#par with every male character in the room thanks to her powers

[shidoukanae]

Honestly, it's been like half a year and im still salty about Burst(/Iris) (and rant incoming bc god do i hate my past self for hyperfixating on this show when i KNEW the writing was on the wall long before it happened)

She had everything going for her in the show (she's a female antagonist, morally gray, cunning, competent, cool af, her threat level is on par with her male compatriots, also she's a fucking shapeshifter) and still the show found a way to ruin her

Like,,,, if I'm honest,,,, she is the only reason I cared about HiCardanime (mis-naming it so it doesn't how up in search bc this rant means nothing to anyone but me im sure fghjgfhj). Sure Finn/Chris is fun but I'm going to be honest they got boring near the end of Season 1 and i definitely stopped caring about them during season 2. But Burst literally kept me hooked the entirety of the show from the moment she appeared with the briefcase in her arms.

She was everything I ever wanted to see in a female antagonist. And that's including the fact that, honestly, her obsession with Tilt drives me up a wall because it sucks to see yet another female character obsess over their male counterpart but also damn for once maybe the male character she's in love with won't be shitty to her because they're very clearly in a loving and respectful relationship, right??? Right??? (*LAUGHS AT MY PAST SELF VERY LOUDLY*)

i'm also still very bitter that she apparently dies to self-sacrifice herself for a character she met for FIVE minutes. Her dying for Finn (as much as I'd hate that too) would make sense because ofc she'd want to save Tilt's special precious little brother since if Finn is important to him, Finn would be important to her. But dying for Chris? Some rando guy who she almost definitely barely has a reason to sacrifice her own life for? And who would do jackshit for all she knows to help save Tilt? Seriously??? She dies for him??? also it's just shitty that the only competent and plot-important female character in the story dies just 'cause it's almost definitely easier to kill her off than give her a place in the finale

And I just. Wow. HiCard really opened my eyes as to how much female antagonists are treated with disdain to the point i'm of the belief they're a litmus test for misogyny in writing. Because. I mean. If Burst can have everything going for her (and she literally carried the season 2 plot) and still be screwed over because the writers clearly wanted to get her out of the way in favor of catering to their male cast of characters than this very much is a thing

(and this is, by the way, not getting into the scene of Burst being a punching bag at one point in the story the moment she lost any power and agency over her situation which. wow. ouch. My stomach didn't at all turn at the beheading scene in this anime. But watching my fave character be mercilessly beaten by a male character just because she happened to be in his vicinity is...certainly a choice that broke the straw on the camel's back)

[shimmersing]

Constellation

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Republic Trooper, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Republic Trooper Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Qyzen Fess, Yuon Par, Parkanas Tark-Lord Vivicar Additional Tags: Angst, Tython, Emotional, Mentioned Mutual Pining, Fluffy, Sad, Melancholy Returning to Tython after shielding the last master suffering from Vivicar’s Force plague, Aitahea is faced with more struggle in her efforts to heal the Order and keep the Force in balance. Tired, injured, and longing for someone she can’t have, perhaps ever, the lines of her responsibility as a Jedi and her own convictions begin to blur. As Aitahea nears the end of her quest to save Yuon Par and the other Jedi Masters, she’s confronted with painful revelations and answers that only give rise to more questions. Shouldering the lives and minds of Jedi across the galaxy – alone – may prove to be more than Aitahea can bear.

Part Three

AN: I highly recommend you read Impending, a once-upon-a-oneshot that snuggles right into Constellation here, between parts two and three. Enjoy!

May the Force be with you.

Standing in the airlock, Aitahea let the echo of Erithon’s voice roll over and through her, like she might flow through saber stances during practice. Six syllables, like the spiral of a breath, a last sigh of hope to cling to in her fierce exhaustion and anguished determination.

It was the first time they’d spoken since Alderaan; everything else had been missed calls and quickly dashed-off messages. She’d mentioned her return to Tython, but not her weariness, loneliness, or how since leaving Alderaan, the only dream she’d remembered on waking was of him, humming Star by Star and stroking her hair. As far-flung as they’d been, she had doubted he’d see her injuries in a grainy holo.

Instead, she’d simply listened.

Erithon’s mother and sister had given him no end to their questions about the “princess” - as his youngest niece had gleefully declared - having seen their gala appearance splashed across the holonet. He’d explained with proud reticence that he had been harassed into calling to say hello for them, but he hoped she was doing well, of course.

See-Too had whirred politely in the common room entryway, a subtle warning that the other crew had begun stirring in response to their arrival. Aitahea had gently interrupted Erithon a final time, thanking him for calling, but she was needed urgently. He’d nodded, evidently used to the same, and then… “May the Force be with you.” She hadn’t even had a chance to reply, to wish him the same, before the call had disconnected, and she’d been alone again in the dark.

Minutes later, the Luminous had docked to Vivicar’s stolen ship, though Sia had only done so under protest.

“I don’t fucking like this, Ai.”

“There’s no other way, Sia. I trust you to keep the Luminous safe.”

“Yeah, me too, but what about you?”

Aitahea had pressed her lips into a tight line and turned away from her friend, unable to offer anything more to assuage Sia’s concern or her own guilt. The Progress had made all reports on time, presumably under Lord Vivicar’s control, so no one in the wider Republic knew that anything was awry.

Qyzen had refused to let her board alone, though she’d helplessly argued for it. They both knew she was still healing, only maintaining the shielding by a hair’s breadth. Vivicar’s ruinous intrusion on the ritual had done more damage than Aitahea had been willing to acknowledge. Sia had muttered under her breath something about needing to get a kolto tank installed in the med bay.

The Progress was shrouded in flickering darkness, the black of deep space. The stars still glittered, but coldly, distantly. Aitahea wasn’t certain what they’d find on board; there were many lives, but they writhed beneath a shadow grown powerful. Qyzen waited beside her as the airlock cycled to admit them to the hijacked ship.

The first rush of soldiers took her off guard; she flinched at the sight of Republic insignias below fevered eyes and slack faces. A growled warning from Qyzen brought her back to the task of disabling them with as little harm as possible.

It all horrified her, this perversion of so many things she held dear. The horrible stain of the dark side flowed on the ship and everyone aboard. She could barely hold it in check, growing steadily more vulnerable as her shielding was meticulously assaulted.

Vivicar was blessedly silent until Aitahea reached the first computer console. When he finally spoke, it was like being plunged into dark water. The consular reeled, fighting to keep her fingers on the control panel and not digging into her own temples.

I wasn’t sure if you’d be foolish enough to come aboard, Aitahea. But I can sense your presence.

Aitahea swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. “And I sense a man tormented by the past.”

You are blinded by the light side. You can’t understand what you face.

Biting back a sharp retort, Aitahea shoved away from the console – she didn’t possess the necessary slicing skill to coax open the blast doors from there. She could cut her way through the thick durasteel with her lightsaber, but time felt too precious.

Nearby were a few barrels, each with a combustion risk label splashed across it. She could fling them into the door using the Force, but it would be violent and destructive.

Oddly, Aitahea found she didn’t mind that so much right now and lifted a hand. The explosion was terrific, throwing back her hood. The wave of heat quickly grew so intense Aitahea had to shield herself and Qyzen until it abated.

As they stepped through the hissing, superheated breach, Vivicar’s voice echoed in a hateful thrum. Come to me, Jedi. I’ll show you how light can be snuffed out.

Aitahea swayed briefly, closing her eyes. There was no part of her that wasn’t in anguish. If this wasn’t already snuffed out, what could possibly be worse? She felt alarmingly close to knowing exactly what.

May the Force be with you.

It was Erithon’s voice this time, no tainted whispers, just her own beautiful memory. A light in the dark. She could follow that through this horrific present; through anything, perhaps. Aitahea opened her eyes, signaled her companion, and forged ahead.

Most of the unwitting fighters in their path could be stopped with a Force wave, tumbling them unconscious but mostly unharmed to the floor; but the squad leaders would be hardier – she knew from experience.

The first squad leader, a hulking being of indeterminate origin, was waiting for them at the first intersection, alone. The soldier didn’t fall for Qyzen’s feint and instead hoisted his cannon toward Aitahea, spraying cryogenic fluid. She flicked it away, readying her lightsaber to deflect any shots from the holdout blaster she knew he’d be hiding.

Qyzen shifted into an effortless and decisive strike, taking advantage of a seam in the trooper’s armor. Aitahea shuddered, feeling the soldier’s perception flare out, leaving nothing but gleeful darkness seething in every shadow.

“Herald?”

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “Let’s proceed.”

After navigating a few more hallways, they located the secondary computer terminal. She’d barely set her fingers to the keypad when Vivicar splintered her thoughts.

Tell me, Aitahea, what was it like? Letting your life force drain away to shield a stranger from me - how did it feel?

Aitahea frowned at her suddenly balled-up fists, unclenching and resettling her fingers on the keys before replying. “Painful, but I endured it.”

Pain makes us stronger. And the pain I have endured is beyond your comprehension.

That is why I have won.

Her throat seized, but even after swallowing hard, no words came to her, all her skillful, diplomatic platitudes absent.

“Hunt is not over until beast is skinned, dark thing,” Qyzen rumbled. The console began blaring a klaxon warning, and droids began pouring into the room.

You will understand soon. If you live that long.

“Your power and tactics have brought you this far, but no further.”

Until now, Aitahea had imagined Parkanas Tark as a youth, bright with potential and the Force. But the being that turned to face her as she dragged herself toward the bridge was aged, wretched, and twisted by the dark side.

“This battle was decided before you stepped aboard.”

“I’m tired of your delusions,” Aitahea hissed, past exhaustion and numb with pain. “Explain yourself.”

Vivicar gave her a mocking bow. “As you wish. My plague isn’t just a disease; it siphons power from its victims. With the proper rituals, that power can be channeled. Soon, the combined strength of your Masters will make me the most powerful Force adept who has ever lived.”

The pressure against her shielding intensified, thousands of threads – lives, she realized – suddenly pulled taut. Trembling with the strain, Aitahea took a step forward. She hadn’t come here to bicker; she’d come here to help.

“Turn away from this path, Parkanas. The Order can help you.”

Vivicar laughed.

“Oh, Aitahea.” This time, she visibly flinched when he used her name. “Parkanas Tark died long ago. Even ‘Vivicar’ is merely a skin to be shed. Parkanas offered himself to me on Malachor Three, to crush the Order that destroyed us. He embodied my spirit.” He lifted his hands, a seething glow thick with the dark side writhing around him. “I am no lost Jedi, no ordinary Sith Lord. I am Terrak Morrhage.”

“You can turn away from this path, Parkanas,” she beseeched, fumbling for words while he stalked toward her. “The Order can help you. Just… just come home.”

“No one can oppose me, certainly no child, barely more than a Padawan.” He grinned, ghoulish and without remorse as he ignited his lightsaber. “I am beyond flesh… beyond death!”

Aitahea realized tears were slipping from her eyes, her vision blurring. She was so tired. “No one is beyond the will of the Force,” she whispered, uncertain who the platitude was meant for.

Morrhage laughed again, a sound like plasteel shredding. “I will crush you, Aitahea, and your shattered body will fuel my rebirth!”

For a fleeting moment, she thought of running. Simply turning about, dashing to the safety of the Luminous. She questioned the choice she’d made on Tython, to come here carrying so many injuries, so much guilt and fear. Should she have stayed to heal? She remembered what the Noetikon of Secrets had explained, that the Jedi Master who had created the shielding technique had given his life to end Morrhage’s first plague. Was Morrhage right? Had the light blinded her?

Aitahea took a breath.

The light didn’t blind. Light revealed, left no shadows to hide in. Light nourished; light gave everything yet lost nothing. Light was right now in this moment, not in the past, and would always be in reach in the future. If light called, light would answer.

Aitahea called out.

“Parkanas! I know you are there; I sense you!” Morrhage ignored her outcry, continuing to advance. Aitahea sucked in a breath, ignited her lightsaber, and took a defensive stance. “Help me stop this monster, Parkanas, please!”

Morrhage attacked with spectacular brutality, thousands of years of rage and hatred against Aitahea’s weakened shielding, against her physical self. The Jedi parried and dodged, evading strikes she couldn’t hope to block. Qyzen Fess did what he could to aid her, but Morrhage was fixated on Aitahea. Her body quailed under the assault, shredding her determination. There must be another way…

Morrhage’s next attack struck true, and Aitahea lost a few moments to fiery agony searing across her left side. Reckless with pain, she flung out a wild, violent Force wave that sent Morrhage to the floor and left several nearby panels crushed beyond recognition. A few precious seconds passed while she waited, panting, for her vision to clear.

The fallen Jedi, the false Sith lord, struggled to his knees, glaring death toward Aitahea as she approached.

“Impressive, Aitahea, but my victory is already complete. My plague has spread farther than you can imagine. Jedi Masters across the galaxy are succumbing to it as I speak. The plague binds these Masters to me. Hundreds of them… the heart and soul of your order.

“You feel it, do you not, Aitahea?”

No lies this time; Aitahea could indeed feel the mingled torment of hundreds more Jedi as Morrhage siphoned their lives for strength. Every crack in her shielding, down to the smallest hairline fracture, screamed in agony.

“Kill me, and you will kill every Master I have ever infected. Every one! Shielded or not, they are still bound to me.”

Aitahea dispassionately placed the blade of her lightsaber at his throat. It felt like someone else doing it. She spoke in clipped tones, her voice unrecognizable in her own ears. “Free those Jedi, Morrhage. Now.”

“And if I refuse? Will you cut us down? What choice do you have? You cannot let me live, and I am deathless.” Morrhage leered, his dark victory seemingly assured, and took one more jab: “Your shielding talent cannot harm me. You’ve lost!”

Everything went silent and impossibly still. Your shielding talent cannot harm me. Of course not. It was never meant to harm, only to heal, to offer a path toward the light that anyone could take at any time, without judgement, without conditions, just… a welcome home. The path that she’d longed for, that she’d tried to circumvent over and over, a path she could not offer until she, too, chose it.

Aitahea lowered her arm and deactivated her lightsaber. “I can save you, Parkanas.”

Morrhage reeled back as Aitahea drew the Force around her. The effort would not be without risk, but it was the path that lay before her. Another stillness enfolded her, this time of peace, willingness, and release. Fighting had never been her forte or focus; she was a healer, with words and hands and her lightsaber only when absolutely, undeniably necessary.

Now, she isn’t simply performing the shielding ritual; she is part of it, wholly within and throughout, a numinous space that feels like a Coruscant ocean, like the forests of Tython, like warm sun and a hand to hold on Brentaal, all at once.

Now, she realizes how to bring it full circle; she must allow the Force its will, stop trying to control it, and just let go. Light spills through the cracks in her shielding, and everything is suddenly and wonderfully illuminated.

May the Force be with you.

Parkanas – and it was with every certainty him; the sudden burst of hope where none had been the moment before was unmistakable – went flying backwards, away from Aitahea and leaving the vulnerable spirit of Morrhage isolated before her.

The spirit howled in fury. “No, this body is mine! Damn you, Jedi!”

Aitahea noted with detached amusement that she was levitating, Morrhage’s furious tirade a soft rumble in the background. She felt untethered, undefinably light. Closing her eyes, Aitahea exhaled a long breath and stepped softly down to the floor.

“When my strength returns, no matter the years – I will destroy you,” Morrhage snarled, but Aitahea was already walking toward Parkanas, feeling her own strength returning. She brushed past the raging specter, and in a few more moments, it had disappeared.

Qyzen had already lifted Parkanas Tark to his feet. He had a hand to his head, and Aitahea allowed a thread of sympathy to unwind, a guide to the path she hoped he would be able to take, too.

Parkanas Tark stared at her with open disbelief. “I’m… still alive. You spared me.”

She half-smiled. “Healed you.”

“My mind is…” Parkanas shook his head again. “Clearer now. But – it was your duty to kill me and destroy Morrhage.” His eyes – still smoldering amber, revealing a bitter internal strife – begged for an answer. Why?

“Too many Jedi have been lost already.” Aitahea lowered her gaze, the barest of brief moments to grieve for those lost. “Including Parkanas Tark.”

“Perhaps he deserves another chance, but…” Parkanas’ voice trailed off, adding in a pained whisper, “I cannot return to the Order.”

Swallowing hard against the lump in her own throat, Aitahea pressed. “Tython has its hidden places. Its forests.” That half-smile danced across her lips again, and for a flickering moment, she was light years away. “You could find peace there.”

“I could… go home.” Parkanas grew still, eyes distant and filled with evergreen leaves and rushing water. After a moment, he startled, reaching out to grasp her hands. “But first, Jedi, listen. Take this warning in exchange for my life: You can’t trust the Order. Or the Republic.” Aitahea drew breath to contradict, but he continued. “You may be their heroine now, but they will abandon you, too.”

Aitahea pulled away from Parkanas’ frantic grip, shaking her head while she scrabbled for a coherent thought. “Why…What do you-” Nothing coalesced, leaving her once again a diplomat with no words.

Parkanas held her gaze. “Remember that.”

“We felt it! A massive shift in the Force. The Masters you saved have reported a sudden improvement in their condition. The plague is over, thanks to you.

“And… I sense Parkanas Tark. For the first time in many years. How can that be?”

Aitahea nodded at Master Syo and glanced sidelong toward Parkanas, who was being assessed by Tharan and Holiday. “You can ask him yourself, Master. When he returns to Tython, he can answer all your questions.”

Her companions had dashed through the ship as soon as she’d signaled their safety. Bringing medical equipment to help with the injured and traumatized crew, Prelsiava Tern had even dragged along a protesting See-Two.

“I told you there’d be plenty for you to do; look at that console! It’s completely trashed! Go on, get on it,” Sia had ordered, and the affronted droid had conceded, tottering over to examine one of the smashed panels.

With the logistics managed, and a scant few moments to tuck away the memory of Parkanas’ unsettling words, Aitahea had commed the Council, Master Syo answering with his victorious statement: We felt it!

“Well done, Aitahea. The Jedi Order owes its survival to you.”

Relief swept over her like a wave. “It’s my privilege to serve.”

“Hurry home. We’re waiting for you.”

Aitahea felt nearly presentable again by the time they arrived on Tython. She’d had her injuries treated. She’d eaten and bathed. She’d slept, mostly dreamless but for dappled sunlight and burbling water.

As they touched down on Tython, Aitahea marveled at the incandescent radiance of the Force within the hallowed walls of the Jedi Temple. Each Jedi shone like a bright star, a constellation she’d missed terribly beneath the weight of the shielding. Even Qyzen shimmered, kindling with satisfaction and pride. Beneath all, the grand symphony of Tython itself soared.

In the Council chamber, Master Yuon, Master Syo, Master Satele, and Master Jaric were waiting. Schooling her expression into practiced serenity, Aitahea dropped into a bow, only lifting her gaze when Yuon spoke.

“You have saved untold lives through your defeat of Lord Vivicar and destruction of the plague.” Aitahea felt Yuon’s pride in every syllable.

Even Master Jaric was smiling. “There’s a title reserved for the most prestigious among us, whose wisdom and skill safeguard the galaxy. It hasn’t been bestowed in thousands of years.”

Aitahea became keenly aware of her flushed cheeks, suspended between delight and disbelief, and nodded in vague acknowledgment.

“You have proved worthy,” Master Syo declared. “Now, the Council names you Barsen’thor, warden of the Order.”

Absurdly, Aitahea’s thoughts turned to how much she’d enjoy reading about the other Barsen’thor that had preceded her. Would the archive even contain that knowledge? How many thousands of years? Who were they, who had they set out to be, and what had they done to arrive where Aitahea herself now stood? The Force bloomed with assurance. “I will do all I can to live up to this honor.” Aitahea clasped her hands, sweeping into a low obeisance.

“I never imagined your potential would take you so far.” Yuon beamed, and Aitahea returned the expression as she lifted her head.

Yet concern laced Master Syo’s next words: “And not a moment too soon. We have need of you. The Council has received word that the Republic is facing a new threat.”

“We need time to prepare a war council,” Satele clarified, much to Aitahea’s unspoken relief. “The Supreme Chancellor himself will be attending.”

“I stand ready, Master,” Aitahea assured.

Accepting her pledge with a nod, Syo nodded towards the doors. “Take time to record your journey in the Jedi archives. History must know of your actions.”

Aitahea blinked, more surprised at her own surprise than anything – of course there should be a record of the current Barsen’thor as well; that’s the first place to start, obviously – and almost missed Master Syo’s final words. “We will contact you when the war council is ready. For now, the entire Order will know that there is a new Barsen’thor among us.”

After a round of congratulations from each of the Masters, Aitahea and Qyzen left the Council chamber, ostensibly to bring her story to the archives.

“Scorekeeper smiles, Herald. Is great honor your people give you.” He gestured broadly, sending a few initiates scurrying out of the way. “Points beyond measure!”

Her heart sang with gratitude. She’d trusted him as her ally, her second, her friend; and he’d returned that trust hundredfold. Questioned and advised her, criticized and coddled her, but never judged her. Steadfast and patient, always. If what they had done brought points-beyond-measure to her, he’d have the larger portion by far. “We hunt together, my friend. Whatever my score, you share it.”

Qyzen paused, abruptly turning to face her. Traffic streamed around them; Temple life carried on. “Is… a noble thing you say. My thanks, Herald.”

“My thanks to you as well, Qyzen. Thank you for…” For protecting me? For challenging me? For warning and guiding and validating me? For seeing me when even I could not? “…for everything.”

“Must share the story of this hunt with your Order. It is good to share knowledge.”

Aitahea thought of the Noetikons, the immense value of them for so much beyond the lore and history of the Jedi. Even after becoming one with the Force, they had set alight a path for so many Jedi after, herself included. Like she might, generations from now.

Blinking back tears and knowing full well she couldn’t have hidden them if she’d wanted to, Aitahea smiled. “Then I must make yet another request of you: that you tell the story with me.”

Qyzen regarded her for a long moment, long enough that she began to fret that she’d somehow stumbled into an insult. “You are Scorekeeper’s Herald,” he said solemnly, “and you are true Jedi.”

Aitahea nodded, feeling and breathing and illuminating the Force around them.

“I’m home.”

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 16.11.20 lb

chanchal interrogating ishani, ki did riddhima spill about what happened that day. ishani like no dice, but imma beat it outta her so help me goddddd.

aryan coming throwing shit around. coz vansh has left everything in his will to dadi. thank fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk. none of you snakes are worth 5000 cr. i mean, ishani is, but idk, maybe not that whole amount at once.

ishani is like THANK THE LORD, VANSH HAD AT LEAST ONE WORKING BRAIN CELL. “kahin uss riddhima ko nominee banaa dete, toh humaare sar par chadhke tandav karti woh.” snort.

chanchal telling aryan ki “vansh ke baad saara business toh tuney hi sambhaalna haina”, and lmaoooooooooooooooooooooooo ishani’s face:

i honestly love her the most. MAKE HER THE NEW KING OF THIS EMPIREEEEEEEEEEE. SHE DESERVESSSSSSS IT.

ishani saunters off and chanchal is telling aryan ki anyway dadi ke haath laga hai sab, she’ll write it all to you; coz siya is in a coma, who knows when the fuck she’ll wake up, and ishani is walking talking TNT ka khaaaaan, that’ll blow up any second now. tujhe hi sab milna hai. lol bohut hi zyaada khushfehmi. can’t waitttttt for vihaan (whether he turns out to be vansh or not.......) to come show them thenga.

some parcel came outta nowhere for mummyji and it’s filled with all the stuff of her “long lost son who got kidnapped”. veryyyyyyyy conveniently opened by riddhima.

mummy has started filmfare nom-worthy performance on discovering the relics.

there’s a letter too! basically says i kidnapped your kid for money, but when you didn’t pay up, i threw him in a river. i’m confessing all this coz i’m now dying of cancer and want redemption. sounds to me like someone watched both ‘the prince of egypt’ and ‘badlapur’ in one day and did a mashup of those stories to write this letter.

watch out meryl, viola, jodie.......... mummy has gone beyond filmfare and is now doing OSCAR worthy performance about how she keeps losing kids.

lmao i am aryan, watching this nautanki:

mummy like it’s all coz i neverrrrrrrrrrrr accepted riddhima as a motherrrrrrrrrrr, mujhe maaaf kar dooooo.

of course riddhima’s dumb ass forgave her. god, this chick just tooo easy to scam.

someone’s come to say “final goodbye”. coz he’s taken a transfer. sure.

lmao riddhima is the biggest mood when dealing with an ex who just won’t leave you the fuck alone.

is it just me or has his hair become more........... vansh-y??? like, height-wise.

blah blah he wants to apologize to everyone........... for what exactly? he said he was just doing his job, why to say sorry for that??

lmao ishani has appeared and is ready to kick kabir’s ass. omfg i think this might be my new fav dynamic of this show, ishani v/s kabirrrrrrrrrrr.

RIDDHIMA DOING NOTHING TO STOP HER ALSO, LMAOOOOOO

whole family has appeared and he’s like sorry kehne aaya tha and all and THENNNNNNNNNNN....... NAZAR PADI ON THE TABLE FULL OF ARTIFACTS.

 anupriya like don’t touch my son’s shit and........

“yeh sab mere hain!!!!!!!!!”

hahahahahahahhahahahaha ishani is truly my absolute favourite character of this show from now on.

“maaaaaaaaaaaa?????? iska matlab aap meri maa hain??????” lol bohut hi bhadddda actingggg.

riddhima agrees with ishani.

kabir narrates exact story mummy did like 5 min back.

he’s giving proof ki i know the collar of this uniform has a K behind it and everyone’s shockedddddddddd ki oh god yet another middle class orphan is gonna make their way here

wow the terrible acting from mummy and beta is just.......... peak today. i can’t take it.

my question is, kabir has come to this house and seen anupriya a million times before, it never clicked for him then????? anupriya looks to be baaaarely in her 40s, she wouldn’t have looked much different when she was younger. why didn’t he recognize her then. SOMEONE USE YOUR BRAIN AND ASK HIM THAT. ISHANI, ARYAN, SOMEONE?!!!?!?!

ok ishani didn’t ask that but she’s like that kid was thrown into a river, i’m pretty sure he’s dead. and kabir doing extra naatak ki yes, i was thrown into the river but a policewaala saved me and raised me and that’s why i’m police now.

ugh itnaaa sasta acting lol.

high time this pinky and the brain team up and take the rest of these fuckers downnnnnnnn.

lmao riddhima is soooooooooooooo angry rn. she didn’t even get this mad when her fucking husband paralysed her. that’s just how much petty hatred male exes deserve. the fact that that their bitch ass is even alive and wasting oxygen on the damn planet is fucking unacceptable.

OMFG MUMMY BETA ARE LEGIT WHISPERING INTO EACH OTHER’S EARS WHILE HUGGING, GIVING SHABAASHI ABOUT THIS BRILLIANT PLAN. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. SERIOUSLY, YOU COULDN’T WAIT TILL YOU WERE ALONE???????????????????/

“kamaaaaal ki acting, KAMAAAAL KI ACTING!” lmaoooooooooooo honestly, this show would be fucking unwatchable if not for vishal cheesing it up in every other scene and making it so damn hilarious. kabir played by anyone else would never be this likable. his dialogue delivery of these lines is just A+

lmao he’s hamming some more about how he’s been searching for his mom allllll his life and today he’s leaving the city and finally found her.

LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE AROUND THEM HAS A FACE LIKE SOMETHING WITH 8+ LEGS CRAWLED ACROSS THEIR DINNER PLATE. IT’S SO HILARIOUSSSSSSSS.

he’s like mom, come with me, and she’s like “tum yehi ruk jao!” and omfggggggg the reactionsssssssssssss:

“ab yeh bhi yaheen rahega?????” alkjdsalkjdlaskjdlaskj chanchal’s no filter ways really come in handy sometimes.

kabir’s like no no mom will come with me. starts leading her out and dadi is like no anupriya is a part of this family and will not leave. and if you can live here in this house................... riddhima will decide that. lmao this should work out well.

kabir trying to jedi mind trick her.

even ishani is pleading in her mind, please riddhima no kehnaaaaa. aaaaaand....

“haan.” great.

big mood.

lmao booooooo, the amount of shit you get away with just coz you’re so stinkin’ cute. you’re exactly like my asshole cat son. just worming your way into my heart by the power of your adorable faces, you absolute bastardssssssss.

oh of course. she had this conversation with vansh, about if mummy ever found her son, he’d like to welcome him into this family as his brother. sentiment mein aakar haan keh diya. BITCH HE DIDN’T KNOW THAT IT WAS GONNA TURN OUT TO BE YOUR EX WHO WAS HAATH DHOKE BEHIND HIS GODDAMN LIFE. IF HE DID, HE WOULDN’T HAVE THOUGHT TWICE BEFORE PULLING THAT UGLYASS GOLDEN GUN ON HIM AND SHOOTING HIM BETWEEN THE EYES.

this is a sweet scene and all but dude how the fuck am i supposed to overlook the fucking ugly beetlejuice suit. if i never have to see this godforsaken garment ever again, it’d still be too soon.

also jesus, were you a goddamn kid just 10 years ago, COZ HOW ELSE THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A MINION WATERBOTTLE FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD?!!?!?!?!! OH GOD YOU GUYS, IS VANSH JUST 19 YEARS OLD OR SOME SHIT, AND THE BEARD AND THE VOICE THREW US OFF INTO THINKING HE’S 30?!?!?!?!?!!?! OH MY GOD, I FEEL LIKE A PEDO NOW. 28 IS MY LIMIT ON HOW YOUNG I’LL GO FOR WHEN I LUST AFTER SOMEONE.

anyway i’m fwding this scene so that my mind won’t dwell on these horrible possibilities. and that horrible fucking outfit.

lmao riddhima is like kaash tum yahaan hote, tum bhi yehi karte. snort, okaaaay sis.

“tumhari riddhima hoon main. aur hamesha wohi karoongi, jo agar tum hote toh karte.” ok everybody start monitoring your drinks from now on. pata nahi kab kya mila de yeh madam vansh 2.0.

ishani is, how you say................ LOSING IT.

ahahahahahahahahahaha aryan, who's going to town on the punching bag, is like i already picture him here, hence the vigorous mid-day cardio.

“mera toh mann kar raha hai ki main 2-4 jamaa ke aaoon. kabir ko nahi, uss riddhima ko!!!!!!!!” The Biggest Mood, Ever.

“pehle woh bhai ki tarah sochna toh seekh le?!?!?!?” bhai ki tarah chodo, pehle BAS SOCHNA HI SEEKH LE, WOHI BOHUT HAI.

ishani like i’m sureeeeeeeee kabir found out the story about mom’s missing son and now that vansh isn’t here, wormed his way into the house. PRESENTING TO YOU, THE ONLY ONE WITH A BRAIN IN THIS HOUSEEEEEEEEEEE. THE FACT THAT VANSH SLEPT ON HER AS A FUCKING PILLAR TO THIS HOUSE IS FUCKING RUDE.

“yeh sab kuch hua hai uss stuuuuupid riddhima ki wajah se!” that’s what they should call the show.

ew kabir is in riddhima’s room and getting all touchy and LIKE BACK THE FUCK OFF MAN. SERIOUSLY, YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, NOW GO HANG OUT WITH YOUR MOM ALL DAY LONG, INSTEAD OF ACTING SKEEZY.

yeah riddhima pretty much told him that. threw in some more shit about how she’ll hate him till she dies, coz he’s the reason vansh died.

he doesn’t look happy about that. this fucker still wants herrrrrrr. ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. kabir yaaaaaaaaaaaaar, you can do so much bettterrrrrrrrrrr. get yourself an hot evil shawty with 4+ brain cells dude!

she’s dragging him out. nice.

kabir still talking and she’s like do i literally have to kick your ass out?????? damn girl, there’s the spine i like to see.

askljdaslkjslkdjlaskdjlaskdj he’s like main bhi vansh jaisa hoon, iss ghar ka beta hoon. lmao good you said this in front of riddhima and not ishani, warna ***** phaad ke tumhare haath mein de deti.

riddhima also handing it to him, but verbally. but it’s lameass shit like no you’ll never be like vansh, not in 7 janam. like, ok i get she’s really mad at him for what happened, but i don’t get what’s this sudden hatred of his personality?????? she doesn’t know the whole truth and abhi se itni nafrat??? based on what????? 

lmao he muttered “woh toh waqt hi batayega” as he was leaving and she’s like BITCH WHAT YOU SAY?!?!?!?!?!?!

hee hee hee hee. i loveeeeeee when he makes his exasperated faces.

some more sweet talk about how she’ll see his intentions aren’t bad at all, and she’s like justttttttttt gtfo my room man.

"kahin kabir ko yahaan rehne ki permission dekar kuch galat toh nahi kar diya???” LMAO YA THINK?????????????????????/

haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaye. finally. aankhein taras gayi thi.

bro refusing more shady work coz “abhi mere paas chote-mote kaamon ke liye time nahi hai. kuch bada plan kar raha hoon.”

mmmmmmmmmmmm baby what that mouth do??????

“vansh ki body ka toh main antim-sanskaar main kar chuka hoon.” ohohohohohohohoho symbolism samajhhh rahe ho aap loggggg???? new identity, who disssssssss waala scene hai.

“riddhima vansh rai singhania, main aa rahaa hoon.”

oh aaja, aha aaja, aha aaajaa, ah ah aaaaja, ah aa aaaja, aha ha aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

[plumsorcerer]

Ashen Demon’s Cunning Tricks Chapter 1

Fandom: Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Character(s): Ridley, Male!Byleth, with some background characters

Ship(s): Ridley x Male!Byleth, more coming soon

Rating: T

Summary:

As the destroyer of planets and a space pirate, Ridley discarded such trivial feelings like love. However, all it takes is one cunning(?) Ashen Demon to melt the steel wall in his heart.

General Warning:

If you’re not into human/nonhuman then this isn’t for you. Also rated T for curse words in later chapters. This is also mostly character study of Ridley and the possibility of him falling in love. I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

--

He is not the one to make friends and he is not here to make friends, definitely. He is called the ‘Cunning God of Death’ in his own world. He committed many atrocities in the name of himself until one day received an unknown letter from the World of Light.

Ah. I see. This is my call for an even more battle to death…! I accept this! 

He also heard that his arch nemesis aka the little girl called Samus is also joining the World of Light battles. And he couldn’t wait to destroy her once and for all!

So he thought. 

And how foolish of him to think that's all there is to it. 

They promised me endless thrilling near-death battles!! 

So

How did I end up like thiiiiis?!?!?

Ridley thought as he sat down in a casual dining room at one dinner night. For how many times has he thought about that? He couldn’t count anymore. This damned ‘Smash Mansion’ built by Master Hand is nothing but a base filled with nothing but fighters who are obnoxious, goody-two shoes who abide by the rules, and the children… ugh… the children. He usually thinks they’re sinless and okay, but these children are driving him up the wall. They keep asking him to carry them on his back or play with them. Ridley hates it and whenever he tries to tell them to buzz off, they use their most powerful weapon to make him obey them; Samus. 

The Samus that he met in the World of Light is different than the one where he came from. This Samus claimed she has slain him for good and knows every trick he has on his sleeve, much to his horror, and she’s not joking. Whenever Ridley tries to act out of the boundary of rules, her shots are always an inch apart from absolutely pulverizing his skull. 

However, he found an acquaintance with some fellow ‘bad guys’ of the Smash Mansion and it’s nice to have a group to vent your frustrations to. It’s a rare feeling that he never felt before during his time in Space Pirate. And they’re all wicked like him… which suits him just fine. 

Ridley thinks this life kind of sucks, but could’ve been worse. He sighed as he took another slurp of the ramen in front of him.

Tonight is the night they welcome a new fighter in the World of Light: Min Min! She’s a young lass who owned a ramen restaurant back in her world, and out of her peers, she manages to win an invitation to the World of Light. For Min Min, this is important, she wants to promote her family’s restaurant more and more, even if it were to expand to another dimension and world.

Yeah. That’s noble of her, so Ridley thought. At least for celebration, he got delicious food that isn’t usually served in Smash Mansion. Maybe with Min Min’s arrival, the current chefs of the mansion would learn a thing or two from her. 

Speaking of the two chefs, they're really taking notes out of this foreign dish that is not from their world. The two chefs are twins from the dimension of Fire Emblem: Bereto and Beresu. Their real names are Byleth, but it’d be confusing if they both are called Byleth, so they all agreed to be called by their nickname from their fathers. 

Both Byleths are like robots, Ridley thought. They barely emote and always observe others. They have tendencies to give someone random things or search for lost items to give to someone in the Mansion. When they first met Ridley, they immediately raised their weapons until Mario had to stop them, telling them that they’re not one of those… ‘crest monster’ or whatever they thought Ridley is. 

They also have high curiosity and desire to learn more, given that they’re both professors at an academy back in their world. The children love to learn from them, and the Byleths seems to love them too, which is a relief for Ridley, so they would leave him the hell alone.

The Byleths also seem to get along with most Smash Mansion members, with Bereto getting along with the men and Beresu getting along with the ladies. Bereto tends to flock more to the baddies group for some reason while Beresu keeps getting pampered by the few lady members, given makeup or cute dresses. Ah, same fate as Dark Samus. Beresu and Dark Samus would get along for sure. 

As for Bereto, the men of Smash Mansion love to have fishing-off with him. Whether they’re villains or heroes, Bereto takes on challenges with open arms. So far, him and the Animal Crossing world Villagers are on par fishing skill wise. For those who prefer thrilling battles with Bereto like Ridley, he is offering his sword too… or three of the legendary relics from his world. Ridley thought a mere human with a sword like him is an easy opponent, just like any other humans he faced in Smash Mansion. 

And that leads him to his downfall. And something more. 

Once, Ridley challenged Bereto in a battle at Garreg Mach. Bereto, with his students cheering on him from behind, is seen more alive than he usually is during his time in the Smash Mansion which Ridley doesn’t get the feeling. 

Ridley thought it's just gonna be an easy match. No problem. Just like fighting Marth, Roy, Lucina, and Chrom. No problem, right? 

And he thought wrong.

Damn, what is he made of?! That was Ridley’s last thought before he was slashed with Bereto’s demon lance Areadbhar and was thrown off stage..

GAME!!!

THE WINNER IS…. BYLETH!

However…

A whip-like sword catches Ridley’s waist right in time before he can meet his doom. There is no ultimate death in the World of Light, but falling off-stage can be a very painful experience. 

Huh?

Ridley feels a strong pull from above and he eventually was thrown on the stage. He felt slight pain on his body from the impact, but it’s not as big a surprise as what Bereto did to him. 

“Hurrgh…?!?” Ridley groaned.

“Are you okay?” with a monotonous voice, Bereto approaches the beaten up dragon. 

Despite his initial shock, he tried to be cunning like himself, “Hah! Your pity would just cause you your li—!!” As he turned his head and tail to impale Bereto, time seemed like it stopped and his vision darkens.

When Ridley blinked he saw Bereto parry his tail with the dagger on his hips. Before Ridley can do anything, Bereto lets go of the Sword of Creator that currently binds Ridley and summons his axe Aymr and swings it down with two of his hands. Ridley thought, Oh crap, before Bereto stopped barely at Ridley’s neck and Bereto’s foot stepped on Ridley’s tail that unfortunately landed on his chest. 

Being tied up with the Sword of Creator and being stepped on… while he has an axe pointed to his throat, this is a rather awkward situation for Ridley. 

“You lose, Ridley. Give it up,” Bereto declared. “Don’t make me use another divine pulse,” 

“My my, isn’t using divine pulse cheating… professor?” Ridley said in a mocking tone in his last word. 

“You didn’t hear the announcer do you? The battle’s over,” Bereto sighed. “You don’t want me to call Samus over, right?”

Ridley immediately shuddered. “... Pah, you win, Bereto,” 

“Alright. That was a good match, Ridley. Thank you,” Then, Bereto surprisingly cracked out a smile. Slight smile. And Ridley saw that. 

And that was the first smile that melted through the steel wall inside Ridley’s heart. 

--

[qcpmedia]

“Birds of Prey”: A Crisis of Infinite Harleys

by Chris Clay

Ok-- let's get this part out of the way first: I love Harley Quinn.

Have done since her debut on Batman The Animated Series. My mother let my dad take me to see Tim Burton’s brilliant 1989 Batman film (I was 5 at the time) because she was under the assumption that Batman was always the high camp she remembered enjoying in the television show from her childhood. Thanks, Adam West! My journey into comics began shortly after learning to read with classical mythology, so I was totally prepared for all manner of tales about monsters, demons, serial killers, human traffickers, etc. Quickly becoming an avid comic reader, 10 year-old me was a DC & Marvel veteran who spent a lot of mental energy filling in the blanks on the softened-for-cartoons versions of Bats, Spidey & the X-Men. 

After years of seeing "versions" of my favorite supers onscreen, I thought this new character, originally the Joker's jester henchwoman, was a breath of fresh air. She seemed like the perfect fit for both the show and the Joker, the first real Manic Pixie Dreamgirl. She was funny but also scary, vulnerable and just overall awesome. Best of all? She didn’t seem nerfed for kids tv. She just seemed oddly... real. And she was contagious. That complex reality bled onto anyone she shared enough screen time with. She helped me to see Poison Ivy as the troubled yet brilliant and sensitive person the show had always hinted she was. Besides Catwoman, no other character tested Batman's rigid sense of right and wrong more beautifully. Even Joker seemed multifaceted when Harley was around. I cheered as loudly as anyone when she ditched that clown, and those Harley/Ivy episodes were some of the best the series had to offer.

OG Harley & subsequent versions over the years tended to show a woman that was preyed upon by a master manipulator who pushed her to the edge of sanity. To the edge, not over it. She was definitely traumatized, but the original portrayals never presented any extreme mental problems. Sure, she was codependent & had a temper. And shitty taste in men. Those traits in moderation are not craaaazy. That's just being human.

Harley continued to evolve over the years, shaped by many creators and performers across multiple mediums. Her look has changed, her status as villain or antihero has vacillated and her relationships have been presented more and more as on her terms rather than something foisted upon her by chance.

The characterization problems started in comics, but David Ayers' disappointing 2016 Suicide Squad film brought this lesser Harl to the masses, along with a version of her *ahem* more revealing New52 costume, seemingly metahuman durability & chalk white skin. I always loved the idea that Harleen had the ability to take her jester clothing & clown makeup off, sit around with an equally dressed-down Ivy and talk about who they really were, what made them tick. This new Harley (like her modern comics counterpart) was always "on", displaying very little of the soulful, mature character many of us comics & animation fans know and love. Despite that, she was definitely the highlight of the film, and there were flashes of brilliance that made me believe Margot Robbie could get to the fundamental truths of the character if given another chance. 

And that brings us rather neatly to Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn).

Harley Quinn, last seen in the aforementioned Suicide Squad, has just been dumped by the Joker & is forced to make her own way in Gotham City’s underworld. In short order, she meets Dinah Lance, Renee Montoya, Helena Bertinelli & Cassandra Cain. All of these ladies have, for various reasons, fallen onto the radar of neat-freak gangster Roman Sionis, played with scenery-scarfing delight by Ewan MacGregor. Forced to band together to survive, they eventually learn that despite their considerable individual talents, they're more formidable as a team.

For some reason I still can’t quite articulate, I remember being slightly underwhelmed when the cast was announced. I liked all of the actors... hell, each of them has had at least one role I absolutely loved them in-- but I still felt they were odd choices for their respective roles in this movie (more on that later). The trailer was where I got genuinely worried that Warner might be climbing back into the hole so many creators toiled to pull the DC film properties out of. 

However, as I said in the beginning, I love Harley Quinn. I was definitely going to see this movie. In Margot Robbie, I felt Harley had a champion on par with Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool or Hugh Jackman as Wolverine; an actor who would work tirelessly to get their character right, on the page & onscreen, however many tries it took. Plus she was saying some interesting things about what she thought the the film & the character should represent during the rollout (and I know the movie isn't the trailer), so I was at "cautious optimism" by the time I sat down to watch the film.

I was totally wrong about one thing: the cast is the best thing about the movie, and that’s not some backhanded compliment. K.K. Barrett's production design is great, colorful while not feeling cheap or phony, and Cathy Yan has a great eye for fun directing choices that keep things zipping along... but the cast is the real MVP. They’re actually great.

Jurnee Smollet-Bell is understated & surprisingly physical as tough-as-nails chanteuse Dinah Lance, a classic “woman trying to keep her head down in a bum situation”. She gave modern comic book moll vibes & I Stan. Rosie Perez's Renee Montoya brought a dose of realism to the candy-coated insanity swirling all around her while also giving Harley an entertaining foil for the first 2 acts. She has probably my favorite fight scene in the entire movie.

Mary Elizabeth Winstead, the person I went into the movie thinking was the most grossly miscast, is hands down my favorite character in the film. She's equal parts ruthless & socially awkward, a take on Huntress that is somehow both anachronistic & perfectly in step with her comic counterpart. Even newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a unique charm to what could have easily been an irksome reimagining of fan favorite Cass Cain as a sassy teenage pickpocket. MacGregor’s turn as Sionis is less a character than he is a symbol, acting as a stand-in for various brands of broken maleness, but the guy’s clearly having a blast and he has decent enough chemistry with the leads. Chris Messina as Victor Vsasz is an absolute snoozefest, a waste of both character and actor that I’ll give no more space or attention.

Now for the elephant in the room: Margot Robbie's Harley is my least favorite thing about the whole movie.

"But Chris..", I hear you yelling at your computational device, "...you said she was the lone bright spot of SS!"

True, but in a film with clever, unmuddied direction & other actors that actually display some semblance of emotion or charisma for more than one scene a piece, the bar has been raised this go round & Robbie's frantic mugging limbos under said bar by a mile. What’s worse is that she actively takes screen time that could be better spent fleshing out one of the other four characters. Only Huntress (who has probably the least screen time of any of the leads) actually has a backstory, but her origin is a large part of the plot. One could be forgiven for thinking the she wouldn’t have had one at all otherwise. We don’t really know anything about Cassandra Cain, Montoya is literally just Stock Cop, and you could make a whole movie out of how the hell Dinah ended up singing at Sionis’ club. And where the hell is the Joker?! Why is he letting Harley destabilize Gotham’s balance of power or letting Sionis threaten his ex-puddin’ while also claiming to be the the underworld’s top dog? Instead of answering these questions, we get a bunch of throwaway characters attacking the newly-emancipated Quinn and Suicide Squad flashbacks that look even uglier than before when placed side by side with the production design of this film. The fact that most of these characters are so thinly characterized yet still connect is a testament to the performances and chemistry of the central cast.

You get the feeling that a lot of this movie was Robbie as producer, exerting her ideas & energy onto a massive production that needed a lot of moving parts to line up in order to work. It's not easy to have everything riding on you, whether it’s the future of the DCEU, progressive representation of women in film or just your own movie stardom. I understand that and I sympathize. This frantic, flailing movie is the product of some 3 years of rewrites and pitching, shooting on and off for 9 months, plus all the promo stuff. Every interview that I've seen the cast do has basically been Robbie explaining things ad nauseam while Jurnee Smollet-Bell or Mary Elizabeth Winstead kind of quietly nod in agreement, with the exception of the recent season premiere of Hot Ones, where capsaicin finally allowed someone else get a word in edgewise. The real problem with that comes when you see the movie and realize she’s contextualizing so much of the film on other media outlets because the film itself doesn’t really seem to have the time or interest, leaving it’s star to try and explain what we actually see onscreen on the press tour. This leads to a situation akin to Final Fantasy XV, where the player needed heaps of supplemental content to understand what could and should have been included in the story proper. She just seems overworked, similar to when Ben Affleck wanted to perform the Herculean task of writing, directing & starring in the next solo Batman film. Maybe Margot & Harley both need a little break?

The internet is scrambling to diagnose why a well-reviewed movie starring a beloved character played by a popular actress is underperforming at the box office, citing everything from the trailer to the rating to the movie’s title, with many (including BoP creator Gerry Conway) blaming the lackluster box office on sexism, but I think there might be a simpler answer: this version is trying to pull from the entire history of Harley to create a singular characterization from sometimes disparate portrayals. It doesn’t help that Robbie’s Quinn exists in a universe that’s constantly shifting under her feet after every film.

Most comic characters are criticized for being inaccurate to the source material but Harley has arguably the opposite problem; almost a Crisis of Infinite Harleys, where Robbie and Warner Bros. want to stuff the best elements from every version of Harley into every movie she’s in. It’s supposed to be fan service but instead, often feels scattered and tiring. Not to mention the stuff these films just pluck straight out of thin air that don’t work...

The DC Universe version of the character chose to leave the Joker on her own terms and I thought that was a brilliant and socially relevant writing choice, so it was strange to then see the more mainstream (and arguably more popular) version of Harley be dragged out of Joker’s hideout, kicking and screaming. In a film who’s title was purposely made ridiculously long to accentuate the character’s supposed newfound self-sufficiency, For all of the things that do work well, Birds of Prey just doesn’t feel like what’s explicitly promised on the tin.

I still love Harley Quinn, and I still think Margot Robbie’s the right person for the job. No need to Pattinson her or anything... just put less on her plate and give the character and the movies she’s in a clear, singular direction. Pretty please, puddin’?

[shimmersing]

Constellation

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Republic Trooper, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Republic Trooper Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Qyzen Fess, Yuon Par, Parkanas Tark-Lord Vivicar Additional Tags: Angst, Tython, Emotional, Mentioned Mutual Pining, Fluffy, Sad, Melancholy

Returning to Tython after shielding the last master suffering from Vivicar's Force plague, Aitahea is faced with more struggle in her efforts to heal the Order and keep the Force in balance. Tired, injured, and longing for someone she can't have, perhaps ever, the lines of her responsibility as a Jedi and her own convictions begin to blur. As Aitahea nears the end of her quest to save Yuon Par and the other Jedi Masters, she’s confronted with painful revelations and answers that only give rise to more questions. Shouldering the lives and minds of Jedi across the galaxy – alone – may prove to be more than Aitahea can bear. AN: Welcome back! This story follows shortly after the events in Best Intentions and closes out Chapter One of the Consular storyline for Aitahea (and Erithon, peripherally). The one-shot, first-person piece Impending occurs in the interim between Parts 2 and 3. Thank you and enjoy! *Now with paragraphs in proper order!*

Part One

Aitahea trembled next to Satele Shan on the bridge of the transport, fingers pressed to her lips while starlines streaked past.

“What troubles you, little one?”

The girl dropped her hands to her sides without looking at Master Satele, keeping her gaze focused on the soothing radiance of hyperspace. “Nothing, Master. How long until we reach Alderaan?”

“Soon now, Aitahea.” Satele dropped to one knee and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe there. Your training will continue. We need you to be strong for the Order. For our future.”

She drew in a deep breath. “I know, Master Satele. I am strong.” But beneath her robes, her stomach flipped and flopped.

Aitahea trembled next to pilot Prelsiava Tern on the bridge of the Luminous, fingers pressed to her lips while they slipped from the grasp of Alderaan’s gravity.

“What’s got your head turned around, Jedi?”

The Jedi dropped her hands to her sides without looking at her friend, watching as the once-familiar constellations blurred out of sight. “Nothing, Sia. How long until we’re underway?”

As usual, her pilot’s concern was genuine, attending in a gently cavalier way that often left Aitahea feeling uplifted. “As soon as we clear the gravity well; just a few more minutes.”

Qyzen had no such compunction, his words blunt as a training saber. “Soldier remains forefront in your thoughts, but past also. Put these away so we may focus on Yuon. Both mate and memories will wait until dark thing is vanquished.”

“I have every int-” Aitahea choked at the sudden comprehension of Qyzen’s words, face flushing a bright rose. Sia craned her head around the pilot’s seat to grin at Aitahea with unabashed glee. Aitahea shrugged at the Mirialan woman and turned to Qyzen. “Excuse me… mate?”

“Herald’s Republic lieutenant, met on Taris. Thought perhaps you’d accepted as mate on Alderaan,” Qyzen mused. Sia whistled low and turned back to the pilot’s console, doing an impromptu and quite thorough safety check of the seat’s crash webbing.

The Jedi took a deep, calming breath, the carefully measured motion keeping her from bursting into terribly unsuitable laughter.

If Qyzen noticed her discomfiture, he gave no sign. “Human emotions strange; sad one moment, amused next.”

Aitahea primly lifted her chin, focusing seriously on her friend. “Forgive me; I apologize for the, ah, unexpected level of emotion. But no, Erithon-” She paused to frown and clear her throat. “The lieutenant and I don’t have… we aren’t what you’re presuming.”

Qyzen squinted in what she had learned to recognize as wry skepticism, usually reserved for someone they were facing in conflict.

Aitahea swallowed, nodded. “We have work to do.”

Sia waved over a shoulder. “Hey, call from Tython on the holo.”

Grateful for the diversion, Aitahea swiftly moved to escape the bridge. “Thank you, Sia. I’ll take it in the common room, please.”

After a few moments, Master Syo flickered into view, looking pleased when Aitahea entered the shared space.

“Master Sidonie just checked in. She seems well but very frustrated with herself.” Aitahea briefly wondered if her own demeanor was similar, though for distinctly different reasons. “She reports that you were able to prevent war from breaking out on Alderaan, however. You’ve once again done exceptional work in a tense situation, Aitahea.”

Despite the obvious praise, Aitahea winced. She had been painfully unsettled by Master Sidonie’s baseless accusations, despite their depraved falsity. They’d sounded conspicuously familiar, another voice confirming all the cynical criticisms Aitahea most dreaded. Unspeakable consequences lurked behind every failure, and Aitahea was certain she would fracture under the burden of responsibility, despite everyone’s blithe confidence. All so certain of her, save Aitahea herself.

And she would never breathe a syllable of it to the people depending on her. She couldn’t. Instead, she slid into a default stillness and bowed her head. “I relied on the teachings of the Jedi,” she insisted, voice trembling through the half-truth.

Master Syo beamed. “A mark of a true Jedi – being able to trust in the Force in all circumstances.”

Aitahea shuddered and hoped the motion wouldn’t be seen in the grainy holo.

Oblivious to her struggle, Master Syo continued. “Tell me, did you learn anything about the plaguemaster, Lord Vivicar?”

“I’m sorry. No new intel came from Master Sidonie.”

“She was the last of the lost Masters, and yet Vivicar still eludes us,” he mused, then waved a hand and refocused on Aitahea. “Return to us here on Tython immediately, and we will discuss what you have learned. Lord Vivicar cannot remain hidden forever.”

Aitahea’s heart leapt. She’d longed for the comfort of Tython for months; now, the call seemed almost too good to be true. Unable to trust her voice, she bowed, lifting her eyes again in time to see Master Syo’s benevolent smile. “Come home, Jedi.”

When her boots touched Tython’s sacred ground – even the metallic plates of the Temple’s shuttle pad – Aitahea felt suffused with new hope. The home of the Jedi never failed to welcome her, making her role in the galaxy apparent and her relationship to the Force simple and effortless. Even breathing felt easier.

Master Syo Bakarn, Master Jaric Kaedan, and Grand Master Satele Shan were waiting when Aitahea arrived at the Council chamber with Qyzen. The rest of the crew had opted to stay in orbit while the Jedi and Trandoshan shuttled to the surface.

“Welcome home,” said Master Syo, leaning forward to offer the greeting. Aitahea bowed low to her mentor, wondering silently if Yuon would be join the meeting as well.

Master Jaric was quicker to the point. “I wish we could greet you with better news.”

Master Satele nodded her own welcome. “Despite using every resource available to us, we’re no closer to finding Lord Vivicar.”

Aitahea, buoyant on the glory of Tython, took a bold step forward and offered her final, horrible theory. “Actually, I believe we are. A common thread binds all the plague victims: the loss of Parkanas Tark at Malachor Three. Vivicar’s influence forced the infected Masters to relive their failures on Malachor.”

The Council’s Force signatures and facial expressions were meticulously shielded with more years of experience than Aitahea could rightly grasp, but even so, emotion in the room spiked, rattling her earnest calm. She continued, her voice hushed. “This is revenge, personal revenge. Only one man would have that much anger and pain. The man who was left behind.”

She hesitated; her next words could unravel everything else she’d accomplished, but unless she spoke the truth, the plague would never end. “I believe Lord Vivicar is Parkanas Tark.”

Master Jaric shook his head in disbelief. “Jedi.” He pinned Aitahea with a steely gaze, and she was certain that her suggestion had indeed gone too far. “Parkanas Tark is dead.” Aitahea took a breath -

“Far from it, Jaric.” Yuon strode into the council chamber, feisty as ever. On the edge of panic, Aitahea broke into an enormous smile that her Master returned with a gracious nod. Even Qyzen, silent until now, uttered a brief growl of approval and welcome.

“Yuon?” Satele demanded, half-rising to address the other Master, exasperation coloring her words. “I told those Padawans to keep an eye on you. You must rest!”

“No. My pupil -” Yuon paused at Aitahea’s side, placing a hand on her last Padawan’s shoulder, “My fellow Jedi deserves to hear the truth about Malachor.”

Aitahea winced, noting the dark shadows under Yuon’s eyes; only one of the victims could explain the twisted path that lay both behind and before them. They all needed the truth. “Don’t speak more than you must.”

Yuon gave Aitahea a wan smile, then continued, turning to address the Council. “Malachor Three isn’t just strong in the dark side; the planet is the resting place of Terrak Morrhage. Our work on Malachor woke Morrhage’s spirit. One by one, we fell under his power. The things we did… still haunt me.”

Yuon shuddered; Aitahea reached for her in concern. Realization clicked into place, and she paused before laying a comforting hand on Yuon’s shoulder. “Somehow, you broke free of Morrhage’s power.”

The Master composed herself and nodded to her Padawan. “Yes. Together, we managed to break his control, but at a terrible cost.” Yuon’s voice grew soft, then broke over the last few syllables. She kept her gaze to the side, as if afraid to look into Aitahea’s eyes. “Parkanas was the youngest and weakest. We had to abandon him to Malachor’s darkness. His sacrifice allowed the rest of us to escape. But it seems he survived and took Morrhage’s dark path.”

“You couldn’t have predicted this,” Aitahea insisted in a pained whisper.

With fierce determination, Yuon shook her head. “I must make amends.” She seemed more vulnerable than ever, perhaps even more so than in the worst throes of her affliction. “I have a plan to help you find Vivicar.”

The Council looked worriedly at each other, and even Aitahea shook her head, uncertain how to respond. “How?”

“If the plague created a link between my mind and his, your shielding ability may allow me to use that link to find him.”

Master Syo stood, his disapproval and worry dimming the Force in the room. “No. You’re already weak from the plague, Yuon. This could kill you.”

But Yuon’s eyes, finally meeting Aitahea’s, were pleading. Aitahea wondered, had her Master’s suffering truly begun with the plague, or had it been long before that? She wasn’t certain she was ready for dealing with either answer, but her path, her role, was to serve. Releasing her Master, her teacher, her friend from this plague surely was of equal importance with stopping Morrhage.

If the work served both purposes, it would be worth it, more than worth it. “Vivicar won’t get the chance,” she said to both Yuon and the stunned Council. “I will stand between him and my Master.”

Yuon’s gratitude was palpable. She turned to the Council, earnest and energized. “It’s our best chance to find Vivicar.”

Qyzen spoke up. “Yuon is fearless and wise – a true hunter, like Herald.”

Aitahea wasn’t certain she agreed, but the Trandoshan’s support could only bolster their position.

Syo eased back into his seat. “Very well,” he said, sighing. “But we will monitor the ritual, and your former Padawan must stay at your side.”

“Of course, Master,” Aitahea said, and offered Yuon an encouraging smile.

“Thank you, Syo,” Yuon said, punctuating with a bow to the entire Council before turning back to Aitahea. “I will go to the meditation chamber to prepare. Please meet me there when you are ready.”

“I’ll be fine, Qyzen; it’s just a short way from the Temple. There’s no safer place in the galaxy.”

“Even from own thoughts, Herald?”

“Let her go, just as you always did for me,” said Yuon, smiling impishly at Aitahea as she approached. “This Jedi knows her own mind.”

“Master, I know you have much to prepare. I don’t intend to go far to meditate, just a little away from the temple, so I might not be disturbed.” Aitahea couldn’t quite raise her eyes to meet Yuon’s, glancing instead toward the tree-lined paths of the outer grounds. Since Aitahea had first arrived on Tython, the issues of refugees, Flesh Raiders, and rogue Force users had been mostly resolved. The forests surrounding the temple were secure, if not precisely safe. Aitahea had played no small part in several of those events and recalled them as experiences of tremendous growth as a Padawan. Yuon seemed to agree.

“Off with you now! I’ve enough for this old friend to help me with; you must make your own preparations,” she stated, ushering Qyzen ahead in a way only Yuon Par was capable of, while waving Aitahea away from the temple grounds. “Go!”

Yuon seemed uncharacteristically upbeat, perhaps even giddy. It’s just that we’re so close to the end of this journey. I’d feel the same, if I weren’t so… her thoughts trailed off as Qyzen and Yuon turned back toward the temple, good-naturedly chiding each other on the perception of stuffy behavior.

Aitahea chanced a smile and wave in reply, inhaling sharply to keep tears from spilling from her stinging eyes. She turned to one of the well-worn paths, tread smooth by the growing residents of the Jedi Temple, their minders and masters, and visitors such as herself.

No, this is home, she thought urgently. Master Syo welcomed me home. I am home. She raised her hood and quickened her pace, rushing by several curious initiates.

Aitahea dashed across the bridge and toward the stream just beyond the grounds. There was a spur of rock suspended over one of the smaller falls. She hadn’t been there in years, her training with Yuon so often off-world or in remote areas. There were usually a few uxibeast grazing in the shade, unbothered so long as they could eat in peace.

She was obligated to ford the shallows to the opposite bank of the stream in order to reach the outcropping. Aitahea considered a simple leap over the stream; a nudge of the Force would keep her robes and boots dry.

Instead, she left her boots with her outer robe folded carefully beside them and now stood at the water’s edge considering the communicator in her hand. She shouldn’t be needed for the brief hour she had to prepare for Yuon’s desperate ritual; who in the galaxy would need to contact her who wasn’t planetside? Was there anyone she needed to talk to privately? Tember? Her parents?

Aitahea fiercely dismissed the memory of Erithon’s smiling face that clamored for her attention, fingers trembling as she thumbed through her contacts to his entry. The hard lump lodged in her throat was the only thing that kept her from pressing the call button.

Cold water splashed over her toes; the nearest uxibeast lowed. Shaking her head, Aitahea unceremoniously shoved the commlink into one of her boots and waded into the water, gasping at the freezing temperature.  She splashed across, only slightly questioning her sanity, and padded gingerly up the rock spur on icy toes.

The perch afforded a stunning view of the Temple and grounds, but distance allowed a certain privacy. Aitahea sat at the edge of the outcropping, watching the practiced motions of lightsaber training, but the clashing sounds of those sparring were lost beneath the roar of water. Some in groups, others in isolation, all went about their various practices: meditating, channeling, seeking to understand more of the Force in myriad ways.

Everything will be fine, Aitahea assured herself, bringing her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes. We’re so close to finishing this. Maybe even saving Parkanas Tark if he can just be released from Morrhage’s dark control. Victory is close. Just a little longer.

Aitahea dropped her head into her arms and sobbed, the cries lost in the rush of the waterfall below.

Constellation: Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three