#sword and shield expansion pass

[scraftyisthebest]

More Rambles on SV DLC News

Anyway, now that I've had a day to let everything sink in from yesterday's Pokemon Presents, a bit more of a ramble on SV DLC.

Seems we are getting more new evolutions, including a new alternate evolved form of Applin in Dipplin and surprisingly, a Duraludon evolution called Archaludon. They seem like pretty cool new additions. Dipplin is a candy apple, which is an interesting spin on Applin's apple theme. Stat-wise I'm curious how it will differentiate itself from Flapple and Appletun.

Duraludon is not what I expected to gain an evolution, though Archaludon admittedly looks pretty cool, being a bridge. Duraludon already possesses a naturally high base stat total so how Archaludon changes from that is going to be interesting.

We also have two new Paradoxes, Raging Bolt being Ancient Raikou, and Iron Crown being Future Cobalion. Seems Suicune and Virizion weren't the only ones to get them. Raging Bolt's long neck is something though...kinda goofy there. Entei and Terrakion will have Paradox counterparts of their own as well I imagine at this rate, to complete them as trios.

Seems the mysterious turtle we saw from Liko's pendant in Horizons is just Terapagos itself, in its Normal Form, while the bigger type-shelled form is its "Terastal Form". Notably this isn't necessarily a Terastallized state, and since Terapagos is implied to be the harbinger of the Terastal phenomenon that raises some interesting ideas for what role it may play in the story. Terapagos may have even more forms that we don't know about which I look forward to seeing.

Ogerpon seems to have a different appearance when Terastallized, in this case it seems to have special ties to Terastal itself.

From a story structure standpoint this DLC seems to be mirroring SwSh's DLC in terms of how the halves are placed and structured. The Teal Mask being Part 1 seems to be like the Isle of Armor, being able to be accessed as soon as the main story kicks off and being an additional side story intended to be slotted into the main story while expanding on the original base story and lore in a way. Kitakami like the Isle of Armor will be its own mini-storyline with the festivals and whatever we do there on the field trip much like how the Isle of Armor was a training quest in the Master Dojo that ends with raising Kubfu into a great Urshifu.

Meanwhile The Indigo Disk being Part 2 is like the Crown Tundra, being intended as a post-game quest after completing both the main story and DLC 1, only this time it's actually hard-locked to only being unlocked after completing both. It seems it's a post-game quest, while with the Crown Tundra it was a legendary catching expedition, this time we're an exchange student at the Blueberry Academy and we're taking part in the BB League and the tests to challenge each of the BB Elite Four. Like Galar's Crown Tundra it seems to be looping back to mainland Paldea for the finale of the overall story, and as we all know it'll be Area Zero, and returning to there for the final story segment, akin to how the Crown Tundra looped back to Wyndon Stadium for the Galarian Star Tournament. In both cases going back to where the base story's finale ended, with SwSh it was the Champion Cup and beating the undefeated Leon, in SV it was exploring Area Zero and taking down the Zero Lab, and for SV's DLC the final Area Zero visit may be something related to Terapagos and a finale we may not know about.

Based on the above speculation this also ties into how the anime and Horizons, with Liko's story, may build up and what its finale may be. While both Journeys and Horizons are multi-region and doing their own thing, they do take story elements and plot beats from SwSh and SV respectively, especially with Ash's and soon to be Liko's finale. Ash's finale in his Journeys story (and his story overall) was the Masters 8 Tournament in Wyndon, ending off with a grand final battle between him and Leon with Ash emerging victorious, mirroring SwSh. Liko's story already has the pendant, which we now know is Terapagos, as a major plot point, and the finale of her story in Horizons may have its climax take place in Area Zero, especially with Liko taking down the Explorers and maybe AI Sada/Turo will be involved as well alongside Koraidon and Miraidon, and of course Terapagos, in some sort of climax that will establish Liko as the new hero of legend and a legendary herself, much like how Ash himself ended off his story becoming the World Champion, the strongest battler who ever lived. I'm definitely very interested in how both SV's DLC and Horizons will pan out in that regard and what kind of story they're trying to tell with Area Zero and its mysteries in both the games and the anime at present.

Lots of rambling but there you go.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Cross to Bear

Summary: A certain monk catches the attention of a woman that Uhtred and his men are gracious enough to rescue. Based on this request. Warnings: Brief mentions of cancer, illness, death, abuse and alcoholism. Slight angst. Eventual smut. Word count: ~3.4k

She is sixteen when her mother passes away from the lump in her breast. She cannot grieve. There is no one left to shield her or her younger sister from the beatings that their father is eager to dish out each evening when he stumbles home from the tavern, drunk and stinking of ale. They make the decision to leave, taking their chances out in the world.

The life of a vagrant is hard, but the exhilaration that is found in freedom is simply unmatched. On bad days, she is forced to share her body with strange men in exchange for coin to ensure her and her sister have enough to eat. On good days, they pick wildflowers in the warmth of the sunshine, and at night tell stories as they cuddle up together beneath the stars. They never remain in a single place for long, always moving, always searching for somewhere to call home.

She is eighteen when her sister develops a fever. She soaks rags in a stream to cool the scorching heat of her skin, allows her to drain their waterskin dry without complaint, and rubs her back as the persistent coughing denies her sleep. Within three days her sister is too weak to travel any further. They have been sheltering in dense woodland and are at least a day’s walk from the nearest town, so she cannot go to get help, she cannot risk leaving her alone in the open for so long. She has no choice but to sit and watch her deteriorate, providing what little comfort she can. By the next morning she is gone.

Upon waking to the feel of her sister cold beside her, she finally allows herself to weep. The ache in her chest that she has held at bay for the last two years finally breaches forth, blooming painfully through the expanse of her heart. She cries for the loss of her mother, for the loss of the only friend she had in her sibling and for how utterly lost she feels. Long after her tears have subsided she remains hunched over the body, consumed by her grief.

“If it is fever you must burn the body.”

She has no idea how much time has passed as she has laid there mourning, but the voice startles her out of her stupor and she looks up to see four men on horseback looming over her. She hadn’t even heard them approach.

They look to be mercenaries, all of them wear light armor and carry swords. The man that has addressed her has long dark hair and is brutish looking. One of his travel companions is bearded and surly, while another has a half shaved head; the Mjölnir around his neck indicates he is a Pagan. Ordinarily, she would be fearful in the face of such intimidating looking men, and assume they mean her harm, however, there is something about the fourth man that eases her mind and assures her she is in no danger. He has soft blue eyes and a kind face that wears an expression that suggests he is more afraid of her than she is of him.

“I-I cannot. I am alone.” She confesses, her voice hoarse from her earlier sobs.

“Then you will allow us to help you.” The long haired man insists, climbing down from his horse.

She learns their names are Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth. They carry her sister’s body to a clearing and she stands solemnly, numbness settling over her, as she watches it burn.

“Who was she to you?” Finan enquires gently.

“My sister, my only friend, all that I had left.” She doesn’t attempt to hide her despair, she does not have the strength.

“We should say a prayer.” Osferth offers, his voice soft and full of sympathy.

She has never been particularly religious. What kind of a God would allow her to endure all she has been through and think it just? But she finds comfort in his orison, joining in with the “amen” that he finishes with.

“What will you do now?” Finan asks her.

“Truly, I do not know. I have nowhere to go and no one to go with.”

“You can join us.” Uhtred steps forward, eyeing the rest of the group as they all nod their affirmation.

“I have nothing to offer you.” She says, her cheeks flush with shame.

“Neither do we.” Quips Sihtric with a wry smile.

“Then it’s settled.” Finan decides, clapping Osferth on the back. “Baby Monk, she rides with you, you’re scrawny enough that your horse can carry both of you without any trouble.”

When Osferth discovers that she has never ridden on horseback before, he suggests that she rides up front with him behind her, so he can ensure she doesn’t slip off.

He helps her into the saddle and then climbs on after her. Her heart hammers in her chest as he puts his arms around her waist to take hold of the reins. She can feel his leather breastplate pressed against her back. Being in such close proximity to him causes her breathing to quicken and she stays rigid as they set off at a leisurely trot, afraid that he may feel the reaction she is having to him.

“My lady, please relax, or this will be an uncomfortable journey for you.” He tells her, though his voice is hesitant with shyness.

She blushes scarlet with embarrassment, mortified that he has noticed her unease. She does as he says though, settling back against him. His presence is calming, the warmth of him against her coupled with the gentle undulation from the horse soothes her.

A few moments pass in silence before Osferth speaks. “What happened to you?”

“It is a long story.” She sighs.

“It is a long journey.” He counters. She can hear the faintest of smiles in his voice.

She tells him of her mother, her father, of her and her sister leaving home and all they had endured on their travels. She recounts her sister’s fever, of watching her fade, everything up to the point that she had met him.

He listens, allowing her to speak without interruption. When she finishes he is quiet for a moment longer.

“I am sorry for your loss, my lady. I pray better days may find you.” He says eventually.

She sighs, eager to focus the attention on anything other than herself. “And what of you? Do you have a family?”

“There is not much to tell.” He admits. “I was a monk. Now I serve Lord Uhtred.”

She detects a sadness in his tone, there is definitely more to his story, but she dares not press him further as he is clearly uncomfortable speaking of it. She feels foolish for allowing herself to entertain her attraction to him; of course he is a man of God, he’d never be interested in her.

They ride on wordlessly, eventually coming to a stop once the sun begins to set. They set up camp and she is touched by the effort that the four men go to to ensure she has the shelter of a tent and a bedroll to sleep on.

However, she feels too confined as she lays under the canopy, so used to being able to stare up at the night sky, pointing out each of the stars with her sister. She misses her.

Dragging her bedroll out into the open, she places it close to the dying embers of their fire and lays down.

“My lady, what are you doing?” She hears Osferth whisper in the darkness.

“I am not used to not being able to see the sky.” She responds.

When he says nothing, she allows herself to drift off to sleep, feeling the safest she ever has.

Her eyes flutter open as dawn breaks and she is immediately met by the sight of Osferth seated by the burned out fire pit, looking exhausted.

She pulls herself up slightly, rubbing her eyes. “Osferth? You are an early riser.”

He smiles uncomfortably. “Truthfully, my lady, I have not been to bed.”

“Why not?”

“I did not wish to leave you out here by yourself, it’s not safe. I watched over you while you slept.”

Her heart flutters at his admission, an involuntary smile spreading its way across her features, which he returns with a genuine one of his own.

As the weeks pass, she and Osferth become comfortable travel companions. She spends her days leaning into his chest as they travel by horse. They share a waterskin, their fingers brushing ever so lightly as they pass it back and forth. She is unable to help the tingles that dance across her skin at each of his touches. 

Their evenings are spent sitting around a fire, their knees grazing as they sit side by side, exchanging shy smiles and stories. He gives up the use of his tent, laying his bedroll out in the open too - a means for him to rest, but also ensure she is kept safe.

The first time that the group shares ale together, dread gnaws at her stomach. She has witnessed the effects that it had on her father, and does not know how she will cope with that when up against four men instead of just one. To her surprise and delight the mood becomes lighter and jovial as the amber liquid is passed around. She happily accepts and drinks her fill when Osferth passes it to her. He laughs when she grimaces at the taste.

She knows she is falling for him and there is nothing she can do to stop it. She is certain he feels the same way though, there can be no other explanation for how he looks at her, how he treats her.

That is until they stop for a few days in a town. She hurriedly follows Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric, as Osferth rushes over to them, pleading for help.

“He’s mine!”

“No, he’s mine, you bitch!”

“Filthy whore!”

She watches in shock as the two women exchange insults, slapping at each other, until Finan and Uhtred eventually pry them apart.

He has fucked both of these women. Both of them.

“Why do they fight over you?” Uhtred asks Osferth, holding back a red haired woman, who struggles wildly against him.

“I-I’ve no idea, Lord!” He stammers, before swiftly walking away.

But she knows why, and her heart sinks. She turns away, blinking back tears as she chastises herself for being so foolish. She had misinterpreted his friendliness for romantic interest and is now left feeling hurt as a result of her own delusions.

She swipes angrily at her eyes, swearing to herself that she will pull away from him after this, no longer allowing herself to entertain the girlish fantasy that they could ever be more than friends.

His behavior towards her goes unchanged though. He still holds her close as they share a saddle, still allows his fingers to linger against her own whenever they share water or ale, he sleeps outside each night with her, though always on separate bed rolls kept a respectable distance apart. It eats away at her, makes her ache, to endure such closeness and know it will never be anything more. Yet she endures it, knowing the only alternative is to return to a life alone.

It is a warm afternoon as she stands knee deep in the river, bathing. The water is refreshing against her bare skin and, for a moment, her troubles seem far away, running off of her in much the same way that the rivulets of moisture slide down her body.

She turns and catches sight of Osferth on the edge of the treeline, watching her. She has no idea how long he has been standing there for, but he freezes when he sees he has been caught.

While she is a novice when it comes to matters of the heart, she is certain the look in his eye is one of desire. Deciding to be bold, she steps out of the water and back onto the bank, not bothering to retrieve her discarded clothing. If her feelings truly were requited then this was the best way to find out.

She walks towards him, closing the gap between them. She can see his breathing is unsteady as he takes in the sight of her, he is trembling slightly. Leaning up on tiptoes, she presses the lightest of kisses to his lips, and her heart swells as, for the briefest of moments, he reciprocates.

As quickly as his lips meet hers, he is jerking away. “No, my Lady!”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Backing quickly away from him, the familiar sting of rejection piercing her heart once more, she grabs her clothes and runs from him, before he has the chance to say anything else. Tears stream freely down her cheeks, this time she does not try to wipe them away. This is the second time she has allowed herself to be drawn in by Osferth, only to endure heartache.

He has now made it perfectly clear that he’s not interested in her and she decides it is in her best interests to pull away from him entirely.

She forces herself to sleep inside her tent, becoming used to textile above her head, instead of the glittering stars. She sits as far from him as possible at every opportunity. There are no more shared waterskins, their knees no longer touch. If the rest of the group notice the shift in dynamic then they choose not to say anything. She rides with Sihtric, sitting snugly behind him in his saddle, ignoring the pleading looks of sadness from Osferth each day when she climbs onto another man’s horse and not his.

He is just missing her companionship, she decides, he will get over it when they arrive at the next town and he finds another woman to warm his bed. She hardens her heart, allows her sadness to devolve into anger and continues to keep him at arm’s length.

The day they arrive in Coccham, they spend the day at an alehouse. Uhtred has managed to acquire the only two available rooms upstairs for the evening, so they will have the luxury of sleeping in an actual bed for tonight. She is almost giddy with excitement at the prospect.

When they have drunk their fill, they head up the rickety wooden staircase. Sihtric and Finan file into one room, with Uhtred following close behind. He stops in the doorway, turning to her and Osferth.

“Looks like this room is full now. The pair of you can share that one.” He nods towards the door opposite, before closing his own.

Her face blanches. Bastard. He has done this on purpose.

She sighs, pushing past Osferth and stalking into the room. A small double bed takes up most of the space in the narrow confines.

“Oh, fucking perfect.” She spits, rolling her eyes.

Osferth offers an apologetic smile. “I can sleep on the floor, my Lady, I don’t mind.”

She rounds on him, her anger flaring. “I’m surprised you haven’t found another whore’s bed to share for the evening!”

His eyes widen in shock. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You fucked those other women, Osferth!” She shouts, and before she can stop it, her voice is cracking as the dam bursts and she starts to cry. “You’ll put your cock into anyone but me it seems…”

His face softens and he moves to comfort her, but she is quick to push him away. “What’s so wrong with me?!”

He looks guiltily at her. “There is nothing wrong with you, my Lady, I think you’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen actually…”

“But you rejected me! When I tried to kiss you, you rejected me.”

He shakes his head, closing the gap between them and gently grabbing her by the shoulders. This time she doesn’t push him away. “You didn’t give me time to speak.” He explains, looking into her eyes with sincerity. “I wasn’t rejecting you. You deserve better than to be humped against a tree. If you’re to be my woman then I want our first time together to be special.”

She sniffles, her tears subsiding, replaced by confusion. “Your woman? If that is what you wanted then why did you lay with those other women in the last town?”

He sighs, averting his gaze, shame etched across his angular features. “That is not something I’m proud of, my lady. I have wanted you for so long, and been so pent up, I needed a release. I never told you of my feelings because I didn’t think I stood a chance. You are so wonderful and I-I am Osferth. I am simply Osferth.”

Her heart beats wildly against her ribs as she listens to him, staring up at him doe-eyed, unable to resist the grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth. 

“Yes, you are Osferth.” She whispers, leaning up towards him.

When their lips meet he does not pull away. He wraps his arms around her, his mouth moves hungrily against hers in a kiss that is full of need and desperation. They pull at each other’s clothing, months’ worth of built up longing propelling their movements.

When they are both finally naked, Osferth guides her to lay back on the bend and she drinks in the sight of him appreciatively. While he is tall and slender, he is not as skinny as she’d expected him to be, well developed muscles add a broadness to his chest and shoulders. His erection sits hard, thick and heavy at the apex of his slim thighs and she bites back a moan at the sight of it, arousal pooling hot between her legs.

“You really are beautiful.” He murmurs, his gaze flickering over her form as she lays beneath him. “Will you let me show you just how much I desire you, my Lady? I wish for there to be no doubt in your mind.”

She nods, biting her lip in anticipation, waiting to see what he will do.

His hands trace over every curve of her as moves slowly backwards down the bed, stopping once his face is level with her cunt. Spreading her thighs he inhales sharply at the sight of just how wet she is for him.

There is no preamble, and she gasps, arching her back when she feels the flat of his tongue move through her folds.

He whimpers softly at the taste of her, the sound vibrating through her core, his grip on her thighs tightening as laps greedily at her, occasionally dragging the tip to her pearl, causing her legs to tremble.

She cants her hips against his face, noticing how he ruts against the bed as he devours her, his moans of pleasure intermingle with hers and the sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue moving in earnest against her centre. 

As he sucks harshly against the apex of her sex she begins to feel the pressure of her climax building deep within her, her breaths becoming short and shallow. Osferth’s grip on her is almost bruising as the movement of his thrusts against the bed speed up.

With a final swirl against her bud, she falls apart against his mouth, clenching and writhing as he keeps his mouth firmly against her as she cries out in ecstasy, white hot sparks of pleasure rendering her boneless and light headed.

She closes her thighs around his head as he emits a guttural groan against her oversensitive cunny, his own pelvis stuttering against the mattress. 

He appears dazed as he finally looks up at her, eyes hazy and chin shiny with her slick. She is certain she must look similarly bedraggled with how hard he has caused her to peak.

“We may have to wait a moment before we do anything else.” He confesses sheepishly, sitting up and looking down at the blankets where he’d been laying. 

Her gaze follows his line of sight and she sees the mess he has made, a large patch of the bed now sticky with his release.

“You’re lucky we have the whole night then.” She giggles.

He moves to lay beside her, pulling her against him. “Yes, very lucky.”

[passingnights]

A right hand man. A trusty sword. A friend.

Deli finds comfort in his new acquaintance. Colin Provolone is a sturdy and simple man— quick and skilled in battle, a loyal and reliable in service, and also a good friend. Deli, with boyhood now smudged against the edges of his face, grows into his position of The Meat Lands.

Colin keeps the promise he made years ago to a disgruntled mother in the corner of an expansive hall in Comida. He listens and enacts the advises and discussions made for the benefit of this land far from home. He keeps guard and wrestles the yawns that strangle his throat and eyes as politics are discussed. All standing, never leaving, the right hand of Deli.

Colin watches Deli through the days, this leader guided with a willpower of steel, the love and dedication to the unification of his home watering his quick growth and maturation. Two years and Deli had become a fearsome, confident and ambitious young man.

Then Deli lies a gift upon his shoulders— Skald Colin Provolone, meaning poet (sing the songs of heroes, be my witness, carve my name into history, approve of my works).

And when Deli uses this title, Colin doesn’t question. He only grips his sword tighter, stands straighter, observes steadier. Deli’s sword and shield. His skald, his poet.

And at night he meets a softer, kinder Deli. They sit on the edge of Deli’s bed, talking and laughing about smaller matters. Sweeter things, like childhood and gossip that whisper down the hallways. He watched Deli’s expressions pour out, an innocence that splays across his face. He finds delight in those times, a remedy for a past he tries to forget. Light laughter, “simple is always how we’ve kept things”, and drunkenness fills the air between the two.

Two quiet years. Then comes blood.

And blood and blood pours from a carriage and drips, viscous, hot and real from hands and blades.

A quiet shatter in friendship. A trusty sword clanks at the feet of Deli and the familiar, light scent of cheese drifts far away from the house.

For the first time in two years, Deli is alone. A void renders behind him where his skald, his poet, would be standing.

And then five years pass and Colin sees Deli again. Scars rip at his face and he explains in whispers the ambush which landed him with it. Colin examines Deli’s face and finds little. A hardened and rough man. Colin thinks Deli resembles his mother.

Colin thinks about how he might’ve been able to prevent it, how he would’ve kept his promise, how he would have been able to protect him or die trying. Deli’s sword and shield, his skald, his poet.

There, Colin watches Karna die and the light leave Deli’s eyes. He watches the replaced Skald (and he thinks about the way Deli reached out to her with this title that fit her so effortlessly) shredded into a million pieces and he hears something in Deli die along with it.

This time Colin saves him. He nurses his old friend to stability and yet the “yeah, we’ll talk later” never comes as he watches Deli walk off into the sunset, now a man that would never be the boy, the friend Colin knew five years ago. A man with a cold and lifeless portrait, his soft edges ragged and a heart half rotten.

A sword. A shield. A skald, a poet. Colin keeps a promise to a mother and son made seven years ago. A protector, dedicated and loyal. He swings his sword quietly, precisely, dangerously against the ones who killed all his friends, dead or alive. Colin Provolone, sole survivor of the Saprophus, the poet of dead heroes.

The Rook’s exchange.

[howlingday]

Jaune arc but he has the Is knowledge a memory of john m browning You know the man who made the machine gun that's been in the service of the US military for ninety years and the 1911 Is and the trinch gun. This is the request for a fanfic

"It's over..." Ruby heaved a heavy sigh of relief as the Grimm began to fade from existence. "It's finally over. We did it, Jaune!"

The young man by her side said nothing. Instead, he simply stared out at the vast expanse of space between them and the horizon. Everything that he strove so hard for, to become a hero, had finally come true. Of course it would be a lot to take in all at once.

"Ja-"

"He's gone, Miss Rose." Ruby turned to find Ozpin speaking with Oscar's voice. "It seems I was not the only immortal spirit on this journey."

"What?" Ruby whirled around to Jaune, who looked at his sword and shield in confusion. "Jaune?"

"Nope." Jaune shook his head. "John now." He hand Crocea Mors to Ozpin, then nodded as he passed. "See ya, Oz."

"What... What was that?!" Ruby took hold of Oscar's straps, tears pouring from her eyes. "Where's Jaune?!"

"I'm afraid he's... gone the way of Mr. Pine." A hard fist struck his jaw.

"WHAT ELSE AREN'T YOU TELLING US?! WHO WAS THAT?! WHERE'S JAUNE?!"

"...He's gone, Ruby." He rubbed his cheek and looked to the blond haired stranger walking away. "All that's left is Mr. John Browning."

"Who?!"

"I've met him many years ago." Ozpin dusted himself off as he stood. "He was a brilliant young man, hardworking, and some would call him the father of modern firearms." He looked to the stranger now climbing down the hill, passing the high fives offered by his former friends. "And it seems his work is still not done."

[star-wars-writing]

Across the Academic Divide

Another story for the @codywanbingo with the theme Romance and prompt Netflix and Chill. I hope you'll like it.

Under the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, the library's silence enveloped Cody like a suffocating blanket, each tick of the clock a reminder of the thesis that remained stubbornly incomplete. The weight of expectation pressed down on him, a tangible force that seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs with every breath. Books and papers sprawled across the table in a chaotic testament to his desperation, the words blurring into incomprehensible symbols that mocked his exhaustion.

Across the room, his laptop screen glowed accusingly, the cursor blinking in rhythm with Cody's increasing heart rate. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The isolation of academic pursuit had never been so palpable, a chasm between him and the world outside that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

It was in moments like these that his mind invariably wandered to Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi—his mentor, his guiding light through the dense fog of academic rigor. There was a warmth to Obi-Wan that went beyond his scholarly achievements, a kindness in his eyes that seemed to cut through the cold formality of their interactions. Cody had always respected him, not just for his intellect but for the way he navigated the complexities of human emotion with the same finesse he applied to his lectures.

The thought of Obi-Wan brought an unbidden smile to Cody's lips, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of his solitude. He remembered the way Obi-Wan's eyes would light up when discussing the nuances of their field, the passionate timbre of his voice that could make even the most mundane topics seem like undiscovered territories waiting to be explored. There was a grace to him, an elegance that transcended the academic, hinting at depths Cody had only begun to glimpse.

Unexplored attraction simmered beneath the surface of his admiration, a current of emotion that Cody had yet to fully acknowledge. It was there in the quickening of his pulse whenever Obi-Wan entered a room, in the lingering glances that seemed to speak volumes, and in the quiet hope that fluttered in his chest at the thought of their next meeting.

The library, with its oppressive silence and towering shelves, felt miles away from the world Obi-Wan inhabited—a world of intellectual exploration and emotional warmth, where Cody longed to be. The gulf between student and professor, between admiration and something more, seemed insurmountable, yet the mere thought of Obi-Wan offered a beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness of his academic struggles.

Cody's gaze drifted back to his laptop, the blinking cursor now a challenge rather than a condemnation. With a deep breath, he leaned forward, the image of Obi-Wan's encouraging smile etched in his mind, a silent promise that he was not alone in this journey. The words began to flow, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence—a testament to the profound impact of a professor who had become so much more in the quiet spaces of Cody's heart.

*** 

In the hallowed halls of the university, where knowledge was both sword and shield, Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi moved with a purpose that belied the turmoil brewing within him. The quiet of the corridors echoed the solitude he observed in his most diligent student, Cody, whose struggle with his thesis had not gone unnoticed by the professor's discerning eyes.

Obi-Wan's steps took him unwittingly towards the library, the locus of Cody's academic seclusion. As he entered the quiet sanctuary, his gaze found Cody almost immediately, a lone figure amidst a sea of books and papers. There was a resilience to Cody, a silent strength that drew Obi-Wan to him, transcending the boundaries of their student-teacher relationship. The young man's dedication was admirable, yet the isolation it wrought was a concern that tugged at Obi-Wan's heart with increasing insistence.

Approaching Cody's table with measured steps, Obi-Wan cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle him. “Cody," he began, his voice a gentle intrusion into the silence. "You're here rather late. How goes the battle with your thesis?"

Cody looked up, surprise flickering across his features before smoothing into a respectful mask. "Professor Kenobi," he greeted, a semblance of relief coloring his tone. "It's... progressing, albeit more slowly than I'd like."

Obi-Wan noted the shadows under Cody's eyes, the weariness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. "Your dedication is commendable," he said, pulling up a chair. "But even the most valiant warriors need to rest." His attempt at humor was light, but his concern was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the toll Cody's pursuit was taking on him.

Cody's smile was tentative, a flicker of warmth in the cool library air. "I suppose I'm not very good at conceding defeat, even to my own limitations."

Obi-Wan studied him, the pull he felt towards Cody now a vivid presence in his heart. It was more than professional concern that warmed his voice; it was a genuine desire to see Cody not just succeed, but thrive. "There's a fine line between perseverance and obstinacy, Cody. Sometimes, the bravest thing one can do is to acknowledge when to pause and seek perspective."

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken words, a current of understanding that flowed between them. Obi-Wan's presence, so calm and assured, was a balm to Cody's frayed nerves. The professor's words, imbued with empathy and wisdom, sparked a glimmer of hope within Cody, a reminder that he was not alone in this endeavor.

Cody's defenses began to crumble, the barriers he had erected between himself and the world showing cracks. "I just... I don't want to disappoint anyone. Least of all, you," he admitted, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between them.

Obi-Wan's heart clenched at the vulnerability in Cody's words. "You could never disappoint me," he said earnestly. "Your journey is your own, Cody. All I ask is that you don't lose yourself along the way." His concern was a tangible thing, a testament to the depth of his care for Cody's well-being.

The moment stretched on, a tableau of mentor and mentee bound by mutual respect and an emerging sense of connection that transcended the roles they played. In the silence of the library, amidst the tomes of knowledge and the whispers of history, a bond was forged, delicate yet unyielding.

As Obi-Wan stood to leave, he paused, looking down at Cody with a softness in his eyes that he seldom allowed himself to show. "Remember, the greatest lessons often come not from the pages of a book, but from understanding the rhythm of our own hearts."

Cody watched him go, the professor's words echoing in his mind, a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of his doubts. In that moment, Cody felt seen, truly seen, not just as a student, but as a person—a feeling both exhilarating and terrifying.

The library's silence enveloped him once more, but now it was a comforting embrace rather than a suffocating void. Inspired by Obi-Wan's faith in him, Cody turned back to his thesis with a renewed sense of purpose, the isolation of his academic pursuit softened by the knowledge that he was not alone in his struggles. In the quiet library, a seed of something new began to take root in his heart, the possibility of a connection that might one day blossom into something neither of them could yet comprehend.

**** 

The ambiance of the university's makeshift cinema, a quaint assembly within the embrace of its arts department, was alight with the soft hum of anticipation. Cody, having wandered into this enclave of film enthusiasts by a twist of fate, found himself momentarily adrift in the novelty of the experience. The room, usually stark and echoing with the footsteps of academia, was transformed into a sanctuary of shared anticipation for the cinematic journey ahead.

As Cody hesitated on the periphery, uncertain yet intrigued, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s presence cut through the thrum of budding excitement. The professor, known within the hallowed halls for his scholarly rigor, stood amidst the film club’s members not as an authority but as one of their own, a fellow devotee of the art form. His role as the club's advisor, a facet of his identity Cody had been unaware of, added layers to the man Cody had come to respect deeply in the academic sphere.

"Cody," Obi-Wan called out, his voice a beacon in the low-lit room, tinged with a warmth that seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of their customary student-teacher dynamic. "This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you amongst our cinema aficionados tonight."

Cody, momentarily caught in the headlights of Obi-Wan’s unexpected welcome, felt a flush of warmth spread across his cheeks. "I, uh, stumbled upon it," he managed to say, his usual confidence faltering under Obi-Wan’s attentive gaze. "I thought it might be... enlightening."

The exchange, simple as it was, crackled with an undercurrent of uncharted territory. There was a palpable shift in the air, a mingling of professional respect and a budding curiosity that seemed to draw them into a sphere of intimacy previously unexplored. Obi-Wan’s smile, soft and genuine, eased Cody’s initial trepidation, bridging the gap between them with an ease that Cody found both comforting and disconcerting.

"Enlightenment comes in many forms," Obi-Wan replied, his tone imbued with a hint of playfulness that Cody had never heard in the lecture hall. "Perhaps tonight’s film will offer a different perspective. After all, the world of cinema is vast and varied."

As they settled into their seats, the space between them charged with a new awareness, Cody found himself grappling with the duality of Obi-Wan’s identity. The professor he respected, whose intellect and guidance he valued above all, was also a man of deep passions and interests, facets that Cody had never considered in the rigid structure of their academic interactions.

The room dimmed further, the chatter subsiding into a collective breath of anticipation as the film began to play. On screen, worlds unfolded, stories were told in shades of light and shadow, and emotions were painted in broad strokes of color and sound. Cody found himself drawn into the narrative, yet part of his attention remained tethered to Obi-Wan, to the subtle shifts in his expression, the soft intakes of breath at moments of tension, and the quiet laughter that seemed to resonate directly within Cody.

Their shared experience of the film, punctuated by whispered insights and shared glances, wove a thread of connection between them, subtle yet undeniable. Cody was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from Obi-Wan’s side, the occasional brush of their arms in the shared space between their chairs. Each touch was electric, sparking flashes of awareness that Cody struggled to categorize.

In the dim light, Cody stole glances at Obi-Wan, observing the way the flickering images played across his features, casting him in a light that Cody found mesmerizing. It was as if, in the shared silence of their movie-watching, a dialogue was unfolding between them, one of curiosity, of mutual discovery, and an emerging sense of camaraderie that transcended their known world.

The film, with its tapestry of emotions and narratives, became a backdrop to the unfolding realization within Cody—a dawning understanding of the complexity of his feelings towards Obi-Wan. It was a revelation that unfolded quietly, between the lines of their conversation, in the shared laughter and the silent exchanges that spoke of a connection burgeoning on the cusp of something deeper.

As the evening wore on, the boundaries of their relationship subtly shifted, marked by a camaraderie that felt both exhilarating and daunting. Cody, navigating the tumultuous waters of his own emotions, found himself drawn inexorably towards Obi-Wan, propelled by a mixture of professional admiration and a deepening personal curiosity.

In the shared space of their film club encounter, Cody began to see Obi-Wan not just as his professor but as a man of depth and passion, a realization that promised to redefine the contours of their relationship. The night, with its unexpected connections and revelations, had set the stage for a journey neither man had anticipated, one that promised to explore the intricate dance between respect, admiration, and the burgeoning whispers of something more.

*** 

As the screen went black and the projector's hum faded into an eerie silence, a collective sigh rippled through the dimly lit room, a shared moment of disappointment amongst the film club's members. The sudden power outage, an unwelcome intruder in their cinematic sanctuary, cast the room into shadows, the only light now emanating from the emergency exit signs, casting an ethereal glow.

In the midst of this unexpected turn, Obi-Wan, ever the beacon of calm, retrieved a laptop from his bag with a reassuring smile. "The show must go on," he declared, his voice a comforting anchor in the tide of mild chaos. The group congregated closer, drawn to the promise of continuing their journey into the cinematic world, albeit on a much smaller screen.

Cody found himself shoulder to shoulder with Obi-Wan, the close proximity a stark contrast to the formal distance usually maintained in the lecture halls and corridors of the university. The warmth from Obi-Wan's side was palpable, a reassuring presence that Cody found unexpectedly comforting.

As Obi-Wan balanced the laptop on his knees, their sides pressed together, Cody was acutely aware of every shift, every gesture Obi-Wan made. The space between them, now devoid of the barriers of their roles, felt charged with a new energy, a silent acknowledgment of their shared experience in this intimate setting.

The film resumed, its light flickering across their faces, drawing them back into the story. Yet, the narrative on screen could scarcely compete with the one unfolding between them, a story of two individuals exploring the tentative steps towards a connection that transcended the academic.

Their shared laughter at the film's lighter moments created a bridge, a pathway through the walls Cody had meticulously constructed around himself. Each chuckle, each shared glance, wove a thread of camaraderie and understanding, binding them in a shared experience that was both simple and profoundly intimate.

Obi-Wan's laughter, a sound Cody found he wanted to hear more of, was genuine and unguarded. It was a revelation to Cody, witnessing this side of Obi-Wan, free from the constraints of his professorial facade. In these moments, Cody saw not Professor Kenobi but Obi-Wan, a man with a rich tapestry of emotions and a depth of character that Cody found increasingly compelling.

The warmth of Obi-Wan sitting so close, their arms occasionally brushing in the cramped space, sent a cascade of sensations through Cody, stirring feelings he hadn't anticipated. Each accidental touch was like a spark, igniting a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a silent dialogue that spoke of possibilities Cody had never allowed himself to consider.

In the soft glow of the laptop screen, Cody caught glimpses of Obi-Wan's profile, the way his eyes reflected the film's light, the subtle expressions that danced across his face. Cody found himself captivated, drawn to Obi-Wan in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

The intimacy of their setting, the shared whispers commenting on the film's plot twists, created an atmosphere of closeness that Cody had never experienced with Obi-Wan. It was as if, in the absence of the university's formalities, they were free to explore a new dimension of their relationship, one that was unfolding with each shared smile and whispered word.

As the movie progressed, the world beyond the laptop screen seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of shared experience and growing connection. Cody found himself leaning slightly into Obi-Wan, a subconscious gesture of trust and affinity, drawn by the warmth and the unspoken promise of understanding and acceptance.

In this unexpected setting, barriers broke down, and the roles that defined them outside this room seemed irrelevant. Here, they were simply Cody and Obi-Wan, two individuals finding common ground in the shared language of cinema, laughter, and the subtle exploration of an emerging bond that promised to redefine their understanding of each other.

The power outage, initially a disruption, had become a catalyst, transforming a routine film screening into a pivotal moment in their relationship. In the close quarters of their makeshift cinema, Cody and Obi-Wan discovered a connection that was as profound as it was unexpected, a connection that hinted at the depth of the journey they were only just beginning to embark upon.

**** 

In the quietude that enveloped them, the film unfurled its tale with gentle persistence, drawing Cody and Obi-Wan deeper into its emotional landscape. The laptop's soft glow illuminated their faces, casting shadows that danced in harmony with the flickering images on screen. It was during one particularly poignant scene, a moment charged with unspoken yearnings and tender revelations, that the boundary between their two worlds subtly shifted.

The popcorn bowl, previously a mere accessory to their movie-watching experience, became the stage for a moment of unforeseen intimacy. As Cody reached in, his focus still partly on the screen, his hand brushed against Obi-Wan's in the dim light. The contact was brief, accidental, yet laden with an electricity that seemed to pulse through the air between them.

Time, for a heartbeat, seemed to stand still. Cody's breath hitched in his chest, his attention now fully wrenched from the film to the man beside him. Obi-Wan's hand had stilled as well, the warmth of his skin a tangible reminder of the proximity they shared. The air felt charged, heavy with a significance that went beyond casual touch, igniting a spark that Cody felt resonate deep within him.

There was a hesitation, a moment suspended in the ether of possibilities, where both men seemed to grapple with the sudden shift in their dynamic. Cody's heart raced, a tumult of emotions swirling within him—surprise, confusion, but most overwhelmingly, a burgeoning sense of connection to Obi-Wan that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Obi-Wan, for his part, withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, his eyes meeting Cody's in a gaze that seemed to search, to question. The soft light reflected in Obi-Wan's eyes, revealing a depth of emotion that Cody had never seen before. It was a look that spoke volumes, conveying an understanding and a curiosity that mirrored Cody's own.

The silence that followed was laden with a new awareness, a recognition of the uncharted territory they had inadvertently stumbled upon. The film continued to play, its narrative unfolding in the background, but the real story was happening right here, in the space between them, in the charged air that seemed to hum with potential.

Cody found himself at a loss for words, the usual ease with which he navigated his academic and personal life momentarily eluding him. The brush of their hands, such a simple, unintentional act, had opened a door to a realm of feeling he had not dared to explore, a realm where his admiration for Obi-Wan merged with a deeper, more complex web of emotion.

Obi-Wan, ever the composed presence, seemed to sense Cody's turmoil. With a gentle grace, he bridged the silence, his voice soft yet clear in the quiet room. "The film's themes of connection and understanding seem particularly resonant tonight," he observed, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment they had shared.

Cody nodded, grateful for Obi-Wan's ability to navigate the situation with such sensitivity. The comment was a lifeline, a way to contextualize the rush of feelings in a manner that felt safe, yet acknowledged the undercurrent of something more between them.

As they turned their attention back to the film, the atmosphere between them was altered, imbued with a sense of intimacy and understanding that had not been present before. The movie progressed, its story weaving through themes of love, loss, and redemption, each scene reflecting back at them the complexity of human emotion and connection.

The brush of their hands in the popcorn bowl had been a fleeting moment, but its impact lingered, a silent testament to the burgeoning connection between them. In the shared space of their accidental intimacy, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves on the cusp of a journey neither had anticipated, a journey that promised to explore the depths of their relationship and the possibilities that lay within the simple act of reaching out.

**** 

As the narrative of the film wove its intricate dance of light and shadow across the small laptop screen, the room around Cody and Obi-Wan seemed to recede, leaving them adrift in a shared sea of emotion and silent revelation. The movie, a poignant tale of love found, lost, and reclaimed against the odds, mirrored the tempestuous journey of the human heart with such acuity that it seemed to speak directly to them, to the unspoken, burgeoning feelings that had begun to take root in the quiet space between their side-by-side seats.

In the flickering half-light, their eyes met and parted like dancers, a delicate choreography of glances that spoke volumes. Each look was a brushstroke on the canvas of their emerging connection, painting a picture of mutual recognition and the dawning of something more profound than either had anticipated. These stolen moments, when their gazes locked, were laden with the weight of unvoiced questions and the glimmer of possibilities that hung tantalizingly within reach.

The air around them was thick with tension, a palpable charge that seemed to hum with the potential of new beginnings. It was as if the film itself had become a conduit for their emotions, each scene echoing their internal landscapes, drawing them closer with the gravitational pull of shared vulnerability and understanding.

A particularly emotional moment on screen—a heartfelt confession of love that transcended barriers and defied expectations—acted as a mirror, reflecting back at them the uncharted depths of their own feelings. The characters' courage in baring their souls to one another resonated deeply with Cody, stirring within him a tumult of emotions that he struggled to name. It was as if the movie had laid bare the essence of his own heart, revealing a truth he had scarcely admitted to himself.

Beside him, Obi-Wan's presence was a constant, a grounding force in the whirlwind of Cody's thoughts and feelings. Yet, as the scene unfolded, Cody sensed a shift in Obi-Wan, a subtle change in his demeanor that suggested he, too, was moved by the parallel between their situation and the lovers on screen. The professor's usual composure was pierced by the raw emotion of the moment, his gaze lingering on Cody with an intensity that left no room for doubt: the connection they shared was real, palpable, and charged with the promise of something yet to be defined.

In the aftermath of the scene, as the characters on screen navigated the fallout of their vulnerability, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves caught in a moment of profound silence, a breath held in time. It was a silence that spoke louder than words, a tacit acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship, of the bridge being built between them with each shared experience, each exchanged glance.

The movie continued, its narrative arc bending towards resolution, but for Cody and Obi-Wan, the story was just beginning. The emotional resonance of the film had peeled back layers of defense, revealing the raw, unvarnished truth of their connection. In the shared space of their vulnerability, they found a mutual understanding, a recognition of the feelings that simmered just below the surface.

As the final scenes played out, the characters finding their way back to each other against all odds, Cody and Obi-Wan sat in a silence that was both comfortable and charged with anticipation. The journey of the film's protagonists, from uncertainty to love's triumphant return, offered a poignant parallel to their own, a beacon of hope in the unexplored territory of their burgeoning relationship.

In the dim light of the laptop, as the credits rolled and the room slowly brightened with the return of the overhead lights, Cody and Obi-Wan shared a look that was both an ending and a beginning. It was a look that acknowledged the journey they had undertaken, side by side, and the unspoken promise of the path that lay ahead. The movie had ended, but their story, with all its potential and promise, was just beginning to unfold.

**** 

The film had ended, its final scenes leaving a lingering silence that felt both heavy and hallowed, a sacred space within which truths could be unveiled. The room gradually filled with the soft sounds of the other members stirring, their movements a gentle intrusion into the bubble that Cody and Obi-Wan had inadvertently created around themselves. Yet, in the immediate vicinity of their shared seat, time seemed to stand still, the world beyond their conversation momentarily paused.

Cody, still caught in the emotional undertow of the film, found himself at a crossroads of vulnerability. The movie had stirred something within him, loosening the tightly held reins on his own guarded thoughts and feelings. With the dimming of the laptop screen came an unbidden surge of courage, propelling him into confessions that, until now, had remained locked away.

"It's just... sometimes, I feel so overwhelmed," Cody began, his voice a mere whisper, as if the words themselves were fragile. "Between my thesis and trying to meet everyone's expectations, I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of drowning." The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to Cody's struggle, rendered all the more poignant in the wake of their shared cinematic journey.

Obi-Wan, ever the empathetic listener, turned to face Cody, his expression one of profound understanding and compassion. The barriers of professor and student, mentor and mentee, seemed to dissolve in the face of Cody's raw honesty, leaving behind just two individuals sharing a moment of genuine human connection.

"I've been there, Cody," Obi-Wan shared, his voice tinged with the weight of memory. "There was a time when I too felt as though I was being crushed under the weight of expectations. The fear of failure, of not living up to the potential others saw in me, was almost paralyzing." His admission was a bridge, extending across the chasm of loneliness and doubt that Cody had thought insurmountable.

The room around them slowly emptied, the soft murmurs and footsteps of the departing members a distant echo to the intimacy of their conversation. Yet, neither Cody nor Obi-Wan seemed to notice; their world had contracted to the immediacy of their dialogue, a lifeline thrown across the waters of uncertainty and isolation.

Cody listened, a sense of awe mingling with the burgeoning respect and affection he felt for Obi-Wan. To hear his professor—this person he admired and looked up to—speak of vulnerabilities and past struggles was both humbling and deeply moving. It was a reminder that strength was not the absence of weakness but the courage to face it, to share it, and to grow from it.

"How did you overcome it?" Cody asked, the question a beacon in the fog of his own doubts.

"With time, patience, and understanding—both from myself and from those around me," Obi-Wan replied, his gaze steady and reassuring. "And by realizing that it's okay to ask for help, to admit that you're struggling. Strength lies in vulnerability, in the courage to show your true self, warts and all."

The conversation flowed, a meandering river of shared experiences, fears, and hopes. Obi-Wan spoke of his journey, of the challenges he had faced and the lessons learned along the way. Cody, in turn, opened up about his own fears, the pressure to succeed, and the isolation that his dedication had wrought upon him.

In the vulnerability of their exchange, a bond was forged, one built on mutual respect, understanding, and an unspoken promise of support. They spoke of the future, of paths yet to be walked, and of the strength to be found in companionship and shared burdens.

As the last of the film club members filtered out, leaving Cody and Obi-Wan in the quiet aftermath of their conversation, a sense of peace settled over them. The challenges ahead had not diminished, but the burden felt lighter, shared between shoulders strong enough to bear it together.

In that moment, as they rose from their seats, the world around them resumed its pace, the paused time starting once again to flow. Yet, for Cody and Obi-Wan, everything had changed. They stepped into the hallway, not as professor and student, but as companions on a journey, fortified by the shared understanding that, no matter the challenges ahead, they would not face them alone.

**** 

The remnants of their heart-to-heart lingered in the air, a tangible testament to the shift that had occurred between them. In the quiet aftermath, as the last echoes of their conversation faded into the hush of the emptying room, Cody and Obi-Wan remained, caught in a moment of profound realization. The boundaries that had once defined their interactions seemed to blur, the roles of professor and student no longer sufficient to encapsulate the depth of connection they now shared.

Cody, his heart a tumultuous sea of newfound emotions, found himself grappling with the implications of their exchange. The vulnerability they had shared, the mutual understanding and respect that had flowed so freely between them, had opened the door to something more—a potential that was exhilarating and daunting in equal measure.

Obi-Wan, for his part, seemed equally contemplative, his usually composed demeanor softened by the intimacy of their dialogue. There was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at Cody, a tenderness that spoke volumes of the journey they had embarked upon together. The air between them was charged with an unspoken question, a silent inquiry into the nature of the feelings that had begun to take root.

"It seems we've crossed a threshold, Cody," Obi-Wan finally said, his voice low and imbued with a weight that underscored the significance of their conversation. "What we've shared tonight... it goes beyond the confines of mentorship."

Cody's heart skipped a beat at the acknowledgment, the reality of their situation settling around him like a cloak. The admission was both a balm and a challenge, an invitation to explore the depths of their connection with honesty and courage.

"Yes," Cody agreed, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. "I feel it too. There's something... more between us." The words, once spoken, seemed to hang in the air, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between potential and reality.

The complexity of their situation was not lost on either man. The transition from mentor-mentee to something more was fraught with uncertainties and potential pitfalls. Yet, the foundation they had built—rooted in mutual respect, understanding, and now, a burgeoning attraction—offered a beacon of hope, a promise of what could be if they dared to navigate these uncharted waters together.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, closing the physical distance between them as a symbolic gesture of the emotional journey they were about to undertake. "Navigating this... it will require care, Cody. We must be mindful of the implications, of the potential impact on both our personal and professional lives."

Cody nodded, the gravity of Obi-Wan's words grounding him. "I understand. And I'm willing to explore this... with you, with caution and respect for those boundaries." The commitment in his voice was palpable, a vow to tread this new path with the care and consideration it deserved.

The acknowledgment of their mutual attraction, coupled with the complexities it introduced, marked a pivotal moment in their relationship. It was a threshold crossed, a door opened to possibilities hitherto unimagined. As they stood there, in the quiet aftermath of their heart-to-heart, Cody and Obi-Wan were acutely aware of the significance of this moment.

This was not a decision made lightly, nor a path chosen without foresight. It was a journey they agreed to embark upon together, with eyes wide open to the challenges ahead. The understanding and connection that had blossomed between them were too profound to ignore, a rare and precious thing that demanded exploration.

As they finally made their way out of the now-empty room, the world around them seemed both unchanged and entirely new. The campus outside was bathed in the soft glow of the evening, the quiet hum of night beginning to settle in. Yet, for Cody and Obi-Wan, the landscape of their relationship had transformed, offering a vista of potential that was both daunting and beautiful in its promise.

Their steps were measured, side by side, as they navigated the dimly lit paths of the university grounds. The night air was cool, a gentle caress against their skin, a reminder of the world's vastness and the small, yet significant, space they occupied within it. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential pitfalls and promises, but the journey—fraught with complexities and imbued with the thrill of new beginnings—was one they were now committed to exploring, together.

*** 

In the serene stillness that cloaked the university's grounds, the world around Cody and Obi-Wan seemed to hold its breath, a silent witness to the unfolding narrative between them. The evening air, crisp and redolent with the scent of blooming night flowers, carried a sense of anticipation, a prelude to the next chapter in their evolving story.

Obi-Wan, typically the epitome of restraint and composure, found himself navigating the tumultuous waters of newfound emotions. The revelations of the night had acted as a catalyst, dissolving the barriers that had once held back the tide of his feelings for Cody. It was a sensation both exhilarating and daunting, a departure from the safety of the known into the vast, uncharted territories of the heart.

As they walked, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot punctuated the silence, a rhythmic reminder of their journey's physical and metaphorical nature. Obi-Wan glanced at Cody, noting the thoughtful expression that played across his features, the soft glow of the campus lights casting shadows that danced across his face.

"Cody," Obi-Wan began, his voice breaking the silence with a gentle yet decisive timbre. "Tonight has been... illuminating, in more ways than one. I find myself reluctant to let it end here, to simply return to the roles we've known."

Cody turned to face him, the ambient light reflecting in his eyes, lending them a depth that Obi-Wan felt drawn into. The air between them was charged with a palpable energy, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw them inexorably closer.

"I feel the same," Cody admitted, his voice low, a mirror to the vulnerability and strength that had characterized their earlier conversation. "There's something between us, Obi-Wan. Something that goes beyond the classroom, beyond the academic."

Obi-Wan nodded, the acknowledgment igniting a spark of hope within him. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said, taking a small, yet significant step closer. "Which is why I'd like to invite you to another movie night. Just the two of us, away from the constraints of our roles, to explore... whatever this is, between us."

The invitation hung between them, a proposition laden with potential and promise. Cody's response was a soft exhale, a release of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, a sign of his own inner turmoil and burgeoning hope.

"I'd like that," Cody said, his voice steady, imbued with a conviction that belied the rapid beating of his heart. "To explore, to understand this connection... with you."

The agreement was a bridge, a tacit commitment to venture forth into the unknown together, to navigate the complexities of their feelings with the same integrity and respect that had defined their relationship thus far.

The decision to meet again, under the guise of another private viewing, was more than an arrangement; it was a declaration, a mutual acknowledgment of their interest in discovering the potential of their bond beyond the academic context. It was an exploration of possibilities, of paths untrodden and futures unimagined, a journey they were now committed to undertaking together.

As they continued their walk, the campus around them seemed to come alive with a new vibrancy, a reflection of the internal shifts that had taken place within them both. The night, with all its mysteries and promises, stretched out before them, a canvas upon which their story could unfold in hues and shades yet to be discovered.

The conversation shifted then, to lighter topics, to shared interests and anecdotes that wove a tapestry of companionship and mutual understanding. Yet, beneath the casual exchange, there was an undercurrent of excitement, a palpable sense of anticipation for what lay ahead.

Their steps eventually led them to part ways, but the promise of their next meeting lingered in the air, a beacon guiding them forward. As they said their goodnights, the exchange was laden with unspoken promises and the thrill of new beginnings.

In the quiet of his own space, Cody found himself replaying the evening's events, each moment a precious memory to be savored. The prospect of their upcoming meeting filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn't known he was capable of feeling, a testament to the profound impact Obi-Wan had made on his life.

Similarly, Obi-Wan, in the solitude of his own contemplation, found himself looking forward to their next encounter with an eagerness that surprised him. The decision to extend the invitation, to openly express his desire to explore the connection they shared, felt like stepping into daylight after a long night, a bold move toward a future filled with unknown but promising possibilities.

The night's revelations had indeed marked a turning point, a pivotal moment that set the course for a journey neither man could fully anticipate. Yet, the path ahead, with all its uncertainties, was a journey they were both willing to take, emboldened by the shared recognition of their mutual attraction and the complexities it introduced into their lives.

Comments and likes are always welcome.

[levwrites]

The Fall (part 1)

Two warriors wake up on a deserted island, without any memories. They have to rely on each other to survive and leave this magical place, not knowing that the bond slowly forming between them might not survive returning to their old lives.

The first thing he becomes aware of is sand under his cheek, making his skin prickle. Next, the soothing sound of waves. There's the smell of salt in the air, a cool breeze gently moving his hair.

There is not supposed to be sand under his cheek.

At least... he's pretty sure.

He opens his eyes, wincing slightly at the bright light of the sun overhead. Shields them with one hand as he goes to sit up. As they adjust, he can see an endless expanse of water in front of him. He knows it's called a sea.

He knows very little else.

Where am I? I'm not supposed to be here. He frowns, looking down at himself. Everything he sees is familiar and foreign at the same time, his own body forgotten.

What the fuck is going on? He's growing more worried and wary every second that passes. His memory is...

He doesn't remember anything. Nothing about himself, or where he is, or where he's supposed to be instead.

He looks around, trying desperately to orient himself. Hoping something will jog his memory.

A dark form catches his eye, lying in the sand, so strange his mind takes a moment to figure it out.

Limbs, at least a pair of arms and legs, and a pair of... wings. Big, feathered wings, a deep red in color. The creature is slumped in the sand, apparently unconscious.

He gets up, quickly, hand going to a weapon that is not at his side.

My sword. He apparently usually has a sword.

He eyes the figure, inquisitive and wary. It - he? - doesn't look like much of a threat right now, unconscious as he is. But he knows the wings, and the claws he can glimpse on the creature's fingertips, are something he himself doesn't have. They mean danger. He's looking at a predator.

Still, his tongue passes over fangs in his own mouth. Those also belong to a predator. Perhaps the creature on the ground will be able to tell him what's going on, if he is not a threat after all.

As soon as he approaches the creature lets out a pained groan, twitching. His wings start to move first, sliding off so he can get arms beneath his body and push himself up, blinking sand out of magnetic dark eyes.

They immediately find him and narrow. He gets on his knees and quickly looks around, a deep frown on his forehead, before he looks back at him. He opens his mouth, revealing teeth slightly sharper than normal, then stops and closes it abruptly. Alarm and confusion flash on his face.

"What's this place?" he eventually settles on, jaw tight.

Damn it.

"I don't know." He shakes his head, annoyed with himself and the whole situation. "I just woke up. I have no idea what happened." And this guy doesn't know either, apparently. Weird creature or not.

"Who are you?" The creature rubs his temples, as if fighting off a growing headache.

"I..." He stops, dread pooling in his guts. He knows his name was important, he knows it mattered. And yet it's nowhere to be found. "I don't remember."

[tw1l1te]

Whispers From the Sky: Chapter VI

A/N: Helllloooo! I finally finished this chapter, and I’m so happy with all the support and nice comments I’ve been getting. I wish you all happy holidays and a great holiday season! I plan to upload another chapter before New Year’s, so stay tuned!!

~

You didn’t get any sleep the rest of the night. You sat under the tree, watching as the night sky brightened, but the clouds stayed, almost as if the weather wanted to match what you were feeling.

Hazy.

Confused.

Numb.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Time spoke softly to you.

“Although this isn’t ideal, we have to keep moving. Once we make it up to the plateau we can rest and try to process this mystery. No one is going to let anyone hurt you, even though we have no idea who you are.”

You looked down at your lap, not even knowing what to respond.

Sighing, Time stood up, you followed shortly after, and the walk to The Great Plateau began.

It seems your nightmare dampened the mood for the group, but it wasn’t necessarily awkward. You would occasionally hear someone make quiet conversation, but it ended quickly thereafter.

Twilight slowed down to keep in pace with you, causing you to look up.

“I’m sorry last night was so painful for you. Although I don’t understand what exactly happened, I understand, in a way. We all do.”

You were confused at what he meant by that.

Oh.

They didn’t choose to be heroes. They didn’t choose this life of fighting and glory… if you could even call it that.

“I just don’t understand why I would be shown this dream, vision, whatever it is. And the triforce being burned onto my hand? Seems more like a threat than some blessing or great prophecy…” you mumbled off, turning your attention onto your bandaged hand, which needed to be re-bandanged soon.

Twilight sighed.

“Maybe you do have a greater role in this and none of us know it yet. You should give yourself more credit considering all the events that have transpired in the few days that you’ve come to Hyrule.”

Twilight was about to reach for your bandaged hand, but at the last second he hesitated and brought his hand back to his side, looking out towards the expanse of Hyrule Field.

You had thought the rest of the day’s journey would go on solemnly and quiet, but you were sorely mistaken.

A beeping and whirring sound made you halt in your steps, Wild snapping his head at the mechanical sounds.

While one guardian could be taken out by Wild in a few minutes, two more appeared from behind you, already targeting their victims.

Swords were unsheathed, shields were equipped, and you stood, frozen, staring at the guardian about 20 feet away from you.

“Y/n, move! I need you to stay behind me!” Wild yelled, two beams of light colliding with his shield. Nodding, you stood against Wild, looking at the heroes slashing at the machinery.

You then remembered.

Ancient arrows. Those could work.

Looking down at Wild’s quiver, you saw a few Ancient arrows sticking out, casting a faint blue glow against Wild’s clothes.

Taking them out, you breathed in, and out.

You only have a short amount of time to actually kill these octopus robots, so you needed to make it count. You are not going to watch helplessly from the sidelines just to watch someone get hurt.

You can do this.

You sprinted up to the first guardian, hearing a bunch of yelling and cursing your way from the group.

You gripped the arrow and plunged it into the center blue eye, the machine instantly sputtering and breaking down. Scampering off the guardian, you run over to the next, narrowly passing a beam aimed straight for your head.

Jump. Plunge, Twist.

You jump down, looking around for the third, which had occupied Time and Sky’s attention.

You had one arrow left, so you mustered up all your energy and raced towards the last guardian, its attention still on the two heroes.

Sky yelled out as he saw you run towards the guardian, arrow in hand.

You jumped up the body, slipping at the texture, but managed to shatter the eye, rolling off onto the grass with a grunt.

When you heard the machine power down, you closed your eyes, exhausted from the exertion powered by adrenaline that has tired you out.

You heard nothing but crickets and the wind blowing for a few moments, but that was short lived.

“That was incredibly reckless and dangerous for you to do. You were told to stay protected behind Wild and you disobeyed. You are lucky to have returned unscathed or badly hurt, but next time might not be so lucky,” Time spoke. He was standing right in front of you, towering over your weak form.

Nodding, you turn around, preparing to continue the journey to the Great Plateau. Wild looks at you with sympathy, already falling in step with you to give you company.

Twilight, Warriors and Legend looked annoyed, the latter mumbling something under his breath.

The rest just looked worried, but sent you sympathetic smiles and Sky gave you a small pat on the shoulder. You avoided looking at Time, your eyes starting to burn from embarrassment.

The rest of the walk was awkward and quiet. You didn’t talk, even when Wild tried to spark a conversation, but he noticed your lack of response, so he stopped conversing and merely walked with you.

You knew it was a bad idea to get involved in such physical and violent moments, but you’ve fought guardians in game so many times.

Surely Time knows that?

I feel so useless just standing there, hoping a hero would protect me. I don’t want to be an extra weight on their shoulders.

Maybe I should just lea-

“Ah, we’re here!” Wild exclaimed.

Legend and Warriors groaned, peering up at the stone wall. You couldn’t even see the top from the mist and fog.

How the HELL am I supposed to climb that?

“Alright, I’m gonna teleport to the shrine close to the wall and drop down a rope. I believe the rope can hold two to three people at a time, so probably someone heavier will go with someone lighter to decrease the chance of the rope snapping.”

Twilight shuffled, giving a thick rope to Wild, who slinged it over his shoulder and waved to you, teleporting through glowing blue wisps.

It looked so much cooler in person than it did through a screen. You hoped you could try it one time, if Wild let you.

A few minutes pass, everyone standing around, waiting for the rope to drop.

Suddenly, the rope dropped, a few feet away from you, making you panic for a split-second.

Sky, Four and you were up first. Four went in front of you, and Sky behind you for extra precaution just in case you fell or lost grip.

You did not want to think about that scenario.

And so, the climb began.

Not even 20 feet off the ground, your palms started to burn. The rope was scratchy, digging into your palms every time you climbed up. You could hear Four and Sky panting, in a similar predicament to you. After a few minutes, you accidentally looked down, making you halt in your progress.

It was a very long way down.

If you slipped, you’re as good as dead.

“Y/n! Don’t look down!” Sky yelled, snapping you out of your panicking. Nodding, you looked up, making out the shape of Wild over the ledge, looking out for his partners. Your eyes were itching from the wind and dust particles, but you could not let go.

You could feel your calves burning from relying on them so much. You prayed to whatever being that you would somehow make it to the top.

You could now makeout Wild’s face, colors, and his long hair, which gave the last push of momentum to finish the climb. As soon as you were within reach, Wild grasped your arm and used his strength to yank you onto solid ground. Gasping, you tumbled onto your back, gasping deeply, trying to wind down from the burning in your legs.

“Hey, you still with me Y/n? You did so well. I know it was a hard and scary climb, but I’m sure we won’t have to do that for a long time.” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face and mouth.

You didn’t process how close he was to you, still exhausted from the physical activity, but you managed to nod slightly to give him a sign that you were awake.

It took another hour to get everyone to the top, almost everyone slightly red in the face and panting. Wild was so damn lucky to not have climbed a giant rock wall.

“We have a few hours of daylight left, so we can make it to the Temple of Time. It’s up on that ridge over there. Don’t worry, there’s practically no climbing, just walking.” he said with a smile, a few of the members sending him annoyed looks.

Hyrule and Four walked next to you, checking up on you. Your hands were blistered from gripping the rock so hard, so Hyrule made it his priority to get you some leather gloves at the next shop they saw.

Looking around, you almost expected to see monster camps near the edge, but it was serene. The sun was lowering in the sky, and the breeze was so much more bearable up here than while climbing. You could see Gerudo Highlands in the distance and the Sheikah Tower, still glowing blue from when Wild reactivated it.

You started spacing out and didn’t realize that you were humming. You didn’t notice until Twilight spoke up.

“What song is that? I haven’t heard it before.”

With Twilight’s curiosity, a few of the group’s heads perked up with curiosity, hell, even Legend’s.

You stopped.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize that I was doing that. I tend to space off quite a bit and fidget or hum unknowingly.” you said, your face burning red from the attention on you.

Sky chuckled, “It’s no trouble at all. I space the most in the group, so I know. Is the song from your home?”

You sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, uh, its called ‘Venus’. Its a song about a goddess, I guess? My mom loved that song when she was— younger. It’s kinda talking about how women are goddesses and are powerful. I don’t know, it makes me feel good when I’m conflicted with myself.” you explained.

“Can you hum some more? It’s catchy.” Four commented, smiling up at you.

You continued humming, switching to a few other songs once it ended. No one seemed to mind though. You already felt better from earlier, hiding your soft smile while you walked.

You arrived at the temple before you knew it, the sky quickly darkening from when you climbed to the top of the plateau.

“It would be best to set up camp within the temple. It would give us shelter from any rain, but also prevent vulnerability to monsters at night,” Warriors stated, unpacking his bag in the middle of the temple.

Everyone else agreed, so you laid out your belongings, checking to make sure you didn’t lose anything on the journey here. You were still in a musical mood, so you checked your phone to see if it was still working.

Battery at 100%.

Weird.

It’s been a few days, and the battery life hasn’t changed? You supposed that it had something to do with the fact that you were inside a video game, so maybe the electrical factor of it powered it.

You scrolled through your phone to find your downloaded music. You plugged in your earphones and picked a song. A guitar riff started up, buzzing you up with energy.

You continued sifting through your bag and that’s when you noticed that everyone was staring at you. They have no idea what even happened.

You stared at them for a moment, but started hysterically laughing at their facial expressions. 

“HAHAHAHAH- you should see the look on your faces! You look live you’ve seen a ghost!” you cackle, falling on your side and clutching your stomach.

Twilight and Wild broke into a smile, Wind and Four also started laughing, the rest just having confusion still apparent on their faces.

After calming down and wiping your eyes, you spoke again.

“Alright, alright. Since you all are SO curious, I’ll show you. Who wants to listen to some of my music?”

[tempestgnostic]

i really just can’t express how fun WoW hardcore is, on so many levels. it’s not even just nostalgia, or that it’s a ‘shiny new toy’ for me. it’s the incredible experience of helping total strangers fight their way out of a dark cave, or tossing buffs on an adventuring party as they pass (and, mana-wise, vanilla buffs aren’t cheap!)

it’s the warrior who readies their sword and shield next to a low-health rogue who just barely made it out of Skull Rock, as if to say, “I’ve got your back.” it’s the night elf rogues crossing paths who start jumping together, one following the other’s lead, while they wordlessly try to sync up their midair front flips.

there is such a special feeling when all of this happens against the backdrop of only having one life—no resurrections, no second chances. i just can’t describe it any better than that. it’s the kind of experience i’ve had on retail, magnified a thousandfold, with the added challenge of WoW as it was when it felt like a whole different game.

the map has gotten bigger in the expansions since, yet it feels so much smaller, so much easier to traverse. (that’s not a bad thing, either. i would rather jump in a wood chipper than run around modern Azeroth on foot until level 40.) but classic hardcore feels humongous, both in breadth and in the significance of every single life. it’s more dangerous than ever—the player corpses scattered around boss camps and elite mob spawns is absolutely chilling.

i’ll probably write an essay or something about it someday. i mean, fuck, WoW has been my favorite game since i was a kid! i think this is something really special, and to be here right when it’s happening…it’s an incredible feeling.

[exagides]

Excalibur is currently embroiled in a friendly one-on-one with one of the other aegislash of his family. Wikstrom, knowing that the two are safe to duel to their hearts’ content out in the expansive gardens, stands with one foot on the bottom rung of the wooden fence, his arms rested over the top.

“You truly should aim higher, Wik.” His father says, leaning over his shoulder. Wikstrom jumps, turning from watching Excalibur. His father looms over him ( his father is so much taller — Wikstrom inherited papa’s height ) and smiles.

“I do not know what you mean.” Wikstrom says, making sure his gaze doesn’t linger too long on his father’s face. Eye contact may be polite, but it’s also an easy way to be read.

“You completed thy gym challenges rather quickly, in years past,” his father continues on. “And Excalibur could use more of a challenge.”

This again.

“I am needed here, am I not?” Wikstrom says. He already knows the answer.

“You are almost twenty. You have done so much for this family already, and verily you shall carry on the legacy of the Chevalier name quite well.” There’s that look in his father’s eyes, the one that says he’s not going to put this matter aside. “You have a natural talent for battle. That Elite Four man is looking for an apprentice to mentor…”

“I would have to challenge him first.” Wikstrom says. “And win.”

“I believe you would triumph.”

The sound of the dueling aegislash comes to a lull, and when Wikstrom looks back to Excalibur, he’s hovering closer, shield held close to himself. He looks winded — as much as a sentient sword can look as such. Wikstrom reaches out, knocking the front of his shield with his knuckles, and Excalibur makes a quiet cooing noise.

“And I do believe Excalibur thinks so, too. Do you not?” 

Excalibur already knows the topic at hand. He makes an encouraging noise, bringing his shield up higher. One swift move and the bottom edge of it knocks lightly against Wikstrom’s forehead, causing him to lean back. 

“You truly wish to pursue this?” Wikstrom asks.

Excalibur’s eye narrows at him. As if to say ‘of course, stupid’, he knocks his shield a little harder against Wikstrom’s forehead. This time it actually hurts, and Wikstrom finds himself laughing as he rubs the spot that hopefully won’t bruise.

“Fine, aye, but do not expect it to be easy,” Wikstrom warns, and he turns to his father once more. “And do not expect it to happen so quickly.”

“I have faith in you, Wikstrom.” He says. A beat passes before his father’s arm wraps around his shoulder, bringing him close to his side. “Think not of why most challenge the League, and think instead of how you helped thy friends on their personal journeys. You have potential to do that for many more.”

“You—” Wikstrom hesitates. But he knows. He’s had the same thought — the only real barrier has been the thought of leaving his family behind. The estate, the history — he doesn’t want to leave. Challenging the Elite Four with the intent to be mentored would mean leaving for a long time, and unlike going on a region-wide journey, he would be moving completely. Away. To be closer to the League.

But that’s really no excuse, not when there’s so much good he could do if he were to make it. And doesn't his father already know what would make his heart happiest?

“You are right.”

[fancycat-thesilvertux]

Here’s some of my theories for the Pokémon Scarlet and Violet DLC or at least hopes for the DLC.

So we know from the games that there’s actually three schools mentioned not just the two we’re familiar with. During the League interview, Manzana Academy is also mentioned. It’s possible that it’s a joke, but what if it isn’t? What if there’s possibly another academy that’s rival to the one the MC attends, and we might see that in the DLC?

It’s perfectly reasonable that we wouldn’t get to see it in the main game since from how the DLC space on the map looks, it could be Kalos, and there’d plenty of speculation that the two regions are connected. It could be that Manzana Academy is open grounds to Kalos but the founder was from Paldea hence the name.

And so for the DLC, my theory for it is that the MC alongside others from the academy the MC attends will be chosen to attend a tournament hosted at Manzana Academy, meaning we’d get to meet new characters and learn more about the DLC area since in the expansion pass the Isle of Armor, the dojo allowed for exploration of the area in completing tasks. It might be a similar concept then, but incorporating more school things.

Another thing is, we might possibly see Arven’s other parent! It’s shown in the game that if you’re playing Scarlet, Turo left just after Arven was born, and in Violet, Sada. We have closure on the parent that stayed behind with Arven, what happened with them, but not Arven’s other parent. There’s a likely chance we’ll see them in the DLC if they work as the professor for the rival academy!

Depending on which game you play, the book has an imagined Pokémon that’s secreted with censored letters. It’s theorized there’ll be two expansions like with what Sword and Shield did, one focusing on an extension of the paradox forms and the other focusing on this new Pokémon, which means we might be getting more lore regarding how time works in Area Zero, because in the case of Pokémon Violet where it’s Pokémon from the future, the leading thought is temporal anomalies that allow Pokémon from the future to cross over into present day, whereas in Scarlet, the properties of Area Zero allowed the prehistoric Pokémon to survive to present day.

Anyways, that’s just my thoughts on the DLC!

[cucarachachavez]

Starting with Generation VI of Pokémon and onwards, each Generation introduced a new feature that may or may not be permanent (not counting new Types like Fairy or the Stellar-Tera Type).

With that being said, when it comes to Mega Evolutions, my most favorite are those of the Fully-Evolved Hoenn Starter Trio.

My Favorite Z-Moves are from Primarina (Primarium-Z), and Lycanroc (Midday Form, to be exact; Lycanium-Z). I do plan to use Decidueye's Decidium-Z, and Incineroar's Incinium-Z in a later Playthrough of both Pokémon: Ultra Sun, and Ultra Moon.

My Favorite Regional Forms are Alolan Sandshrew, Alolan Sandslash, Hisuian Decidueye, and Hisuian Typhlosion (I do plan to use Hisuian Samurott in a Future Pokémon Legends: Arceus Gameplay, though).

My Favorite Gigantamax Forms are those of Charizard, Rillaboom, Inteleon, and Hatterene (I do plan to play with the Gigantamax Forms of Venusaur, Blastoise, Pikachu, and Cinderace in a Future Gameplay of either Pokémon: Sword or Shield + Expansion Pass).

As far as Terastallization goes, I like it, but I don't really have a favorite, unless you really want to count the Stellar-Tera Type, which I used on an Arceus. I thought it was rather fitting.

Come to think of it, I think it started earlier with Generation V, with the introduction of Triple Battles and Rotation Battles, which were rarely, if ever, used after Gen V. I thought Triple Battles were amazing, actually.

[bruxby]

# The Quiet Before In the floating gardens of the Seventh Heaven, where light itself seemed to pool like liquid gold, the angels gathered in their moments of respite. The last battle had left its mark – not in physical scars, for their celestial forms healed differently than mortal flesh – but in the weight of memory and the echo of clashing wings. Sariel sat cross-legged beneath a tree with leaves of pure light, ancient scrolls hovering before her like suspended droplets of morning dew. Her fingers traced the Enochian symbols as they shifted and rearranged themselves, revealing deeper layers of divine strategy. "The demons adapted," she murmured to herself. "Their formations have evolved since the First War." Nearby, Raziel stood perfectly still in a shallow pool of starlight, his six wings folded close against his back. His eyes were closed, but beneath their lids, galaxies seemed to spin. He was deep in communion with the cosmic forces, seeking patterns in the grand tapestry of creation that might reveal the enemy's next move. The youngest among them, Haniel, knelt in a grove of crystal flowers, her hands clasped in prayer. Unlike her combat-hardened siblings, she had only witnessed two great battles, but the weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon her spirit. "Grant us wisdom," she whispered, and the flowers chimed softly in harmony with her words. "Not just strength to strike, but understanding to know when mercy might turn the tide." Uriel paced the perimeter, his flaming sword temporarily dimmed to a gentle glow. He had taken to studying the archived memories of past conflicts, learning from both victories and defeats. "Brother," he called to Michael, who stood at the garden's edge gazing into the infinite expanse, "I've noticed something in the patterns of their assault." Michael turned, his armor temporarily set aside, wearing only a simple robe that rippled with subtle constellations. "Share your insights," he replied, moving to join his fellow warrior. The commander of the heavenly host had learned long ago that wisdom often came from unexpected sources. In a secluded alcove, Gabriel sat with a chorus of cherubim, teaching them ancient battle hymns whose harmonies could strengthen divine shields and heal wounded spirits. The music drifted through the garden like incense, weaving together with the prayers and meditations of the others. Between them all moved Raphael, the healer, offering guidance and comfort where needed. He paused beside each of his siblings, sharing a word here, a gentle touch there, helping them process the traumas of war without losing their divine compassion. "Remember," he would say, "our strength lies not just in our power, but in our capacity to love even those who oppose us." As the light shifted in what passed for evening in this celestial realm, the angels gradually drew together in a circle. They shared what they had learned – battle strategies and cosmic insights, prayers and revelations, songs of power and words of healing. Their grace mingled and strengthened, preparing them for whatever would come next. They knew the demons would return. They always did. But in these precious moments of peace, the angels found not just rest but growth. Their power was not merely in their divine weapons or thunderous wings, but in their unity, their wisdom, and their unwavering faith in the light they served. As stars began to bloom in the endless sky above their sanctuary, they continued their vigil – learning, growing, and preparing. For when the next battle came, they would face it not just with strength of arms, but with the accumulated wisdom of their contemplation, the power of their prayers, and the unshakeable bond of their celestial fellowship.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Fictober 2024 ~ 18

"you always have a plan"

Fanfiction: DA2 I'm stubborn and refuse to skip a prompt even if I'm struggling with something to come up with, but I will continue. Can also be found on Ao3

Seth struggled against the rope cutting into his wrists. There were several templars patrolling the small shack in which he had been captured. From their whispers to each other that they thought were hidden from Seth, he gathered they were not part of the same sect of templars in Kirkwall. At least, if they were, they were not happy with Meredith’s command. Still, the fact that they caught him off-guard and dragged him to a shack in the middle of the woods was surprising. 

The templar that stood guard over him actively radiated with a power that dulled Seth’s magic. Seth didn’t mind because it seemed to not fully effect him. However, if he wanted to escape, he would have had to use blood magic. There were about twenty templars in the shack with him with a few more patrolling outside. Seth really had no idea why there were so many, nor why they had deigned to capture the Champion of Kirkwall, or what they were waiting for. They all ignored Seth when he spoke, not even glaring his direction. 

So the mage had slumped against the wall with a grouchy look on his face. He was certain his friends would find him; at least Anders would have raised some concern once Seth had not visited him at least once today. 

He didn’t know how long time passed but he heard a slight commotion outside of the shack. Then the door burst open and a frantic templars shouted to his companions. “There’s an abomination outside! Quickly, defenses!” 

Most of the templars unsheathed their swords immediately and followed their comrade. That left about five. Seth could easily take them. 

He begun to use the claw of his gauntlet to scratch into his skin, angling his bound wrists so that his finger could reach the bare expanse of forearm he had. However, before he could even draw enough blood to do anything, the door swung back open and three of the guards fell with crossbow bolts in their throats. A figure with a sword and shield ran in and easily cut the last two templars who were surprised at the quickness of their comrades’ deaths. 

Once the sword and shield figured killed the last templar, they rose and headed towards Seth. He relaxed once he saw the fiery red hair of Aveline and her freckled face. There was a smile on her face as she leaned down next to him. “So,” she began, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes, “how’d this happen.” She motioned to the templars. Varric came into the shack as she did, the dwarf reloading his crossbow. 

Seth shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” Aveline just chuckled slightly before reaching towards Seth’s back and cutting his ropes. She offered a hand and helped him up. Seth rubbed his wrists and nodded his head in thanks. “You always have a plan,” he said. 

Aveline shook her head. “Not my plan. Your lover’s plan.”

Varric chuckled. “You should have seen the concern and anger on Blondie’s face when he came to find us.” 

“Wait,” Seth looked at the door of the shack. “Are you telling me he’s out there fighting twenty templars by himself?”

“Well, Justice is.” 

Seth didn’t hear the next thing Varric was about to say before he was already out of the shack. There were templar bodies all around the front of the shack and he could hear the sounds of fighting. He looked to the right and saw Anders in the midst of the templars, skin cracked with blue glowing lines and his eyes raging blue fire. The templars were trying to use their powers against Anders, but to no avail. 

Seth grabbed a sword from one of the templars and began running to his love, cutting down two templars on his way. He grabbed the air around another and slammed them down with force, cracking their bones. He used his force magic to push the other templars slowly overwhelming Anders away. The firey eyes of Justice met with Seth’s for a moment before turning around and finishing another templar behind him. 

Varric and Aveline joined the fray, but there wasn’t much left to kill before the fight settled. Seth dropped his stolen templar sword and looked at Anders. The spirit’s eyes flickered out and Anders golden-amber eyes returned, full of relief as he ran towards Seth and crushed him in a hug. Seth merely smiled and held his love in his arms. 

Anders pulled back, hands still on Seth’s shoulders and looked him over. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” Suddenly, Seth felt the cool and soothing magic of healing wash over his body, closing up a tiny wound on his arm. 

He merely let out a chuckle and put his hand on Anders’s cheek. “I’m fine love. Promise.” 

“Do you have any idea why these templars captured you?” Aveline asked.

Seth shrugged, turning to look at her, but taking Anders’s hand in his. “They weren’t part of Meredith’s flock, that’s for sure. They were talking shit about her the entire time.” 

“Maybe they were,” Varric countered, “but didn’t like how she’s running things.” 

“Still, to capture the Champion of Kirkwall is a bold move,” Aveline frowned, crossing her arms. 

Seth rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, we know Meredith would lock me up the chance she could.” 

“She would have more issues on her hands,” Anders replied. “The people of Kirkwall look up to you, even if you are a mage.” 

Varric nodded. “It’s true. You would not believe how many people are talking about wanting you to become viscount.” 

There was a moment of silence before Seth let out a confused laugh. “Yeah right. That’d bring the entire Chantry down on Kirkwall.” 

Aveline shrugged. “I’d prefer you over any of the snobbish nobles that may take up the position. Definitely more than Meredith.” 

Seth shook his head. “Yeah I don’t really feel like having the Chantry blow a fuse because a mage became the ruling figure of Kirkwall.” 

Anders chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time, considering Kirkwall was once part of the Imperium.” 

Seth just shook his head again, but smiled. “How about we put Varric up there instead.” 

The dwarf’s smile dropped and he rapidly shook his head. “Oh no, nuh uh. I am not going anywhere near that office.”

The others laughed and began to make their way back to Kirkwall. 

[darthpeezy]

Instead, he had found a new home away from the vices of the palace where the Baron reigned supreme and Feyd was but a usurper manoeuvring for advantage. In the depth of the Giedi Prime, the underground party scene thrived with or without Feyd.

It was a lawless land of decadence and carnal vice, where violence and sex were secondary to the pleasures of drugs and music.

It had become something of a second home now that his preferred hunting grounds were stolen and so he made his way there now, pausing only to change into something more fitting. Layers of thin dark silk draped over his flesh, a hood veiling his face. He openly wore his preferred knife and made his way out of the palace.

Hyperaware of observers, Feyd noticed immediately when he was being stalked. It was common for people to stop what they were doing and stare at his passage through the world. After all, he was the son of Härkä, the living divinity of Giedi Prime. They revered him, they feared him.

They loved him as well.

This, though, was not the distant veneration of a supplicant before their god. This was a spy hunting him. How odd. He’d purged the palace of spies only a month ago. Like rats, they reproduced faster than they could be slaughtered. Human rats, bought with spice and coin, made dishonourable by family held hostage and leverage applied just right.

And so, he cast his immense senses out and laid bare the world around him. The usual mix of guards, petitioners, distant relatives, and the dross of slaves. Uninteresting. A new spy, watching from an alcove they always gravitated towards, sparing a moment to gesture at a palace guard to handle the matter. Finally, his senses alighted on one who was like a void—no, not a void, a shape that permitted all things to pass through it without issue, never affected by outside forces.

He knew his observer immediately.

Feyd did not trust the Bene Gesserit witch on this world. He did not know why she was present. What purpose had spurred her to come to Giedi six months ago? Already, she was a fixture in the politics of the world, enjoying an elevated place in the Harkonnen court. Now she followed him. Why, he could not say.

The undercity welcomed Feyd. Where the Palace complex was vast, cold, and made to intimidate, the undercity was uncomfortably warm and narrow. It shared the same organic design theme, the same adoration for darkness, but colour could be more carefully controlled without the worry of the black sun bleaching away all. Dark reds, royal purples, and blues like the night sky. Steel girders holding up vast caverns, narrow walkways lit in neon pinks, and not a cool breeze to cut through the smell of humans packed too closely together. The sounds of slaves sold and assassins bought, mercenaries preparing for their next job, people dying inside alleys and beneath dark arches. The unashamed cries of ecstasy from the pleasure houses, male and female alike, in every combination and variation.

It was all Giedi Prime, just as the expansive and ominous Palace was Giedi Prime. In the end, sex, violence, and control defined every strata of society. It was the freest land in the Imperium. No one at all cared that two men might fuck, but they would judge whether they fucked intimately in a bed or with cold indifference on the streets—more importantly, they cared who was free, who was indentured servant, and who was slave in these relations. That Feyd’s darling assassins were intimate was not remarked. Their lack of nobility or peerage had caused issues. Enough women lived by the sword and died by it, many who would have been named swordmasters if the war schools ever realised genitals had no bearing on how well you could penetrate a shield and slice a throat. Giedi understood the danger of a woman better than most.

These ‘lawless’ lands were the reason Feyd held honour so tightly. He was as he was, and no force could change him. He held pride in being an inviolable force in a universe where the rest of the peerage pretended to be different from the people buying whores and the whores being fucked. Men died. Women died. There was no higher purpose. Even he, son of the death-ox, would die as well and embody the very aspect of death he represented. But unlike the rest, he would die without being compromised, living true to himself and his purpose.

With this great derision for the Imperium in mind, Feyd entered his preferred club. One where anyone could enter so long as they had the means. For Feyd, Giedi’s favoured son, that means was merely dropping his hood and revealing his face. For the wealthy, they paid copious amounts for membership. For the poor, they snuck in or bribed their way or stole passes from others.

Music assaulted him as he entered, deep percussive sounds that shook his bones. He was led to his preferred VIP area, something of a circular mezzanine in the centre of the club, casting a dark shadow over the dancing pits.

He was offered drugs by a servant almost as soon as he sat on the leather seat wrapping around much of the level. One did not merely drink or do drugs. One drank and did drugs to get into the mood for festivities. And Feyd, truthfully, needed more than most to calm his mind and dull his paranoia.

Many approached the throne he made of the couch. He enjoyed the games they played. Some with manipulation, others with simpering facades. Others, though, the prettiest or the most interesting, he permitted to stay for the main event. He rather liked the look of the dark-haired foreigner, lithe and hard, eyes the gentlest shade of green, but knew the true source of his fascination. Knew why he could not look away when the boy removed his jacket and threw it carelessly over the back of the couch. Had Feyd held slightly less honour, he may very well have taken the boy there and then.

As it was, he was left with merely watching as the boy fell victim to an older woman with a smile sharper than any blade Feyd had access to. The boy wouldn’t survive the night. But, well, he put on a decent show kissing the woman who showed him more gentleness than he likely received on Giedi where intimacy was a rarity. The boy was a fool not to recognise a mantis.

His great interest, of course, was the Bene Gesserit who found her way to the mezzanine, a stunning shock of cream and white that took on the colours of the lights. She kept a few bodies between her and Feyd, pretending to be interested in speaking to a poet who was quite decent at his trade. Decent enough that Feyd permitted his continued presence.

And so, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, king of the underworld, drank and enjoyed poetry made on the spot, added his own commentary, and suggested a violent seasonal theme here and there. He took some crushed drug and valiantly endured his erection as two women fucked above him, the two intentionally minoring the soon-to-be-dead boy and the older lady, leather creaking as they made a glorious spectacle.

As the day died and midnight came, the main festivities began. Music silenced, the sounds of people and flesh suddenly overwhelming.

Lights came alive, blindingly bright. They illuminated the approach of men carrying a body on a table. They were efficient in laying the table and its body down in the center of the mezzanine. The slave on the table had been saturated with a mix of the spice melange and hallucinogenic drugs till the veins beneath his flesh glowed blue and his eyes were sapphire. Tied down on a central table, he was unable to move. An offworlder, Feyd observed, by the spiky flames of his hair, dressed only in a grey codpiece that jutted out to the sides.

A fine specimen.

An expensive offering.

The manager of the club supplicated himself before Feyd and unveiled a black carving knife.

Feyd was guest of honour in all places upon Giedi Prime. There was no home that would not open its doors to him, no club that would dare give him anything but the most exclusive viewing platform, no shop that would deny his request, and certainly no person who would give him anything but the best cut of human flesh.

He took the blade gleefully and staggered to the slave. This would be his first kill of the day.

The first cut was so perfectly executed that the slave did not feel pain until his eyes observed the slit running down from collar to waist. When he did, his screams resounded through the silent club observing the sacrifice. His pain echoed and echoed, a harmony all its own. Feyd added his own song to the screams, a deep lilting rasp like rattlesnakes preparing to strike, and made another incision. It was rare he sang but he was a son of Giedi Prime and knew her instruments.

Feyd was agonisingly hard, his erection straining against his underlayer. He could feel the damp stain developing, turning his robes glossy, and felt no shame in it. There was honour in this, in loving one’s craft so greatly. Now if only the boy watching him with glossy eyes and a blush would fall to his knees and make use of his pout.

He was careful to remove the intestines and laid them to the side, gesturing for someone to bring a bowl to catch them. It wouldn’t do for them to rip accidentally and hasten the slave’s death. It was a simple task, one he gave little mind to. He was most keen for the liver and so removed it next, making only the most careful incisions. He laid it upon a plate brought to him and instructed the resident surgeon to keep the slave alive.

Feyd gestured for the meal to be shared with all. This was his benevolence.

He cut a slice of the hot liver and presented it to the Bene Gesserit. To do so before tasting it was to elevate her, honour her as though she were a Baroness. The Bene Gesserit was eminently graceful as she picked up the slice of human liver with her eating sticks and brought it to her mouth. It was so filled with spice that it left trails of blue on her lips.

Feyd could only see Paul in that moment, a ghost of his true desire overlaying Bene Gesserit lies. He could not help the way his throat went tight or the strength of his arousal. Could not look away as the witch cut another slice and brought it to her lips.

Could not move as she leaned in with an offering caught between her lips.

Her lips were soft, gentle, stained in spice-saturated blood. Warm liver, warm lips, warm life. Cinnamon bloomed in his mouth as he was kissed, spice heightening his awareness. He felt the world reveal itself to him as his senses blossomed. It felt like he could bridge the galaxy with but a thought, folding space with nothing but intent. The stars, he felt them as they lived and died in glorious cataclysm. The cold of space, the warmth of living worlds. Life found a way no matter the implausibility. And where life bloomed, death stalked close behind. Millions dying every minute in their varied ways. From those falling in battle to those passing ignobly in hospitals, from children strangled by parents and brother poisoning sister, Feyd felt it all.

He came, then, the force of it pulling him out of his heightened awareness. His hardness throbbed as it spurted through his robes. The force of it did not surprise him when months had gone by since he last felt release. He was more confused that the Bene Gesserit could elicit this from him.

Feyd offered her something approaching a smile. Then, he allowed the others in the mezzanine to enjoy the liver as well while he descended to the throng of people. He saw the entrance was open, and through it, he saw the crowd extended much further, into the narrow streets. It explained the smell of street food slowly overlaying the smell of flesh. Food and blood and sex and drugs. Ceremony and sacrifice and music and dance. The full range of Giedi’s delicacies on display.

The world twisted with each step that seemed to take an eternity, lights running like syrup. The concoction of psychoactive drugs and the spice melange distorting his reality. He descended as a living divinity to be amidst his followers and accepted their prayers, his name spoken with reverence.

The press of bodies around him, the churn of sweating bodies and ecstatic minds melding to the beat of the music. It encompassed his existence. He was but a conduit for them to know themselves, to see divine perfection and to understand their inadequacy. To fear his animalistic grace, to love the fear he exuded, and to revere how easily he commanded it.

Many touched him, reverent and uncertain. Fearing a lost limb as punishment. Some were bold enough to kiss his flesh and taste a living god. Some licked his robes where his seed seeped through. But mostly, it became a festival of flesh and sex. One with Feyd at the very center of it all.

How long this went on, Feyd could not say. Not as he was showered by veneration and worship. Eventually, under the strobing lights that oscillated between neon pink and liquid gold, he noticed the fool boy with the green eyes watching Feyd, and beside him the woman who intended to kill the boy. Saw how easily he leaned into her every touch, fooled so easily by intimacy. Or perhaps this was a protracted suicide by one who journeyed across the galaxy for a place to be accepted and found it so different from the stories.

She noticed his observation. Offered to share her kill with a few glances. Feyd accepted gladly. Took the willing boy in his arms and danced with him, cared little as bony arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. The narrow column of his neck enticed, and so Feyd bit him there, suckling on the bite mark. Enjoyed the gasps he teased out of this overconfident boy looking for any intimacy, so alone that he would die for it. Feyd ran his hands up and down his flanks, prying the boy out of his tunic. Mouthed against his sweaty collar as Feyd worked to remove his pants and reveal his caged manhood. One leg first made its way around his waist and then another. The boy was plump where Feyd expected hard muscle, the shock of it pulling him back before he did something he regretted like kissing him on the mouth. He focused on his true purpose, ignored the sweet nothings the boy babbled as Feyd consumed him and held him in place, and signalled the very amused woman. She approached and crowded the boy, holding him with one arm around the chest. Laying gentle kisses down the boy’s neck, showing such sweet affection. When she entered the boy, the boy’s stuttering gasp was like music.

At the height of his pleasure, when he spilt through the bars of his golden cage, was his fate sealed.

Her blade was thin, glistening with poison, and cut through the boy’s abdomen so gracefully that he did not notice, could not with the drugs and alcohol consumed. She did so at the same moment she pulled out to mask the shock of pain. Feyd felt it, the boy’s shudder, and the slickness of crimson spilling rapidly, never slowing.

It was only near the end, when it was far too late, that the boy developed an inkling of his demise. The haze in his eyes falling away, flickers of awareness shining through. The boy was beautiful in his dying moments and so Feyd kissed him on his plump lips, tasted the blood he gurgled in those final seconds. Imagined, for a split second, how tight he would be around Feyd’s cock.

He lowered the boy gently to the ground. Held his neck and his hand as oblivion beckoned sweetly. Thought only of Paul and missed his conniving witch.

“You died well,” he said in the truest compliment he could offer.

Green eyes fluttered as the boy whispered something inaudible. Thank you, he imagined those plump lips would say.

Finally, he set the corpse down and rose.

The cheer that arose near startled him. So focused was he that he forgot the adoring crowd.

“Härkä,” they sang in a multitude of accents.

He had made beauty of death and they rejoiced in it.

They raised their clasped hands to him as they did to the black sun. Worshipped their living god who had consecrated this newly holy space with blood and semen and spice. He knew with certainty that this would become a pilgrimage site for the true believers.

some iconic hit tweets from @ quibvs on twitter that made me cackle

[magerennii]

Introductions:

Hello everyone! I’m Rennii, well that’s what I go by online. I use she/her pronouns, and I have a great love of gaming, specifically mmos, rpgs and the like. Right now I’m neck deep in the new ffxiv expansion as well as eagerly awaiting the new wow expansion to drop. I also play dnd as well as larp and write stories for these characters. I have two main OCs that I write for.

My OCs:

Sarina Sheburla is a dark elf blood magic fighter hailing from a small island in the larp I attend. Shes been through a lot and has a slightly short temper, but she cares about those she’s with and will go to great lengths to make sure they stay safe and most importantly, alive. She has thrown herself in front of blows to take the brundt. Her main attire includes a scale-mail shirt, a shield, her sword, and a set of black diamond jewelry. She is missing an arm that’s been replaced by a metal prosthetic that functions like a real arm(think Edward Elric from fma:b). She will normally be who I write the most about as she’s the easiest to write for. My profile pic is a picrew of her, at least as close as I could get.

Ruiling Shadepaw/Rusulka was my first larp character. She was a red panda ferakin(human with animal features) set in the same universe as Sarina. She went through a lot through the course of her time eventually culminating in becoming the goddess of shadow magic. While she was still a mortal, she was very much the one that liked calling the shots, and hated being questioned. Her favored weapon was a bow and arrow, offering cover fire for those she was using to advance her own goals. Once she ascended, she took up a new moniker of rusulka, letting her old name fall to the sands of time. 100 years passed and most everyone knows her as Rusulka, or to those that follow her, the shadow mother.

A few others will occasionally appear, but those are some of my close friends characters. Most notably, Ephraim, Xane, Monty, Delmira, Tris, and conall are who will be referenced in writings where they are involved.

Most of my writing will be various prompts. I’m slightly inconsistent with my writing as I need to have the mood strike for it, as well as get writing.

[mairenspokemonadventures]

Hello again after so long! After the last entry, I couldn't get my phone and switch to connect for the photo transfers, and tried screenshotting with my phone directly but the quality was no good, so I just put this journal on pause.

That doesn't mean I haven't been enjoying pokemon in the meantime though! I reached endgame on Arceus and never realized how many legendaries we had access to in that game!

After thinking about it for a bit, I decided to move from shield to sword instead for me and Fen's playthrough. For one thing, I like sword dog more than shield dog. And secondly, I have the expansion pass purchased for sword, but not shield, so this way will save some money. I did transfer my beloved team from shield before starting my new sword adventure, so it's full steam ahead! Below is my current character's appearance.