#spirit temple/construct factory

[im-animal-crossing-the-border]

Has anyone else found this room in Tears of the Kingdom? I stumbled across it at about 240 hours in and thought it was really cool.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I wish mineru got to me an actual character because every single theme we get that has to do with her (thunder islands, spirit temple, construct factory) are so gorgeous and made me fall in love with her, the soundtrack does so much heavy lifting in this game

You're so correct about the soundtrack, it tells such a compelling tale and it really builds off itself constantly, it's genuinely one of my favorite parts of the game!!

Honestly Mineru had tons of potential. I really liked the entire quest to find her and her body, it was the part of the game that kind of sold me the most the mystery and wonder of having such a big world spanning the sky all the way to the Depths. The atmospheric mood of the Thunderhead Isles was wonderful, loved following the light all the way to the Depths (I had already stumbled upon the actual Construct Factory in them before). It was the part of the game that "felt the most zonai" to me, this sort of puzzle-like intricacy of how their influence permeate the world that their name alone was meant to invoke. I regret the lack of worldbuilding here, even a very light one (what was were the Thunderhead Isles? What significance did they have in zonai culture? What about the structures on the ground in the jungle? I would have *loved* more... anything in the Construct Factories), but it was still a treat as a gameplay experience.

(I mean I hated having to pilot the Construct Body itself, but that's more a me problem than a game problem, thankfully the boxing match was a ton of funs regardless)

The character herself though.... Like I feel like there's a lot of potential inherent to her status as one of the last zonais AND her status as the king's sister (not to mention her engineering proclivities). She feels like she should have a very unique perspective on the entire situation, insight about what caused the fall of the zonais (or their departure/refusal to engage with Hyrule), have both tenderness but also criticism towards her brother his wife might not have (as his lover and as an inherently lesser being bound to his good will, she's a priestess so she probably prays to the gods and zonais are said to descend from gods can we talk about that also), share a unique relationship with Zelda through their common love for knowledge (I think Zelda having a strong relationship with Mineru sounds more meaningful than her having one with Sonia as of now tbh, and it would have helped their scenes to be more interesting than an excuse to infodump, I almost said that it's a ship before remembering they're technically related SOMEHOW?? so mayyybe not).

But in practice, she has no desires of her own. She's but an extension of her brother's will, except softer, muted, heartbroken not for her loss (and the fact that her entire race is about to die out once she does), but for Hyrule's perdition. I am still not over the fact that when she swears her oath of fielty to Link, she *touches her brother's hand*, aka the only meaningful relationship in her life that we got to see, zonai skin touching zonai skin for... probably the last time ever? And the camera couldn't care less. No lingering, no body tension, not even one of the little sounds that BotW/TotK characters love to make in cutscenes everytime anything happens, not even any callback to the explicit motif of people touching each other's hand as a sign of support and unity (so you know what symbolism/allegory means game!!! you know this!!!!), the game doesn't seem to be aware that she should be a person with feelings that extend beyond her performative guilt about a situation that has basically nothing to do with her/she couldn't have done anything about/she did everything she could about, actually! She's just here to be a vessel for the restoration project of her brother's kingdom (Rauru being the only one allowed any emotion of genuine grief and upset, and it only lasts like half a second --which sucks!! I wish that, if Sonia was to be fridged anyway, it at least motivated him to become vengeful and furious and make a mistake that costed him his victory, which would have made him sliiightly more compelling instead of reverting back to a fancy cardbox of unquestionned perfection).

Also she's technically the last one you're supposed to get (but you can get her first??? this is such a weird choice sometimes linearity is good nintendo!!!), and after such a long quest, there should have been a narrative reward to finding her that goes harder than "and then Rauru decided to hype you up like crazy to Ganondorf, also Zelda is probably a dragon but you probably already know that" in my opinion. Some modicum of depth; a different emotional texture to the conflict. After that much build up, the payoff didn't land for me.

Yeah. Mineru. She really could have been the aqua-glue holding that ultrahand-ass of a plot together, but Alas.....

[echoequinox]

More Zelda Theories, about the Depths and the Statues!

BIG SPOILERS. DO NOT READ AHEAD UNLESS YOU HAVE GOTTEN THE MISSION "DEFEAT GANONDORF". FOR REAL, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

That said, this is a lot of theories about the Depths and more specifically the Bargainers, who seem to be a very prominent and important figure in this game, almost like the Zonai were in Breath of the Wild!

We'll start with anatomy, because there's a lot of interesting things to go off of there. As far as we can tell, the statues in the Depths of Zora, Rito, etc. are mostly unexaggerated and straightforward representations of the races they portray. But the Bargainer statues are...

Let's just say they're big.

They are confirmed specifically to be Bargainers by the map marker, namely the one of this picture: the Bargainer Cliff Statue. This implies that it is, in fact, a representation of the group.

Some other interesting things about the anatomy you can somewhat see here: no discernible feet (potentially wearing shoes or armor) and hands that each end in three blunt fingers.

The other interesting part that we can see is their face.

(Also this is a partial view of their upper half as well, which seems to be particularly hard to photograph)

Their head appears to be conical in shape with four eyes that feature prominently, especially due to the first real mission where you speak to the Bargainers and must throw their eyes into the chasms. (Also notable are their streak-like markings beneath the eyes, almost like Tears)

My two primary theories on the face is that it is either 1. A mask of some kind, with the eyes as a recurring motif and possibly some sort of symbolism, or 2. The Bargainers are constructs HEAR ME OUT

Evidence of it being a mask comes from the Hood of the Depths from the outfit you get from the Bargainers. It is shaped very similar to the head of the Bargainer statues, but the face is instead shrouded, the hood obscuring only one eye, and the rest of the face covered in the same wraps that cover Link's arms and legs.

It is POSSIBLE that the Bargainers themselves have four eyes, and using this hood structure only reveal one at a time, perhaps to keep other races from becoming unsettled, or maybe some sort of ceremonial reason. It is also possible that this is a lesser Bargainer outfit, and the ones the statues are built from have the four-eyed masks, and the statues are proof of reverence of those greater Bargainers.

Either suggests that the Bargainers are humanlike in nature, potentially a culture of their own similar to how the Sheikah are technically of the Hylian race (as seen in parentheses in the Character Dossier in ToTK).

It's also possible that they were a subculture of the Zonai, and Link's difference in outfit is due to it being an acolyte outfit rather than the outfit of a true Bargainer. It isn't, after all, called the Bargainer set, but the Depths set. It's possible that Hylians who worshipped the Zonai - and specifically the Bargainers - as gods wore these as some form of worship or ceremony.

My other theory, I personally think, holds less water, but it is interesting to pursue. Below is a spoiler for the Spirit Temple and the lead-up to it.

This is Mineru's construct body after she's resurrected by Link. There are a couple notable things here that do, in fact, relate to the Bargainers.

First, the fact that the Construct Factory is in the Depths at all, which is an area seemingly mostly kept up by Bargainers in general. Second, the anatomy does admittedly seem to line up. Longer arms that reach the knees, the shape of the legs, the codpiece and the strange segmentation of the arms, which do end in three nubby fingers. Additionally, the "head" of Mineru's construct is an owl-styled mask similar to the one we see Rauru wearing around his neck, or on his face in the trailer.

The more I look at Mineru's construct, the more I begin to think that the statues are built after them, but story-wise, it has a lot of holes. It would imply that the Bargainers are, perhaps, sentient constructs. Would they be allowed free reign of the Depths? Allowed to create statues of themselves, in some form of robotic reverence?

The alternative is that they are, in fact, possessed constructs, similar to Mineru's. Interestingly, it does start to line up when you put it in that light. While the Bargainers have you collect Poes in the underground, they don't look like Poes from any of the previous Zelda games. Instead they look like Spirits, specifically those from Twilight Princess. They're said to be the souls of those who haven't yet moved on to the afterlife, and the Bargainers are able to shuffle them on their way.

Mineru, the Sage of Spirit, would be uniquely qualified to have followers who relate to spirits and souls. Putting their bodies into constructs as well wouldn't have been a huge challenge and - in fact - if the process was willing and not one of necessity, it would make sense that they would build statues of their new, superior forms.

Moving on from anatomy, we can briefly cover the abilities the Bargainer Statues seem to have.

The Bargainers are able to speak to Link in the same way many other creatures are: the Koroks, the Goddess Statues, the Horned Statue, etc. They are also able to not only take the souls that Link collects and move them to the afterlife, but compensate him for doing so. They can produce things like Dark Clumps or outfits designed to plumb the Depths. They're also able to reach out and find their "brethren" for Link to seek out and speak to. The more of them Link finds, the more they're able to work together and create better armor and gear for him.

The one on the Great Plateau says he "inhabits" the Goddess Statue to speak to Link. It feels almost as if the Bargainers are spirits themselves, able to possess objects, which is in line with the possessed construct theory.

There are two other interesting notes to leave this on, as I don't really have a conclusion for my theory at the moment. The first is about resources. Zonaite is found most prominently in the Depths, although some is found on sky islands as well. It's possible (or even probable) that the sky islands were ripped from the surface of Hyrule, or even below it, and that's why it's available on them. But Zonaite being found deep underground, and yet powering all of Zonai tech such as the Zonai Charges.

The other is about the name itself: Bargainers. Searching through the Zelda wiki for other instances of the word "bargain", only one primary entry comes up: The Statue's Bargain. This is the quest in Breath of the Wild in which you find and bargain with the Horned Statue. A dealer of life and wealth. A Bargainer, if you will.

It's possible that their powers originated not from a secret stone, like Mineru and her Spirit Sage powers, but instead from a god. Whereas Hyrulians worship Hylia and her encompassing light, it's possible that these Bargainers - maybe even the larger Zonai culture - instead worshipped Her opposite. Deep beneath the ground, away from sunlight and prying eyes, perhaps they did dealings with this strange, bargainer god. Wealth for life. Perhaps trading away your last heart for money, allowing the god to take all of your soul, would trap it permanently, forever adrift beneath Hyrule, as a Poe.

Maybe the Bargainers themselves are trying to atone for what they did, the lengths they went for riches and power, and what it took to become the monolithic figures they revered in statue form. Hylia, as we know, saw the dark god and trapped him forever within a statue. Perhaps his followers were not so different...

Edit: I absolutely forgot the fact that the Construct Factory steward mentions getting receipts and orders from Dragonhead Island, implying more than one construct needs to be built (which, I mean, they're factories and depots so of course). We see Mineru's earlier design in the Spirit Temple, and one hijacked by Kohga at the end of his storyline, so we know that there were at least several in circulation, but it makes sense that if the Bargainers were a race that inhabited construct bodies similar to Mineru, that it would be mass-produced like that.

[jarino]

Giving up the Ghost: Chapter 14 (It's Finally Happening)

After finding Mineru’s construct, Link heads to the Domain to speak with Sidon.

AO3 Link

After investigating the ring ruins with With Paya and Tauro, Link headed to Faron, where he performed a ritual to remove the storm cloud in the sky islands above. He proceeded through the island chain, fighting constructs along the way, until he came upon a mask.

A voice spoke to him then, and Link was immediately hit with a sense of déjà vu. This must have been what the sages experienced when they made their way to their respective temples.

The voice guided him into the depths, and to an underground factory, where he constructed a large mechanical being.

He rode the construct through the depths until he made his way to the Spirit Temple. Inside awaited the fifth sage’s secret stone. However, attaining the stone was not an easy task. Like the other temples, a monster resided inside, guarding their goal.

In this case, it was a corrupt version of the sage’s construct from the past. Riding atop the new mechanism, Link fought against the corrupt version, firing cannons at it and knocking it against the barbed wire that surrounded them.

In the end, the malicious construct fell to pieces and the way forward was clear.

Once Link made his way to the chamber where the stone resided, the Purah Pad began blinking. Confused, he held it out and watched as a small blue wisp emerged from its surface. The light flew toward the stone, and for a moment, it resembled a person.

Moments later, Link was brought to the same ominous zen garden he had seen when Zelda’s apparition had gifted him recall. Was this what the other sages had seen when they’d spaced out?

The figure before him turned around, and calmly introduced herself as Mineru.

Link recognized her from a few of the Dragon Tear memories. She was Rauru’s older sister.

Mineru thanked him for finding her secret stone, and explained that her original plan had been to guide him from the moment he awoke on the Great Sky Island. Unfortunately, her spirit had remained dormant, and it wasn’t until he made contact with her mask that she was able to speak with him.

With a small smile, she said, “You have proven quite adept, and I am grateful for all your efforts.”

She then gently took his hand in hers, gifting him the ability to summon her construct at will, similar to the avatars.

The final ring on his hand, the middle finger, lit up with her symbol.

Mineru then began to explain the details of the imprisoning war, telling him of the power the Demon King wielded, and the final stand the sages made against him.

In the end, she had been badly injured, collapsing partway into the battle. The other sages were able to distract Ganondorf long enough for Rauru to make his move. With a valiant sacrifice, he bound the Demon King where he stood, though it cost him his own life in the process.

Rauru had vowed that Link would defeat Ganondorf when he eventually revived, which only amused the gerudo.

Once the danger had passed, Zelda had spoken to Mineru about her plans. She told her of her decision to follow through on draconification. Mineru had insisted against it, telling Zelda it was forbidden for very good reason, but Zelda was stubborn. In the end, Mineru relented, and offered her services to the cause.

After her story was finished, Link looked to Mineru. Shame was written upon her face and she had trouble meeting his eyes.

‘Is there no way to turn her back?’ Link asked, desperate.

Mineru bit on her lip, slowly shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, Link. If we had listened to Zelda’s warnings, things may have played out differently. Ganondorf may not have stolen Sonia’s secret stone, and we could have avoided all the bloodshed that he caused…”

She let out a regretful sigh. “Zelda had little choice in the decision she made, but she made it all the same. Because she believed that you would find a way to defeat the Demon King.” She looked at him, guilt swimming in her eyes. “I can see why she trusts you as much as she does…I believe you will find a way to stop his madness once and for all.”

Link pulled out the Master Sword, staring at its blade. Mineru blamed herself for what happened, but he was just as much at fault. If he had been stronger, Ganondorf never would have caused the Upheaval, and Zelda wouldn’t have been thrust into the past.

But…there was no changing what happened. Zelda was gone.

Gripping the pommel tightly, he closed his eyes. He wished he could have said goodbye.

-----

Once Link returned to the surface, he made his way to the Wetland Stable next. It had been a while since he’d last checked in on his horse, so he wanted to make sure she was doing okay.

When he arrived to the stable, the man at the counter told him he had a letter.

It turned out to be from Sidon.

My love,

I hope you are doing well on your journey. I am well aware that you are a capable warrior, but I cannot help but worry for your safety.

If it is not too much trouble, I would like to request that you visit Zora’s Domain as soon as you are able. There is something I would like to discuss with you. The matter is time-sensitive, so I would appreciate it greatly if you could come within the next few weeks.

I look forward to seeing you, my heart. Please take care.

Love, Sidon

Sidon’s amorous words filled Link with warmth. Even without being there with him, the zora managed to turn him into putty.

He spent a few minutes ensuring his horse was okay and giving her some apples before he teleported to Mogawak Shrine.

Link took the long climb up the ladder, arriving in the center of the Domain. He walked around for a bit, searching for Sidon, but he didn’t have to wait long. Soon enough, he heard his name being called from across the plaza.

He turned around to find the king barreling towards him, scooping him up into the tightest hug.

“Oh, it is so good to see you, my sapphire!” Sidon exclaimed.

Link chuckled, despite feeling like his bones were going to shatter from the intense hug. He bravely planted a kiss on Sidon’s cheek, which had him turning silent at a comically fast pace.

Laughing, Link gave him a light pat on the head, which broke Sidon from his stupor.

“Ah…my apologies, I wasn’t expecting that.”

He gently set Link down on his feet. “How have you been, Link? I know it has only been about a week since we last spoke, but I am eager to hear of your journey!”

‘I found the fifth sage,’ he answered.

“You did?! Marvelous! I knew you could do it!” He paused for a moment before asking, “Did you happen to receive my letter, by chance?”

Link nodded.

“Oh, splendid. Shall we head to my room to speak?”

Link hesitated for a moment before nodding again.

When they arrived, Sidon took a seat on his bed, with Link sitting beside him. Link’s head drooped slightly. Zelda was still fresh on his mind, and it was hard to think of anything else.

“My dear,” Sidon said, “Is something the matter? You look a little down.”

‘It’s about Zelda,’ he signed.

Sidon’s brows drew together in concern. “Ah, yes…she’s still missing, isn’t she?”

Link shook his head.

“She’s not? But then…”

Sighing, Link said, ‘She turned into a dragon. She…she was transported to the past, back when the Demon King came into power.’

Sidon continued to gaze at him in worry, but he remained silent.

‘In order to fix the Master Sword, she needed to give it sacred power…She swallowed her secret stone and became the Light Dragon in order to heal it.’

Sidon briefly glanced down at the secret stone that sat on the back of his hand. He was silent for several moments.

“Surely…there must be a way to turn her back?”

Link shook his head, solemn. ‘It’s irreversible. She’s gone…forever.’

Tears welled in his eyes and Sidon didn’t hesitate to pull him in for a hug.

“Oh, dear…” He ran his hand along the back of Link’s head, petting his hair in comfort.

“It’s hopeless,” Link croaked. “I’ve lost her…”

Sidon pulled him tighter, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t say that,” he uttered quietly. “If anyone can find a way to fix this, it’s you.”

Link gave him a doubtful look, his tears still falling.

Reaching down to wipe his tears, Sidon said, “It’s true. I’ve yet to see a problem that you haven’t been able to fix. You saved the Domain from Vah Ruta, as well as the other citizens of Hyrule…you defeated Calamity Ganon, you brought together the sages…Need I go on?”

Link let out a sniffle, wiping at his lingering tears. ‘No.’

Gently, Sidon tipped up Link’s chin so he would meet his gaze. “I’m sure there’s a way to save her. You just need to find it.”

Link sat in silence for a bit. He wasn’t so sure he believed that, but…Sidon still had a way of calming him down, regardless of the pain he was in.

After a few more moments of quiet, Link added, ‘What did you want to speak about again?’

“Oh, um…” Sidon scratched at his head fin. “It’s about mine and Yona’s engagement…”

Link sat up attentively.

“She came up with two possible solutions for us. Either she and I break off the arrangement, and she remain here as a dignitary, or we go through with the marriage for political reasons only. In that instance, you would be free to take your place as my consort.”

‘Consort?’

“I take it this isn’t a hylian custom?”

Link shook his head.

“Ah, well…essentially, any king or queen may take a consort if they wish. They act similarly to a spouse, but do not have the authority that royalty does. You would hold a place of honor in the Domain, but would not rule over the people or have sway with the council.”

Link thought about it for a bit. It was a little hard to wrap his head around, if he was being honest. But based on what Sidon was saying, it didn’t seem like a terrible idea…

‘I’ll do whatever is best for the Domain. I don’t want to interfere with all the good Yona has done.’

“Please don’t misunderstand, Link…Yona will be staying regardless of what your choice is. This all comes down to whatever makes you most comfortable.”

‘If we chose the first one…where you break off the engagement…would we have to be together in secret?’

Sidon hummed in consideration. “Well…technically, yes. I’m afraid we wouldn’t be allowed to wed in an official capacity. If I were a normal zora, it wouldn’t be an issue, but because the royal bloodline is at stake, I will likely have to marry another zora at some point during my life.”

Link sat in silence for a while before signing, ‘Is it okay if I think about it some more? How long before we need to make a decision?’

“I’d say…probably a month at the latest. Though, that’s only if you want us to break things off. If you decide to become my consort, there is no rush.”

‘I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve figured something out.’

Smiling, Sidon pulled Link in for a hug. “I appreciate it. I know this can’t be easy for you. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

When Sidon pulled back, he gently trailed his hand down the side of Link’s face. He stared at him longingly, prompting a blush to bloom on Link’s cheeks.

“I know we haven’t officially been together for very long, but…would you like to spend the night? I confess…I am eager to be with you.”

Link’s cheeks quickly reddened and he stammered slightly.

‘Just so we’re clear, you want to…’

“I would like to make love to you, if you will permit me,” he said quietly, his eyes hooded.

Link was as red as a tomato, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

How was he supposed to respond to that? Sure…he’d been thinking of being with Sidon in that manner for years now, but…now that the opportunity had presented itself, was he actually ready?

As he looked into Sidon’s eyes, he saw nothing but love there.

Perhaps…perhaps he was ready. If Sidon was willing to bare his emotions so openly, then Link ought to meet him halfway.

Swallowing, he gave a small nod. ‘Okay.’

A wide grin stretched onto Sidon’s face and he let out a boisterous laugh. “Yes! Oh, my pearl, thank you. I will not let you down.”

Still blushing intensely, Link let out a small chuckle. After all this time, it was finally happening. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

[flickerintwilights]

glow in the dark

rated T / pre-canon / 2k words

Mineru & Rauru, hurt/comfort, hurt, blood and injury (not too graphic)

(excerpt) Mineru turns east along the other side of the wall. She looks around through the dim light, radiated in soft waves from the brightseeds high above her, extending her spirit slightly to get a sense of what lies beyond her body’s eyes. More trees, more stones, more fireflies, more flowers. The only semblances of a spirit she comes into contact with are drifting poes. No Rauru.

From up ahead, a faint roar wavers the air.

read on ao3 or below the cut

Mineru wasn’t surprised when he wandered off, despite her best attempts to assure him that he wouldn’t have to wait long for her to finish up and there were plenty of points of interest in the general locale of the Factory, anyway, for him to look around at. She knows Rauru doesn’t particularly like the Bargainers — but there is the Wellspring of Courage, and there are plenty of constructs for him to talk to.

But her idea of interesting has always been slightly offset compared to his. After all, he’s never really liked the dark.

She assumes, based on her past knowledge and experiences, that Rauru decided going off to explore would be better than hanging around the factory with only its aimless poes and busy constructs (and her) for company. Like when he first went down to the surface. That time he got lost in the Faron jungle by accident, and a short while after he went into the northwestern mountains with nothing but his winter fluff and some ruby-crafted bracelets.

The margin of difference here, compared to those scenarios, is that it is the Depths and not the surface — one less undeniably alive than the other. Not to mention darker. Therefore, to Rauru: less interesting.

According to that line of thought, the more concerning detail was that he wasn’t back by the time she had completed her objective with the constructs. (It was only the examination of a new prototype crafter construct; they’d needed her to have a more accurate look at the functioning of the new spirit core. He could have waited, there was nothing more she would have had to do.)

So now Mineru has to find her little brother. This has happened before.

Currently, she’s south of the Left-Arm Depot. A steward had designated a few low-level soldier constructs to go look elsewhere. There’s no trail, except for one newly sprouted brightbloom she passed by near the pools, but he can’t have gone too far.

“Rauru!” she calls out, to the same quiet. Her voice sinks into the stone wall to her left and hangs in the still air. The specks of spirit continue their endless drifting, undisturbed, without wind.

Mineru turns east along the other side of the wall. She looks around through the dim light, radiated in soft waves from the brightseeds high above her, extending her spirit slightly to get a sense of what lies beyond her body’s eyes. More trees, more stones, more fireflies, more flowers. The only semblances of a spirit she comes into contact with are drifting poes. No Rauru.

From up ahead, a faint roar wavers the air.

Mineru turns toward it, slowing. Frox are a rare presence in the Depths, mostly driven away from the mines by Zonai warriors long ago. This one must have survived somehow, perhaps a fled child grown to adulthood in the furthest reaches of the Depths, beyond the willingness of her people to seek out.

One this close to the Spirit Temple, and the Construct Factory by extension, is… worrying. The roar itself as well — Frox roar for intimidation, when they see prey —

A cry. Short, cut off, muffled like it’s coming from underwater. Rauru, and the realization hits her like a speartip through the chest so she’s running— sprinting over the stone and it feels slow and wrong and not enough. The Frox roars again. Even from a distance, Mineru feels the stone shiver under her all too solid feet.

Rauru. Rauru is in pain, crying out, and he’s her little brother. She can’t— he can’t—

He shouts, half-strangled and breaking, and light shatters between curled ferns. It’s a futile burst, a desperate attempt at a distraction, and in a second it’s obscured by a massive silhouette that gleams dark on one side — those must be the Zonaite deposits, and on the other side its rearing teeth catch a fragmented splinter of light —

“Rauru!” she screams. The sound rips through the blue-flecked air, almost as if it could reach him, until the stone subsumes it into its depths.

He doesn’t hear her.

Mineru stumbles over a descent in the rock, a cut into the landscape, and she doesn’t see its jaw slam down. She hears a scream.

She pushes herself up, the ordinarily gentle quiet of the Depths replaced by her heartbeat suffocating her ears, forward out of the shallow rift onto the field. The Frox’s obsidian skin is visible now, where it pulls in the light. The curled ferns loom tall over her head.

Rauru is lying crumpled at one of their bases, shirt torn and bloody, fur matted. His right arm is half-draped over the stem at the wrong angle. It doesn’t compute; her mind rejects, flinching, stuttering to a stop. That isn’t how it should be.

The Frox lumbers toward him, predator to prey. It thinks he’s, is he—

Mineru wrenches her gaze away from the arm that grates wrong wrong wrong into her head and sees it, instead. Looming over him, its fangs lifting. Its malignant green eye, starkly vivid against the darkness, stares down at his broken form. His eyes flicker open weakly. It’s the same flash of blue that she’s always known, but its light is faded, dull as the secret stone on his hanging wrist.

It—

She hurls herself forward with a snarl that tears itself out raw and ugly and wordless from her chest, choking, bleeding.

The Frox jumps around to face her with something like surprise in its eye — surprise that something would dare to attack, would dare to come for a broken body with a single thread left for life — not before she remembers the zonaite deposits on its back and reaches out with her spirit and feels the veins of stone and something else that run alongside its blood to its heart.

Her secret stone flares purple from her neck. Her third eye snaps open, and

then she is only (all) spirit, her vision tinged in shades of purple and blue-green. The rest of her senses are sharper, the mess of sounds and sensations cluttering them faded into white noise. Her body is beginning to fold without her, the essence that links it all together, but she’s already moving effortlessly compared to it — borne on the particles of spirit that drift through the Depths and flow in intangible currents beyond normal sight. Faster than a heartbeat.

Zonaite’s unique properties are the result of its being laced and veined with spirit particles, absorbed from years upon years of heavy saturation from the Depths environment. She is intimately familiar with this fact. Working with her people’s technology, built almost entirely from zonaite, has given her countless opportunities to make use of her ability with spirit.

Mineru has never used it for anything other than research before.

But it’s so easy to reach through the wells and flows of spirit in the Frox’s zonaite deposits. And it’s so quick, something of instinct more than rational thought — it hurt Rauru. Her little brother is wounded and bleeding and barely conscious on the ground, and she cannot let him die. He doesn’t want to die. He’s living.

She traces the veins of zonaite through its flesh and out into the others, finds the weak points in each structure and pushes and strains outward at them with her spirit. Simultaneously, the spirit energy in the stone responds to her presence. So she gathers it, tightens it, until it has nothing else to do than—

—burst.

Finally, the zonaite shatters.

The shards of stone exploding outward in every direction don’t touch her, but the sudden release of spirit particles from the stone does, though it only appears as a brief scattering of blue-green dust. The shards of stone don’t touch her, but they do tear into the Frox’s flesh from the inner veins, shrapnel ripping through organs and blood vessels.

It roars, a high keen of pain slipping through the cracks in the sound. A part of her is bothered by the sound; death is not the same as suffering, after all, and Rauru has always been the monster hunter between them. But the rest, the greater part, takes the thought of Rauru and holds it close. This is the only way.

At the same time the Frox’s body is convulsing, ripping itself apart without the seal of zonaite deposits over its back, hers hits the ground. It’s good timing; a larger fragment of zonaite lances through the air where her head had been. Lucky, really. She hadn’t taken the time to consider that outcome when she went to move.

The Frox’s thick-padded limbs crash to the ground. Dark blood runs in thin rivulets down its skin. Its spirit, more a thing of smoke and an inky silhouette than the souls that fill the Depths, bleeds out from the stilled body and wafts away into nothing.

Mineru turns away from it. Her body is lying on the ground in a slightly awkward position, but she’s used to reconfiguring herself to its weight — the bare presence of air on her fur and dust in her eyes.

She pulls herself up without grace, limb by limb. The Frox’s remaining bulk obscures Rauru from view until she rushes past it, in spite of the fact that she’s stumbling and hasn’t regained her bearings nearly enough. Her breathing is loud in her ears again.

Rauru is untouched, at least by her. She’d made sure of it, forcibly redirecting the shrapnel if it went anywhere near him.

It could have been a relief still to see proof. But he’s still on the ground, fur torn and darkened from so many wounds that maybe it wouldn’t even have made a difference. She can still see, when her secret stone glimmers and her vision is touched by faint washes of color, blue flecks drifting from his body into the dark.

No. No no no. He can’t do that.

The darkness of the environment remains when her secret stone goes still and Mineru drops down to kneel beside him. Take his hand in hers and feel for his pulse, although she’s never been good at getting it from that spot, because his neck is too badly bruised — then she lets go, because that’s his broken arm and she hates the way he twitches at the slightest shift to his hand.

She checks the other wrist, ghosting her fingers over it, so she can’t hurt him.

Thump, thump. He’s alive. Barely.

Mineru forces herself to look over his injuries. This close up she can see every contusion on his darker fur, and there are so many — the one around his left eye —

His eyes are a sliver open.

She stops short. They don’t seem to register anything at first, only the eyelashes flutter rapidly, but then his right eye blinks a little wider and she sees blue.

“Mi…Min…” Rauru manages at first. “‘ro‘s—”

“It’s dead,” she says, swallowing back a lump in her throat. “You’re going to be okay.”

He tries to move his arm, and a thin whimper slips out through his teeth. Mineru lays her hand over it lightly, then with more solidity as he releases a quivering breath at the touch.

“S…sorry.”

As gently as she can, in place of a response she doesn’t know if she can give, she presses her forehead to his. The lashes of their third eyes brush; Rauru’s stiff and halting, but he leans into it nonetheless.

Mineru lifts her head back. Rauru’s two eyes are closed; his chest rises and falls in slight trembles. She activates the small zonaite device on her wrist, and a beam of green light appears, running north towards the factory and the medical constructs waiting for a destination.

For a brief moment, it’s all too much like spirit green, zonaite green. (Green like the Frox’s eye.) But those are what so much of her life has always been colored by; the bile passes quickly. The light will be what gets them home.

In the meantime, she settles next to Rauru, and breathes alongside him in the quiet dark, and grasps his hand in hers.

[lasenbyphoenix]

Unshakable Faith (2023)

Episode 18 Breakdown

Officer Tongbin interrogates the messenger but he admits to only passing letters for money and isn't a spy. Security Captain Li threatens Lai Guangrun now that he is exposed, and is told that his sweetheart is a spy and that there was never going to be money or passports arranged for him, but when Security Captain Li threatens to destroy his paintings, Lai Guangrun offers up his own hidden money and fake ID from the temple on Dongshan mountain. 

Lai Guangrun tells Dr Bai that Security Captain Li will be at the temple and to kill him as a final test from Snow Wolf. Dr Bai dismisses him, but reconsiders after he is reminded of the target on Nurse Bai. On Dongshan mountain Dr Bai watches as Officer Hongmei and the police team get to the temple first and exchange fire with Security Captain Li. After running out of bullets and fleeing from the back door, he eventually surrenders after Officer Hongmei confirms that the sweetheart he is trying to save is the spy she met in Hong Kong.

On the morning of the pool construction,  Expert Chief Chu is given his medicine that Nurse Bai makes, but soon after taking it he collapses and is rushed to the hospital. Awake but weak, he appoints Ji Danyang as temporary Commander in Chief for the pool construction.

At the construction site the experts and labourers gather as Factory Chief Han and Ji Danyang rally their spirits and order the construction to begin. In the middle of mixing the concrete, Master Welder Niu brings it to their attention that it's setting too quickly, and it is soon revealed that a silicate has been added to the current concrete mix. Ji Danyang gives the order to start over and calls in more cement to be delivered from town to make sure they have enough for the pool. Lai Guangrun comes in on one of the trucks delivering concrete, but just observes.

When a fire breaks out in one of the machines at the power station, all power to the site shuts off and their cement mixers stop, and it will take too long to get generators up and running so they rally to finish mixing the last of the concrete by hand.

Factory Chief Han and Ji Danyang announce the successful completion of the pool and the experts and all construction workers celebrate while Nurse Bai rushes to tend to their injuries. 

The police team now have Lai Guangrun's full identity but miss catching him at the construction site, so follow him into town. He stops to see Dr Bai who confirms that Security Captain Li was taken away by the police. Even knowing that he's been compromised, Lai Guangrun still doesn't reveal to Dr Bai who Snow Wolf is. The police team eventually corner him at the art gallery in front of his painting.

........................................................

I always feel like Lai Guangrun is talking out of his butt whenever he mentions instructions from Snow Wolf because we've never seen him recieve any and they always seem to be self-serving requests.

Uh oh, who messed with the Chief's medicine to implicate Nurse Bai??? because come on, everyone knows that she's been making that medicine so she'd be stupid to sabotage it herself.

I had actually thought a couple of episodes ago that whatever they were planning on doing to sabotage the pool, the discreetest way would be to mess with the concrete proportions, because how do you track that many bags of concrete mix? And that's is exactly what they did!

Our math man proves that he can keep his cool under pressure and leads the team to success, that'll look good on his resume. I really like the dark blue lab coats the experts have. I do find it amusing how big and glorious the music is for what is just the pouring of concrete, but hey, it makes it entertaining.

And some more queering of the AI subtitles, featuring the arrested messenger.

[thegeminisage]

okay im BACK in the spirit??? temple??? robot??? factory????? and im done with the last limb. i bet theres a boss. i KNOW theres a cutscene. lets fucking do this

bro this was LLLITERALLY in the trailers how did they put such endgame stuff in and we didnt know!!!

it's so funny. in the trailers we thought flux constructs were gonna be helpful and mineru's body was a boss. but they're bosses and she's helpful lol

god her voice sounds SO familiar

LINK CAN RIDE HER???? OH MY GOD

MECH GAME MECH GAME MECH GAME

oh my GODDD THIS IS WHAT ALL THOSE ARMORIES WERE FOR.......like PLOT WISE!!! i thought it was stupid to just have supplies sitting around

ok thats fucking bananas. im bad at fighting with her bc the enemies are too short lmfao

also im not sure im ready to do this boss thing. maybe i wanna go buy some more battery first...get more practice...

YOU CAN ATTACH A FAN AND DO A NARUTO RUN LOL

god i REALLY suck at fighting in the mech. it's weird! maybe bc i have emitters on her hands and not real weapons?!

oh sick you can give her cannons............

at this point like. i really can just let the gang kill the bad guys lol

the story path seems to be taking me directly to this path i was eyeing last night. i'm getting as far as the lightroot and then peacing out. like. i am getting my ASS beat down here

GLOOM HORRIBLINS?? will wonders never cease...

oooh good call on leaving. i can see a gloom hinox from here that i wouldve had to fight next...i have had more than enough of the story right now anyway, it's time to chill to keep it all Balanced

i bet if i went to lookout landing rn and talked to purah she'd be like I WONDER WHO THE FIFTH SAGE IS. let's try it

awww boo she can't travel with me until i get the secret stone.....

what a BUMMERRRRRR

oh wild!! you can explain about mineru to purah. then why tf cant i explain zelda is a dragon >:(

ok, actually, i decided i wanna go turn in that last claw to help the fucking mother statue or w/e. scary...........................

if im lucky i can just glide/dive there from the nearby tower lol

YOOOO wait dinraal's coming out of her hole...maybe i can snag a piece...

got one! i dont know if ive ever ridden dinraal for an extended period of time before...she is taking me so far from where i wanted to go. sigh

so, while i hate shooting the dragons, i love getting the little spike. i bet it feels sooooo good. like being groomed. a spa day for ms dinraal courtesy of one lunatic nonverbal swordsman

harder to admire the scenery from her back bc of the heat filter. NOT impossible. but harder

ugh there was a blood moon...i couldve gotten such cool pics but i was too slow :(

uh oh we're going down. girl i DONT wanna go back to the depths rn!!!

GOT MY SCALE. i was aiming at her fang but whatever. time to go back to the spring!!! i hope i can make it from here.......

MADE IT. whew. im not staying long idw to encounter any Hands

ok, so back to the mother goddess statue...

oh!!! she's okay again.......

wah she's SPARKLING. i'm welling up a little. it was so upsetting to see her toppled

omg she wants to give me a sword but my belongings are full. if it's the fucking goddess sword which 1. i got from amiibo and 2. MAKES NO SENSE...

well. it is.

finally spent my sage's wills on tulin. his arrows come in clutch and also i wanna go in order lol

i have to quit for now!! more later or tomorrow i suppose

[shyrule]

the construct factory and spirit temple themes make me so-

[aquarianwisp]

Scary/eerie story time

I know Halloween has passed, but today I couldn’t help thinking about something weird that happened to me once. 

A few years ago I was leaving work around 6pm, and it was very dark outside. Usually, when I’d walk to the train station from my work, I’d take a well-lit pedestrian/ bicycle pathway that ran along the train line. Eventually, if I kept following that path for a few minutes, I’d end up at the train station, so this was my everyday routine. Usually, some of my colleagues would be walking down the pathway too, so I’d rarely be alone. But tonight I left last. I worked in an industrial area full of factories, warehouses, car mechanics and smash repairers, so there were no houses in the area at all, and after dark it was completely silent and dead.

That night, however, the usual pathway I took had been blocked off by construction work and I couldn’t get through. There was no other alternative but to go through the winding streets in this industrial area. Unfortunately, there were no street lights, no one around, all the businesses were closed, and it was pitch black and completely silent. It was totally scary to walk through these silent streets. It was a little cold as well, and there was a very slight fog. 

I was walking really carefully, paying attention with all my senses in case someone was hiding in the bushes, or some strange people maybe hanging around the factories at night. I was trying to walk super quietly and even breathe really quietly too, trying to not draw attention to myself. I could barely see in front of me. Suddenly, as I am nearing the end of the road and getting closer to the train station, I heard this really strange and amazing music. 

This music was intoxicating, it compelled me to follow it. It was like music I’d never heard anywhere on Earth. The closest thing I could compare it to might be music that you hear at a temple, as if there was a festival. There were the sounds of symbols, flutes, drums, guitars, singing, clapping...as if every instrument possible was being played, but it sounded otherworldly. Trying to compare it to something else is nearly impossible. I only thought it sounded like temple music because that was the closest thing I could think of, but even then it is not an accurate description of what I heard that night.

I couldn’t resist following the sound, it made me feel excited, curious, and drunk, and without clearly thinking things through, I decided to walk up a road that I know to be a dead end. The road was dark and empty, and I thought maybe there was a temple down the end of the road that I hadn’t discovered or maybe had been recently built. Excited and nervous, I continued down this road, quietly noticing in the back of my mind that there were no cars or lights indicating that people might be gathering and celebrating. But the sound of the drums was so intoxicating that I could feel it pulsing in my blood, and I continued, ignoring the warning signs of danger. 

As I continued on the path, I began to approach the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was then my inner emergency brake suddenly got pulled. As if I was awoken from a trance, I looked up and saw that in front of me was a completely empty and derelict warehouse with boarded-up windows. It was barricaded in by fences of the kind seen at construction sites, and the building looked ready for demolition. And that’s when I realised the music was coming from this empty building. Suddenly, the air felt eerie and cold, and I looked around to see maybe if an event was occurring at the back of the building that I just couldn’t see. But there was no light to create shadows, no candle flickers, and no indication of people around the area. It was just dead. 

And that’s when I realised I nearly got spirited away. I stood there for a second, wide-eyed and chilled to the bone. And then suddenly I turned and ran as fast as I could.  

[scarletknightreterns]

-My TOTK Review pt 1-

I finished the game a while ago now, and even now I’m continuing to play it and collect almost everything while daydreaming about the world, lore, and my Oc’s personal story and how I might revamp her to fit this world more.

There are so so many things I’ve discovered through the game, and even the other day I lost my mind with someone I SUDDENLY realized while looking at the sheikah stealth gear. I’ll get into that in a bit.

So.

I figured I would make a review of my personal thoughts and opinions on the game. It’s too good not to do, and it would be interesting to hear what all y’all think.

—

Things I like:

• The Sky Islands. These are so damn beautiful and a highlight of the game. Not only does the game start off STRONG with the ‘plateau’ and it’s Temple of Time, but there are literally so so many things to do. I love the sky-dive challenges, the mining factory, and that one island that gives the Zonai headdress— I did that a few days ago and thought it was actually very unique!! I live up in the sky so much because it’s just, absolutely serene. Gorgeous. Spectacular and I love collecting all the mushrooms and plants up there.

• The ZONAI!!! Like, holy shit. Nintendo didn’t scrap what BoTW was originally going to be with all that alien tech and Link’s weird arm. I had hoped to see them do something with that, and even I did not expect the Zonai to have such a major part in TOTK. We all thought they were a mysterious tribe of people long long ago- and while they were, they were so so much more. A lot of people seem to have a gripe about the Zonai, being glorified goats that come from heaven or something, but I actually think a lot of their history was purposefully burned away from Hyrule, making them the tribe of ‘brutes’ that BOTW suggested them to be; or we all tenorized. But. My gosh, I love them so damn much?! Rauru is gorgeous and I’m so glad he exists, none of you can convince me otherwise!

• The Constructs. All of them. All of them are beautiful. Yes, I know the Divine Beasts are gone, but I do NOT care when there are these adorable Stewards that I want to hug and keep company because they are lonely and deserve to be appreciated! Also, I can build things?? I can build things. Glory be it’s Minecraft. I love even the Gacha Machines because they are so cool. And the shrines?? Absolutely amazing, in appearance, and even the statues in the end where you get the spirit orbs.

• The Temples. I’m so glad they brought temples back although I really wish there could have been more to them, like, original 8, but all in all, they were beautiful. My favourites had to be the Rito’s War Boat which was super cool, and Zora’s Giant Fish (I forget the names of them, but you know what I mean haha). I was very surprised they added a Spirit Temple, but I’m sad that thatbonly had me build a construct although, in the end, I was sooooooo hype I got to KEEP that construct and ride it 0w0

• Sidon, Teba, Yanobo, Riju. First of all, Sidon is beautiful, Teba is precious child must protect, Yanobo is Yanobo, and Riju has matured and grown up UwU Of course, this is something else that upsets me. While I was super SUPER HAPPY to have them accompany me for the Temples, having merely apparitions of them follow me around, while it’s cool, is just.... it’s very, very upsetting. I was hoping I could select any of them at any time to come with me, have dialogue and say encouraging things. Like, it would be NICE TO HEAR THEIR VOICES WHILE WE EXSPLORE!! Maybe they collect things as well and can even give me things as rewards or shows of speciation. Like, Nintendo could have done SO SO MUCH MORE with them and they DID NOT (don’t mind me I’m just upset because my fishy prince Sidon didn’t get to stay with me in the way I dreamt...) but it’s still cool....

• The Depths. Like, holy holy crap?? Nintendo literally might as well have spent the past.... 5-6 years alone on this place to make it the perfect place it is. It looks unbelievable and there are even little places like the Gerudo Underground Cemetary, and the Gerudo Dark Skeleton. It’s just small things like these that I really really like. There is also the Ancient Underground Fortress which I think is really neat, and speaks to a story. Also, the Lightroots?? Are simply amazing?? I’ve almost gotten them all, not quite, but close! The boss fights you can relive down there are also a nice touch, as well as almost all enemies and their gloom-corrupted forms.

• The new enemeies. I really love the return of more enemies. The Horrorblins remind me of the Bokoblins from TP, very creepy, and actually seeing Gleeoks is a MASSIVE. MASSIVE BOON FOR ME BECAUSE ✨hydra-dragons✨King Gleeok is a B***H to kill tho... not gonna lie. Might try that again later on today :’P also, they added in the silver enemies as well. I never saw those in BOTW because, I think, those were Ballad of The Champtions DLC exclusive. It’s really nice to have tougher enemies— and the Bokoblin’s charge attacks are always annoying. The Lynels are my favourites to fight tho; their horns are soooooooo good for fusing yo the master sword. 60 dang bby, I’m a monster >8)

• We. Can. Actually. Join. The. Yiga. Clan. These fools won’t know what hit them and I’m laughing because they are all such hormonal, love-deprived twats that are so emo and edgy and need more to eat then just bananas. Maybe banana bread. Make them that, and they will be happy. Glory to Master Khoga.

• I finished the Labaryths around last week and. Hellll yaaaahhhh I’m getting my Edgy Teen Ganon vibes ooonnnnn— I literally don’t take this stuff off because. Cape. No excuses just cape. Me fancy, with sorcery! No sword, just sorcery (secret Yiga technique) yeeting fools into the air ehehehehehehehehehehheeh

• Dragons. An actual reason for the dragons, and I love we can collect a bit more from them in terms of the shards, and they don’t just vanish after taking something from them, I can stay of Naydra’s back for hours and take as many scales, horns, claws, fangs as necessary. Also, what’s interesting is, instead of going up, like they did in BoTW, they go down now, into the Depths, which is really interesting to me. They are literally like... Dolphins, hopping in and out of the rifts and I can ride them still while they do so by standing on their snouts B3

• This gets it’s own ping for literally being my favourite. Silver Lizalfos horn. Fuse to master sword. Master Scythe. Nothing more to say~

• Another thing (or rather 3) that gets their own ping for being top of my list despite being alllllll the way down here. Elemental dragon outfits??? I need to get the charged set but I don’t think I can because I got Mineru by my own exploring and mistake and I don’t think I can trigger the side quest.... :’)))) which MAKES ME MAAAAADDDDDDDD—- but flame set ~ my beloved~ dyed purple because purple hair~ Glows in the heat??? My favourite UwU

What else is there...?

Ah yes.

• Koroks. They did not get rid of these little guys but the new quests??? They shouldn’t hav.... I can abuse forest children by attaching them to rockets and launching them into the sky for the greater distance, then bring them to their friend. Also, the new little hidden challenges. I found a dandelion and I was so confused until I touched it XDD they are so creative. Also have you SEEN THE NEW ANIMATION FOR HESTU’S DANCE????? IT’S SO CUTE!!! KOROKS JOIN HIM!! I’M 😭😭😭😭😭

Phew, this is quite long already and there are still things I could list... But I think I will end this here and make another update later on listing the things that SHOCKED ME, and then the things I didn’t like about the game, and finally, the things I terrorize and lore stuff. :>>

[longroadstonowhere]

man, i am so glad i took vacation days to play tears of the kingdom - did a dentist thing so i didn’t start playing until the afternoon, but got some solid work done

... what did i even do today

oh, right

so obviously i picked up where i left off yesterday, with constructing a new... construct body for mineru, and then we went off into the depths to find the spirit temple, and like, i know the construct factory was basically the trials of a dungeon, and the trip over to the spirit temple was the ‘here’s how to utilize mineru’ thing that the other temples got, but i was still kinda hoping it would be more than just a boss fight

but, well, that’s what it was, and it was a decent fight, so i was okay with how that all turned out, especially with mineru pulling together the threads of the story - i’m interested now in seeing how the dialogue changes in these things depending on whether you’ve gotten the master sword or not, because i got it before finishing the sage stuff and therefore got and completed a quest in the same moment, and also mineru talks a lot about it, so it seems like they put a lot of work into making the dialogue understandable while also being dynamic

anyway, did all that, get back to lookout landing cuz i figure okay now we get to go fight the big bad, right?

nope

that whole master kohga plotline that i’ve had on the backburner since like the beginning of the game, i actually have to do it

so most of today’s main quest progress was in fact hunting around for master kohga in various parts of the depths, with a very long detour during the hebra one cuz i had absolutely no idea where the chasm they wanted me to find would be, so i ended up going into the depths and activating all the lightroots in a circle around the hebra mine so that i could focus my attention on where the chasm would have to be

after finally finding the chasm, the final kohga fight went okay - tried to treat it the same as the spirit temple boss fight but i quickly realized mineru wasn’t set up for it and it was way easier to just fight on foot, so i did (managed to finish him off with a rizu thunderbolt which felt extremely cool)

after all that, i have the destroy ganondorf goal all set to go, but i decided to run around and unlock all the great fairies and do the tarrey town quest so that i could get myself a home to put my precious weapons in (cuz i found the biggoron sword, the white sword from skyward sword, and the boomerang from wind waker, and like hell i was gonna let any of them get damaged - i know i can buy them back with poes, but still)

but now i have turned in all my current light blessings, i’ve gotten all the energy cells i can manage, and i’ve done a helluva lot of cooking to prepare myself for what is to come

so tomorrow i can finish this (for the third and final time, hahahaha)

for posterity’s sake: i have twenty one hearts (mostly because i needed to know that was when the next row would start, and holy shit you have the capacity for forty hearts in this one???), two rings and a fifth for stamina wheel, and i believe four full energy cells (very small chance it’s five, but i’ve managed to get away from the game so i can sleep, no way am i checking now, hahaha)

[kaminobiwan]

cannonball

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Throwing all caution out the window, Obi-Wan dives headfirst into a long awaited confession. At least, he tries to. The universe seems to leave an obstacle for him at every turn, but Obi-Wan is nothing if not persistent.

a/n: Oh my goodness, this has got to be my proudest piece. It was one of the victims of the incident™ and I had to rewrite the whole thing from scratch, but I actually think the final version came out better than the original! The title is inspired from the summary of my previous fic Indulgence, but this one is actually the cornerstone of all of my jedi!reader x Obi-Wan fics: every one of those has stemmed from this storyline idea that has been living in my head for so long. Suffice it to say this is THE fic that I have wanted to write from the beginning — my pièce de résistance, if you will.

I hope you enjoy :-) p.s. here's my taglist form

In all the years he’s known you, Obi-Wan swears he only ever started to lie to you during the Clone Wars.

In his defense, he’d been lying to himself, too. Forcibly crushing down his much-deeper-than-platonic favor for you in the hopes that it’d disappear, forgotten in his darkest recesses, was exhausting in more ways than one. One’s mind can only be dishonest with the heart for so long.

But after more than a year and a half into the fighting, he’d felt too many times the choking fear that he’d never see you again — be it because of his death or yours.

So he’d given up in repressing his emotions, and let himself feel. In the precious minutes of reprieve amidst the horrors of combat, sometimes the only thing that could console his jaded and war-torn soul was the memory of you.

He wonders how he managed to continue for as long as he did before allowing himself to consciously love — it was well into the conflict when he came to terms with it. If he closes his eyes, he can easily remember the exact moment.

Geonosis. His return to the forsaken planet.

The chaos of it all had been staggering. He’d barely been able to hear Cody’s warning before he was shot out of the sky, and the crash that claimed the lives of nearly everyone in the transport had been just the beginning of the hellscape he’d endured.

There was an instant where he’d been sure he was going to die on the field, seconds before the remainder of his battalion was about to be overrun.

He remembers the gunfire surrounding him, piercing the falling bodies of his men as he laid helpless and injured. Cody’s shouting amidst the mayhem. The stabbing pain of his ribs that had blackened the edges of his vision. The dirt that had caked his face and armor. The sheer amount of it had been maddening.

And yet, as the bugs had closed in around him and he’d forced himself to his feet to meet his imminent end, the only thing that had run through his mind was...you.

Your name, your face. The dissatisfaction at the fact that the last time he’d seen it, it’d been distorted, static and blue from the holo you’d shared with Master Unduli. The way you’d hidden a smile as she interrupted his competitive jeering with Anakin ahead of the battle.

At least he’d made you laugh, he’d thought, and with that, he’d ignited his lightsaber.

And then the reinforcements had come. And he’d been left to sink back down on shaking knees with the image of you burning in his brain until the concerned presence of Ahsoka materialized at his side.

He hadn’t had any time to process the stunning realization that he was in love with you. He’d scarcely had a second to gather himself before he was already spouting a revised attack plan to take the droid factory, reverting to autopilot the way he always did when he assumed his identity as a war general.

But the universe had seemed intent on not letting him escape it, regardless. Just days later, he’d saved your life — you’d arrived at Point Rain with Luminara only to be taken by the Geonosian queen to be turned into a mindless, shivering zombie.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for that, you know.” You’d chirped, while tapping his nose teasingly.

“What? The stunt with the worms? You know I wouldn’t have actually let it go up your nose.”

“No, for disobeying an order to fall back and leave us behind.”

His heart had clenched at your words. Never in a million years would he abandon you if he thought there was the smallest chance of saving you. He knew that, finally.

But the fear of losing the only life he’d ever known outweighed the fear of losing you, and he’d settled with yearning for you from afar. It would be enough, he’d convinced himself. He refused to burden you with the knowledge that he’d been pining helplessly for you for Force knows how long, and ruin the careers in the Order you’d both worked so hard to construct.

That was, until now.

Until he’d seen Satine Kryze again, after decades apart, and she’d declared her surviving affection for him from all those years ago, Anakin witnessing the whole thing. After he’d seen the weight of her unspoken truth upon her shoulders. And although he regretted that he couldn’t grant her the relief from her wanting, he’d resolved that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days the same way — slowly being crushed by his own supression. Even if his feelings were unrequited.

So he’d decided that he’d tell you, Jedi Code be damned. He wouldn’t hold it in any longer.

As the Coronet docked on the landing pad where the Chancellor was waiting, he’d been jittery with anticipation. That, and disoriented from the events that had transpired on the way there. He’d blubbered uncharacteristically when Satine had caressed his face in farewell, Anakin watching delightedly at his back. Then, as he’d turned to find a speeder to make his way to you in the Temple, the universe had yet again toyed with him — you were there, appearing on the platform out of nowhere like a summoned spirit, but not making your way towards him.

No, you were walking straight towards Satine.

You didn’t seem to notice him or Anakin behind you, welcoming the Duchess with practiced cordiality and leading her to the airbus where the other Senators were boarding, glaringly obvious that you’d been assigned on escort duty. Obi-Wan held back a groan. Of all the Jedi.

Anakin had practically collapsed in hilarity, a hand heavy on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Master,” he crowed. “I finally get that one.”

———

You’re perched high up on a viewing balcony of the Senate Chamber when he finds you, a little before Satine is set to address the Republic.

“You’re certainly off your game today,” you exhale an amused laugh as he skids to a stop, attempting to compose his appearance as he approaches you. “Anakin told me all about what happened on the Coronet en route to Coruscant.”

His blasted Padawan. Obi-Wan could strangle him.

“I didn’t teach him to gossip,” he grumbles, coming to stand beside you. He'd run the whole way here to catch you, but his rapid heartbeat isn’t from physical exertion. You’re as tranquil as ever, though, and your presence relaxes him despite.

You give a snort. “Maybe not intentionally. He definitely learned how to operate outside the lines of the Code by watching you.” He knows you’re poking fun at him, but his breath catches at the mention of the doctrine that dictates you both.

But he’s set on telling you. Today.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something similar.”

You turn to the Chancellor’s podium as his voice reverberates through the hall, but Obi-Wan’s hearing is fixed on you. “Of course, Obi, but it’ll have to wait until later. I think your friend is about to speak.”

He opens his mouth to reply, to bring your attention back to him, but you’re focused on the proceedings. He doesn’t like the jovial way you say friend, as if you’re almost happy about it, but he forces his gaze to follow yours as Satine begins her address.

Which, of course, goes terribly wrong. Because nothing seems to want to work out today.

Even your usually optimistic features are set with a grim expression as a testimonial from Satine’s own Deputy Minister slights her leadership, and the Senate turns against her. As her repulsorpod retreats from the center of the chamber, you cast concerned eyes towards him.

“Go,” you urge him, and he’s frozen between staying or leaving. “She needs you. I’ll buy you some time with the security detail.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to depart from your side, words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he knows you’re right. He nods at you gratefully before chasing after Satine.

———

He tries again in the evening, while you’re between shifts of guarding the Duchess’ guest quarters.

“She seems...interesting,” you nod to the Mandalorian guard that passes by to take your post, speaking low enough that your conversation is relatively private. “She certainly had much to say about you.”

Obi-Wan wanted to scream. It seems everyone had been able to get you alone except for him. “I told you about that year on Mandalore after I came back,” he protests, and you shoot him a pitiful wink.

“Not the way she described it.”

Before he can demand just what Satine had let on, the sound of rapid footfalls draws both of your attention to the guard you’d greeted earlier. “Master Jedi! The Duchess is gone. We don’t know for how long.”

You curse lightly and rush down the hall to follow the Mandalorian, and Obi-Wan is about to do the same when his comm buzzes on his wrist.

He sighs in frustration. He knows exactly who it is.

———

After he’d relayed the untampered evidence to Padmé in time for the Senate convocation and Satine had been released from custody, Obi-Wan makes his way to your quarters in a determined stride. The past couple days were nothing short of a wild Bantha ride from start to finish, and he was tired of tiptoeing around you.

As he raises a shaking hand to knock outside your room, he stalls in a moment of fleeting hesitation. The impending metamorphose of your relationship nags at his brain, and he pauses. What he’s about to do will indelibly transform the dynamic between you, for better or for worse. It dawns on him that there won’t be any going back from this.

He hears your voice from a distant memory of late nights in the Temple gardens, basking in the light of the stars. Of course everything will change. Nothing can stop that.

So be it.

He stands as tall as he can manage, and knocks resolutely.

You open the door looking ready for bed, clad in a billowing camisole, face dewy from the refresher and hair still damp. He smiles at you as you open it wider. “Hello, Obi.”

He shuffles inside, meekly nodding in apology of his interruption. “I thought I’d come see you.”

Like routine, you’re already heating up a pot of water for him as you search for his favorite tea in your cupboard. Ever so thoughtful. His heart flutters beneath his robes. “I’m glad to see you found the Duchess,” you chime lightheartedly, “I had a hunch when you disappeared earlier.”

His hand finds the back of his neck. “I hope I didn’t make you look too bad, being on protection and all.”

You shake your head dismissively. “I was just glad to hear she was safe. You helped save her people from Republic occupation.”

Altruistic honesty radiates off of you, and his chest drops, in a good way. You care, and it’s written all over your actions.

You’re the best person he knows. Without question.

For a split second, Obi-Wan wonders if he even deserves you. But he pushes the thought in the back of his mind for later, hell-bent on not letting anything get in the way of what he wants to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

You face him fully, abandoning the tea as you take in the seriousness of his posture. He sucks in a stunted breath.

“It’s about —”

“I know.”

He startles, momentum lost as you interrupt him suddenly. Your gaze is penetrating. “What?” He asks dumbly.

“It’s about Satine, isn’t it?” Your bare arm comes up across your body to hold the other, and Obi-Wan finds himself staring at the way your too-long pants brush the floor as you sway to one side. Your sleeping shirt brushes the middle of your thighs, and he realizes how utterly small you seem in the moment. “You feel the same way about her that you used to.”

His eyes snap up to yours at your words, mind reeling. It takes him an eternity to force out a single word.

“...No.”

You tilt your head confusedly, and Obi-Wan wants to pinch himself to test if this is some sort of stress-induced hallucination. “No? You do know she’s positively infatuated with you, don’t you?”

“No, I —” he shuts his eyes desperately. “I mean, yes, I know, but I don’t —” he breaks off abruptly, opening his eyes at you with newfound willpower. Blast it.

Obi-Wan crosses the room in three steps, reaching his hands out to cradle you delicately as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

He hears your breath stutter, shock just about vibrating off of you, but in the next second your eyelashes graze his cheeks as you close your eyes and lean into him. His heart pounds in crazed gratification, and Obi-Wan feels downright dizzy from the sensation. He’s going to faint, he’s going to die right here in your arms —

Your hands find the top of his chestplate, fingers curling against it, but after a beat of his body singing with joy, he feels you apply the smallest pressure on his armor. You detach your lips from his slowly, and he blinks dazedly at you when you pull away. Disbelief paints your frame.

“Obi, what —”

“I love you,” he says quickly, hands still on either side of your face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. For so long.” One of your hands reaches up to clasp his own against your cheek. “I know that this goes against everything we’ve ever been taught, and you must be confused. I’m sorry.” He breaks off for a second, eyebrows creasing, because he’s not sorry. He could never be sorry for what he’s just done, not with the feeling of your lips still rippling in tingles through his brain. “But I had to tell you. I just...couldn’t go on without you knowing.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you flounder in his confession, and he studies you with more intensity than he’s felt in ages. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything about you, offhandedly concentrating to memorize every tiny detail. He’ll relive that kiss a thousand times over for the rest of his life if it’s the last one he’ll get.

“I — I don’t know what to say,” you manage to let out, and he presses his forehead to yours before releasing you. Say you love me, his heart cries. But Obi-Wan pushes the sentiment away.

“It’s alright,” he promises gently. You stare at him as he squeezes the hand that’s still holding his. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Obi-Wan, I —”

Whatever you’re about to say is cut off by a loud knock from outside, and the way you jerk back from him pricks at his emotions. You quickly pad to the door, opening it a crack as he attempts to conceal himself from your unexpected visitor.

“Sorry to bother you so late, Master,” Anakin’s voice fills the air, and Obi-Wan shrinks further into the shadows. “I’m just checking in before I leave for Vanquor. I wanted to make sure you’re still available to train Ahsoka while I’m gone?”

It takes you a little to formulate a response, your eyes still wide. “Yes — of course, Anakin, always.” You attempt to shut the door, but Anakin speaks up before you can.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you for some advice as well, if you don’t mind.”

You can’t look at Obi-Wan without giving him away, so he sends a subtle wave of reassurance your way, hoping you pick up on it.

The tension releases from your shoulders, and you nod at his old student. “I’d be happy to. Give me a bit to get ready,” you gesture behind you, “and I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Anakin must nod in return, because you close the door without another word. You reach up to grab your outer robes from where they’re hung on the wall, and turn to him with a tormented expression.

Go, it’s his turn to coax you as he mouths the word silently. It’s alright.

Your eyes are shining with emotion that he can’t quite read in the dim light, but eventually you slip on your cloak and shoes and open the door once more. With one last lingering glimpse at him in the corner, you disappear into the hall where Anakin is waiting.

As he feels your presence dwindling away, he sends a final thought into the vacant room, more to himself and the aching emptiness of the Force than to you.

I love you.

[fleckcmscott]

Fun and Only

Summary: During a night out, Y/N and Arthur bump into someone from Arthur’s past. Y/N tries to decipher him.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,088

A/N: This was a request from the sweet, kind @imdeaddear2! I hope you like it! Thank you for making the request, because I never would have written this scenario without it. 😀 Special thanks to @arthurflecc for the beautiful intro pic! Also, thanks to @hhandley80​ for reviewing the exchange in the middle section!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"Y/N, it's little league season. Know what that means?"

Needing to finish the paragraph she was reading, Y/N raised a finger. The dense case on her desk was a tough assignment; she'd been toiling at it most of the morning. She liked her new position. Truly. But the pace at which she prepared files was slower than she would have preferred. The particulars of labor laws were, well...laborious. Reviewing evidence types she wasn't familiar with took time. It made her impatient. Anxious to soak up all the information she could get her hands on.

But, she supposed, no longer being plagued by guilt for indirectly supporting the Waynes was worth the learning curve.

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her ankles, swinging her foot back and forth as she regarded Terry. While he was incredibly friendly, chatting with everyone and anyone, they remained acquaintances. Periodically, she conferred with him over a motion or sought to get his opinion about the upcoming mayoral election. ("I've seen Wayne's legal bullshit. He's not getting my vote.") Those discussions didn't go far. Usually, he tried to bond over parental matters - she and Arthur didn't even have a plant.

She could tell this was going to be another attempt. "You're doing a fundraiser and I should buy chocolate bars?" she asked.

"Even better." Digging into his too-tight pants pocket, he retrieved a checkbook-sized pamphlet. "The Gotham Squires are selling these to charter a bus for the All-Stars tournament. They're the number two team in the state!" He shoved a photo of his kid at her.

She murmured a polite, "He's all grown-up." He spoke of the team's new uniforms and his nine-year-old's batting average. Half-listening, she flipped through the booklet. It was a coupon collection, mostly two-for-one sales at various restaurants and vouchers for discounted movie tickets, good on weekdays only. They were quite pricey at fifteen dollars apiece. But she was inclined to buy one. The savings might help Arthur practice letting go of his wallet. Allow him to stop worrying about money and indulge a little, the way he deserved.

What made the cash fly from her purse to Terry's palm was the certificate in the back: a half-off deal for Amusement Mile. Satisfaction was written all over her face as she studied the yellow cardstock's terms and conditions, the outline of a circus tent, the faded ink encouraging her to "Enjoy the Ride!" Coming from a rural area, she'd never gone to an amusement park. One had been four or so hours east, but her father had preferred to stay close to home, fearing he might be needed in an emergency.

The annual county fair had been a must. Everyone had worn his or her Sunday Best, the occasional breeze kicking up dirt as they toured the fairground. The rides had been creaky, unsound, and should have been reported to the local safety commission. She'd gone on the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant slide, waving at her parents and hanging onto her burlap sack. One year, Mabel had screamed and cried until Y/N grabbed her hand and led them out of the house of mirrors.

Swinging the mallet as hard as he could, her father had impressed her mother with the strongman game. The puck wouldn't hit the bell. Doily and needlework competitions had been her mother's purview, crafts Y/N had practiced but quickly tired of. She'd preferred the pie contest. Her mouth had watered, hankering for a taste of the first-place winner. The agricultural exhibits had been the largest section, with its prized horses, pigs, and chickens. She'd broken the rules and stuck her fingers in the rabbit cages to feel their soft fur; she'd been bitten once.

Wistfulness wasn't the only reason the theme park appealed to her. There was Arthur's history with it. He kept a postcard of the Ferris wheel pinned to the divider in his writing nook. And he'd described some of the odd jobs he'd done. Carrying boxes of merchandise, filling in for other clowns, picking up litter (and keeping the returnables). It hadn't been steady, merely hours offered to him if he'd inquired. But it'd given him pocket change. Enough to buy cigarettes and keep the utilities on for another month.

The week had been warm up till now, and the good weather was expected to continue. He loved taking her to new corners of the city, had ever since their first date. Introducing her to his old stomping ground wouldn't take a lot of convincing.

When she got home, he was perched on the sofa, clad in a thermal shirt and a pair of her too-short pajama bottoms. (A funny combination that meant their laundry was in the machine.) Elbows on his knees, journal on the coffee table, and pen at the ready, his concentration was plain to see. The discipline he had to pursue his dreams, the way he studied comedy specials on TV was admirable. She got a glass of water and smiled at his ill-timed laughter. That he didn't understand the host's humor was logical. Roasts were usually unkind. While Arthur's jokes weren't always funny, they weren't mean-spirited.

She crouched next to him, peppered kisses along his shoulder. His damp curls brushed her cheek, and she breathed in the zesty musk of his shampoo. "I wouldn't waste too much effort on this guy," she said. Her caress followed the freckles on his bare forearm, feeling the muscle flutter under her fingertips. "He's kind of an asshole."

"The audience helps me figure out the timing." He muted the television, lips quirking. "You like some of his songs."

"He makes a better singer than comedian," she rebutted with a peck.

They went over their respective days, how his earlier appointment went, the paperwork she'd done. Tuna casserole was their choice for dinner, and Arthur put on an LP while they cooked. Once the dish was in the oven, she hugged him close. "I have an idea for Thursday night." She went over the Amusement Mile discount, enthused about his expertise, reveled in how her praise softened his features and brightened his eyes. "I'd love it if you took me around. Taught me all the magic behind the scenes. And I'm dying to see where you do your street performances." She massaged the nape of his neck. "Maybe I'll stop by and give you a tip."

Crooked tooth peeking out, he nodded. Then he grasped the counter on either side of her hips and pressed his forehead to hers. "That sounds great."

~~~~~

A small memorial flowerbed, filled with alternating swirls of white gardenias, purple pansies, and yellow daffodils, was situated just beyond the park's main entrance. The marble fountain bubbling in the center reminded Y/N of a bird bath. It was modest, from a bygone era in which the wealthy hadn't dared to flaunt their fortunes for fear of strikes. The bronze plaque declared the city's thanks to Benjamin Wayne for funding Amusement Mile's construction during the height of Gotham's industrial boom. Before most of the factories had fled. Before times had become tough for the majority Gothamites. It was annoying, how the Waynes had their fingers in everything. She hoped not one nickel of what they spent tonight went into their bank accounts.

Arthur paid it no mind. His head was tipped back a degree or two, his clear green eyes darting from attraction to attraction. Smoking was one of his habits she disapproved of. But she couldn't dispute how attractive he was, puffing the cigarette dangling from his puckered lips. The chestnut tones of his brown hair were brought to the fore by the grounds' multi-color lighting, and a lock or two fell over his temples. The loose curls at his neck bounced with each step, a boyish buoyancy to his gait.

Her stomach growled as soon as the aroma of fair food hit her. They picked a booth that claimed it sold Gotham's original franks. He asked to order for her. She let him, watching as his grin widened and he stated, "Four hot dogs for my girlfriend and me, please. With relish and mustard." Then they shared a candy apple, taking turns nibbling at the fruit's hard, sugary shell. Its juice dribbled onto her pale pink top, staining the embroidered neckline. Her groan of disapproval became giggling as he stole chaste kisses, wiping her off as she chewed.

His palm at the small of her back, guiding her as they walked down the midway, fanned a glow in her heart. He'd made headway when it came to displaying his affection in public, though he still tended towards timidity. Early on, she'd concluded his reticence had nothing to do with her - he never pulled away if she grabbed at him. He was simply a gentleman.

Most examples he followed were from an older era, one lost to the bluntness of the eighties. Those moments he'd let himself go, when he'd make it clear they were a couple, lifted her spirit. Not only due to the pride she felt at being on his arm, but also because it meant he was finding his own way. Arthur wasn't a shy suitor or a contemporary romantic hero. Rather, he was somewhere in the middle. Old fashioned, through and through, with threads of modernity woven into his fibers.

As they strolled, they stumbled onto a black and white photo booth. She sat on its cracked wooden stool and tried to tug him inside. But he wanted a picture of her, he said. To put in his wallet. To look at if he was having a bad day and wasn't at home. Her response was to snag his collar and yank him to her lips. Snorting, he shut the nylon curtain. At the clink of quarters in the coin slot, she straightened her puffed, cap sleeves and fixed her hair in the scratched featherweight mirror. The camera's flashes blinded her, but she thought she'd managed to smile naturally enough.

Before she had a chance to stand, he whipped open the drape and showed her the strip of portraits. "I knew I was dating the prettiest woman in the city. Maybe even the sweetest."

She cupped his cheeks as she stepped out. Rubbed the tip of her nose to his. He was unfailingly generous. Too generous. While she was fine with her appearance, she wouldn't win a beauty pageant. Hell, she wouldn't even be a runner-up. Or a contestant. And sweet was one of the last words she'd use to describe herself. But she wasn't going to correct him. "And I found the handsomest, funniest man." His stare was wide-eyed. After releasing a stuttering breath, he pulled her along.

Upon entering the gaming area, he slung his arm around her waist. Mischief laced his whisper as he spilled secrets. The darts for the balloon pop were dull, the balloons underinflated. He advised her to stay clear of the baseball and milk bottle stand, saying, "The bottom bottles have lead in them. You'll never knock them over."

Then he warned her off the ring toss, saying the rings were too small to win the best prizes. She decided to take her chances, regardless, and paid the attendant. Arthur tutted gently as she gave him the last ring, having already wasted four.  A step to the side, then he paused to line up his throw. A short clap announced his victory. The prize options included a dinky toy car and a rubber snake. She picked a plastic, red keychain, embossed with "I was Amused in 1982" and the silhouette of a coaster. It was an improvement over her old car dealership tag. "I'll think of tonight whenever I see it."

Gaze fixed on her mouth, he sighed happily. He began to reach towards her, his arm raised ever so slightly-

"Art!" a rich baritone called. "Hey, Art!"

Arthur flinched. She moved to peer behind him. The approaching man was tall, his balding head half a foot higher than Arthur's. A blue and red flannel shirt with gray trousers covered his portly physique. Confidence oozed from him with every stride, a pleasantly surprised smirk on his round face.

Y/N's interest was piqued. Unless it was someone who remembered Arthur from Live! with Murray Franklin, no one ever approached him on the street. And she hadn't heard him be referred to by anything other than his proper name (besides Penny's terrible "Happy.").

But his reactions concerned her. Arthur's back tensed as the man closed in, stopping a yard away. "Hi, Randall."

"How's my boy been?" Randall asked jovially, hands at his sides. "Gary told us about your mom. Could you use a little cheering up?"

Arthur blinked faster than usual. "No. She's okay. And I feel a lot better now."

"Oh. Well, good for you," Randall said.

Going back and forth between them, she tried to puzzle out their dynamic. Their familiarity was obvious. Randall seemed caring enough, although she found it odd he'd referred to her thirty-five-year-old partner as "boy." Arthur had mentioned Gary was a former colleague. It would make sense Randall was, too.

He threw her a glance. "Hey, you have family visiting. Is this your cousin?"

She brushed off the assumption and extended her hand. "I'm Y/N L/N. His girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah. The paralegal." He shook it firmly before addressing Arthur again. "Gary said you finally got a date."

The pat to Arthur's bicep was a little too hard, jolting his stiff frame. The set of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils betrayed a turmoil she hadn't initially picked up on. She touched his hand but he shoved it in his pocket.

All right. She had to get to the bottom of this. It was hard to ascertain if his current reaction was due to his social challenges (which could cause discomfort) or Randall's words. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, she and Patricia teased each other whenever they met for lunch or chatted on the phone. A good ribbing was needed every once in a while.

Starting a cross-examination in front of Arthur would contribute to his unease. After a moment's deliberation, she nudged him. It took a couple of tries to get his attention. "Would you please get us a large lemonade?" His brows rose, anxiety in the wrinkles of his forehead. She stretched to kiss his temple. His eyes narrowed but he got the hint, scuffing his shoe and glowering at Randall as he walked off.

When Arthur rounded a corner by the water pistol race, she lounged on one of the booth's metal poles. "Have you known Arthur long?"

Randall nodded in the direction Arthur had gone. "We worked at HaHa's. I'm a clown, too. We did parties, the children's hospital, store openings."

"Arthur loved that job." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's too bad the slow season hit. But he's doing pretty well on his own."

Confusion crossed the big man's visage. "Uh, yeah. The slow season." He chuckled, then. "Anyway, you and Art, huh?"

Smiling broadly, she folded her arms over her chest. "Yes, me and Art."

"Pretty serious, huh?"

If he wanted gossip to bring back to the workplace, she'd gladly give him some. Especially if it reflected well on Arthur. "We live together. It's been great."

"No kidding." With a sardonic grin, he shook his head. "A woman like you. I didn't know he had it in him. It was always just him and his mom. Talked about stand-up sometimes. Mostly kept to himself, though. Never really talked much." Randall shrugged lightly. "But we liked him. He did all the shitty jobs no one wanted and never complained."

Arching a brow, Y/N felt her suspicions grow. While Arthur was learning to disagree and contradict her without hesitation, he nevertheless had the inclination to go along. It was plausible he hadn't argued about gigs. Had they taken his preferences into account?

Then Randall confirmed her skepticism, saying in a jokey tone, "That laugh really got everyone going, too. And his laminated cards. We had a pool on whether it was part of his act. I mean, him being in Arkham and all, who knows what the fuck he could have come up with?"

Deciphering what kind of man stood in front of her was suddenly uncomplicated. She'd run into his type all too often. They lurked in garages and offices. Diners and restaurants. Courtrooms on both sides of the bench. People with no real power who walked on others. Persons who threw their weight around to feel in charge. Bullies who hid behind a veneer of kindness.

She understood why he'd called Arthur "boy."

What she said had to be chosen carefully. Randall and Arthur worked in the same field, likely competed for clients. If her big mouth came back on Arthur, she wouldn't forgive herself. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and forced her voice to stay professional. "If you liked him, wouldn't you have split the less desirable jobs with him? I'm sure he didn't like being taken advantage of."

His looked at her in disbelief. "Hey, he was paid fair and square, like all of us."

"And he understands how to speak to a 'woman like me' more than you ever will." A sharp exhale as her cheeks burned. "From what Arthur has said, you could learn a lot from Gary. Please tell him hello from us and have a good evening." With that, she headed off to find Arthur, ignoring Randall's lame attempts to call her back.

Arthur was in line when she spotted him. He stepped forward and pointed to the menu. As she approached, she noticed how he fidgeted with his cigarette, tapping it repeatedly though there was no ash. The subtle tremble in his knee. If he continued to carry himself so tightly, his muscles would cramp.

Clearing her throat, she slipped behind him and hugged his back. "Did you have to deal with that insufferable know-it-all every day?"

He grabbed the proffered cup from the clerk and headed to a nearby table. Plunked himself down and took a drag off his smoke. Stress poured off him, clear in every flex of his fingers. His palm went to his stomach as he practiced controlling his breathing. "What- What did he tell you? That everyone thought I was a freak? How much I fucked up?" His voice lowered then, barely above a whisper. She could tell he was talking to himself. "The hospital?"

"Enough to know he was a jerk. I'm glad you're not there anymore." She put her chin on his shoulder. Watched him take a sip of lemonade. "Nothing he said matters, but I told him how important you are to me." She tucked a hair behind his ear, and he leaned into her touch. Their gazes met, his shining in the dim light. The evening had been fantastic so far. She wasn't going to let some asshole ruin it. "Come on," she urged, jutting her hip towards him. "We still have half the park to explore."

~~~~~

About a third of the way through their ride on the Mad Hatter, Amusement Mile's famous coaster, Y/N realized eating had been a mistake. A big one. Thrown to a fro in the sharp curves, she could nearly taste the bile in the throat. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, willing her nausea to pass. For his part, Arthur appeared exhilarated, laughing with every peak and valley. Seeing that happiness was a gift, one that gratified and partially distracted from her queasiness.

Fortunately, the enclosed cabins on the Ferris wheel were a respite. They waited an extra turn to board the outer wheel, which rotated at a leisurely pace and allowed her stomach to settle. The view from the top was beautiful, Gotham Cathedral's lit spires and the Westward Bridge prominent against the night sky. Wayne Tower was also visible, but she did her best to ignore the high-rise and its gaudy "W." He pointed in the direction of Burnley and said, "There's our home." She was unexpectedly moved. Then he kissed her soundly, which quickly advanced to mild necking when the wheel paused.

The carousel was antique, according to the sign. The only original attraction left in the park. A massive wooden structure with a mirrored center, it had three rows of horses, broken up by the occasional bench. He stepped onto the gray platform and picked one, painted red and yellow, roses etched along its back. But she climbed a nearby leaping horse instead, its black mane and tan body faded by years of sunlight.

He quirked a dark brow until she beckoned him with a nod. Cheeks pink, countenance tender in the lingering blinks of the incandescent bulbs, he followed suit. "Hang onto me," she instructed. As the calliope's whistles began their jaunty tune, he cupped her hips and pressed into her. A flutter tickled her stomach. She reclined against him, let her eyes fall shut as his warmth surrounded her. Round and round they went, chuckling airily. Not at any jokes or amusements, but at the joy of one another.

Arthur picked the last ride, an old mill called Romantic River Caves. She had to stop herself from snickering at the idea of a middle-aged woman and her nearly-middle-aged boyfriend cruising along in something built for teenagers. But he delighted in cliches and corniness, a preference she attributed to his inexperience and kind nature. Though such gestures hadn't thrilled her since she was a girl, she appreciated them with him.

The boats were short and narrow, just wide enough for the two of them to sit side-by-side. Curved backrests encouraged cuddling. Off-key versions of old standards played through tinny speakers. Myriad displays were inside, a mix of plaster dioramas and paintings. Two swans swimming, their beaks touching. A couple on a picnic under a tree. Bouquets and hearts galore. There were five or so seconds of darkness between each one. He took advantage of those breaks, kissing her again and again until she was breathless.

She scanned the starry painting above them, the comets' trails stretched across the tunnel's ceiling. "It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Twenty-five? Thirty years?"

"Me, too. I snuck in when I was a kid. To see the circus and the merry-go-round." He smoothed his hair back, pressed his legs tighter together. "When I moonlighted here, I could've gone on the rides and to the shows. I- I didn't want to alone."

He paused and she put her palm on his thigh. Gave him an encouraging squeeze. "That postcard I have?" he said. "By my desk? It was in my locker at HaHa's." His fingers covered hers, tips tracing her knuckles. "It's good to have a person to have fun with. To have you."

She beamed at that sentiment, for she felt it, too. Yes, she'd been complete on her own. No, she hadn't been lonely. But he added to her existence. Introduced her to activities and experiences she hadn't previously considered or realized she'd needed. Going to a comedy club. Dancing despite her lack of skill. Or enjoying vulnerability during quiet conversations in their bedroom rather than fearing it. He'd broadened her life in ways she was still discovering. And he regularly told her she'd bettered his. "You're my favorite ride," she said.

A sharp snort left him, followed by a bashful chuckle. He shook his head. "You're crazy."

"I didn't mean that." She batted his chest playfully. Tried to cross her legs under the safety bar. "This relationship we've started." Light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the shallow pool's grimy floor coming into view as the water level fell. Soon they'd be amongst the crowd. "Remember when I said we'd never be perfect? I like our imperfections. They fit. Like..." She contemplated. "A pen and paper. They're good on their own but they're best together." Cringing, she covered her face. "God, that didn't even make sense. A pen needs paper."

"Didn't you say you needed me?" he teased, pulling her hand from her brow to place it on his sternum. "I don't mind being your paper." Blushing, Y/N turned to him when he cupped her jaw. Ran his thumbs over her cheeks. She joined him in ignoring the attendant's instruction to disembark. Arthur kissed her, a delicate graze to her mouth before he drew her bottom lip between his. "You're the best ride, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @howdylilflower​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @64-crayon​

[nicklloydnow]

"From the start, this process has involved a certain impulse of the soul away from its first organic, local shelters and toward more abstract citadels of certitude. With this, inevitably, has come a certain estrangement from life. Hence this impulse has often expressed itself as the pursuit of a wisdom that transcends the world, a quest for release or moksha, a contemptus mundi that frequently becomes a neurotically fastidious fear of being touched. The impulse reaches an extreme expression in those virtuosos of despair whom the developed religions regard as holy or wise or uniquely illumined. These are souls for whom the absolute exaltation of a single incorruptible principle of spiritual “truth” is a call to unremitting remorse, a measureless psychic labor of repentance, a search for ultimate release only in a realm beyond the triviality of common humanity. The mystic in a state of fused contemplation has returned to something like that aboriginal, intra-uterine state of “floating”—but now in the “womb” of the One God, which is the most impregnable sphere of immunity imaginable.

(...)

The Christian story brings this history to one of its epochal watersheds. In the Gospel there is a radical assault upon all the mediating structures of patriarchal authority—all the religious and social institutions, all the established offices of pedigree and privilege, all the nested stations of kin, people, kingdom, empire, and priesthood—by the individual soul’s claim of an immediate filiation to the One God. For Sloterdijk, Christ is “God’s bastard,” the Father’s natural child, as it were, conceived and born outside all legitimate lines of inheritance and all licit structures of authority. And his anti-patriarchal revolt became in time a license granted to every soul: now each of us, in our individual humanity, liberated by this social and spiritual apostasy, can become God’s bastard too, someone in whom God directly dwells as Father. At the same time, and by the same logic, a new order of social and political desire was implanted in human nature: that of “infinite egalitarianism,” a passage from the psycho-politics of command and obedience to one of equal self-determination, the transformation of vertical into horizontal difference.

Here again Sloterdijk’s favored image is exorcism, which should be understood, he believes, as a kind of purification of a sacred space, a cleansing of the Temple. The soul was once conceived “neither as a theater nor as a factory, as is typical of the modern age, but rather as a sanctuary in which no image was allowed to be on display except that of the god-man—whose image, in turn, had to represent an indescribable God.” In driving out the more elemental spiritual forces that once reigned with such capriciousness in nature, society, and the soul, the One transcendent principle of the Axial Age also became the source of a sovereign selfhood. This is because the expulsion of evil spirits from the soul had to be completed by the subsequent “entrance of a bright principle, which, as warden of the purified soul, became its new monitor and source of inspiration.” The soul thus underwent a change of possession: now it was the Spirit of God himself that was at work within it.

This purification of the self’s inner precincts may have been a thoroughly religious experience, but it was also a crucial episode in the history of Enlightenment, and thus of secularization. For, when that most elevated of sheltering spheres finally shattered—as it had to do—the sovereign self became the sole remaining sanctuary of whatever mysteries might be left. All the other possibilities of shelter had been successively exhausted, and had then been assumed into that ultimate transcendence, and had finally disappeared with it.

(...)

In any case, the old pieties and enchantments are irretrievable. With no God to watch us, there really is no sin to be resolved before his gaze, and so no power that can reconcile us to, or rescue us from, indecipherable fate. The modern human being wants not to obey a higher power but to be that power. As soon as God and the soul had been liquidated, we were left with only the world as a brute event. In this “hyper-immanent” space, a purposeless energy idly unfolds around us, with no fingerposts to guide us across the featureless terrain. The world has truly become a monster to us, and we, far from finding shelter in any redoubtable spheres of co-immunity, discover only that the controlled exodus toward final freedom that was promised to us by the myth of Enlightenment has proved instead to be a precipitate slide toward social and ecological disintegration, psychic vagrancy, and what Sloterdijk calls an unsheltered “heteromobility.”

(...)

Sloterdijk identifies three kinds of immune system that he regards as necessary for human existence: the biological (naturally), the social (which consists of solidarity and shared support), and the symbolic or ritual (which grants human beings power from higher sources whenever they feel themselves to be powerless). The third of these has been weakened irreparably by secularization and individualism, while the second has been subjected to continuous dilutions and dissolutions. We still have not discovered any efficient system of co-immunity for the global society that is now emerging, or devised any new shelters against the monstrosity of a world of empty fate.

(...)

Rather than an attempted retreat into an irrecuperable past, what Sloterdijk believes we really require is a new sphere of solidarity that can encompass all life, a shelter strong enough to create a robust co-immunity for the defenseless whole: global society, animal and vegetal life, nature, the earth itself. Religion has been irretrievably lost as a binding system of values, so we need a new piety devoted to, and sustained by, the oneness of the earth that we inhabit, share, and depend on. As far as Sloterdijk is concerned, moreover, the history of revelation—if one may use that word—has continued to the present day, and there are many things we have learned on the way to modernity, such as the nobility of the individual soul’s “proud” search for a system of personal freedom. These are lessons we must not forsake or let ourselves forget if we are to create a habitable future. For him, they constitute a “Newer Testament.”

(...)

What might Christians make of any of this story? Why should they care? Well, to begin with, they should acknowledge that Sloterdijk, in confirming Nietzsche’s diagnosis of God’s death in the developed world, is doing nothing more than stating an evident fact of history. The disappearance of that transcendent horizon of meaning and hope within whose commodious embrace just about all persons and cultures once subsisted is simply a fait accompli. The frantic extremism of the fundamentalisms and religious nationalisms and crypto-fascist integralisms of our current moment poignantly attests to the inconceivability for late modern culture of a God who is anything other than the construct of either the will to power or a desperate emotional need. None of them is a true sign of a revival of faith; all of them are only the hideous contractions of a deepening rigor mortis. And inasmuch as the genuinely living Christianity of the past was the vital wellspring of “Enlightenment” in the Western world, the departure of that Christianity from Western culture has carried away all those earlier possibilities of “co-immunity” that it had summed up in itself.

Epochs of the spirit are not reversible, or even susceptible of recapitulation. This is an Hegelian insight that no one should doubt: great historical and cultural transitions are not merely ruptures, but also moments of critique. The rationality of history lies in the ceaseless triumph of experience over mere theory, and so in the impossibility of any simple return to pre-critical naïvetés. Sooner or later, just about every cultural economy is defeated by its own inner contradictions, barring interruption of this natural process by a sudden foreign conquest. And the new order that succeeds it is probably no freer from contradictions of its own, which will be exposed in their turn. More to the point, every cultural order’s collapse is also the exhaustion of the synthesis that that culture embodied. Innocence yields to disenchantment, and disenchantment cannot revert to innocence.

Certainly this has proved so in the case of Christendom and its sequel, secularization. The Christendom of the empire or the nation state, being an alloy of two ultimately irreconcilable principles, inevitably subverted itself. It persisted for as long as it did by virtue of a genuinely organic cultic devotion with a durable practical and theoretical infrastructure. But its inherent contradictions ultimately destroyed that basis. The language and principles of the Gospel frequently illuminated the society that cherished them; the offices and powers of the state consistently sheltered, preserved, and advanced the religion that legitimated them. But the alliance was a suicide pact. The most devastating solvent of Christendom, in the end, was the ineradicable presence of Christianity within it. The corrosive force most destructive of Christianity as a credible source of social order was in the end the crushing burden of Christendom upon it.

(...)

As for the liberal secular order that succeeded Christendom, its own inner stresses and volatilities are all too obvious. In the economic realm, it has created prodigies of material production and destruction, as well as forms of power and oppression on a scale formerly unimaginable. In the social realm, it has created ceaseless struggles among incompatible visions of the good while providing no clear transcendent index of values for adjudicating their conflicts. For better or worse, it has eliminated or marginalized almost all mediating or subsidiary forms of social agency and reduced meaningful social order to the interdependent but necessarily antagonistic claims of the state, capital, and the sovereign individual. And Sloterdijk is quite right: under such conditions, we have little defense against the ecological and social calamities that we have created for ourselves. So, again, given these realities, what ought Christians to do?

Certainly, what they should not do is indulge in sickly nostalgias and resentments, or soothe their distempers with infantile restorationist fantasies. History’s immanent critique has exposed too many of the old illusions for what they were, and there can be no innocent return to structures of power whose hypocrisies have been so clearly revealed. There are any number of reasons, for instance, for dismissing the current vogue of right-wing Catholic “integralism”: its imbecile flights of fancy regarding an imperial papacy; its essentially early-modern model of ecclesial absolutism; its devotion to a picture of Christian social and political order that could not be any less “integralist” or any more “extrinsicist” and authoritarian in its mechanisms; the disturbingly palpable element of sadomasochistic reverie in its endorsement of various extreme forms of coercion, subjugation, violence, and exclusion; the total absence of the actual ethos of Christ from its aims; its eerie similarity to a convention of Star Trek enthusiasts gravely discussing strategies for really establishing a United Federation of Planets. But the greatest reason for holding the whole movement in contempt is that it is nothing more than a resentful effort to reenact the very history of failure whose consequences it wants to correct. Secularity was not imposed upon the Christian world by some adventitious hostile force. It simply is the old Christendom in its terminal phase."

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 364: X.Y.R.

X.Y.R. is among my absolute favorite purveyors of transportive balearica, soothing synth ambient, and mysterious fourth world, and ahead of writing about his epic, mystical, and deeply zoned out Pilgrimage LP on Not Not Fun, I’d like to take some time to write about the artist’s Tourist, which saw a cassette repress by Ingrown Records a few months ago, after originally being released by the label on vinyl back in 2017. X.Y.R.–real name Vladimir Karpov–has explored a range of fantastical and otherworldly textures across his discography, whether through his increasingly psychedelic collaborations with Not Not Fun, or through releases such Robinson Crusoe (Lost Soundtrack), El Dorado, and Artika, all of which explore sonic narratives both mythical and imagined. But amongst all the shades and styles he has worked with, I am perhaps most fascinated by his journeys into tropical dreamworlds and horizontal paradises, such as those found on the Big Calm cassette. And in many ways, Tourist was a spiritual successor to that album, as both releases perfectly soundtrack lazy days spent at seaside, with music that is seemingly meant to evoke the feeling of swaying in a hammock strung between two palm trees, as warm salt-air, rhythmic waves, and perfumes from exotic flowers lull the mind into a meditative state of bliss. As always, X.Y.R. colors over his beloved Formanta-Mini and Alisa1387 analog synthesizers with pedal fx, an RC-20 loop station, and field recordings, while also giving space to the guitar of Dmitriy Borodin on album opener “Celler Florida Fiesta.” And just as on the vinyl release, Alexandr Dimov’s evocative artwork graces the cover, with his visage of a fisherman gazing at some glorious sunset perfectly encapsulating the album’s paradisiacal evocations of a relaxing island escape.

X.Y.R. - Tourist (Ingrown Records, 2017 / 2020) In opener “Celler Florida Fiesta”, percolating synthesizers shimmer like Carribean crystals, only as if seen through a mirage of seafoam. Vocalized bass textures fade in and mechanical loops click, pulse, and breath while bird whistles flutter at the edge of the mix. Reverb-soaked field recordings move around the periphery as the synths occasionally lock into playful tropicalisms that pull my mind the work of Hosono…these bleary and blurry themes of child-like wonderment and equatorial ecstasy. Everything is held together by hushed rhythms of reverberating click and clack, while fourth world hooks whoosh back and forth between pan-pipes and whistles. And by the end, the abstracted tropical loops and drunken themes of seaside mirth begin to suggest an android’s approximation of an island lullaby. The swirling warmth of “Bon Voyage” follows, with organic bass thumps and hissing cymbals flowing through dub delay chains. New age synthetics smear and smoldering subsonic waves work through melodies of equatorial splendor, with looping phrases bathing the mind in a summer sunshine glow. Reggae-hued textures spread outwards amongst echoing chord bursts, hazy heatwave pads diffuse in from distant horizons, and as the basslines recede, white noise whispers and sighing seed shakers add polyrhythmic movement. Soviet-era synths cycle through mermaid melodies that dance across the stereo field, and bass notes swim dreamily in one ear, only to have starscape leads resume their phrase on the other side of the spectrum. 

Pads hover amidst bubbling liquids at the outset of “Bathyscape Journey,” and dreamspace synth circulations merge with white noise shaker patterns. ASMR clicks and electroacoustic whispers flutter as those hovering pads reach towards an impossibly beautiful horizon, and faded whistles emerge to lead a relaxing island sway. The mix overflows with texture and movement as underwater gemstones generate sparkles that trail off to the far reaches of the stereo field, and lush layers of reverb create an otherworldly effervescence…as if the entire mix is bathed in softened layers of pearlescent fizz. Deep chords evoke a choir of masculine sea sprites, and something in the melodies recalls the folk music of the southeastern Pacific. Tapped cymbals evoke drumsticks splashing into metalloid pools of static and further folksy whistles melt over the mix, which increasingly evokes a psychedelic paradise of tropical wonderment, wherein colorful creatures of the seafloor play strange woodwinds of shell and coral while analog cloudforms swirl all around. Next comes “Mountain Drift” and the sounds of breath, children, and bubbling synth pulsations that increasingly grow in magnitude. Insectoid rattles are heard far away and blurring layers of squarewave synthesizer intermingle, as dazzling phrases and interlocking echo patterns flow in from all directions. Mystical temple melodies evoke an ancient forest shrouded in fog, but the sounds of humanity are never far from reach, as snippets of childlike chatter coalesce with birdsong and industrial factory detritus. I’m reminded at times of the distinctive new age and environmental ambient of Inoyama Land, as well as of minimalism, due to the increasing presence of bouncing curlicues. kinetic echo cycles, and psychoactive sound loops.

In “Captain’s Pipe,” avian conversations surround soft focus synth melodies that move through longform ascents and descents. Harmonious wavefronts of organ-esque tonality bath the body in ecclesiastical light and sequencers constructed from ocean crystals dazzle the mind, with time signatures not quite aligning, and thus creating a vibe of daydream intoxication. Keys buzz in the left ear and voices speak in the distance, and though I know not the title’s origin, I like to imagine it as the name of some café deep in the jungle…a sort of harmonious glow of life and culture in the heart of a rainforest, with people basking in tropical melodics and conversing about nothing at all while birds paradise flit from tree to tree. Flowing seamlessly into “Euphoria,” heavenly tones quiver like Spacemen 3, only as if heard underwater and surrounded by bubble clouds that erupt from seafloor vents. Space age whistles and meditative pads whisper together until suddenly, the track develops into a fully formed island groove, one that sees equatorial basslines thumping, shakers sketching out rhythms of seaside mesmerism, and synthesizers harmonizing together, with tones ghostly, otherworldly, and again recalling the worlds of City Pop (think Wonder City Orchestra and Jun Fukamachi’s ambient work). Wavering leads dance around the spectrum while being tracked by percussive sparkles and elsewhere, bubbling currents flow upwards before dispersing into shards of light. Eventually, those groovy basslines recede as seasick synth work diffuses into the mix, but it’s a false ending into whirlpool of angelic shimmers and metallic wisps, for soon enough, the thumping bass jam returns, bringing with it atmospheres of a thrilling seaside sashay.

Reverberating voices sit above a drunken bass gallop in “Cocktail Party,” as if meant to suggest a futuristic saloon town by the sea. Thudding percussions underly the bass motions while tropical hazes flutter in and out of focus…all while vibrato atmospheres cycle through strange patterns. Percussive pads mimic steel drums, smears of feedback arc in the distance, and the beats cut momentarily before dropping back in, with the body falling ever further into the loping sway. There’s a touch of Ethiopian music intermingling with spaghetti western soundtrack work, and at times the vibe presages the more blissful and balearic moments from SiP’s Leos Naturals. And later, further melodic layers descend to create harmonizing polyrhythms as the titular cocktail party precedes somewhere deep in the mix. The glimmering synthesizer wavefronts of “Coconut Haze” emerge from crowd chatter, while slow motion loops whirl around bass pulses that are felt more than heard. Strings synths diffuse into clouds of gas and heatwave leads flutter upwards while lullaby arpeggiations sit deep in the background ether…their subdued rhythms eventually enhanced by ceremonial drums and tambourine jangles. Electronics evoke the feeling of being surrounded by a summer storm, with gentle layers of resonance joining together and generating soft spiritual howls. The body sways back and forth on the paradise rhythms, and hissing textures of pink noise and serene static surround the spirit, again evoking a cleansing bath of rainfall. Closer “Vanishing Point” begins with garbled electronics and reversing streaks of angelic radiance–the vibe gentle at first–but growing increasingly strange was the track progresses. Tapped cymbals and tambourines flow in as arps made of glowing glass fire across the spectrum, generating dazzling light patterns that seem to emanate from some unseen center. Berlin school textures are filtered into vaporwave crystals before ascending on currents of rainbow energy, and the melodies are enhanced with a sense of wistful nostalgia akin to 50s pop…like a paradise remembered, or perhaps only dreamed.

(images from my personal copy)

[padawanprotege]

Hi everyone. After stumbling upon a beautifully chaotic Jedi Oc I became inspired to write a fic about my own Oc making a new friend. After many early morning and late night discussions, I finally came up with a little something on how Jedi Knight Ayelet Ebele and Master Tiin Orat first met.

Tiin Orat belongs solely to the lovely @queenofbeskar​, and this fic is dedicated to them for inspiring me.

Into the Forests of Arorua

Arorua was an inconsequential planet in the Sertar Sector. Being a back-water world in the Outer Rim regions, meant that the Galactic republic often overlooked the lone planet. However recent reports of regular separatist movement on the forest-covered world had sparked immediate action. Upon investigation, a small stealth team confirmed the presence of separatist battle droids, along with the location of a new droid factory still under construction.

Once the news had reached the Jedi council, the members of the High Council wasted no time and immediately summoned the 822nd Battalion General, Jedi Master Tiin Orat along with the Young Jedi Knight Ayelet Ebele.

“Scouts have confirmed the presence of a separatist base on Arorua. We can waste no time in dealing with this threat. If the separatists are given the chance to complete the construction of their new droid factory, they could easily seize control of the surrounding systems.” Mace Windu announced, comfortably slouched back in his chair as he addressed the two Jedi standing before him. Around him sat many empty chairs, some filled with the blue projection of a hologram but most lay dormant. A telling sign of the growing demands of the war.

“Suit you well this mission will, Master Orat.” Master Yoda chimed in, pointing to the Zabrak hybrid with the end of his gimer stick before turning it back down towards the floor and returning to silence. His cryptic words revealing no clear answer for Tiin to decipher.

Returning the conversation back to himself, Mace continued “Master Tiin, your battalion will be deployed immediately to Arorua to regain control of the system. Knight Ebele, you are to accompany the 822nd with your own battalion and aid them in any way. The destruction of this factory is vital for our successful occupation in the outer rim.”

Turning his attention away from the tall Jedi Master that stood in the centre of the high council chambers to the smaller figure standing slight behind Tiin's right shoulder, Mace's gaze focused on Ayelet. “This is your first mission since being knighted Ebele, we will be watching your performance closely.”

“Watch and listen you must, learn much from Master Orat you will, young one.” Yoda chimed in once again, his eyes also focusing on the young knight, however, the hint of a smile on the old masters face reassured Ayelet that although she was young and less experienced than the Jedi that surrounded her, she was prepared to face whatever this battle would bring.

At the conclusion of the debriefing, both Tiin and Ayelet bowed deeply to few Jedi Masters present in the council chambers before walking out into one of the adjoined hallways. “Arorua. I haven’t had the chance to visit it yet. It’s quiet far out in the outer-rim regions. Very beautiful from what I’ve researched. Do you know anything of it Knight Ebele?” Master Orat asked as they walked in sync past the large windows of the corridor, her distinct man’doa accent lacing her words in a tone that Ayelet was so used to hearing from the clones that she was slightly taken aback by the sound of it in Tiin’s voice.

Ayelet took a moment to consider her answer, as a padawan she'd spent much of her time studying lost languages and forgotten civilisations with her Master so knew much about the ancient planet. She decided to keep her answer short and not allow her excitement about travelling to the remote forest world turn into a history lesson.

“It’s a world covered in a dense forest. Centuries ago, there were cities and temples scattered across the planet, but over time the woodlands consumed them in their roots and drove most of the population to neighbouring systems.” Ayelet couldn't help the small smile that grew on her face as she spoke of the forest-covered world. Nature had always been her biggest strength in the force. As a youngling, she would often venture away from her crèche mates to spend time in the temple gardens, and once she was taken on as a padawan and encouraged by her master to pursue her interest in botany, she found her true passion.

Ayelet often thought of what her life would be like when she completed her trials of knighthood and could peruse her passions. She dreamed that she would travel to exotic worlds, studying the different flora that inhabited the far reaches of space and tending to the gardens in the Jedi Temple whenever she wasn't on leave. At no point in her apprenticeship had she expected her knighthood to result in her becoming a soldier in a war she didn't understand.

Ayelet's attention was brought back to the present at the sound of Tiin's naturally loud voice. “A jungle adventure? Sounds like something out of a holo-film." Master Orat jested as she grinned cheerfully down at the young right beside her. Although Ayelet couldn't see her eyes behind the mask the Zabrak wore, she could tell that Tiin was also smiling with her eyes.

'Perhaps this mission won't be so difficult without Master Aziza’s help if I've got Master Tiin to keep me company.' Ayelet silently mused while craning her neck back to match Tiin's eye-line before replying with a humoured smile on her lips, “Yes, I suppose it does sound like that.”

As they continued down the hallway to the nearby hanger bay, the two Jedi continued speaking, the conversation slowly turning into one reminiscent of old friends as they began to grow more comfortable in each other’s company.

'Yes. I think this mission will go quite well.' Ayelet silent thought to herself as she followed Master Orat into a waiting speeder. She couldn't deny that she missed her master's familiar and comforting presence, but Ayelet could sense a similar nurturing presence residing within Tiin, and hoped that during their time spent together on this campaign a new friendship could be formed.

----------

Ayelet would normally delight at the opportunity to immerse herself in the natural world if it weren’t for the suffocating darkness that consumed the forest of Arorua.

After stepping off the gunship and into the forest she felt herself lose one sense while her others heightened in the unfamiliar environment. It was disorientating to be almost blinded but given the ears of a wolf. Even the soft susurration of the branches felt heavy in her ears. The blackness surrounding them nurtured a sense of claustrophobia even though the woodland stretched unbroken for miles.

As her clone troopers unloaded the gunships and prepared themselves for the battle ahead, Ayelet took the moment to stow away amongst the thick woodlands. Wandering a few steps away from the temporary camp they had established, Ayelet found herself staring upon the massive truck of an aphor tree. The young knight could feel the spirit of the old tree and the wisdom that it carried.

Approaching tree, Ayelet reached out a gloved hand and placed it softly upon the trunk. Sparing a glance back towards the now fully lit campsite the clones had constructed, Ayelet convinced herself she’d have enough time to meditate before General Orat arrived to discuss the assault plan.

Gently, Ayelet boosted herself up to one of the high branches on the old aphor tree to stare out into the dark woodlands ahead. The forest was ancient. The trees thick and old. It might once have been filled with bird-song and animals that roamed. But now long centuries had pasted since its former glory.

Ayelet felt her expression soften into a small smile at the familiar sensation of sunlight dancing across her face through the leaves above. Settling herself on the branch, Ayelet crossed her legs and placed both hands on the sturdy limb beneath her. Taking slow and deep breaths Ayelet allowed herself to open up to the natural world around her, letting her own spirit intertwine with the ancient spirit of the forest. Listening closely, Ayelet could hear the spirits of the forest whispering around her, their hushed words of wisdom barely reaching her ears.

A sudden disturbance in the force shock Ayelet from her tranquil state, shaking her physically back to the real world. She felt the force ripple through the tree beneath her. No, that wasn’t the force shaking. It was the tree she was in shaking. She’d become so entwined with ancient trees lifeforce that she had felt the strike to the tree as though it was to her own body.

However, Ayelet came to her senses to slowly, noticing too late that the world around her was slowly slipping upwards as her body sluggishly tipped backwards off the branch. Suddenly aware of her compromised balance, Ayelet tried to quickly pull herself back up onto the strong tree limb, but the reaction came too late. Ayelet felt her fingers lose their loose grip on the branch, causing a sense of panic to flood her as she frantically looking around her.

Perhaps there was another lower branch she could cling to to break her fall or a hanging vine nearby that she could latch onto. All Ayelet achieved as she fell gracelessly out of the tree was flailing her arms around frantically as though she would grow wings to stop her crashing into the rapidly approaching forest floor.

At the last possible moment, Ayelet called upon the force for help, wrapping its loyal embrace around her. Although she hadn’t experienced the full damage of the fall, her body ached as she made contact with the rough terrain. She laid there, completely motionless for a moment, focusing on inhaling serenity and exhaling her discomfort.

Slowly lifting her head to see what had caused the tree to shake, she had expected to see one of the AT-RT’s clumsily crashed into the trunk. To her surprise, all that greeted her was the sight of a tall figure carefully prying their large pink horns from the trunk of the tree, then proceed to gingerly rub the area atop her head. Ayelet tried to convince herself that perhaps she had hit her head harder than she’d originally thought and was simply hallucinating, that would explain the scene before her.

Sealing her eyes shut tightly and shaking her head, Ayelet slowly raising herself to sit on her knees, not fully trusting her legs to support her weight so soon after falling. Ayelet took a moment to steady her thoughts and bridle her emotions before reopening her eyes. To her disbelief, the horned figure was still there and was closing the space between them.

“Ayelet, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Tiin’s voice was loud enough to have started the young knight in the quiet of the forest if not for the man’doa accent and the nurturing tone in the voice. Ayelet felt herself begin to smile as she watched the Zabrak hybrid kneel before her. Even when the Master knelt down to match Ayelet’s height, she still had to crane her neck back to view the Jedi Master’s face.

“That was quite a fall, must have hurt like a shabuir.” Tiin continued as she gently placed a hand under Ayelet’s jaw and moved her head around to assess the damage, pausing for a moment when she saw the slit on the knight’s chin. Ayelet didn’t fully understand what Tiin had said but recognised the tone to know she was implying that the fall must have hurt a lot in a very colourful way.

Without warning Tiin wrapping one of her large arms behind Ayelet’s back and helped her to her feet, holding her close to her large frame in a half embrace to help support her. The sudden contact unsettled Ayelet, the feeling of someone, particularly someone that she had only spent a few days with, so close to her made her slightly tense in surprise.

But she never uttered a word in protest as the Zabrak guided her back towards the encampment. Ayelet could sense the nurturing care radiating off Tiin as they walked, like a crèche master tending to one of her charges, and began to relax into the Master's gentle hold around her.

As they slowly crossed the camp, Ayelet could hardly hear the sound of herself moving, Tiin’s loud footsteps drowning out the sound of her own light footsteps beside her. Ayelet recognised the familiar sight of the medic tent, under normal circumstances, Ayelet would be the one guiding one of her troopers into the make-shift hospital.

“Perhaps you should stay with me. Get your head checked out. You hit that tree pretty hard.” Ayelet proposed as they made their way into the shelter of the tent, a playful smile present on her lips as she continued while pointing to the top of her head. “You’ve probably left a few holes in that tree.”

Ayelet hadn’t prepared herself for Tiin’s reply as she listened to the Jedi Master laugh in response to her words. The laugh was loud, like her voice, and quickly drew the eyes of everyone inside the tent onto them, but Ayelet could feel that the laugh was genuine, so simply smiled along as the medics stared across at the two Jedi.