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#it’s a turning point that turns the entire galaxy on its head
phoenixkaptain · 1 year
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The scene of Anakin turning back to the Light and saving Luke is such a beautiful scene in so many ways, but especially from a character standpoint.
If you look at Darth Vader just in the movies, he doesn’t do things without a plan. He has a step two. Even if his step two is immensely dumb, he always seems to at least have some form of an idea where he wants to end up; he has a point B he’s trying to reach.
Part of what makes Vader a terrifying villain is that he always seems to anticipate what his opponent will do. He seems to know what they’ll do before they even think about what they’ll do. Very rarely is Darth Vader ever taken by surprise. Darth Vader is the character who proves how scary the Force can be. While Palpatine uses his Force lightning and can predict what his opponents will do, he never quite reaches the level Anakin is on, he never reaches that peak of knowing the next five steps his opponent is going to take, even as those next five steps change.
Palpatine doesn’t see Vader turning on him coming. Palpatine is not a Force user who can see the future, he uses the predictions Darth Plagueis made and he sticks to the outline provided by his former Master. He does everything he does and believes everything will be fine and has complete confidence in himself because Plagueis was just that good at predicting the future.
Darth Vader literally changes the future. He makes those predictions false. Him throwing Palpatine down a reactor shaft wasn’t in the books, him choosing his son wasn’t an option, the idea that a Sith lord as powerful as Darth Vader could turn back from the Dark Side is believed by the Jedi and Sith alike to be impossible. Darth Vader himself doesn’t even believe that he can turn back from the Dark Side. The only character who ever believes that Darth Vader can come back is Luke.
Darth Vader is fifteen steps ahead of his opponents. It’s very rare that he ever gets surprised. He always has a plan.
But when he saves Luke, he isn’t any of that. He leaps in without a plan, without any ideas of where he’s goung. He doesn’t know what will happen except that he’ll probably die. He doesn’t have a way out of this. This is the first time Anakin Skywalker ever does anything without already having a way out or immediately being able to come up with a way out.
Anakin was hotheaded and impulsive, yes, but Anakin from his introduction always has a plan B. And when he doesn’t have a plan B, he makes one. He is by far the most competent character in Star Wars, just from his ability to get himself and others out of trouble.
In the moment of turning back from the Dark, Anakin is listening to the Force. He’s listening to the Force as it tells him to save someone. The universal call to the Jedi, the inexplicable push that all Jedi feel and what ultimately led to the majority of Jedi dying, just because they couldn’t not listen when the Force told them to help. Anakin finally listens to it, finally answers it, he finally acts like a Jedi.
There’s no step two. There’s no way out. Doing this will end in his death. Darth Vader is already injured, and the only one who has the resources to put him back together is Sidious. To save Luke, Vader has to step into the lightning, which he knows all to well will ruin his suit. Choosing to save Luke is tantamount to choosing to die.
And he does it. He hesitates, but ultimately, he sacrifices himself for someone else. He goes in knowing that this won’t end with him being able to get out. He has no way out. There’s no plan B. His suit has gone from keeping him alive to being part of the reason he’s dying. He takes off his helmet accepting that he’ll die and being happy to die because he’s finally at peace, he finally feels the warmth of the Force, he finally sees his son with his own eyes, his son is finally looking at him with nothing but trust and worry for his wellbeing, he’s right where he wants to be.
He went from wanting to posess Luke to just being happy that Luke is there with him. That Luke is the one by his side when he dies, that he’s dying on the same side as Luke — Anakin is fine with this. He’s ready to die. He’s accepted it. He’s just happy that the last thing he’ll see is the product of his and Padme’s love for each other.
The scenes of Anakin in Return of the Jedi are beautiful. The title “Return of the Jedi” is so great for this movie, it’s perfect, okay, you don’t understand. It has so many meanings!! The Jedi returning could be referring to Luke, the main Jedi we follow, returning to the screen, or to Tatooine. It could be referring to the Jedi Order, since Luke takes on Yoda’s request to share his knowledge with others and, with Sidious dead, the Jedi Order has functionally returned, even if it is only one member strong. It could refer to Yoda returning, it could refer to Obi-Wan returning.
Or, Return of the Jedi could be referring to Anakin. Anakin Skywalker, the son of the Force. Anakin Skywalker, the only character powerful enough to change the future itself, the only Sith Lord powerful enough to stop being a Sith Lord. Anakin Skywalker, who has always done impossible things, who has always performed impossible feats, who is himself impossible. And he’s back. He’s returned. The Jedi returned.
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niqhtlord01 · 2 months
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Humans are weird: Ramming Speed
( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)
The idea of ramming space ships into each other as a form of combat maneuver was beyond many galactic military minds comprehension.
A single spacecraft, let alone a military grade class vessel, would cost up in the billions of credits. Entire galactic economies had nearly bankrupted themselves trying to maintain a fleet large enough to secure their borders, so in turn each military ship became an asset not to be squandered lightly.
Perhaps it was this conservative mindset that nearly shattered when these powers first looked upon the Terran ship codenamed “The Ram”.
Unlike other modern vessels the ships of this new classification lacked all weapon emplacements. No energy cannons, missile launchers, rail guns; it was entirely free of weapons. What it did have was excessive amounts of armor plating, several separate shield generators, and a pair of overly powerful engines that could reach max speed in roughly five minutes.
The first time it was observed in combat was during the Terran/Crux war. Both powers had sizable fleets at their disposal and for the first couple months the two powers played cat and mouse games between each other; each trying to find a more advantageous position to commit their forces. Much to the dismay of both powers the first large scale battle was triggered by mere chance than a tactical decision.
A Crux patrol stumbled upon a Terran patrol emerging from a dense nebula in the Viper System. Both patrols requested reinforcements. Nearby patrols were soon diverted to the engagement and within short order what was a small skirmish ballooned into a full scale battle.
There were no battle lines or frontlines as ships opened fire at near point blank range with each other. Even when higher rank Admirals arrived to take charge both sides were too embroiled in the slugfest to make any more nuanced tactical moves without exposing themselves to the enemy.
It was here that the Ram emerged and showed its prowess.
Crux warship crews were not trained on how to handle enemy vessels rushing towards them. What’s more several gun crews became panicked when they saw the Ram ships rushing headlong towards them without diverting course.
With the extra armor and shielding the Terran ships not only struck head on into Crux ships but emerged from the attack relatively unscathed. In most cases the prow of the Ram ships punched clean through the entire hull of the Crux warship and emerged through the other side.
The Crux fleet desperately tried to regain order and form battle lines but each time they did so the Ram ships would plunge head first into their formation and take out the command ship coordinating the effort.
As more and more Terran ships arrived and formed their own battle lines the tide of battle soon drastically changed. After thirteen hours of intense fighting the last of the Crux fleet withdrew from the battle leaving the Terrans the victors.
A full fifth of the Crux navy was lost during the battle with the Ram ships having personally claimed 45% of the kills.
While the war itself would continue for another two years, the Ram ships and their unorthodox tactics had earned them a modicum of respect from the wider galaxy, and a great measure of fear from the Crux.
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shogunish · 2 months
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𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀.
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synopsis. “you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”
contents. a bit of angst, comfort, miscommunication/lack of communication, implied friends-to-lovers, soft! satoru, takes place after the star plasma vessel incident, satoru's trauma response, unedited, something i whipped up on a whim lmao
wc. 1.3k
note. had a sudden urge to write this when i watched dazai edits and i hope i'll find more inspiration to write like..i just wanna be consistent for once 🥲
comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3
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the inverted spear of heaven was no more.
the star plasma vessel incident — mainly toji fushiguro — had carved its mark into satoru’s flesh. after satoru had killed the man, he had made sure to destroy the cursed tool until not even ashes remained of the sharp blade that used to spill the blood of innocents.
it was almost like the sorcerer wanted to destroy the things that could destroy him.
however, he failed to notice how he had almost destroyed his relationship with you, too.
no longer did satoru wrap you up in his bear hugs. no longer did he let you rest your head on his shoulder on movie night. no longer were you welcome in his space.
always were you kept at an arm’s length. satoru was close enough to admire but so far out of reach like the constellation of stars dotting the night sky. what you thought was no more than a phase turned out to be so much more until, in the safety of your bedroom and underneath your blankets, your vision blurred with tears.
if the sun wasn't there, the moon would remain hidden in the vast void of space. and without satoru, you couldn't shine, either. in fact, your smile dimmed until it was almost extinguished by the pain satoru put you through — but it wasn’t his fault. or so you'd like to tell yourself.
satoru had danced with death when he was meant to only protect a girl.
you couldn't possibly blame him.
after all, you could neutralize the only thing that kept him safe.
the ability to nullify any cursed technique upon touch was as convenient as it was, literally, cursed. with zero offensive abilities, you always relied on satoru or suguru to cover for you in case your plans didn't work out. one miscalculation and your head would roll — that much you knew.
among every student attending jujutsu high, you were the weakest while satoru was the strongest.
it was enough to tie your fate to satoru, weaving a web of complicated feelings which usually tasted like those sugary gummy bears the sorcerer carried with him. it was sweet and warm like his embrace, but the blade of toji fushiguro had effortlessly cut through the fine webs. nothing but a cold void remained where laughter and silly inside jokes about digimon danced along the velvety threads.
almost like a black hole that swallowed the constellation in the skies, leaving behind broken galaxies and lonely stars that swallowed moons to fill the loss of their companions.
“he's so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, threw the teddy bear in your arms into the corner of your bed and sat up to blow your nose.
the teddy bear was a polar bear adorned with button eyes and a red bow tied around its fluffy neck. it looks like you, you had mindlessly said during last year's summer festival. satoru had spent the entire evening shooting little rubber ducks to earn enough points to win the silly bear, but it was worth it for your eyes lit up like the fireworks that followed soon after.
the clock read two am when you poured boiling hot water into a cup of instant ramen, ripped open the package of spice and stirred the meal with disinterest written all over your face. not even the scent of cheap cup noodles made your tummy growl anymore. how could it when it was so full of dread, guilt and worry for the sorcerer who stole your heart and refused to give it back? it was an unfair bargain, really.
just a moment later, you heard a knock on your door. you considered ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but alas, the lights were on and likely snuck through underneath the crack of the door to your dorm. what kind of idiot knocked on your door at two am?
satoru — the only idiot who'd knock on your door in the middle of the night and look like a kicked puppy.
“satoru? it's two am..,” you spoke first, standing between him and the warmth of your dorm.
satoru didn't look like satoru. even through the pitch black glasses of his shades could you see the storm brewing in those sky-blues of his. with a sigh, he rubbed his neck. “why does everyone keep telling me how late it is? ah, no matter.”
you wanted to ask, but decided against it.
“look, i know it's late, but i can't help but think you've been avoiding me for the last couple of what? weeks? months?” satoru shifted his weight from one fuzzy slipper to the other. “was it something i said?”
in that very moment, you realized you were doing the same things as he was. as soon as class was over, you'd go home alone. you'd have lunch alone. you'd spend your weekends alone. all those things once were shared with satoru in your space, but as soon as he avoided you..you avoided him, too out of fear of getting hurt.
“satoru..don't you realize that you've been avoiding me first?” your voice was quiet as you hugged your middle. “ever since the incident and the destruction of that cursed tool, you always kept me at arm's length. you no longer let me get any closer nor do you spar with me anymore. nothing..”
“you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”
a painful epiphany coiled in satoru's stomach like a snake. was he so busy destroying the devil's tools and refining his technique that he..forgot about about you? the person who'd steal his fries and snore on his shoulder on movie night? no, no way. he would never see you as a threat even though your touch could dissolve his infinity like sugar when it touched water.
“[name], that's not..” the words got stuck in his throat. for the first time in his life, he was speechless. “you are anything but a threat.”
“then why..” tears brimmed your eyes until they overflowed, ran down the apples of your cheeks and met the warmth of satoru’s thumb. it was not his stupid infinity wiping the tears away, but satoru himself.
to be touched by satoru felt like the first sunrays of spring gracing your skin. warm, familiar and hinting at the end of a long, unforgiving winter that had taken root in your belly. soft sobs bubbled in the back of your throat, rocking your shoulders and interrupting every word you wanted to say; how stupid he was, how much you missed him, how much you needed him.
“shh..say no more,” satoru whispered and took you in his strong arms so you could sob into his chest all you wanted.
satoru didn't care about the tears or snot wetting his shirt. all that mattered was the feeling of you in his arms, and even though it pained him to know that he caused those tears, this was better than receiving your cold shoulder and dismissive smiles.
quietly, you and satoru went back inside the warmth of your dorm where both of you shared some cheap cup ramen which satoru spiced up with some peppers, egg and a conversation which neither of you would remember in the morning to come. no amount of time seemed to have passed between you as you both laughed, bickered and exchanged glances like lovers-to-be would.
“what are you doing?,” you asked, long comfortable underneath the sheets of your bed — or you would be if satoru didn't hold them up and almost looked offended by your words.
“sleeping with you, duh,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and maybe it was.
ignoring your protests and pouts, satoru crammed himself into bed with you, one arm around your waist and the other one underneath your head. his broad chest gently pressed against your back, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.
“you're stupid,” you smiled to yourself while a blush as red as roses crept up your cheeks.
“and you're lucky i love you,” satoru grumbled underneath his breath, blowing some strands of your hair away from his nose and mouth so he wouldn't suffocate while holding you so tight.
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taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon
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diabolichare · 6 days
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Familar Stranger
DP x DC au with a dash of dimensional travel where Danny, due to his ghostly nature, looks slightly different depending on how others perceive him. 
Warning: OP has no knowledge of space other than Google and is also a non-native English speaker; proceed with caution.
Same startup kits; Danny becomes the successor to the Infinity Realm (he's a baby by both ghost and human standards, so there's a temporary council for now). Anyway, he still has some power over the ghosts, so he asks them to lessen the amount of fighting to focus on schoolwork and "princely education." 
Now here's where my brainrot begins.
The Lazarus Pits, necromantic rituals, or portals of any kind that have "death" or "soul" in them tend to be connected to the Ghost Zone. However, the zone has its own defensive mechanism, so unless someone *Fentons* actively makes a gateway or has "experienced" death, it's nearly impossible to come upon the zone. A certain furry bridage in Gotham has unknowingly ticked all the checkboxes.
During a misson, one of the bats got caught in a magic situation and got transported to the Infinity Realms. They wandered around, dogding ghosts, slowly getting insane from all these damn corridors and living paintings, before they stumbled upon a seemingly random door (CW is involved; he's having a great time testing the poor bat).
Opening the door leads them to the universe. They closed the door, then opened it again. Yep, that's an entire universe complete with its own planetary systems and, oh, so pretty stars growing and dying in a blink of an eye. Another check around shows them that this is the only door so far in the endlessly long hallway. They look down (if there's even a down, for there's only infinity) and take an experimental step. The Milky Way lit up under their feet, with stars gathering around to form a twisting path to nowhere. 
For the next couple of hours, days, or minutes, they made their way through the galaxies. Just when they were about to spiral into a midlife crisis, they heard... humming? 
Did they finally lose it? They asked themselves before noticing a glowing figure sitting on an asteroid nearby.
"Hello?"
The figure flinched, and life paused. The blackhole by their left stopped spinning, the stars weren't twinkling, and the figure turned their head. Now it's their blood that runs cold.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Lazarus-colored orbs stared back at them with a familiar face but an unfamiliar voice. Damian tilted his head, looking at them in confusion (there's something wrong, wrong, wrong-). They blinked because, what the hell, seeing something other than a scowl on the boy's face is WeirdTM. Suddenly, that's a teenaged Jason staring at them, much closer than he(?) was before.
At this point, they realized— eyes moving over the entire regalia and the glowing crown that just appeared—they're probably in deep sh*t.
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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months
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A Clone's Future
CT-7567 Captain Rex x Female Reader
Content & Trigger Warnings: fluff, physical hurt/comfort, light angst, happy ending, domestic elements, brief suggestive themes, kiss, Anakin & Fives make an appearance
Word Count: 4.1k
Rex is a soldier of the Republic. A clone. And it is not worth daydreaming about what it would be like to have a family. But he does just that, not knowing that there is someone out in the galaxy waiting for him.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist
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“I saw you eyeing that woman at Seventy Nines.”
Rex glances up from his datapad and flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. Fives grins down at Rex, arms crossed over his chest, one hip slightly popped.
“It was nothing,” mutters Rex, stepping around Fives’ comment.
The corner of Fives’ mouth quirks as he tries to hide a knowing smile. “Nothing? You were practically drooling,” laughs Fives, gently tossing his helmet on the bunk next to Rex’s. “Why didn’t you approach her?”
Rex blinks, confused. “Why would I?”
Fives shakes his head. “She was staring at you too, Captain. We all saw it.”
Rex looks back at the datapad, wanting to be done with this conversation. “And if I talked to her, what then?”
Fives shrugs. “You talk to a beautiful woman. Flirt a bit.” Fives leans in and Rex glances up from the datapad. “Slip into a dark corner for some—”
“That’s enough, Fives,” interjects Rex, his stomach twisting with understanding.
Fives pats Rex’s shoulder and then plops down next to Rex in the bunk. “This war is going to end. What do you plan to do after its over?”
What is he going to do? Rex hasn’t even thought about it. Hasn’t given the idea any life. Rex is a soldier of the Republic. Duty comes first. It always does. Thinking about the future when that future is entirely uncertain will only create heartache in the end.
“Haven’t thought about it,” answers Rex truthfully. Maybe Fives will drop this, and Rex can return to reading the latest war reports.
“Why not?” asks Fives, clearly not interested in moving on.
Rex’s grip on the sides of the datapad tightens.
Why not? Because fantasizing about the future in any capacity leaves Rex vulnerable and open to the realities of his situation. His family are his fellow clones. They are his brothers. All the family he needs is right here. Why would he ever need to consider anything beyond what is already in front of him?
“I don’t see the point,” answers Rex. “We don’t know when this war will end.” He pauses. “And some days we aren’t sure if we’ll even see tomorrow.”
Fives snorts. “That’s the whole reason why you should.”
“Fives—”
“We’re alive, Rex. We are people and we feel. We may serve the Republic, but we deserve to dream like the citizens we protect.” Fives reaches for his helmet and holds it reverently in his lap, the front side facing him. “In peacetime, we deserve a bit of happiness.”
Rex is silent a moment before he speaks. “Are you not happy now, Fives?”
Fives glances up and grins. “I’m happy, Rex. But happiness during peacetime is…different. I want to know what that looks like for us. Dreaming about it isn’t wrong.”
Rex didn’t say that it was wrong, but he’s not going to point that out to Fives.
Fives taps the edge of the helmet against his knee, sighing as he stands. “I’ll leave you to your boring war reports, Rex.” At the door, Fives turns, and grins mischievously. “Next time, if she’s there, you’re talking to her.”
The door to the room whooshes open, and Fives disappears into the hall. When it shuts, Rex is left in the lingering silence, the only sound that of the air filtration system. It hums softly, a dull buzz in the background.
Whenever his mind drifts toward the future—which is almost never—Rex rarely allows himself to linger. Maybe it’s because of his position, and that there are thousands counting on him to lead them. So many of his brothers look to him for guidance, even ones from other sections of GAR. He and Cody are always discussing strategies and offering advice.
Rex tries to live in the moment, to focus on what matters right now. But what Fives said is sinking in, lurking at the back of his mind, and drawing his attention away from the datapad in his hands.
This room is a small barracks area, one for captains and other ranked members of the Clone Army can go to rest. No one else is in here. It’s just him. They’re stationed on Coruscant, waiting to depart for a months long campaign. Rex and the rest of the 501st have some time to relax before returning to the battlefield.
Yes, they did go to 79’s last night. Yes, Rex may have had one too many strong drinks. And yes, Rex couldn’t stop staring at the woman giving him flirtatious glances all night.
Rex might be a clone but he’s still a man.
Locking the datapad, Rex sighs heavily, placing it on the edge of the bed. Tiredness sits in his bones, and Rex gives in to the exhaustion, bringing his legs onto the bunk and laying on his back. He stares at the bunk above him, at the smooth, plain metal, and tries his best to forget everything.
Tries is the key word.
Rex does try, but he cannot stop thinking about Fives and what he said.
He slips unexpectedly, falling into that space, considering the future.
The woman Rex pictures in his mind is faceless. He does not consider her features, or what her hair might be like. He does not consider whether this fictional woman is human or Twi’lek or any other species. Instead, Rex contemplates what he needs in someone else. Would she be soft and kind, someone to smooth out his sharp edges, to help him forget the realities of war, and linger in a calmness that soothes his soul? Or is she sharp witted, adventurous, willing to explore the galaxy and isn’t afraid of danger?
Or is she something else entirely?
Rex floats in the possibilities, of what this woman might be like and what she’d mean to him. Would General Skywalker want to meet her? Would he approve? Is it even allowed to him after the war ends? Will the clones have the right to enjoy the things the citizens of the Republic do?
These questions form in his head quickly but evaporate just as fast. Rex imagines warm arms around him, of knowing that there is always someone waiting for him, to share in all his failures and successes. It is a wonderful sensation, a calming sense of peace that ushers into his head and curls itself around him to take hold.
The physical isn’t entirely important to Rex, but he considers it anyway. He conjures up multiple images, giving the faceless woman hair then lekku then hair again, even picturing the woman he couldn’t stop glancing at while at 79’s. These thoughts bring the woman in his head to life a bit more, as if he’s stoking a fire, protecting the flame from extinguishing.
With his eyes closed, Rex imagines soft hands holding his, moving to his wrists and arms to eventually cradle his cheek. Rex sighs audibly, pretending that there is someone next to him in this bed, curled up against his side with their head on his chest.
But when he reaches across his chest to seek this someone out, his fingers only find empty air.
Rex’s eyelids slowly open, and a heaviness fills his chest. This is why Rex does not entertain thoughts of the future. This is why he lives in the present moment and focuses on the immediate needs of his soldiers and the Republic.
It’s self-indulgent. Unnecessary. That is what Rex tells himself as he turns on his side and tries to find some sleepful peace in the dark.
These streets are a maze, and Rex is utterly lost.
His personal communicator is crushed, and there are slavers on his trail. General Skywalker has no idea that Rex is being pursued. He has no idea that Rex took a blaster shot to the leg or that he’s limping along as he attempts to hide from his assailants.
This is supposed to be an undercover job, a way to figure out where an entire village full of Twi’leks were taken to after disappearing. While General Skywalker pretends to be a slaver interested in buying, Rex’s job is to find another way into where the Twi’leks are being held.
The whole thing fell apart. Crashed. Burnt up like an asteroid entering the atmosphere.
Behind him, his pursuers shout, and people scream. They’re closer than before, and Rex needs to find shelter. He needs to throw them off and return to General Skywalker.
He slips in a puddle, nearly stumbling into a pile of trash.
“Kriffing hell,” mutters Rex, staggering, placing one hand against the side of a building to balance himself.
His chest heaves and his leg is screaming, needing to rest.
Their pounding footsteps grow closer, and Rex takes off, dragging his leg along as he turns the corner. It’s shadowy here, and the street is long and narrow. There is nothing for him to hide in or around. The street is lined with residential buildings. There are entry doors and a few windows on the bottom level, but that won’t give him protection.
Desperation sinks in. Rex tries a few of the nearby doors, receiving no response.
There is a shout from the direction of where Rex just came from. “This way!”
Rex growls with frustration. He turns away from the door of one house, only to freeze when he notices the young woman in an open doorway.
“In here. Quickly.”
Rex glances back once and considers the alternative.
Kriff it, he thinks, entering the dimly lit home, the door whooshing shut behind him. Rex’s leg almost gives out beneath him, a sharp pain shooting up his side. He grunts, starts to double over, and his potential savior comes to him, placing their hands upon him gently.
Realizing that there is another person, Rex glances up quickly, the instinct to survive flaring white and hot and bright.
He finds…you.
And it is not what he expects. Because—no. Rex smothers the thought immediately.
There is a shout right outside the door, and you place a firm hand on Rex’s chest, easing him down toward the floor while holding a single finger up for silence. Rex doesn’t say a word, his gaze flicking between you and the door, and back again.
The voices soften, and then Rex doesn’t hear them at all.
When you sigh with relief, Rex relaxes a bit, knowing that he’s been spared some extra time.
But you? You are a mystery to him. Friend? Or foe?
“You’re hurt.” It’s not a question and Rex immediately likes the sound of your voice. “Heard the shouts,” you continue. “Saw you limping.”
Rex swallows. “Why are you helping me?”
Your smile is soft with a hint of mischievousness. “Do you think I like living amongst slavers?”
Rex shrugs. “Wasn’t really on my mind,” he admits.
“That’s fair,” you laugh. “They rarely treat the people who live here much different from the people they sell. I don’t mind disrupting things for them when I can.”
Friend, then.
Rex can work with that.
You glance down at his leg and frown. Your hand hovers just above the spot where the blaster bolt struck his thigh. Rex grimaces as the pain flares anew, like it knows he’s finally safe and demands immediate treatment.
“Can you stand on it?” you ask gently, placing one hand on Rex’s shoulder. Your palm is warm and a flood of comfort bursts inside him like a dam breaking.
What is it about you that’s different? Why does his body respond to you like he’s safe when his brain can’t seem to make the same connection?
Rex knows but stifles the thought again.
“Was running on it,” jokes Rex, trying to make light of that fact that the pain is a throbbing thing that won’t cease.
The smile you give him is so tooth-rottenly sweet that Rex feels heat warming his cheeks.
“Humor. That’s good.” You lean in a bit and Rex is immediately flustered by your closeness. “Means you’ll live.”
You present your hands, palms upward. They look so soft, so inviting, and Rex accepts. You help him to a fully seated position before sliding an arm around his waist to assist him to his feet. Rex drapes an arm over the back of your shoulders as the two of you hobble along.
You lead Rex into a small bedroom. The bed itself is unmade; the sheets tossed around like you’ve slipped out just to come to his rescue. For some reason, Rex pictures this happening, and then quickly dismisses it.
Easing onto the bed is hell, and Rex winces as you help him to his back. Thankfully, Rex isn’t wearing his armor, which will make tending to the wound much easier.
“May I take a look?”
Rex nods and you seat yourself next to him on the edge of the bed. When your hands touch his thigh, a shiver runs through him like an electrical current. You hum softly as you lightly press around the spot of the burn. Rex tries to stay calm, but in this prone position, Rex is only focused on your face.
He learns the line and curves, all your small tells, and the subtle way you tilt your head as you observe him. On Kamino—on any Republic vessel really—most of the medical care is run by droids, Kaminoans, and clones. It is mainly automated. Impersonal.
This isn’t.
You’re so close and delicate, taking so much care with him that Rex is void of words, only wanting you to keep giving him this attention. That memory, the one where he imagined what he wants creeps up unexpectedly, choking him.
Is this the feeling that Fives talked about? Is this the pull, the tug of what it means to try and find happiness outside of just duty to the Republic? Or is Rex only indulging himself while in the hands of a stranger?
“I have some bacta spray and bandages. I’ll be back in a moment.” When you stand, a momentary wave of panic grips Rex out of nowhere, stunning him.
What the kriffing hell is going on with him?
You’re back within a minute, placing the small box next to you as you return to your previous spot on the bed. Rex is instantly calm, relaxing as you consider where you want to begin.
“Could—” you pause. “It would be easier if the pants weren’t in the way. I can cut them or—”
“It’s fine,” replies Rex. “I can…remove them.”
Your eyes widen. “No. I didn’t mean—”
“Oh—”
“But if you want—”
“It’s—”
“I can cut it.”
“Yes,” nods Rex, relieved. “Yes.” Rex could start a fire with how hot his cheeks are.
With delicate fingers, you slowly cut away a perfect rectangle in his pants where the blaster burn is. Placing the cutters aside, you remove the bacta spray from the box.
“It’ll be cold.”
“I know,” answers Rex quickly.
Your eyebrows rise toward your hairline. “Is it normal for you to be hit by blaster fire?”
Kriff me.
“It’s a hazard of the job,” says Rex slowly.
Your lips part like you’re about to say something and then think better of it. “I won’t ask.” Your smile speaks to quiet amusement, and it feels like this one look is only for him. That this is something the two of you are sharing. That no one else is allowed to see inside.
The hiss of the bottle fills the room, and Rex momentarily flinches as the bacta spray hits his burn. Once done, you withdraw a gauze pad. With the other hand, you gently reach for Rex, lifting his own hand.
“Hold this for me,” you murmur, and the sound of your voice is so soft that Rex cannot resist your command.
Rex does as you ask, keeping the gauze pad pressed to the covered blaster burn. You unspool some bandages, and then begin wrapping his leg. You do not go over the pants. Instead, you slide your hand into the opening you created, guiding the end of the bandages underneath to the other side of his thigh.
It all feels too intimate, and Rex can’t help but linger on how close your hand is to something else.
“You can move your hand now.”
“Right,” mutters Rex, blinking quickly, trying to stare at the ceiling but failing completely.
Your subdued giggle draws his attention back to your face. Tying off the bandages, Rex mourns the loss of your hands when you draw away.
“All done.” You grin, and Rex melts. “I’ll grab you water and something to eat. We can talk after. Figure out a plan.”
We, as if it’s completely natural for you to help him, a stranger.
You bring him water first, and then go back to the small cooking unit, digging around for a pan to cook with while also grabbing ingredients. You shouldn’t do this for him, and yet you are. Rex’s military training tells him to be on guard, to be weary of you even if you’re showing him kindness. But that doesn’t sit right with him. Questioning your motivations taste wrong on his tongue, like he’s the bad person in this situation.
Watching you there next to the cooking unit, tending to him, it draws forth those memories again. Everything about this is too…domestic. Him reclining in bed as someone takes care of him for once is such a foreign thing. Odd. Almost forbidden.
He drifts, allows his mind to daydream of what a life like this could be like. With him, at rest for once, and someone close to him, wanting to do things for him just because they desire to do so.
But Rex doesn’t just think of someone. He thinks of you, and he sinks further and further into the daydream until the Republic, the war, and everything else in his life is a distant point in the galaxy.
But Rex needs to find General Skywalker. And you are a distraction. Healing is important but contacting Skywalker is even more urgent.
The meal you bring him is hot and so kriffing fresh that Rex nearly moans with pleasure. He could get used to this.
“Is it too intrusive to ask why you were running?” you ask, clasped hands resting in your lap. You’re sitting in the same spot on the edge of the bed, not opting to grab a chair or to sit anywhere else.
“I was poking around where I shouldn’t. Got caught.” Rex takes another bite and it’s better than the last.
“Are you alone? Or is there someone I can try to contact for you?” You shrug. “Don’t think it’s a good idea to turn you loose in the streets.”
“No,” laughs Rex. “Bad idea.” Your slightly embarrassed smile pleases him. While Rex ponders that, he also realizes he doesn’t know your name. “Here I am eating your food and sleeping in your bed. And I didn’t ask you your name.”
You give it without question and ask him the same. Rex considers whether or not he should tell you his real name or the fake one General Skywalker gave him for the job.
“It’s Rex,” he finally answers.
“Rex,” you say, as if rolling it around on your tongue, considering it and him, almost testing it out. Rex likes the way you say it. There is a soft sigh in the way you breathe his name. “Rex.”
“Just Rex.”
“Okay, Just Rex.”
He nearly chokes with laugher on the next bite of food. Once he clears his throat, Rex decides to be as honest as he can. “I’m traveling with someone. I need to find them.”
“I’ll go,” you say. “You shouldn’t leave.” Even though you’re staring at him, you still reach out and place a hand on his knee. You don’t break eye contact, and the earnestness is startling.
Rex gives you General Skywalker’s fake name and where you might find him. “It might be dangerous,” he says, trying to iterate the severity of the situation.
You squeeze his knee with a smile and stand, going to the closet to dig around. When you turn around, you hold up a large blaster. “I can handle myself.”
Using the strap, you secure it over your chest, the blaster hanging to the side. “I’ll be back. Don’t open the door for anyone.” You give him a little salute and Rex watches you leave through the front door.
The healing agent in the bacta spray and the need for rest creeps up. When the food is gone, Rex places the bowl to the side, slipping back into the daydream.
“Sleeping, Rex?”
Rex nearly launches himself off the bed. “General Skywalker,” he breathes, relief flooding his chest.
In the small doorway, you stand quietly, hands clasped tightly in front of your chest. You found him and even brought Skywalker with you.
He stops next to the side of the bed. “Glad you’re okay.”
Rex shrugs. “You would have come for me eventually.”
General Skywalker grins and nods his head. “That I would, Rex. I don’t like leaving my men behind. Especially you.” He glances at you standing in the doorway, and then turns back to Rex, one eyebrow arching in question. Rex nods, acknowledging Skywalker’s silent ask.
He exhales and approaches you. “Thank you. For taking care of my friend.” General Skywalker’s inclines his head in your direction.
“Of course. It’s nothing. Really.”
Skywalker holds out his hand and Rex clasps it. He drags Rex up to a seated position. “How’s the leg?”
“It’ll heal,” answers Rex. It’s already feeling better with the bacta spray on it.
“Can you walk?”
Rex stands. Wobbles. Remains upright. “I can manage, General.”
Skywalker glances at Rex’s torn pants. “We need to fix that.” He starts to remove his outer cloak and Rex shakes his head. “Don’t question it, Rex.”
Rex reluctantly grabs the cloak from General Skywalker and wraps it around himself, hiding the blaster burn. You step out of the way of the door to allow them exit. Rex’s glances at you and your lips turn upward.
At the door, Rex pauses, wanting to stay just a few minutes longer. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“Just avoid blaster bolts. If you can. For me.”
The back of Rex’s neck heats up and he exits the small house with a nod of his head. When the door whooshes shut, General Skywalker’s muted grin turns devilish.
“What?” asks Rex, flustered.
“You like her,” says Skywalker.
“I—I don’t.” Rex straightens his shoulders. “Why do you think that?”
General Skywalker taps the side of his head with one finger. “Jedi.”
“Sir. That explains nothing.”
“The feeling is mutual, Rex,” calls Skywalker over his shoulder as he starts walking down the street.
Rex nearly trips. “What’s mutual?” he asks, already knowing what his general means but not wanting to admit it to himself. General Skywalker gestures in the direction of your home. “No,” blurts Rex. “That’s not true.”
General Skywalker’s knowing grin is enough to silence him.
“You’ll see her again, Rex. I have a good feeling about it.”
“You’re doing a good thing, Rex. Even if you can’t always see it.” Your fingers slide over his jaw to gently cup his cheek. Rex leans into the touch, sighing heavily. “Saving one is an accomplishment, and you have rescued so many.”
After the Republic fell, and Rex and Ahsoka parted ways, he came to find you, only to bring you along with him on his journey to save his brothers’. You’re not on the frontlines, standing by his side in Imperial complexes, executing daring rescues. Rex wouldn’t allow that of you even if you insisted. You’re good with a blaster but you’re no soldier and losing you might shatter him.
Instead, you stay on Coruscant, awaiting each of his returns, ready to take care of, and look after, any clones Rex brings back with him. You never complain. Never waiver. You are his rock, a home for him to find a bit of peace from the unending injustices of the galaxy.
With your hand upon his cheek, you lean into him, resting your forehead against the side of his temple. “You’re a good man, Rex. I know that you know that.”
Rex’s fingers intertwine with yours. Bringing your hand up to his face, he gently kisses every knuckle and each finger. Sighing, you press lightly on his cheek, guiding Rex’s face in your direction. There is no brief pause or wanton hesitation. Rex knows where he stands with you, and his lips meet with your own in perfect satisfaction.
The future he dreamed of is here, with you, while rescuing his brothers.
The Empire is vast. It is powerful. But he is not alone. And that, the shared experience of companionship, is a hope in the face of a looming darkness.
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rayshippouuchiha · 6 months
Text
I had a gremlin thought and had to throw it at you. So we all know that JC and WWX revolved around JYL (as they should) and would 100% do what she told them to. Why had no one taken this to its logical conclusion? Let’s say it’s after another failed meeting in between JYL and her horrible fiancé she is doing the depressingly normal routine of trying to not be hurt while YZY is being horrible to WWX and JC. And she just takes a moment to breathe and wonder why them. What has she and her siblings done to suffer like this? One of the disciples comes over and offers her any help they can. This causes JYL to just have a moment of realization where she stops and tries to remember the last time anyone except those outside the sect asked the Sect leaders for anything. Because the people know that JFM is just passive at best and YZY is plain aggressive. JYL was raised to be a sect wife and basically shadow run a sect right? And let’s say she’s been doing this for years at this point. WWX basically owns the disciples and every resident of Lotus Pier. JC is Sect Heir and has every ounce of loyalty his people and siblings can give him. JYL has this vision of a sect run by the three siblings and it’s just so much better. I imagine for all that they were their mother and father JFM and YZY were very estranged from their children. It’s also basically canon that WWX hid so much of his power and skill from everyone as to not rock the boat. JYL rolls into her brothers rooms, sees the hurt that has been allowed to fester for to long and just decides it’s her turn to go feral. So now I present the idea of a coup. JYL points at the Sect and says I want it and her brothers go whole or in pieces? Now I don’t think any of the siblings is cold enough to kill JFM or YZY so I’m more leaning more towards talisman master over there creating a Jiāng version of Lan forced seclusion. Think about this would put canon in a blender and just shred it. We have Sect leader JYL, her co leader/Heir JC and their brother/Head disciple WWX. Think about WWX allowed to make the Jiāng a talisman powerhouse. Think about how a strengthened, united three person leadership which is really just JYL telling her brothers what to do and them doing it cheerfully. Everyone is validated, there isn’t constant fighting and money is rolling in from the talisman sales. The Jiāng all of a sudden are rising like someone strapped a rocket onto their ass. Let’s be honest the Lan are traditionalists who will swiftly be left in the dust by galaxy-for-a-brainWWX! Who invents like some people breathe. The Jin hold power by riches and let’s point again at our resident genius talisman master who rolls out the flags and compass. The Jiāng are getting richer by the second. The Nie are powerhouses and we have JC and WWX who are ridiculous and almost evenly matched. Lotus disciples are melee masters and going against one now makes a lot of people want to cry because Head Disciple WWX is going to drag his shidis into excellence one way or the other. JC is laughing on the sidelines because how do you think he got so powerful huh and let’s be real our angry grape loves watching people suffer. All of a sudden the Wen conquest doesn’t look to realistic anymore. Then WWX meets WN and WQ and decides to impulse adopt them and their entire branch. Then the Jiāng are now also the medical center of the Sects? Watch out Wens you’ve just lost the top spot to three teenagers two of which are really just following their beloved sisters lead. All I’m saying is JYL ruling the Cultivation World with her brothers cheerfully giving her whatever she wants while she can finally pamper them as she pleases. You want the horrible peacock? Fine buts he’s marrying in. Hey little brother you’re drooling over WQ huh? There is much mocking from single WWX towards his siblings. For awhile WWX is the only unmarried Lotus Pier sibling and boy is he hunted. Everyone is tripping over themselves to lock down the most eligible bachelor who is handsome and rich. And then WWX meets his LZ and how the tables have turned brother dear? Let’s just say the Lans are going to lose that fight before it even begins. LWJ is going to perish at their first meeting. Somehow this ends up a trend where the Jiāng end up pretty much never marrying out. Wow this got away from me but I now offer you this vision!
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dystopicjumpsuit · 7 months
Note
Whoo hooooo! I think you would create magic as always with this prompt: the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.
Could I request it with your choice of Tup… or post-stasis Kix… or Hunter? 🫦🥹💙
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A/N: Thank you for the ask @freesia-writes! I’ve been wanting to write a fic with a meteor shower for ages, and this was the perfect opportunity. I hope you enjoy!
Pairing: Hunter x Reader (GN)
Rating: T, but minors DNI as always
Wordcount: 740
Warnings and tags: fluff; sensuality; pop culture in my SW fanfic (it's more likely than you think)
Summary: You and Hunter watch a meteor shower on Pabu.  
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“I’m gonna turn in,” Wrecker said. “I’ll take the kid back to the house if you two want to stay and watch the show.”
“I told her she needed to take a nap if she wanted to stay awake long enough to see the meteor shower,” Hunter laughed quietly, passing Omega’s sleeping form to his brother.
You grinned. “In her defense, if my dad had told me to take a nap when I was twelve, I definitely would have stayed awake just to spite him.”
Wrecker let out a booming laugh. “Didn’t realize you were such a rebel!”
“Ssshhhh!” you and Hunter shushed Wrecker in unison.
“Oh, right,” he whispered. “I’m headin’ out. See ya later.”
You waved goodbye at Wrecker and then flopped back down onto the blanket you’d spread on the sandy beach of Pabu, staring up at the glorious night sky. Hunter soon joined you, not quite touching you, but lying close to your side so you’d both fit on the blanket.
“You’re lucky Omega’s such a great kid,” you murmured. “I was a holy terror at her age. I couldn’t even stand myself; I don’t know how my parents survived.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled. “The proper schoolteacher of Pabu?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” you replied. “I was a teenage dirtbag.”
“Is that why all the kids love you?”
“They sense a kindred spirit under my respectable facade,” you said with a giggle.
Hunter huffed a quiet laugh, and the two of you lapsed into silence as you watched the sky. It was a dark, moonless night, and for once, the sky was entirely free of clouds—a perfect night for stargazing. You could see the entire galaxy stretched out above you, the stars shining brightly enough that they reflected as pinpricks of light on the tranquil ocean.
“Look there,” he said, pointing to a section of the sky close to the horizon. “It’s gonna be a good one.”
Sure enough, a brilliant streak of light soon shot low across the darkness, its flash bright enough to illuminate the beach faintly. As it burned out, you turned your head to stare at Hunter.
“How do you do that?” you asked softly.
“I can hear them,” he replied.
He lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the sky, and you took a moment to watch his face in the starlight. “That’s amazing.”
It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but you thought he smiled. “There’ll be another over there.”
He pointed across your body to a section of sky far to your left. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could see over you, and you turned to the sector he pointed out just in time to catch the vivid burst of light. The meteor split in two as it hit the atmosphere, putting on a dazzling show, and you could hear the distant sizzling as it burnt itself out.
“Even I could hear that one!” you exclaimed, turning to Hunter in excitement.
He was much closer to you than he had been when he was lying on his back, and you caught your breath when you realized that your faces were almost touching. Your pulse began to race, and you silently willed yourself to calm down, knowing that Hunter would be able to hear your body’s reaction to him.
Another meteor shot directly overhead, its bright light illuminating his face, and you realized he was staring at your lips. On impulse, you reached up and kissed him. It was quick and light—barely a peck—and by the time it was over, the beach had plunged back into darkness, leaving you uncertain about his response.
“Sorry,” you whispered. “Was that—”
He cut off your question abruptly, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate, urgent kiss. His hand dropped to your waist, rolling your body against his as his tongue grazed your lips softly, sliding into your mouth. The moment he tasted you, he let out a short, desperate sound, almost a growl, as his hand slid possessively up your back. Overhead, a spectacular meteor burst into the atmosphere, its flash so intense that you could see the illumination even though your eyes were closed. You opened them just in time to see the light trail die out.
As your lips parted from Hunter’s, you whispered, “We missed that one.”
He kissed you again, softly. “I prefer the view down here.”
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terrestrialnoob · 2 years
Text
Long Lost
Danny Phantom x Batman Crossover. Damien and Danny Twins AU.
A humanoid creature covered in toxic green fur, with blood red eyes, and pitch black medieval armor was tearing Gotham to the ground. Weapons were ineffective against it, either going straight through the creature’s body or barely doing enough damage to warrant the creature’s attention. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, Signal, Black Bat, and Batwoman were trying to either evacuate the citizens or coral the creature to a less populace area, but the thing seemed to feed of the fear it was causing the citizens of Gotham, growing in size every time it shattered a building and screams filled the air.
Batman had wanted the Justice League, but only John Constantine had the proper abilities to answer this call. He informed them that the creature was Tyranys, an ancient spirit of terror and destruction, a ghostly being of pure fear and rage that had to be defeated by The Ghost King Pariah Dark. Constantine suggested summoning this Ghost King, and while no one liked the idea of unleashing him into the living world that could easily spell Armageddon for everyone, Tyranys was too far above Constantine’s punching weight and no one else had the right kind of power to defeat him.
So, Batman and Robin stood by as back-up and protection while the magic user put together a ritual to summon The Ghost King. A massive circle of symbols Batman recognized as ancient Greek with candles and items of power Constantine seemed to more hope than know would work to summon their target. Changing filled the room and the electric lights flickered and shattered, sending the entire building into darkness save for the candles and eventually, the small green flames that spontaneously burst into being and floated around the room. In the center of a diagram, a large green flame irrupted casting the entire warehouse in ghostly green light.
When the flames lowered, there stood in the center of the room a teenage boy who looked eerily similar to Robin. The same height and build, though maybe Robin had a little more muscle. Same face shape with the same amount of baby fat. The same lips turned in a annoyed sneer. The same nose scrunching as it examined Constantine. It didn’t change its color or clothes though. Maybe it couldn’t.
His hair was white and the green of his eyes glowed in the darkness of the warehouse. He wore scattered pieces of white-silver armor, clawed gauntlets and pointed shin guards, half a tasset hung from a silver belt with an empty sword’s sheath on one side and a strange cylinder on the other, all over pitch black clothing. Except there was a white symbol on his chest, where heroes wore their identifying marks, that was halfway between a flaming D and an frosted over P. A white fur mantle circled behind his neck and out of which flowed a cape. The fascinating cloth slowly flowed like it was caught in a light breeze. It was midnight blue on the outer side with frost laced around the bottom edge but the inside was a scape of stars and galaxies the clarity of which could only compare to the view from the Watchtower above Earth’s atmosphere. Above his head a black crown of sharp spiked metal hovered gently in a could of mist that shimmered like the Aurora Borealis.
Constantine stopped his face from contorting in disgust, how dare this creature copy the form of Robin, a kid? Likely to gain their sympathy and lower their guards, to make them think it was weaker and less disgusting than it truly was.
Batman was internally screaming. He knew there were beings of dark magic that could change their forms, but this thing looking like Robin but not quite. Just a little too thin, a little too angular, a little too emotional and expressive. It didn’t feel like something copying what it saw, it didn’t even seem to be aware of Batman or Robin, unless it somehow copied Robin without looking… He glanced at Robin who stood with his mouth hanging open for a moment before composing himself.
Constantine stepped forward and said with command, “Ghost King Pariah Dark, I bind you to my will.”
The being in the center of the room let out a light laugh, truly amused. “Do I look like Pariah Dark to you?”
Constantine glared, “I don’t care what form you take, you will do as I command.”
“I’m sorry, man, but Pariah Dark hasn’t been Ghost King for a little while now.”
“Oh? Then care to tell us what your name it?”
“And give you that control over me? No.”
“I know what your name is,” Robin said, and the Ghost King turned to him, clear animated surprise covering his face. “Daniel Al-Ghoul.”
Batman’s eyes widened, even through his mask. He kept his eyes locked on the Ghost King, Daniel Al-Ghoul. Another son of Talia? Another son of Batman? If he was a ghost that meant he was dead. If Batman had another son who…
He glanced between the living and the dead. The Ghost King looked furious, and let out a harsh laugh. “You really think I’m still an Al-Ghoul? After you killed me? After our ‘mother’ refused to revive me? Both because our ‘grandfather’ thought I was too weak? You think I’m still one of you?”
The words bit deep into everyone present, Constantine looked ready to bolt at the awkward situation, but knew he was the only one with the training to even begin to deal with this if it got out of hand.
Batman internally flinched at the confirmation, almost too in character for the Demon’s Head and his daughter. An older brother, unless ghosts age? What had Batman been doing when this child died? He knew of the vague tortures Damien had gone through with his other family. It was a hard hit to now understand just how lucky Damien had been.
He looked to Damien who was probably more carefully controlled than anyone could be expected from the situation. Damien spoke in short sentences, straining to control his tone and inflection, “There is an ancient spirit of destruction destroying Gotham City. Our weapons are ineffective against it. We wanted to summon the Ghost King to stop it.”
Daniel glared at Damien, “All dressed up and playing hero, with our father no less, and you summon me to ask for help?”
Damien nodded, Bruce could see the emotions trying to breach the edges of Damien’s carefully constructed mask. Bruce himself was pushing his emptions to the side, and stepped forward to say, “If you have the power to stop Tyranys, then yes, we are. Daniel, please help.”
Daniel looked up at Batman with a glare so sharp it felt like it was cutting through Bruce’s soul. Another son. Another Dead Son. One he hadn’t known about. One he hadn’t saved. One he hadn’t even known needed saving. He had so many questions. But there was, in this moment, a monster tearing through Gotham City. The Mission comes first.
Daniel let out a laugh so cold and hollow Batman felt the temperature drop, and then, the Ghost King vanished.
There was a sharp sigh and Constantine said, “I think that’s a no-go on getting the Ghost King to defeat Tyranys for us.”
“Any other plans?” Batman asked, getting back on task and ignoring the aching chill that ran through him. He got empty looks in response. He let off a grappling hook towards a skylight, “I’m going to check on the situation outside.”
He heard Robin follow up after him, and once on the roof, stood frozen in shock again. There in the distance, he could see Tyranys chasing after Daniel. The Ghost King flew around it and shot blasts of green energy that caused actual harm to Tyranys. He drew its attention away from the rest of the city and it followed Daniel as he led towards the docks. He drew it into the Gotham River, where it stood only half submerged in the grimy waters where the two were locked in battle. Daniel flew around masterfully avoiding being hit by the creature and summon shields of green energy for defense. He shot more powerful looking green blasts and ice shards, not worrying about collateral damage anymore. He even duplicated himself to attack it from three sides. There was even some kind of sonic attack that shook the warehouse despite how far away they were and sent a shiver of fear through Batman’s spine.
It almost felt like this was some kind of show Daniel was putting on specifically for them. Like he was shouting at them, “Look at how not weak I am!”
 There were several minutes where Tyranys just seemed to grow larger and more powerful and Daniel upped his attacks to match. Then, all of the sudden, Daniel stopped attacking Tyranys and it started to shrink. It turned towards the city it had just been lead out of, but Daniel flew between it and fired off another blast, obviously not at full strength any more. But Tyranys continued to shrink. Then Daniel pulled something out from under his cape and a bright white light enveloped Tyranys, and left nothing behind.
The Ghost King hovered over the waters of the river as it flowed into the space left by the massive creature. An army of bats were powerless against the threat Tyranys posed, and a dead teenager stopped it in minutes. And then he turned and flew away from Gotham with the monster he’d trapped.
Batman turned to Robin who was still in a state of trained control. “I have questions.”
Robin was quiet for a moment then said, “Me too.”
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fiber-optic-alligator · 4 months
Text
Ready Or Not, Here I Come
Pairing: TFP Knockout x Human Reader
WARNING: This story contains mentions of soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.
Word Count: 2875
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Summary: Being kidnapped by a giant alien robot who also happens to be one of the most narcissistic assholes on this side of the galaxy wasn't something you planned for today. Unfortunately, things happen, and now you must hide and escape from a mech who certainly doesn't want to let you go.
Knockout fic time ya'll eat up. This is actually my first time writing for him and I did A LOT of research on his mannerisms and personality to make sure I got him right. I also really wanted to play into the fearplay factor and show how terrifying it would be for one of us humans to be hunted by what is essentially an apex predator that has its notoriety spread to numerous planets who have interacted with Cybertronians, especially Decepticons. Feedback and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy trying to escape from this handsome idiot :)
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You are screwed.
Like, absolutely, positively screwed.
You huddle in the corner of the empty boxcar, your entire body shivering from cold and fear. The evening is dark, with no light except from the moon to illuminate the deserted trainyard around you. Your breath is labored and quick, coming out in puffs of dragon’s smoke while you tremble and hug yourself tighter, sinking into the little warmth your winter coat provides.
  You feel a vibration pulse beneath you.
  All of your senses are on overdrive. You go still while you strain your ears for the slightest sound of movement, holding your breath and pressing your hands into your forearms.
  Silence.
  There’s only the roar of your own heart.
  Maybe it was from a car, you think to yourself. Or a truck. There’s a road not far from here. It had to be that.
  Convincing yourself you are safe is not working.
  Your body still shakes, and your instincts know, they can sense that you aren’t out of the woods yet. The thing that took you is still out there.
  You want to mutually sob and laugh from the utter disbelief of it. Monsters are real. And you are being hunted by one.
  “Boom.”
  The boxcar trembles.
  Your heart stops and you feel the chilling sensation of numbness prickle over your skin.
  The night is silent.
  “Boom.”
  Footsteps echo in the distance.
  They aren’t human. They’re too heavy, too loud.
  He knows where you are. He’s coming for you.
  Panic sets in. Scrambling to your feet, you leave your little corner and poke your head out of the boxcar’s open door. Fog has set in and turned the trainyard into an eerie maze with paths draped in mist. Your sense of direction is thrown off by the hazy images of the other boxcars all around you. Everything looks exactly the same. This place is huge; how are you supposed to find your way out of it? You can’t even recall the way you took to get to this point!
  “Boom.”
  He’s getting closer.
  “Shitshitshit.” You turn in a circle and pull at your hair while your chest constricts and you feel a familiar tugging from behind your eyes that means oncoming tears. You don’t know what to do. What can you do? How are you supposed to get out of this? You're running out of time!
  Don’t panic. That’s rule number one. Panicking will only make you an easier target. You force your arms to drop. Inhaling deep through your nose and letting it out of your mouth, you close your eyes and urge yourself to relax.
  You will find a way out of here. When the creature brought you here, you saw a gas station about a mile away down the main road that borders the trainyard. If you can make it there, someone will have to help you. You just have to remain unseen until then.
  “BOOM.”
  The boxcar shakes. You wobble a little, and your hope drops.
  “Helloooo!” A prim male voice announces itself. “Little human! I know you're here!”
  You duck out of view and press yourself against the boxcar’s wall. Footsteps echo with the smooth whirrr of mechanical joints moving a massive robotic body through the alleyways of train cars.
  You don’t understand why he’s doing this. You were minding your own business, going about your life like any regular person does, when all of a sudden this…car zoomed straight for you and flashed you with a blinding blue light. Everything had gone black then, and when you woke up, you were trapped in a vehicle with no driver. A vehicle that was talking. Thank god it was still a vehicle with a steering wheel and brakes, because you managed to get into the front seat and crash it into a ditch. That’s how you ended up here. You were running and hiding from a car-turned-giant robot who’s probably pissed you scuffed up his paint job.
  You hear a growl that sends shivers down your spine.
  Okay. He’s definitely pissed.
  “Oh, I know you fleshies love your little games,” the robot lilts, “but I’m not particularly in the mood to play one. So, either you come out now, or I will have to force you out of hiding. Trust me human, you really don’t want to know what I’m like when I get serious.”
  You have to get out of here. If you don’t run now, he’s going to find you, and you’ll never have another chance to escape again. Gathering up what little courage you have, you once again peek outside.
  A pair of massive red eyes stare right back at you.
  A scream is ripped from your lungs. You fall flat on your ass, pushing yourself away from the giant robot looking in. The mech cackles. “Oh, that was priceless! You fleshies are so easy to startle!”
  “F-Fuck off!” you yell hoarsely at him. “Get the fuck away from me!”
  He laughs again and reaches a clawed hand into the boxcar. You shriek and fumble to avoid the oncoming digits. The corner once again becomes your safe haven when you curl up into it, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
  The robot smirks. “All bark and no bite, hmm? I was expecting that. All of you fleshbags are the same. You think you're so tough, until something bigger comes along to snap at you.”
  You give him the most withering glare you can muster, but you guess it doesn’t exactly do the job, since he only chuckles. “If you weren’t such a revolting mass of organic waste, I would actually find you rather cute, you know. Ah, shame. And here I was thinking about being rather gentle with you.”
  “W-What do you want with me?!” You stand up on shaky legs that nearly give out beneath you. “Why did you kidnap me? What did I do?”
  “You really want to know the truth?” he asks.
  “Yes, obviously!”
  He shrugs. “Alright. I was bored. I saw you and decided, hey, why not have a little bit of fun before I go? Is that a satisfactory answer for you, human?”
  You blink dumbfoundedly. “So you…you kidnapped me and drove me out into the middle of bumblefuck nowhere because you were bored?!”
  “Well, I hardly think being bored is a simple reason,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Boredom can be quite the bane to one’s existence. It can lead to all sorts of medical complications. Depression, stress, irritable tank syndrome-”
  “Cut the crap!” You interrupt him with a gnash of your teeth. “This isn’t funny! Take me back to where you picked me up, right now!”
  “It’s quite funny to me.” The mech drums his claws idly against the boxcar’s floor. “You know what else is funny? The fact that you actually think you're in control of this situation. Tell me, what if I were to say no?”
  You open your mouth to retort, but find no sound comes out. The mech raises an eyebrow. His shit-eating grin widens. “What, got nothing to say? That’s fine, I really didn’t expect you to have an answer. Here’s the thing: You're not going anywhere right now. So, kick back, relax. Maybe if you're a good little meatbag, I’ll consider letting you go.”
  “I’m not a meatbag!” You're really starting to hate this guy. “I’m a person! A human being!”
  “Human, meatbag, it’s all the same.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Now, are you going to make this easy for yourself? Or are we going to keep up this argument that is not only petty, but also rather meaningless?”
  You slump back down and draw your knees close to your chest, lowering your head a little and wishing you weren’t shaking with fear. The mech takes great delight in this. He inhales deeply and sighs, shuddering ecstatically. “Ah, there it is again. That wonderful scent of terror. It’s absolutely tantalizing.”
  Your head shoots up. “Wait. What?”
  “You heard me. I didn’t take you just because I was bored, you know. I was also on the lookout for a snack.”
  “You…eat humans?” You gape at him, horrified.
  “Not typically. But ever since my home planet decided to, well, blow up ages ago, my kind have had to resort to some…secondary methods in order to survive.”
  “So, you’re-you’re an alien?”
  “No. I’m just a normal Aston Martin.” He oozes narcissism while he runs a hand expressingly down his shoulder armor. “Notice the expensive color? The gold rims? I’m a real work of art, you know. You should appreciate me more.”
  You feel like you are ready to explode. “Be serious! What are you?”
   He rolls his eyes. “Hmph. No sense of humor. Typical humans. Fine, since you want to be such a downer about everything, I’ll tell you. I’m a Cybertronian, fleshbag. My name is Knockout.” He tapped his chest like you were a child he was teaching basic English to. “And you are?”
  You grumble, reluctant to give up your identity, but feeling obligated to since he just revealed his. “It’s…Y/N.”
  “Hm. Y/N. Pretty name.” He smiles. “So, Y/N. Ready to come out of there and face the music?”
  You shake your head fervently. “N-No way!”
  His eyes glint with sinister mischief. “What if we were to play a little game?”
  “I’m not interested in playing any game with you.”
  “Come on. It’s not like you have anything better to do. Just hear me out. I’ll give you twenty Earth minutes to find your way out of here. If you do, I won’t follow you, and I’ll let you go. But if I do find you…” He slowly gouges his claws against the boxcar’s floor. The wood splits and shatters, leaving behind deep, messy wounds. An impending sense of doom fills you.
  “If I do find you, you're mine,” he says. “And you will accept that with no opposition.”
  You stand up in protest. “That's a terrible game!”
  He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s perfectly reasonable. I’m giving you a chance to prove you aren’t as pathetic as you make yourself look. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”
  “The worst that could happen would be me being eaten by a giant fucking alien robot!”
  “You won’t die.” His voice grows uncharacteristically soft. For a moment, you actually think you see a hint of genuineness in his eyes. “I can promise you that. I don’t digest organics. It’s not good for my systems.”
  You scoff. “Yeah, right. As if I’d believe you.”
  “I can prove I’ll be fair with this.” He rises and takes a few steps back. “I’ll stay right here and even give you a head start! How thoughtful of me. I don’t display generosity like this very often, so my advice would be to take advantage of it.”
  You hesitate and consider your odds. If you remain in here, not only are you essentially trapped, but the mech can also easily shake you out. But if you take up his offer…you might actually have a chance to escape.
  The mech taps his foot impatiently. “I don’t have all night, Y/N. Come out, or I’ll drag you out.”
  Slowly, you inch out of the boxcar. He towers over you, a massive red giant who, now that you fully perceive him, looks more and more alien by the second. Cherry red and silver with accents of yellow peeking out between joints that come together to create something that should not be possible. He’s bulky, yet slim at the same time, with spiky points neatly jutting up from his knees and shoulders. The finials on his head give him a sharp, shark-like look. There’s an equal mixture of danger and beauty surrounding him, and it makes you even more uncomfortable with him being around you. You full heartedly believe he could snap you up in one bite if he wishes.
  He tilts his head with an air of curiosity and offers you a charming smile.  “There you are,” he coos. “Look at you. I knew you could do it. Good little human. You like what you see?”
  You have to look away so he won’t see the way your cheeks flush red. “No, I don’t,” you shakily retort. “Don’t patronize me.”
  “Aww, you're flustered. Don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in admitting you're attracted to me. I’m a real knockout when it comes to looks.”
  “Oh my god.” You slap a hand over your face. “Oh my god. You are horrible.”
  Knockout throws his head back and laughs. “Get used to it, fleshy. Your feelings will grow for me sooner or later. Now, go on, scurry along now. Remember, five minutes and I’m coming for you.”
  You can’t believe you’ve agreed to this. You don’t want to believe this is happening. A giant alien robot from outer space wants to hunt you down and take you away from your life. How the hell could your day have gone so wrong?
  You find yourself running. You’ve agreed to this game. Now you have to go through with it. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t.
  Your feet clumsily hit the ground and create loud, uneven steps. Too loud. Too obvious. How long has it been? A minute? Or thirty seconds? Nervous sweat beads your brow. Hiding within another boxcar would be too easy. You must use this maze to your advantage. There is no elaborate plan of deception rising up within your mind. When you spontaneously decide to shimmy your way beneath a boxcar, only one thing is certain: you just need to hide.
  The tracks are cold and uncomfortable to lay over. You squirm and hiss through your teeth when the metal presses up against your stomach and legs, but you bear with it and remain in place. There is no sound. Just your breath. Just your heart.
  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”
  Mighty steps shake the ground forcefully. A twin pair of mechanical red-and-silver feet stomp past you, a methodical movement thundering down the line of cars as that of an animal pacing back and forth with hungry impatience, watching first one boxcar and then another, alert for movement inside. There is laughter beyond your cover, mocking you.
  The thunder fades to simple vibrations. You must move. You roll out and stand, going in the opposite direction as Knockout. Steady footsteps. You must remain calm. But your breathing is still uneven and your heart still fights within your chest like a caged bird. You are afraid. So, so afraid.
  “Scccccccrrraaape.”
  Metal screeches. You can hear him dragging his claws across a boxcar’s top.
  “I can smell you, you know,” he gloats sardonically. Hair prickles up the back of your neck. “Do you know what you smell like?” he continues. “Do you want to know?”
  “Boom. Boom. Boom.”
  “The purest energon from the richest of mines. So delicious, so tasty. Oh, I cannot wait to get my jaws around you, little human.”
  You aimlessly turn a corner and see a hulking vermillion frame right in front of you.
  You just…freeze. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you can do nothing but stare at the gigantic robot. He’s crouched on one knee, peering into a boxcar with his back turned to you. You make the terrible mistake of releasing a soft gasp. It’s no louder than the faintest of whispers, but he hears. Of course he hears.
  The robot’s head snaps towards you. Unblinking crimson eyes search for you in the dark, pupils expanding and contracting repeatedly. You remain still. The tension in your muscles burns, yet you refuse to take your eyes off of him.
  He is a piece of tech beyond your understanding. But even robotics can have trouble seeing through fog.
  The mech inhales deeply through his mouth. His pupils become so large they nearly swallow up the red of his eyes. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.
  “Hm. Using the fog to your advantage. Clever little one. You're making this much more fun.” He stands. “Unfortunately for you, this liquid vapor does not hide everything.”
  You are whipcord tight, standing there with your feet nailed to the ground. There is a disconnection between your brain and your limbs. The mech has you under a spell, crafting your fear into a paralyzing weapon. You are too terrified to even utter a sound.
  He approaches you, slowly. You have to crane your neck to meet his gaze when he stands directly over you. “My, my,” he croons. “Such a fragile, delicate little thing. You make this too easy for me. Oh yeah, I’m definitely keeping you.”
  Your voice cracks a little. “I thought I was just a revolting mass of organic waste?”
  “You are. But, I’m willing to change my mind. After all, you’ve made this such an entertaining night for me. I’ve come to realize that…I need to see your fear again. This can’t be a one-time thing. It makes me far too…hungry.”
  Your hands shake when you raise them pleadingly. “H-How hungry?”
  He smiles wickedly, tongue running over his teeth. “Starved.”
  You don’t have time to even think about screaming before he lunges, claws caging you in and mouth descending for you, ready to swallow you whole.
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illuminatedquill · 3 months
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Princess Lenora and The Starboy
A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger Fairytale
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Story Summary: A younger Sabine listens to an old fairytale told by her father, Alrich Wren.
~ the Princess ~
"Sabine, please do be careful up here. The steps are treacherous," called Alrich Wren to his daughter. The mountain path was relatively easy for the average Mandalorian, having been scouted and paved generations prior, but Alrich was not from the warrior class - and he was feeling that fact more and more with every step up the mountain.
It feels like someone poured sand into my joints, he thought grimly as he clambered over another low rock. By the Force was he thankful that Ursa was not here to witness this. She'd never let him live it down.
Sabine, all of eight years old, turned around and rolled her eyes at him. Her hair was cut short, similar to how her mother styled it, barely brushing past the nape of her neck and dyed a striking magenta color (much to her mother's disapproval). She wore a gray combat suit tailored to her scrawny frame, sans the armor plating that was custom to Mandalorian warriors. Sabine was not yet of age to receive her birthright, as was customary to all Mandalorian younglings, but it was coming soon.
"I think you should be worried more about yourself, Father," replied Sabine. "I'm doing just fine by myself."
Alrich wiped the sweat from his brow. The weather on Krownest was at its warmest for this season which, honestly, didn't mean much to anyone who lived here. It just meant that the cold was less biting than usual. "Remind me why you're here again," he said, throwing a stern look at his daughter.
Sabine shrugged. "For moral support, of course," she said with a cheerful smile.
"Uh-huh," he said dryly. "And not because you want to skip out on your studies again."
She crossed her arms - a gesture that reminded him violently of his wife. Sabine was more like her mother than either were willing to admit, which probably explained why they butted heads often. Alrich couldn't help but smile at her.
"Studies are boring," Sabine complained. "I'm going to ace it all, anyway."
Alrich sighed. It was true, of course. Sabine was a child prodigy, blessed with intelligence and aptitude towards any subject she put her mind to. The problem wasn't with her mind, her parents noted. It was with her attitude and rebellious demeanor.
In these dark times, it meant trouble.
"That's not the point of your studies, Sabine," he said. "It's a matter of discipline."
"Discipline is also boring," she countered.
This was not an argument he was going to win. Alrich shook his head and kept hiking forward until he finally caught up with his daughter. With an exasperated sigh, he fondly ruffled Sabine's hair.
"Father," she whined. "Don't mess up my hair, please."
Alrich grinned and began to put more vigor into his ruffling when he spotted something from the corner of his eye: a patch of white flowers, bursting up from the frost.
"A-ha," he said. "We've found it."
Sabine frowned and turned to follow his gaze. "Flowers? That's what we came all this way for?"
Alrich stepped forward, his footfalls crunching heavily in the snow. "Not just any flower, Sabine," he said. "Come, get a closer look."
She did and her eyes widened in recognition. "Lenora flowers," she said. "From the fairytale? These are real?"
"Of course they're real," said Alrich. "And unique to Krownest. These flowers don't grow anywhere else in the entire galaxy."
Sabine sat down to study them more closely. Her brown eyes sparkled with interest. "What makes them so special?"
Alrich sat next to her, grateful for the momentary rest. "Lenora flowers can grow in the adverse conditions of Krownest. Even during the harshest of winters, they continue to thrive. To our people, they are symbolic of unwavering loyalty and perseverance."
Sabine glanced at him. "And love?"
He nodded. "Yes. That is why they're your mother's favorite. I gift these to her every anniversary."
The look his daughter gave him turned sly. "And whenever you upset her, I gather. Because today is not your anniversary."
Alrich coughed to hide his embarrassment. "That's nonsense," he replied. "I was just feeling in the mood."
She grinned at him. "Your secret is safe with me, Father."
He patted her on the knee. "Good girl."
Alrich turned his attention back to the patch of flowers. "Do you remember the fairytale, Sabine? Princess Lenora and the Starboy?"
Sabine scrunched her face, thinking. "Vaguely. Were there star whales involved?"
Alrich smiled, pleased. It had been some time since she had last heard the fairytale. "Yes, there was. Would you like to hear the whole story again? We have time to spare before we need to head back."
His daughter gave him a knowing look. "And you want to rest your knees some more, too."
He laughed. "Ah, Sabine. Sharp as always."
She smiled at him. "Go on, then. Tell me the story."
~ a long time ago ~
As you know, Sabine, Lenora flowers are named after our distant ancestor, Princess Lenora. Legends say that she was the first leader of Clan Wren, and our family are descended directly from her line.
A long time ago, however, Princess Lenora and her people were not living on Krownest - they were fleeing a heavy conflict from another world, seeking a new home. That conflict had devastated their home world to the point that it could no longer sustain life and, fearing for the future of her clan, the Princess gathered the remaining survivors and they fled to the stars.
A few ten thousand souls were all that remained and their lives were in the young Princess' hands. She was strong, brave, and fierce - a running theme in all Clan Wren women, I've noted - but the galaxy tested her and her people to their limits.
No world would accept them. They could find no refuge anywhere. What little valuables they had taken with them were bargained away for food and water and fuel. And, with enough time passed, those began to run out.
Her people starving, homeless, and beginning to lose hope, caused the Princess to grow dispirited. One late night, after hearing the crying of her people, she called out to the stars - begging, pleading for anyone or anything to help.
And the Starboy answered.
Those born from the stars, Sabine, are special; their hearts are made from pure kyber. But they could be fickle folk, too, prone to pranks, thievery, and other mischievous acts. Dealing with them meant that one had to be careful. They were tricksters, capable of performing great feats of magick.
The Princess knew this. Making a deal with the Starboy was an act of pure desperation and could lead to disaster down the line - but her people were in need of salvation.
"I will help you, dear Princess," offered the Starboy. "I can find your people a new home. But you must offer me something in return to match the value of my talent."
"We have no valuables left to bargain with," the Princess replied. "What would you have of us?"
The Starboy thought about this for a while. He had no interest in physical possessions - but he was very lonely. There were very few of his people left; he could not recall the last time he had seen another starborne.
He realized what he desired from the Princess: companionship. Someone to stay by his side, always.
So, the Starboy made his offer. "I would ask for your friendship, in exchange for my help."
Surprised, the Princess nevertheless reached out her hand. "I accept," she said.
And henceforth, the duo journeyed together with her people amongst the stars to find a new home.
The Starboy knew that the deal struck between him and the Princess would end the moment they found a suitable planet for her people, so he sought to delay the ending as much as possible. Using his magick to keep feeding her people and fueling their ships, the Princess didn't mind - and even grew to love the Starboy, despite his antics.
The adventures they had all over the galaxy were the stuff of legend, Sabine: they saw planets made of smoke and song; met various aliens of indescribable beauty and absurdity; sailed through fields of endless ice and light. The Starboy delighted in showing the Princess and her people the endless wonders of the galaxy.
One day, they came across a pod of star whales, stuck in a vast maze of shifting star dust. With the Starboy's magick and the Princess' ingenuity, they led the lost star whales out to safety.
Grateful, they pledged to return the favor one day, should they ever ask. But, to the Starboy, they left a warning: a great Witch had arrived from the deep space beyond their galaxy and sought the Starboy for his power. Someday, they warned, the Witch would find him and destroy all he held dear in order to obtain his power.
After the star whales departed the Starboy grieved, for he knew that his time with the Princess and her people was soon nearing its end. With a heavy heart, he delayed no longer and led them to a new world - one that, in time, would be known as Krownest.
The Princess and her people were overjoyed at the sight of their new home. They thanked the Starboy for his help with celebrations of song and food. But the Starboy could not accept their gratitude, as he was too burdened with sadness at his imminent departure.
Their deal was concluded - and danger was coming. The Starboy had fallen in love with the Princess and her people. To keep them safe, he decided to leave quietly in the dead of night.
But Princess Lenora stopped him. "Do not go," she said. "Stay with us. This is your home, too."
"Our deal is finished," replied the Starboy. "I have done as requested. You have no need of me anymore. And the Witch is coming."
The Princess reached out and grasped his hand. "Then make a new deal with me. Stay with us. We will defeat this Witch together. And when we do so, you must give something to me."
"I have no personal possessions," said the Starboy, smiling. "No valuables on my person. What would you have of me?"
"Give me your heart, Starboy," replied the Princess. "And stay by my side, forevermore."
She reached out her hand. Instead, however, the Starboy gave her a hug, glad to have a companion at last.
But it was not meant to be, Sabine. For the Witch arrived the very next day and brought war with her.
Princess Lenora and her people were the finest Mandalorians the galaxy had ever seen. They fought with everything they had for three days and three nights. The surface of Krownest became battle-scarred and burned; the Witch's magick brought about an endless frost that still plagues our home to this day.
Despite the bravery of Princess Lenora and her clan, they could not win the battle. The Starboy, his heart breaking at their courage despite the overwhelming odds, concocted a final plan to trick the Witch.
On the fourth day, the Starboy offered himself up to the Witch. Eager to devour his heart and obtain the source of his power, she ripped open his chest -
Only to find it empty.
"Where is it?" she hissed at him, furious to be deprived of her prize. "Where is your heart, Starboy?"
"I have given it to another, Witch!" yelled the Starboy in response. "It will never be yours!"
The Witch howled in fury and began to reach for her magick to punish Princess Lenora and her people -
With a final effort of magick, the Starboy called to the star whales -
And they came to his side in a flash of starlight. "We have come to repay the favor," they said.
"Take this Witch back to whence she came!" said the Starboy.
"It shall be done," the star whales answered. And they surrounded the Witch, their arms reaching around her, tightening and tightening. From the ground below, the people cheered - except for Princess Lenora. She leapt into a ship and flew out to meet the Starboy, still clutched in the Witch's grasp.
"Come home with me!" she cried out. "You promised to stay with me, Starboy!"
But the Starboy looked at his beloved Princess and shook his head. "I must go and see this through, Princess. I have to make sure the Witch never comes back to hurt your people."
The star whales began to glow with a fearsome light, signaling their departure into the deep reaches beyond our galaxy. The Witch howled and struggled but could not escape their grip.
The Princess cried out one last time: "You must promise to come back. I will wait for you; do you hear me?"
The Starboy smiled at her, possibly for the last time. "I accept this deal, Princess. A part of me will always be with you, until I return."
With a final burst of dazzling light, the star whales vanished into space, leaving behind a trail of stardust. And with them, the Starboy and the Witch.
In the years to come, the Princess waited patiently for her beloved Starboy to return. His heart, given to her as per their deal, was buried on a distant mountain top to keep safe. Every night, she travelled to the spot where his heart lay and sat down, looking up at the night sky.
She watched the stars wheel endlessly above. Every now and then, one of them twinkled at her; the Princess wondered sadly if that was the Starboy, letting her know that he was still out there.
When many years had passed, and she began to lose hope, the Princess wandered up to where the Starboy's heart was buried and found a patch of beautiful flowers growing there. Upon seeing them, she made a vow: that as long as the flowers bloomed on Krownest, the love she shared with the Starboy would never die - and that one day, they would be reunited, forevermore.
~ the Princess, revisited ~
Alrich watched his daughter carefully, gauging her reaction to the story's end.
Sabine stared at the flowers, seemingly lost in thought. He chanced a glance at his chrono - the hour was growing late. They needed to head back soon.
Finally, after a few long moments, Sabine spoke. "Lenora was stupid," she remarked.
He blinked at her, shocked at her response. "What?" he asked.
Sabine stood up and wiped angrily at her legs, clearing off loose snow and dirt. "You heard me. She was stupid."
Alrich quirked an eyebrow at her. "How so?"
"She waited. Like an idiot. I wouldn't have waited."
"Ah," said Alrich, understanding dawning on him. "I see. You would have gone to find the Starboy."
Sabine reached down to the patch and plucked one of the Lenora flowers. She handed it over to Alrich, who accepted it with a nod of thanks. "Obviously. She loved him! Why wait?"
He stroked at his beard and gently placed the flower into a pouch on his belt; later, he would press it into a bookmark for Ursa. "Hmmm. You raise a fair point, Sabine."
His daughter shook her head. "I can't believe that's how the story ends."
Alrich smiled at his daughter. "That's the wonderful thing about stories, you know? When you tell it, you can decide how the story ends."
Sabine looked at him, blinking in astonishment. "Really?"
"Certainly. That's how the story was told to me. But you can change the ending, if you want." He stood up, swiping at his legs to clean them. Once finished, he beckoned to her and started walking down the mountain path leading back to home.
Sabine was quiet for the next few minutes, thinking it over. "I think I know how I want the story to end," she said as they walked.
Alrich glanced at her, curious. "Tell me, then. Tell me how your story ends."
Smiling slightly, Sabine began to speak. "One day, a wise and powerful wizard brings a map to the Princess . . ."
Epilogue (many years later)
~ the Starboy, found ~
The Noti convoy moved slowly under the bleak Peridea sky. It was a scene that Ezra Bridger had become accustomed to over the past few years but there was a significant difference to this time.
Sabine Wren, his longtime friend, had come to find him at last. After double-checking the instrument panel on the Noti hover-dome to ensure everything was working properly, he snuck another glance at Sabine just to ensure that she was actually there.
Ezra had lost count the number of times he had dreamed this exact scenario: Sabine Wren, coming to save him, like some avenging Mandalorian angel.
But it wasn't a dream this time. She was real. Her head was leaned back, eyes closed, arms crossed, boots propped up on the dome's surface - it was almost like back in the old days, lounging on the Ghost during the Rebellion.
He felt a soft smile grow on his face at the sight of her. How much he had missed her company.
Sensing his stare, Sabine popped open an eye and smiled back at him. "Thinking happy thoughts?" she asked.
"Hard not to," he replied. "They're all about you."
Her smile widened. "Ah, flattery. You're a flirt now, Ezra Bridger?"
Ezra's cheeks flushed. "Oh, well - no. Not very many people to flirt - well, talk, really with here on Peridea."
Sabine chuckled. "The Noti seem nice."
"They are," agreed Ezra. "But not exactly the most interesting species to hold a conversation with."
"Well," remarked Sabine, "it's nice to know that I'm good for something. Other than rescuing helpless Jedi."
Ezra snorted. "Oh, I've missed you."
Sabine grinned at him. "Back at you, goober."
Rolling his eyes, Ezra reached down and rummaged through his pack. After a brief moment of searching, he found what he was looking for: an old storybook.
With a grin, he plopped it on Sabine's lap. "Found this, by the way."
She let out a breath of surprise. "'Princess Lenora and the Starboy?'" she asked. "Where in the stars did you find this?"
"Thrawn had it. Long story, but I stole it from his office. Part of his weird museum of collectibles."
Sabine snorted and flipped through the pages. "It's still your favorite, right?" asked Ezra.
"Yeah," she replied softly. "Never dreamed that I'd actually meet real life star whales. Or travel to another galaxy, even."
"We've had pretty crazy lives, now that I think about it," Ezra observed.
"Yeah, no kidding," said Sabine. A pang of melancholy went through her as she read through the story; her father reading this to her, late at night, flashed vividly in her memories.
"Didn’t like the ending," said Ezra. "We never did find out if the Princess and the Starboy ever reunited."
Sabine closed the book. "They did reunite," she said. "That's how I told the story."
Ezra looked at her. "Is that so?"
She nodded. "My father told me that if you don't like the story's ending, then just change it. So that's what I did."
Ezra shook his head and smiled at her. "That's so very . . . you, Sabine."
Sabine shrugged. "Who else am I supposed to be?"
He laughed. "True. I wouldn't have it any other way."
She grinned and leaned back in her seat. "You're not getting it any other way, Ezra. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."
"Oh, good," he replied dryly. After a brief pause, he added quietly, "Thanks for finding me, Princess."
For a moment, he thought Sabine hadn't heard him. Then, just as quietly, Ezra heard her answer.
"Anything for you, Starboy."
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APRICITY: flame of eternal winter | KTH | TEASER
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apricity. (n) the warm of the sun during winter.
Pairing: deaf! partially blind! Taehyung x fem! Reader
Summary: It’s been 300 years since the world as we knew it, had ended. Man’s own creation had taken over society, forcing the people to go into hiding. At least those who were not deemed “worthy” of living in the machines’ perfect city.  Three hundred years of eternal coldness. Three hundred years of living in fear, with the threat of death at the corner. But even in that eternal winter, a flower bloomed in between the chaos. Or in which you escape your supposedly perfect life and find yourself in the arms of Kim Taehyung. A man whose soul was more beautiful than the stars above the sky. A forbidden love. A protected chaos. And a story that should have ended with a kiss rather than bitter tears. 
Warnings: angst, fluff, character death, heavy angst, dystopian! AU, artificial intelligence controls the world, futuristic! AU, death, blood, warm love, age gap, this story touches themes of physical disabilities as well as heavy discrimination, (more will be added with the entire story)
Word Count: 800 words (for the teaser)
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In many ways, in many forms existed love. 
In many stories, in many dreams there were feelings. 
A human attachment. A soft design of the human heart. 
You hummed to yourself as you sat down against the naked cherry tree. It was still beautifully mesmerising to you how people managed to live like this. Underground. Hiding from the machines that threatened to kill them if they were to step foot outside. You still wondered how people had adapted so quickly to living like this, always in the shadows of the eternal winter that had fallen over this world. 
You felt Taehyung’s presence next to you before he sat down, offering you a warm smile as he leaned back against the tree, his leg touching yours and you sighed at the simplicity of this happiness you were feeling. 
“You looked lonely.”
He spoke. His voice was deep and soothing you couldn’t help the calm smile that stretched over your lips. You turned to look at him, eyes meeting his own as you lost yourself in his dark galaxy and crystal ocean of secrets and desires. 
“I was thinking.”
He read your lips as you spoke. Wishing for nothing else to hear your voice over all the sounds that existed around him yet he was unaware of their nature. How he wished he could listen to you talk during dinner or softly humming to yourself as you cooked something for him. He wanted to listen to you read to him before going to sleep, he wanted to listen to the words you spoke, not just read them through the soft movement of your kissable lips. 
“You never told me how it was.”
Your head tilted and he continued, breaking eye contact as he looked beyond the vastness of the underground forest. 
“You never speak of your life up there, in the High Ground. I know nothing of your past.”
His eyes met yours once more in a dance of emotions you couldn’t grasp. His blue eye felt like an open window to his soul, the key to his hidden secrets even if the world wasn’t seen through that beautiful blue ocean of his. While his brown eye, dark in its own perfection. Sincere in its own gaze, awaited for you to speak so that he could read. Awaited your answer. Patiently. 
“It’s not something I’m proud of, nor something that joys me to remember.”
Taehyung grabbed your hand in his larger palm, a silent way of telling you it was alright. A silent way of saying he understood, at least to an extent. You squeezed his hand in quiet thankfulness. He knew it must not be easy to remember your prior life, your calculated and cold life. 
To some point, he knew. He understood why you were so closed-off with your past. The machines had taken control of the world. Discarding those who were “unworthy” of living in their “perfect paradise” or the High Ground as they called it. How ironic it had been for humanity to succumb to their own creation. 
But even in the end of the world, you gave Taehyung hope in a hopeless life. He gave you warmth in an icy existence. And together, you both completed each other in a way you never thought possible of actually existing. You lost yourself in his mesmerising eyes, the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen were Taehyung’s to own. How dare the machines, the Governing Entity, disregard such beauty from being worthy of living? How dare a heartless robot dictate who was allowed to live? Why did a thing decide over a human's fate?
You had found such beauty in the Underground you never wanted to go back up there to a city that was mathematically perfect, with apparently perfect people that lived supposedly perfect lives. That kind of perfection was a raw illusion, the beauty you had found under those ideal houses was a rough beauty. A natural beauty you couldn’t even think of letting go. 
Taehyung has become your home, your safety, your paradise. He had welcomed you into his life with open arms when you were a stranger to his people, to his own heaven. But he allowed you to understand his way of living. He gave you a choice and you chose to stay by his side. 
Forever. 
Or at least, for as long as you two loved each other for he often says that love wins it all.
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A/N: Hi, darlings! Sooo this was highly inspired by IU's song "Love wins all" ft. Taehyung and, well this came out. I really hope you will like it and are excited to read this Tae dystopian! AU. 
This story will be exclusive for my Golden Darlings on Ko-Fi, here's the link if you are interested in supporting me with the Golden Membership, darlings!
January/26/2024
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beril66 · 2 months
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So I am reading banger character analysis of various necron characters from people like Ghost and Magistralucis so I wanted to put my two sents in about two things; the absolute HYPOCRISY of Orikan the Diviner and necrons as a whole;
Those who have read I&D no doubt remember the incredible Opera scene. It was probably the most profound part of the entire book; more than their hilarious feud , their team up aganist Orks and subsequent betrayals , their clashes of importance of culture and history and complete disregard of it even if its your own (put a pin on that we'll come back to this) , the heartwrenching flashes of memories or even the final kaiju battles at the end. These two old coots finally FINALLY have to breath methaphorically and just...talk.
Well mostly Orikan talks. Conveniently 'just' remembering it was Trazyn who dragged him into the biofurnaces (even if you think for a MOMENT it's while possible HIGHLY improbable.) So he engages Trazyn in the way it would impact him the most. Through cultural analysis. Both @ghostinthegallery and @magistralucis did analysis on these scenes better than I ever could and I want to a particular parts of Orikan's speech because even as I know practically nothing about 40k or necrons (I&D is my first 40k book) it always made me laugh out loud at the absolute GALL of it.
"Children of Important people, judging by their clothing, though Orikan had no interest in this world or its Byzantine ideas of hierarchy' and
"but we call each other low and bumbling because we are highly civilized"
I legit laughed myself silly here before the gut punch of their interaction continued because... the ridiculous amount of lack of self awareness and hypocrisy just absolutely stunned me.
This is the SAME species who before the biotransference killed each other for basically for sport.
The same species who calls those who are in the lower class as 'it' and has literal philosophical works that brings their SAPIENCE AND SENTIENCE into question (Aristotle would be PROUD)
The same species where a crown prince can get away with shooting 50 commoner soldier in the head as a 'LESSON IN RULING' .
Same species STILL in some cases look down on Imotekh the fucking Stormlord just because he is apparently a 'sandborne'.
Same species who turned their entire lives and culture into a death cult.
The same species who seem to ironically instead of uniting and searching for a cure of their condition just continue to paint galaxy in red with their own and other species blood.
The same race after Old Ones rejected them decided to not just fought aganist them but TRIED TO DESTROY EVERY OTHER PEOPLE THEY COME ACROSS until Old Ones kicked their asses enough.
Tangent here; I mostly agree Old Ones refusing to at least cure them of their cancers is a massive dick move but a counter argument can be made; if you saw a species like necrontyr spread in the galaxy conquering everything they see (and lets be honest here.. if they had vassal species they most likely treat them worse than any Sand born) and the only thing keeping them in check is their sickness , internal political bullshit and equevalant species...would you help them?
And after ALL OF THAT you just...turn each on other and start to REALLY go at it to the point you get the attention of hungry melicious star parasites.
After completely ignoring the increasingly desperate warnings of your almost always correct court astromancer and paint him as insane and a charlatan;
THEN these things, using higher echelon's desperation for eternal life fool you into turning your entire race into soulless terminators because suprise!! During your transformation of course the 'gods' duped you and not only they stuck you into sub-optimal metal coffins , not only (some lore bits implies nobility %100 aware and content) %95 precent of your population is lobotomized , not only you are made to forget %98 of your entire culture even forget where your homeworld is , not only you sacrificed every single class of your young children and will NEVER have future generations EVER, but the cherry on top of this shit cake is your souls are gobbled by said star parasites and also ALL of you, SK included turned into their slaves.
So you and your new masters start a 5 million years worth of war so horrific you give chaos such a power boost , killed about %80 of the galaxy , forced psykic frogs into tearing the first anus in reality and drove the possibly only species keeping the Chaos Gods in check into (possible) extinction. You fucked the afterlife for everyone else until the heat death of the universe in Milky Way.
After that little debacle you turn on your gods , fought them, shatter them (and 'kill' one that in some shape harmed the reality) then after seeing the absolute devestation your gods and kind inflicted go to 60 millions of years of sleep which lets be honest helped more than hurt as mental problems were cropping up BEFORE the end of the war (TDK)
Now you are waking up and did you learn ANYTHING from all of the 5 million worth of life experience?
They learned jackshit thats what happened. Every single sapient necron even the likes of Trazyn, even Zhandrekh are still making the SAME mistakes and inflicts same cruelties they kind always had done.
Trazyn is at the end of the day is a thief and a kidnapper. I&D happened BECAUSE he was so stubborn to steal that gem he wounded the World Spirit and caused the Deciever shard to gain enough power by sending some Aeldari souls his way before Slaanesh can take them. My guy killed an ENTIRE WORLD for a joke.
We all know the reason he is so obsessed with his work is to keep himself sane and have a purpose but just imagine the GOOD he can do. He library rivals the actual BLACK LIBRARY in universe. He tried to help at Cadia and it was amazing to see but at the end of the day even Trazyn didn't seem to grasp that the galaxy is dying in front of him and he can CHANGE that. Or unwilling. This is the worst attributes of the necrons; not caring when they actually really SHOULD.
Zhandrekh is as much as the setting allows is a good man. He could be considered kind even in Flesh Times. He is an honourable man. He is also a terrifyingly competent warlord serving Imotekh whose damage seems to be his insaitable desire to conquer and CONTROL (as much as we know GW for what? 8 years didn't characterized him other than "really clever , great general , obsession with proving his worth and control by dueling with strong opponents"). I think people forget about that about him. He didn't lost a SINGLE campaign aganist Imperium. My senile old sweet man is TERRIFYING.Not much more to say about him honestly he is a good dude in a horrific setting with dementia and married to his bodyguard.
Now lets come to Orikan. Orikan the Diviner is %100 has the right to be a resentful bastard to his own people. He tried so hard to stop the catasthrophy of biotransference. Not only he didn't succeed but they THROW HIM AGANIST HIS WILL into the fires.
What I really like about him however is while he is a venomous , back stabbing little bastard who takes a little too much pleasure of his people' suffering he has these...flashes that shows there is SOMETHING kinder underneath deep deep DEEP down. He didn't want to destroy Serenade. Interestinf thing about him is he only refers to humans as an "it" ONCE. And thats a corpse something even we do. These are very small but it shows Orikan ISN'T just a complete and utter douchbag XD
That being said Orikan abject denial of basically anything positive about anything or anyone necron or not shows how small minded he can be. His destruction of necrontyr artifacts, his dismissal of human anything without giving it a try (like apperantly SK prepared shadow puppet theater for palace kids? How is that a drivel Orikan???) Etc. He simultaneously despises everything necrontyr/necron that ISN'T his or Vishani's provess in their fields yet claims total superiority in everything Necrons do as he insults them. He is the single most hypocritical character bar chaos SM.
Don't get me wrong its a great character work and shows us how flimsy necron identity even is. Because minus general archetypes of their dynasties they have...none. Soulless God Killers isn't an identity. It's the curse of their entire species however metal (pun intended) it is to turn your treacherous gods into cattle. At the end of the day however advanced tech they possess or claims to have high manners (if they are sentient enough) or 'elegance' they are as barren as a civilization can get in all account bar tech.
And the fact that they can call themselves 'Civilized' making me giggle for the sheer absurdity of it BECAUSE they equate technological advancement as 'Cultured amd civilized'.
Necrons while I LOVE THEM and want them to have a happy ending (I want that for all species honetly everyone is horrible in 40k its okay :D) are the indisputed the WORST people in this shithole of a galaxy.
Imperium in many ways are lightyears ahead of us technologically would we call them civilized? Aeldari despite all their tech and arts were creating blood orgies on bodies of sacrificed children and I didn't met many people who would consider even the today's Crafworld Aeldari civilized.
Necrons are the same as these two. There is beside technology and cultural ticks no difference between them. Orikan calls the class system of Serenade 'Byzantine ideas' while he himself is subjected to the EXACT SAME THING in Mendragora court.
So if we rib on the Imperium and Aeldar...why shouldn't we on necrons?
All the races of the Milky Way are sides of a multi-faced coin (except Tyranids obviously). Bloodthirsty , cruel savages with certain exceptions in characters because they are marginally less shitty than the rest (Trazyn , Zhandrekh , Oltyx , Yenekh , Eldrad , Vulcan , Farsight , Shadowsun , Jaghatai Khan etc.) Who wants the same thing.
Necrons are just the most delusional of them all and its so tragic it loops back around to being funny. All races have fell from grace in Warhammer. The Necrontyr might be the only race started with very little redeeming qualities though. And the have not changed a SINGLE BIT in 65 fucking MILLION YEARS besides Oltyx (who because the Flayer King. A literal flesh tearing and wearing monster) . A single character. This is beyond horrific when you think about it.
Ironically in 40k DAOT humans might have been the most civilized race ever existed. They had peace treaties with ORKS. Interex have not eradicated Mega-arachnids just banished them to a world where they can live and let live. Diasporex just wanted to be left alone. Humanity even Aledari used to have compassion. Necrontyr and necron minus few never had that as a SOCIETY. Not to their own NOT to others. (I am not humans fuck yeah! In the slightest but...history speaks for itself)
And with their souls gone it seems something needs to shake them up so badly to start actual REFLECTION of eho they have been/who they are. Because with the way the are going...their minds will give long before their bodies do.
Sooo...this is my 'analysis' of the hypocrisy of Orikan and Necrons as a whole considering them so above all despite being in the same mudpit wirh other races. Would love to hear your opinions do you agree? Disagree?
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isagrimorie · 7 months
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I was watching the Blindwave reaction to the Ahsoka s1 finale, and one of them observed that Sabine being in tune with the Force— when she parried back each blaster when she was saving Ezra against a zombie Night Trooper accurately when before this she had a challenging time— seems to work when she’s protecting someone else, like Ezra.
When she’s protecting Ezra, she can do feats, and the more she’s able to do something well, the more confident she becomes in her abilities.
Which was the point Yoda has said before when he trained Luke in Dagobah.
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LUKE: (focusing, quietly) All right, I'll give it a try. YODA: No! Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try. Luke closes his eyes and concentrates on thinking the ship out. Slowly, the X-wing's nose begins to rise above the water. It hovers for a moment and then slides back, disappearing once again. LUKE: (panting heavily) I can't. It's too big. YODA: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hm? Mmmm. Luke shakes his head.
YODA: And well you should not. For my ally in the Force. And a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we... (Yoda pinches Luke's shoulder) ... not this crude matter. (a sweeping gesture) You must feel the Force around you. (gesturing) Here, between you... me... the tree... the rock... everywhere! Yes, even between this land and that ship! LUKE: (discouraged) You want the impossible. Quietly Yoda turns toward the X-wing fighter. With his eyes closed and his head bowed, he raises his arm and points at the ship. Soon, the fighter rises above the water and moves forward as Artoo beeps in terror and scoots away. The entire X-wing moves majestically, surely, toward the shore. Yoda stands on a tree root and guides the fighter carefully down toward the beach. Luke stares in astonishment as the fighter settles down onto the shore.
He walks toward Yoda. LUKE: I don't... I don't believe it. YODA: That is why you fail.
—-
Sabine won’t be lifting ships, but she can deflect blasters to save a friend, to complete a mission, and she can help push Ezra into a ship that’s going back into their home galaxy.
That, she can do for him.
She’s not gonna make it happen. She will make it happen.
(Although you can see even if Sabine powered him half way, she still fell a little short, fortunately, Ezra is also a Force user and he can pull himself in the last few meters).
And as Yoda said, a large part about using the Force is belief.
The moment Sabine moved her Saber and drew it to her, she knew she can use the Force. Once she knew she can use the Force, she exert a little more effort to help Ezra across. She believed she can. She had to, every second the Chimera moved away was a second from Sabine failing to fulfill her promise to bring Ezra home.
Sabine had to help Ezra with a Force push because otherwise he would plummet to his death.
In this specific instance there is “Do or do not.” and nothing in between.
For someone else, for someone she loves, Sabine can do the impossible.
/edited for format
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raccoonfallsharder · 5 months
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so @thirteens-lucky-tardis had a lovely headcanon about Rocket just absolutely entranced by lava lamps. And I love it and it made me think like, take a moment to just breathe, or relax for a second or something? Just sit here and look at this frickin’ lamp thing. Idk it was such a nice visual I thought I’d bring it up to you ☺️
i went hunting for this but couldn't find it! i need to read it o(╥﹏╥)o
it makes complete sense. i'm just imagining you notice how much he likes yours - maybe you come home one day and you can't find him. he's normally clanking around with some invention or another - dismantling your toaster or building a new gun. muttering to himself, or humming one of those old songs. but today your apartment is silent, and if it weren't for the runabout still parked on the roof like a goddamn sleigh, you'd think he'd gone right back up into the stars.
you find him in your room, staring at the lava lamp that he must've turned on at some point. he's transfixed. it's the first time you've seen him still and quiet in your entire time of knowing him.
"are you okay?" you ask him cautiously.
he doesn't look away - just reaches out with one clawed hand and beckons you. "here-" he says, gesturing for you to come over. "-get over here. look at this weird frickin' thing."
a little chuckle huffs its way up out of your lungs, a breath like the beat of a small bird's wing. you come and perch next to him on the bed. i like to think you both lose time like this: breath slowing, hearts slowing, eyes growing heavy. At some point, he shifts and curls into a ball next to you, a compact bundle of fur pressing warmth into your thigh and flank. He rests his chin on your knee, eyes following the soft floats of wax, reflecting the slow-moving light.
i imagine you both end up dozing off, actually. much-needed naps for the two of you.
of course rocket remains entranced in the coming days and eventually - maybe for winter holidays, or as a parting gift - you give him a package to take with him back to knowhere. two lava lamps: one to keep, you tell him, and one to take apart.
i imagine he comes back to visit you often. you're basically best frickin friends - how could he stay away? no matter how much he hates this rotten mudball, you're here, and that makes it a little bit of a home. on one visit - months later; maybe a year - he finally convinces you to join him. he's still trying to get you to move permanently out to knowhere so you can hang out whenever he's not, like, saving the galaxy - but for now, he just wants you to see how it is. a little vacation, he tells you.
he's sure you'll fall in love.
and you do. the streets, the people, the life. cosmo and kraglin and nebula. drax and the kids. yaro root is surprisingly delicious, and they put it in everything. the streets are built on music. string-lights spangle the streets when the artificial sun sets, and the milky fizzes are way more delicious than they'd sounded when rocket had described them.
and those aren't even the best parts.
the best part is when you head in to rocket's place later that night, after meeting everyone and sharing food and playing card games and listening to music and talking for the majority of the night. though rocket has a few other places he think you might like to actually live if he's successful in persuading you to stay, he'd planned on you crashing at his place for the duration of your visit. you both stumble in the shadowy doors - a little buzzy out of pure exhaustion and happiness.
and then he turns on the lights.
rocket doesn't think about it - doesn't even realize he hadn't already told you about it. but the dark room slowly blooms into a soft, moon-pale glow, all the light emanating from dozens on dozens of smooth, luminous columns.
rocket's whole apartment is jeweled with lava lamps.
they're set into shelves lining the space above his workbench. there's a massive pillar of soft light shining next to his bed - his real bed, mattress and everything, because he knew you were comin' and though he'd never say it, your comfort is important to him. there are lamps set into the walls, into the corners. a hundred strange, alien light-forms, plucked from planet earth like flowers and improved: made safer, made softer, made more hypnotic and soothing.
inadvertently, from millions of lightyears away, you've touched this place. you've helped turn his shell of a living space into a home for him - into a haven.
a soft bed.
blankets and pillows.
the beautiful living light of countless shimmering columns, welcoming him into something close to peacefulness, something close to rest.
the two of you stay up late that night: sprawled on the soft, cozy mattress, bundled up in blankets. talking, warming the air with your words and your breaths and your quiet laughs. you both watch the shifting shadows on the walls and the swimming shapes of the wax, as slow-moving as moon-jellies, and just as lovely. your eyelashes and his both grow heavier and heavier, softer and softer, until they rest, finally, feather-light on your cheeks.
and eventually, wrapped in these plush shadows and quilts and the quiet glow, you both fall asleep.
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luxudus · 9 months
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An art piece i made about 2 months ago but never got around to posting it. This was the final project for my school's art class in which we had to make a triptych
    In a distant galaxy that glows a faint turquoise lies a remarkable world named Iia’Oo-uo. A tropical water world larger than Earth orbiting three suns. It is home to a menagerie of strange alien forms. The line between Plant and animal life is often very blurred. Photosynthetic life comes in shades of red, purple, yellow, and pink. Colonial organisms flourish everywhere. And radial symmetry is far more common on Iia’Oo-uo than on Earth. One such group consists of Arthropod-like organisms with eight limbs for locomotion and respiration, two antennae, six eyes, and six oral tendrils akin to the Portuguese man of war.
    One such species from that phylum has made a remarkable adaptation. One that changed the course of history forever, Sapience. Referring to their people as the Uueia-Ouoo-Oo, They are a species of four-foot-long Arthropod-like predators that take on a mix of niches. But are most known for filling a role not too similar to Dolphins.
    Their oral tendrils have become strong and more flexible. Aiding in catching prey and crafting tools akin to the tentacles of an octopus. They take on a vibrant shade of magenta to identify each other in the open water. And unlike most of the other alien arthropods of their world. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo rarely use their front six limbs, only using them to hook onto the seafloor. They mostly use their rear limbs as a set of fins for swimming.
    The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo are very agile swimmers. They are capable of changing between 3 different methods of aquatic locomotion. When relaxing the muscles in their entire body, they can perform Anguilliform swimming akin to eels. By stiffening muscles in the front half of their body, they can switch to a mix of Subcarangiform or Carangiform swimming akin to Trout. By tightening the muscles in their entire body, they can even switch to Median-paired fin swimming, akin to many fish native to coral reefs.
    Yet despite their alien appearance, they think and act like us. They enjoy art and music and feel empathy for one another. With the lack of predators, their love and curiosity far outweighs their fear. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo may not be human, but they capture what it means to be human.
    The biggest challenge with starting a civilization underwater is the impossibility of fire and metallurgy. Where most intelligent species either stagnate or die out. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo prevail through selective breeding and genetic engineering. Throughout their history, they have learned to modify the life around them into tools and technology.
    Coral analogs are grown into vast cities. Color-changing invertebrates bred into handheld screens. And Radio communicating hives of small alien cnidarians become the backbone of the Uueia-Ouoo-Oo Internet. Life and its protection and mastery is a focal point of Uueia-Ouoo-Oo culture. Within 20 thousand years, they reshaped their entire planet in their image and created a paradise. But this is just the beginning.
    Once they conquered their world, their eyes turned skyward to explore the heavens. It took over millennia to find out how to do it. Nonetheless, the Uueia-Ouoo-Oo still prevailed. They came to the idea of growing vacuum-sealed organisms capable of photosynthesis and omnidirectional jet propulsion. Chromatophores cover the interior, changing color to match what this bioship sees. Along with a tendril connected to its nervous system, allowing the pilot to insert the tendril into their head, effectively becoming one with the ship.
    Lastly, they somehow learned how to create artificial wormholes, allowing the bioship to teleport anywhere in the universe. They explored the heavens with an unmatched fervor. Surveying millions of galaxies, every star within those galaxies, and every planet around those stars. All the while, they expanded at a similar pace, reshaping dead worlds into ocean worlds as beautiful as their homeworld and protecting the worlds that evolved their own alien ecosystems.
    One day, during a galaxy-wide survey, they found a unique world amongst an 8-planet star system. Like millions of other worlds, this planet had life. But it had something else. One species in this world became sapient and developed a planet-wide civilization. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo had never seen this before, and they were eager at this discovery.
    Here 3 Uueia-Ouoo-Oo celebrate the discovery before their expeditionary fleet heads through the wormhole. Ready to venture to this world the natives call Earth.
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lovely-showtimes · 1 year
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can I request proseka boys x reader sweet kiss? pretty banal, but I like it 😇
sweet kiss ~ ♡
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characters - akito, toya, tsukasa, rui.
type - short scenarios.
a/n - okay so i will be entirely honest, i wasn't sure if this request was referring to something or if it's just kisses, so that is what i went with! if that was incorrect, i am terribly sorry, please feel free to request again once reqs are open :') also i am very sorry if toya is ooc i don't know much about him ahfsghsjk
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It is a perfectly normal Thursday afternoon, and you are listening to Akito rant about something while you walk back home from school together.
He seems very fired up about this topic, as his brows are furrowed and he's speaking in a slightly louder voice than usual. You aren't entirely sure if he's genuinely angry or not, but he seems frustrated in any case. You interject occasionally with a noise of affirmation to show that you were listening, but you're not even sure if Akito is paying attention to you anymore.
You're a little worried, though. You notice that he's getting quite worked up now, and while you believe it's important to let your feelings out, you don't want him to be too angry. So, you do the first thing that comes to mind.
You lean over while he's talking and kiss him.
Akito immediately stops - not only talking, but also in his tracks. He looks slightly bewildered, as if he had forgotten that he was even walking with you in the first place.
He looks at you for a few moments with an unreadable expression, before leaning over and kissing you again, this time a little more tenderly and loving.
Akito pulls away, and meets your eyes for a few moments once more, before his face goes pink and he takes your hand, pulling you onwards. You can't help but smile at him.
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It was on a lovely, warm afternoon when you and your boyfriend lay underneath a fairly large tree, enjoying the shade given to you by its leaves. Toya was leaning against you, his head on your shoulder, and your head leaning against his. Neither of you were speaking, but it was a comfortable silence.
You had been lost in your thoughts, even beginning to feel a little sleepy from how relaxed you were, when you felt Toya move slightly on your shoulder, sharply snapping you back to the present. You look down at him, and were surprised to see an almost adoring look in his eyes, causing you to feel a little flustered.
You opened your mouth to say something to him, but he soon beat you to it.
"May I kiss you?"
You stare down at him in surprise for a few moments, before nodding.
Toya sits up and carefully cups your face and leans in, pressing a soft but loving kiss to your lips. It was short, but very sweet.
Afterwards, Toya gazed at you for a few moments, before laying his head on your shoulder once more, gently taking your hand in his with a small smile on his face.
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"Look, a shooting star! Let's make a wish!"
Tsukasa follows where you point, up to the shooting star flying across the darkened night sky. His gaze sparkles as he watches the stars above, as if he has a galaxy of his own in his eyes.
He's so pretty to look at... so much so, you forget to make your wish in time.
Tsukasa turns to you once more, noticing your stare and grinning. "Haha, once again, I have captured your attention! As a future star would always do, of course!" He turns away and strikes a pose, which causes you to giggle.
"Yes, Tsukasa," You smile at him softly. "I am so, so utterly enchanted by you at all times."
You had spoken this in a somewhat joking tone, but you'd be lying if you said it was untrue. Tsukasa seemed to pick up on this, as a red flush appeared over his face, clearly at a loss for words.
He really did look so beautiful in the moonlight, didn't he?
Before you could even register it, the two of you were drifting closer, closer, closer still, until... your lips met, and a fireworks show exploded in your heart. The moment couldn't be more perfect.
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"My love, may I tell you a secret?"
You look down from your phone to your boyfriend's face curiously. Rui was currently laying in your lap and was looking right back at you with a mischievous expression on his face.
"Of course. What is it?" You respond, putting your phone down and giving him a bright smile.
Rui made a beckoning gesture with his hand. "Come closer. I don't want anyone to hear it but you."
You decide to not point out that you were the only two in the room in the moment as you amusedly lean down to his face.
Instead of saying anything, however, Rui sits up slightly, kissing you for only a few moments before laying down once more, his signature cat-like smile on his face.
You stare at him in bewilderment for a few moments before coughing and looking away. "If you wanted to kiss me, you could've just asked..."
Rui shrugs, still smiling. "I know, dear. I simply wanted to surprise you a little, fufu."
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