#his name is too powerful

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

AU where the Axolotl sends Bill to the mystery shack for rehabilitation after spending some time in the Theraprism

(OG AU is by waty_mot on Twitter)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

[right to left]

finally finished This Wip from Ever ago and so now i ask you ever look into another dudes eyes and suddenly want to do whatever he wants

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[somewhereincairparavel]

'i hate jason grace because he thought he was worthy enough to compete with percy' I'm sorry have y'all SEEN jason. this man defeated a TITAN without weapons and his bare hands to the point the titan wanted to rise from the UNDERWORLD with the help of a GODDESS to seek vengeance over him. I think we can cut him slack for having some well deserved self respect bc I'd brag too wtf

[starry-bi-sky]

mmm throwaway conversation between Dan and Danny that popped into my head that I had to write out:

"You spent ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, then went back in time and fought me, and lost." Danny snarls, arms crossed and throat tight. His mouth pulls back to bare dagger-sharp teeth, and his eyes burn with the familiar thrum of ectoplasm heating up behind his eyes. "If I didn't believe you were half of Vlad before, I do now."

His other self -- and really, can he even call him that? He's half of Vlad too. Two halves severed from each other and welded together to make a new whole, -- snaps his head over to him. Wild-eyed and furious, he looks unlike the man Danny fought before, the one unruffled and untouched, unbothered by the world around him. It's familiar, but not like the way a reflection is.

"What's that supposed to mean." The Other hisses, matching Danny's scowl one-for-one with fangs much bigger and sharper than his.

But there's a reason lions fear hyenas. Danny matches the rumble in The Other's chest with one of his own, and shoves his face close to his. "I don't lose."

[beaulesbian]

Shanks vs. Kid, episode 1112 ||| Roger vs. Oden, episode 965

Divine Departure!

insp by @wyvernslovecake 's tags!

[eightspringdays]

The Boys

[basementloser]

dpxdc prompt:

danny is a fully grown adult now, but his ghost form hasn't changed at all. it still looks 14 years old. stuck in the hazmat suit he died in.

he joins the justice league as phantom.

he never tells them that his powers are ghost powers, or that he's half ghost.

when they finally find out his civilian identity, they assume he's basically just reverse shazam.

instead of a child turning into a super powered adult, it's an adult turning into a super powered child.

both danny and billy have to activate it by saying a very specific word/phrase. ("shazam", or "going ghost") (this is very much not true. danny can just transform without saying it, but they've never seen him do it)

[rhiangalaxy]

SY: Uh oh, feelings! (ft. a bonus doodle under the cut)

[ID: A Scum Villain Comic. First panel shows a 17yr old Luo Binghe with his protagonist halo shining behind him. He has one fist raised up and clenched in determination, a bright closed eye smile as he says "Bye A'Yuan! Bye Shijie! I need to go train for the Conference!" One of Shen Yuan's demonic butterflies resting on his ponytail. The next image shows Ning Yingying, smiling and waving goodbye to him and saying "Have fun A'Luo!" with a butterfly on her shoulder. She also has a purple flower earring and a red ribbon tied around one of her wrists. Next to her is Plant!Yuan, with a very flushed look and sparkles around him, his hair sprouted peach blossoms going "Mhm..." with his largest butterfly in his hair. This continues to the next page where SY with a more nervous expression goes "Jiejie I think I'm dying." NYY looks at him with her hand slightly down and a questioning look. The last image is in a chibi style with NYY comforting SY who has buried his face in his hands as she says "I don't think that's it didi..." End ID]

[ID: A MSpaint Scum Villain Doodle. Ning Yingying appears around a corner with a huge smile saying "Baobeis you're not gonna believe this-" Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing look to her in excited curiosity as both reply "Oh?" End ID]

[dinsbeskar]

Evil Will Find Her (Sauron/F!Reader)

He has waited so long to have you again, he cannot wait until you reunite in the flesh; or:

Sauron gets off on thinking of you thinking of him, despite the distance in time and space between you

Sequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Through Glass by Stone Sour, Closer by Nine Inch Nails

I'm looking at you through the glass Don't know how much time has passed Oh God, it feels like forever But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home Sitting all alone inside your head

Warnings: smut! goo!Sauron, male masturbation, mentions of oral sex (female receiving), finger/P in V sex, biting, kinda rough sex, praise kink and degradation (only a little, he calls you a slut, sorry, he is Sauron though, man idk), Sauron POV, he is super down bad and also recovering from being literal goo

A/N: I tried so hard not to use the word 'goo' lmfao, considering that's what Sauron is for half the fic! So this is the sequel to In the Dark of the Night, the scenes will mirror each other but not quite... you'll see.

Word Count: 2.8k!

After centuries in the caverns beneath Forodwaith, he had finally escaped. Not that he was any closer to reclaiming you, not in his current state, a seething mass of something dark and primordial, but he could at last seek you out. The only thing he knew was hunger, consuming everything in his path; the only discernable notion in his mind, clouded and murky, was to find you. He had only an inkling that some time had passed since you'd been in his arms, and even less of an idea of where you would be, but he was patient. He could wait, as he had waited many times before for you.

Creature after pathetic creature he gathered and consumed, slowly regaining shreds of his former self, piece by tiny piece, until he was able to drag himself, formless and near-liquid, across the frozen wastelands of the North. The only guiding light in his current unfeeling state was the vague grasping notion of you, waiting for him, yearning and enduring for him, and it pushed him on, gave him strength to endure when all hope was lost.

His mind reaches out for you, across plains and rivers, over mountains and into the halls you now call home. The first time he does this, he has not the strength to make himself known to you, and can only regard you from afar. It takes all of his efforts to merely behold you for a second before you vanish in his mind's eye. If he was capable of sound, all of Middle Earth would have heard his guttural scream of frustration. However, in his current form, he emitted barely a weak gasp masquerading as an exasperated sigh, before falling still and unmoving for at least a week, unable to drag himself any further after weakening himself for just a glance at you. It was worth it. When he awakens, he tries again, and again, the effort lessening every time, but it still feels like forever until he finally regains enough power to reach out and touch you, a tingle across your lips, a tendril of his will wrapping around you.

You're seemingly unaware of his presence, though you react to the stimuli he provides. Your thoughts turn more and more to him, even as you try to push them away, heart shattered after so much time apart, the heartache he caused you in simply being himself. The more you push them away, the more they come unbidden, in your dreams and waking thoughts, until you can no longer ignore them.

This makes it easier for him, you leaving the door ajar, to slither into your mind and wrap himself around your heart once more. You thought you had moved on from his betrayal, the knowledge of his true self having shattered your desire to have him close. Your need for him however was not so easily undone; no matter how much you told yourself you were better off free of him and his inevitable path of destruction, your souls were inextricably bound together, and no earthly power could sunder you. In his primordial oozing state, the terrible ache deep in your souls, yearning for the touch of the other, was all he could feel, and he neither knew nor cared from whom it originated. It was all he could do, limbless and liquid, to revel unthinking in this torment, to bask and rot in the empty void between you; for to suffer in your absence was sweeter than never having known you at all.

The only salve for your unceasing ache was his touch on your skin, his words in your ear, his fëa wrapped around yours as your fervent light battles with his blazing darkness. And you would have it. He swore to you eons ago that you would never be without him; you cursed him for that promise a thousand times, and yet the thought of his desertion was a knife between the ribs.

~

He awakes in a freezing wooden wagon, lying on his back surrounded by bloody detritus as the pale morning light greets his rebirth. For a moment, he has no idea where he is, who he is, or how he came to be here. It is only by looking around, as he takes in the visceral scene before him, that it all comes flooding back.

White hot pain in his shoulders, between his ribs, daggers twisting in his gut.

Darkness, pitch black nothingness.

Hunger.

Centuries of freezing cold, leagues of endless empty wasteland.

You.

He can't catch his breath as he remembers the last time he saw you, guilt flooding through him in nauseous waves, the cruel twisted things he had said to you and the malice you had thrown back in return. He can't even conjure his wrath, grateful that you had abandoned Forodwaith in your fit of temper when you had, lest you'd been caught up in the events of his coronation.

Coronation. He inhales harshly, revelling in the cold air in his sinuses; the tiny sensations for which he must be thankful, he thought bitterly.

Weak with the effort of reconstituting himself, he slowly pushes himself to sit, idly rifling through the possessions of the unfortunate peasant who had so graciously provided him with the sustenance he needed. He begins to root through the sacks and chests, looking for anything to protect himself from the persistent chill outside. He gathers some clothes from a sack in the corner, pulling on a cloak haphazardly; in doing so, he knocks a stack of letters that cascade across the floor. One catches his attention.

He skims the contents and realises it is an old love letter, the page discoloured and brittle with age. The scrawled, pretty words are trifles in comparison to everything you have shared, but the way it is signed lingers in his memory.

Forever devoted, your Halbrand.

He does need a name after all.

With a smirk, he tosses the letter aside and makes his way towards the sunlit back of the wagon. The moment his bare feet touch the ground, he can't help but grin with relief.

In fact, to say he is relieved is an understatement. He is a Maia, one of the greatest of all beings in creation, reduced to crawling in the dirt for centuries. To regain any kind of fair form is a blessing, and it is with appreciation now that he regards his limbs, feels the cold hard ground beneath his bare feet, and finds clarity in the brisk northerly wind on his face. His first thought, as ever, is of you. Where are you, are you well, are you thinking of him? He senses that you are leagues away, but senses you he does. Satisfaction takes him over and he laughs, uplifted now that he finally knows for sure that he is on your mind.

~

Day becomes night, and he eventually stops to rest, unused to needing to do so; he muses over his small fire how you'll greet him when he returns. How he longs for your sweet kisses, however they'll feel in this strange form. He clings to the memory of your breath on his face, your laugh in his ear, the scent of your sweat-slicked skin beneath his. His longing turns to rage before long; the time you both had lost would never be regained. Your long lives would give you every chance to do so, but he cherished whatever time he spent with you, and this wasted time would not be forgotten.

He would have his revenge on the Uruk who dared defy him, who must have assumed merely destroying his physical form would kill him. More's the pity, for Sauron's wrath was great and his will greater. It might take a hundred years or a thousand, but his revenge would be as sweet as the memories he had of you, of the time together that had been stolen from you.

Usually he has no need for sleep, but in dreams, he can join you, so he lays down on the frozen ground next to the dying embers of his fire and waits for you. It's not long before he finds himself in your chambers, breathing in your scent. He has been here before, tried to make contact with you, but in his weakened state he could do nothing but watch you, every night feeling like forever without your touch. Now he can make himself known, and he does just that.

You're lying on your bed, and he thinks to lie down next to you, as he has so many times before, and stroke your hair and tell you he'll be with you soon, that he is counting the seconds until you're in his arms again.

However you surprise him, as you often do, even after all this time. It's what he loves most about you.

You're clearly focused on something, brow furrowed, and before he can slip into your mind further, you cast off the sheets, and trail a hand down to between your thighs. He can't help but grin as he realises what he is witness to. You used to become so flustered when he asked you to do this for him, to touch yourself and think of him, and even now your cheeks are red. His previous attempts to touch you have been in vain, like catching smoke in the wind, the veil between you thwarting his every effort. He brushes a finger over your face adoringly and you sigh contentedly. Did you feel that? He wonders, because as happy as he is to watch you chase your pleasure, he would much rather join in.

Watching you sweat and pant his name always does something delicious to him, satisfying that dark ever-present urge to defile and corrupt you. Savouring every filthy noise he elicits from you, the whines in your throat, the wet sounds of his cock inside you, dragging over every sensitive inch of flesh until there is no thought in your head but of him and your lovemaking.

Your tiny whimpers become moans as he delves between your thighs, delighting in how wet you are. It used to fascinate him, when he first bedded you, just how needy and slick you would get, and he can't deny that fascination never faded. He can't get enough of the taste of you, would happily subsist on you for the rest of his days, and you would probably let him, given the unearthly sounds currently escaping your lips.

His attention wanders to his own pleasure as he realises he is so fucking hard, and he is leagues away from being able to fuck you until you can't stand the next day. He hasn't explored this new form yet, and briefly wonders if you would approve. The peasant who revived him was mortal, and so he seems to have taken the form of a mortal man; would that repulse or thrill you? If you knew it was him, you wouldn't care, he knows this, but he still wonders.

He pulls out his cock and regards it, not having paid it much attention until now. It looks like any other, perhaps thicker than his last, a little longer maybe, but he doesn’t have much with which to compare. You would be the ultimate judge in that regard, and the only one that matters. Most importantly, it feels just as good in his fist as he dreams of you, fingers inside your needy cunt as you moan his name. How long it has been since he heard it, his breath hitches and he strokes faster, keeping in time with the thrusts he makes into you, using all his regained powers to satisfy you like only he knows.

"Are you my good girl, love?" He moans out loud as he has so many times before, not expecting a response but-

"Yes, for you, only you..." You whimper, arching your back, reaching for his touch, and he melts, forehead pressed against yours as he moans your name into the dark. How fucking perfect you are, how eager you are to be his, so ready and willing to fuck the shadows for him.

How times had changed since you saw each other last. It thrilled him to know you still wanted him, needed him, had put any thought of abandoning him from your mind, had embraced him as your husband, your lover, your protector, of course you had, and he arched into his fist as you keened under his attentions, leagues away in your bed.

How could you think for a second that you were not his, wholly and completely? That he could not simply find and have his way with you whenever he cared to? You must know that he would rather be your undoing than let you leave him.

He wants only to ravage you, to pin you down and leave your skin painted with bruises, marking you as his, trails of purple and blue leading to your aching cunt. To possess you, body and soul, chained to him for all eternity.

He would build a temple to your flesh, no, of your flesh, and desecrate it with his seed, worship you as his equal, pray to you with tender kisses and the blood of your enemies, if only to feel your skin on his, your light on his face once more.

He wraps a hand around your throat and groans, running his thumb across your skin and collecting your sweat.

"So good for me, so needy, so fucking perfect, waiting for me to fill you over and over," he moans as he leans down, phantom tongue swiping your throat, the salt of your sweat inflaming his senses all the more.

He wants nothing more than to bury himself within you, to climb inside you and never leave, if that is what it would take to never be parted from you again. He wonders how much of him you could take before your screams of pleasure turn to pain.

You're both so lost in your lust, he has no idea if you're here with him or he's there with you, but he'll take it greedily and without question.

He bites the shell of your ear, nipping just hard enough that you react, hand flying to your face. He grabs it and kisses your palm, rutting into you like an animal.

"Always so good for me," he whispers in your ear, willing you to hear him more than ever, "look how you take my cock so well, the way you stretch around me, always such a good little slut for me."

You asked him once how he could worship and degrade you in a single breath; he'd told you they were the same thing.

Whether the timing of his words is a coincidence, he is unsure; you come hard, orgasm wracking your body while you moan and keen under his spectral touch.

Your walls tighten around him, you both hiss with pleasure, and he can't hold back any longer, pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. He lets loose a string of curses, spilling himself on his thighs, christening his new mortal form and gasping your name.

His tenuous link to your pleasure is broken, and he curses once more, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself around you, to fuck you through your orgasm until you're whining and overstimulated, too sensitive under his flaming touch.

~

There is no such thing as a chance meeting, every passing encounter preordained to fulfil a purpose, and he thanks the Valar every day that despite all he had suffered that they had put you in his path. Fate was no small thing and it had bound you all this time, unwavering in the face of defeat and suffering and war and Morgoth, all of which wanted to sunder you from him. It is with that thought that he presses on.

He meets a group of Men who are bound for a ship to take them across the sea for a new life. At first he wants nothing to do with it; he knows where he is going, finally going home, wherever you are. But the old man is insistent, that perhaps his path lays in the West.

There are no chance meetings. If the old man advises Numenor, then perhaps it is his destiny to seek the descendants of men who had destroyed his aspirations centuries ago; the long road of revenge will lead him back to you, of that he was certain.

[doomed2repeat]

I’m actually tired of Luke Newton not getting his full credit for the success of selling the season. This is not discounting that Nicola is a powerhouse when it comes to PR, but Luke sold that chemistry HARD during the promo run. Polin took off among non-shippers when they both came out for that first event way back on Valentine’s Day, with Luke looking hot AF and people became locked in on the way he looked at her. Every single social media post had comments about how HE looked at HER, and people getting curious because of it. That was HUGE to what made them popular, and it never let up, he helped sell their chemistry - to the degree of some fans placing unhealthy expectations on it, but that’s another story. During interviews, even when Nicola did most of the talking, Luke served up delicious fanservice by often being the one who would say the most unhinged bits that sent the fans spiraling- talking about how tiny their intimacy wear was, being comfortable naked, blushing and giggling. People loved it. On and off the screen Luke has been responsible for half the magic that’s made Polin so beloved, he deserves to be acknowledged right alongside Nic.

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[piromina]

OVERANALYSIS OF THE BURNING SPICE UPDATE TRAILER BECAUSE YOU KNOW I HAVE TO

we open up like this. pretty ominous words ... and you wonder which one is the demon and which is the god. burning spice and golden cheese seem to be very similar, possibly the most parallels that one could draw from the ancients and their respective beasts.

And then we get this shot. Obviously it's showing the soul jam, but there are also some things behind it. One resembles a snake ... APOPHIS ANYONE? this has THE most Egyptian mythology symbolism ever. if golden cheese represents ra, which makes one hundred percent sense considering her kingdom and wealth and radiance and all that, and the fact that she resembles a falcon, then the snake on this wall HAS to represent apophis. it can't not. heck, in some versions of the story apophis was A FORMER SUN GOD. like crk def knows what they're doing.

there's also this tiger character ... nutmeg tiger I'm pretty sure? something like that. they seem to be under the influence of burning spice, as well as all the creatures around them. they seem to be at a higher "position" than all these other guys, though. maybe a willing host?

and there is this. this is really interesting. the fact that Golden Cheese is the one to say this is very intriguing. as far as we knew, the ancients had no knowledge that the beasts even existed until pure vanilla's trip. he wrote the letter to dark cacao, and it was all "you won't believe this - but the place called BEAST-yeast has BEASTS in it!!!" and dark cacao was equally surprised. they didn't know. they thought they were the first ever wielders of the soul jam. but golden cheese ... seems to know a bit more than she lets on to the rest of the group. and a bit more than us. what the heck is the spice swarm?

also, the return (and release) of smoked cheese!! man I missed this guy. he seems to be working with golden cheese in this shot, but then what was his little deal at the end of the first teaser about? it does make sense, though, that he would try to at least be against burning spice - his entire goal is to get the soul jam because he thinks the current wielders aren't worthy - but to me it seems like he might have his own third side in this battle. he'll probably convince both sides he's working with them, knowing this dude. he wants the power of abundance and destruction, a second half he knew nothing about, the ability to make a change in the kingdoms and the lives of everyone in them.

and these two images are probably the most interesting of them all. they seem to be part of some sort of ancient papyrus or prophecy or something like that. golden cheese is yelling about the "great destroyer." could it be possible he was some sort of legend in their kingdom, a prophecy just waiting to unfold? could golden cheese have known about this threat since the beginning? could the beasts' corruption have been inevitable from the start, written in the stars ... and could the witches have known about it?

[buqbite]

Halo

[travelling-hydaelyn]

Lahabrea possessed Thancred before this questline even started which means these are back to back Laha interactions. Here is how he greets the WoL in the Waking Sands immediately after his Disney villain introduction.

Meanwhile in Minfilia's solar:

presumably he took a brief break from running Alphinaud's errands to go dramatically laugh at the WoL

[tanglepelt]

Dcxdp idea 112

Clockwork is tired.

Tired of the GIW targeting his son mentee. Tired of the Fenton parent’s threatening his existence. Of agent O and K.

Tired of the flashes messing with the time stream.

They may “fix” it. But it was always still a mess.

When an identity reveal goes wrong. Well he acts. Before it escalated, before Danny’s parents attacked.

Appearing before insert any flash or multiple flashes/kid flash. Clockwork demands they babysit his ward if they want to keep messing with the fabric of time.

This is the following conversation.

Danny: i don’t need a babysitter

Clockwork: there are people hunting you down

Danny: i can avoid my paretns.

Clockwork: and?

Danny: agent k and o have terrible aim

Clockwork eyebrow raised: and

Danny: okay okay okay so an entire group of guys in white

Clockwork:

Danny: fine and the entire US government. But i don’t need a babysitter.