#she was pretty much his apprentice and by all rights should have succeeded him when he disappeared but she was always only considered the

[scrappedtogether]

one of your posts made me remember that I used to be obsessed with riva ras regas when I was a kid because i had a crush on rufus lol

This is so valid, Anon!!! I also had a pretty big crush on him when I was a kid. I think it was a combination of his voice, his stage presence, and how sweet he was with his cat. 😂 He’s for sure one of the reasons I love Riva Ras Regas so much! You’re not alone at all, Anon!

[swinfinities]

Long Live the Queen: Part Seventeen

No one really liked the plan. All of High Command knew it was a long shot at best. If they failed (which seemed the most likely outcome), then the Rebellion would be placed pretty firmly on the losing side. It would be beyond difficult to recover from that sort of loss. Still, if they succeeded... then the war was as good as over. It was high risk, but an even higher reward.

It had taken a lot of convincing. Months of squabbling had passed before Mon, Padmé, and Bail had managed to convince the rest of High Command to vote in their favor. But it wasn’t until Yoda and Obi-Wan began to argue that minds really started changing. After all, it is hard to disagree with the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

All the while, Luke and Leia were kept safely hidden within the walls of the Yavin temple. Luke continued his training, at least when Obi-Wan wasn’t busy lending his expertise as a military advisor. Leia listened in on some of their sessions from time to time, but most of what they said was far beyond what she could understand. Yoda had promised, when all of this was over and the Empire destroyed, that she would be trained as a Jedi as well, alongside her brother and a new generation of Jedi knights. Sometimes, late at night, Luke would try to teach her some things, too, though not much more than a few simple meditative exercises. He even let her hold their father’s lightsaber once or twice. Leia always marveled at the power contained in such a small device—a power that seemed, somehow, not completely mechanical. As if there was some life to it.

But still, even being surrounded by thick walls of stone, guarded by trained soldiers and ancient Jedi, Leia felt a profound sense of unease. No matter how much she tried to meditate, to push it out of her mind, the feeling remained. A dark spot of dread in her heart that was slowly gnawing away at her sanity.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” her mother had said. “I’m afraid too. It’s okay if you don’t want to go on this mission. No one will think any less of you.”

No, Leia didn’t want to go through with this mission. But she still said yes anyway. Because it didn’t matter what she wanted. If she had a chance to do some good for the galaxy, that is what mattered. And she would do it standing side-by-side with her family, no matter if they lived or…

Or died.

Leia still had a hard time coming to terms with that part. She didn’t like thinking about it. She didn’t really even know how to think about it. The only thing she knew is that she felt scared.

But, somehow, the sound of the approaching ship, still just a little blip on the horizon, filled Leia with some long-awaited peace. It was as if the universe was trying to tell her that she was in the right place after all.

The ship approached the landing pad, making a soft descent and landing amid the sizable crowd that had gathered not only to greet the ship’s pilot, but to get a closer look at the ship itself.

“That’s an Eta-2 Actis-class Interceptor!” Luke beamed. “I’ve never seen one up close. They haven’t been in use since the Clone Wars! Heavy-repeating ion cannons… high-impulse, 118-megalight ion engines… Look! You can see how the reduced repulsorlift housing lets the ion impulse chamber gimbal up to thirty degrees for increased maneuverability. See, that was one of the big improvements over the older Aethersprite-class models—”

“You know that I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, right?” said Leia.

Luke looked sheepish.

“It’s just… a really great ship, is all,” he said. “Master Kenobi says he used to fly one like this during the Clone Wars. So did dad. Except dad’s was yellow, not red.”

“Yes, it was,” said the woman climbing out of the cockpit. Luke immediately recognized her as the Jedi from his vision. Their mother’s friend and their father’s old apprentice, Ahsoka Tano.

“I remember,” she said. “It was bright yellow. It wasn’t very good for staying hidden but… Anakin was never very good at that anyway. He always dove in lightsaber-first to any conflict. It was probably foolish but… we won a lot of battles that way.”

Ahsoka jumped down from the ship onto the platform and walked up to Luke. She offered him a small bow.

“You must be Luke,” she said, smiling. “You look just like Anakin. I can sense that you have a lot of your father in you. The Force is strong with you, as it was for him.”

“Thank you,” Luke said, bowing in return. “It is an honor to finally meet you, Lady Tano. I’ve only ever heard stories about my father… but you actually met him. I just… I wish I could have met him, too.”

Ahsoka laid a gentle hand on Luke’s shoulder. 

“There’s hope for that yet, young Skywalker. And please, just call me Ahsoka.”

“Alright,” said Luke.

“And it’s wonderful to see you, too Leia,” said Ahsoka. “Although you’re quite a bit bigger than the last time I saw you. I guess I’ve spent too many years running around the galaxy, I missed getting to see you grow up.”

“A pleasure, as always,” Leia said with a kind smile, curtseying just as a princess was trained to do.

Ahsoka caught Luke trying to get another glance over at the ship behind her.

“So, you like the ship?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yeah,” Luke said, trying to hide his excitement. “I’ve never had a chance to see one up close before.”

“It’s been sitting in storage for quite a few years now. Figured I’d dust it off again for one last mission. Do you want to get an even closer look? The cockpit’s all yours.”

Luke’s eyes lit up.

“Can I?” he beamed.

“Be my guest,” Ahsoka replied. “Just be careful not to disengage the reverse power coupling. The actuator tends to flip if you so much as breathe on it.”

Luke excitedly jumped up onto the ship and dropped down into the cockpit, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, well this certainly looks familiar,”  said Obi-Wan, walking up to greet them. “A Skywalker in the cockpit of an old Jedi interceptor. That does bring up some memories. Unfortunately, not all of them are good. I think I’m even getting a headache on behalf of my past self.”

“Obi-Wan,” said Ahsoka.

“Ahsoka,” he replied with a curt nod.

“You can’t fool me with that stiff-as-a-board routine, Obi-Wan. I know you too well. There’s a big, soft heart somewhere underneath all that beard.”

“Me? Stiff?” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t know where you got that. I can be funny—”

Ahsoka practically ran up to Obi-Wan and wrapped her arms around him. It took a few moments for Obi-Wan to get over the shock, but he hugged her back, too. They just stood there for a while, letting the other soak up so many years of shared pain before they finally let go.

“I’m very happy that you’re alright, Ahsoka,” said Obi-Wan. “If only one Jedi could have survived the Emperor’s purge, I would have wanted it to be you.”

“I’m not a Jedi anymore,” said Ahsoka.

“Are any of us?” Obi-Wan replied. “There’s no Temple. No Council. No Order. What does it matter what titles we wear?”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Ahsoka. “What matters is setting things right again. Speaking of which, where is Yoda?”

“In a briefing. That we should probably get ourselves to as well, unless we want to incur the wrath of Senator Amidala. Luke! Come. We’ve got to get ready.”

*****

The briefing room was emptied, except for the select few who had been given the clearance to know about this mission—other than the Jedi, there were the members of High Command, a few intelligence officers and high-ranking pilots. Luke and Leia were there, too, but they stood uneasily towards the back, both feeling very out-of-place in a war room.

“Thank you all, again, for your willingness to volunteer for this mission,” Mon Mothma began. “I’m sure you understand the risk involved. This is not a mission I would have approved under normal circumstances but… I have known Senator Amidala for many years, and I know that nothing would have prevented her from attempting the mission anyway once her mind was made up, in spite of anything I could have said. So, I propose that we give them the best possible chance of success that we can. As such, I am appointing Senator Amidala to be the commanding officer of this mission. I will therefore cede the floor to her. Padmé, if you will.”

“Thank, you Mon,” said Padmé, standing and taking her place before the council. “Captain Andor, you have the latest intelligence reports?”

“Yes, senator,” said the Captain, stepping up to address the group. “The ISD Devastator was confirmed patrolling the space near Saleucami. Two days ago, it made an emergency jump to Korriban, where it has been reported to have picked up a single Imperial light shuttle. It’s not certain, but the reports highly suggest that Darth Vader is aboard. The Devastator then moved to Telos to support the Imperial fleet against our forces stationed there. As of 0900 this morning, it is still in orbit. There haven’t been any sightings of Vader yet, but analysis of the Empire’s offensive strategies on Telos suggest Vader’s hand is in the campaign. This is the first real clue into Vader’s movements that we’ve found for months. If we’re going to act, we need to act now or Vader is going to disappear off the map again.”

“Is your droid ready, then?” asked Padmé.

“He is,” Captain Andor replied. “He is in position and ready to leak the information when I give the signal.”

“ISB is going to know it’s a trap,” said General Draven. “I don’t believe that they will commit a significant force to investigate, let alone Vader’s personal destroyer.”

“Of course they’ll know it’s a trap,” said Ahsoka. “That’s why we have to make the bait as tempting as possible. Not only the promise of the Rebel base, but of a Jedi… there’s no way that Vader won’t come see for himself.”

“He’ll have backup,” said Draven.

“It matters little, how many ships the Emperor sends,” said Yoda. “For no rebels on this moon will he find. A single ship is all we need. Risk destroying the ship, Vader will not, lest his prize he destroy with it.”

“Captain, is your strike team assembled?” Padmé asked.

“Yes,” Captain Andor replied. “Twenty men, plus the slicer. Enough to get us inside and take out more than a few stormtroopers. And I’ve got a pilot who should be able to get us in and out of a tight spot.”

“Then get ready and have your ship standing by for further orders,” Padmé ordered. “General Merrick, how long will it take to have the evacuation underway?”

“I can probably have all non-essential personnel off-world by 2200 tonight. It’ll take a little longer to get the equipment and munitions, but we can probably have the base cleaned up in two rotations.”

“You have one,” said Padmé. “Anything that isn’t boxed and shipped by tomorrow night is getting left behind. It’s not ideal, but time isn’t on our side. You are authorized to use any and all ships and crew you might need to assist in the evacuation. Getting these people out of the system is our number one priority.”

“Then it sounds like we’re committed to this,” said Obi-Wan. “The more I think about it, the more I wonder if this plan isn’t as crazy as I thought it was.”

“No, it’s still crazy,” said Ahsoka. “But just crazy enough that it might work. After all, my master was the expert in crazy schemes.”

“Yes, I suppose you did learn from the best. Well then, I suggest we all begin preparing. Tomorrow is going to be a very exciting day, no matter which way it turns out. May the Force be with us all.”

[warriors-windandfireau]

Wind and Fire: Into the Wild - Chapter Twenty Four

Read on Ao3

After their talk with Tallstar, Firepaw and Onepaw headed over to rest underneath a nearby tree. The sky had a pale orange colour peeking from the horizon, which made Firepaw put into perspective of how long his day had been. Perhaps it had been the pure adrenaline that had kept him feeling energized all the way back, but now that Firepaw was calmed down, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of fatigue flush over him.

He suddenly considered himself lucky that the battle with ShadowClan was, instead of how he thought, during the day, meaning he could rest, because even with an okay night of sleep, heading out at early dawn with no strength herbs, and then being thrown into a fight against ruthless cats, and then having to trek across two entire territories…

Needless to say, Firepaw was exhausted.

“Today’s been long, huh?” Onepaw commented as the two apprentices settled underneath a tree, despite the quiet that had settled over them.

Firepaw nodded, curling up and laying his head on his tail. “We can finally go back home tomorrow…” He yawned, before adding, “Shame we’re gonna be stuck in camp for a while.”

Onepaw grunted, laying down to get in a more comfortable position as well. “Don’t remind me.”

Firepaw just rolled his eyes, before closing them and drifting off to sleep not long afterwards.

He couldn’t help but half expect to be awoken by Greypaw for some other crazy plan that night.

---

Firepaw woke up fairly early the next day, however, rather than someone waking him, it was more of a “someones.”

His ears pricked as the loud bustling of his Clanmates sounded nearby. He lifted up his head to see the commotion, and in turn saw Tallstar standing atop a large rock that could serve for the normal boulder, and several cats padding over.

Guess I slept through some sort of gathering call… he thought, glancing over to see that the space next to him where Onepaw had been sleeping was now empty. And he didn’t even wake me up. Hope I didn’t miss anything… Firepaw rose to his paws, stretched out his spine, and went to join his Clanmates near the rock.

Tallstar wasted no time to begin speaking. “Cats of WindClan; as you know, we have been on the edge of our territory for a couple days now. However, Greypaw, Onepaw and Firepaw, as I’m sure you’ve heard, suddenly vanished the first night. They had joined a ThunderClan patrol that was driving Brokenstar out of his Clan, and giving ShadowClan a new leader. Luckily, they succeeded with minor enough injuries. Essentially, we can now return to our home without any worry. Brokenstar is gone.”

There was a shocked silence around the camp, before there was an eruption of cheers. It was slightly alarming, almost: for the past moon or more, whenever with his Clan, there was a constant stench of fear. Even when they had been returning, the dreadful feeling persisted. But now that everyone knew that they could return, it was basically gone.

Firepaw couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

“I don’t want to waste any time, so we will be heading back to our camp now. I assume you all got your rest, and are all eager to leave now.” As the Clan muttered in agreement, Tallstar nodded. "Very well. Our journey back to our proper camp begins now." He then hopped off the rock and, after a moment of conversing with Deadfoot, began to lead the Clan through their territory and away from the shelter where the Clan had been residing.

Our territory.

We're back.

As WindClan made their way through their newly reclaimed territory, Firepaw had to suppress the urge to run through the open fields once again, just as he had done moons ago. It was both strange and relieving, coming back to a place that had been practically abandoned for a while.

Sure, he had been there fairly recently with Onepaw, but it was impossible to really enjoy it when he was exhausted and everything was dark. But now the sky was bright, and Firepaw was full of energy, and his Clanmates, enthusiastic and optimistic, surrounded him.

It was as wonderful as it always seemed to be, and a great contrast to the dreary environment the Clan had to spend time in; the grasses stretched on forever, and sweet-smelling heathers brushed against his belly furs.

Wind gently brushed through his fur, giving him a chill that wasn’t unwelcoming. It just made him feel nostalgic, memories of how he felt when he first arrived to what was now his home. His Clan’s home.

The early morning sky was calm, the only movement being the slow sway of clouds drifting through the sterile light blue sea. The sun glowed bright, casting delightful rays upon the land below, piercing any cloud that blew over. The last bits of pink were fading on the horizon, abandoning the stars with it. The grass seemed to glow with the sun’s light.

However, the brightness of the landscape seemed almost deceitful, as there was still an unmistakable, telling cold. Luckily, the Clan wasn’t being welcomed back to their home with layers of snow upon snow. The only thing telling of the leaf-bare from sight was the small layer of frost that was upon some patches of grass.

Otherwise, the place seemed to represent a lovely spring day, without an ounce of worry or fear. And really, it might as well have been that with the ongoing situation.

At long last, just as Firepaw was admiring the scenery around him, Tallstar stopped. Peering around the crowd of cats, he could see that, although much of the camp was destroyed or torn apart, it was still there, as if it had been waiting for the Clan to come back all this time.

"WindClan, welcome home," Tallstar called.

---

The first thing that the cats had done as soon as they arrived was work on rebuilding the camp.

Despite Firepaw’s excitement to return, he had to admit it was somewhat depressing; although there were no bloodstains or corpses left, most likely washed away from snow and rain, and he didn’t even want to know about the two corpses, the memory of the battle still burned in his mind.

The barriers of both the camp and den walls were torn apart, and there were things knocked over, nests torn up, and persistent claw marks on some of the rocks.

Most of the warriors immediately were assigned go groups to help patch these things up. Several patrols were sent out to find materials as well.

Thankfully, the apprentices were exempt from work for that moment, so Onepaw and Firepaw could finally get a good chat with the others.

“Firepaw, Onepaw, I swear to StarClan, if you don’t sit down with me, Runningpaw, and Webpaw, and explain whatever shenanigans you idiots have gotten up to, then I’ll personally drag Brokenstar into this camp and he’ll claw you two apart.”

Firepaw immediately recognized the voice. When he swung around to see his and Onepaw’s addressor, his suspicions were confirmed: Whitepaw. The small, enthusiastic molly was glaring at the two.

“Um… why are you so…” Onepaw visibly struggled to find a word, “irritable?”

“Well, you two vanish and then immediately the next day after you’re back, Tallstar is telling the whole Clan about how you got rid of Brokenstar!” she exclaimed. “I don’t care what unimportant thing you were planning to do, you are going to tell this story to your friends and we are going to talk.”

Firepaw, not finding himself with much of a choice, nodded and followed Whitepaw to join her with Webpaw and Runningpaw, who were already sitting and having a small chat.

Runningpaw noticed the approaching three first. “Hello, Firepaw, Onepaw, Whitepaw.” She purred, padding over so she could sit next to Whitepaw. “How have you two been?”

Whitepaw spoke before Firepaw could respond. “Oh, we all know what you’ve been up to! Come on, spit it all out! What kind of nonsense have you guys done?”

“I have to say, I am curious as well…” Webpaw admitted, looking over the two with a look of curiosity.

“Alright, alright.” Onepaw sighed, somewhat dramatically. “If you insist. Well, our epic journey begins with Greypaw rudely waking us up in the middle of the night. We then trekked to Fourtrees, and met up with some RiverClan apprentice. We slept, and in the morning we went and joined a ThunderClan patrol. We then attacked ShadowClan with some help from some ShadowClan rebels… and then we kicked Brokenstar and his remaining buddies out, and then left.” He grinned. “And that’s basically how it went.”

Whitepaw blinked, and naturally, was the first to speak up. “Why weren’t we invited?”

Onepaw groaned. “Of course. No amazed ‘oos’ or ‘aas.’ Just complaining.” He shot a pointed look at Whitepaw. “I dunno! Ask Greypaw next time you see him.”

"Hey, I thought it was a cool story," Runningpaw chimed in.

Webpaw shrugged. “Yeah… I suppose. I don’t really see the appeal of being invited, though…”

Whitepaw huffed. “You both are boring- no offense Runningpaw- but kicking out the evil ShadowClan cats sounds much more fun than sitting around in some sat silent fake camp.”

“So I guess full offense towards Webpaw?” Runningpaw scolded. “You already know he won’t defend himself. Don’t worry, Webpaw, she doesn’t mean it.”

“He knows I don’t mean it,” Whitepaw complained.

Webpaw just chuckled nervously, glancing to the side.

Whitepaw and Runningpaw seem to be pretty comfortable with each other. Firepaw observed the two, but didn’t comment aloud.

“Why can’t we just be happy that we’re back here?” Onepaw suddenly spoke up.

The others glanced over to him, and Whitepaw giggled slightly. “Yeah… you’re right. We should go out and do something… catch rabbits… see that one spot that we went awhile ago! That rock!” 

“Well, er… me and Onepaw are actually stuck here for around half a moon,” Firepaw spoke up.

"What? How come?" asked Runningpaw.

Onepaw groaned. "Take a wild guess."

“Ooooh…” Whitepaw grinned. “Did Tallstar give you time-out?”

“Yeah, you’re right, and it’s not time-” Firepaw was quickly cut off.

“Well, come on, Webpaw, Runningpaw! Let’s leave these two here! We’re home!”

[catflowerqueen]

Deja vu (Oh, the Irony)

Here’s chapter two! I’ll try to get another one up soon, but I make no promises--I may be on break right now, but, alas, that doesn’t mean I still don’t have actual work to do. That and familial obligations over the holidays. Fun ones, of course, but it still means I won’t have as much time to write.

I might post headcanons or ramblings if anyone is interested, though.

And these chapters are also up on my fanfiction .net accounts and ao3

Chapter 2: Talking Heads

 …and then, with a singular voice, Drowzee, Chatot, and the other apprentices all screamed, “YOU DID WHAAAAAAAT?!!!”

 This, of course, was the wrong thing to do when around small children, especially when said children are already on edge from suddenly finding themselves in a strange place, surrounded by strange people, and with no familiar comforts in sight. The little human girl—presumably Laura—had her hands occupied, so her only defense against the loud noise and tension was to screw her eyes shut and hunch over as much as possible, trying to use her shoulders to cover her ears. Paula, now an adorable pichu, had both of her paws free… but rather than use them to cover her large ears, she instead used them to give a death-grip on Laura’s already rumpled collar and begin wailing in terror. Which, of, course, made the human carrying her almost drop her in shock… which set off another round of wailing at an even higher pitch. But it also succeeded in shutting everyone else up and making them cringe in shame for having frightened someone so little and adorable.

 Everyone, except Drowzee, that is, who instead gave a low moan of “Oh no… not again…!” before he dropped the human’s hand in favor of moving around so that he was standing in front of the two kids and tried to calm the little pichu down. “H-hey, it’s… okay!” he said a bit frantically, making shushing noises and waving his hands in front of himself, as if he both wanted to scoop her out of the human’s arms in order to better soothe her but was also too terrified to make the attempt. “C’mon, Paula, we’re all really, really sorry for yelling and being noisy! We promise not to do it again, so there’s no reason to—!”

 But that, apparently, was also the wrong thing to say, as the poor thing’s wailing did not cease, and she started adding in tearful shouts of “No! No! No!” in amongst her pitiful cries, her cheeks sparking a little as she shook her head, managing to clip the human’s face with her large ears each time. Laura, for her part, did not seem to care about that overly much, and actually seemed to be less upset about the noise in general now that it was only coming from one source. The hand not holding the Tiny Mouse Pokémon—which she had used to cover one of her ears after it was finally freed from Drowzee’s grasp—slowly came down and cradled the back of Paula’s head, creating a more stable hold. She frowned, glancing briefly at the electric-type in her arms before turning her attention to Drowzee and his ineffectual efforts at trying to control the situation.

 “I don’t think you’re helping, Mr. Drowzee,” she told him seriously. Or at least as seriously as a small child—practically a toddler, really—could get. It was such an unexpected statement coming from such an unexpected source that Drowzee immediately shut up and actually reeled back a bit in shock. But she paid no further attention to him, instead turning back towards Paula. She jostled her a bit, startling Paula into a brief moment of silence, which Laura then took full advantage of by saying, “Hey. Hey, you… uh… is your name really Paula?”

Paula looked at her, blinking her teary eyes in surprise that the strange girl was actually asking her about her name, instead of just assuming that these strangers throwing it around were right about what it was. Which… yeah, they were, but Paula didn’t know who they were; they didn’t look like they were her parents’ friends, or anything like the pokémon in the picture Ricky had sent of his team’s fellow apprentices in the guild he was training at, so she didn’t know how they knew who she was. And she didn’t like that—especially since she didn’t know where she even was, aside from “definitely not home.” But… she guessed the girl holding her was okay, even if she looked weird. Her eyes were pretty, and it was nice of her to offer to carry her around—especially since that grate that Mr. Drowzee had tried to get her to step on earlier was really, really scary, and it looked like it would tickle her feet, or that she would fall through into the darkness below if she tried to stand on it. So, it would probably be okay to introduce herself.

 She nodded a little, and then leaned up so that she could whisper, “Uh huh… I’m Paula… Paula Sparks,” into her ear. Except she wasn’t all that great at whispering at the moment, since her throat was all scratchy from all the crying and yelling she was doing earlier, so all of the other strangers probably heard her, too.

 The human took that in stride. “It’s nice to meet you!” she announced “And everyone here! Even if everyone’s really confused ‘n’ stuff.” At this point she dropped her head down to “whisper” into Paula’s large ears and, “I don’ think they know what’s goin’ on either.” Again, everyone else heard this because she apparently wasn’t any better than Paula was at whispering, even if she didn’t have the handicap of a sore throat like Paula did. But after that “whispered” pronouncement, she paused, and then drew herself back up to her full height and said, rather bluntly, “My arms are tired. I’mma put you down now, ‘kay?”

 Paula, whose tears had mostly stopped by that point, frowned in obvious disappointment, her lips quivering into a pout, before she shakily nodded. She sniffled a bit after she was set down, and rubbed the tears from her eyes. But it wasn’t as if Laura was abandoning her completely, since as soon as Paula sat down, the human immediately plopped down beside her. She then rolled onto her stomach, propped her head up with her hands, and began kicking her legs in the air behind her as she stared at the adults around her expectantly.

 After a moment of their rather wary staring right back at her, supremely confused by the fact that she was the one taking charge of the situation, considering her older self’s personality, Chatot awkwardly cleared his throat.

 “…Right then,” he began. “Now that we’ve all… er… calmed down a bit, I suppose that the first thing we should do is figure out what we know for sure about the situation at hand. So that would mean… Drowzee.”

 “Oh!” Drowzee tore his eyes away from the sight of the kids—Laura having pretty quickly decided that her arms were just as tired while supporting her head as they had been while holding Paula, and thus having rolled onto her back, limbs spread out like a star and head tilted backwards to watch the group from upside down while Paula basically faceplanted into her stomach, having decided that her fellow child would make a serviceable pillow—in surprise upon being addressed. “Yes?” he asked. “What, uh… what can I do for you?”

 “Can you please tell us exactly what happened when you met up with Team Rainbow this evening?” Chatot asked. “And how they changed from their normal selves into… this?”

 “Oh! Yeah, yeah sure, I can do that,” Drowzee said. “I don’t really understand it… and I’m not entirely sure what happened to cause this… but this is what I saw: Like I said, I wasn’t expecting to actually get here until tomorrow, but the journey took less time than I thought it would. Just as I was making my way to the crossroads, I happened to see Team Rainbow a little way away. I called out a greeting to Paula, and she answered back with…

----------

“Oh! Hey, Drowzee!” Paula called back, turning around from where she was leaning down and talking to her partner. Laura was, rather worryingly, sitting on the ground, head in her knees, and breathing somewhat heavily. She did tilt her head a bit and peek her eyes out at him, however.

 “Are you okay?” he asked in worry. “It’s kind of late out…”

           Paula nodded. “Yeah, we’re fine,” she affirmed. “We were on our way back, but we picked up tons of cool treasure today, so our bag is heavier than normal and Laura just needed to stop and take a break for a bit.”

           Drowzee stole a glance at their bag where it sat on the ground near Laura’s feet, the strap looped around her arm. While it did, admittedly, look a bit bulgier than normal Treasure Bags usually did, he knew that he’d seen her and Paula toting it around when it was much heavier and fuller looking without breaking a sweat. Coupled with the fact that Laura still looked like she had bags under her eyes, even weeks after the whole Dreamy Blackmailer fiasco—and Paula, too, now that he got a bit of a closer look—and it painted a darker picture than what Paula was trying to describe. But given that the very presence of the eye-bags indicated that the two were likely not as relaxed or recovered as Paula’s cheeriness was trying to lead him to believe, he decided not to comment.

           “…Right,” he said, instead of calling her out on the fact that all was not as fine as she wanted to make it appear. It would likely only make them try even harder and less successfully to convince him of the notion that they were fine. He compromised by suggesting, “In that case, you should definitely make sure to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

             But this was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Paula outright flinched at the suggestion, growing pale at the thought, and Laura, while her reaction wasn’t quite as extreme, still hid her eyes again and gave a mournful sigh.

             “Do you… ah… do you want me to see if Cresselia can come over and help?” Drowzee said, frowning at the sight and feeling anxious to do something, anything, to help his friends.

             “No, no, really! We’re fine!” Paula tried to assure him, frantically shaking her head as the color came back to her face.

           “…It’s okay if you still aren’t. You two have been through a lot recently, and—”

             “I…” Paula trailed off with a sigh, a pained look on her face. “I—we… we know. And we know everyone is still really worried about us, but…”

             “…Even he would say that nightmares at this point wouldn’t help anything… and the only way we can think of to help with that is to make some better memories to dream about,” Laura finished, raising her head to look at him straight in the eyes.

             Paula winced at the reminder… but it was more of a resigned wince, if anything, and Drowzee supposed that if that was going to be her only reaction, then it meant things really were improving for her. At least a little bit. Also, the fact that Laura could actually talk about these things and look at him in the eyes again, despite how up close and personal he’d gotten with all her issues during his most recent trip inside her head could only point to good things. Still… if he’d learned anything from this most recent trial, it was that recovery was a process, and sometimes it was the little things that helped the most.

             “Well, just so long as you’re aware…” he began, “in any case, it’s actually good that I caught you out here; considering that Cresselia was briefly a member of Team Rainbow, I wanted to see if you had any advice on how to balance the duties of a legendary with, well, everything else.”

             The two looked relieved at the topic change. “Sure thing!” Paula said eagerly. “But, uh… I’m not sure how much help we’ll be considering that the lack of a proper balance is what made her have to leave in the first place…”

             “Well, at least you’ll be able to tell me what not to do, then, right?” Drowzee said, a smirk on his face as he offered Laura a hand up. She took it, a small grin of her own appearing on her face. She then went to heft Team Rainbow’s Treasure Bag over her shoulder, but Drowzee stopped her, making grabby motions with his other hand. “Nah, let me go ahead and carry it the rest of the way for you—consider it a bit of payment for the advice.”

             Laura rolled her eyes, grin still on her face, before she handed the bag over, their hands briefly brushing as she did so. But just as she turned and began to take her first steps toward the crossroads, she suddenly stumbled, a wince crossing her face, and brought her hands up to her temples.

             “Laura? Are you okay?” Paula asked in worry, scampering closer to her partner.

             Laura made a noise of discomfort, but then she nodded. “D-Dimensional Scream,” she explained, as her eyes began to glow and acquire the far-off look that had become so familiar.

             Drowzee couldn’t help but be a bit curious about the process. After all, he hadn’t had as much experience with it as the others had, considering how often he was away from town—and since it apparently was this ability which had led to his capture during his outlaw days, he was doubly interested. Not that he was resentful of it, or anything, since he really had needed someone to put him on the straight and narrow. But he couldn’t help but be curious about what, exactly, Laura had seen that day… he hoped it wasn’t anything too bad—he knows that he said some not-so-nice things to Azurill that had scared him, and that he was still ashamed of to this day. Then again, considering that he had literally wandered through some of the darkest, most painful and private parts of Laura’s mind recently, he figured that if she had seen some of his more painful and embarrassing moments, it would only be fair. …That being said, though, considering that he was one of the last things she touched before this Dimensional Scream activated, and even he knew enough about the ability to know that touch was what triggered the visions, he really hoped that the vision she was having right now involving him wasn’t too embarrassing. Or that at least if was and involved something happening in the future, she would be able to describe it enough that he could mitigate the chance that anyone else would witness the embarrassing display. …Maybe in that case he could get her to describe it to him sometime when Paula wasn’t around.

             Of course, there was always the possibility that the bag had been the trigger, or that it was something else innocuous, so he supposed he would just have to wait and see. Luckily, it looked like the vision was ending now, so he wouldn’t have to wait too long. …Then again, the fact that Laura’s face was rapidly losing color, even as she blinked her way back to the present, did not bode very well…

             “…Laura? Are you okay?” Paula asked, catching the unease on her face. When Laura failed to say anything, she gave her shoulder a firm shake. “Laura?” she asked, a desperate note entering her voice. “What did you see?”

             The worry in her partner’s voice finally broke Laura out of her stupor, and she gave a quick glance in her direction, before turning a rather haunted look towards Drowzee, and then her gaze dropped to her hands.

             “…No… but that’s…” she stumbled back a few steps, her limbs trembling as she covered her eyes. “That can’t be…”

             “…L-Laura?” Drowzee called, starting to feel scared about what, exactly, his friend just saw in her vision. He took a step forward, hand outstretched as if he wanted to grasp her shoulder—whether to offer comfort or prevent her from moving away again, he wasn’t sure—but before he could take another step Laura flinched back violently.

             “L-Laura?!” he and Paula called out as one, obvious distress in their voices.

             Laura gasped, her fingers parting briefly so that the two could see the lost gaze of her rainbow-colored eyes. But then she glanced between the two of them, winced at the looks on their faces, and then covered them again before taking a shaky inhale for courage and dropping her hands again to look Drowzee squarely in the eyes.

             “You… I saw…” her courage briefly failed and she trailed off, looking lost, but it seemed it was only a momentary faltering, she quickly shook her head and took another inhale, steadying herself. “I saw you, Drowzee, along with Marill, Chatot, and Guildmaster Wigglytuff. You were on Mt. Bristle, and looking frantically for something … or, rather, someone. Because then you looked relieved, and shouted ‘Hey!’ and… a human girl turned to look at you. She…” but Laura trailed off here with a gulp, shaking her head and refusing to continue further.

             “A… a human?” Drowzee asked, dumbfounded. The only human he’d ever seen outside of dreams had been Laura herself, and the circumstances surrounding that had definitely been unusual. As far as he knew, humans were a rarity. So why would one go to Mt. Bristle? And how would they know him? And when exactly would this happen? It had to be sometime in the future, because, again, as of this moment he didn’t know any other humans but Laura.

             “But why is that so upsetting, Laura?” Paula asked, getting Drowzee back on track to the present.

             “She…” Laura swallowed. “Her eyes… they were like mine,” she whispered.

             “No way! She had rainbow eyes too?” Paula gasped. “So that means… do you think she was maybe your successor?!” Drowzee whipped his head over to look at Laura as the horror of that possibility dawned on him as well. But apparently Paula didn’t grasp the implications of that idea, since she continued with, “That’s so cool that you get to see what she’ll look like, and—” but then it finally dawned on Paula as well exactly what that meant, and her own face drained of color as well. “But… wait… in order for you to have a successor… that means that first you’ll… y-you’ll have to… t-to—!”

             She couldn’t finish the thought. It was too horrible to even consider. But the implications lingered in the air: in order for Laura to have a successor, a future Rainbow Child… it meant that she would have to reincarnate. And in order for her to reincarnate… she would first have to, well… to die.”

             “…How much time do you think we have?” Drowzee asked morosely. If the time he had left with his friend was now limited, then he wanted to know exactly what that limit was, so that he could be sure not to waste the now even more precious commodity. “And… and should we tell anyone else?” All three of them paused and winced at the thought. But then Laura turned thoughtful as she went over the vision again, trying to pinpoint any clues that would tell her how far in the future it occurred.

             “I think… not long,” was her deduction. “You and the others didn’t look any older, so it couldn’t have been—” she cut herself off, blinking at a sudden realization. “…You didn’t look any older. Like… not even a little. But that girl had to be at least three, maybe four years old, so that means…”

             “S-So that means…?” Paula repeated, a bit of hope coming back into her voice.

             Laura gave a sigh of relief, “She can’t be my successor—not unless some sort of time travel is involved. Which… wouldn’t actually be that strange, considering my own history, but…” she trailed off, a frown on her face that went unnoticed by her two friends who were busy giving twin sighs of relief.

             “Don’t scare us like that, Laura!” Paula complained.

           “Seriously…” Drowzee concurred wholeheartedly. “Though… I guess we might still want to watch out if it is a case of time travel. Those tend to be pretty serious. And if a little kid is involved this time, one who’s even younger than you were the first time you did it…”

             Paula nodded in agreement. “That’s a good point. I guess we should start getting ready to take care of a kid, then? Hm… I wonder what human kids need… I wouldn’t want to end up in a similar situation to what happened with Manaphy right after he hatched,” she shuddered a bit at the reminder. “At least we already have a human expert on hand, right, Laura?” she asked with a smile, moving closer to her with the intent of giving her a playful nudge. But before she could, she noticed the frown that was still on Laura’s face.

             “Laura? Is… is something else wrong?”

             Laura blinked, looking at Paula before rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Oh… no, not ‘wrong’ so much as…. ‘strange,’ I guess.” At Paula and Drowzee’s expectant faces, she continued. “The girl… now that I think back on it, she looked really… familiar.”

             “You mean… aside from the eyes?” Drowzee asked.

             Laura nodded. “Yeah. I could swear I’d seen her before… maybe in a picture? Or… no.” Her mouth opened into a little “o” of shock. “She looked like a younger version of that statue… the one from Relatia’s Cave…” Her brow furrowed. “But that statue… she was the very first. So how could… why would she be here? And now? And…” she trailed off, looking a bit sick. “I don’t… I don’t feel so good…”

             “L-Laura?” Drowzee said, starting to panic again and move towards her to try to help. “What’s wrong? What just—?”

             “Ugh…” he suddenly heard from behind him, turning around just in time to see Paula crouch over, clutching her stomach. “Me neither…”

             “Paula?” Drowzee called, feeling suddenly frantic and stuck looking between the two girls, unsure of who he should help first, or what he could even do to help in the first place. The panic only grew when he heard what he thought was a scream echoing in the distance… and then Team Rainbow screamed as well as they were enveloped in a bright light. It was so bright, that Drowzee had to shut his eyes against it. And when he could finally open them again and look frantically for his friends… he visibly jolted back upon finding that they had changed.

             Where once stood a pikachu was now an adorable, little pichu—laying on the ground, apparently unconscious. He stared at the sight in shock before slowly turning in search of his treecko friend… and found, instead, a little human girl with white hair, also lying on the ground.

             …Well, he supposed that answered the question of where and when he would meet another human, even if he still wasn’t entirely clear about what just happened. But before he had the chance to figure it out, the little human started to stir.

 “Mm… H-huh?” She said, blinking her pretty, rainbow-colored eyes open and staring straight at him.

 “L-Laura?” he whispered in shock. “Is… is that you?”

 The little girl cocked her head. “Who’re you?” she asked, rather than actually respond to his question.

 Drowzee gulped. “It… it’s me. Drowzee,” he said. The girl simply cocked her head in the other direction. “Y-you know… your friend?” No comprehension. “The… the first pokémon you and Paula ever helped arrest?”

 Then, Drowzee’s heart plummeted when the girl asked “What’s a Pokémon?”

 But before Drowzee could even begin to react to the terrifying implications that question brought on, he heard some sleepy mumbles coming from where the pichu lay. He and the girl turned their heads towards her just in time to see her big eyes blink open as she sat up and started to look around.

 “…P-Paula?” Drowzee asked desperately.

 The little pichu nodded, breathing a small, soft, “Yeah” … before she flinched back and then promptly burst into tears.

 Laura frowned and crawled towards her while Drowzee panicked at the sight of the tears. “Wh-wha…? Wh-what’s wrong? Why are you crying?!”

 “I’m not s’pposed to talk to strangers!” Paula wailed. “Mommy’ll be mad at me an’… an’…” she abruptly stopped crying, looking around and sniffling a bit… before the tears and wailing returned ten-fold and she wailed, even more shrilly “An’ Mommy’s not here! I WAN’ MOMMY!!!” as she beat her tiny fists against the ground.

 “Oh… oh no…” Drowzee groaned, completely out of his depth…

 ----------

“…And that’s when I decided to come to the guild,” Drowzee finished. “It took a while to convince Paula that it was okay to follow me—I had to show her my new exploration team badge and everything, and then when we actually got to the guild, she was too scared to step on the grate… but she let Laura pick her up, and then… well, you know the rest.” He shrugged. “As for what actually caused this… I have no clue. I’m assuming that the scream and the light were involved, but as for how…?” He shook his head and shrugged again.

 “Oh… oh, golly…” Bidoof moaned from where he was standing by Chatot. Chatot covered his head with his wings and sighed. That was just… well.

 “All… all right,” he finally said, uncovering his head. “So what appears to have happened is that upon waking Jirachi—who had fallen asleep on the Beach during his visit with Bidoof, our illustrious guild, and Treasure Town in general—Bidoof triggered Jirachi’s, shall we say, ‘protocols,’ for granting wishes… and then, due to stress and general worry for Team Rainbow’s well-being… Bidoof inadvertently made a wish that Paula and Laura could be children again… which Jirachi then granted just as Drowzee met up with Team Rainbow near the Crossroads once they finally made it back from their longer-than-advised day of exploration. Does this sound about right?”

“Hey, hey! Don’t forget that Jirachi passed out after granting the wish!” Corphish called out. “Unless maybe that’s normal for him… Hey, Bidoof, did he do that last time he granted a wish for you?”

“N-no,” Bidoof replied, cringing under the scrutiny. “I mean… I guess he might’ve gone back to sleep after I left… but he and I talked a bit first right after I made my wish to… uh,” he coughed in embarrassment, declining to say out loud what the wish had been, even though most everyone had figured it out earlier. “But, uh… he didn’t do any of that glowy stuff back then… and I’m not sure he actually granted the wish right away, so I reckon it’s possible that if he did wait until after I left to grant the wish, then he may have passed out then, too, yup yup.” He frowned, remembering something, before adding, “Oh! But, uh… he did say this time that he ‘overdid it’ a little, and it seemed like he seemed real concerned about Laura—or maybe the Rainbow Child in general?—when he started glowing, so, uh…” he frowned and shrugged, “I don’t really know, but I reckon it might be important?”

 “Hm… perhaps,” Chatot acknowledged, a frown on his face.

 “Y’know… this human doesn’t really LOOK like Laura did as a human,” Loudred suddenly said. “Except for her EYES. Are we REALLY sure it’s actually her?”

 “That is a good point,” Dugtrio agreed. “When Laura briefly assumed her human form, she was much taller… And her hair was brown, not white.”

 “Yeah, but our Laura is also older than this one, and Mason said that human kids are smaller than the adults are, so maybe their hair just changes color when they evolve, like the fur of an electrike when it becomes a manectric,” his son offered. But then he got a confused look on his face. “Er… Dad? Do… do humans actually… evolve, when they become adults?”

 Everyone pondered that for a moment.

 “I’m… I’m not entirely sure about that,” Chatot said, finally breaking the silence. “But… I also agree with Loudredl I’m not entirely positive that this is actually Laura.”

 “Oh, oh?” Wigglytuff asked. “So you don’t think that these are the child versions of our friendly-friends Laura and Paula?”

 “I’m fairly certain that the pichu is Paula,” his head of intelligence clarified, “but the human… if you recall Drowzee’s story, she never actually confirmed that her name was Laura. asked. And… she had no idea what a pokémon was. Given the story Laura told us in Relatia’s Cave about her childhood and some of the… erm… other things she revealed to me in that… other cave the two of us were in recently,” he paused here to shudder at the memories, “Laura lived with pokémon from a very young age—and even while she was still living with humans, she was, at least, aware of what pokémon were.”

 “…That’s a good point,” Chimecho agreed. “So, then, who is this human? And what happened to Laura?”

 “I think… I think it might still be Laura,” Drowzee said. “Just… not our Laura. And… maybe she doesn’t actually go by that name?”

 “Oh my gosh! What do you mean by that? How could she be Laura, but not Laura?” Sunflora asked.

 “Laura—older Laura… our Laura? …you know who I mean—right before she was hit with that light, when she was talking about the human that she saw in her vision… after we established that it probably wasn’t her next incarnation (and thank Arceus we managed to figure that out), she said something about her looking ‘familiar’ and talking about how she ‘looked like a younger version of the very first.’ Since this human is probably the one she saw in her vision, maybe when she said ‘first’… she meant her very first incarnation?” He looked around the room at everyone’s stunned expressions. “If that’s the case… if this is the very first Rainbow Child… and if she really is an actual child right now… then wouldn’t it make sense that she doesn’t know what pokémon are? I mean… we don’t really know how old she was during the Time Gear Legend, right?”

 “…And in that case, considering the nature of reincarnation… she would, essentially, be our Laura, and yet… not,” Chatot extrapolated. “That… makes a great deal of sense. Especially given that Jirachi, apparently, needed to use more power than usual to grant such a wish. I can only imagine how much power it would take to turn back time on so many separate lives…” he then paused, considering something else that made the theory even more likely. “…And if the child really is at an age before she visited our world for the first time, then it also means that she is also at the age before she faced any real responsibilities as a productive or favored servant of Relatia… or from any responsibilities or consequences from helping to create and, ultimately, complete the Time Gears. Which would fit in perfectly with the spirit of Bidoof’s wish.”

 Again, there was silence as everyone soaked that in.

 “OKAY,” Loudred said. “So… now that THAT’S been established… what do we do NOW?”

 “Oh my gosh, yes!” Sunflora agreed. “We know what happened now, and, why… but how do we fix it?”

 “I would assume Jirachi is the only one who can do that, meh heh heh… But since he is currently passed out…?” Croagunk shrugged, trying to affect an air of nonchalance to hide his worry—not that anyone actually bought it.

 “So… what should we do in the meantime?” Chimecho fretted. “Can we… can we really take care of the two of them while they’re like this?”

 “Of course we can!” Wigglytuff exclaimed, sounding shocked that one of his apprentices would think otherwise. “They’re our friendly-friends, after all! And they need our help!”

 “And, hey, hey, since this is basically Bidoof’s fault, anyways, we can just leave most of the hard work to him,” Corphish reasoned.

 Bidoof winced at the reminder of his role in matter, but agreed readily. “Yup yup… and I reckon I’ve got a fair bit of experience with kids that will come in handy, what with my little siblings and all. And,” he shrugged a bit sheepishly, “maybe I’ll be able to wake Jirachi up a little quicker? Since I’m apparently pretty good at that…”

 “Great!” Wigglytuff declared.

 “If you need any help, I’d be glad to do what I can,” Drowzee offered. “I mean… since everything is still getting settled with the new team, I have plenty of time on my hands.”

 “Yes, that would help a great deal,” Chatot agreed. “We do still have a guild to run, after all! As for what to do first… hrm… Bidoof, since this is, however accidentally it may have been, technically speaking your fault…”

 “Oof… you don’t have to be so blunt about it…”

 “…tomorrow you will be in charge of managing the affairs Team Rainbow left undone today, what with the late hour of their return—greeting the pokémon whose job requests they completed today, settling things with Officer Magnezone in regards to the outlaws they helped capture, sorting through and cataloguing the supplies and treasures they acquired… and so on and so forth.”

 Bidoof groaned at all the extra work, but readily agreed. “Yup, yup… I reckon that’s fair… sigh…”

 “Hey, hey! What should we do about the kids right now, though?” Corphish asked. “It’s kind of late, and it’s dark out, so it would probably be a bad idea to take them out to Sharpedo Bluff right now, right? If only because of all the attention they’re sure to get at the moment.”

 “Oh my gosh, yes! And kids like them probably need early bedtimes, anyways!” Sunflora added.

 “They probably haven’t eaten yet, either… so maybe we should feed them first? And then figure out a place for them to sleep?” Chimecho asked, frowning, as she contemplated whether she knew any specifically kid-oriented recipes.

 “Meh heh heh… But before all that… shouldn’t we figure out where the kids actually are?” Croagunk suddenly put in, his laugh sounding more nervous than unnerving, for once.

 “HUH?” everyone asked, turning towards him. He merely pointed to the spot where Laura (or at least, the girl who would one day become Laura, but who they were still going to call Laura in their heads for now because they weren’t entirely sure what her name actually was during that first lifetime) and Paula were sitting at the start of Drowzee’s tale… the spot which had, upon further reflection, been suspiciously quiet, given the general nature of small, likely bored children…

 …Only to find it empty. The children, being, again, small, and likely bored, had somehow wandered away unnoticed during the discussion, and now they had no idea where the duo went.

 “AAAH! WE LOST THE CHILDREN!!!”

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 2 Part 1

I’m a little late but... here we are !

Chapter 2 begins ! It is shorter than chapter 1 (I counted 8 parts) but I hope you’ll like it anyway !

Liam Saturday November 25

"Dude, whatever is the problem, you should stay away. You already have enough to think about."

The freshman agreed, reassured by his bestfriend on the line. Yeah, he's right, Pete and Theo's relationship is none of my business. To be honest, he feared the team captain... He probably was an ogre who fed the poor blonde freshman as much as possible and would soon eat him. (It could be a little exaggerated but... Liam didn't want to be the next). (After all, he already noticed Theo's sharp teeth).

"I need to go." stated Nate. "Gwendoline's waiting for me."

"Still not your girl ?"

"Hell no. She call us 'friends with benefits' so I'm not complaining. Anyway, I'll call you later, see ya."

Liam hung the phone up with a smile. He loved these discussions with his bestfriend, and couldn't wait to see him again. As much as he can say, when they met during holidays, Nate was doing fine, even if Gwendoline refused to be his girlfriend. I wonder if she's as beautiful as he pretended. They agreed to say she was a fairy, but the young lad never saw a fairy before. (Yeah, they were in the same delirium). (That's probably why they were bestfriend). Lost in his mind about fairies and unicorns, the boy didn't realise the nurse called his name. He missed two times in a row his turn, too distracted. Eventually, once Prince Liam defeated the terrible Ogre named "have your heads in the clouds", he walked in the nurse's office. (Let's be honest, "Prince Liam" is a perfect title, isn't it ?).

"You asked for a check-up." declered the blonde apprentice. "Undress yourself please."

He obeyed distractedly and followed her instructions. Since he had met Raphaël one week ago, he had done two other stuffing session. Nothing too excessive, only enough to feel a bit bloated, but he wondered if his friend had poisoned him. I stayed clean for months, but he succeeded to make me an addict again. (Yeah, it probably wasn't his former captain fault at all but...). (The mutant could have a project for him). Anyway, the nurse, called Chelsea according to her badge, brought him back to reality when she assured :

"You are in a perfect shape. Maybe even one the best I ever saw. You can be proud of yourself. We'll do some measurements, but I'm not worrierd at all."

He thanked her, a bit disappointed (a 8yo boy would have loved to be poisoned by a mutant), and left the nursery after the control. To be honest, he wasn't worried about his condition. He wasn't even sure if stuffing his face was a bad thing anymore. The bad memories were fading with time.

The freshman joined Nick for their macroeconomics lesson at the amphitheater. His friend was staring at Rebecca and Emilio with an angry look. When Liam came closer, he mumbled :

"She totally forgot to come for the project yersterday. She doesn't care anymore."

"Everyone forgets things from time to time." reasoned the taller lad. "You forgot to close the fridge's door at noon for example."

"That was you."

"You got the point."

(Liam didn't even remember going to the fridge at noon). (But he wasn't stupid for all that). Nick headed towards the tier quite pissed, and once slumped, got his gameboy and started to play. His friend sat down next to him thoughtfully. Under his open jacket, the angry boy wore a singlet which show some curve at the belly level. As always, he ate too much. (Liam was well aware of his roommate's love for junkfood and between us, he felt a bit jealous sometimes). (But this is a secret).

"What are you staring at ?" asked Nick. "I'm just stuffed. I ate at the cafeteria."

He closed his jacket prudently, but in fact, Liam was already gone miles away. He had glanced Barbara in the first row, and got lost in his memories. I wonder what she's thinking... I really need to know what she heard about me... Yeah, I'll ask her as soon as the lesson is over.

Rebecca Tuesday November 28

In two weeks was taking place the first qualifiers for the National University's Championship in March. The team was competing against the universities around the state, and needless to say, they had to train. At least for the relay race. The black girl finished a lenght, quite satisfied, and headed towards Bob, who watched her from the side. Her coach seemed a bit odd since she pit herself against him. However, he accepted Emilio, which was the more important.

"You did good." he declared once she was closer. "Your team can't lose the qualifiers as long as you're running."

"Thanks."

She sat next to him, and watched the other who were still running. Her boyfriend was the fattest : with great splendor, he crossed the finishing lane a few minutes after her. Then came Chelsea, who had been appointed captain, but Rebecca caught sight of Nick and couldn't help but staring at him. He was going with Laura towards the pool, probably to prepare the field before this evening training. I need to put an end to our argument. He's too childish to come, but I'm not that proud. With shame, she remembered Liam had told her these exact same words several weeks ago. He might be simple and scatterbrained but sometimes he was right. Nevertheless, when she stood up, Bob stopped her and whispered :

"Think wisely champion. You need to stay far away from bad influences and this lad, despite not being fat, drunk or high, is a bad influence. He's a nerd without any desire to be better nor any will to work on himself. An average guy like him isn't worth your time. Don't waste your energy for nothing."

She nodded slowly. I know it's wrong but... She could not desobey Bob a second time. And after all, Nick wasn't that important, was he ?

Later this day, when the black girl reached the pool for the training, she glimpsed Pete, clumsily hidden in the bush next to the door. Since he left the team, his physical condition went worse and worse. Around a month ago, he could have been considered like a bit on the chubby side, as someone who indulged a little too much. It hadn't been really noticeable, except when he had been wearing his tight pullovers, and pants one size below. Nevertheless, over november, he had packed on the pounds pretty fast, especially this last week. Several time, she had saw him and another boy at the cafeteria, pigging like two ravenous beast. Consequently, the blonde freshman definitely became pretty tubby. His features had rounded and his arms and legs were softer. His belt dug into a flab roll of fat, and his ass grew larger. She noticed with revulsion his too tight shirt, compressing his stomach. With wider clothes, it would be barely conspicuous, but... When Rebecca came closer, he looked at her, and she forced herself to smile. He looked like a crazy psycho, his eyes twinkling with madness.

"Can I help ?" she asked.

According to Laura, Theo didn't like slackening within his troops, and fired Pete without a second thought. To be honest, I kinda approve it... He's stict, and that's good.

"Yeah, you probably can." answered the lad quietly. "I just wanna know if Theo's here. Can you tell me ?"

"Why ?"

The captain probably hadn't time for this craps. And I'm losing time too. As the freshman hesistated, she sighed, and just went in, ignoring his calls. Seriously, get back in shape and everything'll be fine.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Thursday December 1 – Friday December 2

A bunch of swimmers passed in front of the junior laughing about a stupid joke. Four girls were cheering the black athlete on. This one was doing lenghts at a ridiculous pace, like a big carp. As for her, Laura was classifying the team's speedos with a young freshman who looked especially idiot. On a corner, the sophomore Matthew and his crew were ploting some craps. Last, but not least, a handsome brown lad was watching the roof at the water's edge. He seemed completely stupid. Swimmers... We all hear about them, but eventually, they're the most pathetic.

"Lookin' for a prey ?" whispered an unctuous voice in Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey's ear.

Slowly, the lad turned towards Theo, and nodded. This university counted almost ten thousands of students, but only a few deserved his respect. Luckily for him, the swimteam captain was one of them.

"I visited the football club, the hockey club, the basket club, and as many tedious clubs as possible, but everytime, I ended disappointed." he confessed. "Steven Callagan offered me the most beautiful chick he had in stock, but she was so backwards she didn't even understand my name."

The swimmer faked indignation.

"That's gross. God knows how much you love your name."

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey outlined a smile.

"It's the only one which doesn't sound silly to my ears." he replied. "Anyway, tell me you have something better for me than a braindead whore ?"

"To be honest, my only eligible candidate might be a little simple-minded himself, but he has the kind of body you like. Well shaped, malleable if needed and... he's well-endowed."

"Don't dare tell me you are offering the dreamy freshman over there ? Is it the only one you failed to catch for yourself ?"

Theo smile grew larger. Ah, don't push it too much. There were only a few hunters among the crowd of students. The swimteam captain could be proud to be one of the best. The head of the University's grandson shrugged.

"Fine. I'll take it. I'm starting this week. Be ready to see me often."

"You know it's always a pleasure."

Liar.

New prey meant several changes in Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey's life. First of all, a little personnal enjoyment. The lad headed towards the cheerleading's permises, and went in. Natacha, his actual girlfriend, looked at him and a glint of joy lit up his eyes. She had beautiful hair, almost orange, which shined with the sun. However, I don't really understand why I chose her. She's blind like a mole. She needed to wore hideous glasses, and he almost vomited the first time he saw her.

"Hi Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey." she greeted softly. "What can I do for you ?"

Oh yeah, I remember now. She had this submissive tone he had been liking since the first listening. The captain of the cheerleader had promised Natacha was ready to do absolutely everything to please, and well, she was. I would almost jerk off just by listening to her voice, but sadly, she's definitely too ugly.

"I guess you'll be sad, but let's be honest, I don't care." he declared. "Our relationship is over. I'm committed to someones else."

The dumbass stared at him silently for a while. He could have left her right now, like he did with the last one, but he didn't want to miss the "realisation face" this time. Damn, her brain work even slower than I thought. Eventually, she understood what he meant, and frowned. Her eyes filled with tears, and she shivered, in shock.

"Why ?" she stammered. "What did I do wrong ?"

The lad nearly laugh. Damn, she's so devoted. She repeated the question, again and again, now crying. In other circumstances, he would have an erection, but she was way too awful. For real, Amber, the team captain, ripped him off. Once he finished to enjoy her tears, he left the premises, rather satisfied. It's not like if he was exclusively seelping with her anyway.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey headed towards the cafeteria in order to take his lunch. Usually, he would have eat with his grandfather, but he was too excited by the hunt to be polite. And for God's sake, his grandfather didn't need to suffer his uncouthness. Thus, the lad entered in the canteen, and served himself some food. He expected so much from his new prey. He sat next to Summer, the head of the student union, and started to eat. I wonder how long he will last... To be honest, the hunt was always too easy. For three years now, he had tried both men and women, and everytime, they had succumbed to his charms like mosquitos attracted by body heat. So pitiable. Teams captains and club chiefs had tried everything to find the rare gem, but never succeeded. Eventually, he had started to get bored, and went almost directly to the second part : submission and sex. A lot of sex. Of course, with Natacha-the-mole, he was used to put a blindfold. I wouldn't be able to cum while seeing her face. However, this time, it was Theo's gift. The swimmer was a selfish little asshole, and a real cocky stud. He obviously tried his luck with this freshman, and failed. It promise a real challenge for once.

"Looks like you have a new prey ?" asked the head of the student. "Who's the lucky person ?"

The junior realised he didn't even know his name. Not yet at least... He had a good feeling this time. It would be fun.

"Tell me Summer, shall I tell to my grandfather you're sleeping with two professors of his university ?"

She stared at him, terrified.

"No ! Please don't."

"So be nice, and shut the fuck up."

There were only a few hunters among the crowd of students. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey could be proud to be the best of their community, above them all.

To be continued

Liam thinks he had been poisoned but we all know the truth... Our cinnamon roll loves to be stuffed that’s all ;) How long will he deny the truth I wonder ?

Rebecca, our dear Rebecca, you’re narrow-minded ! But don’t worry guys, she has room to change.

Aaand he is here, Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey, our new main character ! He’ll be very important count on me for that ! I already like him :) Take care, since we have his pov now, there’ll be a lot of vulgarity, smut and some pining.

The weight gain stuff will be long to come, but don’t worry, I’m not forgetting it at all. Liam just has many things do deal with before he can freely enjoy himself as the glutton he truly is ;)

Also, I’m preparing a side story more kink-related for you all... It should be ready soon :)

[whittertwitter]

How I’d fix Kingdom Hearts III.

Bearing in mind that the issues I had with it were mostly story-related, namely: integration of the overarching plot into (some of the) Disney worlds, pacing, characterization, female characters getting sidelined, and threads left dangling. In terms of gameplay, I’d probably just tie Team Attacks and Attraction Flow to MP (or make Attraction Flow location-specific, like Reality Shift in 3D) and Formchanges to Focus, just so the player has to use them more strategically. I’d also make the Riku and Mickey scenes in the Realm of Darkness playable, or at least have more player input than they do.

First of all, I’d change Olympus to Agrabah. They used the first movie in the first game and Return of Jafar in II, so they really should have used King of Thieves in III. Since the whole reason for Sora going to Olympus in the first place (to gain the power of waking) doesn’t come into play until the end of the game anyway, I don’t see it as that big of a change. If you really need a reason for him to go there, I think either learning something from Aladdin as the diamond in the rough or from Genie adapting to being semi-phenomenal, nearly-cosmic could work. Axel will tag along to Agrabah because: 

 He went there on a lot of missions for the Organization, so he’s familiar with the world and won’t drag them down, plus he could learn a lot from Sora because...

I’ve decided that Axel should struggle to consistently summon his Keyblade, both to mirror Sora’s power of waking thing and to provide the Guardians of Light with incentive to rescue as many Keyblade wielders as possible just in case he doesn’t prove up to snuff.

I think there’s a good character study that could be done between Axel and Cassim, what with them both being charming roguish types who fell in with a bad crowd and struggle with breaking old habits.

I’d also introduce the New Seven Hearts concept here, with Sora and company realizing that Jasmine is no longer a Princess of Heart. From here, Axel’s still struggling, so Yen Sid sends him on a mission to confirm if any of the Princesses of Heart have retained their status; Axel visits Wonderland--or rather, the world Alice is actually from--and Beast’s Castle in cutscenes between worlds in Sora’s first world set, and probably encounters Xaldin in the latter world. (Xaldin replaces Xion as a Nort, because it’s still so weird that he’s got the pointy Nort ears after becoming a Nobody and as a Nobody is obsessed with negative emotions AND needs time to recover after being re-completed, but somehow isn’t a Nort?)

Meanwhile, Kairi isn’t in active Keyblade wielder training yet, but only because she’s at Radiant Garden, where Zexion is focusing on Namine first because it should be easier to untangle just one heart in another than three hearts in another, and Namine’s power over memories would sure come in handy. While she’s there, you could explore her childhood in Radiant Garden. (If her grandmother’s still alive, that’d be a touching reunion!) I’m leaning toward not having her be part of the New Seven Hearts, because going from having a heart of pure light to a normal heart with the capacity for darkness seems more interesting to me. (Aaand now I’m thinking about Master Xehanort taking advantage of that lack of experience with darkness and Norting Kairi instead of killing her. It’d make Sora less likely to fight, which is the opposite of what he wants, but damn it’s so much more compelling than what we got.)

For the first set of worlds, I’m pretty satisfied with how the overarching plot was integrated. However, in Kingdom of Corona, some things aren’t well-explained unless you’ve seen the movie, like Rapunzel suddenly having the crown back. For that one, Heartless/Nobodies could show up when Mother Gothel meets Sora, Donald, and Goofy, and she drops it while running away; Sora could give it back to Rapunzel and mention something about her mother looking for her. Also, I still think Mother Gothel should’ve knocked Marluxia out with the tree branch instead of his Reapers, lol. 

Someone on Reddit made the suggestion to move rescuing Aqua and Ven to between the first and second world sets--possibly with fully playable Castle Oblivion/Land of Departure--and I absolutely love the idea. Others pointed out that it couldn’t work because they go to the Keyblade Graveyard after gathering all the Guardians of Light, which is why I suggest having Vanitas reawaken and assume control of Ven as soon as Sora returns Ven’s heart to his body. 

Other cutscenes will have to be moved up to this point, including Vexen recruiting Demyx and the latter dropping off the completed Replica, which will now go to Namine while Zexion reverse-engineers one for Roxas. (Or not; Namine’s entire existence is pretty weird, so she might be able to generate her own body after her heart is untangled from Kairi’s, leaving the Replica to Roxas.) Regardless, Namine is now awake and starts work on freeing Roxas and Xion; Axel is now capable of consistently summoning his Keyblade, so he and Kairi start training under Riku and Mickey; Sora and company possibly revisit Twilight Town, just so we can get that first world revisit that was in the first game, II, and 3D; and Aqua recovers from ten years in the Realm of Darkness plus having Ven snatched out from under her nose, then gives Riku and Mickey a hand with training.

Monstropolis won’t change too much, though Sora and company now knowing who Vanitas is and having beef with him will impart a different tone. As for Arendelle...Larxene needs to interact with people besides Sora and company, like trying to bully Anna into giving up on Elsa or taunting Hans and turning him into a Heartless; Sora and company need to go to places besides the North Mountain; and there need to not be random out of place musical numbers. Since the 100 Acre Wood was even more of a minigame hub than usual and didn’t actual adapt the plot of Pooh’s Heffalump Movie, I propose cutting it in favor of a Wreck-It Ralph world, with the arcade being one of Scrooge’s many business ventures in Twilight Town; Xigbar would actually be a great Nort if the world needs one, since going Turbo kinda reminds me of Luxu body-surfing through the ages. (While I’m on the subject, I’d replace Ralph and Stitch with Jack Skellington and Tron, that way Sora has all the party members from past worlds that required a change in appearance as Links; Simba would be obtained in Agrabah, Dream Eaters in Toy Box, Jack Skellington in Monstropolis, and Tron in San Fransokyo, and I’m leaning toward Tron being in his Tron: Legacy form.)

For The Caribbean, its biggest problem comes down to the audience already knowing that the chest of Davy Jones isn’t the box the Organization is looking for, so it feels like a waste of time; Sora and company barely having any impact on the plot doesn’t help. Having them actually interact with characters besides Jack would help. I’d also have Beckett play a larger role and Luxord turn him into a Heartless. I thought it was an odd choice to have Dark Riku show up in San Fransokyo instead of the Riku Replica or Data-Riku and make it seem like he’s time traveling (UGH) from when Ansem possessed him...only to have it be a Replica anyway! So yeah, I’d probably change that to Data-Riku in a Replica to make the Bug Blox from Coded showing up actually matter, and I’d have Vexen supervising him instead of faffing about in The Caribbean.

At this point, Zexion and Namine have finally succeeded in getting Roxas free, but are still working on Xion. However, since they now have seven Guardians of Light, the decision is made to rest up and prepare for the Keyblade War, as in canon. I’m keeping the scene with Axel and Saix before the final battle but cutting out the bit about them becoming apprentices to save their heretofore unknown female friend, because it’s just a blatant retcon; Nomura confirmed in an interview after BBS that they were just ordinary kids who got caught up in the Heartless experiments.

As for the final battle itself, my thoughts are much more scattered as of right now, besides Kairi not getting fridged of course. I like blackosprey’s idea of moving Sora’s little jaunt in The Final World to after the boss rush of Norts but before Scala ad Caelum. Since Xaldin’s taking Xion’s place as a Nort, it’ll be Saix who’s tasked with killing Axel and hesitates; Zexion and Namine get Xion free just in time for her to possess the discarded Replica and make the save. I'd prefer Terranort be re-completed after you defeat Ansem and Xemnas instead of being a Nort from the get-go, or have him around from the get-go instead of Ansem and Xemnas, because him existing at the same time as the Wonder Twins is only possible thanks to time travel bullshit. (Same with Master Xehanort, for that matter, but he’s harder to work around. Unless you have Young Xehanort pulling the strings for most of the game, fight him after Ansem and Xemnas and/or Terranort, and only fight Master Xehanort in Scala ad Caelum?) And if they’re going to bring up Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia, and Larxene’s connection to the mobile game, the least they could do is have dead people close to them besides Strelitzia hanging out in The Final World, giving out exposition tidbits.

Also: I know Nomura said this was just going to be the end of the Xehanort Saga, but I really feel this game should’ve retired Sora as well. Part of the reason the ending left me unsatisfied is because Sora doesn’t get any closure, and I know it’s because they want us to keep buying these games, but if they try, they can easily make us care just as much about a new protagonist. Maybe even, horror of horrors, a female one!

So yeah, those are my thoughts on how to improve KHIII! Several days after I said I’d post them. Maybe before the next ice age, I can work up the motivation to post about my series-wide KH rewrite, lol.

[starredwrites]

Fate’s Door, Chapter 4: A Day In The Life Of Patton

Masterpost/Chapter 3/Chapter 5

If it weren’t for the kids, Patton would have left Archdale as soon as he’d turned fourteen and finished his schooling. Some days, he would even entertain the thought of jumping out the window and traveling to the sea, or the mountains. Yet he couldn’t bear to leave the younger orphans. The caretakers were apathetic at worst and brutally violent at best, and Patton at least knew how to bandage cuts and give kind words. He could keep the brutality of the institution from leaving too deep of an imprint.

Of course, they treated him much worse than the younger ones he cared for. Officially, Patton was listed as “Apprentice Caretaker,” but in reality his job was doing everything the older caretakers didn’t wish to do. Playing with the children, teaching them actual life skills, making sure everyone got enough to eat, kissing them goodnight, and any chores they found unpleasant. This treatment wasn’t the worst of it, however. The worst woke him up every morning and said farewell at night.

“Pamela! Pamela, it’s time to wake up dear.” The elderly woman lightly rapped on Patton’s door. “Come on, you’ve got to help prepare breakfast.”

Patton’s self-cut hair was still in a bird’s nest when he threw on his clothes and opened the door. “For the last time, it’s Patton. Times change.” They had this exchange every morning, yet they both refused to budge on their positions. Ever since Patton had found out that being a guy born in a girl’s body was a real thing, he’d insisted that everyone use his preferred name and pronouns. There were many sacrifices he made, but being himself wasn’t one of them.

Unfortunately, not everyone was a fan of self-expression. The caretaker kept talking.“Don’t be silly, dear. Your parents named you Pamela, don’t change it. You don’t want to toss aside the last thing your parents gave you?” Patton had long since figured out that the old woman who supposedly headed the institute was blind to more things than cataracts blocked from her view. “Besides, I don’t know why you insist on being called ‘he’ all the time. You’ve got such a motherly instinct!”

“It’s because I identify as male. And I care about other people because I’m empathetic, not because of instinct.” Heck, he’d even chosen the name “Patton” because it was related to the word “paternal.” Since basically forever, he’d wanted to be a dad in some way. Patton started making oatmeal, tossing in brown sugar while the woman aimlessly stood next to him.

“You really should grow your hair out. That’s such an unladylike style. What a shame, you’re so pretty.” Patton pretended that he was alone in the kitchen, and that he was about to go feed well-cared-for children their morning feast. He didn’t dignify her statement with a reply.

Patton carried the pot out to the children, who looked sullen and tired. He spooned oatmeal into everyone’s bowl, asking little questions about their morning and the weather to every kid. Their fatigued faces brightened slightly when he talked to them, and even more so when they dug into their breakfasts.

“So, what are we doing today?” Patton asked. Usually the caretakers told the children the day’s events first thing in the morning, and he didn’t want to get left in the dark.

A little girl opened her mouth to tell him, but the severe caretaker at the end of the table cut her off. Patton knew this woman, she’d started working here a few years ago, and was not a fan of children in the slightest.

“The children will be attending lessons, and in between lessons they will be learning how to clean up after themselves, something that has been quite the issue lately,” she said.  

Oh dear. Children with cleaning supplies. That wouldn’t end well, and Patton figured he would end up cleaning up the worst of it. At least he got a break to walk around town this afternoon, something to look forward to. “How is everyone doing with classes?” he asked, trying to diffuse the cold attitude the caretaker had brought to the room. Patton wasn’t allowed in the room when they did lessons, so he always liked to know how those things were going.

“I don’t understand science,” Angel, one of the younger ones, said.

Morgan adjusted her wireframe glasses. “I’m doing well with economics for now, but it’s always off and on.”

“I’m sure you guys can figure it out. Angel, you’re brilliant, you’ll soar above those challenges with your wings.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Angel replied, smiling slightly. The rest of the table groaned. They were all too accustomed to Patton’s relentless puns.

“And Morgan, they’re just numbers. They can’t have too many problems, they don’t even have brains. You’ll get it” Patton was trying to carefully diffuse most of the tension from the room, and for now he was succeeding.

Morgan rolled her eyes and resumed eating her oatmeal. Nona piped up. “I’m doing well in pretty much everything, but I wish we could do more field trips.”

This prompted a discussion about their last trip to the North River, remembering studying small organisms under the microscope and goofing off in the shallow areas. Patton enjoyed the conversation, but remembering refusing to go into the water because he didn’t want to show his body brought his cheery manner down a notch.

His mood plummeted further when one of the maids motioned for him to leave the dining room. Apparently, he had to wash the windows and guide some prospective parents this morning. Washing the windows was hard physical labor, but it was at least a distraction from thinking about the kids doing their lessons and not getting the guidance they needed. He focused on getting bird poop off of the windows to their bedrooms instead.

The windows were nearly done when someone called for him to come in. Patton dropped down from his stepladder and carried his window-washing supplies with him to the entrance. He pushed them into a closet, smoothed out his shirt, and cleaned the grime off of his pants. “I’m ready. When are they coming?”

The eldest of the caretakers tsked at him. “No, dear, you’re not even dressed properly. Here, you’d best wear this, and put your hair under this cap. I don’t know how you can stand having it so short!” She handed him a bundle of clothes.

Patton lifted up the top piece of clothing. “A dress? Can’t I just wear a nice pair of pants or something?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a young lady, act like it!”

He got dressed, and obediently tucked his hair into the cap. Knowing full well that he’d likely get asked to take them off, Patton put on his glasses. They always made him feel more masculine, no matter what got him down. He didn’t absolutely need to wear them, but they did make things a little clearer.

Thankfully, no one mentioned his glasses. He led the prospective parents around and patiently listened to their questions while the caretakers ran off to do who knows what. He lied through his teeth about the treatment of the children there, knowing that people only adopted poorly-treated orphans out of pity. The children deserved better than pity parents. They asked all the right questions, and even thanked him for the tour. Patton was almost sad to see them go. He’d recommended that they adopt Angel, because the little bean deserved parents as good as they would be, and their positive dispositions would only help the little dude.

Materializing out of nowhere, the caretakers returned. “What great friends they are. They must have such a great connection in order to raise children together,” one mentioned.

Patton distinctly recalled that the two women had been holding hands the entire time. “I think they were more than friends. They held hands the whole time,” he mentioned, knowing full well that the caretakers wouldn’t get it.  

In the interest of his sanity, Patton tuned out their replies until they told him what he would be doing that afternoon. It was more chores, he had to mow the lawn and clean the kitchen. Patton dressed in what he’d been wearing this morning, then got to work, daydreaming about what he’d do with his free period. He had decided on going to the bookstore and taking a walk in the park once he was done with the kitchen, and now he was onto the lawn. The lawnmower cut neat lines in the grass, and Patton thought about his future.

In all honesty, Patton had no clue what he’d do with himself once he was eighteen and couldn’t stay with the institute and care for the kids anymore. There were certain things he refused to do, like work in a factory running machines. He had vague ideas: helping the kingdom (in general), being happy, making friends his own age, and distancing him from this institute as soon as possible. Nothing solid, despite the harebrained schemes he’d dreamed up when particularly bored that ended with him the hero of the city and with every caretaker mysteriously dead or missing. Also the perfect body, and a hot boyfriend.

Well, he was done with the lawn, and it was four o’clock, so Patton left the lawnmower where it was and set out into the heart of town. He bought a cookie from a small bakery, then walked around the park and pet every dog he met. It’s the little things in life. The bookstore was his next destination, Patton planned on buying a book or two for himself and some picture/elementary level books with his meager allowance. Morgan had been begging for some famous author’s new release, so he had to get that.

Logan, the apprentice at the bookstore, greeted Patton on his way in. Logan and Patton were no more than acquaintances(although Patton would totally date him), but Patton could tell something was definitely off about him. Usually, the Logan was a bit friendlier and less...awkward. With hopes that Logan would just come out and tell Patton what was bothering him, Patton puttered around the store, picking up all the books he wanted. It was strangely empty, but after a day’s worth of chores, Patton didn’t really care.

At the checkout, Patton decided to make a little small talk. Perhaps it would brighten up Logan’s day.

“Not much of a crowd here. Did the comedy books put people in stitches?” he teased, carefully gauging Logan’s reaction.

“No, it’s not that. Technically, we’re supposed to be closed, but you usually drop in some time from four to six, so I opened it as soon as I saw you coming in. I have something I think you might be interested, no, concerned about, no, find sad-I have something you might like to see.”

“What?” Patton asked. What was Logan going on about?

“Uh, I think you’d best read it for yourself.” Logan slid a piece of parchment over to Patton across the counter.

TAGS: @fanficptsd

[swfanficbyjz]

SW Rey Theory - Legacy of Light - Chapter 17

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(After A New Hope)

             Vader fumed silently as he returned to his fortress. He’d warned the Imperials to not put so much faith in their monstrous weapon. Only the force was powerful enough to destroy what the rebellion fought for. They mocked the force though, believing that he and the Emperor were devoted to it like it was an ancient religion. They’d never witnessed its true power, but they would know it now. Tarkin couldn’t hold him back anymore. They feared him, but not enough. That would change.

            He had bigger problems right now though. The Emperor had not been pleased that he’d failed to stop the rebellion pilot that destroyed the death star. Worse than that, the pilot was strong in the force; a fledging Jedi that had survived too long. If that wasn’t bad enough, the boy had his name; Luke Skywalker. His son. How Obi wan had hid him from him for so long, he had no idea, but the boy had to die. He was too powerful to be left alive. Too much of a hero to the rebellion. He was the Empire’s biggest threat. If he wouldn’t join them, he would die. There was no other way. 

            He paced his chambers in agitation, trying to work through how to trap him. The rebellion would be celebrating their short-lived victory; they think they won. Though the death star had failed to destroy their base on Yavin Four, they had probably abandoned it by now. It was part of what made trying to squash them so difficult; even with Empire eyes and ears everywhere, they were elusive.

            His servants steered clear of his room, but it wasn’t long before Starkiller appeared. He felt a burst of fury at his so-called apprentice. Where had he been during the fight for the death star? He threw him against the wall with the force before he’d spoken. It had barely registered he was injured. “You’ve failed me, apprentice!” he spat. “The death star was destroyed, the rebels claimed a victory today. Where were you?”

            Starkiller staggered to his feet. “I’m sorry, master!” he groveled. “I was executing a plan that would have pleased you greatly.” He dropped to his knees, holding his side and grimacing in pain. 

            “Explain yourself!” Vader demanded.

            “I set a trap for the rebels, and I caught one you might be interested in,” he breathed. “Ahsoka Tano.” 

            Now this was interesting. Her capture would definitely turn his day around. “Well, where is she?”

            “She got away,” he whispered reluctantly. Vader pulled his lightsaber from his belt and stopped it right by his neck. Starkiller looked up at him in fear, but didn’t move. 

            “I should kill you right now for your failure. Twice you’ve failed me today!” he growled at him, putting his lightsaber down and lifting him in a force choke. He dangled helplessly gasping for breath. “You are weak! You are not worthy to be my apprentice!”

            “I’m not worthy!” he repeated, hands reaching for his throat, mouth opening and closing trying to get air. Vader was about to put the final clamp of the force on him, but released him. Starkiller fell to the floor, coughing and rubbing his neck. “I know…” he gasped. “I know a way to stop her though, master! Give me another chance!” he begged. “She wanted me to give you a message.”

            “What?” he asked, momentarily distracted.

            “She said that Anakin Skywalker was stronger than you’d ever be…” Vader sent him flying across the room before he could finish his sentence. 

            “How dare you?” he yelled, throwing him against the wall again. “I never want to hear that name again!” He raised his lightsaber. “Fight me, you worthless worm!”

            Their battle barely lasted a couple of minutes. By the end of it, Starkiller could barely stand. He fled the fight as Vader yelled after him that he was no longer his apprentice. He should have killed him, but the condition he was in… he’d hardly last a few days. Perhaps he’d send an inquisitor after him later. The coward!

            As he immersed himself in the bacta tank to meditate, he hoped Ahsoka had the nerve to appear there tonight; like she’d done every other night since their meeting several years ago. He wanted to rage at her; sending her the hatred and anger that she deserved. She had humiliated him in every sense of the word. For awhile, he forgot about the death star and his son. His singular focus at the moment was on her. There was no way she was powerful enough to so easily defeat his apprentice. Starkiller had been meticulously trained in the dark side. Stronger than even himself in many ways. Not that he’d ever let him know that. Yet somehow Ahsoka continued to elude them, over and over again. 

            If he had to, he would tear the entire galaxy apart to find her. She could not be allowed to live. She knew too much. She was the only piece of his past he couldn’t kill. He sunk into the force, fueling his anger and hatred, preparing for her appearance. Tonight she’d get a storm like she’d never known. Maybe she’d finally give up on trying to save Skywalker. 

            The hours ticked by, but she never came; which only served to fuel his fire even more. How dare she not show? Starkiller said she’d escaped, but not that she’d been injured. Her abandoning him now meant only one thing, she couldn’t be trusted to keep her promises.

            He looked up excitedly ready to rage when someone appeared on the edges of his subconscious; only to be startled by a young girl he didn’t recognize. She panicked and was gone before he got a good look at her, but he stared at where she’d stood. Why did she seem familiar? Who was she and how did she get there? He’d felt her briefly in the force, which meant there was yet another Jedi threat that needed to be squashed. Ahsoka getting there was one thing; she was powerful and well trained. Had Ahsoka trained her?

            He felt his servants approach and reluctantly left his meditation behind. He was being summoned by the Emperor, and soon his thoughts were back on Luke and the next steps needed to crush the rebellion.

 ---

             The explosion damaged the escape pod, she'd waited too long to get away from Starkiller. She hadn't wanted to kill him, but she had wanted to send a message back to Vader. Not that it mattered now though; Starkiller probably wasn't stupid enough to give it to him, and Vader wasn't the type to see someone injured and ask them if they were okay or what happened. 

            She was headed directly at the surface of a nearby moon. It had been awhile since she'd crashed a ship. That was usually Anakin's trick. On her own and no longer backed by the Jedi order or the Republic, she'd had to be a lot more careful about her vehicles. 

            There wasn't anything she could do to fix this pod before it crashed though, so she just had to hang on tight. She scanned the planet below her; uninhabited, great. She was getting tired of being stranded places, but maybe it was a good enough excuse to not get involved again. She could still feel the deaths of the rebels around her; her daughter's pain and fear... Ahsoka had lost so many people over the years, she should be numb to it by now. She felt responsible for their deaths. Everyone in the rebellion knew what they were getting into and chose to fight anyways, but that didn’t make the losses any easier. 

            She braced herself as the pod hit the ground, sliding for awhile across the landscape before finally coming to a stop. The door controls no longer worked, so she cut through it with her lightsabers. She stumbled from the pod and looked around. Closing her eyes, she sunk into the force to get her bearings. If she headed to the right, she was certain she’d find some mountains and maybe some caves. That was the best chance for shelter. She didn’t feel like exploring; she was going to be here awhile. There’d be plenty of time for that later. 

            She trekked across the landscape feeling disheartened. She wasn’t afraid for her daughter, she knew Rex was with her; she’d be safe. Far safer with him than she’d ever be with her. Maybe if she’d thought to send Rex after her sooner, none of this would have happened. She sensed going to Vader tonight would be pointless. She could feel his anger burning across her mind. At least that meant Luke and the rebels succeeded in destroying the death star; a consolation, she supposed. Tonight… was about survival. 

            After finding a place to settle, along with food and water sources, she finally sat down feeling heavy. She looked around at the wilds. She’d seen so many different planets, so many different worlds, but… her heart felt tight. She never expected to be so tired at her age. She was thirty-eight now, but she might as well be an old woman. Most of her life had been consumed by fighting and war, pain and loss. She indulged in the need to reminisce. 

            The war had been awful, there was no denying that fact, but they’d also been the best years of her life. Why? Because she’d had friends then, a purpose, a home… Ever since she’d left the temple twenty years before, she’d been a drifter; twenty years of moving from one place to another, of not belonging. Would it ever stop? Would it ever change? She might as well start calling this place home, the chance of getting off it was pretty slim. Anybody that cared about her or knew she was out here was long gone. 

            For so long, fighting to protect her daughter was the only thing that kept her going, but now… The truth was, she didn’t want to fight anymore. Could she call up Rex and have them come back here? Live out the remainder of their lives on this forgotten planet? She smirked at nothing. The idea was appealing, but Ashla deserved a chance to have a future. She could fall in love, have a family, make a home. All the things she herself, had never been able to do. Well maybe that wasn’t true, after leaving the order, she could have done all those things. She could have traded her lightsabers for a wooden spoon and turned a blind eye to the terror happening all around her. She could have settled down, pretended to be normal and raised Ashla to deny her heritage and her powers. Would that have been better?

            It wouldn’t have been with the person she wanted. How long would the charade have lasted before the force pulled her back into something? What about the need to help others, or to right the wrongs? Could she have stood by and watched the daughter of the most powerful Jedi ever, never know her potential? She’d been raised to believe that undisciplined power in the force might as well have been a dark side sentence for life. Though admittedly that didn’t make sense, because plenty of disciplined force users fell to the dark side. She’d never come across an untrained one that was inherently evil or naturally turned evil simply because they didn’t understand what they could do.

            She shivered and gathered some wood for a fire, staring blankly at the dancing flames. Tears fell down her face before she could stop them. Once upon a time she’d been so sure about life. She’d known how to navigate it, known where she was going. She’d even once known who she was. She couldn’t say that anymore. She missed her old life. She missed the time when life was simple. Maybe it never was, but at least it had seemed that way. Of all the things she missed, she missed him the most. 

            Her and Anakin had failed miserably at not forming attachments. Both with each other and with others. She disagreed that attachments led to suffering. It wasn’t the attachment that made you suffer, it was the absence of those you were attached to that hurt. After all this time, he was the one she suffered over the most. His absence and consequently the discovery of why he was now absent, was probably what drove her to the brink of insanity every night. Without fail, she reached out to him daily, traversing the wild and painful path to his soul. Meditating there in the face of raging emotion and hatred, because well… Anakin was home to her. Even this violent and angry version of him, was more home to her than anywhere she could go now. He hated her presence there. She still went even though he threw everything into blocking her light. She still held out hope that if she persisted long enough, maybe he’d give in. Maybe he’d come back. Maybe he’d love her too. 

            She laid back on the hard ground, blinking the water out of her eyes as she stared at the starry sky. “I used to know exactly how my life would turn out. I was going to be the best padawan ever. I was going to pass my trials and become a Jedi knight. I would earn the rank of master, and maybe someday, I’d sit on the council. I had it all planned out and then… I didn’t follow it at all. How could I, after what happened?” she asked hoarsely out loud to the nothingness around her. “I miss when everything was black and white; Republic versus Separatist, good versus evil, Jedi versus Sith. To know where to go, I only had to remember what side I was on. It was never that way, not really. There were good people amongst the enemy and bad people amongst the Republic. Every choice now has to be weighed and explored and calculated. I miss when everything was a game. When the only thing that got me down was the pre-mission jitters. I miss the way you'd comfort me; the way you stood by my side. I miss the way it felt, to know that somehow we'd be okay, because you were there.”

            She rolled over, pulling herself tightly together. Her eyes stung from crying so hard. She’d never let herself think about regrets, because there was nothing she could do about them, but now they washed over her like a violent rain. If she’d known then what she knew now… she would have done a lot of things differently. It probably wouldn’t have stopped the war. It probably wouldn’t have fixed or changed anything about where she was now, but at least she’d be able to look back and have a few happier memories. 

            “I'm tired, Anakin. I never thought I'd feel this way.” she whispered, her throat tight. “I don't want to fight anymore. I just want you back. I want to feel like we'll get through it. That it will be over soon. I want to go home.”

  ---

             He listened to his master, bowing and nodding as necessary, but his mind kept wandering to her. Had it been her absence earlier that bothered him or something else? He stood when the holocall ended and he felt her reaching out to him. It was different than before however. It was a kind of buzzing in his head like a swarm of venomites. The more he struggled to ignore it, the louder it got. Something was off about it, or her…

            Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and marched to his air chamber so he could meditate. He sunk into the force, but he couldn't find her. It had felt like her. It had hurt like her. But she wasn't here. 

            He looked up and saw her walking towards the edge of his consciousness, materializing out of the darkness as she always did. Except that this time she didn't stop on the outskirts to shine her annoying light. She moved forward, pushing through the fire. He stared in surprise at her boldness and rallied his defenses, but she effortlessly waved them aside. She stopped in front of him, her shoulders were heavy either from her travel here or something else. Without a word, she knelt down by his feet. 

            "You wanted me, well here I am. Strike me down, I won't fight you."

            He wasn't sure how to respond to her, he'd never heard her so despondent. Perhaps his apprentice had scored a victory after all. Yet he felt a different kind of anger bubble to the surface; he'd trained her better than this. To give up now was to fly in the face of every lesson he'd ever taught her. "Why?" 

            "I'm tired of people dying so you can get to me. I'm here, do what you will." He studied her, wondering what had changed. Her light wasn't as bright tonight. The flames licked at her body, burning her flesh, but she didn't react.

            "Noble, but stupid." She shrugged her shoulders in response, dropping her gaze to the ground. He summoned the power and hatred surrounding them and let it course through him as he readied the death blow. It was time to end this once and for all. He raised his arms and she closed her eyes in acceptance. Just as he brought them down to strike, he froze. 

            He'd sought nothing but revenge against all those that had hurt him. It had been a long time before she'd been included in that category, but she made him weak. He could not fully embrace who he'd become until she was destroyed. He'd believed the very same thing about Obi wan, but his death had brought him no satisfaction. He'd felt none of the power and purpose and peace Darth Sidious had promised him. If anything, it had left him empty and drained, struggling to find purpose again. If he destroyed everything he desired to, what would there be left to strive for?

            "No." He dropped his hands to his side, releasing the unused power. "I won't kill you."

            She blinked slowly, her long lashes brushing across her cheeks. There was an emptiness in her normally vivid blue eyes; a sense of lackluster and hopelessness. "Then you truly are a Sith," she sighed and dropped her hands to the ground. "If you'd rather leave me alive to suffer than let me rest in peace."

            He felt something stir deep inside him and he squashed it out. He didn't want to feel compassion. It was too late now. This was a victorious moment; his sworn enemy broken at his feet begging for death. He should revel in it, but... "Peace is a lie..."

            "Don't quote the Sith code to me, Anakin. I know it." She raised a hand to stop him, interrupting his speech. He stared at her in surprise. How could she, the strong light-aligned force user that she was, know the Sith code? What else didn't he know about her journey? "You once told me that slavery was a state of mind, not a position you were in. Well, I think we’re all slaves. Doesn’t matter who the master is; a Hutt, the Jedi order, the Republic, the Emperor… the force… We live to serve it. Well you’d think if the force is as powerful as we’ve been told, it wouldn’t need us puny lifeforms to act out its will. The Sith code claims that through victory, you find freedom, but I disagree. There is no freedom in victory, because you still have to live with all that you did to achieve it. The only freedom is perhaps in death, but even that is only a false sense of freedom, because you won’t even get to be aware that you’re free."

            Was she right? He shifted uncomfortably. He served the Emperor religiously, but why? He'd never delivered on what he'd promised. He was stronger in the dark side than he'd ever felt in the light, but even that came at a cost. There was more power, but more limitations. His master dictated his every move and he allowed him to, because he didn't care. He let him use him in any way he saw fit. How could she know such an experience? "Who is your master?"

            "The force."

            "We're all slaves..." he murmured to himself as he mulled over her words. "I serve the Emperor because I don't have a choice. You serve the force, because you don't have a choice. But even if I didn't serve the Emperor, I'd still be bound to the force...” The concern bubbled to the surface before he could fight it. Seeing her like this hurt more than he wanted to admit. Her fire had been what he'd loved about her. She was now a husk of what she'd once been, and now that he thought about it, so was he. All the power in the universe was his to command and it couldn't satiate him now. Any sense of freedom he'd ever felt had faded. Victory meant nothing if you no longer cared about the outcome. “What happened to you?"

            "I'm tired, Anakin," she rocked back onto her heels and looked up at him. There were no tears in her eyes, just a cold vacant stare. "I want to go home." She wrapped her arms around herself as though she was cold and he looked around at all the fire and lava that lived inside him. What did she consider home? And why did he care? "I know it won't matter now, but I love you. I’ve always loved you. What we did all those years ago, I wanted it. I loved you even though I knew I couldn’t have you, and for one night I let myself pretend you were mine, and only mine.”

            “I was married to Padmé.” She didn't even flinch at the words. 

            “I know,” she stared off into space. “I knew it then too. That’s why I knew you’d never be mine. Didn’t stop me from wishing for it though," she sighed. "Goodbye, Anakin. I hope you find a reason to break your chains.” She stood up. “And if you change your mind about killing me… I’ll be here.” She gestured to their surroundings. Even as she said goodbye, she planned to come back. Did she mean what she said? Did it matter anymore? The flames parted to let her through and she disappeared from sight, him still staring after her. He felt cold now too. 

Next Chapter - >

[tornhoodie]

TLJ spoilers, don’t read this bit if you ain’t seen it

Italics is the thing I’m responding to. Bold is me.

Expectations in film can be strange. Most audiences love to know what to expect when coming into a film, familiarity is comforting and helps us escape. Subverting expectations can help surprise us and transcend the movie experience into something more substantial than an escape, maybe into something great. Unfortunately, The Last Jedi fails in this regard. It does subvert audience expectations, but the price the film pays is not worth it’s price. The things set up in The Force awakens are thrown aside for something surprising, and it succeeds in this, but the story and film are not stronger for it.

*** I can't agree that the mysteries set up were "thrown aside" for something surprising. All reports indicate (including direct from Johnson) that this WAS what was planned, in concert with Abrams and the Story Group. They just weren't resolved in the usual Star Wars fashion. ***

Luke Skywalker’s character is turned on his head. The film starts with Luke throwing his beloved lightsaber off a cliff, which shocked everyone in the theatre. He is an eternal optimist in return of the jedi, even succeeding in turning his father from the dark to the light. Where others gave up on Vader, Luke remained hopeful. Luke remained true. Given all of this, we are supposed to believe that he almost kills one of his own students because he sees the dark has overtaken him? Surely not more than Darth Vader, surely not more than the absolute darkest version of a human being (seriously, the imagery of darth vader is just brilliant). Luke’s failure and reason for his exile does not align with his character at all, making his behavior shocking and surprising, but not interesting. Now that Luke is dead, we won’t get to see him return to the Luke we once knew. There is an argument here that this film is about failure, about coming to grips with and tackling failure to see the good failure brings. Luke should be allowed to fail, but not in a way that contradicts his every thought and move from other films. His greatest failure could have been many things, but almost killing a student doesn’t work.

*** BUT YOOOOOOOOOOO. Let's break this down.

-That Luke would fail Ben and retreat into seclusion is SO CHOICE AND ALSO COMPLETELY EXPECTED. Look at his mentors! Obi-Wan failed Anakin, and went into hiding on Tatooine. Yoda escaped Coruscant and hid on Dagobah. Luke had BARELY any training, only a few books, and a sister strong in the Force. And he was just supposed to train a dozen Force-sensitives including the grandson of Darth Fucken Vader and have it turn out okay? Hell no! He was terrified! Consider everything on his plate, and then consider the three versions of events we get. They all converge to one thing: Ben was becoming tainted, Luke knew it, and Luke was scared. Here's the extra wrinkle to this story though, that takes it away from being just like Luke and Vader: Luke was the old man now, the teacher. And he had historical precedent for how these things went. He knew what would happen if he failed, and his apprentice fell to the dark side. It would be Vader all over again. His fear took control of him, and he acted, and Ben saw this fear take control, and he reacted. Luke was afraid of becoming Obi-Wan, and he let the dark side guide his actions, and he BECAME OBI-WAN. It absolutely totally makes sense within the context of who Luke's mentors were.

-This movie is aaaaaaaaaabsolutely about failure and what we do in the face of it. This was Luke's failure. It is possibly the biggest failure he could have had, and boy howdy he brought it about.

-I mean if there's one last thing that'll cement this its that this old hermit gets a swift kick in the junk by R2-D2 playing Leia pleading for his help. The same message that got Obi-Wan back in the fight.

-and then and then that fear hasn't gone away! He continues to resist training Rey, and eventually tries to burn the Jedi books and end it all, because he's still terrified of failing another student and creating another Vader/Ren. It is only through Yoda coming back and blasting apart the tree that he wakes up and realizes "hey, you know what, maybe its time to clean up my mess." Failure, and what we do in the face of it. ***

Snoke is now dead, and we know nothing about him. His death had an impact on me. I involuntarily put my hand in front of my mouth at his death, shocked at what had just happened. However, his serves no purpose other than to subvert expectations, not to serve a better story. We know nothing about Snoke, we know nothing about how he came to lead the first order, we know nothing about his haggard appearance, and so many great possibilities died with that character. How was he trained as a sith with all of them dead? Where are the knights of Ren and his connection to Snoke? How did he come to lead the First Order (as the SUPREME COMMANDER, not just a high ranking member of the empire like Vader). Snoke’s death surprised everyone, but that’s it. A moment of subversion that does nothing to serve the story.

*** -Snoke ultimately wasn't important to the story of Rey and Kylo. For Kylo, he was a means to an end, and that end was power. Kylo cut him down when he thought he was done with Snoke, when Snoke threatened the one thing Kylo thought he'd made a real connection with: Rey. Snoke held no other true importance.

-It's not the failure of THIS MOVIE (or, even, the entire trilogy) that you thought he was going to be explained, but rather your expectations for what this movie was going to be. Let's get into that:

-Think real hard back to the Emperor. We had one scene in ESB of Palpatine talking to Vader, and that was it. In ROTJ, we have more, but he's still just a scenery-chewing evil wrinkle without explanation. We dont know where he came from, how he got his powers, or how he came to lead the Empire beyond assumptions: dude was strong and people were into it. I mean we didn't even know the dude's name without the novelization. In fact, that's where a lot of the info about his rise to power came from. It was only later, through movies and series and MORE novels that we got his life and backstory fleshed out.

-If you went into TLJ expecting to get the deets on Snoke, or that he was going to be the big bad and last until the end, that was you projecting your own expectations onto something that definitely wasn't promising answers. I mean, the trailers did everything they could to get you to throw those expectations away, with them specifically playing Luke's line: "This isn't going to go the way that you think." That theme, expectations and how our own are dashed constantly because we rely on them too much, IS SO IMPORTANT. It is the keystone to everything, especially the whole bit about Failure we talked about up top. Luke fails because he expects to be able to train all those Jedi. Rey fails because she expects that she's gonna be the next Luke Skywalker. Kylo fails because he expects Rey, whose past is filled with pain just like him, will throw aside her new family, just like him.

-We aren't done with these themes but I've GOTTA move on here ***

Also, The First Order has to be one of the laziest enemy factions in film. We know nothing of their origin. Say what you want of the prequels, we get a very good overview of how the mighty evil empire came to be, an origin story that makes sense in the universe. Even though TFA didn’t give any explanation as to the rise of the First Order, I had held out hope that once we learned about Snoke (the SUPREME LEADER, insinuating he is not only the figure head but the reason for the existence of the order a la Hitler), we would learn about the First Order. But, of course, because the director was so eager to subvert our expectations, we get nothing from either. This leaves The First Order as a lazy, uninteresting antagonist for the rest of the series. “The First Order Reigns” indeed.

*** -I mean, we knew nothing about the Empire in ANH and ESB either, beyond "welp the Emperor dissolved the Senate." As you said there, it was only through prequels and books and games and comics that we got more information, an origin story. Nothing about the run-up to this film indicated that we'd learn about where they came from. Again, the expectations. If you went into the movie expecting clarification, something that wasn't promised, that can't be laid at the feet of TLJ. If it were crucial to the narrative for us to understand exactly where Snoke and the First Order came from, we'd have heard about that stuff in TFA. That was the first movie in the trilogy, that was the one to take the time to tell us all about the bad guys. But it's not! It's not important. It's just not at all important to the story being told here. Here's what was important: the new main characters, their histories, their dreams, their hopes. these are the bad guys, these are the good guys. it doesn't matter what fringe conflict lit the spark of the first order, right now. it doesn't matter where snoke was born or how he got his powers. what matters is that the first order grew in power, created a super weapon, and destroyed the republic. what matters is that snoke was immensely strong and reveled in the dark side, twisted ben solo into becoming kylo ren, and leads the first order. that is PRETTY MUCH the exact amount of information we had in ESB.

***

Leia being a superman in space is one of the worse things I’ve seen in the movies. This doesn’t have much impact with my overall thesis but I have to mention this. Leia is out in space for a long time, we know she is strong with the force, but there could’ve been so many other ways to show this other than this scene. Also, Ackbar dies without fanfare before that scene, which is dumb.

*** -No, this was great if only for the experience of Jessica seeing Leia, floating in space and presumed dead, and her whispering "OH FUCK YOU" in between sobs. I will always remember this scene because it was so raw emotionally for everyone in that theater. THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE when she reached out with the force and pulled herself to the blast door.

-I absolutely get if the scene didn't hit for you; not all scenes do for everyone. I have my problems with some of the more humorous bits in TLJ. But "one of the worst things I've seen in movies" is really strong? Stronger than I think that deserves? I dunno, man. You feel what you feel and I can't tell you otherwise, but I'm certain I could point to like INFINITE scenes and have them be worse than this one.

-but hey. If it didn’t work for you, I can’t argue that.

-Ackbar is a fun character for easter egg purposes but the dude is not nearly as important as the internet wants to make him. The movie was two and a half hours long, and spending more time than they did mourning Ackbar would have been a waste. For all the thinkpieces saying "thank you for mourning ackbar" you'd see just as many thinkpieces saing "TLJ is too long and it's because of ackbar." ***

That leads me to this next part. Admiral whats-her-name that takes over the resistance capital ship is a terrible character all around. When she sacrificed herself at the end for the fleet, there was no emotional impact at all (even given how great the cinematography is during the suicide scene). The director should’ve let Ackbar go out this way, why try to make us attach to some random admiral we know nothing about? Ackbar has history as a character, has a weight to character. Having him go out the way the admiral did would have made a great impact, and seen a great character go out in a very satisfying way. Instead, he is thrown out without fanfare and replaced. The only distinguishing feature of Ackbar’s replacement is that she had purple hair and argued with Poe. Which brings me to another not only throw away character but throw away plot section.

*** -Vice Admiral Holdo

-WHAT

-ARE YOU KIDDING ME MY DUDE

-MY DUDE I CANT WITH THIS

-im putting a placeholder here because i feel A MIGHTY NEED to come back to this and straighten you out but also i just need to move on because how DARE you i dont have time for this section right now

-i came back to this one just to say that you weren't paying attention to Holda and Poe's interactions. You were too excited for an old hero of the rebellion to get his due (ackbar) that you missed the tactic brilliant tactics and heroic sacrifice of of the hero in front of you (holda) which is exactly why it is so important that poe thinks holda should look different. She's not the person he expected, and that colors his opinion of her.

-"argued with poe" my dude, she didn't argue with poe. poe mutinied because she didn't tell him the plan, because he's a fuckin scrub that got their entire bomber fleet decimated in one attack that didn't even do much, because he's too concerned with being a hero of the resistance that he didn't stop to think about the actual tactical necessity of such an attack. which holda and leia did.

-BECAUSE HES A FUCKIN SCRUBLORD AND SHES A GODDAMN VICE ADMIRAL im real angry about this and the Rose paragraphs my man ***

Finn’s entire story was unnecessary and should have been cut. Why are we, as an audience, supposed to care about this story? It does nothing, doesn’t expand anything about the characters, other than being able to see Finn fight his old boss, but the whole story turns out to be a red herring. Rose (Finn’s companion throughout this story) was introduced without fanfare, and we are supposed to feel connected to her at the end when she saves finn, but I have trouble remembering her name. She had a sister that died, and she was sad. That’s all I got. I feel that you shouldn’t introduce a new character into an ongoing series if you won’t do anything significant with development. Finn’s partner and the admiral were both throw away characters. Compare this to someone like Lando, who is introduced in Empire Strikes Back but steals the show in his direction. We get a full fledged character, interesting and flawed, and all in one movie. It can be done, it was just done poorly in The Last Jedi.

*** -Dude you're straight up losin' me now. I have my problems with the casino world of Canto Bight and the things that happen through it, but you're kinda throwing a completely-fleshed-out character into space, and I can't really figure out why? Rose absolutely has motivations and character development. Shit, we know more about her than Poe:

---Sister was on the bomber that destroyed the first dreadnought, but she's not just SAD about her sister, she's PROUD of her sister (she talks about her sister, we know she shares the other half of the necklace, this is all clear stuff)

---She's steadfast in her duty and believes in the resistance, going so far as to protect the escape pods they have from being used by deserters, even when they're all running for their lives (she talks about shocking 3 or 4 people before finn shows up, which is honestly a big deal considering the stress everyone is under?)

---She absolutely believes in doing the right thing for the right reasons, and for standing up for the "little guy," even against the people you thought were your heroes. (again, shocks finn, a hero of the resistance who she ACTIVELY admires and fan-girls over, because he disappointed her, and also tells it like it is to finn re: the war profiteers and who the casino people are)

-She is the fucking emotional core of the movie, man. Her entire thing is hope. She carries the spark of hope within her, like literally she says this and they talk about the spark of hope over and over and over (she delivers that spark to the children of Canto Bight's goat-horse racetrack, and one of them turns out to be force-sensitive yo!)

-We get more about Rose and see more about why she's important than we ever get with Lando. Again, think REAL HARD about Lando's character development. Dude turns on Han, then turns back around and lets the resistance go. We know he originally owned the Falcon but that's basically it. The rest of his character (WHICH HEY, AGAIN, AINT THAT MUCH) comes in ROTJ. ***

There are some good things about this movie. Luke’s final shot with the two suns is a great piece of cinematography, and the cinematography overall is really incredible. The sets were great, and we of course get a cool lightsaber brawl that had some great choreography. Adam Driver and Daisy Ridley are really good in their moments alone, both of them steal the show in this film. Kylo Ren is by far the most interesting character in this series, and I hope he gets a good send off in the last film of the new trilogy. Mark Hamill was not given much to work with, but he did what he could. Even given that, I was enamored with his performance. I am a bit of a fan boy of his voice work, so I am definitely biased in this regard.

*** -Look I know this is the paragraph where you said there are good things but man, I really need you to go see this thing again. Look at all the bullshit Hamill is throwing down. The scene where Yoda comes back, Luke is instantly 30 years younger and complaining to that old puppet about how he tried but it's all too hard. And yeah, that's because Hamill is great, but also its because Rian Johnson fuckin knew exactly what he was doing, and the script gave Hamill so much damn screen time it's ridiculous. He had more time than Ford did in TFA, and knocked every scene he had out of the park. Damn, he was great. ***

I am not upset with the things you would expect, porgs didn’t matter, I thought they were cute, I didn’t care for the animals that were there clearly to only sell merchandise. I didn’t even mind the constant humor, which I think there is an argument that the constant humor weakens the film over all. The film tries to tackle dark themes which the humor brings levity.

What I lament most is the missed potential. We have been given fantastic explorations of the Star Wars universe in books and video games, some great explorations of the Light and Dark side that give a more nuanced view of the Star Wars universe. Luke even starts to mention the Hubris of the jedi, which I hoped he would elaborate on more and go into why he thought the jedi were wrong. I also hoped he would go into why we avoid the dark even though the jedi are wrong, I hoped Luke would explain how he came to these conclusions other than one student that fell to the dark. I hoped so much for so much more. There was a real opportunity here to make this exploration part of the main saga, but we instead get subversion for the sake of subversion, surprise for the sake of shock. There were some great things to build on from the previous film, but those are tossed aside for the sake of surprise. The Star Wars saga is worse because of the director’s decisions, and I’m sad it happened that way.

*** -I'm gonna toss this graph back up to the top. Things that you hoped for, I absolutely understand. There's something to be said for hoping for things. But a lot of what you said sounds a great deal more like you expected one thing, and got another. Your expectations led you to believe that you knew how this was going to go, and you were surprised and disappointed that you weren't right.

-You talk about "subversion for the sake of subversion" but, is that really true? What was subverted? Your expectations for how the story would go? For how the information would get doled out? I mean, lets get into that. Star Wars has trained us to believe that everyone is connected in some grand way to the Skywalker legacy, that history is just going to repeat itself. The prequels did that (fuckin, C3PO, damn), they cemented that. But hey, can I ask you something?

-We all kinda expected this to be another ESB right? After TFA being an homage to ANH, it kinda felt inevitable. Film has taught us to expect the "dark middle chapter," the "Empire" of the trilogy. There were story beats that you/we figured would come up.

-But can you really call it "subversion for the sake of subversion" when NOTHING WAS PROMISED from the very beginning?

-Movies have taught us to expect that the hero's past is mysterious, that they are tied in some mystical way to some dynastical destiny. That the villain at the head of the table is all-powerful, awe-inspiring, and has some rich backstory about how they came to power. But TFA and TLJ don't promise that any of that is coming. Indeed, they follow in the grand tradition of the original trilogy: give as little information as needed to follow the story of a resistance fighting back against a tyrannical empire, and the key players of that resistance.

-TLJ delivered on that legacy. It answered the questions that needed answering while at the same time ensuring that we weren't simply rehashing ESB. It set fire to the sacred jedi text tree, while ensuring that those texts weren't destroyed; they're in the hands of someone else, a new generation who might be able to do some good with them. ***

“It’s time for the old ways to die”…. Maybe they should have thought about that a little bit more before Yoda called lightning down on the Jedi tree.

*** THEY DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID THATS WHAT THE MOVIE’S ABOOOOOOOOUT, BURN IT ALL DOWN AND START ANEWWWWWWWWWWWWW, LIGHT THE SPAAAAAAAAAAARK ***

[xxbyimm]

Tales of a burning heart

Hi guys,

So, I wrote the first chapter of my Guy fic. Note that I didn’t see the series fully (God, I get stuck all the time because I can’t handle Guy’s hotness). I’m a bit unsure about it, so please let me know what you think of it! Suggestions are most welcome. 

As always, thank you all for putting up with my ramblings. A special thanks to the sweet @deepestfirefun who proofread it <3. I really appreciate it honey!!

Chapter 1

Summary:  Reader just returned from the holy land. Before she left, she had a fling with Guy of Gisborne. She didn't forget him and intends to pick things up right where they left them.... Will Guy still feel the same about her?

Forever tagged: @fizzy-custard @nelswp @bellastellaluna 

If you wish to be on this list, let me know.

Warnings: Not yet...

You haste your way through the back alleys of Nottingham town, making sure nobody sees you while you do. Your father probably will kill you for slipping away from the house before your trunks even have been unpacked, but you have to see your best friend. You haven’t had the pleasure of seeing her for over two years… You shrug. Father can’t blame you for being excited to see Marian again. The two of you have been thick as thieves since the age of five and being separated has been devastating. You’ve missed her so much…

You giggle as you’re thinking about which tales Marian has to tell you about what went on here while you were away… Oh, and all the things you have to share with her. Your stay in the holy land hasn’t been exactly boring. Between caring for the injured knights and soldiers in the infirmary and learning how to properly fight with a sword (something your father strongly disapproved, but hey- you never listen to him anyway) you succeeded to deny all possible suitors your father proposed. You smile as you think of poor sir Powell, who seemed especially shaken by your rejection.

Poor sir Powell… It’s not his fault that he isn’t anything like… He couldn’t best your prince Charming, even if he tried. For you, there’s no one else.

You bite your lip. You want your return to town to be a surprise for that certain someone and you need Marian to help you out a little bit. The fact that you finally have come home to Nottingham again AND the fact that you’re still unmarried, still quite “innocent”… You bite your lip in excitement as you think of all the numerous ways you two could let Guy know you’re back in town again. How will he react? Will he have missed you as much as you’ve missed him?

Oh, Guy of Gisborne.

Your heart skips a beat when you think about the Sherriff’s right hand man, with his raven black hair, breathtaking blue eyes and strong muscly body. The way his leather clothes fit his body perfectly and therefore emphasize every hardened muscle, makes you lose your manners. The man breathes sex, seduces you with every word he speaks. His low baritone voice makes you forget your name (and a whole lot of other things too…) You sigh. You can’t deny him, you never have been able to. He’s too divine for that. God knows you’re just a sinful mortal woman who cannot contain her will.

You haven’t seen Guy since your father forced you to travel with him to the east and it has been the longest period of your life. Your father had expected that separating the two of you would make you forget about him, but you never did. How could you ever forget about the little open spot in the woods where you and Guy met at night? How could you ever forget the passionate ways he kissed you? No, your father achieved quite the opposite by taking you away and try to marry you off to some anonymous knight… Now you’re even more convinced you love him. If you don’t get to see him soon, you’ll lose it.

You smile and you’re completely in your own world as you make your way through the narrow streets. In your haste, you barely manage to avoid Adam the butcher. You duck behind some barrels, careful that you won’t ruin your green dress. It’s your favorite. What is Adam doing in this side of town anyway? On this time of the day? Shouldn’t he be busy with… work? You press yourself against the wood as you detect that Adam and his apprentice are coming closer. You hold your breath and try to make yourself as invisible as possible.

They can’t discover you. All would be ruined!

‘Have you heard the news?’ you hear Adam ask the youngster with that gruffy voice of his. ‘What news?’ the scraggy lad says. Adam smirks. ‘Guess what.’ ‘What?’ the youngster answers as he stops in his tracks. The butcher rolls his eyes. ‘Really, Simon? Are you deaf? Haven’t you heard the rumors?’ ‘I’m sorry, master.’ the lad says uneasily. ‘I don’t…’ Adam waves impatiently with his hands. ‘Hush boy, I’ll tell you. I heard sir Guy finally picked a girl to marry.’ ‘He did?’ Simon questions. ‘Are you sure this is true?’ ‘Yeah. Heard it from lady Marian herself this morning. The famous women seducer is going to settle down. At last…’

You almost forget the fact that you’re hiding from them and you cover your mouth just in time before your horrified scream can reach the air. Your legs give in, no longer able to hold you up, and you collapse down on the street. Tears burn behind your eyes, but you refuse to cry. You’d rather like to know which lady stole the man you’d die for. The love of your life…

‘Is that lady Y/N you’ve talked about finally back then?’ Simon inquires. ‘Lady Y/N?’ Adam repeats and you shift a little so you can take a peek at his face while he answers. ‘No, I didn’t mean Y/N.’ he says as he shakes his head. ‘I haven’t seen Y/N in years. She’s dead, if you ask me.’ ‘Shame.’ The youngster shrugs. ‘I wish I would have been able to meet her. Everyone tells me she’s a beauty. The tales go that her grey eyes can enchant a man with a single look. People say she’s quite fiery too.’ Adam nods. ‘Yeah she was. It’s a pity sir Guy took her before any of us had a fair chance. And now that pretty face is rotting away below the ground in the holy land… No use to any of us.’ ‘I didn’t know she went to the holy land…’ Simon states and you wonder if he feigns his interest in you to please his master. ‘Yes!’ Adam exclaims and he rewards his student with a wide grin. You whimper at the sight, detecting Adam has lost a few teeth in the past years. It seems he has gotten himself into quite a few fights over the last period. Fights he evidently didn’t win… ‘Y/N’s father was livid when he found out that sir Guy was frolicking with his daughter at night. It was a scandal! So to save the last shreds of his daughters’ reputation, it was all that was left, because sir Guy took her virtue…’ Adam smiles and takes a deep breath before he continues.

You clench your jaw. The butcher is enjoying this far too much. ‘Sir Worthington took her with him on a mission to the holy land. To aid king Richard, he said…’

Suddenly, the fact that the butcher is talking about your dad, your family, in this manner, makes your blood boil. Before Adam can tell his lad the rest of the story (and no doubt to drag the name of Worthington even more through the mud…) you raise on your feet and walk through the alley to face him. ‘And aid king Richard, the family of Worthington did.’ You tell the butcher in a haughtily manner. ‘Lady Y/N!’ Adam stutters and he takes a quick step back. ‘Yes.’ You smile. ‘I’m not dead. I returned this morning, only to discover that townsmen like you still spread the most nasty lies about me.’ ‘But my lady, no one had heard or seen you for the past few years and… we assumed…’ Adam looks at the ground, fully aware that he has betrayed your trust.

And probably not only this time.

You heave a sigh and try to reign in your anger. ‘My lady, I’m so-’ Adam begins. ‘Spare me your apologies.’ You scoff. ‘The fact that you’re not hearing or seeing anything of me, doesn’t give you the freedom to tell false tales about me, or my family! How dare you to befoul my families name!’ ‘Yes my lady, I’m sorry.’ The butcher mutters, still avoiding your gaze.

You fold your arms as you eye the duo intently. ‘Well, come on then.’ You shout. ‘Who?’ Adam scratches his head, not willing to tell you the truth and trying to postpone the moment he has to. ‘Do enlighten me.’ You order impatiently. ‘Who is the woman sir Gisborne is going to wed?’

You frown when both men hold their breath and refuse to provide you with an answer. ‘Tell me.’ You press. ‘What’s the name of the lucky girl?’ ‘Well, it’s complicated my lady. You see…’ Adam stutters, jumping from one foot to the other.

Someone is eager to leave! Well, it’s safe to say he isn’t going anywhere before he tells you what is going on.

‘We mustn’t spread lies!’ the young lad begins. ‘No, you shouldn’t. But I’m asking you a question.’ You say coldly. ‘Besides, is isn’t gossiping if the marriage is already officially announced.’ ‘I should follow your advice, my lady… I shouldn’t befoul my soul with mindless chatter.’ Adam says hastily. ‘I’ve got a lot of work to do and I don’t understand how young Simon here was able to distract me from my duties.’ The butcher gives poor Simon an angry push. ‘Come on lad.’ He says with a gruffy voice. ‘There’s no need to take up more from lady Y/N’s time. I can imagine she would like to see her friends first.’

Simon blinks a few times, unable to understand why HE is blamed for the fact that this conversation is taking place. Adam bows before you and refuses to meet your eyes as he takes his leave. ‘Good day, my lady.’ He says and grabs Simon by his tunic. ‘My lady…’ Simon begins. ‘I don’t want to be rude but…’ He shuffles his feet. ‘What?’ you challenge. ‘Your beauty… it exceeds the beauty of every girl in town..’ Simon stutters as his face flushes into a vibrant pink color.

Normally you would laugh and be flattered by such a downright compliment, but today it makes you even more mad than you already are.

‘So that’s why I am to all of you?’ you hiss. ‘I’m not going to-’ Simon whimpers. ‘I’m sorry, my lady… I didn’t mean to be rude, I just…’ ‘Of course you didn’t, Simon!’ you spat. ‘Just like all of you didn’t mean to spread rumors about me!’ Adam pushes Simon out of the way. ‘What are you doing?!’ he scolds at the poor lad. ‘Show the lady some respect!’ You raise one eyebrow. ‘Like you, Adam?’ The butcher cringes. ‘I’m sorry, lady Y/N. We crossed a line. Please accept our sincere apology.’ You press your lips together and fold your arms. ‘No. Why won’t you tell me the truth?’ ‘You should ask sir Gisborne himself.’ Adam answers quietly. ‘We don’t want to be the ones to tell you this… terrible… news...’

Ask sir Guy? Really? Do they really expect you to walk up to him and inquire why (and WHO!) he’s betrothing?

‘But you have no problem with telling the whole town?!’ you argue.

‘Lady Y/N!’ a familiar voice distracts you. You turn around and your gaze meets with the one of your favorite house maids, Anne. ‘Anne!’ you greet her with a warm smile. ‘My lady.’ She beams and she curtseys quickly. ‘I’m so glad you’ve returned. I was on the market when I learned that you were home again, but when I returned you were already gone again!’ You grin as you realize you really missed Anne’s bold way of talking. ‘Good day, my lady, Anne…’ Adam says hastily and he bows again. ‘He’s in a hurry…’ Anne states as the both of you watch Adam and Simon disappear around the street corner. ‘Sir Guy is going to marry.’ You say casually. ‘And no one will tell me who’s his betrothed.’ ‘Really?’ Anne asks.

You inspect her face to see if she’s hiding something from you too, but her expression reflects the same questions you have yourself. ‘I don’t have time for town gossip.’ Anne apologizes. ‘I rarely follow the rumors that swirl around…’ You sigh. ‘Adam told me I should ask sir Gisborne himself.’ ‘Clearly Adam doesn’t have the brightest mind…’ Anne giggles. ‘You should ask lady Marian though. Doesn’t she know everything that happens around here?’ You nod. ‘I should.’

It seems reasonable to ask Marian first. She seemed to know all about this marriage, because Adam had heard the news from her. Also, Anne has a point. Marian does know everything about everyone in Nottingham town.

You sigh and pull yourself together. Let’s find out what’s really going on here.

‘I’ll tell sir Worthington you’ll be back for dinner.’ Anne offers. ‘Thank you, Anne.’ You answer. ‘Tell him I’ll be back as soon as possible.’

When Marian greets you, she doesn’t seem as happy to see you as you her. ‘My dear friend!’ you whisper as you put your hands into hers. ‘It’s been such a long time…’ Marian responds. ‘We all thought you would never return!’ ‘Me neither… But business obliged father to come back.’ You explain. ‘And since he didn’t achieve his most important goal, which of course was marrying me off to the first man that wanted me, he had to take me with him again.’ ‘You’re still unmarried?’ Marian asks quietly. ‘Yes!’ you smile. ‘I couldn’t do it, Marian. I still love him.’ Marian says nothing and lowers her gaze. ‘But how are you faring?’ you ask. ‘I’m surprised by the fact that YOU are still unmarried. Hasn’t Hood come to claim your heart yet?’ Marian smiles, but you can tell it isn’t a genuine one. In her blue eyes lingers a sadness. She lets go of your hands and starts to wander through the room. She combs her fingers through her dark brown long locks before she answers your question. ‘The truth is… Robin went to the holy land too, shortly after you left. He came back a few months ago and…’ ‘He left you?’ you cry out. ‘Why would he do that?’ Marian shrugs. ‘It was his duty, and I don’t blame him for that.’ ‘But if he’s home again… why is he in Locksley manor without you?’ ‘Locksley manor is no longer his.’ Marian whispers. ‘Robin is outlaw now.’ ‘No!’ you howl. ‘That’s terrible! What happened? Why?’ Marian turns away, not wanting to discuss this loaded topic further. ‘Please, Marian!’ you say as you grab her arm before she can walk away. ‘Please, tell me the truth. Who condemned him to such an horrific faith?’ ‘He condemned himself.’ Marian mutters. ‘I told him he shouldn’t act rash, but he did. He just had to be the hero and save his people from the noose…’ She stops and stares out of the window.

You gaze at the floor and suddenly feel like a fool for thinking the friendship between you and Marian would survive. She has changed. You sense a feeling of bitterness in her. She’s not the vibrant and happy Marian you used to know. You wish you could comfort her, like you always used to, but she won’t allow you near her. She’s still acting kind towards you, but the tight bond between the two of you has faded.

You sigh. So much has changed since you left. How is it possible that Marian and Hood aren’t courting anymore? And Guy… You and Guy were so in love… And now his attention has taken a little turn and finally he found someone he truly wishes to marry. Damn, that stings.

And you? You’re alone again.

‘I probably should go.’ You whisper, unable to tolerate the silence any longer. ‘My father told me I needed to be home again as soon as possible… We’ve just arrived and I didn’t even unpack my dresses yet.’ Half of it is a lie, but you don’t even care if Marian knows it is. She’s probably glad to see you leave. ‘I trust the journey home has been pleasant?’ Marian inquires. ‘Yes, thank you.’ You say politely. ‘And your father is in good health?’ ‘Yes.’ You answer and you make your way to the front door. ‘We’re both fine, thank you.’

You want to open the door, but your curiosity wins ‘Dear Marian, I’m sorry I have to bother you longer, but… I heard rumors in town.’ You begin. ‘Rumors?’ Marian repeats.

She feigns a disinterest, but the little squeak in her voice betrays how nervous she is. You knit your brows together as you start to wonder why your friend is treating you like an infectious disease.

‘Yes.’ You tell her. ‘I heard sir Gisborne is going to marry a lady, but Adam refused to tell me her name.’ ‘Well.. I don’t… I can’t…’ Marian frets as her eyes dart through the room. ‘You can tell me.’ You whisper. ‘Marian, we were friends… I know you think you’ll hurt me by telling me the name, but I can handle it…’ Marian shakes her head. ‘But I swore to not…’ ‘Then why did you tell Adam?’ you ask, feeling a bit offended. ‘Why tell him, and why not me?’ ‘It’s complicated.’ Marian sighs. ‘And he sort of guessed.’ ‘Who?’ you press. ‘Who is-‘ Your question is interrupted by two short knocks on the door. ‘Are you expecting someone?’ you ask. ‘Yeah, I am. Go. I don’t want to embarrass you.’ Marian smiles. ‘Embarrass me?’

You’re confused. Nothing makes sense to you anymore. Guy’s marriage, Marians’ behavior…

‘Please, Y/N. I’ll visit you later, and then we can talk.’ Marian mutters. ‘Now, you can let yourself out through the back door.’ You suppress a shudder and try not to look hurt by her rudeness. ‘Come on.’ Marian encourages as she pushes you to the back of the house. ‘Like you said Y/N, your father needs you and you cannot make him wait any longer.’

You want to turn around and haste yourself to the back, but something makes you stop your track. Chills runs down your spine as you recognizes the voice of the man that greets Marian. You could recognize that low baritone voice everywhere, especially when he uses a flirty playful tone.

Guy.

‘Good day, my lady Marian.’ He says. ‘May I-’ He stops when he detects you and he swallows hard before he can call your name. ‘Lady Y/N.’ he whispers. ‘I thought you were…’ he doesn’t complete his sentence again and you can see his eyes traveling all over you, making your body tremble in anticipation. But you’re determined to not let him notice what effect he has on you, so you force yourself to stand straight before him.

He is as divine as you remember and it takes all of your self-control not to jump into those strong arms and kiss his attractive stubble. The sexual tension in the room rises and you bite on your lip to stop a soft whimper from coming out.

Focus, you tell yourself. Please focus.

You pinch yourself in your arm and the pain makes you aware of the present surroundings again. ‘Sir Gisborne.’ You say. ‘Contrary to common belief, I’m not deceased. I just returned from the holy land.’ Guy steps forward and takes your hand. His gaze burns into yours, making your breathing shallow. ‘Lady Y/N.’ he repeats and he raises your hand to his mouth. ‘It’s a pleasure meeting you again…’ Guy breathes and he kisses the back of your hand gently. A shiver goes down your spine when his lips touch your skin. Your body reacts in the same way it always has done when Guy is near- you’re on fire.

No. You blink a few times, trying your best to regain your senses. This isn’t right. Marian is still here, and Guy is going to marry someone. He shouldn’t approach you like this.

‘Guy, my love.’ Marian says uneasily. ‘We should invite Y/N to our wedding.’ ‘Wedding?’ you blurt out. ‘He’s going to marry YOU?’ ‘Let me-’ Guy begins, but you give him a look that makes him quickly close his mouth again. He knows you too well. ‘Marian?’ you ask sharply. ‘Sir Guy proposed and I said yes.’ She says matter-of-factly. ‘You were gone.’

You clench your jaw and try to hold back the tears that are burning in your eyes. This can’t be happening. She was your friend. He was your lover. They would never betray you in such a way, right? She knew you loved him!

You exhale slowly. ‘I was gone?’ you challenge her. ‘Really, Marian? Is that all you’ve got to say?’ Marian licks her lips anxiously. ‘You… You don’t understand.’ You eye Guy for a moment before you answer. His usual confident smirk is nowhere to be seen and he looks utterly lost. ‘I think I do.’ You tell her. ‘What I don’t understand is HOW you think it’s right to betray your best friend in this way.’ ‘You were gone.’ Marian repeats. ‘There was no sign of you coming back. Can you blame me and Guy for moving on?’ ‘You knew I wouldn’t forget about him.’ You hiss. ‘You knew my heart.’ ‘You’d expect me to choose your happiness over mine?’ Marian objects. ‘You were GONE, Y/N.’ ‘I’m back.’ You snap. Marian scoffs. ‘And I’m still going to be the one that’s marrying Guy.’ ‘Marian.’ Guy says, his tone warning her. ‘There’s no need for this.’ ‘No.’ you growl. ‘I was just leaving.’

You rush past them and make it for the door. Before you leave, you turn one last time. ‘Are you really this cruel, Marian?’ you sneer. ‘Are you doing this for the money, the comfort? Is it because Robin isn’t an honorable knight anymore?’

Before Marian can reply, you smack the front door violently in its frame behind you. You take a deep breath and gaze at the sky.

This can’t be true.

Guy and Marian. Guy and Marian?

What?!

[sipeudepeine]

Setting: Stormlight Archive Point of View: 3rd Person Past Tense, Shallan Characters: Mraize, Iyatil, Shallan/Veil Chapters: 1 - Complete Words: 8,779 Contains: mentor/apprentice dynamic, first time, threesome, m/f/f, rough sex, table sex, oral sex, cunnilingous, penetration, pinning hands, safehand kink, scar kink, tattoo kink, oral fixation, finger-sucking, fingering, rewards, orgasm control, and orgasm denial.

Scene takes place place a few days after Shallan’s events in Words of Radiance Chapter 64: “Treasures,” in which Mraize sends Shallan a missive via spanreed that she is officially a member of the Ghostbloods. This is meant to be their first in-person meeting after that night.

Additional warnings for D/s elements without negotiation. Expect some possessive/predatory behavior on Mraize’s end. The scene is not noncon or even dubcon on either side, but the actual discussion of consent leaves something to be desired. They’re fully consenting, they just don’t… talk about that very well.

Originally posted as a fill on @cosmerekinkmeme.

The Ghostbloods’ secret basement was much emptier than the last time Shallan had attended a meeting here. The small cadre of Ghostblood members that she was coming to associate with meetings were nowhere to be seen, and the long dining table in the center was empty. A rich-looking tablecloth of thick fabric covered it this time, she noticed, and the room's sphere goblets were arranged on the wall shelves to bathe the room in the soft, even glow of Stormlight.

The basement’s sole occupant stood by the room's hearth, his back to the ladder as she climbed down. Mraize always cut such a striking figure in his sharp suits. He turned as she reached the floor, regarding her with an expression that was, as always, difficult to read. It might have been pride, tonight. Perhaps satisfaction? His scars made it difficult to tell.

His was a face she had collected more than a few times in her sketchbooks. She liked to tell herself that she needed more depictions so that he could be easily identified when she finally decided to act against the Ghostbloods. However, her artist’s sensibility knew that the asymmetry of his scars created an intriguing aesthetic, one she couldn’t seem to stop trying to capture from all angles. Perhaps she wasn’t quite to the point where she would use the word ‘handsome,’ but she would admit that they were visually fascinating, certainly.

“Good evening, Brightlord,” she said, standing by the ladder.

“Veil.” Mraize picked up two goblets setting on the mantle, each filled with wine.

Violet wine, she noted. Dark and intoxicating. She rarely drank anything of that color, but it seemed that Mraize was in a mood to celebrate. She walked across the room, taking one from him with a small nod. She only hesitated a moment before taking a sip. He’d said in his letter that she had nothing more to fear from the Ghostbloods, and she didn’t think he would have called her here just to poison her.

Besides, she’d gathered from their first meeting that if he ever decided to kill her, there were other methods to do so  which he would find much more… entertaining.

“How does it feel, little knife, to be a Ghostblood?”

“It is an honor, Brightlord,” Shallan said smoothly. In truth, she was in a celebratory mood tonight as well. Her efforts had paid off. She had successfully infiltrated the Ghostbloods. She was in.

“You are already more proficient than many we initiate,” he said. “Truly, we were lucky that Tyn found you. You are a much better acquisition than I believe Tyn ever would have been.”

Shallan hid a pleased smile behind her glass as she took another sip of wine. She knew that the Ghostbloods were her enemies, and yet, there was something very satisfying about gaining their approval. Mraize’s in particular. Iyatil had confirmed what she herself had guessed: that Mraize was a very difficult person to impress.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

“There is no need to thank me,” Mraize said, his odd accent tugging at the vowels. “You have earned your place among us.”

And she had. Though Shallan’s intentions in joining the Ghostbloods had been duplicitous, there was no denying that the things she had done to earn that place were real. She had managed to sneak information out of Amaram’s secure room. She’d scouted out Dalinar’s hidden madman. She’d talked her way out of Mraize’s intent to kill her upon their first meeting, and she’d managed to keep herself from being assassinated by any of the other Ghostblood members.

She took pride in those accomplishments, and in the praise they elicited from Mraize. She deserved this.

“In our last correspondence,” he said. “I gave you a task for your initiation. Has it been completed?”

The tattoo. Mraize’s instructions over spanreed had said she was to get the Ghostbloods’ symbol tattooed somewhere on her body, and that he would be checking to ensure she had.

She nodded. “It has.”

She had, of course, done no such thing. She had no intention of permanently marking her body for a group for which she held no loyalty. Thankfully, the Ghostbloods didn't ever see her real appearance anyway. She'd simply added the tattoo to her sketch as Veil and created it as part of the disguise.

At first, she'd been tempted to place it somewhere that would be easy to display to Mraize. After all, she wouldn't need to worry about hiding it around her everyday life. However, she feared he would be suspicious of a mark that was not well concealed.

Eventually, she decided to place it on her upper back, directly between her shoulder blades. It was a spot that was usually clothed, so as not to be suspicious, but also not too immodest, so she wouldn't have a problem showing Mraize.

Knowing that he would ask to see it tonight, she'd chosen to wear a sleeveless shirt which tied behind the neck underneath Veil’s longcoat, which left her upper back bare. The neck and lower back ties on her undergarment, which she very seldom had to worry about showing beneath the havah, were carefully arranged to stay beneath this shirt's fabric.

Shallan turned, shrugging the longcoat off her shoulders and lowering it. To her surprise, Mraize took hold of the fabric as she did so. Though she'd only intended to lower the coat far enough to reveal the tattoo, Mraize pulled it all the way off, like a gentleman helping a lady out of her overcoat.

She tried to stifle the embarrassed reaction she felt, standing there with bare arms. At least she still had her gloves on.

Mraize let out a slow breath, sounding impressed, though it was a very simple design. Shallan had checked the illusion in the mirror before coming, and it looked just like the sketch he'd sent. She had even managed to add a bit of redness around it, as the tattoo was supposed to only be a few days old.

“It is perfect,” Mraize said.

He placed his hand on her back, running his fingers across her skin. Though his hands were not cold, she had to suppress a shiver at the unexpected touch. Perhaps she should have expected it. He was probably checking to make certain the mark wasn't just paint that would rub off.

Well, he's right to be suspicious. It is fake, just not in any way he would be able to guess.

“And thus you are officially a member of the Ghostbloods,” he said. His hand moved to her shoulder, turning her so that they were facing one another again.

She smiled. “I look forward to serving more closely in the future.” The deeper she went into this organization, the more she'd learn.

Her phrasing seemed to amuse him. “And I believe you will. You have demonstrated remarkable skill in a number of areas, Veil. Iyatil remarked upon your ability to move about unseen and to shake tails. She also spoke of how well you formulated and executed an objective in a short period of time, as well as your… methods of persuasion in convincing her to join you for that task. Your powers of memory and observation are remarkable, as is your skill in visual arts.”

He sat down on the table in a half lean, one foot still on the ground, the other propped up. After a moment, Shallan sat beside him, mirroring the pose. There was no chair here at the head of the table today and it was wide enough that they could sit beside one another. Close, but not touching, with the length of the table and chairs extending behind them.

“I find myself wondering what other skills you might possess and simply have not had a chance to demonstrate yet.” He regarded her, and she felt a twinge of wariness. “Tell me, Veil, before you… succeeded her, did Tyn teach you anything of seduction?”

Shallan’s heart seemed to miss a beat. Did he have some kind of mission in mind that required this? Or was he simply curious? Surely he wasn't personally interested...

“I…” Mraize was looking for skill; Shallan knew she needed to appear competent. “She taught me some as we traveled, yes. How to catch the eye of a mark. How to direct a conversation to your own ends. How to keep contact in ways which leave the mark pursuing you.”

Mraize nodded, considering, then he leaned forward, his stare holding hers. “And what of the more physical aspects the art?”

Shallan felt she could summon a Shardblade in an eye-blink with how quickly her heart was beating. “Ah, not exactly, no. We… hadn’t gotten that far, I don’t think.”

“A pity,” he said, though he didn’t sound very disappointed. “You are blessed with natural gifts which would make such things easier. There is great potential in such beauty.”

Gently, he placed a hand beneath her chin, turning her head from one side to the other. As though she were a work of art to be examined.

Considering this face is sculpted from one of my drawings, perhaps that idea is apt, she thought. A small swell of pleased surprise welled up within her at the praise. Veil’s features were not soft, delicate, or pretty. She hadn’t considered the stark lines and sharp angles of her disguise to be particularly beautiful, though it seemed Mraize’s taste disagreed.

“That is... very kind of you to say, Brightlord.”

“Do not mistake my words for an empty compliment, little knife. I speak of your potential, but potential must be tended if it is to become talent. Honed, sharpened. Practiced.” Shallan was suddenly aware just how close his face was to hers. “There is much I could teach you, Veil, now that you are truly one of us. Would you like that?”

Shallan’s mind seemed to stutter and race at the same time as she realized what he was implying.

Her thoughts turned, first, to Adolin. She couldn’t do this to him. She shouldn’t! Stormwinds take her disguise, she was a lighteyed lady of moderate rank and she was causally betrothed to a prince. Dalliances and trysts were an excellent way to ruin everything she’d worked so hard to achieve there.

And yet…

Another side of her mind whispered that she was already living a double life. She was already lying to Adolin. In the event that someone found out a connection between herself and Mraize—or, Almighty forbid, Mraize figured out the connection between herself and Veil—she would have much larger problems to deal with than whatever physical interactions between them might have occurred.

Besides, that argument continued, technically she wasn’t lighteyed right now. She wasn’t Shallan here and if she tried to have Veil make decisions based on her other life’s considerations, the duplicity would trip her up. When she was here, she needed to be Veil, act as Veil would. How would she react to this as a darkeyed conwoman, rather than as the lighteyed lady? She’d come to accept that Veil was not a different person, she was another version of Shallan. A version with a different background, from a different place. The persona of Veil was Shallan underneath it all, but Veil had different priorities.

Veil, even a version of Veil intentionally trying to infiltrate the Ghostbloods to undermine them, would see this as an opportunity. She needed to get close to their leaders, gain their trust. Whatever interest Mraize had taken in her, she needed to capitalize on it and use that to her advantage. If he wanted to teach her the ways of seduction, all the better, because she needed to get as much as she could from him.

The hand Mraize held lightly beneath her chin turned over, taking hold of her face now. Mraize cocked his head. “Well, little knife? I will only ask once.”

A small rush of heat ran through her at his words. Though Shallan was very good at lying to herself, there was a realization she was having difficulty denying: there was a part of her that wanted this. Not for strategy, not as a method to manipulate. There was, terrifying as it was to discover within herself, desire.

She was fond of Adolin, truly, but she also remembered how many of their outings were tinged with annoyed frustration at the restrictions between them. These Alethi could be so prudish, so uptight. She could hardly give her fiancé a peck on the cheek in public without drawing disapproval from society as a whole. She’d had embarrassingly detailed trains of thought regarding the things she wished to do with Adolin. The simple truth was, she wanted more.

And here more was, sitting before her, face inches from her own, making the offer. It was a possibility that she couldn’t consider as Shallan, but as Veil she had more freedom. And he wasn’t simply offering an intimate encounter. Mraize wanted to teach her, to show her how to turn this into a tool she could use.

He was her enemy. She knew that, of course. He was dangerous, a man of skills, secrets, connections, and resources. Yet, in this moment, the risks of associating with a man so powerful thrilled her. Tyn had spoken of the addictive nature of the con, how the higher the stakes rose, the more difficult it became to step away. There was a piece of her that needed to see how far she could take this.

His hand still holding her chin, she leaned forward quickly, letting a sudden kiss serve as her answer. It was brief, only a few seconds before she pulled back, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge.

“Whenever you’re ready to begin, Brightlord.”

Mraize chuckled, standing up. When Shallan moved to do the same, he held up a hand, motioning for her to stay seated.

“The first rule of seduction, little knife,” he said, “is that you must always be focused on your mark. Their wants, their desires, their reactions must all come before your own.”

Shallan’s knack for quips, especially the more risqué responses favored by the crew of The Wind’s Pleasure, supplied a response that she only barely managed to keep herself from speaking aloud: And so, too, should your mark ‘come’ before yourself, I assume.

Mraize stepped close to her again, laying his palm against her cheek. Where his touch before had been possessive, this gesture was gentler. Softened. “You must discover that which your mark seeks, the touches they yearn for. When you understand how best to please them, you can control their pleasure. And in controlling their pleasure, you control them.”

He kissed her again, hand cupping her face. This was deeper than the kiss she’d given him, and she closed her eyes, her mind seeming to still as his lips parted hers. In seeing others kiss from afar, Shallan had always thought the practice would be a sloppy endeavor. Yet Mraize kissed with precision, every movement of his mouth against hers perfectly controlled.

As they lingered in the moment, his hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her face to his more forcefully. Then he moved downward, the hand gently dragging its way across the exposed skin of her back. He lingered at the place where the tattoo was drawn, then continued on toward her hips, fingers slipping beneath the gathered fabric of her sleeveless shirt at her lower back.

Within the kiss, his tongue drew a line across her bottom lip once, and then he broke away. He watched her carefully, a small smile on his face as he tried to gauge her reactions. “What is it that you desire, little knife?”

As Shallan struggled to think of an answer to that, Mraize pressed his lips to her neck, trailing kisses from her jawline to her collarbone. Hands tugged at the knot of fabric behind her neck holding up the shirt, but it wasn’t until she heard a voice behind her that she realized those hands were not Mraize’s.

“Something tells me she does not know the answer to that, yet.”

Shallan jumped, turning sharply at the unexpected, yet familiar voice. Iyatil, masked as always, crouched barefoot on the table behind her. Shallan hadn’t even heard the woman come in. Or… Surely she couldn’t have been in here the whole time, hiding somewhere. Could she have? Iyatil did have a habit of appearing and disappearing when she wished to.

She ran a hand through Shallan’s hair—dark and straight under the guise of Veil. “She seems nervous, Mraize. Could it be this is her first?”

“I had considered the possibility, yes,” Mraize said, sounding amused.

Shallan looked back at him sharply for an answer, disconcerted by the way that the conversation was occurring as though she wasn’t here.

He smiled. “Do not concern yourself with Iyatil, little knife. She is here to observe and assist. If you are to learn, you must stay focused on me.”

“As I informed you on our mission,” Iyatil said, hands rubbing at Shallan’s neck in soothing motions, “he is my student. Just as you are to become his.” For the moment, she did not finish untying Shallan’s shirt, focusing instead on the massage. “The tattoo is lovely, Veil.”

Shallan let out a soft groan as Iyatil’s fingers dug out deep-set soreness from her neck and back. Mraize began to lay kisses across the length of her arm, starting up at her bared shoulders and moving downwards. It took her until he was already past her elbow before she realized the significance. Her left arm. He was moving toward her safehand.

Her breath caught with a subtle hitch, and Mraize smiled. He raised her arm, looking into her eyes as his lips touched her wrist, just above the edge of the thin leather glove she was wearing. She’d worn a pair tonight; her freehand was gloved as well, but her right side was all but forgotten right now.

“Many make the mistake of assuming that the use of allure regarding safehand lies only in distracting Vorin men,” Mraize said. He took her safehand in both of his, rubbing circles through the leather. “While this is, of course, a valuable technique, one should not ignore the ways in which Vorin women respond to the safehand. In my experience, they can often be more fixated upon it than their masculine counterparts.”

His hands slid down to the ends of her fingers, tugging at each of the glove’s fingertips. Then, once loosened, he met her eyes and pulled the glove free in one smooth motion. Shallan had a moment of strange reversal, feeling her freehand clothed and her safehand bare. Opposite from usual. It felt wrong, but in a thrilling sort of way.

With the glove removed, Mraize began rubbing her hand again, turning it over to press his thumbs into the back, then the palm. Gently, he pulled on each of her fingers, stretching the joints as he applied careful pressure to each. It worked as a counterpart to Iyatil’s continued treatment of her neck and upper back, and Shallan sighed softly, wondering how something improper could feel so wonderful.

Shallan’s hand was lifted again, and this time, Mraize pressed his lips against the back of her hand. It was almost like a gentleman’s greeting, but on the wrong side. The formal and the forbidden together in one action. Shallan had believed she would be able to keep her composure, even as his mouth moved to her palm, right up until the point that he took two of her fingers into his mouth.

The feeling was electric, the way he pushed his tongue against them. A sudden flash of heat ran through Shallan as he gently sucked on the digits, and she knew she must have stiffened, because Iyatil’s hands dug into her shoulder blades, forcing her back towards relaxation.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Mraize released her hand, leaving a small kiss on her fingertips as he pulled them from his mouth. “Quite diverting, is it not?”

Shallan found she was having difficulty making normal speech work properly. Words appeared to have fled her for the moment. Her silence was answer enough for Mraize, it seemed, for he leaned in closely again, taking hold of the back of her head to kiss her again.

While Shallan was distracted, Iyatil went back to the neck tie of her shirt, and the already loose knot gave up its hold with little fight. The garment fell free, gathering on the table around Shallan’s hips as she sat, leaving her wearing nothing but her undergarment and the glove on her freehand from the waist up.

The undergarment was traditionally Vorin, the kind she normally wore under her havah. Little more than a square of cloth to cover and support her chest, with two string ties to affix it at the neck and lower back. As the shirt fell away, Mraize’s unoccupied hand splayed against her stomach, caressing the smooth skin of her midsection, then moving upward. His hand ventured beneath the square fabric cupping her left breast. Another hand, Iyatil’s, found its way to her right only moments later.

Iyatil’s lips touched the back of Shallan’s neck, taking the thin undergarment string there in her teeth and pulling the simple knot free. The strings on her back followed in like manner. The skin of her upper body entirely exposed, Iyatil began trailing kisses down the line of her spine, as Mraize did the same down her front from her collarbone. Shallan let her eyes drift closed, head lolling back to rest on Iyatil’s shoulder behind her.

This was bliss, and for a few moments, Shallan simply let herself float in the pleasurable sensations of being touched. She came to the slow realization, however, that she didn’t simply want to be a passive recipient in this. Perhaps she could blame that on the Stormlight. With an extended illusion like this, she’d taken in a good amount to sustain her image. Though it wasn’t visible on the surface, it spun and twisted within her, pushing her to act, to do, to be.

Iyatil was behind her—the woman must have been sitting on the table, Shallan realized—which made her a difficult target to reach. Mraize, however, was within easy range of her hands, so, opening her eyes, she reached forward and began unbuttoning his sharp suit coat. He seemed to appreciate the initiative, making a noise of approval and shifting so that she could pull off his jacket, then the vest, then the shirt.

Shallan drew a quick breath at the sight of his chest, blinking to take a Memory without even thinking about it. She supposed she should have guessed. With the way his face was scarred, it stood to follow that the rest of his body would have withstood similar punishment. She couldn’t help but marvel at the extent of the scarring, imagining how much pain such wounds must have caused.

They were also beautiful. It felt wrong to to think such a thing of features which represented so much pain, but it was undeniably true. The scars were deep gouges, altering the contours of skin with marred muscle beneath. They were snatches of different color, in striking contrast with his normal tones. There were some which were so fine and delicate they immediately made her think of lace or filigree, tracing lines and arcs across him.

She reached forward, fingers trailing across the marked skin. “They're striking.”

Mraize was amused by her fascination. “A true enough observation. Acquiring many of them involved being struck.”

She pulled back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

He took hold of her wrist, bringing her safehand back to touch the skin. “It was not an admonition, Veil.”

Behind her, Iyatil pressed herself flush against Shallan’s back and the feeling of skin on bare skin told her that the woman had stripped as well. A hand pulled her head to the side as Iyatil leaned over Shallan’s shoulder, catching her mouth in a kiss.

Shallan let out a soft groan, eyes drifting closed again. Whereas Mraize’s kisses had been careful and controlled, Iyatil kissed with a demanding hunger. Her lips forced their way against Shallan’s pushing them apart. Her teeth pulled at Shallan’s bottom lip, tongue tasting and prodding. Shallan felt as though she were struggling to keep up in the exchange, and this wasn’t helped by the aggressive way Iyatil’s hands squeezed her breasts, teasing the nipples.

Something tugged at her waist, but Shallan barely noticed, occupied as she was with Iyatil’s ministrations. Then Mraize’s hand slowly slid up the inside of her thigh and she jerked, eyes snapping open to focus on him again. While she’d been distracted, she noticed, he had undone both her belt and the line of buttons from her waistband down on her trousers. He had unbuckled her boots and now set to pulling them off, setting them underneath the table and out of the way.

Mraize met her eyes, then slid his hand beneath the waistband of the pants, though he stayed outside of her smallclothes. A moan escaped Shallan as he made small motions against the fabric. Iyatil, with Shallan’s lips out of reach, contented herself with claiming the skin of Shallan’s neck with soft sucking kisses.

Mraize gave her only a modicum of motion and Shallan found herself growing frustrated. She shifted positions, trying to push her hips against his hand. He chuckled as she did so, pulling back to deny her.

“Not so quickly,” he chided. “This is not an experienced to be mishandled in a rush. If you wish to continue, lift your hips, Veil.”

She took a deep, even breath, trying to slow her racing heartbeat. The decision felt like a threshold, a point of no return. She could still back out of this now before something truly dangerous happened.

No, she told herself, you crossed the point of no return the first night you entered this room. The moment you picked up that spanreed and agreed to meet the Ghostbloods. There’s no turning back now.

Iyatil pulled on her shoulders to help her lean backward and Shallan planted her barefoot heels on the table, raising her hips. Mraize slipped her trousers off in a smooth motion, and she sat down again, lifting her feet to let him remove the garment entirely. Only her smallclothes remained, and a quick tug at the side tie released these to fall free as well. Despite the hearth, a chill ran through her as the slick wetness between her legs was open to the air.

Mraize paused, appreciating the sight of her nude at last. “Pay attention, little knife. You've much to learn.”

He placed his hand just below her navel, with slight pressure. “What you must remember is that there is no perfect technique to please a mark, though with practice, you will learn to master those which produce… more favorable results.”

His hand slid downwards and Shallan gripped the tablecloth trying not to squirm. One finger parted the fold there and slowly circled the tab of her clit. Mraize’s lazy, casual motions stood in stark contrast to the reactions they were eliciting from Shallan, who had to bite at her tongue to keep from making noise.

Iyatil laughed in her ear, still keeping Shallan leaned back against herself. “She tries very hard to seem composed, Mraize. It does not seem to be working very well.”

“She may pretend at composure as long as she likes,” Mraize said, changing his pattern. Two fingers drew long strokes from bottom to top, teasing the sensitive skin. “I will enjoy drawing this out.”

Shallan sucked a breath through her teeth as she felt him move backward and forward, fingers never following the same path, lest she grow accustomed to what he was doing. At the base of one stroke, he ringed her entrance, playing as if he would go deeper before drawing away upwards once more.

“Lie back, dear,” Iyatil said, running fingers through Shallan’s hair.

Shallan did as requested, feeling Iyatil shift backward to give her room to lie down. She settled on her back, head resting in Iyatil’s lap as the woman continued her very thorough massage. Iyatil dug fingers against Shallan’s scalp, then down around her neck and shoulders, then long and smooth motions across her chest, and back up again. She realized, at some point, Iyatil had removed the glove from her freehand as well. She hadn’t even noticed.

Lying back as she was now, she could see the value in the rich tablecloth. The thick fabric padded the hardwood surface quite well, thankfully. What likely would have been a terribly uncomfortable experience in positioning without it was instead quite suitable, if not actually comfortable. That said, she had the sense that she wasn’t the first person to whom Mraize and Iyatil had done this kind of maneuver, and they knew how to move and adjust her posture best.

She felt Mraize’s breath against her skin of her thighs a moment before he spoke, shockingly close to her. She couldn’t see him anymore and she hadn’t expected him to move. Certainly not that his face would be close enough to her for that.

“And of course, one must use all of the tools at one’s disposal. It can be difficult to tell which will be the most effective without trying.”

Shallan tensed. No. Surely he isn’t planning to–

The line of thought cut off abruptly as she felt his lips press against her. His tongue delved into the fold, raking a long stroke beside her clit, then another on the opposite side. This time, Shallan wasn’t able to stop the quiet moan that caught in the back of her throat. Mraize gave a pleased hum to have elicited the sound from her, then his lips pressed forward, sucking gently around her hood before backing away again.

His hands, now freed to other tasks, took over the responsibility of pleasing her just below where his mouth worked. Fingers traced rings around her entrance, edging as close as possible without actually going inside. Then, unexpectedly, he stilled, not moving at all for a moment. Shallan frowned, eyelids starting to open in confusion when she felt it.

With an excruciating slowness, Mraize pushed his finger against her slit, and then on further inside. Shallan arched her back slightly, eyes going wide at the sensation of feeling of something inside her, of being touched somewhere deep within that she had never experienced before. The way he then withdrew the finger just as agonizingly slow. No sooner was it out than he slid it in once more.

He continued with this, mouth working above and on the outside, hand working down and in, and Shallan squirmed slightly beneath his ministrations. A tense kind of heat was beginning to pool within her core, and all she could think was that the way he drew this out was the most pleasurable torture, but that she also never wanted to stop.

“Enjoying yourself, Veil?” Iyatil asked. “I hope you have been paying attention, girl. I think it’s time for an assessment.”

Shallan didn’t have attention to spare to the task of deciphering the comment, but she quickly realized Iyatil planned to let her actions explain what she meant. Lifting Shallan’s shoulders slightly, the woman shimmied out from under her, then gently set Shallan’s head down on the table. Shallan blinked, trying to focus on what was going on, only to see a leg passing over her head as Iyatil moved to kneel over her, legs straddling her face.

Iyatil had disrobed entirely, as Shallan had guessed, though this was the first time Shallan got a truly good look at her tonight, albeit from an odd angle. Iyatil reached down, running soothing fingers through Shallan’s hair as she looked down upon her.

“Now then, let us see what you have learned.”

Her hand slid down to the back of Shallan’s head, pulling her upward as Iyatil lowered her hips. Shallan, realizing belatedly what Iyatil intended, barely had time to steal a quick breath before her face was pressed against the folds between the woman’s legs. She floundered for what to do, the shock of the experience superseding everything else. It was warm and wet, more slippery than she’d have expected. A touch of an unfamiliar taste—Iyatil’s arousal—coated her lips, though Shallan had made no effort to taste for more.

Iyatil kept her hand behind Shallan’s head, starting up the massaging motions she’d been using before. “Now then, Veil. You cannot expect to simply receive with giving nothing in return. Haven’t you picked up anything from Mraize’s demonstration?”

Shallan pulled away, giving herself a moment to catch her breath and focus her thoughts. Iyatil was right: she was supposed to be learning here, not just enjoying herself. She’d had a demonstration, now her learning needed to be more hands-on. This was just another test. Another opportunity to impress the Ghostbloods. She needed to figure this out and she would.

She reached up, taking hold of Iyatil’s backside with her safehand and pulling the woman back down. Remembering the intensity with which Iyatil had kissed, Shallan decided that Mraize’s drawn-out, tantalizing motions wouldn’t be the best strategy. She pressed her mouth hard against Iyatil’s folds, tongue darting out to lap at her with long strokes.

Iyatil made a pleased noise of surprise, spreading her legs further to give Shallan a better vantage as she settled down. “There you go. Harder against the skin, Veil. Quicker. Don’t miss any spot. One shouldn’t leave any part of the canvas unpainted.” She paused, letting Shallan try something new. “Ah, there. Focus on that spot. Suck a bit, then the tongue. Short strokes.”

It was difficult, trying to keep up with Iyatil’s demands. If there was one thing Shallan could say for the woman, it was that she knew exactly what she wanted, and she did not hesitate to direct Shallan to it. In a way, she was grateful. In many situations, being ordered about in such detail would likely have frustrated her, but in a time like this, where she lacked any kind of personal experience, she appreciated the direction.

Iyatil’s comments were endless. Higher, to the left, to the right. Deeper, faster, harder. More tongue, more lips. She told Shallan what rhythms to use, her length of strokes, every aspect of the task. Shallan could almost forget what it was that she was doing, letting herself get caught up in the challenge of meeting the endless demands.

Mraize still worked between Shallan’s own legs, though he’d simplified his technique. It was just his fingers now, and rather than teasing and enticing with new touches and rhythms, he’d settled into a simple, even in-and-out. She could guess that he was trying to allow her to focus on Iyatil and what she was doing, but didn’t want Shallan’s own pleasure to die away entirely. It was a way to keep her aroused without escalating to anything further.

When Iyatil seemed satisfied with what Shallan had accomplished with her mouth, she continued. “Now the finger, girl. Gently, but all the way in.”

Shallan fumbled at this, trying to use her freehand to find Iyatil’s entrance by touch alone. She paused once she believed she’d found the right spot, then sank her index finger in to the knuckle. Iyatil moaned, shifting her weight to help Shallan find the right angle. Shallan’s safehand still held the smooth skin of Iyatil’s ass, giving her something to hold onto as leverage as she tried to find the best angle.

“Yes, just like that,” Iyatil directed, her voice having taken on a breathy quality. “Two fingers, Veil, and work them fast. I do not wish to be played with.”

It took a few tries to get the technique right with this, and focusing on what her hand was doing made her tongue sloppy, Iyatil chastised. There was so much she was doing, Shallan found it difficult to concentrate. She tried to make up for her lack of finesse with effort alone, pouring more energy into working quicker, deeper, more powerfully.

She must have started doing something right, because the corrections and critiques began to taper off, replaced with moans and affirmations.

“There, there, yes…” Iyatil said, sounding distant as she began to lose herself in Shallan’s efforts. Her hips moved above Shallan, pressing down against her to match the way Shallan was pressing upward. “Keep going. More, more. Yes. Yes.”

The words of affirmation devolved into meaningless noises of pleasure, little noises and cries. Shallan redoubled her energy in response to the escalating tension she felt from Iyatil. There was a breaking point they were reaching toward, and the nearer they drew, the more desperate the masked-woman seemed to grow. Shallan might have been inexperienced in these things, but she could realize that tipping Iyatil over that point depended on her performance.

And then, they were over it. Iyatil’s moan broke into a louder exclamation and the motion of her hips switched from the rhythmic grinding to a shuddering halt. Iyatil’s fingers dug against her scalp, pulling her hair in a way that just bordered on painful. Shallan continued what she was doing, trying to see if she could extend that moment of exultation for as long as possible.

It seemed to end too quickly for the amount of effort it had taken to achieve. Iyatil, however, seemed more than satisfied. She slid off of Shallan’s face, pulling her leg up and over and moving to lie down on the table behind where Shallan lay. She laughed lightly, breathing deeply in the aftermath, face flushed.

“Well, Mraize,” Iyatil said, sounding almost dazed. “She has potential, at least. You might be able to make something of her eventually.”

Mraize chuckled again. “So it would seem. The little knife can cut well.”

Shallan lay there, feeling exhausted after how difficult that had been. Then, without warning, Mraize crooked his finger as he pulled it free of her and she felt as though she were on fire. She was long past the point of being able to hide her reactions, and the motion drew a low groan free of her.

She propped herself up on her elbows, trying to get a look at him again, only to find here was already leaning out over her. As she sat up, his hand caught her chin again, pulling her forward for a kiss.. His mouth was demanding, forcing her lips open roughly. She could taste her own arousal on his lips.

There was something more intense about this encounter than the way he’d acted towards her before. There had always been desire in the way he regarded her tonight, but it had been hidden beneath a layer of composed control. Now, Mraize seemed to be acting much more on impulse, giving in his own wants rather than simply trying to manipulate hers.

“You have done well tonight, Veil,” he murmured as he broke the kiss. “I believe you have earned your reward.”

She had a feeling she knew exactly what he meant. “Thank you, Brightlord,” she said, and though her voice was breathless, she sounded more composed than she felt. “Happy to be of service.”

He trailed forceful kisses down her jawline and neck. “You have been more than serviceable, my dear.”

The hand not currently between her legs trailed its way down her back, directing her to sit upright. Then it moved lower, pulling her forward to the edge of the table. She couldn’t help but marvel at the strength of the maneuver. She wasn’t terribly heavy, but he managed to shift her almost effortlessly.

He withdrew his fingers from within her, placing his palm on her thighs to spread her legs. She felt the tip of his length press against her without entering, and with as much as he had teased her, she couldn't entirely stop herself from trying to rock forward and take him in.

He, frustratingly, stayed out of her reach. He relished being the one in control, in denying her the things she sought until he saw fit to give them.

“Patience, little knife. One must wait until the moment is… right.”

That moment apparently fell on the last word, for with a sudden thrust he slid in to the hilt. Shallan cried out—in pleasured surprise, not pain. His fingering had prepared her for this, and it didn't hurt.

For a moment, he simply held himself there, moving only infinitesimally, savoring the feeling of her. Shallan was astounded by how it felt to be full of him like this, so much thicker and deeper than his hands had reached. Slowly, Mraize pulled back and then pressed in again with long, thorough strokes. Shallan’s hands grasped at the tablecloth, taking hold of it in bunches.

“Now then, little knife,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Ghostbloods must follow orders. You will not finish until I say you can. Is this clear?”

It wasn't, not really. For one, Shallan had never done anything like this, and she wasn't entirely sure what ‘finishing’ would be like. She had some idea, considering Iyatil's reactions, but Shallan didn't know what something like that would feel like. Much less how she was supposed to control it.

But it sounded like a challenge, and if there was one thing she wanted to do, it was exceed Mraize’s expectations. She'd just have to figure it out.

“Of course, Brightlord,” she said trying to sound confident.

Mraize smiled, pleased at her compliance with his demands. Gradually, he started to increase the speed of his timing, the smooth and even motions giving way to something more forceful. Shallan tried to shift, hoping to find a better angle to give herself leverage, but he had other ideas.

Without changing his rhythm, he grabbed her with both hands beneath her ass and pushed her backward to lay down on the table. The tablecloth slid with her, gathering around the two of them in folds as Mraize took full advantage of his new position atop her to work with even greater force.

He seized her wrists, holding her tightly enough to be just shy of painful and pinned her hands down on either side of her head. She struggled against the restriction at first, more out of instinct than anything else, but he kept hold of her firmly. After a moment, she stilled, accepting this as simply part of the course. Mraize seemed to crave control, from manipulating her reactions to his calm demeanor. Everything was done to keep her right where he wanted, acting just as he wanted her to. Restricting her movement was simply a more tangible expression of that desire.

Besides, Shallan thought, it wasn’t as though she’d know what to do with her hands for this anyway.

Iyatil, meanwhile, seemed to have recovered from her dazed aftermath and moved over to rejoin them. Shallan, lying on her back with Mraize above her, had a rather intriguing view as Iyatil knelt with her knees on either side of Shallan’s head. The woman, entirely nude aside from her ever-present mask, leaned forward over Shallan and took hold of Mraize’s head in both hands, catching him in a kiss more forceful than any she’d used with Shallan earlier.

Something of a pleased growl sounded in the back of his throat as he kissed Iyatil back, mouth working furiously against hers. He plunged into Shallan with sharper motions, as though he were trying to force himself forward towards Iyatil only to find Shallan blocking his path. Either that, or Iyatil’s aggression had inspired him to match with his own.

As the experience continued, Shallan started to realize that following his instruction was going to be more difficult than she’d expected. Earlier, Shallan had felt hints of this kind of  rising tension before when he’d been using his hands, but then he had been careful and slow, trying to ensure he wasn’t pushing her very far. Now she could feel that sensation escalating, coiling tightly in her core like a spring preparing to burst.

She bit her lip, trying to hold down that feeling. She had some small manner of control over it, but she was inexperienced and it was hard to keep it from winning. Everything Mraize did only made it more difficult. There was pleasure in the way she felt in the moment, because it felt good. But as everything felt better and better, the craving for that release intensified. The more she got, the more desperately she needed more.

Her breath hitched, small cries slipping free as she found that tantalizing pressure building past what she felt she could control. Her body’s desires warred with those of her mind. Every physical instinct she had wanted nothing more than to succumb to the feeling and stop holding back, but her stubborn desire to prove herself was winning out, for the moment. This, like every experience she’d had with Mraize to this point, was a test, and she intended to pass.

Mraize noted her difficulty, breaking away from Iyatil with a smile. “Not yet. We’re not done, Veil. I’ll let you know when we are.”

Shallan let out a small whimper, but she refused to give in. A small taste of blood told her she’d bit her lip too sharply and broken skin. Her arms pushed against Mraize’s hold again, struggling to find something she could move or control to alleviate some of this challenge, but he kept her pinned.

She found herself, somewhat irrationally, drawing forth anger at his composure. His face was flushed, but his voice was steady. She could tell he was enjoying this as much as she was, if not more, and yet he could still speak with reasonable clarity, keep some kind of semblance of calm, even as his actions belied him. It wasn’t fair that she should be so undone by all while he could keep up a façade of aloof superiority, even in the thick of it. It just wasn’t fair.

The end, that glorious edge, loomed closer and closer as the tension grew even further. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself off the end of it, but she scrabbled for purchase, for handholds, nonetheless. She was sliding towards it anyway, she knew, as her will’s tired grip weakened against the onslaught of sensation.

She was too close. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“I… I can’t…” Shallan stuttered out, the words refusing to work. “Mraize, I’m going to…”

“Not yet,” he said, leaning down so close she could feel his breath against her skin. “Not yet, Veil.”

A cry of frustration slipped past through her gritted teeth. “I… It’s too…”

“Not yet,” he said again, voice no more than a whisper.

“Mraize,” she begged. “Please.”

The thrusts continued, heavy and fast, colored by Mraize’s own lustful desperation. Shallan burned at the edge of that dangerously tantalizing breaking point. Then he spoke the words, barely audible, directly into her ear:

“Veil, come for me.”

It was as though a dam shattered within her, and she cried out  in stunned ecstasy. All of the pressure building up behind that dam was breaking free, crashing over her in indescribable waves. Shallan succumbed to the torrent of heady pleasure, letting it course through her body as she savored every instant of it.

Seeing and hearing her release seemed to trigger a reciprocal reaction in Mraize, and she felt him shudder as he let out a deep moan. A sudden warmth blossomed deep inside, and Mraize’s thrusts slowed as he spent himself. He seemed lost to the moment, staring with hooded eyes into an indefinite distance as he came down from the rush.

Shallan lay against the table with him still atop her, chests heaving as they both breathed deeply from the exertion. The blazing, overwhelming surge had begun to fade, leaving a blissfully intoxicating glow in its wake. Shallan felt as though she could drift in this moment forever, suddenly understanding the pleasant daze she’d seen in Iyatil earlier.

Mraize seemed to return to himself, recovering much more quickly than Shallan herself did. He withdrew, standing and walking to one of the shelves. He didn't ask her to move or follow, for which she was grateful. She thought she could lie here, content, for the foreseeable future. He was gone for a few moments before he walked back.

The table shifted a miniscule amount as he sat back down on the edge, carrying something with him. His hands lifted her leg, then something warm and soft pressed against her skin. A washcloth, wetted with steaming water, ran down the length of her legs, cleaning away sweat and some of the dust she'd gathered on her walk over.

Mraize paused to dip the cloth in the water again to rinse it, then wrung it out and moved closer. With smooth strokes he moved up her thighs and cleaned between her legs, wiping up the slick mess of his seed and her own arousal there. It was a markedly different experience than what he'd just done. Whereas before everything had been focused on exciting and tantalizing, this calmer work was gentle. Soothingly pleasant rather than passionate pleasure.

He must have already cleaned himself up, for his pants were refastened. She noted—with some satisfaction—that he hadn’t chosen to put his shirt back on. She enjoyed the view. As Mraize finished he held a hand out to help her sit back up.

Iyatil came to sit beside her, also now wearing pants but no shirt, and held out a bowl and cloth to her. “Did you enjoy the lesson, Veil?”

Shallan’s sense of decorum seemed to be slowly returning to her, and she was sure she was blushing as she took the cloth. “It was… quite unlike any teaching I’ve had thus far.”

She ran the cloth across her face and neck, then down each of her arms. The cloth was warm, but the evaporating water left her skin feeling fresh and cool afterwards. Her Vorin sensibilities whispered that she should feel bad about this, that she should feel dirty or wrong for breaking oaths to Adolin. And yet, all she could feel was a pleased satisfaction as she enjoyed the afterglow and the feeling of being clean.

“Yet it seems you learn quickly,” Mraize said, eyeing her with a look that was quite obviously seeing what she could do for him rather than actually seeing her. “Great potential indeed.”

Shallan began to retie her undergarments, feeling the disparity between Mraize being partially clothed and her not. “As I said, Brightlord, I look forward to being of service to the Ghostbloods.”

“And so you shall be,” he said. “And so you have.”

He helped her dress, handing her articles of clothing and helping cinch the ties behind her neck. He pulled his own shirt on, but made no move to button it, leaving the garment loose. Between one sighting of Iyatil and the next, Shallan saw the woman had fully dressed, looking as mysterious in the mask as ever. Shallan couldn’t fathom how she’d managed to put everything on that quickly, but it was hardly the most puzzling thing about Iyatil, she had to admit.

As Shallan tugged her gloves back on, she turned to find Mraize holding her coat for her. “I will contact you via spanreed, Veil,” he said, helping her slide her arms into the sleeves. “I believe you can go very far with us. The Ghostbloods welcome you to our ranks.”

Shallan picked up her wide-brimmed hat, tipping it towards him as she pulled it back on. “Thank you, Brightlord. It’s been a pleasure.”

[bookishwanderlusttt]

(SPOILERS) My review of The Last Jedi

I really enjoyed this movie. I didn’t absolutely enjoy it, but I thought that there were some good points to it. I will start out by saying though that even though I loved this movie, it didn’t feel like a Star Wars movie. It didn’t. I kept trying to find its spot among the others even The Force Awakens and I couldn’t find it. It just felt too different. But anyways...

(This isn’t going to be in any order. I’ve only seen it once and I’m going from memory. This is going to be kind of long.)

General Hux and Poe:

I really enjoyed the back and forth between these two. I thought that it was funny and it made me laugh but it was unrealistic (not that the Star Wars movies are realistic but you know). There is no way that would have gone on for that long without anything happening. They aren’t that stupid.

Luke and Rey:

I love the opening interaction between these two. We were left in TFA with them standing apart from each other at the end and we had no idea how Luke was going to react to Rey finding him. I laughed so hard when he took the lightsaber and threw it over his shoulder.

I loved how these two were with each other. I loved how Rey never gave up trying to get through to Luke. She followed him around to let him know she wasn’t leaving and that she wanted to train.

Leia’s Hologram:

I cried when I saw this. I loved that they did this and I felt that it completed a circle from ANH. Leia was the one who initiated Luke’s journey. If he never saw that hologram, who knows where he would have ended up. That was the spark that lit Luke’s journey and it was the spark that continued it. R2 knew Luke needed to see it to keep going and I just loved it.

First Training Session:

I loved this scene as well. I thought that it was really well done. I loved when Luke told her to reach out and she actually did and then he played around her hand with the leaf. I thought that fit in well and then she actually did reach out. She started listing off everything she was sensing, the balance. She felt every good thing and also the bad. I loved that they let her fall into the darkness because that’s not something that is allowed with the Jedi. You have to stay with the light. I was really hoping that this would mean that she was a Gray Jedi. (I’m still hoping) I thought this whole scene was beautiful even though I wasn’t a fan of how Luke reacted. I mean I get why he did because it’s explained later but I feel that it wasn’t right.

Luke Skywalker:

Playing off of that, Luke was really out of character the entire time. I remember seeing in an interview with Mark Hamill that he fundamentally disagreed with every choice they made with Luke and I can see why. He didn’t feel like Luke anymore. I can’t see in any possible situation that he would ever murder one of his apprentices let alone his own family. I understand that it was a reflex but come on. He stopped himself from killing his father because he believed the whole time there was still light in him and with Ben/Kylo he was just going to off him. I didn’t like that at all. I did like the end of the movie with Luke however. Him becoming one with the force looking into the distance at the binary suns. It was beautiful but I didn’t feel sad. I know I probably should have, but I didn’t. Overall, I didn’t like where they took his character.

Rey with the Lightsaber:

I absolutely looovvveeeddd this scene!! This was one of my favorites. When she picked up the lightsaber I got really giddy. I just loved it so much but I think the end of it with the rocks falling down onto the two below (don’t remember what they were called) it fell short. I think they were trying to hard to be funny there and could have gone without it.

Rey:

Rey’s character development was phenomenal in my opinion. I loved this girl from start to finish. She was amazing, badass, and just the best part of the movie in my opinion. I’m not sure if this movie confirmed that she was a Grey Jedi, but it felt like it in my opinion. I love how she knows theirs darkness inside of her, but she didn’t let it control her. I think she realizes that she needs the darkness, but she can’t follow it. I loved seeing her train and fight and just be awesome. I can’t wait to see where she goes in the next movie. 

Rose Tico:

I think that she was one of the best parts of the movie. I have seen some people say that she didn’t really need to be there and while I do see their point I disagree. I thought she was a great addition to the movie and I loved her a lot. I thought she was really cute and funny and I thought she was amazing. I can’t wait to see her in the next movie. 

Rose and Finn:

I think these two are really cute together. I thought they worked well together and I loved their interactions, but I didn’t see where the romance was. I was kind of shocked when Rose told Finn she loved him and then kissed him. I did think it fit. I thought they made a really good pair of friends. I could see that, but I wasn’t really feeling the love. BROTP: Yes OTP: Not really

Running out of Fuel:

This was one of the main parts of the movies and I thought it went on for too long. At the beginning I understood it didn’t make any sense by the end of it. You are telling me that this giant ship that was following behind never caught up. They could have easily obliterated the rebel ship and they didn’t? They just followed just slightly out of reach. I didn’t like this part.

Rose and Finn’s Mission:

This ties in with the previous note. It wasn’t like I didn’t like this whole thing but as with the last point it didn’t really fit. I thought that it fit well with the movie since that’s what the movie was about but the sequence didn’t. The whole Maz thing didn’t make sense and that was just the beginning of it. How were they able to contact her and why was she in a battle. That didn’t make any sense at all but whatever. My biggest issue was with the casino scene and I think my mom summed it up perfectly: “It looked like it belonged in a Bond movie, not Star Wars.” It just felt wrong. I mean I loved how Rose and Finn destroyed it and everything like an FU to the upper class and the people who abused her but it just didn’t fit.

Sneaking onto the Ship:

Continuing with that, it felt weird that they got onto the ship so easily. I know they had that code breaker guy (who was a creeeep and wasn’t even the right guy) but it felt too easy. It all felt too easy. How were they able to go around the ship and no one thought anything off it especially with BB-8 slamming into everything. It was too much, but I’m glad they were caught. It would have been too easy if they had actually succeeded.

Captain Phasma v Finn:

This was awesome but I do wish we would have seen Phasma sooner. I was hoping she would have had a bigger part in the movie but we saw her for like 5 minutes and then she was dead. But the fight was awesome! I was so engaged and I was thoroughly enjoying it. Finn is awesome!

Flying Leia:

I’m sorry but this didn’t make any sense to me. I have seen some people who were really excited to see Leia use the force but it was really cheesy. And I’m not exactly an expert but I don’t think you can use the force to fly. I thought it was too weird. I did think that this was where they were going to kill her off. I thought that would be the end although I thought that a lot throughout the movie.

Rey and Kylo/Ben:

I hate to admit it because I fought it off for so long but I think I’m a Reylo shipper now. I loved loved loved loved the relationship and the tension between these two. I loved the force bond between the two and out of everything they did with the new force abilities (see above) I thought that it fit. They are two sides of the same cling and I can see them going down the road of one can’t exist without the other. I loved the conversations they had with each other and how they learned and got to know each other and understand each other. They let each other know that they weren’t alone and I felt all the feelings. And when they fought with each other at the end I got the chills. It was amazing and I was Here. For. It. I can’t wait to see how this relationship develops especially after how they left things. I knew neither one of them were going to switch, it was too good to be true.

Luke and Ben/Kylo:

This relationship just felt wrong and I didn’t agree with how they took things. I get that Ben turned and Luke didn’t like it but the aftermath was wrong. I know I am repeating myself here but I don’t think there is any possible way Luke would ever try to kill his own nephew. He said it was a reflex but still. I do agree with Rey when she told him that Ben failed him not the other way around but I just don’t agree that he would try to kill Ben. That was one of my biggest issues in the whole movie. It felt really wrong. And did Han and Leia even know? Han told Rey and Finn that Luke felt guilty and that’s why he ran away but did they even know that Luke may have tried to kill their son? I just.... I didn’t like it.

Luke Becoming One with the Force:

I felt like this was a fitting end to Luke and I’m sure everyone knew that it would happen eventually, but it was odd timing. Why did he have to go? Was it because he used up so much energy making a ghost version of himself to go help the others? I thought that it was pretty cool that he was able to do that and my mind was bloooowwwnn when he was shot at who knows how many times and he survived and then again when Kylo sliced him with the light saber. But I felt like he would have had a more important role in the over all movie. I am hoping he will still be in the next movie especially since Carrie’s gone.

Leia:

It was hard watching Leia and I was holding back tears when I saw her come on the screen. She was amazing and her performance was amazing but I was wished she would have had a bigger role as well but she spent half the movie in a coma. I kept expecting them to kill her off around every corner because I thought they would have to. I kept grabbing my sisters arm every time I thought she was a goner but it never happened. I have no idea what they are going to do in the next movie but hopefully they will do right by her. I didn’t cry at all during the movie but I cried when I saw “In Memory of our Princess: Carrie Fisher”. I just felt tears running down my face and I hope they give her a good end in the movie. She deserves it.

Poe:

I liked seeing Poe more in this movie. I really like him and the leadership role he assumed despite of purple haired Laura Dern (can’t remember character name). They had an interesting back an forth with each other and I wanted Poe to be like “no bitch” and take over. He was really reckless though but I could tell it all came from a good place. He wanted to beat the first order but a lot of people were lost due to the choices he made. I mean they knew what they were signing up for but still. I really did like his character and his power to stand up against what he thought was wrong. I hope to get to know him better in the next movie.

BB-8:

STAR. OF. THE. SHOW. BB-8 was absolutely fantastic!!! Every scene they (how do you address a droid?) were in was amazing. The first one with BB-8 trying to fix Poe’s fighter, the one where they went off with that weird creepy guy and appeared in the ship, the one where they saved the Finn and Rose. Everything was great!! BB-8’s comic relief was genuine to me and fit in. The droids job in Star Wars is to help the people around them and lighten the mood. I loved every second of BB-8.

Snoke’s Death and Rey’s Parents:

These were two of the biggest questions everyone had going into TLJ. First, Snoke. Although I was really excited by his death, it didn’t make sense. People were all wondering who the hell Snoke was but we never found out. He was just kind of there getting onto Hux and Kylo Ren. He didn’t even serve that big of a purpose and that was disappointing, but I guess it was to set up the next movie where Rey and Kylo Ren, the last Jedi and the last Sith, will go head to head. But I’m still confused about his role.

Second, Rey’s Parents. This wasn’t that surprising to me. I know everyone was speculating about who her parents were but I knew they weren’t going to be anyone special. There is no possible way it could have been Luke or Han or any other major character. I was fine with who Rey’s Parents were and to me at least it felt like it fit. It’s nice to know her back story but this story is about Rey, not her parents (who were absolutely awful people).

Battle of Crait:

This was....interesting.

First, the rebels. There’s like 20 of them now and they seriously believe that they can stop that canon with those crappy ships. They were brave to try but it wasn’t going to go well. The only reason they weren’t all destroyed was because Rey and Cherie showed up with the Falcon and Luke showed up as his ghost self. And I don’t know why all of the First Order ships targeted her. Kylo told them to but some of them should have stayed with the fighter pilots. That was a stupid move. And Finn was ready to sacrifice himself to destroy the canon (which got me tears eyed because I love Finn) just to be knocked out of the way by Rose which almost killed her. And then Luke walked out and faced an entire army. I understand why Kylo told them to put all the guns on him but come on. He focused too much on his emotions and everyone got away. It was an interesting battle to say the least and even though I had a couple issues with it, it was still pretty entertaining.

Luke and Leia:

God, that scene between these two was almost too much to handle. It was the reunion I wanted and it was perfect. I wish I really wish they would have been together more but I thought it was fitting what they got. It was so sweet and it made me happy. And when he kissed her head it was just perfect. I love them both so much.

Rey Saves the Day:

Rey is just the best. I love her soooo much and I love when she came flying in with Chewie and when she used the force at the end to let everyone out. I loved when the joke of moving rocks came full circle and that was the best. And then the reunion with Finn and Rey. It was beautiful and I am reeeaaallly hoping that they get more screen time together next episode.

The Last Scene:

I don’t know where they are going to go from here. There are like 15 people left of the rebellion and I just don’t know how they will find a sufficient end to the trilogy in two and a half hours. I didn’t quite understand Poe introducing himself to Rey because weren’t they in the same scene at the end of the last movie and they never introduced themselves? But that was just a minor detail. I loved the ending with Rey and Leia. That whole shot of the two of them together it was beautiful but I really don’t know where they will go from here.

I know this is a jumbled up mess and kind of long but I had to get my feelings out there. I’m sure I missed somethings and this isn’t as in depth as I would like it to be, but it was a two and a half movie that I’ve only seen once. Like I said at the beginning, I really enjoyed the movie. I thought that it was fun and entertaining but I just didn’t think it fit in with the other movies. It didn’t have the feeling of a Star Wars movie. I really hope they bring it home in the last movie. I hope the go back to the style of TFA and make it an actual Star Wars movie.

TL;DR it was a good movie and I recommend it but maybe lower your expectations a bit.

Rating 6/10

Thank you all for reading if you made it this far and I would love it if you DMed me to talk about it!

[warriors-windandfireau]

Wind and Fire: Into the Wild - Chapter Eighteen

Read on Ao3

"ThunderClan," Tallstar observed, half talking to himself, half talking to Greypaw. "What's a ThunderClan cat doing all the way out here?"

"And how were you able to find us?" Onepaw added, looking at Greypaw suspiciously. Firepaw had to admit that his friend was right- it had been over a moon since WindClan had been driven from their territory, and surely no scent trail remained for a single apprentice to be able to follow them all the way out here. On top of that, a mountain of questions rolled into Firepaw's head: how was he able to sneak through WindClan territory without getting caught? Were any other cats with him? How long had he been on the journey?

And most importantly, why was he tracking down WindClan in the first place?

"First off," Greypaw began, sitting down and wrapping his tail around his front paws, "I'm not here to launch an attack or anything. I'm just here by myself."

"And how do we know we can trust one ThunderClan apprentice?" Tallstar asked, still suspicious of the ThunderClan apprentice's motives. Firepaw couldn't blame him for his suspicions.

Greypaw sighed. "Alright, look. My Clan doesn't even know I'm here. I came out here all the way on my own to bring your Clan back."

Well, that at least answered some of Firepaw's many questions.

Those two sentences were enough to shock the WindClan cats into silence. Firepaw was impressed to say the least- and "impressed" was most likely an understatement.

However, the silence didn't last long, and Tallstar took a step towards Greypaw. "Are you sure our territory is even safe to go back to? What if there are still ShadowClan cats waiting to ambush us?"

Greypaw shifted nervously on his paws, averting the WindClan leader’s burning gaze. “I… can’t promise that. Although I’m sure Bluestar would be willing to help WindClan. Not sure about Crookedstar… but beside the point.”

Tallstar hummed thoughtfully. “Do you have any sort of confirmation that she would be willing to help WindClan?”

“Well… I don’t have any sort of spoken confirmation. But she certainly isn’t happy with what happened with ShadowClan. They kind of spat in the wound of WindClan disappearing later on.”

“Oh?” Tallstar frowned.

“They raided our camp- our medicine cat and deputy were killed, and four of our kits are gone. I have no doubt that Bluestar would help. Right now Yellowfang, the medicine cat from ShadowClan, is acting as our medicine cat. She fled from ShadowClan… the reasons why are pretty fuzzy, but one of our apprentices, Sandpaw, just found her and she was brought in. She probably left because of something happening in ShadowClan. Needless to say, nothing good is happening in that Clan.”

Tallstar seemed to think over this information, before gesturing to the makeshift camp’s wide entrance. “I would like to tell some of this to my Clan. There is a good chance we will be leaving tonight.”

Despite being the one to be attempting to convince him, Greypaw was visually surprised that Tallstar agreed so quickly. “R-really?” he sputtered, looking from Tallstar, to the entrance of WindClan's temporary camp, and back.

Tallstar nodded, waving his tail. "Follow me. I want you to explain this to the rest of WindClan yourself,” the WindClan leader meowed, before padding himself into the camp, with Greypaw trailing behind him, an unmistakable look of excitement on the young tom’s face.

Firepaw himself felt rather startled with how quick the whole exchange went. Onepaw didn’t seem to be in much of a different state. Onepaw glanced at Firepaw, a look flashing across his face.

“Wait… that was the apprentice you introduced me to at the gathering, right?” 

Firepaw scanned Onepaw’s expression, and when sensing no sign of a joke, he chuckled slightly. “That only just clicked?”

Onepaw shrugged, dismissing what Firepaw had said before quickly following the two cats that had already disappeared into the cave. Firepaw, although huffing slightly, followed his friend. 

When the two were inside the pipe, the leader was already beginning his meeting call, with Greypaw nervously fidgeting with his paws behind him. It didn’t take long for the rest of the Clan to answer to the call, and they both watched Tallstar expectantly and cast confused and suspicious glances at Greypaw. No one made a move to attack the ThunderClan apprentice, however. Onepaw and Firepaw themselves quickly padded over to sit closer to the back of the crowd, hoping to see some of the Clan’s reactions to the news. Eventually, Tallstar began speaking.

"Just before me, Firepaw, and Onepaw were about to go on a hunting patrol together, we found this ThunderClan apprentice close to our camp. I have no idea how he managed to find us, but he has his reasons for wanting to find us. We talked a bit outside, and he has told me some things that I think the rest of the Clan should hear as well." Tallstar took a step backwards as soon as he finished speaking, motioning for Greypaw to take his place on the ledge.

The Clan was silent as the grey tom stepped forward, not looking quite as nervous as he had when Tallstar began speaking. Greypaw began speaking, a bit unsteady at first, but gradually growing more reassured. “I am here on my own account. I heard about WindClan’s disappearance at the gathering. Not long after, my Clan was raided by ShadowClan, and they succeeded in killing both our medicine cat and deputy.” The apprentice paused when a few of the cats began muttering in dismay. “I kind of… just left without a word. I know it seems odd, but I think you guys can return to your territory.” There were some calls from the cats in the clearing, all getting the same meaning of “it isn’t safe” across. “Although I’m sure you all are worried about ShadowClan cats guarding your territory, I am almost completely sure Bluestar would be willing to help. She was not happy with what ThunderClan had done.

“Although it might not be reassuring that you have to get help from an enemy Clan, it’s the best shot you have. As for Brokenstar… he can be dealt with later on, but the most important thing is that you all return to the territory that is rightfully yours.”

Firepaw had to admit, Greypaw really wasn’t a bad speaker. Many of the cats within the Clan were nodding their heads, seemingly considering what Greypaw had said. Of course, there were still some concerns.

“How can we trust ThunderClan? You haven’t even got a complete confirmation on if Bluestar will help us!”

“What if ShadowClan drives us out again? They can easily overpower us.”

“What if ThunderClan is helping ShadowClan just hurt us more? We don’t know if we can trust you!”

When the Clan’s shouts and murmurs quieted, Tallstar signalled for Greypaw to step back before taking the apprentice’s place. “Greypaw is alone. There is nothing he can do to hurt us. If this was an attempt on Bluestar’s part, it was a pretty lousy one. She is smart enough not to get involved with Brokenstar, and that was especially demonstrated during the Gathering. Last time we had no help and weren’t expecting anything, but now we have the Clan with easily the most cats, as well as the knowledge that Brokenstar isn’t afraid to take those kinds of measures. We are much more prepared.” After a brief moment of stunned silence, Tallstar added, "WindClan will begin their journey back to their rightful home tonight."

There were a few outraged cries at the sudden, undiscussed news. Deadfoot looked downright shocked, but after about a minute, when the chaos died down, Tallstar spoke again.

“This is non negotiable. I refuse to let my Clan continue to live in these awful conditions, and we've been doing so long enough. We need to take back our territory, and prove to the ShadowClan cats that we can stand up for ourselves. We can’t let them get too cocky. That is all.” And, without another word, the leader dismissed the Clan with a flick of his tail. 

The WindClan cats seemed to process what the leader had just said, before predictably jumping into enthusiastic conversation. From where Firepaw sat, he could hear very mixed opinions on it, ranging from fully ready to attack ShadowClan, to furious about Tallstar’s declaration.

Firepaw himself was still gathering his senses, while Onepaw beside him seemed a step ahead and was attempting to drag him over to Greypaw. Once the dazed tom managed to realize what Onepaw was doing, he shot him a narrow-eyed look before following his friend over to Greypaw, who was sitting beneath the ledge.

The grey tom seemed nervous, but when he spotted the two approaching apprentices, his head shot up. “Hey, Firepaw and… Onepaw?”

Onepaw nodded, before chuckling slightly. “Well, I guess your efforts weren’t in vain, huh?”

Greypaw smiled weakly, before glancing at Tallstar. “Tonight, huh? That’s a bit… sudden.”

Onepaw nodded in agreement, before nudging Firepaw. “Hey, do you have any thoughts or are you just going to sit there with glass for eyes?”

Firepaw shot him a tired look, weakly swatting the tom, but then looked over at Greypaw. “I’m still confused as to why you bothered to do this.”

Greypaw’s smile became a bit more reassured. “Well, to maintain my dignity as a brave and courageous ThunderClan apprentice, why else?” 

Firepaw clicked his tongue, an amused look in his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” 

Greypaw nodded, before glancing at the entrance. “It’s still early, huh? I reckon it’ll be a bit before we have to head off...”

“And what are you getting to?” Onepaw mewed.

“I’m exhausted, what else? You think I’ll have time to sleep?”

“Well, sure, if you like wet ledges…”

---

The rest of the day was spent either resting or preparing for the long journey back to WindClan's territory, though it was mostly the latter. But the wayward sun just kept falling and falling, until the cats all waited at the entrance while the last of them were eating the strengthening herbs Barkface was giving out.

The night was quiet, the telltale chirp of crickets ringing, as well as the quiet crumple of leaves beneath nervous, pacing cats, but otherwise there wasn’t many sounds. The cats seemed fairly solemn, most mentally preparing themselves for the long journey ahead.

When the cats did leave, it remained quiet- the small Clan (along with one ThunderClan apprentice) headed through the wasteland that had become their temporary territory, a moving throng of determined cats.

Firepaw himself found the silence somewhat irritating- shouldn’t the cats be discussing how exactly they would take back the territory, besides just running into attack? They needed some sort of plan, and surely if one were made, he would have known about it.

“You seem sour, Firepaw.” Onepaw suddenly interrupted the quiet of the moving cats, several warriors glancing over as he did so. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just don’t get why it’s so quiet,” Firepaw muttered sullenly, “Shouldn’t we be talking about what to do when we get there?”

Onepaw blinked, a look of newfound doubt crossing his face. “Well, I’m sure Tallstar has something in mind. I know you trust him, and I do too.”

Firepaw did trust his mentor, a lot. He hadn’t thought much about it, but it had built over the time since he had joined the Clan. But he still wouldn’t let his trust blind his own personal judgement. “Then why didn’t he tell anyone of this plan?”

Onepaw sighed, before shaking his head. “I don’t know, buddy. Maybe I’m putting too much faith into him, but I’ve been looking forward to returning to our territory for awhile. It’s been over a moon. I want to get back to our home. Don’t you?”

Firepaw’s gaze flickered away from meeting Onepaw’s eyes. “Well, of course, but not at the cost of us being massacred.”

“We have ThunderClan on our side,” Onepaw argued.

“Their leader doesn’t even know about this supposed ‘agreement,’” Firepaw interjected, "Plus, for all we know, RiverClan could also be siding with ShadowClan."

Onepaw seemed more unsure, and frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. We might get killed.”

A feeling of guilt made Firepaw lower his head slightly. He didn’t mean to dampen Onepaw’s enthusiastic ideas and mood; after all, the Clan would need optimism during this, but he couldn’t help but feel nervous over the whole affair.

The following silence to the conversation-argument was suddenly interrupted by Greypaw, who seemed to be teeming with both anxiety and determination. 

“Firepaw, gosh, I’ve been meaning to catch you in order to talk for awhile now, but you always seem busy,” the grey tom meowed, moving to walk next to the tabby.

“Busy with what? Walking in silence and moping?” Onepaw replied before Firepaw could speak.

Firepaw shot his friend a half-heartedly exasperated look, before returning his attention to Greypaw.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, a couple things…” Greypaw muttered, “Firstly, gosh, this still feels so sudden. I mean, we’ve been walking for so long, but I did not expect Tallstar to be so lenient. I mean, yeah, it was for the good of his Clan, yadayadayada, but he didn’t even consider Clan opinion. And man, said Clan opinion doesn’t seem too high from the mutters I’ve been hearing. Also, off topic, but those herbs we ate earlier are so weird. Is it a WindClan cat thing to like weird herbs? My stomach feels funny.”

Firepaw blinked, thinking over what his friend had blurted, before selectively choosing to reply to the second part. “It’s probably because they’re from some weird gross swamp.”

Onepaw seemed to notice how he completely ignored the first part, and rolled his eyes. Firepaw decided to ignore that as well.

“I suppose that’d make sense,” Onepaw contemplated, “Although, herbs are just nasty in general. Can you believe that the medicine cats put up with being around them constantly?”

And Firepaw found himself wondering why his friend was chatting about how herbs tasted while the cats of a banished Clan were heading a perilous journey to what could be their doom.

---

After what felt like moons of walking, the exiled Clan found themselves in front of a Thunderpath. It seemed a simple task to cross to Firepaw, who had done it for the first 6 moons of his life, but the others seemed nervous, most especially the queens and one elder.

Deadfoot was arranging them so that at least two cats would accompany the more frail cats as they crossed, and the rest were in groups of two. Firepaw found himself grouped with Mudclaw. The two waited as the other teams ran across.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, so Firepaw didn’t feel reason to worry about it. As Mudclaw and Firepaw were getting closer and closer to it being their turn, out of the corner of his eye, Firepaw saw Morningflower carrying her young kit. Despite it having been a bit since she had given birth to her litter, she was still weak, especially considering the fact that she wasn’t in the best place when Gorsekit had been born, and she had to work even while her kit was still young.

Thinking over this, Firepaw quickly muttered to Mudclaw that he’d be right back, before approaching the queen. 

“Hey, er, Morningflower?” Firepaw asked as he reached the molly.

She looked up, gesturing to Gorsekit in her mouth to show she couldn’t speak, before gesturing for Firepaw to continue.

“I can take Gorsekit- just for this quick crossing. I’ve done it a million times, since I used to live at Twolegplace. I’ll keep him safe while crossing. It’ll already be difficult enough for you to run across.”

Of course, Morningflower, as expected, seemed reluctant, but after a few more moments of Firepaw looking at her expectantly, she placed her only son on the ground before Firepaw. “Make sure he doesn’t get hurt. Please.”

“Of course, Morningflower. He’ll be better than okay once we get across,” Firepaw reassured, before picking up the small kit in his jaws and returning to Mudclaw’s side.

They were now not far from the front of the line. Mudclaw shot Firepaw a silent look, before looking to the small shape in his jaws, before sighing and not questioning it. 

Finally, the two reached the front, and awaited Deadfoot’s signal. When the large tom flicked his tail and nodded his head, seeing as there wasn’t a monster coming, Mudclaw and Firepaw sprinted across the dark grey surface. Firepaw hung on to Gorsekit as hard as he could, though trying his best not to accidentally draw blood or harm the kit at the same time. Within moments, the two toms reached the other side, reuniting with the rest of their Clanmates.

Once Firepaw considered himself safe on the opposite side, he set down Gorsekit, leaning down to check if the kitten was okay. He didn’t seem harmed, despite his high-pitched howl-like whine. The tabby apprentice looked back up to watch his Clanmates running over the Thunderpath, quietly waiting for Morningflower to cross so he could return her kit.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the Clan to cross- it was mostly smooth sailing, luckily, so besides the couple of quick worrying instances where a monster was visible from the distance, it was a relatively non stressful endeavor. 

When Morningflower finally crossed, she quickly rushed over to Gorsekit, sitting down so she could put her tail around her kit. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

Firepaw smiled, dipping his head, and muttered a quick “no problem.” 

Once everyone considered themselves safe and out of the way of any monsters, they really got to look out at what was before them- the WindClan cats, big and small, breathed in relief. The moor reached out before them, and most felt they could run on forever into their old territory.

But Tallstar cut them out of these thoughts. “We will be setting up camp here, so we can rest and restore our energy for what will come tomorrow. Please try to get as much sleep as possible.”

Firepaw felt somewhat dismayed, but understood, and watched as the cats dispersed to find comfortable spaces to sleep for the night. The nearby roar of the Thunderpath would probably be annoying during the night.

"What about him?" One of the WindClan cats gestured to Greypaw, who was still grouped with several cats of the Clan, unsure of what to do.

Before Tallstar could open his mouth to respond, Greypaw chimed in with an answer himself. "I can stay with WindClan for the rest of the night. It's no big deal."

Tallstar nodded. “There’s your answer,” he replied.

The cat who had asked the question grunted and returned to whatever conversation they had been busy with prior.

Firepaw glanced over to look at Greypaw, who was back to chatting with some of the WindClan cats, and found himself wondering how long they’d have stayed at that dreadful camp if the tom hadn’t come.

He didn’t like the thought of it, and he certainly didn’t like the fact that he could get stuck in some sort of sinkhole again or the camp might flood or something that would hurt his Clan further.

But, thankfully, them being stuck there wasn’t the case. Firepaw just hoped it would stay that way.

[soulstealer1987]

Arc 1, Chapter 8

Ziist Grozein

Gallus gets a new invisibility spell tome and causes a distraction, the others meet with the Augur of Dunlain. The group eventually heads to that one Dwemer ruin that’s not impossible to spell the name of Mzulft, and learns some things. Then Ancano messes everything up, because of course he does.

Crossposted from AO3. Masterpost is here.

Arc 1: The Illusion of Memory

Arc 1, Chapter 7 ~ Arc 1, Chapter 9

“Truly, you’ve done what I could not?” Drevis asks, more than a little incredulous. Gallus nods. “Well, then, let’s see!” Gallus nods again, and makes a point of not looking in the direction of the others. It was a stroke of luck that Drevis was the one making sure nobody sneaked into the Midden, and seeing as Gallus happened to be the Illusion mage out of the group…

He can’t say he wasn’t hoping to talk to the Augur of Dunlain himself, but that’s beside the point. He’s got a job to do, and he’s damn well going to do it.

“Can we… maybe do this inside?” Gallus asks, shivering. It’s not entirely faked, because for one thing it’s the middle of the night, and the College is freezing even in the daytime. At night, you really don’t want to be outside without some form of frost resistance. “P-please? What are you doing out here at this time… anyway?” Drevis frowns.

“Just between you and me, I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on the Midden,” Drevis says. “There are ice wraiths down there, you know! Of course, I suppose it will be fine if we just step inside for a spell, and my potion is beginning to wear off regardless.” He seems completely unaware of the pun he just made, and Gallus is honestly too cold at this point to do much other than follow him inside and hope he can actually pull this off. The distraction, not necessarily the spell, although he wouldn’t mind being able to pull off the spell, too.

“So,” Drevis says cheerily, “let’s see it!” Gallus nods, and focuses his magicka. At this point, he’s fairly certain that the reason Drevis can’t seem to make it work is perception alone, and Gallus hopes his own is different enough to work.

“Just a moment,” Gallus murmurs, and closes his eyes. Drevis’ goal with Invisibility is and has always been to be invisible to others. While the spell tome on the subject was confusing at best, one sentence, scrawled in the margins of the new Invisibility spell tome at the very end by someone who certainly wasn’t Drevis, sticks out to him.

To pass unseen by others, you must first hide from yourself.

With that in mind, he casts. The small gasp from Drevis isn’t what tells him he succeeded. Neither is opening his eyes and holding a now-invisible hand up to his face. Gallus feels different somehow, and while he can’t quite put a name to the feeling, he can instinctively tell what it means.

“Well,” Gallus whispers, not quite believing it himself. He looks down, and finds that he’s completely and utterly invisible.

Of course, the spell only lasts all of two seconds before his concentration breaks and he’s suddenly fully visible again, but all of two seconds is more than enough to render Drevis - and Gallus himself - speechless.

“Well, you’ll need to work on it in order to maintain the spell for longer than that,” Drevis says after a heavy silence, “but-” He hesitates again, and not without reason. “How did you do it?” Gallus digs around in his bag, and pulls out the spell tome. Opening it to the final page, he passes it over to Drevis, who studies it appraisingly.

“This helped a lot,” Gallus admits. “It’s… heavily annotated, but I don’t recognize the handwriting. I switched my old one out for another one of yours earlier... Where did you get it?” Drevis thinks on this for a moment.

“Normally, I get my spell tomes from Urag, but he would have ripped whoever brought this in limb from limb,” Drevis says. “It’s possible I got it from the Arch-Mage, except that’s most certainly not his handwriting. Perhaps Enthir, then. He finds himself in possession of discarded spell tomes quite often, although we all know better than to ask where he found them.”

“Enthir?” Gallus asks curiously. He’s definitely heard the name before… right, the mage who sent Onmund into a vampire conspiracy to get his family amulet back. Still, that’s basically all Gallus knows about him. “Who’s that?”

“Ah, yes, you wouldn’t have met him, would you?” Drevis muses to himself, before shaking his head. “No matter. All you need to know is that he is not the kind of mage you should be associating yourself with. The Arch-Mage tolerates him solely because the College is in bad enough shape as it is, and kicking him out isn’t worth the trouble. Now, do you mind if I borrow this?”

It takes Gallus a few moments to realize he’s talking about the spell tome, and he nods.

“It’s yours anyway,” Gallus says quietly, but he’s talking to an empty room. The nod was all Drevis needed as confirmation, and by now he’s long gone. Somehow, he gets the feeling that the Midden will be unguarded for some time, so with his job done, he returns to the Hall of Attainment and his own (still doorless) room.

“So, did you find anything?” Gallus asks as the others return. It's a rhetorical question, because considering that they spent literally all night down in the Midden, they had to have found something. Onmund nods, then proceeds to head into his room a little too quickly. If the muffled thump from that direction is any indication, he just collapsed onto his bed and proceeded to pass out. Well… he did look pretty tired…

“We found the Augur,” Brelyna supplies with a frown. “He was… interesting.”

“Interesting is not how J’zargo would put it,” J’zargo mutters. “More like confusing.” Brelyna hums speculatively. She doesn't disagree.

“We need to find the Staff of Magnus,” Onmund says, although he sounds pretty muffled and Gallus is reasonably certain he’s talking with his face buried in a pillow. He was also reasonably certain that Onmund had passed out on his bed, however, and clearly he hasn’t, not yet.

“Right,” Gallus agrees. “Remind me what that is?” Based on the way Onmund referred to the Staff of Magnus, it has to be something important, and while Gallus might have known what it was pre-amnesia, he certainly doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know who or what Magnus is.

“It’s the staff that was supposedly made and used by Magnus himself,” J’zargo says, with an excited note to his voice that Gallus has only heard in the past when powerful magical artifacts are brought up. “Magnus is the god of magic,” he adds hastily, solely to help Gallus out (which is appreciated), and while that does sound impressive, it doesn’t explain much about the staff or why J’zargo’s going to need it.

“Alright,” Gallus says. “Do we have any idea where it is?” Brelyna nods.

“The Augur told us to ask Arch-Mage Aren about it, so we did, that’s why we were out all night,” Brelyna says. “Of course, we might have gotten in earlier if J’zargo hadn’t stood there for ten minutes stammering about how great it was to actually talk to him.” J’zargo visibly stiffens, and Gallus suspects that if it weren’t for the fur covering his face, he might be visibly blushing, too.

“J’zargo was being respectful-!”

“Last I checked, that wasn’t being respectful,” Brelyna says with the very smallest of smirks. J’zargo mumbles something in Ta’agra under his breath, something that more likely than not is a curse of some kind.

“So, what did the Arch-Mage say?” Gallus asks after a moment. Brelyna shrugs.

“Not much, honestly not surprised there, Mirabelle  does run basically everything around here,” Brelyna says, “so we went to talk to her next. Apparently a group of mages from the Synod came by not too long ago looking for it, and they went to this Dwemer ruin that I definitely can't pronounce the name of. Want to come?”

“Sure,” Gallus says, and adds the Synod to the mental list of things he should know of and doesn't. “Right now?” J’zargo shakes his head.

“J’zargo thinks we all will do much better with some sleep,” J’zargo says, “and this one is fairly sure that Onmund’s already out.” He waits for Onmund to argue, and is greeted with silence, and then snoring that can't be from anyone but him.

“Sleep first,” Gallus agrees, the exhaustion from staying up all night finally hitting him. “Right. Good idea.”

As it happens, not one of the four had ever been inside a Dwemer ruin before - or at least, if Gallus had he could remember it about as well as everything else. (Which is to say, not at all.) Consequently, not one of the four had any idea what they were getting into or just how dangerous Dwemer ruins were, or at least not until they encountered a dying mage from the Synod who muttered something about a crystal before dying completely.

While the group did have strength in numbers, all four were apprentices, and therefore not at all prepared for somewhere that could take down an actual mage. Everyone had their guard up from then on, and kept their guard up, and as it happens… encountering that dying mage might just have saved all their lives.

Falmer showed up every now and then, nasty blind creatures that might have been significantly less murdery elves once upon a time, but they never had much of an element of surprise. Between J’zargo and Onmund’s Destruction magic, Brelyna’s various conjured creatures, and Gallus’ passable swordsmanship, they weren’t doing too badly. The machinery that showed up far too often to try and kill them in more ways than one was… not pleasant, but between the four of them, even a Dwemer sphere wasn’t too difficult to take out once they figured out to keep it from focusing on any one of them.

They were relatively far in when Gallus decided to cast Detect Life, one of the few spells outside the Illusion school that he could manage, and… well, the results were mildly terrifying. Unless the spell was malfunctioning, which he doubted… they were surrounded.

Gallus curses under his breath and slowly, quietly, he unsheathes his sword. Then, in a low voice, he says, “There’s too many of them around us to fight. We need to run… actually I’ll see what I can do to distract them, then catch up with you. Sound good?”

J’zargo looks like he wants to argue, but thinks better of it when he sees the spell Gallus is readying in his other hand. He nods, and looks to the others.

“Be careful,” Brelyna whispers. Gallus silently agrees, and as the others take off further into the ruins, he turns to face the horde that’s gathered behind them. He realizes quite suddenly that the Falmer must be significantly more intelligent than he’d been assuming until now, because to amass this many in one place while still remaining concealed…

There’s also the whole issue that they seem to be waiting for something, waiting for him to do something, possibly to run. He takes advantage of their indecision by aiming the spell where it’ll do the most damage and, before he can change his mind, he casts.

Within seconds, at least a dozen Falmer begin attacking the other Falmer, and only then does Gallus run. He doesn’t hear anything chasing him, which is definitely good, and it’s not long before he catches up with the others. Which, considering that there’s a door that J’zargo is currently unsuccessfully trying to lockpick in the way of any progression, certainly isn’t a good thing.

“They won’t be distracted for long,” Gallus says as he walks up, sheathing his sword as he does so. “Is this the only way forward?” Onmund nods.

“Looks like it,” Onmund says, and glances uneasily in the direction Gallus came from. “How long do we have?” Gallus shrugs.

“The spell is supposed to wear off in about half a minute,” Gallus says. “After that, it’s entirely possible the Falmer will keep attacking each other, but it’s equally likely that they’ll regroup… regardless, we don’t have long. J’zargo, can I try?” J’zargo nods, moves from the door, and passes the lockpicks to Gallus. Unfortunately, it’s quickly evident that this lock isn’t remotely easy to pick in the least… and Gallus knows better than the others that if they can’t get in, they’re essentially sitting ducks.

“This isn’t working,” Gallus mutters at last, after breaking an embarrassing amount of lockpicks, and passes them back over to J’zargo, who begins to try again without much success. “There’s got to be another way in, unless you feel like fighting your way out.” Brelyna shakes her head.

“Maybe we could try knocking?” Brelyna suggests. J’zargo shakes his head, then winces as another pick snaps clean in half.

“J’zargo thinks there won’t be anyone in there, or if there is, Synod researchers won’t be likely to let Winterhold mages in,” J’zargo mutters, then breaks another pick and shrugs. “But J’zargo also thinks we have nothing to lose at this point.” Brelyna nods, hesitates, then raps on the door. J’zargo slips the picks back into his bag, stands up, and backs up as the four wait.

“Guess we’re fighting,” Onmund concludes, and as the first of the Falmer rounds the corner, Gallus catches it in the face with a Fear spell. It stares at them, its eyes go wide, it flees, and only then does Gallus return his attention to the door. As Gallus realizes that Brelyna’s knock has had absolutely no effect in the least, his heart sinks, and-

“Ah, good! You brought the crystal,” someone calls from within, and Gallus looks to the others, confused. Onmund mouths crystal? while J’zargo just looks completely and utterly lost. Fortunately, Brelyna, at least, seems to know what the person inside is talking about. She opens her pack, and pulls out some sort of… well, Gallus isn’t at all certain what it is but it definitely looks like something an organization of mages that doesn’t like the College would use.

“I found it on one of the Falmer near the entrance,” Brelyna explains quietly, and it’s then the door opens just a bit. A middle-aged man in faded blue robes who’s unmistakably a researcher of some sort peers out at them, decides that they’re not Falmer, and opens it just wide enough for everyone to fit through.

“Come in, come in! Hurry!”

Nobody has to be told twice. As the others head in, and a couple more Falmer round the corner, Gallus catches the first of them in the face with a Fury spell, then turns and dashes in. He’s not a moment too soon, either, because the researcher slams it shut and quickly replaces the broken Dwemer machinery he’d had bracing the door. Whatever it is, it looks heavy, and Gallus figures that even if he or J’zargo had managed the lock, the door wouldn’t have opened. Not with that on the other side.

“Just a moment,” the researcher mutters, having apparently figured out that the group was not, in fact, from the Synod, “who do you think you are? Interfering with official Synod business, are we?” Gallus wonders for a moment what gave it away.

“No, but the Falmer were,” Onmund says first, then winces. “They, uh… killed your assistant?” The researcher stares at him blankly, so Gallus takes over.

“The… guy at the entrance?” Gallus tries, and receives another blank look. “He said something about a crystal before dying?” At the word crystal, the researcher’s eyes go wide. Gallus supposes it says something about the Synod that they’re more concerned with items than people, and not a very good something, either.

“Yes, my focusing crystal, or more accurately my focusing crystal replacement,” he says. Brelyna quickly produces said crystal, and he smiles .  It’s not necessarily a pleasant smile, though. If Gallus had to pick a word to describe it, he would pick something more along the lines of calculating. “Yes, yes, that’s it. I was wondering what was taking them so long.”

All in all, the Synod researcher isn’t particularly helpful, but the group does learn two important pieces of information, despite the researcher’s best efforts. One, the Staff of Magnus is in somewhere called Labyrinthian… either that or something similarly powerful is there. Either way, Gallus has no idea where it is. Neither does J’zargo. Brelyna can vaguely recall having heard the name before, but all she knows is that the place was in Skyrim. Onmund knows the general area, but he’s never been to the place and doesn’t know how to get there.

This would be a problem if it weren’t for the second important thing learned: something at the College is causing an extreme amount of magical interference, and it doesn’t take a full-fledged mage to know that isn’t good.

For causing an extreme amount of magical interference, things seem surprisingly normal at the College when the group returns. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and everyone’s practically asleep on their feet regardless (it  is  the middle of the night), so Gallus volunteers to take the hit and let someone know that they’re back. In all honesty, though, if he’d known what he was getting himself into…

If he’d known what he was getting himself into ahead of time, he wouldn’t have gone alone. He would have woken up J’zargo at the very least, and possibly the others too. Of course, there was no way Gallus possibly could have known what he was getting himself into ahead of time, not until he entered the Hall of Elements and found two of the most important people in the College just outside some sort of… barrier.

“I don't know,” Mirabelle Ervine is saying as Gallus walks up. “It's like a ward, but who's casting it? Ancano? How?" The Arch-Mage shakes his head, and Gallus doesn’t need to see his face to tell he’s exceedingly pissed off.

“I don't care what it is, I want it down now,” the Arch-Mage mutters, frowning. “I want to know what he's doing in-” His gaze meets Gallus’ own, and he suddenly stops. Gallus stares back, more than a little confused.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, earning an equally confused look from Mirabelle Ervine.

“Savos, that’s one of the new apprentices, Gallus, Illusion mage,” she explains a little too quickly, then looks Gallus’ way. “I take it all of you have returned from Mzulft, then? Any luck with the Staff of Magnus?” Gallus nods.

“Yes, it’s in-”

“Excellent,” the Arch-Mage - Savos, apparently - cuts in. Gallus tries not to be unnerved by the fact that the Arch-Mage’s gaze hasn’t left his own for some time. “I'd suggest that we go retrieve it immediately, but right now we have more pressing matters. Ancano has somehow locked himself in the hall. He's up to something, and I intend to put a stop to it. Help us get through this, will you?” Gallus nods, although he’s not entirely certain what he can do to help, especially considering that both Savos and Mirabelle have begun casting Destruction spells at the barrier.

He shrugs, readies a Fear spell, and casts it at the barrier for good measure. Before he can ready another, the barrier dissipates, and the Arch-Mage rushes in. After a moment, Mirabelle heads after him (although Gallus doesn’t think he imagined her eyeroll) and while Gallus isn’t entirely certain what to do here, he figures he might as well do something. So, he draws his sword and goes in as well.

“Ancano, stop this at once!” Savos roars, and the unmistakable crackle of lightning magic is heard. Ancano turns to face him, still casting something at the Eye, and he looks remarkably unruffled. That’s the first clue that not all is as it seems. “You’ve overstepped your authority here by far! What do you have to say for yourself?!” Ancano simply regards him for a moment, then laughs.

“You think you can stop me?” Ancano asks, sounding genuinely amused. He stops casting at the Eye, and readies something himself. The electric crackling only intensifies as Ancano too prepares to fight, and Gallus instinctively takes a step back. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Savos,” Mirabelle warns, readying her own spells from a short distance behind him, “be caref-”

Something surges out from the Eye of Magnus, magic perhaps, and everything goes white.

[ograndebatata]

Trials Of The Underworld - Ch. 02

Well, it seems responsiveness to this idea wasn't quite as great as my expectations envisioned.

All the same, thank you very much for the early response to my story, in terms of reviews and readership alike. I hope you're all enjoying this.

This oneshot introduces the prompts from Zee-Zee Magee of fanfiction dot net (Stealthy moving on) and Bookworm101234 from archiveofourown (Arthur versus Cruella), though they don't get fully borne out yet. I hope you enjoy.

As always, if you want to send a prompt of your own, feel free to.

Read on ff.net.

Read on AO3.

By The Clock Tower

He had come into existence as one of eight, born from an egg and deep under ground as his kind did. The first thing he did after being welcomed by the eggs' guard was collect the pickaxe that would name him. It had named him Stealthy; as with all dwarfs, the name fit.

For his first year, his life had consisted essentially of mining for fairy dust and going to the pubs in his downtime, like every other dwarf's. Then, it took a turn when one of his brothers, Dreamy, fell in love with a fairy. Stealthy could no more understand that than his six other brothers could, but nevertheless all of them supported their brother's decision to run away with her. Later, they supported Dreamy also when he broke said fairy's heart for her own sake. And when Dreamy, after he was renamed to Grumpy, ended up in King George's dungeon after changing his mind and trying to win back the fairy, Stealthy went to save him.

He succeeded, but met his end by doing so, and spent over thirty years in the Underworld struggling with unfinished business he didn't know. Even after he found out, he became unable to move on after learning that the former ruler of the Underworld intended to wreak havoc in Storybrooke.

Mere hours later, Stealthy learned of Captain Hook's and King Arthur's plan to help the Savior, in the world of the living. The moment he did, he settled down in the diner to wait for news.

He had guessed from the beginning it could be a long wait, but he wasn't ready for just how so. Nor was he ready for the bits of information he overheard while he waited.

In the Blind Witch's Diner…

This might not be Hell, but as far as Stealthy was concerned, it was close enough. King Arthur and Captain Hook still hadn't returned from their quest, knowing his unfinished business did not magically poof him out of the Underworld, and the Blind Witch and Cruella De Vil had spent the last hours talking so loudly about the changes they planned to make that maybe even the living could hear them even without the phone booth.

Worse, news had arrived about the doomed people in the River Of Lost Souls rising out of the water and dragging others in. So far they couldn't get too far from the river, but that could change. And as Cruella had taken the care to point out to him specifically, 'the stubble sandwich' was bound to have run into them on their way out, which meant they were just 'two more swirls for that glorified spinach soup'.

If that was true, then Hades must be up to no good in the world of the living. There had been no new arrivals since Arthur, but just because no one had died it didn't mean no one was suffering.

All kinds of thoughts about his brothers being enslaved by the God of Death traveled across his head like a herd of deer running in circles, even as he tried to steer them away from his worst ideas. And the Blind Witch and Cruella coming over to enjoy the terror he made no effort to hide was no help.

But Stealthy's hope had endured over thirty years in the Underworld. What was left of it could survive for a few hours longer.

Even if those two hags were doing a pretty good job of stamping it out.

In the Underworld's Sorcerer's Mansion...

He had struggled with the idea of taking up residence in Merlin's home. He hadn't made the Sorcerer proud, and either the man himself or the Apprentice might show up at any time and have the dead man's equivalent of a heart attack at seeing him. But the mansion fit far too many requirements. It was seemingly vacant, it was out of the way, and it was inherently powerful enough that the worst of evildoers stayed away; from what Captain Jones had told him, Hades hadn't even been able to approach it.

So he had moved in. Now he stood before a full length mirror in the largest sleeping room, surveying his new look for one last time, still not sure it fit him.

As the clothes he had died in stood out too much, he had changed into a suit like those he had seen in Storybrooke, with a silver vest, jacket, and trousers, a white dress shirt, a purple necktie and pocket square, and black dress shoes. None of those had been his color when he was alive, but Arthur wanted some distance from the person he had died as, and the color scheme seemed decent from his limited knowledge of that kind of attire.

He had more important issues to take care of anyway, and between his preliminary self-training in using his new powers, his brief familiarization with the Underworld, and his change of look, he had already lost too much time. He might not be getting any deader, but after what he had learned of the two witches ruling in Hades' stead, he didn't want to leave them in charge any longer.

More nervous than he had been when he deceived his subjects with the broken Excalibur, Arthur smoothed down his jacket, nodded at his reflection, and vanished from the Sorcerer's Mansion in a cloud of silver smoke.

In the Blind Witch's Diner...

"Attention."

Stealthy jumped in his seat at the sound: half of the beer in the mug jumped out and exploded across the table's surface, several stray globs splattering his chest. All sorts of reactions ensued at other spots; Cruella dropped a glass of alcohol into the ground, the Blind Witch gasped, and even the kid who had stopped talking centuries ago looked up.

That voice had come out of nowhere, and while conversational in tone, it seemed to be heard through the whole place as if the speaker was right beside each person at the same time. It did not sound aggressive - in fact, it even had a touch of hesitation - but everyone knew it took some powerful magic to make that.

"What was that?" Cruella snarked.

"It sounded like that armored beefcake's voice," the Blind Witch replied, all the usual breathiness of her voice gone.

The armored beefcake. She must mean King Arthur. And indeed, it had sounded like him. But he didn't have magic when Stealthy last saw him. How could he have done that?

"Attention. Attention to everyone in the Underworld. Please gather by the clocktower. There are important news for you to hear."

That was Arthur's voice. There was no doubt now. But how was he doing that? And what did he want?

"Please do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I merely have an important message to give you, and would like to give it in person to as many of you as possible."

Chattering rose up amongst the diner like the buzzing of a whole beehive. Cruella glared all across the room, but no one even seemed to notice her; the excited and hopeful murmurs were too prevalent.

Stealthy kept quiet, but he shared the sentiment. For Arthur to be giving a message, he hadn't fallen into the river. And if he hadn't fallen into the river, he had somehow sent the pages to the Savior, and Hades had been defeated. It did not answer the question of how he was sending this message, but Stealthy didn't really need to know that. He'd take someone like Arthur a thousand times before settling for Cruella and the Blind Witch.

"I shall be giving my message in twenty minutes, by the now restored clock tower," Arthur finished. "I look forward to seeing as many of you as possible. Farewell."

The moment Arthur finished speaking, all the people in the diner stampeded out of the door like a pack of ravenous dogs racing for the same bone. The degraded panel had no chance against them - it crumbled to pieces as if either no one bothered to open it or whoever did was unable to do so before being pushed by those behind him. Startled exclamations rose up from Cruella's and the Blind Witch's throats as they looked at the fleeing crowd. Meanwhile, Stealthy let go of his mug and hid under the table and chairs he had been sitting at.

Would it do any good? That breathy-voiced hag had a nose sharper than a bloodhound's, and though Stealthy had started masking his scent years ago, maybe it wouldn't be enough.

"What do we do?" Stealthy heard the Blind Witch asking, all hints from her usual breathiness gone.

The other woman scoffed in reply. "What do you think, darling? We march up to that conceited poser and show him he can't come around and steal our playpen."

A few seconds of silence followed.

"Should we really do that? There's something weird about Arthur suddenly being able to talk to us like this. It's almost as if he gained magic."

Cruella burst into laughter.

"You must have eaten something that's even more rotten than usual, darling! That's not magic; the stud must simply be using some kind of hidden radio to talk to us! It's just a trick to throw us off!"

"But he said the clock tower was repaired…"

For the first time, Cruella took a while to answer, the only sound from her a hum from thought. Then she said, "Maybe he's learned a few tricks now, but do you really think he can do anything that can best the stuff Hades gave you?"

Even without looking at her, Stealthy could almost sense the witch grinning again.

"That's the spirit, darling!" he heard Cruella cheering. "Now stop being pessimistic and come with me to crush the hopes of everyone in the Underworld, beginning with that delusional oaf!"

A pleased hum from the witch followed Cruella's response.

"Before or after his speech?"

Cruella's answering laugh made icy needles jab Stealthy's spine.

"After, darling. Much more hope to crush that way." Another moment of silence followed. "Let's go. It'll be nice to see just how much hope we'll be crushing."

Stealthy heard the Blind Witch snort in annoyance, presumably at Cruella's use of the word 'see'. Then he heard both women's heels clicking on the diner's floor, and then thudding on the stone floor outside thanks to the broken door.

They were in for a nasty surprise, in Stealthy's opinion. Whatever had happened to Arthur, the tricks he had learned were impressive. The fact he had spoken of a restored clock tower proved it. Stealthy had lost count of how many times groups of prisoners had tried to restore it as a punishment from Hades, but he knew that whenever that happened, the thing never held up for more than a minute before crumbling back down with a thunderous boom. If Arthur had managed to repair it and there had been no mighty crash yet, things looked good.

But those two witches had a few tricks up their own sleeves, and Arthur might not be ready for them. Someone had to warn him. And with them not having noticed him, Stealthy could do that.

Relieved that he hadn't lost his touch, the dwarf crept out from under the table and followed the witches at a distance, determined to see what they were planning so he knew what he should warn Arthur about.

By the Underworld's clock tower...

Thanks to his magic, he had repaired the clock tower with a single wave from his hand, and cleared the debris from the floor with an equally simple gesture. Accomplishing both feats had made him stare at the results of his job like an awed fish, at least until people started arriving, by which time he composed his expression.

The turnout was not particularly big, as far as Arthur could tell. Still, there were enough people to fill a reasonable amount of space on every direction he could look at, although any late arrivals still had enough room to make it to the front if they wished. If Arthur had to guess, most people in the Underworld had stayed away, afraid he would just turn out to be the next Hades.

It made sense. Although he had tried to sound as friendly and reassuring in his speech as possible, the idea of a new magical overlord must not be appealing to many.

Regardless of the low turnout, most of the people he could see looked either cautiously hopeful or downright eager to hear what he had to say. Not one face he could spot looked angry at him or eager to have him removed.

Perhaps it should be reassuring, but it only made his nervousness soar. When he had proved himself to be the rightful ruler of Camelot (or so he thought) by displaying Excalibur to his people, they at least had evidence, and even in the face of it, many questioned how an orphan who mucked out stalls could be the ruler who would repair their broken kingdom. Now, even though he had no true evidence that he was the one meant to repair this broken kingdom, (being chosen by Zeus wasn't something he could easily prove) there were no questioning or reproachful faces, and almost everyone he saw seemed at least hopeful about his takeover, with a few even looking at him as if he was the Savior.

Either Hades had been an even worse king that Arthur thought, or the witches had somehow managed to outdo even the God of Death in rottenness.

Arthur had no problem believing in either, but knowing he had such a mess to repair did not soothe him in the least.

The twenty minutes he had announced drained by faster than water from a stabbed goatskin. Most people that he figured would come were already here, muttering amongst themselves, but a few late arrivals still swerved through the crowds to get at what they deemed a nice spot to listen to him.

Arthur enabled the late arrivals to settle into the spot they chose, and then raised his hand to request for silence. The sounds around him faded like snuffed flames, save for a few scattered whispers. With silence back, Arthur reactivated the spell he had used to inform the Underworld's citizens of his speech, one that enabled him to speak with everyone in the Underworld at the same time, and yet making it so that no one would hear more than a conversational tone.

With the spell in place, he smoothed down his jacket once more, and began speaking.

"Greetings, inhabitants of the Underworld. I am King Arthur of Camelot, and I have important news to give all of you."

He paused to see if his introduction would trigger any angry comments or physical violence. No one reacted particularly differently. If any people harmed by his rule were here, they were keeping quiet for one reason or another.

"As those who haven't seen me may have guessed, I am new to this place. And as you may have noticed from my recent accomplishments…" saying so, he gestured to the restored clock-tower behind him "... I have been, how shall I put it, blessed with certain gifts recently."

It should be a good way to put it, but it probably hadn't been the best thing to say; a few nervous faces were appearing here and there.

"Please don't get scared, I won't use them to hurt any of you. I know you have been through three very detestable leaders, and I do not wish to follow in their steps. I do not profess to have been the best leader myself when I was alive, but I will strive to be the best I can."

A few of the nervous faces started to perk up, but several remained uneasy. Arthur went on with his speech.

"Above all, I ask you to look at me not as a new king, but as a restorer. I am aware the Underworld has not served its proper purpose for a long time. That this place, meant to help people deal with their unfinished business so they can move on, has been distorted into a site of suffering whose rulers only mean to cause pain. I promise you, I will not be like that. And I invite all who need help to tell me about your problems, so that I can assist you in dealing with them. This is by no means a conscription or a summons, and I promise not to take offense to any who would rather I had nothing to do with them. But to those who need a helping hand, know that both of mine are available."

It was hardly the best joke ever told in all the realms, but chuckles and even a few barked laughs rippled through the crowd. It must have been long since anyone in charge had told a joke unrelated to suffering.

Arthur let them enjoy the humor, and then assumed the most serious expression he possibly could. He was about to say something he would rather not have to say, but which he felt was best spoken than left unsaid.

"And while I wish it did not have to be this way, I do have one warning to issue." Seeing all eyes back on him, now with general apprehension, he finished, "What any of you did in life does not matter. Even now, you can change. I know that from experience, and will help anyone who wants to be helped, regardless of what they did in life." He turned his expression as serious as it possibly could, and dropped his voice to a firm tone. "However, I request that no one tries to make afterlife miserable for anyone else. If you do, I will have to intervene."

A few disappointed murmurs rose up here and there, but each one fell silent when Arthur turned a stern gaze in the sound's direction. Even with them, the general reception to his speech still seemed much better than the one he had gotten after proclaiming himself King of Camelot. No disbelieving scoffs, no actual angry faces, and no challenges for the crown… just a sea of hopeful gazes so intense it almost made him dizzy.

"I shall be available whenever you need me," he went on, speaking in his calmer tone again. "Anyone interested in doing so can talk to me right now, and for those who aren't ready to do so yet, I am residing in the Sorcerer's Mansion for the time being."

A few people took a step forward on the spot, but froze there, as if thinking he had more to say.

"That is all for now. Thank you for listening."

Saying so, he disengaged the spell he had cast, in case anyone wanted to talk to him right now. An old lady with her face covered in wrinkles and a heavyset middle-aged man with a hairless head leaned slightly forward as if they were ready to do just that.

But then, everyone but himself shook in fright as another voice blared through the area without the assistance of any spell.

"Is that all, darling? Well then, now you're going to hear my piece."

As the voice spoke up, the crowd on the street to his left parted faster than a block of butter cut with a hot knife, and two women he was already familiar with made their way toward him. The only difference was that now, he could see the magic clinging to them in unpleasant bitter-looking clouds that had him fighting back the urge to grimace.

"Clear the path, worms!" the one with white and black hair snarled. "Your true rulers are coming through!"

More than clearing a path, most of them fled like rabbits. Some stray brave souls stayed relatively near to see what would ensue, but to Arthur's relief, even the closest ones he could see were over sixty feet away. Unless either of these witches could unleash something really strong, they wouldn't be hurt.

"How can I help you, ladies?" Arthur asked in his best polite voice.

The blind witch made a noise of mock-consideration, and then replied, "I would say 'By dropping dead.', but seeing as we're all dead here, I'll say instead 'By jumping into the River of Lost Souls.'."

Arthur gave her a thin smile, even though he knew she couldn't see it.

"Duly noted, but I'm afraid I can't do that. I intend to repair the Underworld, and I can't do it under that water."

The blind woman shrugged her shapely shoulders.

"Worth a shot," she somehow both breathed and screeched.

The other woman snorted, her heavily made up eyes like two black patches on her face.

"Do you really think we'll just let you stroll in here and ruin a nice eternity of causing pain to anyone that isn't us?" she asked, a playful smirk on her face.

Arthur took a step forward, his own eyes narrowed. "No, I didn't think that. But I'm afraid I don't need your permission."

The white-haired woman's eyes narrowed even further.

"You don't need it, you say? Think again. You need it. And we're not giving it to you."

Arthur braced himself for anything she might throw at him. Instead of attacking him however, she turned to the blind one and said, "Darling, paste him."

The woman grinned like a well-fed cat and threw a wave of magic at him. Arthur raised his hand, wreathed in protective magic of its own, and the spell the witch had thrown at him bounced back where it came from and knocked the blind woman onto her rear with a loud thud and a surprised gasp.

"What are you doing?" the other woman protested. "I told you to paste him!"

"I tried!" the blind woman whimpered as she stood up, her face contorted in pain. "He just threw my magic back at me!"

The other woman's eyes briefly widened. Then her face melted into a snarl.

"Then forget pasting him. Just drop him in that blasted green drink!"

Still as wobbly as a reed under a storm, the woman reached forward with her magic.

Alarm flared up within him.

He shot his hand out again and dispelled the magic like a sledgehammer shattering glass. The witch's spell exploded with such force that she fell forward with a startled gasp like a circus artist doing a pratfall.

"What?" her fur-clad companion snapped. "You can't do that either?"

"He doesn't let me! He just crushed my spell like a bug!"

The woman with black and white hair looked back at him, her already large eyes suddenly twice bigger, and especially unsettling in her gaunt face.

"You couldn't do that when you arrived…" she murmured.

Arthur blinked in surprise. Given the woman's nature, he hadn't thought she would be even capable of doing such a thing.

"I couldn't," he replied. "As I said during my speech, I was blessed with certain gifts recently." He made it a point to pause and give them a stern glare. "And I see now more than ever that they were needed."

The blind woman's usually empty expression twisted into a scowl. The one in the fur coat bared her teeth like an angry dog and growled. "Speak for yourself!"

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Arthur replied with a pleasant nod. But his stern glare only intensified as he added, "And in case you also missed that part of my speech, let me remind you of something else: I will not mind you either coming to me for help in moving on or you simply staying out of my way. But I will not allow you to make other people miserable."

Both women bared their teeth at him like furious bears, but his display must have startled them a great deal, because they didn't utter a peep.

"I've said my peace. Now if you'll excuse me I have a damage survey to undertake."

Before they could tell him whether they excused him or not, he turned left and walked away, making it a point to not look back toward them as he began a more detailed tour of the Underworld, to see how much damage he had to repair.

He didn't even take ten steps before the cheering began.

"ALL HAIL KING ARTHUR! ALL HAIL KING ARTHUR!"

Both Cruella and the Blind Witch kept grimacing like they were about to throw up as the screams continued. They were no longer as loud as before, simply because those uttering them were already farther away, but they could still be heard, and Cruella kept clenching her teeth as they continued.

"There goes your plan," the Blind Witch said once the cheers had finally faded, her high-pitched voice even more grating in its disappointed tone.

Cruella snorted in reply. "I didn't exactly hear you coming up with anything better, darling. Or dealing with him while he was here."

"Don't you have hands and feet?" the Blind Witch complained. "Next time, lend some help rather than complain."

"Instead of arguing, let's come up with some other way to deal with this interloping peacock, alright, darling?"

The Blind Witch narrowed her eyes, but at least this time she didn't complain.

"Alright then," she at last said. "Any Plan B?"

Cruella gave no verbal reply, but the slow sinister grin spreading across her face spoke for herself, even if the Blind Witch could not see it.

Stealthy, however, could. And as he saw it, he realized how good an idea it had been to follow them.

He only hoped he could actually help once they put their plan into action.

This is what I meant regarding the prompts not being fully borne out yet. The next oneshot will see their conclusion.

I hope you enjoyed thie oneshot, and once more, I welcome any prompts you might have.