#like this is still kinda visceral in my own chest and it's been nearly three decades

[underthehedge]

I have never had oxtail soup but does the recipe call for brains? I've been down an internet rabbit hole because I've always meant to try oxtail but never heard about what else it's served with

Oh right, so no it doesn't contain brains but it's made from the bones of the tail, so it contains spinal cord, which from the perspective of prion diseases, same diff: it's one big ol connected tube.

I've never eaten it myself, I just know that 1: it's apparently fucking delicious and 2: I was six yeas old when the first person died of vCJD in the UK, contacted from tainted beef. So like, the images on the news of cows and then people dying from it are kinda indelibly marked upon me.

Sorry I don't have any recipes handy, tbh there's nothing wrong with eating it. Hell it's quite possible most people could scarf down an entire BSE tainted cow brain without issue...but I can't, some of my earliest memories are of cows being culled and burnt in great pits. And then of hearing that some people were developing similar symptoms to the cows. Of finding out that, yes, this was being transmitted via tainted beef, that many more people might already be infected. So, y'know, that wasn't at all concerning to a child already weirdly aware of his own mortality.

While I'm never going to eat it I think, I might see if my mum has an old recipe though, like I said they used to love oxtail soup, but they've not eaten it in nearly thirty years. You can buy it in cans in the supermarkets here but on a very visceral level I'd rather gnaw my own arms off than taste it I think.

[julemmaes]

The One Good Thing

Rowaelin Month, Day Two

A/N: again, I'm gonna fail all my exams because of this stupid app, I'm sure. Also, I miss the off campus boys so much I kinda made Fenrys one of them and I love the idea of the tog men as hockey players so yeah, enjoy;)

Word count: 2,581

Aelin would have killed for a second of silence.

She daydreamed of that almost noisy quiet that makes you feel every deepest thought hidden in your brain that exists only at 3 a.m., when every soul is resting and cars can't drive around the campus. And there are no children screaming at the top of their lungs or parties going on all night long.

That was what she had been promised, the flyers she'd been handed during the open days, when she had come to visit the college.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Aelin had tried so many times to ask her upstairs flatmate to hold his Twitch live streams strictly in the afternoons or mornings when she wouldn't be home, but when Fenrys Moonbeam had first opened the door to his place, the girl had known immediately that she wouldn't be able to change his mind even by paying him.

Especially since his live streams were followed by such a large audience that Aelin couldn't even begin to understand how he had managed to build an empire so big in just under a month. Surely it had something to do with the long blond hair, different from her own but just as beautiful, and the arms covered in tattoos so colourful they blind you. They had their own charm. Add to the pile the fact that he was the goalie on the hockey team, and he was the perfect mix for the guy to marry.

From what their common friends had told her, he was already earning enough to afford an off-campus home, but that he liked the comfort the college dorm gave.

A comfort that Aelin, after three years in those filthy rooms and shared bathrooms, had yet to find.

When yet another howl of celebration at yet another victory that everyone expected pierced through his floor and her ceiling, nearly drilling her eardrums, Aelin gritted her teeth so hard that for a moment she feared they might shatter.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to whisper, "Shut," failed miserably to keep her tone under control and shrieked the second word, "up!"

A booming laugh rang out upstairs and a millisecond later a message lit up her phone screen.

From Lys: Girl, maybe you should take a chill pill, I heard you on the live stream. Are you still studying?

She tossed the phone to the side, pulling her hair up and pinning it back with a pencil.

"Fuck off." she muttered under her breath.

Lysandra was one of the few in their group of friends who never missed a Fenrys broadcast. Whether it was at eleven at night or five in the morning, she was always one of the first to join in.

Aelin often wondered if she was just doing it because Fenrys was helping her sponsor her YouTube channel, but then she remembered that Lysandra would do the same for all her friends.

She got out of bed, taking all her books and notes in her arms, pen in her mouth and holding her phone between her pinky and ring fingers. She threw open the door to her room and found herself facing a wall of muscle, slamming into her roommate's chest.

Rowan's hands snapped forward and kept her from falling backwards and when Aelin looked up at his face, she almost lost her balance again.

His face was sleepy, only one eye open as he suppressed a yawn. The imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek just another sign that he had already been sleeping.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a hoarse voice, stepping back and letting her through, "I heard you screaming. I was coming to check on you."

Aelin grimaced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head, moving a hand in mid-air, "Don't worry about it." then his gaze snapped to the ceiling as another laugh from Fenrys cut through the thin material dividing their quarters. He frowned, lowering his gaze back to her, and it was at that moment that he noticed the books in her arms.

If possible, his frown deepened even more.

He closed his eyes, gently grabbing her wrist and leaning against the wall behind him, pulling her towards him.

Aelin let herself be tugged, arranging the books so that they didn't poke at either her or him in that uncomfortable hug, but she positioned her head against his chest, letting his fingers expertly massage the nape of her neck.

"Baby." he sighed into her hair. Her toes curled.

It had only been a few weeks since they had decided to start dating, a few weeks since Rowan had confessed to having feelings for her. They had exchanged a few kisses in secret from their friends, wanting to enjoy that first phase of their very fresh relationship in privacy. They hadn't done anything too steamy yet, and Aelin had more than agreed with his decision to take it slow, but one thing Rowan hadn't held back in the slightest from the first second she'd agreed to go out with him had been the pet names he'd given her whenever they were in the safety of their dorms.

Baby was definitely her favourite.

His hands slid lower, down her back, and she looked up, resting her chin on his chest and fixing her eyes in his. His gaze softened, still clouded with sleep. "You shouldn't be studying at this hour."

Aelin grunted, smacking her forehead against his chest, "But I have a test tomorrow."

Rowan sighed again, pushing her away and taking the books from her arms. "Precisely why you should be sleeping." He walked towards the common room, speaking softly and hoping Lorcan wouldn't hear them. They both knew their roommate suspected something, but he didn't have enough worries in the world for him to actually give a shit about their possible relationship, and they also knew he would never say anything to anyone. Maybe to Elide, but neither of them would bet on it. "I left you alone tonight because you needed to rest, not stay up until morning melting your brain."

She followed him like a lost dog, dragging her feet on the ground, finally feeling that visceral fatigue get the better of her.

"I can't leave the study half done."

Rowan dropped the books on the table, turning around just in time to block her before she bumped into him again and slipped the pencil out of her mass of hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.

"You're not leaving the study half done," he told her as he rubbed her arms to keep her warm, "you've spent the last five weeks studying this stuff and I'm sure you know it like the abc. You need a break." he told her.

Aelin looked up at him from under her lashes, a little annoyed that that was true, but completely distracted by the lines his fingers were drawing on her arms. She took a deep breath through her nose, puffing out her chest and thrusting out her breasts, catching the attentive gaze of her almost-boyfriend for a nanosecond.

He smiled wearily at her, "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

Aelin just nodded and took both of his hands, pulling him down onto her. Rowan squinted his eyes and placed his lips on hers in a quick, chaste kiss. She hummed in satisfaction as his hands slid under her bottom and wrapped around her thighs, pulling her up. She tied her legs around his hips and rested her head on his shoulder as Rowan made his way into their tiny flat.

He lowered her onto the bed, pulling the blankets out from under her body and laying down beside her before covering them both. Aelin moved as close to him as she could, pressing her back against his chest and her butt against his crotch, tangling their legs together.

Rowan's arm wrapped around her waist as the other slipped under her head and his hand found hers under the pillow.

The second they were settled, every bit of their bodies touching, Rowan left a soft kiss on her shoulder, pulling her even tighter against him.

She smiled weakly, in a drawling tone, "Thank you."

He hummed against her skin, "That's what I'm here for."

"Don't let me die around finals time?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Rowan chuckled softly, making her back shake, "Exactly."

Aelin tried to turn towards him, wanting to trace the pale freckles that were starting to sprout on his nose now that the days were getting longer and the sun kissed his cheek every afternoon, but his arms blocked her.

"No, it's not fair for you to be the big spoon every night. I'm fucking sick of it, I want to hold you today." he muttered, the chains of sleep already dragging him towards that blissful unconsciousness.

She huffed, stopping struggling against his grip, relaxing and feeling her muscles scream with pleasure after being tense for hours on end while she studied.

She hadn't realised she'd stayed up so long, but she was terrified of failing this last exam. If she failed it she would have to wait months before she could retake it and the idea of it was getting her down more than perhaps it should have.

She started thinking about the various questions the professors might ask her the next day, repeating the answers in her mind, closing her eyes as she thought.

"Baby," Rowan grumbled, "you're talking out loud."

She hadn't realised she was biting the cuticles around her nails until his hand came to rest on her arm, pulling her hand away from her mouth. He took a deep breath, helping her turn to face him.

When she looked up at him from under her lashes, she saw the way he was fighting sleep. And she felt terribly guilty. If she was having trouble sleeping the day before an exam, that didn't mean he had to stay awake for her too.

She was about to speak, tell him to close his eyes again and let her go into the living room so she could finish going over the last few pages and then return to his room, but he put his hand on her cheek and in a soft voice asked, "What's bothering you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head, "Nothing."

He tried to hold back a yawn again, but couldn't this time and Aelin's guilt grew immensely inside her. "If you tell me right now what's wrong, I could help you fix it sooner. And we could get at least three hours of sleep before we have to go to class." he pointed out in an exhausted tone.

She blinked once, twice, searching for the right words.

"It's Fen. If he'd stop playing so late every night-"

Rowan quickly cut her off, closing his eyes, almost as if he could no longer physically stay awake. "Ace, Fenrys never really bothered you. You've always managed to study and ignore it. What is it that's bothering you?"

Aelin let go of a shaky breath, "It's nothing, really. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He only opened one eye, watching her carefully as she hid her face against his chest and wrapped her thin arms around his torso.

His hand began to slowly massage her back, "If we don't talk about this now I'll be up all night worrying."

She huffed, knowing full well how true those words were. For the love of the other, she began to ramble on about the real reason she hadn't been able to focus on the textbooks.

"I don't want to tell anyone we're together yet," she confessed under her breath.

Rowan opened both eyes then, fixing them on her and giving a small nod with his chin to keep her going.

"It's not that I don't want to tell the others," she said, referring to their closest friends, "but the second they find out, the news will become public knowledge and there are some people I really don't want to let that information get to."

He nodded, understanding perfectly who she was talking about.

"We don't have to tell anyone," he kissed her forehead, continuing to talk in that position, his lips brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, "it'll be our little secret for some time more, until we figure out how to get all the puck bunnies off our backs."

Aelin smiled, lifting her chin and kissing him.

Being the captain of the hockey team, Rowan didn't exactly go unnoticed on campus. Not many people approached him during the day, especially when Lorcan was at his side, knowing full well that they would receive nothing but a rude invitation to leave, but their friend couldn't spend his life attached to Rowan's hip, and the few times the two of them had gone out alone it had happened that a horde of fans had overwhelmed them. After those afternoons, Aelin had found herself the victim of not so nice threats from unknown numbers, as had happened to Lysandra when she had first started dating Aedion.

With Manon's help they had managed to track down the senders and Rowan had been unpleasantly surprised to discover that it was one of the girls he always partied with after the games. A girl he'd always considered a friend.

Rowan had taken all the blame, feeling responsible for those attacks on Aelin and it had taken months to convince him that he had no part in the insanity of others.

They'd started limiting the dates they went on as a pair, even when they were just friends, to prevent similar things from happening again, but Aelin felt trapped.

And she knew it was the same for Rowan.

She wished she could get a place off campus, where she could retreat with him, away from the prying eyes of the world, but it didn't seem right to bring up the topic of 'let's move in together' after not even three months of dating.

Rowan rested a hand on her cheek, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, "It'll be fine. And if anyone finds out and the threats come back, we'll do something about it."

She nodded, not entirely convinced and not at all reassured.

He knew instantly, "Aelin, whatever happens, I don't care what others think. I've waited years to finally have you. I've been on the sidelines all this time, watching you go on date after date with everyone and never with me-"

"You never asked," she mumbled in annoyance.

Rowan continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I would have preferred not to be the talk of the town all the time, but I'm not going to let public opinion take away the one good thing in my life."

She opened her mouth wide, "What about hockey?"

He shrugged, looking at her, "Hockey is just a sport."

"If Lorcan could hear you right now..." she shook her head.

"But Lorcan's not here. And you won't tell him," he made her silently promise.

They exchanged another brief kiss, before they carried on talking about all the worries she had and every word that came out of his lips acted as a sedative for her fears, killing one at a time, until she fell asleep in his arms, lulled by his soft breathing on her neck.

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[luminousbeansarewe]

wandering stars

ch 19: cronos

pairings: none || rating: teen || characters: original characters, original clone trooper characters, mace windu

tags: hospitals

chapter list

tagged: @yourbitchystudentartist​ @vultures-and-scavengers​ @tupdidtherightthing​ ​(message me or reply if you’d like to be tagged!)

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

Republic Pelta-class frigate Harbinger, en route to Coruscant, 21BBY

    Inside the ship, there was an ever present low hum of the hyperdrive as it slid through the streams between light. The barracks inside it were divided into rooms that had six beds apiece, and looking outside the viewport at the surreal ripple of hyperspace was a little dizzying for most clones the first time around. 

    It was far from Sol’s first time. She gazed into it, not really paying much attention as her thoughts ran like akk dogs chasing rodents through her mind. 

    “You alright, there?” came a voice through the haze. She turned to look at Swift, who was sitting on the bunk across from her. Down below, Stone had settled into a bed and started to drift off. Grip was pouring over a datapad, and on the next bunk Twofer was idly polishing his DC-17. Not that it needed polishing, just yet, but he carried on anyway. 

    “Yeah,” she replied with a little smile. “Just. A lot on my mind.”

    “Well, to be fair, a lot of crazy shit just happened,” Twofer said with his drying rag between his teeth. 

    “Wonder when we’ll get our first deployment?” Grip mused below. 

    “Soon enough, I’m sure,” Sol murmured. “The war is very much still on.” 

    “I heard fresh troops get sent to boring places.” Twofer’s voice was clearer this time, having pulled the rag out of his mouth so he could fold it and wipe down the barrel of his blaster.

    “Not commandos,” Sol said. “We get chucked right out into the thick of it.” 

    She could nearly feel Twofer’s smile. 

    “Aw, so no sightseeing on our first assignment, Sarge?” Swift was grinning. She blinked for a moment, still a little confused by her new title. It had come to her as unexpectedly as everything else in her life, though what startled her was how much more welcome it was than the rest.

    “For you, everything’s sightseeing,” she replied. “Welcome to the rest of the galaxy, verde. You still might get to see a few things I told stories about.”

    “Hope the holovid’s as good as the book was,” Grip said, and the others laughed. 

-----

Kamino, Tipoca City, Clone Military Educational Complex, ten hours prior

    Coming to in a medical bay was something Sol figured she might have to get used to, but she would never relish it. Her body was a little stiff, and she shifted to move her arm against the brilliant lights. 

    “See, sir, I told you she wouldn’t be long,” she heard someone say— Swift, of course. The voices of her squad were as familiar as her own already. 

    “I’m not surprised,” came another voice with the barest hint of a chuckle. This one was not a clone. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in a year. 

    “Master Windu?” she said, turning her head and blinking. 

    “Yes, Sol, it’s me.”

    “Where’s Grip? Is he okay?” 

    “He’s fine,” Swift said, nodding and casting his eyes behind her. Turning the other way, she saw Grip sleeping soundly on the next bed over, the rise and fall of his chest a reassuring tide beneath the blanket that covered his bandages. 

    “Jate,” she murmured, smiling. “And you and Twofer?” 

    “Also fine.” 

    “It sounds like you had quite the adventure on your last day of training,” Mace said, his cool bemusement appropriately collared. 

    “It was… strange,” Sol replied, shaking her head. “I hope we kriffing passed.”

    “You swearing like a soldier, now?” 

    “Sorry, Master. I just… after all that…”

    “You passed. Don’t worry.” Now he was almost smiling. This was the most pleasant Mace Windu had ever been in her presence, his eternally serious expression traded for a subdued pleasure. “In fact, you passed with flying colors. I hear you’re as good as any commando.”

    “Maybe better,” Swift chimed in, casually sincere. Sol felt her face flush a little. She wasn’t used to compliments. And that one was a stretch. 

    “Congratulations, young one. If you’re up to the task, I have an offer for you.” Now she felt her heart thud at Mace’s words, knowing the next chapter was about to open. Wondering if she would like it, if it would make more sense than any of the others had.

    “Yes, Master?” she asked, voice a little quiet. 

    “The Grand Army of the Republic and the Jedi Council are prepared to offer you the position of Commander of the 707th Battalion,” he told her, clasping his hands before him. 

    Several feelings struck her at once. The first was elation— she’d done it. She’d done something worthwhile, had proven herself worthy of leadership. If being turned down for the Temple Guard had been painful, this was almost healing in its effect. But even as that little joy broke out over her face, she faltered. Her eyes cut up to Swift, whose expression was frozen in a pained attempt to smile.

    What about the boys? 

    She moved her fingers to grip at the blanket around her waist. It struck her very suddenly that her joints were aching. She almost hadn’t noticed, but the chip was gone. The world felt right again. Like it always had. Uncomfortable, but familiar, and viscerally real. Which meant that Nala Se had done as she’d rather brashly asked, before she’d lost consciousness. She looked down at her hands, then over at Grip, then back at Swift. Twofer and Stone were somewhere, she didn’t know where, but their faces flashed in her mind. 

    “Sir…” she began, hesitating, feeling the fear wrap itself around her throat. Anakin’s words from what felt like a lifetime ago were in the back of her mind. About choosing what she really wanted to do, instead of letting the Jedi or anyone else pick it for her. “Ori’vor’e, for your gracious offer. I’m deeply honored. But I want to stay with Cronos Squad.” 

    Mace’s eyebrows lifted, but his expression had fallen opaque. “A commando squad?” 

    “Yes, Master.” 

    “First of all, you don’t need to call me Master anymore. You can just call me General,” he said, and she could swear he was teasing her. “Second of all, if that is what you really want, then I think it would be unkind of me to push you into anything else. But these men have been asked to join the Special Operations Brigade. They’ll be taking on sensitive, dangerous missions, possibly in the heart of enemy territory. They’ll also be called upon to assist the Jedi Generals whenever and wherever they’re needed on the front lines. Are you certain?” 

    “Yes.” There was barely a breath between his question and her answer. He’d never seen her so sure of anything. Behind him, Swift was now grinning a mile wide. 

    “Alright then, Sol Tannor. Consider yourself a member of Cronos Squad,” Mace said with a sober smile. 

    Yes! came loud whispers from behind the nearby curtain that partitioned off the hospital beds, and Swift rolled his eyes. 

    “Just come out, you two,” he said, and Stone and Twofer rounded the corner. Twofer’s grin was ever smug, but Stone just looked happy. “We kinda hoped you’d say that,” Swift admitted a little sheepishly. 

    “You gonna ask her?” Twofer nudged Swift’s arm, raising an eyebrow. 

    “Ask me what?” Sol asked, brow furrowed in confusion. 

    “Er, well. We… we’d like you to be Sergeant of the squad, if you’re willing,” Swift said, tucking his hands behind his back and standing a little straighter. Sol just blinked for a moment, taken aback for what felt like the tenth time since she’d come to only minutes before. “We talked about it,” the clone added. “Before the Citadel, even.”

    “You—” Tears were brimming in her golden eyes, and her surprised blinks had turned into furious attempts to keep them at bay. “Sergeant?” 

    “Yes,” Swift confirmed, nodding. It was that nod the clones reserved for their commanding officers. All she could do was nod back for a moment. 

    “I’d be honored, verde,” she said finally around the lump in her throat. All three of them smiled. 

    “I can’t wait to tell Grip when he wakes up,” Twofer murmured to Stone. 

    “Well, it sounds like you’ve found your place, young one,” Mace said, suddenly very serene as he looked down at her. “As soon as you and your men are healed, you’ll be fitted with fresh armor and moved to Coruscant, to stay at the GAR Headquarters until you’re assigned your first deployment.” 

    “Vor’e. Thank you, General,” she said, giving him her Mandalorian nod. 

    “Thank you, Sol. For your willingness to help us win this war. I look forward to serving beside you.” He offered her a bow— a strange thing for him to do, now that he was her CO, she thought— and turned to exit the medical bay, the clones standing at attention as he passed by. Just as he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at her. “Oh, and you missed graduation.” With his barely perceptible grin, he vanished into the hallway. 

    “Graduation is boring, anyway,” Swift said, and all three of them drew close to her bed and tugged out stools. “Now, are you gonna tell us about what the kriff happened with Apma?”

    “Yeah, half your bones were dislocated after that!” Twofer added.

    “Wayii,” she groaned. “I just woke up!” 

[axther]

Distortion

In which war touches all. 

Episode One

@multifandomgirl37 

Death was a cruel master. 

Kaleo knew all too well, with scars littering her skin from all the times that it tried to take her. She felt like they were coming to life, making her bleed again, as though the alcohol in her veins were waking them up again.  

She fingered the whiskey glass, before drinking the last. It burned her throat and woke her up from whatever delirium she was having. 

“Another,” she called, waving a hand and a coin. Her thick Buanaí accent had no place in the Gealach tavern, and some turned in confusion and distaste.

They had lost the Deireadh War. There was nothing more to be said. 

The Buanaí were the servants of Bás, Death, and longtime enemies of the Gealach peoples. The Buanaí were considered to be brutal, taking the souls of any Gealach that died, and the Gealach were considered stingy and sensitive. They bore with each other for thousands of years; after all, the average lifespan of both races was 800 years. 

All it took was a Buanaí to spit an insult at a Gealach politician.  

The war was quick, to most standards. It lasted about 3 years before both races called a stop. They had killed themselves out, leaving themselves as an endangered species. Imagine, two of the only sentient races in the world, wiping each other out to the point that one last battle would put them all to rest. 

But everyone was still holding their breath. 

Technically, the Gealach won. But to the Buanaí, they were cowards that saw them dying as weakness. The Buanaí were more than willing to go down if it was in a blaze of glory with the Gealach being dragged under. But the Gealach weren’t fighting, and what was the fun in that? 

Kaleo grit her jaw. She, at least, was willing to burn for the Buanaí and for Bás. She knew that her best friend, her dead squadmates, and two trillion Buanaí were willing to burn, and they did. 

They really did. 

The Dóigh Mountains were closed in on each other, creating a forested valley in the middle that was both dangerous and important. 

And this demanded some attention from the Buanaí. 

Kaleo started at the forest line from her squad’s camp, a black battle axe clutched in her hands. It was dark. This was good. 

That was one of the ways that the Buanaí were distinguished from the Gealach. The Buanaí always wore black trench coats and had dark hair and eyes. Their skin was never on the pale side; at lightest, it was tan. And wherever they went, there was darkness in front of them and darkness behind them. 

The Gealach, on the other hand, were pastier than snow, and always had lanterns and white all around them. You could see them coming miles away because they would have a light cloud surrounding them. But it wasn’t like the Buanaí were much better off. It was only at night, could they be sneaky under the cover of a darkness thicker than lard.  

“Kaleo,” a voice behind her said. “There’s some mild movement to the south. They’re functioning under the moonlight.” 

Kaleo looked up and spat at the moon before turning, seeing her squadmate, Nyx. She was tall, with a soft and kind face that did not belong in a war. She was too sweet, often looking out for other members and trying to avoid murder as much as possible. 

“Understood. Bring the others to my position, after packing up.” 

Nyx raised a confused eyebrow, before nodding and disappearing into the thick trees. 

Kaleo turned back to the trees, knowing that Gealach soldiers tried to stay under the moonlight as much as possible. Their patron was Gealach Mhuire, after all.

The Lady of The Moon. 

Kaleo began walking back to the camp, ducking low branches and watching three other Buanaí rush to pack everything up. Truthfully, there wasn’t a whole lot, but enough that it could lead to some time being wasted. 

She heard them before she saw them. 

There was a clattering noise to her left, and Kaleo turned with a furrowed brow. 

“Buanaí, at atten-!” Kaleo’s call was cut short when a pearly arrow went right into the middle of her chest. She could feel that it had narrowly missed her lungs, heart, and major veins, but it was still an arrow in her chest. The battle-axe fell from her fingers, as all blood flow went to the gaping wound next to her heart. Another arrow came down, hitting her in the kidney. Kaleo let out a yelp at the second shot, abruptly aware of what had happened. 

They were under attack.  

“Kaleo!” Another squad member, Azazel, rushed forward, only for a brilliant streak of light to come out of the woods and slit her throat. Kaleo felt delirious; there was no way that the Gaelach had snuck up on them in woods that were darker than the shadows the Buanaí carried with them. 

Kaleo began to feel the blood seep out, despite the arrow still there. She was wondering why she was still standing. She could hear her dying heartbeat. 

Nyx let out a scream of pure terror and darted like a doe. The last Buanaí standing was Dante, and he pulled out a greatsword. 

“Neamh Críost,” he swore. “Come at me, you cowards!” 

“Tá leathcheann ort.” She spat out miserably at Dante, her knees finally buckling. “Go! Warn others!”  

“No!” Dante began swinging at the Gealach, doing his very best. Kaleo pitied him, for what he was doing would only postpone the inevitable. 

Everyone’s death. 

Gealach fell, slowly, and Kaleo wondered for a moment if she was wrong. 

Then Dante took an arrow to the throat. 

He collapsed, sputtering last curses and grasping at the head. Kaleo watched him fall from her knees, not having the energy to cry. 

Two more Gealach came out, charging at Kaleo. She gripped her axe, standing up and shaking. One was beheaded, and the other was viscerally stabbed. No others came out, and Kaleo dropped her axe. She stumbled to a tree, falling with little grace as the adrenaline began to fade.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kaleo saw light. 

“Come on and just kill me! Or are you scared?” She glanced at her axe and turning towards the light. It shifted a little, before walking out of the woods. They were tall, wearing a helmet. An arrow was drawn, pointed at her. They approached until the arrow was lightly tapping her forehead. Kaleo smirked.  

“Scared of a dead woman, huh?” She sneered, wrinkling her nose. “Of course you’d not take any chances. Go on. Finish the job.” 

The Gealach wavered for a moment, almost dropping the arrow, before steeling up their resolve. 

But a flash of black hurtled at them, toppling them over. Kaleo’s eyes seemed to pop out of her head, watching Nyx materialise with a broad blade.  She was on top of the soldier, blade pressed against their neck. 

“Nyx!” Kaleo cried. “Do it!” 

Nyx had tears in her eyes, bubbling and landing on the soldier’s visor. There were short hiccups from her, and she raised her sword up. 

She was too slow. 

The soldier took an arrow from their quiver and thrust it into Nyx’s heart, pushing it in further when she let out a cry of pain. Kaleo watched in horror was Nyx fell to the ground, twitching for a moment before going painfully still. The soldier stood up, retrieving the arrow before turning to Kaleo. They picked up Kaleo’s axe, preparing to hit Kaleo on the head with it. 

“You’ll be the messenger,” they muttered. 

Then all Kaleo saw was blissful darkness. 

Kaleo blinked out of her reverie when someone pulled a chair beside her. She felt tears stinging her eyes, and the last thing she wanted was to be crying in public. She chugged her fresh whiskey glass in one go, hoping that the burn would make her forget it. 

“Long day, huh?” The person beside her said, before telling the bartender to get him the same Firebrand whiskey. Kaleo looked at him, popping her jaw. 

It was a Gealach, about her age, with some obvious scars on him. He was freakishly pale, even for a Gealach, with gold streaks in his white hair and silver eyes. 

Kaleo wasn’t sure what she was expecting. But it wasn’t an albino that probably tried to kill her kin 100 years ago. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, sure.” She turned back to her drink, which had been refilled. The Gealach nodded, trying to make conversation. “Did you serve in the war? Well, I mean, you look old enough to have served...not that I’m saying you’re old. Sorry,” the Gealach began to mutter, panicked. Kaleo raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I did. Why?” 

The Gealach bit his lip. “The only Buanaí that are alive are the veterans or the kids. No offence meant.” 

“None taken.” Kaleo took another sip. “From the looks of it, you did, too.” 

The Gealach nodded. “Yeah! I was in the 165th Regiment! Were you with the rebels?” 

Kaleo nearly spit out her drink. Of course one of the few civil Gealach assumed she was with the rebels that revoked Bás and tried to kill their own race alongside the Gealach. The degenerates. 

“No. No, I was most definitely not.” Kaleo began pulling out more coin to pay for the alcohol, wanting out of the dive bar. The Gealach paled. 

“Oh. Oh, oh. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t want to...oh. You were on the other side…” He began to hastily leave his chair when Kaleo began to get up. “I am really, really, really sorry. Uh, for, you know, everything.” 

Kaleo stopped. “What?” 

The Gealach stopped, relieved she wasn’t running. “Sorry.” 

Kaleo raised an eyebrow. “No, I mean...you’re apologetic?” 

“Yeah,” the Gealach nodded. “After all, we are kinda responsible for making the Buanaí, um…” he trailed off, looking nervous. “Ya’ know, almost extinct.” 

Kaleo sat back on her seat. She tried to ignore the fact that some of the bar were listening in. The Gealach looked ecstatic. 

“Sweet! Thanks! My name is Alain!” 

Kaleo watched him sit down again and order tea. “Kaleo.” 

“Well, Kaleo! I don’t suppose we could exchange war stories or something?” Alain looked excited. 

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I have a question.”

“Shoot.” Alain was bouncing in his seat. 

“Your weapons and armour. Were they mass-produced?” She looked up from swirling her whiskey. 

“Not really.” Alain shook his head. “There wasn’t enough time for that. We kinda just...took what we had and left.” 

Kaleo nodded, then reached into her boot and pulled out two white arrows. Alain flinched, and his eyes widened. 

“Do you know who’s these are? I was shot with them, and they massacred my squad.” 

Alain looked up, slowly, before shaking his head. “No. But, I, ah, could have some of my old friends to see if they could track them.” He placed his hand on one. “Is it okay if I take it for now?” 

Kaleo nodded. “Thanks.” 

They both stowed away the arrows, and Alain turned to the clock. 

“I have to go. Maybe we could meet here again?” Alain looked suddenly anxious, and Kaleo gave a small smile. 

“Sure. Just be sure not to break that.” 

Alain nodded, before taking his leave.

Alain collapsed onto his bed in his apartment, trying to calm himself down. There was no way she knew, otherwise he wouldn’t be panting in the middle of his room, staring at his ceiling. The only way she could recognise him was by voice, and she had barely heard him.

Alain sighed. 

He held the arrow before him, sitting up and squinting at it. He then looked at the back of his closet, where a glowing white bow and quiver hung. Inside were beautiful, pearly arrows, almost calling to the one in his hand. 

It was their sibling, after all. 

Alain walked the perimeter of the woods, in the middle of the Dóigh Mountains, his bow and arrow at the ready. The new armour that they received was able to dim the Lady’s Blessing, keeping them undercover for small amounts of time. 

Alain watched as a Buanaí came into view. She was alone, with a battle axe on her shoulder. She was watching the treeline, and the other Gealach stood as still as possible. Another Buanaí talked to her, before both walked through a small trail. Alain looked at the other Gealach and nodded. 

The unfortunate Buanaí had led them right to their camp, and Alain smiled. There were only four, and it was all easy kills. 

Who he presumed to be the squad captain had just arrived, and he drew back his arrow. 

And without a moment of hesitation, he let go.  

[greatgreengremlin]

Hi! I found you through the BTHB tumblr, and liked the way you write! If it’s okay, can I ask for one of your squares? It would be “Cradling Someone in Their Arms” with Hunk and Pidge, but it’s Pidge trying to cradle a heavily injured Hunk in her arms while they wait for rescue and feeling guilty because she isn’t able to carry him to safety herself. Would that be okay?

Um, would it be okay? No, it would be wonderful! What a fun prompt, I hope I filled it to your liking. Thanks for playing bingo with me!

(VLD) Space: Cradling Someone in Their Arms

AO3

“I’m not sure why Allura wants me to hack here,” Pidge mutters, squinting as her rudimentary translator converts the holographic characters into messages she can make decent enough sense of. “It’s mostly about the exports. The fruit exports.”

Hunk shrugs, absently readjusting his grip on his bayard. “The more recon we have, the better.”

“Mm, I guess. Still seems kinda weird though, just reading about shipping fruit. And not like, blueprints for weapons of mass destruction or battleships or something.”

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Hunk says. “Look at Earth’s history, tons of places were colonized for the exploitation of their food resources, including fruit.”

“True,” Pidge admits, fingers deftly dancing over the keypad.

“And those export reports are probably going to lead us to our next destination.”

“Also true,” she agrees, sighing. “I just wish our assignment was more exciting. Everybody else is kicking butt right now, taking over the command center. And we’re just here downloading transport records.”

“Are you kidding?” Hunk scoffs. “This is a great change of pace! I for one, am tired of being shot at, running into traps, and getting motion sickness flying around laser puke fired by giant planet eating monsters.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. While she doesn’t exactly enjoy any of the things he’s just described, per se, it doesn’t make looking over fruit exports any less boring. When they get back to the castle Lance is probably going to be bragging about how he did this cool thing or that cool thing, or gushing about some badass thing Allura got to do. While she…now knows the Galra character for ‘citrus.’

“I am gonna go do a quick patrol of the perimeter,” he says.

“And leaving your super important post as my bodyguard?” Pidge mumbles, briefly glancing over.

Surely Hunk picks up on the sarcasm, but he answers earnestly.

“Making sure nobody’s sneaking up on us is part of guarding. I’ll be fast.”

Hunk slips from the room and Pidge returns her attention to the screen. Yeah, okay, so this stuff is useful on some level or another. But her eyes are glazing over and she can’t help but feel that fighting with her team would be more useful. Definitely more interesting. This wasn’t even a challenge to hack.

Her comms link gives a soft click, and Shiro’s voice comes through.

“Pidge, status update.”

“Good news is, I could crack this database in my sleep. Bad news is, these reports are putting me to sleep. How are things on your end?”

She hears a crash and loud curse from Keith in the background.

“I’ll get back to you.” Shiro clicks off.

Pidge chews her lower lip. About half the files are downloaded now, hopefully it shouldn’t be too much longer before she and Hunk can regroup with the rest of the team. Maybe actually get in on some of the action.

She’s barely completed the thought when she hears the unmistakable firing of a blaster. For a heartbeat she thinks Shiro’s clicked back in, but it’s followed by a yell that is unmistakably Hunk. She wastes no time springing out of the chair and hurrying into the hall.

Pidge sprints toward the echoes of Hunk’s bayard. She materializes her own mid-stride, zapping at a probe that looks like an upgraded Rover before it can lock onto her. She doesn’t stop to reprogram this one, tearing toward the continued noises of combat up ahead.

The violet lit corridor curves and Pidge swerves to avoid the scraps of a blasted sentry. It’s a small patrol, led by a Galra in standard armor. The intact sentry takes aim at her and Pidge drops, somersaulting forward. Surging up, she jabs her bayard into its torso and zaps, currents crackling audibly.

It crashes to the floor and as she whips around, her breath catches. Hunk fires his bayard at the same time the soldier throws this blinking disk no bigger than a sand dollar. The soldier goes down, but the disk hits its mark, snapping to Hunk’s cuirass with a metallic clink.

It immediately begins blinking faster, emitting a shrill series of beeps.

They both realize it’s a detonator at the same time, locking gazes.

“GETITOFF!” Pidge shrieks, so panicked it sounds like one big, messed up word.

And Hunk tries but he’s not fast enough, and the last Pidge sees of him before it goes off with an earsplitting peal is the nakedly terrified look on his face. It’s a look that floods her with cold and she will never, ever forget it. If she survives this war and sixty years down the line develops dementia, the helpless horror in Hunk’s eyes will be the last memory to haunt her.

Hunk is blown back far, so far, and hits the metal floor with a thud that makes the lunch lurch up her throat. Pidge scrambles over in a mad dash, throwing herself down beside him. The sight of the damage is just as nauseating and Pidge has to choke back a gag, clamping a hand around her mouth.

From waist up, Hunk doesn’t really have a suit anymore. Just a few ripped scraps of black fabric. His entire torso is a mess of shrapnel and fragments of shattered armor. As frightening as that is, at least they’re keeping some of the blood inside.

A gaping wound in the center of his chest gushes like a geyser, so deep Pidge could plunge both hands in and touch the pulp. Its inside looks like a sliced pomegranate, all nubbly and viscerally crimson. With a very quiet groan, Hunk lifts his head.

And Pidge gasps, heart skipping as she cups his face, charily positioning her hands to avoid the shards embedded in his cheeks.

“You’re alive, oh, thank goodness you’re alive! Hunk, we gotta get you out of here! C-Can you stand?”

Hunk blinks at her blearily, headband absorbing most of the blood from a scalp wound she can’t quite see because of his hair, but a few droplets seep through it and catch in his eyelashes.

“Dn’t catch that, Pidge, m’ears are still ringing.”

And she notices that those too have red streaming from them. Damn it, the blast probably ruptured his eardrums.

“You need help!” she nearly shouts. “Can you stand up?”

Hunk blinks at her again, a vague look of confusion passing over his features.

“Think something ’sploded,” he slurs without acknowledging her at all, eyes fluttering closed again.

“No, no, no! Hunk, stay with me!”

But he wasn’t entirely with her to begin with and easily slips back out. Pidge gently lowers his head and tries to formulate a plan. Hunk is still bleeding copiously and those are just the injuries she can see. There’s probably a ton of damage on the inside too, he needs a pod as soon as possible.

Green isn’t far from here. She blends in well with the dense forestry of fruit trees and berry bushes that cover this planet. Dragging Hunk to Green would be faster than trying to explain what happened to her teammates and directing them back here.

Pidge removes her own cuirass and tears the padded lining out of it. With shaky fingers, she packs it into Hunk’s chest wound. Pressing down, she chews her lip and watches as it absorbs the blood. Before moving him anywhere, at the very least, she needs to stanch this bleeding.

“I can carry you,” she says aloud, hoping to make it true as the lining soaks beneath her hands. “Green isn’t far and we’ve all been working out, right? This is fine.”

Pidge removes her belt next and rips the lining out of that, folding it over top the first layer and pushing down with all her weight. Hunk twitches a bit beneath her, mewls out a soft, hurt sound without opening his eyes.

When his bleeding seems under control, she lets go and clicks back into her comm link.

“Something happened,” she announces quickly. “Hunk’s hurt bad and he needs a pod like, yesterday.”

“How responsive is he?” Shiro asks, concerned but collected.

“He talked incoherently for like two seconds before he passed out. He can’t wait, I’m gonna carry him to Green and head back to the castle.”

“You think you can carry Hunk?” Keith asks skeptically.

“If people can flip cars during adrenaline rushes, then I can carry Hunk,” she snaps, more frazzled than she intends. “It’s not like I have to vault him over my head, I just have to get him to Green, and I mean, I really have to you guys, he— he’s not doing good.”

“We’re almost done here and even if we weren’t, this takes precedence,” Allura says quickly. “Lance, Keith, finish up. Pidge, do what you can for Hunk, Shiro and I are on our way to help.”

“Copy.” Pidge doesn’t wait for anybody else’s affirmatives before she turns her attention back on Hunk.

She tries not to think too hard about things like logic or physics as she hooks her arms under his. Either Hunk’s clavicle is broken or he’s dislocated a shoulder, because she can feel the unnatural way his arm shifts. When she looks down she thinks she can see a bulge that doesn’t belong there too.

“Okay, here we go.”

Pidge digs her heels in and pulls back with everything she’s got. She begs her body to gift her with one of those rare, miraculous adrenaline rushes that allows everyday people to flip cars off children. She doesn’t need to flip a car, she doesn’t even need to carry Hunk, really, she just needs to drag him.

“Come on,” she pleads, desperately trying to pull even harder.

It takes an enormous effort and all of Pidge’s strength to drag him three steps backward and even that leaves her spine aching. She grits her teeth and uses every muscle in her body to pull him another step and doesn’t even accomplish that. She slips, falling hard on her bum and losing her grip on Hunk.

It’s just impossible.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, shaking her head against the sting of tears. “Hunk, I’m so, so sorry.”

She can’t carry him anywhere. But maybe she can hold him, at least, and monitor him. Guard him until Shiro and Allura get here.

Pidge sits up, gently takes Hunk’s head in her hands, crossing her legs. She pulls him into her lap as much as she can, which, while a bit difficult, is far less taxing than dragging him. She cradles his head against her chest, worriedly fluffing her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, even though she knows he can’t hear her. “If this were the other way around, you’d already have me in Yellow.”

She has her bayard near in case any new threat shows up. She doubts it, since it seems like the rest of her team handled things at the command center. That soldier Hunk shot still hasn’t moved. Maybe he’s dead and that’s perfectly okay with her.

“I should’ve been satisfied with boring,” she mumbles, guilt churning in her stomach.

Pidge would rather read a thousand stupid fruit export reports than be sitting here like this, listening to Hunk’s breath get shorter and shallower and too weak to get him the help he needs. She hates this, the helplessness. She hates that she couldn’t force an adrenaline miracle out of herself.

Guilt continues to gnaw at her insides. She knows it’s not her fault that she is small and Hunk is big, but it feels like her fault when it’s the obstacle preventing him from receiving treatment right now. The pad of her finger unintentionally locates the head wound she couldn’t see earlier, brushing over the split in the skin.

Anxiety mounting, Pidge begins to rock back and forth, hugging Hunk close. She quits as soon as she hears the grinding noise that rises from what must be his probably broken clavicle. She goes back to stroking his hair instead, staring at the dicey rise and fall of his bloodied chest.

When Shiro and Allura finally show up, it feels like eons later.

“I couldn’t carry him,” Pidge admits as they survey the damage, her guilt coiling even tighter around her chest.

Of course, neither of them seem even remotely surprised. They probably realized what she should have sooner, that it simply wasn’t a feasible feat no matter how badly she wanted it to be.

“We’ll get him back faster in Red than Green anyway,” Allura says, forcing a smile although Pidge can tell she’s worried.

Shiro helps arrange Hunk in Allura’s arms, positioning him a way that’s hopefully the least stressful on his injuries. Allura doesn’t need help with the actual lifting, however. She simply shape shifts to be broader, lengthens her arms to accommodate Hunk’s girth.

Pidge recovers Hunk’s bayard and the drive with the export transcripts. She wishes she could at least be with Hunk, cradling him in the back of Red. But she has her own lion to fly. Hunk will probably be safer in Allura’s arms since her magic has healing properties.

Or at the least, revitalizing properties. And that distinction sinks to her stomach like a stone.

Lance usually gets the first hug when Hunk is out of the pod, but this time Pidge beats him to the punch and she kind of thinks he lets her. It hasn’t exactly been a secret that she’s been on edge since what happened. She hurries to Hunk so fast she barely pumps the breaks in time to avoid an outright collision, throwing her arms around his middle and squeezing ferociously.

“Whoa,” he murmurs hazily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she greets warmly, propping her chin on his belly and peeking up at him. “It’s good to have you back.”

A small, sort of sleepy smile unfurls on Hunk’s face.

“Good to be back,” he says, gently patting her head.

[isaacathom]

why the fuck all these sorcerers old maes of rothbarts, huh. and whythe fuck do they always turn her into a swan. like, ok, clavius or w/e the fuck from the second movie gets a pass because it was odettes idea (and, again, i love odette, so im all for it. and it was a good plan). zelda has no excuse. did she not know about this. why would you turn her into a BIRD. WHO CAN /FLY/. why not like... a fucking turtle or smth. slow as fuck. stck in a cave in a mountain. she cant do shit. or is it that odettes just got that swan magic shit stuck on her from rothbart so its just swans all the way down. since i GUESS zelda and clavius are both weaker than rothbart, which makes them weird villains actually. like why would i give a shit about rothbarts apprentice if the one time derek met rothbart he killed him after like, idk, a 5 minute fight? yea derek nearly died but thats an average sunday for him. thats how it is. shot him once he died. this isnt complex.

also on the revive thing. that was why i didnt like the third movie. if we say the first one is ‘good’ (certainly not a bad childrens film, obvs). the second movie does enough new that its not just a retread. odette turning into a swan by her own choice, despite the risks, and her saving derek, and her not dying (tho jean bob did, which i did not remember happening, but ok). and it showed a development in the relationship. and encouraged ol dere-boy to appreciate his wife and mother sometimes. thats good. happy for the guy.

then you cut to movie three and dereks just lying to his wife despite the fact she has VERY REASONABLE objections to keeping dark magic shit lying around, given that she straight up died because of it once. she’s in the right here. derek is noble, perhaps, but an absolute idiot. then odette gets captured again, fuck me, then she gets rescued, again, and then instantly gets fucking killed by a fireball. well i mean fuck i guess. then she comes back even though she defintiely straight up died. in movie 1 you can wiggle the timing of it, held her last breath outta the power of love or whatever, but swan!odette got struck by a fireball and woulda crashed into the ground below, fucking her Right up. she straight up dead. so what the fuck gives. how the fuck is she back? which bitch is magic here. did derek fucking call upon dark magic to revive his wife? i have questions. also its just boring.

ok whats movie 4. christmas? THEIR FIRST CHRISTMAS???? youre telling me that the first three movies take place over the span of less than a year??? and season wise, probably like.. 6 months, tops? what the fuck? jesus. that paints derek in a bad fucking light, i tell ya. fucks him right up. god dammit derek. ‘chest with an r on it’ where did it come from? who put it there? ubertas castle isnt the same castle as the one derek has, since derek’s used to be rothbarts. that was a plot point. if i was gonna find some soul box of rothbarts, itd be in rothbarts old castle. so... why is it in ubertas? is my question? ok.

rothbart did you learn NOTHING from the first movie. stop turning her into a fucking swan. you fucking idiot what the fuck. god dammit. oh, so finally derek dies? took em 4 movies and 20 years. there we go. and is revived by the sprit of chr- oh my god. ok lets not worry about the christmas movie. whats the next one.

ok so i guess the reason she keeps going swan is because shes the Swan Princess. as like, an entity. she didnt become it because of rothbart, she was always it, like, spiritually? prophetically? ok. fine. shouldnt a stopped rothbart clipping her wings or whatever. and she is straight up magic? alright. fair. i buy that. it explains a lot. and the dark arts just straight up try to set her on fire? hardcore. but then you kill some random peasants instead. thats awkward.

ok honestly i think i just flat out dont understand what the 5th movie is about beyond like, prophecies, scullions (the fuck is a scullion? squirrels? ok. also the surname of an australian senator, how bout that) and like.... some shit. dunno what the fucks up with that but ok. we’ll just uh. leave that one. at least i didnt have to imagine odette and derek fucking because given how old i was when i watched the first movie im not sure i ever want to think about that (naturally now i have to. oh boy)

‘scully in ghost form’ ok we’ve gone off the rails here, i think. more fucking ghosts. but like, ghost animals. one who everyone can see? which sort of renders his death in the last film a bit moot, if he sticks around anyway. at least in the original three, people got REVIVED by like, Love or something. poor scully doesnt even get that. just has to be a ghost instead. far out.

oh piss off lads theyre like 12. no romance for the 12 year olds please.

‘uberta, still in love’ didnt uberta and rodgers confess in movie 4 or something. or did we all just sort of not deal with that. its not like they died or anything to wipe their memories. so why wouldnt they still be in love, is what im saying. im confused by this statement. oh my bad i skimmed, she fell in love with some other idiot. alright uberta. go for it i Guess. he’s probably some dark mage but alright dont worry about it.

‘count antonios submarine’ his what? his What? no straight up, his what? they have SUBMARINES????? but??? what?????? ? someone more up to date on swan princess lore, how does he have a submarine????? the tech level has been like, solid pre-victorian before this, right. like medieval english shit. where the fuck did he get a SUBMARINE. A SUBMARINE. what the fuck. ? like i know that the ‘reboot’ or 3d movies are kinda weird for the canon just in general but ? a submarine??? lads.

‘now called prince lucas’ it has not been adequately explained to me why this is. are these wikipedia pages written by children? im very confused. why would he be a prince. alise i get, she was adopted, but lucas still has parents. yea he was given up for adoption at some point, but he’s fine now. so. yknow. ? pardon. wouldnt just giving him a title like Lord or smth make more sense, narratively. like the whole thing earlier was that he felt about his status difference with alise (despite alise being an ex-peasant too? but thats fair) so wouldnt like, giving him a lord title or smth fit that without making No fucking sense. is there some other kingdom now? that he a prince of? wikipedia i need answers.

ok i saw the cover for the 8th movie and what the Fuck did they do to derek. no. my man. what the fuck.

something about that face is viscerally distressing to me. they havent put him on a over since movie 5, probably matching his uh. completely fucking irrelevance. but Oof. keep him off the cover, maybe. what the fuck. im wounded. also the fact yuri lowenthal voices reboot derek still fucks me up even though i have never heard him in the role. as you can tell. by me reading the wikipedia descriptions of all movies post original trilogy. oof.

so, Z’s huh. is that right. Z’s. ok so, first, Zorro. second, there is literally a character whose name starts with Z already part of the canon, that being Zelda from the third movie. she’s dead as fuck, but the track record here prevents nothing.

‘ghost rope’ mhm. ‘glass is the only thing that can hold a ghost’ i cant tell if this contradicts the ghost box from movie 4 or not but i feel like it does. i feel like everything i was just told about ghost mechanics contradicts the 4th movie in some way. then again the fucking rothbart box is just a ??? where did that come from. who put that there. did the fucking forbidden arts manifest it. lads? the box confuses me, still, and its been like 15 minutes since i read that page anyway, at LEAST.

so, ghost rope. and the Z’s are N’s. oh ok. cool.

ok again, the submarine. why is there a submarine. i cant handle that.

ok so what ive learnt is that the first two movies are probably the most cohesive, and at the stretch the first four are probably a decent set. basically, the first movie is fine, and you can watch any up until 4 with it still basically making sense (bar the FUcking Ghost Box???? what the fuck). decently cohesive on plot alone. the 3d jump for movie 4 is good reason to cut it out, but if you dont give a shit then thats fine, right.

everything after 4 is just a ??? ok.

a fucking submarine, REALLY