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miraclesabound · 2 years

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Through The Wall

Summary: Reader finds a portal that carries her to an unknown galaxy, and right into Cassian’s arms.

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Earthling!Reader

Notes: Set after Episode 8 on Narkina 5. Alternating viewpoints. Also available on AO3.

Warnings: Mention of suicide, prison brutality. First kiss, angst with a hopeful ending.

Tags: @princessxkenobi, @grogusmum, @daydreamsofthrawn, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @morby, @recklessworry

Something has changed about your grandmother’s basement. There's more floor space - and was there always a corridor leading off to the left? Forgetting why you came downstairs, you wander down the new hallway.

You walk farther than you expect to – surely you should have found the wall by now? However, the hallway continues on. The only sign that you’re moving is that you feel a flow of cold air coming towards you. In fact, the atmosphere is positively frigid. There MUST be an open door somewhere…

The floor starts changing beneath your feet. Your grandmother has a concrete slab for her basement, but when you look down now, you see what looks like…is that metal or plastic? Whatever it is, it makes you uneasy. No floor should be that clean.

A light appears, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You walk with more purpose now, figuring you’ll close the door to the outside and cut off this damnable draft.

Cassian is still awake, though he should have closed his eyes an hour ago - everyone else on the block is asleep, getting ready for the next shift. He hasn’t slept well since the suicide of the man down the hall. Not even the exhaustion from the day’s work can pull him into slumber.

When he hears footsteps, he assumes it must be one of the night guards. But wait…the sounds aren’t coming from the guard station. Before he can process what that means, you phase through his cell wall.

He swallows his shock so that he can grab you – you’ve almost put a foot down on the hallway floor. You squeak when he pulls you back and claps a hand over your mouth.

“I don’t know how you got here,” the voice in your ear whispers. “But you need to be quiet and listen to me. Can you do that?”

You nod, doing your best to breathe through your nose. The man removes his hand, and you get a chance to properly look at him. He’s handsome, but his brown eyes are haunted. The white outfit he’s wearing looks uncomfortable, and you see he has no shoes.

“You can’t step down out of this cell,” he warns you. “The floor is completely electrified – you would die in half a second.”

You register the red lights along the floor and gulp. He sits down on a bench in this small cell, and you sit close to him - not only to avoid slipping onto the floor, but because he’s the only source of heat. The air is still utterly frigid.

“What is this awful place?” you ask him. When you saw his outfit, you thought it might be a hospital, but what hospital would have a kill floor?

“A prison block on Narkina 5,” he tells you. He doesn’t push you away, you notice. “Please, you need to get back where you came from. There aren’t any women in this dormitory besides the guards. If they find you, getting fried will be the least of your worries.”

You know he’s right, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You ask him more about Narkina 5, and as he talks, you have the sinking feeling that you’re not even in the Milky Way anymore. You would know if your entire home galaxy was under the thumb of an Emperor.

He seems to sense your fright. “That’s why you need to get back home,” he says. “You don’t belong here.”

You stand up and offer your hand to him. “Then come with me,” you say. “I don’t care what you’re in for, I can’t leave you here.” He takes your hand, and you pull him towards the spot in the wall where you arrived.

You phase back – but suddenly realize you’re alone. When you turn back, you hear a thump and a curse. You come back out, and you see the man holding his hand in pain. “No good,” he tells you. “It closed up as soon as you were through – my fingers got jammed.”

You start to panic. “No passage at all??” You’ve kept your voice low this whole time, but you can tell your tone is verging on hysterical. What if this is the only time this portal is open?

He pulls you into his arms, and you feel him shaking too. As frightened as you are, you can imagine it must be multiplied for him. However, his voice is steady: “I’ll find a way to get to you, sweet girl. Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m hundreds of millions of light-years away,” you tell him. “Even if you get free, that’s an impossible journey.”

“You phased through my wall here.” He lets you go but still holds your hands. For the first time, you see a slight smile on his face. “Wasn’t that impossible? Please, just describe your home as best you can.”

“Ok…” You start with your address and country – and then you give your continent. After you tell him Earth is your home planet, you struggle to remember your higher level astronomy. “Shit, we’re the Milky Way galaxy in the … Virgo Supercluster? God, I don’t want to send you the wrong way…”

“I’ll figure it out,” he promises. “And who should I ask for when I come to your home?” His smile is almost cheeky now. You tell him, and then he leans in to whisper in your ear. “My name is Cassian Andor.”

“Cassian…” You find you like how the name feels on your lips.

“Now go and be safe.” He gives you a quick kiss and pushes you gently back through the wall. The last thing he feels are your fingers touching his.

When Cassian wakes up in the morning, he assumes he must have been dreaming. There’s no way you could have appeared without triggering an alarm or waking someone else on the block. However, he has your information locked in his mind, and he manages to get through his shift with a little less pain.

Across sextillions of miles, you have the same concern. The corridor no longer exists when you check on it the next day. All you can do is hope – “Please, let him be safe.”

#cassian andor #cassian x reader #andor disney #andor spoilers #andor

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myrefersofficial · 2 years

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What Are Some Of The Best Gadgets Released In 2022?

The latest electronic gadgets are always jaw-dropping. Despite your doubts, you want them all. Still, treating yourself is good, and the best gadgets in 2022 can make your life easier. Our 2022 list of the coolest tech gadgets sought technologies that meet this description.

They may not be as necessary as a smartphone or laptop, but they're the items you covet and spend your tax refund on. Whether it's a new gaming system, a VR headset, or a household robot, these gadgets are the ones you'll tell your friends about or show off to guests.

Early adopters wait all night for these next-gen electronics. If you're looking for cool gadgets to buy or tech presents for your nerdy significant other, scroll down to see our 2022 top selections. We found the greatest products from Apple, Samsung, and some lesser-known manufacturers.

Before checking out the latest gadgets introduced in 2022, let's understand the technologies used. These upgraded technologies make our lives easier and help us manage our tasks easily and rapidly. Have a look at them -

Top Technologies Used In The Best Gadgets In 2022

Cross-Cutting Security: Large data repositories and data analytics have opened Pandora's box of challenges.

OIP Movement: The open IP movement includes open-source software, standards, and publishing.

Sustainability: Electronic automobiles, LED lighting, new batteries and processors, and renewable energy combat soaring energy use and a computing boom.

Massively MOOCs: MOOCs could draw students from traditional universities and change professor and student roles.

Quantum Computing: Quantum computing could prolong Moore's Law into the following decade, limited only by physics. Commercial quantum computing is driving breakthroughs.

Nanodevices: Nanotechnology makes sunscreen, tires, and swallowable medical gadgets.

3D-ICs: 3D-ICs will replace printed circuit boards in all IT products, starting with mobile.\

Multicore: Multicore will be in wearables, smartphones, cameras, gaming, autos, cloud servers, and exascale supercomputers by 2022. Silicon photonics will solve high-end systems' bandwidth, latency, and energy issues.

Networking: All network stack developments will promote research and the Internet economy.

SDNs: OpenFlow and Software-Defined Networking will secure, transparent, flexible, and functionalize networks.

IoT: The Internet of Things has no limits except for our privacy concerns.

NUI: Touch, gesture, and speech interfaces are finally becoming a reality, with more radical interfaces on the horizon.

Big Data Analytics: Data availability and desire for insights can improve many data-driven decisions.

AI and ML: Machine learning ranks search results, promotes items, and improves environmental models.

Pattern Recognition: Consumers have benefited from unlocking information in photos and videos, and further breakthroughs are coming.

Bioinformatics: Massive data sets improve human health and reveal life's secrets.

Biorobotics: Medical robotics has made life-saving advances in telemedicine, autonomous hospital supply delivery, and sophisticated prosthetics.

Top 10 Best Gadgets In 2022

#1 ThinkPad X1 Fold (Gen 2)

The Lenovo ThinkPad X1 Fold stood out in 2022. Lenovo improved its second-generation folding laptop after initial issues. The second-generation Lenovo ThinkPad X1 Fold's 16.3-inch OLED display folds almost seamlessly, indicating a more refined device.

We love its multiple form factors. It opens like a tablet, but the bundled ThinkPad keyboard turns it into a laptop. You'll love using its big screen in portrait or landscape to see more of your apps if you want a desktop experience on the go. It shows the future of computing.

#2 Samsung Galaxy S22 Ultra

Samsung Galaxy S22 Ultra is 2022's first flagship phone. Samsung brought back the S Pen stylus after continuous upgrades made it one of the greatest smartphones. It revives Samsung's Galaxy Note series' pen-to-paper experience, making it one of the best gadgets in 2022.

Its quadruple-camera setup takes great photographs and films in low light. This kit is versatile since its 100x space zoom telephoto lens lets you get near. Overall, it's a fantastic smartphone but expensive and has mediocre battery life.

#3 Meta Quest 2 VR Headset

The Meta Quest 2 virtual reality headset is a popular favorite, but Meta's next-generation headset intends to improve significantly. The Meta Quest Pro's eye tracking, spatial sensors, greater pixel density, and new collaborative technologies are changing how we communicate.

Its application as a productivity gadget for remote collaboration in virtual reality with more realistic avatars, whiteboard capabilities, and a means to replace computers and monitors is even more astounding. The new Meta VR headgear is one of the best gadgets in 2022.

Also Read More:- What Will Be The Most Popular Smart Home Gadgets In 2022?

#4 Speaker Sonos Roam

The Nest Audio and Amazon Echo are Wi-Fi smart speakers, and the UE Wonderboom 2 is the ideal Bluetooth speaker. The Sonos Roam is a hybrid speaker that combines the best of both worlds with minimal compromise.

The Roam's audio quality and voice-controlled interaction with Google Assistant and Alexa improve with Wi-Fi. If your phone battery is good, you can take it anywhere and listen to music over Bluetooth. The Sonos Roam adds another speaker to your multi-room Sonos ecosystem.

#5 Galaxy Z Fold 4

Samsung is one of the few firms that has perfected the foldable smartphone design. Therefore its current model remains popular. The Samsung Galaxy Z Fold 4 is in a class of its own and one of the best smartphones out there, even with its folding design advancements.

Its 7.6-inch Dynamic AMOLED Main Screen can display up to three apps simultaneously, making it a productivity powerhouse. With Samsung DeX, you can connect it to a monitor for a desktop PC experience. It's the best foldable phone and one of the year's coolest tech devices.

#6 TruSens Large Smart Wi-Fi Air Purifier

Portable air purifiers will be commonplace in the next few years. This elegant, smart air purifier will set the trend in your living area. 360-degree DuPont True HEPA filtration removes all contaminants from the TruSens. Allergens, airborne viruses, pet dander, and VOC gases.

Bi-directional airflow purifies air 24% better than the typical air purifier in 750 square feet. SensorPod readings make air quality monitoring easy and smartphone-controlled. The futuristic Bluetooth speaker design is extremely appealing.

#7 Samsung Freestyle Projector

The CES 2022 Samsung Freestyle is unique. Its easy operation, auto picture adjustment, and color correction make it one of the most versatile projectors. It's also a Bixby and Alexa-powered smart speaker. Smart illumination options make the Samsung Freestyle a unique projector.

#8 Samsung Air dryer

Never revisiting the dry cleaners. Samsung Air dryer eliminates the need. It sanitizes and dries clean clothes in your closet. It is one of Samsung's lesser-known smart home products. It's costly but cool. This luxury home appliance was included in the SPY Smart Home Awards 2022.

#9 iWatch Ultra

The Apple Watch Ultra supercharges the best of Apple's prior watches with a new look, better specs, and more functionality. Its 36-hour battery life makes the Apple Watch cool. On top of a premium design with a bigger screen and twice the water resistance of prior generations.

#10 HidrateSpark TAP

The smart water bottle's high-tech features are impressive. Each bottle has patent-pending Tap-to-Track technology that displays your daily water intake when tapped. The bottle's bottom LED illuminates every hour for 12 hours to remind you to drink.

This article on the best gadgets in 2022 will help you understand the latest technologies worldwide. Stay connected for more such technology blogs.

#Apple watch #samsung watch

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opalescient · 4 years

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haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he’s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #fic rec #beautiful #writing #ao3 fanfic #daisuga #kuroken #bokuaka #tsukkiyama #kagehina #third gym #iwaoi #fic #reference #hq

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years

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Humans are weird: The Hand of Andromeda Ch. 2 ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) (New chapters will be posted first to patreon and then moved here)

The Ageis system was not what one would consider a pinnacle world of civilization in an age of interstellar travel. At best it was a backwater system deep in unclaimed space between the Rylon Collective and Havatal Republic the system with only one habitable planet, Ageis Prime.

The planet itself was largely barren, consisting of entire continents of jagged rocks and acidic seas. Only a small belt of land near the equator was remotely capable of sustaining life and supported small clusters of forests isolated from the harsh surrounding landscape.

First development of the planet was made by the Xlaxon Mining Guild when a remote probe of theirs scanned the system and found valuable minerals scattered around the planet. Shortly after a group of indentured laborers were imported to the planet and a mining operation was established, initially consisting of a landing pad, machine shop, processing facility, and several other living quarters.

Just as the operation was about to get underway however the Xlaxon Mining Guild found itself drawn into what is now known as the “Guild Wars”, which were a series of escalating conflicts fought between rival mining organizations. To put it mildly the Xlaxon’s did not last long and were quickly consumed by a larger guild. In the confusion of the guild wars the newly establish mining operation on Ageis Prime was lost in paperwork and quickly became further isolated from the rest of the galaxy.

With no overseers left and a semi functional colony all to themselves the newly transplanted workers began to form their own society on the planet and carved out a small patch of the planet they could call their own. It was nothing to brag about, but given their limited resources they made due. Several years passed before the planet would encounter a small group of mercenaries that would change their destiny forever.

A group of mercenaries calling themselves “The Fishermen” landed on the planet, which had now grown into a dense urbanized city, looking to finally establish a base of operations. There was initial resentment from the inhabitants as the established ruler of the planet, a self-proclaimed warlord known as “Kevin the Heartless”, ordered his enforcers to drive off the mercenaries. The battle was swift and the better trained and armed mercenaries easily overpowered the enforcers with the struggle finally ending when the warlord himself had his head bitten off and spit out by the mercenary’s Predatorian leader.

The inhabitants were surprised to find their new overlord was much more merciful than they had expected. While the mercenaries did establish themselves on the planet they also brought with them a vast amount of wealth from numerous sources. The normal baggage train of any military group flocked to the planet and set up shop. Bars, brothels, weapons dealers, mechanic shops, and even an official branch of the intergalactic bank quickly set up as the mercenary band began to sell out their services. As their fame grew the group not only enriched themselves but oddly enough began investing in the planets community’s as well.

Schools and hospitals were built for the growing population, a new police force and government system was established for official recognition and participation by the people of Ageis Prime, and most beneficial of all were several terraforming towers that were installed around the planet which began replacing the harsh world with an increasingly comfortable climate. With all of these improvements the general population lauded the Fishermen and heaped praise after praise on to them.

In the span of three years Ageis Prime had gone from a forgotten backwater to the galactic hub of the dead zone of unclaimed space; a pillar of civilization in the dark void of forgotten space.

Yet for all their generosity, the Fishermen still controlled everything from the shadows. It was an unspoken law of the land that nothing of importance was done without their leader’s approval. Even to run in an election a nominee had to first come see their boss and present him or herself to see if they’d amuse the Predatorian; if he didn’t find them amusing than they were expected to drop out, lest an unfortunate accident befall them.

At any given time the mercenary group was contracted out between ten to fifteen jobs ranging from basic security details for high value personnel and facilities, to waging wars on distant planets on part of an ad hoc detachment. This abundance of work was rather common as both the Rylon Collective and Havatal Republic lacked the means to enforce their wills in the unclaimed systems between their two borders. This didn’t even come close to the dozen or so different criminal groups that inhabited this unclaimed space who were always in need of additional muscle.

There were of course rival organizations to the Fishermen such as the Abvara Syndicate, Pelpens Pirates, the Brotherhood of Orion, and the Band of the Hig who each had their own sizable forces; yet each of them were constantly switching between periods of stability and bloody internal struggles for leadership. This facet was not seen inside the Fishermen thanks not only to their structuring, but also to the visionary leader that formed and continued to lead the group even now.

Sitting at the very top of the organization was the Predatorian, a massive mound of raw muscle, sharpened teeth, and with a twisted sense of humor only psychopaths could fully appreciate. Rising from a former slave he had first formed the Fishermen from the same slaves he was freed alongside during a bloody slave uprising. After taking control of ship that had once held them captive he steered it to the nearest port and sold it off, then used the funds to train and equip the slaves into a standard fighting force.

His name was Mr. B.

No one in the organization knew if that was his real name or not but what they did know was not to mock it. The last person that did had their fingers bitten off one at a time by Mr. B before they were thrown out on to the street. Mr. B later said that hearing all their jokes about his name had made him hungry for some “finger food”. He was ruthlessly efficient in his work and he expected that from all those under him. His combat experience was rivaled only by the commando units of the galactic governments. Yet for all his combat talent and training he was not as skilled when it came to logistics and the day to day operations common for such a large group. Thus he was greatly benefited by his second in command who was aptly proficient in such matters at such a young age.

A nine and a half year old human child named Lizzy Stalwart.

If there was little known about Mr. B there was even less known about his adopted daughter Lizzy Stalwart. Freed from the same slave ship Mr. B had been previously held, she had been by his side ever since. Rumor was she had been the one to trigger the mass unlocking of cells on the ship which led to the ship wide revolt of slaves against their captors.

While Mr. B handled the military aspects of the group it was Lizzy that managed the books. She had a keen insight for numbers and was always able to keep the group well-armed and fed as they went contract to contract. A common saying among the grunts of the organization was that you’d never run out of blood with Mr. B, and never run out of bullets with Lizzy Stalwart.

Despite his brutish demeanor, Mr. B had a natural soft spot for Lizzy and he had taken her under his fin so to speak and had come to see her as his daughter. The two of them were set to take on whatever the galaxy could throw at them, and they had an army behind them to throw it right back for payback.

The transport shuttle slowly descended to street level before killing the thrusters. The bus driver checked his systems and pulled open the door latch to the street.

“Fisher HQ!” they called out to the passengers behind them.

Vick grabbed his satchel bag and hefted it over his should as he stood up and made his way to the door.

“Let me guess,” the bus driver said as he finally reached the front; his eyes taking him in for a moment before he smirked, “trying to swim with the big boys?”

Vick smiled at the man as he got off but didn’t answer him. The shuttle thrusters kicked back on and the craft once again rose upwards into the air before speeding off down the road leaving Vick in the billowing cloud of dust it left behind.

He coughed several times and swiped the dust from his eyes before the cloud parted and revealed his final destination; the headquarters of the mercenary Fisherman.

It was a vast compound just outside of the city limits easily taking up nine city blocks in size. It held its own private landing pads, medical facilities, housing and training grounds, munition depots and manufactures... It was like an entire city itself dedicated to killing for money.

From the moment he had quit his dead end job as a dish washer of Veega Ce, Vick Novikov had thought of nothing but this moment. He had spent every credit he had ever saved to purchase his passage off world and the compact pistol strapped to his right thigh.

No longer would he be looked down on by those around him, no longer would people shove him out of their way as if he was garbage in the street, no longer would kids throw fucking rocks at him and laugh like the little shits they were.

Today Vick was going to become someone new, someone better, someone to be respected and feared.

Today, Vick was going to become a Fisherman.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #story #Hand of Andromeda

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miceenscene · 4 years

Text

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon wc: 2.6k summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin? warnings: canon-typical violence an: first go at mandalorian fanfic. we'll see how this goes :D Masterpost | ao3

Chapter One: The Urge

Din Djarin has been alone for a very long time.

And somewhere along in being alone, he decided he liked it. He preferred it.

People were pushy. Demanding. Rude.

They took one look at his armor and assumed the man underneath.

At least that’s what he decided was the reason he preferred solitude.

There was an unacknowledged truth, however, that perhaps choosing to prefer loneliness dulled its edge ever so slightly. Just enough to be ignorable most nights.

But some nights, deep in the slip of hyperspace, when it was just him in his tiny bunk on The Razor Crest, it wasn’t ignorable. It sat high in his chest, occupying the space between his lungs, filling it with an emptiness so big it threatened to squeeze the breath out to make room.

On nights like that, the helmet usually went back on.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one.

People, house, clan.

And when all else failed, your Match.

“Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense.

So many lamentable things were lost in the Great Purge.

The beskar, their homeworld…

Lose enough people, break enough pairs, does it even matter if the Matches still exist?

Or don’t, as the case might be.

So much of what the Mandalorians once had is lost. What’s one more thing?

What’s a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

He knew his stars. The constellation that outlined the path of his life.

Every Mandalorian had one.

The elders had been very keen to identify his when he first was found. They did eventually.

Tal’onidir. Blood struggle.

Or ‘blood, sweat, and tears’ as the Alderaanians would have said.

Though in the time before the Purge, both halves of a Match’s stars would have been consulted for a clearer picture.

But all he had was his half. All most everyone had was their half.

Very few of the old myths still applied in a galaxy barely free of an Imperial yoke. But even Din had to admit that his stars felt more right than he wanted them to be.

Life was a constant struggle.

Struggle to survive, struggle to continue, struggle to carve out some semblance of contentment with his lot.

He felt he was doing as well as any could.

And then, out of the clear night sky, everything changed.

He was in his ship when he first noticed something off.

Four fresh pucks from Karga, plotting the most fuel-efficient map between his quarries and Nevarro. When he found himself putting in coordinates for Tatooine.

None of the quarries were on Tatooine this time. He stopped, shook his head, and punched in for Jakku.

Desert planets were bound to blur together.

He brushed it off, deciding to get as much sleep as he could in hyperspace.

It was a helmet-on kind of sleep, though.

It came up again as he was leaving Corellia.

He’d actually locked in the coordinates that time and was halfway through atmo before he noticed.

And then it was when he set foot back on Nevarro, four carbonite platters ready for delivery later, that he felt it again.

He didn’t want to be here.

But it was in the middle of Karga offering up new pucks when Din really damned himself.

“Do you have any on Tatooine?” slipped out before he could stop it.

Karga did. Just the one, and a risky venture at that. A Captain in one of the Hutts palaces.

Din took it. He wasn’t even sure why he took it, but it was too late. He was half-way to the ship when he realized he hadn’t taken any other bounties.

Still some part of him unclenched as he finally made the jump to hyperspace.

He’d thought that this odd urge would evaporate as he landed.

It didn’t.

That way it said, gesturing metaphorically for the Dune Sea.

Even if his quarry was technically that direction, this whole journey seemed foolish. And he might have given up if not for that old saying his Armorer was so fond of,

‘Instincts can be misled, but they never lie.’

Peli was her usual self--some combination of persnickety and jovial that landed right in charming. But she did lend a speeder bike.

Finally Din was off, racing through the searing sands.

It was less than a day’s journey, however, when he felt the urge again.

Stop.

He did, scoping all around him, trying to figure out how this gulley between dunes was different from all the others.

Pulling out his pocket scope, gave him a clue. The Hutt palace warbled in the far distance. Now just to figure out how to get inside, kill and/or remove one of the better trained guards without alerting the whole palace.

He watched the palace for the rest of the evening, noting guard rotations, possible alternate entrances.

After the suns set, things began to get a little tense

Dark was the obvious option for trying a covert entrance to the compound. But the urge was rather adamant.

Wait.

“Wait for what?” he asked an empty desert before immediately feeling foolish

His answer came a few hours before sunrise.

A small barge left the palace, floating just a hundred yards north of him. There weren’t many people on board. A few guards, perhaps a slave--

And his quarry.

Well. Rarely did events turn out so damn convenient.

Follow.

Even better.

Back on the speeder bike, he kept pace with the barge, keeping a few dunes between them. Trying to log as much information as he could before striking.

Four guards. One slave. One quarry. No one appeared to be below deck. This wouldn’t be too difficult.

Then the slave kicked one of the guards off the barge.

Another immediately fired a shot at the slave, only to be gruffly stopped by the quarry with the flat of an axe blade.

Din watched on thermal as the quarry pulled something out of his jacket, and then the slave dropped.

An armor piercing scream echoed through the desert, settling high in his chest and constricting.

Now.

Speeder bike surged forward, and one shot with his grappling cable, he managed to land feet first on the side of the barge.

It dipped under his added weight. One guard leaning over to inspect and getting a blaster shot between the eyes for his trouble.

Two more leaned over, but Din ran along the side to get momentum and swing himself up on deck.

The quarry bum-rushed him, axe out. Beskar took most of the brunt, and Din knocked him back, nearly off the side but he gripped the railing, sending a small device skittering to the deck floor.

The slave stopped screaming and that tightness in his chest immediately relaxed, though it didn't evaporate.

Danger.

Yes, obviously.

Din shot one guard as the slave, a human woman in some sort of flowy very impractical clothing, got to her feet and knocked another one off into the sand.

“Duck,” he yelled to her, before shooting the last guard behind her, as she dropped to the deck.

The quarry got back on deck and instead of going after Din, or the woman, he ran for the device near the front of the ship.

“NOOO–” the woman yelled as Din ran after the quarry. But the quarry arrived first, smashing the butt of his axe into the device and destroying it.

Her cry cut off abruptly, but Din focused on getting a single shot to the back of the quarry’s head first. He succeeded.

The post-battle quiet rushed in, cut only by the sound of the barge motor still going and his own breathing.

Save.

He turned back to examine The Woman, who was prone on the deck, not moving. The tightness returned.

Civilian casualties were… an unfortunate reality. He did his very best to avoid them whenever possible. But there had been instances before.

Though those times didn’t make his hands shake as he turned on thermal again.

The shake ebbed as he confirmed she was still alive. Just unconscious. A breath cut out of him.

Save, the urge repeated.

Well, he couldn’t fly a stolen Hutt barge as the way back to Mos Eisley. Hopefully the speeder bike was where he left it.

It was. Though it wasn’t meant to hold three people. The quarry was strapped to the back like so much cargo, and since The Woman didn’t seem to be waking anytime soon, he had no choice but to hold her.

It was more awkward than anything else, her head flopped on his pauldron and her perfume filling his nose

He didn’t know the scent, but it was rich and sweet, and lingered in the back of his throat

They arrived at Mos Eisley as the suns broke free of the horizon.

Peli gave him a strange look when he asked for bolt cutters, but even if the woman was unconscious, Din wasn’t going to leave that collar on her.

Though now came the most important question: what was he going to do with her?

She seemed stable, no wounds that he’d noticed at all. Though she still hadn’t regained consciousness.

It was probably a fairly safe bet that an escaped slave wouldn’t want to stay planetside.

And if she did, he’d bring her right back after getting paid.

He tucked her into the only bed on The Razor Crest –though bed was a generous definition– and found every blanket to drape on top of her. Space was cold and the fabric of her dress was nearly translucent.

Save.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, heading to the cockpit for take off.

The Woman didn’t wake up before Nevarro.

Two and a half full days unconscious was not a good sign. Even for someone like him.

Thermal said she wasn’t running a temperature. At the end of the second day, he gave her a bacta shot for good measure.

Nothing changed.

Fix.

For all the time he spent on Nevarro, Din realized very quickly that he actually knew precious little outside of the covert. Which left him with Karga as his only source of guidance.

“Is there a hospital here? Or a doctor?” he asked, as soon as money had changed hands.

“Are you hurt, Mando?” Karga gave him a once over, as if checking for missing limbs.

“Not for me.”

“Well, we do have a clinic. But it’s run by a healing droid.”

“No droids,” Din responded with a fervency usually reserved for his ship.

Karga held up his hands in surrender. “Then I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

Fix.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Din asked, “Where’s the clinic?”

A Mandalorian carrying a blanketed bundle the size of a grown woman though the marketplace was bound to get a few strange looks.

Luckily, there wasn’t a line at the clinic.

Unluckily, the droid was still there.

The Woman looked concerningly pale on the table as the droid ran scan after scan. Her hair, dark and curly, didn’t shine like it had under the Tatooine double sun rise. It was limp and lifeless.

Like her.

Fix!

“How many more scans are you going to run??” Din snapped.

The droid was unfazed, finished its test before turning to face him.

“I have found the problem.” A projection appeared of The Woman’s head in profile. A small white square at the base of her skull. “She appears to have a chip implanted between her third and fourth cervical vertebrae.”

“Removing that will fix her?”

“All signs point to this being the root of the problem.”

“Can you remove it here?”

“Yes, but you cannot be present for the procedure.”

Though the idea of trusting her care into the hands of a droid made his palms itch, Din nodded.

He was allowed a moment to say good-bye, which felt both strange as he didn’t even know her name and yet not long enough all at the same time.

He touched a gloved hand to her shoulder, promising that this would fix it.

Though he wasn’t sure who he was promising that too.

A full hour crawled by as Din waited in the dingy clinic waiting room. The urge very insistent

Fix. Return. Fix. Return.

He was about ready to go ask what was taking so long again when the droid returned.

“The procedure was a success. She may be confused for a few days. But her mind will heal with time. Your wife is sleeping now, but can leave by the end of the day. ”

Side-stepping the presumption, he asked, “Do you have the chip?”

“Yes. Would you like to keep it?”

“Yes.” Mainly to find out where it came from in the first place. Implanted chips were rare and few, if any, were legal. Especially not ones capable of this sort of… control.

Given that The Woman was still sleeping, Din decided to take the chip to get some answers.

The urge was not happy.

Return. Return. Return.

But really, when she woke, the droid's face would be more expressive than his own.

From this side of the city, he took the southern entrance to the covert.

There was a tension shift as soon as he stepped down into the subterranean tunnels. The oddity of a Mandalorian was stripped away, thankfully.

At the heart of the covert was the armory and more importantly the Armorer. He sat before her forge and waited to be addressed.

“I see no defects in your armor,” she said, not stopping her smelting.

“I seek answers, not repairs.”

“Answers to what?”

He placed the chip down. She picked it up to examine it silently before setting it back down and returning to her work.

“Where did you find this?”

“Tatooine. Inside a slave from a Hutt palace.”

“Is the slave alive?”

“Yes.”

“They may provide more answers than I can.”

“She’s not conscious,” he explained, taking the chip back. “And–”

The Armorer waited for him to continue.

“I was… led to her.”

“How?”

He paused for a long moment, trying to find a way to explain. “Instinct.”

Danger, the urge suddenly said.

A slight commotion out in the hall behind him interrupted their conversation. Raised voices echoed down stone walls.

The Armorer’s comm link came to life. “Outsider at the southern entrance.”

Danger! Go.

Din was up on his feet before he made the choice to do so. And he was halfway down the hall by the time he’d realized he’d left.

A few other Mandalorians were also moving to the southern entrance, back up if there was an invading force.

Danger! Danger!

The urge pulled him into a sprint for the last corner.

Coming around it, something high in his chest resounded in fear.

The Woman was standing at the end of the hall, dressed in his dark shirt he’d pulled over her dress before taking her to the clinic, with at least six Mandalorian blasters pointed at her.

Save!

“STOP. WAIT.” Din ran down towards the stand off. “DON’T SHOOT.”

A few blasters turned his direction before their owners saw who he was. He could hear quite a few more Mandalorians also approaching from behind.

The Woman, however, did not seem bothered by the guns or the platoon of armored warriors surrounding her. She calmly walked forward, gaze focused somewhere ahead of her.

On him.

Return.

Her eyes were a soft grey, yet distant. Foggy.

Din drifted towards her. The urge now palpable under his skin.

Return.

However, it was only when she reached out and took one gloved hand in hers that it finally relaxed, disappeared.

“Outsiders are not permitted inside the covert,” one of the guards snapped.

“She’s not an outsider,” the Armorer replied.

Her voice seemed very far away to Din who felt it was more important to study this woman’s face than listen.

“She’s a Match.”

That cut through the gentle reverie of grey eyes.

A what?

Chapter Two: The Question

taglist: @kelenloth ; @keeper0fthestars ; @loversandantiheroes

#din djarin #The Mandalorian #din djarin x original character #pedro pascal #din djarin x ofc #The Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfic #soulmate au #Star Crossed #i have no clue what the good tags are for this can you tell?#my writing

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

Text

ANON-CORRECT QUOTES

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Egg: (staggers into the Kibo-Con, haggard) The Eagles won last night....

Dream: (excitedly turning to Egg, before getting shocked by the state Egg is in) Oh! You watched the game, too-AAAH!

Egg: (covered in feathers and bloody talon marks) What game?

Source: Twitter

Page Source: (https://twitter.com/rudy_betrayed/status/1329439065364639744)

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Curious: (working as a hotel receptionist, to Wyre and Myth) May I help you?

Wyre: (sneaking fake looks at Myth) Yeah! We're checkin' in!

Myth: (gets what Wyre is trying to do, and winks back)

Curious: (smiling, immediately understanding) Oh! Honeymoon couple!

(1 MINUTE LATER, AT THE LUXURIOUS HOTEL SUITE...)

Myth: (looks at the large bed, before high-fiving Wyre and turning to the audience) You know what? Who says you can't share a honeymoon suite with your platonic childhood best friend with whom you have a complicated romantic history?

Source: iCarly (2021)

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Fusion II: (looks up from her book, to find Purple in the kitchen reading a cake-mix box) Oh. Hey, Purple. What are you doing in the kitchen?

Purple: (looks up from the cake-mix box) Oh! Felicitations, Fusion the Second! I am merely endeavoring to collaborate with the epicurean attendees of the Kibo-Con. Might I inquire as to the whereabouts of the "dextrose sucralose"?

Fusion II: (confused, taking the box from Purple and speedreading the ingredients list, before her face falls, unimpressed) Purple. This is instant cake mix. You're reading the ingredients.

Source: Reba

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(In Scar's infirmary...)

Eldritch: (shocked) W-WAIT! Y-Y-You're ssssleeping with a SURGICAL KNIFE?!

Scar: (laying on one of the hospital cots, irritated from her slumber being interrupted) Some people have stuffed animals....and some have knives...

Wet Sock: (sleeping on the other hospital cot, sleeping with a knife, giving a thumbs up to Scar)

Source: The Magisterium

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Janon: (awkwardly running away and screaming in utter fear) AaAaAaAaAaAaAaGH! AaAaAaAaAGH! AAAAH!

Fusion: (running after Janon, trying to get him to participate in one of his trivia seminars) Why are you running? WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!

Source: Vine

Video Source: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6oQUDFV2C0)

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(After Iris volunteers herself to model Sparkle's new galaxy printed costumes and Sparkle and Nerd are in charge of advertising...)

Iris: (in various poses and outfits, over the commentary by Nerd and Sparkle) Go and try out "THE SPECTACULAR SPARKLE'S STELLAR STAR-QUALITY SUITS"!

Sparkle: (voice-over) IF YOU DON'T HAVE STAR-QUALITY-

Nerd: (angrily, cutting Sparkle off) GET THE F*** OUT!

Sparkle: (angry at Nerd for ruining her advertisement)

Iris: (tired from doing those all takes several times)

Source: RuPaul's Drag Race

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(During the Mastermind Trial...)

The Fancy One/Mastermind: (explaining their motivations) This is when your resident KG Mastermind first discovered despair and all the power it could hold! And what do you when you find out about the power?~★

The Fancy One/Mastermind: (pointing to the Traitor) You mastermind a traitor!~★

Source: Unraveled

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I hope you like these quotes! I'd love to hear your opinions on them!

-Fusion Anon

#submission #so sorry i didnt queue this earlier lol #anon #fusion anon #incorrect quote #fusion anon ii #iris anon #dream anon #curious anon #sparkling anon #just anon #eldritch anon #egg anon #wet sock anon #anon nerd #anon scar #my evil twin #anon kg

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bluegreenandpurple · 3 years

Text

A beard through seasons- Chap 3

Third installment of this four chapter series... let's see what moment is Ron's beard bringing to us!

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters from HP Books nor do I get a single pound/penny/peso (money) out of this. Rated M because of Hermione's thoughts.

You can also find this work in AO3 and FFN.

Chapter 2: The grandad’s beard

Hermione was awakened by an obnoxious stream of light one cold Saturday morning. Although — as she stirred and adjusted her eyes to her new vigile condition — the same object of her disdain became a blessing when Hermione caught sight of her sleeping companion, looking almost ethereal under the dim light created by her former enemy.

A wide smile instantly spread across Hermione’s face and, determined not to waste such a view, she propped up in her elbow and began to drink in the appearance of one Ronald Weasley. He remained peacefully asleep spread on his back, one arm resting on his stomach over the duvet and the other one flexed upon the pillow. There was also one rebellious knee just slightly bent peeking out from the edge of the bed, teasing her with a hint of a freckled thigh.

Hermione averted her eyes from temptation and focused on what they’ve come to call the “freaking freckle”. The ludicrous name belonged to an oversized and slightly darker mark that appeared one summer just below Ron’s jaw. He hated it, but Hemione loved dropping slobbery kisses over it when she was snuggling into him. She had made her life mission to kiss each and every one of those darker and larger marks he so hated. To her, it was as if he had multiple solar systems in an extended universe of freckles, and she was an astronaut exploring and discovering new galaxies on the confines of his skin.

Hermione lowered her view, following the line of his throat. She licked her lips at the mesmerizing movement of his Adam's apple when he suddenly gulped. She wondered what was it that made his neck so delicious. Was it the shape? She mused, as she followed the lines of his tendons and muscles, stretching and relaxing as he swallowed once more. Or could it be the senses? The salty taste of his skin combined with his intoxicating essence. Maybe it was because of the fascinating patterns surrounding the freaking freckle. Or perhaps it was all. His neck was so alluring just because it was his, part of him.

She continued gazing down until she found his collarbone and had to suppress a chuckle as she caught the mess he had made of his T-shirt. It was almost impossibly tangled, rolled between his armpit and the duvet, showing half his shoulder. Hermione’s heart clenched at the sight of his splinching scar, being a reminder of one of many times their future together had almost been stolen by death. She decided to avoid the mourning memory and directed her eyes to his other side, immediately feeling better as she took in his rolled-up sleeve.

Well, that right there was another of the mysteries of Ronald Weasley. How was it that something as simple as an arm could turn her on like that? Hermione felt the warmth spread across her body as she drank in his bicep. It was relaxed but somehow yet contracted, highlighting the lines of his muscles. She bit her lip and decided to move up but a light moan escaped her as he jolted in his sleep, ripping his exquisite forearm. She had to keep going or she wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Hermione moved on in the Ron Weasley tour. Next stop: hands. There it was, a large calloused but delicate hand with those bony magical fingers. Was she barmy to find his hands so endearing? She pondered. Well, she was certainly and undeniably barmy about him. His fingers were barely touching his temple and Hermione felt herself smiling as she eyed his fringe. After all these years, that rebellious fringe kept falling free on his forehead, continuingly teasing her to reach and caress it away.

Ron’s eyes were closed, but Hermione could clearly picture the sapphire blue of his gaze. It was as if two gemstones were adorning his face. She loved those eyes so much. Those expressive, deep, passionate eyes of him that could pierce through all her barriers and unveil her soul. Those beautiful eyes that their daughter had inherited. It would never cease to amaze Hermione how they’d managed to create two human beings with such an exquisite mix of both of them, that would serve as living proof to the world that they were destined to be together. They had always been.

Hermione deflected from Ron’s eyes and studied the grey hairs that now adorned his sideburn, proof of the life they'd shared. She giggled internally as she inspected his beard. Ron's beard. A being by itself. She tried to put a number to how many times she found herself drooling at his beard. That strong, sexy coppery-auburn piece of facial hair that hypnotised her. The grey was rapidly spreading from the edges to the centre, already taking his entire sideburn and half his jawline, sparkling across his face as evidence of the years moving forward almost too fast.

Hermione was now too tempted to take those slightly open lips of his with hers, but she didn’t want to disturb his sleep. He seemed so peaceful. Then she remembered that Ron had told her once that if she ever felt the need, she shouldn’t doubt and always, always, wake him up. And after all the gazing and inspecting, she was more than needing him. So, without a second thought, Hermione leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

She was about to pull away when he took her lower lips with his teeth, a clear sign that he was coming out from his sleep. Hermione released a satisfied moan for all the hold ones from earlier and he groaned into her mouth, taking her in for a deep kiss. Oh, how she loved his groggy, slobbery morning kisses. Ron moved the arm he had stuck between them to hold her tight, half on her butt and half on her side, as his other hand was now tangling in her hair. He was mumbling into her mouth amidst kisses something along the lines of “love you so much” and “best way to wake up”. Things were heating up fast when they were startled out of their love bubble by Hugo’s voice, coming from somewhere in their room.

‘Your grandson is coming. Get out of bed you thirsty middle aged people! See you at St. Mungo’s.’ By the time they found the source of the voice, Hugo’s Patronus was starting to fade.

Ron was propped up in his elbows and Hermione had half her body over him, hanging by his neck. They were both blinking and staring at the empty spot where the Patronus had evaporated. Ron turned his head to look at his wife with his signature lopsided grin and said, ‘He is coming, love.’ His voice sounded strained out of the effort to contain a shriek of joy. Then he suddenly hopped out of bed, dropping Hermione unceremoniously to the side. He was bouncing around the room whilst he fetched his clothes and began to dress. Hermione shook her head amused at his overexcited husband, feeling her heart grow an inch as she took in how adorable he was.

When they arrived at Hospital, Rose was already there, dressed in her Healer robes. They greeted and hugged, excited at the news, as Rose proceeded to tell them how Hugo had come with his wife an hour ago and she had had to ask for a colleague to make her rounds to be free to meet her incoming nephew. Time started ticking and a few hours later the waiting room was like a ginger’s convention. Full of hordes and hordes of Weasleys, and the Potters.

After a few more hours, the maternity’s doors flew open and an euphoric Hugo came out. He stood at the threshold for a second, scanning the room. When he found his father, he sprinted towards him. Ron sprinted too, meeting him halfway in a winding embrace. Hugo was screaming at lung force ‘I’m a dad, dad, I’m a dad! A dad!!’ As Ron patted his back and nodded enthusiastically, too overwhelmed to articulate any words. After the initial shock, the entire room roared in joy as the Hospital’s personnel tried vainly to ask for silence.

When the chaos ceased, Hugo had to come back inside to attend to his wife. Hermione, Rose and Ron were the first in line to meet the newcomer, and about half an hour after Hugo’s announcement they were called in by a Healer. Hermione shared amused glares with Rose as they looked at Ron bouncing Luna Loovegod style all the way to the baby’s room. Upon entrance, the lot was received by a beaming Hugo holding a little baby with some patches of brown hair in his head. His wife was smiling fondly at Hugo, and Hermione felt her heart clench in emotion as she recognized the look in her face as the same she had held when Ron presented Rose to Arthur.

‘Hey, lot. This is Matthew Ronald Granger-Weasley.’

Hermione gasped and turned to see as a wide grin invaded Ron’s entire face. He dropped an amused ‘Wicked!’ and took a few steps towards his son and grandson. Hermione felt tears running down her cheeks as she saw Ron taking baby Matt from Hugo’s arms. Ron lifted his face to look at her, positively beaming with the precious treasure in his arms. Hermione was overcome with love as the memory of that same smile with a red-headed baby in his arms flew to her mind. But her heart grew another inch that day as she noted the grey hair in Ron's beard and she realised her Ron was now a grandad.

#ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #romione fluff

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justforbooks · 4 years

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Lafayette Ronald Hubbard was born on March 13, 1911. He was an American author of science fiction and fantasy stories who founded the Church of Scientology. In 1950, Hubbard authored Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health and established a series of organizations to promote Dianetics. In 1952, Hubbard lost the rights to Dianetics in bankruptcy proceedings, and he subsequently founded Scientology. Thereafter Hubbard oversaw the growth of the Church of Scientology into a worldwide organization.

Born in Tilden, Nebraska, in 1911, Hubbard spent much of his childhood in Helena, Montana. After his father was posted to the U.S. naval base on Guam, Hubbard traveled to Asia and the South Pacific in the late 1920s. In 1930, Hubbard enrolled at George Washington University to study civil engineering but dropped out in his second year. He began his career as a prolific writer of pulp fiction stories and married Margaret "Polly" Grubb, who shared his interest in aviation.

Hubbard was an officer in the Navy during World War II, where he briefly commanded two ships but was removed from command both times. The last few months of his active service were spent in a hospital, being treated for a variety of complaints.

Scientology became increasingly controversial during the 1960s and came under intense media, government and legal pressure in a number of countries. During the late 1960s and early 1970s, Hubbard spent much of his time at sea on his personal fleet of ships as "Commodore" of the Sea Organization, an elite quasi-paramilitary group of Scientologists.

Hubbard returned to the United States in 1975 and went into seclusion in the California desert after an unsuccessful attempt to take over the town of Clearwater, Florida. In 1978, Hubbard was convicted of fraud after he was trialed in absentia by France. In the same year, eleven high-ranking members of Scientology were indicted on 28 charges for their role in the Church's Snow White Program, a systematic program of espionage against the United States government. One of the indicted was Hubbard's wife Mary Sue Hubbard, who was in charge of the program; L. Ron Hubbard was named an unindicted co-conspirator.

Hubbard spent the remaining years of his life in seclusion in a luxury motorhome on a ranch in California, attended to by a small group of Scientology officials. He died at age 74 in January 1986. Following Hubbard's death, Scientology leaders announced that his body had become an impediment to his work and that he had decided to "drop his body" to continue his research on another plane of existence. Though many of Hubbard's autobiographical statements have been found to be fictitious, the Church of Scientology describes Hubbard in hagiographic terms and rejects any suggestion that its account of Hubbard's life is not historical fact.

The copyrights of his works and much of his estate and wealth were willed to the Church of Scientology. In a bulletin dated May 5, 1980, Hubbard told his followers to preserve his teachings until an eventual reincarnation when he would return "not as a religious leader but as a political one". The Church of Spiritual Technology (CST), a sister organization of the Church of Scientology, has engraved Hubbard's entire corpus of Scientology and Dianetics texts on steel tablets stored in titanium containers. They are buried at the Trementina Base in a vault under a mountain near Trementina, New Mexico, on top of which the CST's logo has been bulldozed on such a gigantic scale that it is visible from space.

Hubbard is held by Guinness World Records to be for the most published author with 1,084 works, most translated book (70 languages for The Way to Happiness) and most audiobooks (185 as of April 2009). According to Galaxy Press, Hubbard's Battlefield Earth has sold over 6 million copies and Mission Earth a further 7 million, with each of its ten volumes becoming New York Times bestsellers on their release; however, the Los Angeles Times reported in 1990 that Hubbard's followers had been buying large numbers of the books and re-issuing them to stores, so as to boost sales figures. Opinions are divided about his literary legacy. Scientologists have written of their desire to "make Ron the most acclaimed and widely known author of all time". The sociologist William Sims Bainbridge writes that even at his peak in the late 1930s Hubbard was regarded by readers of Astounding Science Fiction as merely "a passable, familiar author but not one of the best", while by the late 1970s "the [science fiction] subculture wishes it could forget him" and fans gave him a worse rating than any other of the "Golden Age" writers.

Hubbard, although increasingly deified after his death, is the model Operating Thetan to Scientologists and their founder, and not God. Hubbard then is the "Source", "inviting others to follow his path in ways comparable to a Bodhisattva figure" according to religious scholar Donald A. Westbrook. Scientologists refer to L. Ron Hubbard as "Ron", referring to him as a personal friend.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #L. Ron Hubbard #Famous Birthdays

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Worthy

One-Shot

Description: What happens when Steve goes to collect the Soul Stone instead of Natasha and Clint?

Warning: Curse words, spoilers for Avengers Endgame

This is for the awesome, caring and super-talented @jtargaryen18 's writing challenge. She eased my mind about the plot. Thank you 😘 Click here to know the rules and participate!

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I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Who was he? Steve Rogers? Or Captain America? Are they both different people? Or are they two sides of the same coin?

Steve wondered as he gazed down the cliff at Vormir, home to the Soul Stone.

When he had first arrived alone on the barren planet, he had been shocked and angry to see Red Skull guarding the infinity stone. To think that he went under the ice all those years ago stood for nothing. To have lost his life, his partner, his best friend and for what? Hydra was still active, the world was still suffering from war and now Red Skull was still alive, floating in space.

But as he understood Red Skull's predicament, Steve realised that while he himself was a man out of time, Red Skull was stuck here in his miserable existence till the end of time, out of place, out of touch. That brought him some satisfaction.

He was glad they had decided to send Natasha and Clint with Tony, Bruce and Scott to 2012. There was just too much ground to cover with 3 infinity stones in the same city. It made sense to have more eyes on the ground.

There was no way Steve would sacrifice anybody from his team for the stone. They had lost too many lives already. And if they were successful, then they would need all hands on deck to manage the chaos that would follow once everybody was brought back.

Steve sat on a rock and pulled out his compass. He sighed as he saw Peggy, "What do you think Peg?" he murmured, lightly running his thumb over the photograph.

After a few minutes, he clicked a button on the rim and the compass flipped open, revealing the hidden compartment beneath. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from within. It was as old and worn-out as Peggy's photograph. He closed the compass and looked at the other image. A black and white Bucky laughed back at him while at his side, a thin, scrawny Steve was looking scornfully at the camera, his face bruised. Steve chuckled as he remembered the day this photograph was taken. He had gotten into another one of his infamous back-alley fights. Some drunken idiot had punched Bucky because he had been flaunting his Sergeant's uniform at the bar amongst the ladies. While Bucky could have easily mopped the floor with the guy, Steve had decided to step in and push the drunken idiot. Then, as it always happened, Steve was dragged into the back-alley to be turned into a punching bag, with Bucky finally saving his skinny ass.

This photograph was taken later that night, with Bucky laughing at the whole incident.

The cold Vormir wind brought Steve back to the present. Ever since he could remember, he wanted to do the right thing, save the innocent people and just help those who needed it the most.

While the asthmatic 90-pound Steve Rogers couldn't do that, the 240-pound Captain America was able to do that and much more.

That's why he loved being Captain America. He could finally do what he had always wanted to do. It didn't matter whether the Government labelled him as a criminal or whether the press questioned his every move. He was able to help people, change lives for the better and protect the little guy. Isn't that what mattered?

He opened the compass again. Looking at both the photographs, he whispered, "Thank you."

He picked up his shield and faced the cliff.

"What are you doing?" asked Red Skull, as if guessing his next move, "How do you know this will work? You are Captain America," he declared.

Steve looked at him, his mouth turned into a smirk, "How would I know? I am just a kid from Brooklyn," and with that, Captain America jumped into the abyss below.

…

Steve's entire body was shivering with cold as he lay in the water. With his teeth clattering, he barely managed to sit upright. He started breathing rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He was still on Vormir. As he tried to get up, he realised two things. One, he was completely naked except for his time travel bracelet and vibranium shield, and two, he was holding something in his right hand. He opened his palm to look at the yellow Soul Stone. Almost laughing in relief, Steve looked down at himself. He saw he had the same scrawny body as the Steve in the old photograph. Shivering further with cold, he pressed a few buttons on his bracelet.

…

One by one as the Avengers returned to the compound, they looked around excitedly at their peers, relieved to find them safe. Steve was the last one to return. His knees buckled as soon as he landed. Hiding his naked bony body behind the shield, he threw up on the floor, his body not able to handle the stress of the quantum time-travel.

"Oh my God who is that?!" Scott exclaimed as Tony, Natasha and Clint stepped tentatively towards Steve. As his body convulsed with pain, he held up the stone towards them. The second Nat took the stone, Steve collapsed.

…

Steve woke up two days later on a hospital bed.

"We are trying our best to keep your bodily functions from collapsing onto themselves. You should be thankful that we have medicines to treat most of your ailments. What were you thinking?" Tony spat with frustration.

Steve saw large swollen bags under Tony's red eyes. Steve was willing to bet that Tony hadn't slept ever since his return. He smiled, "It had to be done Tony," said Steve, his voice flat, having lost its 'Captain America depthness'.

"What happened on Vormir?" asked Natasha gently. Steve tried to sit, "The stone demanded a sacrifice. A soul for the soul stone. So I sacrificed him."

"Yeah and left us without a leader. What are we supposed to do now? You are meant to rally the troops. You are meant to lead. How do you think you will do that if you need an asthma inhaler every time you try to take a walk around the compound?" Tony voiced his concerns. "Tony, calm down. Shhh now," Thor said from his chair.

"You look like you need a sandwich," Rocket commented, seated besides Thor.

"Your vitals look good Cap... ahem I-I mean Steve," Bruce flustered while checking Steve's reports.

"Captain America was never about one person. It is about what the title stands for; Bravery to face any challenge, Courage to stand up against the greatest powers for the right reason and Having a clear sense of duty, of what's right and wrong. Captain America can be anyone," Steve said, pointedly staring at Natasha.

He turned to look at the shield placed by his bedside table. Carefully, he picked it up with a bit of struggle and held it out for her.

"I can't think of a better person to lead us," Steve said decidedly. Wide-eyed, Natasha looked at him with bewilderment. "No Steve. I am a spy. I am not a soldier. I cannot be trusted with…"

"You are not a spy. Not anymore. You have been leading the Avengers not just on earth, but across the galaxy, especially when most of us had given up. You are right though. You are not a soldier. You are a leader, Captain."

Natasha looked at Steve, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice almost breaking "I have too much red on my ledger Steve."

"You wiped that ledger when you joined the Avengers Nat. You deserve this," Clint supported her.

As Natasha took the shield and tried it on, Tony asked her, "We will have to render your suit. Do you want black with Red, White and Blue?" Natasha nodded. As Tony left, Natasha mouthed the words, "Thank you," towards Steve as he brushed it off.

"Have we brought everybody back yet?" Steve asked.

"No. We are just finishing the gauntlet. It should be ready by tomorrow," Banner said.

Clint looked at Natasha proudly. "We have a female Captain America now."

"No," Steve said. He grinned at Natasha, "We have a Captain America now."

…

2014 Nebula kept her attention at Antman near the Quantum Time Machine. In the last two days there had been a lot of activity in the compound thanks to Steve's return. It would have served as a good distraction, but unfortunately, there were people working around the time machine. She was itching to bring her father and his army to this future. However, for that, she would need to have patience. A lot of patience. They were planning to undo the snap tomorrow, that's when she planned to strike. She cannot afford to fail her father. She must not.

…

"All the best guys," said Steve as he sat in the car, ready to leave the compound. There was going to be a tremendous blast of gamma radiation from the snap. Steve understood that he might not survive the blast and instead, had offered to bring falafels from the nearby restaurant for lunch.

He reached the modest Middle Eastern eatery. Only two tables were occupied when he placed his large order to go. The server looked at him in suspicion. He doubted whether Steve would be able to carry all the packages by himself. Still, he shrugged, large orders such as these were a boon in the post-snap world.

After 5 minutes, the restaurant shook with a wave of energy blast. Steve fell down from his chair with the impact. As he got up, brushing himself off, he saw black dust materialising in front of him. He looked on as the dust came together to form a person, a man. Steve noticed this happening all around the restaurant. Within a span of a few minutes, the entire restaurant was filled to capacity, with more people appearing on the sidewalk.

He heard terrified screams of people around him. Then guns were fired into the air. Steve turned, trying to determine the source of the violence, when he felt the ground shake.

"EARTHQUAKE!" someone screamed and they all tried to take cover, mostly bumping into one another. There was a loud deafening sound of a missile exploding, then another 4-5 such sounds in rapid succession as the ground shook relentlessly with the impact of the missiles.

Shit, Steve thought. Who would be attacking them now?

A few moments later, when everything went quiet, Steve stepped out of the restaurant and looked in the direction of the Avengers Compound. He could see dark smoke rising into the sky, with a huge spaceship eclipsing the sun. Thanos.

Without a second thought, Steve entered the car. "F.R.I.D.A.Y," he commanded, "Take me to the compound right now." "There has been an attack Mr Rogers, I am not sure if…" the AI tried to reason with him, but Steve interrupted, "Now!" "Yes Mr Rogers," she said in resignation.

…

He reached as close to the compound as the car could take him. The debris of the buildings and the gaping holes in the ground preventing the car from going any further. Steve stepped down, and started making his way to the centre of the ground.

As he used his asthma inhaler, he realised Tony was right. If he couldn't even walk this much without needing his inhaler, how can he help them?

When Steve reached the centre, his heart broke at the scene before him. Tony was lying on the ground having sustained multiple injuries. Natasha was trying to get up, her arms and legs badly cut. Thor was fighting with Thanos, but it seemed that was a losing battle as well. Steve couldn't just give up. He never had.

Looking around him at the ground, he saw a big piece of concrete. Lifting it, he tried to throw out with all his strength, but the concrete didn't even fall within 10 yards of Thanos. His eyes then went to Thor's Mjolnir on the ground. He still had to try right?

He rushed towards the hammer and pulled on its handle, Mjolnir feeling surprisingly light in his hands. He aimed and swung for the ugly purple head. With Mjolnir hitting the mark, the hammer dutifully came back to Steve.

"I KNEW IT!" exclaimed Thor, his reaction earning him a kick from Thanos.

Thanos's surprise was short-lived. He charged towards the little guy. Steve threw the hammer again but Thanos easily deflected it with his double-edged sword.

Before he could reach Steve, Natasha attacked Thanos, diverting his attention. "F.R.I.D.A.Y," she screamed, "get Steve a sandwich."

This isn't the time for a joke, Steve thought as he summoned the hammer and threw it at Thanos again.

Thanos threw Natasha to the ground and headed for Steve. A back-handed smack sent Steve flying in the air. He wouldn't have survived the fall, if it hadn't been for the S.A.N.D.W.H.I.C.H.H- an iron-man suit in the darkest shade of blue. The suit wrapped itself around Steve as it broke his fall. "Welcome Mr Rogers," greeted F.R.I.D.A.Y, "Do you like your new suit? It stands for

S - Steve

A - Always

N - Needs

D - Dangerous

W - Weapons

I - In-order-to

C - Cover

H - His

H - Homies"

Steve was still panting from the impact of the smack as he lay on the ground in the suit. "Not one of Tony's best acronyms," he managed to say between breaths. "Yeah," agreed the AI, "but he only put this together last night."

Steve struggled to get up again. He heard Thanos mumble something, but he couldn't care less. He stumbled in the new suit, barely being able to walk towards the giant alien, but still, willing to fight till his last breath. Just then, the microphone in his suit crackled a bit, "C-Cap, you ther--re?" He heard Sam's voice…

…

Steve couldn't believe it. The entire universe had come to fight with Thanos. He looked at humans and aliens alike, pissed off and ready to face the biggest threat to the universe. He managed to make it to the front of the line besides Thor, summoning the Mjolnir.

Natasha smiled at the army behind her, then turned to look at Thanos with a deadly stare.

She raised her shield as she called out to the warriors, her voice bellowing on the battlefield, "AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!"

#steve rogers #captain america #avengers #Natasha #black widow #Hulk #hawk eye #iron man #rocket #Thor #infinity stones #soul stone #tony stark #bruce banner #avengers assemble #30daysofchris2020 #30 days of chris 2020

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your-incorrect-quotes · 1 month

Text

A: B died as they lived...

A: Violently.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes template #incorrect quotes templates #two people #source: the second best hospital in the galaxy #source: tsbhitg #q

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ckret2 · 4 years

Text

Home Is Where Your Shackles Are Anchored

Ghidorah, galaxy-trotting interstellar conqueror-explorer that they are, attempts to impress Rodan by telling him all about the diverse wonders of the universe.

He’s kind of only interested in hearing about volcanoes.

Hey check out who’s back. Written to the prompts:

Anonymous said: How about Ghidorah tries (as best as they can) to describe what space is like to Rodan?

Anonymous said: Hey, love the way you characterize the Titans in your fics, if you're accepting prompts atm how abt Rodan/Ghidorah reacting to blue lavs volcanoes ( they're that way due to burning sulfur right?)

... Although the blue lava only gets a short mention lmao.

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is: Ghidorah’s an empath (telepathically transmits/detects emotions) but it only works with head-to-head contact; Ghidorah doesn’t speak any Earth languages but is slowly learning Rodan’s; Ghidorah was originally mind controlled & weaponized by Xilien aliens; and this one time Rodan made a whole globe out of lava and melted glass and Ghidorah keeps freaking out about how this dude who lives in a volcano and has never been off his own planet knows so much stuff. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

When the red sprite asked them about other worlds, they wanted to impress upon him the vast wonders the universe contained. The ghostly filament-like serpents hundreds of miles long that swam glittering through nebulas. The vast artificial asteroid belts consisting of the armada ships of empires that spanned hundreds of populated planets. The dizzying way starlight bent and stretched when you fell almost too close to a black hole to save yourself. Planets of pure diamond, planets with hurricanes that never ended, planets where multiple suns twirled through the skies.

It turned out what the red sprite was interested in was the real estate.

"That other stuff is cool," he reassured them, flopped on his back in his volcano with his legs in the air. "But a planet's not a proper planet without volcanoes."

"Lots planets do not have volcanoes," they insisted.

Patiently, the red sprite said, "Then those planets aren't proper planets."

Oh, well, okay, if those were the definitions they were going by. "We do not look..." They struggled for a descriptor. "Do not look near at volcanoes before we come here." They quickly corrected their grammar: "Comed here."

"'Came here.'"

Irregular verbs were going to be the death of them. "Came here. We see them but do not live in them, do not have reason to learn of them." They felt like they needed to justify why their knowledge of volcanoes was so far behind the red sprite's. They couldn't let him think they were stupid. Merely uneducated. Educated in different fields due to different priorities.

(Because really, they were painfully aware, they were stupid—made from creatures that were inherently stupid and unable to change that—and they didn't know if anything would entice the red sprite to stay with them once he figured that out.)

"Nobody learns about them," the red sprite lamented, and they were relieved that he saw this ignorance of volcanoes as a global problem rather than a them problem. "But you saw volcanoes, right? You can describe what you remember."

They supposed they could do that. Second clacked his teeth together thoughtfully, mimicking the beak-clicking sound the red sprite sometimes made to fill gaps in the conversation. "We saw volcanoes with blue lava," they said. "Not blue like sky. Blue like... ih... sky near night?"

"Dark blue?"

That was exactly what they meant, but they hadn't been sure whether the words "dark" and "blue" could be combined like that without sounding like nonsense in the red sprite's language. "Yes."

"We have that," the red sprite said. So much for trying to impress him. "It happens when a volcano has a lot of—" He said a word they didn't know.

"What?"

"It's a kind of rock. Smelly. Burns blue."

Burns blue. Copper? Butane? They repeated the word a couple of times and filed it away as word-for-smelly-blue-burning-material-that-turns-lava-blue.

"What about the nearby planets?" the red sprite asked them. He rolled over, sending droplets of lava spraying over the side of his crater as he did. "Did you see any of their volcanoes? How about the moons around—" Another new word.

"What?"

"The big one," the red sprite said. "The one that takes... I forget how long it actually takes." He pointed his beak upward and leaned back and forth as if tracing an invisible path across the sky as he spoke: "But it looks like it goes forward ten months, backwards four months, and forward ten months."

He was describing a planet's apparent retrograde motion. He knew astronomy, too. Who let him get that smart? "We are not here long enough to learn how near planets cross your sky," they said, "but know big planets. Is it planet with long stripes and big storms?"

The red sprite gave them a blank look. "I dunno. I've never seen other planets," he said. "From down here, they look like stars. Except—you know—the way they move."

Ah. Yes, they supposed that was what other worlds looked like from here. They tried to imagine what that was like, looking up at little glowing dots in the sky and knowing they were other planets but simply having to take it on faith. Never having been to them to see. They could look up at the nearest planets in the sky and mentally trace the flight path that would lead them to the surface, remembering what the worlds looked like as they drew closer and closer and this planet receded to a single bright point behind them. What was it like to be trapped on the skin of a single little marble in the sky? They had been like that once, but couldn't remember it.

Did the red sprite feel trapped? Or did a little marble like this feel like the whole universe until you'd been off of it? They couldn't fully conceptualize a planetbound life that didn't feel claustrophobic.

The red sprite didn't deserve to spend its whole life anchored to this little world.

"What number is the planet?" they asked him.

"Number?"

"Number from sun, near to far. One, two, three, four... Earth is three."

"Right. It's either five or six. But the bigger one."

"Long stripes and big storms," they confirmed.

The red sprite accepted this with a chirp. "So," he said. "What are its moons' volcanoes like?"

"Its moons have volcanoes?"

The red sprite squawked. "You know what its weather is like but not the nearby volcanoes. Typical."

They reared their heads up, each of them wearing a different expression of haughty, judgmental condescension. "You do not know what it looks like but know where volcanoes are near. Typical."

They wondered what "typical" meant.

The red sprite climbed fully out of the volcano—they decided one of them should drop their feigned condescension in order to watch how the lava rolled off his wings and appointed Third to the task. Lightly, the red sprite said, "Oh, well. What good's a volcano if nobody's living in it, anyway?"

They thought he was probably more disappointed than he let on. If they had to make a trip off-planet—something inside them quelled at the thought, the parts of them that were growing attached to this world afraid that the parts of them that weren't would cause this planet to lose its emotional hold on them as soon as it lost its gravitational hold on them—but if they had to make a trip off-planet, they made a mental note to swing past the storm world and check its moons for volcanic activity.

"Maybe we take you to storm world soon," they said, leaning in to bop Third's forehead against the red sprite's so he could tell they were joking. "We carry you through the sky to it. You can see the volcanoes yourself."

"Ha! And you've got a way to make sure I can breathe for the whole trip, I'm sure."

"Yes, just make a long breath in and keep it inside you the whole trip. Easy."

"Easy! Oh yeah, sure." The red sprite bopped Third's forehead back, snapped his beak at Second just threateningly enough to make him bare his teeth back, and then hopped down the volcano's side.

They slithered down after him. "Why are you so..." They rummaged through their vocabulary for a word that meant preoccupied in the red sprite's language, and settled for, "So focused in your mind on volcanoes? There is more to other worlds than volcanoes."

"Sure, but volcanoes are where life is. You're not going to find life on a planet without volcanoes! Unless it's alien travelers like you."

They tried to think of an example that contradicted him, but supposed they didn't know of any populated worlds that they could guarantee had no volcanoes and hadn't been colonized by aliens. They didn't talk to the locals before killing them, how did they know the locals weren't interstellar immigrants?

The red sprite went on, "Any place without a volcano is just a—" He said another unfamiliar term.

Oh, now what was that? Something important, it seemed to them. A term that set these spaces bereft of hearth and hospitality apart from a home. Surely it had to mean something like cursed location, or dead place, or barren land—something like that. "What is..." They attempted to repeat the term.

The red sprite pronounced it again for them, and then explained, "Oh, you know, it's the kind of place that looks interesting—fun to visit with friends, see the sights, that sort of thing—but once you've looked around you don't want to live there. Day trip material. Two days at best."

"Aha." He'd just taught them his term for tourist destination.

"Hey, what about you?" the red sprite asked. "You haven't told me about your home planet yet."

They froze halfway down the volcano.

The red sprite had started carefully weeding the plants sprouting up along the path from his volcano to the coast; but at their silence, he looked back at them. "What?"

At the mere thought of a home planet, they felt heavy collars around their necks and chains tangled with their tails, piercings through the membranes of their wings around the bones; saw a colorless kaleidoscope, white dust and black sky; heard irresistible orders telepathically splitting their heads like a migraine. "We do not remember," they said.

The red sprite clacked his beak dubiously.

"We don't," they insisted. "We do not have our most early memories. It is common. Some species do not keep their memories of what comes soon after they hatch."

"Oh, some species here are like that too," the red sprite said. He bent down to pluck a particularly stubborn shrub from the dirt and tossed it off into the forest. "What is the earliest world you remember, then?

White dust and black sky and despair and enough fury to let them incinerate a billion worlds. "Dumb moon," they said dismissively. "Boring."

The red sprite looked like he still wanted to press them for more details; before he could, they hastily added, "No volcanoes."

"Oh! So not a home."

"Not even a good tourist destination," they said. "We leave it as soon as we could." They paused. "Left it?"

"That's right."

They'd get these irregular verbs down yet. "We do not know our home planet. Do not care to."

Both of which were true statements. The planet on which they'd hatched had existed to them only as a round dot on a propaganda poster that had failed to stir up any of the sentimentality or patriotism it was no doubt supposed to. They'd even forgotten what color the dot had been.

Nevertheless, they felt their planet somewhere behind them, like a chill up their back, like a weight on their shoulders. Like a black hole inexorably tugging them in, forcing them to fly and fly and fly forever just to stay outside of its event horizon. Like a thin chain tangled around their necks that stretched through the dark voids between the stars, stretched all the way across the galaxy.

"No wonder you bounce from planet to planet," the red sprite said. "If you don't have anywhere to go home to. Everywhere's a tourist destination."

They supposed so. Stay a day or two, burn down the planet, move on.

He sounded like he pitied them. It was surprising to be pitied for freedom—especially when, just a moment ago, they'd pitied him for being anchored down as he was.

Anchors were usually used to keep spaceships tethered to their stations so they wouldn’t float off into the dark sky and be lost. Maybe being anchored was comforting if you weren't accustomed to chains being used to strangle you.

Having finished his pruning near the base of the volcano, the red sprite turned a thoughtful gaze toward them. After a moment, decisively, he said, "If you don't have a home planet, then this one's it now."

They reared up, startled. "What?"

"This is your home planet now," the red sprite repeated. "Unless you have a better one."

They froze, their heart pounding, waiting for phantom chains to drag down on their wings.

The chains never came. Cautiously, they said, "We don't."

"Fine. So now it's here." He flapped up to land in front of them and whipped his wings dramatically into the air. "Welcome to Earth!"

First headbutted him over.

The red sprite kicked First's face and hopped back to his feet. "What about the second planet?" He said its name, and they copied it. "It has volcanoes, what are they like?"

They perked up. Ah, they'd actually seen some of those—they'd spent some time ravaging the second planet before moving on to the third. "Flat," they said.

The red sprite cocked his head. "Shield volcanoes?"

"No, more flat. And more wide. They look like..." What was the word. "Plateaus?"

The red sprite drew his head back and asked excitedly, "Really? How wide?"

"Like..." Was their grasp of the red sprite's math terms good enough to describe proportionate sizes? Probably not. They raised their heads, looking around the island for objects they could use for size comparisons. First's gaze landed on the globe of Earth the red sprite had made to explain the local geography to them. "We will make them. Follow."

They lifted off the volcano with one beat of their wings and glided down to the beach, the red sprite close behind them.

They spent the peak of the day dredging up as many trivial details about the second planet's volcanoes as they could remember, doing their best to answer the red sprite's excited questions, and sculpting volcanoes out of sand.

###

(Did y’all know that Venus’s volcanoes are totally different from Earth’s? Most of them are extremely wide and extremely flat and they’re called pancake volcanoes. It’s cool. We haven’t confirmed active volcanism in any of Venus’s volcanoes yet but we’ve found over a thousand probably-extinct ones and there are three that we’re pretty sure are currently active, we just haven’t proven it yet.)

(Next fic features Serizawa Who Is Not Dead and how Monarch at large is reacting to Ghidorah hanging around—not the local Isla de Mara outpost that’s been making memes out of Ghidorah, the main Monarch leadership.)

(Replies/reblogs are welcome and greatly appreciated! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#rodorah #godzilla #kotm #rodan #king ghidorah #ghidorah #fanfic #my writing #(not proofed because instant gratification)#(... but any bad grammar out of Ghidorah is because they're still figuring out how to speak pteranodon)#(also yes 'ghidorah spent some time ravaging venus before heading to earth' is a reference to three headed monster)#(aka the BEST godzilla movie accept no substitutes)

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preservationandruin · 4 years

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Rhythm of War Liveblog, Part One Part 2 (Chapters 3-8)

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[to the tune of Things I Bought At Sheetz] Now It’s time for Notes I Took At Work. This is going to be a weird experiment, because I read these chapters while at my job and took extensive notes on my reactions, which I’m now going to try to condense into something coherent.

Navani revels in a successful invention, Shallan encounters a very bad cult, I quote--of all things--Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, A Certain Fucker reappears, Leshwi becomes a character I like, Shallan finds a journal, I digress on Renarin’s abilities, and everyone is rightfully worried about Kaladin. Content warning; discussion of suicide and suicidal tendencies

Alright, we open Chapter Three with Navani’s AIRSHIP, which is a kickass sentence. She’s leaning over the side of the ship, to the distress of one of her fellow scholars who attempts to appeal to Dalinar to get her to stop.

“It’s Navani’s ship, Velat,” Dalinar said from behind, his voice as steady as steel, as immutable as mathematics. She loved his voice. “I think she’d have me thrown off if I tried to prevent her from enjoying this moment.”

This is great both because Dalinar and Navani are great, but also as a contrast to Gavilar saying that Navani doesn’t accomplish anything herself, she just pretends to be an inventor and stays behind other, smarter people. Dalinar says no, this is Navani’s ship, this is her victory. The ship’s base design is one of the chasm bridges; it’s operated on the same principles as spanreeds, a kind of sympathetic link where you link two fabrials and whatever happens to one, happens to the other. Just augmented with aluminum and a LOT of pulleys and hard work.

My notes also say “Eat Shit Gavilar” which i think is just, a general note.

Anyway she also wishes that Elhokar was there because he loved being up high and also watching her draw...so now I’m feeling emotions, and if that wasn’t enough, I get hit in the feelings again because the name of the ship is the Fourth Bridge, after Bridge Four because of the time they saved Dalinar and Adolin at the tower, and it not only has the Bridge Four glyph inlaid but the original bridge inlaid.

We see Dalinar and Lirin interact (my notes call this a “Dad convention”) --Lirin, of course because he’s Kaladin’s father, doesn’t really defer to Dalinar at all but does see the potential of this platform as a movable hospital; he’s discomfited by the reminder that Edgedancers are usually used for that now. Lirin really is a practical man who doesn’t believe in heroes or hero stories, which is unfortunate because they’re coming to life all around him. Also Dalinar calls him Lirin Stormblessed which is pretty funny because Lirin is Not Having It.

Also, we get this great line from Navani about Lirin and Kaladin:

However, as she stepped up beside Dalinar, she caught Lirin’s eyes--and the familial connection became more obvious. That same quiet intensity, that same faintly judgmental gaze that seemed to know too much about you. In that moment she saw two men with the same soul, for all their physical differences.

This is really interesting in light of how Kaladin and Lirin are at the moment arguing; they both are at their core very driven, caring people who want the best for their community, but they are at odds for the best way to achieve that in part because they’ve had such different experiences; Kaladin’s life hasn’t let him be the surgeon Lirin is.

For more changes in the year since we last met these characters, Dalinar has learned how to recharge stormlight and open perpendicularities at will, which essentially makes him a portable battery for the Radiants. That’s super useful. Navani likes observing the process, hoping that somewhere in it is a key to how Urithiru functions; she knows that it used to be powered by the Sibling, the third god-spren of Roshar, but after the Recreance the Sibling either died or fell so asleep the spren treat it as having died.

That’s interesting; the Sibling has been something I’ve been wondering about a lot, and confirmation that it was tied to Urithiru seems to preclude it being a godspren of Odium like I’d thought for a bit (and in any case, Odium has the Unmade and doesn’t seem the time to fragment himself into a godspren). Another spren of Honor or Cultivation? Or perhaps a spren of both? More importantly, if it really is dead, is there still a way to revive Urithiru? Last book talked about possibly recruiting Sja-anat; if we do, could she serve as an alternate power source for the tower?

We also get the Mink, the Herdazian general, slipping up on Dalinar and Navani without them noticing and also calling Dalinar the fuck out for the many atrocities that his armies and nation had unleashed on the Herdazians, which Dalinar can’t really refute. I like this guy, honestly; I’m not sure what’s up with him, if he’s just really good at sneaking around or if he has something Up With Him, but I like him.

Back with the Three (Shallan/Radiant/Veil), they wake up to find themselves in the chasms with an EXTREMELY melodramatic cult. They’re looking for proof Ialai is now running the Hypocrites Association--sorry, the Sons of Honor; Radiant refuses to move against Ialai without proof, even though Shallan and Veil both kinda wish Adolin had killed her at the same time as Sadeas and saved everyone some trouble. Anyway, the Hypocrites association wear deep, fancy hoods that leads to a great Shallan thought:

Shallan had a fleeting thought, wondering at the seamstress they’d hired to do all this work. What had they told her? “Yes, we want twenty identical, mysterious robes, sewn with ancient arcane symbols. They’re for...parties.”

They claim both to have guided the return of the Radiants and to be overthrowing Dalinar, which is hilarious because Dalinar is a Radiant so the only real extrapolation here is that, in the fantasy where they’re right about any of this, they brought the radiants back and lost control of the situation immediately and now are recruiting random strangers to try to help rein it back in. Which is still not a good look.

Oh and also they claim to be “something greater” than the Radiants, and I really doubt they’re the Heralds, so everything they say is horseshit, as is proven a second later when they test if Shallan is wearing an illusion with a device she herself sold them at an exorbitant price. And then claiming that Radiants can’t tell untrue oaths, right in front of Shallan, who is bonded to a liespren.

They’re just a very bad cult.

Also they say Ialai is the true queen, which raises many questions to me about the line of succession that gives them THAT math, especially with Gavinor alive and there. Like, somehow Sadeas’s widow gets priority over the last king’s living child? I know they’re just a stupid cult but guys, that’s not how lines of succession work in monarchies.

Anyway, Shallan hears them say that they have a mole in Dalinar’s inner circle--bad--and goes off-script, taking control to say she’s not who they think she is, and we cut back to Kaladin for the next chapter, which is called Broken Spears which prompted my note of “I don’t trust like that.” And then instantly I started laughing because of this quote:

[The windrunners] hung in the air like no skyeel ever could: motionless, equidistant.

This is not a particularly funny line unless you, like me, have never been able to forget a line from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy:

“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.”

So there’s that.

Kaladin has apparently fought with Leshwi before at this point (she is, iirc, the Fused who was one of the main points of contact for Moash during his arc in Oathbringer); last time, Rock’s daughter Cord managed to shoot her down. The Windrunners, like the Edgedancers, have grown in number; there are about 50 knights, now, and five times that in squires; the problem is that there aren’t enough willing honorspren to bond. Kaladin mentions that “almost all” of Bridge Four had bonded honorspren and that he knew one honorspren who was willing but unbonded, all of which leads me to believe that Rock hasn’t sworn the Oaths yet.

Meanwhile, these Fused--the Heavenly Ones--prefer one on one battles, as Kaladin noted in earlier chapters, so the Windrunners do the same; as long as they do this, the Heavenly Ones will keep to the ideals of honorable combat and will not gang up on the Windrunners. Again, it shows that they are both the orders that deal with Honorspren, even if the Heavenly Ones deal with...void-honorspren, I guess.

Also, it’s another nod to the idea of if there can be such a thing as honorable combat in a war. Both the Heavenly Ones and the Windrunners are trying for it, clearly, but is that sustainable?

Leshwi is in fact there, with a very cool aluminum-edged sword that can absorb stormlight into a gem at the hilt. She, along with the rest of the Fused and apparently the Heralds (Shalash and Taln are both in Urithiru), are stunned by the Fourth Bridge; fuck yeah, Navani and her team. She’s so cool, guys, I love Navani. Also, everyone is worried about Kaladin.

Shallan, meanwhile, is ad-libbing having even more information, which leads to a hilarious moment of her being accused of treason by a member of the cult who are trying to overthrow the current queen, so...there’s a reason I’m calling them the Hypocrites Association, alright? Anyway, Adolin decides it’s time to attack, and Radiant and Shallan manage to bluff their way into being taken along to the hideout as the Hypocrites Association retreats.

With Kaladin again, we get that the Fused see him as a particular challenge they enjoy fighting, although Leshwi always has first dibs; he fights another Fused and manages to disarm him, but decides not to kill him because killing him is pointless. Also, the teleporting fucker comes back, and yes, that is what I’m calling him until further notice.

Something happened in Aimia that led to Cord getting a set of shardplate. Is this the Dawnshard novel? Is that what happened in Aimia? I’m going to read it next regardless but now I’m curious about what happened on the Radiant expedition to Aimia.

So it turns out that the Hypocrites Association has a secret passage into and out of the chasms with a hidden door, which was probably a bolthole for escape that Sadeas put in early during the war at the Shattered Plains. His keep is also noted by Veil to be fortresslike; she notes that he was a cunning man, not just the blowhard that Shallan had taken him for. Ialai is now the sole remaining leader of the dissident Alethi army; while Radiant wants evidence against her that can have her be taken in, Veil is here just to assassinate her and have done with it.

And honestly there is a nice symmetry in Adolin killing Sadeas and Shallan/the Three killing Ialai.

Anyway, we go back to Kaladin as Leshwi fights Sigzil now; she manages to spear him through the chest, and I swear to god if any of the original Bridgemen actually die, I’m going to kick Brandon Sanderson’s ass. Those are my BOYS. In any case, Leshwi doesn’t kill Sigzil, because Kaladin spared one of the Fused earlier--honor in combat, again. There’s definitely a whole essay I could discuss about this opening few chapters and the idea of if continuing a fight is the right thing to do and if that fight can be continued in a way that is moral, but I don’t have the time for that, I’m trying to do NaNoWriMo and read this book.

I’ll shelve it along with the Oathbringer and the idea of personal responsibility essay.

We go back to Navani and get another real sense of how well she knows her team; she knows the personal tics and oddities of all the ardents and scholars who are helping her on the Fourth Bridge, which is nice to see. We also get that Renarin is here, distracting crying children by having Glys form a ball of light, and Navani has this observation:

Renarin claimed the spren [Glys] was trustworthy, but something was odd about his powers. They had managed to recruit several standard Truthwatchers--and they could create illusions like Shallan. Renarin couldn’t do that. He could only summon lights, and they did strange, unnatural things sometimes...

Really excited to see how Renarin’s powers develop similarly to or different from standard Truthwatchers; I agree that Glys is probably trustworthy because Renarin is the best judge of that at the moment and also because “the corrupted spren turns out to be evil” isn’t a very interesting plot development compared to “there can be good corrupted spren”

And then I got yanked forcibly off-topic because guess who fucking showed up. Moash decided to show his backstabbing, treacherous little face again, wearing--of all things--a uniform cut exactly like Bridge Four’s but in black rather than blue, which is just a stupendous dick move. Navani is the one who sees him, too, and we get a sharp reminder that he murdered her son.

Kaladin doesn’t hear the alarm that Navani raises, though, because he’s busy fighting Leshwi, something he seems to genuinely enjoy as a test of his skills. He pushes his home-field advantage here, managing to distract Leshwi to the point that they both seriously injure the other; Kaladin is grinning throughout, which is actually somewhat disturbing. To me it reads like Kaladin’s stopped caring about his own life in favor of trying to help others at any cost, but I’m not sure if that’ll play through as an accurate read.

In any case, someone set Roshone’s house on fire, and the teleporting fucker is there and actively attacking civilians. Leshwi is pissed off to see this and gestures for Kaladin to go and deal with that rather than continuing their fight; at this point, I really started loving Leshwi as a character. I’m a sucker for a good principled antagonist lady, they’re just a good trope.

Anyway, we get to Chapter Seven. Navani’s epigraph notes that zinc makes the spren in fabrials more active, while brass quiets them. So...you could say...that brass soothes them...while zinc...makes them riot....

Anyway, back to Ialai, Shallan notes that she seems extremely worn and tired, and she claims to support Gavinor to the throne--with herself as regent, of course. She and Shallan proceed to have an entire conversation in wine metaphors, talking about who they are working with or for, and Ialai assumes that the Ghostbloods sent the Three to kill her, claiming they want the Sons of Honor out of the way and will send her after Restares next. Veil instantly switches her vote to not killing Ialai bc she doesn’t like to be manipulated, and Adolin kicks down the door.

Ialai tells Shallan to search her rooms for “the rarest vintage” before the Ghostbloods can, and then--before she can even leave the building--she dies of poisoning, implying there’s a mole somewhere in Adolin and Shallan’s people. That’s not great, and the Ghostbloods aren’t fucking around in the slightest with her.

Meanwhile, with Kaladin, the teleporting fucker took Godeke--the one named Edgedancer here other than Lift--hostage to lure Kaladin inside, where he uses a strange, void-fabrial to drain Surgebinder powers in the room. And then makes a critical error in thinking that that will be enough:

The Fused laughed and spoke in Alethi. “Radiants! You rely too much on your powers. Without them, what are you? A peasant child with no real training in the art of warfare or--” Kaladin slammed himself against the soldier to the right.

Oh you poor idiots, Kaladin was a prodigy with the spear LONG before he was a Windrunner, went most of his army career without bonding Syl, and--crucially--one of you is carrying a physical spear. Checkmate, assholes. Kaladin quickly beats most of the ones there, including killing the teleporting fucker before he can teleport again, and lets the last one go--of course--before helping Lift get Godeke out and telling her to get the void fabrial to Navani.

Meanwhile, he’s going to go make sure Roshone is alright, where I have the very prescient note of “I bet actual money Moash is killing him as we speak.”

Ialai’s probable method of death was blackbane poison in her bloodstream; one of Shallans’ people examines the body for it, while Shallan goes to search ialai’s rooms.

Another epigraph note, this time about bronze and heliodor being used to make warning fabrials. Scadrial really was just a primer on the uses of various metals with investiture, huh?

Meanwhile, Kaladin finds the prisoners below the manor killed with a shardblade, and spins around to find Moash slitting Roshone’s throat before making what I called, in a late-night worktime daze, “just a series of rat bastard moves. Hate that guy. Just honestly hate that guy.”

Specifically, he surrenders so that Kal cannot keep attacking him--because Kal’s a good person--just after taunting him for wanting to rescue someone.

Back with Shallan, Veil is pushing her again to continue remembering their past, but she still resists; she finds a rare Shin wine in Ialai’s store, before using that to find a pattern on the floor of old, shadowyears-era glyphs with maps of the ten Epoch Kingdoms, under one of which is a notebook of Ialai’s; she tucks it in her safepouch, and we go back to Kaladin.

I really think the arc for Kaladin in this book is going to be accepting that he can’t save everyone, particularly from themselves, because he pauses and remembers how Moash had been a friend, but even more than that, he had been Bridge Four--someone that Kaladin had sworn to protect, and he’d failed:

Kaladin had failed Moash. As soundly as he’d failed Dunny, Mart, and Jaks. And of them all, losing Moash hurt the most. Because in those callous eyes, Kaladin saw himself.

Kaladin can’t keep blaming himself for Moash’s choices, because Moash chose to do this, and was given ways out, and didn’t take them. It’s not Kaladin’s fault, and believing that it is is going to get Kaladin killed.

And then, Moash winds up and delivers a grade-A Odium-powered Breaking Speech:

"They're going to die, you know," Moash said softly. "Everyone you love, everyone you think you can protect. They're all going to die anyway. There's nothing you can do about it." [...] "Do you remember the chasm, Kal?" Moash whispered. "In the rain that night? Standing there, looking down into the darkness, knowing it was your sole release? You knew it hen. You try to pretend you've forgotten. But you know. As sure as the storms will come. As sure as every lighteyes will lie. There is only one answer. One path. One result. [...] I've found the better way," Moash said. "I feel no guilt. I've given it away, and in so doing became the person I always could have become--if I hadn't been restrained. I can take away the pain, Kal. Isn't that what you want? An end to your suffering?”

Odium’s deal all over again--he will take away your pain and your responsibility for your actions, but the price for that is your integrity and your honor. It’s so insidious, especially because Moash is exploiting the fact that Kaladin was suicidal to play into the idea of life being hopeless--he’s implying that Kaladin’s suicidal impulses were right and then offering another way out. It’s so, so so so awful, and Kaladin can’t even bring himself to fight it, because it’s coming from an unarmed man and it’s targeted so directly at him.

“The answer is to stop existing, Kal. You’ve always known it, haven’t you?” Kaladin blinked away tears, and the deepest part of him--the little boy who hated the rain and the darkness--withdrew into his soul and curled up. Because...he did want to stop hurting.

He wanted it so badly.

Ugh, Moash’s whole thing here is just seeding that suicidality back into Kaladin--because frankly, most of the time? When someone is suicidal, in my (admittedly limited and personal) experience? What they genuinely want isn’t to die--they just want not to hurt anymore, and they see that as the only way.

Light exploded into the room. Clean and white, like the light of the brightest diamond. The light of the sun. A brilliant, concentrated purity. Moash growled, spinning around, shading his eyes against the source of the light--which came from the doorway. The figure behind it wasn’t visible as anything more than a shadow. Moash shied away from the light--but a version of him, transparent and filmy, broke off and stepped toward the light instead. Like an afterimage. In it, Kaladin saw the same Moash--but somehow standing taller, wearing a brilliant blue uniform. This one raised a hand, confident, and although Kaladin couldn’t see them, he knew people gathered behind this Moash. Protected. Safe. The image of Moash burst alight as a Shardspear formed in his hands.

FUCK YEAH, RENARIN.

I’m gonna end this section by just discussing what happened here, because there’s a lot to unpack there. We’ve seen Shallan use her illusions to create versions of people who they could be, but this isn’t doing that--if you look at the cause and effect, it’s not that Renarin created this illusory Moash, but more that the light Renarin created called forth that Moash from this one.

More than anything, it reminds me of the effects of Gold Allomancy--creating a past version of the self, splitting the self into who you are and who you were, or who you are and who you could have been. This is not a version of Moash that could exist. He’s burned too many bridges and killed too many people in front of their infant children for that to happen.

But it could have been Moash. It’s not calling forth the truth, really, it’s showing an alternate path. It’s strange and I can’t wait to see it explored more, and it shakes Moash to his core--because of course it does. Moash’s entire speech was saying “there are only two ways out, dying and giving in to Odium,” and Renarin’s light showed that that was a stark fucking lie. There’s the third choice of deciding to stand up and protect people anyway, and it was a choice Moash could have taken, and that kills him. It eats him up inside; it’s the pain that Odium can’t fully take away.

As Kaladin said to Amaram: if what Odium says is true, if what you claim is true, than why do you still hurt?

#fuck yeah bridge four #rowliveblog #row spoilers #navani kholin protection squad #kaladin has a saving people thing #fuck moash #renarin kholin kicks ass #leshwi is unfortunately VERY cool

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kunoichi-ume · 4 years

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Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad

Characters: Torian Cadera, Noara Starspark, Balic Cormac and Elara Dorne-Cormac (I have no idea if she will ever take his name, but they are totally married so that’s how I am writing it haha) Story: Jedi Sitters Word Count: 3458

Note: This fic was inspired by this piece of art by @jemichiart, and the name for the little Rishii baby totally taken from @outcastcommander’s suggestion. This also ended up much longer than I expected, but I enjoyed writing this so I am not sorry. EDIT: I am however sorry I forgot to add the tags and link to the picture. Oops.

The sharp tang of blood filled the air as Torian made his way through the Rishi jungle, rifle held ready in case he needed it. He had set off that morning to go hunting but, apparently, he wasn’t the only being on the prowl for a challenge. Whatever had spilled the blood tainting the air had apparently already found it’s prey. He followed the scent, giving in to his curiosity that soon turned into alarm when he identified where the smell of blood came from. Not further into the forest, where wild beasts were known to roam, but into a small clearing he was familiar with. A clearing that housed several huts belonging to a small tribe of locals.

Blood spilled there couldn’t bode well at all.

They were a peaceful sort, the Rishii, despite being natural born predators. Despite their sharp claws and beaks, and ever sharper eyes, Torian ahd always found them to be a kind and welcoming bunch every time he visited their home world. Now that he called the tropical world home as well, Torian had hopes of befriending one or two of them. While he had never heard of a Rishii Mandalorian, the idea of one excited him and he’d welcome any of their number into his hunting party.

Stopped at the edge of the clearing, Torian observed the carnage with a keen eye. Several structures were only partially standing, walls and roofs caved in. Not a single dwelling was left as adequate shelter from the elements. Bodies, all belonging to the feathered locals, laid out across the ground. Claws, far larger than any he had ever seen a Rishii possess, had carved up the bodies the same way they had destroyed the buildings, gouging the ground to leave long, deep grooves in the packed dirt.

Torian sighed heavily, he was no stranger to death but there was always something tragic about the loss of innocent lives. These people were not warriors, not soldiers. They were families, with elderly and young among them. Now he was grateful Noara had not joined him this morning, she was not a hunter but enjoyed exploring the wilds at his side. Death, especially senseless deaths like these, always weighed heavily on her. Where Torian observed the carnage with a sense of sadness at the loss of life she would feel the full weight of grief bearing down on her chest. He loved the former Jedi with all his heart, but her upbringing in the Order still influenced her to behave in ways he didn’t always understand. It kept life interesting.

The sound of something hitting the ground pulled Torian's attention away from the bodies laid out across the clearing. Keeping very still, he strained to hear any other signs of life. Perhaps something in the damaged huts had shifted he wondered. But then a second, clearer sound filled the air. Cracking.

Moving quietly, careful to step around the bodies and blood, Torian entered the clearing and looked for the source of the sound. Nothing was out of place in the first partially standing hut he investigated, nor the second.

At the threshold of the third Torian froze in place, shocked still by what he found as his heart pounded loudly in his ears.

Sprawled out on the dusty floor was a small creature and, though he had never seen one before, it was obvious to Torian it was a newborn Rishii ik'aad. A baby. Something thick and shiny soaked the ik'aad's feathers, pieces of shell caught in the viscous liquid and littering the area almost like shrapnel from an explosion. It looked as though the egg that little thing once resided in had been stashed into the cabinet above where it sat, the door hanging open on a crooked hinge.

It wasn't hard to make the assumption that someone, possibly one of the child's parents, had stashed the egg away in hopes of safety. Luckily the door had held after the damage to the walls had displaced it until the danger had passed. And, equally lucky, was that the ik'aad had been ready to hatch.

Stepping into the destroyed hut, eyes far too large for the small ik'aad's face, lit up in delight when he came into view. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Torian couldn't resist carefully scooping the ik'aad up into his arms. The little thing barely weighed anything at all and his chest tightened at the idea that it was made an orphan the same day it was born. Torian was still a baby when he lost his parents, but at least it hadn’t been the exact same day. A foundling before even getting a name. Brushing some of the shell pieces off soggy feathers, he did his best to check if the child was healthy but truthfully didn't know what he was looking for.

The question of what to do never entered Torian’s mind, there was no debate to be had. Until he could find the ik’aad’s family, if any lived, the foundling was his responsibility. First thing first, he needed to make sure the newborn was healthy. Glancing around the hut, Torian grabbed a large red cloth and shook the dust off before wrapping it around the child. It was a warm day, as was the usual on Rishi, but he didn't want to chance the child catching a chill from it's soaked feathers. Once satisfied that the makeshift birikad would hold the ik'aad securely against his chest, he was quick to leave the destroyed village behind and head back into the forest.

Head turning all around so much Torian was concerned the ik'aad would injure it, the infant cooed excitedly while taking in the world for the first time. It was all Torian could do to keep from laughing, the pure joy of seeing the world with new eyes was infectious. When he reached the rough path he had taken into the jungle, no longer having to duck under branches, Torian switched from a quick pace to a jog. He wanted to get the ik'aad home as soon as possible, not only did the newborn need to be examined by a trained medic but he also had no idea what kind of food to provide. Luckily, when he had left, Noara had said she expected her brother and his wife to come by soon.

Balic Cormac, a giant of a man, wasn't Noara’s sibling by blood, but by choice which meant more to Torian in the long run. He had grown up without his blood around and Noara's had given her away. Better to rely on the family that chose to love you when you needed someone. As luck would have it, Balic's wife Elara was one of the most widely versed medics Torian had ever met. She should be more than capable of giving the little Rishii a proper checkup.

The ik'aad made an odd huffy noise, one that sounded almost put out and made Torian grin widely. "Don't worry ad'ika, you'll get a better look later," he said, smoothing his hand over the ruffled feathers slowly drying on the child's head. He'd make sure the kid got an eyeful before they decided what to do with him.

Walking into the Clan Compound Torian was struck with the still unfamiliar feeling of being home, a warm sense of contentment and belonging that he savored. It wasn't something he had experienced often in his life, having an actual home instead of just a temporary accommodation. When Noara had started talking about wanting to settle down, leaving the saving of the galaxy to others while they moved on with their lives, he hadn't been too particular about where they ended up. As long as he could hunt, house his clan and be with his wife he was happy.

Settling on a tropical world, one with plenty of beaches and ocean to keep Noara happy and thick forests and plentiful fauna for hunting had turned out perfect. Even the base they found was exactly what they needed, large enough to house everyone and any new members the clan might welcome in the years to come and all the animals Noara had taken to rescuing, while being secure enough to defend if they ever needed to.

They even had enough space to put in their own little medical center, which was where Torian headed first. With the Cormac's visiting, it was fairly likely they would either be checking the set up of the new infirmary equipment as Elara had been their main consultant on what they needed, or up in the cliff-side apartment he shared with Noara. Elara was a very driven, serious woman and he would be surprised if she didn’t want to get straight to work. Also the infirmary was closer to where he exited the jungle.

Barely inside the door Torian knew he had made the right choice. The murmur of voices drifted down the corridor toward him and he smiled. He had no idea how Noara would react to him coming home with an ik'aad strapped to his chest and, honestly, he was looking forward to finding out. She found far too much amusement in surprising him with the newest beastie she had decided to take into their home, it was only fair to turn the tables on her.

Several people were gathered inside the infirmary. Balic was leaning against the wall, not far from where his wife worked and even slumped down slightly he was still head and shoulders over everyone else. Several of the younger clan members, all in varying colors of armor, watched the blonde woman with rapt attention as she gave them a rundown of how to use a new scanning device. Noara was lying on the hospital table, obviously playing the lab wamp rat, and doing a good impression of an injured patient until she looked toward the door.

Sneaking up on Noara was almost impossible for Torian, she claimed to be able to feel him with the Force. He believed her, but it was still a hard sell. She claimed it wasn’t the same as how she felt another Force user, but something special because of their connection. She could feel him when he was near, even sense a bit of his moods if she tried.

Of course that didn’t mean he wasn’t determined to try, and someday he was going to manage it.

Instead of pretending to be hurt, Noara smiled brightly when he stepped into view and he could see the moment she noticed the ik'aad. Her eyes widened in surprise and she jolted up off the medical bed, head almost colliding with Elara's who had leaned over during her lecture. Only Balic's large hand yanking his wife backward saved them both from having their bells rung.

"Cyare," Noara said, pushing off the bed and hurrying toward him. "Meg vaar gar ganar?"

Muffled laughter broke out among the younger vod in the room. Noara had been working on learning Mando'a for a few years now, but like now still managed to get some words mixed up much to the younger generation's amusement. Instead of asking what he had, she instead spoke a gibberish phrase about what he had undeveloped. Or half grown, vaar, could mean either.

Cheeks flushing, Noara knew what the laughter meant but instead of reacting further she peered curiously at the ik'aad. "Who is this?"

Torian leaned his head down to brush his lips against her forehead, eyes fixed on the vod still smiling about her slip up. It was of course a message, to remind them she was their alor's riduur. Noara was more Mando than he could have ever imagined a Jedi turning, but part of him still worried about her being accepted by his peers. He knew first hand that it was possible to be Mando and still be treated like an aruetii. He'd be damned if he would let anyone make Noara feel like she wasn't enough.

Turning their head, the ik'aad looked up at Noara with wide yellow eyes. Noara returned the interested stare, reaching out to run her fingers through the matted feathers. "Poor little guy needs a bath," she said, raising her eyes to frown at him. "Are you babysitting or something?"

"Or something," Torian laughed before giving a quick explanation of his day. His story had the attention of everyone in the room and Elara was at his side before he had even finished.

"You should have said it was a newborn sooner," Elara chided him, holding her hands out. "Let me take a look."

Nodding, Torian braced one hand on the ik'aad's bottom before untying the birikad. Once it was loose Elara had the little one in her arms and was making her way back to the exam table.

There was perhaps a split second between her stepping away from him and the loudest shrieking he had ever heard come from a sentient being's lungs. Noara gasped as Torian darted around her, beelining for the table.

"What did you do?" he demanded, leaning over the table to see the small Rishii ik'aad lying on the bed and looking completely fine. Even the squalling had stopped, the moment he leaned over the table. Confused, he looked at the former Havoc Squad medic.

Humming thoughtfully, Elara shifted to block Torian from view. Again the ik'aad started crying loudly. Moving back, the cries stopped the moment golden eyes met Torian's. "Stay right there, where the child can see you."

Noara stepped up beside Torian, pulling a stool over for him to sit on and stayed by his side as Elara examined her new patient. This time the instruction she gave the watching vod was more hands on than the lecture she had given over Noara's 'pretend' ailment. Torian didn't pay much attention to the words she was saying, explaining everything she did, instead he was drawn to the small Rishii's eyes that seemed glued to his face.

Finally Elara set her instruments away, lifting the ik'aad and passing him over for Torian to hold. She delivered her prognosis with a bright smile. "That is one perfectly healthy Rishii baby boy you have there Torian."

"He is such a cutie," Noara said, perched on the edge of the table behind him and leaning over his shoulder to run her fingers through the boy's feathers again. "If his parents are dead, what do we do with him?"

Torian frowned, he hadn't thought that far and now that he was holding the small boy in his arms it just felt... right. Like he was meant to take in this foundling as his own, as his son. They had talked a little about children, though nothing in certain terms and had never discussed adoption. It was as much a part of Mandalorian culture as armor and fighting, they even had a set phrase for it.

How was he going to tell his wife he wanted to make them parents without even discussing it? Watching her smile as the boy gurgled happily at her touch, he had a feeling it wouldn't be too hard to convince her.

Before he could work up an idea of how to start that conversation, Elara cleared her throat to get their attention. "Actually, you should know that Rishii infants are known to imprint on the first person they see."

"Imprint?" Noara asked, frowning in confusion and the words sunk in for Torian. He knew what it meant, but never imagined a sentient species did it. By being the one to find the boy he had all but sealed the question of their future.

"It's a long lasting attachment to the first individual or object a creature sees after hatching. It's common in avian species," Elara explained in her serious manner before smiling. "Based on the child's reaction to being separated I can only assume he has imprinted on Torian."

"So that means..." Noara's voice trailed off as she looked between the boy and her husband. "Are you a dad now?"

Torian pulled his son closer at the hitch in her voice, "I guess, I mean I want to know how you feel about it before deciding anything."

Noara watched him carefully for a long moment before looking up at the crowded room. "Could we have some privacy please?"

"Of course Noara-doll," Balic said before pushing off the wall where he was leaning. He started herding the training medics out of the room before dropping a kiss on the top of Noara's head and leaving with his wife tucked tight against his side. On the way out the door Elara called back that she would arrange for some proper food to be up in their apartment for the boy.

Once they were finally alone Noara shifted closer on the bed to wrap her arms around Torian's shoulders, her chest pressed up against his back. She laid her hands on top of his, helping cradle the child against his chest. When she spoke her voice was steady, though little more than a whisper in his ear. "Are you ready to be a father Torian? I know we've talked a bit about it, but this would be starting now. No time to come to terms with it or get cold feet you know?"

"As sudden as it may feel, I think I am." Torian turned on his stool, dislodging her arms so he could watch her face carefully, "what about you? Are you ready to be a mother?"

"To be honest, no. I don't feel ready at all," Noara said, sighing sadly. "I still don't really know what a mother is? How to do it, you know?"

Holding the child with one hand, Torian cupped her cheek with his other one. "I don't know what being a father is like either but together I have no doubts we will figure it out."

"He'd need a name," she said after a tense moment, leaning her face into his cheek with a smile, "if we can't even manage that what kind of parents would we be?"

Torian laughed, the anxious worry he hadn’t really noticed in his chest relaxing at her smile. "Fair enough. Any ideas?"

“Not sure, never named anyone before.” Noara looked down at the boy tucked against his chest. "His eyes look like little suns don’t they? So bright and full of life."

"What about Tranyc?"

She frowned, "that's Mando'a right? Star... something?"

Torian nodded, impressed that she caught the unfamiliar word. "Star-burned, but that's the literal translation. 'Sunny' is a more true meaning."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I love you Torian," Noara said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders again and kissing him. "And loving this little guy will be no burden I’m sure."

“No I don’t imagine it will be,” Torian said, standing and taking one of Noara’s hands to draw her off the table to stand in front of him. Adjusting his hold on Tranyc, he situated them so Noara was helping hold his son between them. “We should make it official, well as official as Mandalorians ever are.”

“I take it there is a set way to do this?” Noara’s eyes had a teasing gleam in them as she smiled up at him, “so tell me, how do we make Tranyc our son?”

Torian’s heart felt like it could burst, gratitude and admiration for Noara’s easy acceptance of their son almost overwhelming him. He had to clear his throat before being able to speak the adoption vow. “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad.”

“What does that mean?” she didn’t look up as she asked, her eyes fixed on Tranyc’s bright smile.

“I know your name as my child.”

“Very Mandalorian, direct and to the point. I like it.” Noara placed her hand on Tranyc;s head and repeated the vow. Like when they had spoken their marriage vows months before, it took her a few times so get the pronunciation exactly right. When she finished, she gathered their son in her arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek before laughing. “We really need to bathe our son,” she said, “and Elara should have an idea of what to feed him by now.”

Torian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding Noara out of the infirmary. “Let’s take our son home,” he said, the words making him feel like he could fly. His entire life Torian had wanted a family, one that he could do right by. The way his father hadn’t. The way Noara’s parents hadn’t. They had both grown up without a family but together they had made one all their own. And, other than perhaps the day Noara agreed to marry him, Torian had never been happier than this moment.

Translations

Ik'aad - baby; child under 3 Birikad - baby carrying harness Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - adoption vow - lit. I know your name as my child.

#swtor #Torian Cadera #Rishii #Jedi Knight/Torian Cadera #Found Families #my weakness #OC: Noara Starspark #Ship: Mando and Jedi #My Writing

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