#first appearance dark empire 6

[swtechspecs]

Kuat Drive Yards Eclipse-Class Star Dreadnought

Source: The Essential Guide to Vehicle and Vessels (Del Rey, 1996)

[livingund3ad]

[for the last time || в последний раз]

warnings: depictions of drowning, mentions of murder, suicide and death. read with discretion

» you are here | 02. | 03. | ... |

From the eyes of [ ? ]

Transcript of Gotham Gazette’s Breaking Report - July 26th, 20XX

4:12 AM:

A tip-off was received from an anonymous source regarding unusual activity at Gotham’s Westriver district. Police vehicles and ambulances were spotted converging near the secluded edges of Gotham River—an area notorious for its dense forestry and dark history.

4:45 AM:

Journalists began arriving at the scene, their vehicles halted by police barricades and vigilant security guards. Under the waning moonlight, the air was thick with dread, murmurs building as scattered information trickled down to the press like blood seeping from a fresh wound.

5:03 AM:

The first confirmation: It was a recovery mission. A body had been pulled from the lake.

Witnesses reported seeing Bruce Wayne himself, dripping wet, his clothes clinging to him like the weight of his own name. Beside him, Richard “Dick” Grayson, his adopted son, equally drenched and disheveled, his eyes wide and haunted.

The two had been escorted away from the lake by paramedics, refusing medical attention despite the chill in their bones. The urgency of their movements was eclipsed only by the sheer devastation etched into their faces.

5:18 AM:

Timothy Drake and Damian Wayne emerged from the thick of the woods. Neither of them bore the dampness of the lake but their expressions spoke of something far worse. Something hollow and undone.

Photographs capture Timothy hunched over his phone, his fingers shaking against the screen, his lips moving but producing no sound. Damian, the youngest of the Wayne family, wore a scowl so vicious and desperate. Belongings that appeared not his held tightly in his hands.

5:35 AM:

Paramedics wheeled a gurney draped in white cloth towards the ambulance. Flashes of cameras ignited the darkness, stuttering against the crisp material of the sheet. The body beneath was small. Fragile.

The public’s fixation shifted from the family to the figure hidden beneath the shroud. The rumors were relentless, each theory more grisly than the last. But the truth was far simpler. And perhaps far more tragic.

It was J*** “Doe” Wayne.

A name only whispered in tabloid columns and murmured through charity event speeches. Another ward of Bruce Wayne, adopted into the sprawling empire with little fanfare or spectacle. The papers had only touched upon her existence over the years—a young girl hidden from the public eye, shielded by the iron gates of Wayne Manor and the shadows of Gotham’s elite.

6:00 AM:

Questions splintered through the media like glass. What was she doing at the river in the middle of the night? Was it an accident? Foul play? A desperate attempt to escape the crushing weight of the Wayne legacy?

The officials refused to give statements, urging the press to maintain their distance. No confirmation. No denial. Just the lingering, oppressive silence of unanswered questions.

But the most damning piece of evidence came from the Waynes themselves.

Photographs circulated of Bruce Wayne’s face, pale and slack, eyes unfocused as he sat slumped on the hood of his car. Beside him, Dick Grayson, fists clenched at his sides, tears smudged into his cheeks like war paint.

For a family so used to presenting perfection to the public, their grief was painfully, brutally exposed.

6:45 AM:

The ambulance departed, sirens off. A grim omen. The kind reporters recognize all too well.

Rumors sparked like wildfire—J*** had drowned. But was it her own doing, or had someone pushed her? Had the burden of living under the Wayne name finally cracked her fragile frame, or was there something darker at play?

Theories were exchanged in frantic whispers, reporters scrambling to piece together fragments of truth from the ashes of tragedy.

7:30 AM:

Police issued a statement confirming the body belonged to J*** “Doe” Wayne. Age eighteen. Probable cause of Death—Asphyxiation by Submersion. No further details were provided.

Bruce Wayne and his sons were escorted away from the scene shortly after. Their silence a fortress built of agony and guilt.

Now, in the wake of her death, the public demands answers.

Was it murder? Suicide? An accident? Or something far more sinister lurking beneath Gotham’s glittering surface?

What had exactly happened to J*** “Doe” Wayne?

Authors note: Yes, it's a Yan! Batfam. Whodunnit. Erm there's a likely possibility that this will end up in the unfinished yan! batfam fics archive. I will attempt to write this I promise, cuz like I've been reading some Yan!Batfam fics and I haven't seen one yet that's been finished so why not write one that starts at the ending(?). Lol I'm just a dumbass who's a sucker for angst idk what's happening tbh. Also yes, I will be using she/her pronouns, and the reader darling is going to be called J*** or "Doe" in this cuz I have a reason for that. It's a secret for now. Or maybe you guys already do know from the theme I suck at being subtle.

[yetanotherlesbianonthiswebsite]

An overly complicated analysis of everything we know about Neve Gallus in canon, as well as some additional thoughts of mine on the themes surrounding her (because I am so gay for her already)

1. Canon information

- Her age is, as of yet, unknown. In the Tevinter Nights story The Streets of Minrathous, narrated in the first-person perspective by Neve, we read “He greeted me with a dismissive ‘young lady’ that made me think he’d forgotten my name” (216). However, this is a description by an older man, whose nephew is alive long enough that his “parents had disowned him years ago” (213). In another passage of the story, the following can be read: “The man was a con artist I’d turned in the year before. To be fair, he’d nearly gotten me killed the year before that, so we were even” (221). We can therefore be certain that she has engaged successfully in detective work for at least two years, and has likely been doing so for a while. We do not know when the story is set, neither do we know anything about the parallel stories of “The Wigmaker Job” and “Luck in the Gardens”. We get the information that a Venatori cultist was wearing clothes that are fading (220), and that the cult had long since lost much standing in society; it has likely been quite a number of years since 9:42. At the same time, we know of a Qunari invasion in the eastern part of the Tevinter Empire from 9:44/45 onward, with several major cities falling to the invaders. Neve describes the catacombs as “a place to hold a year’s worth of food and supplies, securing the city’s survival in case of blight or Qunari invasion” (232). A woman as observant and politically savvy as her would likely not frame an invasion as that much of a hypothetical in case of an ongoing war. It is reasonable to assume that the story takes place sometime around the middle of the forties. Which means that by the events of Veilguard, in the middle of the fifties, we should expect Neve to have had at least twelve years of experience as a private investigator, which places her likely age at minimum in the early thirties. (Not that I am hoping for anything 40 or upward, no, there is no MILF agenda here)

- She describes the manor of a rich man as “a residence nowhere near the third-rate bookseller where I rent a room” (216), locating her residence both outside of the rich parts of town, and informing us that she does not have the greatest of means.

- Likewise, we learn that her “family has more templars than mages. I’m sure that says a lot about me. The point is, I’m not from an old family and I felt as at home in Lady Varantus’s house as Jahvis looked” (218). Within the rigid social hierarchies of Tevinter, she is privileged by magehood, but not by blood. To the degree that Tevene social classes can be broken down so neatly into stratified categories, she seems to be somewhere in the lower ranks of the middle class.

- She is canonically disabled; an amputee wearing a prosthetic leg made of dwarven metal (215). In the comic The Missing #4, we see her prosthetic, it is designed as a cobra standing up in intimidation of an attacker, and the metal seems to be predominantly a bronze or gold with blue or silver accents (6). On her foot on the other leg, she is wearing a boot which has a bronze or gold tip symmetrical to the tail of the cobra, and a high plattformed heel (ibid). Combining that with the fact that she fights and runs with a prosthetic and a heeled boot (TSoM 215, TM4 16), we learn that she expresses immense control over her body.

- Likewise, she approaches all her actions, her appearance, and her communication verbal and physical with a high degree of precision and deliberation. Her outfit is perfectly composed, with white and dark leather as primary colours, the same blue-gold metal that her prosthetic is made out of for accents as well as her belt (which is a coiling snake, TM4 6), a dark turquiose for some of the cloth (such as pants and cravat), a light turquiose for such accents as her fingernails and her meticulously applied eyeliner, and some manner of cap akin to a graduation cap at the right side of her head, in an almost black brown, with gold details. The shape of the cap has the exact same angles as a rhombus as her earrings (TM4 9). The detail on the cap forms a snake. It has been posited by tumblr user @cleric4vampire that even her movement in the trailer reinforces the cobra/snake motive (https://www.tumblr.com/cleric4vampire/752850000700194816). Despite sometimes excrutiatingly long workdays (223), Neve puts an extreme amount of emphasis on her appearance. Even in the comic, while the style does feature very dynamic character movements while talking, her gestures stick out as particularly deliberate; she talks with her hands a lot, and with deliberation (see the appendix of this post for more). This speaks to a plethora of willpower, control, and a desire to maintain a controlled barrier between the self and the larger world.

- While writing this, I have come up with the theory that the blue accents of her apparell might partially be lyrium. If she is literally wearing lyrium makeup, I will marry her.

- The only two offensive types of magic that we see her use are ice magic (e.g. TSoM 226, 227, 235, TM4 16, 17), and a manner of magic that lets her freeze the moisture in the air around a person to stagger them (e.g. TSoM 214, TM4 17). Through cooling the air around herself a bit less, she manages to hide herself in mist (e.g. TSoM 214). She is capable of some healing magic (227).

- She has a network of contacts, acquaintances, and informants all over Minrathous, particularly in its underground.

- She loves salty fried fish (221). This is not only in line with Minrathous being a coastal capital, which has a distinct influence on the caloric inflow into the city and cuisine at large, but also, once again, stresses that she does not have much money at her disposal, by emphasizing that she eats fried fish from a cheap street food stall very regularly (221), which she calls her “fish dinners” (228).

- She canonically has straight dark brown hair, meticulously kept at the left side of her face to keep space for the cap on the right, brown eyes, and brown skin. It is furthermore canon that anyone who has a problem with that or wishes to change that with mods will be exploded via elemental magic. It is furthermore canon that I will not buy Veilguard if the game whitewashes her.

- She is involved with the Shadow Dragons in helping fugitive slaves (TM4 9, 20). She expressly approves of the use of armed violence against the institution of slavery. At one point, she comments: “The cult’s dead god wanted to bring Tevinter back to what it was—to its “glory.” It was nonsense, of course. It always was. The old empire was even more corrupt and heartless than what it is now, no matter how pretty the picture Corypheus painted” (TSoM 221). In her vocal resistance to the empire, she sees it as a good usage of her time to track down Venatori (214). In spite of her resistance against the empire, she considers the city her home and would like it to be better than it is (214, 221).

2. Themes: The noir detective and the empire

It goes without saying that the formational archetype behind the character of Neve Gallus is that of the noir detective. A solipsistic cynic with little means, a private investigator, called to investigate a crime scene in dance with and against the police, depending on the point of the story. The noir detective of the movies of the first half of the 20th century, the formational corpus from which stems the archetype, is distinctly tied to the metropolis; a story that needs the urban context, the urban scenery. While of course featuring a plentitude of settings and configurations, at the root of the archetype rest particularly a white, male, US-American figure. To bring Minrathous in parallel with New York particularly is in so far a welcome change as it means a partial departure from the orientalism underlying a lot of early descriptions of Tevinter in Dragon Age canon. But, to me at least, it raises the question of how well Dragon Age is equipped to tackle the arising thematic implications. Just like the Tevinter Empire, the United States of America is a slave society fueled by the deprivation of Indigenous communities and the physical exploitation of a racialized, disenfanchised class. The metropolis is the core of the imperial core; and Minrathous is, as the largest city of Thedas and the capital of Tevinter, certainly that. The Streets of Minrathous manages but a partial critique of the society of the imperial-colonial metropolis. While Neve remains critical of the templars, the undeniable cop stand-in, the critique remains bound to corruption the higher one goes in the chain of command, as well as the bureaucracy (231). The story, in particular, follows the very dangerous trope commonly found in copaganda that the base-level officers should be allowed to disobey the chain of command and act on their own, particularly when it comes to the deployment of heavy weaponry (234). That the base-level officer is as much an agent of imperial violence as the top of the hierarchy, turning the systemic and depersonal violence of the system into concrete interpersonal violence, cannot be formulated by the text.

Furthermore, the Venatori, in their supremacist-fascistic death cult, remain cast in ableistic terms that deprive their ideology of systemic connectedness: “that didn’t stop remaining loyalists from acting delusional and stirring up trouble when the mood struck. That’s fanatics for you” (213). That fascism is but the logical conclusion of empire, particularly a weakened and collapsing empire, remains just as unacknowledged. And yet, what haunts the story is a profound sense of loneliness and alienation. A rich man estranged and alienated from his nephew because of his fear of social repercussions for the nephews behavior, said nephew dying while grasping to any semblance of connection he can (“He knew what came next. He was searching for whatever company he had left” 215), Neve facing the cultists in their hideout alone because the templar Rana does not want to breach protocoll, hell, even the Venatori preacher making a ridiculous figure, alone and ignored on his soapbox while the masses rush by him and shut him out of their attention; everyone is lonely, seperated by the dividing and isolating forces of the empire. The imperial metropolis condenses people, yet they are emotionally distanced from one another. Neve’s final action in the story is to return to the rich old man, explaining to him that his nephew was trying to be good after all; a post-mortem attempt to mend but one severed connection between humans. Her entire character is defined by the trajectory that comes from wandering almost aimlessly in a desperate attempt to escape the solipsistic nature of the empire. Her defining emotional conflict is with the reality of empire, as much as her status as a brown, disabled, bisexual woman clashes with the roots of the figure of the noir detective. We see by the time of The Missing #4 that she finds a sense of fulfillment in working with the Shadow Dragons for the slaves and against the slavers, which hints at a character arc from TSoM to TM4. As Varric correctly observes, she has a heart of gold (TM4 20), one which she hides behind a particularly controlled facade, as stern as beautiful. How well her character plays out in Veilguard hinges entirely on the stories limited ability to discuss empire in meaningful terms, and the story’s willingness to further explore her emotional arc suggested between TSoM and TM4. I am furthermore worried about how well a series known for its overt centrism can handle the nuances that make her character so great, as well as fearing the reaction by gamers[TM] to having a brown, female, disabled, bisexual detective.

3. Appendix: I am gay for the way she talks with her hands and body

TM4 9

TM4 9

TM4 5

TM4 10

TM4 14

TM4 19

[fidesvirtusobsession]

Echoes of a Thousand Nights

Yandere Vampire x AFAB reader

Prologue||Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4|| Chapter 5||Chapter 6||Chapter 7

Description: For centuries, Alaric has walked the earth, bound by the cruel hand of fate. A vampire of old blood, he has seen empires fall, lovers turn to dust, and the world reshape itself around him. Yet, through the endless nights, one thing remains constant—her. The woman who haunts his past lives, slipping through his fingers with every rebirth. She never remembers, never knows who he is, yet he finds her, lifetime after lifetime, only to lose her again.Now, in the present day, her scent resurfaces in the most unlikely of places—an underground auction house where humans are sold like cattle. But Alaric will not let fate steal her away this time. This time, he will keep her.

Alaric stood in the grand entryway of the manor, the weight of the invitation hanging in the air as the door creaked open. A young vampire, barely more than a twenty in appearance, stepped inside. His dark hair was tousled just enough to give off a carefree air, and his clothes were impeccable—silk and velvet, the kind that suggested wealth and arrogance in equal measure. The man's sharp, predatory eyes were trained on Alaric, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Alaric," the vampire greeted, his voice smooth as honey but carrying an edge, a bite. "I trust you’re well?"

Alaric’s gaze hardened, his stance never wavering, as he studied the young vampire with caution. Ericsson. The young male who had appeared at the auction house. The one whose presence had been a silent challenge, and one that had lingered far too long in his thoughts.

"You’ve come a long way just to deliver a message," Alaric said coldly, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had a strong suspicion about what this was about. Ericsson hadn’t come just to be polite, and the way his eyes gleamed made it clear that he was up to something.

Ericsson’s smirk widened, a glimmer of amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. "Ah, but this isn’t just any message, my friend. I thought we could be cordial. Catch up on old times, perhaps?" He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to send a subtle chill through the air. "I wanted to personally invite you to the banquet. You must come."

Alaric’s brow twitched, but he didn’t speak at first. The banquet. It could mean any number of things, but he was certain of one thing—it wouldn’t be a simple gathering. Not with a vampire like Ericsson.

"And you’re offering me this invitation… why?" Alaric asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, though he couldn’t quite mask the hint of curiosity that always flared when the boy was involved.

Ericsson straightened up again, hands tucked casually into his pockets as he eyed the older vampire, his smirk never fading. "Because it’s been far too long since we all had a night together, don’t you think? A celebration of sorts." He paused for effect, letting the silence stretch between them. "And, well… you’re free to bring your little human too." He let the words slip from his tongue with an unsettling ease, as if he were stating a simple fact.

At the mention of Y/n, Alaric’s eyes narrowed sharply, and a possessive heat flared inside him. His protective instincts, always simmering just beneath the surface, flared violently. Y/n. He could feel the familiar wave of fury rise within him, though he kept it in check, pushing it down with years of discipline.

Ericsson’s smirk turned knowing. He could smell her—the faint, tantalizing scent of her that lingered even now. He tilted his head slightly as if to savor the taste of it, then met Alaric’s gaze again. "I know she’s here. I can smell her, you know. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone... so delicate nearby."

The insinuation in his voice was unmistakable, and Alaric’s eyes flashed with cold, calculated anger. He took a step forward, his posture radiating warning.

"You think this is a joke?" Alaric’s voice was low, dangerous, his grip tightening at his sides. "You know nothing about her."

Ericsson raised a hand, his smile still present but softened slightly, as if humoring Alaric’s sudden intensity. "Oh, I know more than you think. But I didn’t come to make threats." His voice dropped to something almost playful, as if he were teasing Alaric. "I came to extend an invitation. To remind you of the past, of the others. It’s been a long time since we’ve all shared a night together. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the... camaraderie, the sense of family, of kinship."

Alaric didn’t flinch at the word 'family.' He didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/n.

"You and your 'family' can keep your invitation," Alaric said, his tone biting. "And you can tell the others that I won’t be joining them." He took another step forward, moving ever closer to Ericsson. "You bring a human here, you threaten her existence, and that is where I draw the line."

Ericsson chuckled, stepping back with exaggerated grace, his fingers brushing his hair back casually as he sized up Alaric. "I only suggested she come along because I thought it would be fun. I’m sure you’d want her to experience the true... vampiric world, yes?" He smirked again, eyes flashing with an unsettling amusement.

Alaric’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes darted briefly toward the door leading to where Y/n slept, the thought of her vulnerability sending a brief pulse of panic through his chest. He couldn’t allow someone like Ericsson to come near her—not after everything.

"You should go," Alaric said, his voice low and final. "And you should forget you ever spoke of this again."

Ericsson didn’t push further. He simply took a step back, his smirk still intact, though his gaze lingered a moment longer on Alaric. "Very well. But don’t forget, Alaric... you will have to face them someday. No one stays hidden forever." He gave a small, mocking bow. "Goodnight, then. And perhaps, think about my offer. It’s always better to see old friends in person." With that, he turned and left, his presence fading into the distance as the door closed behind him.

Alaric stood in the entryway, fists clenched, staring at the space where Ericsson had been. His heart pounded in his chest, the words of the young vampire echoing through his mind.

The others. Alaric wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront that world again. But one thing was certain—he would protect Y/n. No matter what.

He couldn’t let anyone get to her. Not now, not ever.

Alaric stood still in the quiet of the entryway, the door having just closed behind Ericsson. His thoughts churned, the young vampire’s words still ringing in his mind. "You will have to face them someday..." The weight of the invitation and the subtle threat it carried gnawed at him, an unsettling presence he couldn’t shake.

His fists clenched tighter at his sides as he exhaled slowly, a sharp breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The manor felt strangely silent now, the usual heavy air of the house suffocating in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. But the silence didn’t last long.

From the shadows of the grand hall, Elera stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with a knowing look that Alaric had come to recognize all too well. Her footsteps were soft, but the weight of her presence was undeniable, her air of nonchalance only adding to the tension in the room. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed casually, but the gleam in her eyes told him she had been watching, listening.

"You’re not going to take that invitation, are you?" Elera asked, her voice low and teasing, though there was a sharpness to it that wasn’t lost on Alaric.

Alaric didn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on the now-closed door, as if it might open again at any moment. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he simply stood there, wrestling with the idea of confronting the vampires from his past. He could feel the pressure of the situation weighing heavily on him, the conflicting thoughts tearing at him.

Elera sighed, her voice cutting through the silence once more. "You know he won’t leave you alone until you do. He’ll just keep showing up, won’t he? Taunting you, pushing you until you finally break and give in to his little game."

Alaric’s eyes flicked to her, narrowing slightly. She knew him too well. "And what do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, the frustration in his voice palpable. "You think I should just walk right into his trap?"

Elera raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. She pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps forward. "Trap? It’s not a trap, Alaric. It’s a game. You’ve always known that. Ericsson knows how to play people, especially someone like you. But he won’t stop. He’ll keep coming, and if you keep refusing, you’ll be the one looking over your shoulder for years. Is that really what you want?"

Alaric’s fists clenched again, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. She wasn’t wrong. He’d lived long enough to know that those who had their sights set on something—someone—wouldn’t back down easily. Not now. Not when they had the power to press their advantage.

But then Elera’s tone softened slightly, and she stepped closer, her expression more understanding. "Alaric… you know you have to face them. Eventually, you’ll have to confront everything you’ve been running from."

"I’m not running," he muttered, his voice low, almost defensive.

Elera tilted her head, studying him with a knowing look. "You’re not running, but you’re hiding. Hiding behind your walls. Hiding behind your fear. You’re letting him control the narrative, and it’s eating at you. The sooner you face it, the better." She paused, her gaze flicking briefly toward where Y/n’s room was, a soft but knowing smile tugging at her lips. "And you know, she’s safe here. The safest she’s been in centuries. No one knows she’s here. She has no target on her back right now."

Alaric’s gaze shifted to Y/n’s door, the soft, reassuring thought about her safety calming the storm that had been building inside him. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending conflict.

"That’s not the point," Alaric muttered, but his voice lacked the force it had held moments earlier. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. "It’s not about whether or not she’s safe. It’s about me. I… I can’t let anyone near her. Not after everything."

Elera’s eyes softened as she stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm gently. "And you won’t. But if you keep hiding, she might never know the real you. You know that, don’t you? All you’ve done is try to protect her, keep her hidden from the world." Her voice dropped to something gentler, her words cutting through the harshness in the air. "But sometimes, Alaric, you have to show her that you’re more than just a shadow in the corner. You have to be present. Not just for her, but for yourself, too."

Alaric let out a breath, feeling the weight of her words settle deep in his chest. "You’re right, Elera," he said softly. "I know you’re right." His voice held a sense of reluctant acceptance, but his mind was still racing.

Elera gave a small, almost sad smile. "I’m not asking you to go to the banquet to make friends, Alaric. I’m asking you to do it to finally take control. To stop letting others push you around. You’ve always been strong enough to do that."

She let the silence fall between them, and Alaric stood in it for a long moment. He knew Elera wasn’t wrong. Deep down, he knew this was something he couldn’t avoid forever. The vampires from his past were always going to be a threat. The sooner he confronted them, the sooner he could keep Y/n—and himself—out of danger.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, tension bleeding out of his body, and nodded once. "I’ll go," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "I’ll go. But I’m doing this on my terms, not theirs."

Elera gave him a small smile, her hand briefly squeezing his arm before she stepped back. "Good. You’ll handle it."

Alaric gave her a grim nod, the weight of what was to come hanging heavily on him. He turned toward Y/n’s room once more, but this time, there was a new resolve in his step. He had to go to the banquet, face those old ghosts, and put an end to the torment.

For Y/n. For himself.

Alaric stood in the doorway, his eyes still lingering on Y/n's room, where the soft glow of moonlight bathed her sleeping form. The weight of the decision Elera had coaxed from him still hung heavy in the air, the tension of it settling in his bones. He couldn't deny it anymore; he had to confront the past, the vampires who sought to challenge him, and the ghosts he'd been running from.

But as his mind raced through all the possible outcomes, one thing still remained uncertain in his heart.

"I don’t want to drag her into this... whatever it is." He exhaled slowly, a breath laden with frustration and a touch of uncertainty. "It’s dangerous. She’s... not like us. She’s human."

Elera leaned against the opposite wall, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, watching him closely. "You really think she doesn’t know that, Alaric? You think she doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into being around you?" Her words weren’t accusatory, just blunt, as if she had come to understand something he was still grappling with.

Alaric's gaze flickered to her, meeting her eyes for a fleeting moment. "I know she does," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But I can’t protect her if she’s in the thick of it. She deserves better than being dragged into all of this. She deserves to be safe. To be... normal."

A faint chuckle left Elera’s lips, though it was tinged with something almost melancholic. "Normal? In your world, Alaric, nothing is ever normal. Especially not her. You know that. She chose this. She chose you. She’s in it now."

Alaric shook his head, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He couldn’t deny the truth in them, but the idea of exposing Y/n to the world he had spent centuries avoiding was unbearable. He could already feel the familiar pang of protectiveness clawing at him, like a beast ready to break free.

Elera took a step forward, her voice lowering as she spoke. "You’re not keeping her safe by hiding her away from everything. She’s already more connected to you than you realize. But you can’t keep her in the shadows forever."

Alaric’s jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard, feeling the frustration rising again. "I know that. But what if something happens? What if she gets hurt because of me?" His words were a low growl, his voice tight with the desperation of someone who had been carrying a burden for far too long.

Elera’s gaze softened for a moment, and she took another step closer, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. "She knows the risks. She chose them. Don’t you trust her to make her own decisions? To stand beside you when it matters?"

The question hit him harder than he expected. Did he trust her? Of course, he did. But trust didn’t mean he wanted her to face the horrors of his world—especially not willingly. The idea of Y/n in danger because of him, walking into the same chaos he had been running from, felt like a betrayal. He didn’t want to risk that.

But deep down, he knew he was trying to keep her safe in the wrong way.

Alaric exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair as he struggled with his inner conflict. He turned away from Elera, staring down the long hall that led to Y/n's room, where she still slept peacefully.

"You really think she’s ready for this?" His voice was barely above a whisper, uncertain, as if he were asking Elera for permission to let go of his fears.

Elera's tone was matter-of-fact, and she smiled knowingly. "She’s stronger than you give her credit for. If you’re planning to go to that banquet, you can’t go alone. You might not want to admit it, but you need her by your side. And she needs you too."

For a long moment, Alaric stayed silent, the weight of her words sinking in. He didn’t want to admit it, but Elera was right. Y/n had chosen to be a part of his world, and no matter how hard he tried to shield her from it, she was already in the thick of things. She might not be a vampire, but she was tied to him, and that meant facing the consequences of that choice.

Finally, he nodded, his eyes focused on the door to her room. "I’ll take her with me."

Elera’s smirk returned, but it was softer this time, almost affectionate. "Good. Don’t let fear make your decisions for you, Alaric. You’re not the only one who needs to face the past. She’s with you now. And you’re not keeping her safe by pushing her away."

Alaric stood there for a moment longer, the burden of the decision lifting slightly, replaced with a sense of inevitability. Y/n would be by his side, whether he liked it or not. And maybe, just maybe, that was the only way forward.

He turned to Elera with a single, resigned nod. "I’ll make sure she’s ready." Then, with one last glance toward Y/n’s room, he made his way toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited him. Ready to take Y/n with him.

And to let her see the world that would never truly be hers—but that would always have a place for her.

The manor was quiet, save for the distant sound of the wind whispering through the trees outside. Alaric moved with purpose, his steps slow but deliberate as he followed the familiar pull toward her.

He found Y/n in the library, curled up in one of the grand chairs, a book resting in her hands. The fire beside her crackled softly, casting a golden glow against her skin. She looked peaceful, unaware of the turmoil raging inside him.

Alaric hesitated in the doorway, watching her. There was something about her presence that always calmed him, something grounding. But tonight, that calm was disrupted by the decision he had made. He couldn’t keep her in the dark. She deserved to know.

Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward. His boots barely made a sound against the floor, but Y/n still noticed. She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and he felt his resolve waver just slightly.

“Alaric,” she greeted, closing her book. “You’re brooding again.”

A small, amused smile tugged at her lips, but he didn’t return it. Instead, he stepped closer, his expression unreadable.

“I need to ask you something,” he said, his voice low.

Y/n tilted her head slightly, curious. “That sounds ominous.”

He exhaled sharply, almost amused, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift. “Ericsson came by,” he admitted.

Her brows furrowed. “Ericsson… the young vampire from the auction house?”

Alaric nodded, his hands clasping behind his back as he shifted his weight slightly. “He invited me to a banquet. A gathering of sorts. I wasn’t planning to go, but…” He paused, his jaw tightening before he continued. “It seems I don’t have much of a choice.”

Y/n studied him carefully, sensing there was more to it. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Alaric inhaled slowly, his fingers flexing slightly before he finally met her gaze again. “Because I want you to come with me.”

There. He had said it.

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “You… Want me to go? To a vampire banquet?”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but he nodded. “I do.”

She leaned forward slightly, watching him with scrutiny. “But just earlier, you were keeping me far from all this. What changed?”

Alaric let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Elera reminded me that you are already part of this world, whether I like it or not. Keeping you away from it won’t protect you. It will only leave you unprepared.” His voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension in it, as if the words were difficult to admit.

Y/n’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face. “You’re worried,” she murmured.

He didn’t deny it. “Of course, I am.” His voice was quieter now. “These are not people you want to be around. They will test you. Some will see you as nothing more than… prey.”

Her lips pressed together, considering. “But you’ll be there.”

A flicker of something crossed his face, and he nodded. “Yes.”

Silence settled between them, heavy yet not uncomfortable. Y/n glanced at the fire for a moment before looking back at him. “Then I’ll go.”

Alaric’s chest tightened. He had expected her to argue, to tell him it was too dangerous. Instead, she agreed without hesitation.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice lower now.

She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I trust you, Alaric.”

Those words struck something deep within him. Trust. It was something he didn’t take lightly. And hearing it from her—knowing she meant it—made the burden he carried feel just a little lighter.

Alaric exhaled slowly, then, almost unconsciously, he reached for her hand. His fingers barely brushed against hers before he caught himself, pulling back.

“We leave in one week” he said instead, stepping back. “I’ll make sure you have something appropriate to wear.”

Y/n smirked slightly. “You think I don’t have a dress fit for a vampire banquet?”

He gave her a pointed look. “Not one that will keep their attention off you.”

Her smirk only widened. “Well, now I want to wear something even more eye-catching just to spite you.”

A huff of amusement left him despite himself. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

She grinned but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back in her chair. “Alright, Lord Brooding. I’ll be ready.”

Alaric shook his head, already regretting this decision—but at the same time, knowing it was the only choice he could make.

As he turned to leave, Y/n’s voice stopped him.

“Alaric?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Thank you for trusting me too.”

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. So he simply nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a second longer before he disappeared into the shadows.

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

(Y/n) sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the ornate invitation resting in her hands. The paper was thick, the ink elegantly pressed into it, an unspoken promise of grandeur. A vampire banquet.

Her fingers trembled as she traced the lettering.

She had only heard of such gatherings in whispers—faint murmurs between humans locked away in the auction house. A place where the wealthy and powerful congregated, where humans were paraded like decorations or bled dry before an applauding audience. If you weren’t turned there, you likely never walked out at all.

She exhaled sharply, setting the invitation aside as she pressed her hands against her face.

She shouldn’t be afraid.

Alaric had been nothing but kind since the moment she arrived. He had given her a place to rest, food, clothes—safety. He had never once treated her as anything less than a person. And yet… the fear remained. It clung to her bones like a shadow she could not shake.

It wasn’t about him.

It was about everything before him.

The feeling of cold fingers wrapping around her wrist, of sharp fangs piercing her skin. The dizzying sensation of being drained until her vision blurred, until she could no longer fight back. The way they had looked at her—not as a person, but as something to be used.

She curled her arms around herself, trying to shake the phantom touch, the weight of memories pressing against her chest.

She had come so far in just a few weeks.

She had learned to sleep without fearing who would come through her door. She had learned to eat without expecting her food to be laced with something meant to weaken her. She had learned to walk through the halls without keeping her head down, waiting for the next demand.

But the idea of walking into a banquet hall filled with vampires?

A shudder ran through her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply. Alaric wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He had already proven that much. He had no reason to hand her over, to let her be hurt. She knew that.

But logic did little to quiet the fear whispering in the back of her mind.

A lifetime of conditioning could not be undone so easily.

She opened her eyes again, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room. She looked different from the girl who had been auctioned off weeks ago. There was color in her face, no longer drained from exhaustion. There was light in her eyes, however faint it might be.

She wasn’t the same.

She was stronger now.

Slowly, she reached for the invitation again, turning it over in her hands.

She wanted to believe in her own freedom.

She wanted to believe that this time, she would be walking into that hall with a choice.

That time, she wouldn’t be powerless.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough to try.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, gripping the invitation tightly. The weight of it felt heavier than mere paper, as though it carried all the unspoken fears lingering in the back of her mind.

She had made up her mind. She was going.

Or, at least, she would try.

Taking a final steadying breath, she reached for the door handle and pulled it open—only to collide with something solid.

A gasp slipped from her lips as she stumbled back, but before she could fully lose her balance, a hand caught her wrist, steadying her.

"Careful," Alaric’s voice rumbled, low and smooth, though she could hear the faintest trace of concern laced within it.

She looked up, blinking in surprise. He stood before her, tall and unwavering, the ever-present sharpness in his gaze softening as he took her in.

Then, his eyes flickered downward.

The invitation was still clutched in her hand.

His grip on her wrist loosened as his expression shifted. Something unreadable passed through his features—concern, perhaps, or something deeper. "You're afraid."

(Y/n) immediately straightened. "No," she said, too quickly, before hesitating. Lying to him felt pointless. He could see right through her. "...A little," she admitted in a quieter voice.

Alaric studied her for a moment, his crimson eyes searching hers, before he exhaled through his nose. His hand lifted, ever so gently brushing his fingers over the edge of the invitation she held. "You don't have to go," he murmured. "Not if it unsettles you."

"I know." And she did. She knew, logically, that if she refused, he wouldn't force her. But this wasn’t just about fear. It was about facing it.

Still, he could sense her hesitation.

His jaw tensed, as though restraining himself, before his voice dropped to something softer. "You’ll be safe with me."

She looked up at him, surprised by the quiet promise in his tone.

"You have my word," he continued, gaze unwavering. "No harm will come to you. Not while I am at your side."

She swallowed. There was no hesitation in his voice, no room for doubt. It wasn't reassurance—it was a vow.

And, somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

She nodded slowly. "Alright."

Alaric studied her once more before giving a small, satisfied nod. "Then allow me to prepare you properly."

(Y/n) blinked. "Prepare me?"

He turned, motioning for her to follow. "If you're going to attend a vampire banquet," he said, glancing over his shoulder with the faintest hint of amusement, "you should at least arrive in style. As the young ones would say"

A small, surprised laugh slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

Alaric paused mid-step, glancing back at her with the faintest arch of a brow. "Something amusing?"

(Y/n) shook her head, biting back another laugh, but the way her lips curled gave her away. "You're just so... serious about this," she said, grinning up at him. "Like this is some grand mission."

His expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something warmer in his gaze—something softer.

"It is," he said simply.

That only made her giggle more.

Alaric watched her, eyes tracing the way she laughed, how her nose scrunched ever so slightly, how she didn’t try to stifle it like she used to. The sound of it filled the space between them, light and free.

And, before he could stop himself, his lips curved into something gentle.

He didn’t even realize he was staring.

(Y/n) noticed it first. Her laughter quieted slightly as she caught the way he looked at her—like she was something precious, something he would protect with every ounce of his being.

She blinked up at him.

He only held her gaze.

Her heart skipped.

After a beat, he exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as though amused with himself. Then, with a grace so natural it almost felt effortless, he extended his hand toward her.

"Come," he murmured, the edge of his voice still laced with quiet fondness. "We have much to do."

(Y/n) hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his.

And, as he led her down the hall, she found she could still feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on her, long after he had looked away.

The night was quiet, save for the distant hoot of an owl somewhere beyond the manor walls. Alaric stood in his private quarters, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. His expression was unreadable, yet the furrow in his brow gave away the weight of his thoughts.

Before him, spread across a dark oak table, was an array of elegant fabrics—dresses of fine silk, velvets in deep hues, embroidered gowns with delicate beadwork. Each one had been chosen with meticulous care.

Elera stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him with mild amusement. “You know, for someone who insists he isn’t courting her, you’re putting in an awful lot of effort.”

Alaric shot her a sharp look. “She needs to blend in,” he stated firmly. “If she stands out too much, the others will be curious.”

Elera smirked. “So you think dressing her in the finest silks and adorning her with jewelry will make her less noticeable?”

Alaric ignored her, reaching for a gown in a rich shade of deep blue, the fabric shimmering under the candlelight. It was elegant, but not ostentatious. Regal, yet subtle. He ran his fingers over the material, imagining how it would look on Y/n.

“She’ll look stunning in that,” Elera said, softer this time.

He didn’t reply, but the slight clench of his jaw was answer enough. He already knew that. That was precisely the problem.

After a moment, he turned, striding toward the vault that lay behind a set of heavy doors. He rarely opened it—inside was a collection of artifacts, relics, and treasures gathered over centuries. Some held great power, others merely held memories.

Pushing open the doors, he stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the various chests and displays. He wasn’t searching for just any piece of jewelry—he wanted something that suited her. Something that belonged with her.

His fingers brushed over a small, intricately carved box, and as he lifted the lid, the candlelight reflected off the delicate shimmer of silver and sapphire. A necklace, centuries old, yet timeless. The pendant was an intricate design, reminiscent of intertwining vines, with a single deep blue sapphire at its center.

Elera appeared at the doorway, watching as he lifted the necklace from its case. “That belonged to someone important to you once, didn’t it?”

Alaric didn’t answer right away. He held the necklace up, watching the way it caught the light. “It was meant for someone,” he admitted. “But it was never given.”

Elera hummed in understanding. “And now you’re giving it to her?”

Alaric exhaled slowly, lowering the necklace into his palm. “It suits her,” he said simply, but even he wasn’t convinced by his detached tone.

Elera smirked. “Right. Of course.”

He shot her a look before turning on his heel, exiting the vault and closing the heavy doors behind him.

With the dress and jewelry now chosen, there was nothing left to do but wait for the banquet.

And yet, as Alaric made his way back toward his quarters, he found his thoughts lingering not on the event, nor the vampires that would be attending.

Instead, his mind was entirely consumed by how Y/n would look when she saw herself in that dress—how she would react when he placed the necklace around her neck.

And that thought alone unsettled him more than anything else.

Elera leaned against the wall, watching as Alaric meticulously laid out (Y/n)’s gown across the bed. The deep, rich fabric shimmered under the dim candlelight, every detail carefully chosen to match his own attire. Nearby, a velvet-lined box sat open, displaying an array of jewelry he had handpicked from his vault.

She smirked, crossing her arms. "You really went all out, huh? The dress, the jewels—let me guess, you even have a car ready?"

Alaric didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he adjusted the position of a delicate necklace, ensuring it caught the light just right.

Elera snickered. "You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you? Every little detail. Perfection."

Still, he remained silent, though she caught the way his fingers stilled for just a moment.

"But," she drawled, pushing off the wall, "for all your planning, all your careful preparation… you haven’t made sure she can even dance, have you?"

Alaric’s brow twitched, but he didn’t look up.

Elera grinned. "I knew it." She circled around the bed, eyes gleaming with mischief. "It’s only been a few weeks, Alaric. She’s still adjusting to normal life—something she’s never had before. You really expect her to just waltz into a vampire banquet and keep up?"

"She’ll manage," Alaric said coolly, finally turning to face her.

"Oh?" Elera raised a brow. "And if someone asks her to dance?"

His jaw tightened.

Elera gasped dramatically. "You really didn’t think about it, did you?" She shook her head, feigning disappointment. "For all your brilliance, for all your centuries of experience, you overlooked something this simple? What a shame."

Alaric exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. He had assumed (Y/n) would follow his lead, but now he saw the flaw in that thinking. At a gathering like this, others would expect interaction. If she looked unsure, vulnerable… it would only draw more attention.

Elera grinned. "Better to prepare her now than have her embarrassed later." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Then again, maybe I should teach her. You know, take her under my wing, show her the ropes—"

Alaric shot her a sharp glare.

She burst into laughter. "Oh, that got a reaction. So possessive already!"

He turned away, heading for the door with a deliberate pace. "I’ll handle it."

Elera smirked, trailing after him. "Oh, I know you will. And I plan to enjoy every second of it."

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "You're awful, you know that?"

Elera beamed at him, entirely unbothered. "Why do you keep me around if I’m so awful as you say?"

He shot her a look, but she only tilted her head, smirking.

"Because you’re useful," he muttered.

She gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "Oh, Alaric, I’m wounded." Then, with a grin, she leaned in slightly. "Admit it, you’d be lost without me."

Alaric didn’t dignify her with a response, merely continuing down the hallway.

Elera followed, still grinning. "You know, you should be thanking me. If I weren’t here, who else would be around to point out your oversights?"

Alaric stopped walking, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Oversight?"

Elera’s smirk widened. "You still have to teach her how to dance, dear friend."

His jaw clenched. He hated when she was right.

Alaric stepped into the room, his gaze immediately landing on (Y/n). His movements stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the sight before him. She was dressed more elegantly than necessary for a simple dance lesson—Elera’s doing, no doubt. Her gown flowed around her, the fabric catching the light just right, and her hair had been arranged with more care than usual.

His golden eyes flickered toward Elera, who stood off to the side with a knowing smirk. "You did this on purpose," he muttered.

Elera’s smirk widened. "She has to learn to manage in a proper dress. Besides," her voice took on an amused lilt, "doesn’t she look beautiful?"

Alaric turned his gaze back to (Y/n). She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, smoothing the fabric at her sides as if she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

Something in his expression softened. He took slow steps toward her, as if drawn in against his will. When he reached her, he extended his hand. "Come," he murmured.

(Y/n) hesitated before placing her hand in his. His grip was steady, his fingers cool against her warmth.

"You’re stiff," he observed as he positioned her properly for the dance.

"Well, forgive me," she muttered. "I’ve never done this before."

Alaric huffed a quiet laugh. "Then let me lead."

As he took the first step, she followed, albeit clumsily. He guided her with ease, his movements fluid and precise. Her own were hesitant, a little awkward, but he adjusted without missing a beat.

"It’s a conversation," he told her, voice low and steady. "You just have to listen to me."

(Y/n) frowned, concentrating, but she was still a little rigid.

Elera, watching from the side, rested her chin in her palm. "See? You’re a natural, darling."

(Y/n) shot her a glare, nearly missing a step in the process. Alaric steadied her before she could stumble, his grip firm but gentle.

"This is going to take a while," he muttered under his breath, though there was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

Elera leaned against the doorway, watching with a smirk. “If you’re going to teach her properly, you’ll need live music. There will be an orchestra at the banquet, after all.”

Before Alaric could protest, she turned and called down the hall. Within moments, a few of the manor’s other inhabitants arrived, carrying violins, a cello, and even a small harpsichord. They exchanged knowing glances, already amused by the sight before them.

“Shall we play something traditional?” one of them asked, tuning the strings of his violin.

Elera grinned. “Something grand. A waltz, perhaps?”

Alaric sighed, rubbing his temple. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

(Y/n) swallowed nervously as the musicians began to play a slow, elegant melody. The sound filled the room, rich and sweeping, making the moment feel even more surreal.

Alaric turned back to her, his gaze steady. “Focus on me,” he instructed softly, extending his hand. “Ignore everything else.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm but careful, as if he were afraid of startling her.

He guided her other hand to his shoulder, then settled his own at her waist. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up her spine.

“Just follow my lead,” he murmured.

He took the first step, and she instinctively tried to mimic him—but her feet faltered, nearly tangling with his.

“I—Sorry,” she stammered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

Alaric huffed a quiet chuckle. “Again.”

They started over, this time more measured. (Y/n) did her best to match his movements, but there was a stiffness to her posture, a hesitation in her steps.

“Relax,” he said, voice low and steady. “Trust me.”

(Y/n) exhaled slowly. She let herself lean into his lead, allowing him to guide her across the floor.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Good.”

She dared a glance up at him and found his expression softer than usual—focused, patient. And beneath that, something else. Something unreadable.

The music swelled around them, the rhythm sinking into her bones. It was easier now. She wasn’t just moving—she was dancing.

Elera watched from the side, arms crossed, utterly pleased. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

(Y/n) let out a breathy laugh. “I guess not.”

Alaric merely smiled, his hold on her never faltering. For now, at least, everything was exactly as it should be.

The tempo shifted—slow and sweeping no longer, but lively and bold. The musicians, emboldened by the scene before them, transitioned into a more playful melody. The steady waltz transformed into something quicker, something that demanded movement.

(Y/n) gasped softly as Alaric’s grip on her waist tightened just slightly. His other hand clasped hers more firmly, a silent reassurance before he led her into the faster rhythm.

Her steps fumbled at first, the sudden shift catching her off guard, but Alaric was unwavering. He moved with effortless precision, guiding her as if they had danced together a thousand times before.

She laughed—a light, breathless sound—her nerves giving way to exhilaration. The music urged them on, each step spinning them across the floor, the once formal lesson turning into something almost reckless.

Alaric never looked away from her.

Even as the room seemed to blur with motion, as candlelight flickered in golden streaks around them, his focus remained entirely on her—on the way her eyes shone with delight, on the way her lips curled into a smile she could no longer suppress.

She was beautiful.

Radiant in her joy, in the way she let herself go to the rhythm, finally unafraid to meet him in the dance.

A warmth spread through his chest, something deeper than mere admiration. Something dangerous.

She stumbled, her foot nearly catching the hem of her dress, but before she could fall, Alaric caught her with ease, pulling her flush against him. Their breaths mingled, her laughter still lingering between them.

The music carried on, but for a moment, neither of them moved.

His hold on her was gentle yet firm, his thumb grazing the back of her hand in a silent question. Was this too much? Did she need him to step away?

But she didn’t move. She only looked up at him, her expression softer now, as if realizing—really realizing—just how closely he held her.

Alaric swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re remarkable.”

(Y/n) blinked, her breath hitching slightly, but before she could respond, the music swelled once more.

Alaric smirked, his usual composure slipping into something almost boyish as he spun her back into the dance.

Elera, watching from the sidelines, merely grinned.

The grand chambers of the manor were bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow against the cool night beyond the windows. Within (Y/n)’s room, layers of silk and velvet adorned the bed, gowns of rich hues spread out before her.

Elera stood beside her, arms crossed, surveying the choices with a satisfied smirk. “You have to make an impression tonight,” she mused, tilting her head as she eyed (Y/n). “First impressions are everything, and let’s be honest—most of those creatures are expecting you to cower.”

(Y/n) swallowed, running her fingers over the fabric of one of the dresses. She had been preparing for this for days, had let Alaric convince her that she would be safe, that she would be his guest. But still, the idea of being surrounded by vampires again made her stomach knot.

Elera noticed the hesitation immediately.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, her tone softer now. “You have Alaric. And you have me. No one will dare lay a hand on you.”

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, nodding. “I know. It’s just…” She glanced at herself in the mirror, at the lingering uncertainty in her reflection. “I don’t want to seem weak.”

Elera hummed, stepping forward to pull a deep crimson gown from the collection. “Then don’t,” she said simply. “Wear this. Red is bold. It commands attention. It says, I am not prey.” She held the dress up to (Y/n), nodding approvingly. “It’ll also drive Alaric absolutely mad.”

(Y/n) shot her a look, heat rising to her cheeks. “That’s not why I’m wearing it.”

Elera grinned, unbothered. “Of course not.”

With an exasperated sigh, (Y/n) took the dress and let Elera help her into it. The fabric draped elegantly over her form, the corset cinching at just the right places. It was unlike anything she had ever worn—luxurious, commanding, dangerous.

As Elera adjusted the laces, she caught (Y/n)’s gaze in the mirror. “You look like you belong here,” she said, voice laced with something unreadable.

(Y/n) hesitated before responding, “Do I?”

A pause. Then, a knowing smile from Elera. “You will.”

The two of them worked in comfortable silence after that—Elera styling (Y/n)’s hair, fastening jewelry at her neck, ensuring every detail was perfect. By the time they finished, the girl staring back at (Y/n) in the mirror was unfamiliar—elegant, poised, someone who could stand beside Alaric and not look out of place.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their quiet moment.

Elera smirked. “That’ll be him.”

(Y/n) took a steadying breath as Elera moved to open the door. And there he stood—Alaric, dressed in his finest, eyes sharp and unreadable at first. But the moment they landed on (Y/n), something in them softened.

Elera glanced between them, utterly pleased with herself. “I’ll leave you two to it.” She slipped past Alaric, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “Try not to look too lovesick, hmm?”

Alaric ignored her. His attention was entirely on (Y/n), his expression unreadable for a long moment before he finally spoke, voice quieter than usual.

“You’re breathtaking.”

(Y/n) wasn’t sure if it was the dress or the intensity of his gaze, but her heart hammered all the same.

Alaric had always prided himself on his self-control. It was what separated him from the creatures who gave in to their baser instincts, from the ones who saw humans as nothing more than fleeting indulgences. He had lived for centuries, mastered patience, restraint—he had never let himself want too much.

But tonight… tonight was testing him.

(Y/n) stood before him, draped in crimson, a vision of defiance and elegance. The way the candlelight played against her skin, the way the delicate jewelry he had chosen for her adorned her throat and wrists—it was maddening. And the worst part? She had no idea. No idea how easily she unraveled him, how she could strip him of centuries of practiced control with nothing but a look.

She shifted slightly under his gaze, fingers brushing over the fabric of her gown. “Are we ready?”

Alaric forced himself to breathe, to ignore the way his body tensed with something unfamiliar and entirely unwelcome. He offered his arm, voice steady despite the storm within. “We are.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, her warmth seeping through the fine layers of his suit. Focus.

With measured steps, he led her through the halls of the manor, past flickering sconces and grand archways. Every so often, his eyes flickered to her, to the way she moved with an unfamiliar grace, to the subtle nerves she tried to mask.

He wanted to say something. Needed to say something—to reassure her, to ease her mind. But every word that came to him felt inadequate, or worse, too revealing.

Instead, he settled for silence.

By the time they reached the grand entrance, the night air was crisp against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth at his side. The car waited just beyond the steps, sleek and imposing, its dark frame gleaming under the moonlight.

Alaric opened the door for her, pausing as she looked up at him, something uncertain lingering in her expression.

“This is your last chance,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to do this.”

(Y/n) studied him for a moment before offering the smallest of smiles. “I know.” Then, with careful grace, she stepped inside.

Alaric swallowed hard, clenched his jaw, and followed.

As the car lurched forward, carrying them toward whatever awaited at Ericsson’s estate, he allowed himself one fleeting glance at her—one moment of indulgence.

She was staring out the window, the faintest hint of moonlight catching in her eyes.

Gods help him.

Elera sat across from them in the car, arms lazily draped over the seat, her chin resting on her hand as she watched them with an insufferably smug grin.

Oh, this was delicious.

Alaric, ever composed, sat beside (Y/n), his posture stiff but his hand resting a little too close to hers on the seat. He was trying so desperately to keep his eyes forward, to remain unbothered, but Elera saw right through him. His fingers twitched slightly, his jaw tight, and every so often—when he thought no one would notice—his gaze flickered to (Y/n).

And oh, she was a sight to behold tonight.

Elera had made sure of that.

(Y/n) wasn’t aware of the effect she had. She was still adjusting, still finding her footing in this world that had never been kind to her. But tonight, she carried herself a little differently—perhaps it was the dress, or the way her hair was styled, or perhaps it was simply because Alaric had spent the last few weeks showing her gentleness rather than cruelty.

Either way, the tension in the car was palpable, and Elera had to bite back a laugh.

"You know," she drawled, tapping her fingers against her cheek, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet, Alaric. Usually, you’re brooding much louder."

Alaric shot her a sharp glare, but she only smirked wider.

(Y/n) blinked between them, confused. “Brooding… louder?”

“He has a very dramatic way of existing,” Elera supplied helpfully. “Lots of sighs. Long, meaningful silences. Mysterious glances over candlelight.”

Alaric exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re awful.”

Elera beamed. “And yet, you keep me around.”

(Y/n) giggled softly at their exchange, and that—that tiny, delicate sound—was what did it.

Alaric, despite all his efforts to remain unaffected, turned his head ever so slightly toward her. His expression softened, his sharp features easing into something dangerous—not in the way vampires were usually dangerous, but in a way that suggested he was falling, whether he wanted to or not.

Elera saw it happen in real-time, and gods, it was so sweet.

(Y/n) didn’t realize it yet. She didn’t see how much she had already ensnared him. But Elera did.

She leaned back with a satisfied hum, watching as Alaric—ever so subtly—shifted, just enough that their arms brushed.

Oh yes. Tonight was going to be very interesting.

Taglist: @yune1337 @mybones537

[menacinmasochist]

Yui POV:

I have been a priestess of Vesta since I was 7 years old, I loved serving the goddess and protecting the flame. It has been ten years since I took the vows, to remain chaste, we are the Vestal Virgins after all, I never craved sex or even knew what it was like..I didn't even have my first kiss, it's somewhat embarrassing to think of. My knees were beginning to hurt the more I prayed, so I decided to wrap up my nightly prayers, it was getting late, I think everyone was pretty much fast asleep.

The nightly walks from the temple to the villa dorms were always lovely, the warm summer night breezes felt so nice. I look up at the stars, the moon was ever so full. I was so captivated by the sight of the moon, I didn't notice the horrid events that were about to occur...the scream of one of the priestess sent a shockwave through my entire body. What was going on..? 

  I turn from the moon and get struck by a taller figure, I didn't see their face, everything went black. 

   I don't know how much time had passed since I was struck, I woke up finding myself bound in heavy chains, the smell of smoke and blood filled the area I was confined in. It was dark so I could barely see anything. I heard the never ending screams of my sister vestals. They were being tortured..was the great roman empire being invaded right now..? No roman would touch the vestals...who is doing this to us? The door opens, there is no light but I feel a hand grabbing me, yanking me out and into the next area,  there was barely a lit torch, I couldn’t make out who it was. I heard the laughter of men, that disgusting laughter as they did whatever to us. I was abruptly pushed down to what felt like a wooden bench or table I couldn’t tell. I hit my head back hard against it, I think I even began to bleed a little.

“Don’t you tire of torturing them?” One of the men said to the others, his voice sounded irritated as if he had better things to do. “Of course not, virgin blood is the best after all~” the other replied, he somewhat sang the last part. What did they mean by virgin blood? Were they creatures of the night that were in stories? What exactly were these men and what did they intend to do to us…the anticipation was killing me, so I decided to speak up and ask.

“Who are you…?” I quietly asked. There was a brief moment of silence before one of them chuckled out. “We’re sent from the afterlife to take beautiful vestal virgins” the one who answered was the same one from before with the singing tune at the end of his speech only his voice sounded deadly serious. They approached me, with their torches in hand, I got a better look at them, they were so beautiful, I’ve never seen men look this way before. There were 6 of them, all of them had a unique appearance. My eyes began scanning them, they had blood on their faces and hands, as well as their cloaks.

“Shes got a nice face, let’s mess her up” a bright green eyed man said, his hair was a vibrant red, it was beautiful his eyes captivated me, was this love at first sight..? I was unsure. His hand grabbed around my neck harshly, he gripped it tightly, I couldn’t barely breathe, just a little. Before I could muster up the courage to tell him to unhand me he bit my neck, I let out a sharp gasp, it was extremely painful, what was worse was I could feel my blood leaving my body as he took sips, he was slaking his thirst as I grew numb. “Her blood smells amazing…Ayato share!” one of the other guys yelled out, he had vibrant soft purple hair, I’ve never seen any human with hair of that royal color. Soon all of them were all over me, biting into me. Two of them, one had raven hair and the other a blondish color were biting into my wrists, the redheaded man, Ayato was slurping from my lips, he stole my first kiss in the worst way possible. Another redheaded man was drinking from my foot, the purple haired one was by my other foot, and lastly my thigh was being ripped apart by a white haired man, he was so beautiful his eyes were terrifyingly red. I felt life draining from me, and suddenly they all stopped , much to my surprise honestly. They all seemed to have gotten full and drunk off my blood.

My clothes were soaked in blood, I felt disgusting I wanted a bath. I wanted to be freed from these creatures of the night. Ayato looked at me with so much lust in his eyes then tore of my tunic , exposing my naked body, my face flushed red I was terrified. They were going to defile me…if they were Romans they would have been executed for this…Ayato wasted no time, he turned me around and inserted himself within me, it was very painful at first, he didn’t kiss me or touch me gently, just roughly stroked inside me, faster and faster. “Ayato she’s a virgin you should go easier on her, the poor little bitch~” the other redhead sang again. He decided to take over to show Ayato how it’s supposed to be done. They took their turns on me, all of them, I didn’t think my first time would be a gang rape…I closed my eyes, wanting for it to be over.

[zahmaddog]

Part 6: Above Pabu

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY) & It's so fluffy imma die

Crosshair x fem!reader | Word Count: 1894

Hello friends. Smut happening in this chapter; I mark where it begins so you can skip ahead if needed. It's not super plot driven smut, but you know, smutty Crosshair is kinda nice to have around. I'll publish 2 chapters today so you can skip ahead if smut ain't your thing. Let me know if anyone else wants to be in my tag list. This series is wrapping up, but I'll keep writing and maybe take some requests.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

The safe sound of hyperspace encompassed you as you leaned back into your captain’s chair and relaxed for the first time in days. Releasing the tension in your body, you felt a few tears escape from your eyes as the emotions of fear and desperation cleared. You closed your eyes, wiped the tears quickly to not be seen, and tried to fall asleep.

“Are you all right?” Crosshair floated the simple, yet complex question your way. He clearly had been watching you closely.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled, taking your time to respond, “I will be.”

You turned your attention towards him. He sat forward in his chair, focused on you, looking unnerved with his toothpick in his lips.

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

He nodded and echoed your words, “I will be.”

He stood from his seat and took the step towards yours, sweeping his arms under your legs and around your shoulders, Crosshair lifts you from the chair and carries you back to his chair. Sitting back down, he pulls you close to his chest and wraps you in his arms. You enjoyed the quiet peace with him for a few moments, then noticed he had fallen asleep as his soft snore startled you. You take the toothpick from his mouth and kiss his cheek, chuckling to yourself. 

You studied his stolen stormtrooper armor and the bruise forming on the back of his head, “What did I get you into?” But then the guilt came flooding in. “What did I get you into?” You knew Crosshair would fight you on it; he wanted to be there next to you. He risked his paradise and security to be at your side, but you realized he deserved so much more. Running your fingers up his chest and neck, you cradle his face; running your thumb over the tattooed circle just under his eye. 

“Let’s get you home, Cross,” you whispered. Not leaving his lap, you plugged the coordinates in for Pabu. Then realized you should give Hunter a call to check in, but also to see if it was safe to return. You look back at Crosshair, who was lost in his deep slumber, and smile a little. You gently stand, so as not to wake him, and walk to the middle of the ship to comm Hunter.

The transmission went through and two holo-figures appeared on the table.

“Hi!” Omega beamed.

“It’s been a while since we’ve heard from either of you. How was your vacation?” Hunter asked.

“Vacation?” you were perplexed.

“Crosshair said you were going on a vacation… together?” Hunter’s voice grew worried, “Where is Crosshair?” “He’s up front asleep,” you assured.

Hunter relaxed a little. 

“So, if you weren’t on vacation, where were you?” Omega questioned.

“Imperial prison,” you dryly joked.

Omega and Hunter looked at you, trying to understand why you would joke about something so dark and relevant to their pasts. Hunter’s raised eyebrow fell as his eyes narrowed.

“That wasn’t a joke, was it?” Hunter sighed.

“No,” you muttered, embarrassed and too tired to say much more.

“But you made it out?” Hunter tried to verify.

“Surprisingly. I’m still trying to sort out how and why,” you thought through the escape carefully, “I think in the end, chasing us down wasn’t worth the Empire’s effort.”

You heard Crosshair stir behind you. In a dry, monotone, half-asleep voice, he managed to say, “Is that Hunter?” before falling asleep once more. You look back to Hunter.

“I’m going to get him home to you,” you promised. “He saved my life countless times in the last few days.”

“He does that,” Hunter nodded in agreement. 

“Are you coming back to Pabu too?” Omega pleaded. 

“We’ll see. I’m hoping most of the Imperial heat is off my trail, if you understand,” you explained. “Over the past few days, were there any Imperial patrols on Pabu?”

Hunter shook his head, “Not anything we’ve seen.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had all week,” you chatted. “Well, we’re on our way back. I’ll comm you when we get in.” Hunter nodded in confirmation and you ended the transmission. Standing, letting the table take most of your weight, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You felt Crosshair’s hands snake around your waist and his mouth press against your neck. 

“You should know better than to sneak up on a bounty hunter,” you laughed.

“I’ll take my chances,” he smirked. 

←—smut begins (skip to next chapter) —-->

Beginning to sway a little from side-to-side, you reached up to feel the back of his neck with one hand and met his hand on your waist with the other. 

“So, this was a vacation?” you softly asked.

You felt him sigh in the nape of your neck, “I’ve had worse.”

You spun into him, lacing your hands around his neck and pulling him closer. Crosshair lifted you up by your thighs and pushed you onto the table. Now nearly eye-level with him, he moved in to kiss you. 

Deepening the kiss, you pull him closer and lean back on to the table fully. He follows your lead and slides you up further onto its surface. You’ve wanted him on top of you like this for so long. 

Peeling the stormtrooper chest plate from his body, you run your hands up his chest and up the back of his head. He moans a little, and begins to strip his armor off his arms. You free the buckle to his belt and begin working off his lower armor pieces. They fall off the table to the floor, creating a romantically exciting orchestral clamor. 

Feeling his skin underneath his shirt, Crosshair interrupts the kiss for a moment to remove it over his head, exposing his broad chest and capped shoulders. He returns to your lips, moving passionately with purpose. 

Crosshair begins to feel up beneath your shirt “Get this off,” he begs.

You respond quickly, sitting up, you remove your top. Then you begin to remove your trousers. He helps you out of them, then drops his own. Lacing your legs around his waist, you pull him closer with your arms once more; feeling the warmth of his chest on yours; your chin on his collar.

“Are you sure you want this?” you whispered.

“I’d follow you across the galaxy again if it meant I could be here in your arms like this,” he confessed. 

Crosshair returned to your lips, but only for a short moment as the proximity alarm sounded. 

“We’re already there?” Crosshair exclaimed. 

The ship exited hyperspace on auto-pilot and began its approach to Pabu.

“No, we’re not landing yet,” you panicked a little as things were just getting good. Crosshair lifted you off the table and carried you to the pilot’s seat. He gently put you down and he turned off the engines, leaving the ship softly floating in space. You and he gazed out the front of the ship at the beauty of the universe. He turned his attention back to you and sat back in his seat. Magnetized to his body, you felt yourself stand and drift to him to straddle his waist and cradle his neck with your arms. You greeted him once more with a mellow kiss.

“Where were we?” he softly felt your curves and thighs with his rough hands. The silence of space enveloping you as you became fully immersed in Crosshair’s presence and touch. The ship seemed to float outside of time and outside of place.

“I think you were about to make me yours,” you flirted, letting your hands trace down his neck to his shoulders. 

“How could I forget?” he smiled calmly and slid you closer to his chest.

His hand traced over your thigh and through your folds. You were already so slick; how could you not be? His gaze alone was paralyzing, but his touch was electrifying. In response, you lightly sucked on his collar bone and began to grind against his hand. 

He pressed against your entrance with two fingers and circled your clit with his thumb. You let your knees squeeze his waist as the excitement and pleasure filled you. He let out a small moan, which you muffled as you returned your kiss to his open mouth. He pressed one finger into you. You reach down and stroke his sex.

“It’s my turn to give,” he mumbles. “You give too much.”

You return your hand to his cheek; he can feel you smile through your kiss. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy had cared so much for you. He continued to finger you, his strokes long and varying in pressure. The pleasure made you quake. He added another finger while his lips left your mouth to settle at your breasts as he began to suck and kiss them. 

You squeezed his shoulder, the back of his neck, and his waist with your thighs as his quickening strokes and movements pushed you over your edge; the pleasure flooding your brain; your heavy breathing ceasing for a moment under the pressure of your release. 

“That’s it,” Crosshair crooned as he continued to finger you through your orgasm. Slowly returning to your senses, you lightly sucked on his neck and worked your way to his lips. He slides his fingers out of you, but you felt so desperate for more. You moved your hips up and slid his hard cock into you fully without much warning – he moans and leans his head back. Filled with him, you feel so close; so intimate.

“You good?” you ask. “Never better,” he panted, completely lost in you.

Finding a rhythm, you moved passionately as he guided your hips up and down. Beginning slowly, you could feel his length pass in and through unhurriedly. Neither of you wanted to rush the intimacy of this moment, especially since you didn’t know when you could be so close like this again. You both made the effort to savor and create a lasting memory.

His thrusts and grip on your back and hips intensified as he started to chase his own release. His body felt warm to your touch as you let your hands wander, then settled around his neck to find balance as his movements escalated. You felt pleasure rise in yourself once more; tightening around him. 

“Maker,” he manages to whisper under the tension. He quietly gasps and squeezes you as he seizes up. You feel his release warm inside you, sending you over that edge once more. He relaxes slowly, letting each limb succumb to the relief. He leans his head back against the seat before opening his eyes to meet yours.

Tracing his jaw with your nose, you planted small kisses up his 5’o-clock shadow. Crosshair continued to gently rub your head, back, and shoulders. You and he stayed still for a moment before cleaning up.

–

“You mentioned a while ago that we’re giving this ship to your brother Echo, in exchange for him flying mine back to Pabu?” you asked Crosshair. “Mm-hmm,” he mumbled as he pulled his pants back on. 

“I will never tell, if you don’t,” you verified with a wink.

“We wouldn’t want to make Echo jealous,” he chuckled. “Let’s get home.” Once dressed, Crosshair switched the ship’s engines back on and continued the descent towards Pabu.

“Home sweet home,” he hummed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 7: If You Wanted To Be

Tag list: @tentakelspektakel @cloneflo99

[huiiiooo]

We all know that All for one hates All Might, he himself made that clear, it's understandable All Might did several things to All for one (and he deserved every single one of them)

Firstly, All Might had a meteoric rise shortly after returning to Japan at the age of 24, causing crime in Japan to reduce rapidly, and as All for one had control over much of Japan's crime, most of the villains that All Might defeated were Allies. from All for one, All Might destroyed the Dark Empire of All for one in Japan and rose as the Symbol of Peace

After nearly 30 years of hiding from All Might, AFO is finally found and humiliatingly defeated, having his head smashed

Art by: The Manga Viewer

This forced All for one to become much more inactive, of course he still kept moving, even though he was still recovering he defeated O'Cloak, and made all the mess there with Number 6, but he probably spent a lot of those years in New York since That's where he appears for the first time, and when All for one returns to the battlefield, he is publicly defeated by All Might and thrown into prison.

knowing this, it would be logical and even normal for All for one to want revenge for all of this, however when he finally defeats All Might, the "crime" he wants All Might to pay for is having "encouraged his dreams" what kind of dream? Heroic Dreams

This has happened before with All for one, a man once encouraged his brother's Heroic dreams, and because of that he lost him, and once again a man encourages a family member's Heroic dreams

In All for One's view, All Might did exactly the same thing as The Second User, the difference is that Izuku is still alive

[adachimoe]

PSC Eps 25-26 "Ah-ha, I SEES it!"

Last time: Ep 1 + Explanation, Eps 2 + 4, Ep 5, Eps 6 + 7 (no Q&A), Eps 8 + 9, Eps 10 + 11 (plus PSC Cafe), Eps 12/13/18/19, Eps 20/23/24

Episode 25:

Q: I think that all the awesome music plays a big part in Persona's appeal. I have a lot of favorites, but pieces like "Mass Destruction", "Deep Breath Deep Breath", and many others are masterpieces that defy the long held beliefs about what video game music is. And with so many bangers, there must be discarded songs that were made but never used. Can the Stalker Club skill those pieces with Endure Dark before they get buried in the Mudo of history?! A: If you made it, then you can find a suitable place for it to play, so there are no pieces that got discarded even though they had been completed. If anything, there are some sad incidents where, due to a change of direction, a BGM no longer fits something, but in such cases, rather than discarding it, it gets recycled to play somewhere appropriate. That said, it is thought that behind one completed song is multiple rough drafts that exist in the form of tunes being hummed. However, the existence of these drafts could not be verified because the composer already Mudo'd them himself.

(I added in the Mudo part cause I figured people would recognize that as a skill name faster than Endure Dark)

Q: In Persona 4, Chie's Persona Tomoe is wearing a helmet. Is the helmet-shape actually her head, or is she just wearing a helmet? A: When it comes to a Persona's appearance, there is no clear distinction made between their body and their accessories. But, if one must dare to say which is which, that's a helmet. Since Personas are beings that have transformed from Shadows, they are often designed with a "mask" of sorts similar to the enemy Shadows. And in Tomoe's case, hers is her helmet.

Episode 26:

An Akihiko-focused question session because his voice actor, Hikaru Midorikawa, was the guest.

Q: Sanada's Persona Caesar was such a womanizer that he was called "Rome's Lover" and he held a title like "Debt King" which gives him the opposite image of Sanada. How did he go from Polydeuces to Caesar? A: Because his Arcana is the Emperor. That Caesar was able to fearlessly carry out innovative reforms corresponds with Akihiko's strength. Furthermore, the history with how Caesar lost his standing then made a comeback and became synonymous with the title "Emperor" is similar to Sanada's story and so forth.

(This answer says "became Emperor" (皇帝となった). I added in "synonymous with" so this would sound historically accurate. In the old P3 artbook, they also say that Caesar was "known for being the Emperor of the Roman Empire". In P3 Reload, the Persona profile says his name became a name for Roman Emperors, so they corrected it for Reload.)

Q: There are many flavors of protein such as strawberry, chocolate, etc. What is Sanada's favorite? Or will any do? A: Sanada takes protein because that's logical to him as both a boxer and as someone who wants to get stronger. Taste barely even registers to him as a deciding factor. I'm certain that if an ingredient was the best for one's strength, he would say, "I'll try it" and put it in his mouth even if it's bitter or spicy. Q: Why does Sanada never wear his uniform jacket during the game? He doesn't even wear it in winter. A: Normally, he'd wear it at school and other places, so it's not as though he has a hang-up that causes him to stubbornly refuse to wear it. However, a blazer would restrict his movement when boxing or fighting, so it's more like he's never seen wearing it when interacting with the protagonist. He might seem really extreme at first, living his life like he's ready to fight 24/7, but he has been attacked by a Full Moon Shadow at the dorm where he lives. When you think about that, it doesn't seem so extreme.

Episode 26 was the last episode of Persona Stalker Club. After, they had a special stream where they announced the release date of Persona 5, then the show changed into Persona Stalker Club V for Persona 5 coverage. I might have misread this, but afaik, the Q&A section didn't return until the very last episode of V (episode 10). Anyway, next post = V episode 10 and then done done.

[invadertem]

(CLASSIFIED DOCUMENT) ROGUE ZIM

Status: Unknown; presumably alive

Personal Information:

- Pak Model: Defective Superior Model-1

- Gender/Sex: Male (Type B)

- Pronouns: He/Him

- Age: 25 Earth/Irken years

- Sexuality: Omni (Preference: Male)

- Rank: Rogue Super Weapon

- Rogue Code Name: Poltergeist

Physical Description:

- Appearance: Magenta Eyes/Pak

- Height: 5'5"

- Notable Features: Extremely scarred but bandaged arms, small face scar, Pink hoodie

Skills and Enhancements:

- Natural Ability: His pak can release high-voltage shocks capable of killing living beings and destroying technology. Connection to tech results in corruption.

- Pak Weapons: Equipped with powerful weapons designed by Zim himself.

- Emotion-Induced Abilities: Strong emotions can tear holes in time and space, creating small Florpus-like portals.

- Emotional Range: His defect allows him to experience a wide range of emotions.

- Independent Pak: His pak sometimes acts independently from Zim.

- Enhanced Senses: Superior hearing, scent, and sight.

- Training: Proficient in war strategies, combat, anatomy, mechanics, and other fields, driven by Miyuki to be the best.

- Speed and Strength: Quick reflexes allowing for rapid movement. Above-average strength and high pain tolerance.

- Natural Weapons: Claws and teeth sharpened to knife-like sharpness.

Fun Facts:

- Bio-Weapon Origin: The first successful Irken Empire Bio-weapon.

- Unique Scent: Emits a sweet scent with underlying hints of blood and metal.

- Powerhouse: Considered the strongest Irken to ever exist.

- Purring Smeet: Teased for his sleepy nature and purring as a smeet.

- Culinary Preferences: Enjoys sweet foods, while regular food makes him feel sick.

- Musical Inclination: Surprisingly, likes singing songs to himself.

- Personality: Aggressive and cold in nature.

- Troop Membership: Part of Troop 9 during training.

- Infamous Record: Personally responsible for the documented deaths of 10,000 individuals using only his pak.

Notable Events (in chronological order):

1. Caused five years of darkness on Irk upon creation due to a high-voltage electricity shock.

2. Experimented on by Miyuki as a child.

3. Excelled academically, ranking at the top of his classes.

4. Had a height stunter installed by Miyuki for easier control but later removed.

5. Spark from his pak caused four more years of darkness on Irk during a sparring incident.

6. Invented numerous bio-weapons and mass destruction devices.

7. "Accidentally" killed Miyuki and Spork with a bio-weapon.

8. Played a key role in winning the battle of Meekrob during Mission of Impending Doom One.

9. Banished from the Irken Empire, reappearing during Mission of Impending Doom Two.

10. Banished once more, this time to Earth.

11. Involved in the Florpus Incident.

12. Went Rogue, leaving Earth for four years with no trace of his whereabouts.

13. Destroyed multiple Empire Watch Bases (C1, C2, C3, D5, D6, G9, G11, G18, Z1), with more to be documented.

This document provides official information regarding Defective Superior Model-1, also known as Poltergeist, and his extensive history, abilities, and notable events within the Irken Empire. He is extremely dangerous and is to be reported upon sighting.

!!!WARNING: FILE IS HIGHLY SUBJECT TO CHANGE!!!

[projectnewmoon]

Sonic - Project: New Moon

Chapter 6 - Sick

Summary: The group sets off to get the fourth Chaos Emerald. Meanwhile, Sonic's condition begins to worsen.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,925 words

-

The sun had set and the moon had risen, the sky now clear and dark, dotted with twinkling stars. A crescent moon, thin and almost new, shone above the desert as a cold wind blew through the sandy dunes. After a snack and a discussion of plans for tomorrow, the group prepared to set off to Empire City first thing in the morning.

Now, everyone was asleep under the Tornado. Everyone except Rue, who sat right by the plane, looking up at the starry sky, and Sonic, who kept still and quiet while lying next to Tails and the twins so as to not wake them up.

Sonic was exhausted, yet he couldn't get himself to fall asleep, his mind still riddled with thoughts, images of what he'd seen, of Rue's nightmare.

What could they have possibly been afraid of that the ghosts exploited? Nox? It's fair to be scared of someone like him, he supposed. But what of those children? Who were they? And why would Rue kill them like that over and over? It all confused and unsettled him, the image of those faceless corpses in a pool of green blood burned into his mind.

And why did he transform when he did? When they came out of the Spirit Realm, the sun was just beginning to set, but he’d transformed much earlier than that. Was it the stress? It couldn’t have been that, could it? That’s not how that works! … Right?

He huffed and closed his eyes, trying to cast those thoughts away and finally get the sleep he needs.

Sonic feels himself begin to drift off, the exhaustion finally dragging him down to the darkness of unconsciousness. Sand Ocean Zone was quiet…

… Until it stopped being quiet, and some unbearable whirring and buzzing appeared out of nowhere.

Sonic sat up, carefully, so as to not wake up any of the others, and looked around for the source of that infernal noise. Turns out, he wasn't the only one who heard it, because Rue was searching for it, too.

He got up and walked up to them. “You hear that too, right?” he whispered.

“Of course I do,” they whispered back, “It's one of his robots. I know it is.”

“And you'd be right, old friend,” an all too familiar voice speaks from behind the two. They snap around to see Nox himself, albeit in the form of a hologram projected by a small bronze Spinner, an eerie smile on his face and his hands held behind his back.

Rue snarls at him, hackles raised and teeth bared.

“What do you want, you creep?” Sonic growls, glaring at him.

“My, what an unfriendly reception. I'm hurt!” he said in a mocking tone, “I just came to have a little chat, is all”

Sonic quickly glances at Rue, who growled and snarled at the man like a wild animal. There was nothing in her glowing red eyes but burning rage as she stared Nox down. She trembled, claws digging into the ground. She was holding back from attacking, he could tell.

“Yeah, no, my friend here is just about to blow a gasket just from looking at you. And, frankly, I’m not in the mood to talk, either. So leave us alone.”

“Tch. Someone ought to teach you freaks some manners…” Nox grumbled, “Very well, then. But I will leave you all with a warning.”

The spider brandishes three Chaos Emeralds, one cyan, one purple, and one white, leaving the yellow still out there somewhere. “You may have acquired three out of seven Emeralds, but that will not be enough to stop my plans. I have just enough power to set things in motion, and once the new moon comes, the end of this world will be just within my reach. You won’t be able to stop it, not like you did last time, hedgehog.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Sonic reaches out with a large paw, grabs the Spinner mid-air and crushes it. The hologram fizzles out. Dark Gaia Energy oozes out of the mangled robot, dripping from his paw onto the white sand of the desert.

Rue jolts, coming out of that feral daze. She is now silent, staring at where the image of Nox used to be. Purple smoke slips out from between her lips.

“Hey,” Sonic speaks to Rue in an even, calm tone, “Don't listen to him. He just wants to get under our skin. We'll get the one Emerald he hasn't found yet, then we take back all the others. I won't let him destroy the world, and I sure as hell won't let him hurt you or anyone else. I promise.”

Rue didn't seem too moved by his words, barely even reacting with the twitch of an ear. It was hard to tell if they were even listening.

“Look, I know today's been… a lot, but try to get some sleep, yeah? You look like you need it. Like, really, really need it.”

Rue huffs, lying down on their belly and pulling their cloak over themself like a blanket. Maybe they were listening after all.

“I, uh, I can also stay n’ keep you company, if you want–”

“Go away.”

“Alright, cool. Goodnight.”

And with that, he hurried back to his spot right next to Tails, settled back down, and attempted to fall asleep once again, eventually managing to drift off.

-

Morning soon came, driving away the cold of the desert night, changing Sonic back to normal. And with the sunrise, the group got ready to set off to Empire City–

“I'm not flying on that thing.”

– Except Rue was staunchly refusing to get on the Tornado.

“Rue, please, we cannot do this right now,” Specter grumbled.

“You could sit in the passenger seat,” Tails offered, “It might be a bit of a tight squeeze, but at least you won't have to fly on the wing.”

“And let the twins put themselves in danger?” Rue retorted.

“Look, I've been flying on the Tornado's wings for years, and I can assure you it is perfectly safe,” Sonic replied.

Rue crossed their arms. “Your idea of  ‘safe’ is incredibly skewed.”

“I'm with Rue on this.” Phantom also crossed his arms, mimicking Rue. “You're probably the only person on Mobius who'd think that's safe.”

He wasn't exactly wrong, but how else was everyone supposed to get to Empire City before Nox got there?

“Oh, so the big bad wolfdog is scared of heights now?” Specter smirked.

Sonic quirked an eyebrow. Now, where could this be heading?

Rue glared at her. “Pardon?”

“I know what this is really about, Rue. You're scaaaared. Ya big scaredy-cat.”

“I-I'm not!” they stammered, flustered, “I'm worried about you, idiot!”

“Yeah, sure, maybe you are, but you're mostly just scared ‘cuz you've never been on a plane before, right?”

Rue growls.

Phantom looks at his sister. “I don't think now’s the time for teasing, Specter–”

“Shush. We're getting somewhere here,” Specter interrupted, “I can see it written aaaaall over you, Rue, down to your very soul. You can't hide that from me.”

Rue takes a sharp breath, rubbing the bridge of their nose. Sonic can hear them mumble something under their breath. “Tragame tierra, Dios mío…” he thinks he hears them say.

Huh, didn’t think they could speak Spanish. Neat, Sonic thought.

“Rrgh… Fine! I'll do it,” Rue finally conceded, “Just… stop pestering me already.”

“Yay!” Specter exclaimed, “C'mon, let's hurry up and go, then! Ohh, this is gonna be so fun!”

Specter hurried off to get on the plane, with Rue reluctantly trailing behind. Phantom sighs and follows them as well.

Sonic couldn't help but chuckle at that whole interaction. “Can't believe that actually worked,” he said.

After helping Specter and Phantom up to the wings, and giving a few extra words of encouragement to Rue who still hesitated to get on the plane, Sonic and Tails boarded the Tornado and set off into the skies towards Empire City.

By noon, Sonic and the other's had landed in the outskirts of the sprawling metropolis. According to Tails’ readings, the Emerald should be in a plaza near the center.

“Weird place for a Special Zone to open up,” Sonic commented, looking down at the map on the Miles Electric as he and Tails waited for the others to unboard the plane.

“I believe the city closed that area off to avoid any civilians falling in,” Tails explained, “Would be pretty bad if anyone who didn't know what it was got stuck in there.”

Sonic smirked. “Good thing the pros are here to take care of it!”

Specter and Phantom hop off from the planes’ wings. Meanwhile, Rue nearly falls on her face trying to get out of the passenger seat, but she shakes it off as if nothing happened.

Specter bounces with every step as everyone starts walking into the city. “That was fun!”

Phantom patted the fur of his frazzled tail down. “And scary.”

“Fun AND scary!”

Sonic chuckled. “Glad you guys enjoyed it!” Even if it was mostly just Specter… “You guys'll get another ride once we can get you back home, hope you're excited for that one, too!”

“Yay!”

“Hooray…”

As they got closer to the towering buildings, Sonic noticed Rue pull the hood of their cloak over their head, partially obscuring their face in shadow. They held the cloak close with their paws, covering most of their body as well.

“You. Hedgehog.” Rue approached him. He noticed their paws trembling slightly.

“It's Sonic.”

“Right, Sonic. There's… going to be a lot of people there, yes?”

“I mean, probably, yeah. It's a city. Kinda par for the course in places like these.”

“Mm.” He could see their expression drop under the shadows of their cloak.

He patted them on the shoulder- or, well, as close to the shoulder as he could get, which was only a little over their elbow. “If you’re worried about people looking at you funny, then don’t. The people of this city have seen their fair share of weird things. I know nobody will bat an eye at you, so just relax, okay?”

Rue stared at him for a moment. Her gaze drifts to his hand on their arm.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Ack-! Sorry!” He quickly retracted his hand.

So they continued, crossing the city streets and rushing past people, cars, and skyscrapers of all shapes and sizes. The sun shone high as they all eventually reached an empty plaza, the area surrounded by yellow tape and barricades. The Warp Ring floated in the middle, glimmering in the sun.

“Oh, good! Looks like Nox hasn’t gotten this one yet,” Sonic said, relieved.

“He is… secretive. Keeps his operations as hidden as possible,” Rue explained, “Sending his robots to a populated area like this would cause too much chaos.”

Makes sense why he's never heard of the guy before, then.

They all jump over the barricades and carefully approach the ring.

“Alright, I'll jump in and grab it real quick so when can get outta here–”

A laser bullet shoots right past Sonic, missing him by a quill. He takes a step back, looking at the charred and smoldering spot on the ground before turning in the direction of the laser's source.

A Buzz Bomber flew out of a tree, charging another shot. More flew out of the bushes and trees that lined the plaza, and soon they had the group surrounded. Rue's eyes widened in shock.

“So much for being secretive, huh?” Sonic revved up a spin-dash, launching himself at the Badniks at full force, breaking his target on impact and speeding towards another, then another, then another.

“He’s never done something like this! Why now?!” Rue stretched out an arm, grabbed a Badnik that was just about to shoot at her, and slammed it right into another, crushing both.

Tails slammed one down into the brick floor below him, breaking it. “That doesn’t matter right now! Sonic! Go grab that Emerald before any of the Badniks can get in!”

“On it!”

The twins slashed away at some Buzz Bombers that had gotten close to the Warp Ring, cutting them into pieces and giving Sonic an opening to jump in.

He falls into a void of light, and the portal closes behind him.

-

Sonic finds himself in a dreamlike cityscape. Strange buildings reach into the skies beyond what is possible to build. Roads twist and turn into loop de loops and corkscrews and highways that lead to nowhere.

As soon as Sonic’s feet landed on the ground, he sped off, collecting rings as he usually does. But something felt off.

That feeling of claws beneath his skin tearing at his insides had returned at full force. He felt sick, his stomach churned, but he couldn't let it stop him. He needed to get that Emerald, and quick. He didn't want to leave his friends fighting off those Badniks on their own for too long.

It's not like he doesn't think they're capable, Tails has been his right-hand fox for years, and the twins and Rue have proven themselves more than able to put up a good fight. No, he just doesn't want to miss too much of the fun!

If only he wasn't in pain right now.

In the distance, he sees it- the light of the yellow Chaos Emerald. Like a star, it shines brightly. Just within reach now.

Sonic reaches out. He feels his claws start to rip through his gloves.

He looks at his reflection.

The eyes of a Nightmare stare back.

He grabs ahold of the Emerald. It burns the skin under his glove.

And in the blink of an eye, he was back at the plaza. He fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. The Emerald fell out of his hands and clinked all the way to Tails’ feet.

Tails picked the Emerald up before looking at Sonic with a worried expression. “Are you alright? You don't look too good…”

Sonic tries to push himself up, but his body shakes uncontrollably. “D-don't… Don't worry about me, I'm fi–”

He breaks out into a coughing fit, thick purple smoke coming out with each cough. His body begins to change, transforming him into the beast again.

Why now? Why now? Why now?!

When he came back to his senses, Sonic realized Specter, Phantom, and Tails were kneeling down around him. Tails reaches out a hand to help him back up. He takes it, and Tails pulls him up with the twins holding him by the sides and keeping him steady. Everything hurts, and his friends’ touch burned against his skin, but he appreciated their help nonetheless.

Rue huffed. “Let’s leave before too many people notice…”

He couldn’t argue with that. So the group made their way to the outskirts of the city and back to the Tornado as fast as possible. Thankfully, there wasn’t as much of a crowd in the way now.

Once he got there, Sonic’s legs gave out,and he fell onto the grass right next to the plane. His legs hurt, as if something stabbed into his joints.

Tails squeezed his paw tight. “You’re getting worse…” he said, ears drooping.

“I know…” He wanted so badly to assure him that he was fine, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He just squeezes Tails’ hand back. “I know.”

Rue glanced at him from the corner of their eye. They stood further away, as if to keep their distance. As if they didn’t want to look at him head on.

“He’s sick. Just as I am,” they said in a strangely somber tone, “And he’ll only continue to get worse until he’s no longer himself. Until all that’s left is the monster.”

Tails looked up at Rue, brows furrowed. “But there’s gotta be a way to fix this! I don’t know, some way to get the energy out, or–”

“There isn’t,” Rue growled bitterly.

“But… there’s gotta…”

Sonic sighed, pulling Tails closer and looking him in the eye. “I get you’re worried about me, but we’ve got more important things to focus on right now.” He placed a paw on Tails’ little shoulder. “Besides, we talked about this before, didn’t we? We’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll get better.”

“And what if you don’t?” Tails’ eyes began to water at the thought.

“I’ll just have to learn how to live with it, then. No biggie.” He patted Tails’ shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

Sonic noticed Rue’s eyes widen slightly at his response.

Meanwhile, Tails smiled back, but Sonic knew that unsure smile all too well. Sonic’s condition is uncertain now, and they both knew that. All they could do was hope for the best.

“Um, so…” Specter spoke up, “What’s the plan now?”

“Nox has the last three Chaos Emeralds. We figure out where he is, which should be easy enough if we just track the Emeralds like we’ve been doing so far, and we take them back before he can do anything drastic. Tails?”

“Already on it,” Tails said as he typed away at his Miles Electric, “Looks like there’s some really high Chaos Energy signatures near Holoska. There should be an old Eggman base around there. That’s probably where he’s hiding.”

“We leave tonight then,” Rue states decisively, “We cannot waste any more time. Nox needs to be stopped now.”

Sonic couldn’t agree more. So, as the sun began to set, they all boarded the Tornado and set off towards the snowy tundras of the far north.

[swtechspecs]

Sienar Intelligence Systems Scarab Mark VI Assassin Droid

Source: The Essential Guide to Droids (Del Rey, 1999)

[name-esfandiar]

Fantasy writer presentation

I started posting about the tolkien persian translations, but why I'm really here is to talk about my writing. I'll try to keep it short, but if it tickles your interest I'd love if we could follow each other :)

I'm a young french writer that's working on a universe since 6 years.

I'm truly into high fantasy and dark fantasy, although I write less of the second kind. I've got a number of inspirations, some less obvious than other like George RR Martin, Tolkien, Sanderson, even Lovecraft or french writers like Camus or Céline.

What deeply compels me to write is my fascination for the human character and its limits, delving into it as much as in an introspective manner as with tangible actions (e. g. fights that act as much as talking than does dialogues).

If your interest is stricken, you can continue to read to see in more detail what i write

This post is peculiar, in the futur I will talk more about my process, what i like and dislike, my philosophy, my goals, my inspirations, some analysis even ! I can't thank you enough for reading :)

My books

The universe I was talking about was at the start a ttrpg for my friends, but since then its has became a fully wrote novel of a high fantasy saga, the following up book that has been started and a new one that I'm currently writing, with the utmost desire of being published.

The Mirrored Path

The Mirrored Path is a high fantasy saga set in this said universe, where Blades rules over all. The four Blades, each sealing one of the Goddesses, hold a power than should've never came into mortal hands.

Three storylines are deeply intertwined.

Fansislas, a farmer, goes into the capital to address to the king of the Ances Holy-Kingdom the problems his city encounters, when at the same time a member of bourgeoisie, Gadolt, reveals himself be a Blade's holder… without the Goddess with it. Unfortunate pair, they will have to cross the continent in order to keep the secret and not be condemned to die, with only one goal : finding the Goddess linked to it in order to use it side by side with the Blade of the king against the Eimin Empire.

The smart and esteemed impress of the Eimin Empire, Alba, finds one of those Blades, and the Goddess linked. As her soul and memories merge with those of the Goddess, she fights as much now against Ances the Holy-Kingdom than a past one against her new memories. Between betrayals and various political games, she raise a host and swear to put an end to the Ances Holy-Kingdom.

On the other of the ocean, Alíyei, a wandering princess, two brothers, Belor and Toga, and a wandering prince, Shirvim — perfect in the eyes of Alíyei, symbole of all her weaknesses, pushing her to betray him to get rid of the pain — stride through the desert. She tries to raise a sell word company in view of the rising tension between the Ances Holy-Kingdom and the Eimin Empire, to defend her country against the possible war.

All are linked in a terrible fate, that they glimpse between dreams and visions, ignoring that the world is entering a new era.

The War's Song

Set in the same universe, 53 years before The Mirrored Path, this is a standalone book.

The story follows Aderon, king and Blade holder of the Ances Holy-Kingdom and his First Counsellor, Notora. Meeting for the first time in history another Blade holder, new players will emerge, a new tension stirred ; for Aderon is not the sole bearer of the divine power, the very reason the Crown holds its dominion.

Notora, seeing changes appear in her king, is troubled. It's her mission to avoid a war that he seems too inclined to declare, for any conflict between such weapons would be the end of any who does not bear them.

History will know this event as the one that stained the world by an unquenchable mark.

I hope you will like it or at least be interested, I'd love to follow and get to know more writers, fantasy or no ! If you're french, bonus points :)

I'll post about things more deep in the future as my philosophy about writing, my reasons of doing it, what I like and dislike, some analysis maybe and translations !

[gildcdwings]

HEY, i think i just saw CASSANDRA WEISS walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the THIRTY-FOUR YEAR OLD is working as UNEMPLOYED and lives in MANOR SUITES. given they are CLEVER but GUARDED, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that THEY ATTEMPTED TO TAKE THEIR OWN LIFE AFTER WITNESSING WHAT HAPPENED TO THEIR MOTHER, WHICH WAS SWIFTY COVERED UP and it keeps them looking over their shoulder. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to UPTOWN GIRL BY BILLY JOEL and you’ll know why they’re called THE LOST PRINCESS. ☾ .⭒˚ ana de armas. cis woman + she/her. heterosexual + virgo.

tw: suicide mention

FACTS (to be expanded)

Childhood:

Having grown up in the ultracompetitive household of the Weiss family and accustomed to being scrutinized for nearly everything, Cassandra was born and raised to be the perfect daughter, the poised and refined heir to her family business.

A naturally clever and resourceful girl, always eager to find new and creative ways to tackle different problems, Cassandra excelled in her studies from grade school all through her higher education.

She was particularly interested in history and art, fascinated with the evolution of the world around her as well as the paintings and media that filled it.

Cassie even tried her hand at painting and sketching herself, surprised to find that she was naturally gifted at the art form. It quickly became a beloved pastime, as well as having her nose shoved into whatever book caught her fancy that week.

It has always been difficult for Cassie to express herself freely, more accustomed to concealing her own weaknesses than being open and honest with her thoughts and feelings. It's something she still struggles with to this day, preferring to keep things to herself rather than confiding in others.

Present Day:

After attending college and obtaining her art history and library science degrees, Cassie was ready to take the helm and assume her rightful place at her father's side. But although she initially showed promise, her life path was throw violently off course the night her mother disappeared, leaving the once bright and quick-witted young woman too scared to leave the safety and comfort of her home, practically catatonic in the wake of what she'd seen.

Cassandra has become a bit of a recluse since that fateful night. Haunted by what she saw and convinced that her mother is still out there somewhere, Cassie can feel her mind beginning to unravel, questioning every little thing about her hometown and the family empire that surrounds her.

Practically cut out of the family business due to her fragile mental state, Cassandra feels oddly numb to the idea of no longer being the perfect daughter of the Weiss family. She has other things occupying her scattered mind.

After all, she's never been the type of person to quit. While her father and family think she's become a liability, only summoning her for familial social events, Cassie has been using the lack of attention in her direction to her advantage, exhausting every lead she has as she searches for what really happened to her mother.

Usually under the cover of night and with the help of a disguise to conceal her true identity, she takes to the streets of Las Vegas in search of answers and... something more. It's the first time in her life she's ever truly felt free.

STATS

General Info: Full Name: Cassandra Sophia Weiss. Nicknames: Cassie, Cass. Age: 34. Date of Birth: September 5th, 1961. Zodiac Sign: Virgo. Gender: Cis woman. Pronouns: she/her. Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual. Romantic Orientation: Heteroromantic. Relationship Status: Available, single. Alignment: Lawful Neutral. MBTI: ISTJ, the Logistician.

Appearance: Faceclaim: Ana de Armas. Height: 5′6. Eye Color: Green. Hair Color: Dark brown. Tattoos: Two butterflies on her left upper thigh. Piercings: A single earlobe piercing on each ear.

Background: Education: Bachelor's degree in art history, a master's degree in library science. Occupation: Currently unemployed. Residence: Manor Suites. Class: Upper. Ethnicity: Spanish and Cuban. Language(s) Spoken (in order of fluency): English / Spanish / Italian / French.

Identity: Label: the lost princess. Positive Traits: observant, clever, generous, patient, thoughtful. Negative Traits: uncompromising, blunt, judgmental, insecure, obsessive. Quirks/Habits: voice cracks easily, skin picking. Love Language: quality time. Hobbies: cooking, reading, studying languages, photography, painting. Likes: designer perfumes, gold jewelry, vintage furniture, fresh fruit, antique maps and globes. Dislikes: being underestimated, being misinterpreted. Fears: never proving her worth, feeling trapped.

[rainbowsaber]

So, I’m very excited for the new Kylo Ren/Ben Solo comic and to see what he was up to between TLJ and TROS. There’s a lot of room to explore his mindset during this year; seeing how we felt about Rey, Luke's death, and his place in the galaxy/First Order.

It’s come out that Kylo will be hunting down a survivor of Order-66 in this comic *Just 1 not a whole group* and I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and guess which Jedi that It will be and rank the likelihood of them appearing.

As a Prelude: I’m okay with there still being a few Jedi around during this era. In Legends there were Jedi that survived from the prequels well past Luke and George Lucas himself had plans of incorporating them into a potential sequel trilogy.

Also- who knows if it’ll be an actual Jedi that we’ve met. It could be a brand new jedi or a force sensitive who survived the galactic purge. With that said, let's get started!

Coleman Kcaj- One of the last surviving members of the Jedi High Council, we know that Kcaj had survived Order-66 and went into hiding. He was a high priority target for the Inquisitor but to our knowledge was never found. He’s only been a background character at this point so it would be nice to give him some spotlight. 6/10

Oppo Rancisis- Another member of the High Council that’s served on the council since the High Republic, it would be nice to find out what happened to him. My only hesitation is that he's been mentioned in Jedi: Survivor and it may be more likely that we see him appear in the 3rd game instead. 4/10

Lyn Rackish (4th Sister)- At the end of TOTE Lyn left the Empire behind, rejoining Barriss in the light and attempting to save her life. I assume she may have joined the Hidden Path and aided in saving other force sedatives. Seeing a former darksider who;s joined the light could offer some good story beats for Kylo. 7/10

Quinlan Vos- A powerful and popular Jedi master, fans have been clambering to see Quinlan make his grand return to Canon. As much as i would love to see him again I find it more likely that we see him appear in a hidden path show or comic will Ventress. 2/10

Tsui Choi- a Aleen Jedi who appeared in multiple Legends comics, he survived Order-66 and aided a group of Jedi to assassinate Darth Vader. He hasn’t appeared in Canon yet and it could be a nice spotlight for him. 6/10

Gungi- A Jedi youngling who we saw grow as a jedi in the Clone Wars, he befriended the Bad Batch after Order-66 and went to live on his home planet. Gungi (or any other of the young;ings) would be nice to see again but this doesn’t feel like the right medium for that. 1/10

Reva Sevander (3rd Sister)- My top pick to appear and meet Ben tbh. She’d be quite old at this point but there are so many lessons I think Kylo could learn from her. They both have a direct link to Vader and learn to grow past their darkness. Give her a white lightsaber PLEASE! 7/10

Sha Koon- A keldor Jedi Knight & the niece of Plo Koon, Sha managed to survive Vader’s attack on the Temple and went into hiding. Later trying to assassinate Vader in an attempt to cripple the new regime. It would be a nice way to introduce her into canon and there could be potential for future stories down the line. 5/10

Bultar Swan- We haven’t seen much of Bultar Swan in canon. She briefly appears in AOTC and we know Plo Koon finished her training after her master's death. In legends she’s another survivor of Order-66 that goes on to face Vader and it would be nice to see her make a full return to canon storytelling. 6/10

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 6: The Detritus

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Tarkin pushes Cassian too far…and all the rebel can do is think about Jyn.

Here's a nice long chapter for you. I hope you enjoy reading it :)

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 6: THE DETRITUS

Cassian was freezing, his teeth audibly chattering in his head.

Why is it so damn cold in here? he thought, his brain feeling slow and frozen like the rest of his body. Aren’t they cold too? he wondered of his captors. Tarkin paced back and forth, seemingly impervious to the iciness. The death troopers shifted their weight. He could hear their gear creaking.

The temperature had dropped so low that blood was beginning to freeze in Cassian’s hair and along the edge of his right eye. His skin was burned under the electrobinders. His lungs ached. He could barely see. Whatever the IT-O droid injected had practically blinded him, retracting his vision until he could only make out blurry images directly in front.

But the pain.

The pain was beyond anything he could have imagined.

And it was constant, a never-ending barrage that flooded every nerve, every cogent thought. He lost consciousness several times, but the droid instantly revived him, showing no mercy. At first, he had been cataloguing each scratch, trying to rationalize his way through the agony. It’s only a chemical reaction. They hadn’t needed severe tactics; the injections multiplied the smallest cut into fire that bloomed across his nervous system. He tried to reason away the pain, trick his brain into believing it was an illusion.

But that didn’t work.

Eventually he had vomited on one of the death troopers. Cassian wanted to laugh every time he remembered it. The trooper had practically yelped before punching him; it was a small price to pay for something so deeply satisfying. Cassian allowed himself to laugh out loud when Tarkin ordered the soldier from the room. “Sorry to spoil everyone’s fun,” he snorted.

The Grand Moff hadn’t found the incident nearly as amusing as Cassian. His response was to increase the interrogation’s intensity. The droid used a razor-thin blade to pepper the rebel’s body with small half-inch cuts. Nothing significant in an of themselves, but together, and combined with the droid’s relentless injections, they became excruciating. His neck, his chest, his face, his hands, his fingers, his feet; there was nowhere to retreat from the pain.

Tarkin kept asking him to identify everyone who had been with him on Scarif, showing him one hologram after another. When Jyn’s face appeared, Cassian had made a strange sound, somewhere between a gasp and a croak, that he managed to cover up with a coughing fit. Jyn’s smokey eyes, her mocking smirk, almost undid him right then and there. He knew he should stuff that part of himself somewhere deep and dark, cover her up and convince himself that she was nothing.

If he didn’t, he would break.

If he broke and gave the Empire what they wanted, Jyn would be next on Tarkin’s list.

The thought of her enduring the Grand Moff’s sadistic interrogation techniques made him sick to his stomach. He would endure this pain so she and the other members of Rogue One wouldn’t have to.

By now, Cassian was in a stupor. His head fell back as he struggled for air. Every breath burned.

For the first time, the IT-O droid spoke. “A suspension of interrogation is recommended.” Its voice was monotone and deep.

“Whatever for?” Tarkin replied, annoyed.

“Subject’s core temperature is dangerously low and continued hyperventilation of cold, dry air has put the prisoner at risk. If we carry on, his lungs will fill with blood and he will be useless to you.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Allow the room’s temperature to rise above freezing.”

The Grand Moff did not hide his irritation. “Do it,” he said, moving toward the door. “We can’t have him dying on us. We have far too much to discuss.”

——————–

He didn’t know how long they left him alone. He could feel warm air blowing into the room and he forced himself to focus on how it felt against his skin. Eventually, he stopped shaking as his blood and lungs returned to normal temperatures.

He wanted to sleep or cry. He wasn’t sure which urge was stronger. But he was afraid to do either.

For now, he focused on tangibles. He knew the warmth wouldn’t last, so he drowned himself in it, letting it permeate every sense.

It reminded him of something.

A warm breeze on a curved shoreline.

And orangish-pink sky.

Sand under his knees.

Scarif.

That hellish mission haunted him like no other.

All of this, everything Tarkin was doing to him now, was because of Scarif. Cassian’s heart tightened in his chest. He hoped the sacrifice was worth it. He hoped the Death Star plans were with the right people, people who were smart enough and brave enough to blow these imperial bastards to hell. He had already lost so much; anyone he ever cared about had disappeared like smoke.

Except Jyn.

The thought hovered in his mind, frozen on the threshold as he tried to decide whether to welcome or banish it.

Cassian clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly.

He let her in.

He didn’t care about the risk, didn’t care if it made him defenseless. He needed her strength.

So, he permitted himself to think about her.

She was unexpected. Wary, damaged, and bitter when they first met.

Just like him.

But, over time, as they proceeded through Operation Fracture’s labyrinthine twists, something came alive in her, something truthful, vulnerable, and determined. As Cassian watched her transform, something inside him began to change as well. She turned the mirror back on him, forced him to see how far afield he’d strayed. He had become so committed to the Rebellion that he’d forgotten how to listen to his conscience. He believed in the greater good, the cause as they called it, but he had allowed the ends to justify the means for too long. Jyn had not so gently nudged him back on course.

And he had begun to love her for that.

He hated that word.

Love painted a target, put everyone involved in jeopardy.

Plus, how could he love someone he hardly knew?

But ever since they met, Jyn was right alongside him, matching him step for step. Or perhaps he was trying to keep pace with her. He liked that about their friendship. She blazed her own trails; she didn’t need him, but she wanted him, sought his camaraderie, his advice, his laughter, and he did the same with her.

He couldn’t put a finger on how it happened. All he knew was that they trusted each other, had complete faith in each other, and treated each other with equal respect. He knew he could put his life in her hands and vice versa. Is that love? He wondered if there was a better word to describe his feelings for Jyn.

When had the shift from strangers to companions first started?

Perhaps on Jedha. He could have left her to die in Saw Gerrera’s hideout; he found Bodhi, who could have brought him to Galen Erso, negating the need for Jyn. But Cassian couldn’t leave her behind. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her the entire time he was trapped in that small, dark cell. After seeing Bodhi’s condition, Cassian worried Jyn might suffer a similar fate at Saw’s unpredictable hands.

Why had he cared?

Just days prior to meeting her he had shot his own contact in the back on the Ring of Kafrene. Why did he suddenly want to protect a resource with which he had no established history?

Cassian finally admitted it wasn’t all that sudden. He’d had his doubts about his own morality for a long time. The Rebellion had made a habit of asking him to kill, like it was an automatic given despite the toll it took on Cassian’s soul. The more lives he took, the more he thought of Clem and Maarva. Not that they would have opposed his joining the Rebellion; they both suffered cruelly at the Empire’s hand. But Cassian found himself thinking about what he wished life had been; something quiet and safe where Maarva and Clem laughed and were happy and grew old together. And every time he pulled the trigger on his blaster or sniper riffle, that dream slipped a little further away. By the time he’d met Jyn, he no longer had the refuge of daydreams. All he had was a waking nightmare that he desperately wanted to escape.

In Jedha’s holy quarter he watched a broken, angry young woman put her life at risk for a child she didn’t know. She took out an entire squad of stormtroopers with nothing but a truncheon—Cassian smiled at the memory. She fought desperately to save her father on Eadu. Then she faced death on Scarif, willing to give her life for something bigger than herself.

If that wasn’t worth loving, he finally decided, he didn’t know what was.

After Eadu. That’s where it changed.

They had been standing in the stolen ship as K-2 and Bodhi navigated them to safety. Jyn was frozen with shock, her clothes dripping with the acrid Eadu rain, staring at him from across the compartment. Cassian could feel her eyes on him even though his back was to her. Jyn’s rage was palpable; he understood it, but he was dealing with his own demons. She lit into him right there in front of the others, called him a murderer and a stormtrooper. He flared with anger, almost shouting in her face. They both had their righteous fury, their personal pain, their justifications. Even though he had been livid, he respected Jyn for giving him hell, and, more so, for not backing down when he gave it right back to her.

After that argument, he didn’t think she would ever forgive him, especially since his mission had been to kill her father. But somehow, she’d seen past her grief and judged him by his actions rather than his orders. Now that he knew her better, it didn’t surprise him that she’d forgiven him. Jyn was raised in battle and had an uncanny ability to sift through emotional detritus and get to the root of things. Ultimately, it made them closer, gave them an instant loyalty that could only be made through scorched egos.

When they arrived back on Yavin 4 Jyn still despised him. But when he’d backed her plan for Scarif and recruited a team of thirty soldiers willing to die by her side for the greater good, the anger fell away allowing them to finally understand each other. Up to that point Jyn and Cassian had been surviving their lives, moving from one moment to the next, never really landing anywhere stable. When Cassian leaned in and whispered, “Welcome home,” he wasn’t welcoming her to the Alliance, he was telling her that he was sticking with her all the way to the end. Jyn’s gentle smile proved she understood.

They set off for Scarif, ready to die together. The entire ordeal had been like a horrible dream, bluffing their way into the citadel tower, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast until they crossed a point of no return. When K-2SO died, Cassian knew their fate had been sealed. His droid, his friend, was the latest in a long line of losses. It was the catalyst that forced him to let go of any hope for survival and allowed him to fully commit to their mission, no longer worrying about protecting himself. He would protect Jyn for as long as he could, giving her a running head start to transmit the plans.

Then he fell.

Hard.

Well, first Krennic shot him and then he fell, hitting two durasteel beams before smashing into a grated platform. He broke four ribs and fractured parts of his hip and left leg. He lay inside the databank for what felt like ages; the pain was delayed but when it came it overwhelmed him. As he fought to breathe, he was startled by a banging sound and realized her could hear Jyn climbing the tower. He also knew Krennic wouldn’t give up until he killed her. So, Cassian forced himself to move, dragged himself off the metal grate and into an access vault where he found the lift to the spire’s top. Adrenaline dulled his physical suffering just enough for him to reach the data dish platform in time to see Krennic, his blaster fixed on Jyn, standing between her and the transmitter. Cassian didn’t hesitate; he shot the bastard that had ruined his friend’s family, who had taken her childhood, her safety, her parents. He wasn’t about to give Krennic the chance to take Jyn too.

Cassian would never forget the look on Jyn’s face after she initiated the transmission, sending the Death Star plans into the chaotic battle above before stepping to his side and grasping his arm, relieved that he was still alive.

He remembered the anger that entered her eyes and roughly pulling her away as she lunged for Krennic, their foreheads touching as he said, “Leave it. Let’s go.” She had leaned into Cassian and allowed him to guide her away.

They got into the lift and headed down to the beach. The long ride was a momentary respite, an unexpected quiet fraught with emotion as Jyn and Cassian held on to each other. She had looked up at him with large, open eyes, an expression on her face he had never seen, as though no one had ever come back for her, as though she didn’t know what it was like to matter to another person. He tightened his grip as Jyn held him up; in that moment, nothing existed but her. All the pieces of his life fell into place; every heartbreak, every mistake, every victory culminated here in Jyn Erso’s arms. The understanding gave him calm. He wanted her to know that she mattered, that he cared, that he was with her.

When they made it to the beach, they saw the radioactive plume rising out of the ocean, recognizing the work of a planet killer. Their steps slowed as realization set in. Poetic, he had thought, to be killed by the very weapon we’re trying to destroy. They fell to their knees on the shoreline, watching certain death rushing head on. As Jyn had said, their chances were spent. They were both afraid. What would this death feel like? Would they even feel it at all? They wrapped their bodies around each other, together all the way to the end. Jyn tried not to sob. Cassian shook with fear, whispering, “I’ve got you,” in her ear over and over. Then, out of nowhere a ship dropped in over the water, the side hatch open with Baze and Chirrut visible inside. Jyn hauled Cassian up and they sprinted, dumping into the shuttle before the hatch slammed shut. The sudden relief made Jyn burst into tears while Cassian’s wounds finally got the better of him. The last thing he remembered was Jyn cupping his face in her hands, begging him to stay with her. He woke a week later in a hospital cot, in a long room lined up and down with injured men and women. Jyn was there, right by his side. And she stayed every day until he was able to walk again.

After Scarif’s intensity, Jyn and Cassian were closer than ever. But they had not yet been able to cross the barrier where that closeness dissolved a life’s-worth of fear.

As Cassian sat now, covered in his own blood in an imperial cell, he wondered, if he had the chance to do it all again, would he tell her? Would he have the courage to tell Jyn that she mattered to him, that he cared about her, that he was hers, if she wanted him, all the way to the end?

He looked down at himself, wrists raw from pulling at his binds, skin burned by shock cuffs, blood running down and dripping from his fingertips onto the floor. His reality, as Tarkin put it, was setting in. This cell and pain and blood was all he would know until he took his last breath. Jyn was out of reach forever. He had to accept that. Cassian closed his eyes against the tears that rose to the surface, forbidding them from spilling over and running down his face.

He knew what he should do, but after Jedha and Eadu and Scarif, Cassian Andor could never let go of Jyn Erso.

——————–

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE SALT" - Jyn is ready to launch her rescue mission but all she can do is think about Cassian. Tarkin has no more mercy for Cassian and uses a brutal tactic for personal gratification.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3 - Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 "The Detritus"

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

READ CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 "The Reprieve"

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 “The Interrogation”

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

READ CHAPTER 24 “The Hand”

READ CHAPTER 25 “The Heart”

READ CHAPTER 26 “The Beginning”

[twinsunstars]

My Thoughts on Parts 1 and 2 of Ahsoka - A Discussion Post

Ahsoka premiered on Tuesday at 6 PM PT, and fans were raving about it. Fans of Star Wars: Rebels were overjoyed with the content they got. Let's dive into this week's premiere episodes, MASTER AND APPRENTICE, and TOIL AND TROUBLE.

SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE SERIES YET!

I'm starting off with the loth-cat because this little thing is just so ADORABLE. Sabine takes care of it so well, and it loves her. It must be protected. The cat will keep you company as you read.

The series started with a movie-like introduction, words scrolling up for us to read. I liked how they did that and gave us a little preview to what happened before we started off. Baylan Skoll and Shin Hati arrived and landed in a New Republic ship, attacking the crew with their lightsabers and rescuing Morgan Elsbeth, who was held prisoner on that ship. Baylan had at one point talked about childrens' tales in the Jedi Order, which indicates he was a former Jedi, Not much is yet known about his past, but we do know from the trailer that he had known Anakin Skywalker.

Later, Morgan revealed herself to be a Nightsister of Dathomir, which is interesting as she talks about her past. She had used Nightsister magick herself after she obtained the map, which amazed me. I really want to know more about Morgan's history as a Nightsister. The three are ready to rise to power and locate Grand Admiral Thrawn, wherever he could be.

Ahsoka Tano is first seen at the remains of a Nightsister Temple. The details of the Temple got my curiosity peaked, and it's interesting to see more of Nightsister culture.

Huyang, an ancient droid who used to live in the Jedi Temple and helped younglings build their lightsabers, is Ahsoka's companion as he helps her escape the droid attack. I love how Huyang is here with Ahsoka and giving her and Sabine advice, but it still intrigues me on how he is here. What happened to him when the Jedi Order was taken down? How and when did Ahsoka find him? I'm still researching about it myself, but I'd love it if anyone could share some sources.

Moving on to Lothal. This beautiful planet that was once ruled by the Empire in darkness now shines brightly under its sun, the loth-cats running in the fields freely. I really wish Ezra could have been here to see his home liberated and shining after the fall of the Empire. The day he comes back, he'll love it.

We got to see Ryder Azadi in live-action with his original voice actor (Clancy Brown) speaking to the crowds of Lothal. He stands in front of the iconic mural last seen in the finale of Star Wars: Rebels, depicting the Ghost Crew, the heroes of Lothal. The mural is on public display for everyone to see.The day celebrates the liberation of Lothal and Ezra Bridger's sacrifice. Alongside him, Jai Kell appears, who is now a Senator of Lothal. I loved these cameos, it got my Rebels heart screaming.

Sabine Wren was announced at the event to speak to the public, but she was a no-show. Sabine raced away with her speeder, and HER SOUNDTRACK? That needs to be out there now. No one can stop this girl. I love how Natasha Liu Bordizzo portrays Sabine, she really captures Sabine's stubborness and strength.

Sabine has added her artistic touch everywhere she has been; from the tower, Ahsoka's ship, her helmets, and everything. I love the little drawings of Loth-cats she's done. I loved the detail of her chipped nail polish. When she brought her armor out again, I loved that she added a Purgill on one piece, as memory.

When Sabine had turned on Ezra's message for her, I was both screaming and trying not to tear up. Eman Esfandi does such a good job portraying the character, and it's been so long since we've heard Ezra talk on screen. (I want the blueberry boi home now.) He had called Sabine a "sister", which I thought was adorable. Sabine smiled to herself hearing it.

(I know that some Sabezra shippers are a bit upset over it. I see them both ways, and I'm fine with whichever direction they go, and I like to imagine them either way as an alternate universe thing for the fun of it.)

Sabine had taken the map ball from Ahsoka even though she had told her not to (where do you think she got that, Ahsoka?), and managed to open it. Shin Hati had been sent by Baylan to go find the map, in which she succeeded in obtaining. Sabine quickly grabbed Ezra's lightsaber to fight against her. I find it interesting how she had made her own modifications to it but it is still Ezra's lightsaber, despite Huyang saying it is hers now. Shin and Sabine engaged in a heated fight, ending with Shin impaling Sabine and taking the map.

Huyang talks to Sabine at an infirmary on Lothal. As she recovers from her impale wound, Huyang calls Ezra's lightsaber hers and discusses Sabine's journey as a Padawan. I think it was confirmed that she was not Force-Sensitive, but I see some articles saying that she is, but she is weak in her abilities. I'm still a little confused, and I think she maybe is Force-Sensitive but doesn't fully have the ability like other Jedi, but Sabine has potential with her own talents and as a Mandalorian, as we know from seeing her in Rebels.

The duo of Hera and Chopper is always so fun to watch. I like how Mary Elizabeth Winstead embodies the character of Hera, and how she worries for Ezra. Once Ahsoka had returned with the map ball, hope grew in her that this could be a chance to find him. She has never stopped being the courageous fighter she is.

Chopper is himself, of course. And he's everything we love. During mid-battle, Chopper argues with Hera, most likely asking, "Hera, did you go through my stuff?" I love his energy and attitude, it's so funny and loveable.

Marrok was the name given to this Inquisitor before the series had released. There were many theories surrounding this inquisitor potentially being Ezra, but thankfully it's not. (Hopefully.) The character is said to be the very last Inquisitor, and has a mysterious background, Hopefully we can learn more about him.

Sabine is ready to return as Ahsoka's padawan, coming back to her signature short haircuits and rocking her Mandalorian armor. She visits the mural, tapping Ezra's face and looking at the mural with hope before departing Lothal with Ahsoka, ready to get the map back and find Ezra and Thrawn.

The massive structure seen being built towards the end of the second episode is said to be called the Eye of Sion. Morgan oversees it's construction, and I have heard it's something that will help bring Thrawn back. There are theories surrounding it regarding a Sith lord, but I'm still doing my research and looking up things. It'll be interesting to see more of what this is about.

Anyways, the premiere episodes of Ahsoka were a blast to watch. I'm excited for the next episodes, and I hope to learn more about Sabine's journey as a Padawan. (And Ezra better be home soon.) I also hope Zeb and Kallus show up soon, and Jacen Syndulla has to make an appearance. I also hope the loth-wolves would show up, that would be fun. But the journey has just begun.