#star wars: the essential reader's companion

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Star Wars: The Essential Reader's Companion - Natasi Daala assassinates the warlords by Darren Tan

[glimjack]

Interference

Copied from here. Written by John Jackson Miller (who wrote the KOTOR comics), set in 3963 BBY, a few weeks after the Mandalorians begin their attack on the Republic.

Attention Mandalorians! Stay tuned to this frequency for an announcement of vital importance!

* * *

Attention Mandalorians!! This is your friend from the Republic, Captain Goodvalor calling!

I’m busy shaking down my new warship, the Serroco, but my colleagues at the Admiralty have asked me to make an appeal to the forces fighting for Mandalore. I’m speaking on a frequency your helmet transceivers can pick up. It’s a trick we learned from your fellow warriors who have already seen the light and crossed the lines to defend the Republic!

You’ve had a lucky little run — though not a surprising one, following the sucker punches you’ve thrown. But the easy times are over, let me tell you!

In fact, I will tell you. Make sure you and all your Basic-speaking friends are listening for my next broadcast — your lives may depend on it!

* * *

Su’cuy, warriors! Conquest of the south polar area of the planet is nearly complete. Attend to your rally masters for further instructions.

Some of you have reported hearing increased gabble on the Neo helmet’s Z-band. Just ignore it.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Captain Goodvalor calling again, as promised.

You survived long enough to hear me — good! Not all of you were so lucky, or so I hear. Your forces tried hard, they did — but the Taris Resistance got away to fight another day. And fight they will. Because while they may not have been in the Republic long, they’ve got what it takes, where it counts.

They do. We do. But what about you?

That’s right: We’ve been taking your measure in these first weeks since you barged into Republic territory — just as you were taking ours with your little provocations before that. The difference is, we’re able to do something about it.

It’s all about the numbers, my friends. There are more of us than there are of you — and we don’t have to build shipyards and armories on the fly. We’ve already got them. How long do you really think it takes to refit a landspeeder factory to produce armored attack craft? And how many landspeeder factories do you imagine there are in the whole Galactic Republic, hmm?

You won’t have to imagine for long. You’ll be seeing what we can do up close and personal soon enough.

This is Goodvalor, signing off. Cue the slogan, Lieutenant.

The Republic. Here today, here tomorrow.

* * *

Ke’sush, warriors! This is Sornell, again, with the Taris signal post.

Yes, you do have to stay on the Z-band. The heavies are still coming in. You want to be standing in the wrong place when the bombs drop, it’s fine by me.

Just stay focused.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Goodvalor, again. While you’re waiting for the end to come — and brother, is it on its way! — I thought we’d have a talk about you. You know, the Mando’ade — the “sons and daughters of Mandalore.” That sounds nice, but I hate to break it to most of you: You’re adopted.

They’ve told us many of you were once upstanding, peace-loving residents of worlds invaded by Mandalore and his thug, Cassus Fett. And that many of you were lured, by threat or trickery, into donning armor and joining his mad cause! But do you really know what that cause is? Do you know what you’re fighting for? It’s ego. Bruised ego is all it is — not worth putting your skin (or scales, or whatever) on the line for.

Let old Goodvalor fill you in: A generation ago, in the Great Sith War, the Mandalorian clans were made to serve a single rogue Jedi, after he defeated your leader in combat. And to this day, nobody in metal shoulder pads has been able to get over it. So now, the current Mandalore — the name your current scoundrel gave himself, how’s that for cheek? — is throwing your lives away in a galactic war. Just to repair — what? His bruised ego, buddy! With your neck!

I know — it’s not the kind of thing they tell you about in armor class. Maybe there’s a reason for that. Think about it: It only took one Jedi to humiliate you before — and we’ve got a lot more where that came from! True, the Jedi Order remains officially neutral. But perhaps you’ve heard of The Revanchist — a Jedi who’s lobbying to change that even as I speak! That sound you hear is lightsabers igniting?

Things look good to you today, pillaging dress shops and fruit stands on rimworlds like Taris and Suurja. But the tide is turning. Which side will you be on? All you have to do is drop the helmet and walk away. Or better yet — return to the service of the Republic that has given you so much!

Only the gloom of the grave awaits Mandalore. Don’t join him. Join us!

The Republic. No gloom. Just glory.

* * *

Sornell here. We need to know what utreekov parked the Davaab fighter on top of the — what is this? The Highport Banking Tower. We need the space for the new receiver platform.

Get up here and get your ship before we push it over the side.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! This is Commander True, first officer to Captain Goodvalor.

The captain apologizes, but he is not going to be able to broadcast today. There were so many Mandalorians who crossed the lines and joined the Republic after his last message, he’s just been too busy.

He sends his regards.

The Republic. It sends its regards.

* * *

Signal post. Okay, now, we’ve just seen it. I don’t care what Jetiise nonsense is in the air, you can’t go around switching off your transceivers!

We absolutely made a call — what was it, Gorrga, ten seconds? Ten seconds after we shoved the fighter over the side of the building. There was plenty of time, if you were listening. You guys in the Lower City need to stay on top of things.

Oh, and — ah, “we’ll remember them, so they are eternal.”

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! It’s your captain speaking — you know the one. I’m just sitting down to a delicious dish of Bilovi Tempari, here in my beautifully appointed climate-controlled ship’s lounge. And that was when — no, sweetheart, no more wine, thanks — I got to thinking about you.

You, you valiant, daring creatures — toughing it out there in the field for Old Rustface. Tell me, how’s life?

Don’t answer that — I think I know! Those friends of yours I’ve told you about have described the vile conditions you’re forced to endure. “Nomadic lifestyle,” indeed. No style to that life, brothers and sisters — slogging through one Outer Rim mudhole after another for weeks at a time. Tell the truth: How often do you get to clean that armor? I mean — inside, where it counts? No wonder you like your camps spread out!

Sorry to go on about this, but, really, your ex-comrades-in-arms can’t quit talking about how much better it is over here. Actually, a few of our recent arrivals will be over a little later. They’re dropping by for drinks after the floor show. Come to think of it, I need to find out if they’re bringing their dates — we’ll need to set up some more chairs by the pool.

The Republic. Real beds. Running water.

* * *

Su’cuy, Cassus Fett, and all honor to your family’s dead. Sornell here, at the listening post.

Yes, we’ve all been hearing it.

No, I don’t know what “Bivoli Tempari” is. We’re asking around.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Let me tell you about my day — it’s been an exciting one. This is Captain Goodvalor, of course — but today, I am an Okyaabi!

Today, I stood with the proud people of Okyaab 6 as they threw off the shackles of their Mandalorian slavers and rose to join the Republic. A small frontier system, to be sure — but proof of the pettiness of Mandalore, as no peaceful farming community, no collection of artisans is too small to merit one of his cowardly attacks. But after less than a week under the illegitimate rule of the costume fetishist Mandalore and his cronies, the Okyaabi have retaken their world.

They’re free, my Mandalorian friends — free to participate in Republic commerce again and enjoy the prosperity so many of us have come to know. Free to go where they wish and live where they choose, without being driven ever onward in some futile quest for someone else’s revenge. Free to be the kind of people you can be. If, that is, you choose to avoid the fate of the Mandalorian forces that once enslaved Okyaab. I’d put one of their survivors on the air to speak with you — but blast it, we just haven’t been able to find any…

The Republic. Freedom now, freedom forever!

* * *

This is Sornell, for the team at SoroSuub Landing, or whatever they call it. See if you can get that big viewscreen down without totally trashing the electronics. I’d like to have just one piece of equipment this trip I don’t have to build myself, for a change.

And, no, I’ve never heard of a planet named Okyaab. Does it have to do with getting me the parts I asked for? Because I know none of you wants to waste my time.

And for you new recruits: “Cui ogir’olar” is Mando’a for “it’s irrelevant.” Or, in my clan, “You will bleed a lot if you ask again.” So don’t say you didn’t know.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Goodvalor calling. They tell me you Mandalorians are a superstitious lot. (Like you couldn’t tell from the weird stuff you carry around. And so much of it! Haven’t you people ever heard of apartments? Houses? Storage units?)

Anyway, this may interest you. We’ve learned from our many informants in your ranks that a batch of your forces in the Taris system is angling for Zongorlu next. What you may not know is that those weren’t all military camps on Serroco that Mandalore so callously and criminally nuked. There were vacation camps for Zongorlu younglings — nine camps, representing every major warrior-tribe on the planet!

Since then, we haven’t seen people from Zongorlu out and about in the Republic much. They’ve become stay-at-home types — and, well, they’re more than a little touchy. Even their Senator just asked for a leave of absence — and a heavy assault cannon.

I don’t think I’d come to Zongorlu if I were you.

The Republic. Just looking out for you.

* * *

Sornell here. Everybody forming up in the camp up here, the signal station is not the place to bring your questions about alien biology. If you really want to know what a Zongorlu looks like, you can wait until we get there.

I don’t care if you just joined us. Next guy who bothers me gets beaten to death.

* * *

Captain Goodvalor will return shortly. In the meantime, this Republic weather report for Zongorlu:

Hurricane-force winds across much of the planet, with magnetic storms throughout the ionosphere. Searing heat at the surface, with intermittent pyroclastic flows from some of the larger volcanic ranges. Atmospheric sulfur content remains high, with acidic rains in the polar regions.

Essentially, for Zongorlu, a temperate day.

* * *

We’ll need another couple of days on the mobile signal station, Cassus. We were able to scrounge most of the equipment from the shops here on Taris, but we’re pretty sure on Zongorlu we’ll need some kind of heavy-duty shielding for the transmitter. We’re forging something now. I’ll shout when we’re ready.

No, we’re still getting the broadcasts — and yeah, they’re a problem. Not for the real Mando’ade — “kaysh mirsh’kyramud” is all you hear from them. They couldn’t care less. But I don’t know about some of these guys that put on a Neo-Crusader helmet five minutes ago to join the fun.

They’re always asking why we don’t jam the Republic broadcasts, like we did when we were landing. I tell them that a siege is one thing — then, an attack on an enemy comm system is like an attack on an enemy army — but an occupation is something else. Jamming serves no purpose now. We’re wrapping up anybody the Republic might want to talk to here — and as for ourselves, no warrior worth the name ought to pay it any mind. That’s what they ought to do, but…

… well, let me tell you. My cousin’s a rally master running a bunch of these newbies as a demo team, clearing out the Undercity. Yesterday they were supposed to be minding the detonators when another one of these stupid broadcasts came on, and some mindless di’kut got preoccupied and brought a city block down on top of everyone, my cousin and all.

Thanks — but no. Actually, we never thought that much of him.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Captain Goodvalor here — pardon me for being out of breath. I was just taking another walk around the decks of the Serroco, and I’m winded. I haven’t had that much exercise since training at the Academy.

I haven’t spoken much about my fine ship, have I? For shame — I’m such a terrible host. Well, some of you may have seen some of our larger vessels, valiantly defending and delaying your forces at places with names such as Vanquo, Tarnith, and — yes — Serroco. Well, they’d all fit nicely into the landing bay of this beauty. With room to spare!

Only we don’t spare much room, because we need it. Yes, every bit of space (not devoted to the many entertainments I’ve mentioned previously) is currently committed to housing troops for landing; their munitions; and our own more-than-healthy complement of precision guided missiles. Those Republic naval designers don’t skimp on anything! And if you Mandies think you know armor, you should take a look at our shielding! Why, I’ll bet there were a few less asteroids in the Deep Core once they got done with this miracle!

And this fleet! I know this is audio, but let me paint the picture for you. Right now, I’m looking out my window at a sky so thick with ships, you could walk from here to the next system. Hammerhead cruisers! Conductor-class transports! Military droid carriers! I’ve never seen so many in one place. It’s like an old Academy reunion — only it’s no party. No, everyone here has a very important mission. A very important, very secret mission.

So many ships! So many troops! I’m not sure if Zongorlu has nearly enough space for all of us.

Oops! I gave something away, there, didn’t I?

The Republic. Just imagine what we can do.

* * *

Sornell here. Everybody on this duty, hurry up and get this junk loaded. The planet’s not going to invade itself.

* * *

Attention, all Republic civilian vessels in the Zongorlu system! This is Captain Goodvalor of the Serroco, advising you to depart the area.

It isn’t that we cannot guarantee your safety against the Mandalorians — we’re here to protect the entire system, after all. But with so many warships here, now, traffic in the area is a bit congested.

Come back next week — once we get all the armored bodies carted away, Zongorlu should be open for business again.

* * *

This is Sornell, aboard Shaadlar troopship Nehutyc. Inform Cassus Fett that we’re well underway.

No word from up ahead on Zongorlu yet. We haven’t been able to confirm much of anything — we can’t even find anyone who’s ever seen a ship like this “Serroco,” not even any of the Republic guys who came over. But whatever’s there, we’re ready for it.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Captain Goodvalor, and… pardon my yawn. Yes, I’m up late. Always hard to sleep the night before the battle, isn’t it? It’s night where we are, on guard, orbiting above the largest citadel on Zongorlu. But for our visitors soon to arrive, the night will never end. And that’s why I wanted to speak to you: not as enemy captain to enemy footsoldier, but as one sentient being to another.

There’s still time to change your minds, to change your paths. To take control of your transport ships — and your lives, and in so doing, save them.

Whatever strategic importance you may have been told Zongorlu has in some wider scheme of Mandalore’s — consider the cost. I’ve told you what’s waiting for you, here. That’s all I can do.

No snappy slogan tonight. This is Captain Goodvalor, signing off.

* * *

This is it — Zongorlu, dead ahead. Will call when the signal station is in place. Happy hunting.

Oya!

* * *

This is Koblus Sornell on Zongorlu. Give me Cassus.

Well, have him contact me, right away.

This is … strange.

* * *

Cassus, the signal post is operational. Your marshal’s still in the field, but I can give you the view from here.

First, the planet. Those reports we were getting were full of gas. The planet’s decent enough — good weather, no problem getting down at all. And the shock troops were a waste. The Zongorlu are a plant species. They’re sentient, all right, but they’re big and lumpy and they move about a meter a day. They kind of blinked when we landed. I don’t think they had camps of younglings on Serroco — unless they had them out in the garden somewhere!

And the fleet amounted to even less. There were a couple of abandoned ships floating around in orbit — Mandalore the Indomitable might have seen them when he went past a generation ago, from the looks of them.

But the most dini’la, the most insane, the most crazy thing is right where I’m at. I’m talking to you from a transmission station, all right — but it’s not the one we brought. From the logs, as best as I can tell – this was where that guy was talking to us from. Captain Goodhaven, or whatever his name is!

They’ve got a directional transmitter here, which we’re guessing they were using to target points on the Outer Rim. All the time this so-called “Captain” was talking about his big ship, he’s been sitting in a little room you couldn’t fit a basilisk in, gnawing on dried dreeka fish and running his mouth!

No, he’s not here — it looks like he dropped everything when we came out of hyperspace. The trackers have found marks where a little ship took off.

Like I said, strange. But a good lesson for the new guys. This is the way a Mandalorian jams a broadcast — we take out the source!

Sornell out.

* * *

Sornell, to the camp — Cassus tells us we need to hold station for a week or so. This operation was supposed to take a lot longer.

Haili cetare! Have a drink, enjoy the weather.

* * *

Sornell, to the camp. Look, Cassus will call us when it’s our turn to move again. He’s got some other things going on.

And if you’ve got to entertain yourselves, don’t set fire to the Zongorlu. It hasn’t rained all week. The whole camp could go up.

* * *

Warriors, there’s no use being on the Z-band at all. There’s no bombing traffic to worry about, and that Republic fraud won’t be there, either.

Every day can’t be a battle — I think someone said that once. Find something to do, or I’ll find something for you to do.

* * *

Status report from Zongorlu. It’s quiet, here.

Very quiet.

I can’t believe we’re actually missing that stupid thing.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! Stay tuned to this frequency for an announcement of vital importance!

* * *

Haar’chak! Haar’chak! Haar’chak!

I take it back.

* * *

Attention Mandalorians! This is Captain Goodvalor speaking!

Yes, as you’ve seen, our forces were called away unexpectedly from Zongorlu — and I, myself, was summoned to Coruscant for an important session with the Admiralty and representatives of the Senate! And as part of our long-standing commitment to the environment, my forces made sure to leave Zongorlu looking even more peaceful than it did when we arrived. We hope you’ll do the same.

Now, I’m signaling to you from a position further in Republic space with a message that we hope you’ll find of interest. It is, in fact, the very reason I was recalled — as the Republic’s representative to the Mandalorians these last weeks, I’m sure you’ll recognize my offer as an official one.

And it is an offer. They say that Mandalorians deal with things in a Mandalorian way. Well, the same is true of the Republic. And what is the Republic at heart, if not first and foremost, a vehicle for the enrichment of all peoples? There isn’t any reason at all why the forces of Mandalore can’t have a seat at the table like anyone else.

And so the offer is this: The Republic would welcome a cessation of hostilities with the Mando’ade. In return, the Senate would be willing to commit a share of all taxation from Republic planets and hyperspace lanes currently under Mandalorian occupation to go to the occupiers. That’s right: the spoils of war, to stop the war.

It is a fair price, and one that should more than satisfy all your requirements. With your victories in these weeks, your honor has been restored. The galaxy knows it. The Jedi did nothing to stop you; they know it. And you will have the prize — part of the wealth of these stars, without having to continue to enforce your will on them. You’ll be free to explore your options elsewhere, in directions away from the Republic — and you’ll be better funded to be able to do it.

This is a one-time offer, made only on this channel and directed to the Mandalorian representative on Zongorlu for delivery to his or her superiors. It will not be repeated or acknowledged in the future; if rejected, it will not be part of any official history. We’ll return to as it was, with the Republic readying to run you out — and with Captain Goodvalor’s words preparing the way. Me, talking to you — every day, on every frequency we can find to reach you, until one of us capitulates.

The choice is yours. Consider it well. We await your response.

The Republic. Square deals for one and all.

* * *

Yes, Cassus, I responded already. I used the transmitter here on Zongorlu.

I know I should have waited. Who is Koblus Sornell, anyway? Just a warrior. A signals expert, but a warrior. A Mandalorian warrior…

… and as a Mandalorian warrior, their “choice” was really no choice at all. I spoke for all of us: Their “bargain” was ridiculous.

Think about it: They could have a glorious battle, a true measure of what we’re worth. That’s a bargain. Instead, they’re trying to choose — a bribe? To buy peace like a peasant at a shop? All it costs is whatever guts they ever had.

And they thought we might agree to it! Whatever gave them that idea?

Just like with this “Captain Goodvalor” business. Pretending to be the victor of great battles — that’s insulting enough all on its own. But big talk about what they can do, how big their forces are? Lies about people leaving our side? Did they really think any true Mandalorian would listen?

Do they really fear us so little?

They’ll find out. Whatever kind of enemies the Republic is used to, they’ll find out we’re something different.

I don’t understand them. And I don’t think they understand us.

[the-starry-seas]

Hey, people who know Star Wars lore! I need to read up on Twi'leks and Ryloth for a fic I'm writing. I checked the sources section on their Wookieepedia pages and put together a list of the books named there. Anything that's missing, or anything here that doesn't actually mention much about them? Using both canon and legends material.

A Guide to the Star Wars Universe Day Wanna Wanga - The Tale of the Twi'leks Die Wanna Wanga: Encounters of The Twi'lek Kind Geonosis and the Outer Rim Worlds Much to Learn You Still Have: 7 Things You Might Not Know About Twi'leks Planets of the Galaxy, Volume One Planets of the Galaxy, Volume Three Star Wars: Absolutely Everything You Need to Know Star Wars: Absolutely Everything You Need to Know, Updated Star Wars: Alien Archive Star Wars: Aliens of the Galaxy Star Wars Bestiary, Vol. 1: Creatures of the Galaxy Star Wars: Complete Locations Star Wars Expert Guide Star Wars Fandex Deluxe Edition Star Wars: Galactic Atlas Star Wars: Geektionary: The Galaxy from A - Z Star Wars Inside Intel: Twi'lek Culture Star Wars Super Graphic: A Visual Guide to a Galaxy Far, Far Away Star Wars: The Complete Visual Dictionary, New Edition Star Wars: The Ultimate Visual Guide: Updated and Expanded Star Wars: The Visual Dictionary Star Wars: The Visual Encyclopedia Star Wars Trilogy Sourcebook, Special Edition The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia The Essential Atlas The Essential Guide to Alien Species The Essential Guide to Planets and Moons The Essential Reader's Companion The Movie Trilogy Sourcebook The New Essential Chronology The Star Wars Book The Star Wars Planets Collection The Star Wars Sourcebook The Star Wars Sourcebook, Second Edition Ultimate Alien Anthology Ultimate Star Wars Ultimate Star Wars, New Edition

[suplicyy]

yaku x clown reader oneshot req

you’re giving them a clown makeover with his own costume and matching big red nose

You and Yaku dressing up as clowns!

Yaku Morisuke x Reader

— Summary: You and Yaku dress up as clowns for a birthday party.

— Tags/Genre: Fluff, comedy | Gn!Reader

— Warnings: Swearing (?), mention of underpants.

This was definitely the worst idea he agreed to do with you, and he bitterly regrets every second of his own decision.

To give you a brief context, your family had planned to throw a birthday party for your cousin who will be turning seven years old soon. And a very important fact about this cousin is that he is completely obsessed with circuses, and it's no wonder that the theme of his birthday party was nothing less than that.

And a circus wouldn't be complete if there weren't clowns! So that's why now you and Yaku are in the bathroom near the birthday venue, making the final preparations on your clown costume that would definitely surprise the child and his friends.

But you have a problem now. You couldn't look at Yaku without giving him an outrageous laugh. The clown costume looked normal on you, of course it wasn't the best thing in the world, but it would work for this moment, but the same couldn't be said about Yaku.

Due to his short stature, the one-size-fits-all costume that was supposed to fit him is now being rolled up at the sleeves and pants, trying to do everything to disguise the fact that the costume was clearly not made for someone of his size.

And as if that wasn't enough, you two were using a poorly done makeup and a wig of minimally dubious quality, almost looking like you guys just came off a horror movie.

But you have to be honest, your clown costume was a thousand times better than Yaku's. You look at the boy that was putting the characteristic red ball on his nose, that is essential to the clown look, item that you are also using, matching exactly with his visual.

Unintentionally you let out a light laugh, which made him look at you with a deadly look.

"If you tell anyone of the team about this, don't expect to wake up the next day..." You give him a thumbs up in approval, too scared to try and say anything at the death threat you just received.

You suddenly felt nervous, almost as if it was a sign that some tragic event would occur soon, but you put that feeling aside, thinking it was just the threatening aura that overflowed from Yaku. There's no reason to be worried, everything would work out in the end, right?

Well, you were completely wrong.

Some minutes later, you two arrived to the party, surprising the birthday boy and his friends.

"Hello my dear frends!! I am Mr. Glitter, and this one next to me is my special companion, Mr... erm... Hobbit!!" "SAY THAT AGAIN YOUR PIECE OF S-" you quickly give Yaku a light kick in the shin, giving a forced smile to the audience of children who were now staring at him in doubt.

"Piece of s...hinning star! Hahah..."

After this little slip-up, everything seemed to be going well, you interacted with the children, who were easily entertained by anything you did, so it wasn't too difficult to get everything in order.

One of the activities you were doing to make the kids happy was blowing up several balloons, and we all know that colorful, flying things for sure caught their attention.

And it's no exaggeration to say that when you announced that you two were going to distribute the balloons, everything would become chaos.

The children were in a crying and screaming war to see who would catch the balloon first, several children surrounding you and your boyfriend, with even some clinging to both of your and his legs. It was such a mess that even some mothers had to give their unruly children a little scolding.

But it was already too late for that. Everything happened in a fraction of seconds, and you could only notice that the big pants that Yaku was wearing were on the floor of the party room when a little girl screamed.

"MOM LOOK, THE SHORT CLOWN IS WEARING A KITTEN UNDERPANTS!!"

A child accidentally pulled Yaku's pants too far, causing them to fall down and reveal his underpants that you gave him jokingly as a Valentine's Day gift (which you actually bought for both of you, since it was a couple's set).

The moment this happened, the entire hall remained silent, some with a look of shock on their faces at the embarrassing situation, and others holding back laughter.

In no volleyball match has Yaku reacted as quickly as he did now, immediately picking up his pants from the floor and running to the out of the ballroom in embarrassment. You, of course, felt sorry for him at the moment, but not even the makeup you were using could hide the redness on your face as you tried to hold back as much as possible not to laugh at his situation.

"Yakkun w-wait...! W-Wait for me!!" You say with your voice cracking amidst the laughter that escaped your mouth, and quickly follows the boy.

That night, while everyone was celebrating your cousin's party, you and Yaku were sitting on the lawn outside the hall, with you not being able to stop laughing, and Yaku already starting to prepare mentally knowing that you definitely plan to tell his teammates about this.

— A/N: I'm not sure if that was exactly what you wanted, but as you didn't give so many details about how you wanted me to write, I did what I thought would be good, but trying to leave it as you asked!!

[darealsaltysam]

hiya!! welcome to my blog!! im sam (she/her) and i like to write :3

since you're stopping by anyway, why not take a little look at my fics? i write on ao3 and have done work in many, many different fandoms! currently, you can find fics from the following;

ace attorney

fnaf

wynncraft

faith

the walking dead

star wars

paladins

the x-men movies

dsmp (mainly older, discontinued works)

below the cut i'm going to put more detailed descriptions of all of the fics i'm proudest of, so if any of the above fandoms interest you, take a little peek!!

ACE ATTORNEY

spiky twink rebooted

a very silly highschool au chatfic. crack with minimal angst here and there to carry some plot along, but it's very low-stakes. really just something i write for fun to wind down. perfect if ur looking for some good ol crack to turn your brain off to!

waiting for godot

a three-part fic exploring mia and diego's story in ace attorney - before, during, and after his coma. it goes into the background of their relationship and dives into godot's mentality after waking up and finding out about what happened to mia. angst with a somewhat bittersweet ending, canon compliant.

SOME OLDER FICS

Object Class: Fey - completed. an ace attorney scp au, very miego focused with some light background narumitsu. does not represent my current quality or style of writing, but i still enjoy the story a lot and am proud of the fic as a whole!

Time Paradox at The Turnabout - discontinued. a time travel fic of sorts. various different versions of various different characters travel to one time period, hijinks ensue. not that well-written and was never completed, but you might enjoy the concept!

the adventures of spiky twink and the burger queen - discontinued. older version of spiky twink rebooted - read that one instead!

spiky twink extras - discontinued. companion piece to the above. short stories within the universe, essentially!

FNAF

THE SCRIPTVERSE

the scriptverse is a trilogy of scripts + a prose prequel which seeks to retell fnaf lore completely. it sticks to canon in some parts but deviates in others, so it will surprise you even if you know the lore inside out! i made my own changes to the timeline, mixed and matched stuff from the movie, books and games... overall, just a big revamp of the whole thing, all told through movie scripts!

the series is made up of:

MR AFTON, a william-focused first part retelling the missing children incident

MR SCHMIDT [act 1], a michael-focused sequel retelling william's trial shortly after

MR SCHMIDT [act 2], a massive third part to the series which deals with the fallout of the murder and the trial, michael meeting jeremy, ghosts showing up in the pizzeria, and michael finding out he has a sister he didn't know about! crazy stuff!

mr emily & ms schmidt, a prose prequel to the series which focuses on how henry, william and his wife clara met

WYNNCRAFT

warm hands, cold hearts, gentle smiles (also holy shit is that bak'al over there?)

a fic which focuses on exploring the dynamics between the four twain brothers as kids + includes an appearance from wynncraft's favorite bitch boy. also, i made theorick less of a bitch by explaining WHY canon theo is such a bitch!

my legacy in death, your legacy in ice, our legacy in blood

a follow-up of sorts to the above fic, focusing on mael having to help nesaak post-theorick freezing it. the second half of the fic looks at the time mael spent training bob. all around lots of angst, some hurt/comfort in the second part, and a very, very bittersweet ending.

requiem

currently ongoing!!! an x reader fic that has you, the player, take on the role of the villain. you team up with bak'al to take revenge on someone who has wronged you. the fic, and even its description, contains BIG spoilers for wynncraft's late-game quests, most notably a journey further and a hunter's calling. it also explores some dark and uncomfortable themes, please refer to all relevant warnings!! read at your own risk!

OTHER FICS

closer, then you're close enough to lose - completed. a short, slykaar/bob one-shot based in an au i came up with together with @meefys !!

PALADINS

a city of self-fulfilling prophecies [paladins superhero au]

currently ongoing!!! a paladins superhero au that i've been putting together for years, and am now finally writing! most champions will be included as characters, with maeve, ying and lex as the three protagonists and corvus as the lead villain, alongside evie, cassie & kinessa, lian & rei, octavia and many others as major characters!

SOME OLDER FICS

the scholar loved the scion // and the scion loved the scholar, but not in the same way - completed. a short fic exploring a one-sided relationship between lian and rei. hurt, and no comfort!

FAITH

soul of christ (sanctify me)

a short fic which focuses on john and lisa's childhood, with a nice portion of catholic guilt and queer shame on the side (yes i projected onto john. no i am not sorry). very experimental but probably one of my personal fave works ever!!!

X-MEN (movies)

oh, i will ruin you (it's a habit, i can't help it)

a very short cherik one-shot, because they've infected my brain. it's just them flirting and making out tbh. nothing more nothing less. but i'm pretty proud of it!

again and again and again and again

a 5+1 exploring charles' post-first class depression era, from hank's perspective. lots of bitterness, lots of anger, lots of sad feels, and a bitter-sweet comfort ending.

and daddy made a soldier out of me

currently ongoing!!!! the first fic of two in a big xmen au i've been putting together for two months now!! the au itself involves a lot of concepts and combines them to form a more complex retelling of first class, the ten year gap, and dofp. the changes to the story include; - cherik as soulmates - erik raising wanda and pietro, then him and charles raising them together - after the beach, wanda leaves with erik, and pietro stays with charles - the twins grow up apart (and erik doesn't get arrested, so he actually gets to raise wanda) - dofp reunites the family forcefully - angst ensues! - also, a few other mcu characters have been added into the storyline as alternate no powers/human versions to themselves to help with plot stuff. this means the inclusion of wandavision!!

Cogito, Ergo Sum

my own take on the house of m storyline! mainly focused on stephen's perspective of things as he slowly unravels wanda's spell. a way more compassionate take on her side of things, with a sprinkle of ironstrange for the soul~

OTHER FICS

below you can find all my other fics - these i'm a little less confident in, because they're either older works or discontinued ones.

tommyinnit - dragonborn! - discontinued. dsmp skyrim au, sbi focused, secondary dream team focus. i really loved this fic and writing it but was forced to discontinue due to... stuff(tm). im still very passionate about the story and happy with what i wrote here, so i recommend it if you're into it.

The Between Dreams and Memories Series - discontinued. a complete retelling of the dsmp storyline. was planned to have 3 parts - same as above, forced to discontinue. contains 2 complete fics (part 1 and a spin off) and one unfinished fic (part 2 of the planned trilogy). one of the biggest fics on my account, a product of several years of work, and a very important work for me, even if its quality doesn't hold up. read if you wish!

a house full of serial killers VS the barbie movie starring margot robbie and ryan gosling - completed. a very very stupid creepypasta chatfic oneshot. i wrote it in one sitting because i was bored. it's nothing special, but it's pretty funny!

dance with the devil - completed. a very short dsmp oneshot, focusing specifically on c!niki and c!schlatt. im still pretty happy with how it turned out!

Deserve Better - completed. a pretty badly written who killed markiplier oneshot. darkstache focused. one of the first fics i ever posted!

laughter [anidala] - completed. a short star wars one-shot i wrote for my girlfriend, focusing on ani and padme!

mutual hatred builds character - completed. a short the walking dead one-shot, focused on maggie and negan. NOT SHIP! i just think they're a fun duo to study like bugs

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 38

Once, there was a god—a god of endless power, of cosmic mastery. With a single flick of his finger, life could burst forth in an instant. Stars sprang from his breath, blazing to life across the dark canvas of the heavens; planets flowered beneath his touch. This god, boundless and ancient, was a force of brilliance, stretching beyond one's understanding, a wellspring of wisdom and light whose every word called forth harmony across the cosmos. His voice, gentle yet unyielding, resonated in the vastness—a hymn of balance and serenity.

Yet, despite the majesty, the god was lonely. This god longed for a companion, one who could endure eternally, who could see and understand him. For what worth is glory when it echoes only into emptiness?

First, he created warriors—beings of radiant strength, loyal angels fierce and pure. They were magnificent, but were they truly the companions he sought? Perhaps.

Then, he shaped the animals, creatures to wander the earth. For what would the earth be without life to roam its beautiful wilds? What meaning would lush greenery hold if it remained untouched, unseen? In their vulnerability, he found a quiet grace; in their trust, a simplicity that brought him joy. But who would care for these creatures?

The angels were too divine, too removed. He needed someone like himself, someone who would mirror his essence.

An idea formed. God gathered the finest ashes, and from them, like clay, he shaped humanity. They did not possess the grandeur of angels with their eyes like stars and wings like fire, nor the innocent wildness of animals. No, humans bore a resemblance of him alone.

Humanity was fragile yet strong, intelligent yet forever seeking, wise yet often lost. And so he would be there to guide them, with the angels to protect them and animals to comfort and sustain them, gifts to fulfill his creation’s every need.

Life flourished for a time, peace reigning across his handiwork. But with goodness must also come trial.

As humanity’s journey unfolded, four siblings emerged. They bore echoes of the angels’ splendor yet lacked their divinity, carried the spirit of humanity but not its gentleness. These four struggled, grappling with existence, fumbling to comprehend their roles. But god was patient; he would take centuries if needed, guiding them, nurturing their spirits.

He knew that within these four lay the seeds of challenge and growth, a balance of light and shadow essential for creation. His love transcended mere nurturing—it encompassed fostering resilience, wisdom, and purpose, even through hardship. The four siblings would not be mere harbingers of ruin but agents of transformation, pushing humanity and all life to confront their own limitations and rise above them.

Conquest symbolized humanity’s drive to explore, to seek beyond their reach. In the face of Conquest, humans would confront their desires for control, learning the weight of ambition and the cost of wielding power responsibly.

War embodied conflict, the crucible where ideals clashed and societies reshaped. Through War, humans would reckon with division, learning the worth of unity and the peace that lies beyond struggle.

Famine would remind them of scarcity, of the delicate thread by which survival hangs. Famine would inspire empathy, humility, and the stewardship of resources, grounding humanity in gratitude and sustainable living.

Death, feared by many, was not an end but the completion of a cycle. Death’s presence would deepen the value of life, urging humanity to cherish moments, form meaningful bonds, and find beauty in the transience of existence.

Each Horseman served as a lesson, a trial, guiding humanity to discover strength, courage, empathy, and the wisdom born from struggle. For god, to truly love the earth meant empowering his creation to grow, to evolve, to awaken resilience from within.

But, like god’s beloved first angel, the siblings began to desire more. Each grew hungry for power, seeking to surpass the others, no longer content to share their burdens equally. And so, god made a painful decision.

With a heavy heart, he confined them—not from hatred, for god knew no hatred, nor regret, but from a wish to protect. He would not annihilate them, for they, too, were his beloved creations, his children. Instead, he sealed them away in a realm forged for them alone—a realm filled with the rarest riches, abundant power, a kingdom meant to cradle their ambitions without endangering humankind.

Though imprisoned, he allowed them still to touch the universe, to impart their lessons to humanity. God knows that someday, they will find a way out, might walk among mortals, perhaps even lead them—or even surpass him.

Yet he was certain of one truth: while humans might mirror his image, it was these four who most truly reflected his spirit. Someday, he believed, they would learn to love, just as he had loved them all along.

-

The world around you once again came into focus slowly, blurred edges sharpening as a pulsing headache plagues you, stabbing behind your eyes like needles. Every beat of your heart echoes in your skull, rattling memories loose. Names and faces flash behind your eyelids—Huxley, Camila, Ezekiel, Aurelia, Makima—all swirling in a dissonant symphony. Thoughts collide with fragments of other countless lives, each clawing for recognition, gnawing at your mind like parasites desperate to be known.

Memories—yes, they’re your memories, spilling over one another in a kaleidoscope of chaos, reminding you of who you were, yet leaving you adrift in who you are.

“Dominus meus!” a voice calls, soft and reverent, with a tremor of urgency. You turn, feeling the weight of your head as though it holds the universe itself, and squint into the dim light. A girl kneels beside you, her form delicate and childlike, draped in a shimmering gown that catches the faint glow of your surroundings. She cannot be more than eleven, yet her gaze holds an unsettling intensity, bright e/c eyes fixed upon you with the loyalty of a disciple. In her hands, she extends a chalice—a golden vessel that seems to hum with ancient power. You reach for it instinctively, the cool metal grounding you as you lift it to your lips. Liquid cascades down your throat, crisp and cold, easing the fog clouding your mind.

“I’m glad you’re here, my Lord,” she continues, relief softening her expression as she watches you intently. “I was worried I wouldn’t get the chance to talk to you.” Her voice is a careful whisper, her eyes locked with yours, wide and brimming with something close to reverence. She resembles you, like a distorted mirror image. Your glare sharpens, red eyes narrowing as you examine her, your mind struggling to piece together the past, the present, the truth.

“Who are you?” you ask, suspicion lacing your tone.

The girl smiles, a practiced expression of humility and devotion, bowing her head but never letting her gaze waver from yours. “It may take a while for memories to flood in, especially since you are… mortal.” She pauses, as if the word itself is foreign on her tongue. “But I’m F/n. I—I'm your most faithful servant. Am I… am I allowed to talk, my Lord?”

A subtle nod is your only answer, a signal to continue.

“Centuries ago, you saved me, my Lord!” she says, her voice quivering with emotion. “You offered me a deal, a contract, binding our lives… our existence to each other. You—you make deals, my Lord, and we stay here with you, for eternity.” Her eyes gleam as she speaks, her devotion palpable. “You return as a human, or like your last life, as a devil—Makima, you were in your longest life, spanning centuries.”

“Where did I come from?” you ask, leaning back against the throne. Its contours wrap around you like an old friend, familiar and regal, as though it was shaped to fit only you.

“You—you're a god!” she breathes, voice trembling. “You were crafted by the hands of God Himself, my Lord. B-but He cast you down, alongside your siblings, because He is evil!” Her voice rises with a fervent tremor. “You said it yourself, my Lord! Your father cast you down because He could no longer control you, nor your siblings. He's so selfish.”

A chuckle escapes your lips, low and dark. “I remember now. My father cursed us, confined each of us to our own domains to ensure we would not reincarnate, yet here I am.”

“What was my name again? Conquest? Deception?” you muse, allowing fragments of memories to float just within reach, tauntingly close but blurred. “I always loved being a god… And I miss my siblings—War, Famine, Death.” A warmth stirs within you at the thought, a flicker of twisted affection. “We tried to kill each other countless times, and yet… look at us. Bound but unbroken. They’ll be furious when they learn I’ve found a way to walk among mortals.”

Your fingers traced the armrest of your throne thoughtfully. “But, yes... there are flaws,” you sighed. “These memories, they fade, as each mortal life dims the divine. One time, I was so close, so close to having what I wanted... if it hadn’t been for that boy.”

A flicker of resentment rose as you recalled the obstinate, maddening figure of Denji—the mortal who had thwarted you in your life as Makima

The girl, F/n, leans forward, her gaze softening in sympathy. “My Lord, you can still obtain what you desire… if you fulfill your promise.”

“My promise?” Your eyes narrow, focusing on her with renewed interest.

She nods eagerly. “Yes! You promised to help my brother, Ryo. You swore he would become the strongest. While you were away, I managed to send signs to the living world, hints to guide him centuries ago and even now to his loyal servant. Because—perhaps… perhaps the limitations of your mortality have made it difficult to make you fulfill your promise.”

You frown. “I needed assistance? The bullet was your doing?”

She nods again, vigorously. “Yes, my Lord! The bullets were made out of meminisse. A rare fruit that exists in God's land, it takes centuries to grow but Ryo's servant managed to acquire it.” She explained. “I helped him help you remember.”

“And… Ryo was meant to be your true kin, your family… not that mortal,” she says with a disdainful curl of her lip at the mention of Yuuji.

Your expression hardens, a storm brewing in your gaze. “That mortal?” you echo, your voice laced with venom.

“Yes, that mortal!” she retorts, her gaze emboldened. “Compared to him, you are destined for greatness, my Lord! He’s beneath you, unworthy of your power.”

Her words echo through your mind, and a conflicting surge rises within you. Greatness, dominion… but there is also a lingering loyalty to Yuuji, tangled and messy. You glance back at the girl, her fervent gaze shining with hope as she waits for your response.

“You’re suggesting that greatness would lie in Sukuna?” you ask, your tone unreadable.

You possibly can't love what you want to control. That was a fact. Ryo, or more commonly known as Sukuna, was a product of a promise—a promise born of ambition, not affection.

Perhaps his sister—F/n—had wished for him to get stronger, to be the strongest because she loved him so much. But for you? What is love, when the moment you forged the deal, you saw him not as a family, not as an equal, not as someone to cherish, but as a product of your power? Of a deal?

And it isn't like you could just simply replace F/n. It leaves a bitter taste in your tongue.

Sukuna is fashioned from your power, carefully crafted to be the strongest—a twisted creation shaped by your control. Control? There was no warmth in this bond, only a proud sense of accomplishment that you, Conquest incarnate, had created something so powerful it commanded fear as the ‘King of Curses.’ But that was never enough, was it?

Power was hollow without connection. And what you wanted was something untouchable by control, something sincere—a connection pure enough that the mere thought of manipulating it felt almost blasphemous.

This kind of connection couldn’t be found among your divine siblings: War, Famine, and Death. Between all of you, love was swallowed whole by the hunger for dominance, twisted by the need to conquer. There was no space for tenderness in the endless field of greed. Yet here you were, seeking something wholly different.

You had grown soft, hadn’t you? Soft enough to understand, soft enough to seek the humanity in bonds, to stand by Yuuji’s side not as a conqueror but as a sibling. You laughed at the irony, at those who would call Yuuji your weakness, because the truth was that he was your strength. His kindness grounded you, his innocence tempered your cruelty. He was not a flaw in your armor but the shield against the emptiness in your heart.

To love was to willingly surrender control, to lay yourself bare and unguarded. And perhaps, in the vulnerability of embracing your role as Yuuji’s sibling, you had discovered a softness that wasn’t weakness but strength in its own right.

Maybe, just maybe, leaving things uncontrolled, allowing love to flourish wild and unrestrained, could be beautiful.

She nods eagerly, her eyes alight with excitement. “You desired a family—someone who could understand you as an equal. My brother is the ideal choice. Fulfill your promise, my Lord, and together you would reign over the mortal world!”

The taste of her words leaves a bitter tang in your mouth. “I remember now,” you murmur, casting your gaze around your grand throne room. Its walls are adorned with shimmering gold and glinting jewels, a tribute to your divinity, yet beyond its walls— beyond your kingdom that houses your ‘followers’ lies a decayed wasteland, outside your kingdom—a barren, rotting desert. Here, souls you brought as companions decay slowly, trapped in endless torment, suffering in bodies that will never truly die. It is the curse your father placed upon you, an existence befitting only you.

Your gaze drops to F/n, and a flicker of disdain curls your lip. “I remember commanding my servants to never set foot on my throne’s platform unless summoned.”

She flinches, eyes wide with fear. “B-but I offered you water, my Lord!”

You raise the empty chalice. “And now that it’s done, why are you still here?”

She lowers her head, her voice barely a whisper as she steps down. “Forgive me, my Lord…”

“It’s infuriating.” Your voice is cold, the words slicing through the air.

“My Lord, please, I beg for your forgiveness,” she pleads, bowing.

“Are you the only one here who is still… functional?” you ask, a sneer in your tone.

She shakes her head, voice trembling. “Others from your past lives linger, but they are not yet… worthy to meet you. While the older ones are useless.”

You glare down at her. “I’ve decided,” you announce, your voice final. “I refuse to fulfill my promise.”

F/n’s head snaps up, eyes wide with shock. “What? T-that’s not fair!”

You arch a brow. “Are you questioning me? And did you forget I despise it when the undeserving meet my gaze?”

“B-but, my Lord—”

“Oh, be silent!” you snap, cutting her off. “I do as I please. Your opinions mean nothing.”

Her face contorts, panic etched in every line. “But… that would be betraying me…”

You scoff, your voice dripping with derision. “As if I care. It wouldn’t be my first broken promise. Or do you need reminding that I am also Deception incarnate? The false god?” The words slice through the air, heavy with disdain, and you can feel the weight of your past hanging over both of you like a dark cloud.

Tears spill down her cheeks, glistening like tiny crystals against her skin, as she wails, “It’s not fair! It’s all that useless mortal’s fault!” Her voice trembles with raw emotion, but before she can continue her tirade, you hurl the golden chalice at her with a swift, contemptuous flick of your wrist. The cool metal glints ominously in the ambient light as it sails through the air, striking her face with a resounding clang. The impact leaves a cruel bruise blooming against her delicate skin, darkening rapidly like a storm cloud gathering above.

She gasps, stumbling back, her expression one of shock and pain. The breath is knocked from her lungs, and you relish the moment, the satisfaction curling your lips into a cruel smile.

“Choose your words carefully,” you warn, your voice frigid and laced with an icy calm as you remain seated on your throne, a figure of dominance. You observe her with cold amusement, relishing her distress, the way her small frame quivers beneath the weight of your gaze. The grand throne room, filled with opulence and dark grandeur, seems to echo your authority. Shadows flicker across the gold and jewel-adorned walls, dancing as if they too are afraid of your wrath.

Before you can continue your scolding, a familiar sensation pricks at the edges of your consciousness. You sense your form beginning to fade, the pull back to the mortal realm strengthening, a force you cannot resist. The throne room, with its sumptuous details—the ornate tapestries depicting tales of past glory, the polished marble floors reflecting the muted light—begins to blur around the edges, losing its clarity like a dream slipping away at dawn.

“Wait, my Lord, please! Forgive me!” F/n’s tear-streaked face is the last thing you see, her bright eyes wide with desperation, the innocence of her unwavering faith contrasting sharply with the reality of her situation. You can almost feel the weight of her pleas tugging at your frayed sense of obligation, but it isn’t enough to sway you.

“I suggest you fix yourself before I return. Or, better yet… end your own misery. I have no place for incompetence in my kingdom.” Your parting words hang in the air, sharp and merciless, a final, devastating blow that resonates like the tolling of a bell. The throne room, once vibrant with life, now seems to pulse with an eerie silence, as if the very walls are holding their breath, awaiting your departure.

With that, you vanish, leaving F/n in a shattered silence, her desperate, broken sobs echoing in the darkness, mingling with the remnants of your disdain. The last vestiges of your presence linger like a bitter aftertaste, a haunting reminder of the power you wield and the price of failure in your domain.

“Y-you’ve gone soft my Lord.” F/n whispered. “I have to do something about it.”

[intermundia]

Hey, I'm new to the Star Wars fandom here (TT) and I am an avid reader, can you suggest what books I should buy and in what order because u seem like a pretty well organized guy in terms of books, thanks (plz help, I will literally go broke if I buy them all, thanks)

welcome to star wars!!! 🫶 it's a hell of a mess but it's worth it haha i've been collecting for awhile, i have 173 of the novels (here's a link to an inventory spreadsheet if you're curious which ones), but there are almost four hundred available if you include all legends and extended universe in addition to disney canon. which is frankly too many lol

a useful book is the essential reader's companion by pablo hidalgo, which was published in 2012 and provides short summaries of all novels published before then, so you have a sense of what kind of books are available about the EU etc. it's good to have on hand to guide you through the absolute thicket that is legends haha

my personal area of interest is the prequels and obi-wan/anakin, so those are the books i really know the most about. the thrawn books by timothy zahn are notoriously pretty good for example, but i've only read one of them, and can't really comment on the rest. i've also only read one high republic book, light of the jedi by charles soule, which i adored, but can't comment on the rest of that era either.

my three very favorite sw books are:

revenge of the sith by matthew stover

darth plagueis by james luceno

rogue planet by greg bear

a selection of other ones i enjoyed:

padawan by kiersten white

wild space by karen miller

phantom menace by terry brooks

shatterpoint by matthew stover

labyrinth of evil by james luceno

dark lord: rise of darth vader by james luceno

lords of the sith by paul kemp

master and apprentice by claudia gray

dark disciple by christie golden

kenobi by john jackson miller

life and legend of obi-wan kenobi and the rise and fall of darth vader by ryder windham are two kids books that i really enjoyed

if you want to know comics (which are some of the best star wars media of all time) or my favorite nonfiction reference books let me know!!

also, a pro tip i guess is to check out ebay used book lots, people dump big piles of sw books all the time for relatively cheap and that can be a great way to jumpstart a collection without breaking the bank

[dapurinthos]

Precipice — A Hyperspace Exclusive Short Story

“Blue-tongued bolts of lightning coursed through Obi-Wan Kenobi, gathering at his wrists and ankles before racing up and down his body in a journey surely designed to drive him to the edge of reason. He was held largely immobile, like an insect pinned to a cotton display swab, twitching as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably in a futile struggle to escape their torment. It was an odd sort of pain: an aching, prickling, numbness similar to a limb that had fallen asleep combined with the burning of muscles worked to shaky exhaustion. A sheen of cold sweat covered his pale face, the occasional bead of which rolled down his temples before disappearing into his beard…”

As Count Dooku holds Obi-Wan Kenobi captive on Geonosis and tries to lure him to the side of the Separatists, Kenobi steels his resolve by thinking back to other difficult moments when on the brink. — The Essential Reader's Companion: Star Wars

here, have a .pdf of one of the old hyperspace magazine short stories that stick in my head because i wanted it in a easier-to-read format than hauling up the archive.org'd version of the page whenever. the archive.org url is linked at the top of the first page of the pdf, where you can scroll down until there's a 'star wars shorts' button where you can find more of them because there really isn't anywhere else on the internet that they're available.

[notes-from-sarah]

This image of Bail carrying Obi-Wan on his shoulders is from the Bail Organa/Obi-Wan Kenobi Clone Wars era adventure book Wild Space by Karen Miller. Years ago I read the entire book purely based on this image. I will have you know, this never happens in the book. You can see the image on the Wookie article for the Sith planet Zigoola but the image is blatant false advertising. I ended up liking the book anyway, but what you see in the picture does not happen.

Image Credit: Art by Chris Trevas for Star Wars: The Essential Reader's Companion by Pablo Hidalgo

[dream-beyond-the-fantasy]

Reading Star Wars books to get the feel of writing canon characters and writing in that universe. I'm also planning to reread some past favorites. So far, I've read or am reading (including listening to audiobooks):

Star Wars: Darth Plagueis by James Luceno (2012)

Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace novelization by Terry Brooks (1999)

Star Wars: The Essential Reader's Companion by Pablo Hidalgo (2012)*

Star Wars: Legacy of the Jedi by Jude Watson (2003)

Also, if anyone has any recommendations, I would love to hear them. I grew up in the Star Wars Expanded Universe era, now termed Legends. But there was a lot that I never had the chance to read. I do want to check out some Disney Canon Star Wars books, though

*reference book

[staringdownabarrel]

Okay, so here's my overall thoughts on the Riftwar saga as a whole. Upon rereading this, I've suddenly realised that this is extremely long even by the standards of the posts I write, so click the read more and play the Star Wars main theme at your own peril.

My first big thought is that in some ways, it's amazing how similar these books are to Dragon Ball Z in plot structure. This is probably going to be a contentious take, but here me out on this one. In DBZ, the general plot structure is that there's some big new threat introduced, the main characters fuck around bit training and trying to work out how to defeat the new big bad, and then they have a big fight and work it all out. Eventually, a newer, stronger big bad rolls up and the cycle starts anew.

This is more or less how it works in the Riftwar saga as well. Yes, there is the one final big bad to end all big bads that Pug has to face at the end, but most of the time the focus is on the current low or mid level threat with Pug working in the background. So first it was the Tsurani, then the Pantathian serpent priests, then the demons from the fifth circle, and then finally the Dread.

The other part of the Dragon Ball Z structure is that while Goku was always the strongest character because he's the main one, early on the threats were small enough that the other characters could have a thing to do. Like, Piccolo and Krillin and whoever else weren't strong enough to go up against Vegeta, but they could more or less handle the Saibamen. The B cast might not be able to go up against Freiza, but they could handle the low level henchmen and hold out against the Ginyu Force. You get the drill.

After a while though, it gets to a point where it doesn't even really matter that the B cast is there. Goku is the only one who really matters. Anyone else in the series isn't going to be able to hold out against the main big bad except for Goku and maybe Vegeta or Gohan, depending on how Akira Toriyama was feeling that week.

This also happens in the Riftwar saga. Early on, there was still stuff the Kingdom and its armies could do to help Pug and his immediate companions. They could go to war with the Tsurani, rough up the moredhel, and mount a defend deep style strategy against the Pantathians' army. Later on, this becomes less the case. After a while, if you weren't Pug, Nakor, or somehow related to Pug, you weren't going to have that much of an impact on what happened with the current big bad.

Even in the edge cases of this, like the Conclave of Shadows trilogy where Talon gets to be the main character, Pug is still working in the background. Talon might get to nominally be the main character in that trilogy, but Pug is the chess master, and in that sense he has less personal agency than Nicholas did in The King's Buccaneer.

I think this explains a lot of the fan response to this series overall. A lot of the time when people get frustrated with these books for either being repetitive or because it feels like Feist is running on autopilot after a while--both of which are valid responses--it's because they're not getting that this is basically just Dragon Ball Z in novel format. The alternative is that they absolutely realise this is the case and that's why they're frustrated: they didn't like Dragon Ball, so they don't like that this essentially has the same formula.

The other way this informs reader responses is that it seems like there's a lot of people who got to a certain point in the series and then just stopped. Certainly, there's a lot of people who've read every single book in this series, but there's also been a lot of people who seem to have stopped after a certain point. This is true of people who I've known in person who've read Feist at some point, and it seems to be true online as well. I haven't exactly done an extensive search of this, but it definitely feels like there's a lot of people on Goodreads who were avidly reviewing the earlier books in the series, but then just stopped after a while.

The Dragon Ball equivalent of this is that they either gave up on the franchise after Z wrapped up, or they saw GT or Evolution and basically vowed never again. There's loads of people who were fans of Dragon Ball Z twenty years ago who've never seen any of the new Dragon Ball stuff that's been released in the last decade or so, the same way there's a lot of Feist fans who are fans of what he wrote up until the Serpentwar saga.

This kid of parallel goes right up until the ending, by the way. At the end of the Cell saga in Dragon Ball Z, Goku passes the torch to Gohan and says, "This shit's all my son's problem now, but it's going to be fine because he has more innate power than I do." At the end of Magician's End, when given the choice between passing on or staying alive, Pug's response is, "This can all be my son's problem now, but it'll be fine because he has more innate power than I do."

While this isn't the absolute end of Dragon Ball Z--the Buu saga comes along and undoes Goku's decision--there is a large chunk of the old guard DBZ fandom that thinks that's where it should have ended. So maybe if you're a fan of both Dragon Ball Z and the Riftwar saga and you hold that opinion, keep with it because they do the good ending in these books.

Of course, there is one final parallel in the ending. At the very end of Dragon Ball Z, Buu gets reincarnated as Uub. At the end of Magician's End, Pug ends up being reincarnated as well.

I seriously doubt this is a specific thing that Feist intended for the Riftwar saga to do. For one, Magician came out two years before the Dragon Ball manga started up in Japan. For two, I don't meet many people around Feist's age who are Dragon Ball fans, so I genuinely would be shocked if he saw it and was immediately like, "You know what? Lemme write this down real quick; this guy's really onto something here."

Still, there's a lot of things about the Riftwar saga that I'm immensely more forgiving of now that I realise this is basically the novel version of Dragon Ball Z. When I was reading the earlier books, there's a lot of things I took issue with: how the women were written and treated, what the politics were like, that there were large chunks of certain books that were ultimately just filler.

These are things I still take issue with, and I have a lot more to say about this in later posts. I just feel like these are less of an issue now that it's finally clicked that this is basically just DBZ for a slightly older audience.

My other takeaway from these books is that while the books themselves haven't changed, my perspective on them has. While for the most part, the books in this series that I considered to be the best of the bunch at sixteen are still the ones I think are the best of the bunch at thirty, the reasons for that have changed. Like, I can appreciate how Talon of the Silver Hawk touches on certain things the previous books don't a lot more than I did when I was in high school; I can appreciate how A Darkness at Sethanon builds up the tension a lot more now.

The flipside to this is that I can also articulate my issues with my least favourites a lot better now. Rise of a Merchant Prince is a wasted book that should have had its focus elsewhere for example, and the Demonwar duology is often just a bad rehash of the Darkwar trilogy.

I think also, I'm a lot more forgiving of certain books now than I was as a teenager. At sixteen, I essentially thought that Silverthorn was just 430 or so pages of filler. At thirty, I can appreciate how much it adds to the storyline.

The most dramatic examples of this are the Empire trilogy and Faerie Tale. I think the problem I had with the Empire trilogy as a teenager was that it kinda felt a bit like filler because it didn't develop the main plot in any way. Nowadays, I can appreciate the politics of it, and I wish the other books were as consistently political as these ones were.

I appreciate the irony of saying this straight after I've said that Rise of a Merchant Prince was a waste of a book. One of the reasons I think that now is because while I do feel like the economics of the Kingdom needed to be fleshed out more, I'm not really convinced this was the way to do it. "By the way, high finance is a thing here and this guy who's fresh out of his national service can master it in a couple of years by pulling himself up by the bootstraps enough" isn't a substitute for actually fleshing out which regions are mostly agricultural, which ones are mining towns, which ones are mostly military outposts, and so on.

Faerie Tale, while not a Riftwar book, is a very dramatic example of what I'm talking about with this. I only ever read this book the once as a teenager, and I wasn't really impressed with it at the time. I didn't really like that it wasn't really in the same vein as Feist's other books, and I think maybe I was too young to fully appreciate its plot and themes when I was fifteen.

Nowadays, this is one of my favourite Feist books. Some of this is due to some very specific genre preferences--for the most part, I prefer urban fantasy to epic fantasy. However, I think I'm also in a position now where I can have a deeper appreciation for its more adult themes than I was back then.

The big thing Faerie Tale does well compared to other Feist books is in how it treats women. The women characters in it have a lot more agency than they do in his other books outside of the Empire trilogy. It's never going to become a feminist cult classic by any stretch of the imagination, but I doubt it'd draw the same strong ire that his other books would draw if they were more popular, either.

I'm still bothered by how haphazard the world building was. The bare bones are there, but there isn't a lot of follow through. For example, in Magician, it's said that the relationship between the Kingdom and the Free Cities are often strained. Some of this is due to the duchy known as the Far Coast having once been a part of the same Keshian province as the Free Cities, so there's bad blood there due to the war the Kingdom waged to conquer a large chunk of this territory.

This isn't really followed up on, though. Once the first few books are over, relations between the Kingdom and the Free Cities are treated as if they're effectively neutral, bordering on soft alliance. To an extent, this does make sense because they effectively were aligned against the Tsurani in Magician, but they could have gone back to business as usual straight after.

The other part of this is just the cultural diversity issue. Outside of the hill people of Yabon and some of the ethnic groups towards the border with Kesh, the Kingdom doesn't have a lot of it. This is in spite of how large the Kingdom is supposed to be. It's never entirely clear just how wide it is from one side to another, but based on the kind of travel times and distances mentioned, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that the distance from Crydee to Ran is something like 5,000 or 6,000 kilometres (~3,000-3,750 miles).

With countries that large, you'd expect insane amounts of cultural diversity. To an extent, Feist does try to walk this back a bit later on by mentioning stuff like how certain cities will have their own dialects and so on, but for the most part the Kingdom is treated as if it mostly has a monoculture once you get passed the East-West divide.

I don't think this treatment is a huge contradiction because the rule on how much diversity the Kingdom has is however much benefits the plot the most. For the most part, I think it can just be written up to different characters having different perspectives as well. However, it is a little bit of a blunder, and it can come close to a contradiction at times. This is another parallel with Dragon Ball Z, by the way: its plot could be contradictory at times as well, and the core rule was always whichever way benefited the plot more was how it'd play out.

The worldbuilding thing that I actually think is an honest-to-god contradiction and not just a matter of certain characters having different perspectives is the shift in which side of the Kingdom is reputed to have the best army. Early on, the Western army has the reputation of being the Kingdom's finest, both because the conquest of Yabon and the Far Coast was still relatively recent historically speaking, but also because the forts along the Teeth of the World were all considered part of the Western Realm. The disputed border with Kesh was also part of the West.

So basically, pretty much every garrison that saw any real combat was part of the Western realm. This would have been a part of that part of the army's institutional knowledge. This is something that's reflected in how Western characters conceptualise the Eastern garrisons. In Magician, they're basically just seen as parade ground troops who are basically just honour guards for territory that's been pacified for decades, if not centuries.

While Guy du Bas-Tyra is seen as a crack general despite being from the East, this is also clearly an aberration rather than a broad pattern. Outside of his first war with Kesh, where he forced the Keshians back from Deep Taunton, it's also not clear if he ever commanded a mostly Eastern army on the field. Certainly during the war with Kesh in Magician it's implied that a lot of his men in the field had followed him there from the East, but it's also probable he left a lot of them behind in Krondor and was mostly commanding a Western army by the time he got to the southern marches.

Later on though, this is switched. The Eastern forces are considered to be the crack forces. I'm not even really sure how Feist could square this with some of the distances mentioned in the books. In the Conclave of Shadows trilogy, the Eastern Kingdoms are mentioned to be hundreds of miles away from the nearest Kingdom city of any real size.

If commanding forces against the Eastern Kingdoms was also seen as a prestige job, then I don't get why there wasn't also a series of forts along the eastern border the same way there was along the Teeth of the World. Instead, there's just this huge gap where there aren't a lot of Kingdom settlements at all between Ran and the northern forts.

The other part of this is that when it came to expansion, it was stated at one point that the Kingdom's eyes were always to the West. They weren't necessarily interested in eating up any Eastern Kingdoms, and as they are in the Conclave of Shadows trilogy, there's nothing to suggest that anyone there has their shit together well enough to really capture Kingdom territory.

So this is one of those things where I think Feist did contradict himself. There's a lot of other things about the worldbuilding I'm generally unhappy about, but this has been all the main points, and this is already an incredibly long post.

So I guess the ultimate question I really need to answer now is whether or not I think they're as good as I remember. Ultimately, my answer is kinda-sorta? There's definitely parts of this that are as good as I remember, though often for very different reasons. But there's also a lot of stuff that I now have issues with that I couldn't really conceptualise properly in my teens.

Certainly, this does still inspire a certain degree of brain rot in me, just as it did when I was sixteen. It's for different reasons, but it's there and it's real. So even though I'm done reading these books, I'm not actually done talking about them. There will be more posts coming.

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Star Wars: The Essential Reader's Companion - Bria Tharen by Brian Rood

[jadecrusades]

Illustration by Jeff Carlisle. “Star Wars: Essential Reader's Companion.” October, 2012.

For the “Star Wars: Essential Reader’s Companion,” Jeff Carlisle depicted one of author Timothy Zahn’s favorite Mara Jade moments from “Survivor’s Quest,” as indicated in this excerpt from an interview with Roqoo Depot:

RD: What are some of your favorite Mara moments?

TZ: That’s a hard one — there are so many. If I have to pick three (okay, six): killing C’baoth and saving the day (The Last Command), chiding Luke for his overuse of the Force (Vision of the Future), helping Luke take out a droideka (Survivor’s Quest), letting the Hand of Judgment go (Allegiance), traversing the railing under enemy fire (Choices of One), and her unwelcome but genuine feelings of loss at the end of that book.

The “Star Wars: Essential Reader” notes that “Survivor’s Quest” was the first official Star Wars work to use the 501st Legion by name, in 2004.

[reilliane]

Stellar ★ Venti

— ★ Scry: Ecliptic Umbra + Auriga + Corvus with Venti + Astrolabe AU + Reader's Prompt (Happy Ending) — ★ Genre: Romance + Fluff & Angst + "You regret what?" + The kind becomes prey — ★ Concept: It's once in a lifetime, but there are times when fate is kind. — ★ Words: 5.5k A/N: OMG when I say I flipped with this combination of prompts, I FLIPPED AAHHH this was a wonderful scry. "This format indicates a dialogue in flashback."

Promises… they’re as ephemeral as they can be—yet for a being who is just as ephemeral, it’s better to cling unto such promises, to hope, and to believe.

For in the end, it’s the closest one can get to disillusioning themselves into thinking that nothing is amiss.

You’re no different.

Centuries—no, millenniums. For millenniums, you’ve held onto nothing but the transience of companionship and the bittersweet solace brought by it.

There are times when you wish to slink away from hopes, to turn down all promises to remember you.

They aren’t by any means empty. No, they’re genuine. Real.

But what are measly words against the thorns of fate?

Nothing but a speck of dust.

Still, you find yourself believing in them—as long as one fights… it’s a war, right?—no matter how much you struggle in preordained throes, you believe. Because it’s comfort.

It’s solace.

The only thing that keeps you going other than the satisfaction brought by helping your companions achieve a goal or reach an epiphany.

You are fighting a war against fate by hoping for the impossible.

On the battlefield, you’ve gone and went with many.

Previously partnered with the most turbulent of gales, to the heat of a blazing heart, to unmerciful lightning… and now, with an otherworldly sun.

Together, one by one, they joined hands with you in the antiquated arena, opposing kismet with beliefs of serendipity.

Yet… in the end, the outcome is always the same.

“… Thank you,” the blond does not turn to your voice as he continues to embrace his sibling, his journey reaching its end. “Aether..”

In the finale, you’re always the only one left standing. The kind and the hopeful will always fall. In the deserted battleground against fate, facing zemblanities and grief… alone.

As it has always been. Then and for eternity.

You watch as he entwines his hand with Lumine, the relieved smiles on their faces, appeased after a long time of hardship, appeasing your heart.

When they both take flight to the sky, you can’t help but reach out skyward, feeling like they’ve taken a piece of you with them in their journey. Back home.

The twinkle of the stars indicates another promise lost to the universe’s scheme and for once, you accept the feeling of defeat.

The misery that results after yet another failed vow does nothing but pierce an already hollowed chest.

One would think that—after going through encores of the same anguish, you’d be used to it. But you’re not, you haven’t, and you don’t think you’ll ever will.

And as you cup your own cheeks, trying to remember the warmth of Aether’s hands when he assures you time and time again that he won’t forget, you hoped you were apathetic. Emotionless.

For at least then, you won’t be this affected by something that you know is bound to happen.

Still, you feel. Because even when you try to forget them, you can’t, for they are all that made your present life worthwhile. They made you happy and sad.

So, you smile, you laugh—you cry, and you despair.

Under the heavens, who are once again, witnesses to the unfolding of a waning star’s recurring tragedies.

The stars have lost their meaning—or to be specific, you have lost your meaning.

Your journey with Aether has enlightened you of how humans, ambitious and driven as ever, are more than capable enough to light their own constellations.

The Traveler himself has done so without your aid, and so have many others, lighting star by star with each realized worth and element.

You can easily recall that moment of cognizance, the truth, and the reality of no longer being essential.

You aren't needed anymore.

Being a companion?

Hah, with or without you, as long as fate writes success at the end of a journey, they are bound for greatness. Nothing more but a stubborn thorn is what you are to their side.

Humans are growing, why else would they stop believing in the grace of the stars? You mull one mundane night at Starsnatch Cliff.

The empty feeling inside persists to linger, and you don’t mind it.

There’s simply acceptance; you are dying fading.

Even if the lack of belief in the sky—you—is caused by none other than mortals, enmity doesn’t bloom. Why would it? When from the very beginning, you love the human race?

In their ups and downs, you are with them.

And they were with you.

I wonder where I will be… even I don’t know if I have a place there if I pass on.

In the end, it’s still up to fate to decide, isn’t it? How cruel..

Won’t you show me mercy now?

“Oh~ I didn’t expect to see a familiar face! And at such a place!” the voice enters your hearing just as you questioned the universe.

Your breath hitches at it.

Barbatos. Now, out of all times.

Was it a mistake to return to Mondstadt after all? No, no, it isn’t.

There’s no harm in coming back to a place where you’ve been taught many things in your years long journey with the bard.

There’s no harm in trying to reminisce all the good memories that’s fugacious at best.

Before you fade.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” the newcomer greets, taking the spot at your side. His usage of terms makes you laugh inwardly.

Longer than you can probably imagine.

The Windborne Bard swings his dangling legs, turning his eyes towards the starry sky with a little smile on his angelic face.

“Where have you been these days, o legendary companion of the Traveler? Hehe!”

You forgot how much his laughter can ease your worries—but you’re afraid that even his lighthearted mirth now is not enough to appease you.

Not with the present circumstances.

Finding no reason to lie, you respond, “I traveled the whole of Teyvat with Aether—seeing that he’s no longer here, though.. I’ve simply come back to the nations I’m fond of. And have stayed at for a lengthy time.”

“Mondstadt, I see. A wise choice, really, a nation of love and freedom! No one remains in the blues of their days here.”

Oh, if only such things can extend to beings such as you.

At the end of the eventide, you will still be wallowed by your blues and woes—such is a fitting end for someone personifying agony.

Love… freedom… happiness… they’re all luxurious things you can’t afford even with tears and sacrifices.

No one speaks for a while, letting the silence reign supreme.

You’ve taken to studying the slow-changing color of the firmament, knowing that when it starts to be painted with hues of the incoming sun, it’ll be the time to leave.

Once and for all.

The bard lets out some whine of some sort—you remember how he’s not one to sit still and be silent—before turning to you with a curious glint in his eyes.

“So, why come to Starsnatch Cliff? Do you plan to wish upon a star?”

“Wishing… upon a star,” your laugh is monotone as you shake your head, “What an old tradition. Barely anyone does it now.”

Of course, you’ve known what it’s like to wish on a star—only, you are the receiver of such wishes. The way humans depended on you back then, and you provide with the help you can muster… ah.

All of those are gone now.

“Hey, that’s why I’m asking,” drawls the ex-Archon, making you acquiesce with a bland, rather hopeless response.

“Even if I do so—what are the odds that such a wish will be granted, anyway? The stars… even they have no power over serendipitous miracles.”

You know—because even when you, a deity of the stars, belong in the heavens… those things aren’t for you to decide.

The power you had was to guide the lost, light the constellations, and shelter spirits in the sky.

But even that power has reduced until eventually, you’re but a scrap of the primordial being you once were.

“Wishing gives you hope though, doesn’t it? There always is a chance no matter how slim it is.” says the aquamarine-eyed male, “So come on, now!”

He’s insistent, alright. You can’t help but work up an exhausted smile at it, at the memories that resurface. It’s pleasant… and bitter.

Turning away, you breathe out a long sigh.

Regrets… there are too many, but since he’s here…

“… Then, I wish I hadn’t been so kind.”

You might as well spill the taboo, no? You’re bound to vanish, anyway—at least before then, you found the courage to oppose against written fate.

“Perhaps if I had been more selfish, more desperate—to act than be idle in hoping, maybe I wouldn’t have so many regrets before I pass on.”

Almost immediately, there is a burn on your tongue, like something is forbidding you from continuing what’s meant to be untold.

For a moment, you stop speaking, and the burn stops, as well.

On the other hand, Venti tips his head with a blink.

There are so many things to register at once—and he feels like he has very little time to acquire answers to all of them. Something inside doesn’t sit well…

“That simply won’t do,” he beams with a smile, welcoming and friendly, “State your woes, let’s finish those with a merry end! I’ll help you.”

He surely will! A friend of the Traveler is a friend of his anytime!

He ignores the peculiar sensation within that feels like it’s trying to claw its way through the surface, and opts to sway on his position, humming one of his songs.

“You’ll help me?” a whisper of a response.

He nods, repeating his assurance. He’ll help in any way he can!

Albeit it is true that he doesn’t know the [c]-haired lady for long, it’s not enough of a reason to shy away from extending his help.

Besides, perhaps if he keeps this up—they can be good friends!

“Then,”

He lets her take the time she needs. No rush, no rush! After all, trust and relationships aren’t something that should be—

“It’s meeting you.”

—Rushed..

Huh? He pauses, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he slowly turns to the lady, only to find out that she’s already looking at him. Did I… hear that right?

Meeting him? But—they’ve only known each other for a short amount of time… !

They barely had enough conversations to begin with-

“I regret having fallen for you. Maybe I wouldn't be hurting this bad if I hadn't.”

His breath hitches and, for some reason, something inside throbs. The pain is dull, hollow, yet persistent.

With wide eyes, he whispers.

“You regret—what?”

.. Fallen? But—how.. ?

The more he’s filled with questions, he notices the more he becomes desperate. ‘Why’ proceeds to be unknown.

His confusion breaks the smiling composure of the [c]nette, evident disappointment in her visage. It makes him difficult to breathe seeing this—but why? Why so? He doesn’t know.

This desperation—it’s unexplainable.

“It’s as I said,” hums the girl, “You can’t help me with it, can you, Barbatos?”

This isn’t any normal occurrence. He knows it immediately. Something is amiss.

The drop of his shoulders, the weight in his chest, the clench of his jaw… they’re all by sheer reflex. A reaction by the subconscious from hearing his Archon name fly past a stranger.

Stunned to silence, he does nothing but gape, trying to make sense of the situation to no avail.

The fog in his head is too thick to navigate through like it's purposely there to keep him out of waters he shouldn’t tread to.

His lack of response must’ve snapped the girl out of her hopeful reverie, the light in her eyes dimming as she stands, giving him a resigned smile.

“It’s no use. I’ll leave now, thank you for gracing me with your time. I have other places to be.”

Venti is even more stunned. What? Is that… is that it?

He thinks he can feel something inside snapping when the [c]nette moves to walk away, and before he knows it, he’s scrambling to his feet.

“Wait!” his heart is pounding in his ears, hand halfway there from reaching out, “You can’t just spring that out of nowhere and—and leave… !”

“What else is there to say?” the dull tone makes his fingers tremble.

Again, he doesn’t know why.

It’s almost infuriating, to feel all sorts of distress and woe yet to receive no such answers as to why he’s feeling them in the first place.

This very moment, it feels like someone else is in control of his emotions.

Like his mind and heart are split apart.

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

“What do you mean having fallen? How do you know that I’m—when I don’t even-!”

Know you.

He tries to think, tries to recall anything of importance—but all his head paints as a memory is the time he saw her in the serenitea pot.

Nothing more.

“This is exactly why I’m saying there’s no need for explanations,” chuckles the girl—what’s her name again?—with a sigh, “You can’t force someone to remember what fate has written to be forgotten.”

Force to remember? Fate? To be forgotten?

Venti tugs at his hair, not knowing what to make of the ache in his chest.

Those words, something churns within upon hearing it. Has he… heard them in a similar context before? Ah—he doesn’t know!

“You don’t even know my name.”

He stills, swallowing once more. “That’s…”

Her name, her name, what’s her name? Again he tries to recall, this time that specific memory when the Traveler introduced her to his guests in his realm.

He was there.

“Oh, Venti, this is—”

He was there!

So why—.. something is terribly wrong.

Something is so, definitely, terribly wrong.

I can’t remember her name. The dawning horror of a realization rips a trembling gasp past his lips. Why can’t I?

It isn’t unusual for people to forget names. It’s not. But this predicament is unusual through and through—no, such a term isn’t enough to describe this, even.

Why is it that when he tries so hard, so hard to claw out a fragment of a memory involving her, the mist in his mind thickens?

He hears another sigh, one more despondent than the previous ones.

“I humored you enough, haven’t I?”

Venti purses his lips at this, lightly peeved at the crestfallen expression on the lady’s face. He doesn’t understand this at all…

“If you know it’s impossible to begin with then why did you say it… ? When you’ll only be this hurt?”

Why had she been willing to go to these lengths when she was aware of the result? What is there to hope for a circumstance that apparently can’t be changed?

Why is she trying so hard? Only to willfully reap nothing but pain?

“That’s..” she definitely hadn’t been expecting that response, but neither did the bard expect the answer. “I don’t want to be alone anymore,”

He stumbles at this, a dizzy spell enveloping him whole, accompanied by a flood of loss.

I don’t get it, he holds a hand over his heart, sensing its twist. Why am I like this?

“Is it so wrong to try?”

It’s not. With you, trying is never wrong.

Something—something feels like it’s merging with him. There is a voice in the back of his head screaming, albeit muffled.

At least, not until sunrise.

“I’ve faced this battle alone for thousands of years, is it so wrong to want for something you can’t take back?”

Stop, he wants to say when his heart churns even more. It hurts. Why does it hurt? Stop it..

Stop it! Yet there is no end.

“Is it so wrong to reminisce of a love that can’t return?”

Don’t let her walk away.

A sense of urgency bursts forth inside, alerting his senses and prompting him to exit his headspace.

He’s running before he can even register what he’s doing, grasping her hand before he can call out. Don’t let her leave again.

“Stay with me.”

The words roll off his tongue before he can even think. It seems right, to say such a thing—and it feels right when he denotes the tentative look on her features.

He doesn’t seem to be in control of most of his actions, yet he’s able to utter, “Isn’t this… the least thing I can do?”

As an apology.

A deliberate error in the system of fate is clear and obvious, still, he does not know the specifics. What he does know, however, is that it had something to do with this girl.

It has something to do with them.

He’s almost given up on trying to get a snip of what has been hidden away, but an unknown stimulus urges him to try more. To try harder.

The bard watches with keen—almost hopeful—eyes as the [c]nette smiles bitterly, accepting his invitation.

“Thank you.”

It’s not a problem—is what he wishes to respond, but his tongue is tied.

It’s as if something is holding him back from uttering such words because deep down, something says that it is a problem.

And it’s an unsolvable one.

Troubled and upset—all peculiar to him, still—he guides to sit them back at the edge of the cliff. They are both silent, for reasons already obvious.

Neither even tried to claim back the sense of tranquility.

Yet, despite its absence, Venti cannot help but feel at strange ease.

He’s comfortable sitting beside this stranger alone, even when he had been enveloped with so many acute sentiments just minutes ago.

Up until now the subtle pain in his heart lingers. He wonders if it’ll last him a lifetime.

He doesn’t know—and he doesn’t ask, fearing the answer that he may receive and the expression that he may see. And so, he sits there with her for hours on end.

And she stays there with him.

Venti’s penchant for stargazing does not emerge at that moment, instead, he resumes his path down a path where the mist in his head leads him away.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been trying to get a grasp of something, anything that may aid him in understanding this quandary.

The closer he is to touching that silver lining, however, the more it flies past his reach.

Yet, even so, he gets a grasp of someone trying to help him.

Within his psyche, there is a voice suppressed by the same mist, weeping—shouting, even—in desperation.

It’s been years! He holds his head, trying to make sense of that anguished exclamation. You’re finally here, but you’re still leaving.

That voice… is that hi—

“It’s time.”

Taken out of his thoughts, the bard flitters his wide stare towards the [c]nette, who has stood up, reaching her hand out towards the sky.

He follows her line of sight, his breath failing when he notices the lady’s translucent fingers.

“You’re—.. vanishing?”

It has a beautiful white outline, with tiny sparkles fragmenting away as if the girl is made out of stardust. His heartbeat accelerates yet again when he’s faced with a smile.

It’s no longer sad nor bitter—simply acceptance.

“It’s been predicted, after all. A deity, despite how they’re deemed immortal, can meet their own ends, too. Tonight is simply my time.”

A deity.. ? Her?

With his voice rendered useless, he can only stare on as the [c]-eyed deity bends, brushing her warm—and fading—fingers over his cheeks.

He shivers, not at the touch, but at the sensation of something cold escaping his eyes.

He didn’t even realize it…

“Don’t shed tears for a stranger.”

She’s leaving—she’s dying. The voice is there again.

“Can I say something, Barbatos?”

Unable to utter anything, he simply nods—and to this, she smiles. That smile, one of pure fondness, trembles.

He doesn’t know how it’s even possible, but he knows—he knows that it’s nothing but a façade of strength.

“I love you,” the murmur touches his heart in ways he couldn’t imagine, burning with a mix of perplexed ardor and unexplainable sorrow. “And I’m sorry.”

Venti manages to find his voice in the middle of it all.

“Sorry… for what?”

To this, the deity drops her stare to the grass, watching herself disappear bit by bit from the ground up, as well.

She clasps her vanishing fingers before throwing her head back, blinking like she’s holding back tears.

When she’s able to answer, her voice has gotten even shakier.

“For saying I regretted meeting you. For fighting a war that I couldn’t win. In the end, this is how I will pass, unremembered. But that is alright,”

She glances at him—managing to reconstruct the smile.

“I got to see you, at least.”

His throat forms the familiar aching lump, complexing his breathing as he attempts to attain clarity.

It doesn’t come, to his chagrin—but then again, how in the earth will he be able to get a sense of things when this… this strange desperation is making him panic?

When this urge to cling onto her gets stronger with each passing minute and the only reason he’s holding back is because he doesn’t know who she is?

His breath becomes irregular, heart leaping out of his chest upon noting the sky’s gradual change of hue.

A fraction of the sun is starting to break through the horizon and it causes an influx of dread.

There is something about daybreak that sends him to the edge.

“The night is waning…” he hears her say. The time is now.

Something about the sun, in general, is making him restless.

Do something! Do something—anything! Don’t let her go.

Venti lurches forward with a gasp, head in hands when the voice he’s been hearing pierces through the obscurity like an arrow shooting through the wind.

You won’t see her again so please- don’t let her go, please, don’t let her go.

Who—? He grunts and closes his eyes, unsettled by the subtle ache the voice gives.

The pain cannot be described in words—it’s not abysmal, but it’s there, pulsing in an otherworldly manner to the point that it feels like it’s some form of divine punishment.

The intervention of fate, for endeavoring to even go against it.

Still, the voice continues, and the mist in his psyche struggles to clear.

Don’t go anywhere.

Colors start to burn in the blackness of his sight, muddled like strewn watercolor on an empty canvas.

It paints a blurred scene of green, orange, and yellow—and- and someone’s speaking from afar.

It’s—her?

“You may not know me by tomorrow and by the following years, but I will leave this to you,”

Don’t leave me again.

The colors begin to swirl into specific segments, beginning the process of painting a memory long forgotten, as scribed by fate.

He sees a hand extending to give an accessory, one awfully like the one he’s clipped to his faux Vision.

“I hope you do not mind carrying another keepsake, Barbatos?”

Don’t—

The greens start with curls and sharp strokes, eventually creating the tree at Windrise, and then the oranges and yellows begin to mix as a gradient of sunset. Gradually, everything becomes clearer.

He makes out his own voice in the memory. The blur of [c] turning out to be none other than the same girl he’s been talking to the whole time.

“Can I show you how much you’re worth, then?”

And the stifled voice that cried in desperation in his mind is none other than the fragment of his subconscious who has always lied dormant, the one who has always remembered.

Who has always silently reminisced—held back by kismet—about the starlit deity.

—Please… !

And the love that's forgotten by the mind.

Epiphany dawns like the rising sun as the bard reopens his eyes, frantically clinging onto the vanishing arm of the lady with a gasp.

“[Name]!”

That’s you, isn’t it!? He purses his lips.

The deity watches him with an open mouth, various kinds of emotions swiftly coursing through her face, unable to decide on which should trounce the rest.

She stands idly, clipped stutters leaving in the wake of her surprise.

It was no imagination—he said her name.

“Don’t go,” it’s like someone else has completely taken over him in that second, taking the reign of control. “You can’t go.”

Say it. Say it!

Venti discovers rapture in his subconscious' demands. It almost feels like a split of himself, one deliberately divided by the universe to avoid going against its set rules.

“I love you.”

The lady’s breath stops for a moment. Did she hear that right?

Venti bends over, trembling at the weight of the words that flew past his lips. He hadn’t even the time to process it!

He feels troubled—to say such a thing to a stranger—yet still, for some reason, stating it feels right.

Still, his tongue continues to roll and his voice proceeds to convey the words over and over like his life depended on it.

“I love you, I love you—I love you, I love you, I’ll say it over and over just please—"

“It doesn’t work that way, Barbatos.”

Cold washes over like a wave of the sea, filled with harsh truths.

He does not understand the sudden tremor that rakes him over when the arm he’s latching onto fades completely.

“Why are you even weeping? When you do not know me?”

“But I do know you,” the part in him says in desperation as he gazes into pools of [c], yet no matter how convincing he sounds like, his eyes mirror uncertainty, “I do know you. Why else would I be- be crying.. !?”

[Name]’s smile grows sweet.

“Your heart is simply reminiscing, but your mind has long since forgotten me.”

His tears are spilling without end, raining like a storm, and oh, how his chest sears with an agony he didn’t know is possible.

Venti heaves a breath, face down, hand over his heart as he attempts to make sense of the pain.

“It hurts so much, [Name]- why does it hurt? Who are you to me?”

Nothing but raw anguish and confusion leaks into his voice.

He’s a living picture of sheer misery and the deity can’t help but regret a bit over even entertaining her selfish whims to try and get him to remember.

“Fate has always been unfair.” She kneels in front of him, translucent figure nearly showing the rising sun.

“But maybe, someday, under different circumstances.. maybe I can love you freely.”

The bard is awestruck. “Wait, then—”

You were my… !?

[Name] presses her forehead against his own, the last sparkles of her [c] dimming into nonexistence along with her gentle voice.

“And you’ll love me back again.”

Venti lifts his shaking hand, eyes still wide and teary as he brushes his palm against his lady’s cheek.

Her presence is barely there, and his hand is phasing through.

The desperation within kicks up tenfold.

“You can’t leave me like this…” he shakes his head, raising his other hand so he can cup the deity’s face—but the latter vanishes upon the first ray of the sun.

It’s so unfair. It’s so unfair! Take me with you—please!

And he’s falling forward near the edge of the cliff, by the billowing cecilias.

“No—no, you can’t… !”

Alone, with no one at his side.

He watches the last scintilla disappear like a speck of dust, without anything to remember it by. And the moment it does—

The clarity he’s been yearning for cascades like an array of shooting stars, attaching onto him piece by piece.

The stifled voice hidden away by the mist becomes comprehensible—and all that he has forgotten centuries ago resurfaces.

With what has been lost finally coming back to existence, the bard can only stare helplessly at the now brightening sky.

Why is it that just now—he remembers?

“[Name], [Name]..” he repeats.

The answer is simple; it is because she is gone now—and fate no longer has the reason to obstruct others from recalling an already forgotten goddess.

Venti whimpers before releasing a cry, one suffused with nothing but agony over his loss, and indignation over the unmerciful universe.

“My pretty star..”

The years unfold like the pages of a book, each turn accompanied by a series of events building up to the summit of a plot.

To the Windborne Bard, it’s like reliving the tales of Mondstadt’s journey.

In their ups and downs, there he still remains.

There are times when he enters his slumbers, of course, in a method to delay a faraway erosion.

He wishes to dream of a breezy place with the same goddess he’s known all his life, made to be forgotten only by the laws of this world—but even such a dream was not granted.

It’s depressing, yes, but he’s learned not to be too keen on hope… not when it’s an apathetic system listening.

But something feels different this time.

Venti notes it after his awakening, as he ambles back into the streets of Mondstadt, watching descendants of ancestors’ he’s met traipse through the city.

It’s sundown, yet, the whole place seems to be light with stardust.

The sentiment brought by the atmosphere is nothing short of nostalgic.

A young girl with dark purple hair is handing out what appears to be an accessory, stylized into a four-pointed star in gold casing. When she arrives at his side, she’s all but pushing the item into his hands.

“Hi, traveling bard! Please accept this, whisper a prayer and let it reach the stars! It’s the merry time of reminiscing divine luminescence!”

“Divine.. luminescence?”

He hasn’t heard of such a term until now—a new festival of sorts? And something about this girl is familiar.

“Yes! Astrologist Mona Megistus has uncovered the forgotten goddess’ feats a long time ago. This day is when the whole of Mondstadt decided to commemorate it,” she beams with an excited grin.

“The goddess [Name] has linked so much to Mondstadt, you know! The festival serves to show our thanks and reverence.” Giving him a pat on the arm, she waves before skipping away, “Do enjoy your stay, bard!”

Venti glances at the object in his hand. She said [Name]..

Ah, no wonder that child was familiar… she’s a descendant of the astrologist…

To think that Mona has dedicated her time into unraveling the mysteries of a divinity lost in time… oh, how he wished to thank her.

Oh but wait—festival, whisper his prayers?

The Windborne Bard shifts his gaze towards the sky, now deepening its blue. The stars are yet to appear, but that is enough.

With a nod, he leaves the gates of Mondstadt with only a single destination in mind.

He doesn’t rush, allowing the time to pass until the firmament has gotten dark and is bedecked with thousands of scintillas and constellations.

It is cloudless, presenting a breathtaking view of the heavens.

Even more so when he reaches Starsnatch Cliff, noticing how even more cecilias have bloomed like a field.

[Name]… he thinks, clutching the given item in his hands.

Before, the reminder of the goddess’ name only brings an ache to his heart, but now—bitter fondness is all that there is.

Looking back down on the star, he brushes his fingers over its iridescent figure. That girl said I should whisper my prayers, right?

He brings it close to him, shutting his eyes before mumbling all that he’s hoped for.

Before he knows it, the item takes on a splendid white glow—like he has a real star in his hold—before floating and taking to the skies.

It disperses into beautiful stardust and he realizes that more of these follows, all originating from Mondstadt.

It brings relief to his expression, watching it all erupt similarly like fireworks.

The weight in his chest is lifted, a sense of contentment washing over the more he stares at the stellar collection of white in the evening sky.

“You’re remembered, [Name].”

Venti utters with a smile before turning away, planning to learn more about this commemorative festival and engage in it in all ways possible.

If it’s honoring his muse, he’ll know no bounds and limits.

They're rebuilding their belief. They're bringing her back.

But then a flash of light behind makes him pause. He does not move for a second, wondering if it’s just his eyes playing tricks on him.

After all, didn’t the star item emit the same glow… ?

He questions this, yet all his doubts cease the instant when—

“It’s been a while,”

He stiffens. That voice…

No, no—it can’t be.. he’s not dreaming, is he?

“I hope I didn’t make you wait long, Barbatos.”

Venti turns around—and a tear slides down his cheek.

a/n: shucking happy ending for our tragic protagonist (sobsobsobsob) venti's side! takes up most of the angst as per requested~

Aether's Ending

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @aryllechan @limelightsuperhero

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

[thsle]

The Many Deaths of Asajj Ventress

While not as memetic as Shaak Ti's many deaths, Asajj Ventress meets her end a surprising number of ways.

Star Wars: Clone Wars "Chapter 19"

Having been defeated atop the ancient Massassi temples of Yavin 4 by Anakin Skywalker, Asajj Ventress fell into a seemingly bottomless gorge. While falls are notoriously survivable for the force uses of the galaxy far far away this could have been the assassins ignominious end.

Star Wars: Republic 71

Asajj Ventress stumbles upon Anakin Skywalker as he receives a message from his wife, goading him into a Duel in the Coruscant Underlevels. After inflicting his eye scar Asajj Ventress is crushed and electrocuted by Anakin Skywalker before falling into the depths of Coruscant.

Star Wars: Obsession 5

Having failed Dooku for the last time Asajj Ventress is shot and wounded by a MagnaGuard. She then attempts to stab Obi-Wan Kenobi with a piece of shrapnel when he attempts to save her and is stopped by a slash of Anakin’s Lightsaber. Asajj Ventress finally dies in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s arms...

... for all of 1 page. Some sort of executive meddling probably was responsible for this epilogue, the final appearance of Asajj Ventress in the Legends continuity.

Labyrinth of Evil

In The Essential Reader's Companion we get this tantalising hint of what could have been.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars Dark Disciple 

Part of the The Clone Wars Legacy project Dark Disciple is a novel based on a series of scripts from unfinished episodes of The Clone Wars wherein according to Wookiepedia:

Quinlan Vos (her lover) planned to rescue Dooku only to be led to Darth Sidious and kill both Sith, but that plan failed when Vos, Dooku, and Ventress crashed on Christophsis. Pursued by the Jedi, Dooku learned of Vos' plan and tried to kill him with Force lightning, but Ventress stood in the way and saved Quinlan's life, at the cost of her own. After Dooku escaped, Ventress' sacrifice helped Vos break the dark side's grip on him completely.

Ventress, now once again on the light side of the Force, died in Vos' arms.

Star Wars Resistance

According to Star Wars Resistance executive producer/head writer Brandon Auman, the Disney animated series very nearly featured a battle between the villainous Kylo Ren and fan-favorite Star Wars: The Clone Wars character Asajj Ventress.

Considering the Sequel Trilogy’s habit of killing of Original Trilogy protagonists to build up Kylo Ren, and his obsession with killing beings his grandfather could not it seems likely he would murder the then ~84 year old Asajj Ventress.

[oh-no-eu-didnt]

Bail Organa was a human Senator representing Alderaan, where he sat as Viceroy. Organa believed in the strength of democracy and the Republic, and, following its fall, helped organize the Rebel Alliance. Organa was instrumental in the preservation of the Jedi Order during this period, and was a capable, kind-hearted man dedicated to others.

Source: The Essential Reader’s Companion (Art: Chris Trevas; 2012)

First Appearance: Star Wars: From the Adventures of Luke Skywalker (1976)

Read more on Wookieepedia.