#i will say this whole situation definitely left a bitter aftertaste in everyone's mouths though
Note
Gin what do you think about freema's exit?
i was speechless and I'm sorry to say that no one makes a good impression (including freema, i'm sorry)
if the writers knew that she wanted to leave they could try to change her story in season 4 to give her a fair exit (by the way it's not an impossible thing considering they said they said fuentes had to leave in 4x09 and then they changed idea)
if freema has decided to leave NA at the end of the season, i'm sorry to say that she looks like a person abandoning the sinking ship (of course I know that she doesn't owe anyone anything and that it's about her career, but that doesn't mean a person can't be sad about it).
In conclusion: situation handled very badly by everyone.
anon 2:
I definitely saw Freema’s exit coming(the stans were intense but right, i fear lmao)because Helen’s screentime and storylines were trash and she was pretty much reduced to a love interest but I’m really going to miss her. Freema is so talented and I love Sharpe despite how much they tried to reduce her character. I keep wondering how they’ll save face going forward because her exit message to the fans was sweet but the producers were saying she wasn’t leaving up until two days ago lol so I can’t help but wonder if this blindsided them a bit. Anyway, I’m guessing they’ll do another time jump because that’s what NA tends to do after each season but I’m not really into that because idk how it’ll affect Leyren? Feels like they’ll skip steps again and have them magically back together…
I had doubts already about freema's status for s5 when wilder got promoted to main character. 2 seasons without a single promotion and they suddenly decide to bump someone up who was literally introduced as helen's replacement at NA? yeah. I'm annoyed and disappointed at how they wasted helen's character in s4 given that now there's little chance of us seeing her story continue to play out outside from second hand information from the other characters. I don't know when the writers were informed that she'd be leaving the show and maybe it was when part of the season was written already. But you can't help but think about all the ways s4 could've been a decent send off for helen's character with the premise they set up in 4x01.a premise that was built on her arc in s3 with mina too. If they had let her go to London on her own and get to do all the things she set out to, run the hospital and make it better, work on her relationship with her mother, unpack her history that sent her running from her home country. Really explore those things instead of constantly splitting her time with Max's story and him being a wrench in her plans. So that by 4x22 we could've left with helen's character settled into her new journey in London and new beginnings. Her character deserved that much after the seasons of "wait for it" to dive into her backstory.
as for a time skip, i don’t think it’ll be anything major, maybe 6 months or less. there wasn’t a time skip really for s3 to s4 and the only reason they had one for s2 to s3 was. well, pandemic stuff. 5x01 will definitely set the tone for how the rest of the season will play out.
As for freema personally, I don't blame her for leaving the show. I know it feels like abandoning ship, especially this close to the end. But the reality is that New Amsterdam is ending and freema has an opportunity to lead a show that has a future. Given that the shows are in two different countries and that we are still in a pandemic, it likely wasn't feasible to do both even if she cut back episodes on NA. This is her career and she has to do what's best to keep it thriving. We can't fault her for that. i didn’t realize that any of the producers were saying she’d still be on s5 but i haven’t been following them closely during the break. maybe they were still working out the details and holding out hope to get her for a couple concrete episodes? though I'm sure the writers and schulner will work with her to fit in a scene or two to wrap up the series with. They'll just keep it hush for the surprise element.
#anon#asks#i will say this whole situation definitely left a bitter aftertaste in everyone's mouths though#especially given the poor reception of s4 and 4b in particular
1 note
·
View note
Text
We Wayward Stars ch. 4
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
Summary: Altean Lance fic. Things begin to hit the fan. Orbital reentry included.
Several people are standing. A few of them are hunched over their computers, still- most of them are looking up at the larger monitor.
Everything is normal. Within bounds. As predictable and neat as anything can be observing the moon of a planet at the edge of the solar system.
Nothing is wrong, except the fact that three people and their entire ship should be there. Or, in fact, anything, except a single bored hole to suggest anyone was there to drill an ice core in the first place.
“Think the kid could tell us about it?”
Iverson’s good eye doesn’t pull away from the monitor.
“I mean, the alien one.”
“I know which kid you mean,” he grinds out, with about as much patience as he can manage at that point. “What do you think he’s going to tell us? There’s an empty moon where two of our best men and a promising cadet used to be?”
The officer shrinks a bit at his tone- but holds strong. They’re all stressed. It’s hard to talk to anyone in this room without running into sharp edges of some kind. “He mentioned he was fleeing something, right? And we got an energy spike from 01 the same day they missed their first check-in.”
“Or we can try not to make baseless guesses about something we clearly don’t understand.”
Another person speaks up, quietly. “So we’re lying to the general public and pinning the blame on one of the victims.” She doesn’t pull her eyes away from her station.
“You do me a favor, you find Shirogane alive and get a better explanation for what happened, I’ll personally apologize to him and everyone else. In the meantime I’d like to avoid a global panic.”
The woman doesn’t lift her head to meet his eyes, but her tone is distinctly drawn taut when she says “Yes, sir.”
It’s only years of muscle memory in military posture that keeps him from deflating. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like someone to explain how a thirteen-year-old broke into my office this morning.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Working towards fighter class takes up a lot more time than he expected, which ultimately, works out very much in Lance’s advantage.
Space travel is imperfect. Earth is doing its best, but they don’t have… anything, really. It makes sense not everyone is going to make it out. And he knows already that he can’t help with that from his current situation.
He hadn’t known Shiro as much as he had Sam, but it was enough to know that he’d been an incredible guy. Charming, polite- and incredibly good at what he did. You didn’t get where he was at 24 without something going for you.
And now they were gone. Just like that. And the worst part was afterwards; more or less the entire Garrison campus moving back to business.
He can’t even begrudge them. He’s doing the same himself.
Hunk disagrees, considering the number of times Lance talks him into sneaking out of the Garrison- but sometimes he just has to get away from it all, and the least he can do is spread the joy a little.
A few times, he seriously debates sneaking in to see Blue. He could probably just ask the Garrison, but another part of him resents that. She doesn’t belong to them. Ultimately, it doesn’t come to anything- he’s occupied, and stays that way.
Keith disappears. The instructors call it a discipline issue. Rumors abound about a fight. A few of them insist he put someone in the hospital- stabbed them, even. A lot of it just sounds like gossip, and Lance isn’t interested in poking around. Either way, it stands that his dorm room is empty within a day, and no one afterwards seems to have any idea where he went.
A week later, Lance makes fighter class. He gloats about it- but there’s a bitter aftertaste to it.
He knows who that spot belonged to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Simulator class proves to be simultaneously the greatest and worst thing that has happened to Lance since arriving on Earth. The first time everything lights up in a field of stars, it doesn’t feel like a fake ship. It doesn’t feel like a pretend assignment. He can’t even listen to what he’s supposed to be doing- Hunk, and the other student they’re paired with, some fourteen-year-old whiz kid- because he’s back out there.
It feels almost like home.
And then the ship crashes.
Well, no. That’s avoiding the issue.
And then he crashes the ship.
Iverson makes it very, very clear after the fact whose fault that was.
Excuses clatter ineffectively around Lance’s head for hours afterwards. The controls are wrong. He’s out of practice. That’s not how space works.
None of them actually make it out his mouth.
He resolves to try harder. Cautiously. Manages a few good exercises, and more bad ones. It’s never completely easy, never completely like what he’s used to- and he’s not alone in the ship. He butts heads with Hunk, and the other one- Pidge, which he swears is some type of Earth bird. Who names their kid after a bird?
So-and-so Gunderson, apparently.
Outside of being fourteen, a few things stick out about Pidge. He’s squirrely around the instructors sometimes- but that doesn’t stop him from yelling at them from time to time. After a while, a particular subject emerges that seems to be the target of almost every one of Pidge’s outbursts.
Kerberos.
The failed mission.
He still hadn’t talked to Iverson about it. Hadn’t been sure what to say. You don’t lead a conversation about someone else’s loss with ‘jeez you humans sure are bad at space, am I right’.
(Especially considering his track record with the simulator)
But it feels like there’s something to say. Earth is a galaxy over from what’s considered civilized space- it’s a fringe planet if there ever was one- but if one of the Lions is here, someone should’ve come by now. An Altean scout ship, or…
Lance puts down the book he’d been trying to read the entire time. “Hey Hunk, how do you feel about having a night on the town?”
“You mean sneaking out again? After we just got chewed out by Commander Iverson? No, great, I love it, just two guys getting in trouble for like the eighth time this semester alone.”
“Well, it won’t be just us. It’ll be-”
“Oh no,”
“Team building.”
Hunk sighs, deeply, picking up his vest from where he left it. “Has it occurred to you we can bond doing other things? Things that won’t get us in trouble?” He takes a moment longer to find his boots. “Like, I dunno, group study session.”
Navigating the hallways at this point is easy enough, even taking a detour to try and get to Pidge’s dorm. It’s not even enough to keep Hunk from continuing to complain, though he keeps his voice down after the lights shut off.
“...start an agate collection. Get fast food sometime. Of course by ‘get fast food’ I mean let me make you something that isn’t overcooked garbage but y’know-”
“Shh!” He hesitates at Hunk’s brief, affronted look- sorry buddy, it’s for a cause- and then pokes his head around the corner, just in time to catch a retreating flash of orange sneakers.
…Looked like Pidge had other plans for tonight. But now, so did Lance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You come up here to rock out?”
There’s a moment where Pidge defies gravity by sheer force of surprise. He shuffles clumsily in place- feet together, hands in his lap, somehow trying not to look suspicious. “Oh. Lance. Hunk. No, uh, just looking at the stars.”
An appraising eye sweeps over the miscellaneous scattered hardware. “Where did you get this stuff? It doesn’t look like Garrison tech.” Insofar as his knowledge of human anything goes.
“I built it.”
“You built all of this?” There’s a thread of awe in Hunk’s tone- it’s hard to say how much Pidge appreciates it, because he definitely doesn’t appreciate the questing fingers heading for the keyboard.
“With this thing, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system.”
He plays at considering it- as if he just picks the thought out of thin air: “That right? All the way to Kerberos?”
He watches Pidge fold away from the name.
“You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up. What’s your deal?”
Silence- except telling Hunk off for touching something again. Time passes. Too much. After a moment, Lance sits down, cross-legged. “Hey, we’re not leaving anytime soon.” Partially because he doesn’t think he could tear Hunk away from that setup if he tried to- out of the corner of his eye Lance can see him inching towards the screen again.
“Fine.” Pidge turns to face them both, an odd expression of gravity. “The world as you know it is… about to change. The Kerberos mission wasn’t lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake.”
Oh he’s just decided he really doesn’t like where this is going.
“…So I’ve been scanning the system, and picking up alien radio chatter.”
“What have you been hearing?”
Both Hunk and Pidge are staring at him, but he doesn’t really care. Suddenly, the peaceful blips on the two screens don’t seem nearly so much of an idle curiosity. He makes a grab for the headphones.
Pidge finds his voice first. “Lance, what the hell?”
“Depending on who’s talking, this entire planet could be in big trouble.” The headphones are halfway to his ears when a much smaller hand catches his wrist.
Perplexed hazel eyes are studying him sharply. “What do you know about this?”
He forces himself to breathe. Lowers the headphones. If Pidge is right, there’s a whole solar system they could be in. There’s no guarantee they’re heading for Earth now. Yet.
“…How much trouble are we talking here?” Hunk ventures into the silence.
“I mean a fleet. Maybe not the entire thing. They might not even know I’m here. It’s been over a year-” Maybe it’s not Zarkon. Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe they’re trying to hail. “Pidge, I’m serious, what have they been saying?”
“...Well, I haven’t been able to make heads or tails out of a lot of it, but, there’s been one word that keeps repeating.” Pidge rummages at their notes. “Voltron.”
“…Quiznak.”
“What?”
“It’s like a swear word,” Hunk clarifies; Lance tones him out, stumbling to his feet.
Pidge twists in place. “Where are you going?”
“Commander Iverson needs to know about this.” He makes it about two steps to the stairs when the sirens go off- the campus is going into lockdown. Or he already knows about it.
He barely has time to process before Hunk is pointing out something.
Something coming down from the sky.
Pidge holds up binoculars for a moment. “…Lance, were you serious about a fleet?”
There’s a dark speck in the center of the fire. He swipes the binoculars, not paying much attention as Pidge comes along for the ride.
“…That’s too small to be a cruiser. Way too fast.” He waits for them to pull up, slow down. It nosedives into the ground instead, impacts with a brilliant flash.
Pidge is already gathering his stuff as furiously as he can go. Lance doesn’t wait, but runs for the door. “Hunk, c’mon!”
He doesn’t know who’s coming down but he has to meet them.
And oh god he wants to be wrong about who sent that ship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’s not. By the time he’s gotten there, the Garrison has beat him to it- there’s a tent set up, surrounded by guards and people. But it’s altogether too easy to see the faintly glowing pod already tied down for transport.
Pidge hesitates, watching him at an angle before broaching the subject. “Do you… recognize that?”
“Yeah. Bad news.”
He slides down the slope easily- the guard standing closest to the entrance spots him, trains their rifle in his direction. “Stay where you are!”
He pushes something out through his teeth that’s more irritated huff than meditation breath and shifts.
The guard flinches. A hasty conversation passes on radio- Lance could nearly pick it up, but he’s distracted when a faint chorus of scraping noises signals that Pidge, then, after a moment, Hunk, have joined him. They stay behind him when he approaches the quarantine unit.
“Look, you-” even with face concealed, the guard is sizing him up, nervously. “Nobody’s getting in here. Commander Iverson’s orders. That means you, too. You’re not even supposed to be here.”
With a distinct thread of palace hauteur, Lance squares his shoulders. “That’s a Galra pod. The ship that launched it isn’t going to be that far behind. So either you can go tell Commander Iverson that, or you can get out of my way and let me do it. You know, like we agreed I was supposed to if something like this happened.”
“And what about them?” They take a hand off the weapon to motion over his shoulder.
Hunk is looking distinctly uncomfortable- not the normal kind, the ‘this is a bad idea but I’m going along with it because you’re you, Lance’ but genuinely unnerved, and a pang of guilt hits Lance hard.
Pidge meets his eyes, brows knit together over them. Spindly hands are balled tightly into fists. It looks as if they’re caught somewhere between ‘please’ and ‘don’t you dare’.
With a bravado that Lance doesn’t remotely feel, he sweeps back around to face the instructor. “They’re with me.”
Faceplate notwithstanding, he can feel the guard’s incredulous look. He refuses to let his own waver, until the guard breaks away from him to talk on the radio. It’s a very short conversation, something he’s not sure if he finds heartening or dispiriting.
Either way, he doesn’t get to hear the answer.
Because right then, something explodes.
#voltron legendary defender#vld#Lance#Altean Lance#fanfiction#We Wayward Stars#readmore#Ganymede Fic Tag
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everybody Ready For A Lesson About Keeping Your Mouth Shut When The Shit’s Not Yours To Talk About? Yeah? Let’s Go.
I don’t even give a fuck if anybody reads this entire post or not, I’m posting it for me and my personal reasons alone.
I’m not blocking this woman’s name and photo out because I am the “neighbor” she is referring to, and since she did not give my family and I the proper discretion that we deserved, she’s not going to get it from me.
You get what you give so here it is, Heather.
We did not blow our house up. The house was barely touched by the fire that happened on July 8th at 4:00 A.M., just some siding and glass windows/door damage occurred. But we did lose three vehicles, three other vehicles were damaged but not totaled; we lost our mower, my father’s work trailer, thousands of dollars worth of work equipment, and we almost lost our two cats because we couldn’t get them out of the smoke-infested house. We were lucky we got our dogs and ourselves out.
And guess what else was lost? All of my fucking patience.
Four o’clock in the morning. Think about that. It woke you up, Heather, three houses down the road, and since you were oh so concerned about it, I want you to think about how we felt. Being right in it. Having to drag your dogs down a flight of steps while you’re less than twenty feet away from a sixty foot fire blazing up around everything that you’ve worked your whole life to earn, and the dogs are fighting you every step of the way because they’re scared. Because you’re scared. Because it’s four o’clock in the fucking morning and you have no idea why the fuck everything is suddenly on fire or how to even begin to put a cap on the situation to control it.
Imagine watching your 5″2, 125 pound mother try and tackle her way through a fireman, well over six foot, because he’s refusing to let her back into the house, the house that is pouring smoke and starting to catch on fire, the house that some of your pets and your father, her husband, are still inside of. Can you imagine that?
Probably not. And you probably can’t imagine my anger upon reactivating my Facebook after months of not being on it and seeing your post about the house fire. My house fire. That you had no business posting about. Now I realize that all of this is over something that happened last month, and it may seem like old news to you, Heather, but it’s still the front page head line in my world. Because I’m still here cleaning it up. I’m still here dealing with the aftermath, while you and your entire family keep driving by at super slow speeds, trying to catch a look at the wreckage whenever you can.
I truly appreciate the way you made no effort to correct your friends and family on the post. You know, all the people commenting on it, saying things like,
“Meth Lab!”
“They deserved it!”
“Videotape the carnage and post it, hell yeah!”
“It’s bittersweet.”
Bittersweet, a definition: Something that is sweet but has a bitter aftertaste.
I guess it was bittersweet, Heather, the night that my sister and I were babysitting your children while you two were out getting drunk, and then you two came home, and Daniel, a grown man, was so plastered that he had literally shit himself. I could smell it. My sister could smell it. I know you could smell it, Heather, and I can still remember you chastising him like a child when he tried to hug us before we left.
I guess it was bittersweet, Heather, the day that my sister and I almost hit your dog going down the road, because you can never seem to keep your dog on your own property, and it was bittersweet the day your son decided to shoot me in the back of the leg with a high powered BB rifle filled with metal pellets from about four feet away (still have that scar, by the way!). It was bittersweet the night that I watched your son scream at his father to fuck off, then peeled out of your driveway, screeching his tires. It’s bittersweet that you still have my grandmother’s dog leash and won’t give it back. It’s bittersweet that your kids thought they could tear up our yard running through it on their dirt bikes and four wheelers and snowmobiles year round before we put our fence up to keep them out. It’s bittersweet that you almost let the bank foreclose on your house a few years ago because you couldn’t keep your shit stable.
It’s bittersweet that with our history, me having used to be friends with your kids and babysitting and “being neighborly”, that you would honestly even allow people to say those things about my family and I on your post; that you wouldn’t even try to defend us or tell people that it wasn’t anything like that. It’s bittersweet how you can talk about the fire online without actually knowing anything that happened, without coming down to even ask any of us if everything and everyone was okay afterwards. And it’s really bittersweet that you, Heather, a grown woman, can’t seem to keep your mouth shut about shit that’s not yours to talk about.
When does a person hit the age of “Old Enough To Know Better,”? Please, Heather, I’d like you to come tell me when you feel as though you’ve reached this stage in your adult life. I’ll be right here down the road, waiting. You obviously know where I fucking live.
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
xx-world-class-fuck-up-xx
World.Class.Fuckup
oriastraum
Reincarnated
njrvisuals
Untitled
imkushagra
KUSHAGRA
outlander-france
Outlander France