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serafiel-jacobs · 9 months

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The King of Riddles is a bitch ass motherfucker (Fanfic)

New Chapter from my Carlo and Pinocchio AU series 💚

They were at the hotel again, it was good to take a break, going through the fortress all that once would simply be impossible, even with their strengths combined.

Polendina asked Pinocchio to step outside to the garden for a moment, apparently, he wanted to talk about a private matter. Carlo had seen many times that Polendina confided in Pinocchio often, he could tell it had something to do with Antonia but it was best not to pry, they deserve to have their privacy.

Meanwhile, Carlo was talking with Venigni, they were trying to distract themselves by talking about something else, by talking about something else it was mostly Carlo listening to what Venigni had to say, but ever since he was a kid he liked listening to all his talks about his strange inventions; in a way Carlo is also more of a listener than a talker, just not in the same level as his brother.

While they were having their talk, Spring showed up and they seemed to have something in their mouth, Spring was doing the things cats do to get attention by rubbing herself in between Carlo’s legs, he kneeled to her level and found that she had a key on her mouth.

A trinity key, the last one they needed to find The King of Riddles, Pinocchio must have dropped it without noticing.

“Thank you,” Carlo said while petting Spring, she was a very reserved cat, so this was unexpected behavior but very much appreciated.

Venigni complimented Spring and continued speaking, yet Carlo could tell that Pulcinella was looking at him, he found it odd but decided to ignore it for the time being. When Pinocchio returned he also returned with a gift, he had drawn his uncle Venigni and Pulcinella together with him and Carlo. Venigni was ecstatic and couldn’t stop praising Pinocchio, which made both of them get distracted and Pulcinella took the opportunity to take Carlo aside for a moment.

“Carlo, may we speak in private?”

It was odd, he wondered what that could be about, they found themselves a space where no one else would be around to overhear them.

“That key, where did the two of you find it?” Pulcinella’s voice seemed calm as usual but there was something different about it.

“Well, Pinocchio was the one to find it, this weird puppet kept doing this stupid game where he would ask him stuff and if answered correctly we would get a reward” It was a stupid game, specially when he asked his brother if he was a killer and Pinocchio said yes, Carlo had to comfort him, he clearly still felt guilty about the things he had done.

“I see, so I take it that Arlecchino has been tormenting the two of you as well?” Pulcinella asked.

As well? What did he mean by that? And how does he know him? “I suppose so, Pulcinella, have you met Arlecchino before?”

“Unfortunately I have, truth be told, it was him who took the lives of Master Venigni’s parents” Pulcinella now had a sad tone in his voice.

Carlo was shocked, he always believed the story that it was a robber who had taken their lives, yet as time passed some things of the story didn’t add up, yet it’s not as if back then he could really question others about it, everything was hush-hush when it came to the matter.

“Who else knows about this?” Carlo was now very intrigued.

“Me, Master Venigni, and your father” Pulcinella began to explain what happened all those years ago, and why that event led to the creation of the grand covenant.

Certainly hearing that a puppet was a murder would have caused panic yet Carlo didn’t understand why the deaths were covered considering this was Venigni whom they were talking about, his family was very influential and he had kept up with their legacy.

“Unfortunately Master Venigni keep quiet because…” There was a pause, Carlo could tell that it was painful for him to speak of this, “He was afraid that I would be taken away from him”

Carlo’s heart sank, everything had made sense now, and he reassured Pulcinella that he would deal with The King of Riddles once he found him.

“Actually I have a request” Pulcinella was revealing the reason for their talk, “I know this is too much for me to ask but please, take me with you when you find him”

Carlo was taken aback by the request and gave Pulcinella a look.

“I just want to talk to him”

Carlo wasn’t sure it was the best idea but he could tell this was something important, and the truth was they were close to his location; they managed to formulate a plan for Pulcinella to be able to leave with them without arousing suspicion from others about his whereabouts, but they had to be quick, too much time away and everyone would eventually notice. Once Pinocchio had been informed of the plan they set it in motion.

Back at Arche Abbey, they made their way towards the final trinity room, Carlo made sure to be at the frontline and Pinocchio was keeping Pulcinella safe from any upcoming danger, until they finally found their way to the last door, using the key to enter inside they found Arlecchino, or rather, what reminded of him.

“Well, well, well, I did not expect this” Arlecchino’s voice was cocky, even in his state believing he had the upper hand. “Why have Geppetto’s disappointments brought you here Pulcinella?”

Pulcinella stepped forward getting closer to him, Carlo and Pinocchio wanted to protest but in the end, Arlecchino was in no condition to do anyone physical harm.

“Don’t tell me you are still bitter about what happened all those years ago, why you should thank me, I actually gave “Master Venigni” something good, I bet he reveled in his inheritance” Even in his state The King of Riddles couldn’t help but to mock others.

Pulcinella was now almost touching him, he just stared at him for a few minutes, and the atmosphere was tense.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Arlecchino gave out a laugh, it would be his last, and to the shock of everyone else in the room, Pulcinella started to beat him up, badly.

So much for just wanting to talk.

Carlo and Pinocchio watched as Pulcinella threw his beatdown, they had no idea how strong he was, or maybe all the rage from the years had finally pilled up on him; to say the beating was brutal was a big understatement but it felt nice to see Pulcinella wipe up that stupid grin out of Arlecchino face real fast, and Pulcinella just keep going, Carlo and Pinocchio made their way just outside the room to give Pulcinella more privacy, they could hear Pulcinella throwing insults now.

Who knew that he was such a savage under that calm face?

In the meantime Carlo sat down with Pinocchio, his brother had started to draw again, this time it was a drawing of Polendina and Antonia, there were hearts around the two of them.

“So, I take it he likes her then?” In hindsight it was obvious.

Pinocchio enthusiastically nodded, but then his face went pale it was supposed to be a secret he tried to deny it but Carlo just laughed.

“It’s okay I won’t tell anybody” Carlo knew Antonia well, she was family to him, and he could also tell that the feelings were mutual, it was just that so much had happened; not to mention the fact that she got sick, thankfully she was cured and doing better than expected, Giangio had said that he wouldn’t have expected her to survive even after the cure and there she was, still thriving, she is a strong woman after all.

The beating kept going, and eventually when they stopped hearing the punching and kicking they made their way back. The King of Riddles was still alive somehow, but he was like a cockroach by this point, they had no idea how he had even survived his current state to begin with.

Pulcinella had a toy in his hands, reclaiming something that was stolen a long time ago, they left Arlecchino there, they didn’t even give him the time of day to explain himself, taking his ergo wasn’t even worth it, and they could tell he hated that, as he tried shouting at them to come back.

“You sure you don’t want to help us out while fighting?” Carlo asked, half-jokingly since couldn’t deny Pulcinella threw some good moves.

“I’ll leave the fighting to the two of you” Pulcinella’s voice was happy again, he had enjoyed himself.

They made it in time at the Hotel, Venigni had started to ask if anyone had seen Pulcinella, and he was shocked to see him with the toy in hand.

“But… how?”

Pulcinella got closer to him and hugged him, Venigni hugged him back and held him tightly, the weight of the trauma of that night, the guilt he felt over the years, everything had accumulated. They shared a moment together, a moment where they could finally feel at peace, that their past no longer haunted them.

Carlo and Pinocchio left them, they needed that time alone, and they had to keep going, but before leaving Pinocchio fastened his doll up to his belt even more tightly.

“Afraid that you might lose her?” Carlo could read him too well, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to her or you”

Pinocchio gave out a faint smile because they had to keep going.

They had to find Sophia and they had to rescue their father.

#lies of p #liesofp #lop #lies of p game #lies of p fanfic #ao3 link #this is in ao3 too #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p carlo #lies of p pulcinella #lies of p venigni

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odysseywritings · 2 years

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15 Questions

Tagged by @aquadestinyswriting thank you so much!

(Game here is to interview your OCs with these questions and how they might answer. Let's begin!)

Haven: Hey, how's it going?

Interviewer: Hello, Haven. It's a pleasure getting to sit down and talk to you.

Haven: Thanks.

Interviewer: No need to be shy or anxious, just be honest with these questions, and I hope others will get a clearer picture of you.

Haven: Vuhh, huh, yeah.

_-_-_

1. Are you named after anyone?

My birth parents had a friend who died before I was born. He was a rough, surly guy ready to fight anyone, but he was loyal to his loved ones and had a secret soft side. His name was an older thing called "Hvienzda," or Star. I'm glad they made mine more modern. He died saving my mom from a violent mob instigated by the local leader.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I'm not saying that in public.

3. Do you have kids?

I'd like to someday. I want to bring a legacy in this world, show them love, fun, and learning, and have them discover themselves and the universe.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Not as much as Reina, especially since I come off meaner and more literal than I think. Usually it's for guys too delusional to know it.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

How they treat vulnerable people and animals.

6. What's your eye color?

Blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. If it's a very cheesy B movie, it's fine, but I can't handle the gory ones anymore. I want to see the underdogs get their reward!

8. Any special talents?

The powers, being a monster, that stuff. But I REALLY want to show off my art and creations!

9. Where were you born?

In the mountains of Lucinikov. Lonely town, and I felt self conscious when I wasn't normal or tough enough to fit in, but it felt like a nice barrier from warriors coming in.

10. What are your hobbies?

Creating, petting animals, touching soft things, discovering, anything musical, games, puzzles, getting... loose in the healing waters.

11. Have you any pets?

No, I feel I'm bad luck... I'd rather care for animals when I see 'em.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Hmm, not a lot of conventional ones. My favorites are using our powers for games, like blasts in moving hoops, or fencing to get the other out the ring. Reina wants to keep wrestling with me for some reason... Oh, I also like Chessball.

13. How tall are you?

4 Glumgloons tall.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Arts or science. Anything to get my mind going and doing something.

15. Dream job?

Hmm... A, uh... A freelance scientist / artist / protector of the unprotected / dancing sensation / scavenger hunt master / first real life puppet!

-_-_-

Tagging: @avrablake @ayzrules @blind-the-winds @bloodlessheirbyjacques @howdywrites @perringwrites @pluttskutt

#haven #wip: starlight journey #in character #oc interview #writing game

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freeworldallahexecutivembaclass · 8 months

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Roc Nation and the man who bought my freedom from all curses on my life Jay Z bought my life at an auction for me to get my education , freedom from mind control the voodoo curse and the puppet masters and yes he promise a recording contract with his label Roc Nation placed in my hands through my library I got the message and I said yes I accept your offer your job offer Jay Z thank you I'm good at the service of providing music my art my content my work like any other artists in the music industry and yes I do got like 4 or 5 albums left in me I can keep going after that realistically I do see like 8 , 9 or 10 professional albums from me not to mention my tapes they hot plus with the pace I'm trying to release them is good and smart very smart Drake puts out his music all the time so with his mindset work ethic and artistry that type of work ethic is what I should be pursuing he did that to help me to show me just work just record and then perform so I should be okay Jay Z himself is still recording and performing music and a hosts of artists still going in longevity remember I'm professionally just starting my music career and it is my second call at it my second stage that's my gimmick and it works for me and apparently it works for Jay Z and Beyonce and his Roc Nation team and label it is like Joyce Meyer said the enemy is loud on its way out but he bought my freedom , coaches me through his program for me , I know I got the second stage theater I gotta do music anyway I was going to do it for fun why not do it with the best team and best boss and biggest boss of NYC Jay Z and his wife Beyonce promise to help me like all record labels help their artist , thank you and in honor of my man friend and brother Meek from Philadelphia I'm going to fashion and model myself after him not music content because he the man but in physical stature , I promise to stop consuming so much lunch and dinner here it is like sitting around getting fat and I want to get to a certain weight it is a certain way I want to be plus I gotta go meet royalty and other people and I want to be at a certain weight level the weight does not like fit me so I'm going to be losing all attachments on me it look good on a lot of people they comfortable with it they love themselves that's why they eat like that and get that big which is cool and look good to them I cant hate it's not for me women like me slim so I'm going to get down to cruiser weight because Meek is a role model of mines and it is a certain way I want to be and how I want my brand to be represented, black excellence like our boss and I'm happy to be announcing that I'm joining their legacy over there at Roc Nation .

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joshualunacreations · 4 years

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For Fil-Ams and other people of color, the "American Dream" often means toiling away just to obtain a small piece of the spoils that were violently ripped away from your community.

Second-gen Asian Americans like me grow up oblivious about our own histories because the U.S. education system purposely withholds information about it, and our parents try to outrun their trauma by never sharing their experiences, instead pushing their children toward an assimilation sleepwalk.

AsAms realize too late we've inherited a deal with the devil we never agreed to: we can keep our language, but only if we speak it privately. Our food, if we serve it. Our culture, if it upholds the illusion of America as a benevolent melting pot that saved us from ourselves.

But AsAms aren't the only ones ignorant of this history. Few Americans know of the Philippine-American War and the atrocities the US committed. Even fewer understand how the U.S.’s ongoing legacy of war, destruction, and colonization in Asia is a major reason the AsAm diaspora exists.

Americans aren't taught about how centuries of exploitation of the Philippines' resources by Western powers has led to most of its workforce immigrating and becoming a global servant class called Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs). Instead, they're taught that poverty is inherent to Filipinx culture.

Americans aren't taught about how the US installs and props up puppet leaders and dictators—like how Nixon, Ford, Carter, and Reagan fully backed Marcos as he ruled under martial law and committed human rights violations. Instead, they're taught corruption is inherent to Filipinx culture.

Americans aren't taught that colonization is bipartisan and Trump and Biden agree on their view of the Philippines: a de facto colony whose resources and bodies can be exploited with impunity for the US war machine. Instead, they're taught servitude is inherent to Filipinx culture.

Americans aren't taught about one-sided US military agreements used to keep an imperialist foothold: the Mutual Defense Treaty, Mutual Logistics Support Agreement, Visiting Forces Agreement & Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement. Instead, they're told it's for mutual benefit.

American's aren't taught about how many AsAms struggle with poverty, institutional racism, and violence. Instead, they're taught the Model Minority Myth—created by white people and propagated by all races—that says Asians don't suffer race-based oppression.

Americans aren't taught about how Fil-Ams give earnings to family, live in multi-generational households to pool money together, and how the Philippines' economy would collapse without OFW remittances. Instead, they're taught Fil-Ams have a high median household income amongst AsAms.

Americans aren't taught about how AsAm leaders are installed with white backing the same way puppet leaders are, and use their shared race to hurt their own and prevent true progress. Instead, they're taught that privileged, out-of-touch blue-checks are the voice of our community.

So if Americans aren't taught any of this, who will teach them? The ugly truth is that AsAms who try to speak up are often crushed into silence by non-Asians who benefit from the status quo, and by Asian puppet leaders who've been installed to protect their masters' interests.

Overall, being Filipinx and Asian means constantly navigating survival between rotating oppressors.

As an ex-Navy brat who grew up overseas, I've struggled with my concept of home and at one point believed "home" was a US military base. But maybe that's as Fil-Am as it gets.

(Please don’t repost or edit my art. Reblogs are always appreciated.)

If you enjoy my comics, please pledge to my Patreon or donate to my Paypal. I lost my publisher for trying to publish these strips, so your support keeps me going until I can find a new publisher/lit agent

https://twitter.com/Joshua_Luna/status/1134522555744866304 https://patreon.com/joshualuna https://www.paypal.com/paypalme2/JoshuaLunaComics

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iliumheightnights · 4 years

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Master and Apprentice | Anakin Skywalker x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker (Darth Vader) x Male Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Anakin Skywalker, now Lord Vader, finds his new apprentice.

A/N: This is Anakin not all cyborg. He’s pure, all natural sith lord here. Cause I agree, Hayden Christensen is hot af. Hope I did good, it’s definitely a change to write vader anakin haha.

…

Anakin Skywalker was dead, killed along with the rest of the Jedi. Now only Darth Vader remained. Of course, the emperor didn’t care. He saw Vader as a puppet and Skywalker a weakness and a threat to said puppet. Vader knew he would never be more than a puppet for Sidious so he did what he needed to do. He found an apprentice.

“Lord Vader, he’s here.” He didn’t say anything as he turned and made his way to the hangar. Arriving at the hangar, a shuttle had just landed. The ramp of the shuttle dropped and two death troopers began walking down, escorting a man in handcuffs.

The troopers brought the man to Vader. “This is the one?” The troopers nodded and spoke in their mashed up voice converter. “Very good. Leave us.” The troopers nodded before turning and leaving the man with Vader. “What is your name?” The man didn’t look afraid as he watched him. “(M/N).” Vader waved his hand and the handcuffs on (M/N)’s wrists opened up and fell to the floor. “From now on you are my new apprentice. The emperor will have no knowledge of you and your existence shall be secret to everyone but a select few. You will be both my instrument and legacy.”

That was the start of a long and dark journey. (M/N) then began his training in the dark side of the force under the watch of Vader. He was a quick learner, almost like he was waiting for an opportunity like this. Something grew within Vader that frightened him...fondness.

…

The sounds of screams and shouting had been silenced when (M/N)’s red lightsaber cut down the last rebel. He had been sent on a secret mission by his master to wipe out a band of rebels which had taken refuge in an old jedi enclave. Once he had made sure no rebel had survived or escaped he pulled out his communicator. An image of Vader appeared. “It is done my master.”

“Very good. Return to the executor. We have something important to discuss.”

“Yes, my master.”

Returning to his ship, (M/N) pulled out of the planet's atmosphere and set in the coordinates for the executor. Exiting hyperspace, the super star destroyer came into view. Sending in his landing codes he landed in his personal hangar. He took the secret tunnels to reach the bridge so as to not alert anyone of his presence. Seeing the bridge empty except for his master, he exited the tunnels and knelt before Vader. “My master. I have returned.” Vader turned away from the window to look at him. “The time has come. The emperor has called me to Coruscant, you shall go with me this time. You are ready to help me face the emperor.

“At last.” (M/N) had known this was the goal. He knew his master would be able to take on the emperor by himself with his own skill and power, but it would make it easier to have him as well. If anything he would at least be a distraction to be killed off. “When do we leave?” Vader walked past him to the doors. “Now.”

(M/N) went to enter the secret tunnel but his master stopped him. “No. There will be no more hiding.” (M/N) then stepped away from the tunnel and followed his master through the corridors of the executor. He and Vader passed troopers and officers, all stopping to salute or show respect for his master. He could feel the fear resonating off of all of them. That was the effect his master gave.

He followed Vader to a shuttle and the two began their journey to Coruscant. The ride was quiet. (M/N) piloted the shuttle while his master sat beside him. Both knew what was coming but they also knew they could handle it. They arrived at the Imperial palace, the old Jedi temple, and gave the landing code. “I’ll go first. Once it’s clear enter through this secret passage. It will lead you to an elevator emergency shaft which will lead you to the Emperor’s throne room. There we will end Sidious.”

He watched as his master disappeared into the temple and waited for the coast to be clear. Once it looked good enough he exited the shuttle and found the secret entrance Vader had told him about. The tunnel was dark and abandoned. There were no signs of any sort of activity inside, just what he liked. That didn’t mean he was going to let his guard down though.

The deeper he entered the temple, the darker and colder he felt. He was getting closer to Sidious, he could tell. His goal was within reach. He opened a hatch and looked up, it was the elevator’s maintenance shaft. Reaching the ladder, he began his long climb to the throne room. It wasn’t long before he reached another hatch and entered a vent system.

It was getting colder and colder. He heard Sidious was powerful, but that feeling was something else. It reminded him of Vader’s, but Vader was the chosen one...at least that’s what he thought. Crawling through the vest he suddenly felt himself falling and he landed on a hard floor.

“This is who you’ve trained to kill me? You’re more pathetic than I thought!” That voice, he heard it before. Sidious. He looked up and the hooded, wrinkled face of the emperor was grinning at him. “Watch him die!” Lightning shot out of the man’s fingers. (M/N) acted fast and activated his lightsabers blocking the lightning. What surprised him was that Vader wasn’t moving, only kneeling. (M/N) felt his anger building up in his chest. He pushed his lightsabers forward and shot the lightning back at Sidious, sending his flying. Sidious shouted from the ground. “Kill him!” The royal guards, dressed in their bright red armor, activated their spikes. He blocked each blow with his lightsabers. His anger reached a boiling point and he pushed the guards away before reaching out and shooting his own lightning at them. However, unlike Sidious, he hit the guards square in the chest. His anger and fury was so large, it made his lightning burn so hot, it turned the guards to ash. He saw red from his anger before he heard a gasp and turned to what caused the noise. There he saw Vader stood over the body of Sidious, whose head was separated from his body.

“You have done well. Just as I anticipated.” (M/N) was angry, but he knew he was always just a tool for Vader to use. He watched as his master took a sit on the throne. Now-” He was interrupted by an intruder. “What is going on here?!” (M/N) turned to watch an imperial officer enter the destroyed throne room. He recognized the man from holo vids. Grand Moff Tarkin. “What have you done? You’ve murdered our emperor! I shall have your head for this!” (M/N) turned to his master who nodded at him. With a quick motion, he slashed his saber through the Moff’s neck, ending his life.

(M/N) knelt in front of his master. “Our goal has been achieved, but your usefulness has not ended yet. I have decided to keep you as my apprentice as your reward and now I task you with one of the most important missions I have ever given you.” He waited for his masters words. “Find the traitor Obi Wan Kenobi and alert me to his location. I have...unfinished business.” (M/N) felt a wicked grin grow on his face. “Yes. My Master.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x male reader #anakin skywalker x male!reader #anakin skywalker x reader

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years

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Vader is Anakin, he’s one person

Vader is Anakin.

Vader is Anakin’s apathy in the wake of losing everything, and everyone he ever loved or cared about.

Vader is Anakin’s emptiness, when realizing he’s completely, and utterly alone.

Vader is the burden of the guilt Anakin carries on his shoulders; the bane of every life he has snuffed out, every man, every woman, every child whose blood stains his hands red.

Vader is Anakin’s explicit self loathing, his grand delusional self deprecation.

Vader is the suffocating feeling of having nothing left, nowhere to go, no one to turn to; nothing to live for.

Vader is what you get when you’re stripped of all love, all compassion, all happiness, and all hope - leaving behind an empty, aimlessly drifting shell.

Vader is the numbness of depression; so overpowering that you’d hurt yourself, hurt others, further your own downfall only to feel anything but pain and disarray.

Vader is the trauma, the torment, the anguish; the horror of existing in a waking nightmare of your own making.

Vader is Anakin without a safe haven, without reassurance, without boundaries, without restraint, without a hand to hold.

Vader is Anakin when left to his own vices, when unhinged, when enraged, when in despair; without a scrap of human compassion left.

Vader is Anakin; broken down into his most basic form, forced back into the mold of a slave, of a pet, of a prisoner - of an unthinking, unfeeling drone.

Vader is Anakin, unable to trap the people he loves in his own toxic, unapologetic, selfish and egocentric craving for praise and appreciation.

Vader is loneliness, is solitude, is desolation.

Vader is Anakin’s selfmade prison, a hell of his own making; a punishment for the sins he continues to commit.

Vader is Anakin’s inability to forgive himself for his own mistakes, for failing to keep his mother and his beloved Padmé alive.

Vader is Anakin’s indirect refusal to admit he’s at fault; his near rabid desire to point the finger at Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka, the Jedi Order - and blame them for his own crimes.

Vader is Anakin’s deepest, darkest desires - the lure of the Dark Side, the drug he can’t live without, the tempest that ate him alive and spit him back out more man than machine, crippled and warped.

Vader is delirium, is blood thirst, is vengeance.

Vader is retribution, is deceit, is a lie.

Vader is Anakin; conditioned both by Palpatine and his own hand into subservience, into willful blind loyalty.

Vader is losing the will to live, desperate to die but not brave enough to end it all by one’s own hand.

Vader is like walking in a haze, like a puppet played by his master, like a joke without a punchline.

Vader is Anakin’s reality, is Anakin’s present, is Anakin’s future; and Vader is the shroud that buries his past under heaps of misdeeds.

Vader is Anakin’s legacy, his cross to bear; the sole persona he knows to accept.

Vader is Anakin’s way to destroy every reminder of his own weakness, his own ambition, his own ignorance, his own faith in the wrong places.

Vader is rebirth, his death, is life; is an endless vicious cycle.

Vader is despicable, is deplorable; is the side of Anakin that can never seize to stoop to new moral low points, that has no regard for others, no regard for himself.

Vader is always on the go, always on a mission, restless; never allowing himself to dwell upon his own state of being.

Vader knows he cannot stay put, lest his demons rear their ugly heads, as they come to haunt him and remind him of memories he desperately wishes to purge and disperse.

Because he knows he’s not Vader.

There is no Vader, there has never been and never will be.

When he stops to think, when he falls headfirst into his own trap, into his own tangled web of lies - there is no Vader.

When he allows the memories to resurface; of Padmé, of Obi-Wan, of Ahsoka, of Shmi - there is no Vader.

He cannot deny what they meant to him, who they were and how they impacted his life; how they helped lead him down a path he cannot break from - there is no Vader.

There’s only him. His wife. His brother. His sister. His mother.

Only Anakin.

Anakin, who longs desperately for a past he himself lay in ruins.

Anakin, who tries so hard to draw a firm line between who he is, and who he was. What he was, and what he has become.

Anakin, who despite denying his own name, his own existence to absolve himself from his own guilt; will never forgive himself.

Anakin, who doesn’t even want to forgive himself.

Anakin, who opts to writhe in anguish for the rest of his life, who knows misery and pity is all he truly deserves.

Anakin, who sees the image of his own fear in the eyes of every victim, who knows none of them may ever fear him as he does himself.

Anakin; who is small, and broken, and lonely; ripped apart for all the world to see.

A goon, a monster; less than a man, less than human.

A failure, a disappointment, a liar, a murderer.

A brother, a son, a husband, a father.

Anakin, who hides behind a mask of indifference, of ruthlessness, of cruelty, of paper thin righteousness.

A lost, little boy.

A phantom, a ghost, a specter.

Vader is a man whose spirit died, whose spark diminished, whose good intentions were rendered useless.

Vader is what rose from the ashes of Anakin’s crushed hopes and dreams.

Vader is, when left to his own devices; unable to act, trapped in a body that’s more cybernetics than flesh.

Vader is nothing.

Vader is Anakin who’s lost his way, lost his soul.

Vader made a deal with the Devil, only for the Devil to spit in his face and drag him straight into purgatory.

There, he writhes; unable to eat, or breathe, or even speak for himself.

Anakin, who signed his own death penalty.

Anakin, who thinks of himself as a dead man walking.

Anakin, who knows that no matter how he tries to delude himself, he never can.

Anakin, who knows Vader is only an excuse; a scapegoat.

A joke, a pretense, a facade, an act.

Anakin, who couldn’t cry even if he wanted to - and he does.

Who wouldn’t die, even if he thought he deserved peace - and he doesn’t.

Who wants to be right where he is, at his master’s beck and call - and he endures.

Anakin, trapped under his own thumb.

Anakin, who can never repent or be redeemed.

Anakin; condemned, and convicted.

Vader is Anakin, and Anakin is Vader.

One and the same.

Indistinguishable, inseparable, intertwined.

Two names, one person.

Two aliases, one man.

Anakin, who would lose his last scrap of sanity were he to admit it aloud.

Anakin, who can never look himself in the eye for fear of what he may see.

He’s the monster, he’s the villain, he’s to blame.

Not Vader.

Only him.

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

Bringing back one of my most popular posts from the original account, figured it would be appreciated.

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serpentinerose · 4 years

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I’ve now published 300k words in the 2Ha Ao3 tag! Thanks to my friend on twt for this prompt to push me over the 300k threshold.

Prompt: Mo Ran and Xue Meng bonding in the 5 years Chu Wanning was in seclusion.

No spoilers beyond the current tl. Rated G. You can check out the rest of my fics on Ao3 @ serpentinerose.

Xue Meng thought he could spend the rest of his life without ever hearing the name “Butterfly Town” ever again.

It was almost funny, Mo Ran would say, that this insignificant town a mere half day away from the foot of Sisheng Peak would ever become something of significance to them. A town known for nothing but the captivating fragrance that snaked between the broken slats on windows forever shuttered, for the reddish earth that never produced anything of substance, soaked through with far too much blood for a town of that size. A town of ghosts and promises buried in coffins that shook under the weight of their own grief. Xue Meng would have never stepped foot there a second time, were it not for the fact that Butterfly Town refused to lift its shadowy wings from the course of his life.

Mo Ran would have said all that, Xue Meng thought, but not Mo-zongshi.

Not this tall, broad man in white who stood before him today.

They scrubbed the blood out from under their fingernails, washed the gore from their swords in the stream, and stared into water so deep that neither of them could see what had sunken into that great river. Butterfly Town laid quiet behind them; the disciples of Sisheng Peak had busied themselves with the task of carrying away the wounded and burying the dead. The mangled pieces of demon flesh littering the expanse of the earth behind them were quickly spirited away, sent into flames so high that those red tongues dared to reach toward the sky with its own stripes of red, dispersed among the clouds.

Xue Meng’s fire core had made quick work of that mess. The resultant acrid smoke irritated his nose; he sniffed, stomach clenching at the nauseating smell of roasted meat, sweet and succulent and altogether wrong.

“Hungry already?” His cousin’s voice held little trace of its former ever-present mocking tone, but there was a little humor in it all the same. Mo Ran’s white robes were splattered around the hem with various shades of brown, and Xue Meng wrinkled his nose, wiping away the mess that the yao corpses had made on the shining metal of his armor.

“Your defense needs work.”

“Your attack needs more work,” Mo Ran shot back, but there was no heat in it. “Anyway, what does it matter? You were supposed to be guarding my back.”

“I was guarding your back,” Xue Meng argued. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t manage to keep in formation. Did anyone ask you to jump ahead? Did you want to show off to the pretty ghost lady?”

Mo Ran barked out a laugh. “I’m surprised you could tell it was a ghost lady at all.”

“It wore a bracelet.” Xue Meng scrubbed his hands together under the water. Red swirls spread on the surface; the dying sun, too, cast its own redness over the glittering water, swallowing away the evidence of their work. “Anyway, it’s too late to head back to Sisheng Peak tonight. We’ll make camp here. The inn seems to be in good shape. They might still have some food and wine to offer us.”

“So you are hungry,” Mo Ran pointed out. “Fine, Young Master. Let’s go get something in that stomach of yours.”

The inn was spared, but barely just. The entire second floor was uninhabitable, but the eatery still held its scattering of mismatched, coarsely carved tables and chairs. It would have to be rebuilt, Xue Meng thought. But not by them.

They had already done enough for this town.

Whatever had remained of the food supply had disappeared far too quickly into their cavernous stomachs. Some of the other disciples had decided to wash off the filth of the day more fully in that dark river, and some had even found the ingenuity to catch a great bounty of silvery fish along the way. It turned out that three arrows and a cloak strung together with spiritual energy were quite enough to form a kind of net. The smell of roasted fish finally cleared that stench of yao corpses from the air. They had eaten quietly, and then, one by one, the disciples trickled out to the tents they had put up along the main street of town, now cleared of all debris.

Butterfly Town had never looked cleaner, Xue Meng thought.

It was just him and Mo Ran left in the inn. The innkeeper had generously offered them a bundle of blanket and a corner of the main eatery hall. Under normal circumstances, Xue Meng would have turned up his nose at the meager accommodation, but not tonight.

After all, Xue Meng doubted if they would get any rest at all this night.

Their dusty table was littered with the clumsy wooden pieces of what would somehow become a Holy Night Guardian. Xue Meng never had any affinity with the process of creation; the constant rumor mills of Sisheng Peak, powered by both its disciples and Elders alike, liked to insist that upon Xue Meng’s first meeting with his shizun at the age of five, he had destroyed an entire room’s worth of inventions with only a file in his hands.

Chu Wanning had looked inordinately pleased, as much as that was possible for his shizun. Or so Xue Meng was told.

Mo Ran’s skills also lay elsewhere, but there was no other choice. Their shizun still remained in seclusion at the Red Lotus Pavilion, shuttered behind barriers too advanced for either of them to broach, and the contingent of Sisheng Peak disciples who had survived this last battle had never trained under the Yuheng Elder.

It was up to them now. Carrying on their shizun’s legacy until he returned.

Sometimes, Xue Meng wondered whether Mo Ran’s shoulders broadened under that strain merely by adaptation.

They worked in silence; the candlelight flickered between them, casting large shadows that loomed over them, although the shadows seemed more contemplative and watchful rather than ominous even as this broken down inn bowed under the storm swirling overhead. The water dripped at regular intervals from the misshapen slats, scorched in some places and warped in others, and Xue Meng cast a clumsy barrier over their table. Mo Ran’s eyes flickered strangely as that shining blue sphere descended around them.

“What?” Xue Meng demanded.

A ghostly smile curved playfully at Mo Ran’s lips. “Shizun would have scolded you for this barrier.”

“You think you can do better?”

“Yeah, probably,” Mo Ran snorted. “But I’m not going to show off. This is passable enough, I guess, if you were a novice under Elder Xuanji.”

Xue Meng threw a wooden stick at Mo Ran’s head, who ducked it all too nimbly. The relief that flooded him at that moment was unreasonable. Xue Meng kicked himself, but his mouth quirked upward all the same. “Oh, fuck off.”

Mo Ran laughed once, and the shadows seemed to have shifted. The candlelight grew just a touch brighter. Xue Meng fixed his eyes on the notches he had made on that stick of wood; Longcheng was a proud, fearsome sword, more suited to the destruction on the battlefield than the delicate work of carving eyes and a nose into this wooden frame. It was a little ridiculous, Xue Meng thought, that wood could walk and move and protect. A mere instrument in their hands, imbued with their spiritual power, compelled to perform duties it had never asked for, and yet could never refuse.

He wondered if wood could feel. If wood understood what pain was when it was struck. The steel of sword and the steel of lightning. If, when the wood splintered under forces greater than it could withstand, it would also feel the cut deep within whatever sliver of soul had managed to form within its rings.

All wood had once been trees. Living things.

But that was impossible, Xue Meng scolded himself. Strange musings brought on by this strange town.

After all, wood was just wood.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Mo Ran said. Xue Meng swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed without his knowing. The distance between them, a mere table apart, had seemed as insurmountable as that between Sisheng Peak and wherever it was that Mo Ran found fit to stay for longer than a fortnight or two.

The twisted pieces of wood, discarded from the remnants of their failed Holy Night Guardian, lay on the table between them, next to a jar of wine that the innkeeper managed to scrounge up from the kitchen. They eventually did succeed in making a passable rendition of their shizun’s invention, and that wooden puppet had started its first patrol of the outer perimeter of the village.

It had a crooked little face with a crooked little nose, with arms slightly uneven and a body halfway between ugly and pathetic. Mo Ran had shrugged helplessly when Xue Meng pointed at the way the little wooden puppet stood tilted to the side. Nonetheless, it worked.

It walked.

It would fight, given time and opportunity.

“Oh.”

“There’s much to do in the world still.” It was as if Mo Ran wanted to argue the point for himself. He twisted the empty porcelain cup in his fingers, stroking at the hairline fracture that had formed on the surface of that fine bone after too many years of use, no matter how careful the washing had been.

It was simply the way of the world, Xue Meng knew. And in this lower cultivation world, the reality of their lives was filled with far more decay and broken things than what lay just beyond the border into the upper cultivation realm.

“Where are you going?” Xue Meng only said. The wine had not yet gone to his head, although he knew it would, eventually. “Where haven’t you gone yet?’

“Jianghu is vast,” Mo Ran replied smilingly. Xue Meng truly looked at his cousin this time; Mo Ran had changed in recent years, not the least in the expanding span of his shoulders or the widening of his back. Or the ridiculous lengthening of his legs. It wasn’t the simple outfits of white that marked Mo-zongshi out in a crowd, and neither was it that gentle smile that Xue Meng never remembered from his rash cousin’s younger years.

Whatever it was that had changed, Xue Meng could not put it into words. But he could feel it in the way Mo Ran looked at him, the drag of time that had etched itself in that faraway gaze, as if Mo Ran had lived at least two lifetimes and carried the weight of them on those shoulders.

“Shizun would return soon,” Xue Meng noted, taking a sip of his wine. By etiquette, he should have turned away, hid his face behind his sleeve, but there had never been any ceremony between the two of them.

Their backs pressed against one another, dampened with blood and sweats. Their faces splattered with the gore of their targets’ guts, the stench of fresh blood clinging onto their skin for days, for weeks.

If shizun could have seen them then...

Mo Ran’s dark gaze shuttered, and for a quick moment, Xue Meng could swear that those eyes flashed a deep purple color. His cousin’s lips pressed into a thin line so uncharacteristic on that face; and yet, so many things that Xue Meng had never associated with his cousin had begun to be inextricable from that figure.

Mo-zongshi, Xue Meng had heard. Sometimes, when he looked at his cousin’s figure from far away, those white robes picking up the slight breeze of late summer, Xue Meng could almost swear that it was their shizun’s image on that dusty road.

It was only the smile on Mo-zongshi’s face that had distinguished them.

Mo Ran was not smiling now. “I’ll come back before he awakens.”

“How can you know for sure?” Xue Meng demanded. “Have you been counting the days?”

With a jolt, Xue Meng realized that he had not. Four years ago, Xue Meng would have sworn up and down that his life would halt until shizun returned to them.

Each day that passed without his shizun’s commanding presence would have been too unbearable.

And yet, he bore them all. Days turned into weeks turned into months, and soon enough, four years had already passed. Life seemed to move on even when he least wanted it to, and Xue Meng thought he could reach out for the stream of time, wade his fingers through the soft water, and come up with the grains of sand that he had been searching for, undisturbed beneath that torrent. It was only time itself that had revealed to him exactly how foolish he was being.

The sand stayed. The water didn’t, and Xue Meng was carried along with the current.

Mo Ran said nothing, but there was a strange, enigmatic smile on his face. “I’ll be back in time, don’t you worry. You think I’ll let you take all the credit with shizun without me there?”

Xue Meng punched his cousin’s shoulder, thankful that they had taken their armor off for the night. Clad only in their inner sleeping robes, Xue Meng could almost believe they were back in that inn of long ago, refreshed from the hotspring, with shizun just a step behind them as they bickered their way back to their upstairs rooms.

It had been a long time since that inn.

“You know there’s a place for you at Sisheng Peak,” Xue Meng found himself saying without knowing why. The lump in his throat had grown in size; he downed the rest of the wine and filled their cups to the brim again. This time, his words came out slurred. “It’s still your home.”

Mo Ran’s face stiffened, and there was a shadow in that gaze that seemed to hint at things only spoken aloud between the last breath of the night and the first blush of dawn, shrouded in the mist that seemed to descend upon the earth for that particular instant before the sunlight cleared it all away. Xue Meng would have asked his stupid cousin what it was he still thought could be hidden between them, but Mo Ran already shook his head and smiled. “I know. It is my home. It’s simply not time yet.”

“You’re just hiding,” Xue Meng accused. He wanted to say more. Horrifyingly, there was a tight pressure building up just behind his nose, spilling forth as warm wetness that slid down his face and stained the cracks between the dirty wooden table. “You…”

He wanted to say more, but the words would not come out between the sobs that shook his entire body.

Shizun was already gone, Xue Meng wanted to say. And you would rob me of yet another.

How selfish of you.

How very like you.

Even the words spoken in anger, at their very worst, when the vitriol was too much to bear, still bore some remnant of truth.

Slowly, cautiously, Mo Ran reached out a hand for his shoulder. “There, there.”

“S-stupid Mo Weiyu,” Xue Meng managed, swallowing air between the syllables. “You are so stupid.”

“Yeah,” Mo Ran sighed, shifting closer. The hand on his shoulder seemed to emanate warmth far beyond that of an ordinary person; through that thin layer of fabric, Xue Meng felt a rush of something almost like spiritual energy from his cousin’s fingers, knowing that it was all too absurd to feel such a sensation when no such transfer took place. Mo Ran seemed to have that effect on people, much to Xue Meng’s chagrin. “I’m stupid. Xue Meng, come here.”

“No,” Xue Meng hiccupped, hugging the wine gourd to his chest.

“I’m coming over then,” Mo Ran warned. “Don’t hit me.”

“I’m not.” A pause. A sob. “Not promising anything.”

Mo Ran’s shoulder was solid, broader than his own. Xue Meng buried his face into it, letting his tears stain the white of Mo Ran’s robes. His cousin sighed, patted his back awkwardly, and must have looked upward at the ceiling. The slight jostle to his frame suggested as such. “I know you miss him.”

“Who doesn’t miss him?” Xue Meng snarled, but the heat was gone. The words were curtained in tears, shrouded in grief, and every syllable struggled against the jerks of his throat. “You stupid dog.”

“You haven’t called me that in a long time,” Mo Ran commented.

“I haven’t seen you in a l-long time,” Xue Meng stubbornly replied. Mo Ran fingers pried away the wine cup from his hand, set it down on the table, and resumed that stuttered task of patting his back. “Stop touching me.”

“Are you going to stop crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

Mo Ran pushed him away. “You’re not a child anymore, Mengmeng. Don’t lie like that anymore.”

Xue Meng’s lips trembled; he willed them to stop, but his body had never liked to listen to his mind too much. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Mo Ran said. His eyes stretched into long, thin lines, softened by an emotion that Xue Meng could not identify. The corners of Mo Ran’s mouth turned upward even as his brows were weighed down by something heavier than grief. “I miss him too.”

It was the first time he had ever heard his cousin admit that.

Throughout all this time. Throughout all the times they had fallen asleep curled up in a dirty tent in a battlefield, washing up in whatever water they could find, scrubbing the blood from underneath their nails, Xue Meng had never once heard Mo Ran mentioned shizun.

Until now.

“Ge,” Xue Meng tried. “When will he be back?”

“Three hundred and ninety one days,” Mo Ran murmured.

That choking sound came from him. Xue Meng realized belatedly that it had started out as mocking laughter, turned too quickly into something unnameable. It was something he had realized for a long time, Xue Meng thought, the way words sometimes would not suffice, and yet there was nothing to do but cling clumsily to whatever sentiment could be expressed through that inadequacy.

I miss him, Xue Meng wanted to say. You miss him, too.

The words had been spoken, and yet, they might as well have been weightless for how little they truly meant. Platitude. Useless sentiment that talked of everything and conveyed nothing.

Sometimes, the words that mattered the most were the ones least expected.

Three hundred and ninety one days.

“Ge.”

“Go to sleep, Xue Meng,” Mo Ran said. “We still have to teach the village how to use the Holy Night Guardian tomorrow.”

“It’s cold,” Xue Meng whined, and his cousin sighed. The warmth left; Xue Meng shivered relentlessly in his thin robes, and then, from behind, a warm cover had replaced the warmth of Mo Ran’s hand.

His cousin had taken the pile of blanket on the floor and wrapped it around him. “Don’t be a brat. You’ve withstood worse.”

But I don’t want to, Xue Meng thought helplessly, peering up under lashes ladened with tears.

Mo Ran regarded him for a moment, sighed, and ruffled his hair. “Go to sleep.”

“Don’t go,” Xue Meng found himself asking. “Ge. Don’t leave.”

A deep sigh. The candlelight was close to extinguished; the wax pooled on that wooden table, the wick almost completely submerged in the melted wax. The shadows on the wall seemed lighter; when there was no light in the world, the shadows, too, melted away.

“I’ll be back,” Mo Ran said, and Xue Meng’s eyes slipped shut.

Mo Ran would be back. Xue Meng knew this to be true. And yet, time ticked away without regard for man’s wishes, and the sand of today will simply remain under that current until one day, a pair of eyes will open in that Red Lotus Pavilion, and this time, the stream would push along whatever rested on that riverbed, sand and silt and stones smoothed by the ever flowing current.

Three hundred and ninety one days.

Xue Meng had been waiting for a long time already.

#2ha #2hanet #2ha fanfic #xue meng #mo ran #my stuff

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stormbreaker101 · 3 years

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So apparently the tags I put on my last post just kinda inspired me. IDK if this has been done before but uhhh some more expanded headcanons about my Drakeswap AU.

- Sylvia was originally the one who first fell ill, just like in canon. However this time, Malistaire forced the plague out of her with some advanced necromancy. The magic alone almost killed him, and the plague itself couldn’t be destroyed by necromancy, only forced to another host: Malistaire himself. He barely had the time to get to his own room and write a final message before he passed.

- When Sylvia discovered Malistaire, the entire campus felt her grief. It was her outburst of pain that caused the Death School to fall to Nightside. Plants ruptured the ground of Ravenwood and tore the school away. Malistaire died and now his legacy dies with him. She quit that day. Her eldest student, Moolinda Wu, took her role as the Professor of Life starting the next semester.

- Cyrus knew of Malistaire’s plan to sacrifice himself for Sylvia’s sake. He tried to convince him not to do it. Malistaire insisted, however. He could trust his life to the abyssal force of Death, but he could not trust it to be kind to his love. Malistaire told nobody else, and he made Cyrus promise not to tell until after he had done it. If word of Mali’s plan had made its way to Sylvia... Malistaire feared that Sylvia would blame herself for his death, and he did not want her to constantly life in guilt. It’s worse than grief.

- When we go to the Necropolis to find Malistaire’s spirit, he isn’t a wraith. Rather, his spirit is trapped within his dead but never rotting body, unable to go to the Other Side. The excess Life magic also forces some Undead and apparitions of pure Life to inhabit the tomb, which we have to fight through. We get to speak with Malistaire before he goes into the Knowledge Crystal that Cyrus asked us to make. He’s unaware of what happened after his death, and only knows that what he experienced, being trapped within his own body, was not how things were supposed to be.

- This time, Morganthe raises both of the deceased Drakes, but at two separate times. She raises Malistaire to capture the Lords of Night, and we do indeed fight him on Xibalba. She then raises Sylvia to keep the Lords of Night in line and to help her master the Song of Creation, since after all Life magic is derived from the Song.

- While questing in Khrysalis, we manage to free Malistaire from Morganthe’s grip, as part of our ongoing quest to undo the pain Morganthe caused the land. Perhaps the rematch against Malistaire takes the place of the Shadow of the Land’s fight, since Malistaire is also representative of our failure in Azteca. Sofia Darkside proposes this fight as simply symbolic, a test to ensure we are strong enough to use Shadow magic, but she doesn’t realize that this is THE Malistaire Drake until we defeat him. “Shadow of the Heart”, this Malistaire form is called.

- After we save him in Khrysalis, Malistaire tries to move onto the Other Side, but he finds that he can’t. Sylvia is not in the Other Side, he discovers, but rather still in Khrysalis aiding Morganthe. Malistaire joins us when we go to the Hive, because he senses that that’s where Sylvia is, though he cannot navigate that Lightless place on his own.

- Because Malistaire was under Morganthe’s thrall back in Azteca, and Morganthe herself is puppeted groomed by the Arachna Magi and Grandfather Spider, he is very suspicious and wary of Old Cob. That old spider’s magic seems too... familiar.

- After we fight through the Galleries and rematch with Morganthe’s many warlords, Malistaire stays behind to free the Lords of Night and to try and duel the shadow out of Sylvia. We face Morganthe alone.

- Malistaire is only somewhat successful in his attempt to save his wife this time. When Morganthe dies, Sylvia is freed from her control, but she still carries the hunger for vengeance that all wraiths have. Some part of Sylvia still remembers us as the one who killed her. She is the final boss of Darkmoor this time around.

- In the Dream Hive, Sylvia appears to us instead of Malistaire. The dynamic is almost beat for beat the same as in canon.

- The Mooshu BOX follows Moolinda, rather than Dworgyn, trying to apply for professor and Ostrame gets in the way. Instead of the quest being “The Three Deaths” it’s “The Three Lives”. I am very tempted to make a DreamSMP reference.

- The Avalon BOX is somewhat different from canon and it’s not just the characters have swapped around. Sylvia is still General Spitfire and she is somewhat antagonistic to us at first, but ultimately the Maestro is trying to use Malistaire to wreak havoc. In the canon BOX I’ve always believed that the Maestro is using some sort of manipulative magic on Sylvia to make her work with him: her school in the BOX is Fire like him rather than Life, and once we defeat the Maestro Sylvia says something to the extent of “did that just happen?” as if she isn’t fully aware of what she had done. So the same applies to Malistaire.

- Perhaps the Professor is aware that this timeline isn’t how things are supposed to go. That would be interesting. He could play a bigger role than just showing up in the BOXES event and for the level 75 spell quest.

#i wrote a thing!#does this count as writing #idk #wizard101 #w101 #malistaire drake #malistaire #sylvia drake #sylvia #wizard101 au #au #alternate universe #god how long did i spend writing this #most of this i wrote on the fly kinda #just a stream of thoughts and ideas #long post #leah speaks :3

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yumenosakiimagines · 4 years

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Mémoire Antique

Authors note: Ahhhh Im so nervous about posting this! I re-read Human Comedy last night and I was really inspired for some reason, but I still struggle to create for myself, so I don’t think it’s as good as it could’ve been. It’s an angsty Shu x producer! reader drabble that got a bit lengthy XD As a lil warning, this does contain some spoilers to Valkyrie’s current situation so be aware of that when reading! They’re not a 100% accurate though lol. As always, please do let me know your thoughts!

It felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest as I stared at the computer screen, looking past the little blue icon to check my reflection for the millionth time in the span of five minutes. Mika, sitting next to me in the small living room of the apartment he had recently just rented, let out a little chuckle.

“You look pretty as always, (y/n)-nee. Don’t worry about it.”

I was about to object to that when finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shu’s face appeared on the screen. He looked slightly confused, he was never good with technology after all; he was terrible at using his smartphone even, no matter how many times Mika-chin, Kiryuu-san or even myself tried teaching him. It was sort of charming, in his own weird way. How could such a capable and refined man be so bad at something so trivial?

“Oshi-san!” Mika exclaimed excitedly, eyes sparkling like a little kid. It was our first time calling him since he’d left for Paris, and just hearing Itsuki’s voice was enough for me to feel like crying. After producing for Valkyrie for a whole year, the summer spent without him had been one of the loneliest of my life. It had been hard for Mika as well; hell, he surely had it harder than myself. Starting with the new school year, he’d carry the weight of Shu’s legacy on his slim shoulders. From that moment on, it’d be his turn to nurture Valkyrie with all of his might, and my support as a back up. Shu had entrusted me with that; I’d have to watch over Mika, encouraging him to keep going, lending him my shoulder to rest if he was tired, helping him up if he fell. Without Itsuki there with us, who was supposed to do that for me, though? I didn’t know.

My relationship with Shu was… far from the typical idol/ producer bond. I never thought too deep into it, but in retrospective, we could’ve easily passed as lovers. It was never official, and we never put a label on whatever that was, but the kisses we shared quietly before performances, the words of encouragement murmured as we dried each other’s tears, or the way we’d hold each other in the solitude of the handicrafts club room after hours were undeniable.

“Kagehira, why don’t you bring (l/n) something to drink?”

“E-eh? Right now?”

“No, next week. Right now, of course.”

I nodded at Mika’s questioning look, and he was soon out through the door.

“You still can’t call me by my name in front of him.” I smiled, looking directly at him for the first time. Ah, it made my chest hurt. He looked nothing short of stunning, as usual. Even if I couldn’t say it out loud, my whole body, heart and soul ached for him.

His eyes looked softer, kinder than ever as he smiled back at me. It was a small and gentle smile that made him look like some sort of angel. But most importantly, he seemed happy.

“I’ve missed you, (y/n).” His voice was merely a murmur.

“I’ve missed you too, Shu. Are you having fun in Paris?”

“I am. It’s like the whole city breathes art. I can’t wait for Kagehira and you to see-”

He cut himself midsentence, clenching his jaw when he noticed his mistake. Ah, that’s right, for us mere mortals, Heaven was not a given.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Shu. We’ll see each other again sooner or later.” I tried to assure him, but my voice ended up cracking halfway through.

“Don’t let Kagehira see you cry.” In typical Shu fashion, it sounded almost like an order when he said it, even though I knew it was just his awkward attempt at comforting me. I hummed to acknowledge his words, unsure of how my voice would come out. I knew it pained him to see me in such estate, and in the back of my mind, I felt incredibly guilty.

“H-how am I supposed to fill the hole you left behind, Shu? I can’t even hold a candle to you.” “Don’t say such foolish things. You’ve always been much more fitting for that role than me. You’re more of a human than I am. I spent so many years acting like the master of puppets when I’m nothing more than an empty shell… But I’m here to change that. And maybe when I find myself… we’ll be able to make an ‘us’.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill since Mika left overflowed my eyes and it was like a dam had burst. They kept coming despite my efforts to wipe them off my cheeks, seemingly never-ending. The thought of a formal relationship with Shu was both exciting and terrifying. “I don’t know what to do without you here. I feel so lost.” I confessed.

“I know how you feel. Missing each other, longing for each other’s warmth is not wrong. Don’t let it consume you; consume it instead and use it as fuel to create. Create beautiful works of art and help those who feel like you.”

“I’m sorry, I promised I wouldn’t cry but…” “Sorry it took so long! I still don’t really have anything on my fridge so I had to run to the convenience store.” Mika barged through the door, panting lightly with a grocery bag on his hands, shoes still on and all. “Eh? (Y/n)-nee? Are you crying?” “I’m just really happy, that’s it.” I did my best effort to smile. Well, it wasn’t completely a lie.

“Tch, your hair is a mess. Carry yourself with more dignity, Kagehira!”

“E-eek! Yes, Oshi-san!” Mika squealed, a faint blush tinting his pale cheeks. I was sure he was happy though, since he was suddenly reminded of happier days.

We chatted the afternoon away, talking until the golden rays of sunset started leaking through the blinds. If I closed my eyes, it almost felt like I had gone back in time to the months we’d spent together, to the peaceful afternoons in the atelier, the happiest moments of my youth. Part of me wished to stay in that frame, eternally frozen in a happy memory, almost like a painting. But, as Shu would say, conformity is an artist’s worst enemy, so I’d have to move forward. I’d have to learn, grow and cultivate myself to reach him. Someday, I’d stand next to him again, as an equal, and maybe even a partner this time. And he’d be waiting for me until then.

#shu itsuki #enstars #ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars imagine

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eirenare · 5 years

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“The Rise of Kylo Ren” + TROS theory (with TROKR pics)

I’ll probably look like a clown in 16-17 days when “The Rise of Kylo Ren” #2 releases but whatever lol—after TROS I believe even more that the former leader of the Knights of Ren (Ren) is Ben from another timeline or a future gone (more) wrong

Anyways, my thoughts on this:

1) remember the outrageous “Ben sets the temple ablaze and runs away” from the Visual Guide? I’m sure it’s probably just even more retconning (like a ton of stuff from the VD), but what if it’s literal—except it’s just that the Ben who does it isn’t the Ben we know, therefore making it true while retaining “our” Ben’s innocence. Another option (painful but, I think, absolutely plausible) is that Ben himself accidentally set on fire the temple with his rage and sorrow unleashing a Force storm. However, the way the “prologue” of TROKR #1 ends (I’ll talk about later on in this post) seems kind of like a foreshadowing that Ben (well, “our” Ben) didn’t do it...? Kind of interesting, and hopefully we won’t have to wait until issues #3 and #4 (february and march) to know about that important detail

2) this interview with Charles Soule (the writer) and Will Sliney (the artist) dedicates, curiously, the first 3-4 paragraphs solely to talking about Ren—and the article, which is from the official SW webpage (an article called “Introducing ‘Ren’ in Marvel’s The Rise of Kylo Ren”), starts like this: “they call him Ren, but that wasn’t always his name”. Which is also how the comic starts:

... Tell me this doesn’t sound suspicious as kriff and like foreshadowing

And the interview keeps going like this: “Born out of the flames,” as artist Will Sliney puts it, the leader of the Knights of Ren in the opening pages of the new comic Star Wars: The Rise of Kylo Ren #1, arrives battle-scarred and wearing a fearsome, featureless mask — a blank expression save for a smattering of claw-like gouges. Concealed within is a charismatic leader, the exact type of person who would be able to seduce young Ben Solo away from the path of the Jedi.” Then they basically proceed to spend the first 4 paragraphs talking a lot about Ren besides talking about Ben (and then, lastly, about Snoke—and, fun fact: they knew about the Snoke twist of TROS beforehand), although I think they talk less about Ben even

3) Ben being compared to Anakin while Ren is compared to Darth Vader, except Charles Soule wanted Ren to read “like a more charming Darth Vader. “A Vader who is charismatic and who is appealing. That’s why [Ren’s] skin is burned and he sort of looks the way that he does. He’s embracing the seductiveness and the damage that the dark side does. Darth Vader, as impressive and imposing and terrifying as he is, is remote and cold and distant because he has the suit surrounding him. Whereas Ren isn’t hiding behind it. He’s someone you could have a beer with, in theory.”

4) more interesting interview stuff. “Designed purposefully for the new comic series, with issue #1 out now, Ren feeds the evolution of Kylo Ren. “The entire seductiveness of the dark side poured into one character engineered for Ben Solo is Ren,” Soule says. “He’s sort of a charming evil rascal that can be really fun to write and I really like where he goes in the series. But if Kylo Ren is going to take over the Knights of Ren, which we know that’s what happens, there should be some transition.”

Also: “I think the key to writing Ben Solo is to write him as a lost teenager who is deeply in touch with emotions that teenagers often feel,” Soule says. “He feels like no one understands him, no one sees him the way he actually is, he’s utterly alone and there’s no one else out there in the universe. So when he sees Ren, he’s like, ‘Wait a minute — maybe there is somebody like me in the universe. Maybe there is a path for a guy like me. Look at the choices he’s made. I could make those choices, too, and I could be cool.’”

So... This is interesting. We have Snoke manipulating Ben to go to him, at first making himself appear friendly, while on some measure Palpatine’s pulling the strings from Snoke (I don’t think he would be like a puppet with Palps’ voice, though, given that chapter of the TLJ non-junior novelization that has a lot of stuff from Snoke’s perspective, but who knows). But then, Ben Solo’s basically obsessed with Vader... and, apparently, this Ren’s a walking dark side temptation for Ben. Well... We’ll see what happens, I guess

Also, crying inside at reading that “wait a minute—maybe there is somebody like me in the universe. Maybe there is a path for a guy like me. Look at the choices he’s made. I could make those choices, too, and I could be cool”. If Ren really was Ben from another time seeking to change things (probably something related to Rey): the implications that this has, the emotions that this has, the power that this has

Interesting, too, that it hasn’t been said if it’s Snoke who’s “the master” of the KoR (yes, they do have a master on top of their own leader), but that only gets weirder because the KoR were revealed time ago to be only loyal to their leader and to the “Ren philosophy” (which also makes possible ties with Snoke alone impossible)—so, if Snoke and the First Order aren’t, then who is it? Palpatine? Still, again, there’s the philosophy thing of following only their group leader...

Oh and: the Ren philosophy sounds very intriguing and I’m liking it a lot

(For context of the next pics: there are two brothers, being one of them Force-sensitive, and both the KoR and someone called SecSec are trying to recruit them—but the non-Force-sensitive one kills the other, which means the KoR doesn’t accept him, and Ren kills him)

5) just after that panel, in this pic below they talk a bit about “the master” here, being Ren who says it. Also it’s interesting that, after that happens, the KoR part ends with Ren saying "let’s go find something to burn”:

After that there’s a page as if this kind of prologue has finished, showing a page with the logo of the comic and all that... and then, next page it’s Ben standing in front of the fire and ruins of the temple all shocked (a note here: on that page it reads “now” and the name of the location, and the “prologue” happened “long ago”). I’d say that really looks like foreshadowing...

Now the thing is... If the KoR are not affiliated in any way with the First Order nor Snoke, and the KoR is only interested in recruiting Force-sensitives for their ranks, then how come they could’ve arrived in Luke’s Jedi temple... just at that right time to burn it down? I mean, right, there can be coincidences, but— uh, that might be a bit too much of a coincidence, perhaps? Who knows...

6) interview intensifies. “Born out of the flames”, is how Sliney describes Ren—well, thought it was worth mentioning this because guess what mythological being is born out of the flames too. Also, funny the parallel between that and the publisher’s summary of “The Rise of Kylo Ren” #3 (scheduled for February 12th): “Soon, BEN SOLO'S path will end in a place of fire and blood, and a shadow will rise to take his place. He is with the KNIGHTS OF REN now, and they will welcome him, if he can pay their price.” Well, given that “our” Ben starts becoming Kylo Ren after what happens at the temple, and that they describe Ren (referring to the former leader of the KoR) like being “born out of the flames”... this does nothing to deterr me from believing this theory, to be honest

7) more from the interview. “ The creative team engineered some surprises for this charming dark sider, a foil in many ways to Darth Vader hiding beneath his protective covering. “You expect the dude hiding his face under a mask like that to be all messed up, particularly with his body looking the way it does,” Soule says. But in issue #2 we’ll see what he’s truly concealing, a reveal that speaks to Ben on a whole other level” … This whole paragraph, I swear. Sounds like when they talked in the times between TFA and TLJ about Ben’s face behind his mask, and about his unmasking. Also, the talk about the face reveal…

What kind of “reveal that speaks to Ben on a whole other level” could it be? I don’t think they’d be referring to that with something more going on in his face, as in, scars or charred skin. In fact, it wouldn’t make sense for Ren to cover that up given that he shows with pride his scarred body

And faces of men he might know? The probabilities just lower and narrow soooo much here. We have yet to see, however, if Ben gets the reveal as a kid or an adult, which could make a difference. Still, back to “what man could this guy be”, I just can’t think of someone that he’d recognize and have this impact on him... ... And now it’s when it’s a Ben clone from another timeline, lol

8) that big panel on “The Rise of Kylo Ren” #2 where the KoR and Ren are facing Luke, Ben and Lor San Tekka, and Ben and Ren seem to mirror poses:

9) this is jut something that came to my mind, but… It still bugs me to this day the phrase “it is you” that Ben says regarding Rey on the TFA novelization (when she calls forth the Legacy lightsaber), because Ben didn’t know back then about them being a dyad, nor have we seen any mentions to him having dreamt of Rey before or anything—so maybe Ben’s encounter (encounters? Still not sure about it) with Ren involved Ren telling him something that will happen in the future? Something which could also tackle that random “which girl?”

The sad thing, if Ren was really Ben from the future? Like I said in my previous post about this teory (pre-TROS): ... that Ben would’ve literally killed himself, and therefore made true what he told Han that his son is dead and that he’d killed him (which then is reversed in TROS with that “Kylo Ren is dead, my son is alive”). That would be such a kriffing trauma for Ben that I don’t know if I could stomach it, after seeing Ben’s death in TROS... I mean, we would literally be seeing another Ben die... even if somehow his actions meant a worse future would have been avoided

Anyways my brain seems to find fuel in angst (why), because now reading “Ren” only makes me think of Ben’s name but taking on the “R” from Rey if in that future something happened to her... (Or that the Knights would be called “of Ren” in reference to Ben and Rey)

... And now it’s when we’ve been played like a fiddle all along and the novels, with their differences/expanded material as hints (like the “it is you” in the TFA novelizations), are but one of the timelines. Can you imagine? To cite the TLJ non-junior novelization: “time is a circle. The end is the beginning”. At this point I believe anything could happen, specially after seeing TROS and how wtf it’s all that surrounds it...

10) to finish the post, the thing that made me start thinking Ren could be Ben: the hair that peeks from below the helmet looks apparently like Ben’s both in shape and color (an interesting detail is how the color of their hair seems to match in tone: in issue #1 it’s brownish for the both of them even though one’s surrounded by fire and the other by ice, and on the preview pages of issue #2 their hair is shown black). And in a universe so diverse as SW, and given that Ren and Ben are characters so connected, that’s a pretty... interesting choice. Here are some more images for comparison between Ben and Ren:

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ainarosewood · 4 years

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FFXIV Write2020 Writing Challenge Day 5

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @ffxiv-writers

Prompt-Matter of Fact

Allies

Warning Red Mage Quest Spoilers below cut. Specifically cutscene dialogue from the lvl 60 Quest Stained in Scarlet. Also somewhat graphic image below cut.

"...My friends...you must flee!" X'rhun rasped his voice scarcely loud enough to be heard.

Arya looked at him a moment then stood stating, "This is far from over!" drawing her blade.

Arna nodded the Viera drawing her own blade and floating the crystal on the other hand growling matter of factly, "By far, we will not abandon you Rhun. We are allies are we not?"

X'rhun looked at the two of them nearly choking on blood and worry as the strode forward blocking him from Lambard and his lackeys.

"Please....," he pleaded

Arna shook her head stating, "This fiend will continue his hunting until he is put down that much is plain. For the sake of the innocents of the realm, and our fallen comrades, we must do just that."

X'hrun just closed his glacier eyes giving a grim smile. Her tone said it all and he should have known. This woman always protected those who needed it. She was the Warrior of Light after all. The Viera had also taken well to Red Magic and was more an ally now than a student. He just nodded his understanding not trusting his voice at the moment.

"Students of red magic, are you?" Lamberd sneered, "Come then show me how you resist the advent of your own destruction!"

Arna looked over at Arya and the young Hyur nodded in understanding. She then lunged forward appearing to take Lamberd head on causing the man to give a feral grin. Then she feinted to his right and cast a Jolt II and VerAero in rapid succession dropping the first of the lackeys that were alongside their master.

Arna meanwhile met the man's blade head on and they began a flurry of thrusts and slashes. The Midlander soon became frustration at the nimble ease that the Rava was avoiding the edge of his blade.

Arya finished off the other lackey and then began to launch spells at Lamberd causing him to snarl in annoyance then rush the girl slashing her side and grinning in triumph.

"Oh no you don't, " Arna growled the Viera quickly casting two sequential VerCure’s on the girl sealing the wound as swiftly as it had opened.

Howling in rage Lamberd returned to striking at her allowing his anger to lend strength to his blows. The Viera in turn met his strikes and began to press the advantage against him all the while Arya raining spells of both mana schools down upon him.

Finally he managed to slice Arna and the Rava used displacement to get some distance between them before healing herself along with Arya's casts.

Lamberd growled in frustration realizing these two had determined the flaw in his ability. Feeling his strength wain he once again drew from X'hrun causing the man to give a strangled cry of pain.

The Viera's cerulean eyes darkened in rage and she then began casting her own attack spells causing the Midlander to have to desperately weave and dodge in an attempt to avoid being hit.

He once again tried going after the young Hyur who did her best to avoid him keeping distance and making sure he was not within blade strike.

Suddenly a gold tether wrapped around him and Lamberd belatedly realized he had given the Viera enough time to build her mana reserves for the melee strikes.

She rushed forward with Corps-a-Corps and then thrust deep into his abdomen with Repisote following with slashing him open three ways with Zwerchhau and then thrusting again with Redoublement. The damage was amplified by the enchantments that were brimming within the blade.

He was by now gasping blood burbling in his mouth and pouring from his wounds as she finished with a VerHoly. The searing pain of the white magic spell causing him to drop his weapon and scream in pain.

He found himself unable to stand and he heard X'hrun exclaim, "My comrades....You are champions of the red......"

Lamberd then had the satsifaction of seeing the infuriating Miqo'te double over as he attempted to stand the wound he inflicted still causing the older man pain.

Arya rushed forward crying, "X'hrun! You mustn't try to move!"

Lamberd snorted from where he knelt feeling his aether drain along with what was left of his life’s blood.

The Miqo'te forced himself upright giving her a reassuring smile stating, "I'm not dead yet lass....though it was nice that you thought to avenge me."

Lamberd gave a strained smile from where he was. Same old X'hrun ever the quick quip in response. He wanted to hate the man but, he couldn't. He knew his craft well and had passed it on to the two of them with admirable efficiency.

The elder Miqo'te then painfully strode over to Lamberd looking down at him stating, "What a miserable pair we make. The last of the Crimson Duelists, staining the ground scarlet with our blood.....I cannot even claim this final vengeance as mine....the honor goes to my students."

Arna watched the Hyur warily ready to leap into the fray should he try to use his tricks again.

X'hrun shook his head at his former comrade stating, "Ah, but there lies the difference between you and me, Lambard. Your puppets follow your commands without question, but they'll not carry on your legacy after your gone."

Panting and coughing up blood Lamberd sneered back, "Is that what twenty years of struggle has taught you? I admit the sense of justice with which you infect others has delivered you victory. On this day, at least..."

Instantly Arna's weapon was redrawn and she stood poised to strike. X'hrun raised a hand to her giving Lamberd a quizzical look.

The Midlander turned looking over at the young Hyur standing near, "But the fates are know for their spiteful twists of fortune. Take this Arya of yours....."

As if on que in some mummer's play the girl staggered before shaking her head stating, "...I'm fine. It was a trying battle, is all."

Lamberd let out a wet chuckle, "Hm, hm, hm....Will this be the injustice which breaks you? A pity I will miss...your suffering..."

Arna let out a growl and made ready to strike down the dying Hyur. Only for him to collapse the last of his life spent with those ominous final words.

As X'hrun commented to Arya about what the man had said and she reassured him she was alright Arna couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

After all they had found Arya destine to join Lamberd's mindless cabal with most of her memories lost. What if there were spells of preparation that had been put in place? Could these have a lasting effect that would be what the bastard was eluding to.

The Viera then shook herself as X'hrun nearly fell flat on his face attempting to walk away. Swiftly she got to his side supporting him and keeping an eye on the tottering Arya as they made their way back to the Toll.

#FFXIV #FFXIVWrite2020 #OC Arna Iryut #Viera #Rava #Primal Data Center #Hyperion #Wol/X'hrun Tia #Red Mage #Red Mage Quest Spoilers

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wits-writing · 5 years

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Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (Movie Review SPOILERS)

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, directed by J.J. Abrams with a screenplay by Abrams and Chris Terrio, has the most fun being a capital-A Adventure movie of any Star Wars movie in a while. The majority of the movie’s first two acts is comprised of a treasure hunt for a Sith artifact. The main trio, Rey (Daisy Ridley), Finn (John Boyega) and Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) are in a race against time before Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) and the First Order launch their final strike, with the artifact being the one thing that could help the Resistance strike first. That part of the story, on a pure visuals and spectacle level, has some of the best action beats in all of Star Wars, including a speeder chase to rival the classic one from Return of the Jedi.

Enhanced by Dan Mindel’s cinematography and John Williams’s expectedly excellent score, if that quest was all there was to the movie, I’d be more than happy to call this a satisfying movie and conclusion to the story that preceded it in The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. However, that’s not all there is to it and what else there is takes away from what does work in favor of a more convoluted narrative. One that I find more frustrating the more I’ve thought about it, even as I tried to enjoy what I could from it as it played out. To explain why, I’ll need to go into some spoilers, but I’ll save the big one for the end of the review.

[Full Review and SPOILERS Under the Cut]

The Rise of Skywalker had two possible directions for how it could close out the story that was set into motion back in 2015:

Focus on being a finale to the Sequel Trilogy itself

Focus on being a finale to “The Skywalker Saga” as a whole

While doing a bit of both was unavoidable in a situation like this, TROS defaults to the Door Number 2. It gets in the way of closing out the narrative of characters that aren’t as directly connected to the Jedi/Sith conflict that drives the “Skywalker” narrative. It’s a problem that goes back to this movie’s central hook, a move I’ve been skeptical of since the first trailer dropped; the return of Emperor Palpatine.

One smart thing about Sheevy-boy’s presence in this movie is that they don’t treat it like a twist. In fact, it’s the first thing seen in TROS’s title crawl. Everything that comes after that is where things start to come apart at the seams in irrevocable ways. He doesn’t have a real dynamic with any of the new characters, to the point they retcon in connections. McDiarmid doesn’t seem particularly awake, he’s been brought back to serve as a glorified lore-delivery service and to artificially escalate a conflict that didn’t need it. He shows up, gives Kylo Ren the “Join me and we can rule… etc.” spiel and exposits the previously mentioned retcons about how he’s been the true puppet master all along. If you’re framing this story as the end to the nine “Episode” movies, the Emperor who started this whole thing by pulling strings from the shadows coming back to reveal he was still doing that in these new movies makes a little sense. Taking this only as an extension of The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi, two films I feel work as wonderful companion pieces, it’s clumsy and reductive.

When it comes to the journeys of the characters that have been here for the previous movies, it’s a mixed bag. Poe’s been going through a sort of crisis of faith since the last time we saw him. Watching the First Order overtake the galaxy between movies, he’s lost his belief that the Resistance was ever worth being a part of if no one’s willing to stand up alongside them. He goes through this doubt as the story takes the audience into a look at his background. We meet an old friend of his, Zorii (Keri Russell), who resents him for ever joining the Resistance in the first place. Her scenes with Poe put his internal conflict of what he thinks versus what he wants to believe in place. The way this internal conflict gets to resolve makes Poe’s story feel the most complete of the main trio in this movie.

On the other side of the spectrum, Finn’s story feels emblematic of the movie’s problems, similarly split between two focuses. One of them is a barely present arc about his connection with Rey. There are multiple points in the movie where he says he “needs to tell her” something and it never resolves. Between those moments the only scenes between Rey and Finn are her rebuking his offers to talk about her problems. It’s a disappointing display for two characters whose friendship has been a motivating factor for both since The Force Awakens. The other side of Finn’s story comes late into TROS’s runtime, the discovery of other Storm Trooper deserters. Getting to not feel alone about what he did anymore would have been a great starting point for his story in this movie, but it’s introduced so late in the game that it feels tacked on to introduce the, admittedly cool, leader of the deserters, Jannah (Naomi Ackie). Nothing about Finn gets to coalesce by the end of this movie, he’s left with two loose threads and nothing tied up.

The good stuff from Poe and Finn’s arcs gets sidelined throughout the movie to focus on new wrinkles added to the story between Rey and Kylo Ren. A lot of my problems with Palpatine’s involvement in this plot most heavily effect this part of the story. After taking his place as a Supreme Leader, de facto head villain of this trilogy, by the end of the last movie, Kylo’s arc goes backwards and he’s someone else’s attack dog again. Promises from Palpatine to rule over a “Final Order” if he’s able to deliver Rey to the Emperor drive him. We replace a villain like Kylo, who’s been choosing the Dark every step of the way despite “the call to the Light”, with a mustache twirler. All of this to serve the start of a redemption for him and a retcon to Rey’s backstory that feels more in service of the “Skywalker Saga” than her personal narrative.

[Major SPOILER after this point]

Rey begins the movie in the middle of Force training based on the books she found in The Last Jedi, frustrated with her inability to connect with the full legacy of the Jedi. It’s all framed under this idea that she’s somehow “afraid of who she is” and that’s before the full retcon… er, reveal.

[Final SPOILER warning, for real!]

Rey is revealed to have been Palpatine’s granddaughter the entire time. This decision from Terrio, Abrams and everyone else credited with the story for this movie shifts the focus of her story. She’s no longer uncertain of her place yet ready to forge it for herself, but instead she gets to be conflicted about the potential for falling to the Dark being in her blood. I was willing to give this a chance, like everything in this movie, but there’s nothing more there beyond the same temptations to the Dark Side we’ve seen in the Star Wars movies before. The final fight between Rey and Palpatine works overtime to add dramatic heft and make it feel like a culmination of nine movies, while utterly failing to be the culmination of this trilogy or just The Rise of Skywalker.

I’m frustrated while writing this, because I can acknowledge strong points to The Rise of Skywalker, some scenes on their own are the best put together in the history of this series. But I keep coming back to how what got shoehorned in for this final entry in the Sequel Trilogy left me feeling empty.

If you like what you’ve read here, please like/reblog or share elsewhere online, follow me on Twitter (@WC_WIT), and consider throwing some support my way at either Ko-Fi.com or Patreon.com at the extension “/witswriting”

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bedlamgames · 4 years

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Q&A #106

Today we’ve got humans masquerading as dwarves, learning to dance, bimbos, girly goblins not being girly enough, an extended digression on titles, and more.

[ Anonymous said:] Bug for NH 0.912: The Female Fallen Dwarf portrait shows the Female Fallen Human portrait when selecting your slaver. I downloaded the 3 times and checked it is was on a fresh start or just because of quick restart, but it always appears this way.

- That’s because there currently isn’t one for that combo so the current fallen lady human portrait is needing to work overtime. Do have some good news on that front. I’ve been trying to work out for ages what I was going to do with the portaits that need all these variants as it’s a lot of content needed. However I think I’ve found someone now though who might be up for taking on the challenge and they’ve started work on their first set of portrait+variations.

[ Anonymous said:] [no haven 0.912] so I have the harmony trait, and just had a start with 3 normal humans and 1 centaur, I thought harmony was supposed to make the field of starting slavers broader?

- It does increase the variation however humans are still relatively common so you’re still going to see more of them than many of the other races.

[ Anonymous said:] [no haven 0.912] would it be possible to make the strict supervision(sub) and its dom counterpart able to assign slavers to the MC? I kinda want to just have slavers as my personal subby bitches for dual assignments etc., also a bug seems to still exist where I enslave and sell the owner of a draki maid, but she still stays flagged as owned and spawns her "former" own in as a new slaver or slave occassionally and takes them on assignments with them causing the influence of that "ghosts" traits. (There were several more follow ups as things got more and more broken)

- You can do that right now without needing the aspect if you assign them to be your bedwarmer. Other one should be fix for this update.

[ Anonymous said:] [no haven 0.912] I kinda forgot if there is an assignment where the MC slaver can get the dancer perk, was there one or am I confused?

- Imperial Muses currently. Sure there will be others in future. It’s also possible to get it through corruption so theoretically you could get it from any assignment result that can apply corruption. Not something to be counted than though as corruption.

[ Anonymous said:] [no haven 0.912] would it be possible to get bimboborn as a crit result from advanced bimbo training if other requirements (like exquisite fellatrix etc) are met as well? kinda annoying that I can't get myself a bimboborn stack anymore cause corruptions almost never trigger it

- Given the mystical element to the way the aspect works I’d prefer to keep Bimboborn as a rare corruption result. Saying that review of the training results is doing well in the current patreon direction polling so if that wins I’ll see about giving that an additional reward that will hopefully be just as appealing.

[ Anonymous said:] [no haven 0.912] so I remember you saying that once you get the golem from tyrannical legacy the quest shouldn't trigger again, well, it did, and I'm currently attempting to get a 2nd copy imgur /QoSPzHE

- Will check. Thank you!

[ Anonymous said:] Ground forced encounters for an hour with five max-gold slavers, one of which was a Dominator. Couldn't get puppet leader to fire. Think it's still busted.

- You’re right. Is fixed for the upcoming update.

[ Anonymous said:] Is there any reason that the "Trade Prince" portrait for male goblin can't take feminine, or is that just an oversight?

- Was indeed an oversight. I’ve made that available for him and some others for the update.

[ Anonymous said:] Any chance to add potion or something to cure Cum Addict? Sometimes Orc slavers tend to go hard on single slave that you may want to promote, and there is still a problem with slavers joining with that thing on (may or may not be related with them appearing during/at the end of Orc Cum Addict, or maybe I am getting really unlucky rolls...)

- Not outright cure it once having been through the full training however likely sure when I do potions properly for the increasing levels of cum thirst. In the update there’s also a encampment upgrade which can help (or possibly hurt) with that.

[ Anonymous said: ] "Outfit: Wrought Extra-padded Iron Mercenary Wear (Decorated with Lots of Lace, Greaves, Reinforced Spike-heeled Boots, Shiny Stockings, Cloak with Hood - quality) +46" Bugged description, does not show type of quality

- Thanks for the spot.

[ From the Discord:] Idea: Since XP stops being useful for Supreme-level slavers, maybe every 1000 additional XP or so, they could get a temporary crit buff for a few days? Could call it "experience insight" or something.

- I'm still thinking about doing that level above with the super aspects

[ From the Discord:] hey, quick question, how does one get a mystic troll slaver? (which spun out into a discussion about those titles)

- yeah the idea was to give alternate more thematic titles to slavers on generation other than well slaver to give a quick hey this is what this slaver is good at prompt.

Any with a * won't apply to those races which would always have those traits:

Terrifying* - Chosen

Were - Lycanthrope

Flying* - Skybreaker

Trainer - Master/Mistress

(M:Co) - Warlock / Fel-Mistress (Succubi)

(M: Na) - Hedge-Wizard / Hedge-Witch

(M:Bt) - Blightomancer

(M:Ar) - Mage

(M:Il) - Trickster

(M:Bi) - Shaper

(M:Su) - Spirit Singer

Monster* - Vanquisher (Golem) / Goliath / Hellion

(E:Ea)/(E:Wa) - Mystic

(E:Li) - Spark Thief

(E:Fi) - Pyromancer

(E:Ai) - Wind Twister

Dominator - Thrall Binder

Hypnotic - Entrancer

Healer - Acolyte

Psionic - Psion

Tracker+Trapper - Hunter

Tracker - Tracker (Such an obscure out there choice)

Fleet - Outrider

Loner+Seductive - Agent

Beastmaster - Beastmaster (Again so obscure)

Thug - Mook

Bimbo - Bimbo (Which could mean anything really)

Fel Tainted+Tentacles - Abomination

There's also all the uniques who tend to have their own alternatives to Slaver

#Q&A

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