#i think it should exist somewhere on the planet

[delightfuldevin]

Going through species on the Mariowiki again and coming across Music Bashes, those bouncy music note guys from Music Park in Mario Kart.

The main reason I consider the Mario Kart games (and other sports/Party games) as canon is because of the many locations they have and how great they are for expanding the world. …But where is Music Park, I wonder? Currently, I am of the idea that Music Park is a wildlife reserve curated specifically for protecting the Music Bashes which are endemic there. I am hoping to learn about more locations that could potentially help narrow down where exactly the park is. Currently in my lil brain, it’s just somewhere in the Mushroom Kingdom.

[antiqua-lugar]

as a trekkie they said "frontier" so much that I am now plotting a whole AU in my head. I feel Wyll would be a great captain (and also literally no one else in the group could do it)

[destinyandcoins]

have we talked yet about the possibility that UFOs and every suspected bit of extraterrestrial evidence could actually be originating from the advanced civilizations living in the trenches of the ocean just as bemused and wondering as we are about the world beyond them and reaching out in exploration? because given the fuckoff incomprehensible expanse of ocean floor we've yet to actually study or even really guess at what specifically is down there, I think there's a real possibility there's a complex society of, idk, particularly clever sea slugs and other amalgamations of physical matter like hydrogen and thulium and other shit we've never considered as a viable fundamental building block of life. and the fucking whales are the only living creature with the kind of planet spanning range and intelligence to know there's two complex evolutions of sentient life existing on opposite spheres of reality from each other who would really benefit from learning about the other, but we're both too fucking stupid to understand how whales communicate

[faaun]

we feel too big for our own good

[sigmaleph]

I've noticed something I find somewhat concerning and it's that for a lot of people, 'pluto is a planet' has fallen into the stock list of examples for what one might call 'science denialism', along with things like antivaxx, denying the existence of feathered (non-avian) dinosaurs, and flat earthers

there's a sentiment that goes like 'well, sure, you learned in school that the solar system has nine planets, but Science Marches On and we now know it has eight' and while certainly people should not take what they learned in school to be immutable law they should also like. have a concept of the rather significant difference between 'we've learned something new about the world' and 'we've decided to slice up the world in categories along different lines'

slicing up the world into categories is one of the basic operations of human thought and if you do not understand it well enough that you think 'people used to think the earth flat -> now we know better' and 'astronomers used to call pluto a planet -> now they don't' are analogous processes then you fucked up somewhere.

and if you don't think they are analogous, if you understand the difference i am pointing out and think it does not matter to the quest of listing stock examples of people disagreeing with things scientists say, well. you fucked up in a different place, probably.

[heliads]

Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand. 

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[thewertsearch]

TT: It reminds me of when Dave and I were trapped in the doomed timeline, and he left to change the past. TT: The timeline ceased to exist, along with my dream self, who in a way became merged with my dream self of this timeline. I kept some of her memories. TT: Is the situation similar? Similar, but more severe. Since this timeline will undergo such a violent upheaval, such a merger of memory cannot happen.

Unlike Future Rose, we're not merely fleeing a doomed timeline - we're resetting the timeline, the real deal.

If you squint, it kind of looks like the Davesprite situation, but the rules are completely different. This isn't a rewind, it's a reboot, complete with entirely new incarnations of John, Rose, Dave and Jade.

It doesn't sound like the original Players are supposed to survive the process - but if you pay attention to Scratch's phrasing, he doesn't actually confirm that it's impossible. He asserts that this type of memory preservation is impossible, but that doesn't mean there's no way for the kids to reach the reboot. I strongly believe that our endgame here will feature both iterations of the kids, allowing us to develop their personalities from two completely different angles.

I'd love to speculate about what Scratched!John and his team will be like, but I don't want another theory that's dead on-arrival. Let's wait and see if Rose learns anything more about the reboot first.

TT: So if the Scratch isn't specifically meant to banish Jack from the session, TT: And our quest to destroy the sun is meant to kill him, TT: Why is the reset necessary at all, especially if it means oblivion for us? Because you cannot achieve the ultimate reward in this session. […] Don't you want to fulfill your purpose?

Whether they should actually want to make a universe isn’t exactly a trivial question. Rose is a little too emotionally compromised to consider it, but I’m not.

For starters, what if their universe is an awful place? Alternia is proof that Sburb's universes can be complete dystopias. We have no idea if Alternia's creators intended for the Empire to exist, but the fact that it's even possible should make any Sburb Player very, very nervous about releasing a new Genesis Frog into the cosmos, lest it become another host for an intergalactic empire.

I suppose the question is kind of moot. The kids still need somewhere to live after the session, and I doubt their own universe is still an option. Their planet certainly isn’t.

[…] if you are inventive, you may find a way to survive the reset and participate in the renewed session. It's up to you.

...hmm.

Do you think the effects of the Scratch extend into the Furthest Ring? Surely not, right? Surely they're localized to the session in which the Scratch was triggered, lest a Scratch reset the entire multiverse.

Could it really be that easy? I guess it would normally be dangerous to enter the domain of the Gods unprotected, but Feferi's alliance should keep them safe. Plus, Rose has an accord with them herself. This feels workable to me - provided the Gods are willing to let our heroes influence the reboot.

[bisexualseraphim]

Really not sure why I’ve got so many 19 year olds in my notes going “LMAO KAMALA HARRIS IS NOT A LEFTIST WHAT PLANET DO YOU LIVE ON”

“Leftist” just means “someone with left-wing politics.” Which Kamala Harris overall has. It does not mean “person who prays nightly to a portrait of Stalin and has a prep bunker for overthrowing the government.”

Like I’m sorry to break it to you all but most people in the real world are not as far on the left as basically everyone on this website. I don’t know if being on here has skewed your views of the political spectrum or what but someone can very much be a leftist without openly advocating for all cops to be hung drawn and quartered in the streets.

So no, Kamala Harris is not a centrist just because she has some opinions which you or I may personally find pretty sour. And also saying “she’s not a leftist she’s a liberal” is redundant because in the modern United States liberalism is generally accepted as a left-wing ideology. There’s a reason people on the right love using “liberal” as an insult.*

(And because so many of you apparently love to put words in my mouth and invent things to get mad at, no, I’m not fucking saying I disagree with far left politics and agree with everything Kamala Harris believes. Have a good night)

*Okay, the people who can’t read have found another way to “um actually” me and seem to think I believe liberals are on the left just because those on the right use it as an insult. Um. No.

Essentially, the world “liberal” in the United States often means something different depending on who is using it. Conservatives think liberals are left-wing. Liberals themselves tend to think they’re left-wing. And those further on the left think liberals aren’t left-wing enough and believe they’re centre-right. It also depends on which type of liberalism is being referred to: there is classical liberalism, traditional liberalism, modern liberalism, social liberalism, neoliberalism, economic liberalism, conservative liberalism, etc. Modern and social liberals are, by definition, left-wing, whereas the others tend to fall closer to the centre or somewhere on the right. The one thing uniting all forms of liberalism is the belief in equality.

However, when discussing liberalism as a whole from a definitive standpoint, the form that is widely accepted to be the one that most are referring to when they talk about liberals in the United States today is modern liberalism, which focuses on equality, personal autonomy and social justice. Modern liberals advocate for access to education, welfare and healthcare, as well as voting rights, reproductive rights and rights for LGBTQ people. In terms of economics, beliefs can differ but since the Obama administration, modern liberals generally believe in higher taxes for the wealthy. Additionally, contrary to the beliefs of those further on the left, modern liberals see state and government as essentials to maintain both equality and order, and see it as the state’s obligation to make sure everyone in society has equal opportunities. Classical liberals, however, believe that although the state is necessary and should exist, it should still have minimal involvement and intervention in the individual’s private actions and beliefs of no harm is being done. This belief that some form of state should exist what makes a lot of leftists detest liberals, since those further on the left commonly reject state and government entirely as opposed to the idea of a state with regulation.

If you apply what I have just listed to Kamala Harris, then yes, she is indeed a liberal, and she is also left-wing. She may not be as far left as many would prefer, and may even hold some beliefs many here might associate more with the centre or the right, but overall she is still both liberal and left-wing regardless. Incidentally, she is recently being described in the media as “the most liberal US senator” (whether that’s true is a separate conversation), and this is in the context of her being the most left-wing.

You can argue whether she’s left-wing “enough”, but the reality is she is more left-wing than the vast majority of major US politicians in history, especially when taking into consideration that the Overton window has shifted to mean that basically anything that doesn’t abide by the GOP is seen as liberal/left by many. Some Republicans are now advocating for Kamala Harris, and that doesn’t suddenly mean it’s because she’s become a fascist; they have simply decided that Donald Trump is just way too far right for them, and they are willing to put differences aside and advocate for someone who promises to try to undo at least some of the damage he has done. (Some people on here could learn from that, ironically.)

Anyway TLDR Kamala Harris is a liberal and that isn’t a bad thing when you consider the fact she follows the most left-wing form of liberalism and the normalisation of fascist ideals in the US means that a liberal government remains ideal for social progression. Also yes some things she said at the DNC and in the CNN interview gave me the ick but she’s still worlds above Donald Trump and you still need to vote for her to keep that genocidal maniac white supremacist far away from the White House. I’m going back to bed now

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Blissfull relief ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Sampo wakes you up from the Golden Hour in a pretty interesting way.

Pairing : Sampo x fem! Reader

Word count : 864 Words

Genre : Smut (Minors DNI)

Warnings ➵ Slight Peanacony Spoilers

Content ➵ Somnophilia (Consented),

Cunnilingus

a/n : Short one to get back into writing, also everything in this is written with consent in mind, reader gave Sampo the consent to be woken up like that. Also idk how lore accurate this is with the pool, but eh let's go with the flow!

The Golden Hour was buzzing with people like always, people from many different planets and so many different backgrounds. Yourself strolling through the bustling streets to the Clockie statue right now. Sampo had told you to wait up for him there yesterday, wondering what he wanted to talk about.

Watching the storefronts, everything looked expensive and just perfect for this dream world. It was crazy to imagine the Golden Hour even exists, that the Dreamscape overall exists.

Arriving at the statue, you take a good look around, the blue-haired man is nowhere to be seen, he probably would take a while longer. The golden statue of Clockier was reflecting the lights of the city, making it look as if it was sparkling. Further behind it was the poster of Robin, many people walking the streets humming or singing her songs. Stepping over to one of the many benches, taking a seat as you fold your leg over the other, waiting patiently for a certain someone to meet you. Some time goes by, looking at your phone for a second, he is already 20 minutes late, Sampo usually comes a bit later but not this much and especially not to a meeting with you.

Sighing as you put your phone back into your pocket, rest your elbow on your knee and your face on your hand. People were walking by, not one giving you a glance. Everyone here was in their own little world. Somewhere in the background, you could also hear some of those walking billboards pestering the people walking past them.

A while went by when you suddenly started to feel a little uncomfortable. It confused you. You couldn't really describe this feeling, but it felt tight? As if your chest is getting tight. Your chest tingling. Suddenly a jolt makes you bend over, chest pressed to your knees now, your right hand over your mouth. Eyes blown wide, as you feel heat building up in your core slowly. What was happening? Something like this never happened to you here.. Was your body getting sick? We're you about to wake up?

Sampo still wasn't here which worried you slowly, it must have been an hour by now. The heat in your body slowly but surely rises and gets stronger and hotter with every passing second. By now people gave you glances, wondering what was wrong with you, probably thinking you drank too much SoulGlad and were about to empty it again. But this was far from what was happening to you. The urge to slip your hand down to your core and silence the burning desire was getting hard to control. But you couldn't, not here, yet you knew if you were to stand up in this condition it wouldn't work out for you.

Maybe you should just wake up? Finish this awake and in the hotel? But then again Sampo would probably be here soon.. Another flash of burning hot desire was sent through your body, more intense than any before. Your eyes shoot open, as your mouth opens to let out a pathetic moan, hands thrashing around to grab anything around you, which ends up being a head of blue hair.

"Finally awake.. Took you almost half an hour, amazing how long you did." Above you was Sampo, looking down, the lower half of your body was exposed while still in the pool. Just not the conversation you and he had last week hits you. Telling him how hot you think it would be for him to wake you up by eating you out, giving him your consent to surprise you if he was to do it. Yet you didn't think he would convert that idea so soon.

"Cat got your tongue? Maybe I should just continue so all you can do is moan while you come ondone on my tongue." With that Sampo lowers his body back down, his hot tongue running a stripe up your core, before licking around the sensitive nub. This was bliss. Your right hand was softly tangled in his locks, while the other held onto the edge of the pool, eyes closed while your head was thrown back. His hand was slowly moving under your shirt, pushing it up a little bit while doing so, before finally reaching the sensitive nipples and softly twisting them between his thumb and pointer finger.

With all this build-up of pleasure and the pleasure Sampo was still giving you, you were bound to not last longer and he knew that, from the way you were moving around, his free arm holding you in place by your thigh. With a suck to your clit, you finally come undone on his tongue, making him lap up any last bit of your release, before moving his body over you.

"Now, did that fulfill that fantasy of yours darling?" His green eyes were staring down at you, with a handsome smirk on his face. "Better than how I imagined." Pulling him down by his shoulders now, this was bound to be a long night ahead.

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part two?

-

In a restroom near the infirmary, Shen Qingqiu takes a long look at himself, at his life, at his situation.

Though he's not Shen Qingqiu anymore, is he? He's someone else now. Someone super tall, super buff, super dangerous, from what he remembers - someone, who like all the great superstars, only has one name.

Sephiroth.

It scarcely makes sense. Actually, it doesn't make any sense! And neither does his mirror reflection! Nor the utterly ridiculous coat he's supposed to be wearing! Even Binghe didn't have his chest this badly exposed! There's so much leather! Leather trousers and boots and coat and no shirt, at all, just his chest all out for the whole world to see!

Shen Qingqiu's adopted xianxia sensibilities are swooning in shock at the indecency. Indecency, he says! He's used to wearing the minimum of six layers, none of them skin tight, and in the meanwhile Sephiroth barely fits into three! Technically two and a half! 

Sephiroth is - he looks like -

He actually looks a lot like Shen Qingqiu? Mostly around the face. Same kinda narrow features, sharp eyes, straight nose… the colouring and the, ahem, proportions are a bit off - Sephiroth is huge, maybe even taller than Binghe! Muscles on muscles, seriously! But, give him a hair dye and some robes, and, well. He might pass for Shen Qingqiu's taller, buffer brother!

Which is kinda, ahem. Shen Yuan sort of also had that resemblance, just in the other direction. Smaller and softer. It probably means something, but he's too busy trying to get his stupid indecent leather coat to close at the front to care.

The coat does not close. It's literally too small. Who would've thought, the big bad badass boss of Final Fantasy VII had his tits out, because his clothes were just too small! What, did he out grow them?

Get a new coat!

Giving up on the clothes, Shen Qingqiu - or should he think of himself as Sephiroth now? - runs his only slightly shaking hands over and down his hair. At least that's sort of familiar. Sephiroth's hair is a bit longer than Shen Qingqiu's, but at least he's used to handling long hair like it. The colour is new, and he can tell it hasn't been oiled like his used to be in PIDW, but instead it has that nostalgic quality of being conditioned. And that's, honestly, something to look forward to! Shampoo and conditioner and, oh, gods, showers! Not only that, but there's electricity, and there are electrical appliances - so, following that logic, Sephiroth might even have a hairdryer!

If only it didn't come with the burden of becoming yet another doomed-to-die villain. At least it's not a scum villain this time - no, just the crazy one with mommy issues who tries to destroy the planet! Fun!

Curiously gathering his hair into a loose version of Shen Qingqiu's usual updo, he turns his face this way and that. Damn, but Sephiroth is pretty. Glowing green eyes and hair like spun silver, and body of Adonis. Yet another beautiful man with a terrible past and worse future. 

Maybe Shen Yuan's soul is cursed in some way. 

Dropping the hair and letting it cascade back down over the pauldrons capping his already ridiculously broad shoulders, he leans over the restroom sink and tries to remember what even happened in FFVII.

It's been well over two decades since he played it! It or Crisis Core - or whatever it was, the PSP sequel-prequel thing with Zack? Sephiroth had made a bunch of cameos in other games too, and then there was the movie - so who knows which version he's in! Which timeline, which moment in which timeline? Maybe he's in Kingdom Hearts! He could be! For all he knows, he might be in some official novel version, and he'd never read any of those, if they even exist!

Safe to say it's before the main game, though, what with him being alive and, judging by things… in Shinra. Figure they probably wouldn't be doing medical stuff for him if he'd already stabbed the president to death. And that happened years after he died, so, uh… it's probably somewhere in the Crisis Core era. Or any number of the mobile games that took place in between, though he'd never really looked into those. So. Uh…

After having his life revolve around PIDW and cultivation and Luo Binghe, it's weird, trying to remember an ancient PS1 game. Though he'd played it emulated on the computer. Thankfully, he's not in that version, graphics-wise, that would've been painful. And speaking of pain…

If nothing else, he's well out of Luo Binghe's reach now, far better than he would've been in just the Sun and Moon Dew Flower body. He paid back his debts best he could when he self-destructed, and now he's off to a whole different world, genre, even the media is different! No being torn limb from limb here! Just a lot of stab wounds. And, well, maybe some medical torture. And, uh, several short-term resurrections followed by more stabbing to death… while slowly losing his mind… and growing extra limbs… uh.

Still, definitely an upgrade from years upon years as a tortured human stick before being killed by his favourite character! And he doesn't even have a System here! No OOC lock! No B-points or System punishments!

He lights incense in his heart for Airplane-bro, all the while nodding to himself in congratulations for this positive turn of events. Airplane would've felt similarly in his boots, surely. His ridiculous, knee-high, edgelord boots. 

Feeling a little better, he rummages through Sephiroth's pockets and comes away with a treasure trove of props. Keys, key cards, glowing marbles of Magic, which he knows are Materia, but which to his lingering Shen Qingqiu sensibilities look a lot like first grade spirit stones… and best of all…

He brings it out slowly and holds it up reverently. It's the most special, most magical thing he's seen in years! It's so beautiful, he could weep!

Sephiroth, it so happens, has a smartphone.

-

*muffled giggling*

[suzukiblu]

‘The middle of starting over’ by Sabrina carpenter kind of reminds me of Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this

“Do you understand what I mean by that?” Kara asks, suspecting she should dread the answer but knowing she needs to be clear here. “That you belong to our house?”

“Our genetic material is Kal-El’s. Not our own,” Match replies, neutral and by rote. Thirteen’s mouth goes even tighter. 

“We’re not stupid,” he snaps at her, his fists clenching by his sides. 

Kara considers committing a war crime against a backwater planet. Just one war crime. 

“The insult of our continued existence will be tolerated as long as we prove useful to the House of El,” Match says, just as toneless and just as practiced as before. Like it’s something he’s said a thousand times, when he hasn’t even been alive long enough to say a thousand things. Something he just knows to be a foundational fact of life. 

. . . maybe two war crimes, Kara thinks, carefully packing up her seething fury before she can start shouting at the two people in this situation who deserve it the least. There’s two of Thirteen and Match, so that’s fair, isn’t it? Justifiable? 

“No,” she says very, very evenly. “It means you’re part of our family.” 

Thirteen flinches, and looks very briefly hurt before his jaw clenches. Then he just looks angry. Match’s expression is the most perfectly blank it’s been so far and doesn’t change at all. 

They’re very different, for how alike they look. She shouldn’t be surprised by that, but it’s . . . disorienting, a little. 

Mostly because they’re both so different from Kal, she thinks. Neither of them is a thing like him at all. Even at their “age”, he was nothing like either of them. She can’t even imagine how hard a time he must be having understanding them, when they’re both so wildly different from him in such different ways. 

But at Thirteen and Match’s “age”–at both of their ages, both the literal and physiological ones–Kal was an adored only child with a bright future and brilliant prospects and all of Uncle Jor and Aunt Lara’s morals and love instilled in him, not a pair of lab-built “weapons” who must’ve heard their existence called an “insult” somewhere. Who must’ve been told they were stupid time and time again; must’ve been told they weren’t worth anything more than being carriers of the DNA that’d been stolen to make them time and again. Must’ve been told they were possessions and things and at best slaves to–

Kara exhales, very slowly, and pulls the rice out of her pantry. 

“I’m making milk rice,” she informs them shortly. Milk rice sounds like something Earthling children’s palates should appreciate. Mostly children eat it here too, so it makes sense. “What kind do you want?” 

“Milk . . . what?” Thirteen wrinkles his nose in confusion. Has Kal even given these kids dessert before, Kara thinks, trying not to lose her mind. Was there any real information about food or fashion or culture in that “gesture of goodwill” information packet that he presented the Earthling governments with? Because judging by how they’re dressed and the dialects they’re using and the fact that they don’t even know milk rice . . . 

“Milk rice,” she repeats. “It’s a dessert. Milk and rice are involved. Usually it’s made with either bly fruit or katso sauce. Or spygin, but that’s mostly an Argo City thing.” 

Thirteen and Match both stare blankly at her for a moment before their eyes slide to each other instead. Thirteen’s jaw visibly tightens. Match’s eyes just barely narrow. 

“We don’t know what that is,” Thirteen says, glancing back to her warily. “The . . . ‘buh-lye fruit’ and ‘kasso sauce’. Or . . . ‘spy-geen’?” 

Right, Kara thinks, and doesn’t let herself sigh again. They’re going to get the wrong idea if she keeps doing that. 

“Bly fruit is sweet and katso sauce is savory,” she says, carefully enunciating the words without making it completely obvious that she’s correcting Thirteen’s pronunciation. “Spygin’s a spice. Kind of . . . sharp and smoky, I guess, but a little sweet too. It’s hard to describe. Goes good with milk-based things.” 

“. . . you’re asking us what flavor we want?” Match asks incredulously, like the idea’s somehow just occurred to him. 

Maybe three war crimes, Kara thinks. Lantern-level war crimes with a side of unfathomable solar superpowers. No one could blame her for just three, at this point.

[dontbelasagnax]

MISSION SUCCESS MUHAHAH I'd take any of the prompts from you really, so how about 21? Wildcard! Dealers choice! My only request is that it's in-universe 😚

(if you can't decide then maybe bloody kiss? I did once say that you writing angst would be the ultimate win for me)

Alright!! I've finally finished this first prompt!! Both of you, @lightasthesun and anon, wanted bloody kiss so here we are. Ann, since you wanted angst, I believe I am delivering that. However. You must know I'm not an angst person so I cried three times while writing this despite knowing it has a happy ending. You will pay somehow.

Pairing: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,851

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, First Kiss, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

All things considered, Cody probably should have seen it coming.

[ OR: Cody gets shot off a cliff. This is obviously quite dire. If he's got one chance left to kiss Obi-Wan, he'll take it. ]

(fic under the cut if you wish to read here on tumblr)

All things considered, Cody probably should've seen it coming.

He didn't.

There was a moment, just one, where he looked over his shoulder at his General and their troops. It was oddly peaceful, trudging forward together. He had a passing thought that moments like that were rare.

He was on a cliff. And then he wasn't.

Somewhere amidst the blast, the rush of blood in his ears, the icy lurch of his stomach, and a panicked thought that he really should've worn his jetpack, he heard a shout.

It might have been his own voice. He couldn't be sure.

The fall was rough. His body seemed to find every jutting rock off the side of the cliff to bounce off of. He says bounce. The gravity on this planet is stronger than most. It was more of a solid collision straight down with the weight of his body rolling him off every surface he met until he fell straight through air to what he thinks is the ground.

He blinks rapidly, spots of black dancing across his vision. Breaths come out shallow and laboured and- is it silent? Where's the sound? Is it- there's a high pitched ringing and-

"-ody! Cody!"

The spotty sky is cut by blurs of Obi-Wan. There are lines down- oh. His visor must be shattered. Nevertheless, he doesn't like the expression on his general's face.

"Cody," it's husked out, too harried and somehow gentle at once.

"Sir," Cody tries to say. It comes out raspy and gurgled. His mouth tastes of iron. This isn't good. "Did you-" a cough wracks his body and it's perhaps the most painful moment of his existence, "jump?"

"You know the answer to that."

Against his better judgment, Cody feels compelled to sit up at that. He can't quite pinpoint which part of his body protests most. It all turns into one searing blaze of pain. His vision blurs.

He heaves a great stuttered breath which seems to hurt almost as much.

He knows it's bad.

"The men need you," he tries.

"At the moment you need me more."

"Sir."

"Cody, please."

Cody closes his eyes. Breathes as shallowly as he can. A tear trails down his cheek. He swallows dryly. "Can't move."

"Oh, Cody."

"Can you- helmet?"

There's the hiss of his bucket coming unlatched and then it's tugged free.

With the increased range of vision, he glances down at whatever he can make out of himself. It's not pretty. Plastoid is somehow painted red and his left arm seems to be twisted at an unnatural angle.

Yeah. He's not making it out of this alive.

He drinks in the sight Obi-Wan makes above him, hair flopped over his forehead, a smear of ash across his cheek. He's beautiful.

The warmest, kindest hand cradles Cody's cheek. "I'll get you a med-evac-"

"They cut off," Cody fights a wheeze, "communications, remember?" A wet cough erupts violently- shaking him from the inside out. Time ceases through the blinding pain. When his lungs quiet there's wetness falling down his face. Blood and tears. "You've gotta go, sir."

"No, Cody. No."

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan goes stockstill, staring with wide, wet eyes. Too soft. Too full of urgency and pain and yearning. He's always trying to get Cody to refer to him by his first name.

There's always a first time for everything. And a last.

"C'mere."

"Cody," Obi-Wan says even as he leans in closer and rubs a thumb across Cody's cheek. Their foreheads meet. He can't decide if Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin is comforting or exhilarating.

With all the strength he can muster, Cody tilts up his chin and closes the remaining distance between them.

A kiss.

Warm press of lips to lips. Just the hint of facial hair brushing against his skin. He can't imagine it gets better than this, even with lips as cracked as they are and wet with blood instead of a balm or saliva. It's not as if he knows better. It's his first kiss after all.

Another first and last.

It's only fitting for it to be with Obi-Wan. The person he's very privately begun to think of as the love of his life.

In another life, when he opened his eyes after their first kiss, the cause of his blurred vision would be Obi-Wan's fault alone. "Always wanted to do that," Cody croaks.

It's true. He's wanted a lot of things. A lot of simple, impossible things that will never be. But. He's dying here and now. He knows how to make the best out of a bad situation.

Obi-Wan’s expression is nothing short of cracked through and through with devastation. "I won't leave you here."

He doesn't think he's ever heard his general’s voice clogged with tears before.

"You will.”

And because he doesn't have to pretend anymore that he doesn't want to touch his general--that he doesn't want to feel his skin and share his breath and know him in the most intimate of ways--Cody reaches for Obi-Wan's hand.

In an instant, his stomach churns as his vision swims, he realizes his mistake. That was his mangled arm he tried to move. The tide of the pain is too strong to fight. Obi-Wan blurs to nothing but a smear, words turn to garbled noises and-

The world goes black.

[Beep]

[Beep]

[Beep]

Cody comes to with the groggy need to open his eyes. It’s a struggle. Seemingly with the weight of an AT-AT upon his eyelids, he blinks his eyes open to searing bright white. Immediately his eyes shut. Not to be deterred, he tries again, blinking steadily until he can see.

Sterile white ceiling. Fluorescent lamps. A flimsy curtain. Annoying beeping.

He's in a med bay.

Tubes and wires. Barely patterned sheet. A hand holding his own-

A chunk of unmistakable ginger bangs flopping onto an eyebrow. Tired eyes looking at Cody so fondly, creases of a smile drawing from the edges of his eyes down his cheeks.

“They said you'd awaken soon,” says Obi-Wan. A thumb strokes Cody's wrist.

"'m I dead?" Cody croaks. His throat is drier than the heated days on Geonosis. He frowns. Obi-Wan is here. That isn’t right. "Are we both dead?"

"I should certainly hope not.”

So. Not dead.

Well.

That's unexpected.

“Wha-” Cody's throat catches on a cough and he splutters roughly.

“Here, here, dear.” Obi-Wan’s there with a cup of water, directing a straw past his chapped lips.

He sips the water down gratefully, satisfied as it soothes the parched gravel of his throat. He tilts his head away when he's done and Obi-Wan puts the cup down.

“What happened?” Cody tries again.

“How about I tell you later? After Egg has checked you-”

No. That won't do.

“Sir,” he interrupts, unyielding, “Sitrep.”

Obi-Wan must be tired because he doesn't even try to do their usual mutually stubborn staring match; he just sighs. “Ghost company managed to infiltrate the Separatist base and contact the admiral to request reinforcements and med-evac.”

Cody narrows his eyes. There is a glaring gap of information. “Where were you?”

“With you,” he says plainly.

Cody opens his mouth to say something but Obi-Wan effortlessly silences him by placing his hand over Cody's once more.

“I wouldn't leave any of my men behind to die, but, you- Cody.” There is a deep ocean of emotion pooled in Obi-Wan's eyes and spoken in the two syllables of Cody's name. “I couldn't leave you. Not like that.” Obi-Wan sighs as if expelling the weight from his shoulders. "And,” the corner of his mustache twitches upwards, “personally, I think I deserve a better kiss.”

“You- what?” Cody's brain flickers mid thought.

“The kiss. I deserve a better one, “ he says with near haughty conviction. “It was rude, quite frankly, to kiss me and nearly die. Gave me quite the fright.”

Cody swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Cody's eyes cannot be dragged away from Obi-Wan's lips. As Obi-Wan sits on the edge of the bed, all Cody can see is the hint of teeth catching on Obi-Wan's pink bottom lip.

He's closer now. Closer still as he gently pitches himself over Cody.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Kiss me,” Obi-Wan breathes.

It's not an order. Not really. Cody is helpless but to obey.

He makes a wounded noise into the meeting of their lips.

Obi-Wan is so soft and warm- his lips, his beard, the nudge of his nose. His hand slowly trails up Cody's good arm, bare as Cody seems to only be wearing a med gown. Sparks dance up his skin.

As their lips push and pull into kiss after kiss, heat grows inside Cody's chest and belly, competing with his fluttering stomach, elated and happy and-

“Ahem.”

Their lips separate with a smack. Reality filters in alongside the sound of rapid, high pitched beeping. Obi-Wan pulls away, expression nothing short of sheepish.

Their highest ranking medical officer, Egg, approaches the bed. “I see you're awake and someone failed to notify me.”

“Yes, well-” Obi-Wan starts, face adorably growing pink.

Egg ignores him. “Commander, how are you feeling?” As he speaks, he taps buttons on a machine attached to the wall which blissfully makes the beeping stop. “Any discomfort? Nausea? Pain?”

Cody sets aside the embarrassment of being caught and evaluates himself. He feels… surprisingly fine. “No, nothing.”

“Good. If that changes you've got a button you can easily request more meds with. Use it; there's nothing valiant in unnecessary suffering.”

Cody nods, fully aware he needs to cooperate if he wants to stay on Egg’s good side.

"And, General,” Egg looks directly at Obi-Wan for the first time, “stop making my patient tachycardic."

"I make no such promises.”

Cody shoots him A Look.

“Darling,” oh Force- this is a development Cody had not seen coming, “I do endeavor to never make a promise I can't keep.”

Okay. Well. That's-

Egg sighs, long and weary. “I'll be back in roughly two hours for rounds. If you spill any body fluids in my med bay I'll be requesting your transport to The Resolute med bay. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” both Cody and Obi-Wan respond.

With that, Egg makes his departure, fully swooshing open the privacy curtain before leaving the room.

There is a moment of relative silence. Cody realizes that Obi-Wan is once again holding his hand. He likes it. He likes it a lot.

“That couldn't have gone better,” Obi-Wan announces cheerily.

Cody can't help it.

He laughs.

It starts small, just a huff of breath out his nose until he's wheezing, lips stretched over gum and tears dripping down his face, clutching Obi-Wan who similarly chortles. His laughter is the most joyous of music.

He's alive. Miraculously. And somehow- somehow they're doing things like hold hands now.

It strikes Cody that, although he's confined to this awful med bay bed, for the first time in his life he feels happy. He's actually, truly happy.

There's no way it can last but he hopes he'll remember this moment forever. Acting an absolute fool with the man he loves most. Happy.

[lakesbian]

@simurghed ok here are some miscellaneous nothing thoughts ive had about undersiders team vacation for you. this is my purest form of autism theres literally nothing interesting under this post just a lot of words of me sticking undersiders into situations. thats not intended as self deprecation just fair warning

if they went in a cave where the tour guide is like "DO NOT TOUCH ANY CAVE FORMATIONS or they will BE DESTROYED, FOREVER, after THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF BEAUTIFUL EXISTENCE" brian would immediately proceed to spend the entire tour staring at aisha and alec instead of looking at the rocks and shit and preparing to grab them if either of them attempts to touch a cave formation. alec would accidentally set his hand on one w/o realizing while huffing and puffing his way up stairs or a steep incline but he would be walking behind the rest of the team so no one would notice and he would pretend it didn't happen

brian accidentally slams his forehead into top of low tunnel everyone is walking through and swears for like 20 continuous seconds and then has to go sit somewhere with an ice pack and the entire time hes like I bet aisha and alec are touching so many fucking cave formations right now.

if the undersiders went on a hike or something where there were like. Ledges. over Long Drops. aisha would without doubt go stand on them and dick around in a spry 13yo manner and it would freak brian out so much he would yell Aisha Middle Name Laborn Get Your Ass The FUCK Down From There!!!!! and then she would pretend to be startled like she was about to fall off for a moment and he would almost have a heart attack and he would be so mad for the entire rest of the day and not let her off the trail at all and keep glaring at her

if they went to a beach they could all wear cute little swimsuits...taylor would have a full bodysuit (dark gray) but mostly just spend time sitting in a chair reading. rachie wouldnt wear a swimsuit but she would just take her dogs up and down the beach on walks in normal clothes and maybe get a bit damp anyway. brian would wear swim trunks and a long-sleeved top because he also feels uncomfortable having too much skin exposed but, like, more quietly. aisha is wearing a purple tankini with one of brians giant t-shirts over top. voluntarily, to be clear, ifeel like someone might misinterpret this as "brian made her" but shes doing that on purpose. i also think she has at least one "nightgown" that is fully a massive shirt stolen from brian but thats besides the point. lisa is wearing a purple bikini with one of those like. flowy half-skirts tied around the bottom. and alec is wearing girls swim shorts and one of those sheer white swim cover tops youre supposed to take off before you get in the water except he's not taking it off

aisha keeps pestering alec to go swimming with her and he's like sure ok and lets her drag him in. and then almost drowns because he doesn't know how to swim and figured he could just "wing it." brian has to dredge him out and he spends several minutes coughing up seawater sopping wet style while brian takes the opportunity to lecture about how he's stupid. and then he spends the next half hour after that complaining about how there is Sand up his Buttcrack.

aisha and alec spend literally like over half an hour just standing next to taylors chair pestering her to make a crab rave happen. she tries to ask lisa for back-up but lisa says she also wants to see the crab rave. so it happens. very clandestinely with only a few crabs.

aisha demands a ride on brian's shoulders into the ocean. he obliges. alec demands to get to go next. he is denied, because brian thinks it would be kind of gay. he doesn't say that, but it's what he's thinking.

i think they should get to have the most miserable time on the planet all waiting for their turns to shower off in the hotel room after going swimming. reasonably they would have multiple rooms but i like to envision theres only one and everyone is shivering and holding malicious intent towards whoever is actively in the shower. they make alec go last because they know how he is with long showers and he just kind of sits tragically on the entry tile in a slowly collecting puddle of sandy water and stares into space looking haunted and intermittently shivering

undersiders trip to history museum. undersiders trip to preserved historical building. undersiders trip to preserved fancy mansion. ive posted about this one before but both alec and brian are enjoying it (for different reasons) while aisha HATES it and it's freaking all three of them out a little. alec is performatively trying to pretend he also thinks it's lame because he's (largely platonically) whipped but then he turns around and asks the tour guide an actual question and he and aisha both know that in this moment he has betrayed and abandoned her. they reconcile via shared advocacy for ice cream afterwards

alec vasil hot and tired of walking frow up incident, no deaths, intense injury to one boy's pride and also his shoes

brian laborns intense and immense joy over getting to organize and use the contents of his cargo shorts

the incredible drama of brian laborn trying to parallel park the van in a really tight spot while lisa and taylor both play unwanted spotter for him and he's like Please. just Let me Concentr-. Just let me do what i need to do just be quiet for a minute . they do stop talking for a minute, during which aisha takes the opportunity to start making fart noises

rachel lindt is fitting so many ouppie dogs in the van and theyre just kind of ferreting between everyones legs and climbing onto laps to stick their heads out the windows and shit. this starts off as something everyone but rachel is mad about but settles into a more amenable cuddle pile situation

undersiders go to aquarium or zoo....zoo would be more fun to witness because alec would complain about it being hot + smelling bad the whole time. lisa has the intelligent idea to quiet him with a blue raspberry slushie

speaking of lisa you know shes going into this entire thing like Taylor Specifically has to have the most funnest specialest time ever. shes always like "ok ill read some dinner options off the phone :)" and then all 5 of them are things taylor specifically would love. and so on and so forth.

alec vasil spotted wandering lost and ghostlike in the modern art gallery

i could go on

[saphronethaleph]

So a sort of look at a structure one could do for the Sequel Trilogy, admittedly with hindsight.

Opening sequence? Basically the same, except that Poe is meeting with a Resistance spy - the data he's got is the evidence that means the First Order is more than just a rando Remnant faction but is a serious threat. Then the stolen TIE crashes but Finn and Poe link up together. They meet BB- and Rey, and the four of them escape on a ship - possibly the Falcon, but it could be another of the same type, they're supposed to be common. Alternatively make up a new ship type they steal and have that be the Iconic Ship of the trilogy.

Team dynamic is Poe Flies, Finn Shoots, Rey Fixes.

They're heading straight to the Resistance, or that's the plan - they may need to briefly detour somewhere if their ship got damaged in the escape (if so, this is where they visit Maz).

The Resistance is explicitly described as a deniable New Republic operation which is fighting this specific Remmant faction - at the moment. They've fought others before, they're kind of like knights errant, and they have at least one Jedi (let's say Qu Rahm) who gives both Finn and Rey some training.

The Jedi Order as a whole is not involved with the First Order fight because it's utterly routine, there's dozens of Remnant factions... at least until BB-8's information reveals that the First Order has Kylo Ren associated with it, and also the existence of Starkiller Base.

The knowledge of BOTH of those things means that the Jedi Order is able to evacuate their current temple (Naboo or Yavin? Either way it should be a known planet) just in time before it gets blown the fuck up by Starkiller base. Then there's tension involving the need to swat SK base quickly, which mostly goes as per the original film.

In the second film:

The Resistance is still tiny, and the First Order's actions have promoted them from "just another Remnant faction" to "holy fuck" and they're starting to weld the Remnant back together. It is actually not widely known that Starkiller base got destroyed and the First Order is using intimidation tactics to pretend they're unbeatably strong - not helped by how the Resistance genuinely is pretty weak, nobody on the Republic side wants to be the first to jump, and Leia is trying to talk everyone into giving more support (it does slowly tick up)

The general structure here does need more changes than TFA did, simply to fit into the trilogy as a whole, but here I think a good Driving Question could be finding out who Snoke is and where the Knights of Ren came from. Our Heroes are juggling between getting Jedi training (for Finn and Rey), launching raids on the First Order, and trying to find out Snoke's origin - the latter of which fails, but he does get killed instead by Kylo Ren, who takes control of the First Order.

The main ending note at the end of the film would be the loss of Leia; she tried to turn her son back to the light side with full sincerity, but also went to kill him if he didn't. Neither worked, but he's been badly wounded and about half of the Knights of Ren got taken out. (n.b. if this is cheating to get around Carrie Fisher's death, and it probably is, that could be Luke's demise instead - or both.) Our Heroes might well be involved with a hot-extraction of R2 and C-3P0, who have important details of what happened.

Third film:

The death of Leia/Luke/both has become a rallying point and the New Republic is gearing up for war, which gains momentum with every day that the First Order doesn't blow up a planet; it's made clear in scenes showing Kylo that he's under a huge amount of pressure, because Starkiller Base made promises that the First Order cannot fulfil. In lieu of that they're having to turn instead to more standard means of brutally enforcing their claim to authority, and it's not working out well.

Our Heroes meanwhile are involved in hit-and-fade strikes, one of which sees the death of Qu Rahm. The loss of their teacher causes Rey and Finn some problems, but Poe is the one who pulls them out of it - it doesn't matter if they have a teacher or not, what matters is who they are, and that didn't change because they had a teacher. All he did was open their eyes to who they really were.

That's the realization that drives the stormtrooper-rebellion side of things from the Resistance/Republic side, while on the Imperial side we see Phasma having more and more trouble keeping a lid on things. Finn is The Traitor and basically blamed for everything that goes wrong ever as far as the First Order is concerned.

Running out of options, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren orders a decapitation strike by the entire F.O. fleet on the capital world of the Republic. This is a serious threat, because normal strategic calculus assumes that you just don't DO this, and this is what leads to the big final battle over said capital world - the Republic is outnumbered on a tactical scale, and the available members of the Jedi Order help launch an assault on the First Order flagship to try and disrupt the F.O. fleet.

This is where the Stormtrooper Rebellion is really kicked off, as Finn brings the existing tension in the First Order fleet to a boil (key moment: a Stormtrooper panics at the sight of Jedi, one of their officers tries to gun them down, Finn kills the officer before it can happen; this is the moment that disproves the propoganda and it spreads). Rey gets the big final duel, but it's against Kylo, and on at least two occasions she manages to call in strike support from Poe flying outside in his starfighter. This means the final battle is the Jedi Order versus the Knights of Ren on a super star destroyer being torn apart by Imperial infighting, and the resolution is liberation - for the stormtroopers, for example - and the surrender of the remaining First Order fleet.

[varpusvaras]

Bail stares up at the sky and looks his death in the eye.

He wakes up with a start and almost falls down, but his descent is stopped by the edge of a desk that is suddenly right in front of him. He grabs at it and stops himself from hitting his chin on it, and stares, with his arms shaking and his breath caught up somewhere in his throat.

He is not sure how long he stands there, staring at the desk which sudden existence he cannot comprehend, when there is a sound somewhere to his left and footsteps coming closer.

"Bail?" It's a woman's voice, so familiar but one he knows he shouldn't be hearing speaking to him. "Sir?"

Bail lifts his head and looks over at the voice.

He looks right into Sheltay's face, currently laced over with thin worry.

Bail stares at her. She has been gone for so long, but her face is now clear in his mind and she stands there, just like she was back then, just like she was before they had lost her. He had almost forgotten how much Winter looks like her mother, but there is no doubt of it now.

A new fear grips him. Was Winter off planet, when it all happened? He is not sure suddenly. She must've been, because Bail isn't sure what he is going to say to Sheltay otherwise. He focuses on her again, and thinks, frantically. Shouldn't she know it already? If Winter is also gone, now, shouldn't Sheltay know it by now, shouldn't her daughter be here with her? No, no, Winter must've been off the planet, just like Leia, otherwise he-

Bail looks at Sheltay again. No. No, something is not- something is not correct. Sheltay had cut her hair, just a couple of weeks before the accident, but it is now long and tied high up, like she used to style it when she was still working on as his aide back in the Senate. Bail looks at her more closely. It has been so long since he has last seen her, but...

Sheltay looks truly concerned now.

"Sir?" She calls again, and takes a step closer. "Is everything alright?"

Is everything alright? Bail thinks, almost hysterically. Is everything alright? You are dead. I am dead. Or at least we both should be.

Sheltay doesn't look dead, though, and Bail certainly doesn't feel like dead, either, as he draws in a breath to his now burning lungs. He draws in another, then another, before he feels like he knows again how breathing properly works. Breathing shouldn't feel necessary for someone who was dead, and Bail does feel the instant relief in his body with every breath he takes in.

"I", he starts. He what? He doesn't know what to say. If this isn't what comes after death, what is supposed to happen when one becomes one with the Force, then what is this?

He breathes in deeply again, just to ground himself further. He looks down on his hands, still holding onto the desk. He recognises the desk, now. It's his desk, the one he used to have in his office back in the Senate. He looks furher down, towards his feet. He recognises the carpet beneath them, as well.

He lifts his head and looks around once more. He is in his office, back in the Senate Building, but something is not correct with it either. Leia had been the one using the office more often now, and she had changed some of the decorations and brought in things of her own, and none of those were there now. The place looks just like it had back when Bail had been the only one to use it, back in the days when the Republic had still been standing.

"Bail", Sheltay is now standing right next to him, and reaching out towards him with her hand. "Are you not well? Do I need to call someone?"

Bail looks at her again. Yes, he can now see it. She is younger than what she had been at the time of her death. She is not wearing any of the gifts her husband would so often give to her. She looks just like she had back then, back when the Republic had still been standing, back when the War had been ripping the Galaxy apart.

Bail turns around. He has a row of glass cabinets situated behind his desk, and he looks at himself from the reflection of them.

He had already expected it, seeing himself with all the years gained during the reign of the Empire taken away. There is not even a hint of grey in his hair, and there are so many lines missing from his face that he almost thinks it funny for a moment. Then Sheltay is grabbing his arm, forcing him to look back at her.

"I'm serious", she says. She is looking him over now, her eyes racing over him up and down. "Do you need a doctor?"

Bail shakes his head.

"No", he manages to say. "No, I- I just need to sit down for a moment."

He really does. He takes a step forward, to walk around his desk, and Sheltay guides him over to he couch and quite firmly sits him down.

"Do I need to call someone else?" Sheltay asks again. "Breha?"

Bail looks out of the window, at the pale colours of Coruscant's morning sky. He then glances at the chrono on the wall. It's still early on Alderaan, too early. Breha is not getting up usually until two hours later, earliest. Bail doesn't want to wake her.

It hits him then that in this place he is now, Alderaan is still there. Alderaan and Breha are still there-

-and Leia is not.

It's a strange type of grief he feels then, not one he had thought possible to even exist before this. Leia is not dead, but she is still gone just the same.

Sheltay probably sees him look at the time, as she nods.

"Later, then", she says. "Fox?"

Bail stops breathing.

He stares at Sheltay, because he had been looking at her and cannot make himself move now to look anywhere else.

How could he have forgotten? If Bail is here, if Sheltay is here, if Breha and Alderaan are here, then Fox is here as well.

"Fox", He tries out his name out loud, and Sheltay seems to take that as a confirmation, as she takes out her commlink and starts typing on it.

Bail manages to move, and takes the moment to look up the date.

It's- he is barely second year into the War. It doesn't seem logical, for him to be put in here, in this time, if he truly is dead, not if not for some kindness from the Force, giving him a glimpse of a time when he truly thought there was still a possibility for a brighter future to be right around the corner, when most of the people he loved were still there with him.

It's just strange, to have only him be aware of it all, and not Sheltay. Bail doesn't remember a day like this ever happening before, not that it matters, if this is just some illusion before he finally ceases to exist completely. It's strange, to make everything appear right like it was so long ago, and not like it had been just before his death. It was strange, to make himself feel so alive, just to have him be dead.

Perhaps, a thought enters his mind and doesn't leave. Perhaps you really aren't dead. Perhaps you're here because of all the mistakes you made, and you need to repent for them, before you can let go and move on.

It almost makes him laugh. That, he thinks, that he can do.

Sheltay puts her commlink away, and sits next to him on the couch.

"He said that he will be here as soon as he can", she says. She puts her hand on top of Bail's, and it's warm.

Bail breathes in and nods.

"Thank you", he says, and then it hits him that Fox is alive.

He had thought of it just a moment earlier, but now it truly realises for him that Fox is alive. He has been gone so long as well, so long, too long. Bail has already grieved him in his heart, to a point he has almost stopped hurting so much. Bail had thought, briefly, during his last moments, that perhaps they could still meet before the very end, if he just hadn't already crossed over to where there was nothing left, but this-

This is an entirely different thing.

He needs to call Breha and tell her, he thinks, briefly, before he has to wonder if Breha remembers either. If it's really just him. That does make the most sense, as Bail is the one who had done all the mistakes, not Breha.

Perhaps he's in his thoughts for longer than he thinks he is, because suddenly the door is sliding open, and Fox is stumbling in, his hands already pulling his helmet off of his head.

"I'm here", he says. He's breathing hard, like he had just been running. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure-" Sheltay starts, but Bail doesn't hear what she is saying. He stands up, and walks towards Fox. Fox, who is hurrying to put his helmet down on the desk, in order to get his hands free, and then walking towards him.

Bail looks at him as he walks. He remembers it all now, how Fox used to look back then during this time. The way his hair curls over his forehead, where the silver strands are on his temples, how his eyes shift from dark brown to golden when the sliver of sunlight from the window hits them just right. There are a few things missing, things that Bail knows only came later. The way his skin would be bruised just from pure exhaustion. The way he would be tense, even when he was trying to relax, just for a moment. This was, is, before all of that. This is before that one night, when everything had started to unravel. This is before Fox had started to cry himself to sleep every night, calling himself all the horrible names there existed in the Galaxy.

This is before all of that. Fox still looks just like he had when he had still looked at Bail and Breha with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his lips whenever they would say I love you.

He looks just as beautiful as Bail remembers.

Fox opens his mouth to say something, but he is so close already, and Bail cannot wait for anything. He pulls Fox into his arms and holds him, trying to feel him through the armor. He buries his face into Fox's neck, not caring about the cold, hard alloy of his pauldron digging into him, and thinks he can hear his heartbeat beneath the warm, tan skin.

There are hands on his back, then one at the back of his head.

"Bail?" He hears Fox's voice clearly from this close, even though he is speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Are you alright?"

Bail breathes in Fox's scent before answering, a mixture of regulation soap, bolt residue and armor polish and just him beneath it all.

"Yes."

"You're crying."

Oh. Bail lifts his face up, just a bit, and blinks. There are tears stuck to his eyelashes, heavy and warm, and he thinks he can see some having landed on Fox as well, if he looks closely enough.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. It has been a while he has cried, or been overwhelmed like this. He had not given himself permission for being nothing else but calm, when he had heard about Leia being captured. He had not let himself cry when he had held Breha as they awaited for their death, no matter how much he had wanted to do so. Breha had needed him too much for him to fall apart even more.

"It's okay", Fox says. He is carding his fingers through Bail's hair. "What's going on?"

So much. So much is going on, and Bail doesn't know where or when to start.

He knows he needs to decide on those, sooner or later, but before any of that, he has one thing to say.

"I love you", he whispers against Fox's skin.

Fox stills, just for a moment, a moment long enough for Bail to wonder if the version of him Fox had known before in this time had even gotten to say it yet.

Then he continues, running his fingers up and down, his other hand on Bail's back holding onto him just a little tighter.

"I love you too", he whispers back. Bail closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's ready to take on the Galaxy, once again.

[no-psi-nan]

Actually Terusai has kind of a fascinating element of psychological horror that I don't think most people notice.

Think about it. In a world where psychic powers are real and can be strong enough to destroy the planet, a girl is born who has two special abilities:

(Nearly) every guy immediately falls in love with her, and

The world in general bends over backwards to her will, affecting probability, the weather, and even the physics of falling droplets.

In the face of this, even Saiki's godly set of abilities are barely enough to counter her second power. And despite how much trouble Teruhashi puts him in and will continue to put him in, and despite Teruhashi's completely superficial crush on him, Saiki feels himself starting to fall in love with her too.

Is it true love? Is it Teruhashi's power eventually working its way through his natural defenses? Is it the will of God/the mangaka forcing him to be together with Teruhashi for some reason, possibly just because she wants it, or to appease an audience he knows exists out there somewhere?

How long can Saiki fight against Teruhashi's powers and God's will? How can he ever know whether his feelings are genuine?

The only way to know 100% for sure would be if Teruhashi loses interest in him and he then finds that he's also lost interest in her. Or potentially if he significantly powers up somehow and then finds that his feelings for Teruhashi aren't as strong any more.

The same problem still applies to any Teruhashi ship, of course, except that none of them would know that their feelings could potentially have been forced onto them by supernatural power, and so would live and love in ignorant bliss. 🤔 It might be possible for wlw ships to dodge this issue, except that Aiura and Imu's strong reactions to Teruhashi at first sight imply that Teruhashi's first power extends to anyone attracted to women (which would also explain Hairo's disinterest).

And if Teruhashi herself should ever realize that she was born with these powers and that her hard work isn't the source of them (as proven by the fact that she had them as a baby and also in all apocalyptic scenarios and she's gone evil, she still is loved and worshipped), she would have SUCH a breakdown, rip...

What a way to shatter a worldview! And how could she trust that ANYONE'S feelings towards her could be legitimate if she knows she has a magic power that forces the issue?? Maybe that's what tips her over the edge into cult leader in some of those AUs tbh!

You could hypothetically argue that Aiura's soulmate readings also exert control, except that Aiura's powers are only good for getting information, she's never shown any ability to affect reality. And it seems that soulmates don't necessarily always end up together for whatever reason (like geography/being in completely different areas of the world), so if Saiki wanted to ignore that prediction, there really wouldn't be anything stopping him.

He clearly didn't fall in love with Aiura at first sight (nor she with him) and no circumstances have ever evolved to force him into close contact with Aiura. Even the time Imu shoved Saiki and Aiura into the closet was in Teruhashi's favor because hearing her admit she liked Saiki was enough to prevent Saiki from carrying on his plan with Aiura. 🤷🏾

So any feelings that develop between Aiura and Saiki would be undoubtedly natural. But any feelings Saiki develops for Teruhashi would be perpetually under question...