#as combat goes it wasn’t the worst fight

[cicadaknight]

i so desperately wanted to beat cazador up with my bard’s lute but karlach slam dunked him into the void mid-evil monologue 👉👈

#bg3 spoilers #as combat goes it wasn’t the worst fight #but it was 2am i left gale and his fireballs at camp and shadowheart kept pooping her armor about the wolves #desperate times call for cheesin measures #sorry cazador if you’re gonna hide at the edge to avoid my daylight spells #i simply can’t miss such a comedic opportunity #i will say i did that on the second attempt and reloded because i thought losing his corpse might fuck up the end choice #but it did not #and then i tried to fight for real for another hour or two and couldn’t get further than killing a couple bats #bg3 #cazador fight #astarion #astarion spoilers #died enough times to run through most of astarion’s confrontation dialogue though #holy shit #if you say anything cazador makes fun of him for needing someone to speak for him #and from then til the start of the fight he’s so hurt and scared #like cazador is calling him a weak stupid little boy and completely rips through any confidence he had #tr-tr-tr-trauma response #an awful glimpse at how powerless astarion truly felt #we all joke about astarion being a sad little wet cat but the UNSPEAKABLE trauma he endured and inflicted unwillingly for CENTURIES #but if you say nothing he delivers one of the best ‘fuck you’ lines ever #and jesus christ the ending #obviously i chose the good one #but it hurt so bad anyway

[doyouevenshipbr0]

examples of atla live action’s attempts to be more feminist and how they actually had the opposite effect and/or hurt the integrity of the show

already talked about katara and pakku. does not make sense that she did not have a master. point blank. just because something sounds empowering (ie katara saying “yes. and ur looking at her.” after zuko asked if she found a master) doesn’t mean it automatically is. there still needs to be logic and katara “being her own master” defies logic imo im sorry!

katara in general. she has no ferocity here which to be very honest i dont think is fully the writers’ fault. some of the blame goes on them but the actress for katara just delivered alllllll of her lines w the same exact mild tone. katara is overly motherly. she is bossy. she is passionate. she is nurturing. she is emotional. THERE IS POWER IN THESE THINGS!!!!! why would we take away her spark?!?!?!

i loved live action suki. however, i LOVE the line in the original when her and sokka part ways and sokka says “i treated u like a girl when i should’ve treated u like a warrior.” and suki says “i am a warrior” *kisses sokka on the cheek* “but im a girl too.” THAT LINE WAS SO PERFECT like lemme say it again there is POWER IN FEMININITY! there is no shame in that!!!!! why does this show wanna take that away so badly. at one point live action suki says something like “im not just a warrior, im a kiyoshi warrior” and before she parts ways w sokka she thanks him for showing her some of the world or something like that. which was fine but i just love the simplicity of the original. a girl can be a warrior and have a crush. why do we have to change that?

this is a small one and it doesnt REALLY matter, but i cant help but think they changed this to be more “feminist” which is just dumb. yue isnt betrothed? well she was but she broke it off? and hahn (her ex) isnt a huge dick? i mean it wasn’t the worst thing and i didnt really mind it but i was just kinda like ?????. feel like yue being betrothed tied into her sense of responsibility and foreshadowed the sacrifices she will make for her people. so. feels rly weird that they changed it. i think it was to show more women agency which is always cool. but in the original, yue finally gets her agency by becoming the moon spirit. that should be the end of her character arc. idk. a weird change that seemed unnecessary.

sokka not being sexist. honestly i think the live action did a good job at omitting this while not REALLY making it feel like something was missing. with that being said, something was still missing lol. once again, its apart of sokka’s character. i feel like everyone has already expressed their hate for this so ill just leave it at that.

i am a TAD indifferent on the women of the northern tribe joining the forces during the fight. on one hand i cant lie i smiled bc obviously i love water bending and i love women so there was definitely apart of me that was happy to see that moment. however. it was kind of giving like in endgame when theres that random shot of all the women superheroes in one frame so the movie could have a “slay queen. we are girlbosses:)” moment. like it just felt a little empty and it wasnt the feminist battlecry they thought it was. these women have been healing their whole lives. why would they be any good on the frontlines of a fight? they never learned combat skills! HOWEVER, when we see them, its mainly just them reinforcing the walls so like. that makes enough sense. im cool w that.

i know im dwelling but as we know i hold atla in the highest regards. it does a lot of things perfectly imo. and one of the things i think it does PERFECTLY is its treatment of female characters. literally the only thing i can think of that i dont like is when team azula beats the kiyoshi warriors and ty lee says something like “u are NOT prettier than us” NDBSKSJDJ like ok that was weird. but anyways. it irritates me how the live action kind of seems to have this pov that says “the original was good, but there were some ideas and plots that were outdated so we changed them to keep with the times” like they’re fixing something that was broken if that makes sense. when in actuality, i think atla’s representation of women is perfect and timeless. it was relevant and powerful in 2005, and it is equally as relevant and powerful in 2024. there was nothing about its feminist themes that needed to be “fixed” or “updated”.

#personal #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #avatar the last airbender live action #avatar live action #live action avatar the last airbender #live action atla #atla live action

[sunny-porridge]

*Taps mic* *leans in* It is, the Wizard.

Imagine this, Wild for the sake of fun, dresses as Dark Link. He starts to stand ominously stare behind trees in the costume, and eventually goes for a full jumpscare.

How would the guys react?

asjsjskdjsjkadfs hi Wizard hope this email finds you well

Sky: he saw Wild changing into the Dark costume a few weeks ago. Wild made a “shush” gesture and Sky nodded solemnly, Comitting to The Bit. He’s hiding behind some bushes making creepy noises with a flute he whittled specifically for this purpose.

Wind: at first he thought it was a friendly ghost (it’s more likely than you’d think) but he started getting more and more paranoid as the apparition would never speak to him or show its full form, which is a bad omen. The moment Wild jumps out, he knocks out a Light Arrow, which luckily only plucks the hat off and reveals Wild’s hair tucked into a messy bun.

Four: at first he thought it was a friendly shadow (it’s more likely than you’d think) but there was no way that creature wasn’t stalking them, possibly to give information to Ganon. He tried chasing it a few times but never got close enough before it disappeared. He turns into the Colors and quickly pins Wild on the ground who just grins and offers a deal to keep a secret for a secret.

Legend: knows a transformation trick when he sees one. Sure, he has his shield and sword out in an instant, but a quick look with the Magic Mirror confirms the truth. He decides to whip out the most chaotic items he has just to mess with Wild. Think: cane of Somaria, quake medallion, tornado rod, fire gloves.

Hyrule: he’s been saving his Thunder spell for just this purpose. He knows better than to try to fight his shadow in melee combat. If Thunder doesn’t knock him down, there’s always Fire.

Twilight: fights shadow with shadow, so he’d turn into wolfie and tackle him in record time. After which he’d recognize him based on scent and let some drool fall on Wild’s face as punishment.

Warriors: at first I thought he would be the most impulsive Link (one does not survive what he did at the Temple of Souls without significant trauma) but after some thought I think that whole experience left him with a lot of insight and self control. Thus, he would notice the foe is not made of actual darkness (Wild has his own shadow after all) and tie him up to interrogate him. Wild would Commit To The Bit for as long as possible. Sky is still making creepy noises behind a bush.

Time: The suit in BOTW / TOTK resembles him specifically. Those damn red eyes bring up the worst memories of his quest, no, quests. For this, I crown Time as Most Likely to Cause a Lethal Wound. He’d become friends with Mipha though so it’s fine.

#ngl I’d love to write a full fic for this #but that’d take me too long to figure out how to include everyone at the same time #asksksksks #ramblings #crack #lu wild #lu sky #lu wind #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu time #linked universe

[avianyuh]

I'll Call You; Jaehyun (part four)

PART 4/4

Summary:You and Jaehyun have had a secretive on and off again relationship for a few years. After a nasty fight and assumed break-up, you anticipate he'll be back at your door within a few weeks. When word gets back to you that he's been seeing Winter from aespa, you're angry, confused, but mostly hurt. Is Jaehyun done with you or is there more to the story?

Recap: Jaehyun shows up at your dorm and wants to explain himself, but will Y/n let him?

The minute I stepped out of the front door, I was greeted by that handsome face I had grown to love. This whole situation had me so conflicted. I didn’t know if I could trust Jaehyun anymore. If I really sat down and thought about it, he basically strung me along for three years. The real question now; If I decide I don’t want closure and want to try to make this relationship work once and for all, will he be able to commit? All I know is that I can’t go back to the way things were before. It was a disaster and it wasn’t good for either of us. 

Jaehyun stood with his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants. He seemed to be trying to keep a low profile since he was dressed in an all black ensemble. His hoodie was huge, probably to combat the cold weather. The sky was cloudy and it looked like it was going to rain any minute now. He looked at me and gave a shy smile. I could tell something was bothering him because his eyes seemed heavy with worry and his shoulders were slouched. His hair had been slightly tousled, making it seem like he just rolled out of bed.  Which was very out of character for him since Jaehyun was never in a rush for anyone. 

“I’m surprised you’re here”, is all I said. I didn’t know what he was going to say and I was anticipating the worst. That he had a fling with someone else and he realized he could do better than me, or maybe that he was just going to apologize and suggest that we both move on. I don’t know which one would be more disappointing to hear…

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you having the wrong idea. It’s my fault for waiting so long to fix this. Listen…” he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes darted around his surroundings. It’s a habit of his I had picked up on. He does it whenever he’s trying to collect his thoughts. “I was an asshole to you throughout our whole relationship. And the fight we had? It was my fault. I wanted to stay…but…in my head, if I get attached and something goes wrong. Or if something gets leaked and you get pushback, I’d blame myself. But after I left and I thought about it, I realized just how much I hate having distance between us. I want to be your boyfriend. I treated you like shit and I want to make up for it. I’m sorry about the things I said.” He finished, taking a deep breath. He stared into my eyes as he waited for a response. I could tell he was nervous. When he said he wanted to be my boyfriend my heart skipped a beat, but before I gave in, I needed to have my questions answered. 

“Jaehyun, I can’t say yes until I know the full story”, I said, leaning against the door. I looked down before I asked my question that I had been dreading to hear the answer to. “Were you seeing someone else?” Before I could even look up on my own, I felt him use his pointer finger to lift my chin up to look at him. 

“No. Who told you that?”, he asked. I sighed, now I felt stupid.

“Yura said there was talk that you and one of your label mates were seen out together. That’s why I was under the impression that you had moved on.”

He shook his head, letting out a light laugh, “No. I’ll admit we did go out to dinner”, I felt my heart sink when he said that. “BUT, it was a dinner with a bunch of people, not just her. Johnny was there, so was Doyoung and Jungwoo. I think she liked me, I’m not entirely sure, but I wasn’t interested and it never went anywhere. I told you, I’ve only been with you. No one else.” The minute he said that last part I knew I heard all I needed to know. I immediately grabbed his face and pulled him down into a kiss. Coincidentally it started to drizzle, we both looked up and laughed. His lips were as soft as I had remembered. His body was pressed against mine and I was still leaning against the door. 

Though the air was cold, the heat between us made me forget about the rainy weather. We pulled away from each other momentarily and I stared into his inviting eyes. My forehead pressed against his. “So, are you my boyfriend?” I giggled as he gave me a quick kiss. 

“Are you my girlfriend?”, he asked in a teasing tone. 

“Of course I am.”, I said as I shyly turned away, opening the door with my right hand as the other was holding his own. “By the way, I think you should talk to Yura, she kind of hates you.”, I reminded him to be patient with my best friend, since she was a bit protective. 

“Well she better hear me out and get used to me because I’m not going anywhere.”, he said, closing the door behind him. 

{A/N: thank you for all support given to this series. Again if you have a request for a new one, please don't hesitate! Love ya}

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #jung jaehyun #kpop writing #finale

[bakerstreethound]

Won’t You Stay?

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x reader

Warnings: mentions of overworking oneself, brief mentions of self-deprecation, anxiety, angst, comfort, and soft sherlock 

Summary: Starting a new semester always has it downfalls and shortcomings, but Sherlock is there to hold you through the worst of times, especially to help combat your greatest foe - your mind. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Sorry for being MIA in the fanfiction department. This semester has been keeping me busy & I’m trying to dedicate more time to recharging and trying not to push myself as vigorously. I hope you enjoy this work; I feel a little rusty right now, but I hope to brush up as I progress. I almost debated trashing this work. Anyways I hope you like some more Sherlock comfort. Graphic by @firefly-graphics​ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

You’re tired, oh so tired, still stuck at your desk, barely watching Sherlock walking by pouting. He's been observing you for the past couple of hours, wanting to be close to you, not knowing how to properly voice his thoughts. 

He knew your work was important, well for the most part, but he hated how it distracted you from him. when all he wants you nearer to him, preferably on his lap, or being spooned by you. 

That was even truer especially now since your major classes are already taking a good portion of your time for the next four months, going by all the information loaded in your messy syllabi. Not that he read them or looked over them while you were busy involved searching for textbooks and the like. 

“Something wrong?” You fight off the yawn but eventually give in, a soft smile forming on your face, happy to pry your eyes from the computer and notes you’d written by hand earlier. 

You shook out your wrist, frowning as something twinged and you rub a finger along your palm in a soothing circle. Such was the life of a student the wrist and finger cramps had no end in sight. Pair that with the stress and ever present anxiety that came from worrying about multiple impending projects, but those would be completed in their own time.  

He watches you, brow arching in concern before he strides over to you, reaching you quickly, carefully grasping your hand and encasing it in his large hand. You watch intent on seeing where this goes until he rubs the palm of your hand gently and almost immeidtaly the tension dissipates and you feel yourself relaxing as you sigh heavily. 

“Been distracted. You could use a distraction too.” his gaze falls to your tense shoulders, the way your neck cranes over the computer, tendons stretched in agony, the way your fingers hovered over the keyboard, like they’re afraid typing will set you on fire. It wasn’t that, your brain was stuck on a loop your stomach in knots, twin snakes biting, fighting for dominance, filling you with their unrelenting poisons. 

The self doubt pressing against you is a vice inside your chest, running from the brain all along your body. You breathe, trying to clear your mind, for you know oh you know how it lies twisting deep inside you they’re hard not to listen to or believe. Still, your heart hammers, mind swimming, trying to calm the storm brewing, to no avail. 

You’re stuck, trapped in a formula of your own creation, self perpetrated by all your doubts, fears, unwarranted thoughts seeping through; taunting you, lashing out their tongues, brimming hot searing fire spitting in your face. 

You try to concentrate on Sherlock’s words but everything falls in one ear and out the other, yet you watch him intently, his hand in yours, ignoring the words on your screen, trying everything you can to focus. 

For the love focus, you’re better than this

Bet everyone else has their project figured out already

You’re way out of you depth, you don’t belong there

Lies lies, stupid lies, you try to pull them from your mind, but still they’re chained to you, whooshing back and forth, pressing downward on you, phantoms of wrath coming to collect their dues, determined to destroy you from within. 

“Sherlock…I don’t know if I can do this…” You swallow, looking up at him, slamming your laptop as you take a deep breath, filled with turmoil and confusion. You don’t know what to say, fighting back the ashy feeling in your throat, the tears you know won’t come until the darkness of the night washes over you, long before anyone on the block is asleep. 

Why is it always so damn hard for you to voice what you need?

You felt like a child everything overwhelming, you wanted it all to go away, you wanted to disappear. How were you supposed to ask for something you can’t describe? Foreign words upon your tongue just there lingering a moment and gone again in an instant. Why did it hurt to say help? You would be seen as week nothing just a burden and not anything more. One word, four letters yet you can’t say it, though you desperately need to. 

Sensing your agitation Sherlock reaches his hand out to you, guiding you away from the throes of your turmoil, a beacon of light, as he takes you to bed, waiting until you settle in between the sheets before joining you. 

He falls on top of you trapping you, his weight a comfort. You smile kissing him before he buries his face in the crook of your neck and you pull him impossibly closer needing to feel him, your heart aching yearning for more of him though he is here in your arms. You choke back a sob, forgetting how much you crave him and his touches. 

The pure simplicity of being here his presence, means more to you than you can ever express. The past, the impending future didn’t matter in this moment, the world ceases to exist in this moment of peace grown from bine aching sorrow. 

“Please, stay,” you whisper, kissing him softly before it grows in desperation. 

“I’m here,” he responds in kind, soft kisses littered along your body. You feel it in every movement of his body, rememorizing you once more. Even when apart for some time, you always fit right back into him, it was only a memory game, nothing felt as you did right now in his arms.

The version of you from his mind palace doesn’t hold a candle to you, nor the sparkle in your eyes when you look at him, something he feels like he doesn’t deserve, but he holds you, stroking your sides, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It’s the least he can do, he reasons, he knows how much you have to sit through his insufferable cases dealing with his antics. 

You trusting him this way, well it is something he is constantly learning not to take for granted and when you kiss him on the lips, whispering your thanks, it’s all the reassurance he needs. You’ll make it through together, despite the lies your mind tells you and he will be there for you to calm your worries and fears. Each kiss he presses to your lips solidifies this, every time he’s rescued you from these irrational fears and now you can just be…here with him in the moment, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes imagine #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction

[spectralscathath]

What do the characters themselves think is their most positive and negative attribute and what do you think as the author (not all characters are gonna be aware or even open about themselves fully) of Antares? I’m interested in knowing about RWBY and JNPR obviously. But also STRQ, the Ace Ops and Sun and Mercury. You can add more if you like but that’s a lot already.

This got so long, here's a readmore

Ruby

Ruby thinks her best trait is her good heart, she’s definitely convinced she’s heroic and kind and loving. Pure of heart, idealistic, she thinks those define a hero. She also thinks her most negative attribute is her scorpion bloodline, because it’s a direct link to the fact that she’s the daughter of a serial killer and living proof that Summer Rose wasn’t as good as everyone says. She’s ashamed of the fact, and hates that she wants to know more.

As the author, her best trait and worst trait are one in the same. Ruby is not pure of heart, she’s not tainted by who her progenitor is, and she’s not self-aware. Ruby is determined. It means she’s incredibly hard to knock down, she’ll always get back up, she doesn’t give up, and it also means she doesn’t listen when she thinks she’s making the right call.

Weiss

So uh, it’s hard to narrow down because Weiss thinks lots of her attributes are positive. She’d probably want to pick her determination, her looks, her fighting spirit, her combat skills. But at her heart she thinks her best attributes, listed prior, are all the ways she’s similar to Winter. There’s an idolisation there. Her worst trait she thinks is her coldness, her isolated nature. That it keeps her from connecting to the world. Very sad and all that.

Weiss’s worst trait is, in actuality, the fact that she tends to accept what people tell her without interrogating that information, and will dismiss things that don’t fit that worldview out of hand unless she really can’t ignore it. She believes ‘dad is bad but Grandfather was good’ without actually thinking about how the SDC was made, she thinks ‘Winter is the best’ and refuses to see Winter’s flaws, she thinks ‘faunus are bad aside from the Good Ones’ and then needs to do a lot of unpacking and course correcting. It’s a flaw she’s working on without realising she needs to, but she just tends to take things at first impression and needs to move beyond that. Her good trait is that she is, at her core, a compassionate person who is willing to care and put her whole heart into something she believes in. She just needs to learn to be careful with where it goes.

Blake

Blake doesn’t really think about her positive attributes all that much, but if she had to pick she likes her drawing ability. She’s quite proud of how good she’s gotten at it. She hates that she’s cowardly, in her own head. Its what she thinks is everything wrong with her, that she cuts and runs when things get hard to the point she disavows her semblance.

Her best trait is that she doesn’t see the world in a black-and-white binary. She’s willing to see the good in someone but doesn’t ignore the bad. She’s willing to offer a hand to those in need, but she knows that she can’t make them take it. And she knows that some people don’t want to do good. When she’s not spun up in her own head, she’s able to understand the complexities and contradictions of people in a way that Ruby, who very much has that strict binary, cannot. Her worst trait is that she gets very caught up in her own head and that can make her self-focused to the point she forgets other people have lives going on.

Yang

She was convinced her best trait was her strength, physically, and that her worst flaw was her temper. She’s half-right.

Her best trait is similar to Ruby, she’s determined and won’t give up if she can say a way through. She’s slightly more aware of her limits then Ruby, so has a better handle on when not to let determination become her downfall, but overall she’s driven and that’s what keeps her going. Her worst flaw is her temper, but that even though she’s learning to control her rage, she’s not controlling her fuse. It’s still short, things still get to her easily, and she’s switched from ‘angry outburst’ to ‘stewing sullenly’ which is not better.

Summer

Oh man I need to be careful about spoilers with this one! Summer, eventually, by the end of her story, thinks her best trait is her silver eyes, and she buys wholly into her own legend of ‘the monster slayer, the greatest of warriors, the best of the best’ (against Grimm). She thinks her worst trait is her secrecy, but she feels like she needs it too much to let go, so she just tends to always have a slow boil of guilt going on.

Her best trait, for real, is her devotion and love for her friends and family. It’s what gives her the strength to get through a staggering amount of bad, it brings out the best in her, and it also makes her happy, which is a good thing. Her bad trait is, well- similar to Ruby, her best trait turned flaw. Her devotion to her family can manifest as ‘protecting them’ in a way that means lying, keeping secrets, and eventually running off alone because she thinks she can handle it herself and doesn’t need to drag down anyone with her. It gets her killed, in the end.

Taiyang

He knows damn well what his best trait is, it’s his kind nature, warm heart, and positive spirit, and he’s correct. That heart of his kept STRQ from falling apart emotionally at the seams when things got bad, raised two daughters in a loving household, and mostly kept Qrow from self-destructing. As a teenager, he thought his worst flaw was his temper, to the point he was afraid of it. He’s grown beyond that, and now he thinks his worst flaw is his depression, though he does try to manage it, he hates how badly it can affect him and what effect it has on his family. That’s what scares him now.

And while he is correct about his positive traits and has full rights to be confident about it, his most negative quality is in fact his own fear, both of his own negative emotions, and of dying on his family, or something. Both can cause him to be more passive than he potentially should be, as he’s quite adverse to taking risks at this point in his life where he can avoid it.

Raven

Oh man Raven thinks she’s the tits, convinced she’s strong, brave, powerful, knowledgeable. And she hates that deep down she’s the type who cuts and runs when things get hard. Despises it. So she covers it up with bravado and danger.

As the author, I can safely say that all that is bull. Raven’s most positive quality is that despite herself, she does actually care. Somewhere deep down. She buries it behind all her rules, but she does care. This does not absolve her of being terrible, and may in fact make it worse because she has the capacity to do better but chooses not to. Her worst flaw is that she’s very stuck in the past, but it’s specifically a self-martyring version of the past where she’s never wrong, and she refuses to actually think about herself and her actions.

Qrow

Qrow thinks his looks and charm are his best quality. His worst flaw is his semblance. He’s really not that introspective.

His best quality as an author is that his clever. He’s thoughtful and quick and full of schemes, and that makes him very effective as a Huntsman and a spy. It also means that with someone he really knows he can be quite a good soundboard. His worst flaw is that he doesn’t take responsibility for himself. He blames everything on Raven, on his semblance, on his tragic backstory, on his job, on the alcohol, later on Ozpin, and at some point he’s going to have to come to terms with that even with all of that, he’s still him. And he’s still flawed.

Jaune

Jaune totally thinks his worst flaw is his uselessness, and he’s still working on finding a best trait. If pushed under pain of death he’d probably like being tall.

In actuality, as an author, Jaune’s best trait is that he’s learnt how to step back. He’s at the point in Antares where he’s less egotistical about being The Hero and is more focused on ‘how do I keep everyone alive’ which is much more important and is good for him. His worst trait is that he’s really, really obtuse. The subtler nuances of things tend to just go whoosh over his head, he takes Ren going ‘all good’ at mostly face value, he doesn’t see the problem with Pyrrha’s aggression unless it specifically hurts someone else. He’s trying to keep the peace and missing a lot of the underlying tensions.

Nora

Nora thought her big personality was her best trait and deep down, though she’d never admit it, didn’t like how utterly dependent she was on Ren emotionally. She knew that their codependency was gonna bite ‘em in the arse eventually, she just didn’t think she’d be the one to go down first.

And actually? Yeah, she’s pretty much correct, except it wasn’t her big personality that made her great, it was the fact it was driven by her good nature. The codependency def was a timebomb though.

Pyrrha

Pyrrha is an interesting case because if you asked her this before the Fall of Beacon and afterwards you’d get two wildly different answers. The first answer you’d get, while she’s still at Beacon is that she thinks her best trait is that she can be great, she’s working towards a destiny of being great, of helping people. Of being a Huntress. Her worst trait, in her own words, is that she’s so ‘great’ that she’s all alone. Not much changes from the show here.

After Beacon, she’s changed her mind. Suddenly, her worst trait is now that she failed to live up to the titles and pedestals she was placed on, that she let down her own legend. She’s no longer invincible, and it gnaws at her. So, she’s decided, now that she’s discovered anger, discovered what anger can do to make her stronger, she’s going to embrace it. She has learnt rage and she’s going to keep it.

And I can categorically state she’s mixed herself up in quite the knot. Her worst trait is not that she’s now angry, I mean- she has every right to be upset, her worst trait is that she has no regulation on it. Very classical hero of her. Her best trait hasn’t changed throughout all of this, and it is that Pyrrha Nikos, at her core, is unfailingly kind. Angry moods not included.

Ren

Ren is a perfectionist and finds a new flaw every time someone asks. But the big one that grates on him is that everyone else around him seems so naturally talented and driven and he’s worked so hard, trained so harshly, and he can barely keep up. He likes that people think he gives good advice though, it feels nice to be helpful.

As the author, Ren’s best trait is that he both gives himself space to figure out what he wants to say, and gives other people that room to sort their emotions too. A lot of the characters are very impulsive and quick to make decisions, which is good for fighting, not so much for character interactions when everyone’s traumatised to the nines. Ren may not always get people, but he gives them the space to chat, and tends not to judge because he’s also busy figuring out his own words. It’s an overlooked skill. He’s also wrong about his flaw. Again, same as Nora, his utter dependency on her was good for him but now she’s not around he’s completely unmoored. The fact that he’s constantly using his semblance to dull down pretty much everything is a very bad thing and the fact that when he has his aura off so far in the story he’s been distracted by pure survival or blinding vengeful rage means he has processed exactly nothing.

Sun

Sun if asked would say his best trait is his optimistic personality and oh man he is clinging to that by the skin of his teeth. He thinks he doesn’t do enough to help the people he cares about, his conflicting loyalties stall him and though he knows damn well he’s on the wrong side, he’s not really tried to change it beyond token efforts.

I, on the other hand, think that his worst trait is that if he decides he doesn’t like someone he’ll literally just be like ‘didn’t ask don’t care, we all got trauma, it came free with your fucking lifespan’. He’s correct on the optimism tho, it’s important to stay positive when you’re living in an evil lair filled with evil-eating monsters.

Mercury

Mercury knows damn well how good he is in a fight and how hard he is to put down because he just keeps getting back up, pain is all in the mind. His worst flaw, for him, is his backstory. He tries not to sleep when he can because he doesn’t want to deal with the nightmares. This man runs on coffee and spite only.

It’s very mean but I actually love that Mercury is incredibly amoral and self-interested (though perhaps not as much as he thinks he is). Atlas arrested his dad? Cool, he’ll work on their side. Schnee promised him money to keep an eye on some chick? Yeah, no worries. Pay me when I get back. It’s a very fun contrast to the rest of Team Good Guy who are all, like, heroic, and I love interesting character dynamics. Worst trait is basically the same thing, his incredibly apathetic which can make him hard to balance in a scene because he doesn’t care about the story he’s in unless I dangle a short-term motivation in front of him.

Clover

One might think Clover would call his best trait his semblance, after all, being lucky is incredibly useful. He’s got self-confidence beyond that though, and is quite convinced his best trait is his ability to keep a cool head even in dicey situations. It’s a very good trait for a leader, and it allows him a level of maturity which means his pride doesn’t tend to get in the way. He would think his worst trait is that he has a bit of an addictive personality, which he mostly tries to be constructive about and channel into, ironically for the cool head remark, being a complete thrill seeker and adrenaline junkie. It’s better than gambling, after all.

He is correct on the positive trait, but I would say his negative trait is a bit more insidious, and its that he takes way too much responsibility even for things out of his control. Though, when your power verges on the edge of mild reality warping, is it any wonder that it has a sprawling guilt complex to go with it when the odds don’t turn out in your favour?

Elm

Elm prides herself on being indomitable. She does not bow, she does not break. Whether it be her gentle heart, her cheerful brashness, her sheer indestructibility in a fight, or what have you, Elm knows that she does not give in. Ever. Unfortunately, this has a downside, as Elm has a history of being the Last Man Standing, and that… she does not like that.

Anyway, she’s correct on both things, someone has to be, you go Elm.

Vine

Vine is the Ace Op who is most willing to ‘do what needs to be done’, even if the option is not one the others find agreeable. He thinks that is his best quality, as every group needs a devil’s advocate to keep them from going too far in one direction. He thinks his worst trait is that though he’ll do it, he still feels regret, and he fears that one day his regrets will keep him from efficiency.

I can safely say that Vine’s best trait is not, in fact, being able to do the dirty work, even if it very rarely comes up as an option. It’s the fact that despite all of the stuff he’s done, because he had a checkered past he is still able to believe in the future. He has hope, very important. His worst quality is that he never says any of this, not even the top stuff, and works on a very ‘state words, assume you understand implied subtext and meaning without explanation’ way of talking that does not gel with people that don’t know him well enough to pick up on his very understated cues.

Harriet

Harriet knows she’s the best and she’ll brag about it to anyone who listens, she has the fastest speed semblance in the history of Remnant, they checked. Ego is important, who wants to go into a fight thinking they might not win? Harriet is confident and that is everyone else’s problem. Flaws? What are those? (Her darkest secret is that someone will find out she bleaches her hair, most people assume its natural because Remnant)

As the author, Harriet’s best trait is that she expects the best, of herself and of others, and pushes them towards it. She doesn’t settle, and she doesn’t let other people settle, and that can be in anything, but channelling it towards self-improvement is the main thing she does, second only to keeping herself and her semblance and her skills in tip top shape. Her worst flaw is that she’s as impulsive as she is fast, was that really a question?

Marrow

Marrow doesn’t hate himself, not really, but he definitely would rank his artistic skills as his favourite trait, he worked hard at his drawing, he’s self-taught, he’s proud of it. He designs all his own tattoos and they are awesome, thanks. He still has some hangups about being a faunus, and possibly a ‘race traitor’ for joining the military, there’s some guilt there over if he’s right for trying to work in the system to change things or not.

Marrow, unaware of this, has his best trait being his earnestness. He may worry in the small hours of the night over what’s going on, but he believes in people, in himself, in his dreams, and that’s important. His flaw is that, despite that, he’s incredibly indecisive, and finds it very hard to make snap decisions when he has to.

Secret Tortuga Option

Kelpie Tortuga was Harriet’s best friend growing up and the two of them were the cause of some of Ironwood’s grey hairs, not just the old age (Neon has inherited this label). Tortie, as Harriet called them, thought that his wicked sense of humour was his best trait, able to keep the Aces light even after a mission went south, helping keep everyone sane. He also did not like his faunus trait much at all, as his horse ears were incredibly expressive and always gave away what they were really feeling, even when they were projecting their cool guy image.

Tortie’s true best trait was, unquestionably, their loyalty, and in the case of Harriet, it was completely reciprocated. You’d never find one without the other, and she took his death hard. Their worst trait was the same as Harriet’s, impulsiveness. Tortie was the type to rush in without thinking, same as Harriet, and that’s led to the Aces being a little bit more careful in fights now.

#asks #scorruby au #I appreciate you not asking for even more characters this took an age (but it was fun)

[warpedlegacywrites]

Happy Friday! For some Theresa/Cullen Battle Couple Fluff, "Night Out"? (Maybe how they wind down after getting jumped in hightown on a date night?)

Happy @dadrunkwriting! I had a fair bit of fun with this prompt. I would have liked to include more of the alley fight itself, but my brain can't wrap itself around combat writing tonight lol.

Theresa rests her hand on her hip and huffs at an errant curl that falls across her eyes, surveying the damage. “All things considered,” she says, “it actually turned out to be quite a nice night.”  Cullen stares at her, somewhat incredulous. Though he shouldn’t be surprised. After six years, he should really see things like this coming. Even so, he feels compelled to once again be the voice of reason, futile though it is.  “Our first night out without Ellie in months had to start late because Rosie forgot she was watching her, our favorite tavern is closed thanks to a petty feud with a rival barkeep, I’m pretty sure the meat we were served at the pub we did end up eating at was raw, and on top of that, we get mugged on our way home.” He gestures down at the several unconscious figures splayed across the alley before the two of them.  “Well, they certainly tried.” Theresa’s mouth tilts with a smug smirk, eyes alight with adrenaline in the moonlight. “And I’ve already told you – that meat wasn’t raw, it was medium-rare. It’s how it’s supposed to be cooked.” 

One of the figures stirs, and lets out a pained groan, probably deeply regretting his return to consciousness. A broken nose will make someone regret a lot of things. 

“I refuse to believe that we’re supposed to give ourselves food poisoning for the sake of flavor.” Cullen steps up to the would-be mugger, tilting his face up to him using the toe of his boot. He waits until the man’s eyes slowly blink open before he speaks down to him. “I take it you and your companions have learned your lesson?” 

The poor sod tries to nod, but his chin is trapped by Cullen’s boot. Cullen releases him and lets him gather his compatriots while he goes to stand next to Tess. 

“Must you always point out only the negative?” she asks with a musical tone, smirk still firmly in place. 

“Oh, please do point out what positive might be gleaned from tonight’s disaster?” 

Anyone else might assume her to be completely nonchalant about the bruised glares pointed her way. Cullen knows it for a mask – behind that careless air, there’s a glint of calculation in her eyes, and the glint of steel about her flashing teeth. She’s watching them all quite carefully. When they launch their secondary attack, foolishly presuming her guard down, they don’t even notice the rising scent of ozone in the alley, or the spark of electricity in her palm. 

Not that it would have done them much good if they had – there’s nowhere to dodge her chain lightning in this narrow space. Cullen manages to flatten his hands over his ears to block out the worst of the deafening strike, but it’s a near thing. The muggers, having finally learned their lesson, turn tail and run – those who can. The rest are dragged or carried out between them. 

“We got to work out our aggression,” she answers, making a show of blowing at the tendrils of smoke arising from her fingers. Cullen watches her mouth as she does, the soft petals of her lips perked into a rounded shape designed to tantalize him. “And we still got to have a night out, just the two of us.” 

She looks up, catching him watching her, blinking in surprise. Another mask – he doesn’t believe for a moment she wasn’t doing that deliberately and solely for his benefit. 

“In fact,” she continues, her voice dropping to a register that never fails to stir that primal response in his core. “The night doesn’t have to end here.” 

Cullen’s heart jumps within his breast at the thought of taking her right here, right now, in this filthy and now blood-stained alley. However, common decency maintains its hold on him, and he forms a much better plan. 

“I know a place not far from here that will rent us a room by the hour,” he says, holding up a finger at her arched eyebrow. “But you have to promise not to ask how I know.” 

“Well, now I want to ask even more.” 

He chuckles and rubs at his neck. He walked right into that one. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. “There’s an inn I used to frequent, but it’s because I would always play chess with the old barkeep when business was slow.” 

“That’s very sweet of you – though I’m not sure why you’d be embarrassed about it?” 

“Well… it’s not the sort of place you’d expect to see anyone young enough to still be working,” he admits reluctantly. “I didn’t exactly have many options for companionship among the other templars, and that old biddy was just about the only person who could beat me at the game as often as Mia… until you, that is.” 

Theresa’s eyes glisten with fondness as she cups his face. “I’d love to meet her.” 

“Let’s hope you don’t,” he laughs. “If she’s the one working the bar, we’ll never make it up to the room! She’ll insist on a match then and there.”

#my writing #dadwc prompts #battle couple #fluff #cullen rutherford #theresa trevelyan #cullen x theresa #cullen x trevelyan #established relationship #parents getting the rare night out #except it's cullen and theresa #so of course it's not normal

[fem-blade-adept]

I’ve done a lot of Soulsbornekiro posts but I don’t think I’ve ever written a Game ranking. So here goes. Reminder that this is opinion based on the thousands of hours I’ve sunk into these games. Enjoy!

All Souls Games Ranked from Best to Worst

Dark Souls 3- This is a no brainer for me. EVERYTHING I love about the Souls games were on full display in DS3. The scale of the fights, the lore, the weapons, the environments, the aesthetic. DS3 will always win for me in every regard.

Sekiro- A spin-off, sure, but such a creative presence in FromSoft’s anthology. The combat was unique while still having the classic Souls flair. It also forced me to learn its combat system and when you learn it, it’s such a satisfying victory. My only gripes were that it didn’t have DLC and that it wasn’t a longer game.

Dark Souls 1- Where it all started for me. Looking back on it, it’s probably the easiest on this list for me, but it’s still a very solid entry. I love the nostalgia it brings me as well as it setting the pace for a lot of lore and moments we see in future games. I wish it had gotten a little harder in the remastered version, but I can’t complain past that.

Elden Ring- A lot of my moots are probably surprised to see this down this low. Mommy Malenia is a shining star and definitely tops a list of my favorite souls bosses, but looking at the rest of the game, it fells short in some respects. A lot of the bosses are either way too easy or brutally difficult and not always for the best reasons. The lore and boss scale is great, but a lot of solid play styles get drowned out by the rising difficulty and it becomes a cheesefest fairly easily. Also, I’m annoyed by a lot more bosses in Elden Ring than most of the games on this list and it’s not because they are difficult.

Bloodborne- This is where I will lose A LOT of people. People rank this at the VERY top of their lists for a lot of reasons and are probably gonna be completely lost as to why this is down this far. Don’t get me wrong. The lore is great, the environment is good, Lady Maria is perfect, the weapons are fantastic, and people know I love cosmic and eldritch horror stuff, so you would think I’d love this game. But for me, what really shafts this game is the balance, the combat, and the walk back. One of the first weapons you get practically makes every other weapon in this game meaningless if you let it, my favorite weapons come at the END of the game (#rakuyobitchfolyfe), the combat and dodge system bones me about as much as it helps, and the fact that blood vials are a consumable? Not my favorite design choice. I don’t like having to refarm my healing options after having to trek through Cainhurst or the Fishing Hamlet and if I’m slamming my head against the Orphan of Kos, it dampens the experience to have to go back and refarm blood vials because I ran out. There were a lot of things that could have been executed better and it probably wouldn’t have been as bad if these issues weren’t so blatant.

Dark Souls 2- It’s the design choices. I don’t hate DS2 as much as a lot of people, but I’ll admit the game did not come off good to me when I first played it. The hollowing system actively frustrates me to this day, the quantity over quality bosses leaves a lot of nebulous memories, the open-ish world hurts me a lot more than it helps, and the weapons were really meh compared to the rest of the list. It’s definitely not as bad as people say, but there were some questionable choices here.

Demon Souls- The walkback hurts in this game. The system is great, but again consumable healing is brutal. It also is a lot of punishment unless you know the gimmicks that each boss has and once you know them, it kinda waters down the experience in an unsatisfying way. At least in DS2, you have Estus and can always have a healing option, but Demon Souls’ LOOOONG walk back to boss rooms and exhausting areas really wore me out of love for this game quickly.

#soulsbornekiro #from software #dark souls #elden ring #sekiro #bloodborne

[faerendipitious]

TROP: Sammy Facts!

female! reader

male! yandere

content warnings: misogynistic ideals, manipulation, yandere tendencies, but its not crazy

Sammy is typically on watchtower duty and skilled with a bow and arrow and firearms. He typically uses the bow and arrow and because of that he has a very defined back and upper body, yummy upside down triangle and slutty waist.

His dad passed when he was very young, so it is just him and his mom.

He and the reader are childhood friends (Need to make a nickname for (Y/N)...)

Sammy is 5”7! (170 cm)

He and reader are childhood friends, born one year apart on the same day. Well everyone around the same age are childhood friends considering they all grew up in such a confined area- not like they could explore the forest for any monster ha ha ha ha ha!

 The reason he prefers to be up on the watchtower is to have an overview of the surrounding area, makes it easy to keep track of who is coming in and out, and who is talking to who inside the walls…

Sammy specially made the sketchbook for (Y/N), from the paper to the leather and even the binding! He’s very skilled with ropes and knots.

He has a jagged scar on his back from an accident when he was little, took a while to heal but (Y/N) was around to help him so it made it worth it.

He has long hair. Yummy.

Yandere Facts!

Sammy’s way of being a yandere is very lowkey, he already has readers trust so he doesn't need to make the effort to get close to her, the problem is her want to go outside the walls.

The compound already has very strict gender roles, women don’t typically go outside the walls unless the seriously plead their cases to Z and prove that they can handle it.

(Y/N) asked for combat and weapon training when they were around 16. Sammy agreed, because of course he would, he would kiss the ground if she asked, but took some cautionary steps to ensure that she wouldn’t be quite ready being outside the walls.

He deliberately goes harder on her in training and holds back information, as well as emphasizing the point that he’s only teaching her these things for worst case scenario.

He consistently discourages her from volunteering, essentially making Z to be this horrible demon tyrant that would look down on her if she ever came near him.

“Sunshine, Z would never give you the chance. You barely have the experience he looks for in his men, hell the only reason he chose me for hunting duty was because Roman was sick that day. You’re much softer than me so what makes you think you stand a chance?”

So yeah, he speaks to her like she is like a puppy.

Slick words in a soft tone and a hand on her shoulder usually works.

If the reader wasn’t attached to Sammy by the hip since they were little she wouldn’t take his words so easily.

She would put up more of a fight and Sam might have to put those rope skills to use!

Maybe if the reader gets down on her knees and begs him he would think about advocating for her..

Bonus! Z facts!

He is literally Roman Reigns.

authors note: when reader and the yandere are racially ambiguous hehehe. go crazy, any hair can be long. but Z is roman reigns idc idc thats my husband yall frl

#yandere x reader #imagines #yandere #female behavior #male yandere #female reader #post apocalypse #long haired men yummy

[arctic-shard]

Decided to just do the OC ask thing for Dr West anyway, because I threw my back out and need to entertain myself somehow. :p

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget? - West is pretty emphatic about not wanting to erase any of her memories. 035 offered to erase a traumatic memory once and she refused it.

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them? - She's 5'2", over forty and looks her age, and has the resting bitch face and wardrobe of a librarian who hates everyone personally and not in a sexy way. She's also a bi disaster who fucks a lot.

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw? - West is absolutely certain that she has to do everything on her own, that no one will help her if she asks, to the point of disbelieving when people say that they want to help. I think on some level she knows that this is self-destructive, but she's too combative to stop herself.

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn? - I don't know what she used to do, but she's trained herself to fight.

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want? - She has literally died to get what she wants. She stormed Alagadda armed with nothing but determination. She fist-fought the Yellow Lord ( and lost badly. ) West will do whatever it takes, whatever the odds, even though her plans are usually pretty bad.

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass? - West is an ex-Foundation researcher. What moral compass? Is it For Science? Does it Secure, Contain, or Protect? If yes, then it's probably fine.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them? - She's actually got a backstory. I didn't bother when I first came up with her, since I intended to only write one fic with her and her background wasn't real important to it.

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder? - She's an SCPverse character. She has committed various murders and it has been treated as generally Fine.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC? - From the beginning, it's always been Heart's Alone: "'Til now, I always got by on my own / I never really cared until I met you / And now it chills me to the bone."

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? - West is too much a product of the SCPverse to really work in an AU.

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it? - She has a death-touch. However, her go-to in a fight is shin-kicking.

12. Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways? - She assumes that everyone considers her a bitch so she preemtively pushes people away. Also she keeps throwing herself into fights above her weight-class despite having zero skill at combat.

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along? - Maybe. We'd either hate each other or bond over psych issues.

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters? - Competant. Professional. Gets results. For 049 and 035 specifically, she also wants to be seen as loveable and wanted.

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who? - Nope. I draw, I don't cast.

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like? - About average for a forty-plus woman.

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise? - Readers are probably going to say Odious trying to assault her, but I think Geirr's stalking was the worst thing. It went on for longer and it left deeper psychological wounds because West never really got help for it after. With Odious, West had 049 and 035 supporting her and helping her in the aftermath.

18. Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal? - It depends. She usually acts cold and detached because she generally wants to give off that impression, but if there're enough emotions involved, good or bad, she'll get into your space.

19. How does your OC behave when enraged? - Again, depends on the circumstances. If it's a job thing, she goes icy and argumentative. If its a physical threat, she fights.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? - Weirdly, she doesn't seem to get jealous in relationships. She does get professionally jealous when significantly younger scientists have more rank or higher clearances than her, since West had spent her entire adult life working for the Foundation and didn't get the recognition she felt she deserved.

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it? - West's got whatever psych and anger issues come from being overlooked and feeling unwanted and like she's the only one she can rely on for like forty years. She generally handles it by bottling up and seething. She has a Foundation-issued therapist but they seem more interested in 'are you loyal to the Foundation?' than 'are you happy?'

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be? - West would insist she's Lawful Neutral. I think she's well into True Neutral territory.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express? - Process? Probably anger. She hasn't really got any acceptable outlets for it. At best she turns it into spite and channels it into work. Express? Definitely wants and needs.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? - West could have been the good little suburban wife and mother her parents wanted her to be, and then boiled with resentment until she ax-murders her husband. She could have taken her Engineering PhD and gone into a mundane engineering job. She could have decided to give up and play by the rules and never start talking to 049 secretly. Basically, every other path is 'follow the rules, do what you're supposed to do, be ignored, be miserable.' It's not all sunshine and roses the way it is now, but at least she knows what happiness can feel like.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC? - She's bitter, experienced, and most of all, proactive. West makes the choices she's not given, the ones she's not supposed to make. Sometimes they're bad choices, but she follows through with everything she's got.

#another oc ask thing #scp oc #dr victoria west

[anchanted-one]

Legend of Lightning Chapter 54. The Unleashed Storm

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/112923814

250,000 words! Damn, I haven’t even finished with Angral yet. Will I ever get to the real story? Tune in next time to find out!

Aboard the Garuda

Kira was quite nervous. Her Master had taken the pilot’s chair. He was a fairly good pilot now, having requested training at Organa Castle. He also flew several troop carriers in active combat zones.

But this was his first time in a ship as big as the Garuda. And it was his first time in a space battle. Simulators could only teach you so much, so it was rare for a pilot to step up to their first plate in a fight this high-stakes. He was relying on his Force-enhanced Senses and his special sight to get him through this. While it did make sense to Kira, who was aware of their pilot droid’s shortcomings, she wished she could have gotten Seraphim to join in. He was an experienced combat pilot, an ace in dozens of small space battles. But he wasn’t here, so she had to trust in her Master.

They jumped in as close to Angral’s fleet as they could. As Var Suthra had expected, it was not alone; In addition to his own ship, the Oppressor, there was one more Dreadnought, a newer ship called the Tyrant’s Mantle. Four Terminus-class destroyers floated around the two ships, mostly defending the flagship. There were also three carriers, whose fighter screens launched the instant the Republic fleet dropped out of Hyperspace.

Scans found a massive build-up of heat in the Oppressor, enough that it would be dangerous for that ship to open fire. But still, their fleet was only comprised of one Valor-class Cruiser, the Valiant, four Hammerheads, and two carriers. Their fleet couldn’t win against the enemy, even if Tython’s batteries opened fire.

But hopefully, they could provide enough cover for the Garuda. She prayed that they could last until more Republic ships were mustered for this fight.

“Starting our approach,” the boss’ voice was tense. “Here goes nothing.”

“May the Force be with us,” Kira muttered. T7 whistled nervously.

“Power to deflector shields.”

<Acknowledged>

The shots began to whizz past them once they were in range, but the ship only needed minor course correction to avoid them. Harder were the fighters. The Republic Liberator-class fighters took some of the heat off, but they still found themselves under attack by a whole squadron of interceptors.

The Garuda began taking heavy evasive action as Kira fired desperately at their attackers. Her first few shots went wide from the stress, but her training kicked in, and she began predicting her target’s flight path. She claimed her first four kills within a minute of each other, exhilarated by the accomplishment.

The deflector shields held well, as her Master’s piloting steered them clear of the worst danger. But as they got closer, the fire from the capital ships began to pose a greater threat.

“Looks like they’re more worried about us than the Capital ships.”

“Everyone, hold tight,” her Master called. “T7, power to thrusters.”

“What?” Kira screamed.

Putting on a sudden burst of speed, the ship corkscrewed through one hell of a trajectory in an attempt to evade the barrage of death flying their way.

“Bridge to missile bays. Give em hell!”

“Copy!”

Eager for something to do, the soldiers offered to operate the missile launchers. Missiles were fired within seconds of each other, peppering the enemy capital ships in explosions. Some of these missiles hit their targets, destroying turrets and batteries, reducing the shots coming their way, but others fell on the armored hull.

Their ship shook slightly each time they took a shot, but the shields were able to absorb the worst of it. At last, their destination was in sight.

“Prepare to launch proton torpedoes.”

“We need the timing just right here.”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

Twelve seconds later, the computer alerted them that all the ship’s torpedoes had been launched. Three of these struck home, taking down the hangar’s shields. Emergency doors began to close right away, and the ship just made it inside without being damaged.

Trusting her instincts, Kira opened fire again, hitting one of the barricades inside the hangar. Other shots destroyed craft that were currently docked in the belly of the Desolator. Tanks, shuttles and bombers. Troops and support personnel scattered like flies, trying to find better positions to defend.

Kira looked over at her Master, waiting for the order to move. Her eyes widened. He was frozen, his hands so tight on the ship’s controls that they creaked under the strain. He shook all over, his teeth chattering and eyes bulging.

“Master?” She reached out and shook his shoulder. “Master!”

He inhaled noisily and spoke at last. “Head out! Head out!”

He left the landing to the droids, using the cockpit’s dorsal hatch to exit the ship. His Lightsaber became his shield as soldiers opened fire. Kira elected to join the soldiers on the landing ramp, hoping to shield them during their most vulnerable moment in the operation.

She didn’t really have to. Her shots had sent most of the crew packing, but the few that remained were completely focused on her Master, who was carving a blue whirlwind through the deck.

As always, he seemed to almost teleport to his destination; even Kira’s eyes couldn’t keep up. Yet.

It irked her a little; if she couldn’t even see him moving, she was still a long way off from moving at that speed, and even farther away from doing so with his level of precision.

He caught her eye, and Captain Tuarn’s, and nodded. Everyone broke into their assigned teams and scattered.

“This way!” Bonik cried. The small Cathar had been on so many Dreadnoughts by now that he could lead them through the halls blindfolded, Tuarn had claimed. He certainly led them around the corridors with full confidence, waiting at corners for Kira to take the lead.

“There should be a barricade up ahead,” he whispered as they climbed a flight of stairs.

“Got it.” Kira sped to the top, igniting her Saberstaff. There was a single Sith in the enemy’s midst, a fact which raised her spirit. It would be the first time since Ord Mantell where she took on a Force user. She was interested to see how far she’d come since then.

She rushed her opponent, a Pureblood with long red hair. Her opponent hissed menacingly as his blade stopped hers.

“I will enjoy playing with you for the next fifty years—”

“Yeah, yeah, celebrate after you win, dumbass!” Kira snorted.

With another hiss, he threw his strength behind his saber, knocking her back. He tried to push forward, but Kira was already back in position. She slashed thrice with her spinning staff, aiming low on the first two, and cutting at his chin with the third.

As he hissed again, she extinguished one of the blades and started a quick succession of attacks.

He fell back under the pressure, tripping on his feet at the final step. She seized the opportunity to reignite the blade, stabbing him in the knee.

“You do love hissing, don’t you?” She kicked his face as hard as she could, leaving him stunned. “Do you think you’re cool or something?”

With yet another hiss—which he cut off midbreath—he loosed a thin tendril of Force Lightning. Kira deflected the weak attack and responded with her own. He was launched into the soldiers behind him with enough force to squelch bones.

Those soldiers still on their feet panicked and tried to aim at her, but the Greenhorns took the opportunity provided by the sudden decrease in firepower to lob grenades at them. Kira walked forward calmly as the surviving enemies wailed and thrashed, then picked up the Zabrak with the Force.

“I’ve got a question for ya, handsome.”

“Eat dick!” the Zabrak attempted to stab Kira, but she batted his attack aside before cutting both his hands off.

“Where’s Lady Dizyre?”

 *

Vajra advanced through the halls virtually unopposed. Soldiers fled as he approached, screaming for their mothers. It sickened him.

How dare you run! After what you did at Uphrades… no. No… I’m a Jedi. I’m a Raudra. I won’t lose myself…

He let them go, thought the effort made him physically convulse.

A Sith jumped out of the shadows, trying to attack his back, but found that it wasn’t nearly as exposed as she’d thought. Vajra backflipped, spinning to avoid the red blade pointed at his left shoulder blade. He used the spin to slice the woman’s head in half.

He landed behind her, then continued his advance.

He encountered his first real opposition once the elevator door opened. And he stepped out onto the Bridge Deck. He came face-to-face with a dozen broad-shouldered regulars hefting assault cannons and gatling guns, standing around twelve meters away from him.

“LIGHT IM UUUUUUPPP!” their commander screeched.

All guns opened up at once, attempting to inundate him with a fiery torrent of plasma and grenades. He used the Force to repel the grenades, and his Lightsaber the blasts. Shots from an assault cannon hit more heavily, typically staggering the unsuspecting Jedi or Sith. Vajra was ready for them, however, and self-fortification with the Force was his speciality. The air before him grew thick with plasma, half of which came his way, the other half bouncing off the blue blade and bearing down upon the new target he chose for them.

After about fifteen seconds, Vajra went on the offensive. He galloped towards the gunners, leaping from wall to wall, flipping and rolling to avoid the shots so that they didn’t bleed his momentum…

Then he reached the line. He landed in their midst and spun in a circle, Lightsaber stretched out. Four heads dropped to the floor, followed by four more as he attacked the soldiers on his left. The ones at his back died to ricochets. At this close range, the shots melted their helmets, but Vajra barely noticed. He forged ahead, cutting down the few soldiers who dared to stand against him.

Many crew members dropped on their knees and begged for mercy.

To each of these, he asked the same question before sparing them. “Why do you deserve it more than the people of Uphrades? Or Coruscant? Or any of the billions you’ve helped murder?”

There were too few people here, he realized. Most were ordinary crew, not guards or soldiers. And even those were too few.

“Why are there so few of you?” he asked one frightened Ensign suspiciously. “Why have you put up such a weak defense in the Bridge deck?”

“They… that is, the Sith and Elite Guards… they’re guarding the inner sanctum,” the woman whined. “Darth Angral… the Greatest Great of Dark Lords… he’s gotten increasingly unhinged this past year. He executed two-thirds of the crew.” She tried to swallow, but instead threw up noisily. “We’re all that remains. It’s the truth! Please, spare me!”

“I believe you,” Vajra assured her. “Two more questions, and I’ll let you go. How do I reach this Sanctum, and how many people are guarding it?” And since when did Darth Angral start calling himself the ‘Greatest great of Dark Lords’?

“You can get there through the elevators on either side of the bridge,” she answered. “As for the guards… I think there are about twenty-five Sith. And fifty of the most freakish cyborgs you’ll ever meet.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head at his expression, but she breathed in relief and crawled away when he replied softly, “Thank you. Now leave.”

Vajra saw every last pretense of opposition crumple as he continued making his way to the bridge. Everyone just ran screaming. He ignored them, making his way straight for the helm. Once he got there, he took a deep breath, then called on the Force. As much of it as he could muster, then ripped the controls from the base.

To be honest, he could have just set the ship to self-destruct and made his way out without confronting Angral.

But what would be the satisfaction in that? No. He needed to crush Angral personally. Besides, if what that Ensign said was accurate, he had one more responsibility on this ship.

 *

Ensign Gorbi Tupa’s limbs gave away multiple times before she reached the escape pods. Most of them had already launched, but two still remained. Many had launched with just one or two occupants. She cursed her colleagues for not waiting as she set her own to jettison. She vaguely heard a few desperate entreaties to wait, but thought it was just her imagination.

Once she was finally on her way to freedom, she heaved a sigh of relief. That Jedi… he had been even more horrifying than Darth Angral! That way in which he’d wove his way through that hailstorm of minigun fire! Worse, he had—so far as she could tell—not allowed a single bolt to go to waste, reflecting it back at one crew member or another! Twelve heavies with assault cannons, and they had been about as useful as a shrivelled, limp cock!

It was no surprise that all three hundred of the bridge crew had elected to flee as they had. The Jedi… he was furious! She had seen it in his bearing. They all had, she was certain. He had been supremely reluctant to show mercy of any kind. Every person no doubt thought that they would be the first unlucky soul he killed.

Gorbi wiped her mouth, still feeling the bile on her tongue. She reached for the emergency rations in the pod, eager for some water.

Her encounter had been closer than others. The memory almost made her throw up again. He had radiated an implacable aura when she’d mentioned the cyborgs. He clearly knew what they were, and found them even more of an abomination than she did.

Looking into his eyes at that moment had been the most unnerving moment of her life. And she’d watched Darth Angral’s slow descent into madness! But this Jedi… staring at him was like gazing into the depths of a living, malevolent storm right before it growled at you.

What kind of monsters were the Jedi? Had the Sith been right all along? What if the likes of Darth Angral was all that kept the galaxy safe from the likes of the Jedi—her trail of thought abruptly ended when she saw the other escape pods start to explode.

Wha—? Even as she watched, the other Dreadnought, the Tyrant’s Mantle, had turned its guns on the survivors. She watched with dull disbelief as one escape pod after the other was blown to bits.

The fighters began pulling back towards the escort carriers. Three of the Destroyers began making for deep space, while the fourth began a slower retreat, acting as a rear-guard.

Darth Baras had decided the battle was lost, and that she and her fleeing colleagues were to be executed. Seconds after that thought crossed her mind, a javelin of plasma tore through her pod’s canopy. She had a microsecond where she felt her flesh get cooked before everything ended.

 *

Lord Xeevin watched as the last escape pod turned into a fireball. “That’s the last of them, Darth Baras.”

“Good. And good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Are you certain you don’t need us to blow up the Oppressor too?”

“Tempting as that may be, it will take time to get through its shields. And according to my source inside the ship, the strike team should have the reactors down in ten minutes. And why bother anyway? Those left onboard will fight to the death. Devarath will turn that ship into a grave.”

“What? Are you…”

“Certain? Yes. He slew Darth Harm like he was an overgrown grrs’t chicken. It would take someone like Malgus, Marr, Thanaton, Vengean, or Lady Rooks to stop him.”

“If he’s that dangerous, maybe we should nip him while he’s still a bud.”

“I thought about that, and it’s not worth the risk. More Republic ships will arrive there long before the Oppressor is stripped of its defenses. Get what you can out of there. Leave Angral to stew in his final humiliation.”

“By your order, Dark Lord.” Xeevin bowed. As ever, the heavyset Sith was ruthlessly decisive and well-informed. He had deemed this mission lost the second Angral’s ship had lost its helm.

In minutes, the ship’s attempt to destroy Tython would fail along with its reactors. They’d lost one escort carrier, and twenty-seven starfighters. One of the Terminus-classes, the Imposer was already damaged, and the one playing rear-guard, the Shyrack Demon, would be as well. But they’d escaped with acceptable losses.

The only shame was that there was no salvaging Darth Angral’s mess. He had refused to share the fruits of ‘his labours’, and the Emperor had not deigned to order him otherwise. Neither those interesting soldiers, nor his planet killer would return for an encore. But such was life. The Jedi had proven how desperate they were. When the war restarted, they would snap like twigs before the might of the Sith.

 *

Kira made her way through the prison level. She had led the soldiers to the engines before splitting up, as they’d confirmed that resistance aboard this vessel had all but vanished.

Which left her free to pursue a personal goal. She had been right to think the soldiers would be safe; she encountered no opposition on her way here. She checked the terminal, found the prisoner she was looking for, and made her way to the cell.

She pressed a button at the door, which yawned open to let her pass.

There, lashed to an upright table opposite the door, Kira found a woman who had been tortured past the limits of anyone’s endurance.

Lady Dizyre. Darth Angral’s wife. And his toy. But more importantly…

“Hello, Mother.”

The gaunt woman looked nothing like the one she’d seen back when they stopped the Planet Prison’s activation. Her skin was chalk white and scarred. What remained of her hair had turned grey. Her skin hung off a body that had lost much of its flesh. Her eyes had held a generous dollop of insanity back then, but now she looked deranged.

“Mother?” Dizyre grinned. “Mother?! But you died, my sweet Tarnis! You fell on your own Lightsaber!” She laughed so hard that it looked like she was about to faint from asphyxiation. “Fell on your own Lightsaber! You always knew how to make you mother laugh!”

“Not Tarnis. You had a daughter once. Remember?”

“Daughter?” That got her attention. She looked intently at Kira for a moment. “Hmmm… seems to ring a bell…” she giggled again. Kira wondered if this had been a bad idea.

She had talked to Praven about Angral’s followers, and had steered him towards Lady Dizyre, hiding her interest with great effort. She knew now that her mother was a victim. A lesser Sith with middling power but great wealth, who had graduated from one of the Empire’s lesser-known academies. Angral had all but demanded her hand in marriage, forcing her to break it off with her childhood sweetheart. That alone had shaken her, the knowledge that all her power and wealth had amounted to nothing. But then she’d had her fortune taken over by Darth Angral, and lost her pride and dignity as a Sith.

Angral had used the multi-billion credit fortune to build some of the most resplendent palaces and mansions on Dromund Kaas, Korriban, Begeren, Ziost, and other Imperial worlds, then used his unwilling bride to give him an heir.

Many children were killed when they were found to be weak in the Force. She, Kira, had been one of two children.

“My name… well, the name you gave me… it was Lilim.”

“Lilim? Lilim… hmm.” Dizyre giggled. “I had three daughters… and they were all named Lilim… my husband was fond of that name.”

“I’m the one that’s younger than Tarnis.”

“Are you now? How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Oh, so you’re pretending to be that one! Everything was going well with you. You were strong in the Force, stronger than Tarnis by far. You were going to be the real heir… then poof! You were just gone one day! I begged Angral for details, but he just said he crushed your skull!” She laughed hysterically. “Crushed your skull!”

“The Emperor took me. He took hundreds of children. He was brainwashing us into being his secret police force. I escaped.”

“A likely story,” her high-pitched laughter echoed throughout the cell.

“Look, I didn’t come here to catch up. You don’t have to believe my story. You’ve suffered greatly under your husband. I came to release you.”

The woman’s eyes sharpened. “Then release me.” She thrust her chest out. “Make it quick.”

“What? NO! That’s not what I meant! I can take you to the J—to a hospital somewhere! They can heal you!”

“And what then? I have no power, no money, no friends, no family… even if you really are my daughter. My life has been a lie. They told me I could be an important Sith, given my connections. But Angral… he degraded me in front of my wedding guests, then took me in front of my ex-fiance, Gordon. He forced me to sign away my rights to my family’s fortune. Then he used me for thirty years as a pounding bag. There is no coming back from where I’ve been.”

“But there is—” Kira remembered her Master’s stunt on Nar Shaddaa, finally understanding his meaning. How could she claim to understand her mother’s suffering, to promise that she could get better, if she didn’t really know anything at all? For all she knew, her Mother would continue to suffer until the day she died.

The Sith’s lip curled, and she jerked her head towards one of her hands. “You see this glove? You see the belt and boots? They were all a present on my first anniversary. I was delighted when Angral gave them to me, thinking that I was finally being accepted as a partner. Even a lesser partner. For so many and years, they gave me hope that I could have more one day. It was only a few weeks ago when Angral told me the truth.” Her eyes tightened. “They are made from my beloved sister’s skin. He enjoyed his good joke for decades! And now he’s fused them to my body!”

Kira was beyond horrified. “How could even a Sith do such a cruel thing?”

“Darth Angral is cruel, even for a Sith. Vicious. A mad dog.”

“Soon to be ‘was’. My master is going to kill him.”

“Oh?”

“Vajra Devarath. The guy who handed Tarnis his ass.” Kira had kept this piece of information from him, knowing it would play on his mind. He loved her far more than she deserved.

Dizyre chuckled again. “I see… so you’re his Apprentice… a Jedi… now I almost want you to be my Lilum. Nothing else could make this so perfect a circle.”

“Do you want to see him beaten and humiliated?”

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

“Then I’ll take you to him. Here, hold on.”

She undid the shackles binding her mother to the table, catching her before she fell.

“At least you’re kind to me. Few people are ever kind to me. Not even the slaves.”

“Can you do me one favor though? Don’t tell Vajra what I just told you. He’s the sort who’d feel guilty about having killed my so-called ‘family’.”

“Ha! Softie… still, he’s going to kill Angral, right? I’ll allow him this one weakness. Besides, this is all another of my hallucinations anyway.”

 *

Angral’s Sanctum

Vajra stepped out of the elevator to find his quarry waiting for him. They were in a large hall, about the same length and width as House Organa’s courtroom, though not as tall. All the furniture had been overturned to form a series of barricades behind which the fifty missing Power Guards waited for the command to fire. Behind them were Angral’s Sith bodyguards, all wearing the same black, hooded armor, and more than half wielded a Lightsaber in each hand.

“There you are, Jedi!” Angral’s voice rang out. There was glee in his voice, a deep and malevolent satisfaction. “Escape no longer matters to me, if I can wipe out the Jedi! Watching you fail will be all the prize I need for my labors—"

Vajra wasn’t going to listen to this drivel. His Lightsaber sprouted its blade like a geyser, and he closed the gap between the elevator and the first line of barricades before the Power Guards opened fire. These were Mk-3s if he recalled correctly. They had most of the Mk-4’s combat capabilities, but suffered from a few critical design flaws which meant they could only be used in short engagements.

But under present circumstances, it was impossible to tell the difference between them and the more advanced brethren. They fired in perfect coordination; at any given time, there were a minimum of seven bolts about to strike him at once. He was forced to move most of his body in order to evade them.

He snarled when he realized that he couldn’t pull his punches today, not if he wanted to defeat the Sith afterwards. He had never taken on so many at the same time before; and his cold fury was at its breaking point now. He had to let it out. Angral was right in front of him!

He squashed his inner doubts for now, and instead fought the Power Guards as though they were any other enemy. No matter what weapon they fought with, the poor souls fell to his blade one after the other. A small part of him mourned those that died, and hoped that there were survivors, but the greatest part simply swore vengeance against the man who took away all their lives, who made their sacrifices a joke.

He Sensed the Sith waver; he heard Angral angrily—and perhaps shakily—order them to bring him Vajra’s head.

“COME AND TAKE IT, IF YOU THINK YOU CAN!” he screamed. “NO? THEN I’LL JUST COME TO YOU INSTEAD!”

And so, for the first time in his life, Vajra truly went all out. He advanced like a mountain storm; a Cocytan superstorm of the century, of which he was the source; a supreme whiteout whose chill flash froze any unfortunate enough to get caught in it, and whose windy howls were the cries of a raging nightmare.­­ His Lightsaber flashed like a thousand angry thunderclouds bursting at once. Each swing cut through flesh and bone and metal.

Dozens of Lightsaber blades bore down upon him, but not one was any threat to him. Today, he was Juyo personified; attacking and moving in the most unpredictable, random angles a body was capable of. He twisted at unnatural angles to avoid multiple blows. His movements were even faster and sharper than usual. Each strike claimed limbs of several different Sith at once. His one blade did the work of many; it seemed to go high and low at the same time, or lashed out in multiple angles.

Force attacks weren’t fast enough to hit him, not even Force Lightning, since its speed was limited to that of its users… and he was way too fast for their pitiful eyes.

He broke in and out of their encirclements, constantly keeping them guessing his location.

Sith began to scream and falter as their numbers thinned, and Angral’s formerly confident voice showed signs of flagging. Watching these servants of pain and suffering squirm brought a twisted smile on Vajra’s face.

“What’s this? I thought you enjoyed oppression. Don’t like it when you’re the one being squashed into the ground, do you?”

“Shut your trap, you little vermin!” Angral’s voice shook so hard that Vajra had trouble understanding him. “Sejanus! Mierkoss! Stvie! All of you, get in there and finish him off! Stop your dawdling this instant!”

“Then why don’t you come down from your throne and help them? Is it as my Master said? You’re a chicken who can’t take a real fight, are you?” Vajra’s taunts failed to elicit any reaction.

Angral just thrashed in rage and fear before screeching again. “What are you waiting for, get him!”

But the Sith still hesitated.

“Awww, are the big bad Sith afraid of little ol me?” Vajra asked scathingly. “Afraid of opponents that can fight back? Then allow me to come to you!” He attacked the Sith one at a time, each time forcing them off their feet before attacking the next. “You love to feast as your victims burn!” He spun on his heel to swat aside the one blade whose owner willed himself into action. “You slaughter thousands, and ignore their screams! You call them lesser beings, inferior existences you exist purely for your entertainment!” He slashed thrice, and a Sith fell to the ground in several pieces, screaming. “How does it feel to be weak and powerless before an enemy that is beyond your ability to cope with?”

“Silence!” Angral roared, and attacked Vajra personally. His red blade clashed with Vajra’s blue in a dance that was furious and fast-paced for him, but slow and monotonous to the Raudra. Angral was years past his prime; there was no way he could beat someone in a swordfight, who trained daily. Still, he was a Darth. The Force flowed through his body, increasing his power, if nothing else.

With a loud yell, Angral launched a series of attacks that Vajra had no trouble turning aside. He didn’t even need to step back. He just redirected the bullish momentum of Angral’s blade and body like it was child’s play. Well, given his age, one could call it that. But in all seriousness, most Jedi would at least be taking him seriously. It was pure training that allowed Vajra to handle him like he was a furious cockroach.

Vajra threw in the occasional counterattack, making it as humiliating as possible. He tossed in a light slap in the face after every few parries. He kicked Angral’s legs out from under him a couple of times, chuckling infuriatingly when he fell on his arse or nose.

“Why, you…!” Angral dug deeper into his rage, and the Dark Side. His fear began to fade as his anger mounted, finally giving him the speed and power, that Vajra would have expected from someone with his reputation. Other Sith joined in too, morale buoyed by their Master’s efforts. For the first time in a while, Vajra began to feel the pressure.

A Lightsaber came close to grazing his side, and another Sith almost managed to clip him with furniture that he Hurled in his direction. Another Sith managed a punch that brushed Vajra’s hair.

In response, Vajra got a little serious. He re-entered the Battle Focus which his enemies had found so oppressive, counterattacking with such fury that his opponents were pushed back. He capitalized by doubling his momentum, launching from one Sith to the next, hitting with such powerful force that they could no longer think of anything but defense.

He became the storm again, and it was deadly.

Perhaps Angral finally realized that he couldn’t take Vajra in a Lightsaber battle, and chose the Force instead. While Vajra was briefly occupied further reducing his guards’ numbers, the pale Sith loosed a wide stream of Lightning. His cohorts joined in, adding their power to his. Vajra used the Force too; he picked up the corpses of Fallen Sith to use as a meat shield. It took some strength to keep this wall from collapsing under the assault, especially when the bodies started to melt and burn. Vajra tried to cover his mouth and nose—having a spare pair of arms really was convenient—but the stench was making his head spin. He looked at the Flows in the Force through his special sense, and noted several large bubbles forming as the different founts of Force Lightning interfered with each other. He disrupted one such bubble, wondering what would happen if he did.

There was a loud electric explosion on the other side of his wall, and several Sith screamed in pain before dying. Vajra repeated the process, and more Sith fell, but this only worked when multiple Sith were doing this. As a result, the decreasing numbers slowed down the process of bubble formation.

But they were spooked enough to stop, which gave Vajra the chance to close in again. In a quarter of a heartbeat, he vaulted over the bodies—which now looked like one fleshy blob—and cut down one Sith with an overhead chop. He spun to slay his second target, who squealed like a donkey calf and waved his Lightsabers wildly. He was cut in half at the chest. The third and fourth Sith attacked again, but Vajra pirouetted to avoid the blades. He stabbed one in the throat, then slashed his blade in an arc which cut the other’s face in two.

“And now you’re all alone,” Vajra mocked the Sith Lord. “Your wildest dream has officially come true. You have me all to yourself. Aren’t you happy?”

Angral was in no shape for coherent words. He bubbled with equal parts white-hot rage and stark terror.

Vajra sighed. “How pathetic. After all you’ve done to this galaxy, all the threats you screamed, all that I had to fight through to get here, is this all you show me?”

Angral snarled. “I’m going to kill you slowly, you little rotworm maggot!”

“That’s the spirit,” Vajra nodded. “Come to me. Tarnis demands retribution… or is that worth nothing to you?”

Angral’s face purpled, and he tried to rise, but his legs still shook like his bones had been replaced with jelly. “Funny you should mention retribution, boy…” Angral seethed. “You saw how your Master died, didn’t you? Well, I had him for days before that! I made sure he felt a thousand kinds of pain before he died—”

“I was waiting for you to remember him,” Vajra interrupted him. “I hope you remember his final words. About how weak you are. I’m about to prove it to everyone.”

He had pictured this moment for months now. The moment when he had Angral’s life in his hands. He had wondered what would be the best way to defeat him, and he had remembered his disastrous attempt to Dominate Morint’s mind. He had tried to observe people’s psyche since then, to see the Force Flow through their thoughts and spirits.

He could see the breaking points in people’s psyches if he concentrated hard enough… and Angral’s was like a massive building constructed using fractured glass and crushed support beams. Affecting Shatterpoints in the environment was tricky at best, but those in a person? Easier than it should have been. Relying on his instinct, Vajra flicked at one of the many flaws in Angral’s inner palace. The smallest disturbance snowballed into a cascade failure, splintering the fragile membrane that kept his mind in one piece.

“YEEEEAAAAAAARRRGHHHHHHH!”

The result was quite spectacular. Darth Angral’s scream was one to wake all the ghosts in hell. He covered his head with his hands, and began pleading to his inner demon to leave him alone.

“FATHER! WHY ARE YOU HERE?! PLEASE, NO! NO, I WON’T FAIL AGAIN, I PROMISE! I’LL BRING… I’LL BRING GLORY TO OUR HOUSE! PLEASE, DON’T! NO! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER! NO! I’LL BE A GOOD BOY! AAAAGH! AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Vajra observed his handiwork with satisfaction for a moment before heading over to the Holoterminal in front of the throne. Making absolutely certain that Angral was in the frame, he keyed in an open frequency and hit transmit, letting the galaxy know that one of the nefarious butchers of Coruscant had been cast down and humiliated. He said nothing, but his mind screamed vengeful thoughts inside his head. He allowed the transmission to go on for around twenty seconds before ending it.

“Everyone in the Republic and Empire have seen what you are,” Vajra told Angral, certain his words were falling on deaf ears. “Your disgrace has been broadcast for all to see. But I don’t plan to kill you yet. No… you will be our prisoner. Forever.”

There was a sudden, furious applause from the doorway.

He turned to see Kira standing there, open-mouthed and half-carrying a woman who looked like she’d been through hell, but was now thoroughly entertained. Whatever her torments, the stranger took great delight in seeing the mewling Angral. “YES! That’s right! Squeal, you little pig! Show us all that you were a pig with a dragon’s mask all these years! Cry! Oh, fuck, I didn’t know how much I needed to see this!” She fell forwards and crawled forward to get a closer seat to Angral’s meltdown.

Kira didn’t say anything for a while. The look on her face as she looked at Vajra was pure relief. Her expression twitched as she saw some of the corpses on the floor, but she didn’t comment.

But that small change in expression was enough to pull Vajra back to reality.

He approached the dead Power Guards, looking around at all their faces. They had been ordinary refugees once, people so down on their luck that they chose to sign up for such a dangerous project in the hopes of getting some power and control over their lives. Instead, they’d had everything taken away from them. Guilt bubbled inside Vajra’s stomach. He recalled some of the procedures they’d undergone, only to have their wills and desires destroyed.

And finally, to die a cruel death on this godforsaken ship. At his hands!

“Master?” Kira shook his shoulder. “You did it! You won!”

“I won?”

“You won!” She laughed in delight. “Angral is down, and Tython is safe! The whole fucking Republic is safe!”

The woman Kira had carried in walked over to Angral and loomed over him, gloating all the while.

“That’s Angral’s wife,” Kira explained. “And the person he tormented the most in this galaxy. I found her in the prison block, of all places. Figured that if there was any one person who deserved to see Angral defeated, it was her.”

Vajra nodded mutely.

“You must be tired,” Kira said unconvincingly. She turned him away from the dead Power Guards and led him to the elevator. “Don’t worry. The battle out there has already been won. Our ships have surrounded the Oppressor. We have reinforcements incoming. Master Kaedan himself is coming up here to take this weeping mule into custody. I’ll get you back to the Garuda. T7 should be waiting for us by now—oh, speak of the devil! T7, why don’t you help Master Vajra back to the ship? I’ll keep watch here.”

“What about Angral?”

“It… doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.”

Vajra turned around to see the man still whimpering. Although he deserved it, and more, the Raudra couldn’t help but recall just what he did to the Darth. He had let Master Orgus down!

The words he had said after his very first assignment came to mind. ‘Always be mindful, Padawan. And never, ever betray yourself. That is the absolute highest priority order I will ever give you.’

The edict of Rudra also echoed in his breaking heart.

Never forget your soul. Even if grief or anger or pain make it feel slippery in your hands, always hold to yourself. Never forget your pride and honor as my children. Never let the storm within take you.

He felt something break inside his chest. What… had… he… done!?

 *

Once Master Vajra had been safely led away, Kira tried to process what she had seen today. Her Master had demolished these Sith. They hadn’t even been able to scratch him! Not even a Darth as fierce as Angral! She knew with total conviction that few Jedi could have beaten Angral in such a decisive manner. Perhaps Master Satele. But Vajra… it had been frightening to see just how capable he really was. She thought she’d gotten to know him this past year, but this… this was beyond anything he’d ever seen.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t troubled. If only she could tell what it was that made her nervous. She had been quite strongly exposed to the Dark Side during her childhood, enough to know its touch when it pressed up against her. This wasn’t it. Not by a longshot.

No, her Master had Felt like he’d morphed into something ethereal. Something beyond good and evil, logic or passion. He had become the very embodiment of vengeance. An avatar of some higher power.

His reaction after she inadvertently broke his trance had somewhat proved that to her; he had not been himself, not entirely. She looked around at the Power Guards again, noting just how efficiently they had been slain. The Vajra she knew couldn’t have done this so easily. He’d have flinched before every swing.

It frightened her, to think that something could so fundamentally change her friend’s personality. She suddenly pictured a day when she left her room just to find that this was his new normal. The Republic would breathe a sigh of relief, no doubt. For there would finally be a defender who could be a match for any ten Sith.

But the galaxy would weep for the loss of one of its gentlest, kindest souls. She shuddered, suddenly appreciating the final edict of the Raudra.

“Lilim?”

Kira looked at the other Sith in the room. “My name is Kira now.”

Lady Dizyre raised an eyebrow. “My mistake. I realize I am asking a lot of you, but please bear with me. This day…” she turned a face to Kira, which was brimming over with joy. “This day was the highest point in decades of my life. If I live to see tomorrow, it will be as a prisoner and a patient. Look the other way. Let me end my life with some of the dignity you have given me.”

Kira nodded silently. “I… I really should stop you. But I can’t. Only you know your suffering.”

“Thank you, dear. I do have some words, for both you and your friend. I saw that boy’s face. That’s not the reaction he ought to have. If it is the Jedi way to feel bad about every life taken, let this be the exception. You have done the galaxy a great service today. The fewer Angrals there are out there, the better. You should celebrate for every one of them that’s defeated.” With that, she took hold of Angral’s Lightsaber and pressed it against her heart. “You shouldn’t have to see this. Please leave.”

“Alright.” Kira was somewhat gratified that this tortured Sith could feel respect and compassion. She would be able to take pride in something.

“One last thing. What made you choose the name ‘Kira’?”

Kira frowned. “Doesn’t it mean ‘free’ in old Sith? And I liked how it sounded. Nice and short, but laden with meaning. Freedom was what I yearned for, desperately, above all else.”

Her mother’s lips twitched. “Funny. Your grandmother thought the same thing, when she gave me that name.”

Kira’s jaw dropped.

“‘Kira’ is indeed a good name,” she went on. “Think of it as a link between us, if you are willing to let it be so. Be free, be happy. Don’t ever make a mistake you will regret. I am glad to have met you. Now go on. I’ll give you till the count of ten.”

 *

#star wars #swtor #the old republic #star wars the old republic #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #jedi knight #hero of tython #archive of our own

[spellbook-gayboy]

Old Friends

Hope you like this one (also slight spoilers for Guarding The Globe #4 below the cut!):

Francisco smashed into the wall, blood erupting from his mouth with a groan. He struggled to rise to his feet, only for a hand to grab his costume and slam his back against the wall. 

“What she saw in any of you, I will never know.” came the snarling voice of War Woman. “Your friend took an axe to the chest to save your pathetic life, and yet you still beg for death?! You’re an embarrassment, even by male standards!”

El Chupacabra spluttered through his broken ribs, managing to croak out a weak “Then finish it. You’d be doing everyone a favour.”

“That I would.” she agreed, raising her bloodied axe into the air. “With your death, I declare a victory for Amazonia, and those you’ve wronged can finally know peace!”

“Connie!”

War Woman faltered. Her axe hand lowered, and she let Francisco slide down the wall. She turned to face the source of the voice, muttering under her breath. “That voice... I know that voice. It’s...” she thought out loud, but when she saw who was speaking, she snarled out “You!”, raising her axe to point. 

Through the smoke and debris of the ruined streets, a figure emerged. His suit was different than what she remembered, tactical and olive-green, but the Amazonian shield on his arm was the same one Holly had used, had given during the war. It was Frontline. 

“Connie, you need to stop!” he said, gesturing to her with a concerned look in his eyes. “You’ve already killed so many, but you don’t have to go any further!”

“Kyle”  War Woman said flatly. “Of all the men Holly believed were worth fighting for, she believed in you most of all. She worked with you, trusted you for decades!” she continued, an angered tone rising in her voice, to the point that tears began to leak from her eyes. “Where were you when she needed you? When that alien murdered her?!”

Frontline took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking. “I wasn’t there, and I couldn’t help Holly. There ain’t a day that goes by that doesn’t haunt me.” he confessed. Despite her hatred, War Woman could still sense the pain in his voice as he told her that. “But I can still help you, Connie! You’re still my friend!”

“Help me? Help... me?” she scoffed. “I don’t need your help. And you were never my friend. You were hers!”

Frontline had to stifle an angry growl at that comment. “That still means something to me! If I’m not doing this for your sake... then I’ll do it because she would’ve wanted me to!”

“You really want to help?” War Woman asked. “Then get out of my way, Kyle! I won’t tell you again!”

“I think we both know I can’t do that, Connie.” he replied, already beginning to put the shield- her shield- in front of himself as he dropped into a combat stance. “Not even for you.”

Her grip on the axe tightened, and she closed with “So be it.” before she roared, charging with the weapon raised. She brought the jagged blade down, only for Frontline to deflect it with his shield, spinning into a kneeling position. Before she could register the counter, an elbow was driven into War Woman’s gut, and a hand grabbed her by the arm and tossed her down the street, the concrete cracking beneath her when she landed.

“You can’t win, Connie. Don’t make this any more worse than it already is!”. Despite the urge to attack again, War Woman knew he was right: it had been decades since she had fought, and her conquest of Amazonia had been more through strategy and an army of like-minded Amazons than sheer combat prowess. Even with her experience, Frontline was still leagues stronger and more durable than her, making this a stalemate at best and a losing battle at worst. 

Nevertheless, she picked herself up and charged once more, the next encounter slightly longer than the last: every swing and strike was blocked or deflected, Frontline bobbing and weaving with the fluidity of an expert boxer. Eventually, the axe managed to strike true, and even with his nigh-invulnerability, the blade still sliced through his suit and left a long, ugly gash along his unprotected arm. 

“Goddammit! If you won’t stop, then fine!” Frontline growled, this time charging at War Woman, a steely look in his brown eyes. Whereas before he was merely trying to avoid her attacks, now he was the attacker, hitting War Woman with a series of punches, kicks, elbows and knees. Somewhere in the flurry, her axe was knocked from her hand, a few teeth were lost when the rim of his shield swung into her jaw, the same blow sending her head-first into a nearby wall. 

For a moment, Frontline looked concerned by the blow he had just dealt to her, asking “Oh God! Connie?”, only for War Woman to come up with her fists raised, swinging a punch straight at his face. The impact sent a shockwave from the force of it, but her hand came away bloody, her knuckles split open, while his face remained unblemished. 

She kept doling out blow after blow, but even when using all of her Amazonian might, it felt like punching a spandex-covered brick wall. Every attack brought her more pain and fed the well of anger rising in her gut, while all Frontline received were bloody smears over the dark colour of his suit. He just stood, letting himself be her willing punching bag.

War Woman gave out first, a hook to his bicep causing her hand to buckle, producing a sick cracking noise which dropped her to the floor. Frontline instantly knelt down next to her, offering a hand which she swatted away.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, before curling in on herself, all the grief and anger she had tried to keep down finally pouring out in her tears. “She wasn’t meant to die! I can’t... why?” she sobbed out, not caring for her limp and bleeding hand. “Why did he kill her, Kyle?”

“I... don’t know. But I’m sorry, Connie.” Frontline confessed, respecting her wish to not be touched but staying by her side. “I am so goddamn sorry that I couldn’t be there,” he told her, tears of his own showing. “But I’m here now, and I’m not gonna leave you. I promise.”

#what do you think? #invincible #invincible show #invincible amazon #invincible oc #🦅🛡 #Kyle Washington #war woman II #connie morgan #Francisco Vasquez #El Chupacabra #my writing

[ginnsbaker]

That tattoo you posted. Not gonna lie if convinced my partner to do that after she cheated, it would just be so everyone knows what i know about her until she got it removed.

I’m an asshole when if comes to my version of what payback is, to say that least i found an interesting conversation between her best friend and her that broke us up but she wanted to get back together after breaking with me (i loved her very much but after a day of my discovery she ended things saying things would never be the same claiming things couldn’t be the way they were before, i got angry because a half-day really wasn’t enough for me to forgive her)

So I slept with her closest friend, the girl she knew for years. Am i an asshole? Yes, yes i am. Do i regret it? That’s up for debate depending on how i feel. On the high road days i think well i could have just left her and let things be, on the other ones i think what comes around goes around, and the series of unfortunate events she did still genuinely didn’t combat what she did/ended up doing.

LMAO that first relationship was quite a trip.

Wow, it sounds like both of you had a messy break up (for you to sleep with her friend as vengeance). I hope you're in a healthier relationship now :)

I've never had a breakup like that lol. The worst I did was throwing the breakfast this guy I used to date made for me and we were simply fighting lol

#asks #anon

[dndmidnight]

The Tale of Caspian Malachi Havelock

note: this is my original dnd character, caspian havelock! this goes mostly into detail about his background, and sets up his own personal enemies. if you're curious about his stats (since i do have those rolled and saved on my phone) i would be more than willing to divulge information! please do not take his background word for word for your own characters and respect that i write simply for fun and wanted to get the story of caspian malachi havelock out there! i hope you enjoy!

this story clocks in at 1,274 words (roughly two pages!)

born on a grand ship amidst the seven years to a couple that escaped the fey realm long ago, caspian malachi havelock is an eladrin elf who was born with golden skin rivaling that of the high summer sun. his temperament as a young elf would remain aggressive and prideful, finding himself boasting to friendly ships about the hardships his parents had gone through to achieve their status as captain, despite the fact that were making him climb the ranks himself. this pride and boastfulness would mellow out, though, as the now teen elf found himself faced with the real horrors of the ocean. 

in the darkest of the night, caspian would awake to the sounds of fighting on the deck of the ship. leaping from his place in his bed, he would rush to the deck to find a massacre taking place, crewmates fighting against a horrid crew of drow, illithid, and goblins. he, himself, would soon take up a weapon from his quarters, leaping into the fray and slaying a good many of the opposing crew. however, things would eventually come to be too much as caspian soon found himself being overwhelmed by the numbers of the other ship.

a call would ring out in the middle of everything, though, piercing his ears and garnering the attention of those intent on killing him. his mother, now leaving the side of her dear husband and caspian’s father, would find herself trying to fight through the crowd that separated her from her son, and succeed she did by sheer determination, reaching the group that had surrounded young caspian. unfortunately for the young eladrin boy, though, those who had been wanting to kill him had turned their focus to his mother, deciding that leaving the boy with the worst torture yet - knowing he’d been unable to help save his crew and his parents - would be a fate worse than death for the child who had helped slay nearly half of the enemy crew.

and so, he would find himself witnessing the beheading of his mother, having to watch in abject horror as her head tumbled to the ground at his side, the blood pooling from both head and body, staining both hands and legs. he would be here for but a moment longer as, soon, he was lifted by one of the drow he had been bested by in combat and soon tossed overboard with nothing more than a stray piece of driftwood to assist in keeping him afloat.

as the attacking crew now took over the ship, caspian would find himself adrift for days on end, beginning to starve, unable to trance lest he slip into the water and drown, and above all else beginning to dehydrate. his hope was beginning to wane and, for a period of time, he found himself contemplating whether or not to just let himself be taken in by the sea he grew up on. in a way, it was almost like returning home to a mother, wasn’t it? it had been the very place he’d grown up, after all. yet, his days would not end in the waters he’d grown up in. as, just before he truly decided to let go, he found himself being passed by another ship and, before long, being hoisted aboard by the - thankfully - friendly pirates.

during the start of his stay with the pirates, he would find himself coming into contact with a small group of druidic healers, those of which would take care of him while he recovered from his rough drifting on the sea. while with them, his love of the sea and the life within it would only grow, especially as these healers began to teach him their ways after he showed interest and desire in being able to connect with the nature he loved more deeply. 

starting from the bottom once more, caspian would find himself growing critical of the way the captain ran the ship. all riches and treasures found went to him with only the more recognized crewmates getting a share and, even then, it wasn’t a whole lot. not only that, though, the ship was ran on the basis of fear. if even the threat of someone calling the captain into question came about, the threats of public execution or being tossed to the sea were warned off and taken quite seriously, with caspian seeing several crewmates hung and tossed into the salty sea. growing frustrated and tired of this way of living on the ship, caspian - within mere months of his arrival - would challenge the captain to a duel for who had the right to captain the ship. he noted his achievement in taking out nearly half a crew on his own, not to mention his good standing with the rest of the crew already. whoever lost would be dealt with in any way the new - or remaining - captain felt necessary.

two days would pass for the eladrin teen in preparation for the duel and he would find himself overwhelmed with nervousness, spending almost the entire time with the druid group he had become friends with during his time aboard the ship. many talks of support and encouragement were had as well as discussions on what would happen even if caspian happened to lose. after all, it wouldn’t be a surprise to really anyone if the rest of the crew decided to follow anyways - given the captain didn’t have caspian killed before being tossed.

two days would flow by quickly enough and soon, caspian would be stood before the captain of the crew - a tall human man known simply as ‘kraken’. the fight would take place over the next three hours with both men whittling each other down, struggling to gain an advantage on one another however, just a devastating blow was about to be rained down on caspian, he found himself remembering the night his own ship had been overtaken, the trials he’d gone through to try and save those he cared about most, he thought about those on the ship rooting for him now, as well, and with a newfound strength, he managed to avoid the attack and turn the tides on kraken, finally sweeping the man off his feet and holding the tip of his sword at the man’s throat.

“let it be known to the people of this ship that ruthless killing will no longer be tolerated and if any problems arise with me, caspian malachi havelock, as the new captain, you are to take it up with me personally instead of directing your whispers behind my back. treasures will be shared evenly among all of us, and for those who cannot receive a fair share, you will be prioritized during the next haul. death as punishment is done away with, and i will be the best captain the seven seas have ever known!”

these words would prove true for the following years as he captained his ship, his crew becoming heavy in riches with each person relying not only on him, but on each other without fear or need for concern that there was no trust among the crew. however, as they found themselves in a harbor town one evening, most of the crew handling matters of spending their money and riches getting drunk and feasting the night away, there would be a grand fire started in the night and the last caspian would see beyond the flames of the ship he worked so hards towards captaining was kraken on the bow of a ship alongside the drow captain from his teen years, both waving mockingly goodbye to the eladrin.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #original character #oc #original story #adding d20 for reach sorry #d20 #writing #dnd character #dnd oc

[saltypiss]

This mentality is what kills games. Seriously. Why even bother when standards are just so low. I’m almost disgusted.

He made the argument against himself so apparent it wasn’t even worth adding the rest of the thread, it’s exactly what you’ve read before multiple times, it makes it even worse that he admitted it from the start. Never guess what platform it was being discussed for, no actually, you wouldn’t, you’d think it would be dead by now.

Oh yeah, Saints Row. To be clear it’s not a complete and utter fucking disaster, it’s just unbelievably disappointing. Nothing was learned, nothing was evolved, nothing improved other than the gReEPhFiX and honestly I can’t even be sure it looks good with how much blur is absolutely everywhere.

 I’m not even 10% of the way into the game, I’ve just been going around the world doing side content and my usual shenanigans I always did in the older titles, even Saints Row’s original version Saints Row 3 I had the same problems. But I beat that one, once. This feels like PTSD. The same situation with the same problems.

It’s got 30 minutes of enjoyment, and that tank leaks every time you come back more and more. I’m almost forcing myself to keep playing, the intro was just such a bitter tasting spit in the mouth that forcing myself to reach more of that level of absurdly poor gameplay just sounds, and I can’t put this any more eloquently, Genuinely Boring.

The whole game is balls to the walls, sandbox included, and the story/missions try desperately to make you feel like it’s all so bad ass. But the combat with gangs and police show a far more exciting and immersive time for the player with actual decision making taking place, while still having poor shooting mechanics made worse every game.

I don’t need yet another fucking turret section where everything cool happening is literally not involved in what I’m doing because I’m literally only using the mouse, pointing and clicking. I’m not doing anything, the npcs are, the models and animations are, the developers are. And that is so painfully boring and dreadfully unfun.

Lemme put it to you this way, Deus Ex allowed you to literally do almost anything you wanted from the word go. And how you interacted with the world, whether you explored, or chose, or chose non-lethal, etc, it all felt badass and immersive because you the player actually had to DO the thing.

There isn’t a fucking intro where I’m on a fucking turret for the last half of it. There isn’t this unbelievable escalation that never goes any higher and levels out at that absurdity or falls super low for honestly no contrasting reason. The whole world feels fake as shit and nothing makes me interested. The NPCs are all quite literally the first thing you think of when “buggy npc” is said.

Saints row is cutscenes with QTEs. All of it. Literally the closest it gets to fun is when it stops being so boring and lets me fight a crowd of people. It’s GENUINELY fun to get into a shootout and try to escape. I’m not even the kind’ve person that’s against a few turret sections, or my actions not having extreme consequences, or emergent gameplay, but my god, I feel like Volition has never played a game other than atari their whole lives.

It’s not fun when I’m yet again, in another turret section, shooting people with the worst fucking recoil god has ever crafted for this earth to see, while everything happens AROUND me, while I literally do nothing but what the game has railroaded me to do.

Saints row isn’t exactly known for being remotely near Deus Ex, but the point isn’t that it needed to be more like Deus Ex, the point is it needed to be a better game, and less of a cutscene.

#Saints Row

[lordfrezon]

Ace Combat 7: 4/10

It is said that in order to truly hate something, you have to have loved it first.

I hate Ace Combat 7.

I really do.  It is a truly awful game.  I cannot think of a non-League of Legends game that has infuriated me more than this one.  I literally just rage quit an uninstalled it on the very last mission.  I haven’t beaten the game.  I likely never will.  

Ace Combat 7 is the latest in the Ace Combat series, a game series I might consider my favorite of all time.  5 and Zero are incredibly fun and Ace Combat 4 was the video game of my childhood, and remains impeccable today.  Project Wingman, basically a reimagining of Ace Combat by an indie studio, is one of my all-time favorite video games.  As good as all of those games are, Ace Combat 7 is as bad.

There are a bunch of factors that play into why this game is just that bad.  First, the gameplay.  Even playing with a fun DLC superplane, I felt that I lacked control over my plane far too often.  Weather conditions will force you to fight against your controls.  Missiles from your enemies force you to swerve wildly as they fill the screen.  The levels themselves often force you to do unnatural movements or make insane turns to survive the terrain, not to mention enemies.  There are several canyon/tunnel missions in this game, and they are all terrible.  You have effectively 0 room for error, if you don’t do exactly what the game wants you to do, you crash.  

You would think that, with that much desired precision, the game would at least handle well.  It doesn’t.  Your plane’s hitbox is unnatural and will often hit stuff that you definitely missed on your screen.  There’s the aforementioned fighting against your controller.  There’s the weather.  The game is demanding you to play perfectly, and then doing its best to ruin your attempts to do so.  Dark Souls 1 is not this unforgiving.  And I was playing on Normal.  

The story is laughable, and not in a haha funny way, but in a why did they think this was a good idea way. Ace Combat 5 and Zero had their share of melodrama, and Project Wingman has antagonistic allies, but in general their stories were good.  You save the world, save your buddies, get betrayed, fight the oppressors, it’s a good time.  Ace Combat 7 has a lot of those same elements, but executes on the about as poorly as you can.  Spoilers, for the first quarter of the game.  

Mission 4 has you flying through some radar bubbles (a gimmick taken from Ace Combat 5) to rescue the former president (from Ace Combat 5).  You do it, fight some drones (oh yeah, a lot of the enemies aren’t people, they’re drones.  So much for making you feel like a badass ace.) and escort the president.  Then the game starts screaming at you, there’s a drone next to the president, shoot it before it shoots him.  You do, and the game switches to a cutscene: the president is shot down, and it looks like you did it.  Besides you knowing, hey, I definitely was shooting at a drone, there’s nothing, for 12 missions, to prove it wasn’t you.  So the game is actively making you, the player, feel like an asshole.

But wait, it gets worse.

You’re then sent to prison, where you meet the absolute worst fucking characters in pretty much any video game.  There’s the warden, your prison awacs, your squadmates, and literally all of them constantly berate you, belittle you, and threaten you.  This goes on for 6 missions, nonstop, culminating in you having to escort (god aren’t escort missions the best?) the abusive warden, who keeps at his bullshit the entire journey while you’re saving his ass. Also, the game expects you to suddenly care about one of the prisoners who’s now your wingman, except he is an arrogant prick who tries his best to steal all your glory.  He faces no repercussions for this.

This is just a small snippet of the awfulness of the story.  The between-mission cutscenes include a character who I could not care less about (though I don’t actively hate her, so that’s something), occasionally adding in the princess who started the war, who is supposed to be a sympathetic character.  The game is full of stupid banter between NPCs.  There are a total of two characters I like, and one is your nemesis. It is a disaster.

Do you want to know what’s even worse?  There’re 3 DLC missions.

They’re actually fun.

The 3 missions feature a villain who is meant to be hated, so you hating his ass is good, and he’s pretty well written.  There’s two secondary antagonists too, and they’re assholes and you like shooting them. The new ally NPC is kinda cool dude so that’s nice I guess.  But there are no stupid weather gimmicks.  There are no tunnels or restraints on your flying.  The closest thing to a gimmick is you have a time limit in a couple of the sections and the giant aerial burst cannons that are actually well made and tense.  And the game is fun as hell.  You get to fight a ton of enemies, there are two incredible boss battles, including the best ground boss in the series, and the music is great (which I have to admit is true for the rest of the game, the music slaps).  

And all of this just infuriates me even more, because it proves that the devs CAN make fun missions, they CAN engage you in stressful content without stupid gimmicks or taking away control from you.  For the campaign, however, they just don’t.  Having to go back to the main game after Anchorhead Raid and Ten Million Relief Plan is a kick in the balls.  

The bright spots in the game just serve to amplify how awful the rest is, and playing older games? Don’t get me started, they just demonstrate how far Project Aces has fallen.  The majority of the game’s “cool” moments are nostalgia bait from the previous games, specifically 4 and 5.  The game is aware it can’t stand on its own, so tries its hardest to evoke nostalgia from long time fans to try and get them to like the game.  But in doing so, Ace Combat 7 demonstrates itself to be devoid of any message, any originality, and any fun.

Screw this game.

#Ace Combat #Ace Combat 7 #frezon does a game review