#Construction Battalion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nimata-beroya · 1 year

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Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close 🤏 to the hyperlinks limit on this thing 😆]

Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.

PLACES / TIME

Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg

Map of the Galaxy

List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]

Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]

Planetary System Generator [Donjon]

Tatooine Location References [*]

Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]

Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars

Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)

Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]

Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]

Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]

Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)

TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix

Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum

Partisans' attack on Onderon

Siege of Lasan

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

General

Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]

Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood

Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]

Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]

MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]

The character creator

Droid Name Generator

Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr

Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli

Jedi

Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]

Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest

Mandalorians

Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator

Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]

Clones

Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)

Clone Creator [MandoCreator]

Clone Picrew

Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu

GAR structure summary by @intermundia

The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]

Clone Trooper Lore [*] [Ranks, Culture, Training, Organization, etc.]

Clones and Kamino [*]

The Bad Batch Characters Concept Art shared by @shadowthestoryteller

MISCELLANEOUS

Star Wars Character Age Comparison Chart by @the-yearning-astronaut

Tusken Raiders lore by @snarwor

Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)

Materials in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Star Wars Fashion [*]

Leisure, Art, Musical Instruments, Ethnography [*]

Political and Criminal Organizations in the GFFA [**]

Financial reference about credits by @thecoffeelorian

List of TCW Opening Quotes

Transcripts of all the TCW episodes shared by @book-of-baba-fett

Star Wars Crawl Creator [not exactly writing-related, but just for fun]

HEALTH AND MEDICINE

Canon Medical Lore [*]

Real World reference for Field organizational structure for corpsman (medics) [*]

Kaliida Shoals Medical Center (Republic Haven-class medical station) shared by @clonewarsarchives

GAR Battalion Aid Station [*]

GAR Clone Medic Q/A [*]

More combat medicine, shipboard medicine, veteran issues, and military culture [*]

SHIPS AND VEHICLES

Ship Generator 3D

Ship Name Generator

All Terrain Tactical Enforcer (AT-TE) shared by @stairset

Republic Vessels Reference [*]

Low Altitude Assault Transport/Infantry (LAAT/i) [*]

List of GAR Flagships in the Clone Wars by @meandmyechoes

Layout of the Havoc Marauder

Dimensions of various ships from the Clone Wars [**]

FOOD AND DRINKS

Star Wars Menu Generator

In-Universe Alcoholic beverages

Canon Cocktails (recipes) [*]

Another In-Universe Drinks list shared by @systemic-dreams

Teas in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Foodstuff [*]

Canon Star Wars Holiday Recipes [*]

Trask Chowder Recipe (from The Mandalorian) [*]

LANGUAGES; PHRASES AND SLANG; VOCABULARY

Languages of the Galaxy [*]

Script of different languages in the GFFA by @lucif-hare-blog

In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]

List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]

List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]

Talk Like a Clone Trooper shared by @archeo-starwars

Aurebesh Translator [Aurebesh.org]

Learning Aurebesh Tools [Aurebesh.org] Reading - Writing.

Mando'a Database [Mando.org]

Mando'a Transcripticon [MandoCreator] (Create your own text in the Mando'a script.)

@project-shereshoy (Blog that collects and posts sources for Mando'a from all over the internet.)

Mando’a Categorized Spreadsheet

Learning Mando'a Tools [MandoCreator] Reading - Writing.

Setting Thesaurus Entry: Spaceport [Writers helping writers]

Fan-created Conlangs

@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)

Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)

HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES

The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.

@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.

@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.

@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.

@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.

@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.

@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.

@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.

Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.

Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.

WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)

SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).

ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.

LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the word limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence (3 a day), even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.

Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.

Legend

[*] Shared by @fox-trot [**] Shared by @gffa [***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.

#star wars writing resources #star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #the mandalorian #sw rebels #tcw #tbb #the book of boba fett #andor #obi wan kenobi series #tales of the jedi #ahsoka show #sw resistance #writing resources #long post

10K notes · View notes

starlazergazer · 2 months

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Separated

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: You could do a story where the reader and Anakin had something, but the order tried everything to separate them, and so Anakin wasn't there when she ended up dying. That will be the trigger for him to start doubting the order, and hating them, but it turns out that a reader from another universe, who is exactly the same as his, just shows up.

Warning: Angst! Almost character death, lots of swearing tbh my bad

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Changed the request just a bit hope that’s okay but obsessed with the overall premise! I’m thinking she needs a part 2 but let me know what y’all think!

There was something uniquely terrifying about a silent Anakin Skywalker.

Everyone knew the jedi had a temper, it wasn’t something he was necessarily subtle about, there were few who had been at one time or another on the other end of it, you included.

But Anakin’s temper always exposed itself in the same way. Yelling, pacing, ranting. There were a number of times you had sat down before him waiting for him to get his lecture out of the way, letting him explode like a volcano before being able to actually have a constructive conversation with him.

You honestly couldn’t think of the last time you had seen him as he was now. Quiet, still, contemplative.

Admittedly there was a part of you that wanted to poke the bear, to say something that you knew would make him explode, force him back into charted territory so you knew how to deal with the fallout.

“I just don’t see the big deal”

Still nothing, a harsh glare boring down on you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched so harshly you could see the muscle through his skin, not a word.

“You do stuff like that all the time”

Just the steady rise and fall of his chest as he took measured, deep breaths.

You were returning home a hero, the entire hanger had cheered for you the moment you touched down, a hoard of people circling you with congratulatory hugs the second your foot touched solid ground, and still somehow Anakin had the power to make you feel like you’d failed.

This was supposed to be your moment and still somehow Anakin controlled the temperature in the room.

“I told you to turn back”

You’d stopped expecting him to speak, so thrown off by the sudden change you physically jumped at the sound of his voice, at how unexpectedly quiet it was.

“That was the wrong call and you know it”

Anakin took a deep breath at your response, his gaze cutting suddenly to the left, a moment passing as he collected himself before responding, that act alone almost making you faulter.

“If it was the wrong call I wouldn’t have made it. I told you to turn back”

“And you aren’t my reporting officer”

“This isn’t a game Y/N!”

The sudden explosion from the man would have surprised you if you hadn’t been unconsciously waiting for it, coiled like a spring waiting for Anakin to snap, waiting for him to yell, a weird weight lifting off your chest as you returned to normalcy.

“I know this isn’t a game do you?” You shot back quickly, just as loudly “He had coordinates, locations of nearly every battalion in the galaxy, information like that isn’t simply a pawn you can choose to trade away”

“Neither are you”

The response came too quickly, too quietly, too seriously for you to fully comprehend the words as he said them, your body physically recoiling at the sudden drop in temperature.

“I was fine”

“You were within firing range” he argued back, his hands coming down to rest on his hips as he glared at you “an entire separatist fleet was on the other side of that moon waiting for him to drag whatever republic ships he could towards them so they could shoot it down and you fell right into that trap”

“I didn’t have a choice”

“You had multiple” he shut you down without ever raising his voice, a single glare enough to silence you “listening to me for one of them”

“And if you had been in my shoes” you prompted “if you had been close enough to chase him would you have simply let him get away?”

“I would have-“ you scoffed before he could get the words out, seeing exactly where he was going before he got there.

“don’t lie to me Anakin Skywalker you treat risking your life as if it were a paying job”

You watched his jaw tick at your response, his words dying on his lips before he changed routs “I told you to turn back”

You let a humorless laugh bubble out of you, a frustrated hand raking across your face as you shook your head “I can’t believe you’re being so blatantly hypocritical right now”

“It’s different” his words came out so quick he seemed almost surprised to hear them himself.

“How?” you demanded more than asked, silently daring him to give you a legitimate answer you weren’t sure he could supply.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off before he could finish, a huff escaping before he took a deep breath and continued “I need you to listen to me. When I tell you what to do I need you to listen to me”

“Even if-“

“yes” he cut you off before you could get your question off “whatever context, whatever quantifiers I don’t care. Out there I need you to listen to me”

Again his tone was throwing you for a loop. Gone was the anger, the frustration, the ire. Now he seemed to be almost begging, pleading with you to listen to him, to agree, to promise something like today wouldn’t happen again.

But you had made the right call. That was what was sticking with you. You know what you did was risky, hell you could get behind even calling it a little reckless, but objectively it was the right call. You were talking about locations of every troop of clones in the republic in the hands of the separatist’s how could he not see that this was worth anything, that taking down this spy was worth everything.

“Ani what-“

“There you two are” a new voice interrupted you, the sudden appearance of Obi-wan pulling you back to the present moment, reminding you that you and Anakin were in the jedi temple, that you had just come back from a mission, that you still had duties to uphold.

“Master Kenobi” you quickly greeted the man with a small bow, watching the man you had practically grown up under break out into a proud grin as he clapped you on the shoulder.

“That was a great shot Y/N” he praised you shaking you softly “you saved the Republic today I hope you know that”

And though you could feel your chest warm with the praise you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge because of it, not missing Anakin’s small scoff at Obi-wan’s words.

Anakin was your best friend, a man you grew up beside as a padawan, a man you had been practice dueling since you could hold a saber, and you had just pulled off a major victory for the Republic. Was it really too much to ask that your friend take just a second to be proud of you.

“Thank you master” you responded warmly nonetheless nodding at him “believe me when I say it wasn’t easy”

The older man laughed warmly at your words, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he did “that I don’t doubt but believe me when I say we are all glad your maneuver paid off, what you pulled was risky”

You shot a guilty glance at Anakin only to see the man casting his gaze at the floor, arms snaked back around his chest physically distancing himself from the two of you in this moment.

“Anyways what I came here to say is that the council is looking for the two of you” Obi-wan continued on, either choosing to ignore or missing the tension hanging in the air between you and Anakin “you need to debrief before you’re free for the evening.”

“Of course master” you answered for the two of you “we will be right there”

Obi-wan gave you an appreciative nod before taking his leave, casting a questioning glance at his former padawan before exiting the room, casting you and Anakin in a thick silence you were tentative to break.

“Ani-“ you tried but he cut you off.

“Look we’ll talk later” he muttered over his shoulder, already making his way out of the room “we shouldn’t keep them waiting”

You could never feel comfortable in the jedi council room, something you were sure was done by design as you and Anakin were forced into the middle of the room, made the literal center of attention.

Even as you knew you were here to receive praise for your actions you couldn’t help but shrink beneath Mace Windu’s gaze.

“-you exemplified what it means to be a jedi knight perfectly today jedi Y/L/N” Master Windu droned on, his voice thankfully lacking the usual edge it had when addressing you with Anakin in the room “we thank you for your actions today”

“I was just doing my job” you responded humbly as you were expected to with a respectful nod “but I am glad to have been of help”

“Of great help you were” Master Kloon chimed in pulling your attention to him as he spoke “the republic owes you a great debt today”

You smiled politely at Mater Kloon, gaze again being drawn across the room as Master Fisto picked up where Kloon left off, a part of you wondering if they did this on purpose to disorient you “we do however have one question regarding this situation. Jedi Skywalker you tried to order Jedi Y/L/N back”

“I did” Anakin’s response was quick with an edge to his voice that had you mentally sighing, you weren’t eager to witness Anakin go up against the council today. “The spy’s ship had reached firing range of the rest of the battalion anyone who followed him was likely to be shot before they could reach”

“Called her back before she reached firing range you did” Master Yoda spoke this time, eyes planted solely on Anakin as he spoke

“She was far back from the spy’s ship, by the time she reached him they would both be within firing range” Anakin countered through gritted teeth, you watched him ball his fists at his sides from the corner of your eye.

“That ultimately however proved not to be the case as she was able to take down the spy without any harm coming to her own fighter” Mace Windu spoke carefully, clearly organizing a path down which he planned to steer this conversation.

A tense silence passed for a moment, a staring contest passing between the Jedi master and the general before Anakin spoke “a miscalculation on my part then”

“It’s a good thing she ignored your miscalculation then” Master Windu offered dryly “we do however have access to the flight com logs. Would you like to explain jedi Skywalker why you ordered jedi Y/L/N not once but five times to turn back”

“Her pursuing as she did was a risk I wasn’t willing to make at the time master”

“Even when aware of the information that ship contained” Master Windu prompted with a raised brow “every troop location of the Republics army. Are you saying you weren’t wiling to risk the life of one jedi for the fate of this war Jedi Skywalker?”

“I don’t trade in lives Master” Anakin challenged back quickly.

“One life versus the lives of billions across the galaxy the math should be easy Jedi”

“we’re here to be Jedi knights not martyrs”

“And it is your duty as jedi knights to do whatever it takes to protect the republic as Jedi Y/L/N did”

“And if she had failed? If the inevitable had happened and she was fired upon the second she came within distance? What good would a dead Jedi knight have done anyone” Anakin was seething at this point, the familiar white hot anger you had expected to be directed at you earlier finally making its appearance.

“We can stop pretending this is about just any Jedi Knight” Mace Windu’s words had Anakin physically recoiling, effectively throwing him off course having the two of you furrowing your brows “there is a reason the jedi code forbids attachments”

“Master we haven’t formed an attachment” you took this as your chance to chime in, keeping your voice light trying to dispel any lingering tension in the air.

Master Windu’s eyes took a second too long to break from Anakin’s to meet yours, a knowing silence permeating the air as if he meant to let your comment hang in it “what happened today, any possibility of letting that spy go, cannot happen again”

You furrowed your brow at his vague response, eyes snapping back to master Yoda as he spoke up.

“not a punishment this is” he chimed in softly, looking directly at you as he did so “remember that you must”

Your eyes snapped back to Master Windu “master what are you saying?”

Mace Windu’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and Anakin for a moment before landing on the latter, another small silence stretching before he spoke “Jedi Skywalker and Y/L/N going forward are forbidden from going on missions together”

A stunned silence fell over you and Anakin, your eyes casting immediately to him only to see his disbelieving gaze locked on Mace Windu “Master you can’t-“ gone was all edge in Anakin’s tone, an almost pleading one taking its place as he tried to talk.

“The council’s decision on this is final” Master Windu cut Anakin off with a single raised hand.

“but-“

“You are dismissed jedi” The doors to the council room opened behind you before Anakin could get out any more than a word. Master Windu leaving no room for either of you to plead your case.

Numbly you left the room with Anakin in tow, your brain still struggling to wrap itself around what had just occurred as you entered the hallway and stopped against the wall, Anakin not missing a beat as he started to pace back and forth in front of you.

“You have to tell me where you’re going next I’ll see if I can at least be close” he was already talking a mile a minute, almost mumbling as if talking to himself rather than you.

“I can’t even remember the last mission I did without you” you mused quietly.

“Under no circumstances can you go alone either take Obi-wan or I’ll give you Rex”

“I can’t believe the council thinks we need to be separated”

“And call me every day even if it’s just to check in”

“Ani you know I can handle myself right” Your sudden direct address of him brought Anakin’s attention back to you, his pacing halting as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“After today?” He laughed bitterly in response.

“I came back today” you countered defensively, at this point beyond tired of this same argument “not a scratch on my ship I am alive and well”

“And you almost weren’t” finally Anakin exploded on you, vein popping in his neck as he yelled, a frustrated hand tangling itself in his hair as his pacing picked up once again “you got lucky. That’s it. What you did was dangerous, it was stupid, it was risky, and it only paid off because you got lucky and I feel like I’m going insane because how can no one see that? You are only here right now because you got lucky and there is no guarantee on that a second time”

“Or I’m a good pilot” you shot back angrily “I’m a good pilot and a good jedi who trusted her instincts and accomplished the goal. Is it really that hard for you to trust in my ability?”

Anakin physically deflated at your words, the full meaning of his own hitting him for the first time as he crumpled slightly “Y/N I didn’t mean-”

“No that’s just what you said” you cut him off “I get it you think I can’t handle myself and shouldn’t be trusted. I’m not sure why you’d want to be sent out on missions with me anyways”

“Y/N please” Anakin begged softly but you had had enough, cutting him off with a shake of your head and a sigh.

“No Ani I’m done with whatever is happening right now. It’s been a long day and I’m just-“ You cut yourself off with a deep sigh, taking a second to take a deep breath before turning on your heel leaving Anakin behind as you made your way back to your room, calling softly over your shoulder “I’m done”

You knew who was behind your door before he had even knocked. Could feel him lurking behind it. Afterall who else would be at your room this late at night.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, Anakin just showing up at your room. Sometimes it was to apologize, sometimes it was because he had a nightmare, sometimes it was because he could sense yours. It didn’t matter really because he knew no matter what he was always welcome here, you made sure of that.

It was why he wasn’t surprised when you opened the door before he could officially make himself known. The two of you looking silently at one another before Anakin wordlessly engulfed you in a hug.

You went willingly, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around you, not even bothering to exit the doorway as the two of you stood there and took a second to appreciate the feeling of being supported by the other person.

“You scared me today” the words were mumbled into your hair.

“It was a risk I had to take” you responded softly into his chest, his arms tightening around you at your words.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off, readjusting slightly to tuck your head under his chin before he spoke again “I don’t like it when you do that”

“And you think I like it when you do” you responded with a laugh, pulling back slightly to look up at him, Anakin reluctantly letting his grasp of you go as you did so.

“I know I just-“ he sighed “I’m sorry Y/N”

“I know Ani”

Finally a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, a moment passing where neither of you said a thing simply enjoying the moment in each others presence before Anakin broke it “I mean it when I say I trust you just please, promise me you’ll be careful”

You smiled softly up at your friend, extending a pinky out to him “I promise Ani”

He smiled and hooked his pinky with yours, neither of you able in this moment to recognizing your lie for what it was.

He almost hadn’t answered.

That was the thought that ruminated in his head for weeks after.

You had called, it wasn’t your normal time to talk, and Anakin had almost ignored it, almost told himself he would call you back later.

Thank the maker he was never good at ignoring you.

Your face came up immediately on his hollow display, picture posed strategically to only show your shoulders and above. And even though a smile graced your lips the second he picked up Anakin could still feel it the moment he saw you. Like a punch to the gut, it suddenly hit him that something was wrong. Something was catastrophically wrong. How had he not sensed it earlier?

“Where are you?”

You had just chuckled weakly in response and any other time Anakin lived for that sound but not now, right now he needed you to answer “there’s nothing getting past you is there Ani”

“You were sent to the outer rim right” Anakin steam rolled ahead, grabbing his cloak already intending to hijack the next available ship. He didn’t care if Mace Windu himself was scheduled to be on it.

“That was two missions ago”

Your words halted him in place, Anakin freezing on the spot as he glared back at you, “Y/N”

“Anakin” Maker how could you tease him like this now? You were always stubborn and he loved that about you but right now was not the time to play with his emotions, not with all this at stake.

“I’ll go ask Obi-wan” he was talking more to himself than you at this point, mind whirling with every possible path forward.

He heard you sigh from the communicator but didn’t pay it too much mind, you could yell at him for it later, he would give anything to hear you yell at him later.

“It’s a direct shot to my abdomen” You sucked in a deep breath, gaze dropping to your torso with a grimace, looking at something Anakin couldn’t see “losing blood like this there’s no way you make it in time”

“You don’t know that” he was arguing back before he could properly process your words, his brain refusing to even allow for that possibility.

“I do Ani” you shot him a sad smile, bleeding out, in who knows where and still you were comforting him.

“No there’s got to be someone nearby, another jedi, a local, someone who can help” He was shaking his head, brain desperately clinging to any solution it could.

“I didn’t call you so you could try and solve my problems”

“So why did you call me then?” He knew he wasn’t mad at you, he knew you would know that to, but still he cringed at the way it slipped out, at the way you shoulders slumped slightly at his words.

“Do I ever need a reason to talk to you?”

And he realized then this was you asking for the only help he could give. He was planets away with no ability to reach you and you were asking not to be alone at the end. And even though it killed him he could never say no to you.

“Of course you don’t Y/N”

You smiled at that. A real smile, no undercurrent of pain or pity. Anakin found himself trying desperately to commit to the sight to memory.

“Remember when the council separated us because they thought we had formed an attachment?” You asked softly, head resting back against the wall behind you, your entire body rising and falling with each labored breath.

“Right now it’s hard to forget” he bit down the resentment, it wasn’t what you deserved.

Still you chuckled at him, wincing slightly as you did so “I think right now I have to admit they were onto something”

“I thought that was obvious when I tried to put the entire republic army at risk so that you would be safe”

A teasing roll of your eyes, a fond chuckle “shut up stupid I’m trying to have a moment here”

“I’m sorry please go ahead with your moment” a part of him resented how easy the banter came now, how easy it always came with you, it wasn’t fair.

“You’re my person Anakin” you practically whispered the words, Anakin’s heart swelling painfully in his chest at them “At the end of the day I will always choose you and for the first time I’m not going to condemn myself for thinking it”

“You picked a hell of a time for that revelation sweetheart” the pet name came naturally, he nearly choked on it as it fell from his lips.

You laughed in response, shifting positions with a grunt “Master Kloon did always tell me I needed to work on my timing”

Anakin chimed in before a silence could fully settle over the two of you, “Though I’m sure it’s obvious I will always choose you too Y/N” he took a small amount of pride in the soft smile that grew on your lips at his words.

“So what do you say after the war we leave the order?” You propositioned with a cheesy grin “You and me Skywalker”

It hurt how easily the answer came to him “where would we go?”

“I’ve always liked Naboo” How quickly your answer came made him wonder if like him this wasn’t the first time you had considered this exact scenario.

“I could get a job working on speeders” He proposed with a sad smile.

“I think I’d work at a cantina” you mused back “always thought it would be fun to get to meet people from all over the galaxy”

“It would be a good life” he could feel the truth of those words in his very bones.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, both lost in thoughts of what if, before you broke it “Thank you Ani”

“Don’t thank me” he protested weakly “not for this”

“Then for everything else”

Another short silence, a quiet plea slipping unbidden from Anakin “please don’t” he knew where you were going next.

“I have to” you answered softly, solemnly “I think it’s time to say goodbye”

“You don’t have to hang up” he protested “not yet”

“I don’t want you to see me like that” And again he was never one to refuse you anything, a final request he couldn’t say no to. “I love you Ani”

Maker how could hearing those words somehow hurt worse than not hearing them ever did.

“I love you Y/N”

A single tear slipped down your cheek and then you were gone. The newfound silence of the room suffocating him as the emptiness in his chest leached out to fill the space in the room around him.

The republic has fallen.

The jedi are no more.

The empire reigns in its place.

Anakin Skywalker is dead.

There was a lot you were told upon waking up from your medically induced coma that was hard to believe. A lot of news that was broken to you that was difficult to swallow. The fact that your entire life fell apart in the mere two weeks you were in a bacta tank was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to be able to come to terms with.

Being with the rebellion helped, to know that despite everything there was still a group of people out there who were willing to put everything on the line for what was right. To a certain extent it felt like being home. It helped you learn to come to terms with those four impossible facts.

So now how were you supposed to deal with learning that one of those facts was actually a lie.

You had seen the trepidation on their faces when you walked into the room, the way the entire groups focus was on you the second you stepped in, it almost felt like being back before the council, you would’ve laughed if they hadn’t seemed so somber.

Now you understand why.

As soon as the words left Mon Mothma’s mouth you felt the ground buckle beneath your feet, felt the world around you start to drown out, felt your legs threaten to give out from beneath you.

You would’ve given anything to hear those words just weeks ago, would’ve wept at the thought of being where you were now, but to hear them so shortly after you had tried to heal the wound was nothing but another devastating blow.

“You told me he was dead”

The group shared nervous looks and your every doubt about the rebellion came rushing to the surface. They were no different than the council at it’s worst, wiling to do anything to separate the two of you, willing to lie to make sure you stayed under their thumb, willing to keep things from you because they believed they knew better. Why did it always feel like you were working for the wrong side?

“We believed he was”

“Bullshit” the word slipped from your lips before your gaze could even meet the speaker’s, anger flaring from your chest at the words “a fact like that, as large of that, there had to be rumors, you had to have guessed”

“We didn’t want to get your hopes up”

A bitter laugh rose to the surface, hands coming to your hair in exasperation “I was told the very republic I gave my life for had fallen, that the very group I was fighting against are now in control, and everyone I had ever known dead at the very hands of the people I had sworn to lead and you didn’t think I could’ve used a little hope?”

“We thought-“

“That wasn’t your decision to make” you countered before they could finish, eyes daring the group to say something “maker how can you not see that it was this very hubris that led to the fall of the jedi? Of the republic? Just because you think you know better-“

“He goes by Darth Vader” a new voice jumped in, your eyes snapping to the holo-projection of Bail Organa, the senator’s eyes giving nothing away but pity.

“no-“ the protest fizzled on your lips, barely enough breath behind it to properly get it out.

“The source is solid” it was Mon Mothma again, eyes practically begging you to listen. “Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader”

And for a second your brain couldn’t comprehend it, wouldn’t comprehend it. How were you supposed to reconcile these two opposite people as one? “No that doesn’t make any sense”

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“No” you protested loudly, as if yelling could get it to not be true, could get them to admit they were lying, this this was all some sick joke “Someone is wrong, someone is lying to you-“

“The information is good” another voice interrupted but you were too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even identify who it was.

“No the Anakin Skywalker I knew wouldn’t-“

“The Anakin Skywalker you knew died the day that you did” Senator Organa cut through all the noise in your head, his voice loud but not unkind as he drew your attention, the entire world seeming to fall deathly silent after those words.

“What does that mean” your voice was quiet, broken, you didn’t have it in you to care.

“It was an open secret” he explained softly, the senator façade breaking just slightly “the day you were reported to have died Anakin fought with the Jedi council, fought with Obi-wan, no one could get him to calm down, to think rationally. Eventually he made his way to Palpatine’s office, he hasn’t been seen since”

“We all knew of his distaste for the council before this” Mon Mothma chimed in “he blamed them for your death, drove him right into the arms of the current emperor”

Your mind had slowed, had calmed noticeably but still you found yourself dancing around the issue rather than actually dealing with it, your thoughts instead deciding suddenly to stick to something else.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You watched them all carefully, noticing the nervous glances they sent towards one another rather than answer “I wasn’t lying when I said you were just like the former council, preferring to sit on information until it could properly serve your purpose so what’s the purpose this time?”

Again Mon Mothma took the lead, hesitantly speaking up “he’s formed a group with the sole purpose of hunting down and killing any remaining jedi. It’s quite frankly only a matter of time before he finds you”

You furrowed your brow at this “so you’re warning me? Telling me I need to leave the base?” you shook your head slightly, not liking how either of those answers fit before it finally clicked “you want me to stop him”

“We want you to talk to him” Senator Organa corrected you “if there’s anyone who can get through to that man it’s you”

You eyed each of them skeptically, knowing as you were sure they did as well, that this question only truly had one answer “I’ve been told twice in this conversation alone that Anakin Skwalker is dead.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself on the back of a chair “for all of our sakes I hope that’s not true”

Realistically you knew it was true the minute your ship touched down. Even if you weren’t conscious of it at the time you could feel that all too familiar force signature coming from the planet, seeping into your very bones.

To know it logically was an entirely different story.

You stayed hidden, following from alleyways and rooftops, you couldn’t make out the man beneath the costume but everything about him was just wrong. His gait was wrong, the way he held himself was wrong, the red saber at his hip was wrong, there was no possible way the man beneath the mask was that familiar jedi. And yet…

You couldn’t face him. You knew that. Even if it was Anakin under there you weren’t ready to find out, weren’t sure which answer would be more devastating to you.

So even though it meant failure you put your hood on and slunk away, leaving behind Darth Vader whoever he was, ready to tell the rebellion they would have to come up with another way.

You got little more than a flutter of a cape in warning before he descended upon you.

The black figure whipped around the corner faster than your brain could comprehend, having time to do little more than simply freeze in place before you were lifted off the ground by a force you were all too familiar with, invisible fingers tightening around your neck as you were lifted.

“You’ve been following-“ you got little of the figures voice through the mask before he suddenly cut himself off, the pressure on your neck easing just enough to allow you to gasp for breath, the world stilling around you as you looked out from under your hood at what was supposedly Anakin Skywalker.

The world stood at a standstill for a moment, you hovering inches above the ground, toes desperately seeking purchase, Darth Vader silently staring at you, hand held before him almost trembling. You were working yourself up to croaking out a question when his other hand raised suddenly and with a flick of his wrist your hood went flying back.

The second the light hit your eyes the force on your neck disappeared and you crumbled to the ground below in a heap.

Precious few seconds were given for you to gulp down breath before you were hauled back up by your neck again, this time an actual hand secured firmly around it as you were all but thrown against the wall, your head smacking against the brick painfully.

“who are you” even through the voice modulation you could hear the way he seethed beneath the helmet, ire barely contained by the black material.

“Y/N” you croaked weakly, clawing half-heartedly at the hand around your neck that held you in place.

His fingers tightened in response before he pulled you back and slammed your head once again against the wall, a soft groan escaping you at the impact “now is not the time for games now who are you”

“I’m telling the truth” you practically begged, unable to feel any shame in it as the edges of your vision started to black from lack of air.

“That’s impossible-“ you couldn’t really bring yourself to listen to the rest of the sentence, the only thing running through your mind was a grim acceptance that this was how you would die. Supposedly at the hands of the man you had once loved.

“Ani please”

And you hadn’t meant for the plea to escape you, barely even registered that the nickname passed through your lips. All you could focus on was the fact that after they came out into the open you had finally been released.

Again you crashed to the ground, hands splayed out to catch yourself before you could faceplant, lungs burning as you greedily gulped down air.

“Why would you-“ The words died in his throat and a strange, bitter part of you wanted to laugh.

Once you finally had better control of your breathing you sat back on your heels and looked up at the man clad in black before you, squinting slightly at the sun over his shoulder. “It’s true then”

He didn’t respond, simply looked down at you.

“take off your helmet”

“who do you think you are-“ again the urge to laugh surfaced, the way he reached for anger so readily was so similar to the man you once knew, how could you not have seen it earlier.

“Take off the helmet” He physically recoiled at the command. You softened your voice in response, practically pleading with him "I need to see your face"

Again the man before you went rigid, a tense few seconds passing in silence before he hesitantly reached up and pulled off the helmet.

The man standing before you looked somehow older than you remembered but unmistakably him, and every thought about your mission flew out the window the second his eyes made contact with your own. Your brain rejected the similarities outright, because despite being told Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker were one in the same you still couldn’t handle this physical evidence linking the two.

You reacted without thinking, taking a single step forward and planting your hands on his chest, roughly shoving him backwards, Anakin allowing himself to be moved without a second thought “Maker Ani what the fuck were you thinking”

His helmet slipped from his grasp absentmindedly, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest where your hands had just been as he just stared at you, eyes swirling with too many emotions for you to pin down at the moment.

“Palpetine are you serious?” You demanded more than asked, hurling the implication at him with reckless abandon “I always told you I didn’t trust him and still you-“

“You weren’t there” he cut you off and his voice was so soft, so broken it startled you into silence, your body physically recoiling back a step as he spoke “You weren’t there, and he was all I had”

“You had Obi-wan, you had Rex, you had people who cared about you Ani”

“They weren’t you” his answer back came steadfast and resolutely, leaving no room for argument, followed by a much quieter, more broken statement “they took you from me”

“No one but that weapons dealer took me from you.”

“They did” neither of you felt the need to define the ‘they’ to which you both referred “If they hadn’t kept me from going with you I could’ve-“

“You don’t know that” you cut him off, this argument feeling much to familiar “Even if you had been there we don’t know-“

“If I had been there then you wouldn’t have-“ and he didn’t need to finish his sentence, the natural end to it evidence that this was an argument he has already had with himself too many times before.

“I didn’t” you begged him to listen to you, “I’m okay. Ani I’m right here”

Your words seemed to shock him out of his own personal bubble, his eyes darting frantically around him before he seized you by the wrist suddenly, surprising you, as he started to pull you further down the alley “you need to go Y/N”

“What” the question left you on an exhale, his sudden change in attitude giving you whiplash as he tried to pull you behind him.

“You can’t be here you need to-“ he whispered quickly, frantically, almost as if the words weren’t for you.

You pulled back on your arm forcing him to stop “Ani I’m not leaving you”

He furrowed his brow at your declaration, a hand on your shoulder trying to nudge you forward still “Y/N do you know what the empire will do to you if-“

“I don’t care” you declared back, halting his movements once again, using his grip on your arm to pull his attention back down to you “I already lost you once, don’t make me do it again”

His eyes bounced desperately back and forth between yours as he set his jaw, you could practically see a million different arguments running through his head.

“Halt” a new voice broke through the tense silence, Anakin’s gaze flickering to its source above your head. You barely had time to gaze over your shoulder at the trio of clone troopers that had approached, guns drawn, before Anakin had sent the lead one flying rapidly into the wall with a flick of his wrist.

You tried desperately to hide your flinch at the noise of his armer hitting the building.

The other two froze on the spot, blasters still pointed at you, but Anakin ignored them both, hand still held aloft as he stared down at you debating his next steps for a precious few moments before he spoke.

You could see him physically morph as he addressed the clone troopers, could see him become that other man, that Darth, in the way he squared his shoulders and straightened his back, the way his voice dropped an octave, the way his grip on your wrist grew almost painful as his gaze bore down into yours

“this one is force sensitive, she comes with me”

#anakin x reader #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars x you #anakin fic #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x y/n #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars x y/n #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader

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determinate-negation · 5 months

Text

an example of the debate in left wing jewish circles about zionism in the early 20th century. this is an introduction and translation of articles written in the wake of the 1929 riots in palestine. in response to a popular yiddish anarchist newspaper breaking with their previous anti zionist stance and embracing zionist militancy, a group of polish jewish anarchists wrote a condemnation of zionism as an imperialist project

The Zionist devil, with its criminal, irresponsible demagogic agitation, has convinced the “helpless” Jews, the naïve masses, that it will return them to their national home under the protection of the expansive, powerful wings of that great biblical people, the English. The gullible, naïve masses took this at face value and set upon the conquest of Palestine’s land with cries of “Hurrah!” under the British flag and assisted by English battalions. This pitiful people, agitated by Zionist demagoguery, was not content with just conquering the land, with just becoming the owners of the land, but they also joyfully began a new campaign: the conquest of labor[5] with the slogan “Swój do swego,”[6] under which they themselves suffered in their land of Poland and condemned as an injustice. It was not enough simply to steal the Arab’s land; we needed to then drive him from his land! Jews wanted to consolidate all rights for themselves. When it looked like a certain right would fall into the hands of the Arabs and do them good, the Zionists began an outcry: “The Philistines are upon you, Israel!” The goal is to turn the Arab into a disenfranchised, degraded creature which should never stop shaking in fear at the thought of the Jewish landowner. We had the chance to speak with many ordinary Jews in Palestine who gleefully bragged that the Arabs shake in fear for the Jew; “We hold them in fear!”; “Should an Arab make a peep, he gets a strike in the teeth and learns not to do it again.” This criminal Zionist agitation has brought so much foolish chutzpah against the Arabs into the psychology of the Jewish public, that they regard the Arabs worse than the Black Hundreds[7] in the Czarist period regarded the Jews! Is it such a wonder, then, that the Arab spirit has gathered so much hate of an uncontrollable nature that it was bound to break out sooner or later? The kindling was certainly taken advantage of by both the English imperialists, the Communist schemers, as well as the effendis who all sped up the whole process. But even without them, it was bound to be released. If only the Jews had merely come with their “piece of historic pretension”! As you have written, they have instead come to “drain [Palestine’s] swamps, construct cities and villages, increasing the quality of life of its backwards, half-savage inhabitants.” Without this, there would have been no confrontation! One piece of evidence is the history of the Old Yishuv, as well as the long and quiet Hibbat Zion[8] movement which the Arabs regarded with calm and largely left alone. This was not enough for political Zionism, however, which wanted to exploit its “historic pretensions” to become the sole owners of the land. It is for this reason that the Jewish “historic pretension” was destined to clash with the concrete claim of the Arabs, the actual owners of the land. The Arabs answered the Zionists with an old Jewish saying: Loy meuktsekho veloy miduvshekho, “We don’t want your honey and we don’t want your sting!”

#mine #anti zionism #yiddish #zionism

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dailyadventureprompts · 9 months

Text

Villain: The Gleebringer Battalions

Gallard Gleebringer only ever wanted to make people happy. By using his skills as a toymaker and inventor he sought to fill the world with devices that would bring wonder, and save people from the drugery of labor to give them more time for play.

Seeking to save his neighbours from the horrors of war, and under the patronage of the battlehungry local margrave, Gallard has a constructed an autonomous army of toy soldiers that in some weeks time will go berserk and begin rampaging across the land, playing out an inexplicable war-game that will leave villages sacked and the entire region destabilized.

It’s up to the party to notice the looming crisis and do something about it before the toys begin their march, As the powers that be are not only blind to the looming crisis but actively dismissive of any

Adventure Hooks:

Scraping together enough coin to fund a construct army has left the margrave’s treasury more than a little tight pursed, leading them to skimp on things like repairing infrastructure, public festivals, and resupplying their garrisons. There’s plenty of opportunities for adventurers as bandits and monsters propagate through the wilderness, and the lesser nobles rely on mercenaries to guard their holdings. Its only so long before the cracks begin to show however, as roads wash out and the realms defenders turn to brigandry.

The party end up in a tavern drinking with an old military officer previously employed by the margrave. She’s iresome and illtempered, but she’ll crawl out of her cups long enough to tell the tale of how after twenty years of loyal service she was let go for protesting when some of the troops under her command were killed in a training exercise. If the party press a little she might just let it slip that it wasn’t training so much as a field test of Gleebringer’s machines, which her boss insisted be against real troops. Later on, they’ll find an official bounty posted for the woman, who’s rallied some of her fellow discontented soldiers and started on a campaign of sabotage.

For his part Gleebringer is quite blind to the looming threat, having been carried by his ever shifting attention to yet another new project once the design and manufacture of the armies were complete. The party might get a chance to talk to him however if they manage to sneak into the excursive exposition he's hosting in the province's capital, either by riding in on the coattails of a wealthy patron, or by sneaking in among the serving staff. Actually getting an audience with the toymaker will be even more difficult as the margrave has set his agents to watch and protect Gleebringer, and it's only so long before they notice the uninvited guest have crashed the private function.

Setup: While many gnomes dabble in artifice, it was early in his apprenticeship with the village toymaker that a young Gallard discovered both his love and prodigious talent for the technical arts. It wasn't just a magical knack, it was an eye for detail that had people saying that the gnome's creations seemed to be alive long before he figured out how to make them move on their own.

Soon Gleebringer toys were in demand across kingdoms, and Gallard found himself not only patronized by innumerable wealthy merchants and nobles but sought out by engineers and craftsfolk of all kinds who realized the genius packed away in his creations.

Gallard didn't let the fame or the fortune go to his head, instead using his growing connections and commission budget to experiment with even more complex designs. For example: scaling up from music boxes to clockwork bands, and eventually an automated opera house.

As a man who dreamed all his life of building a flying town, it was safe to assume that Gallard had his head in the clouds. He hated to see people suffer but seldom thought through the implications of his inventions, Such as when an automated lumber mill intended to supply materials for his projects put an entire town of foresters out of work. This penchant for distraction was only encouraged by the margrave, who saw the military applications of Gleebringer's gifts from the moment a clockwork dragon bought for one of his children ended up badly maiming one of the servants who saught to tidy up the toyblock castle it had been charged with guarding.

Over the past ten years, the Margrave has become Gallard's most generous patron, supplying him with workshops ( staffed by apprentaces who's loyalty can be counted on) and an endless series of new projects ( which always end up increasing the margrave's power and standing at the cost of the common good).

Art 1

Art 2

#villain #villain noble #villain artificer #artifice #construct #bounty #city encounter #tavern encounter #town encounter #gnome

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bingoboingobongo · 2 years

Text

something to be grateful for

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader

Type: Smut (minors dni), fluff

Summary: Ghost’s never celebrated Thanksgiving before. For one, he’s not even American, and two, he never had anything to be thankful for. But this year? This year he’s thankful for you.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: use of feminine body parts, explicit language, fingering, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), guided masturbation (?)

A/N: welp. idek what to say. this started out as a fluffy thanksgiving drabble and now it’s this. is it good? idk. is it bad? idk. is it accurate? idk. my experience is in the negatives so this is just an amalgamation of all the knowledge i have gained from reading/reddit threads. happy thanksgiving to all who celebrate, and as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism as always appreciated, enjoy :)

Masterlist

Before the 141, Ghost had never celebrated Thanksgiving. He had heard of it, of course, but he would never partake in it. For most of his life, it was just an odd American holiday, a way for them to show their gratitude by gorging themselves on turkey and pies and mashed potatoes. He always thought it was a dumb tradition. If you were really thankful for something, you should show it everyday, not just once a year. But maybe that was just him being bitter, he knew, after all, life had dealt him a shitty set of cards, and he never had much to be thankful for.

Until he joined the 141; until he met you. Ghost had served in the military before, he had liked people before, but there was nothing quite like the 141, nothing quite like you. For one, the 141 was a multinational special operations task force, unlike his last battalion, which was full of Brits. The 141 was filled with operators from all sorts of places, Britain, Scotland, Australia, the Czech Republic, and of course, America. Even though he rarely engaged with the other soldiers, except for Price, Soap, Gaz, and you, he had heard them whispering to each other about Thanksgiving a few weeks back.

And you. There was something different about you. Maybe it was the fact that you were in the 141 with him, that he saw you almost constantly, that he didn’t have to leave you for months at a time. Or maybe it was something else, maybe it was the way you never took yourself too seriously, even when you were in the field; maybe it was the way you hummed to yourself whenever you reloaded your gun; or the way your laughter tugged at his heartstrings whenever he heard it over comms. Whatever it was, it set you apart from everyone else he had ever liked.

He was still thinking about you — not that that was uncommon, he was always thinking of you — when he heard an awkward knock at his door, followed by a muffled call of his name. He looked up from the book he was supposed to be reading, his hand instinctively reaching for his mask on his bedside table. Tugging it over his face, he made his way to the door.

Usually, he could tell who was coming to his room just based on their steps in the hallway. Price’s were solid and firm, like him. Soap’s were heavy and brushed against the floor a lot, as if he was trying to make as much noise as possible. Gaz’s were usually light and quick, like he was rushing somewhere but didn’t want to run. And you, your’s were short and cheery, and almost always accompanied by the sound of you humming. But he didn’t hear any steps recently, not that that was surprising. The rest of the task force had spent the last few hours celebrating and the noise made it hard to hear anything. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t care. It was probably someone’s birthday.

Someone called his name again and carefully, he opened the door a few inches, just enough for him to see out of. He looked down to see you, wearing sweatpants and a tank and carrying two large plates of food. “Do you need something?” he asked.

You hummed, “Can I come in first?” you asked, lifting the two plates up for him to see.

He looked back into his room, checking to make sure it was fit for you to come in. He turned back to you, widening his door and stepping to the side to let you in. He watched as you set the food down on his desk and looked around his room. For some reason, he didn’t know why, he felt slightly nervous as he watched you take in his room. He hadn’t done much to it, the walls were light gray and completely barren; his desk was empty except for a few books, a laptop, a cup of pencils and pens, and an old journal he barely used; his blankets were folded and placed neatly at the end of the bed, which was pushed against the wall, and the only thing that signified that anyone had used it was his slightly crumpled pillow and the book he had left behind.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what do you need?”

You hummed absentmindedly, tilting your head to read the books on his desk. “We missed you at dinner,” you said finally, turning around to look at him.

“Who’s we?” he asked.

“Everyone. Me, Soap, Gaz, even Price asked if you were coming.”

“I never come to dinner,” he said, “why’d everyone start caring now?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, “Because those were all normal dinners. This was a special dinner, we thought you’d come join us.”

“What’s special about this dinner?”

“What's special?” you asked, your jaw dropping, “what do you mean ‘what’s special?’ It's Thanksgiving, Ghost.”

Oh. He never knew the exact date of Thanksgiving. He knew it was near the end of November and that was pretty much it. If he was being honest, he had assumed it had already passed. “I don’t celebrate,” he told you, “and what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the others, celebrating? And what’s with the food?”

“I know you don’t celebrate, '' you said, “but neither do Soap or Gaz or Price or like, half the people here, and they’re still hanging out with us. And since I knew you wouldn’t come to the party, I figured I’d bring the party to you.”

“I’m not really a party kind of guy,” he said, watching you scrunch your nose in annoyance.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes, “then we can just have a lame Thanksgiving in here. What plate do you want?”

He sighed, if there was one thing about you it was that you were stubborn as hell. If you had set your mind on celebrating with him, it was going to take a lot to get you to leave, not that he minded. To be honest, having dinner with you wasn’t the worst way his night could’ve gone. He walked over to the desk, examining the two plates. “They’re the same thing,” you said, “just one has apple pie and the other has pumpkin.”

He turned to you, “Which one do you want?”

You shrugged, “I’m fine with either. You pick.”

He reached for the plate with pumpkin pie, offering the apple one to you. “Sit,” he said, nodding to his bed as he sat down on his desk chair a few feet from you. He watched you take the plate and sit on the bed, scooting carefully until your back rested against the wall.

“Dostoyevsky?” you asked, looking at the book he had left behind.

“Crime and Punishment. You read it?”

You nodded, “Back in high school. I actually really enjoyed it.”

“Me too, figured I’d reread it though. It’s been a while.”

“Oh wait,” you said suddenly, scrambling to put your food back on the desk, “don’t eat, we gotta say what we’re thankful for.”

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes as he put his plate down. “Do we really have to?” he asked, “I don’t see the point.”

You scoffed, “The point is expressing your gratitude, Ghost. That’s why it’s called Thanksgiving.”

“But if you were really thankful for something, you would show it everyday. Not once a year.”

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Wow, great philosophy, Ghost,” you said sarcastically. “But for the rest of us who aren’t as noble as you, Thanksgiving is a time for us to remember to be grateful. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually follow your little philosophy,” you said, shooting him a pointed look. “Alright I’ll go first. I am thankful for,” you paused, biting your lip as you thought of an answer. You looked good when you did that, he thought. He wished he could be the one biting it though. “I’m thankful for the fact that I’m alive right now,” you said, “I’m thankful that we don’t have to be in the field today, and I’m thankful for you.”

“You’re thankful for me?” he asked.

“Of course I am, you’ve saved my ass like twenty times in the field and you’re a nice guy anyways. I like hanging out with you.” God, he wished you liked him in other ways too. He knew you would, if you would just give him a chance, he could show you. Show you how good he could be to you, how good he would make you feel, how hard he would make you orgasm. He would make you scream so loud the entire base heard, even with all the noise they were making. “Your turn,” you said, blissfully unaware of his thoughts.

“Do I have to do three?” he asked.

“Mmm, yeah. Why not?”

He sighed, “Alright, I’m thankful for… I’m also thankful for the fact that I’m alive and we don’t have to be in the field today, and,” he paused, trying to think of a third option. “I guess I’m thankful for you too,” he said.

You scrunched your nose at him, “You literally just copied everything I said, Ghost. And also, you suck at showing your gratitude for me every single day.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you give me a chance to make that up to you then?” he asked, his voice lowering.

You stiffened, clenching your thighs together. Was he going where you thought he was going with this? He couldn’t be right? He was your boss, he wasn’t supposed to think of you that way. You weren’t supposed to think of him that way. With his head buried in between your thighs or his hand wrapped around your neck as he slammed into you. “What do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice a lot smaller than you intended.

Shit, Ghost thought. What was he doing? Why did he say that? Why did you clench your legs together like that? Was he turning you on? Was he making you wet? God, he hoped so. He hoped you were thinking the same filthy thoughts as he was. You pinned underneath him with your legs wrapped around him as he thrust into you, or you on your hands and knees with your ass pressed out for him. Fuck, he could feel his cock twitching in his pants already. “What do you want me to mean?” he asked slowly, leaving you to decide how the night would go.

He watched as your eyes flickered down to his cock. He looked down too, he could see it pressing against his sweatpants. He looked back at you as you licked your lips, shifting your weight on your thighs. You slowly brought your gaze up to his, “I want you to mean,” you whispered, so quiet you didn’t even know if he could hear it. “I want you to mean that you want to fuck me.”

It was quiet for a moment, and you held your breath for what felt like forever until he spoke again. “Take off your pants,” he whispered. You didn’t move at first, just stared at him with those big doe eyes of yours. “Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said, his voice laced with lust and menace. You sprang into action, scrambling to kick off your pants as your mind raced with ideas of what he would do to you.

You sat on your knees in front of him, your hands toying with the hem of your tank. You watched him lean forward in his seat, his head nodding at your legs. “Open your legs,” he said, “I wanna see how wet you are.” Fuck, his voice was doing things to you, you could feel yourself get wetter everytime he spoke. Slowly, you opened up your legs, memorizing the way his pupils dilated at the sight of you.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered.

“What?”

He looked back up at you. “I said touch yourself. Rub your clit for me.”

You watched him tilt his eyebrows at you as if to encourage you and you bit your lip. You snaked one of your hands down between your legs, sucking in a breath as you began to rub small circles on your clit. The friction of your underwear was working wonders on you, sending jolts of pleasure up your body whenever the cloth rubbed it the right way. You threw your head back, letting the feeling wash over you as you clenched around nothing.

“Look at me,” you heard him say. You picked your head off the wall, focusing your eyes on his. He wasn’t staring back at you though, he was staring at your cunt, at the way your fingers circled the bundle of nerves at the top, the way your underwear was starting to darken with how wet you were.

You wanted to touch him, or for him to touch you. You stifled a whine as you thought about what it would feel like to have his fingers inside of you. You started to rub your clit faster, biting down on your lip as you tried rocking your hips against the bed.

Meanwhile, Ghost was watching you like you were the most captivating thing in the world, and you were. He could feel his cock getting harder in his pants as it strained against the fabric of his boxers. He had to swallow down a groan when he heard you start to whine. He could see you fighting the urge to close your eyes as the pleasure washed over you, your hand working on your clit furiously.

He grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping your wrist. You looked at him confused, your chest heaving. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you slowly before lowering his gaze to your core. You watched with bated breath as he stood up from his chair, his hands still on your wrist as he moved to the bed. Slowly, his hand lifted yours away from your clit, laying it next to you. He moved his hand to your cunt, his fingers sliding over your folds, admiring how wet he could tell you were even through the underwear.

“Ghost,” you whimpered, looking up at him.

His eyes snapped to yours, “Tell me what you want darling,” he whispered, his voice sultry sweet.

“Touch me. Please,” you mewled.

“I am,” he said, and you could see his mask shift as he grinned.

“Ghost,” you whined, “you know what I mean.”

“Actually,” he said, pulling his hand away from you, “I don’t.”

You huffed at the lack of contact. “I want… I want you to finger me,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Perfect,” he said slowly. His hand slid down your panties and he let out a groan as his fingers came into contact with your wetness. “Shit, all this for me?” he asked, causing you to look away. “Not so fast,” he said, clicking his tongue, “eyes on me, remember?”

You nodded, training your eyes on his as he continued running his fingers through your wetness. You whined as you felt his finger brush over your clit, your breaths shallow as you tried to focus on his eyes. “Ghost,” you whimpered, gripping onto his wrist when you felt him stick a finger inside of you.

He looked up at you lazily, his finger pumping in and out of you. “You like that?” he asked in that gravelly voice of his, causing you to clench around his finger. You nodded, a moan slipping out of your mouth when his palm brushed against your clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, think you can take another?” he drawled, one of his hands snaking up to grab at your tit.

You whined, nodding your head fervently. “That’s my girl,” he said, adding another finger. You let out a gasp as he started using his thumb to rub steady circles on your clit, your thighs trembling as you tried to keep them open for him. Your mouth fell open as he continued fucking you with his fingers, the sound of his fingers fucking your wet cunt filling the room. You moaned as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you, hitting your sweet spot. He added a third finger, drawing another moan from you as you threw your head back, too consumed by the pleasure he was giving you to remember what he said.

He growled, the hand on your tits snaking up to wrap around your neck as he forced you to look at him. You whined, your hands wrapping around the hand on your throat as his fingers continued thrusting into you. You rocked your hips against his hand desperately, crying out his name as you felt him scissor his fingers inside you.

“Ghost,” you cried, your voice breathy as he kept fingering you. You could feel your orgasm growing, your entire body growing warmer and the knot in your stomach getting tighter as you approached the edge. You didn’t even need to tell him you were close, he could feel it in the way your body began to stiffen and your cunt squeezed him tighter. He kept working you, his fingers sliding and scissoring inside of you until you were at the very edge of the peak, ready to fall over. And then he pulled out.

You whined, your chest heaving from your lost orgasm. You stared up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “What was that for?” you gasped.

He chuckled, admiring your lust-blown pupils. “I want your first orgasm to be with my cock inside of you,” he explained, pulling you up from your knees.

He laid you on your back, letting out a whistle as he peeled your underwear off of your legs. You pushed yourself onto your elbows, watching him with wide eyes as he pulled off his sweatpants. You could see his cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, and you licked your lips as you watched him pull it out.

“You like that?” he asked, and you nodded. “You wanna suck it?” Another nod. He let out a low chuckle at that. “Maybe another time. Right now, I just want to be inside you.” You felt your heart flutter at his words, so this wasn’t a one time thing. There would be more times. What did he want out of this, did he just want a fuck buddy? Or did he want something more? You swallowed, silencing your thoughts as you watched his hand pump his cock as beads of precum pooled at the tip.

You sucked in a breath as he leaned over you, one of his hands caging you in as another lined up his cock with your entrance. You gasped as you felt him stretch you out, your eyes squeezing shut. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, you just didn’t realize how big he was. “Shit,” he groaned, dropping his head to your chest as he continued pushing into you, “you feel so fucking good.” You whined, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel his back.

You mewled as he bottomed out inside of you, your chest heaving as you clenched around him. It felt so good to have him inside of you, it was like he was made for you. He stretched you out so perfectly, leaving you teetering between the edge of pain and pleasure. Slowly, he started moving his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you. “Ghost,” you whined, “give me more.”

You heard him curse to himself, “Are you sure?” he asked.

You nodded, letting out a moan as he began thrusting into you faster. Ghost groaned as he fucked you. You felt so good squeezing around him. How long had he wanted this? He couldn’t remember. He could barely think, if he was honest, his whole world was consumed by the way you took him in so easily. He snaked a finger down to your clit, reveling in the way you moaned so loudly for him, reveling in the sounds of his cock slamming into your tight cunt. He slammed his hips into you harder, savoring the way your mouth dropped open and your eyes squeezed shut whenever he hit your sweet spot. He could practically feel his chest swell with pride as moan after moan fell from your lips, your voice raw from crying out his name.

You could feel your orgasm coming again as he continued fucking you, the coil deep in the pit of your stomach tightening and threatening to burst. You could barely even register the sounds coming out of you, they sounded foreign and distant, unnaturally high pitched and whiny to be your own. “Ghost,” you cried out, wrapping your legs around his waist, trying to push him deeper inside of you. “I’m—”

“You about to cum?” he asked, recognizing the way you stiffened and clenched around him. You nodded furiously, your eyebrows knit together. “Fuck, the way you’re squeezing me I’m about to cum too,” he said, with a low chuckle, “go ahead and cum for me darling. Let everyone know how good I make you feel.”

You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back as the coil in your stomach finally snapped and your orgasm washed through you, racking your body with delicious waves of pleasure. You could feel him continue to thrust into you as you rode out your orgasm, your mind hazy and lust-drunk. Through lidded eyes, you watched his hips begin to stutter inside of you. You watched him dip his head in his shoulders, moaning your name as he came inside of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, with him on top of you, slightly heavy but not suffocating, both of your chests heaving as you thought about what happened.

With a grunt, Ghost pushed himself off of you, stopping to admire your lust-blown pupils, messy hair, and unfocused eyes. He watched you blink slowly, your eyes turning to his as a smile came over your face. “What?” he asked, standing up.

“Since your whole thankfulness philosophy says that if you’re grateful for something you should show it every day, does that mean we’re gonna be doing this every single day?”

He rolled his eyes, “You still on about that?” he asked, making his way over to his bathroom and wetting a towel. “I thought we already established that my philosophy needs some work.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to have sex with me every day?” you asked, sucking in a breath as he wiped you down.

“That’s not what I meant, don’t put words in my mouth,” he said, pulling on his sweatpants before tossing you yours. “Put your pants on, the food you brought’s cold now, let’s get another plate,” he said, glad that the mask hid the childish smile. You rolled your eyes, tugging on your pants but leaving your ruined underwear on his bed. He could keep it, you had plenty more.

Ghost chuckled as he watched your legs buckle when you tried to stand, letting you struggle for a moment before he went over to help you. In a way, he could sort of see why people celebrated Thanksgiving. Before, he never had a reason to. He wasn’t American, he didn’t have any friends or family to celebrate with, and he didn’t have anything to be thankful for. But now? Now it was different. Now he had you.

#bingoboingobongo.com #ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost modern warfare 2 #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost fluff #ghost imagine #ghost angst #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley cod #simon riley mw2 #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader

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howtofightwrite · 1 year

Note

So in a lot of RPG-inspired fantasy, you’ll see this idea that squads of adventurers will have their members specialize into combat roles with one person being good at defending against hits hit and one person who attacks a lot and one person who hangs back at range etc. Is this totally made up for RPGs? Or is there a historical basis for small-unit tactics with specialization before the modern era?

No.

Specialized combat roles existed, in full battlefield combat. Groups like line infantry, skirmishers, archers, and artillery all existed. The thing is, those were entire units of troops, not individual roles, and combat doesn't really scale down to individual characters.

The tank/DPS/healer trinity is entirely an RPG construct. This actually makes some sense when you consider that the first RPGs grew out of tabletop wargaming. So, seeing battalion level combat reduced to individual characters isn't quite as weird as it first appears. Since then, games have adapted to better fit those roles.

So, the end result is that, the combat roles you see in modern RPGs came out of an abstraction of an abstraction of battalion level combat, and then it started evolving into even more specialized roles. Beyond that, concepts like taunts and crowd control only really make sense within the power fantasies of those games.

In a modern context, mixed combat units with a few specialists mixed in do make sense, though, again, it's not the tank/DPS/healer structure of games, because that is still completely artificial.

So, if it's so utterly divorced from reality, why does this model survive? Because it does accurately replicate how fantasy stories frequently fit together. You get a reasonably distinct mix of character archetypes who can work together, with each contributing something unique to the effort as a whole. And, while you're not going to find an example of the Tank/DPS/Healer squad out there in the wandering in the world, you don't have to look too hard to find stories with a warrior who's able to bare almost any punishment, a sage who advises and assists, and a hero who has a nasty habit of striking the killing blow, and, really, doing the bulk of the punishment.

Accidentally or intentionally, the trinity nails how stories are often told.

Distinct roles in a tabletop RPG also, arguably, provide more range for a group of players to have roles that appeal to them, without requiring them all to conform to a single character type. Not everyone is going to want to be a hulking brute with anger management issues, just like not everyone is going to want to play a character who's instantly deleted half a second after an enemy spots them. The trinity gives both of those players a way to participate in the same adventure without making either of them useless.

The roles have become even more entrenched in MMOs because it provides a shorthand for players to organize themselves for group content. At that point, roles like Tank/Healer/DPS become very useful shorthand for knowing what a random stranger will bring to the group, and a way to quickly assess what you still need before the group is ready to go.

So, does this have any historical basis? Yes, sort of, but in a literary context, not from martial combat.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers #RPG lit

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disastercyborgecho · 3 months

Text

SOBB Week #4 [Both Prompts]

I made myself cry with this one boys

@summer-of-bad-batch

Prompt: Cadets

Prompt: “You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen.”

CW: Death (the gentle, soft kind, that we all hope awaits us)

One of my favorite lines from this:

'But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.'

Something about those dog metaphors ruins me every time. I wanted to explore the depression that Echo struggles with, and how that looks when someone doesn't have a name for it, but still faces it head on every day. How it looks with a found family that you didn't necessarily ask for, not at first. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Comments/constructive criticism welcome :)

***

No Longer a Biting Beast

Song Listened to while writing: Half-Return by Adrianne Lenker

Echo knew that the Bad Batch considered him family. He understood that logically, emotionally, what have you. But deep down, just under his heart where his body was still his and not machine, he felt as though he was an outsider to a group of people that knew each other in a way he would never understand.

They were cadets together. Boys together, for however short it had been.

Before Order 66, before everything had gotten worse and gotten better all at once, Echo could not help step into the role of observer easily aboard the Marauder.

He would watch Hunter and Wrecker play-fight while he settled down in the cockpit, cackling and wrestling each other to the floor with juvenile energy, laughing as they held each other down, Wrecker tugging Hunter’s bandana into his eyes and shouting with glee and Hunter claiming “That’s still cheating, you know! Doesn’t matter we’re not tubies anymore!”

As they shared rations before bunking down, he would watch the way Crosshair and Tech would pick apart the food they didn’t like, passing it back and forth wordlessly until both ended up with a full meal of something they actually enjoyed. It was practiced and calm, something done even running on little to no sleep because the same thing had been done since they were only 5 years out of the tube. Echo would eat his own rations, dry on his tongue, and have to look away, because the person that he used to share with was gone forever.

It wasn’t as though Echo was trying to be an outsider. He had joined CF 99 because he was one already in his old battalion. He saw it on Rex’s face, eyes so tired for someone so young still, watching regs that used to be Echo’s brothers sneer at him or avoid him as best they could. Rex didn’t approve, but there was only so much one man could do, and both he and Echo knew it. It was war, and if Echo didn’t fit, then he would go somewhere where he could keep fighting. It was all any of them knew.

In battle, Echo didn’t feel separated from his new brothers, not anymore anyway. They had practiced their formations, their plans, everything, until he was just another cog in a perfect bloody machine. He pretended like he didn’t crave that feeling of anonymity, just another face among identical faces, in every other moment of his life.

But inevitably, he would find himself back in the cockpit of the Marauder, watching a scene play out in front of him that drove home how long these men had known each other. An inside joke, a reference to a battle he wasn’t there for, and memories of cadet training that Echo would never understand. It was bitter in his mouth alongside rations he couldn’t share.

When Omega joined them, when Crosshair left, he was too busy to stick his fingers in the hole left in his chest by trauma and isolation. He had to keep Omega safe. Keep his brothers safe.

And with Cross gone, everyone was feeling out a new space in a family that suddenly, painfully, looked very different. But then Cross was back, and everything was different. And everything was the same. Because these men had been cadets together, and that would never change, and Hunter and Wrecker were still too used to only one other man to wrestle with to ask Echo to join, and Tech and Cross only exchanged food with one another. Because every little thing that was a happy moment from their ‘childhood’ they guarded like feral dogs, latching onto it and shaking it to make sure it would stay with them forever. Echo couldn’t blame them.

Echo thinks that perhaps this is why he left to join Rex in the end. Because he was a dog too, his teeth blunt from gnawing on something long rotten, and he craved something new to rip into. He craved the familiar meat of identical faces and identical voices and a language passed down and taught in secret to those coming after them, holding onto anything that they could call their own besides their names.

But too soon, sooner than others because of metal veins and gears in his heart, Echo became an old dog, teeth gone and fur patchy. He wanted to keep fighting, keep chasing something to fill up that hole in his chest, but Rex placed a heavy calloused hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, handprint warm where it was once painted onto armor, and he pressed their foreheads together. They both had more wrinkles now, but Echo could remember when they were both young, moving through the ranks. When they were cadets, too.

“Go home, vod’ika,” Rex whispered. “It’s okay to rest. It’s time.”

So Echo went home.

Pabu was the same as when he had last seen it, but more faces there looked like his own had when he was with the 501st, when he was still whole. And there were the faces that he knew so well now, too, waiting for him.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them until the moment that he saw them all there, curled up in the sun, faces tanned and relaxed. Happy.

Omega glanced up, and when she saw him she squealed in happiness and sprinted toward him as though a string pulled her there uncontrollably. Echo scooped her up without hesitation, laughing with her, tears in his eyes, before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m home, vod’ika,” he whispered to her. “I’m home.”

His brothers joined them, pulled to him just as Omega had, and the hole in his chest didn’t feel like it was so big.

It was still there as he carved out a space for himself on Pabu. It would probably never leave. But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.

Slowly, painfully sometimes, Echo stitched a patch over the hole.

The threads were made of his brothers, of his sister. Of Cross’s shaking hand, of Tech’s pink scars still raw and new, of Wrecker’s fishing lures strung through their kitchen, and Hunter’s jackets left draped over the couch in their living room. Of Omega and her friends leaving dirty boots by their doorstep and falling asleep tangled up together in Echo’s bed as he told them stories of his own days as a cadet, tangled up with his brothers telling their own. Winding together until they were indistinguishable.

In this way, he aged. Grey hair, crow’s feet from laughter, the whole nine yards. And so did his brothers. They may not have been boys together, but they made their final home together. They grew old together. It was not something any of them had believed could happen, but here they were. On their porch in Pabu, watching the sun set over the water, rocking gently in chairs woven and built by Wrecker and Tech, painted bright yellows and blues by Crosshair. Tech was asleep on Cross’ shoulder, and Hunter held a soft smile on his face as the sun warmed the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Wrecker was drawing something in a notebook, the familiar scratches of his pencil on paper a soft lullaby. Echo looked out at the sun, at his home, and then back at his family. And he realized that he felt like he fit. That he was going to join the stars among people that loved him most. He sighed, and leaned his head back in his chair. He was not scared, as the darkness approached. He welcomed it, after all this time. And as he had one foot on one side of the veil and one on the other, he saw him.

Fives was standing next to his chair, a hand on his shoulder, but he did not look like Echo remembered him. He was old too. His hair had grayed, his beard grown out, and smile lines settled deep on his face. He looked down at Echo and grinned, and that was still the same. He beckoned Echo toward the light, and Echo stood to follow. Then he felt something tug at his other shoulder. He looked behind him, and saw his brothers.

They were still in their chairs as the sun slowly set on the bad batch, but they also stood with him, and Hunter, who had stopped him, smiled.

“You really think you’re going without us? Not going to happen.”

His family nodded.

“We’re going together.” Crosshair added, determined as always.

And Echo couldn’t ask for anything else.

As they followed Fives into the stars, their bodies left warm and asleep in the fading sun, they became young again.

Six cadets made their way to the next life, laughing and stumbling over one another as they looked forward to their next adventure. One they would face together.

***

AO3 Link

#star wars #clone wars #clone troopers #bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch #arc trooper echo #echo #ct 1409 #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #summerofbadbatch2024 #clone trooper angst #cryptids writing

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evolutionsvoid · 20 days

Text

The ancient dragons were once revered, but are now reviled in the wake of the betrayal. Yet, even as they are labeled an enemy of the Church and despised as heretical beasts, there is one thing that remains unchanged: their power. Though hated, folks still admit that the dragons bear incredible strength and abilities, their ancient bodies and blood possessing qualities unseen anywhere else. Even as people spit at their name, there are many who secretly wonder if it would be possible to harness this primordial strength. So when the great beasts were slain, and their massive corpses fell to the earth, this enemy was violated once more as factions hurried to plunder the carcasses and take these gifts for themselves. Out of the scavengers who fed on this death, none are nearly as famous, or successful, as the Antiquaries.

The Antiquaries are an arm of the Academy of Veritas Mundus, those tasked with uncovering the past and harnessing the primordial. They seek the secrets of the ages before Ichor, and the beings who flourished in these eras. The dragons are no doubt a great obsession to them, as they are the living embodiment of these ancients times. So when they were slain and left to rot, the Antiquaries descended upon the carcasses like ravenous shrews. They stripped many dragon bodies down to the bone, and then made off with those as well. Any great dragon who perished on or near Academy territories were quickly devoured by these eager researchers, their scales, bones and Eitr whisked away to their countless laboratories.

Though it would appear that no one has truly mastered the power and Eitr of the ancient dragons, it is clear that the Antiquaries are the closest to achieving such a feat. Though their research is closely guarded, much like a lot of Academy work, the end results can be clearly seen. One need only see or hear about the Dracomatons to know that the Academy has uncovered something incredible behind their barred doors.

The Dracomatons are creations of man, artificial life that has been forged and built. The Antiquaries have taken the pieces of dead dragons and found a way to cobble them into a lesser, but far from powerless, form. Dracomatons are constructed from a special material that the Academy invented, known as "verdigris." The process to create such a substance is known only to the Academy and fiercely guarded. If one is to spot someone who doesn't belong to the Academy in possession of such an thing, then you know they stole it or stripped it off a corpse. The little anyone has figured out about verdigris is that it is made through some sort of fusion of dragon scale and ivory, but only true ancient dragon scales. It appears to use the very blight that coats them, scraping the curse from these immortal scales and binding it with high quality bone. The resulting material is not as strong as true dragon scales, but it is still very durable and certainly far more plentiful. It is how they are able to create so many strange and powerful constructs which bear the visage of these ancient beasts.

One such dracomaton is the Huo Long, a soaring slithering serpent construct whose presence is an omen of fire and chaos. A long body built of verdigris scales and powered by yellowflame, it uses this fire to weave through the sky and spew burning bolts upon foes. Though the permanent snarl of its maw can vomit forth a hail of flame, these spits of fire are not nearly as lethal as some would believe. They may scorch holes in armor and burn flesh, but those with decent protection and quick thinking can survive this rain. The true power of this breath weapon is the panic and chaos it can cause. The sight of these twisting automatons in the sky already put folk on edge, and when they start spraying flame onto battalions does fear take hold. Mounts and other war beasts fly into a panic at these flames, the sting of their bite causes soldiers to lose focus and flail about, and dry battlegrounds can easily erupt in an inferno. The Huo Long are tools of fear and disarray, turning crude armies of hastily trained soldiers into stumbling screaming fools.

The Huo Long dracomatons are constructs built mainly for battle, be it a siege weapon or a burning omen to clear the way for the Academy's horde. When the Church faltered with civil war, the Academy saw their chance and thus their many inventions were turned to tools of violence. In rare cases have some folk witnessed a few of these constructs serving as guards on Academy grounds. It would seem their fiery maws may be too destructive for their creators' liking, worrying that these guard beasts may wind up burning down what they are meant to protect.

Due to their materials being born from dragon scale, it would seem they have inherited more than their visage. It has been observed that Huo Long left inactive for a period of time grow stiff and slow, requiring minutes of movement and warming up to regain their flexibility and grace. Perhaps the curse that doomed the dragons lives on in a way within these dracomatons, threatening those who wield it with the same fate. In that way, it would seem that they are closer to true dragons than one would imagine. However, one with a sharp eye need only look upon the yellowflame in their eyes and teeth to see that no trace of Eitr is within. The lacking of Primal Flame's tinge betrays their artificial nature and that these are machines merely wearing the skin of the ancient beasts.

-----------------------------------------

"Huo Long Dracomaton"

Not only do we got animals mutated into dragons, now people be building dragons!

And thanks to @Lediblock2 for the term "Dracomaton" because my genius self was coming up with words like "automdragon"

#automaton #dragon #monster #art #drawing #fall of ichor

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anakinskywalkerog · 1 year

Text

My Very Soul (Chapter 31)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 30

Warnings: whew. okay everyone. i'm sorry about this one. this chapter is pure pain. angst and emotional torture and a major character death. tread lightly and read this only if you're doing okay. i'm so so so sorry. that's just how the story goes.

Summary: As Anakin races to your aid, you find out more about your mysterious, violet-eyed attacker. A major shift occurs in your life, altering your relationship to the Force.

Word Count: 4.6k

"Anakin, be reasonable," Obi-Wan pled. The two Jedi Knights hurried alongside the outer perimeter of the Guild headquarters, where their battalions had, thus far, managed to hold the base.

"I'm going after them," Anakin promised, his brow furrowed as he turned to look at his former Master. Obi-Wan's face looked exasperated—the stress and exhaustion from the battle read in every line near his eyes, in the way his mustache moved to the side. Anakin knew Obi-Wan well enough to see the fear and worry behind this carefully cultivated façade.

"Anakin, you mustn't let your feelings cloud your decision-making," Obi-Wan implored, rounding the corner toward the recently constructed command center at the center of the Guild, where Rex and Cody waited to consult the Council via hologram. The Jedi back in Coruscant were waiting to hear about the progress on Felucia, but Anakin didn't care about the Council. He didn't care, at the moment, about the 501st holding the Guild from separatist forces. He was beyond concern for the war. He only knew he needed to get to you.

"Yuma signaled for help, Obi-Wan!" Anakin fumed, his jaw clenched, his breath coming hot and tight out of his nostrils. "Do you really believe she would have signaled for anything less than—"

"No," Obi-Wan responded, slowing his stride as the two of them neared the rudimentary command center. "I don't believe she would have signaled needlessly. But—"

"But nothing. They need our help. Something's wrong, I know it, I...I can feel it." Anakin felt his chest tighten at these words, his worry and anger closing around his heart like a fist. Why couldn't Obi-Wan understand that you were in danger!?

"Our orders," Obi-Wan said with a tired, heavy sigh, "are to remain at the Guild. If we are unable to hold the front here—"

"I know our orders," Anakin spat, breathing hard. He turned his angry pout on his former Master, who looked back into Anakin's eyes with concern. Anakin shook his head, trying to clear his anger, trying to focus. He took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm going after them," Anakin said shortly, turning to head back in the direction they had come, back toward the perimeter of the Guild, toward the direction of Yuma's signal. "It is your choice whether to come or not."

Anakin turned to walk away, his angry stride starting to break into a jog as his thoughts turned to you. He knew he shouldn't have separated from you, he thought angrily. If anything at all happened to you...Anakin couldn't consider the possibility. His insides turned to steel, a hot, heavy, twisted metal, and he quickened his pace. You were his whole world, his reason for existing. He would not allow anything to happen to you.

Behind him, Anakin heard Obi-Wan heave another sigh. The sound of his Master's quick steps growing nearer reassured Anakin that Obi-Wan was, at last, seeing reason. The two Knights hurried away from their duty, toward the sound of the distress call they knew they must answer.

You strained, trying to pull at the restraints around your wrists, around your ankles, but the heavy metal bounds wouldn't budge. You were held in a restraining plastron that stood in the middle of a large, empty cavern. You searched the ceiling and looked into the sides of this voluminous cave, trying to discover a way out, but it was too dark for you to grasp your surroundings fully. The only shapes around you were the many stalagmites that rose from the stone floor. The cave itself seemed to be whispering to you, making noises that were not noises that could be made without a voice. The humming continued. You felt your head drooping, felt your consciousness pulling away from you. You gritted your teeth, fighting to remain in the present, fighting the battle with your brain fog and winning.

The woman with the violet eyes leaned up against one of the larger stalagmites, watching you with a malicious expression on her face. When you looked into her eyes, the whispering voices in your mind grew louder. Why were you having this reaction now, in the presence of this woman who, while an enemy, was certainly not a Sith? Why were you struggling to maintain a hold on your consciousness? The cave continued to whisper, as if deriding your questions, as if mocking you for your ignorance. You struggled against your restraints some more.

"Let me go!" you yelled again, infusing into your voice all the Force command you could muster. The woman sat watching you, a wicked smile gracing her lips, but she did not respond. You tried again. "You will remove these restraints!" you shouted, but the woman simply laughed.

"This is entertaining," the woman drawled, her voice jogging your memory in a sickening way, your stomach turning. You felt outward toward her in the Force, feeling her anger, her hatred, her...insecurity? The instability within this woman raged within her like a fire, burning up every thought. You felt her presence like you were holding something that burned your fingers. You scrunched your eyes closed, trying to force her impression out.

"I'm aware of your abilities, you know," the woman said, and you opened your eyes, glaring at her where she sat so casually. "I can see what you're trying to do. But your intuition won't help you now, I'm afraid." She pushed herself up off the ground where she sat. "Knowledge of what's to come won't stop it from happening."

"What do you want with me?" you spat, glaring at this woman and feeling the hatred from her presence lap at your insides like a flame. Or, maybe, you considered, this was your own anger. You took a breath to calm yourself. You mustn't lose focus.

"Retribution," the woman said casually, holding up her hand and looking down at her nails, as if she were bored with this conversation. "Revenge, I can admit. And pain." She looked back up at you and took a few steps closer, smiling with her teeth in a way that made your insides squirm. "I want you to feel pain. And you will." She cocked her head, turning to her left. You felt their presences coming in—the people entering the cave felt fear, a sickening, all-encompassing fear, a fear mixed with ire. You turned in your restraints to regard three large men carrying a heavy-looking crate. You gasped, recognizing the one with the bald head and the lightning tattoo. The man looked up at you as the henchmen approached, giving you a menacing glare.

"Yes, I am not the only one who wants revenge," the woman continued as the men set the crate down in front of where you were restrained. "She will suffer, my friend," the woman said, signing her speech with her hands to the man with the tattoo, who grunted in response. "But the pain must wait."

The men walked away, and you tried to turn yourself around in your restraints to see where they exited, but it was no use. You were bound too tightly. The woman stepped forward and pressed the panel on the side of the crate. As it opened, you felt the sounds of the whispering intensify, those low notes continuing in the back of your mind, a long, melancholic chant. You felt your eyes roll back into your head, and you fought, trying hard to regain your eyesight.

"Convenient," you heard the woman say, and you pushed your eyes forward, regarding her with blurry vision. She'd stepped even closer to you, leaning in, her purple irises alight with some foul emotion you felt swelling around her. "That this," she continued, gesturing with her hands toward the cavern around you, "was once a dwelling place for a Sith Lord and his apprentice." You felt her thoughts turn to her henchmen, and their fear as they regarded this place. You started to understand. "I knew, of course, that you would be difficult to subdue," the woman continued, "without a little help. And since my uncle refuses, for some reason, to touch you, I knew I needed to get a little...inventive."

At these words, your thoughts started to spin. Her uncle? Who was this woman? And how did she have such knowledge of the Sith, of the ways of the Force, if she wasn't a Jedi? She couldn't be even five years older than you were. You felt her presence turn sour, her anger singing you from within. You forced your eyes open, so that you could look at her.

"Yes, I can feel your confusion," the woman mused, her brow furrowing. "Though we are not all gifted in the Force as you are, these rudimentary changes in energy are apparent. To me, anyway." The woman laughed without humor.

"Who are you?" you asked, knowing that you would be able to decipher the answer in her thoughts. The woman smiled an evil smile as she lifted her head out of the crate. She raised her eyebrows. You couldn't see what was in her hands.

"Ah, yes, I suppose your abilities would come in handy when seeking information," she said, but you only half heard her. You were concentrating on the images and impressions flashing through her thoughts—Count Dooku was there, and you delved deeper, feeling into the woman, feeling her memories. You saw her as a child, petulant, moving things with her mind. You saw Dooku, yelling at some other man, felt the child's emotions. She was crying. You felt other things too, things you couldn’t decipher.

"Dooku...is your..." you began, trying to piece it all together.

"My uncle," the woman seethed, standing up and looking you head on. You saw in her hands a large needle. You swallowed, bringing yourself back to the moment. You felt the woman's anger at Dooku's name. "Yes," she continued, walking to your other side, holding the needle in front of her. "My uncle became, as you might know, very disenchanted with your Order. He refused," she continued, stopping to study you, "to allow anyone in his family to join." You felt other images flash by in her mind—images of Dooku hitting her across the face, pushing her to the ground, shouting at her.

"He hid you," you stated, looking deeper into her mind, trying to glean any information that might help you escape this mess.

"Yes," she answered, her eyes showing just a hint of the pain you felt raging within her. "He made sure no one would ever find me. He made sure I learned every sick, twisted ability he could teach me. But I was never enough for him." She paused, reading your reaction as you felt her memories, her pain from her training.

"He shouldn't have done that to you," you started quickly, taking advantage of her silence. "Had you been found by the Order, you would have been trained differently. But it isn't too late—"

"It is," the woman hissed, "altogether too late. For me," she grinned, her anger twisting her face into that same, wicked smile, "and for you."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" You asked, confused.

"Ah," the woman laughed. "Well, my uncle wasn't too happy with me after our little meeting on Serenno. You remember?" she asked, and the memory of it came back to you, though it felt like a lifetime ago. You and Anakin, searching Serenno for answers about the separatist attacks on the senators. You thought of Anakin with a pang, remembering the fight you'd had after your first encounter with this woman, wondering where he was now in the battle raging outside the cave, whether he was okay.

"Yes, you and pretty boy caused quite a stir between me and my dear uncle," the woman grimaced. You thought you could sense the ghost of a scar across her face, one that might have been made by a lightsaber. "And, of course, the Count was furious that I had encountered you, furious that I had betrayed details about his involvement to the ones so special to—" she cut off at this, and you sensed, for the first time, fear in her presence. What had she been about to say? Special to who?

"Regardless," she continued, "I didn't forget that you bested me then, and I planned to make it up to my uncle. Earn his favor, or, at the very least, escape his...wrath." You furrowed your brow, confused. "I wanted to kill you, you see," she said, "to make up for my mistake. But my uncle told me you were not to be harmed, not to be dealt with." This piece of information stopped your thoughts in their tracks. Not to be harmed? As instructed by Dooku? How could that be?

"I listened," the woman added, continuing her story. "I did not attempt harm you, though I admit I resented you even then. I didn't understand why you were known to my uncle, why you and your precious lover boy were not to be touched. I started to wonder what my uncle was hiding, when he would slip away. I wanted to know who he was conversing with, at night, why he shuddered with fear at random moments." The woman paced to your other side, the needle looming large in her hands. "But I was careful. I began to eavesdrop, collecting what information I could, while still performing those menial tasks for my uncle—sending bounty hunters to scare the senators, trying to stir up dissent within the Republic. But then—" she cut off, her face twisting, and you felt that she might as well be talking to herself, her presence so deep in her memories. "Then I was sent to attack a senator on Levangé." You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat. "A job I thought would be simple, a task I knew I could perform to get back into my uncle's confidence." The woman's face screwed up in anger, and she stepped forward again, looking into your eyes.

"You ruined that for me too, you see," she said, her eyes level with yours. "You got me captured, got me interrogated, thrown into a Republic cell. My uncle was furious." You looked down, seeing that she was squeezing the needle, her hands straining around its large barrel. "Sure, he...liberated me," she said, laughing a harsh laugh. "But he punished me. He was terrified of his secrets getting out, you know." The woman took a breath, as if she was losing control on her calm pretense. "He banished me, once he was done with his punishments. I was turned out like a common rat. And all for him to declare himself, not even a week later, to the Republic. All for the war to start, for his schemes to be made public." You wanted to keep this woman talking, keep her focused on her story so you might find a way out of this, find your way back to Master Yuma, wherever she was in this mess of tunnels. You focused your Force energy on your binding, trying with all your might to unlock the mechanism, but it was no use. Your hands and legs remained bound.

"So you see, all of my woes can be traced back to you," the woman was saying, her eyes on you, her face in a slightly maniacal smile. "I lost everything. All because of you. You ruined a lot of things for me," she said as she leaned forward, looking into your face. "You took away my family, took my position, took my uncle's fascination...and, without the purpose he had given me, I started to seek a new purpose. Revenge."

"You...you don't have to do this," you whispered, looking around frantically. "I didn't take those things from you. You were born into the worst of circumstances, but you can still—"

"Still what?" the woman asked derisively. "Still lean into the 'light side of the Force'? You will soon learn," the woman snarled, "that there is no such thing as the dark and the light. There is no difference between the Sith and the Jedi, Y/N. Both seek power, mastery of the Force. The only difference is the wording they use when they speak of their methods."

"How do you know my name?" you asked breathlessly, looking back to the needle in the woman's hands.

"I know all about you, Y/N. I eavesdropped plenty on my uncle, and his conversations with his...Master," the woman fumed, and you felt again the pinpricks of fear in her presence. "I know that you and your precious Anakin Skywalker are to be 'preserved' for him," she continued. "I know that, because of this, I cannot harm you. I cannot kill you. They would find out," she smiled, holding the needle, looking like she wasn't all there in her mind. "They would come after me, and kill me. I don't know why they bother with you, why they discuss you and your friend..." the woman stepped up in front of you once again, sizing you up, your form much shorter in stature than hers. "So I had to be clever, when planning my attack. I still have contacts in the separatist movement, you know. It wasn't difficult to visit a few of their bases, trying to form a plan. And then I stumbled on this wonderful place," she explained, raising her arms and gesturing around the cave. "Knowing, as I know, that you struggle with your so-called 'dark side'...I thought a Sith dwelling would be the perfect place to hold you. But how to get you here!" The woman laughed shrilly. "It has not been easy. I knew I needed to push the separatists as far toward your Guild as possible, knew that if the situation were dire enough, the Republic would send you, their prized student. And I knew I needed to do it without attracting my uncle's attention." The woman breathed deeply, as if she were basking in her success. "It took longer than I expected. But finally, you arrived. And now I will find my revenge. I can still hurt you." She reached out with her hand, touching the side of your temple. You bristled at her touch.

"My uncle was terrified that you would find out anything about me," the woman continued, switching the needle from her right hand to her left, like she was playing with it. "He hid me even from his own Master, you know. And perhaps that is why he sent me away—I was becoming too much of a liability." She laughed again, her eyes darkening. "But I don't care to follow his rules anymore. You will know my name. And you will remember who it is that causes your pain." You looked at the needle again, and back into her eyes, your presence finally giving over to fear.

"Vyra," she said plainly, reaching out and touching your hair, as if you were old friends. "My name is Vyra. And you don't have to worry about this," Vyra added, gesturing to the needle in her hand. "It isn't for you."

It was then that you felt the disturbance—the presences moving toward you, the rift in the Force, as if something were being set in motion, as if the song were swelling toward forte, the symphony reaching its final act. The whispering voices in your head joined the cacophony, growing louder, growing excited. Your head ached from the effort it took to stay present, to keep your consciousness in the here and now.

"Bring her in, boys," Vyra said in a manic, evil tone, her smile taking over her whole face. You turned to regard the same three henchmen carrying something, walking toward you. You strained to see the limp form in their arms.

"No!" you shouted, your eyes filling with tears. You pulled at your restraints, pushed out with the Force, your fear and panic swelling along with the voices in your head.

"Yes," Vyra contradicted as the men lay the unconscious form of Master Yuma beneath your feet. "I would have preferred lover boy, of course," she added casually, like you were discussing the weather. "That was the original plan. But he is well protected, and when your Master," she continued, the word rolling off her tongue contemptuously, "basically fell into my lap? Well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. She was so easy to collect, unconscious as she was. She fell from quite a height."

"No!" you shouted again, as loudly as you could, your voice grating against your throat. "Let her go!"

"Your Force command is useless, here," Vyra said slyly, reaching to prop Master Yuma's unconscious body in a seated position against the nearest stalagmite. "But it's entertaining to see you struggling so much. Please, continue."

"What are you going to do to her?!" you pled, continuing to struggle against your restraints. "Let her go, now!"

"I would have thought it was quite obvious, by this point," Vyra responded, rolling her violet eyes. "Even your intuition doesn't allow for basic deduction skills, I suppose." Vyra pressed the needle against Master Yuma's neck, almost gently, injecting her swiftly with some kind of clear liquid. When she was finished, she stood up, admiring her handiwork.

"It should only take a few minutes," Vyra explained, her face the face of pure evil. "This is a fun concoction that my uncle tends to use on his...enemies. It will make her see things," Vyra clarified, taking a step away from Master Yuma and back toward you. "See unpleasant things. It's an excellent form of...emotional torture. And I thought, since I am not able to harm you, physically," Vyra added, stepping until she was inches away from your face once again. "How else to torture an empath?"

Your heart beat madly in your chest as you watched Master Yuma start to twitch. How were you going to get out of here? You needed to think quickly. You saw, underneath Vyra's dark cloak, the form of a lightsaber—Yuma's lightsaber. If you could distract her, you might be able to wrest the lightsaber from her through the Force. But how to use it, with your hands bound as they were, above your head?

"No..." Yuma whimpered, and you looked back at her, horrified, watching her form start to shake. "No, no, no..." Yuma was shaking her head back and forth. You felt her presence descend into terror, felt your own following hers. Her eyes shot open.

"NO!!!" Yuma shouted, looking around wildly, her eyes unfocused.

"Master!" you yelled for her.

"No, Y/N, no!! No!! Get away from her!! Stop it, stop hurting her..." Master Yuma yelled wildly, her eyes unseeing, her body jolting back and forth, reacting to the poison's effect on her mind.

"Master, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you started to sob, your own body shaking. You could feel every dip in your Master's presence, saw with her the vague impression of yourself...of yourself being threatened, of yourself being hurt.

"Isn't it excellent?" Vyra asked, her eyes alight with excitement. "I did not know, of course, that the images her mind would conjure to torture itself would involve you...how fun!" Vyra clapped her hands together.

"Stop!! No!! NO!!" Yuma was shouting, and in her mind you felt the impression of dead bodies all around her, piling up. You saw through her presence your own form, lying on the ground, unmoving, your eyes open, your mouth gaping. You saw Anakin's form lying next to yours, and Obi-Wan's next to his. You saw with Yuma a pile of dead Jedi.

"No, no, Y/N, no, it's all my fault..." Yuma cried, her head shaking back and forth, her hands pushing into her eyes.

"No, Master, no..." you sobbed, trying to think clearly through the voices that were laughing, jeering in your head. "No, it's not your fault, Master, it isn't real, it isn't real, Yuma, come back to me!"

"It's all my fault," Yuma said again, "I tried, I tried..." From where she was slumped against the rock, you saw that her unfocused eyes had tears streaming from them.

"No, Master, no, it's not real, I'm going to get us out of this, I'm going to help you, Master!" you cried, looking around wildly, screaming in the Force, asking for something, anything that would help you get out of here, anything to help you fight. You strained against the bounds on your hands and legs, pressing with all your Force effort, willing them to open. They wouldn't.

Vyra stood next to you, leaning in, looking into your eyes, enjoying every moment of your agony. As you turned to look at her, every part of your insides seemed to erupt. You spat at her, your body still raging in the Force, trying to get out of your bondage.

"You see what I mean," Vyra said gleefully, "about the dark and the light? It's all a myth, Y/N. You'll know soon enough." You felt Vyra's thoughts turn to the kill.

"Um, Vyra..." you heard one of the men say, approaching quickly.

"What?" snapped Vyra, turning to the man reluctantly.

"Code blue. They're close."

"No!" Vyra screamed in rage, her hands balling into fists. "Urrghh!" She swiped at the air with her long limbs, hitting something imaginary.

You felt the voices swelling around you, the hum echoing against the cave walls, blocking out every sound. You pushed against them with all your might.

"No," whimpered Yuma, her pain tinging the air around you.

"Ruining the fun..." you heard Vyra say, as if to herself, and you looked at her, seeing that her face was calculating. "Only one thing to do, now," Vyra said, her face illuminating as she took Yuma's saber from beneath her own cloak and lit it.

It happened as if in slow motion. You felt your body twist, screaming at your restraints, pressing yourself forward toward your Master. Vyra kept her eyes on you as she leapt toward Yuma, pressing, in one, quick motion, the saber's green blade directly into Yuma's chest.

"NO!!!!" you screamed, your sight turning to black, your feeling in the Force so strong that you thought you might shatter your own blood vessels, shatter the cave around you. You felt the stalagmites begin to crack.

"Until we meet again," you heard Vyra say maliciously, and you wrenched your sight back to reality, trying to see through your blurry eyes as Vyra pocketed Yuma's saber and leapt into the air, disappearing upward into the darkness.

"NO!!" you screamed again, your head turning backward and forward, looking around for your attacker, straining against your restraints. Your rage continued to shake the ground, continued to cause the stalagmites to crack. But there was no one left to attack—Vyra and the henchmen were nowhere to be seen. You breathing was coming in large gasps, your mind unable to comprehend your surroundings, your entire self shying away from what had just occurred. It couldn't be. Yuma couldn't be...

"Master," you whimpered, looking through the darkness at the form slumped over against the stalagmite. "Master....master..." you continued, as if compulsively, begging the universe to let her respond, begging her through the Force to wake up. "Master! Master!! MASTER!" you shouted, reaching out through the Force, feeling forward toward Yuma's insensate form. But you couldn't feel your Master there, you realized. You couldn't feel anything.

You kept your heavy lids open, beholding the unmoving form of the person who was your family, your mother, your father, your mentor, your safe harbor, your source of comfort and knowledge and love. The person who had taught you every important value you held dear. As you looked at her, you saw, to your astonishment, her form vanish, her clothes falling empty to the ground.

It was then that you descended into madness.

************************************************************************

But there's no happy endings, not here and not now this tale is all sorrows and woes you dream that justice and peace win the day but that's not how the story goes

Honestly very sorry for this. This hurt to write. To anyone who cares about this story--I'm sorry! But this is how the story goes.

Another chapter is up NOW so don't dwell in your misery, go read

divider credit to @racingairplanes

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ericmicael · 6 months

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10 CURIOSITIES ABOUT FROZEN 2

1 - The Northuldra Tribe and the plot of the dam was inspired by real life

In 1979 the Norwegian government decided to build a hydroelectric plant on the Alta River, but this would completely harm the salmon fishing and reindeer grazing that are the livelihood of the Sámi Tribe. They tried to oppose the construction, but were ignored and in the end the dam was built. But the protests they held were a major turning point for the tribe's relationship with the Norwegian government, which began to look more closely at the tribe even though it continues to commit various negligence towards it. In "Frozen 2" things were more drastic with King Runeard, Anna and Elsa's grandfather, creating the dam with the sole purpose of weakening the tribe and then managing to exterminate them because he considered them a risk to his throne due to their proximity with the spirits of nature and magic.

2 - Kristoff is technically a Northuldra before Anna and Elsa

It is no coincidence that Kristoff got along so well with the Northuldras and that people started to theorize that he is part of them since Kristoff is a Sámi or at least he was in the script "Frozen 1". In the film's script he and all the ice harvesters are called Sámi, which as I said at the beginning is the Northuldra Tribe from F2. As far as I know there is no confirmation in the franchise that brings the sides together (ice harversters and Northuldra), but considering that the Sámi Tribe is known for being a combination of different types of tribe, even having more than one language wouldn't be too wrong, and actually not unheard of since Anna and Elsa's mother's original tribe is different from the one she is shown participating in in F2 since her original tribe and family were completely wiped out when Iduna was 5 years old.

3 - Bruni or Sally

In the novelization of "Frozen 2" Olaf is in doubt about what name to give to the fire salamander, the options being Bruni and Sally. In the end he doesn't choose any of them and the book itself starts calling the salamander with the name Bruni. This is not the debut of the name Sally, in the Christmas short called "Olaf's Frozen Adventure" the stocking that Olaf hangs on the fireplace has the name Sally on it. And also about Bruni's name in the book "Dangerous Secret's: The Story of Iduna and Agnarr" which is a book that tells the past of Anna and Elsa's parents, Iduna calls the fire salamander with the name Bruni decades before Olaf choose this name for the Fire Spirit.

4 - Halima and Ryder have names inspired by real people

Halima, who is Mattias' love interest, shares her name with her voice actress Halima Hudson, and Ryder, who is Honeymaren's brother, shares his name with Ryder Buck, who is the deceased son of director Chris Buck.

5 - Santino Fontana and the redemption of Hans

Santino, who is the voice actor for the villain in "Frozen 1", even gave an interview saying that someone from Disney, who he obviously can't say who he is, told him that his character would return and I will have a redemption arc… Considering that the character since "Freezing Fever" has become the franchise's most recurring joke, appearing only to be humiliated as in the special "Once Upon a Studio" and in "Frozen 2" Elsa refers to him with the phrase "unreedemable monster" I have my doubts as to whether the person who said that to Santino really was someone from Disney or was playing a joke on him or was from a version of the script so early that perhaps the Northuldra Tribe didn't even exist yet.

6 - Lady Halverson and Woodsman

Speaking of the initial script we have these two figures, the first apparently was Mattias' initial love interest who, instead of being Halima, was a soldier in his battalion and the second is the mysterious being who transforms into a reindeer. We don't have any information about the two characters other than the video that can be found by typing: "Frozen 2 (2019) _ Queen Iduna _ Deleted Scene _ Exclusive Clip (HD)" and some art, and nothing else. "Woodsman" is just a nickname.

7 - Some of the deleted scenes were discovered or not

The production of "Frozen 2" was so chaotic that it generated a documentary where it is revealed that there were several moments deleted from the film, to this day there is not much about it, but we have some books like "The Enchanted Forest". "The Enchanted Forest" is an adaptation of the film, but it is not a very faithful adaptation so much so that there are several differences… Could it be that some of these differences are deleted scenes? There is the origin of the wagon that the group goes to the Enchanted Forest and even new lines between Elsa and Honeymaren, and this was one of the moments that is mentioned as being cut in the documentary. I'm not going to make a guarantee, but perhaps some of these books that portray "Frozen 2" in a slightly different way are actually earlier versions of the script before the cuts? Theories.

8 - Elsa's romantic life in "Frozen 2" and Kristen Bell

Although the theories and campaigns to give Elsa a girlfriend we have nothing official in the second film about Elsa's sexual orientation with Jennifer Lee herself, director, saying that the Snow Queen had a lot on her mind and wasn't ready. But going back to the deleted scenes, there are theories that Elsa would initially have romantic moments with Honeymaren, but they were deleted (in "The Enchanted Forest" the moments between them are new and just new dialogues) but there are some conceptual arts left like these two where Elsa presents intimately magic for the other woman in two stages of the film's development. But there is still this art where she does the same to Ryder which makes Kristen Bell, Anna's voice actress, enter this story, in an interview given to "SiriusXM" again the topic was "Elsa's girlfriend" with Honeymaren being mentioned, but Kristen Bell will mention the theme and ends up saying at the end that Elsa is free to choose and even has more than one option in the Enchanted Forest with her mentioning Ryder. Out of curiosity, the brothers Honeymaren and Ryder have already competed for Elsa in the mobile game called "Disney Magic Kingdoms" where they both try to take the Snow Queen for a walk through the forest, but Honeymaen arrives first, frustrating Ryder who still has to put up with the game itself. mocking him since the name of the mission was "barking up the wrong tree". Later, a festival takes place in Arendelle in this mobile game where Honeymaren offers herself as a saleswoman, wanting to do this just to please Elsa, and Ryder, upon realizing her feelings for the Snow Queen, decides to help… from rival to cupid.

9 - Anna would ask Kristoff to marry her

In one of the deleted songs Kristoff would talk about his feelings, but in the end it would be her who would ask him to marry her. The song is "Get This Right" and the entire scene, still in progress, can be found on YouTube.

10 - Elsa's death

There is a rumor that in the film's original script Elsa would not thaw and would end the film frozen dead, giving a hint that she could return in the future. The main clue would be this concept art where Elsa appears unconscious, thawed with Nokk and if you paid attention to what I said, the main proof that the film would end with her frozen is an art of her thawed. There are still those who use the fact that she couldn't stop the wave as proof since the castle was originally going to be rebuilt, but I honestly don't believe it.

#frozen 2 #northuldra #elsamaren #elsa #honeymaren #queen anna #kristoff #prince hans #bruni #ryder nattura #deleted scene #give elsa a girlfriend #halima

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lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run · 5 months

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soup clone soup clone soup clone

I did it! Not the whole finished work, but more of a short snippet :). My first time posting my work on here, hope you guys like it.

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No matter how many times he ran his blacks through the wash in the communal laundry room, the grease still remained. The smell of it too. Nothing in the cafeteria was practically good, but fresh food was better than ration bars. He got so sick of them that once, on some forsaken planet, he decided to try fishing for his vod’s meal. Using a few berries a bait, he constructed a pole from a clanker arm and a rope. It didn’t take long before something bit, but in trying to real it in, he got thrown into the lake itself. He can still hear his commander mumble about “mir’oisk shinies getting us into trouble with the enemy”. But the frigid waters and relentless teasing was much better than the oisk that they had to eat for the rest of the campaign.

Sighing deeply, CT-1413 gathered his things for the walk back to the barracks. A different bunk in a different wing of a different building, the whole situation felt strange. What happened to the pin-up girls that Bright had beside his bed? Or the wall that they had carved their names into after their first mission? The war was only three years, just over 1,000 coruscanti days, but it felt so much longer. They had all changed so much. It felt strange that it was finally over.

Slipping quietly into the room, he fumbled around trying to find his own bed. The only time to get anything done is peace was in the wee hours of the morning, when most troopers were enjoying their rest.

“Kriff! What are you doing, 1413?”

Karking hell, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Wandering around kamino at night wasn’t the most innocent looking behavior when 5 defectives turned only a day ago. Besides, it also wasn’t the finest way to try and get along with your new squad.

“N-nothing, Commander Numa…sir. Just doing some late night-uh-loads of laundry?”

“From the food fight? The smell of broth follows you like a hungry tooka. You were very lucky you weren’t called for disciplinary action, trooper. If it was my blacks, my lunch…things would have gone differently.”

The commander turned over to face the opposite row of soldiers. Taking this as a sign to leave, he continued to try and find his bunk in the ever-lasting darkness.

As he sat there, staring at the powered-off ion lights, he wondered about what Bright and the rest of the Vod would think.

It had only been days, but he could feel them growing father out of reach. Yes, they all have the same voice and face, but the inflictions on certain words, Tricker’s biting sarcasm, even the sound of himself laughing was becoming forgin. He listed over them in his head so he could remember. He wasn’t going to grow old, he promised himself that when he was still a cadet. If his joints ever ached or his memory fades, he himself would put the blaster to his head. The clones were created for usefulness, not to become veterans of a forgotten war. The whole vod promised too, that they wouldn’t let themselves overstay their welcome in the galaxy. And they didn’t, in the end. Now he just has to uphold his end of the bargain.

He often wondered on nights like these about who else shared this bunk, shared these sheets and pillows. He never knew the trooper he replaced. Their squad must have held them in high regard, because nothing he ever did seemed to gain their respect. He wondered if they used to be the commander of a battalion or an arc trooper. Did they die with glory? Was it a sacrifice? Did he get shot down on the field of battle with hundreds of his brothers? What mixed with his blood first, the dirt of the unnamed moon he died on or was it the sweat under his armor? He admired whoever they were with a morbid curiosity and desire. If they had switched places, they would both be were they belong.

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herprivateswe · 25 days

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Simple bridge construction for water crossings was an annual training requirement for infantry battalions. It was also on the syllabus at RMC Sandhurst.

#history #ww1 #great war #british army

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stephensmithuk · 4 months

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The Sign of Four: The Strange Story of Jonathan Small (Part One of Two)

I will split this in two parts as I've got a lot to cover here.

CW for discussions of nasty prison conditions.

The depth of the Thames is about 6.5 metres at low tide in Woolwich, near to the Plumstead Marshes as they were then. However, the river has strong currents and very little visibility, so it would be a risky operation even with 2024 diving technology for some rather small objects.

The rupee originally was a silver coin dating back to ancient times in India, becoming something of a standard currency during the Mughal period. The East India Company introduced paper rupees and while there was an attempt by the British to move their territory to the pound sterling, they soon gave up, minting their own rupees with the British monarch's head on. The currency was also non-decimal. India retained the currency post-independence and went decimal as well.

Mangrove trees are very common in equatorial coastline regions - they can remove salt from the water, which would kill many other trees.

Prisoners set to the Andaman Islands penal colony were forced to work nine to ten hours a day to construct the new settlement, while in chains. Cuts from poisonous plants and friction ulcers from the chains would often get infected, resulting in death.

The convict huts on Ross Island were two-storey affairs, with the bottom as a kitchen and took area, the prisoners sleeping on the upper floor. Designed this way as an anti-malaria measure, they however leaked and the prisoners themselves were constantly damp from the rainfall, offering them little protection from the mosquitoes in any event.

Ague is an obsolete term for malaria; adults experience chills and fever in cycles.

The British would conduct experiments with quinine as a malaria treatment by force-feeding it to the prisoners. This caused severe side effects.

The British would make use of locals as warders, who wore sashes and carried canes. I'd imagine they could probably be quite brutal.

Pershoe is a small town on the River Avon near Worcester. It has a railway station with an hourly service to London, taking just under two hours today.

"Chapel-going" in this context means that the people attended a non-conformist church i.e. not one part of the Church of England.

"Taking the Queen's/King's shilling" was a historical term for joining the armed forces - for the army this was officially voluntary, but sailors could be forcibly recruited, being known as "press-ganged" until 1815. You would be given the shilling upon initial enlistment or tricked into taking it via it being slipped into your opaque beer. You would return the shilling on your formal attestation and then receive a bounty which could be pretty substantial in terms of the average wage, although a good amount of that would then be spent on your uniform. Some enlisted, deserted and then reenlisted multiple times to get multiple payments. The practice officially stopped in 1879, but the slang term remains.

The 3rd Buffs refers to the latter 3rd Battalion, Buffs (East Kent Regiment), a militia battalion that existed from 1760 to 1953, although it effectively was finished in 1919. However, in reality, they did not go to India to deal with the rebellion, instead staying in Great Britain to cover for the regular regiments who did.

The British never formally adopted the Prussian "goose step" instead going for the similar, but less high-kicking, slow march.

The musket would possibly have been the muzzle-loaded Enfield P53, a mass-produced weapon developed at the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield. It was itself was the trigger of the Indian Rebellion in 1857 due to the grease used in the cartridges. They would also be heavily used in the American Civil War on both sides, especially the Confederate one as they smuggled a lot of them, with only the Springfield Model 1861 being more widely used. As a result, they are highly sought after by re-enactors. The British used them until 1867, when they switched to the breech-loading Snider-Enfield, many of the P53s being converted.

The crocodile would likely have been a gharial, which mainly eat fish. Hunting and loss of habitat has reduced their numbers massively, with the species considered "Critically Endangered" by the IUCN.

"Coolie" is a term today considered offensive that was used to describe low-wage Indian or Chinese labourers who were sent around the world, basically to replace emancipated slaves. Indentured labourers, basically - something the US banned (except as a riminal punishment) along with slavery in 1865. In theory they were volunteers on a contract with rights and wages, however abuses were rife. Indentured labour would finally be banned in British colonies in 1917.

Indigo is a natural dark blue dye extracted from plants of the Indigofera genus; India produced a lot of it. Today, the dye (which makes blue jeans blue) is mostly produced synthetically.

I have covered the "Indian Mutiny" as the British called it here in my post on "The Crooked Man".

The Agra Fort dates back to 1530 and at 94 acres, it was pretty huge by any standards. Today, much of it is open to tourists (foreigners pay 650 rupees, Indians 50), although there are parts that remain in use by the Indian Army and are not for public access.

"Rajah" meaning king, referred to the many local Hindu monarchs in the Indian subcontinent; there were also Maharajahs or "great kings", who the British promoted loyal rajahs to the rank of. The Muslim equivalent was Nawab. However, a variety of other terms existed. The East India Company and the Raj that succeeded them used these local rulers to rule about a half their territory and a third of the population indirectly, albeit under quite a bit of influence from colonial officials. These rulers were vassals to the British monarch; they would collect taxes and enforce justice locally, although many of the states were pretty small (a handful of towns in some cases) and so they contracted this out to the British. As long as they remained loyal, they could get away with nearly anything.

562 of these rulers were present at the time of Indian independence in 1947. Effectively abandoned by the British (Louis Mountbatten, the last Viceroy, sending out contradictory messages), nearly all of them were persuaded to accede to the new India, where the nationalists were not keen on them, with promises they could keep their autonomy if they joined, but if not, India would not help them with any rebellions. Hyderabad, the wealthiest of the states, resisted and was annexed by force. The ruler of Jammu and Kashmir joined India in exchange for support against invading Pakistani forces, resulting in a war. A ceasefire agreement was reached at the beginning of 1949, with India controlling about two-thirds of the territory; the ceasefire line, with minor adjustments after two further wars in 1965 and 1971, would become known as the Line of Control, a dotted line on the map that is the de facto border and one of the tensest disputed frontiers on the planet.

India and Pakistan initially allowed the princely rulers to retain their autonomy, but this ended in 1956. In 1971 and 1972 respectively, their remaining powers and government funding were abolished.

Many of the former rulers ended up in a much humbler position, others retained strong local influence and a lot of wealth. The Nizam of Hyderbad, Mir Osman Ali Khan was allowed to keep his personal wealth and title after the annexation in 1948 - he had been the richest man in the world during his rule and used a 184-carat diamond as a paperweight, at least until he realised its actual value. The current "pretender", Azhmet Jah, has worked as a cameraman and filmmaker in Hollywood, including with Steven Spielberg.

#letters from watson #history #sherlock holmes #factoids #acd canon #the sign of four #sign

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