#i love you princess di

[grahamdollton]

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[dangerclaw]

This dude (Polites) really went through a ten year war and:

1. decided that life isn’t a battlefield

2. deliberately chose peace, then

3. died during a round of deadly whack-a-mole

The gods didn’t like his hope for a world of peace and harmony ig

[percicosoftcore]

silly thing i just thought, imagine Nico absentmindedly blowing a bubblegum and Percy who lurches forwards to bite it.

[crimeronan]

one recurring thing that i love doing way too much to ever stop in this AU is having characters come up with elaborate fantasies that are just the actual canon timeline. i keep doing this for like every narrator it just tickles me so much. truly it does. the dramatic irony is a gift that never stops giving.

camila imagining what it would be like to actually be the mom of a seventeen-year-old luz in human high school. amity scoffing at the idea that she and luz could fall in love in a timeline where luz is a normal human and amity isn't a soldier. luz herself trying to picture being a "normal" human and not being able to conceptualize what it would be like bc she's such a bizarre little freak. right now i'm editing a scene where eda is musing on how impossible it would be for there to ever be a timeline where both she and raine could be luz's parents because it's impossible for her to be a decent mother OR a decent life partner while i'm just sitting here like. sickos.png

[kacievvbbbb]

Watching Dressrosa and seeing Zoro watch Luffy's colosseum battle on the screen I was suddenly hit by the fact that in a Modern AU he'd probably be the most obnoxious kind of soccer fan.

You know the one that probably picks a new favorite team every match and is only a soccer fan when they are actively watching soccer. I can honestly just imagine him screaming at the screen and being all dramatic at the team talking about honor and shit. No actual practical knowledge of soccer though.

I just think he and Mihawk would just be the kind of people that like sport in a Modern AU they are athletes themselves but they also just like competition and adrenaline and so sports. Except Mihawk atleast attempts to possess a basic knowledge of the rules and plays of sports he watches while Zoro will watch a sport he's never heard of in his life, chooses a random dude that's "got guts" and root for them so wholeheartedly you'd think he's supported them all his life.

All this to say that goth family watches the World Cup as part of "family bonding time" and

-Mihawk is rooting for 3 separate countries, the 2 that his data says are statically most probably going to win and his home country cause he has some "patriotic pride". He watches intensely but never actually reacts to anything.

-Zoro is rooting for whichever team is playing against whatever team Mihawk is repping at the moment. He has no stakes in this longterm whatsoever exceot that he gets his fill of trolling Mihawk, sports adrenaline and on the rare occasion his team wins he gets to be a smug asshole to the man who raised him 😌. He screams at the T.V so much you'd think he had money on the line.

-Perona liked the idea of styling cute matching jerseys so much so that she forgot how much she hates watching sport. She is very bored and unhappy and hopes that somehow both of them lose. She judges the outfits (the jerseys) of different countries and their coaches on a scale that only she really understands but all must suffer through.

-Shanks is there because this is the only time Mihawk will hold his hand even though he is squeezing so hard his bones might be ground to dust. (the only indicator that Mihaw is affected at all by what is happening). He's bar hopper he's used to seeing random sports he doesn't understand played on green fields running in the background of his mild buzz to drunken fool binge. He's just glad to be included.

[iristial]

Hotarou and Rinne holding hands 🥺🥹

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

I think Slay the Princess is so popular partially because the *gets stabbed* "I'm in love" reaction is both intentional on the part of the developers and then they completely follow through on it.

[telling-tragedy]

forget about being a donna tartt narrator I think the worst thing to be in a tartt novel is a dog

[rotshop]

I don't know who you have drawn so far, but one happy birthday guy please!!

party noob they could never make me hate you

[ rbs much appreciated ]

[the-witch-of-woods-beyond]

actually kills me every time i start losing my mind over a ship only to find out they have no fans and i can’t binge read incredible fan fictions or metas on them for days on end.

[m3llowm1sh]

guys holy shit i predicted melodie................

[ctl-yuejie]

oh my god!!! this fucking guy...what a character

haunted by his dead wife, haunted by his wife

and now he declares her dead so that he can justify taking care of his sister and mother over confessing to her murder

ahhhhh, his mind

[noxcorvorum]

Ulysses Dies at dawn, or atleast that's the word on the street. Those who saw it go down in the cabin in the middle of woods, they made their statement and faced their fear.

First, to understand how this all goes down, you gotta know a little bit about the cabin we're talking of. See, in this cabin there was an avatar, of the Unknown Face, perhaps, or the Laughing Lie, given the twisting paths and clamoring voices and the many sprawling forms of the being inside, or even of Terminus, given the fate of our doomed Ulysses. (Maybe there were two avatars, after all that went down. Maybe Ulysses themselves was a magnet for the inevitable end.)

Our erstwhile party of adventurers, Smitten, Cheated, Stubborn, Cold, and dragging Doomed behind them, enters the forest, walks the path, opens the door to the house. Stubborn takes the knife, or maybe Cheated does, or perhaps it is left to rust on the table. They all have their agendas for what lies inside the little building, all with their own ideas of what they can rip from its walls.

Cold picks the lock to the basement, finding a great puzzle, a font of knowledge, a map to the way to a treasure. Black tape seethes in the corners of the room. His focus is too great, his eyesight too weak to see the figure, chained, moving up behind him, striking his skull with a massive iron manacle, and the shadows click decisively.

Stubborn opens the door, and the leonine figure curled around the wooden chest snarls.

Black tape writhes.

Stubborn leaps forward, waving the knife he took, that he didn't take, grasping the great beast round the neck, sliding the knife between its ribs. It slumps to the floor, but so does he, clawed to ribbons by the beast. Cheated steps forward, around the blood, and opens the chest to find it empty, and a single satisfied click follows her from the room.

Smitten hears an echo in the walls, sweet and pleading, almost like the woman he loved. He claws at the stones, at the mortar, trying to find her, to save her, to lead her from the dark and into the light. The stones he drops behind him click on the cobble, black veins eager in the cracks. He reaches dirt, mud, red and sticky with the blood from his raw fingers, and the voice only grows stronger. He digs, calling, weeping for his true love, and by the time he looks up and back towards the cabin, the earth is treacherous, a yawning maw. The voice is laughing now, a heaving, wheezing, coughing laugh full of dirt that he wonders how he could have ever mistaken for the woman he loved, and as he reaches for the light, the jaws close upon him, the maw snaps shut, and his voice dies in his throat with the last of the stones falling to the ground, with the clicking of pebbles and tape.

Cheated drags Doomed further on, shoving open a door at random. She finds a curious hallway, and peers further in, discovering it looks curiously like the tunnels of the mangled city they came from. Always one for gathering information, she steps inside, taking doomed with her. She sees a massive, vaulted room, something that she knows should be impossible underground, and perhaps if Cold was still alive he could have told her how it worked, and she stays astonished, beginning to search the room for anything valuable. Doomed starts to sneak back towards the door, and starts running when they hear Cheated's scream behind them.

Cheated is frozen in fear as a great shape unfolds from the shadows. Red eyes blink open, and horns sprout from the massive head rising five, ten, fifteen feet off the ground. This is its home, and she has just woken it from its nap. The creature bellows, and Doomed runs, and Cheated tries to. The massive hand comes down from above, and her ribs drive into her heart as it squeezes her chest.

The dark tape clicks appreciatively.

And what of our Doomed Ulysses? They are running from the beast, of course. This is not how they will die. They do not hear thundering footsteps coming down the labyrinth at them, but they slam and bar the door all the same.

They continue walking, letting their heart guide them home. It has been so long, you see. So long since they have seen their wife, in this home of rock, taken over by trickery and falsities and paths.

The stone is where it has always been, in the end. Though, when they push it, the door that opens worsens the tentative deal the rock has had with itself ever since Smitten started digging. It falls, and they are struck, staggering into the room, the stone sealing itself behind them. The bones of their wife, their dear Penelope, lay at the far end of the room, her wrist locked to the wall by the heavy chain, flesh rotting off her skeleton. Ulysses smiles, tired, and places their own wrist inside the manacle, lying beside their wife, closing their eyes, content in the knowledge that the dawn brings their peace, and that their corpses will never be disturbed again.

[not-a-bit-good]

"[...] there's a character in this game who's a reverse weeb, heavily subscribes to the various mantras of serial killers, and to the point that it's actually one of the turning point in one of the class trials?"*slowly zooms in on Sonia Nevermind*

aka tell me you didn't play sdr2 without telling me you didn't play sdr2.

[killuaisaprincess]

4 U

“Killua, no, no, I’m not mad. Of course, you can buy yourself stuff. That’s why I’m paying you.”

Gon gently lifts Killua’s chin.

Killua’s eyes are filled with tears, and he has a smudge of jelly near his lips.

Gon smiles softly.

Cute.