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#debriefing
laurabwrites · 6 months
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Second 'Verse, Different Than the First
Chapter 4: Debriefing Takes a Long Time, Even With Slides
Peacetime Coruscant isn't too happy with a Venator in the system, but they've got Senatorial codes. It'll all be fine right? Just have to debrief the Jedi Council. If anyone is going to believe time travel, it'll be the Jedi, right?
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modern-inheritance · 12 days
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Debrief snippet, #who the hell knows
“I’ll answer to the best of my ability.” Arya confirmed with a short nod. She couldn’t help the sly creep up at the corner of her lips with the dry addition of, “Though, to be honest, recent events have shown me that I am…rather bad, at answering questions.”
The silence was distinctly uncomfortable for the gathered lords. 
Däthedr’s eyes flared wide a handful of seconds after Arya’s comment, quickly hidden again behind the cool, controlling mask of his station. Islanzadí, though, openly pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed softly. 
“Was that a torture joke, Major?” Her voice dripped with tired exasperation, both unsurprised by the equivoque and yet completely unprepared for the unfathomable depths of her daughter’s apparent lack of taste. 
Arya smiled, wolfish and eyes gleaming. “Yes, ma’am.”
Islanzadí did not raise her gaze, eyes still shut and imperceptibly massaging the headache she was sure was going to form before this was over. “Please refrain from such things. I remind you, this is an official debriefing.” 
“Again, I can only do so to the best of my ability.”
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play-my-game · 8 months
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Prelude to a Court Martial
Trektober 2023
Prompt 24 Court Martial
After Voyager returns home to Earth, Chakotay must go through a debriefing with the formidable Admiral Nechayev, one that could lead to his wife and former captain's court martial.
Notes: This is an excerpt from the (in progress) sequel to my story "Ship in a Bottle". The last enemy mentioned was fought in the story. Also Chakotay and Janeway are married. All you really need to know.
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Remember her?
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For the love of god, praise and reassure your Dom after sex. I cannot tell you the amount of times I’ve told a Dom they did a good job after sex and they’re like “???? Why are you saying that???” It’s INSANE. Aftercare goes both ways! Praise! Your! Dom! Tell them the specific things you liked! Tell them how hot they were! Tell them that you appreciate them taking control! It goes such a long way, trust me.
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howdoesone · 7 months
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How does one handle the emotional and psychological challenges of working in emergency medical services?
Working in emergency medical services (EMS) can be a highly rewarding but also emotionally and psychologically challenging profession. EMS professionals are exposed to traumatic events, high-stress situations, and the suffering of patients on a daily basis. It is essential for EMS professionals to develop effective strategies to cope with these challenges and prioritize their mental well-being.…
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trashworldblog · 7 months
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"we're professional ghost hunters now"
"best in the business"
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laurabwrites · 6 months
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Second 'Verse, Different Than the First, Chapter 6 is up!
I did it! I finished a multi-chapter fic! Chapter 6: Getting Started on Everything That Comes After
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modern-inheritance · 21 days
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Modern Inheritance: Debrief, Pt. 1 (Intro)
(A/N: Politics! Verbal bullshitting! Thinly veiled threats! Overabundance of accessories and unnecessary magic use! POLITICS!
To quote Arya off screen, "I'd rather go through Gil'ead three more times than deal with any of this political hellscape, but *singsong* here I am! Putting on a STUPID dress uniform, about to be, for all intents and purposes, fucking INTERROGATED about being ambushed, losing my mate, teleporting a dragon egg, getting TORTURED while, haha, I was being asked a series of questions, also known as being interrogated, becAUSE THIS WON'T BE TRIGGERING AT ALL! :D GLEN WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T WE RENOUNCED OUR FUCKING CULTURE YET?!"
Arya is required to attend an official debriefing on the ambush and her captivity by the council of elf lords and ladies. She prefers when she gets stabbed from the front.)
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“I still think this could be done on paper.” 
Glenwing patted his commander’s shoulder and pulled her into his side for a quick hug, never once faltering in their pace as they meandered to the great hall. “You’ll do fine. You can handle questions.” He paused, a grim tilt to his half smirk. “Don’t handle these questions like you did the last ones you got. You’re supposed to answer these ones.”
The dark humor drew a similarly tight lipped grin from her. “I’m not worried about that.” 
Arya raised a hand to run it over her hair and shot her medic a sheepishly appreciative look when he caught her wrist. It had taken both of them an almost embarrassing amount of time to remember how to tie the Flat Crest braid required of elven women when in dress uniform. It was even longer for Glen to do it neatly enough for Rhunön to give the plait a passing inspection, the smith’s obsession with perfection not helping matters. 
They both hadn’t voiced what was on their minds during the entire, rather exasperating, process. The real reason why they had so much trouble tying what should have been a hairstyle they knew by heart after all these years. 
Fäolin had always been the one to do whatever hairstyle was asked of them for official events, even before he joined their squad. He’d laugh at their attempts whenever they returned to the forest, usher them into a chair and deftly weave bright silver or midnight black strands into the designs required in seconds. Arya and Glenwing had simply never had to learn.
Arya let out a rough sigh and tucked her thumbs under either side of the shiny belt clasped around her waist. She missed Wyrda’s familiar weight on her right hip. “This is just another political stunt. I can manage Islanzadí, we’re…I don’t know, figuring it out, I guess. But all of them?” The young elf gestured helplessly, a hint of sharp restlessness and budding frustration in the movement. “Who in the hells knows what they’re going to ask. There’s too many strings here, tangled in too many webs.” She made a face at the metaphors. “At least I’m falling into the stupid formal language again easy enough.”
“And just like that, you’re out of it.” Glen gave the combat liaison another squeeze around the shoulders, pointedly ignoring the open stare of a lone elf sitting in an alcove as they passed. “You can count Iläin to at least be fair. And Rendir’s still pretty fond of you, even if you haven’t really talked since you got back. They’re not all against you, and this is just another debriefing, not some official trial for blame.” 
Arya snorted softly. “Oh, we both know blame is going to be a factor. Valaria looked incensed when I said I wasn’t sure how Durza got through the preliminary wards on the outskirts without triggering an alarm. She’s got a lot to explain, but it’s not like I can question her.” 
Glen bobbed his head in reluctant agreement. “Yeah…Valaria might be an issue. She was pretty harsh on me when I had my own debriefing.” The medic tapped the tip of each mechanical finger against the end of his metal thumb, running through nerve check after nerve check as he realized a troubling fact. “Däthedr reigned her in, but…”
“But he and the Queen probably won’t do the same for me.” Arya shook her head. “Too much personal history. Any interference could be seen as them interfering with the investigation and trying to shield me.”
“It’s pretty clear there’s nothing to blame you for, even a Mani’s Cave salamander could see that.” The image of Lady Valaria of House Teorann standing at her podium as an eyeless, bioluminescent salamander, constantly pushing the useless spectacles she wore just for show up her slimy tube of a snout, made Arya crack a genuine smile. “Just be polite, don’t give them anything to jump on.”
“Or you could light a fire under their asses, see how they like it.” Both elves looked up, startled that there was already someone waiting outside the doors to the great hall. Brom shook out the match still burning from lighting his pipe and tucked it into a small leather pocket sewn into the inside of his armored coat. “Not literally. Why do I always feel like I have to add that on with you?”
“Because you taught me too well.” Arya flashed her former mentor a sharp toothed grin. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a remedial study hall to get to, old man?”
Brom grumbled into his beard, pipesmoke wafting up each time his lips parted. He had let the hairs grow again since they arrived, no longer quite as neat or well-kempt but passable as it grew out into a more formidable piece of facial hair. “As if I’d let you in there without an inspection. You’d probably go in with your boots untied and your shirt untucked if I wasn’t here.” He glanced at Glenwing. “Well, if Glen let you get away with it.” The medic gave him a grin of his own, knowing full well that was a lie. Brom cared far more than he ever wanted anyone to know, the sentimental old bastard. 
The old Rider gave his former ward a going over with his pipe clamped in his teeth. He tugged her sleeves straight and smoothed the lines of her shoulders, yanked the wrinkles out of the formal jacket by the hem. 
“Right. You pass.” His voice was gruff, but there was a certain warmth there. In a move only Glen or Brom could pull off, the man patted Arya’s cheek twice before he clasped her face in his hands. The gedwëy ignasia was rough and warm against her skin, tingling with everpresent magic despite his dragon’s passing. “You did everything you could and more, you hear me? Whatever those high and mighty idiots in there say, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of. Understood?” 
Arya searched his face, the determination and buried worry etched into his skin above wild eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The support she found meant multitudes, the support he had always shown, even when his rage and revenge was all he had in the world. She swore she’d never tell him, but despite the teasing they shared now, the arguments, the sometimes heavy handed tactics to try and prepare her for the world outside Du Weldenvarden…he had been more of a father to her than anyone. 
So of course there was only one response.
Brom felt the young elf just barely relax. She smiled at him, beaming, that little spitfire elfling again being reminded of her worth, of all the things she could do in the world. “Yes’sir. Understood.”
“Good girl.” The Rider released her and stepped back, giving her one last onceover. “Give them hell. I’m late for Oromis and Glaedr’s remedial lessons, or whatever you call them.” 
“Don’t pull a muscle, old man!” Arya called after his retreating back, getting an annoyed grunt in response. 
Glen checked the watch on his wrist as Arya’s smile faded. Two minutes. “You ready?”
The woman sucked in a breath and held it as she snapped to the familiar bearing of Attention, dropping into At Ease for a brief moment before letting the air out in a rush. “No. But it’s not like I can prepare for this bullshit.”
“I’ll be right here. Just yell and I’ll be in there in a heartbeat. Less, even.” Thirty seconds. Glen pulled his commander into one last quick hug before he smoothed out her uniform again. “Verrunsmal äthr.” 
Arya pushed her forehead against his and gave him a firm punch to the upper chest. “Verrunsmal äthr.” 
Then she turned, straightened with another steadying breath, and entered the great hall.
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tolerateit · 11 months
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this is how y'all talk about your blorbos here
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bergoozter · 11 months
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he gets it
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spacy-snail · 11 months
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Glad to see Shane living out his dream job of being Ryan’s friend
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murasaki-cha · 6 months
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Honestly both of them look more like they're having an existential crisis than a dead body
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toomanywatchers · 6 months
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