#don’t think I did Boulder any justice

[frosty-tian]

Some more messing around with Bishoujo Boulder’s design, and a rough one for Heatwave (lacklustre I know).

(There were meant to be some sort of foreshortening going on with Heatwave’s arm, that’s why it looks weird.)

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hello there and congrats on the 450 followers! I'm not sure if you're still doing the roulette requests, but I thought I'd send you a message anyway and ask!

Could I please get 34 & 39 with Tech and f!reader? Platonic preferably. Not sure if that's something I'm allowed to specify. ^^'

@narcissa-of-kaas, thank you so much for the love and the request. I hope I did your request justice. It's very action packed. I was originally aiming to keep the roulette going for three weeks, but I might just keep it going until all the prompts have been used at least once. Thanks for asking love.

Love oo,

Hang On

Warning: Battle scene, rappelling, injuries, concussions, arguing, death, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

The blaster fire was keeping you pinned down, you did your best providing cover. Tech was lying beside you with a broken femur. 

“You need to leave” 

He ordered over the loud blaster fire and explosions, you covered your body with his, keeping him from being pelted with rocks and pebbles. 

“Shut up, Tech.”

You returned fire, holding out for the rest of your crew to get to you. It would be a matter of time before Wrecker and Hunter came to rescue the two of you. Echo and Omega were far enough away from the fight you didn’t have to worry about, they were possibly even safe and with Hunter and Wrecker. 

All you had to focus on was keeping Tech safe. Why you all decided to go after the War Chest, was beyond rationality. Okay, yes it made sense, you needed the credits, but then again, did it?

There was another explosion and another shower of dirt, rocks and pebbles. One hit the back of your head, causing you to grunt in pain. 

“I’m ordering you to leave.”

“When have we ever followed orders?” You shouted. 

Tech could see the fear in her eyes, the way she refused to leave his side. She was loyal to a fault. She always said ‘Friends are family, and you don’t leave family behind.’ He knew she was being stubborn simply because she was afraid. He grabbed her arm. 

“I’m not going to die. I’ll provide you, cover.”

“No! Stop it!”

“Listen! It’ll mean your survival!”

"I don't care! I'm not leaving you." You looked at him with determination and resolution. You had your final say and that was all that mattered. Your eyes widened when you saw a grenade land beside you, you picked it up and tossed it back, the explosion rocking against the boulder you were using as cover. You looked from Tech to the increasing number of troopers that were filing through the forest in front of you. 

“What if we rappelled?” You asked Tech, he was the resident genius if anyone knew a way to get down safely it would be him. 

“It’s possible but the cable won’t be long enough.”

“How far would we get?”

“About 50 feet, only half way.”

“Cover me!” You crawled over to the edge, looking down, there was a ledge half way down. Granted it was very thin, one swing in the wrong direction and it was a long way down. It was risky but possible. You crawled back over to Tech, “Okay … there’s a ledge about half way down.” You ducked as more dirt rained down on you. “You go down first, I’ll cover you and then I’ll follow.”

“No. You should …”

“Stop! What is it? Do you think because I’m a woman, I should go first? Do you think I’m incapable of covering you?”

“It’s because you’re my friend! I don’t want to see my friend die!”

“Well neither do I! So stop arguing and rappel down!” You focused back on the trooper taking down an additional ten, but the more you took down the more that seemed to swarm out of nowhere. 

You heard Tech mumbling into the comms, no doubt cursing you under his breath. You understood his panic, after all you panicked when you saw him break his femur. You watched him check his rappelling cable to make sure it was secure. It took him a little bit of time, but he lined himself up and rolled off the cliff’s edge. You gave him a count of 20 seconds before you set up your own rappeler. 

Tech laid on the cliff’s ledge, looking up as he moved closer to the cave that was able to provide a little cover at least until Hunter and Wrecker made it to them. His eyes focused on you as you rolled off the ledge and started to rappel down. 

You didn’t slow your descent, especially when you felt rocks falling from up above, the troopers still had reached the edge of the ledge. Now wasn’t the time to be cautious. You let gravity help you as the wind rushed past your ears as the ledge came up quickly. You tried to slow your descent as were only a few feet from your destination, however, you miscalculated and landed roughly on the small ledge, knocking your head against the hard ground and inside your helmet. You could tell you were concussed, but you didn’t stop. Your vision was spinning, as you retrieved your rappel cable, and crawled over to where Tech was hiding in the small cave, you scrambled as best you could, slipping and stumbling over to him. 

Tech could see you weren’t right. The way you stumbled as you tried to crawl over, he cursed his broken femur. He wished he could get up and pick you up, carrying you to safety. Instead he reached out offering you his hand. 

As soon as he felt her hand in his, he yanked her into their hiding place, hoping the troopers up top wouldn’t follow behind them. He gently removed your helmet, and could see you were pretty banged up. 

"Breathe... breathe.” He chastised as he saw her eyes looking every but at him, she needed medical attention, and she needed it soon. His vambrace beeped, a signal from Hunter, they were close, he sent a replying ping, “Come on. Stay with me. Look at the stars, kid. Focus on the stars.”

You tried but it was spinning and there was someone ringing a loud bell in your head. You gripped Tech’s bicep.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Hunter’s nearly here. Just hang on.” He held you close, doing his best to protect you, “Come on, you got this. You protected us all this time. You can hang on.”

You squeezed his bicep again, and shut your eyes as a search light flooded your hiding place, you could make out the shape of the Marauder, you felt someone grab you by the collar and drag you onboard, more than likely Wrecker. 

Tech let out a breath as Echo rushed over with Omega to look at the two of you, “Her ... Check her first, she had a nasty fall. I think she’s concussed.” It was the only thing all he managed to get out, before he passed out, the anxiety and tension easing out of him, now that you were both safe. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

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[sailtomarina]

Make it right

Draco spat the blood out of his mouth before wiping his chin clean. Shame burned low in his stomach at the reality of it all: his return to Hogwarts after the trial, his sentencing to ten years of Ministry work following graduation, and his inability to defend himself under the strict guidelines of his probation. Each day brought with it new tortures in the form of taunts, hexes, and fists. The worst part was that he didn’t even try to avoid punishment. He chased it the way his friends used to take potions—often, and in great quantities.

Like, for example, today.

He could have walked away the second class ended, made his way back to the castle and the safety of his dorm room. Instead, he’d watched Hagrid saunter off into the Forbidden woods to gather Acromantula venom, gathering his belongings in as slow a manner as possible. 

He’d seen the way Finnegan glared at him throughout the entire duration of class, how he’d exchanged whispers and nods with the other wizards near him.

The jelly-legs jinx hit him just as he made to stand with his bag, sending him sprawling face first into the boulder towards which he faced. He’d turned his head just in time to avoid a broken nose, but the impact on his teeth still cut up the inside of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you move, or at the very least, block that?”

He didn’t have to turn around to recognize that voice. It was the voice he heard in his dreams tinted with screams and piss and so much blood.

It was the voice he most desired and feared. Of anyone, she was the one who most deserved justice against him. He wanted her to kick and scream at him, call him all the terrible names he knew fit.

“Because it’s the very least I can offer them.”

She cast the counterspell, and Draco stood to brush the dirt off his clothes, leaving smears in their wake. He could use a charm to vanish the mess, but he hardly ever used magic outside of classes anymore. The weight of his wand felt like clasping the hand of a stranger now, rather than the comforting friend it had always been in the past.

“Scourgify.”

The marks he’d left behind vanished. He turned around to yell at Granger for her meddling and complete lack of self-preservation. The words never left his lips, instead becoming trapped on his tongue as she moved the tip of her wand up to his face without the slightest hesitation. Was this the moment he’d been waiting for?

“Episkey.”

The sharp pain in his cheek faded to nothing, and he probed the spot with his tongue to verify the cuts had healed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Her actions didn’t make any sense to him. She shouldn’t be here, cleaning him up and casting healing spells.

“Righting a wrong,” she said, her voice calm and steady as if the response was only natural.

“Righting a wrong.” 

He couldn’t help but repeat what she’d said, in utter disbelief at the implication. “Are you daft?”

“What’s daft, Malfoy, is you seeking out every single person looking for petty revenge.” Her rebuke was quick, slapping him with her disapproval.

“Finnegan deserves some satisfaction just as much as I deserve punishment,” he choked out. This was the first time he’d dared utter them aloud, even though he’d said them to himself a million times and more. He chanted them, repeated them almost like a prayer each night.

“Looking for pain the way that you are doesn’t make any of it right.” Her gaze, a clear shade of light brown like the honey he stirred into his tea, pierced him straight through. She saw too much.

Then again, she always had.

Trapped under his eyes the way that he was and feeling a rare moment of naked honesty, he again let out more of his true self.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

At that admission, she cocked her head to the side, chewing on her lip like she often did when considering a particularly trying problem. Her brows rose, lighting up as an idea came to mind.

“Catch.”

Not a half second later, her bag was flying towards him. He caught it just before it hit the ground, the weight of the shelf’s-worth of books she must have stuffed into it nearly knocking him on his arse.

“Bloody hell, Granger, this thing must weigh more than a hippogriff,” he grunted, hoisting the bundle more evenly into his arms. She smirked at the gripe, remembering a specific hippogriff and his specific blunder then.

“You’re my study buddy now, and you’ll accompany me to and from class and the library until graduation. Your choice, of course.” Spinning on her heels, she started her ascent back to the castle with the full expectation of his acquiescing to her offer.

Draco’s mind went through a series of mental gymnastics over the turn of events as he watched the distance increasing between them. He could drop her books and go his own way. Malfoys didn’t bow to others.

Unless they were Voldemort.

Or sentenced to Azkaban.

Or…

He could swallow his pride and follow the witch. Maybe she knew the real meaning of justice. Maybe she could help him figure out who he was outside of the family name and the Mark.

His mind made up, he grit his teeth and took the first step towards a future of his own making. He found Granger stopped and facing his way as she waited. The smile that stretched across her face when she noticed him moving hit him as hard, if not harder, than her ridiculous bag.

A smile for him rather than at his expense.

With she the giver and he the recipient, the smile took on a whole new meaning. Perhaps instead of seeking his own pain, he could seek joy for her and, just maybe, for himself. 

WC 999

Juuuuuut shy of 1K, let's go!

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really That Bad?

I don’t think I’ve ever felt like the universe actively conspired against something until I witnessed the production of The Flash.

Since 1991 there have been quite a few proposals for Flash movies, but they never really got off the ground for whatever reason. Following Barry’s debut in Justice League, a movie finally was announced before multiple delays due to rewrites, in particular to cut Ray Fisher’s Cyborg from the story after he went public about the awful shit he had to deal with under Joss Whedon. Things seemed hopeless until It director Andy Muschietti came onboard, at which point production on the film finally started to go smoothly. Sure, there were rumblings about Ezra Miller having episodes on set, but that’s just typical actor nonsense, right? Surely it couldn’t get any worse!

Look, I’m here to review a movie so I’ll keep this brief: Miller committed crimes. Lots of crimes. So many, in fact, you’d think they were method acting for the role of Reverse-Flash. The thing is, despite all of this, Miller was basically given a slap on the wrist by the studio, being forbidden from doing promos and press tours (oh no! The horror!). And as if the situation wasn’t already a fucking mess, while Miller’s crime spree was ongoing WB canned the nearly-complete Batgirl movie that featured Michael Keaton and Academy Award-winning actor Brendan Fraser while simultaneously inflating The Flash’s budget to nearly $300 million with reshoots. It seems baffling to cancel a movie that was nearly done and that people were marginally interested in for the sake of a movie that people were losing interest in quickly due to its star’s erratic behavior, but remember: Leslie Grace isn’t white, while Ezra Miller is. WB is never beating those racism allegations at this rate.

With a normal movie, this is where the nonsense ends. BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE!

This film was meant to smooth out the clusterfuck continuity of the “Snyderverse” with a soft reboot, with Henry Cavill filming a end-of-movie cameo alongside Miller, Gal Gadot, Keaton, and Supergirl’s actress Sasha Calle to establish the new direction of DC going forward. Unfortunately, the hierarchy of power at DC changed, and Gunn shot that down. While this meant the ending would probably not get people confused with regards to upcoming projects, it also meant the movie wasn’t going to really have any closure for the old universe. Affleck, Cavill, and who knows who else are just gone, and the future is just a big old question mark. At least Aquaman is safe, maybe?

Literally none of this news was very reassuring to fans. Nothing above is any good for a film’s perception to audiences under normal circumstances, but here we have all this news coming to a fanbase that genuinely did not want this fucking movie. The DCEU was already divisive when the film was announced, and Miller’s portrayal of Barry doubly so; the fact it was adapting Flashpoint was seen as lazy and uninspired, not to mention its not really a story that lets Flash stand on his own merits, making it seem more like this movie was just an excuse to reboot; it was a multiverse story in a day and age with an abundance of such stories, and it was releasing around the same time as Across the Spider-Verse to boot; and Gunn’s reboot plans meant this story was likely a narrative dead end. This movie had an uphill battle the likes of which haven’t been seen since Sisyphus.

But much like that mythological figure, the boulder came crashing right back down when the numbers came in. The movie would likely need to gross $500 million at minimum to break even after factoring in the reshoots and advertising, and it only managed half of that with a pitiful opening weekend followed by a massive 73% drop. It now sits alongside films like The Lone Ranger and Mortal Engines as one of the most expensive bombs in history, to the point where WB would have saved more money by cancelling it like they did with Batgirl. And despite glowing praise from the likes of Tom Cruise and Stephen King, it received middling reviews from mainstream critics.

Audiences haven’t been any less mixed, but considering most people weren’t particularly excited or invested in this film’s existence this is basically a miracle. Sure, there’s plenty of people out there saying this is the “worst comic book movie ever” like they do every time a new superhero movie drops, but even more people are saying they enjoyed the film… although even they tend to have some severe criticisms.

Even though I knew most of what was going to happen in the movie going in, I wasn’t really sure what to expect given everything surrounding the movie. But you know me, I’m willing to give almost any movie a chance, and bombs this big don’t happen every day, so even before it was voted on I was trying to make time to check it out. So sit down, microwave yourself a snack—

—and watch as I try and determine if The Flash is really that bad.

THE GOOD

The biggest shock of this film is that Ezra Miller is actually really good here.

Their Barry is still a bit of a goofball, but he’s clearly matured as a character since his precious appearances. They managed to make him much more charming and likable than he ever was, and this gets compounded when he interacts with the younger Barry and gets confronted with how annoying he was before. I think young Barry could have come off as really insufferable, but the fact he annoys everyone around him and also ends up maturing makes him a lot more endearing.

Miller really kills it with the emotional moments, particularly the ending encounter with Barry’s mom and the scene where old Barry snaps at young Barry. The film is really carried by the dramatic, emotional moments far more than any of the superheroics, and Miller manages to sell a lot of it very well. It was to the point where I started thinking, “I really wouldn’t mind if they stick around.” Then a scene where Barry says the Justice League has no real psychiatric help or where his younger self ends up repeatedly exposing himself in public by accident happens, and then I remembered, “Oh yeah, aren’t they a mentally unwell criminal?”

Unsurprisingly, Michael Keaton absolutely kills it in his role as Batman, but much more shockingly is that Ben Affleck's brief return as Bruce is pretty great as well. I always thought Affleck, much like Henry Cavill, was desperately trying to give a great performance while weighed down by bad writing; here, he gets an actual poignant scene where he talks to Barry about how dwelling on tragedies isn't the way to do things, and you should try and move forward instead. It shows he really could have been great if given better material to work with.

Okay, enough being nice to Affleck, I wanna talk about Keaton again. As much as the marketing hyped him up and as much as he is obviously the most blatant fanservice possible, it's still so cool to see him in the suit again. I am not immune to nostalgia pandering, and as corny as it could have been from anyone else, the zoom into his face when he says The Line really is a highlight of the movie. Keaton has a great deal of charisma, and while there are issues with Batman they aren't his fault at all. Most impressively, he doesn't steal the show away from Miller like I thought he would; he enhances the scenes he's in without stealing the spotlight completely from their performance. I feel like this is a problem in a lot of movies like this, where the lead gets overshadowed by a hyped up character, but somehow The Flash of all things managed to avoid this.

And as bad as the cameos could get, this movie gave two of the greatest cameos ever put to film with the return of the GOAT George Clooney Batman and, best of all, Nicolas Cage Superman from the unmade Superman Lives, fighting a giant spider to the death just as God intended. I am not immune to the charms of Nicolas Cage.

Overall, this movie presents us with a solid story, plenty of fun moments, great character dynamics, and more... for the first two acts, anyway.

THE BAD

Once this movie hits the third act, it basically just loses any and all focus and becomes a big dumb video game-esque battle against Zod and his forces in a bland desert landscape. While both Barrys admittedly get some pretty cool moments sprinkled in and Keaton’s Batman’s second death is actually a well done emotional moment, Supergirl ends up being completely wasted, with her sole role being to angrily scream and then die repeatedly.

This actually highlights the problem with Kara in this movie: She’s basically nothing but a plot device and has zero personality, and a good 80% of her dialogue is just angry screaming. As hot as Sasha Calle is and how much she obviously wants to make Kara compelling, she is given so little to work with that her efforts end up being fruitless. She does nothing of consequence after helping Barry get his powers back, and could be replaced or written out of the story and it would still make perfect sense.

Zod’s inclusion is pretty baffling as well, especially since they chose to water down one of the only good things from Man of Steel into a boring, generic doomsday villain. You can really feel that poor Michael Shannon would rather be doing anything else, and his bored performance just highlights how poorly implemented Zod is in the plot. Like, the Fladh has some of the best and most colorful DC villains in his rogues gallery, one’s that are often overlooked because Batman’s villains sell more toys. Why not highlight some of them instead of taking a Superman villain and stripping him of all personality to the point the actor clearly has no passion for the role? Cutting Zod would make cutting Supergirl even easier, and then two of the biggest problems with the movie are gone!

The third act does manage to mostly rerail itself once it goes back to Barry trying to unfuck the timeline, with only a disgustingly egregious bit of fanservice that I’ll discuss in the next section hampering it. But at the end, despite the incredibly based George Clooney cameo, there’s just so many unresolved and unanswered questions, with the biggest one being who killed Barry’s mom? Considering her death is what kickstarted the whole plot, you’d think this might come up, but it never does. A lot of other things come up and get dropped too, like whatever was going on with Batman in the opening, but maybe I’m just crazy for wanting elements introduced in a plot to have significance beyond just being there to be cool.

Even beyond that, there’s the fact that Supergirl and Keaton!Batman’s final fates are never really resolved, something that apparently wasn’t a problem in early versions of the film since they showed up alive in the final scene. As much as I loved seeing Clooney, I think trading him for getting some closure for Keaton and Calle would have been more satisfying.

Everyone harps on how bad the CGI is—and it absolutely is, don’t get me wrong—but for the most part I found it endearingly bad. Like the opening with the CGI babies? That’s too goofy for me to hate. But once the movie revolves into bland grey and black CGI bad guys and creepy deepfake celebrity cameos, I stop being quite so forgiving.

Oh, and on the subject of cameos, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one as pointless and unfunny as Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman showing up out of nowhere (complete with theme music) to make Bruce and Barry look like dumb assholes. Imagine thinking this was a good idea.

THE UGLY

The biggest point of contention surrounding this movie is the CGI necromancy used in the aforementioned cameo clusterfuck from the climax, which gives us George Reeve, Christopher Reeves, and Adam West posthumously reprising their DC roles in non-speaking appearances (there’s archived audio from West, but his cameo isn't really focused on to the point you can barely tell it's him) where they just stand there before the camera swoops around like in that Saul Goodman gif.

I think this is one of the very few times where I actually think the outrage is mostly justified. To be clear, I’m not getting mad on behalf of dead celebrities I never knew, and as long as the filmmakers went through the proper channels and the estates of these stars were properly compensated, I don’t have any legal objections. All of my distaste is coming from a subjective, moral standpoint.

I have never liked this CGI necromancy ever since Rogue One popularized it. I find it really gross and distasteful, and in most cases I think finding a lookalike actor would be preferable than playing Weekend at Bernie’s with a computer generated facsimile of a dead person. In The Flash, I understand having lookalikes would diminish the wow factor of the crossover, but there was an extremely easy workaround to this: Have cameos from all the living DC stars.

Was Brandon Routh not available to put on the Superman tights? Would it have been so bad to let Grant Gustin pop in for a cameo? They acknowledge Helen Slater, so why not Melissa Benoist? Hell, if you want to reference bad, campy movies, have Shaq show up as Steel or Josh Brolin pop in as Jonah Hex! Or even Ryan Reynolds, I’d bet he’d be down to return if you gave him a real suit this time!

Like there’s just no excuse for ghoulishly parading around dead guys when there’s so many alive guys you could use instead. People can complain all they want about the fanservice and cameos in the past few Spider-Man films, but at least they only had returning characters played by living actors. And when this movie already has the niche, out-there Nic Cage Superman cameo, proving they were down to do things as out there and inoffensively creative as reference unmade movies, it’s really just inexcusable. It doesn’t ruin the movie for me, but it makes me lose a bit of respect for the people who okayed this over less offensive cameo ideas.

IS IT REALLY THAT BAD?

To my surprise, this film actually turned out to be pretty good. Not “great,” not “the best superhero movie ever,” but genuinely mostly good and enjoyable.

My opinion is that the movie is good in spite of itself. The third act is truly a hot mess, the stupid desert battle against Zod is awful and boring, Supergirl is depressingly pointless, so many plot points are just dropped or otherwise forgotten, and the CGI necromancy is nothing short of ghoulish. But the rest of the movie is truly a lot of fun. Barry and his younger self have a fun dynamic, Keaton really manages to take what little he’s given and show that he’s still got it as Batman, the Clooney and Cage cameos were delightful, and most importantly the emotional moments are actually effective.

I think with a bit more polish this film could have actually lived up to the hype around it. There is a great movie in here being suffocated by fanservice and CGI but still managing to get a few gasps of air regardless. I think if they’d kept the conflict more grounded or made Reverse-Flash the primary antagonist, things might have turned out better.

I think its score is pretty fair. My friend @huyh172 described this as “the worst good DC movie,” and it’s an assessment I fully agree with. It’s not as good as Aquaman, Wonder Woman, The Suicide Squad, the Snyder Cut, or Shazam!, and it’s definitely not as bad as stuff like Wonder Woman 1984 or Josstice League. It’s also a bit too enjoyable to be mid. It’s just a really solid movie held back from true greatness by some damning flaws… and really, that makes it the perfect capstone to the "Snyderverse," a cinematic universe that had some solid movies but was held back from greatness by incredibly bad ones.

[tunglo]

Jedi Apprentice: Defenders of the Dead - Jude Watson

Quotes:

Without slowing, Obi-Wan piloted the craft closer to the planet's surface. Rocks and vegetation rushed past the viewscreen. With the engines at full power Obi-Wan kept a tight grip on the controls. One tiny adjustment could send them crashing.

 "If we fly any lower, I'll be able to do a molecular scan of the topsoil," Qui-Gon remarked dryly from the copilot's seat. "You're flying too low at this speed, Padawan. If we come across a stray boulder, we may end up making an unscheduled crash landing."

 His tone was mild, but Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon would accept no argument.

 Obi-Wan was Qui-Gon's Jedi apprentice, and one of the Jedi rules was not to question the order of a Master.

--

 Qui-Gon paused, thinking of their next move. While he considered the odds, he thought about the way he and Obi-Wan had come to function together as a unit. Though at times their relations could be bumpy, under pressure their rhythm matched, their thoughts clicked. He admired his Padawan's ability to operate on all levels. Even under great pressure, Obi-Wan could strategize, calculate odds and opportunities, and make a joke.

--

 "No," Obi-Wan admitted. Cerasi was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. "Justice is something to fight for. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be a Jedi."

 Cerasi put down her slingshot. "Being a Jedi is as much a part of you as being part of the Young is to me," she observed, her crystal green eyes studying him. "I guess the difference is that the Young don't have any guides. We guide ourselves."

 "Being an apprentice is a journey that is an honor to undertake,” Obi-Wan replied. But he feared his words were weak. He was used to saying them and believing them with his whole heart. Being a Jedi was at the core of him. But in just a few hours with the Young, he had seen a commitment that had confused him as much as it had stirred him.

 Of course, he had seen deep commitment at the Temple among the Jedi students. But with some students, there often seemed to be pride mixed in. They were the elite, picked out of millions to be trained.

 Whenever Yoda saw pride in a Jedi student, he found ways to expose it and put the student on the right path. Pride was often based in arrogance, and had no place in a Jedi. Part of the Jedi training was to eliminate pride and substitute sureness and humility. The Force only flourished in those who knew they were connected to all life-forms.

 Here in the tunnels, Obi-Wan saw a pureness he had only glimpsed in his talks with Yoda, or his observance of Qui-Gon. That pureness was in people his own age. They did not have to strive for it. They possessed it. Perhaps because the cause they believed in was more than a concept in their minds. It was bred in their blood and bones, born in their suffering.

--

 Something had woken him before dawn, a soft flurry of movement. He had seen Obi-Wan leave with Cerasi and Nield. He had let his Padawan go.

 It would have been easy to step forward and challenge Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's anger had surged, and he had wanted to confront the boy. Obi-Wan had no right to leave without permission. He had violated Qui-Gon's trust. It was a small violation, but it stung.

 He and Obi-Wan had not yet achieved the perfect mind-communion of the Master-Padawan relationship. They had merely taken a few steps on a long journey together. They occasionally had disagreements and misunderstandings. But Obi-Wan had never deliberately concealed something from him before.

 Obviously, Obi-Wan was afraid that Qui-Gon would not let him go. The boy was right; he would have forbidden it. Qui-Gon believed the Young sincerely wanted peace, but he wasn't sure if they would follow through with their good intentions if they gained any sort of power. He saw much anger in them. Obi-Wan saw only passion.

--

"We have been asked, by the Young!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

 "That is not an official request," Qui-Gon replied testily. The boy was beginning to try his patience.

 "You have broken the rules before, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan argued. "Back on Gala, you left me to travel to the hill country when you were instructed to stay at the palace. You break the rules when it suits you to do so."

 Qui-Gon took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. He would not match Obi-Wan's anger with his own. "I break the rules not because it suits me, but because sometimes during a mission the rules get in the way," he said carefully. "That is not the case here. I believe Yoda is right."

 "But-" Obi-Wan interrupted, but Qui-Gon held up a hand.

 "Tomorrow we will leave, Padawan," he said firmly.

--

He led the way to an adjacent tunnel where they could talk privately. He waited a few moments to compose himself. Bitterness had no place here. Yet he felt it surge within him. Obi-Wan had broken his trust.

 He did not know what to say. His emotions swamped him. Qui-Gon recalled his Temple training with an effort. He would admonish his Padawan according to Jedi rules. First, he would describe the offense. It was the duty of the Master to do so without judgment.

 Grateful for a guide, Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "You were instructed not to take sides."

 "Yes," Obi-Wan responded calmly. It was the duty of a Padawan to agree to his fault without argument.

 "You were instructed to be available to leave at any time," he said.

 "Yes," Obi-Wan replied.

 "You were instructed that Tahl's health was your first concern. Yet you endangered that health by taking our only form of transport on a dangerous mission."

 "Yes," Obi-Wan agreed.

 Qui-Gon swallowed painfully. "By doing all this, you not only put Tahl at risk, but the peace process on Melida/Daan as well."

 Obi-Wan hesitated for the first time. "I aided the peace process--"

 "That is your interpretation," Qui-Gon interrupted. "It was not your instruction. Your Master and Jedi Master Yoda had decided that Jedi intervention at this stage could only prejudice either the Melida or Daan, thereby sabotaging the peace process. You were told this. Is that true, Obi-Wan?"

 "Yes," Obi-Wan admitted. "It is true."

 Qui-Gon paused. He gathered himself to deliver the Jedi wisdom of the Master and Padawan relationship. How the rules had evolved over thousands of years. How the Padawan's pledge of obedience had nothing to do with power, but everything to do with the gaining of wisdom and the humility of service. How he was not here to punish Obi-Wan, or even to teach him, but to aid Obi-Wan's own journey and enlightenment until the day he grew to become a Jedi Knight.

 "I don't care," Obi-Wan said, breaking into his thoughts.

 "You don't care about what?" Qui-Gon asked, startled. Usually, a Padawan was silent after his admission, waiting for the Master to decide on their next step.

 "I don't care that I broke the rules," Obi-Wan said. "It was right to break them."

 Qui-Gon took a breath. "And was it right to break my trust?"

 Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm sorry I had to. But yes."

 Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's words enter him like a blade. He saw in a flash that since he had taken Obi-Wan as his apprentice, he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for the betrayal. The strike. He had hardened his heart, preparing himself for it.

 And yet he was not prepared at all.

 "Qui-Gon, you must understand," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I've found something here. All my life, I have been told what is right, what is best. The path has been pointed out to me. That was a great gift, and I'm grateful for all I've learned. But here on this world all those abstractions I've learned suddenly fit into something concrete. Something I can see. Something real." Obi-Wan gestured back toward the headquarters of the Young. "These people feel like my people. This cause feels like my cause. It calls to me like nothing I've ever felt before."

 Qui-Gon's astonishment turned to grief and anger at himself. Obi-Wan had been swept away. He should have stepped in earlier. He should have remembered that Obi-Wan was just a boy.

 He chose his words with care. "The situation here is heartbreaking, yes. It is a hard one to walk away from. That's why I tried to resolve it before we left. But walk away we must, Padawan."

 Obi-Wan's face turned stony.

 "Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently. "Everything you think you found here you already have. You are a Jedi. What you need is distance and a little time for reflection."

 "I don't need to reflect," Obi-Wan said stiffly.

 "That is your choice," Qui-Gon said. "But still, you must accompany me back to the Temple . I need to gather some things for Tahl in the city. When I return, I expect to find you packed and ready to go."

 He started back to the main tunnel. Obi-Wan did not move.

 "Come, Padawan," he said.

 Reluctantly, Obi-Wan trailed behind him. Qui-Gon felt worry fill him. There was something closed in Obi-Wan, something unmoveable, that he had never sensed in his apprentice before. It would be good to return to the Temple , where the wisdom of Yoda and the calm surroundings could help Obi-Wan find his center again.

--

Obi-Wan gripped the wall. A starfighter came in low. He saw rapid flashes from the forward gun pod. Blaster fire ripped into the grass. A young girl sprang for cover. Another boy wasn't so lucky. The fire hit him in the leg, and he fell. Before Obi-Wan could move, the boy's companion dragged him to safety. Anguish ripped through Obi-Wan. The children were helpless!

 Cerasi squeezed her eyes shut, as though she couldn't bear to see any more. "We have to stop this," she said numbly.

 "There's only three Starfighters," Obi-Wan said tensely, scanning the sky above.

 "That's enough," Nield said grimly. "We've got to get organized. They're going to drive half of us out of the city if we don't do something!"

 Nield turned to Obi-Wan. "We need your starship again, my friend. We have to fight them in the air. With your skills, we can shoot them down, just like we hit those deflection towers."

 Stricken, Obi-Wan gazed at his friends. "You said you would not ask me to go against Qui-Gon's orders again."

 "But everything's changed, Obi-Wan," Cerasi pleaded. "Look around you. Children are dying. We'll lose everything if we can't fight them from the air." Tears ran down Cerasi's cheeks. "Please."

 Obi-Wan's ears rang with the cries of the terrified children. Even though he was safe behind the wall, he felt as though blaster fire had ripped through his body. He had been torn in two. Everything he'd known, everything he'd thought was important had been shattered. His Jedi training lay in pieces at his feet. It meant nothing compared to what was going on around him now.

 He flinched as a proton torpedo exploded. Dirt sprayed into the air, raining down on their heads.

 "Obi-Wan!" Nield shouted. "You must choose!"

 Tears snaked down through the grime on Cerasi's face. She didn't speak. Her shoulders shook as a child screamed in pain.

 Obi-Wan realized he had already chosen. He couldn't turn his back on this suffering. He couldn't turn his back on his friends. Even if it cost him everything. He would give that, and more.

 "I'll be back," Obi-Wan promised, and took off.

 Obi-Wan ran without stopping. He had to get to the ship before Qui-Gon. He did not want a confrontation. If Qui-Gon tried to stop him, what would he do? He pushed aside the thought. He would just have to get there first. Tahl would slow Qui-Gon down.

 But he had underestimated the determination and speed of two Jedi Knights. As he ran down the canyon path, Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon lifting off the last of the camouflaging branches. Tahl must already be aboard.

 His steps slowed as Qui-Gon caught sight of him. Obi-Wan saw the relief on his Master's face. Qui-Gon thought he was coming to return with him to the Temple . The Jedi Knight stood by the entrance ramp, waiting.

 Obi-Wan didn't give Qui-Gon a chance to speak. He could not bear to hear words of welcome.

 "I'm not here to go with you," he said. "I came for the starfighter."

 Qui-Gon's look of quiet welcome faded. His features froze into a mask. "Tahl is aboard," Qui-Gon said. "I am taking her to Coruscant."

 "I'll bring the ship back," Obi-Wan tried. "I need it now. If you could wait here -"

 "No," Qui-Gon said angrily. "No, Padawan. I will not make your betrayal easy for you. If you try to take this step, know what a hard one it is."

 Neither had moved a muscle. Yet Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon was just as prepared as he was to fight. The Force swirled around him, but it was a disturbed Force, neither dark nor light. He tried to tap into it and could not. It was like trying to squeeze a handful of fine sand as it streamed out through the cracks in his fingers.

 He had no choice. The world around him was dying. He had to save it. He had to fight Qui-Gon.

 Obi-Wan went for his lightsaber. Qui-Gon moved only a fraction of an instant later. Because of his quickness, his lightsaber activated at the same time as Obi-Wan's.

 Qui-Gon's green beam shot up, glowing in the gray light. Obi-Wan felt his own lightsaber pulse in his hand. Qui-Gon kept his eyes on Obi-Wan.

 Here was the moment. He had only to step forward and challenge his Master. He had only to move one muscle for it to be taken as an offensive move. Then the battle would begin. Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's gaze and saw the same anguish he felt. He felt something within him crack, and his resolve slowly drained away. He could not do this.

 Simultaneously, they both lowered their weapons. The lightsabers deactivated with a faint buzzing sound. For a moment, all Obi-Wan heard was the lonesome wind, howling through the canyon.

 "You must choose, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon told him quietly. "You can go w ith me now, or stay. Know that if you stay, you are no longer a Jedi."

 No longer a Jedi. Was he prepared to take that step? Is this what he had come to?

 The moment spun out, became timeless to Obi-Wan. Time meant nothing. The confrontation with the man he had pledged to study under, learn from, defend and support suddenly felt unreal. How did he get here? What was he doing?

 But through his confusion he saw Cerasi's fierce glowing eyes, heard Nield's fervent words. He still smelled the smoke of battle, heard the desperate cries. He saw barricaded streets and Elders too blind with hatred to notice that they were killing their planet, piece by bloody piece. He saw them killing their own children.

 He could tell Qui-Gon about the battle he had seen. He could try. But he had tried before. Qui-Gon was right. He must make his choice.

 Obi-Wan grasped the rock of his conviction and felt his confusion drop away. Here on Melida/Daan he had met a reality that was stronger than anything he'd known.

 "I have found something here more important than the Jedi code,” Obi-Wan said slowly. "Something not only worth fighting for, but worth dying for."

 Obi-Wan handed his lightsaber to Qui-Gon. "You may go, Qui-Gon Jinn. But I will stay."

 It was as though the words hit Qui-Gon in the face, for he flinched. He stared down at Obi-Wan's lightsaber in his hand, not speaking. A great struggle seem to go on within the Jedi Knight's powerful body.

 Obi-Wan had hurt him. He longed to take the words back. He could not. They had been said. He had meant them.

[fierykitten2]

There are a few reasons I don’t expect there to be a Past Paradox Ho-Oh and Future Paradox Keldeo:

The number of Paradox Pokémon in either set is currently 11, the same amount as there are Ultra Beasts (and it’s clear the Paradox Pokémon take heavy inspiration from the UBs)

Ho-Oh and Keldeo don’t work as counterparts in the same way Suicune and Virizion, Entei and Terrakion and Raikou and Cobalion do - Ho-Oh���s a Legendary based off a bird that leads the Legendary Beasts as an external trio master while Keldeo’s a Mythical based off a unicorn that is technically part of the Swords of Justice but only has a 50% chance of being included

I don’t think we’re getting any more major updates for Scarlet and Violet and even if we did, it would probably just be one Movie Mythical and that’s it

I do think that from an in-universe pov this implies stuff about the Proto Beasts and Neo Swords. Given they aren’t associated with a Past Paradox Ho-Oh or Future Paradox Keldeo, it’s probably fair to assume that the Proto Beasts and any Future Paradox Keldeo’s parents never died in a fire meaning the Proto Beasts were never revived by a Past Paradox Ho-Oh (does make you wonder why they’re still embodying the thunder, flames and rain from the incident but if they’re from a parallel universe, that’s probably just one of those funky coincidences) and the Neo Swords never took in a Future Paradox Keldeo (although being Psychic-types they probably know whether or not a Future Paradox Keldeo really exists) and I’ll be honest, it’s cool that Game Freak are trying to make sure that the Proto Beasts and Neo Swords, while still being tied to the legacy of alternate version of a Legendary Pokémon, aren’t just “what if the Legendary Beasts and Swords of Justice came from a different period of time?”. You can actually see in their stats that the largely-defensive Suicune, Virizion and Cobalion were turned into the largely-offensive Walking Wake, Iron Leaves and Iron Crown (heck, Crown’s superior defensive stat corresponds to Cobalion’s worst stat overall), the speedster Raikou was turned into Raging Bolt, who has the lowest speed of the six Paradox Legendaries, and the largely-(physical) offensive Entei and Terrakion became the only ones in their Paradox trios whose best stats aren’t an attacking stat (Gouging Fire is defense, Iron Boulder is speed). Plus I still see Iron Leaves as the leader of the Neo Swords I don’t care Game Freak clearly intends for it to be Crown have you seen the key artwork for Cyber Judge?

[kickthecan-revolution]

I’ve been thinking about fairness. What it is, why we have the seed of “that’s not fair” as little kids and what that originates from. Does the concept of sharing reveal the struggle with fairness right from the jump?

My brother’s wonderful father-in-law had a stroke and is barely making it, not likely to survive. My friend Evan died at 40 after a six month cancer journey. My dad is still screaming at people who try to help him with no end in sight.

I never had to step foot outside my door with COVID, I never had to put myself in danger, I had all the things delivered. It’s not fair. None of it is.

MLK Day always makes me feel a little sick because of white peoples’ participation with the performative quotes (mine included), the tension of how I participate on social media is never more front and center. We can’t ever seem to stay out of the dialogue and when we do, our impact is often painful. I watched a TikTok where a Black creator on MLK Day said he wants to see allies shift to advocacy and asked “it’s all good to offer MLK quotes on your Facebook, but what are you willing to give up that you earned from your privilege? What are you willing to lose?”

And another where someone asked “what would be the one wish you have that you believe would help racism?” the creator said simply “remove white women’s access to the internet.” She’s not wrong.

It’s easier for a camel to go through an eye of a needle than a rich man going to heaven. Those words sit on my heart and throat like a boulder. Like a lesson. A challenge. An invitation. I give a lot away, my budgeting exercise shows that. And so what? So what. A drop in the ocean. That’s not even what any of this is about.

Another video right after that where a single mom who left a domestic violence nightmare was at the Dollar store with ten dollars to buy food to last a week, when someone else asked her to buy them something for her. She felt like she didn’t have a choice, so she did and then told the cashier that she didn’t have enough money for her own food now, so the cashier bought her groceries.

With her food stamps.

What the fuck are we doing. What am I doing? Over here frantically budgeting, feeling like I don’t have enough. I’m literally in an ivory tower.

I don’t want guilt to motivate the way I move through the world with POC because that results in fake, performative impact I don’t want feeling like I’m not in the Cool Kid’s Club where all the people I want to love me will love me if I am the right kind of ally because that is colonialist, white women identity void.

I don’t want to be on the wrong side of justice, but why? Because I don’t want to be alone. The insidious nature of colonialism is so firmly rooted in the way I move through life and there is an existential terror and emptiness within it.

There is a journey to take from sympathy to empathy to agape love. I think I’m on it, but I’m not. Fairness does not exist. Justice does, at a price. I can’t expect heaven and not pay the price. The small price is comfort with my place in the world, being chronically uncomfortable with privilege marination is part of it. Im listening differently. I’m learning faster. My resistance to change is softening. It’s still not enough.

The heavy truth is that I am the bad guy in other peoples’ movie, as uncomfortable as that is, as much as I want to defend myself or change that look. My whiteness, not me. But also, sometimes me.

What is a man if he gain the whole world but lose his soul.

[faunawoodsart]

Scorched Earth (R6 Oc Fanfic)

Pt 17. Ashes to Ashes

[Final Part]

Tags: @illmetbymoonlight @lethal-justice

Location: Forest around Kennecott Mine, Alaska

Time: 8:00

Date: Nov 29, 20XX

Ash fell down onto the white snow. Tachanka and Fuze walked down the trail of burnt trees. It was freezing compared to the night that had just passed. Even with the cold, nothing was stopping Tachanka from trying to find Nav. Fuze took his time. Trying to scan the area for any signs of life. Tachanka kicked away a corpse of one of the Archaens. Doing so he uncovered something. A burnt boot. It was Nav’s. It was completely burnt through by the time Tachanka found it. The flaming napalm may had done it’s job a little too well. He set the boot back down and kept walking. The blackened trees reached into the sky above them. It all looked the same. Neither of the men had any idea how long or how far they had been walking for. Tachanka suddenly heard Fuze trip over something. Looking back, Fuze realized it was Nav’s back pack…Why would she leave it? The backpack was basically attached to her. For her to just throw it off, something must have happened. Tachanka could feel a knot tie in his stomach. He knew something was wrong. But she had to be okay. She was more than capable of surviving extreme situations. Fuze noticed that Tachanka had begun to walk even faster. They had btoh passed the broken and smashed trees. Fuze took a deep breath. Tachanka’s calm and collected facade had begun to fall. 

“ELIZABETH?!” 

He called out. Silence. Only the sound of the trees creaking in the breeze was heard. His hands began to shake. He had to find her. He had to. He kept walking. His eyes looked everywhere. The sharp sent of burning sewage hit his nose. Infront of him was a few large boulders and a sheer drop off. Tachanka walked twords the dropoff where the smell was coming from. There lay the dead body of The Mother. It hads sucumb to it’s wounds. A small portion of Tachanka was relieved. But… Where was Nav. Was she under it? Had she found safety? As he began to turn around, something blue caught his eye in the snow. He fully turned around and looked down at the area near the rocks. Bending down, he dusted the ash off. His hand jerked away. He took his helmet off and set it next to his foot.He put his hand back on it and flipped it over. 

“Elizabeth…?”

Both of his knees hit the gound. His voice quivered. Her eyes were glazed over. She had already gone through rigor mortis. He lifted up her goggles, and taking one of his hands, closed her eyelids. Putting her goggles back on. He couldn’t dare look at her while her dead eyes stared straight ahead at him. Tachanka noticed blood on the side of her head. He realized what she did. Tears started to form in his eyes. Dripping down and soaking into his balaklava. Tachanka could hear Fuze behind him. His hand went on Tachanka’s shoulder. 

“It’s my fault Shurat…”

“You know it’s not…”

Tachanka stood up and turned around. 

“IT IS!” He yelled, his voice bouncing off the trees around them. “I Should have gone with her! She shouldn’t have gone alone! She would still be here if I-”

“You had no clue this would happen! Neither of us would have!” Fuze yelled back. “Getting angry isn’t going to bring her back Alexander!” 

Tachanka’s head went down… His tears hitting the snow under him.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. Being upset is fine, but being angry at yourself for thinking you could prevent somethng even though you have no idea what had happened is not going to help you.” 

Fuze put a hand back on Tachanka’s shoulder. Giving it a tight squeeze. Fuze looked at the frozen body of their friend, remembering what he said just weeks earlier. Those words would haunt him. Did she hear what he said when they were playing poker? Fuze would secretly blame himself. Both men knew what they had to do next…

...Inform Ash…

[itsmoonpeaches]

The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 4: Reversal

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Role Swap

Story summary: After his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Chapter summary: No one had yet noticed what was happening, how the air seemed to thicken and crackle with something visceral all at once. Katara could feel the power underneath his stare, roaring against her body. Whatever it was, it was waking from a sleep that thundered and threatened. She should have been used to the kind of power Aang possessed as the Avatar, but this time it was different.

-

Or, Katara makes a choice.

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

---

First, her gaze was locked on his eerie one. The vice grip around her hand was starting to cut off her circulation. The blood pumping in her veins stuttered there, pulsating on the oxygen that was left. Like a river’s mouth about to burst into the ocean.

No one had yet noticed what was happening, how the air seemed to thicken and crackle with something visceral all at once. Katara could feel the power underneath his stare, roaring against her body. Whatever it was, it was waking from a sleep that thundered and threatened. She should have been used to the kind of power Aang possessed as the Avatar, but this time it was different.

This time, she sensed the anger of someone else.

Katara could not react fast enough when the explosion of pure unadulterated energy burst forth. She along with the crowd shouted in shock when they were blasted away. She skidded to a stop only when she was forced to. Her back slammed into a pillar on the other side of the courtyard. She stumbled to her hands and knees. Her head ached, and she was sure that she was bruised, if not a little concussed.

When she looked up, she saw Aang at the center of a perfect circle with fallen people around it. All of them were groaning, and many had already sprinted off to call for help.

The ground was cracked, more lines spreading out from the middle like branches on a leafless tree. The sky above had turned dark with looming storm clouds above them, a contrast to the hopeful clear blue that it had been mere minutes ago. There was no sun in sight, and the gloom appeared to stretch on for miles.

It was cool, dank. Katara felt the joy seep away from her body almost as if someone had squeezed it from her until it dribbled into an abyss. Her mind was full of negative thoughts and emotions. She could only think of destruction, of unfairness, of the way that there were children who would come to a home devoid of life even after the war was ended.

She thought of her mother, of Yue, of Jet. Of Aang falling from a pillar of light, smoke trailing from his back after lighting had arched through him. All of them coming to crash together and against her like a boat sailing upon harsh waves only to break upon the jutting rocks.

Someone grabbed for the crook of her elbow and yanked her upward so that she was standing up. It was Sokka, still wobbling against his crutch which he had somehow managed to hold onto. He turned to her, worry and fear in his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why is Aang in the Avatar State?”

Before she could respond, it was Zuko who broke the silence. “Everyone get out of here!” he yelled the command. He was near the stairs, crown askew atop his head.

A switch seemed to click and there was sudden movement. Everyone who attended the coronation ran away from the center, some into the palace, and others toward the streets of the capital. Katara saw her father give her and Sokka a meaningful look from nearby. He had been forced aside by the explosion and ended up somewhere near Sokka. An understanding passed between the three of them before he departed with the others.

Aang remained standing there, unmoving in the middle of it all. His robes were flitting upward with an invisible force. Wisps of air filtered around him, as if in a warning that it would all detonate again.

It was just enough time for Katara to realize that she, Sokka, and Zuko were not the only ones that remained behind. Toph and Suki stayed too, and the friends began to converge to where Zuko stood at the front in a kind of unspoken agreement.

It was them, always. Even when it was most difficult.

The air rumbled, shaking the pebbles and bits of debris that was caused from the initial burst.

“Everyone brace for impact!” screamed Toph who had widened into a horse stance. “I don’t think I can do much for this one!”

Sure enough, all she could do was erect a large enough stone barrier that blocked most of the waves of debris from hitting them, but it did not stop them all from toppling backward onto the palace steps over each other. Toph did not lower the shield.

“What the heck is going on?! Did someone attack us?” she bellowed with effort. The courtyard shook with wind again. “Is Twinkle Toes going to get his butt over here and help us out or what?”

It was then that dread pooled into Katara’s stomach. She whipped around to face Toph, a wild and frantic emotion rising into her throat. “That is Aang!” she hissed. “He’s the one who attacked us!”

Toph’s eyebrows furrowed together. “That doesn’t make any sense! Aang isn’t anywhere near us!”

It was Suki who looked terrified next. Her fans were clutched at her sides, and she looked ready for battle in her Kyoshi Warrior uniform. “If that isn’t Aang,” she started, “then—”

“Then he’s in trouble,” Zuko finished. He had a determined expression on his face. “Whatever this is—”

But he did not have enough time to finish his sentence. The rock shield that Toph worked so hard to keep steady was ripped apart down the middle with a slice of air alone. She could do nothing to hold it together and grunted as she was pushed back. They were lucky that they were not torn to pieces.

Before them, Aang stood, glowing purple eyes and all. A stark crimson pattern with complicated lines and curls beamed through his skin from his shoulders to his midsection and showed even through his clothes. There was an orange diamond burning through where Aang’s heart was.

A tornado of twisting wind rested casually in one of his hands. It was storm-like and menacing, and not at all like Aang.

He laughed in a deep, unfamiliar way. As if he were mocking them. “It was almost too easy to take this body from Raava, especially when her newest incarnation was so weak,” he said. It was a voice Katara did not recognize. It sounded like the voice of nightfall itself. “That boy was a typical human…pathetic to a fault. It was his stupid choice really that led to this…trying to bend another one’s energy. No one has done that in eons, not since before the age of the spirits.”

Katara tamped down her fear. “Who are you and what have you done with Aang?” she demanded.

Aang’s form glared at her. The tornado in his hand dissipated, but there was still a power that radiated from him that kept them all stock-still. His mouth twisted into a smirk. He walked forward and stopped close to Katara. Too close. He leaned so that he was observing her.

Katara opened her sealskin pouch, and she commanded a tendril of water to hover in front of her. It separated them, if only in an infinitesimal amount.

“I’ve simply switched places with him, girl,” he said. “He has taken my place in the prison that his original incarnation trapped me in. He had a moment of weakness in battle you see…when he was facing that Fire Lord. It was a mere second when his energy was entwined with Ozai’s, but a mere second was enough.” He let out a spiteful laugh. “You have to be careful when your energy touches such a wicked man’s, you see, because even one mere second of thinking that you want a little more justice for what your enemies did to your people—when they wiped their blood across the face of the earth—and even the spirit of light can be stolen by the spirit of darkness and chaos.”

He tilted his head, and the world shifted. “Now,” the spirit said, “Where was I?” He leered. “Oh.”

A gale blasted them back again and they screamed. The walls of the foyer began to fracture. Katara barely held her own. She had to bend the water back to her side lest it spill across the tiles.

The spirit sauntered toward them again as they struggled to stand. His hands were clasped behind his back. “It’s a pity that I couldn’t take the power of the other elements from Raava, but no matter,” he spoke. He raised his hands. “I can still remake this world in my era.”

A ball of swirling air surrounded him. He laughed as he rose, shooting his arms outward, collecting rubble and wreckage. He spit it out everywhere he could.

Toph and Katara tried to defend them while Zuko shot out flames to disintegrate what he could. Suki held Sokka up, cutting her fan out to slash the air that ravaged them.

“What do we do now?!” screamed Sokka, blocking dirt from his eyes with his arm. “We can’t even attack him!”

It was impossible to find an opening. Katara tried everything she could from icicles to water whips, but there was nothing that could distract or deter the spirit.

All she could see was the form of the person she loved, so far out of reach.

She saw Aang as he was, vengeful and shuddering and different. Katara reached out to him, arm stretching across the expanse. “Please, Aang,” she shouted to him with conviction, “This isn’t you!”

The Avatar turned his attention toward her with a knowing, menacing voice, and said, “But it is.”

His hand cut across the space and a gust came rushing toward them. Toph broke it with another boulder.

Katara trembled, lost in herself, not knowing what to do. The others were whispering plans behind her, plans that she knew would go nowhere. She could not stop looking at what used to be Aang, how he was drifting further and further away from her, tearing up the palace and going toward the city.

She had to stop him.

She had to get him back.

Without thinking, she dashed out into the open. She heard Sokka call for her, but she ignored him and the call of her friends. She halted just under the swirling ball of air, just as it was about to escape into the rest of the world.

She knocked her head back until she was looking at soles of Aang’s shoes. “I’ll make you a trade,” she belted, "My soul for Aang's!"

Aang’s possessed body jolted, lowering just in front of her. His feet still hovered a meter above the ground. He looked down at her. His eyes were bright and frightening, and he grinned.

It looked wrong.

“All you need is a body, right?” she asked. She did not stop quivering. “Take mine. Give Aang back. I’ll take his place.”

“Katara, no!” she heard her friends protest, but she would not dare answer them.

“And what do I get out of this, little girl?” asked the spirit, unfazed.

“Your freedom, my bending, and the chaos you want,” she said. She spoke in half-truths, in promising lies. “If you live as me, no one will suspect you. You can hide in plain sight. If you’re Aang, there’ll be too much attention on you. It’s better to cause destruction when no one suspects anything.”

The spirit laughed the same guttural, horrible laugh as before. He did not hesitate when he floated closer to her. The air around him dispelled, and he alighted on the ground.

He grasped her forearm, and she grasped his. His nails dug into her skin, biting into the scratches already there, and blood beaded along the surface. She tried not to show how scared she was. She knew, above all else, who she was doing this for and why.

She would not lose him. Never again.

“We have a deal,” said the spirit. “I can assure you that I need no assistance nor strategies from you, but I have never seen such naïve foolishness at the cost of someone else in all the eons of my life.” His glowing eyes lowered to meet hers. “If there is something chaos does love, it is a good tragedy,” he finished.

When he let go, it was as if all her energy left her at once. Her vision blurred, and she was taken over by colors and night beating in tandem with each other. She gasped as she rushed through them.

Abruptly, she appeared in a field of tall, emerald grass. She was wearing an indigo dress that reached her ankles, just above a pair of soft boots.

There were white cumulous clouds that covered the sky in mountains and eddies. She stood at the crest of a hill of some sort, looking out over a piece of land with a forest of trees and the shore of the sea.

“Want to go inside?” someone asked her. It was a pleasant tenor.

She looked up to see an eclipsed figure of a tall man that strolled toward her, the sun a large disc at his back. A ray of sunlight obscured his features. He held out a pale hand to her, palm open and inviting, waiting for her.

“It’s been a long day,” he said.

Katara’s fingers curved around his, and she let herself be led away.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Moving On - Mini Series - Part 3

Summary: Jirli proves herself

A/N: Hello my lovelies, 

I’m so excited that you have followed this mini series, there are only two more parts, and I can’t wait for you all to read how it ends.  I hope I am doing justice to all the characters.  

Italics = reader's other voice

Italics and bold = telepathic communications

Bold = Commander Wolfee’s POV

Italics and Indented = Reader’s enhanced hearing.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, I think that’s about it for warnings.  If I miss any please let me know.  

Words: 3,297 shorter part

Thank you everyone for following along and showing love.  As always, feel free to drop some love, a comment or even a reblog, it’s always welcome.

AO3 Link

Previous -> Masterlist -> Next

THE FIRST MILE

“Master, we’re all ready over here at the canyon”

“Very good Jirli, may the Force be with you” Master Plo responded.

“May the Force be with us all,” I looked over to Commander Cody, “what do you think Cody?”

“I think we’re as ready as we’re going to be Commander”

“You know you can just call me Jirli, everyone does”

“Yes, Commander Jirli” Cody said with a smirk

“Clearly, you have developed General Kenobi’s sense of sass”

“Whatever do you mean?” I just chuckled at his smirk, I looked over the squad I'd been assigned a mix of the 212th and the 104th, all good men, ready to fight to the bitter end.  Despite their experience, I could feel their anxiety through the force, “Cody, let’s gather the men before we get into our positions.”

“Men, form up!”

Within an instant, all eight men stood before me and the Commander, “Before we get into positions, there’s something I want to say, the last time I was on a mission, it didn’t go well for me, as many of you probably know.  After all, gossip is never in short supply in the GAR”, they all chuckled in agreement, I could feel their tension lessening.  “Although I haven’t worked with any of you before, I have worked with your brothers.  My squad was my family, they meant everything to me, therefore by extension you, all of you, are my family.  Which means I will defend each and every one of you till my dying breath. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, I could see some were a little shocked at my statement, “If anyone is injured, if anyone gets so much as a scratch, I want to know about it.  Understood?”

“Yes, Sir” came one resounding voice.

“No one gets left behind!”

“Yes, Sir” came two more

“No one is dying on this battlefield!”

“Yes, Sir!” most of the men shouted.

“Do you know what we are?  We are stones.  Each one a boulder of strength.  Get enough boulders together and they become an impenetrable mountain.  Today WE are that mountain!”

“YES, SIR!” Everyone cheered.

“Get to your positions and may the Force be with us.”

They all hollered and cheered, as they headed to their positions, all eight men were taking the high ground, only Cody and myself were going to be near the cannon's exit, hidden in the crag that was off to the side.  The only one visible to the droids would be me, and only when I stepped out of the crag, once the droids were close enough.  

“Very moving speech Commander”

“Alright there sass mouth, you don’t have to lay it on that thick. I’m not the best when it comes to speeches.”

Cody reached for my shoulder and turned me to face him “I wasn’t being sarcastic, Jirli.  I was being honest, I will fight by your side, whenever and wherever, vod’ika.”  I couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my face, I didn’t even have a response really, I simply nodded his acceptance.

My comm beeped, “Jirli?”

“Yes, Anakin?”

“It seems your plan is working, the droids are turning towards the canyon, they've lost about 20 droids so far, they’ll be on your position in less than ten minutes.”

“Thanks Anakin, be careful”

“You too.”

“Alright men'' Cody comm-ed the team, “we just received word, the droids are coming, they’ll be here in ten minutes, stay frosty gentlemen”, all the men pinged back their acknowledgement.

“Stay frosty?” I asked tilting my head

“What? No good?”

“Nah, I like it,” I smiled back at Cody.

Ten minutes felt like hours, but eventually we saw the tops of the droids coming over the ridge, heading towards the entrance of the canyon.  At this point all the teams would be converging on our location, it was just a matter of how long I could keep the droids distracted, giving the teams time to get situated.  We had estimated it would take about 25 minutes for the other teams to converge on us.  Cody was crouched beside, his hand on the detonator, his breathing was steady, calm.  His presence was soothing, clearly being around Master Kenobi had helped him keep his feelings in check, I had no doubt he would only press the detonator once I gave him the signal.  The droids were less than five feet away from where Cody and I were positioned.  I grabbed his forearm, squeezed it once, and walked out of where I was hiding.  

I stood in the path of the droids, my robe was blowing in the wind, the hood covering my face, here’s hoping these droids wouldn’t just shoot first and ask questions later.  

Breathe.  I closed my eyes and felt the force around me, guiding me, calming me.

“HALT!” The droid's voice echoed through the canyon walls.

“Explain.  Why have we stopped?”  The tactical droid inquired via the holo comm.

“There is a person standing in the way” the lead droid answered

“You can go no further!” I demanded in my most commanding voice

“They say we can go no further” reported the droid

“I suggest you go back and leave this planet!”

“They want us to leave the planet” echoed the droid

“We have orders, proceed” came the command from the tactical droid.

“I said, you CANNOT go any further!” My voice echoed through the canyon walls

“They aren’t moving” informed the droid

“Eliminate them” was the order issued

“Attack me and you will cause your own destruction”, I reached for my lightsaber under the robes, but I didn't ignite it.

“Commander, they have something in their hand”

“What do they have?” Asked the commanding droid

“A cylinder of some kind”

“Cylinder?”

“Not just any cylinder” I answered the unseen droid at the back of the battalion, I ignited my lightsaber, the white light of my lightsaber shining and humming.

“JEDI!!”

I raised my saber into a fighting stance, and within seconds, the bombs went off, a dust cloud emerged.  Using the dust as cover, I went in between the droids, cutting down all that stood before me, with each slice, I saw the faces of my dying squad over and over again.  The only thing that could be seen amongst the dust was the light of my saber swinging, most of the droids were destroyed from the bombs.  Every so often I heard a blaster bolt being shot from above, once the dust settled, the only thing remaining standing was the tactical droid’s tanker, which didn’t last long either as Master Plo and Commander Wolffe, came up from behind and destroyed the tanker within a matter of seconds.

I stood before both men, while both looked over my shoulder at the carnage I had left in my wake.  Cody came up from behind me, “Couldn’t have left us a few tinnies to thrash?”

“Sorry Cody” I laughed, placing my hand on his right shoulder, “next time, I’ll make sure to leave you a few more”.

“Wait, you did all of that?” Commander Wolffe asked

“What?  Did you think I was all looks and no skill?” I teased

“Little one, are you okay?” Inquired my master

“Never better, Master.  It was very …” I looked back at the destruction, a grin forming on my face, “… cathartic.”  The smile on my face beamed as I looked upon my old Master.  This is exactly what I needed, an opportunity to get back some sense of justice for my squad, my family, my love.

“Jirli!” came Anakin’s voice from behind Commander Wolffe, when he saw me standing before the tanker, my Master and the two commanders, I noticed his relief, his shoulders and face relaxed, I also felt it in the force.  Without thinking, he rushed over and hugged me, it was a bone crushing hug, but it was comforting, as only a brotherly hug could be.

“Okay Anakin, I think you’re breaking a rib now” I managed to squeeze out, Anakin laughed into my shoulder, “Well then, don’t scare me like that again”, he grabbed my upper arms, pushing me far enough away to look at me, “Are you okay? Any injuries?”

“None” I beamed back, I turned my attention back to Cody, “Cody, what about the Stones any injuries?”

“Only one” came his solemn voice, “Who?” concern laced my voice, moving out of Anakin’s hold and stepping closer to the Commander, I grabbed his forearm.

Seeing the Commander touch Cody’s shoulder and then grabbing his arm made me uneasy.  I didn’t understand why her touching him made it feel as though a weight had been put on my heart.  I couldn’t help but clench my fists by my side.

“Boil, he … “ began Cody, looking away from my eyes for a second, I saw him take a deep breath, oh no.  No. No.  Looks like you may be responsible for one more.  Shut up!

He turned to face me, and a small smirk began to appear, now I was confused, “He says he got a scratch on his right hand when he was climbing to his position.  Wondered if you could look it over?”  I couldn’t help but laugh, Cody’s eyes were warm and jovial, “You really are sassy! I think you need time away from General Kenobi."

"Is that an invitation?"

I just shook my head.  If Commander Wolffe doesn't do it for you, there's always Cody.  Yeah, not gonna happen.

"Tell Boil, he's better off seeing the medic.  In fact, let him know I'll check in with the medic to make sure he did get it taken care of, we wouldn’t want the scratch to get infected, now would we?” I winked at Cody.

“Yes, Commander” Cody saluted while trying to keep his face stoic and failing, as the blush appeared on his face, Cody walked off in search of Boil.

Master Kenobi walked over, “The Stones?”

“Oh, I nicknamed my squad”

“You mean, my squad”

“Relax Master, I’m not keeping them, not yet anyways.  I may be back for them later.  I really enjoyed working with them.”

“So do I, young one.  Just so you know I’m not going to give up my men to anyone, not without a fight”.

I couldn’t help the grin that was on my face “Master, attachment is not the Jedi way” I teased.  Anakin started to laugh, when Master Kenobi shot him a look, turning his laugh into a cough.  Anakin looked at me and winked.  I knew I was pushing it, but we did just have a successful campaign, time to revel in it.  

“Are you really lecturing me on attachment, Jirli?”

I could see the crinkle in his eye, Curl and I were the worst kept secret, it only made sense the Master Kenobi would have known. I didn’t respond, simply looked to the ground, while I smirked.  It felt good to laugh and remember Curl with fondness not tragedy.

“I think it’s time we head back to our respective ships” Anakin suggested.

“Agreed” Master Kenobi said, “Jirli, good job on the execution of your plan.  You might be happy to note there were no casualties.”  I looked from Master Kenobi, to Anakin, to Master Plo, they all nodded, reinforcing Master Kenobi’s statement.  No major injuries.  No casualties.  I couldn’t help but well up with tears at the joy of that.  

“Before we leave, we need to clean up the bombs that didn’t explode” Master Plo advised.

Although all eyes were on my Master, I could feel one set of eyes focused on me.  I glanced over to see Commander Wolffe’s eyes burrowing into my stature.  I couldn’t help the uneasiness that washed over me from the intensity, I shifted slightly to hide behind Anakin.  Why did this man’s gaze unnerve me?  Maybe because you like it.  I wondered when you were going to pop up again. Surprised you were able to keep quiet during the fighting.  I know better than to distract you during an actual mission.  Thank goodness for that, but you’re wrong.  Am I?  I don’t like being scrutinized.  I think you like having someone look at you, the way he is.  Very different from the way Curl used to look at you.  I’m not interested.  Whatever you say.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I promised I would look in on Boil”, I walked away from the intense eyes that were burning a hole into me.

She took on the remaining droids?  She gave her temporary squad a name? She wanted to know if anyone was injured?  I  have to admit her plan was successful,  it didn't even cost us one life.  I  could see from his expression, Cody was ready to follow her anywhere.  Sinker is ready to defend and follow her.  Curl certainly was ready to devote his whole life to her, in fact he did.  Had I cheapened his sacrifice?  Was I wrong about the Commander?

“Commander Wolffe?” I looked up to see, everyone had moved away except General Skywalker.

“General Skywalker”

“Everything alright, Wolffe?”

“Yes, sir, why do you ask?”

“First, you're still standing here, instead of heading towards your shuttle.  Secondly, you haven’t stopped staring at Commander Stonn since I arrived, in fact, you still followed her with your gaze as she walked over to the medics.  Is there an issue with the Commander?”

Was I really just staring at her the whole time? Snap out of it di’kut.  I forced my eyes to look at General Skywalker "No, sir.  There’s no issue with the Commander.”  

Come up with a plausible excuse for staring, come on fool.

“I was just trying to reconcile how a tiny woman like the Commander took on an entire battalion or what was left.  I can’t imagine what that looked like, it probably was something to behold.”

The General let out a chuckle, “You have no idea, she’s …” the General stopped, a smile appearing on his face as he looked towards the Commander, “She's special, Wolffe.  More than you can know"

"Sir?"

"She has an ability with the force that many can’t understand, in fact, it scares them because of her natural talent.  For example, she learned all the lightsaber forms.  Pfft, not just learned them, but mastered them, as well.  She’s the only Padawan to have ever sparred with Master Yoda, Master Windu, Master Plo, and Master Kenobi.  When we were training at the temple, whenever she had to spar with any of the Masters, it became a spectacle at the temple.  Everyone gathered to watch.”

“How did she do?”

“She held her own with each of the Masters, they all respected her because of her ability. Which in itself is impressive, however, things changed when Master Yoda called her out before they began their session.  After that everyone … I think in some ways people were jealous, in others I think they were frightened of her.  Especially, since the sparring session with Master Yoda was her final test before she became a Jedi Knight.”

“What do you mean sir?”

“He told her, in front of the entire temple for her final session, she couldn’t hold back.  I remember she looked at him, there was no emotion on her face.  After a while, a smile formed on her face, she said ‘how did you know?’, Master Yoda simply said, ‘when almost 900 years you are able to tell someone holding back, hmmm.’  At that moment, the entire temple realized she could have easily bested any of the Masters, but she didn't.

Her and Master Yoda's sparring match lasted over an hour, eventually it was rendered a tie.  Both barely broke a sweat.  When the session had ended, Master Yoda simply smiled at her.  The crowd was quite, it was eerie but she only smiled back at Master Yoda and chuckle ‘You held back’.  ‘Only a little’ was his response.  Seeing her match Master Yoda stroke for stroke was something I will never forget, it was beautiful.  However, after she became a Knight many were frightened of what she could do, simply because she’s a Grey Jedi with a deep connection to the Force.”

“What’s that?”

“A grey Jedi, is a force-wielder who can use both the light and dark side of the force.  Jirli devoted a great amount of time to her studies, trying to understand what it meant for her to be a Grey Jedi.  She's one of the few Jedis I have known, who have developed perfect balance with the force.  Unlike other Jedis, she’s able to form attachments without it affecting her, even her attachment with Master Plo has helped her not hinder her.  When she lost Curl and her squad, I thought it might unbalance her, and we might lose her too, but she proved me wrong.  As she always does.”  The adoration in the General’s eyes was unmistakable.

“You love her”

General Skywalker turned to face me, “Yes, she’s my sister.  I adopted her as my sister when we met at the temple, all those years ago.  Ever since that day she’s been my best friend and closest confidant.  She understands me better than anyone else in my life.”

“It seems she has a gift for acquiring a multitude of brothers.  Anyone that gets to know her is automatically ready to follow and fight by her side” maybe she’s using some kind of Jedi mind trick.

“When you get to know her, Commander, you can’t help but love her.  Jirli fights with her whole being, she’s not afraid to stand up for those she loves.  When it comes to protecting people, she will gladly lay her life down.  It really is a shame you didn’t get to see her take on the battalion.”

“Maybe one of the other clones was able to record it?”

“Record what?” General Kenobi asked, walking up to the General and I.

“Jirli taking on the battalion” answered General Skywalker

“Oh, her ‘Stone Squad’ recorded it, I just heard a few of them talking about it”.

“They did?” I asked way too hopeful, General Kenobi laughed at my enthusiasm, “Yes, Commander.  Talk to Cody, I think he has access to all the footage.  Come on Anakin, we are needed back on our ships.”

“Coming Master.  Commander.” General Skywalker, nodded to me a good bye, I reciprocated the nod and comm-ed Cody as soon as I was alone.

“Wolffe?”

“Hey vod, I heard some of your guys may have recorded the attack between Commander Stonn and the droid army, is that correct?”

"Ha, some, try all of them"

"Really?"

“Wanting to see what your Commander can do?”

“Just curious and she’s not MY Commander.”

“Whatever you say, vod.  But you might want to tell your face to stop looking at her like she hung the stars.”

“I do not!”  Was my face that obvious?

“I just sent you all the recordings.  Don’t worry, I don’t think she can read your looks yet.  In fact, I’m pretty sure she thinks you hate her.”

“Well she’s not entirely wrong there.  I don’t trust her, not yet, but I think these recordings will definitely help.”

“She’s an amazing warrior, vod.  Give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I’ll try”

“Hey vod?”

“Yeah, Cody”

“Regardless of what you say, you do have a crush on her.  You can lie to yourself, but not to me.  I know you too well.  Can’t blame you really, most of my men have a crush on her too.”  

My hand clenched by my side, why was I getting possessive, she’s not mine.

“I … she’s … Listen vod, she can be interested in whoever she wants, she's not mine.”

“Really?”

“Yes”

“So does that mean I can ask her out?”

“WHAT!”

“Ha, ha, just kidding vod.  I know how possessive a wolf can be.”

“Take care of yourself, Cody.”

“You too, Wolffe”

Previous -> Masterlist -> Next

Tag List:

@liadamerondjarin​ @lady-ren​

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Still something left to save

Maedhros had sent the letter two days ago. Two days of agonizing waiting while the whole camp held its breath.

Maglor still acted like the Valar might have mercy, and return the Silmarils in exchange for repentance. Maedhros knew better though, and was reviewing his weapons and armor. The Valar would refuse the plea, as they had wished to refuse Feanor’s claim when he had not yet harmed any - if indeed they bothered to answer at all.

So a single rider approaching under a flag of truce was not completely surprising. Maglor claimed it was a hopeful sign, that the hosts of the Valar might truly wish to negotiate. Maedhros was of the opinion that the Valar had no faith in the house of Feanor at all, and believed them so low as to murder anyone not conspicuously nonthreatening.

The messenger was ushered past the sentries to the tent Maedhros and Maglor used as an improvised command room. He was wearing a helmet that blocked his face. The voice that called out in greeting was oddly familiar, as was the glint of his eyes, but Maedhros couldn’t place it.

“What news do you bring from the Hosts of the West?,” Maedhros asked.

“Morgoth has fallen. Lords Tulkas and Orome have bound him in chains and shall throw him into the darkness beyond the world, from where there is no return.”

“And what of the letter we sent to Lord Eonwe?”

“The Silmarils shall return to Valinor where they were created. You may go as well if you wish, and plead your right to them in the Ring of Doom.”

Then Maglor desired indeed to submit, for his heart was sorrowful, and he said: ‘The oath says not that we may not bide our time, and it may be that in Valinor all shall be forgiven and forgot, and we shall come into our own in peace.’

But Maedhros answered that if they returned to Aman but the favour of the Valar were withheld from them, then their oath would still remain, but its fulfilment be beyond all hope; and he said: 'Who can tell to what dreadful doom we shall come, if we disobey the Powers in their own land, or purpose ever to bring war again into their holy realm?'

Yet Maglor still held back, saying: 'If Manwë and Varda themselves deny the fulfilment of an oath to which we named them in witness, is it not made void?'

And Maedhros answered: 'But how shall our voices reach to Ilúvatar beyond the Circles of the World? And by Ilúvatar we swore in our madness, and called the Everlasting Darkness upon us, if we kept not our word. Who shall release us?

''If none can release us,' said Maglor, 'then indeed the Everlasting Darkness shall be our lot, whether we keep our oath or break it; but less evil shall we do in the breaking.'

The messenger burst out, “Do you care so little for the life of your kin? You are arguing where and who to kill if your demands are not met; can you not simply seek peace?”

Maedhros rounded on him. “What right do you have to speak such to us? What can you possibly know of our oath, and the cost of defying it?”

“I know as much as you told me, in Himring when you knew the foolishness of marching north unprepared but still felt the call. Perhaps you’ve forgotten though, in the years since.” The messenger took off his helmet.

Maedhros was stuck speechless.

Maglor was not. “Fingon? You’ve been reborn? I thought we were supposed to abide long years in Mandos and yearn for our bodies.”

“It’s been a century, isn’t that long enough?”

“I suppose so. Is my father back yet?”

“No. The dead cannot leave until we are repentant, and that will be a long time for him.”

“Is your father back?”

“Yes, and ruling Tirion while Uncle Finarfin fights here. Before you ask, Grandpa is still in Mandos, as are all your brothers. I didn’t get a complete list; I was only in Valinor for long enough to arrange passage on the next ship leaving.”

“Why?" Maedhros whispered hoarsely. “Why would you give up on a chance for peace after centuries of war and death?”

“I could hardly sit by and do nothing when Morgoth was still running rampant! Besides, I wanted to see you in person.”

“You did?”

“Yes. After the tales I heard from Doriath and Sirion, I wanted to see if there was anything left to save of the man I fell in love with.”

Maglor said, “I’ll give you two privacy. I will return in an hour, and in the meantime will inform the army that we are in council over our next course of action.”

“There’s no need for that. After your brother’s speech earlier, I really don’t have much left to say to him.”

“No?” Maedhros asked. “As steadfast as you are renowned to be, you can exchange your love for hate in an instant?”

“I don’t know if I hate you. But I can’t love you, not when you’re drenched in blood and only wading deeper.”

“You accuse me of forgetting what we talked about in Himring, its you who are ignoring it. Or did you never listen in the first place? Each day, each hour, each breath is an effort, each moment that the Oath is unfulfilled worse than the last. A century ago I was carrying a stone; now it is a boulder.”

“So why do you not set the boulder aside? Why not surrender to the Valar, or found a new kingdom in the East, or ask me to ride off with you and live far away from all oaths and kings and fathers?”

“If I cast the Oath aside it would not be gone, merely underfoot waiting to reach up and pull my down with it rather than crushing me.”

“Would that not be better?”

“Until it reached up and choked me, and I moved once again according to its string. The Oath will be there waiting for me wherever I go for the rest of my life, unless I can fulfill it.”

“Then let it wait. Better to have peace for a few decades, in which time you may understand how to evade your Doom.”

“If you refuse to accept that certain things cannot be changed, I don’t have any answers that will satisfy you.”

“And if you refuse to see any path forward but over the bodies of innocents, I may as well be shouting at the wind.”

“I begged you once to kill me and you refused. If you cannot stomach having released me onto the world, that is your problem, but I will not be crushed by your guilt as well as my own.”

“I rescued you because I loved you. What you have done is horrific, but it was not fated from that moment. I take no part in your guilt, but as a friend would aid you towards repentance.”

“There is no penance that could make up for what I have done, and even if there were I would refuse to take it. It is better to live scorned but free than to bow and scrape in desperate hope a jailer will be amused enough to grant a moment of relief.”

“The Valar are not Morgoth, and have no interest in cruelty.”

“And if you’re wrong? Or if they are merciful, but someone decides I’m not being appropriately punished, what then? Once I surrender, I’m sure I won’t be allowed so much as a belt knife for eating. There will be escape from the inside, whether you call it captivity or repentance. Will you come to my heroic rescue once again, or will you let vengeance and justice be played out upon me?”

Fingon looked at him steadily. “If you are imprisoned I will some to your aid, if only to offer the arrow you begged for last time. I don’t think an eagle will help you escape the Valra’s own sentence though.”

“So if I surrender I am trapped between captivity or death, until at last I weary of holding back the Oath and am struck down for my arrogance at believing a son has a right to his father’s work. Whereas if I pursue the Silmarils now, I may be struck down or I may escape, but in either case I have at least chosen the hour and the manner of my fate. You’re making a very persuasive argument.”

“If all you care about is your own skin, and no thought at all for the lives ended beneath your sword if you attack, then perhaps what you have said is accurate. But I had thought that you were kinder than that once; perhaps I am mistaken and you care no more for elven lives than an orc would.”

Maedhros recoiled as if struck.

Maglor jumped into the conversation before his brother could find the words that would skewer Fingon’s weak point as thoroughly as his own had been. “You both speak as if there are only two options. We don’t have to choose between surrender and attack.”

“Oh?” Maedhros said,”What other way is there? Fingon made it very clear that fighting is for orcs and crawling back to the Valar is for good little elves.”

“I never said-”

Maglor interrupted Fingon before the two of them could get into it again. “There are men and dwarves in this world as well as orcs and elves, whatever we might have thought when we left Valinor.”

“Dwarves and men there may be, but little help it does us. We don’t get to change our nature like your precious peredhel princes, nor would I want to.”

“We don’t have to. I’m merely saying, we don’‘t have to choose between attack and surrender. We can retreat, regroup for another angle.”

“I am right here, as a messenger of the Valar, and can’t honestly report that you two are going in peace if you merely are waiting until you re strong enough to storm Taniquetil.”

Maedhros drummed his fingers on his sword hilt. “We don’t have to let you go. You say being prisoner of a kind master is a good fate, now would be your time to prove it.”

“Must the two of you be so literal? We retreat physically, but regroup spiritually for another metaphorical angle of attack.”

“You’re speaking in poetry when we need tactics.”

“Fine.” Maglor began ticking points of on his fingers. “We retreat physically by moving our forces away from the land that’s collapsing beneath our feet. Everyone is going east, but if we angle north-east, perhaps across the Grey Mountains, we should be able to establish a fortress without being bothered. We regroup spiritually by announcing to our soldiers that we’re not going to attack civilians again. We can spend a decade or two building our new home, farming and crafting and hunting rather than waging war. And our metaphorical angle of attack is diplomacy. You and I always were the best at it of our brothers; if anyone has a chance of convincing the Valar to return the Silmarils it’s us.”

“How exactly are we making diplomatic overtures with the Valar from another continent?”

“Letters should be able to get through. The Valar are creating an island for the Men that’s close to Valinor but still in Middle Earth. Elves from Valinor can visit the island, and the Men can travel here.”

“We tried letters before, three times now, and it didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work on Sindarin child-monarchs, the Valar are wiser and can understand more lines of argument.”

“They refused our last request and Fingon is right her telling us so.”

“Eonwe refused, because he considers it beyond his authority. The Valar themselves have said neither yay or nay.”

“You think they’ll decree us worthy of the Silmarils, when they condemned us for ever trying to leave their precious paradise?”

“I think if we’re on another continent they won’t sentence us to execution, an the rest of the details can be worked out without an audience.”

“I’m not here to spy on you,” Fingon said.

“No, you’re here to see if you’re still impulsive enough to kiss my brother if he looks at you sweetly.”

“That’s not it either!”

“I don’t care what you two get up to at this point, but Maedhros and I really do need to come up with a detailed plan, and we can’t tell you anything as long as half the continent is willing to shoot us on sight. So leave the tent so I can bring out the ledgers.”

“You still haven’t answered the message from Lord Eonwe calling for your surrender.”

“And we won’t have an answer that satisfies both your sensibilities and Maedhros’s paranoia for several hours. Go tend to your horse or something.”

Maedhros said, “If we discuss this for hours, he’ll won’t have time to return by nightfall, and we don’t have any spare tents.”

“I’m sure the two of you have shared a bed often enough, you can do so for one night.”

“I can sleep under the stars well enough,” Fingon said coldly.

“Like I said, I don’t care what you two do, as long as you leave now and let me speak with my brother in private.”

“Fine.”

Once Fingon was well away, Maedhros breathed deeply and practically collapsed onto a stool. He looked up at Maglor, “Do you really have a plan that could work?”

“I do. It was a mistake to ask for the Silmarils in the first letter to Eonwe, it shows our hand and makes us look greedy. The first letter to the Valar will be an acknowledgement that their prophecies of death in the outer lands were right, it will sound like respecting their wisdom...”

[swimyghost]

I decided to write a little ficlet about @self-insert-nonsense Resident Evil Village OC Elise. I hope y’all enjoy

------

He did it. The famous Ethan Winters actually did it.

Elise had tried to pull him out of the Dimistrescu estate while he traversed the castle, but her foolish nieces had been chasing him around like chickens without their heads. She had elected to catch him if he managed to make it outside.

She was heavily regretting her decision.

Elise watched as the beastly form of her sister, a form she never knew existed, smash its way out of the castle to pursue the man. She tried to climb up the walls to stop either one of them from killing each other. That plan failed as Ethan fired his last sniper shot into the once-powerful Alcina Dimistrescu’s head, sending them both crashing down from the tower they were standing on and landing on the stone bottom. The sixth member of the strange Cadou bearing family waited until the Winters man fled the scene to see if what she had witnessed was true.

“Sister?” she muttered quietly, stepping over the broken stone. “...Sister? Lady Dimistrescu? ...ALCINA!”

The mixture of dust and its crystalline counterpart cemented her worse fears. Her older sister, the vampiric lord, Alcina Dimistrescu, laid dead. She froze only for a moment before rushing to search the rest of the now eerily silent castle, praying to anyone that could hear her pleas that the three Dimistrescu daughters were alive. 

First, she found Bela, next Daniela, and finally, Cassandra. After seeing the remains of the last of Alcina’s kin, Elise had to choke back a cry. Her cries were referred to by her lover Heisenburg as Banshee Shrieaks, though her brother Moreau called them Siren Screams. Whatever her wails were, the Irish lord had to keep her true feelings buried within as to not alert Ethan that someone remained. Despite her reluctance to show her inner emotions, Elise’s brain was forcing her to remember every detail she had in regards to the Dimistrescu family.

Meeting Alcina for the first time. The tall vampire woman comforting her after being injected and surviving the Cadou parasite. Watching as three little botflies grew into beautiful young ladies. Tea parties, balls, hunts, every moment flooded her senses.

“That bastard!” Elise howled, smashing through a nearby window and climbing down the now empty castle’s walls. Heisenberg’s plan was already going to shit. Her lover wanted the Winters man as an ally for his uprising against Mother Miranda, the Ruler of the Lords, and Elise.

“That creepy crow bitch needs to go down,” he told her after all the lords returned to their domains. His factory wasn’t technically her home, but Heisenburg hated the fact she lived so close to his extremely Miranda-devoted brother’s land so they arranged for her to make the metalsmith’s home hers. “She’ll kill us once Eva is revived. I can feel it.”

Elise had traced circles on his bare sweat covered chest, only partially listening. “So, we’re going to release the army? Just like that? You’re a fool if you think that’ll work.”

“What?” he snarled.

“Let’s see,” Elise began to count on her fingers, “not only is half of that BSAA group knocking on our doorstep, but Captain Boulder-Puncher and his lackeys are hiding in the shadows, and that girl’s father is walking around free. Something you let happened.”

Heisenburg snorted. “All a part of my plan. You’ve heard the rumors about the Baker’s residence, haven’t you? Ethan Winters will aid us. He just needs a little encouragement.”

“I suppose that’s where I come in?”

“You’re the fastest out of the two of us. Besides, you can get near that mega bitch’s castle without being killed on site. That is where you chased him to, right?”

“It’s not like he wasn’t going to go there anyway,” Elise huffed. “If I was a man looking for his kid, a giant fucking castle in the middle of the mountains is the place I go to first.”

Heisenburg had let out a small chuckle, reaching for his cigar. “I guess you’re right.”

Elise stopped him and pulled his face close to her, her eyelids half-closed. “I’m going to need some… Encouragement, if I’m going to be running around after another man.”

Her lover let out one of his famous wolf-like grins. “And I’ll be happy to provide.”

All of that talk was worthless to her now. The Fifth Lord wished she would’ve slapped some sense into her man but it was too late now. Her sister the “mega-bitch” and her daughters were dead and Elise had no clue where their killer might’ve run off to. She crashed landed onto a pile of snow, sending white flakes all over the landscape.

“Impressive form as always, Miss Brighid.”

Elise whipped her head only to be greeted with the smirking face of a monstrously obese man. He had hidden away in a wooden cart and was currently scratching at his stomach mass. Elise bared her teeth at the man. “I don’t need your commentary, Duke, I need answers.”

The Duke didn’t seem phased by the woman’s harsh tone. “Always straight to business, just like your main squeeze, Lord Heisenburg.”

She could feel her eyelid twitching. “Duke.”

“Right, I’m guessing you’re looking for Mr. Winters?”

“Mister Winters?” Elise snarled.

“I treat all my customers with respect, Miss Brighid.”

“He’s a customer!?”

Elise never understood why Mother Miranda allowed this behemoth to roam the village. He held no alliance to anyone and sold to anything that held a purse full of Lei. Even after years sent replicating the files and notes Mother Miranda had on everyone and everything slightly related to the village and her cause, barely anything was written about the strange merchant. The most both Heisenberg and Elise managed to gather was that “The Duke shall be allowed to do his business with little supervision as he provides valuable goods for both the villagers, the Lords, and [Mother Miranda’s] cause”. Regardless of what former feelings she held for The Duke, the current Elise was struggling to not rip his throat out.

“But of course! The man has things to sell and items to purchase for his little journey.” The Duke explained, talking to her as if she were a child who needed her hand held.

“Those items led to my sis- Lady Dimistrecu’s death! She is- She was- Argh!” 

Elise buried her fingers into her scalp. Her mind was seemingly whirling and spinning as it struggled to process its surroundings. Her feelings fluctuated from feral-like rage to sheer confusion to inescapable sadness. The Duke noticed and leaned in, his caravan creaking as he tried to look at the distressed woman’s face.

“I see the Cadou is still inflicting its poison into your brain. Are you feeling… What did Lord Heisenberg say… Fragmented? Perhaps I have a salve that can help settle your-”

“Shut up! Just shut up before I-”

The woman couldn’t finish her threat as a burning sensation rose in her throat. She gagged and stumbled backward. Elise managed to angle her head in just a way so the puddle of magma she vomited up didn’t touch herself in any way. Both she and The Duke watched the magma rapidly burned away the snow and dead plant life. Elise returned her gaze to The Duke and noticed the man was grimacing.

“Pardon my crudeness, Miss Brighid, but that was revolting.”

“I don’t take any pleasure either, Duke,” Elise replied, still trying to catch her breath.

“Luckily none of the locals saw that. The rumors about you have grown even nastier as of late. I believe they’ve begun to call you the- forgive my language -the Lady Whore and the Faux-Lord.” The Duke said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“I know what you are trying to do, lardass!” Elise hissed. “Screw those mortal bastards and their pathetic drivel! They’re all gonna die anyway so what’s the point of trying to piss me off!”

The Duke chuckled. “This is funny. The old Miss Brighid would’ve instantly run to the village to invoke some personal justice against those who soiled her good name.”

“Well the old Miss Brighid didn’t have a killer father running amok, now did she?” Elise ground her teeth. “Speaking of, where is he? Where is the Winters man?”

The Duke leaned back and picked at his teeth with the help of his pinky nail. “I believe Mr. Winters was headed towards Lady Beneviento’s residence.”

Elise’s blood ran cold at that name. Her sister Donna Beneviento didn’t have any of her other siblings’ regenerative powers. She sadly had to rely on the body’s natural healing process and the medicine she crafted from her flowers. If Winters managed to land a clean shot on the silent maiden…

She has Angie and her hallucinogens if anything were to go wrong, she’ll be fine! Elise tried to convince herself. She had seen men who were the pinnacle of mental and physical health turn to sobbing, fragile-minded shells of their former selves due to Donna’s plants. Maybe she could get the jump on Winters instead of the other way around. But that wasn’t a bet she was willing to make.

I’ve already lost four family members, I cannot lose more! 

“It hasn’t been a pleasure seeing you, Duke,” Elise glared at the man. Before he could say anything, the Cadou wielder shot off towards the mountains where her sister’s manor lied in wait. The cold nipped at her skin but Elise persisted.

I need to hurry. Screw Karl’s plan, I need to protect my family!

[shabre-legacy]

Beautiful

The first time that Drift tells Kyiari she’s beautiful it’s an accident. 

They’ve been flirting lightly for awhile, mostly quips back and forth across the battlefield. She is a Jedi, voluntarily bound to their code, and his superior officer and neither of them forget this. So they keep things light, just to dispel the tension of combat around them. 

Kyiari has spent her downtime the last few days showing troopers who wanted to know, what the Force looks like, what the world around them, and their brothers and the galaxy looked like to someone who saw it with the Force, what everything felt like to Jedi. she could only show one or two troopers at a time so it was taking a while to get through all the interested men. She didn’t seem to mind though. She’d become close to her men and enjoyed the time doing something gentle that made everyone smile and seemed to enjoy answering their questions too. 

They’d be leaving soon. They’d won their battle here, driven off the separatists. One more night in camp, then at dawn, it was back to the Aurora and on to Coruscant to report, resupply and redeploy. 

Drift hadn’t lined up with the others to have Kyiari show him the wonders of the Force. Something about it seemed like something private. Maybe it was the fact that she removed her gloves for it. He knew how careful she was about her hands. Maybe it was the stillness before they’d start looking around in awe. But it just felt private. He needed to keep his distance, he knew that. He was a clone and their education was spotty in the area of emotions and interpersonal interactions, but the draw he felt. The urge to spend every free moment around her, he was pretty sure it was what the holonet called a crush. He was curious though, immensely so. From what his vode said, the Force could actually be both seen and felt and their descriptions sounded amazing. 

By now she’d moved from where the vode sat around the fires or already sleeping, and moved to an outcropping of large, smooth boulders, just a bit away from the camp. She sat on one of them turned away from everyone, staring at a waterfall nearby, a light breeze slightly lifting her lekku, making them dance just a little, just gently. 

Drift decided to take the opportunity and walked over and sitting next to her. She appeared to be meditating, so he just sat quietly watching the same waterfall, unaware of the nudging and smothered laughter and eye rolls going on behind them.

A few minutes goes by quietly with Kyiari seeming to barely even breathe, she was so still. Eventually, just as Drift was starting to think that this was a stupid idea and he was better off just never knowing what the Force was like, the Commander spoke, her voice different then normal, soft, low and gentle, still seemed like music to him, but something soothing and slow rather then her usual warm, cheerful, tone that seemed on the edge of ice or laughter.  “Thank you for your patience, Major.”

he stumbled a bit over the ‘Of course commander’ before he took a moment to breath and just asked the Jedi. “Actually, if you have a moment, I had... I was wondering if you could show me the Force. The descriptions sound stunning, but it’s a vague concept.” 

Kyiari laughed, it still sounded like bells to him, just like the first time he’d heard her laugh, but softer, lower. “I would have thought you’d be first in line to know once I started showing everyone who wanted to see.” 

They knew each other well now. Though it hadn’t been all that long chronologically, only a couple months, serving together, nearly dying together, fighting together. It seemed to bring people closer quickly. She knew all about his curiosity, his desire to know everything he could, to unravel the secrets of the galaxy and spread them out in front of him like a battleplan for further study. He knew about her constant energy, how sitting still was maddening for her most days and how much the time loss from her flashburn bothered her, he knew how much she loved the Force and the Jedi and wanted to share the joy and contentment she found in both. 

“Well, thought I’d let the boys get their turns in. They don’t get to spend much time just talking with their commanding officer.” He smiled at her and she laughed again, shaking her head softly. 

“Would you like to see now?”

“Yes!” too quickly “I mean, I have a few minutes Commander” 

Lesana glanced at him, that soft smile still on her face, lekku drifting with the breeze. “We are off duty now Major, you can call me Kyiari if you’d like, or even just Lesana.” She tugged gently on the strings of her gloves, loosening them and placing them in a pouch on her belt. 

He quickly stripped off his gloves as well. A heavy duty armored set vs. her light Jedi gloves seemingly there mostly to provide a slight barrier between her hands and the galaxy. He expected her to simply reach over the distance between them with one hand like she had the others. Instead she turned to face him and scooted closer, so as he sat with one leg folded under him to face her, their knees almost brushed and held out both her hands. 

He reached out and took them. “close your eyes.” He heard Kyiari say softly “Feel the air around you breathe with you. Relax.” He sat for a few minutes, at first trying to match her quiet breathing, but it was too quick for him, so he focused on doing what she’d said and relaxing. “I’m going to use the Force to touch your mind now, It won’t hurt but it may feel strange. You can tell me to leave at any moment and I will do so. The Force is even more feelings then it is sight, you will have a sudden spike in the number and intensity of the emotions that you can feel, be prepared for that. Are you ready?”

He almost couldn’t believe she was asking that. He’d been wanting to know everything about the Force since she’d started answering random questions about it days ago. “Yes”

He felt something brush against his mind, he wasn’t sure how he felt that or how he knew how to define the sensation, but that was the best way to describe it. Then slight pressure, odd but as he’d been promised not painful. Then the emotions hit, so many of them, so strong and from everywhere, it was almost too much. He could hear Lesana coaching him, helping him, as he listened to her voice, he felt the overwhelming emotions recede a bit and come under control. 

the two of them just sat there for a few minutes. Then a quiet whispered “Open your eyes”. Kyiari kept hold of his hands as he turned his head and looked around. The descriptions didn’t do it justice, it was amazing. The depths of colors, the glow of life over everything, the swirls of light dancing over the waterfall and twisting among the stars. Even the rough army camp looked better like this. He could finally understand what the Jedi meant when they said that each trooper looked different in the Force. They didn’t just look different, each of his brothers felt different too. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t know what the Jedi called it, but it was there. Slowly after staring at everything he could, he turned his gaze back to Kyiari. 

The planet’s moon had risen in the sky, the soft light dancing across her skin and making her eyes shine like the brightest jewels. That mischievous smile that she always seemed to wear across her face, gentler now then usual, but still there. The swirls of light being blown by the wind danced around her lekku, she drew them in and reflected them brighter. Just like she did him. Pulling him into her orbit and pushing him to become all the better for it. The moonlight, the lights, the breeze, the things he’d been feeling for weeks and burying them so deep he didn’t have to look at them, “You’re beautiful!” It was a breath, barely an exhale, spoken with the truth that appears most honestly under moonlight. It tumbled out of his mouth in a voice filled with awe and devotion. A wish, a hope, the most truthful thing he’d ever said. As soon as he realized what he’d said though, the spell was broken and the moment gone. He quickly pulled back and stood up. “Apologies Commander, that was out of line. It won’t happen again. Thank you for showing me the Force.” He snapped off a quick salute and hurried back to the safety of the fire and the lights and his brothers and their bad humor.

[vegalocity]

The cliffside duel

More of The Princess Bride AU, This part has a bit more of the casting down because it took me FOR FUCKING EVER to decide on who i was okay with being Vizzini

I settled on the Spider Queen

--

“If the Monkey King were at full power right now, he wouldn't be clinging to the cliffside and attempting to climb.” Her boss chuckled, the gentle click-clack of her spider legs against the stone grated on Xiaojiao's ears. “Stay back here, Ms. Long. If the Great Sage has fallen so low he cannot even summon his cloud nor bound to the top of the cliffside without fear of falling he may be weak enough to be killed.”

Xiaojiao held back a shudder as her boss patted her shoulder and approached the bound prince. “And as for you, highness, try to run and it seems like the only one who will come after you is that simian fool clinging to the stone below.”

“Let him come!” The prince growled, “I have unfinished business with that monkey! Remove these bindings and I'll take care of that bastard FOR you lot-” He seemed to try and summon his flames, but the cuffs on either wrist that restrained him flashed gold and the prince yelped in pain as his own fire magic was blown back onto him.

“Now If I did that you'd certainly run away little calf.” her arachnid boss pet at the prince's head. “And it was such a pain to get you in our custody in the first place, I'm half tempted to demand a raise in pay from your 'betrothed' when we're done dumping your body in a river in his enemy's territory.

Xiaojiao rolled her eyes, and she felt Sandy at her side's exasperation in his tired sounding sigh. The things you do when no one else will hire you...

“Ms. Long? I expect you to not keep us waiting for too long.” The Spider Queen finally huffed before making a vague 'follow me' gesture. “Come along boys, we have quite some ground to cover without that monkey on our backs.”

Sandy looked back at her as he slowly headed for the prince. “Good luck.” he muttered quietly, and Xiaojiao smiled at him with all the confidence she could muster.

“Thanks.” It was just the Monkey King after all, just the trickster stone monkey who caused havoc in heaven and turned the whole court upside down. Just the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. No big deal no big deal.

Sandy hefted the immobile prince over his shoulder as he followed behind the Spider Queen, and Xiaojiao was alone with him.

There was some time of quiet, interrupted only when Xiaojiao herself grew bored and took out the Jade Sword to get a little practice in.

But eventually that grew boring as well and she peered over the side of the cliff again.

The Monkey King had barely moved from where he'd narrowly escaped falling into the water below.

“You doing okay, Monkey King?” it would be so disappointing if such an impressive figure were to die by something so simple as falling from the cliffside and drowning...

“I'm fine.”

“I only ask because when you get to the top I have to try and kill you!” And honestly the idea was becoming less and less appealing the further away her supposed boss was getting.

“That does spoil things a bit...” The Monkey King fired back, shaking his covered head, dark furred tail curling around his own leg.

Wait... Didn't the Monkey King have golden fur? Eh whatever, people probably just made that up so he'd sound more impressive in the stories.

“I can throw the rest of the rope down and help you up!” Honestly at this point she'd just rather get on with it.

“I can't exactly trust you wouldn't just drop me the second I put any weight on the rope.”

“I promise I will NOT try to kill you until you reach the top~” She singsonged, the Monkey King looked up and made a face at her.

“Very comforting. Sorry guess you'll just have to wait.” He shifted his position a bit before crawling a magnificent inch higher than he was a moment ago.

It would be HOURS before he was done. By then The Spider Queen would already have the prince in position and she'd make SANDY kill him. And that wouldn't be good at all. Sandy would cry and that was not allowed to happen.

“I can't afford to wait...I can give you my word as a dragon?”

“I beat up... like all the dragon lords in my prime, can't trust that.” Damn...

“Is there ANYTHING I can promise by to make you trust I'm being sincere?” She HAD to catch up with them. Now that that idea was in her head it wasn't getting out, and her protective friend instincts were overriding what little patience Xiaojiao had left.

“Don't think so, no.” The Monkey King answered unhelpfully. Then an idea hit her.

“On the soul of my father, Patriarch Long, you will make it to the top of this cliff alive.”

The Monkey King closed his eyes and sighed, his forehead hitting the rock. “Throw me the rope.” Xiaojiao chirped in delight as she quickly unspooled enough of the rope to lower down while still leaving enough anchored by the rock to keep the Monkey King from falling to his watery grave.

She even gave the rope a few extra pulls as the Monkey King began to ascend, to give him that extra push, and soon enough her future opponent was on even ground beside her.

He huffed and puffed with an exertion she wouldn't have expected of someone with such a fine and long track record of... physical activities involving hacking and slashing and jabbing and crushing and-

The monkey sneezed and a cloud of dust came off of him before he muttered a small 'thank you' and began to take his staff from off of his back-wait didn't he hide it in his ear or something?

“Wait, hold on. You're out of breath and exhausted, that's not a fair fight. Catch your breath THEN we can fight.”

“...Well, thank you again.” The Monkey King sat a few paces away from her on a large boulder and began to take off one of his shoes to clean it of sand and stone, and Xiaojiao was able to take in his appearance a little better.

Unlike the stories the Great Sage Equal to Heaven wasn't wearing armor or warpaint, or carrying around flags with his title emblazoned onto them. He was wearing a simple lithe outfit, made for speed and stealth, had a black headscarf and equally black mask obscuring most of his face.

She could see he only had the one set of ears, and the timeline wouldn't have matched up anyway... still, She wondered-

“Do you happen to know any macaques with an... unusual amount of ears?”

The Monkey King's expression flattened as he looked up at her. “Do you always start your death matches like this?”

“Sorry to pry just...” If it got any information... “My father was killed by a six eared macaque.” She'd been so barren of any leads for years now, she'd been on the verge of despair when the Spider Queen had offered her work, if the Monkey King knew who she was talking about-

“I'm... sorry to hear that. I remember talk of a six eared macaque but I don't remember ever meeting them.” Damn...

“Oh...” Well now the Monkey King was looking at her in pity and that wasn't allowed whatsoever. “It's fine. I promised justice for my father, and I can't leave any stone un-turned.”

“You're a loyal daughter, Miss....?”

“Long Xiaojiao. And you're the Monkey King, yes?”

“My reputation proceeds me.” the Monkey King confirmed with a small shrug. “Tell me about this macaque, when you lose I'll keep an eye out for him.” There was a teasing lit in his voice, it... made him sound younger than such an immortal being should. He sounded close to her age when he spoke like that.

“Well when you lose I'll appreciate being allowed to tell someone about it I suppose.” She teased back. The Monkey King grinned crookedly at her.

“I was just a girl at the time, I had only barely begun to brush with adolescence when the Six Eared Macaque came to our family's door. He seemed so humble, he spoke only with the greatest respect. He told us that he was a former criminal, but his life was spared by a Bodhisattva on the condition that he convert and learn from all manner of creatures. That he'd already studied under the fish and the foxes and he'd like to learn the ways of the dragons next.

“My father had trusted him and he'd taken him on as an apprentice... But he was a liar. Once he'd learned enough from us he'd stolen my father's power over the river we resided in right from under him and slaughtered him to assert his newfound ability. I'd tried to avenge my father right then.” She took out the jade sword. “The sword has been in our family for generations, but when I first wielded it that day I was only barely able to lift the point off the ground. The macaque just laughed at me.” The Monkey King was listening with rapt attention, and though this part was a little embarrassing to recount, she felt like the story would be incomplete without it.

“Gave me this to remember him by and banished me from my own river.” she pulled down the collar of her shirt a bit to reveal a scar on her left shoulder. “By the time I was trained and ready to face the macaque he'd grown bored of my home and had long left, so I plan on finding him. And when I do... Oh do I have everything planned.”

She looked at the Monkey King and this time held his gaze, her chest puffed up and her shoulders squared. “I will say to him: 'Hello, my name is Long Xiaojiao. You killed my father. Prepare to die.'���

The Monkey King looked suitably impressed now. Not a trace of the pity left in what little she could see of his face. “You know my old master would say something about how revenge doesn't help anything and brings naught but misery or something, but I left that useless bag of sutras behind ages ago, so good on you Miss Long. Should I decide to spare your life by the end of this I believe you will get your revenge.”

She smiled back at him. “You seem a decent fellow, I'd hate to kill you.”

“You seem a decent fellow, I'd hate to die.” But then they were out of things to talk about. Xiaojiao lifted her sword up again, and the Monkey King drew his staff.

[tunnelofdusk]

MDZS, WANGXIAN, dark dimension travel:

The birds are quiet when Lan Zhan wakes up to see a man looming over Wei Ying. The war had never stopped for them, and both resentment and spiritual energy surges with no delay between slumber and awakening. The world narrows down to this man that dares to invade their home.

Bichen shines a bright blue in the darkness as Lan Zhan’s fingers twist in a sword seal. Greasy resentment trails after the flashing sword trail.

The stranger’s sword flashes blue in return, and Lan Zhan sees himself in the stranger. “Fuqin,” he says, cutting through the silence. He is wrong, of course.

The familiar stranger slowly shakes his head, sword hand still raised in a parry.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying begins. He stands tall in his rumpled sleep clothes, red marks peeking over the edge of his collar. The stranger looks at Wei Ying in a way Lan Zhan finds too familiar.

“My name,” the stranger says, “is Lan Zhan.”

Oh...so this is how Lan Zhan must have looked in his 13 years of mourning. Grief transforms his features into those of his father. Even Xiongzhang in his seclusion and grief has yet to match Fuqin’s severe features. Grief had hollowed out Lan Huan but grief had sharpened Lan Zhan and his father.

Wei Ying does not want to recognize the grief in this duplicate’s face. Like a bird fluffing up its feathers, he stands in front of Lan Zhan and raises his dizi upwards and forwards, forestalling the man’s attempt to step closer. “You’re not my Lan Zhan,” he says.

The man flinches, and his mouth is a harsh slash across his face. “You,” he condemns, “are not my Wei Ying.”

And it’s true. A dead man in another dead man’s body. Wei Ying’s mouth twitches in both a frown and a smile. It hurts. His body isn’t his and while there are days where looking into a mirror doesn’t disorient him, there are an equal amount of days where he cannot recognize himself in the mirror.

Lan Zhan sidesteps Wei Ying and the man, Lan Wangji, follows suit, eye to eye with each other.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying protests. He peeks over Lan Zhan’s shoulder and stares down Lan Wangji. Sure, he would hesitate at hurting a man who looked like his husband, but Wei Ying knows he cannot trust this duplicate. There is something wrong with him that disrupts the natural flow of resentment in the world. He is a boulder in a river.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says quietly, a wealth of meaning in his words.

Wei Ying is stricken by the enormity of Lan Zhan’s love. All those years wasted on misunderstandings when their souls had always resonated so clearly.

There is a disquieting look on Lan Wangji’s face as he observes this exchange. He does not look jealous; he looks lost, cast adrift in waters he had once found familiar. Wei Ying knows about drowning, the shock of waters deeper than previously thought. He knows about the desperation that makes a drowning man cling onto another and force them to sink as well.

Lan Wangji lets his sword fall down into a resting position. “I mean you,” he says quietly, “no harm.”

Lan Zhan keeps his sword raised. “How did you appear here?”

Wei Ying watches the twitch of Lan Wangji’s fingers, wrapped around the hilt of his sword. He thinks Lan Wangji did not expect to appear here either.

“A talisman malfunction,” Lan Wangji answers.

There is no satisfaction to be found within Lan Zhan at this answer. His own reticence stymies him. “What was the purpose of the talisman?”

If the man before them truly is Lan Zhan and has appeared here via talisman, then it must be time travel or travel between worlds. This Lan Zhan does not have the timeless air of an immortal. Tales of Baoshan Sanren speak of a presence so heavy and palpable that it almost seems tangible. What sort of talisman could bring this pale shadow of Lan Zhan here?

“Time travel,” Lan Wangji answers.

—

Lan Wangji meets Lan Sizhui, and the grief already carved on his face deepens. “A-Yuan,” he says softly. He reaches out with a hand, only to pull back at the last moment. His hand clenches into a fist at his side.

Sweet boy that he is, Lan Sizhui darts a worried glance at Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. He can almost understand the shape of the grief Lan Wangji carries.

When Lan Sizhui leaves to join his fellow disciples, Wei Ying opens his mouth to voice a question that he does not want to ask. But Lan Wangji forestalls any questions by speaking first.

“I found him,” Lan Wangji says. “He was so small. He did not understand what was happening.” The smooth timber of Lan Wangji’s voice roughens.

Yet Wei Ying still cannot help the disquiet that festers within him when he observes Lan Wangji. He thinks that this sort of persistent grief is dangerous. Lan Zhan has never known how to let go and this Lan Wangji clearly does not know how to either.

“He was so small,” Lan Wangji repeats.

Lan Zhan rarely repeats himself; his speaking style never demands repetition, not when he captures attention so easily with his terse eloquence. The divergences between Lan Wangji and Lan Zhan grow.

—

Lan Qiren shakes his head when he meets Lan Wangji. “Silly boy,” he murmurs, and Lan Wangji flinches. “What have you done to yourself?”

Disapproval is how Lan Qiren expresses his affection, Wei Ying thinks wryly. Lan Wangji’s mouth firms into a straight line as he listens to his uncle reprimand him. He must find it too familiar, longing for his own home, surely.

“Shufu,” Lan Wangji says. He says nothing else, and he no longer looks at his uncle. A blank gaze dull the gold of his eyes, and his eyelashes shadow them further.

—

Lan Wangji does not meet Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen is in seclusion.

Lan Wangji is not surprised.

—

The days go by and Lan Wangji becomes Lan Zhan’s shadow. By extension, he becomes Wei Ying’s shadow too. Such a dour man, Wei Ying will think, and he will coax Lan Wangji to walk beside them. (He does not want Lan Wangji at his back.)

—

“It was never time travel,” Lan Wangji whispers. His breath ghosts across the shell of Wei Ying’s ear.

Wei Ying flinches. The hands around his wrists tighten, and he reaches for resentment. He finds nothing, and he stiffens as Lan Wangji lets out a short laugh.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says with an awful tenderness, “why do you always walk such a crooked path?”

Wei Ying had never thought of a Lan Zhan who would dare to walk on the crooked path. He wonders why this Lan Zhan uses resentment when his golden core is stronger than that of his own Lan Zhan. Resentment has corrupted Lan Wangji—the classic example of why demonic cultivation is so heavily warned against. It is not meant to coexist with righteous cultivation, and this instability corrupts.

With a scoff, Wei Ying says, “Then why do you walk the crooked path?” He twists his head to peer at the thin smile on Lan Wangji’s face.

“Demonic cultivation is only demonic cultivation when it uses human lives,” Lan Wangji answers. “I am beyond that. You know that everything in the world has the potential for resentment.”

The world? And if it is not time travel that has landed Lan Wangji here—

“What happened to your world?” Wei Ying says. A shiver works its way down his spine and the chest behind his back presses closer.

“I wanted to understand the world so much that I unraveled it. I wanted to understand how there could be justice in a world you died in.”

“When you used your world’s energy—”

“Wei Ying, my world is no more. Like a loose thread in a tapestry—”

“—you pulled.” What an awful thing it is to understand this Lan Wangji as easily as his own Lan Zhan.

“I pulled,” Lan Wangji agrees easily. “I have no regrets.”

The enormity of this loss is incomprehensible. Wei Ying does not understand how Lan Wangji can so casually speak of the death of an entire world. The Lan Zhan he knows is a righteous man who would rather die before letting innocents die in his place. His Lan Zhan is so, so good, and disgust wells up within Wei Ying as he stares at that thin, twisted smile. This man does not deserve to be a Lan Zhan in any world.

“Your Wei Ying was lucky to die then,” he spits out.

Lan Wangji laughs again, and it is nothing like Lan Zhan’s low, rare laughs. It has none of the warmth that Wei Ying associates with it. It is a cold, soulless sound that hollows Wei Ying inside-out.

“You ruined me that first night you came to the Cloud Recesses.”

“Don’t you dare blame me! You’re a monster!...You’re no Lan Zhan of mine and I’m not your Wei Ying! I could never be!”

“You ruined me,” Lan Wangji repeats softly. “Have I turned into my father?...I think worse…” And his hands let go of Wei Ying’s wrists to grab at Wei Ying’s face instead.

Wei Ying chokes on the tongue in his mouth. It is not a kiss; it is a violation. It is punishment from a man who never learned to grieve properly or proces his emotions in any other way than repression and subsequent force. This Lan Zhan knows nothing of tenderness. He knows only of pain.

—

“What did you do to my Lan Zhan?”

“I am your Lan Zhan.”

“Tell me...please…”

A quiet hum of satisfaction. “He wanted to save you but he could not save himself.”

The hot sting of tears futilely blinked away.

—

Lan Wangji hums a song and Wei Ying wants to vomit. His body wants to love this man but his mind knows better—knows worse. He has never associated cruelty with Lan Zhan, and he hates this man for defiling his love with this crude mockery.

“Isn’t it enough?” Wei Ying asks. The rasp of his own voice surprises him.

He does not recognize himself, and he does not recognize this Lan Wangji.

[exitwound]

favorite three squalloscope lyrics? I always get so excited when other people also listen to her music ❤️

OK OK OK SO i discovered them only a few days ago and gliterally every lyric sticks an electric whisk into my brain i cannot pick just 3 i cannot explain the things squalloscope does to me but w the disclaimer that i haven’t listened to everything yet bc ive been sucking sugar out of the high-calorie tracks of domino, z-e-p-h-y-r, pando, bloodbath for birds, hate cake, heart hearth earth, three minutes for a detuned diorama, mistakeism, and hips & envelopes on repeat instead of listening to anything else out of the way these are the lyrics currently making me go off the walls honkers to bonkers

but oh how i want you to undress for me / and oh how bored i’d be if you did

THIS ONE. THIS ONE MAKES ME FEEL LIKE AN NPC GLITCHING INTO A WALL. MOST LYRIC OF ALL TIME. HHSNVFONFHW

i’m the copy of a copy of a copy of a woman / you’re the copy of a copy of a copy of a guy / but the way we behaved towards each other / makes me think that even this could be a lie

no comment i am going to run outside and scream

i got here wearing a coat made of other people’s fingers / i’ll exit wearing nothing but my own soft shell / maybe i could be a hermit or snail if i wanted to / as long as i look like a gazelle

🪅🦪🧄🧅🫒🌽🧃🧼🪞🕸📂 [eurydike does not exit] .... like.................. yeah ... ... . .. fuck .... this hits. and then i remember my hand in unloveable hand relationship with ballet and girlhood and it knocks me out cold 1 hit ko 360 noscope

those are probably my top three but: extremely honorable mentions under the cut

this reminds me of the way you kicked my love into the sea / the sea shot fishes at our houses and the houses shot at me / and i took all my things and ran, i lived on trains and trams / and i said yes to everything

oh my GOD i need a FUCKING MOMENT. and she said YES TO EVERYTHING

bring me the head of the past, i need to see it / how big is the monster looking over your shoulder / how big is the river in which you are the boulder / i wish my heart would manage to grasp it all

@ ppl who haven’t heard this one .. you gotta hear it in the song. you’ll understand then... transcendent. .. maybe i’m biased bc this song was written specifically to mash-potato my myelin but the lines definitely also stand on their own

i am aging as an act of rebellion / taking up space is my first million

repeating this in my head clutching it as prayer pressing it as promise into the heart inside my heart. i am reheating the cold spaghetti i am aging as an act of rebellion

and i woke up every morning not knowing where i was / and if the white outside was snow or salt or painted on the glass (...) split the darkness with a plastic fork, it will swallow you whole

okay i cannot do z-e-p-h-y-r justice just picking a few lyrics..... it’s one of those songs with emergent properties of lyrics that don’t reveal their true forms until u hear it.. just go listen

there are no monsters left under the bed / we used their bones to build the thing / stuff the mattress with bulletproof vests / and next week just let us sleep in / and we lie here in the summer naked and laughing / and that’s when we’re not haunted by ghosts / fear is a business and we’re self-sufficient / our love is a fresnel lens that spins and spins (...) wearing a three-piece suit like the dude on top of the cake / wearing sequins that move like leaves (...) i guess i grow nails for a number of reasons / i guess i lose faith for about the same 

all of pando is sooooo much. we dont give a shit we just multiply!! i cant speak about it any more or my head will fall off and explode 

THANK U for asking  🍰🧃id love to know what urs are!!!