#chancellor!ward

[princessbrunette]

outerbanks x star wars au ୨୧

in a galaxy far far away…

decided to combine my interests, creating a universe where our favourite characters from the humble outerbanks are transported through the galaxy to bring balance to the force.

first up, we have john b and jj — jedi duo. sort of like obi wan and anakin in nature without the power dynamic, john b playing more by the rules, always taking a more calm approach to situations, fighting defensive because he wants to keep the peace, and then there’s jj who is his polar opposite — always running head first into danger or racing his ship across the sky despite his own life being at risk. despite these differences, the pair somehow work as a duo undeterred by their disagreements and bickering— balancing eachother out and always learning from the other.

pope is one of the troops who fight alongside the jedi. infact, he is jj’s first in command. the idea of clones is eradicated for this sake, and pope is the best of the best, leading his fighters strategically and with peace in his best interests.

kiara has lead an interesting life. she grew up alongside sarah cameron in coruscant with a powerful family, but soon they discovered their differences — being that kiara was born with jedi abilities. she joined the jedi academy alongside john b and jj, where they became lifelong friends and she quickly bonded with pope too. however, after learning the corrupt ways of the council kiara left the jedi temple, now operating in the lower rim, ensuring civilians safety in secret. however, when john b and jj need her — she’ll always appear from the woodwork to save her oldest friends.

ward cameron — chancellor by day and working with the sith by night. he’s charismatic and keeps up the appearance of having the galaxies best interests at heart, however is secretly power hungry and believes it should be him ruling the galaxy under his thumb. he uses his eldest son as a puppet, manipulating him to aid him in his tyranny.

rafe cameron was born with jedi abilities — however doesn’t quite know how to harness them correctly as he was never taught and trained by a jedi master. instead, his father uses his sons power for evil instead of good — sending him to kidnap, harm, and collect bounties across the galaxy, doing all of his dirty work. this is all covered up of course, by rafe being the poster boy for the city working his way up the ranks in the political sphere on coruscant along side his father.

sarah cameron, daughter of ward and sister to rafe — grew up in the riches of coruscant. of course she uncovered the evil ways of her father and her older brother early on in her life, and once she was old enough — set out to leave that life behind for good. only to find, sarah winds up studying politics and ends up on the council fighting for the opposite beliefs to her brother and ward cameron. endless attempts to end her career, kidnap her and take her down from her own family are narrowly put to a stop from her jedi friends.

and then there’s you — reader, princess of naboo and the galaxies it girl— consistently dealing with the threat of bounties, being kidnapped sold to hutts, and on top of that the imminent danger of war being brought to your land. the opportunities for your character are endless. will you be approached by rafe cameron, wanting to marry you as a business / political proposition and not willing to take no for an answer? perhaps jedi knight jj will be hired as your bodyguard during this tricky period, or maybe you’ll be stolen and sold to hutts, only to be saved by john b and pope!

[fynsh]

Everyone has a special talent they are admired for but Fox just keeps pretending

Fox may not have Cody's brilliant tactical mind, Wolffe's great resilience, Bly's incredible adaptability or Pond's patient emotional genius, but all CCs - to a certain extent - shared qualities that enabled them to inspire brothers to follow them into any battle. They didn't brag about it but over the course of the war the GAR clearly noticed their commanders and ranking officers excelling in difficult missions, paving new ways by taking personal risks and eventually creating methods better than reg standards.

Fox batchers were aware nobody could outmatch him in his directional subtlety. Other would have called him manipulative but that didn't sit right with them. He used his talent to support his brothers, not to harm them. The batch knew their youngest brother was always able to catch what went unnoticed by others but they didn't always realize he could also hide anything in plain sight.

His ability to pretend was a gift morphing into a curse. Fox pretended to punish troopers ruthlessly while actually saving them from greater harm that could not be undone. It slowly turned into the GAR believing the Guard's Marshall Commander was a heartless und cruel Fierfek. Fox welcomed this portrayal to keep as many brothers as far away from the Guard's grounds as possible. His fellow Guard commanders started feeding into the narrative by joining forces with him and stripping their men of their individual armor paints. Better to keep everyone away from 000 and endure the hostility of the ones you were designated to protect on your own.

During the first year of the war his brothers tried to counteract the rumors spreading about Fox and his Guard. They knew him as a sensible and protective brother so there had to be reasoning to his actions. Fox didn't bother to elaborate. The constant deployments kept the batch apart and messages from the front lines became few and far in between.

Fox hadn't been in contact with the GAR outside of official business for months now. Until news of his oldest brother being shot by a cadet pinged on his comm. The whole incident was kept off the datapads so he wasn't able to read up any additional info. Fox felt an icicle lodge into his trachea. He rushed to the healing wards as he was ordered to accompany General Windu safely back and forth between checking on his units and talking to the Chancellor.

General Windu was whispering to a healer from the Jedi temple who he seemed to have been put in charge of taking care of his heavily injured commander. Standing in front of the bacta tank was a cadet in non standard clothing, his shoulders set straight under the thick robes and his face turned up towards the lifeless face distorted by the gelatinous healing substance. Reflected in the thick glass Fox noticed a familiar blank stare and lips set into a thin line. The cadet was clearly pretending to not be affected by looking into the face of a practically dead brother. What was he doing here, alone and away from his brigade?

General Windu turned towards the Guard and signed for them to wait for further instructions. They saluted in perfect synch and kept their position. Behind his helmet Fox eyes drifted to the figure suspended in bacta. His heart rate was dangerously slow, his usual exhaustion drowned by the anguish crawling up his spine trying to claw its way out through his clenched teeth and part his lips. When was the last time he had seen his brother face to face?

The hole inside his chest kept growing and churning and he barely kept it beneath the surface when running on no sleep and food, only caf. However, there was no use in dwelling on past decisions and paths diverging. He didn't regret keeping his batch mates away. Fox knew with them around the smallest outwardly shown signs could endanger their carefully crafted image, his brothers weren't dumb and maybe the Jedi were actually as perceptive as he was led to believe by reports and talks inside of the GAR.

So Fox pretended to be indifferent. He was okay. As the Head of the Jedi Order eventually started moving towards them and addressed Fox personally with unprompted reassurance of his brother being in the most capable hands, the Marshall Commander only thanked him formally and on behalf of the clones for going beyond standard measures to save Republic property. Windu seemed taken aback before swiftly moving out of the healing wards without sparing another look at the Guard falling in step behind him. Fox didn't look back at the two brothers staying behind. He still felt the heavy stare at the back of his bucket. Everything was fine.

Ponds definitely would have picked up on the atypical stiffness in Fox' gait, but his oldest brother might not call him out on his bluffs ever again.

I'm not sure about this drabble as it took a different direction than I intended. It also doesn't properly convey the desperation of reaching your goal of keeping as many people as possible safe from harm at the expanse of your own safety net

[syndullqs]

pull me out from the depths — anakin skywalker

summary — you were friends before the darkside enticed you. you meet again and are forced to come to terms with reality.

warnings — sith!fem!reader, fluff, mentions of violence, angst, jedi!anakin

requested by — anon <3

YOU REMEMBER IT SO CLEARLY, the day you let the dark side wrap its spindly fingers around your heart. you went from feeling powerless and insignificant to powerful and important. the pain that held residence in your soul was replaced by the soaring feeling of power. for a moment, you were unstoppable.

the jedi never fell to the hand of the chancellor, instead, he ran, escaping to a far-off planet to build his empire. he took you with him since you swore allegiance that day to the monster behind the curtain. as powerful and full as you felt, there was a void in your soul. before you accepted the dark side, you and anakin skywalker were friends. you trained together and completed campaigns together. except he was the chosen one, the one who was believed to destroy the sith. he was kind, and fearless, but had a gentle touch. you loved him, and it brought about your downfall.

you’ve had many encounters with your old friend since that day. lightsaber duels, harsh words, even barely missing each other whenever you were both on the same planet.

you were on the same planet now, and you were saber locked with the handsome jedi in front of you.

his saber was a bright blue against your angry red. your eyes bore into his, attempting to read his mind, get into his head a little, but you knew anakin. you knew he spent a long time putting up mental blocks so his mind couldn’t be read, you knew that he prided himself in the ability to ward off attacks on the mind. he was a strong warrior, but so were you.

“give up, skywalker, we all know you almost did,” your voice comes out as a hiss, pushing him off of you. you watched as he took a step back, and in that moment of vulnerability, you swung towards him, capturing his saber in another lock.

“i wasn’t the one who fell,” he seethed, using all of his strength to stay upright. he wouldn’t deny it; you’d gotten stronger. your hands wrung your saber as you bore down on him, your pain and your hatred a driving force for your duel. he hated to see it, he hated how much pain you were in and he didn’t even know it. you were right, though, anakin was tempted by the pleasures of the dark side, but he didn’t fall into them. you did, and his heart broke for you.

your sabers separated again, and you engaged in more of a duel. the loud crashing of sabers filled your head, pushing you forward. your steps were deliberate, filled with menace and malice. his were light, intent, and defensive in every step he took. your expression was wrung into anger and confusion, pain swimming in your eyes. memories flooded your mind as you swung at anakin, anger making your moves sloppy and predictable.

anakin swung, his saber crashing down on top of yours. you stumbled, losing your footing. you wouldn’t be seen as weak, you couldn’t. you pushed back, arms straining as you fought. you gritted your teeth, hissing through them as anakin’s strength prevailed.

“i don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” his voice came through like a whispering wind, warm and comforting. it was supposed to be inviting, and for a time it was, but times changed. you had changed.

“i don’t believe you,” you seethed. anakin bared his teeth, pushing you down. he wished he had the power to change fate, but he didn’t. no one did. your footing slipped, and you cast a glance down. fighting on the edge of a cliff wasn’t the best idea, especially when the depths below were welcoming you, beckoning you closer.

you answered that call once before.

you managed to gain your footing, only in time for anakin to crash his saber against yours, sending you backwards. the wind whipped around you, and with a final pull, you used the force to bring anakin with you. if you were going down, he was too. your heart was thudding in your ears, fear taking over your body. you watched as anakin fell, his expression laced with fear. he looked like a boy, someone who was vulnerable and needed to be cared for. in that moment, which you believed were your final moments, you caught a glimpse of what could have been. if you hadn’t fallen to the dark side, if you hadn’t fallen for the emperor’s tricks.

reality slammed into your chest, literally. your back slammed against the ground, knocking the wind out of you. as you choked on air, clawing at the air around you, you watched anakin hit the ground too. as breath filled your lungs again with a dramatic gasp, you gathered what little strength you had to sit up and look around. the night sky was littered with stars and two moons hung. a glow was cast on the beach, a whisper riding the wind across the sand. this was different. where were you?

“anakin?” you called out, panic rising in your tone. a very familiar tone, anakin would say. he looked around, the pain in his back spreading. he heard your voice, your tone flashing him back to a time where things were simpler. you were you, not contaminated by the dark side.

“i’m alive, thanks,” he stated, rolling onto his side. as he sat up, he watched you. he should be bitter, knowing your intent. you tried to kill him, taking him down with you.

you sat there in silence, your body relaxing into the sand. your eyes were cast out to the waters, watching as the glow of the moons rode the waves. it was mesmerizing and soothing, like ointment on a burn.

“why?” anakin asked you, bringing his eyes to look at you. your physical appearance changed, looking stronger and more menacing. your eyes weren’t the same beautiful color as they were before, instead an angry red color.

his question would haunt you for the rest of your life. you had your reasons and you thought they were good reasons.

“i had my reasons,” you stated plainly.

“what reasons? what was so important that you had to give up on the jedi and join him?” anakin argued, facing you now. he still sat away from you, making sure space was between you in case you got up and tried to kill him. again. he stunned you with his line of questioning; he made a valid point.

“i was powerless, anakin. my master died, and no one wanted to take up my training. so, i never finished it. no one believed i could do it, and i saw so many people die. my family was slaughtered, my friends, i couldn’t watch it anymore,” you started, the memories pooling to the surface, “he offered me a way to cope, and it sounded better than what i was getting,” you added softly.

anakin knew about the death of your master. it was a brutal death, he knew that. you never told him the details, explaining that ‘it was not a jedi’s role to dwell on the past.’

“what happened?” he asked you, scooting a little closer to you. so, you told him. you told him about grievous capturing you, about watching your master die in front of you, and about how you did absolutely nothing to help. it wasn’t like you could anyways; you were bound in chains.

anakin sat there, stunned. he’d heard the story, but he didn’t know you were the padawan left behind. he didn’t know that you dealt with the pain and guilt by yourself. he turned away from your eyes, looking down at the sand. he always hated sand, how it got everywhere, but it wasn’t the most important thing right now. he turned back to look at you, meeting your eyes. they weren’t an angry red color anymore, they were the beautiful hue they were before the dark side poisoned you. you were you again, at least getting there.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered. he was right next to you now, and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. he was warm, he always was. you sighed, letting your shoulders sag. the anger behind that day drove you for so long, the guilt ate you alive. you were tired, and whatever planet you were on was making you see that.

“i’ve let the guilt eat at me for too long,” you admitted. anakin watched with hope in his eyes, begging you to come home.

“we didn’t help,” he confessed. if he’d known, he’d try to. others did know, the council, his master, they all knew but didn’t help. he tried not to let his own anger kindle.

“no, but i didn’t say anything either,” you agreed. silence sat between you, the feeling of wanting more sitting in both of your chests. you wanted to go back, but would they take you? anakin wanted you to come home, but would you take his hand?

after a while, anakin stood up. he offered you his hand. you flicked your eyes from his hand to his eyes, seeing the kindness and warmth in them, traits that made you fall in love with him at the temple. you took his hand, and he helped you stand up.

“water looks nice,” he commented. you raised an eyebrow at him.

“what does that-” you were cut off by anakin running full speed at the ocean, you in tow. you’d be laughing if there wasn’t one small thing: you never learned how to swim. yes, they had swimming lessons at the temple and they were a part of your training, but it’s been a while and you didn’t do that well, to begin with.

“anakin, wait-” you called as the water hit your body. it was cold, washing over you and opening up your senses. it enveloped you, thrashing you around. fear rose in your chest as you were cast underwater, panic sitting in your stomach as air failed to reach your lungs. this was nature’s revenge, wasn’t it? you’ve committed atrocities for so long nature wanted to get even. you didn’t blame her, you weren’t the kindest to mother nature.

a hand grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled you above the water. panic rose in anakin’s face as he watched you inhale, gasping for air. your hands softly closed around your throat, tears brimming your eyes as you tasted the sweet flavor of oxygen.

“i thought you could swim!” anakin said, pulling you both to shallower water.

“i never said that,” you snapped back, now freezing. your arms wrapped around yourself as you stood in thigh-deep water, watching as anakin recovered. he thought he lost you, for real too. he ran a hand through his wet curls, nodding as he came to a decision.

“then it’s time i teach you,” he stated. you gave him a look, raising your eyebrows and scoffing.

“no,”

“come on, y/n, it’s a life skill,” he teased. it felt natural, all of this. you felt like friends again, teasing each other after sparring sessions. you felt normal, and it filled you in all the right places. it’s what you’ve been missing.

“fine,” you agreed, not being able to help the smile on your face as you watched anakin pump his fist at his side. for the next hour, you think, he taught you how to swim. treading water, using your arms and your legs to propel you, and even how to control your breathing. it was the hardest when anakin’s hands were on your waist, helping keep you afloat whenever you’d falter.

after a while of practicing, you were finally able to swim on your own. as embarrassing as it felt, you didn’t feel judged by anakin. he’d tease you here and there, but it was normal.

“see? i told you you could do it,” anakin met you, a smirk growing on his face. you rolled your eyes as you treaded water with tired legs.

“yeah whatever,” you scoffed. you felt light, as if nothing could touch you. your eyes flicked over anakin, watching the glow of the moon reflect in his eyes, casting a beautiful hue to his skin. he was beautiful, he always was.

“what?” he asked softly.

“nothing,” you covered up, “let’s get back to the shore, i think we forgot we don’t know where we are,” you added. you found your way back to the sand, trudging up to where you were once sat. anakin followed behind you, sitting next to you.

“y/n,” he started. he looked over at you, sensing the turmoil in you. the light was pulling you back, he could see it. he wanted you to come back home, to come back to him. you turned to face him, your expression soft and inviting. there you were.

“i never thought you were helpless,” he commented, “i always thought you were strong, kind, and adaptable,” he finished. when he looked at you, he saw strength, he saw kindness, he saw someone struggling. his chest heaved with deep intakes of breath, realization settling in. his affection for you, his love for you, never subsided. even when you left, turning away from him and the light side.

you didn’t know what to say to him. you just looked at him, feeling your hard heart melt. you slowly took his hand, and with his other he caressed your face. warmth exploded in your face, stretching down your neck and your body. he’s always had this affect on you.

“can i kiss you?” he asked you. you were appalled, but you did want to. you wanted him to kiss you until your days were up.

“yes,” you answered simply, and as you finished saying the word, he pressed his lips to yours. he tasted of the ocean, of warmth. his lips fit against yours, pulling you in closer. you wanted to stay there forever, held by his lips and his arms, but you couldn’t. you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“come home,” he asked you, begged you. there was that tug again, the voice inside your head.

“ok,” you whispered, letting anakin pull you out of the depths of your own soul.

good golly this was a long one. i sort of deviated from the request a little (so sorry anon!!) but i hope you still enjoy! it’s been a minute since i’ve written a fic on here, but i hope it’s still worthy material LOL. enjoy!

[istharoth]

In love with a 2-D Character?! Vagastrom Edition!

Blurb: In which you are a character in a popular game the Tokyo debunker boys are coincidentally in love with.

↪ Alan Mido:

Also in the doesn't play games category.

He just sees Leo playing the game, and then he sees Tohma play the game and is a bit curious so he downloads it.

There's not much to do, it's a usual tapping game, and he can get behind it!

Cue the character selection screen where he accidentally chooses a random character which just happened to be you.

He doesn't see you until the second chapter, hearing the rumours about you killing someone gets him a bit curious.

THEN YOU COME INTO PICTURE AND GAH DAMN, You're so strong and caring but don't know how to express your love.

You're so. *sigh* He doesn't know how to explain it. He just finds you absolutely adorable and wants to be there with you to protect you.

He tries to get pictures with cosplayers following Tohma's example but he's only gotten a few pictures.

TRADITIONAL ART?! Traditional art. Has Sho take good pictures of his art and posts them on Twitter, very wholesome, very demure.

"The one time you're in love and it's a fictional character." - Leo probably.

His luck is unexpectedly very good. Gets all your editions, sometimes even doubles.

*Cue a card of you in an onsen* The very second someone shows him the picture, that's all he can think of. Cannot wait for when his work is done so he can play the game and potentially pull for your card.

Does not understand gacha rates. Alan: *does a ten pull. Doesn't get a character.* The game is broken, he'll try again at a later time.

Isn't the collector type, you just love him too much so you come home immediately. [his SR warding card loves me more than his SR loves me...alan come home, the kids miss you.]

↪ Leo Kurosagi

Only played the game because his Twitch chat asked him to. He asks them to select a character for him and they choose you.

He does not like you at first glance and selects another character, who coincidentally happens to be your friend.

He plays the second chapter while streaming and when the scene of you whimpering telling the man to put the knife down comes up, he hates you more.

Cue the transition of you being an absolute demon as the chapter passes.

You're an asshole? Sexy. [I read this in Na Jaemin's voice. *head in hands*]

You plan on killing him? and you're smart? and you manipulate?? Okay maybe you're not that bad...you're annoying, sure, but he doesn't hate you.

He's deluding himself into thinking he doesn't like you but every time you appear on screen, he has to stop himself from giggling like a highschooler who has a crush on someone.

He has a crush on you, he just doesn't know it yet.

He's the embodiment of "I hate this character" - puts up posters of the character on his wall.

His fans send him your merch just to spite him because they think he hates you. He doesn't particularly care about his fans, but he's frothing at the mouth whenever someone gives him your merchandise.

He doesn't spend his hard-earned money on you, but he uses the accounts of those old men he scammed to get you.

May or may not have had Sho cosplay you only to tell him he ruins your charm.

↪ Sho Haizono

Very casual player, likes a select few characters, says he plays for the gameplay but plays for the story.

Likely got into it because Leo and Alan were playing it, then he saw Subaru playing it, went "okay, peer pressure."

Based on the selection, he got the idea you were a delinquent, sure, and you had a nice voice. But nothing much about you? he selects you anyway because why not.

THERE YOU ARE IN THE PROLOGUE and he's absolutely loving the attitude. Disrespecting the cat-boy chancellor? Heck yeah.

Plays through the second chapter where you come up, a bit annoyed by your lack of will to do anything but relatable.

He likes your bike though, very cool. 10/10 would go on long night rides with you.

After he learns you like cooking and that your friend is really just like a toxic-ex-significant other, he really starts appreciating you. You went from 'okay' to 'I love you' scale real quick.

Whatever dishes you mention, he's going to make them right then and there, he'll put the game on pause and go into the kitchen just to make it.

He may or may not have cosplayed you once [The Fox Robe does cosplays too, I TRUST. If free clothes then cosplay? yes.] or more than once.

Has a plushie of you and those little mini plushie keychains attached to his keys. Has jewellery based on you, my boy is not down bad, he's just so in love with your design and you.

Probably has more things that remind him of you than your actual merch.

Candles? Candles based on you? Yes.

Prev [Frostheim] Next [Jabberwock]

[squad-724]

Finally a dragon Anakin I’m happy with.

He’s like Siamese cats, that darken with time, mostly on the face and limbs

He’s a desert dragon, his egg stolen from Shmi, hatched during the transport to Nabooian Kingdom. Qui Gon, one of the dragons pulling the caravan, immediately started taking care of him, until Crimson, then Chancellor’s dragon, killed him. After the incident the humans thought the hatchling will be lost, until the adolescent Obi-Wan, Qui Gon’s ward, began taking care of Ani.

At 9 Chancellor took interest in the young dragon, tricking him into sharing his real name and thus being forced to do Sheev’s bidding. For the next ten years he had been isolated from other dragons and kept in the castle, not trusting any human and refusing to break. Only a full beskar harness and Palpatine’s words can make him do what he’s told

His claws had been cut too short (to not damage the castle’s floor) and is sleeping most of the time he’s not working. Anakin’s a real gem at parties, when drugged and restrained he can’t hurt any guests.

Many men have been injuried while in vicinity of the wild beast. Only when the Red Guard, lead by commander Fox, second prince of the Mandalore, arrived, some progress had been made

[ibrithir-was-here]

Iolanthe is a fairy who committed the capital offense of marrying a mortal (it was commuted to penal servitude because the Fairy Queen couldn't bear to execute her). The opera mostly follows her son, Stephon, who is therefore half a fairy (from the waist up) and his efforts to win the hand of his beloved, Phyllis, who is the ward of the Lord Chancellor and being sought after by *ahem* the entire house of peers. (They are in love but the Chancellor thinks she can do better and won't consent to the match. He is of course also in love with her - after all his wife died like 25 years ago - but as she's his ward he considers it a conflict of interest)

Anyway. Lots of parliamentary humor and lots of legal humor - "the Law is the true embodiment / of everything that's Excellent"

I have. I have a LOT of feelings about Iolanthe. And the comic lovestory in the foreground with the tragic lovestory in the background... I have a lot of feelings about Iolanthe

And yeah you'd love it there's fairies

Oh goodness, that does sound like a Time. Definitely looking into this!

[ask-the-praetors]

Jin-Gitaxias, sir? Ward 146 of the Surgical Bay has reported a loss of about 4,000 pounds of high-grade steel overnight. They're suspecting sabotage, potentially thieves. All security footage was blinded due to repeated- and frequent- uses of something akin to a flashbang. Investigative teams have reported heavy uses of acid and force. Do you have any idea who the perpetrator might be?

(He hisses, his eyes flaring an angry blue.) Flashbangs? Those security eyestalks you are holding—are they melted? A display of sabotage utterly lacking in subtlety. A sloppy execution befitting the likes of Urabrask, or even Vorinclex, if our equipment was corroded by the foul digestive juices you describe. The perpetrator will doubtlessly be caught by our auguries–I expect you have already put your subordinates to work on the task.

And to think my exarchs had just implanted some much-needed sense into the mind of the chancellor of furnace sector 702, from which the shipment originated. What a waste.

The thieves will be dismantled and the shipment returned to the Progress Engine promptly. Back to your station, now. Expect a replacement for your eyestalks tomorrow. Your vigilance remains an asset.

-J

Good luck with that.

-U

[progmetol]

Meet the Character: Caecilus Tharn

Secret correspondence from a noble Nibenese family’s insider contact at the Battlespire, to their son, an attending student.

23 Rain’s Hand, 2E 602

L-

This is it. You’ve made it to the final showdown in the Potentials Battle Tourney. I would say it’s time for you to take home the trophy, but your competition worries your family, and to be quite honest—me as well. After your father received word of his full name, concern was sparked that lead to my instruction to perform some research. I have both went through his files and observed him from afar. He isn’t going to be a pushover. Quite the opposite, actually.

As you should know, your opponent is the notorious half-elf, Caecilus Tharn. You should recognize that he shares his surname with that of the High Chancellor and Imperial Battlemage of Tamriel—Caecilus is his son, which is extremely telling of what his capabilities may be on simply a hereditary level. Despite being rather quiet, he still displays the same ruthlessness and ambition that his paternal lineage characteristically exhibits. You can bet that this boy works his ass off—whether that be his own drive to action, or his parents beating him into doing so. The method of receiving the resulting power doesn’t matter. And don’t think it’s just the wrath of the Tharns that you’re tasting. Though she conceals it, presumably as to not invoke nepotism, this half-breed’s mother happens to be the Exalted Summoner of the Battlespire and a former Telvanni wizard. Someone you’ve certainly had a few run-ins with before. Use your best judgement.

Just like you, Caecilus is eighteen years old. However, he was prematurely onboarded to the Battlespire at a young age due to the aptitude that he showed, so he has attended longer than you. As previously conveyed, I suspected that perhaps there was some nepotism involved, given his mother’s position and father’s political influence, but I can’t imagine he’d have survived long through the rigorous training regiments that the Battlespire puts alumni through without legitimate ability. I did some digging into this to make certain, though. As an experienced battlemage myself, I can say without question that to you, this man will be a threat.

Medical documentations state that his magicka reserves have a much greater capacity than average. He is practically a living well of magicka, so much so that endurance testing has taken four times the average amount for someone of his physiology and training. I will reiterate for the sake of emphasizing importance: Four times. Heed my advice: If you try to drain his magicka, you will not have time to fully deplete you before he can impale you with steel. You cannot let this become a war of attrition—else, you WILL lose.

He is also specialized in storm calling, so classic mage-disabling tactics are going to be second nature to him. It is also incredibly likely that he will be better at countering them than most people, assuming he knows them inside and out. You need to bolster your warding spells and avoid being hit by lighting at all costs. Despite these precautions, he seems to make use of lightning magic in more unconventional ways, rather than simply calling thunderbolts. Most notably, he will intertwine lightning to enhance his weapon strikes, whether that be through his pila or gladius. He also has been seen dissipating into pure energy in order to blink around the battlefield at light speed. I suggest you keep as much distance between you and him as possible without jeopardizing your own effectiveness. Of course, this specialization doesn’t make him a one trick pony. He is still quite proficient in other forms of magic, including dark magic, a style that mimics that of the Daedra. Considering his penchant for the blade, bound armaments are something to look out for.

Even if his physical limits seem difficult to pierce, the psychological element behind dueling is still there, and that should be what you use to your advantage. I have observed his behavior for you, and I’ll admit, he was not an open book. He’s very reserved and keeps to himself—and shockingly humble. Considering he comes from some of the most arrogant names in Tamriel, this is nothing short of astronomical. To me, this implies a lack of confidence, something you could possibly take advantage of. He is also seemingly hard to impress (I propose that perhaps his lacking confidence is from being unable to meet his own standards?). He is very cautious in every aspect of his life and seems to take care in making sure things are performed correctly. Despite these proclivities, he does not have an unblemished behavioral record, and has been known to occasionally lash out violently when something doesn’t go his way. In short, he’s a perfectionist.

I’ve also reviewed his past duels in this tournament and I suggest you do as well, as they provide a lot of valuable insight that isn’t illicit like what I’ve provided you. In summary, I’ve picked up that he tends to learn very quickly in the heat of the moment, and is able to adjust tactics accordingly. You need to be unreadable, unpredictable. Make erratic movements, juke your attacks, make false telegraphs—anything to keep your fighting inconsistent.

It’s up to you to figure out the rest. I’ve provided you with a foundational advantage, it’s now up to you to adapt your fighting style into a winning strategy. And mind where you leave this letter, will you? I don’t think your parents would appreciate your expulsion, nor would I appreciate mine own.

-G

[secret-smut-sideblog]

The Raven

Blackwall x Lavellan

18+ - violence, fantasy racism, survivors guilt, cultural displacement, religious trauma, miscommunication, heavy petting, grinding, relationships developing

After her estranged clan contacts her, Vella loses her composure when the Chancellor spews hate at her. But her guard dog is all too happy to bite...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

"Has anyone seen the Inquisitor?"

Blackwall looked up from his whittling, smirking under his beard.

So she's disappeared again.

Their leader had a penchant for losing the trail of many small asks. She never shied from her duties, if anything she needed rest. Staying awake long into the night to attend to matters around Haven. But she did have, what he thought at first, was an uncanny ability to slip away. Until he saw her duck behind the barn to cast invisibility on herself.

"Blackwall, she seems to seek yo-"

"No."

"It's important."

"If it's important, she'll attend to it." The cut of his eyes must have been enough to send the message. The scout threw his hands up in the air.

"Fine. If you find her tell her Leilana has an inquiry."

Blackwall grunted his dismissal.

The scout muttered to himself as he wandered back up to the tents. He watched the man go, returning his eyes to his work.

A soft sound floated behind him from the stables. Something sweet that closed his eyes. He set his tools down, focusing his attention.

Singing. Not the bard at the Singing Maiden. Softer. Clearer. A hush.

It pulled him siren from his seat against the wall. Slipping inside the barn.

His eyes rose with the sound. High in the loft, she was sat with the messenger ravens. Softly singing Elvish phrases, laughing lightly as the ravens heads twisted in curiosity.

His breath was taken, as it often was, staring up at her. A woman made of gold, so beautiful he could barely behold her.

She was tall for an elf and filled her clothing differently. While most elves were willow thin, her hips swayed when she walked. Thighs fit to grip a great horse. Shoulders defined from pulling a bow, the dance of muscle under her bicep when she would cross her arms. Breasts sat high, just enough to cup in a hand. A waist that her lockpicking belt easily cinched.

All of this framed by long golden hair that fell curtain around her hips when she would release it from its plait.

She had caught him staring once and smiled, popping her hip out. His shame turning his eyes to the mountains.

But it was her eyes. Maker, her eyes, that haunted him.

As slanted and mysterious as a barn owl. A color he had only seen in mountain flowers, high in hidden thickets. A pale lavender encircled in an outer ring of indigo. Inner iris a sunburst of fuchsia, glowing almost pink in the sunlight.

There was something divine in those eyes. People nearly averted her gaze. And she could see right through them.

"I see you skulking down there."

Her voice startled him out of his reverie. That sweet teasing in her words. Giving him a look over her shoulder from on high.

"I'm hardly skulking." He huffed, her smile only widening at his protest. "I'm always at the stables."

"So I'm the intruder on your lands?"

"Hardly. The horses are the wards, if anything."

"Are you going to come up, or are the knees too sore from crouching in the dark?"

He mounted the ladder. A fondness filling his heart to near ache. Grumbling out with a hidden smile.

"I've been climbing mountains since you were a whelp."

He huffed out a breath as he met her at the makeshift aviary. The ravens eyeing him with wary interest.

"How old do you think I am exactly?" She raised a golden eyebrow at him. Softly stroking the cheek of a raven with the curl of her elegant finger.

He felt heat rise up his neck, caught in his own trap.

She smiled at his torment, a glitter in her eyes. Not offering him any reprieve, waiting patiently for his answer.

"Young enough to be fool for riling me all day."

She laughed brightly. Singing his heart up through his chest. It was rare that she laughed, truly laughed. The sound as sweet as windchimes.

"Oh, you'd be wrong there. Elves live very long and stay young longer. Honestly, have you even been listening to Solas' long and expansive histories?"

He leaned against a beam. Resting his hands on his belt. Very aware of the tight quarters they were in.

"He's an uppity little man." He grumbled. "Don't much enjoy him."

"Hm, I think you just don't like how much he sasses you."

"Did you call me up just to torment me?"

She rose to feet, moving as wind through trees. Staring through pale lashes as she stepped forward. His back pressed hard to wood. Breath caught from his throat.

"Maybe... were you looking for something else?" Her voice a soft pull around him. Pushed through plush lips that he had wanted to stroke with his thumb since the day he met her.

"Inquisitor..." His voice hushed in warning.

"Please don't call me that." She whispered, her hypnotic eyes taking up his vision as she drew closer.

"Inquisitor?"

They both froze, but her composure returned first. Calling out in a clear voice as she retreated from him.

"Ah, Leilana. Yes, what do you have for me?"

"I've received a letter that pertains to you."

"And this couldn't wait until our war table discussions?" Her voice soft in curiosity.

"Well, I'd like to extend it to you in a less formal setting. It's from your clan."

Her eyes widened, lips falling open in a soft part. Descending the ladder in a graceful slide.

"Show me."

Leilana handed the thin paper to her, layered emotion behind her eyes.

"This is it?" She urged after reading. "There was nothing else?"

"Were you expecting something more, Herald?"

"No... I guess not. They believe me a prisoner?"

"It would seem that way. They expect a response."

"I... I will have to think on this."

"Of course."

"Thank you. For seeking me out first." Her voice tender.

"Naturally. Some information requires tact."

Leilana bowed herself out, nodding at him as she retreated.

"Not trouble, I hope?" He offered, meeting her back on the ground.

"Hard to say... I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind."

"Of course. Take all the time you'd like, Vella."

She smiled a little, letter tucked between her fingers.

"Find me later, please."

His heart kicked against his ribs.

"Count on it."

-

She stared down the letter, willing it to make sense.

They exiled her. Sent her to die.

Yet this letter not only addressed her as kin but feigned concern.

Why?

That sick part of her that would always be a little girl tugging at her father's fingers bit the venom of hope into her neck. But she spat it out.

This was a political move. Simple as that. Word of her cause had reached them.

There was no love. Love had never been enough. She had been unloved and this meant nothing.

She threw the letter into the firepit. Watching the flame cinder it to the same nothing.

This was no different. This was no different.

"Right." She sighed, staring up at the edge of the moon on the mountain. It was going to be a long night.

She stepped up to the trail that would begin her nightly circling. Walking in wide sentry around their small world, staying out of the light. Always ending up in the shadow of the forest, the only home she could claim.

Though, the stables...

She shook her head. There was something between her and Blackwall. But she wasn't fit to be with a man of his caliber. There was too much other, too much madness inside her. The apple hadn't fallen from the tree. The vines of her father only knew to choke. She could run as far as she could get, but she could never rip it from her neck.

You are an outsider, girl. You are of me.

Exhaustion bit at her, eager to lick her wounds. The shuffle of her feet constant. Rounding the corner towards the inn.

Dreams are where Gods dwell. You must not dream. Walk.

There was a group of drunken revelers gathered under torchlight. Leaning into each other and laughing.

They will fear you. They will behold you. But they cannot take you. Neither Gods nor men can contain that which has no name. Now, walk.

Chancellor Rodrick stumbled out of the door, the revelers giving him a wide berth.

Her eyes settled cold on him. How he reminded her of every holy man before. Her father's mad ramblings had proved false. They could take her. The years she spent as holy captive in their chantry was a rot she couldn't dig out.

"Ah, our savior!" He slurred, catching her on the peripheral. His words thinly vieled spite. "Our heretic fledgling, coming to pay penance!"

"Chancellor." She greeted coldly. "A little late, isn't it?"

"Ah, not too late for our Herald though, isn't it?" He bit on the echo of her words. "Oh, you love to wander, don't you?"

"What are you doing out here, night after night? Circling us." He stumbled closer.

She met his distance in a stride. Hate unfurling up her back.

"But that's just your nature, isn't it, Dalish? Nowhere to go, circling our civilization like a hungry mongrel."

Blackwall appeared between them. A towering shadow. Burning. The wrath of thunder hung clouds.

"Step away."

"Or what?" He laughed, his face ruddy with inebriated arrogance. Blind to the danger inches from him. His eyes found hers past Blackwall's rage coiled body.

"You'll set your hound on me? You wouldn't dare, savage."

She pushed between them and took the front of his robes in her fist. Winding her head back she cracked her forehead into the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck!" He shouted and staggered back. A spigot of blood rushing from his nose.

"Anyone else?" She offered, striding in a tall circle. "Any more venom you'd like to spit?"

The crowd gathered averted their eyes from her.

Blackwall's wide hand settled between her shoulder blades. A silent bid. She sighed, stepping back into him.

"Hate me if you like. I expect no less. I am an outsider, but I am not your enemy."

She turned from them, the holy women attending to the Chancellor mouthing apologies to her as he whined about his broken nose. She nodded at them, smiling gently.

Blackwall accompanied her down her well worn trail, heading toward the forest.

"Bastard." He growled, anger still coiled tight in his words. "I would've loved to hit him."

"You can get the next one."

He chuckled, brushing his shoulder against hers.

They were quiet for a long moment, the silence comfortable. She felt like she could breathe again in his quiet.

The canopy of trees a dark blanket, small animals darting through undergrowth. Air full, moon heavy, the distant rush of a stream. Yes, she could breathe here with him.

"Never much liked the holy." He grunted. "Too much huffing their own shit."

She laughed.

"You have such a way with words, Blackwall."

She could feel him smile next to her.

"I have a... history with them." She hushed. "It's hard to be here. Gods, I shouldn't have hurt him."

"No." He stopped, turning to her. "Don't you dare take that back."

"I've just... I've had a bad night. That was weak of me."

"Defending yourself is far from weak." He gave an admitting sigh. "You should've let me. I want..."

She took the curve of his fingers, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

"What do you want?"

His eyes met hers with trepidation, brow furrowed.

"I want to be your shield, your guard.... your hound."

She tilted her head up, his head leaning down to hers with a shake of breath.

"Is that all?" She breathed.

"No..." He sighed after a moment. The air soft with anticipation. "We shouldn't..."

"No, we shouldn't." She whispered, standing on tiptoe. Her fingers slipped under the curve of his collar.

"My lady..." He whispered, his body starting to tremble.

"I'm no lady." She slipped her hand up to the nape of his neck, cupping the back of his head. Her other winding around his waist. Pushing up his wide back.

"Do you want me?" She hushed, searching his eyes.

"Yes... Maker, yes..." He sighed. Eyes filled with lust blown longing.

She brushed her lips against his experimentally, the catch in his breath a heavy spurning. She brushed closer, sliding her lips against his and pulled away again.

"You little tease." He growled, eliciting a wide smile from her. His hand finally found her lower back. Pulling her tightly to him.

She leaned up again and held her lips inches from his. Breathing into his hard exhales.

It was a dare. Her lidded eyes alight with challenge.

He breathed hard, his nostrils flaring. Staring down at her with incendiary desire. Hand digging into her back.

"Go on, hound. Bite." She whispered.

He dove onto her. Mouth crashing into her. Ripping into her with the hunger of a starving dog.

She whimpered into his kiss, pushing back with equal hunger. Rising her thigh to wrap around his hip, fingers tangling into his hair to pull. The crush of his lips filling a mad desire that boiled in her.

He pulled her back into him, kneeling into the forest floor. Her body fell over his, twisting and pushing waves. Straddling his lap, gasping against his pants. Feeling the hard of his desire under her. Cupping his face in both hands. Drinking from him, as much as she could fit in her mouth.

"Wait..." He gasped when she ground down into his rigid length. His hands pulling her harder into him, groaning deep. "Stop."

She pulled back, searching his eyes again.

"Are you okay?" She brushed his cheek with her thumb.

"I'm... I can't." He sighed, breath still a labored heave.

He didn't need to say it. She knew it was her.

"I'm sorry." She rose off his lap. "I was foolish."

"No..." He breathed.

"I'm not upset. I promise." She smiled gently at him. "Let's go back. It won't happen again."

He went very still. His hands clenched on his thighs. His eyes pulled closed.

"Blackwall...?"

"Please, forgive me. I still... I wasn't leading you earlier. I still want that. I want to be near you."

Her heart kicked against its tender cage.

"Come on." She smiled, leaning down to reach her hand to him. "Walk me back."

-

Blackwall's head tucked low, speaking to horse master Dennet.

Vella raised an eyebrow at the men, sitting with legs crossed on the barns loft. Eating a sandwich, tossing pieces of crust to the ravens.

"Men and their secrets." Dorian sighed, kicking his legs in a slow wave, leaned back on hands. Taking bites of her meal as she held the sandwich out to him.

"He thinks he's so sneaky." She smiled.

"Too big to be sneaky, that one." He gave her a sliding look. "You always go for the smelly brutish kinds?"

"He does have such a lovely musk." She sighed.

Dorian gave a disgusted sigh. Her smile curling at him.

"It's always the beautiful innocent looking ones..." He swung a leg onto the ladder. "I've had quite enough of your debauchery."

"You owe me a sandwich, magpie." She called.

"I owe you no such thing!" He lilted, waving over his shoulder as he sauntered away. Giving Blackwall a wink as he entered, getting a withering glare in turn.

"Vella! Come down, I have something for you."

She slid down the ladder. Meeting him in a little hop. His hand taking hers to steady it.

"Ohhh, what could it be!" She teased.

"Maker, it's like there's two of you." He sighed. Leading her forward by a pull on her curled fingers. "Come, trouble."

He led her behind the barn, the sound of hooves scraping giving away his gift.

"Blackwall, we have horses." She teased.

They rounded the corner to wide antlers.

Her breath was taken.

A beautiful Hart, the horned stag her people had bred to ride, stood studying her. It's autumn red coat and soft eyes just as she had remembered.

"I know you." She whispered with a smile, stepping forward. Holding her palm out to its soft nose. "Do you know me?"

The stag pushed its nose into her palm, its large eyes closing. Leaning its great head down to her.

Silver tears spiked her eyes, turning her head towards the mount to hide them.

"How?" She whispered after blinking them away successfully. Turning to Blackwall's soft smile.

"Dennet mentioned a stray Hart. I know it's not a Halla, but it's close."

"You know about riding Halla?"

"I'm not new to your people, my lady. And... well I may have been doing some reading, too."

She smiled at him, her heart aching with fondness.

"Let's get him inside." She pulled the bridle from the mounts mouth. "And get all this human nonsense off him." She laughed.

The stag kneeled down in the hay, and she followed. Leaning back into its warm neck.

"It's so good to have... something of my people. Something that doesn't sting." She hushed.

Blackwall leaned against the stable.

"How did you come to be separated from them?" He inquired gently.

She stared at her hands, rubbing the burn along her wrist. Quiet for a long moment.

He waited for her.

"There was a raid. We were visiting a friendly outpost, a small village that saw us as more than savages."

Blackwall bristled to the word, but didn't interrupt.

"I was with my father. We were the... lookouts, for the scouting party. It was our job to see. But he had been unwell for a while. There is a madness in my bloodline, but he could still see on occasion. And he was afraid to leave me so young as a guide. I had only just gotten my vallaslin, my tattoo."

Her hands entwined and tightened in her lap.

"It happened so fast. Mercenaries with holy men. They had heard there were strange Dalish in the area. It was an ambush."

"The townspeople didn't know. Gods, they even fought alongside us. But there were too many. And they started to burn. The houses, the inns, the infirmary. They wanted to drive us out."

"They kept shouting something. I knew enough Common at that time to understand. 'Find the girl.' There was so much heat. So much running."

"But my father was calm. He could see. He picked me up and took off. We couldn't run. I was too bright, they would see me. He hid me inside a home. It was caught in flame, like the others."

"You know, they say the smoke takes you before the flame. It's an easier death. You choke for just a moment. Then it's like falling asleep. He looked in my eyes. His eyes were my eyes, and he feared that. But he stayed for a moment longer."

I love you. Breathe deep.

"Then he was gone."

She covered her eyes with her hand. Silver tears flowing in slow waves. Catching them before they could reveal her.

"I was supposed to see. I didn't see them."

Stop crying, girl.

She took a shaky breath. Quieting the quick of her breathing. Wiping her hand behind her back.

"Then they found me. I had been trying to breathe, but I wasn't fast enough. My father saught my death, but he was wrong. I failed again. They took me."

"Their holy men had seen me when we had come to trade before. Thought I was some sign from their god. A vision of Andraste. Their god had turned from them, and they gathered holy objects in some bid to its favor."

"They put me in their clothes, taught me their language, their custom, and forbade me from mine. They didn't want to damage me too harshly when I would defy them, holy goods shouldn't be tarnished, but they couldn't stand my language. So I refused to speak."

"But I could still see. I watched. Waited. I was so patient. Then, one day, I saw it. My way out."

Memories of the great fire consumed her. Her foresight told her the exact moment when it would take, and she could escape innocent. The unlit torch in her hand. Hate filled heart. Eyes alight with silver. Standing over the beds of her undoing. Breathing softly with them. Match in hand. Waiting.

"Then... I walked. Through valleys and rivers. Through cemeteries and gullies. Through snow and heat and snow again. I ate what I could find until I saw a fallen soldier with a bow. It was a hard draw, but I learned. I got stronger. I did what I couldn't then and learned to melt into shadow. And I kept walking."

"I thought about my people, forced to march to their death. I thought of them. When I was dying of thirst, I would see a stream. When I was dying of cold, I would see a cave. My sight always came when I was just about to fall. I was never lost, not really."

"When I returned to my clan, they were different. I was different. They... they couldn't see me. I sounded wrong. I was too them. I was too late. I was wrong. I went as far as I could get, but it wasn't enough."

"But I had become a great hunter. And I could still see. So they kept me for a while. I had use, and that was enough for me. I wasn't kin, but I wasn't them either. I could live on the outskirts. I was happy with that."

"But the war of men came to our territory again. I could speak their language, I was enough of them to send away. To seek their Conclave. I was to send word back, but not to return. So I went."

The Hart rubbed its head against her side, feeling her upset. She stroked his neck.

"Home is a place you can never return to." She hushed. "I am the daughter of none. I have no name."

She looked up at him. Blackwall's eyes were staring steady into her.

"Fuck them."

She furrowed her brow in shock.

"No, you..." He huffed with anger. "You did all of that..."

He started to pace, his back bristled.

"Blackwall..." She called softly, standing to pause his anger.

"No!" He growled, her hand falling to his chest.

"How could they... you did..."

"Hey..." She hushed, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He leaned into her, his body still rage shaken.

"You did everything right. You didn't fail." He urged after a moment of quieting his breathing.

"I'm so sorry." He hushed. Pressing his forehead to hers. "For what they did to you. Your people and mine."

"They expect a response." She sighed, reminded of the letter.

"Tell them to eat shit."

She hiccuped a laugh.

"Not the diplomatic approach my counsel will want."

She sighed, exhaustion her favorite shadow.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

He startled.

"I meant literal sleep."

"Oh!"

"Unless..."

He pinched her side, getting a little teasing yelp in return.

"I would be honored."

"I would be honored. Gods, you knights."

"Being treated to a little valiant behavior won't kill you. You might even deserve it, if you stop being a thorn in my side."

"You're the one pinching my sides."

"Oh am I?" He lunged forward, grabbing at her waist.

"No!" She shrieked, laughing breathless. Running out of the barn. His laughter hot on her trail.

Iron Bull sat on a stool, munching an apple. Watching them play.

"Don't wear the old man out! We have a hole in the sky to close!"

~

Next Chapter

[princessbrunette]

starwars!au — additional characters ୨୧

some people have been asking for more lore regarding my star wars obx universe, so here’s some more characters !!

barry is a bounty hunter too. think more of a boba fett, but with a pirate background like hondo ohnaka. he keeps to himself, and is good at what he does — but when he hears of rafe coming along and taking you, the princess, a bounty that was promised to him for more credits than he’s ever known — he starts to look into rafe. will he come after rafe? or will they come together and form an alliance?

big john routledge was one of the best jedi masters of his time. comparable to qui gon jinn, he often didn’t play by the councils rules but would often get away with it due to his impeccable fighting skill. a few years after the birth of his secret son john b, big john uncovers the secret that is ward being a sith lord. confronting who he thought to be the chancellor, the sith lord tells him that he has many trained sith watching his son, ready to take him out at a moments notice. if he wants to ensure his son lives, leave the council and never return. wanting to protect his boy, big john disappears without a trace — leaving his son to be raised by the council and trained as a jedi. john b has little memory of his time spent with his father, being only young when he left — but is raised on the amazing tales of him fighting for the galaxy. entering his early twenties — john b decides he is going to set out to find his father, who he caught wind of to be alive, and living on a far away desert planet undercover. whilst john b sets out on this journey, big john has been leaving his son clues across the galaxy to point him in the right direction of figuring out that ward is a sith, so perhaps his son can be the one to uncover the truth and expose him.

cleo has lived many lives. never really having a family, the girl has jumped from being a mechanic and working on ships, to deciding she could be making a lot more money and seeking out bounties to make her name in the bounty hunting world. whilst she was raised to be cold and put herself first, her kind heart stops her getting what she feels she should want. when she runs into a group of jedi trying to save the princess (you), they help her out of a sticky situation and in return she tells them the information she has about the bounty on the princess. after this, she joins the group reluctantly on their wild adventures.

carla limbrey, the witch of dathomir. when struck with illness, the witch is deadset on finding a cure. she’s tried everything, but now — for the spell to cure her, she believes to require the blood of a jedi, one pure of heart. she believes this to be john b, and therefore sends a team of witches and bounty hunters to track down the boy.

topper thornton, a member of the senate alongside sarah. playing a similar role to clovis from the clone wars, he is desperately in love with sarah — but utterly controlling and overall gross. his constant attempts to silence her voice all whilst forcing himself to be in her proximity quickly get old. luckily, sarah isn’t afraid to put him in his place.

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 114 - Spock is on the Run

Star Trek: Discovery - Season 2 Episode 3 - Point of Light

With Christmas over, I can get back to doing this properly.

This time, we're still on the lookout for Red Angel Signals and for any clues about Spock's situation. Sylvia Tilly is still seeing the ghost of her childhood friend May. Discovery stumbles across Sarek's ship, who requests to transport someone over. Everyone expects it to be Sarek, but it turns out to actually be his wife.

After the Intro we cut to the Klingon Empire, and things seem to be going well under L'Rell's rule. The Klingon houses are all together, even if there it a bit of tension about Tyler/Voq's presence.

Back on Discovery, we find out that Amanda tried to visit Spock in his psychiatric ward, but they wouldn't let her see him, and apparently any info about his situation is being kept secret, even from Family. So, she stole his medical file, and hands it off to Michael who in turn takes it to Captain Pike.

After a bit of Convincing, Pike calls up the Facility, but tactfully doesn't mention Amanda or the Stolen File, he simply words his request as a simple check from a captain, and we find out that apparently Spock escaped and is wanted for murder. This call convinces Pike to allow Michael to crack open the medical file.

We get this really good scene with Amanda opening up about how she regrets raising Spock in the way she did, and wishing he would have been allowed to express his emotion more, but this is interrupted by drawings of the Red Angel flickering through in the medical file, and then further interrupted by a call from Ash Tyler, which Michael needs to take. Michael's call with Ash is just a general catch up, and a nice heart to heart, but nothing immediately pressing. Later, we do find out that L'Rell and Voq had a child together, a complete surprise to Ash. L'Rell didn't tell Ash because she wanted him to be able to return to a human life without any need to return to Chronos. L'Rell knows that Ash called Michael and basically has seen the writing on the wall from Day 1. The way she wants to protect Ash/Voq's happiness is really sweet. Ash says he wishes to remain committed to staying on Klingon though, and agrees to raise the child. As to go to meet him however, they find the child has been kidnapped by one of rogue noble houses. We get a pretty good action scene out of it, although I wish it was a lit a bit better, it fell into the trap of thinking Visually Dark = Good. L'Rell and Ash lose their fight however, but are rescued by none other than Georgiou, who for some reason has a vested interest in L'Rell remaining the Chancellor of the Klingon empire

On Discovery's Bridge, where the Command Training Program people are beginning their "Shadow Exercises" which is a lot less badass than it sounds. Basically, they're studying directly under another officer. Sylvia, still her ghost, is studying under Captain Pike himself, which is definitely a golden opportunity. They have built him to be considered one of the best captains in the fleet, after all.

Apparently May's ghost is urgent to talk to a Captain, but not Pike, and not Saru because what she described sounds Human. I really wonder where this ghost falls on the Malice vs Incompetence Spectrum, throughout this sequence it does seem like she's pushing to block Sylvia from command. Pike notices something is up, but it's too late because May pushes Sylvia into an open outburst, which, because only she can see may, everyone on bridge thinks is directed towards Pike. I really like the idea of this ghost as kind of a metaphor stress or pushing yourself too hard or something, she did first appear in a scene where Saru gave her a little pep-talk about that.

Elsewhere, Michael's conversation with Amanda continues, and we learn a bit more about the Red Angel. Apparently the first time it appeared for Spock was during an incident where Michael ran away from home, and it told Spock exactly where she was. Additionally, we find out a bit more about what happened to damage Spock and Michael's relationship so much. Apparently, Michael Traumatised him to protect him from the logic extremists, because he kept following her around everywhere. We don't find out exactly what.

After both Michael and Sylvia's emotional moments, they both meet up in their bunks, and Sylvia finally opens up about how she's seeing a ghost. Michael manages to build Sylvia up a bit, which was really nice to see. And also, she manages to throw down a bit of logic about her situation: May isn't a hallucination, and whatever she is, she isn't the real Ghost of May. Additionally, because Michael has held a rock from the Asteroid and not suffered this effect, it must be connected to the Spores, and they agree to visit Paul Stamets.

Paul and Saru, now informed on Sylvia's situation get work and find out that May is a spore from the Terran Universe, but they make quick work of Extracting her. The fungal organism is huge however, and ends up contained.

I enjoyed this episode, especially Sylvia and May stuff, although I do wish we could have got a few more episodes of weird ghost stuff before it was resolved, I guess. The Klingon stuff was also great here. Apparently Georgiou is part of a black-ops unit called Section 31, I'm really interested to see where that goes now that she's back in play. Overall a pretty good episode.

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

No but what i want is for obi wan to fall into the hole with maul. and then they crawl around in the hole hissing at each other. and obi wan has to decide not to kill him now he’s helpless because that’s not the jedi way, even though he is still full of grief and rage. and maul is half dead and clinging to his life and suddenly very afraid of palpatine recovering him but also wanting him. and desperate not to be taken prisoner by the jedi. and he realizes he has information he can leverage and obi wan realizes that maul has information they need. so he and maul go missing. and maul is wounded and feral and obi wan is grieving baby manipulator and they hiss at each other on trash planet until they fall into something a little bit and not entirely unlike affection

at some point this culminates in them rescuing baby anakin from chancellor palpatine, who oh so graciously adopted him as his ward,

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Fragmented AU -- The Roadkill Mystery Club Members

I remembered doing this for my MHAxRWBY crossover, so I decided to do something similar here. Just some information in specific catagories.

General Info: Typically referring to some miscellaneous stuff pertaining to the AU, sometimes involving headcanons.

Typical Attire: What the character typically wears.

Items of Interest: What they often carry (especially for the club's investigations; you know those character templates that includes the items they often carry?)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dipper Pines

General Stuff

Age: 12 (soon 13 in August)

His eyes are brown

Was put in a juvenile psych ward for two years

Has scars on his arms that he opts to cover when out in public

Still likes DD&MoreD, mysteries, and the supernatural

Has anxiety

The co-founder and de facto leader of the Roadkill Mystery Club

Typical Attire

His iconic pinetree cap

A blue flannel shirt that is typically opened. It’s made from plaidypus pelts.

A dull orange t-shirt

Digital watch

Laurel green capris

Black sneakers

White socks

An old, oversized navy denim jacket given to him by Stan (occasionally worn for cooler temps)

Stan claims it was from his biker days

Items of Interest

An old knapsack given to him by Ford

His teal journal. A silver pine tree is emblazoned on it.

A handkerchief

Swiss army knife

A teal walkie talkie

A flip-phone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mabel Pines

General Stuff

Age: 12 (soon 13 in August)

Her eyes are brown

Lived with Grandpa Shermie for two years

Has knitted many sweaters for those two years

Still likes arts and crafts

Adept in knitting, sewing, crocheting (etc)

Has ADHD

Co-founder of the Roadkill Mystery Club and the self-proclaimed chancellor of fun

Typical Attire

Her iconic shooting star sweater (obviously interchangeable with her other sweaters)

Various cycling shorts to go with her sweaters

Various sleeveless shirts to go with her sweaters

Various headbands to go with her sweaters

Black mary janes

Items of Interest

A knitted tote bag (has a waterproof dry bag inside)

Sci-Fi grappling gun

Her dark magenta journal, lightly covered in glitter and stickers.

A glittery magenta walkie talkie

A sticker covered smartphone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

King Clawthorne

General Stuff

Age: 8 (often mistaken to be younger due to his small size)

He looks the same (like I am unwilling to change his general appearance for the AU. He’s so cute!)

He is not a Titan. Generally described to be more like a wolf of some sort.

Eda found him on a hidden island near East Asia

He is adopted by Eda, being both her son and student

Is learning to utilize a human disguise

Is mature and intelligent for his age (still a kid, though)

Has a collection of stuffies (his favorite is a bunny called Francois)

Knows some French

Typical Attire

Wears his collar

Eda’s old varsity jacket

Items of Interest

A belt bag

Charms and potion vials

Demonology booklet

Spells booklet

A yellow walkie-talkie with claw marks

A smart-phone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steven Universe

General Stuff

Age: 13 (soon 14 in August)

Has dark magenta eyes

Lives in Crystal Springs

Still a Human/Gem hybrid

Has ‘crystalline’ blood

While I was gonna make him the ‘Team Dad’ of the group, his nurturing nature probably has him fit the Team Mom mold better

Typical Attire

His pink shirt with a yellow star.

A salmon colored zip up hoodie for cooler temperatures

Jeans

Flip-flops

Items of Interest

His cheeseburger backpack

A pink walkie talkie

A smart-phone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Connie Maheswaran

General Stuff

Age: 12 (a year younger than the twins)

Dark brown eyes

Lives near Stella Heights

Similar circumstances as Steven, I can see Connie as being the Team Dad of sorts, as she can come off a bit more strict than Steven (probably a trait she got from her mother, though not as bad)

Typical Attire

Her glasses

A blue neckerchief

A white sleeveless dress shirt

A blue skort (no this isn’t a typo)

White shoes with leg warmers

Occasionally a blue windbreaker jacket for low-temp weather

Items of Interest

A simple, bright yellow backpack

A blue walkie talkie

A flip-phone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sprig Plantar

General Stuff

Age: 12 (soon 13 in November)

Has gray blue eyes

Lives in Aurora Valley

Is human

Think of the appearance of ‘Twig’ in Anne’s Shut-In Story

His orange hair has grown out a smidge.

Has AuDHD

Has cataloged a lot of Roadkill County’s mysteries and is a fan of the Mystery Shack...although, he gets kicked out a lot for touching everything.

Typical Attire

His hat and goggles

A gray/dark gray striped long sleeve shirt

A forest green jacket

Dark forest green cargo shorts

Black combat boots

A necklace with three quartz crystals (red, blue, and green)

Items of Interest

A dark magenta gym sack

His violin case and violin

His slingshot (I did research and it is legal to have a slingshot in Oregon, at least against predators. And considering that Roadkill County contain some dangerous creatures…yeah, one’s gonna need some kind of protection)

A green walkie talkie

A smart-phone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Polly Plantar

General Stuff

Age: 10

Has gray blue eyes

Lives in Aurora Valley

Is human

Think of her appearance in the epilogue with her hair short and scruffy

Still an agent of chaos

Despite this, she somewhat acts as a voice of reason at times, along with King, typically when the older kids are caught up in something crazy

Has interests in mechanical engineering

She admires Fiddleford McGucket

Knows fluent Thai because the tv got stuck on a Thai soap opera channel for months

One of the very few people who scares Gideon Gleeful (annnnd proud of it!)

Typical Attire

Her bow

Short overalls

Purple flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up

A single working glove on her left hand

Dull purple rubber boots

Items of Interest

A dark purple gym sack

A tool belt

A purple walkie talkie

A flip-phone

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their clubhouse is a treehouse just walking distance from the Mystery Shack in the forest.

If you want to know who is their treehouse security,

Here he is!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HOOT-HOOT!!!

[lamaenthel]

Tivaevae | Chapter Fifteen: Epilogue

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 2,938 Chapter Summary: Ahsoka finally meets Taarak.

The crèche still smelled the same as it had as far back as Ahsoka could remember; chalky aquarelle paint and sweet craft paste, sharp calligraphy ink and sun-warmed tatami mats, all overlaid with the minty dalas wood incense that Crèchemaster Vereixem always claimed was calming to a child's disposition. He'd lit a stick ten minutes ago, probably sensing her irritation.

Kento—the ancient dras lizard that Ahsoka had once liberated from the Halls of Learning and hid under her bed for a week—lay sleeping on a java wood branch in his transparasteel enclosure in the quiet corner. The bone masks that her Kaleesh Crèchemaster wore were displayed high on the bamboo wall, out of reach of his curious wards and magnetized to avoid being pulled down with the Force. Each youngling he helped raise decorated a mask for him. They were made from mumuu bones that he harvested himself then carved to resemble the faces of various animals across the galaxy.

Hers hung three spots over from the floor-to-ceiling window that looked east; she still remembered painting the mask with careful fingers, sure that she would make the best mask ever for the nicest Crèchemaster in the galaxy. She had chosen the one that resembled a borgle bat and covered it with green, pink, and purple splotches–attempting a sort of patchwork look that she had really thought that she'd nailed at the time—and glued an obnoxious spray of white feathers in the center.

At the time she'd thought it a masterpiece, but now that she looked at it with fresh eyes the best she could say was that it wasn't quite as ugly as some of the others. The patchwork effect she had been going for made the skull look diseased and the feather crest was doing the same thing Anakin's hair did when he fell asleep flat on his face. Not that Vereixem cared, of course; as far as he was concerned, every single mask that one of his younglings made was perfect, no matter how ugly it was.

Taarak made a happy chirp that was muffled by Anakin's thumb. She glanced up from her coloring page just long enough to see that the little usurper was still dreamily munching away on her Master's ruined glove instead of coloring, distracted by the taste and feel of leather in his mouth and the toys levitating in front of him.

She knew she was being irrational. There was nothing to be mad or jealous or territorial over. Taarak was a kriffing toddler, he wasn't about to steal her Master out from under her. His constant scent marking was done from instinct, not as a challenge to her.

"Ndi mtundu wanji?" Anakin asked Taarak, bouncing him on his knee. His aura was a radiant cloud of coppery-blue pride-affection that made Ahsoka fight down the possessive urge to lean across the craft table and scent mark him into oblivion. "Pano, look. Ndi mtundu wanji, do you know?"

Taarak cooed and reached for the yellow block Anakin was pointing to. "Dzuwa," he sang softly.

"Inde, inde, very good." Vereixem had put out a bowl of raw bantha meat cut into cubes for them to share. Anakin popped one into his mouth, chewed it, then fed it to the toddler as a reward. "In Basic it's yellow, can you say yellow? Nena yellow?"

"El-low," Taarak said, blinking up at him.

"Yellow, inde, good boy." Anakin fed him another cube of chewed bantha meat, practically glowing with blue pride.

"Are you treat training him?" Ahsoka asked, trying not to scowl.

Anakin smirked and shrugged. "Worked for you, didn't it?" he asked, his aura going deep, brassy gold with affection-humor. He popped another cube in his mouth.

"You didn't—" Ahsoka began heatedly. A familiar tutting noise cut her off.

"Big feelings, my little kit, what do we do with our big feelings?" Crèchemaster Vereixem cooed at her over her shoulder. The mask he wore today was a ronto, decorated with rainbow-colored Sriluurian butterflies. Hundreds of small yarn chains the color of ruddy turu grass clicking with glass beads hung down his back.

"I don't have big feelings, Master," she grumbled.

"Really?" Vereixem chuckled. "How odd. My Empathy may not be visual like yours, but I could have sworn I sensed some very big feelings coming from this table."

"Perhaps they were Taarak's," she replied, coloring in her bantha forcefully.

Vereixem squeezed her shoulders. "Shall we sing the big feelings song together?" he asked.

"Master, I don't think that's necessary," she said faintly, cringing. She felt her stripes heat to black.

"I do," Anakin said in a serious voice, his aura gone molten gold with hilarity. "In fact, I'd like to learn it so that I can help you with your big feelings out in the field, Padawan."

"Oh, what a good idea!" Vereixem beamed at Ahsoka. "Ready, dear? We'll sing it together."

Ahsoka glared at her Master, who smiled back like a tooka with a mithoo in its mouth. "Go on," Anakin encouraged her.

Ahsoka took a deep breath. "I have big feelings, very big feelings. They make me yell and, they make me cry. But I'm bigger than, all my big feelings, so to the Force, all my big feelings fly."

Anakin helped Taarak clap his little red-orange hands with a face-splitting grin.

"Force, Force–" Vereixem paused with his hands above his head. "Come now, Ahsoka, don't forget the next part."

Ahsoka sighed and raised her hands. "Force, Force, like the rain, wash my big feelings away." They trailed their fingers down in tandem. "Force, Force, like the breeze, blow away my big feelings." They made their hands swim through the air. "Force, Force, like the sky, help make my big feelings fly." They painted a rainbow above their heads in an arc.

Vereixem clapped cheerily. "Well done, Ahsoka. See, don't you feel better?"

"Yes, Master," she said tonelessly, wishing she was dead.

"Can you do that again?" Anakin asked innocently, opening up the holocam on his wrist-mounted commlink.

Ahsoka growled at him. Taarak's eyes went wide, round, and nearly black, and his yellow aura brightened with milky fear and teal protection. He bared his little baby fangs at her and let out a returning high-pitched growl. Across the room, Kento's rainbow-colored frill popped up around his neck and he made a high shriek that Ahsoka had never heard before. He threw himself at the transparasteel wall of his enclosure and slid down, leaving a wet trail of venomous drool behind.

"Ayi, Taarak, ayi," Vereixem said sternly, striding over to the enclosure with his hand out. His pink aura reached out to Kento with minty serenity and calmed the creature, who sulkily crawled into his hide. "We do not use animals to hurt people. Knight Skywalker, translate for me please."

"Calm down, you two, there's plenty of me to go around," Anakin said, his aura gone a very smug shade of red. "Palibe nyama, Taarak."

"Inde," Taarak sang sweetly, pulling Anakin's head down so he could rub his lek all over his cheek again. He made steady eye contact with Ahsoka as he did, his aura glowing bright metallic green with victory-possession.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and centered herself. She was sixteen. Taarak was two. She was not going to snap at a baby. She focused on empathizing with the toddler instead of dreaming about biting him. Coming to the Temple was scary. He was possessive of Anakin because he was lonely and he was the one who had brought him to the Temple. It made her Master feel more familiar to him than he really was, so he was clinging to him like… like a little tick.

She opened her eyes and met Anakin's. He was biting down the urge to laugh and his aura was still bright gold, but he pulled a chewed cube out of his mouth and offered it to her. She accepted it, slightly mollified; she remembered what he'd said about treat training her a second too late.

His wide smirk said that he remembered too. "Good girl," he said with a pat on her head.

Taarak stuck his lip out and turned red with offense-disappointment at seeing her be fed one of his bantha cubes. He sniffed and looked away from them both.

"Why don't the three of you go for a walk?" Vereixem suggested. "Wear out Taarak for me so he's good and ready for a nap when you return."

Anakin seated him on his hip and Ahsoka accepted a farewell kiss on her cheek from Vereixem. "If you run into Parna, please tell her that I need Grogu's updated nutrition plan by tomorrow."

"Grogu?" Ahsoka asked, trying and failing to place the name.

"Have you not met him? He's a youngling assigned to Master Beq. For this decade, at least." Vereixem chuckled. "I believe they're in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, if you're headed that way."

"We're going to the meadow meditation room, but we'll keep an eye out for Parna." Anakin tickled Taarak's deeply clefted chin.

"And don't be afraid to come back and visit me once in a while, my little kit." Vereixem gently stroked her cheek with his dry, reptilian fingers that smelled like red clay. "You are all so precious to me, and this war has taken too many of you." His aura thickened with violet grief.

Ahsoka's heart sank. She took his fingers and kissed them. "I will, Master," she promised guiltily.

"So what did he mean by Grogu was assigned Master Beq for this decade?" Anakin asked once they were back out in the hall.

"He must have a long infancy," Ahsoka said with a shrug. "Some species need longer individual care before they can join a clan." She plucked a cube of meat from the bowl Anakin carried, chewed it, then held it out to Taarak along with a tendril of amber amenability.

Taarak darted narrowed eyes between her face and the offering. Ahsoka watched the little wheels turn in his head as he weighed his options, his aura switching back and forth between yellow suspicion and green trust, before he cautiously took it from her fingers. He held the meat in his mouth, swallowed it with a loud gulp, blinked a few times, then chirped and held his arms out to Ahsoka.

"I knew he'd warm up to you," Anakin said warmly as he handed him over, his aura awash with solid blue happiness.

Taarak nuzzled up against her neck, then pulled the tip of her lek into his mouth and started to suckle. One hand snuck around the back of her neck and started absently stroking along the seam between her rear lek and the base of her skull, sending a warm tingle down her spine. "We should learn to get along now. I have a feeling we'll have a Master in common one day." Ahsoka tried not to let her knees buckle from the endorphin rush.

Fierfek, and to think that she'd been labeled as a master manipulator as a kit. Taarak put her to shame.

"Are you trying to choose my next Padawan for me?" Anakin asked teasingly.

"Pretty sure he chose you, Master," Ahsoka said, then grinned. "But maybe I'll do what you did to Master Kenobi and steal him out from under you once he's old enough to be a Padawan."

"Hey, I didn't steal you, that was all Master Yoda!" Anakin protested, his aura still glowing gentle gold with humor.

Ahsoka purred and rubbed at the crook of Taarak's lekku buds. He purred back and her heart melted a little. "Kriff," she mumbled under her breath.

"So you never actually told me what the big deal was with his clan name," Anakin said, trying not to laugh at them.

Ahsoka caught Taarak's other hand before it weaseled down the front of her robes. If he thought she was going to nurse him just because she had the equipment for it, he was sorely mistaken. "Na'Hane is what we call people who were exiled after…" she tapped on her teeth and raised her brow markings meaningfully.

"They have their own clan?" Anakin asked, surprised.

Ahsoka shrugged. "Some of them end up sticking together for survival's sake. They can't chew, right? But a baby born to the Na'Hane would never be forced to bear that name after they were taken. I can't imagine why his adoptive parents would have kept it."

"Well, they were Toydarian. They must not have known." Anakin looked away and his aura briefly flickered with a purple line of guilt. "They probably thought they were honoring his heritage."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "It would have taken them five minutes on the holonet to find out what it meant, but you're probably right. Is it too late to change it in his records?"

Anakin held the turbo-lift door open for her. "I'll find out. So when you say taken…" He trailed off and looked at her sideways.

Ahsoka shifted Taarak's weight. "A Na'Hane can't be trusted with a child," she said firmly.

"So you just… take them?" Anakin asked, frowning.

"It's not like we go out hunting for them," Ahsoka said. "Usually, they're left on the edge of the village in the middle of the night by the Na'Hane."

"But if you ran into one out… doing whatever your people do, you'd just take them home?"

"A Na'Hane is a Togruta exiled from their clan for doing something horrible, Master," Ahsoka snapped, trying not to get annoyed with him. She pulled Taarak's hand out of her robes again. "It's to protect the child, we don't–"

"Easy, little one, easy." Anakin patted her between her montrals and fed her a bantha cube. "Don't get defensive, I was just curious."

Ahsoka swallowed her treat and tried not to sulk. Taarak's purr sped up and he suckled harder, running a fat little hand up and down her lek comfortingly as he did. She hugged him closer. "Anyway," she said, "I'm not saying that it would be a big deal here at the Temple, but if Taarak ever goes back to Shili it'll be pretty awkward. Imagine having to introduce yourself as Starkiller for the rest of your life because of something your mother did before you were even born."

Anakin's eyes widened and his aura went pale yellow with surprise-amusement. "Wait, Starkiller? His name means Starkiller?"

She didn't like how pleased he looked. "Na'Hane means killer," she said sourly. "Taarak—well, Tara—means star."

Anakin threw his head back and laughed. "Snips, there's no way I'm changing that. That is way too cool of a name to change."

Ahsoka scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Master…"

"Aww, who's my little Starkiller?" Anakin cooed, tickling Taarak's stumpy little rear lek. It twitched happily at the stimulation. "You are, yes, you're my little Starkiller…"

"Master, don't call him that!" Ahsoka said, exasperated. Taarak giggled around her lek.

"I'm absolutely calling him that and you can't stop me." Anakin pulled Taarak off of her lek with a loud pop! and blew a snozzberry into his neck. "Alright, Starkiller–"

Ahsoka groaned. "Master!"

" –Go get tired." Anakin set him down on the grass of the meditation room and released him. The kit squealed and took off for the koi pond, diving into a forward slide on his belly until he was peeking over the edge. His little red feet kicked in the air and he cooed at the fish in broken, babyish Toydarian.

Anakin put an arm around her shoulders. "So, did you and Obi-Wan make up? If I have to listen to him whine about his hurt feelings one more time I'll puke."

Ahsoka felt something go quiet in her chest. "Yeah. We're fine."

Anakin glanced down at her, his aura darkening with dark green unease. "Why do I sense that's not exactly the truth?"

She shrugged. "It's never going to be the same. It can't be. But I've forgiven him and I'm moving on."

Anakin sighed. "Ahsoka–"

"We can't stop change, Master," she reminded him. "I had to let him go. It's the Jedi way."

She rested her head against him and subtly rubbed her lek on his cheek while Taarak was distracted. "We'll have to let each other go one day too, Master," she said softly.

Anakin's aura brightened to staticky white with anxiety. "Yeah," he muttered. "One day." His hand twitched on her shoulder.

Ahsoka watched Taarak's aura lighten to burning orange with anticipation-excitement and his stubby little rear lek wag back and forth. She elbowed Anakin. "Just so you know, you've got about five seconds before Starkiller goes fishing."

"Before he–" Anakin's eyes went wide and he bolted for the toddler. "Ayi, Taarak, ayi! Osasambira!" He missed Taarak's ankle by inches, tumbling ass over elbows into the koi pond after him. He surfaced with a gasp a few seconds later, holding a giggling Taarak above his head while struggling to not let his long brown robe drag him back down. He looked like a sad, wet cat with his hair plastered to his forehead, but Taarak was delighted.

Ahsoka burst into hysterical laughter, falling to one knee and wheezing like she'd gotten the wind knocked out of her. Anakin's aura turned a menacing shade of orange with mischief. "Keep laughing, Snips!"

Ahsoka's laughs morphed into screams as Anakin lifted her up into the air with the Force and dropped her into the pond with them.

Notes:

TOYDARIAN TRANSLATIONS Ndi mtundu wanji?: What color is it? Pano: Here Dzuwa: Yellow Inde: Yes Ayi: No Osasambira: No swimming

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[naddpod-encounter-tourney]

Cerenysus:

We begin in the Autumn Ring, with Irina’s mind poisoned by the corruption on the ritual by her sister, Heradecia.

She summons living spells and tries to turn Fia into a book. Fia finally uses the time stop scroll and uses it to buff herself to hell. Zirk invisibly fires from behind Irina. Hank stays consistent. Heradecia teleports out.

We then find the Hexbuds, approaching the scorched grove where they can find her surrogate mother. They share an intense closed-loop hug, and turn to face her. Jabari stays back. Tarragon gets close. Corbeaux gets trapped by bony hands. They move around the space, taking damage for each other and attempting to stop her spells. 3 soldiers, capable of fighting like 300. The Hexblood Centurions.

Back in Autumn, Hank goes down because he’s the only one visible. Irina strikes while he’s down, taking a death save. And, as @theatricuddles sent me in an ask, Fia only turns to strike Irina after that moment.

After many rounds of battle, Irina is finally unconscious, thanks to a soft finish by Fia. She is held in Fia’s arms, as Zirk prepares to take off the crown. Fia says, "Foolish tenderness, but I'm going to cast Sanctuary on Irina". (thanks to @theatricuddles for the quote reminder). In the words of Murph, “we’re leaving it up to a Caldwell roll.” No one stays sitting in the two-dio. Zirk comes close. Makes a deal with a winter fairy. Fails again. Dies. At some point, Lou Wilson stands up from the table and puts his head against a closet.

Jabari is put under a banishment spell, and Tarragon and Corbeaux have a difficult time taking her on just the two of them. Jabari realizes he’s in a bad place when the toads are wet, and works hard to get himself out.

Henry is given a chance to get the crown. Fia tells him not to. She sees what protecting Irina has cost her and cannot let it continue. “You were my dream for so fucking long and I. I’m going to miss you so much.” Henry refuses. He takes the risk. He gets the crown. Zirk is revivified by Fia. Irina, back in control of herself, teleports them to her sister.

Hank gets some hits on Heradecia. Corbeaux nearly goes down, and is saved by Tarragon’s Death Ward. Jabari screamed “let’s kill her” upon his return, and is able to do just that, trisecting her.

The Hexbuds return to Outerborough. Jabari becomes Chancellor. The Hexbloods become his cabinet. They have a ritual to atone their mother.

The Third Mates assign Bukvar to sort the souls and make sure no one gets stuck waiting, as souls had been for years. Hank gets his divorce. Zirk works harder on the all-cure. They get their boat, and head to sea. Irina and Fia make it official.

One Big Bed:

The beginning is so soft and beautiful. Carrying Balnor back to the ship to rest after the Raise Dead. Budler framing Hardwon’s tasteful nude drawings and hanging them in the captain’s quarters. Lucanus putting the bubble back up around Gladeholm, and Moonshine sniffing out his magic. Moonshine making sure to help people because she doesn’t know how else to deal with everything. The apology tour by everyone who had attacked the Boobs while they were corrupted. Cobb’s apology.

Bev’s dad using Balnor as a speakerphone in the night to talk to Bev and bless his sword so he could smite with necrotic damage. Bev IV also taking time to heal Balnor while he was in there, making sure the resurrection aftermath was smoother for him. Calling Balnor Bev’s stepdad.

Moonshine and Meemaw heading back to the Crick. Seeing it can be beautiful even in the aftermath of a cataclysm. Finding the bullywugs in the GrandMaw Tree. “How long do half-elves live?” and the whole conversation that follows. “I guess, if I’m being honest, I just don’t know what it’s gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to find out what that feels like.” Meemaw telling Moonshine to go catch nannerflies so she could zealous trance, allowing her to get a brief moment of childhood.

Jaina and Nerman trying to kidnap Hardwon for a party, and Hardwon resisting them too hard. McGannis naming him king for a day, and giving him a traditional dwarven send-off.

The Green Teens insisting on a jamboreen in a year. Deciding to go prank Denny. Failing horribly. The bullywug scuba suits as disguises. Nearly killing Denny by throwing him out a window.

Moonshine casting animal shapes on the whole party. All the dwarves wanting to be ducks. Jaina approaching Hardwon to make sure it was cool if she romanced Moonshine. The very suspicious way he said nothing was going on between them. “That’s one of the reasons why I fucking worship her”. Finally getting to have a moment himself with a suspiciously recognizable dwarf.

Luna finding Bev when she thought he was in trouble. Noting that Hardwon and Moonshine were “busy”. “Are they in danger?!?” “How old are you?”. Finding out where Thiala is headed.

Ending the night, all together again, in One Big Bed.

Moonshine waking up to cast spells on everyone. The send off they all tried to avoid. The smiles fading as soon as they were out of sight from the general population. Ready for war.

[readyforevolution]

The Mossi people were one of a few who saw, clearly, the nature of the whites and their pattern of destruction would lead to the collapse of Africa...

Chancellor Williams discusses in "The Destruction Of Black Civilization" two of the most noted empires that did not permit foreigners (whites) to enter their land.

Mossi and Kuba. The Mossi people were one of a few who saw, clearly, the nature of the whites, and their pattern of destruction when the indigenous Africans were gracious enough to let them settle amongst them. The Great Prophecy of the Mossi was that "when the first white man appears in the land the nation will die." Their presence represented certain doom because whites never intend to share, only to take over, consume, and control.

The Mossi empire lasted hundreds of years always remembering and passing down their Great Prophecy, and, sure enough, as soon as they relaxed their rules and let one Portuguese man in, their doom shortly followed. It is clear that integration with whites is what led to the collapse of Africa. It is extremely ironic that demons were represented as white in many tribe's spiritual rituals before they ever seen a white person. Chancellor Williams explains this in his book as follows, "Since in many societies all devils and other evil spirits were white, the ritual to ward them off was always led by chanting dancers whose faces and bodies were hideously painted with white chalk. That there were in fact white humans – living 'white devils' – was unbelievable."

As they relaxed their rules and let one Portuguese man in, their doom shortly followed.

Kweko Ofori