see her throat move as she swallowed harshly at the sight of the man.

Apart from the chains and muzzle, she looked well. Rick wanted to scoff at the thought as soon as it entered his mind. Here she was, a young woman who had lost freedom, who was chained and tied down by the CRM.

But she looked clean and healthy and angry.

"Rick Grimes."

It was Greer who spoke, a pleasant smile upon her face that didn't match her demeanour.

"I believe Okafor has explained to you the purposes of this task?"

Rick clenched his jaw, turning to face the woman. He couldn't help but take a final glance at the woman standing at the door - Alara Hunter.

He turned back, catching Okafor's gaze before he nodded solemnly, "yes, ma'am."

"And so, I believe you are happy to participate in this mission of ours?"

Mission?

He wanted to spit in her face, call her vile and absurd and stupid. This wasn't a mission. It was immoral and unethical and torture.

Still, he held himself back.

He had seen the other men in the CRM: brutes that were all too happy to hurt instead of speak. Cowards who wasted bullets on flickering shadows. Men who had never truly grown up, and behaved like unsupervised children.

It wouldn't be fair to subject her to such a fate because Okafor was right. Regardless of whether or not Rick said yes to Alara, he would still be assigned a partner, and so would she.

He gritted his teeth as he nodded, "yes ma'am."

Beale let out a deep chuckle, moving forward to clap a hand on Rick's shoulder as he spoke, "this may be the best decision you've made, son. You are doing the CRM proud."

Rick looked over his shoulder once more, catching Alara's dark gaze, which grew hopeless as the seconds ticked by, and he wondered for a moment whether the people he left back in Alexandria would be proud.

"There are some conditions, of course."

"Conditions?" He turned back to Beale with a look of incredulity, eyes narrowing as he took a step back and shook the hand off his shoulder, "what conditions?"

"Given your... history here at the Civic Republic, Dr. Greer thought it best to ensure your compliance."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" It was Okafor who spoke now, drawing forward as his gaze skipped between Rick and Alara, who stood motionless at the door.

Greer spoke now, her voice sounded pleased as she sniffed lightly, "we believed it necessary that your first few copulations were witnessed. Simply to ensure adherence of course."

Rick felt bile burn the back of his throat, a wave of nausea that just grew strong every passing second since Okafor first told him and Greer's plans - "you want to watch us have sex?"

"If you would like to put it so crudely, then yes."

***

The conversation hadn't lasted much longer than that, Rick unable to have much of a say apart from agreeing to their terms.

Okafor had shifted to meet Rick's eyes with his own pleading gaze, and Rick had agreed to Beale's conditions under a certain stipulation.

He had only wanted the first attempt to be witnessed, but it seemed that Greer was unwilling to go any lower than three. Rick agreed begrudgingly, knowing three was still better than the initial seven Greer had wanted.

It was under Greer's command that the girl was escorted to his bedroom, and Rick was unable to hide his look of disapproval and contempt as they looped her chain around a post on his bed. It made him sick to see such a thing, made his stomach twist and turn as he held back his anger with strained difficulty.

As they made their way out of Rick's apartment, Greer turned to him with a leering grin, eyes running over his form as she wished him luck and revealed that she couldn't wait for the performance he put on tomorrow.

Rick froze at that, tomorrow?

Greer could only laugh coyly, an expression that was unsuited for her ageing face. She ran a hand over her slicked back hair, adjusting her bun as she smiled in earnest - "tomorrow is trial day number 1. It seems our experiment started at the perfect time, Miss Hunter begins ovulating tomorrow."

Rick shifted uncomfortably at the fact, unsure of what to say or do. It seemed Okafor was the same, eyes darting between Rick and the closed door over his shoulder where he knew Alara had been hidden.

"I have left you with the booklet instructing you on how to care for your programme partner, as well as how to discipline her, should she become aggressive. Do follow the guide Mr Grimes, we wouldn't want to place our first participant in any harm."

Rick could only blink, hand tightening around the small handwritten booklet Greer had passed him whilst Beale's men were dragging a reluctant Alara to his room. He could only nod, unable to meet anyone's eyes as he reached for the door and pushed it shut.

The last thing he saw was Greer exchanging a victorious grin with Beale and realised that they believed they had won.

And for once, Rick feared they may have been right.

***

After Okafor had left with Beale and Greer, Rick's apartment rung silent. If he hadn't seen Beale's men drag the girl into his room, it would've seemed like nothing had ever happened.

But it did.

Rick wasn't sure what to do - whether he should just sit on his couch and finish his bottle of rum, or if he should go in and make sure his "programme partner" was okay.

She hadn't so much as twitched in the wrong way since they dragged her to his doorstep. Her eyes wandered. They darkened and misted and narrowed, but she never moved too quickly or pulled away too harshly.

Whatever she had done was enough for Beale to have wanted her dead, and for Greer to want her genetics to be passed onto the soldiers she was curating.

Rick glanced at the closed door to his bedroom, wondering what monster hid beneath the chained woman who stood in there. Then he thought for a moment of who he was before the CRM, before Alexandria. Of the beast he had become after months on the road, surviving day to day with his children and his friends- his family.

Okafor had said one of his men had killed her people, and Rick knew that if he had been in her position and everyone he knew and loved had died, he would want to destroy the Civic Republic and all it stood for.

It was in that quiet space of reflection that he realised she may not be the monster they all made her put to be. And if she was, she couldn't be worse than the one that lurked in the shadows of his being. The monster that was chained down by threats. The monster that was trapped in a community of faux civilisation.

Rick steeled his spine, and with every step he took towards the bedroom door, he wondered how exactly he had been dealt such a fate.

***

Alara Hunter hadn't always been angry. She used to be quiet and shy and cry at the smallest inconveniences. She liked to think an echo of that girl still sounded inside her, but sitting on top of a stranger's bed, her wrists and ankles wound in chains and her lips forced shut, she wondered how she had managed to get herself into such a predicament.

She wondered how she had changed so easily.

She wondered why she was always so angry.

She still cried. Of course, she did. But her tears were filled with fury, with hatred. Towards everyone - her father for leaving her when the world ended, her people for shielding her that night, Okafor for bringing her to this God forsaken community. And herself.

Alara was so angry at herself. For letting herself be brought here instead of fighting to die at her people's side, for letting herself get trapped with the very people that slaughtered them, for letting them take advantage of her and get away with that too.

And now, what?

A sex slave for the CRM. A breeding whore. A mindless cunt.

Not an A, never a B. Trapped as a C.

Her heart hammered with rage, her hands trembled and her eyes clouded as she struggled to breathe through the muzzle. Like a dog, they had chained her and tied her down.

She promised herself, with a soundless voice echoing in her mind, that she would kill them all. She would burn them to the ground and make sure they couldn't rise again.

She wouldn't let them win. She couldn't.

The sound of a door creaking open pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find the man who had been assigned to take everything from her. To break her.

Beale hadn't outright admitted that was the reason he agreed to place her in the programme so easily, but she knew. She could see it in the way his eyes lit up with triumph when Rick agreed, how he grinned viciously when Greer was adamant to watch their copulations.

He thought this would break her, but she wouldn't let it.

She stared at the man - Rick. He was tall, tall enough that she was sure even if she was standing she would have to crane her neck to look him in the eyes.

And his eyes, she found she couldn't look away if she tried. Something hollow glistened in them, as though the man was no longer human.

An unfamiliar whisper spoke in her mind, like calls to like. And she wondered how much truth was held behind such a statement.

He was handsome, she couldn't fault him there. But he was a soldier for the CRM and that made him an enemy. It meant regardless of his pretty eyes or gravelled voice, he was just as bad as the rest of them.

Just as bad as Greer and Beale and Okafor.

Rick steps closer to her and Alara can't help but shrink away. It seems he expected her reaction, halting on the spot as his eyes soften. The sight did nothing but ignite a smouldering rage in her heart - if he felt pity for her, he should let her go. Let her escape.

For some reason, it seemed Rick was able to understand exactly what she was thinking, and he spoke placatively as she narrowed her eyes in his direction, "I can't take the cuffs off."

Alara rolled her eyes, that much was obvious. If he wasn't going to help her, then she didn't want to speak to him. She drew herself back further on the bed, her back pressing against the headboard as she turned to look out the small window of his bedroom.

The view wasn't the best, but it was more than the sliver of light that occasionally glimpsed through her cell. She felt the gentle touch of a setting sun heat her skin, she could feel herself flush under its soft embrace as she wondered how many years it had been since she had felt the sun on her face. The wind in her hair.

Her skin had paled in her dark cell, her tan from harsh summers in Georgia stripped from her when she was sentenced. It was then she decided; it had been far too long.

She closed her eyes and counted Rick's breaths as he stood, watching. The setting sun was a timer to the start of her doom, she heard Greer's plans and it was moving too quickly to put a stop to them now.

Rick's breaths were slow and steady, like he was trying to control his own wild beast as he watched her. She pretended they were the sound of a clock ticking, that time had slowed down to let her savour this broken freedom and make most of the hours she had left.

The bed sunk under an unexpected weight and the light warming her face had been blocked by a head. She kept her eyes closed pretending she didn't notice the difference- pretending her face didn't grow warmer under his intense stare.

"Have you eaten? It's late."

She kept quiet, hoping he would think she was dozing off and leave her be. But he saw the way her lashes fluttered, the way her chest rose and fell in quick successions as she struggled to breathe through the mask, the way her fingers twitched when he shuffled upon the bed.

He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say or what to do.

"I could make you something to eat. I- I could make pancakes, Ca-" he took another deep breath, settling a quiet ache in his chest, "or eggs or something."

Her eyes burned as she kept them shut tight, thinking about when the last time she had a warm meal was. She turned away from him, nodding as she reached a hand to run through her hair only for the chain to stop it short of her shoulders. She gritted her teeth at the harsh tug, unable to hide her sniffles and the tears streaming down her face.

Why was she crying?

Was it anger? Fear?

Rick watched her for a moment as she tried to compose herself. She struggled with the limited movement and tangled chains, she screwed her eyes shut and her shoulders raised as she took deep breaths.

Rick couldn't help the apology that escaped his lips as he stood from the bed, nor could he stop the guilt weighing upon his shoulders at the broken laugh she replied with.

***

Rick hadn't eaten much since joining the CRM. Being forced to give up the idea of returning to Alexandria had taken a part of him, had broken it beyond repair. He rarely felt hungry anymore.

At most, he would force himself to eat some slices of toast so he wouldn't stumble during training. Or if he was truly lost in his thoughts, he would make himself Carl's favourite meal and pretend his son was there, eating it alongside him.

That was what sat in front of him now - blueberry and peanut butter pancakes, with whipped cream dolloped on to make a smiley-face and sugar sprinkled on top. He remembered the day Carl had first begged him to make it, and his pleading eyes and mischievous grin had been too precious to say no. It had tasted horrible, all sorts of sticky and sweet lathered in soft bread, but when Carl had asked him so proudly what he thought, Rick could only smile and clear his plate.

The handwritten guide Greer gave him sat on the counter near him, and the page he had left it open on strictly forbade him from giving the girl utensils, in case she hurt herself or him.

He didn't have any plastic cutlery on hand, so he could only sigh as he took the paper plate back to his room to lay on top of the bed.

Alara stared at the carefully decorated stack, and though the muzzle hid the shape of her lips, he saw the corner of her eyes crinkle and he liked to think it was because this small memory of Carl had been enough to make her smile.

He bit his lip before he spoke, "I can take the..." he gestured carefully to her face, "I can take it off, so you can eat."

Her eyes gleamed with hope, her lips burning at the stretch of the mouthpiece wedged between so she couldn't bite her tongue and choke herself to death.

"But I got'a put it back on after, okay?"

Her eyes narrowed, she pushed the plate away as a garbled scoff could be heard through the muzzle. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, it wasn't as though the muzzle was a newly added piece to her prison regalia. No, Beale had ordered it to be placed on her after her first few weeks in the CRM prison cell didn't go too well.

"Hey, look," Rick's voice sounded strongly as he got closer, sitting at the edge of the bed and facing her, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to. But it's in Greer's instructions, and if I ignore it, it's not going to end well for either of us."

She looked at him with scepticism in her eyes, but it took one look at the warm plate of pancakes to dissolve any resistance. She agreed reluctantly, and Rick reached around her head to unclip the mouthpiece.

It covered her entire mouth and lower jaw, pressed tight against the skin in a way he knew had to be uncomfortable.

Alara could feel his slow breaths on her neck, and goosebumps broke out marking their way down her arms and chest. Rick felt her shiver against him, and as he continued to unlatch her muzzle, he murmured a promise to try and get some clothes that would fit over her manacles.

When he finally gets the muzzle free, the first sound to escape her was a relieved sigh, making the most of her momentary freedom. She stretched her jaw and Rick leaned away, throwing the muzzle on to the bed as he stared at her with his gaze anew.

When he had first seen her, he couldn't deny her beauty - not with her long, dark hair and her soft brown eyes. But now, seeing her face whole, he couldn't help but be mesmerised by the sight of her.

Alara was young, her youth visible in her face. She looked untouched and unharmed by the end of the world, but Rick knew that thought was a lie.

She licked her lips, the skin cracked and dry from being forced to remain stretched over the mouthpiece. She looked away from Rick, pretending he wasn't there despite how hard it was to ignore that the man sat directly opposite her.

He pushed the plate closer, encouragingly - "eat."

She reached for the plate, unsurprised by the lack of utensils, and ripped off a piece of the pancake. She reached to place it in her mouth, only for her chains to stop her short. She growled lightly in frustration before leaning her head down to take it into her mouth. The awkward position hurt her neck, the muscles already aching from the weight of her muzzle.

She sighed contently, the pancake warm in her mouth and the cream melting quickly. It was sweet and left a cloying taste in her mouth, her jaw tingling as it was exposed to flavours that had been hidden from her for so long.

She looked out the window again where night had fallen, and slowly chewed the food in her mouth as she savoured it. When she swallowed, she turned back to take another piece only to find one waiting inches from her face.

Rick watched her with a contemplative gaze, before encouraging her by saying, "it wouldn't do you any good to eat like that."

She bit her lip, wondering what she should do. But this might be the only meal she gets before the trial if Greer had it her way - she didn't know what instructions Greer had left, so she couldn't risk not taking the opportunity if it stood before her.

Another careful thought entered her mind, pushing her to get close to Rick - close enough, intimate enough that he may possibly choose her over the CRM.

She kept that whisper close to her heart, looking deep into Rick's eyes that resembled the sky and she ate the piece he held for her. He watched her chew and swallow, and something in her begged her to speak.

To show her gratitude or to fill the silence. Something to show him she was human, something to make it easier for him to care.

"This tastes horrible."

It was the first time she had spoken in years - she had given up talking because there was simply no one to listen, and her broken screams had been silenced by Beale's muzzle.

Her voice cracked with every word, rasped and dry. The sound of her voice felt like that of a stranger's.

To her surprise, Rick simply laughed, his eyes glistening with the faint memory of something as he tore off another piece to feed her.

They then chose to sit in silence, Rick feeding her every bite and watching her chew and swallow methodically. By the end, Alara hated to say that she grew fond of the weird taste and wondered when she could try them next.

When Rick stood to dispose of the plate, they both pretended not to notice how he forgot to replace the muzzle.

***

The bed was soft - foreign. After years of a thin mattress on the cold cement floor, she didn't think she could get used to something like this bed again. Nor the feeling of sleeping without a chunk of metal strapped across her face.

It had helped with one thing though, that stupid muzzle. She had learnt to make the most of each breath, quiet inhales for six deep seconds, hold for four and release over eight. Wait and repeat.

It was a structured sound, calculated based on the accompanying breaths that sounded from the ground.

Rick also lied awake, eyes focused on the ceiling as his mind whirred around how everything had changed so quickly. Again.

First the bridge. Then the CRM. And now, her.

For once, he found himself thinking of someone else other than those whom he had left behind in Alexandria, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing. He thought of her reaction to the pancakes, a ghost of a smile on his face as he reminisced a fading past with his son.

He wondered what colour Carl's eyes had been when they widened in glee. Had they been the bright blue of a summer sky? Or the misty clouds right before a thunderstorm? Carl had always loved thunderstorms, loved to run through the rain and splash in the mud before everything had gone so wrong. Had his eyes been blue at all?

And what about Judith? Who had she grown to resemble? He imagined she would be a spitting image of Lori, with her long brown her and her kind eyes, but she would have Shane's short temper and remarks and it would make her that much more precious to him.

His eyes burned, and he sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen and begged to be reunited with his child. An even quieter whisper confessed he wouldn't mind which one.

Alara's breaths teetered off, her silent counting falling apart as Rick's own grew shuttered in the dark. She wasn't sure if she should say something - he had chosen to stay here, to sleep on the floor and listen to the guide even though he had already ignored it once.

Then she thought of the miserable nights she spent in her damp cell, how she wished there was someone she could share her burdens with so they wouldn't hollow her soul and burn her will.

"How did you get here?" She whispered into the dark, her voice still scratchy from the lack of use.

She heard in sharp inhale, one he tried to cover with the rustling of blankets as he turned his head to look at where she lay on the edge of the bed.

Lying on her stomach was the only comfortable position she could manage. Her head rested on her arms, her legs curled as close to her body as she could manage. She could only look towards Rick in her mangled state, but there was something in her gaze that looked content at the feel of the beds soft embrace.

Even the smell was so unlike the stale wetness that clouded her cell, it had smelt like the air right before the rain fell in autumn. Now, her nose was buried in the faint scent of musk, leather and something earthy, and she liked to think this is what freedom would smell like, had they let her roam outside.

"Someone found me when I was hurt," Rick believed there was no harm in revealing such information, a small part of him hoping the small similarities in their pasts would make her trust him even more.

"They brought me here, I haven't left since."

"Because you didn't want to? Or because you couldn't?"

The silence that rung between them spoke for itself.

"They took everything from me before bringing me here. The only thing I wanted was my freedom, and they've taken that too." There was no hesitation in her confession, only conviction.

Rick watched as she shifted her head so she could focus on the lamp on the nightstand instead, and before he could wonder if she would use it to hurt him, he saw her eyes glisten in the faint shadows of light.

"And now..." her voice wavered for a new reason entirely, "they're going to take my choice from me. And I can't do anything but wait."

A harsh laugh escaped her, her head shaking vigorously on the pillow as she shook her head and her voice dropped to something promising and threatening - "I'm going to burn them all. I'll make them all pay."

"You can't."

He could feel her glare through the dark, but he knew his words were true.

"There is no killing them. There is no escape."

"You don't know that. Not unless you've tried."

Rick lay a hand over his stumped arm, his heart sinking as he remembers all he sacrificed to escape only to stay trapped.

He doesn't say another word for the rest of the night, falling into a fitful sleep.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! There are many more to come <3. Let me know if you have any theories or ideas for what might happen next, I would love to hear them! And to the people who have been following me from the start, thank you for being patient during my long break. I hope I gave you guys something worthwhile to come back to <33.

Taglist: @hhhilloklll @bellstwd @classyunknownlover @voodoopoetry @graveyardblossom

[vivi-the-goblin]

Campaign idea I've LONG had but would require a fair bit of setup: time loop adventure. The party is having dinner at the tavern, when a rumbling rocks the foundations of the earth. Everything explodes in a wave color, sound, and immense pressure, but it parts around them the crest of a wave to a ship's bow. That bow being a small imp-like creature, screeching with the effort to maintain whatever shield is keeping the wave at bay. As quickly as it began, it ends, the world outside the bubble going greyscale. "Noble heroes," the creature pants, slowly turning. "The world hangs a second from death, I'm afraid I have to break my oath and call upon you once...Who the fuck are you!?" It collapses to its knees as it sees its intended targets, one table over. Epic heroes with legendary kit. Despite trying to maintain a low profile the party might even recognize them, or at least the gear spilling out of their robes. Most seem to be shrinking into their armor, though the gnome's just turning green. The whole bar is doing the same, come to think of it. "HOW. HOW DID I MISS. I- ok, ok. I can work with this. That's fine. they used to be chumps too, we just had more time to work back then. Hi. Welcome to the end of the world. If you want to roll it back, we can talk." The paladin's all for it. The rest of the party is conflicted, but they eventually decide they've got nothing else to do. First thing though, who is this? "Got a lot of names, been around for a while. Maintain time, maybe you've seen my work? Yeah, not gonna have it undone by a punk with a wish. One that wished for more wish granting items, and again with with all of those, until eventually they had enough for thier whole tribe of hundreds. and the tribe had one wish, a wish with enough power to bind even the gods." "They wished for 'Goblin'. And with neither the world or the goblins themselves having any idea what that's supposed to mean, creation answered with 'Yes.' There's not a thing under the sun that's not becoming goblin. Or over the sun. The sun's not outta the question eith- look, it's everything, ok? I don't know the reach, I don't want to either, I just know we can't stop that blast." The party grumbles. how do they save things if the gods themselves are bound? "I can chuck you back in time. Only about a day, I had to snap most of myself off when the corruption started. We can do this for a while, but we have to do this. Find out where they are. Figure out how to get to them. and somehow stop them. Can't be that hard, right? they're just goblins, right?" One way to find out. Basically this would start out consequence free. The world is set up, and full of FAR stronger creatures...at first. If they die they lose thier gear, but NOT thier info, the day just resets. Milestone experience, the players will slowly level up as they discover things. Discover how to get what they need more efficiently, skip parts, etc. I said 'at first.' Once they've gotten far enough, gotten their bearings, etc...they notice something's slightly different. Someone's slightly greener and nobody notices. A butterfly is a little goblin with goblin-patterned wings. something slightly changes in thier loop. next loop the little time gremlin's got a green ear. maybe they notice the bubble's slightly smaller. You've learned how things work, now execute. Whether you progress toward a failstate by amount of deaths/loops, or just give the illusion by going off progress, the pressure ramps up. The dragon they have to convince? goblin dragon. The city? slowly becoming goblins. Wild magic starts effecting party members, as even the concepts of reality start becoming goblin, under a sun that's starting to tint green. The bright side is you could do a bunch of the prep right at the start, and have far less to do as things progress. That's also the downside however, and the reason I haven't done it yet.

[ornii]

The Soldier of Fortune

The Omnic Crisis

Twenty eight years ago, the world faced its first true ultimate threat. Omnics, created by humans, rebelled against their creators and plunged the world into a war that would only last two years but cause irreparable damage to society. But the entire crisis was halted in the final days of the end, by a single Soldier.

Overwatch Base, 28 Years Ago.

A Single soldier was taking a few jabs at a punching machine, delivering powerful but heavy blows to the sack of sand. One final swing knocks the bag back almost off its chain. The soldier was in his late twenties, nearly the age of 29. He gripped the bag to keep it from swinging. He was your average soldier built, strong, well built and tall. What made him different was his left arm, from the elbow down it was entirely cybernetics. Losing his arm serving his country turned him into a Hero. But why join overwatch if everyone already adores him? Simple, the adventure, the potential fortune, that’s who he is: The S.O.F.

“Finally done?” A Voice asks him, he sighed and turns around, a lean, beautiful figure was standing in the doorway of the training Hall. Long black hair, gorgeous bronze skin, an illustrious Egyptian tattoo right under her eye. Ana Amari.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Crackshot, having fun with them butting heads?” He says, and begins to unwrap his arm. Ana sighed and scowled.

“No, they’re still going on about the plan, guess you’re the Tiebreaker.” She admits, (Y/n) smirks and walks over.

“Really? Reinhardt and Torbjorn are at heads? What about you?” He asks her, Ana kept a stern face.

“You know my thoughts on it.” She responds, (Y/n) smirks. “That I do…” he trails off, (Y/n) breaks the awkward silence and walks off, “Well. Let’s go join the circus.” He heads down the hall, past soldiers and recruits to the officers deck, and can hear arguing from the door.

“I sometimes wonder if that armor slows your brain down!”

“And I sometimes wonder if your height is why you’re always in a bad mood!!”

Reinhardt and Torbjörn are arguing about armor schematics, but more importantly was Reyas and Jack.

“This plans a suicide missions!” Jack said.

“We’re soldiers Jack, it’s what we do! We have a chance to put the crisis on ice permanently and you won’t take it!” Reyas yells at Jack.

“I won’t ask soldiers to die for what could or couldn’t work!” Jack argues, the two turn to see the soldier.

“Having fun?” He smugly approaches and the two get a bit more professional.

“No, Jack won’t green light the operation. This is our change to rid the Omnics of a primary factory and halt their invasion.” Reyas explains, (Y/n) ignores him and walks to the table. Pressing a button on the display it shows the schematics and blueprints for their plan.

“So, run it by me again?” (Y/n) asks. Reyas goes first.

“One of the Omnics biggest factories was deep in the heart of the North Pole, a perfect place for them. Little heat to avoid melting, a perfectly cold place to produce mass machines, but there’s one thing. The factory was built on a large foundation of ice, and its slowly melted away.” Reyas explains, (Y/n) rubs his chin looking at it all.

“So, we sink it.” He said, “Precisely.” Reyas said. “We plant thermal charges on weak points in the foundation, it explodes with enough force to crack the ice under it send it plunging into the ice.”

“And we’d put an end to their Plan.” (Y/n) nods, “So, why haven’t we?” He asks.

“Ask Jack.” Reyas prods, Jack swaps the display to the explosives.

“The power needed to blow the foundation isn’t your normal thermal charge, the ice needs to be absolutely thrashed in order to force it to collapse. We have the power but we’d need to get someone to carry it, get it to the heart, set the charge and escape in time, it’s suicide, too many things could go wrong that could result in a needless death.”

“I can do it.” (Y/n) said, which caught everyone off guard. Ana turns to him, shocked.

“You can’t be serious…” she says. Even Reinhardt and Torbjörn were taken aback.

“You’d agree? It’s suicide! You’d be walking into a cold death! Torbjorn said.

“Possibly, but we could also put an end to the Omnic crisis before it could take any more lives, I say my life is worth that.” (Y/n) turns to the exit, “I’ll be prepping for launch then.”

“You aren’t going alone!” Reinhardt storms over, “We finish this! As brothers!” He said proudly, Ana quickly chimes in, “Me too.. I refuse to allow you to do this yourself.”

“Then I have a three man Cell, Jack?” He turns to the leader, the determination on the three heroes was more than he could handle.

“…Fine.. no heroics this time. Get the job done and that’s it.” He orders, and Operation Silver Ice, was ago.

(Y/n) entered his quarters to suit up, dawning the overwatch tactical suit and uniform, his classic Tactical Ion energy Rifle and ammo to pack, his ears pick up to the sound of footsteps at his door and it opening. Ana was awaiting once more. This time with a much less enthusiastic look.

“Already packed?” He asks, lacing up his boots.

“No, I’m telling you what Jack Said, no Heroics.”

“I heard him.”

“Doesn’t mean that you’ll listen… for me, please.” She said, (Y/n) stopped and turned to her, he saw the desperate look in her eye, Ana has lost too many people, too much of her life she spent killing and watching others die.

“I could never say no to you, fine… after this, you’ll finally stop rejecting me and let me take you somewhere nice? Italy? France? Germany?” He winks, Ana’s cold demeanor melts to a sly grin.

“Fine, we can put this all behind us, now finish up, this’ll be the last one.” She walks off, and the trio prepare for Operation Grey Ice.

The trio trudge up a frozen taundra of ice and snow, the blinding polar night with the biting wind made travel hard for the trio, but eventually the darkenss looms even closer as red begins to fill their visors.

“Heat signatures located, we’re here… remember the plan?” He asks the Two Reinhardt laughs. “Of course! We sneak in and plunge their little factory into ice! First we need, distraction!”

“Uh huh, alright.. after we do, follow me.” (Y/n) said, he aims his arm, and the Nanotechnology begins to form the arm into a hand cannon, with one shot he lobs a Molotov like explosive near the base, it flies over the large wall and explodes in the lower corner of the building, the Omnics soon begin to clamber to stop it from causing any damage to the base, the trio then take the front entrance and rush in, avoiding detection and entering the base, somehow, even with Reinhardt clunking around, reaching the lowest depths they entered the core or the “Heart” of the factory. A large reactor with multiple heat sinks that lead to exits all around the base. Reinhardt drops the large bomb and (Y/n) and Ana begin to prep the explosives.

“How much time with the distraction give us?”

“Should be more than enough to—“

“It’s not enough!” Reinhardt yells, (Y/n) turns around to see Omnics tracing their snowy footsteps.

“Damn. Ana finish up the explosive! Reinhardt?” (Y/n) ordered

“You need not ask Friend! Let’s crush them!” Reinhardt charges in with his Hammer and swings, each hit turning Omnics into scrap metal! (Y/n) loads his rifle and begins to mow Omnics down. His arm opens up And rockets fly from it. They continue to keep the Omnics off guard. Allowing Ana to finish up the touches, until a laser blast from an Omnic shatters a device on the bomb!

“(Y/n)! We have a problem! The timer it’s..”

before she can speak she rolls and aims her rifle, blasting a hole though an Omnic. (Y/n) and Reinhardt leap behind cover and the trio come up with a plan.

“Bombs not going to go off now… unless we trigger a manual override. Reinhardt, Get Ana out of Here..” (Y/n) smug attitude turns dead cold as he begins to pick off Omnics. Reinhard nods and picks Ana up, putting her under his massive arm.

“Reinhardt?! What are you doing?!” She yells, he runs off and kicks the grate to one of the large Heat sinks and the rush off. (Y/n) rushes go the bomb and begins to override it, lasers and bullets fly around and near him. He keeps his head down to avoid it getting blown off.

Reinhardt Carries a fighting Ana in his arm.

“Let go of me! Dammit Reinhardt I have to save him!” She yells, Reinhardt keeps a stern face under his helmet.

“Let him go, don’t you see Ana? This is him, a soldier risking his life. If you go and die saving him. You’re spitting on his name, to risk your life, in order to save millions, that’s a true soldier! Do not sully his name.” He said, Ana was actually taken aback by his words, and could only look back at the base.

(Y/n) finally was preparing the charge before a blast hits him right in the back, he falls forward behind cover and is in bad shape, feeling the Omnics close in, he only has one plan left.

“Overwatch, activate override code 04-N11, Clearance level Omega.” He leans against a wall, and the bomb pings.

“Vocal activate code Required to engage bomb… please speak the activation code.” They ask, (Y/n) sighs and reveals it.

“Code… Ana.” He said, the code was authorized and the bomb was already triggered, Ana watches she feels the ground shake, and the factory itself begins to cave in on itself, and sink into the darkness of the water. (Y/n) plunged into the dark, never seen again.

28 Years Later.

My eyes slowly awoken, I felt the stiffness in my bones, my body. My vision slowly began to repair itself and my eyes focused on the figure before me. For whatever reason, a giant Gorilla with glasses was looking at me.

“You’re awake, tremendous!” He said with glee, he talks too.

“Am I, dead?” You ask, he shook his head.

“No, Far from it.. my Names Winston, and you’re very much alive. In fact you were part of a project to be found, thanks to Ana.”

“Ana? How is she?!” You ask hurriedly.

“She’s nearby, you should rest, you have been gone for 28 years.”

“28?!” You yell, The Gorilla attempts to quell your confusion.

“I know, I know, you have many questions and I plan to answer them But introductions are in plan here, my name is Winston.. Welcome, to Overwatch.”

[mattoidmeerkat]

This is me working through my main issues with Bathena in 7x01. If you have no issues with the transition from 6x18 to 7x01, I'm happy for you and there's nothing to see here. If you'd do see some issues and/or are willing to help me work through some of them, please continue reading after the cut.

Disclaimer: The long hiatus and my recent cold definitely did not positively influence my experience. I'm aware of this.

Man, I'm so conflicted about Bathena's story in 7x01. I mean, the acting was top notch. The scenes and dialogue? Instant classics. The dancing? Swoooon. And we finally get to explore the foundation of their relationship? What's not to love?

Well, this really feels like the perfect follow up to Season 4. They had just addressed their communications issues and still had topics to work through. They would soon be empty nesters and didn't know how that would impact them.

But this isn't the beginning of Season 5. This is Season 7. Since then we have seen Athena and Bobby go through so much separately and together. They have grown closer and have developed their communication skills and the foundation of their relationship.

They struggled together and supported each other through the Hudson ordeal and the fallout around Harry in 5A. We've seen them make time to focus on their intimate relationship (5x09, 6x13) and to sharing personal history (5x15, 6x02, 6x03, 6x13) and support each other through oh so much personal trauma (5A, 5x14, 5x16, 5x17, 6x02, 6x03, 6x09, 6x12, 6x17). They've put the other's happiness before their own without a moment's hesitation (5x05) and developed a deep and easy intimacy with each other (5x08, 5x09, 5x11, 5x15, 5x17, 6x02, 6x08, 6x12, 6x13, 6x17) without ever losing their individuality in the process. Athena built a relationship with Bobby's sponsor and Bobby shared his AA world with her. Athena allowed herself to be vulnerable with him by admitting fears while she developed a deep understanding of how Bobby worked on a fundamental level (6x14).

And then Tim came back and decided nope, none of this. Gonna reset Athena to Season 4 (when he left as showrunner) and leave Bobby as confused as me.

I love me some good angst and conflict to explore characters and their dynamics. But what explanation were we given for this drastic change in Athena's personality? She is afraid to find out who they are when it's just the two of them? Which we have just seen again and again in Season 5 but much more so in Season 6?

Characters being flawed and acting irrationally is not bad writing. On the contrary, it can be excellent writing because flawless characters are boring and bland. And Athena and Bobby are so deliciously flawed. Have been from the very beginning.

So why not provide us with an explanation for how 6x18 Athena went from happy and confident in her marriage after settling into her empty nest with Bobby for a year, to the neurotic mess we see in 7x01? (A highly entertaining and cute mess, but still a completely different Athena than literally one episode before.)

How did 6x18 Athena, after recently celebrating her fourth wedding anniversary with Bobby and saving him from a bridge collapse, from one moment to the other decide to go to therapy (something she canonically avoids like the plague - see Seasons 3, 4, and 5) and do a 180 on cruises (despite copious discussions of cruises her fear did not come up with Bobby in 5x18, 6x01 or 6x18, with May in 6x01, or with Hen in 6x01, or in the conversation about cruises with her parents in 6x01 despite those two apparently being responsible for that fear)? How did that Athena then board the cruise with Bobby at the end of 6x18 full of joy and happy anticipation after a last minute cancellation? And how did Athena then manage to have a therapist appointment about the last-minute cruise two months in advance somehow?

I'd love to find some explanations for this beyond sloppy writing at best and blatant disregard for the prior story lines at worst.

At this point my only hope is that the next two episodes will shed some light onto what exactly triggered Athena's abrupt change in personality from one episode to the other. (actually retroactively within the previous episode somehow) But I won't get my hopes up too much because so many of Athena's, Bobby's and Bathena's story lines have been left to fizzle out without any kind of explanation or resolutions over the years (under both Tim and Kirsten).

So what's my takeaway here? I desperately want to love this episode. It has so many amazing scenes. But the retconning is making it really difficult for me to process as a coherent story line. And that's on me. Shows do this all the time. THIS show has done it plenty of times in the past.

But I feel so sad that I seem to care more about Season 5 and 6 Bathena than the show itself. It feels dismissive of the growth those two have gone through. And it makes me fearful of what kind of disregard the show might display towards these characters, their arcs, and their growth journeys in the future.

Thoughts? Helpful ideas? Number of a good therapist? 😅️ (One that doesn't just say "I'm sure you'll be fine.")

[thoughtlessarse]

A promise by the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) to extensively repair a rain-damaged, pre-Columbian structure in Michoacán doesn’t change the fact: Some Purépecha descendants have taken the pyramid collapse as a sign of impending doom. On July 29, heavy rains caused portions of a stone-slab foundation — built roughly 700 years ago to support a pyramid — to crumble at the Ihuatzio Archaeological Zone on the shores of Lake Pátzcuaro. Though it had stood for centuries, the foundation developed cracks during the periods of intense heat and drought that preceded the recent downpours, scientists said. The presence of fissures allowed a lot of water to seep in, causing the crumbling. While Ihuatzio is not a large archeological site — only seven of its more than 84 structures are visible — it was the first main center of the Purépecha Empire, a civilization that resisted conquest attempts by the Aztecs and, later (at least initially) by Spanish colonizers. Its pyramids, built around the 14th century, were used for astronomical observation and religious ceremonies and rituals, including human sacrifices dedicated to deities such as K’eri Kurikaueri, the “Great Fire.” From Ihuatzio, meticulously built on an artificially leveled plateau, the Purépecha (also known as the Tarascan people) managed to conquer smaller communities, consolidating their control over a vast region.

continue reading

Impending doom? That'll be the climate crisis and/or another world war.

We'll lose lots of historical sites thanks to the climate crisis.

[howtomuslim]

Early Islamic Expansion- Colonialism or Conquest?

There’s a common narrative among many westerners of how Islam itself in its early days was a coloniser of many peoples and territories. How during its conquests of the 7th and 8th centuries, Islam suppressed the populations and forced upon them a new faith and language, echoing the narrative that its expansionism was strictly conducted by the sword. What was this earth-moving proof that had convinced those who hold this flawed and over-simplified view so deeply?

Firstly, let’s quickly summarise the zeitgeist of the times from a political perspective and then assess what this geographic expansion was and when it all happened. During the life of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, Western Asia was dominated by two empires that were in a bloody and violent war that had lasted for over eight decades. These two empires were the Byzantine and Sassanian empires. In the Arabian Peninsula, a region that wasn’t included in either’s domain, both intertribal aggression and constant raids were also concurrently rampant. When the fledgling faith became threatened in Medina by its various enemies in the early 7th century, the necessity for defence and thereafter the protection of its believers had to take priority for the Muslim regional minority.

With the Battle of the Trench, the failed attack on Medina by the Quraysh clan and their allies against the Muslims, thus began the eventual conquest of Islam overtaking the entire Arabian Peninsula during the lifetime of the Prophet, peace be upon him, followed by the Rashidun Caliphate. This saw the expansion span from the eastern borders of Persia, Turkey to the north, and Libya to the west. Finally, during the Umayyad Caliphate came the crossing of Islam into Afghanistan and the Indian subcontinent, into the northwestern African lands of the Maghreb, and into the Iberian Peninsula. From 622 to 750 CE, over 120 years, Islam expanded rapidly across three continents.

Now, with this background, we can indulge in the confirmation or repudiation of the element of colonialism in Islam’s conquests. But one more quick digression: let’s define colonialism in simple terms. Colonialism is when one more powerful people invades and occupies another people, usurps their rights and natural resources for the sole purpose of self-interest, like what the British, French, and Spanish empires did to the world from the 15th to the 20th century, as well as what Israel is currently doing in Palestine during the supposedly civilised 20th century.

Beyond the facts, this foundation is how we must establish our conclusions and how we must compare the behaviour of Islam towards those conquered peoples relative to other nations of the time. We can’t expect Islam to behave as per 21st-century standards or even the 20th century. But even we should question that: was Islam actually more humane than even the colonialists of the 20th century?

One would note, when looking at the Islamic expansion and the short duration it took, the accomplishments suggest a speed of success unheard of. It was true that both the Byzantine and Sassanian Empires had fought their way to their eventual collapse over the decades, but still, the number of the Muslims paled in comparison. There are significant factors that played into this dynamic. These empires had shown extreme oppression towards the inhabitants of those occupied regions, while Islam exhibited a tolerance and relatively fair approach to those of other faiths. In general, in most of the conquered nations, the local inhabitants offered no resistance to the invading Muslims as they had little or nothing to lose by the changing of the guard. In some cases, such as in the Levant, Mesopotamia, and Egypt, Islam was a liberator and hence openly welcomed such was the case in the opening of Jerusalem and Jews being allowed to return.

One aspect that differentiated Islamic forces from other preceding victorious armies was that Islam had embedded within its belief system the rules of engagement during warfare, with humanitarian tenets that understood there was to be the protection of women and children and to respect the property and symbols of other faiths. Yes, there were occasions when individuals broke such tenets, but these should be regarded as exceptions.

Was spread by the sword?

This is a narrative originating at the time of the Crusades when the sole ambition was to discredit Islam and give it a barbaric and savage reputation. A common misrepresentation of this narrative was the supposed forced conversions of conquered peoples, whereas the facts suggest that even prior to any imminent military engagement, the Muslim generals would offer the options of conversion to Islam, acceptance of dhimmi status (meaning the payment of an annual jizya tax), or trying their chances at armed conflict. Even upon Muslim victory, the first two options remained available.

The widespread and well-documented dhimmi system that dealt with non-Muslim citizens is proof that no forced conversions took place. There was a structure in place that allowed for religious continuity while also protecting rights with a structure that maintained the retention of physical land and property. Property records show that in the varying lands conquered in the previous Byzantine and Sassanian Empires, Muslims were a small minority during the early Islamic reign, ranging between 10 to 20% of the population up until a century or two after the initial conquest. In certain cases, such as in Iran and Egypt, Muslims as a majority of the population only came into being well into the 9th century. How can that possibly be forced conversion?

Another powerful counterargument for the case against Islamic colonialism is the fact that there was never really any extraction of resources out of the conquered lands and shipped off to Mecca back in Arabia. In actuality, trade and commerce throughout the new Islamic territories blossomed further during Islam’s reign and created a series of powerful cosmopolitan cities across the empire that would eventually become some of the greatest and brightest cities on the planet within the next two centuries: Baghdad, Damascus, Cairo, and Cordoba. Meanwhile, Mecca and Medina, the supposed colonial centres, were humble in their expansion and prosperity for the next millennium and beyond.

A question that can always be asked to further prove this point: would the British ever have moved their capital from London to Delhi?

To exhibit the difference, the capital of the Muslim empire left the Arabian Peninsula with the coming of the Umayyad Caliphate, never to return. Such a decision only reflects that the Islamic empire wasn’t about the benefit of one people, nation, or territory over another, but that a new set of groups of united people, inclusive of those conquered, were now a new nation that had much larger collective aspirations.

One would think that the Islamisation of faith would result in the Arabisation of language, but the reality was the opposite. As the Islamisation of the populations took significant time to materialise, learning the language of the faith, Arabic, was never forced onto others. The fast-paced assimilation of Arabic was principally due to the fact that it was the primary language of trade, governance, and law within the Islamic empires, as well as being a language familiar to the populations of the Levant and Mesopotamia, who were mainly Aramaic speakers.

Arabisation wasn’t about the Muslim faith but was about integrating within a civilisation that was booming not just back in Arabia but everywhere. It became the common language for non-Arabs and non-Muslims to prosper. During the subsequent golden age, thinkers and scholars from across the empire wrote and relayed in Arabic, much in the same way that the English language spread all over the world during the 20th century due to globalisation and technology. Arabic achieved widespread acceptance for the sake of the transfer of knowledge and in aspiring to prosperity.

To learn more about Islam visit: Howtomuslim.org

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Requests are open?! Heck yes! I saw you write for fullmetal alchemist and wondered if you could do a one-shot Riza Hawkeye x Reader (they/them) with the both of them being deployed to the Ishval Civil War. At some point during the battle, she loses them from her sight and never sees them again, even after the battle ends. A few years later, they meet again when they are pursuing Scar but stumble upon her. Hope you'll have fun writing this! Love your writing ❤️ take care

When the Dust Settled

Riza Hawkeye x They/Them Reader

A/N: So happy to be doing an FMA request. I do realize now that I’m reading through the request again, I misread who was looking for Scar and who was getting stumbled upon and I think that changed the whole plot of the fic. Hope you still enjoy it! Word Count: 3,458

“Hawkeye… Hawkeye, hey.”

Riza didn’t blink, but she did come to from her hyper-focused fog.

“Yeah?”

“I got your lunch. Put the rifle down and sit up, relax for a few minutes. You’ve been on watch for hours.”

Riza slowly clicked the safety on and lowered her rifle. With a bit of a wince, she sat up, making sure her body was covered by the raised wall of the building they were occupying. She hadn’t realized how stiff she was until just then. She finally looked up at the soldier sitting cross-legged in front of her and managed a tired smile. (Y/n) gave her one of their own and wiggled the two brown paper sacks in their hands before passing one off to her.

They had often eaten their meals together since this godless war began. It was one of the only moments from day to day life that almost made them feel like they were normal people. Well, as long as they ignored the blaring heat of Ishval, the ever present smell of blood, and occasional gun fire in the distance. The ever-present grit of sand.

“What are you gonna do after the war, Riza?” (Y/n) asked after they had gotten through about half of their rationed meal.

“I don’t know,” Riza answered after taking a few sips of warm water, “It’s hard to imagine this war will ever end. How about you? You must have a plan.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” They grinned and Riza rolled her eyes.

“Let’s hear it then.” She smiled, resting her chin against her fist.

“I haven’t worked all the finer details out yet, but I’m gonna help people. I’m gonna take my pay at the end of this and make something that can help struggling people for years to come. Maybe a public garden or a library with a bunch of programs and resources, a school or something like that,” their smile dimmed, “Something that creates instead of destroys.”

Riza straightened out her leg to tap her boot against their’s, “Well, I think that’s a really nice idea. I’m sure you’ll go far.”

“Thanks,” they gave Riza an appreciative look, “and if you don’t ever figure out where you wanna be after this. I could always use your sharp eyes and a helping hand.”

Riza felt her heart swell, “That sounds—“

BOOM!

The building shook and quickly began to crumble below them before another deafening explosion went off. The roof began to collapse in on itself as the concrete crumbled away into the smoke and flames.

“Shit! What’s going on?!” (Y/n) pitched forward and linked an arm over the lip of the wall, holding up Riza with the other as she scrambled to do the same.

They watched in horror as the middle of the roof caved and rubble slid and crunched as the foundation failed. Their legs were suddenly dangling in open air as the building continued to collapse.

Riza’s grip began to slip. Looking down at the billowing smoke and flame, she wondered if this would be her end, but (Y/n) caught her by the wrist before she could fall into the crevice, she looked up to (Y/n)’s strained face and the pale blue sky with billowing smoke like clouds.

“Don’t let go!” (Y/n) yelled over the screams, explosions and gun fire. “Hold on, I’ll swing you up!”

“(Y/n), you can’t.” Riza’s voice was strained, “You’re slipping.”

“Come on,” they put on a smile that looked more like a grimace, “don’t give up on me!”

Riza flung her other arm up to grasp (Y/n)’s and they braced themself, grunting with the exertion of working up a swinging motion. With one last mighty heave, Riza was flung up and over the sinking wall, more like a crumbling concrete floor at this point.

“Quick, grab my hand!” Riza reached out to take (Y/n)’s hand again and bring them up over the top of the wall as well, but just as their fingers brushed, the edge of the wall (Y/n) had been clinging to broke away and (Y/n) slipped through Riza’s fingers.

Riza’s scream was lost over chaos and she watched helplessly as (Y/n) tumbled into the giant fissure that had split the building. They had fallen out of sight in an instant.

Riza felt the building buckle again, trying not to think about the floors below being crushed with more and more weight… a particularly bad jolt occurred, forcing the caved roof to fall several more floors. Riza smacked her head hard against the concrete, falling unconscious as the smoke and sand billowed around her.

***

When Riza opened her eyes, she found herself in a medical tent. The groans and whimpers the soldiers could be heard all around her.

“Hawkeye, are you lucid?”

Her eyes flickered to the side, finding Roy Mustang mirroring the war-hardened eyes she possessed right back at her.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. You got a nasty head wound, some cuts and bruises, but the doctor says you’ll be okay. You were lucky you were on the roof.”

“The roof… (Y/n),” Riza attempted to sit up, but Roy kept her down, “(Y/n) fell, are they alright? Please, you have to tell me!”

Roy gave Riza a sorrowful look, “Haven’t found them yet. They’re still pulling soldiers from the wreckage, but the way the building collapsed, there’s no way to scour the whole site without jeopardizing more lives. I’m sorry, but it’s not looking good either way.”

“I can’t believe the Ishvalans would go this far…”

Roy sighed mournfully, “It wasn’t them.”

“What...?”

“It was friendly fire. Apparently the news that the building had been seized hadn’t reached the platoon responsible. It’s all a mess.”

Riza closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing her heart not to break, “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, Hawkeye,” Roy stood from his seat when he saw Hughes wave him over from the front of the tent, “I really am.”

“Me too.” Riza murmured as he walked away. She closed her eyes again, willing the burning sensation to go away.

In the end, (Y/n)’s body had been declared unrecoverable, and a few months later, the war had ended. Riza stood in front of the wreckage as soldiers were loaded into those heavy tactical vehicles back to Central, taking one last look at the final resting place they would forever be entombed within. It just wasn’t fair.

“They don’t belong here.” Riza had whispered.

“I don’t think any of us did.” Roy responded. “The last vehicle is loading.”

Riza nodded, but before she joined Roy and the convoy, she crouched in front of the rubble and placed the desert blossom she had found atop the hot stone. She then got up and left, not once looking back because it would simply be much too painful.

***

Four Years Later

“Ow!” (Y/n) exclaimed, “It wouldn’t kill you to be little more gentle, or at least give a warning!”

“Quit crying, in case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a cushy Central City hospital.” The doctor grunted, snapping the last connector in place. “Your own fault for picking fights.”

“Hey, those guys started it. Like I was gonna just stand there and let them harass Rick like that.”

“Still gotta be careful though, I’m no mechanic and I’m barely a doctor. That arm’ll be scrap before long if I have to be the one to keep trying to fix it.”

(Y/n) flexed their metal fingers experimentally and they seemed to respond well enough. “Hey, for now it’s perfect. Thanks old man.” They hopped off of the table and jogged to the open flap of the canvas tent.

“Where are you off to now? You should take it easy for a couple minutes at least, let your arm settle.”

“Nah, I have to help with the garden. The raccoons have been trying to tear everything up so we’re building a fence. Can’t let all that planting go to waste!” (Y/n) called over their shoulder before completely exiting the tent.

As fate would have it, (Y/n) had survived the building collapse during the Ishvalan War by the skin of their teeth. They had been crushed below the rubble for a number of days, fading in and out of consciousness. Their blips between sleeping and waking became longer and longer and they found themself wondering when they would awaken for the last time, but the next time they had opened their eyes, they found themself on a cot covered in dingy bandages and one less arm to their name, a name they had a hard time remembering at the moment.

Amnesia, the Ishvalan who had cut them free explained. Even to this day they had a difficult time remembering their past. All they knew for certain from their bloody and torn clothes was their name and that they had been an Amestrian soldier.

As they were slowly fed information about what had been going on around them, they could not understand why those good people had bothered to save them at all. Apparently they had snuck some food to some Ishvalan children on a few occasions and that had played a major role in the rescue efforts.

It had been suggested they find and rejoin their platoon to try to regain more of their memories, but they refused. How they had ever ended up fighting in this awful war, they couldn’t comprehend. They decided they were better off not knowing who they had been before the collapse and after they had healed enough to begin walking on their own, they did everything they could to give back to the Ishvalans who had saved their life.

Now four years after the Civil War, they found themself building up the slums of East City, trying to make life easier for all the refugees that lived there.

They had only just begun pounding stakes into the ground when the whispers began. Apparently the military was sniffing around. They were looking for the scarred Ishvalan that had been in their care days ago. He was long gone now, they wouldn’t find anything and would move on before long. They would all just needed to play nice until then.

“Excuse me.” An oddly familiar voice called.

“Yeah?” (Y/n) didn’t turn around, opting to finish staking the post instead of facing the soldier behind them.

“We are searching for an Ishvalan man of a tall, muscular build with a large, ‘x’ shaped scar across his face. He also has a tattoo that runs around his right arm. Have you seen anyone that fits that description?”

“Hmm, nope. Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

“He’s a very dangerous man. A murderer. You aren’t doing anyone any favors if you are hiding him.”

(Y/n) frowned, but did not waiver, instead they grabbed another post only for it to slip through their fingers when their prosthetic didn’t grip it properly.

“Here, I’ll get that for you.” They heard the soldier say.

She moved to crouch before them and when she reached for the post, she froze, a quiet gasp leaving her lips.

“…(Y/n)?”

They finally met the soldier’s eye. Something about her was very familiar, but their brain couldn’t quite grasp it, but it was clear to them that this blonde, brown-eyed soldier definitely knew them.

“You’re… it’s you, your alive… how?”

Riza didn’t think she should believe it at first, but she would know that face anywhere, it had haunted her nightmares and and pleasant dreams alike.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come back?” She asked, getting more heated with each question, taking (Y/n) aback when they saw the raw emotion she displayed.

Riza reached out and grabbed the collar of their shirt, “Say something!”

“I don’t know you!” (Y/n) blurted, then back peddled, “I mean, you seem familiar, but I don’t remember you. I don’t remember a lot from before the collapse. Sorry.”

Riza started openly at (Y/n), her mouth slightly agape. Her eyes snapped down to the bare-bones automail arm that encased her quivering fist.

“Can you let go, please?”

It took all of Riza’s will power to do just that.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.

“Hey, uh, it’s okay.” (Y/n) felt compelled to comfort the woman, “This is kinda a lot to take in I’m sure.”

Riza nodded mutely, unable to take her eyes off of them in fear that they would disappear after a single blink. (Y/n) felt rather drawn to her as well, trying to understand just where she had fit into their life besides being comrades on the wrong side of the war.

“Lieutenant, find anything?”

Both (Y/n) and Riza startled slightly from the addition of a new voice. Riza reluctantly turned and (Y/n) peered around her shoulder to size-up the soldier walking towards them. He sparked something in their brain too.

“Colonel,” Riza had begun to speak,

“Well I’ll be damned.” Roy breathed, “Second Lieutenant (L/n), you have some explaining to do.”

(Y/n) did not appreciate his tone, “Hey, I just told your friend here that I don’t know you people, nor do I owe you anything. My memory may be foggy but I clearly remember the people who saved me, and none of them were either of you.”

Roy bristled and stepped forward, but Riza blocked him off, giving him a warning glare. She could tell the locals around them were getting antsy watching this prolonged interaction.

“If I had even the smallest inkling that you were alive, I would have worked my hands to the bone to remove every slab piece by piece by myself if I had to.” She murmured, the sentiment tugged at (Y/n)’s heart. They must have been very close back then.

“So,” she cleared her throat, “you haven’t seen who we’re looking for, alright then. We will be on our way then. However, may I ask you one last thing?”

(Y/n) gave a brief nod, curious, “Shoot.”

Riza paused briefly when (Y/n) answered her in such a familiar way. Once upon a time a reference to her sharp shooting skills. They probably hadn’t said it on purpose, but it gave Riza hope that perhaps one day they would remember her and all they had been through together.

“Can I talk to you again sometime? I’d like to know more about what happened, what you’ve been up to. Would that be okay?”

(Y/n) knew they didn’t owe the woman anything, but again, their mind was grasping at something they couldn’t quite reach and they felt like this woman held the key. “…I suppose. Maybe leave the uniform at home though, the military presence kind of stresses everyone out.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I guess we’re done here.” Roy grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, Lieutenant. We still have work to do.”

“Right.” Riza was mildly annoyed with the Colonel, but he was right. She had to be professional, Scar was still out there. “I’ll come by in a few days, (Y/n).”

“I’ll be here, Hawkeye.”

“Riza, call me Riza.”

“Riza,” (Y/n) nodded to themself, “Okay Riza, see you later.”

Riza’s lips twitched into a small smile and then she followed Roy back to the car. When they got in, Roy sighed.

“Just be careful, Lieutenant. If the wrong people from the military figure out they survived and never returned to duty, they could be imprisoned for desertion. Not to mention they aren’t the same person you once knew. Don’t let nostalgia overpower your logic.”

“Are you lecturing me, Colonel?” Riza glared.

“Not at all.” Roy smirked. “Just some friendly advice.”

“With all due respect, sir. You can keep your advice to yourself unless asked.”

Roy shrugged and the car drove off.

***

“Easy, Hayate…” Riza cautioned the dog as he excitedly pulled against his leash to survey the area.

Riza felt strangely nervous coming back to visit (Y/n). Without her uniform to hide within, she had changed the outfit she was going to wear out at least three times. She usually didn’t care about such things, but this felt different. Even now she was wondering if she should have worn her hair up as usual instead of down. Why was she second guessing everything?

She noticed a pair of Ishvalan children peering over at Black Hayate with big, excited eyes and smiled.

“He’s friendly if you want to come pet him.”

The children shyly approached, giggling when Hayate licked their fingers. As they visited, Riza took the chance to look around. The East City Slums were an infamous eyesore if you asked the city officials, but honestly Riza had seen worse. The Ishvalan refugees were building from the ground up. Worse than that, building up from the devastation of war.

“Riza, hello.”

Riza turned, finding (Y/n) walking towards her. She found herself wondering how many visits it would take before the surprise would wear off.

“(Y/n), hello, thank you for seeing me.”

“No trouble. Rick, Rio, go help your grandpa for me, will you? He’s trying to rearrange the library again.”

“Ugh, okay…”

“Bye, Hayate!”

The boys ran off, leaving Riza and (Y/n) alone. Riza swallowed under the scrutiny of (Y/n)’s eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

“Hm? No, I don’t think so.” (Y/n) shook themself out of it, rubbing the back of their neck. “I just thought you had shorter hair for some reason.”

“I used to,” Riza lit up a bit, perhaps (Y/n) was starting to remember, “I wore it short when we knew each other. I met a girl a couple years ago with long hair and I thought it looked nice so I decided to try growing mine out.”

“Ah, well it does look really nice.” (Y/n) searched for anything more to add or talk about, but came up short. Such was the trouble with memory loss. Their well of stories wasn’t very deep. “Um, cute dog you have there.”

“Thank you.”

…

Yeah, this was awkward. But Riza managed to save it after a minute of weirdly loud silence.

“So you said you have a library here?”

“Surprising, huh?”

“I didn’t mean—“

“Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s definitely not anything amazing, but it’s a start. We’ve been working on building this place up. Of course, when you don’t have the funds, the projects go slow, but I think it makes these little victories all the more sweeter.”

Riza chuckled, earning an inquisitive look that was possibly bordering on being insulted.

“No, no, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just… at your core, you’re the same person after all. During the war, you often talked about how you were going to help people once it was over.”

“Huh.” (Y/n) acknowledged, because they really didn’t know what to say. It was kind of comforting, they supposed. At least they hadn’t been the complete monster they had feared they might have been. But still… why fight that war at all?

“Even your reasoning for joining the military was honorable. You always sent most of what you earned back home to your family.”

“…And what happened to them after everyone thought I was dead?” They asked softly, almost a whisper.

“They received compensation after it was determined you had been killed in action. I still check in on them every year, but they are doing well. They still feel your absence acutely, but they take it one day at a time.”

“I’m kind of awful, huh? I always wondered if I had a family, but I didn’t look very hard.”

“No, not at all. You went through a very traumatic event. You shouldn’t feel so bad. Besides… when you feel comfortable, if you’re up for it, I would be happy to take you to them. They would probably be better at helping you regain your memories than I would anyway.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t even know this much without you. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Riza managed a small smile. (Y/n) had always shut down any negative words she might have said in the past.

“Come on, the city has a nice park not too far from here. I’m sure your puppy will enjoy it. I’ll get you lunch too.“

“That sounds really nice, but I’ll be the one getting you lunch today and that’s final.”

“Okay, jeez,” (Y/n) chuckled, putting their hands out defensively, “I won’t fight you on it, put out that fire in your eyes… why is it so important to you?”

Riza’s smile broadened just a bit more, remembering those small moments of peace with brown paper bags and cloudless blue skies. She hoped (Y/n) would remember those moments too one day. Somehow, someway, everything would work out in the end. It was a rare moment of optimism for Riza, a feeling without any hard evidence to back it up, but she embraced the feeling.

“I’m returning a favor long overdue.”

[tracesofdevotion]

i talk about the apocalypse a lot but it can't be helped. i feel like we all talk about climate change and economic collapse and the end of the world with such casualness nowadays, we just assume that of course, humanity will destroy itself and the earth. sometimes i feel guilty when my mom is driving and i see a cute little patch of wildflowers and i know the car is probably polluting the air we're breathing.

it's not even the big bad corporations, or the wealthy's use of private jets. it's me. having my mom drive me to school. my little electric oven and microwave and electric bill. i don’t think i will ever be able to afford an electric car or a solar panel, and even if i could, i wouldn't bother. it feels hopeless. all the recycling and all the self-flagellation and still the air quality declines

we're all just sitting around waiting for the air quality to decline and the rain to become acidic and the fish to lose their slime and the corals to bleach themselves clean of zooxanthellae. the coral are bleaching themselves so clean in some places it's just white. they turn themselves into bleached plastic-white skeletons

and of course all of this sounds so dramatic but it's the end of the world. it deserves to sound dramatic! corals are not just pretty, they are the foundation of the entire underwater ecosystem. they're little microcities that hundreds of millions of creatures built their lives on. i can't believe no one cares anymore. we're all just so numb to it, like this is normal. like yes, the sea is acidifying, and this is normal

and of course, there's the other half of humanity that just doesn't believe humans are capable of making a meaningful impact. i can't wrap my mind around those deniers either. just. just go touch some grass. go visit a beach. go visit a farm. go sit in a wild field and feel the wind and the sun and the rain and tell me again that the earth is invincible.

[quietwingsinthesky]

I think, while I’m messing with shit anyway, that what I have to do for Tentoo in this AU is make her humanity a choice. Obviously, because I’m committed to the Chamelon Arch bit now, but also because it feels important that she chooses it. Even if there wasn’t much of a choice at all between that and a slow, painful death from not having nearly enough Time Lord in her to keep herself alive but too much to escape the burden of it.

Let’s set it like this—Donna burns because she’s trying to hold the universe in her head when she doesn’t, can’t, make enough room, and Tentoo is that universe without the fundamental physics to keep it in motion, collapsing in on herself no matter what she does.

Donna doesn’t get a say. That’s the tragedy the Doctor chooses for her. And the worst part is, maybe, that Tentoo has to watch and has to know that, gun to her best friend’s head, she’d do the same thing. Whatever the Doctor wants to claim about who she might be, whatever fire she was born in, they are, right now, still the same person. Until the moment Donna forgets, they’re the same person.

Because she’s got to start building herself somewhere, and she sets the foundation there. She won’t leave Donna. She’s survived having her hearts torn across dimensions before, she’ll live through it again, but even now, she has to know, losing Donna will kill her.

(She’s underestimating Rose, of course. She should know better. No one chooses themself as the crash dummy for a dimensional cannon unless they know they’d pick to stay where they land, no matter what breaks on the way. Maybe it isn’t the right choice, and god knows there will be five, ten, twenty, a hundred times Rose will regret it every time she realizes she’s never going to hear her mother’s voice again or see her little half-brother (full brother? the specifics of dimensional dna weren’t her specialty at her torchwood) grow up. She’d never pick differently, though. Fix this point in time. It can never be changed, no matter how it hurts. That’s one of the first things she learned running with the Doctor.)

It doesn’t change what’s coming. I think she’d wonder how many regenerations she has. Maybe they split the last one right down the middle, and neither of them will come out this next death whole but only half-formed and struggling to breathe. I think she wonders what would win if she asked for a breath of regeneration to fix herself from the Doctor she came from: his need to save a life, or the pragmatic decision to let his own end if it might save someone else in the future. And I think she realizes that she doesn’t want that power in his hands. Donna’s mind was spinning out a thousand new ideas the Doctor never would have dreamed of. Tentoo only needs one.

There is no halfway measure to it. All or nothing. Cling to being a Time Lord till her dying breath or roll the dice on humanity, hope she comes out the other side as someone she recognizes.

She’s choosing Donna. She’s choosing Rose. She’s choosing this terrifying not-quite-death, a new self, to change into someone who can survive this.

Because right now, she’s looking into the eyes of the man who never would. And part of her hates him for it so much she could scream. And part of her understands far too well and only wishes she had the words to fix it. To be honest, she doesn’t know which part is more Donna and which part is more Doctor. The lines are more than a little blurred. They think one thing in unison when she settles into the Chameleon Arch, and that’s I hope you’re happy like this.

She’s going to become Johanna Tyler (nee Smith.) (Not at first. Give her a little time. Gender is hard enough for humans, let alone aliens turned human who didn’t have it figured out either way.) Tomorrow, she’ll wake up from the strangest dream she’s ever had, and her best friend will be recovering from amnesia, and her partner will ask her if she’s okay many more times than she thinks she’d ever need, and the world will spin without her feeling it. She wouldn’t change her choice, either.

[thefirstknife]

Honestly, I have a feeling -any- Ghost could have been the catalyst for that end cutscene. They're parts of the Traveler, and probably because of that it's easy for the Witness to take control? They're smaller and can't really fight back? Is what I'm thinking. It was just our literal bad luck we were there with our Ghost.

Yeah, absolutely. I mentioned it being weird that it takes a Ghost to make the link not specifically about our Ghost, but just A Ghost. Because that further strengthens the Veil's link to the Light, but the Veil has not been used to benefit the Light.

From what we understand, the Veil is: 1. Linked to the Traveler 2. Literally radiates Traveler vibes/energy (Ghost said that he feels it the same as the Traveler) 3. Can link with Ghosts 4. Enourmous energy source that basically powers up whole Neomuna 5. Put on Neptune into the deepest part of the city by the colonists that came there so it came from what people in the Golden Age had available which excludes any Darkness artifacts.

We still don't know WHAT exactly it is, even by looking at it, but it's unambiguously Light. To me, it looked like some sort of larva with roots/veins. It's obviously made of the Light material (very similar pattern to Tree of Silver Wings when it wasn't corrupted). So the Witness needs something of Light to link with the Veil (first plan was Radial Mast (unexplained) and then it used a Ghost. However, despite these connections to the Light, also: 1. It can be wielded/manipulated by the Witness 2. Is very well known to the Witness and apparently was so powerful for the Witness that it had to be hidden in the Collapse to prevent full destruction of the system 3. Can hurt the Traveler to the point of rendering it virtually "gone"

Why can a piece of the Traveler hurt... the Traveler? Unless we're looking at it wrong and separating these things purely into Light and Darkness. Like, for example, the Witness was not harmed or changed at all by the Traveler's beam. The beam wasn't inherently destructive, but it still managed to bore a hole into a Pyramid ship (with the motif of the Cradle no less! Terraforming!). It did not affect the Witness in any way. It more or less kinda helped it?

Maybe we're too preoccupied with the dichotomy that like, we can't fully understand why a Light artifact would be able to cause damage to the Traveler or why it didn't immediately harm the Witness. But that's something that should be somehow talked about. Like, right away. This is some HUGE and WILD shit going on that's quite literally making us rethink the entire foundation of the setting and all rules we know, but it's not being immediately the most important thing in the story.

This will probably be explained at some point, I just wish it got explained when it's imminently relevant. Like, we're in despair about the Traveler being "gone" and Ghosts no longer feeling it and all doom and despair, but we don't really know what the Witness did or why and what's the extent of the damage on the Traveler. Is it even damage? Maybe we're thinking of it as damage, but it isn't.

But again. Kinda relevant to know what the Veil is and what is its purpose and origin. Like, that is the most important thing right now.

Anyway, I'm losing my mind.