#the same commander through to be wayfinder

[sleidog]

don't feel like spreading the poll of the week because theres enough negativity and pointed-ness around, however

[venture4treasure]

"Footnote"

Words: 1065

Premise: Venture and Ex-Talon!Reader talk about history to-be.

Warnings: Scars, Description of violence 

Sprawled out across Venture’s lap with the afternoon sun warming your back is one of the most pleasant ways to spend your down time. You shove your face into the pillow between you and Venture, mind begging for a nap. They rest their hand on your back, tracing down the shape of your spine, you melt into the feeling. Their hand sneaks under your shirt and trails back up your back. You can feel their calluses against your skin, scratching an itch you didn’t realize you had. 

You hear their breath hitch and you lift your head to see what’s caught their attention. Their hand is stopped at the edge of a large scar that tore across your back. The scar tissue is smooth and pale, dipped slightly lower than the rest of your skin. It's also violently jagged and marred, few things could leave a scar like that.

“You can touch it, not like I can feel anything there anymore,” you laugh, trying to bring up the mood. You drop your head back onto the pillow.  

“I did this to you,” Venture frowns, ignoring your comment.

You roll over, turning your back against the couch. Venture’s hand finds its place on your stomach instead. You're a bit annoyed that your afternoon took a turn like this — you could be napping right now. And recalling the story of the scar isn’t nice either, the reminder is enough to make the area tingle with a phantom pain you shouldn’t even be able to feel. 

Nobody forgets how it feels to be on the receiving end of a proper fight with Venture, the tremors and rumble from their drill. The feeling of plates and threads meant for cutting stone against flesh. It’s unforgettable. 

—

You’d genuinely believed you were going to die that day. 

You had been with Talon back then, out in the field to find whatever it was that your commander sent your team out to find. ‘You’ll know when you find it’ was all the details you were given – you’d nearly rolled your eyes at him when you’d been given the order.

The search crossed paths with Overwatch and the Wayfinder Society. It was unlucky that both groups would be at the same site your team was assigned to. You were all ill-prepared to handle Overwatch, much less both organizations at once. You had call the shots, you told your crew to retreat and that whatever consequences Talon had for your cowardice would be easier to handle than if Overwatch had gotten ahold of you guys – despite being Talon-affiliated, your team weren’t bad people and definitely didn’t deserve to be doomed to whatever fate ‘good guys’ wrote for them.

You would’ve gotten away too if Venture hadn’t caught you – your first meeting. They had been mad, screamed and shouted about artifacts and history. You didn’t really register anything about what they were saying, the sound of rushing blood deafened you. You had every intention to put a bullet in their head and book it before any backup arrived. Unfortunately, ever stubborn and skilled, Venture didn’t withdraw at the notion of a gunfight. They fought well with such an unconventional weapon. Impressive in retrospect, but horrifying in the moment. There was no way for you to land a good shot with the way they were moving and defending. No matter how much you backed up, they closed the space between you two faster. 

Too close, you had managed to keep Venture from slamming their excavator into your front point-blank by swinging your rifle at it. The drill sent painful tremors through your arms when your gun made contact – if you had a spare moment, you’d wonder how Venture was even holding it. Having traded your weapon to save your life, you couldn’t do anything when Venture swung again except dive out of the way. 

You weren’t fast enough, the drill ripped through the clothes and flesh of your back and sent you face first into the ground. You had screamed, raw and fear-filled. It seemed to snap some sense into Venture, who shut off their excavator, the silence without the engine was suffocating. They approached you and you could see your own blood drip off the ridges of their weapon. They had a scowl on their face as they radioed their location and reluctantly threw their jacket on your wound and pressed to keep you from bleeding out. They mumbled about how it was the ‘right thing to do’. 

—

“I was on the wrong side of history then,” you shrug, your feigned nonchalance breaking Venture out of their remorseful thoughts. They chuckle a bit. 

“There’s no real wrong side of history,” Venture smiles down at you, their mind now on a different train of thought, “history is written by the winners, and everyone wants to win in the present”. 

You swat at the air, “technicalities and whatever. You think you’re the good guys, no? So, therefore, you should think that I was on the wrong side of history. Simple”.

“Uh-huh,” they say, amused at your logic. 

They watch you with a soft expression, wearing the golden hour sunlight so prettily. Your heart stutters at the sight. 

“Look,” you swallow, “it’s my eternal joy to be able to spend my life as yours”.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Venture coos, unsure where the unprompted affection is coming from, but happy to hear it nonetheless, “I love you t-”

You pull at their shirt, tugging them down to meet them halfway for a kiss. They give into you easily. 

“Sloan- No,” you correct yourself, “Venture”.

Your voice saying their call sign catches their complete attention.

“Venture,” you reiterate, your hand tangling in theirs, “your story was meant for the history books. Venture will be remembered for years and years after we’re all long gone. Venture of the Wayfinder Society, Venture of Overwatch, you’re destined for the spotlight in history. Maybe you’ll even get your own chapter,” you laugh.

“Right or wrong side of history, I’m happy to be just a footnote in your story”, you add softer, “as your lover”.

Venture hisses something in Spanish – you’re certain it’s a swear. 

They squeeze your hand, “Amor, I’ll make sure my story is a good one so you can be proud to be a part of it,” they promise with unwavering conviction. 

“I know,” you breathe, “I know you will, Sloan Cameron”.

Author’s Note: Reader’s fight with Venture was when Overwatch was first building relations with the Wayfinder Society. So, new and inexperienced, Venture mostly fought on instinct and emotion. They aren’t as violent anymore in fights. 

If you made me write out the entire story in my mind, it’s enemies to lovers. Slow burn, but picks up pretty fast once Reader and Venture’s relationship shifts from negative to friendly. During Reader’s time as a captive, Venture is constantly dropping by to share information about artifacts, at first to guilt-trip Reader and later it evolves into a daily routine to share about their day to Reader. Eventually, this relationship convinces Reader to spill what they know about Talon. Venture convinces Overwatch to let Reader go. Now they both live together and fall in love and all that good fun. Cheers! 

Hope it’s not too out of character… I haven’t been able to consume much Venture content lately :( It got harder and harder to get the confidence to write again, so I sat down (reminded myself that I am supposed to be less critical of my writing here) and just wrote whatever I wanted :)

[rosewoodroad]

Rant/Critique/Brain Vomit on the SoTO story updates

I've seen some people expressing their thoughts on the latest SoTO update(s) and it gave me some courage to discuss my own. Overall, my sentiments are the same- I've been getting progressively dissatisfied with how the story is being executed, and I'm not ashamed to say it's because the Commander stopped mattering.

And I'm not referring to the disrespect we got in the main SoTO expansion- because that is the exact opposite of what I'm criticising. I'm referring to the sheer lack of interaction the Commander has had with the world and story since. The immersion is just not there anymore.

To be frank, the Commander is far from the usual MMO player avatar. They actually have a base personality in their own right. What's more, they have a canonical history that we actually played through and saw progress in real time. They are the protagonist character of GW2 and not just a window for us to peer into Tyria through.

This is why I thought SoTO's main expac story was actually pretty fun. The Commander's existing history coloured most of our interactions in the world.

The wizards either hated or loved us- but we got to work on making them fear us less. Some demon lady invades our brain because we died and undied once, and we had to figure out if she was an ally or not. Her big brother kidnaps us twice because being a Dragon Champion smells good or something. Zojja is back and showers us in her friendship angst- all because of this history, which was all great!! It showed that we were actually a part of their world, somebody they could talk to or yell at, we had and continue to have impact!!

We weren't the driving narrative force, but we were at least interacting with and nudging the story forward as a protagonist.

Aaand all of this was totally missing in the dribbling updates that followed.

Let's recap- we joined Peitha in Inner Nayos and started punching out demons. And we're still punching out demons. I mean, yeah, that's why we're there in the first place, but what else is there? We find Arina, but she's totally unbothered by us messing up her initial plans and getting quite a few of her men killed. We meet Ramses, but he's 100% chill with us, nice to meet you Wayfinder, let's go kill Heitor. Eparch, the guy who found us 'entertaining' enough to whisper a warning to at the end of SoTO, doesn't even acknowledge us. Nephus, who sounds like their world's version of the Commander, talks to us like... twice. Peitha, the big mysterious sexy demon lady we had fun back-and-forths with, stopped chatting with us entirely (and we also immediately trust her despite the lack of communication).

It's all so... apathetic. You could argue that they just don't know or care about who the Commander is, but then what is the point of us being there when some Other Guy could've taken our place? The protagonist isn't protagonisting anymore and has been relegated to being a transparent sheet of plastic for us to just watch the story unfold by itself, totally hands-off. It's hard to care about a story when it doesn't care about us.

I'm still invested in the story (and Peitha) enough to play through the remaining update, because I love me a good revolution, but I cannot deny that I am officially bored with it too.

[bigsnaff]

Months pass in Nayos, and Cyna experiences a taste of revenancy, to her great chagrin.

I hold nothing for you in my heart but hate.

The words don't phase Cyna – she's known this man, this ghost of Ascalon, Merlish Cendigg, for little over a few months. What power do his words have to her? As though they were new to her ears? But she knows that every little word he breathes against her breaks down whatever thin veil of camaraderie that builds. Every time they fought together, every drop of blood spilled of their foes between them. 

It wasn't forced upon her; she had accepted the spear from Isgarren of her own will, though perhaps at the time she didn't fully recognize the weight of it, the value, or the burden. The events preceding their entrance to Nayos were rattling to her mind, a rushing wind past her ears. She accepted the weapon blindly. But now she knows it was more than just another tool like the Heart of the Obscure.

In Nayos, Cyna steps back for once and allows herself to be the one commanded. A foot soldier once again, an expendable sword on the frontline. It's almost a relief to leave the consequences to someone else for once, as Peitha orders her blade here and there — until the guilt weeds its way back into her mind, and she looks over to the ghost at her side and knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

She finds humor in the fact that the otherworldly being who wormed her way into her mind was more amiable than the human from her own world. Though whether that amiability is born from sincerity, she didn’t yet know. In truth, she didn't know who she trusted more. She had slaughtered enough Kryptis at this point that, had it not been in self defense, it could’ve been considered genocide — and Merlish, of course, had witnessed his kingdom’s fall at the hands of her race.

Both of them had enough reason to level her.

She and Merlish are alone so often. She carries the spear with her closer than she carries her blade. Clusters of crystal grow from it with each swing, with each thrust of her power forced through it, though she could not control it. She stands as sentry at the edge of the Ward’s camp, watching as he pries the crystals off the spear and crushes them to dust in his palm. She doesn’t stop him. The spear harbored his soul; was it not an intrusion upon his being? She felt foolish.

“I’m sorry,” she has the gall to say, somehow, though it will happen again and again. The glow from his presence reaches farther than the meager light of the embers of her campfire. It's brighter than the ghosts she would fight in Ascalon, and she wonders why. “...I can’t help it.”

“Then you’re weak,” he says simply, without emotion behind the words. It’s meant to just be a statement, Cyna thinks. But still a low growl rises from her chest. She’d been uniquely patient until now. 

“It’s different magic than you use.”

“The fundamentals of all magic begin and end the same,” he says, holding up the last of the crystals between his fingers. His glow catches within it, scattering it like a prism. She closes her eyes against the influx of memories.

“I’ve been dealing with it for years. It’s dragon magic. Don’t act like you understand,” she tosses back, and it’s the first time yet that she’s ever heard him laugh. It’s louder than she expected, but there's little joy behind it. He twirls the shard between his fingers as she watches mist waft off him like flames – the mundanity of the action contrasting so starkly against what he was.

“Wayfinder–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“...Commander — strike with a hammer with however much force you please, but aim.” He crushes the final crystal in his hand and releases the fragments to the wind. She huffs. It's hardly a lesson. But he's more pleasant than she recalls him being in a while, so she refrains from adding fuel to the flame. Instead she looks away and watches the red leaves of Nayos trees dance in the wind.

Cyna hadn’t pondered as much on Ascalon as she likely should’ve — though she had grown up in Grothmar Valley, distant from the epicenter of Ascalon’s fall, even when she and her warband migrated south to battle the Dragonbrand, the ghosts seemed no more to her than another environmental hazard. She favored the ever-growing disaster that plagued Ascalon’s East rather than the echoes trapped in endless reverberation. She grinds her teeth at this thought. They were people, once, though hatred shared between their kinds. It’s bizarre to imagine the ghost before her there. Though she had met much older beings, there’s something about Merlish that seemed inherently… antique.

She has watched Merlish as executioner, in her mind’s eye placing herself into a time that she had not yet set foot into the world, when fear and hatred ruled Ascalon, and remarks upon the sorcerer’s savagery. Surely he fought the charr as fiercely as he did the Kryptis. Was he so unlike the ones he claimed to be beasts? The rage in his eyes? Was he so unlike her? 

Angry. The fury forming around them like bars to break away from.

The thought pulses in her head. She turns her gaze back toward Merlish and clenches her jaw. He stares back. To Isgarren, maybe, Merlish had become just a tool, a means to an end. But he wasn’t a slave. More than an echo. She bows her head to him. “...I don’t want to keep you.”

He flares at the suggestion alone. “I am not yours to keep.” 

“I know.”

“You're a fell beast," he spits. "You and your kind. Good that the gods cursed me so, that I might not end all of Tyria in my bloodlust for you.”

“You have what you want. Isgarren doesn't withhold you anymore. You are bound to no one.”

He steps within inches of Cyna's face. A fury in his eyes that never dies. Ascalon eternally burning. “Foresight is scarcely a blessing as often said. My own folly is my jailer.” 

Cyna shoves away a rising growl. As if she, born centuries later, was the mastermind behind all of his suffering. For all he claims that foresight is a curse, she wishes she had enough to not humor him for so long. “Then break the chains.”

“I loathe you,” he whispers aloud, but she hears the words in her mind as well, louder, deeper. He doesn't allow the barrier between them to fall. Like Ascalon’s Northern Wall, he rebuilds it, again and again. “For all that you've done, you personally, Commander, I loathe you so. I hold nothing for you in my heart but hate.“

She's known this man for little over a few months, she's watched him spill blood of demons with relative ease, and yet, he steps toward her, blinding spear in hand, nothing between them, and he doesn't touch her. For all that he claims he hates her, he doesn't take the advantage, the vengeance. He never does.

“I’m not too fond of you either,” is all she returns.

Merlish's furious expression remains steadfast — but he steps back from her, supernatural flames tempering. Soon, his spirit dissipates as the spear in his fading hand glows brighter and then spins itself to her. She catches it with one hand and scoffs. The ghost has gone to his room and locked the door.

Cyna closes her eyes and leans her weight against it. Tomorrow, they march to the Midnight King's coliseum, and she wonders if he hates the Kryptis as much as he hates her.

[i-mybrunettelady]

dis moi qui tu hantes, je te dirai qui tu es

Summary: Peitha is processing things. Alysannyra tries to help, in her own way. Content warnings: mentions and slight descriptions of violence. Spoilers: SoTo (specifically Heitor's Gate)

Nayos is quiet, for once. The sounds of battle died down, and the combatants have settled into an uneasy wait, a calm before the storm. And that is a good thing, Peitha thinks. Troops need time to replenish, to rest. The wounded need time to nurse their injuries before they go to battle again. 

And the living need time to mourn the dead. 

Peitha isn’t entirely certain she’s grieving for Heitor. She doesn’t feel the ashy taste of grief on her tongue. Yet, when she told Arina and Alysannyra she needed time for reflection, she meant it. When she isn’t occupied with helping her army, Peitha is deep in thought, away from the people around her, taller and bigger than most. She almost feels like a pillar to them, and she knows she is, but the thought of it makes something in her chest tighten. 

What a strange concept. 

On one such day of calm, Peitha retires earlier than she usually does and goes to a little corner of the camp. There, she watches the fogs of Nayos dim the blues and the reds around her. A part of her wonders if the sight of Heitor’s mangled body would have been any different if it was hugged by this tender fog. The Wayfinder - nay, the Commander - is a fearsome enemy. She roared and tore through her cousin’s flesh, unrelenting. Her fingers moved in practiced motions to carve out weapons and chains of light, and not once did she stop to take a breath for more than a moment before she was back into the fray, with the same deadly strength. 

Yet, Alysannyra felt no joy when she walked away from Heitor’s corpse. She was emotionless, but Peitha knows that she wasn’t indifferent. I don’t take pleasure in death, she said later. I’m sorry for having to kill your cousin. 

Peitha told her she wasn’t in mourning. Yet, her thoughts turn to Heitor often, and she begins to wonder if she was being truthful. 

A bat of giant wings tears her from her thoughts. Peitha slowly raises her head up to see the round head of Alysannyra’s skyscale, Maurizia, peek from the edge of a tree. There’s a loud thud of steps as the Commander herself jumps down, freshly returned from her aerial patrol. She says something to her skyscale and the beast makes a happy, satisfied noise. 

“It’s hardly fair to leave all the duties of running this to Arina, Peitha,” Alysannyra says and Peitha hums. A moment too late, she realizes she was joking. 

“She is more than capable, Commander,” Peitha counters, trying to keep an even voice. Alysannyra laughs and steps out into the clearing. 

“You of all people here should know I’m something of a little shit, Peitha,” she says, amused. Peitha stares at her. “Staring isn’t going to deter me either. Stare at me all you like. I am, after all, the most beautiful of all out here.” 

“Be that as it may, Commander–” Peitha says and looks her over. The simplicity of her practical clothes does not take away from the attraction. If anything, it only makes the golden richness of her brown hair stand out against the dim nayosian sun, and she fits perfectly in the paleness of the horizon. “How has your patrol been?” 

Alysannyra squints. “I am a married woman, Peitha.” 

Peitha laughs. “I would be delighted to meet that husband of yours one day. But I am asking about your actual patrol. No ill tidings, I presume, given your.. rather cheerful disposition?” 

“None whatsoever. Eparch seems to be pissing his pants. Or buying time, which is more likely.” Alysannyra’s face grows dark. “He’d do well to be terrified by this point.” 

What an ally I’d found, Peitha thinks. “Heitor was weak,” she says. There’s that strange feeling again in her chest. “Cerus, less so. But Eparch is not.” 

“He too will end up like Heitor and Cerus,” Alysannyra says. “Are you having second thoughts?” She presses her fingers in a fist and takes a deep breath. 

“Me? No. I did not mean to tease your pride so.” 

“I think you did. But that is besides the point.” She releases her fist. “The patrol was uneventful. The only real threat to us right now is this fog, but that’s Nayos, and not much else.” She tilts her head. “Were you thinking of Heitor again?” 

Peitha pauses. “I have,” she says after a moment. “There is a reality where she joins us. There’s a reality in which you didn’t cleave her in half. But that reality is not this one.” 

“There’s also a reality in which I’m still insufferably proud and nineteen. There’s a reality in which I didn’t have to kill my husband. There’s a reality in which my daughter didn’t die and there’s a reality in which I am dead.” Alysannyra’s voice is resolute, strong, akin to a mountain. Her feet make strong steps on the blue grass beneath, and she’s looking at Peitha with her muted, purple eyes. “There is also a reality in which I am alive, both my husband and daughter are alive, and that so happens to be the reality in which Heitor made the wrong choice and died for it. That is also a reality where Irja is dead.” 

“I have been in your shoes, Peitha,” she then adds, quietly, but with no less resolve. “Believe me, I am every time I step before an army and become its face. I think of Irja, Ramses, Arina, and of every other face under my command. That is entirely normal. That means you are not like Eparch.” A pause. “That means you didn’t make the wrong choice, like Heitor.” 

Peitha nods. She knows she would have been Alysannyra’s target too if circumstances were different. That knowledge fills her with relief - that she is not - and also with an odd kind of understanding. Was she herself not digging through Alysannyra’s mind not that long ago? 

“Do you think I would have died, had I made the wrong choice?” Peitha asks. The light breeze carries Alysannyra’s hair to and fro, plays with the ends of her cape, and they stay in a silence that’s as vast as the clearing around them. 

“No,” the Commander says after a while. “Instead, I think it would haunt you. Sometimes, that’s a fate worse than death.”

Does Heitor’s death haunt her? There’s a reality in which Heitor made the right choice. There’s a reality in which Irja is alive, safe in their camp. She looks at Alysannyra once more. She has seen what haunts her. Peitha’s chest aches, and aches, and aches. 

“The right choices sometimes don’t feel good either,” Alysannyra adds, and then, conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t change a fucking thing about my life, actually. But I’m not right in the head. I don’t know what Kryptis consider right in the head, but maybe you aren’t either. And my best advice is to accept that, and to find as much peace in it as you can.” 

What peace? Since when has Alysannyra Ainsaf, the Commander, the Champion, the Wayfinder, the hero, the legend, ever been at peace? Peitha takes a deep breath. 

Does the same fate await her, too? 

“You are a curious creature, Alysannyra,” Peitha says at last. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t more helpful. But I don’t think you’d make much use of empty consolations. We are too similar for that, you and I.” 

Oh, you have been most helpful. Peitha blinks. “I need reflection, Commander.”

Alysannyra calls to her skyscale. The beast trots over happily and nuzzles her mistress’ arm. Alysannyra pets Maurizia’s snout for the effort. As she passes by, Peitha feels a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ll take care of the camp,” she says and squeezes. Peitha doesn’t say anything and simply continues to sit on the ground, claws buried in grass. Wordlessly, Alysannyra’s gone, and before long, Peitha hears the greetings of welcome and barks of orders in the camp, and turns to look. 

Does the same fate await her, too? She needs some very, very deep reflection. 

[commander-gloryforge]

somewhere, on some world, some version of tyria, the commander- no, the way finder steps through a rift, and comes out the other side in divinity’s reach, in his very own home that had been destroyed years ago.

the commander, the god killer, the dragon slayer, the prismatic champion, the wayfinder ambrose wolfsheart, grey strands sticking out of his long red hair despite being not even 30 years old just yet, knows that somewhere he must’ve taken a wrong turn, because now he’s in a familiar place, one that had been bombed by scarlet ten years ago. his house still looks the same as it did back then, but more lived in, not to say more chaotic.

he looks into a mirror and sees a distorted reflection- no, it’s not a mirror. he looks through a door frame, and sees another ambrose. his hair is still all red, and both his eyes are still green, and though they look at tired as the commander’s, they’re tired in a different way. he is shorter, a bit thinner, his scars are in different places. this ambrose looks just like the commander, and yet looks nothing like him.

and yet, ambrose wolfsheart knows the two must be the same man, by the way they both instinctively point their gun at each other at the exact same second.

[mistfallengw2]

3, 11, and 13 for Aurelia!

OC ask game ✨

3. Are they an outsider? Do they feel like one?

She tries not to think about it much, but it's difficult not to feel like an outsider after going through things she's not even able to comprehend, let alone remember or explain. Heck, with the whole temporary memory loss, she felt like an outsider to herself!

As for actually being one... probably? It's hard to belong when everyone keeps putting her on a pedestal. She doesn't consider herself above others, only feels like a cat stuck on a tree too high to come down from, you know? -

11. Obligation or initiative, why do they do what they do? Is there something/someone specific that motivates them? (bonus: has their motivation changed over the years?)

All she ever wanted to do was to keep those she cares about safe.

Sometimes it's an obligation, sometimes it's on her own initiative, but that's the reason behind everything she did in the Legions and everything she has done and keeps doing as a Commander, Godslayer, Champion, Wayfinder or whatever they'll call her next. Always, from the moment she promised her sire that she'd keep her family safe, because that's all that matters. -

13. Is there anyone they'd like to be closer to than they are?

She has a vague feeling of not being there enough for everyone, but most of all? Tocchix. She wants to be closer to him, but... it's awkward.

For starters, what is he to her exactly? Her son was adopted by his family and is now his brother, so does that make Tocchix her son as well? That doesn't feel right, as she knows he had a mother he loved very much and Aurelia feels wrong to just... try and nudge herself into that role, especially when she wasn't that much of a "mother" to her own cub. And how should she even behave? She struggled with non-charr customs for a long time, and he's an asura raised by his father and his sylvari partner, there's no way she'd be able to fit into whatever idea of appropriate motherhood they'd have!

Still, Adamas had told her how he was the one responsible for pulling him out of his lowest point, so she's grateful to the point of being open to it, and over time she did start feeling mathernally protective towards the young asura, but at the same time he never overstepped boundaries with her, so she doesn't want to overstep either. Burn her, Adamas had to tell both of them to stop referring to each other with titles and formalities, it must be awkward for him too!

He's a kind, outward and solar kid who wants to help others and is good at what he does, she can at least quietly respect that, and he seems to get she what she means because he says her name without awkwardness for a time. And yet, when he goes through some heavy stuff that feels familiar to her in all the painful ways, she is one of the first to notice how much the light in his eyes faded away and he has closed in on himself, and she can't do anything about it. She wants to help him, but she just... doesn't know where to start, she's not good with words. And when finally she tries anyway, he rejects her offer to be an ear that could listen to him, she wasn't even able to say she'd help him go to the bottom of it if he asked. Her son's brother asks the Commander for space, and Aurelia gives it to him. And then too much happened for her to be able to be there.

Years later, she is thankful the light in his eyes came back, that he smiles as he leans against his brother, that he calls her by her name again.

[moth-tea-merchant]

It's about the beauty of two women despite looking vastly different to one another in terms of what their society has deemed attractive, finding the beauty and love in one another. It's about the fact that these two have grown up in a world that has never been gentle and kind to them, and despite one of them not fully being able to experience emotions the same way as the other, exercise that ability to be gentle and kind to the other.

We know Kryptis don't experience emotions the same as Tyrians, many of them don't come naturally. And for higher kryptis (Peitha, Cerus, Deimos ect) to learn these emotions they needed to possess Tyrians. We can even see Peitha still learning through her possession of the commander/wayfinder. So for Peitha, it is during her possession of Zafira that she learns just how emotionally repressed this woman is. And having already possessed Tyrians before, realizes this isn't normal/good. So she attempts to mimic what she's seen. She shows her kindness and gentleness after intimacy (back when they were simply allies with benefits) she asks her about her feelings towards her children. And while some of these things Peitha is only doing bcs she logically knows they work and will benefit her, she enjoys them. The feelings don't come naturally but that doesn't mean she can't feel them in her own way.

And then for Zafira, her lack of showing emotions is because after her memory wipe, she keeps to herself bcs she doesn't trust anyone who isn't Largos or Isgarren. She only gets to explore more vulnerable emotions when she gets kids. Bit even then she isn't directing those emotions towards herself. So when Peitha, a Kryptis, starts showing her this kindness and respect and comfort, it breaks down her walls so fast due to the shock of a Kryptis showing her kindness that she becomes a big golden retriever around her.

I just love it when women lift one another up and are also deeply in love and kiss each other regularly

I keep thinking abt the idea of Zafira laying in-between Peitha's legs with her head on her stomach, eyes closed and snoring while Peitha runs her fingers through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp with her long nails.

[amyhayanora]

EDIT1: Someone pointed out in tags that tumblr compression makes it hard to read. Since opening the images I can see better quality both on desktop and mobile, I think they referred to the dialogues in Terra’s scene. on black background, coloured as who is speaking, and lower opacity. it was intended to be like a echo, a memory. They are dialogues extracted from that Fregmentary Passage scene in which Aqua and Terra are able to talk for a moment through the connection between their hearts and their darkness. The physical zine was intended to be printed on big format and it’s easier to read, so I’m putting here a clearer version, hoping it could help. I’ve also spotted a grammar mistake, thank you 

it’s impressive for how long I can forget to post my zines stuff. You know, keeping enthusiasm in check to avoid spoilers during all the process, then getting so used to keep everything in the box that having the freedom to post is almost surreal. Most of the times a years or more passes and there’s more mistakes then you remember, and... dunno, just doesn’t feel right 🤣 so I’m about to update here with a bit of old zines stuff. Starting with @wayfinderzine​ , this is the comic I did for Beneath the Same Stars, a wonderful fanzine dedicated to wayfinder trio. placed during KH3 labyrinth battles, 4 pages of angst with the trio realizing that being finally reunited again doesn’t mean everyting is fine, but only that is time to start healing from their traumas, together. For this zine I was allowed to do some merch too, I had so much fun with these die cut stickers. yes, command board is one of my favourite minigames ever.🤣

and the thank you-doodle at the end of the zine

EDIT: found the original sketch cleaning the folders, I thought it was interesting see a wip of the comic and how it changes in the process. I usually add more small panles to help the flow later. and realize that a zine is bigger than a manga book and I can do smaller balloons and give breath xD

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Creator Tag Game

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Thank you for the tag @meantforinfinitesadness and @pandora15! This is so cute and fun!

–

In The Waiting -  Obi-Wan finds himself waiting around for Anakin a lot throughout his Padawanship and through the Clone Wars, but he knows Anakin would do the same for him. OR five six times Obi-Wan waits for Anakin and the one time Anakin waits for Obi-Wan.

Listen, this is probably the best thing I’ve ever written. I’m very proud of this one. It’s my first five + one format (and oops it accidentally became a six + one), and I had so much fun writing every single chapter. I felt like I was able to get into the characters heads in this one. I wrote it faster than I wrote any other multi-chap fic. I haven’t released the whole thing yet, but it’s completely written and I’m releasing new chapters every Tuesday!

Skipping Stones - One year has passed since Qui-Gon’s death and Obi-Wan can’t bear to bring himself back to the temple knowing his Master won’t be there. Instead, he brings Anakin camping to “meditate.” Angst and fluff ensue.

This is the best one-shot I’ve ever written even though it’s my least popular fic lol. It’s a little more introspective and less action oriented than my other fics, so it was a slight style departure for me, which was fun to explore. I always struggle with endings, but I feel like this one ends perfectly. I don’t know, I think it’s a really sweet and somber little fic.

The Significance of Found Family - Obi-wan Kenobi and a roughly 17-year-old Anakin Skywalker crash land on a planet unknown to them both. The truth of Obi-wan Kenobi's past comes to light.

Okay I had to put this one here. This was the first fic I’ve ever written and it is by far my most popular fic. The hit count on this one is double my second most popular fic (which doesn’t matter, but I spend a lot of time studying social media and web analytics for my job, so I find this kind of thing fascinating). Anyway I really enjoyed writing this one and I revisit it from time to time even though I feel like I’ve significantly improved as a writer and some parts make me cringe now lol. I really liked writing Obi-Wan as someone who struggles with his attachments but is more self-aware of it than say a certain chosen one. I liked being able to lean into his character trait of being able to let go of things he loves or could love a great deal for the sake of his morals and ideals. I don’t know, it’s just fun to play with and I almost wish I had explored that more, but I don’t plan on going back and changing anything either.

Shore Leave - After a mission to free the ocean planet of Glee Anselm from Separatist control, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka and the clones under their command will be given shore leave. What happens when an incident from the mission starts to catch up with Obi-Wan?

This one was just a blast to write and it’s probably the one I revisit the most. I don’t know why, there’s nothing particularly special about it, it just became a comfort fic for me that I wrote for me, so I was thrilled when other people liked it too. It’s one of my earlier fics and the first time I wrote Ahsoka. I still don’t feel confident writing her character, but I think I did okay in this one. This one’s just a lot of fun all around.

Total Agreement - Anakin and Obi-Wan are in search of a Sith wayfinder that could turn the tides of the Clone Wars, but their search gets interrupted when they set off a booby trap in a Sith temple.

Once again, this fic was a blast to write. I feel like this is the first one where I got the dialogue between Anakin and Obi-Wan just right. I usually have a hard time writing them as anything other than best bros all the time, even though we know they had a lot of tension between them throughout their relationship. I feel like I was able to capture some of that tension for the first time in this fic, but it’s not so overpowering that it’s depressing to read. I think it also shows how Anakin’s fiery passion and desire to do the right thing can unwittingly hurt those around him which was very fun to explore. 

No pressure tags (and sorry if you’ve already been tagged!): @thenegoteator, @mahizli, @sued134, @sonderwalker, @littleoceanwhispers and literally anyone else who wants to be tagged! I mean it! I want to see y’alls stuff!

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Prologue)

Prologue Part I

You stand before the remnants of the Sentinel base, taking in the sight before you. Looking past the crumbling architecture and growing moss, you can see the echoes of dignity that this place once possessed. Now, however, it stands empty and silent, devoid of life save for the insects, birds and slugs. You call out, but no one responds. Finally, it becomes obvious that any chance of joining the Sentinels of Light here is long gone.

You stare at the ruins for a little while longer before turning to walk away. As you approach your boat on the beach, however, you notice another vessel drawing closer. Two figures step out from the craft and begin making their way up the beach.

“Those outfits… Are you two Sentinels?”

“Halt! This is the headquarters for the Sentinels of light!”

“Um, hello? Mind if I catch a ride?”

Lucian: “Well I’ll be. Looks like we were right to come here.”

Senna: “We need to speak to the one in charge here. Where’s your commanding officer?”

“Gone, along with all the other Sentinels.”

“I’m not sure. This place was abandoned when I got here.”

Senna: “What? Then you’re the only one here?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Not for much longer. This place is a dump.”

Lucian: “Great, just great! We come all this way and all we can find is one damn Sentinel?”

Senna: “What’s your rank, Sentinel?”

“Rank? I don’t exactly… Have one.”

“I’m kind of new here, so…”

Lucian: “Oh, great! The kid’s a rookie, too!”

Senna: “Enough, Lucian. Listen close, Rookie: right now, there’s a Harrowing on the way bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. Like it or not, no one’s leaving this island until we drive them back.”

“Woah, hang on! A real Harrowing? I did not sign up for this!”

“Oh, finally! Here I was, worried that I wouldn’t ever get to see some action.”

Lucian response 1: “Suck it up, Rookie! You’re a Sentinel, so this is EXACTLY what you signed up for. Wait, where’s your weapon?”

Lucian response 2: “You’ve got spirit, Rookie, now let’s see if you can back it up. You know how to use that weapon, right?”

“Um…”

“I don’t have one. I thought I’d receive one here, but…”

Lucian: “Oh, for the love of-”

Senna: “No time for talk, here it comes!”

Prologue Part II

The Black Mist rolls up onto the shoreline. From the haze, countless malformed creatures emerge, moving toward you with murderous intent. The sight sends a chill down your spine, but Lucian and Senna respond calmly with a torrent of light from their weapons. Their movements tell of years of experience, each shot carefully aimed to tear through the onslaught.

“Wow…”

“I almost feel sorry for the monsters.”

As you watch, transfixed, a shadow looms over you. You turn and see that hulking undead figure with several faces has raised its claw, preparing to strike you down then and there.

Senna: “Look out!”

Senna fires a blast from her Sentinel gun that seems to go right through you, blasting a hole in the monster’s chest. Rather than harm you, however, the light seems to invigorate you.

“What just happened?”

“I didn’t know Sentinel weapons could do that!”

Senna response 1: “No time, Rookie. If you can’t fight, then get inside the base and take cover!”

Senna response 2: “Most can’t, but there’s no time to explain. Get inside the base and take cover, Rookie!”

You start to do as told, but you quickly see that your path is blocked by howling wraiths. The undead have you completely surrounded.

Lucian: “Senna, a little help over here!”

Senna: “Lucian, hang on!”

Dread begins to wash over you as you realize how hopeless the situation is. Outnumbered and with no way to fight back, the wraiths start to close in on you. Just as they’re about to reach you, though, something cuts through the Black Mist and strikes down the undead before they can reach you.

???: “Are you quite alright? That must have been quite the fright!”

“Thanks! You really saved me there.”

“Uh, not to sound ungrateful, but who are you?”

“Uh, is that… A giant pair of scissors?”

Gwen: “Oh, pardon my manners! My name is Gwen, but we haven’t the time to talk now! Quickly, we must get you inside!”

Before you can think to respond, Gwen grabs your arm and pulls you along, leading you into the remnants of the old Sentinel base.

Prologue Part III

Gwen: “Ah, so this is a Sentinel base? I must say it’s rather drab in here.”

“Uh, thanks again for saving me, Miss Gwen.”

“Wait, we have to go back! The others are still out there!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a dump.”

Gwen response 1: “Oh, you’re very welcome! Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your friends require some help as well, no?”

Gwen response 2: “Yes, quite right! You just wait here where it’s safe, and I’ll see to them.”

Gwen response 3: “Well, regardless, it seems that the undead do not wish to enter. I should go and find your comrades to bring them in as well.”

With that, Gwen rushes off, charging back into the fray. You watch from the entrance as she slashes apart the undead with her giant scissors and pierces them with floating needles. Around her, a peculiar mist seems to form that repels the Black Mist around her. Eventually, Gwen vanishes from sight, though you can still hear the sounds of battle from the shoreline.

“…Whelp, time to sit back and relax until they sort this out.”

“Damn it… There has to be something I can do to help.”

You looked around the Sentinel base and notice a peculiar table in the center. Inspecting it closer, it looks to be a map of Runeterra, carved out of Relicstone. A peculiar object rests on top of the table, shaped like a key with a small orb at the end. Curiously, the objects begins to glow, almost as though calling out you.

You reach out and clutch the object in your hand, lifting it from the table. You then notice that a portion of the map seems to be glowing in response: the small island where your base is located. Cautiously, you bring your weapon closer to the table. The two seem to thrum in unison together, before both going dim. Then, the building starts to shudder…

Prologue Part IV

The shaking stops abruptly. All around you, ancient markings in the walls start to light up one-by-one. Then, in a flash, you see the entire island outside consumed by golden light. In a massive pulse of magic, the Black Mist is dispelled and the markings return to normal.

“…”

“What… Just happened?”

“Woah… That was awesome!”

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Lucian, Senna and Gwen walking into the base.

Lucian: “Rookie, you mind explainin’ what in the many hells you just did?”

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Just how many hells do you think there are?”

Senna: “Hang on, Lucian. He’s not the only one we should be questioning”

Senna turns her attention to Gwen.

Senna: “Thanks for helping out back there, but just who are you? You’re not a Sentinel, and those scissors aren’t Relics, but they cut through the undead just the same.”

Gwen: “Ah, I suppose I should reintroduce myself properly this time. I am Gwen, the Hallowed Seamstress, at your service! A pleasure to make your acquaintances!”

“A pleasure to meet you, too!”

“What’s with that weird mist you can summon?”

Gwen response 1: *Giggle* “I’ve heard a great deal about the Sentinels, and how you devote yourself to fighting the Black Mist! I’ve come to offer you all my aid.”

Gwen response 2: “Ah, you mean the Hallowed Mist? Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure myself. I suppose you can say I was born with it.”

Lucian: “Hmph… Well, right now I’d say we could use all the Sentinels we can get. It ain’t exactly standard procedure, but you weren’t half-bad out there, Scissors.”

Gwen seems delight to receive the praise, but before anything else can be said, the map in the middle of the room starts glowing again.

???: “Hello, is anyone there? This is Sentinel Fetu of Buhru! Please, respond!”

Prologue Part V

You and the other Sentinels gather around the table as the image of a strange man flickers above it.

Fetu: “Ah, good, it seems we weren’t mistaken. That’s odd, though… I thought the old headquarters had been abandoned.”

“What’s going on?”

“Is that another ghost? How did it get in?”

Fetu: “Not the brightest relic in the vault, are you? Hard to believe that you would be chosen to use the Wayfinder.”

Lucian: “Wayfinder? You mean the Relic Rookie’s got there?”

Fetu: “Bah, don’t they teach anything at the other outposts these days? Alright, listen closely: that Relic you have there? It is the Wayfinder, a very special and ancient Sentinel tool. It has the power to link itself directly with the Nexus crystal in the heart of Sentinel bases. Nexus crystals, as I’m sure you are aware, are conduits for magical power.”

Senna: “So that explosion of light earlier, that was from Rookie using the Wayfinder to link with the base?”

Fetu: “Aye, but that’s not all it can do. The Wayfinder also has the power to connect to the Nexus crystals of other bases, allowing instant transport between them and communication across vast distances. That is how we are speaking now.”

Gwen: “My, what a versatile little took you have there!”

Lucian: “I’ll say. Definitely not something that should be in the hands of a greenhorn.”

Fetu: “Unfortunately, that is not your call to make. It is said that the Wayfinder chooses its wielder, and can only be used by the one to whom it is bound.”

“So… I’m its chosen wielder?”

“The Wayfinder chose me… What an honor!”

“So it’s less of a weapon, and more of a multitool?”

Lucian: “Ah hells… You mean to tell me that no one but this kid can make use of it?”

Fetu: “Hmph. The Wayfinder is strange with its choices, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. No one has been able to wield that Relic in ages; that it awakens now may be our one hope of overturning this nightmare.”

On the map before you, you see much of the land being overtaken by darkness.

Senna: “Damn it… He’s growing stronger.”

“Who’s growing stronger?”

“I… Assume that’s bad?”

Lucian response 1: “The Ruined King. The guy responsible for the Black Mist and the Harrowings. Right now, he’s spreading his damn mist all across Runeterra, and if we don’t stop him, it’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Lucian response 2: “You don’t know the half of it, Rookie. A Harrowing this big can only be the work of the Ruined King. If he’s not stopped, that darkness is gonna take over the entire world.”

Fetu: “Then it’s as we feared… Listen closely: the Black Mist is at our doorstep, and we cannot hold out for much longer. Soon, this Sentinel outpost will be abandoned, meaning that it is up to you all to stop this calamity. Use the Wayfinder, travel to the other Sentinel outposts and recruit as many of our comrades as you can. If Runeterra is to survive this Harrowing, we must stand united! We must-”

The image vanishes and Fetu’s voice goes silent. You and the others all stand around and stare at the map for a moment before Gwen speaks up.

Gwen: “Oh dear. I hope he’s alright.”

Senna: “If he is, maybe we’ll meet him again one day. Right now, we know what we have to do.”

Senna turns and stares at you.

Senna: “Looks like we have a job to do, Rookie. Fire up that Wayfinder.”

“Yes, ma’am! Where to first?”

“Geez, I wasn’t expecting all of this so suddenly, but I guess I can’t back down now. Where do you guys wanna go?”

Lucian: “Demacia. Looks like the Mist is all going there, which means there’s a good chance the Ruined Creep’s there too. If we take him out, this whole nightmare’ll be over.”

Senna: “It won’t be easy, but with more Sentinels on our side, we might just stand a chance. You ready, Rookie?”

You nod solemnly, clutching the Wayfinder closely. Though not what you expected, it seems the time has come for you to partake in your first proper mission as a Sentinel of Light.

[bobfloydssunnies]

would you believe me if i said it originally was supposed to be happy but then about halfway through i changed it 

A Feeling

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Rating: PG nothing crazy just a little sadness I guess 

Summary: What if Poe was force sensitive or could use the force but only told a few people 

Word Count: 2.6k

Note: This is my first work for Poe (please be kind). I don’t know if I really love this also idk if i like how i write but I’m trying to keep everything gender neutral so no one feels left out also this came out a lot longer than I originally planned 

It started with the force tree that was planted in the backyard of his house when he was young; he just remembers being drawn to it, which turned into his parents explaining what that meant. He was young at the time and didn’t fully understand what it meant, but his mom told him it means he’s special and that once he’s older, he can learn how to use it and use it for good. He remembers Leia or Luke being around for a while and teaching him a few little things when they’d come to visit his parents. But once Ben came along and once Luke started his Jedi academy, the visits slowed before stopping altogether. So Poe took to learning alone and trying to remember things he had seen Luke and Leia do or even talk about so he could at least understand and use the gift he has. Around the time Poe turned 10 or 11, he remembers his dad asking him if he wanted to go off to train with Luke, which he said no to not wanting to leave his dad alone after just losing his mom a few years before. 

So as Poe entered his teen years, he stopped practicing anything related to using the force and focused on flying, knowing he wanted to be a pilot like his mom was. Once he could, he went off and joined the new republic navy, worked hard, and became a commander and found bb8 along the way. But as Poe was raising ranks in the navy, the first order was rising to power as well. At this time, Leia reached out to Poe, asking him to come and join the resistance. He said yes, knowing it was what his mom would have done, so he left the navy and headed off to help save the galaxy and make his mom proud. 

Once with the resistance, Poe quickly became the “poster boy” as well as the one Leia trusted the most for solo missions. Of course, no one within the resistance beside Leia and bb8 knew Poe was force sensitive and could use the force to an extent because if too many people know it becomes dangerous because you can never know who to trust in the time like this.  While out on missions, especially with others, Poe tries not to rely too much on the force, but sometimes it’s hard to avoid the pull when he can feel it tug him away from danger or warn him before something happens, and he can prevent it. There are times where he can feel it calling out to him and helping him along the way. Poe won’t lie and say it’s not great for little mind tricks every once in a while or moving objects when need be. But like with every good thing, there’s always a downside which Poe tries to make sure it doesn’t get to him but, it’s hard sometimes because it’s not always something he can see coming no matter how many times it happens. The worst thing is that once you are connected to someone in any way and gain a connection with them through the force, you can feel them, which means losing that person hurts a lot more.

  “I felt it you know” he had said randomly while the two of you were laying in bed one night “felt what?” you asked confused by his sudden outburst “the day my mom died I felt it,” he said quieter, you sat up watching his face you could see the range of emotions he was going through “Oh Poe I’m sorry,” you said grabbing his hand, you could see his eyes start to get glossy “ I - I just miss her so much sometimes and like I can’t forget what it felt like when it happened,” he said holding back tears “Poe, babe I can’t imagine having to go through that, and I will never know the pain you went through,” you tell him trying to soothe him the best you can “ I just want to make her proud but it’s so hard to feel so together all the time when I can feel so much” he said rubbing his eyes “Poe no one is excepting you to always have it together” you tell him pulling him towards you, you running your hands through is hair lightly scratching his scalp trying to calm him down “But Leia needs me to do all this stuff and I can’t let the squadron down” he mumbles into your neck “Baby no one is expecting you to always be so put together you also don’t have to suffer alone I’m always here for you and you know beebs will listen to you too” you say into his hair because pressing a kiss to his tempt, you hear him sigh “I know but” “no buts we are here for you no matter what” you say cuttting him off, he moves so that his forehead is resting on your should “i love you” he whispers “ i love you too flyboy” you say back quietly this a smile on your face. 

The First Order had pulled a final play Palpatine was back no one knew how but he was back and the first order spy said you had 16 hours to figure out how to stop him before the Final Order would rise. Rey decided this meant she was to figure without alone because she felt it was her job to finish what Luke started but she forgot how stubborn her friends could be which is how you, Poe, Finn, Chewie, BB8 and Rey all ended up on the Falcon together going off to search for a wayfinder. 

Things were not going well. Each planet brought a new problem and also fixed a previous on all at the same time.

On Pasaana, after thinking it would be easy, you were chased by stormtroopers. Rey and Ren faced off after Chewie was put onto a transport ship that Rey then destroyed. You also all realized the only way to get the information out of C3PO was to find someone to break into his system and bypass the block set in place. Then on Kimiji, you were brought you face to face with some old friends of Poe’s that seemed to have it out for him. C3PO losing all his memories as a result of us bypassing the block because he knew it was the right thing to do to help his friends. Then Ren finding us again, but Rey sensing Chewie was still alive and on the destroyer Ren brought. 

Getting into the destroyer was easy. Poe’s “friend” had given him a medallion that would give him the clearance to board the ship and allow us to come in and rescue Chewie. Once running the halls, Rey stopped and said she would find the blade leaving you, Poe and Finn to find Chewie. It was going all well and smooth till Poe got grazed by a blaster shot coming around a corner. Soon surrounded by stormtroopers and cuffed, you were lead to some general, and he gave the orders to execute you all. Hux was told to see to it along with four stormtroopers; you were lead to a room “I’m sorry” Poe said looking over at you “For what” you asked him “Bringing you along” he said “Poe you wouldn’t have been able to stop me” I told him. Your backs where to Hux and the troopers when you heard Hux say he wanted to do it himself, and you could hear him take the gun from whichever trooper handed it to him, and you braced yourself. The first shot came quickly, followed by three more, but you all realized you were still standing. Turning around you saw all the troopers on the ground “I’m the spy” Hux quickly spit out “I knew it” Poe said “No you didn’t” Finn said “Why” You asked “I don’t care if you win I want to see Ren lose” he said as he quickly released your binders. He led you to the Falcon and then said one of you needed to shoot him in the arm, Finn shot him in the leg instead as you, Poe and Chewie ran to the ship.  As quickly as you could, you got the ship ready and waited for Rey. 

Crash landing wasn’t the best, but the landing gear was shot, and you had no other choice. You were met by locals who lived on the planet after Rey pointed out where on the wreck of the death star she needed to get to in order to retrieve the other wayfinder. Jannah, you later learned, was extremely helpful when it came to fixing up ships, and Finn and her seemed to have a connection. You heard beebee roll in “what do you mean you haven’t seen her” you heard Poe say before running out of the falcon with Finn and Jannah quickly behind them; you followed only to catch the end of the conversation that Rey had taken a skimmer out onto the rough water. You could hear Poe and Finn arguing, “well, I’m not Leia” you heard Poe spit out, “That’s for damn sure” Finn spit back before stalking past you. beebee beeped next to you. “You do help them on the falcon; I’ll take care of Poe, buddy,” you tell him. You walked down the hill, some to where Poe was sitting. “Hey,” you say, “Come to yell at me too,” he asked, “No, I came to see if you’re alright, jerk” You speak with a slight grin “Sorry,” he apologized. “Hey it’s okay we are all running a little thin and the time deadline isn’t helping maybe we sit here for a minute and cool down,” you tell him “We gotta fix the falcon,” he says “Alright then let’s go do that,” you say holding your hand out to him. 

Finn and Jannah set out across the water and slowly got smaller in the distance, and the rest of you set to work fixing the falcon or at least getting it flyable. Its been some time of you all quietly working and the only noises coming from tools, bb8 and d-o or the occasional grunt from Chewie or Poe. You had stopped for a moment and looked over to Poe just to see how he was doing when suddenly you could see a change on his face something happened. He felt it and whatever it was it hurt you could see the tears building up in his eyes “Poe you okay” you asked, he looked up and gave a weak smile before wiping his eyes “Um yeah I’m fine” he said quietly before turning back around to continue what he was working on.  You couldn’t figure out the best time to ask Poe what had happened because you also didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it. Finn and Jannah returned after a while with the news that had found Rey, but she was fighting Ren. 

Once the Falcon was back up and running as a group, you decided to leave Rey, but with a promise from Jannah if she needs them to come back to contact you guys. Shortly after taking off, you had convinced Poe you needed his help with a repair you could do while flying “Poe what happened earlier” you asked him, “What the argument with Finn, that was nothing” he said. “No Poe, that’s not what I mean; I mean, what did you feel earlier while we were working on repairs,” you asked, “Um, it’s nothing,” he said, trying to move away from you. You grabbed his hand holding him in place “It wasn’t nothing I saw the tears Poe just let me be here for you,” you say taking your free hand to move the curl that was covering his eyes “It’s Leia” he whispers, your heart dropped you knew what he meant “She…” “Yeah, I think she did it to help Rey, but I don’t know but kriff it hurts” he chokes out, he pulled you into his chest you could feel the tears land on your head, but you just kept holding onto him and rubbing his back “It’s like I lost my mom all over again” he mumbled into your hair “I’m sorry, I wish I could make it better,” you tell him “This helps you being here helps I’m sorry for not saying anything earlier,” he says “Poe I don’t expect you to tell me everything right away especially when it’s something like this and it hurts as much as this does but, I want you to know I’m always here for you no matter what,” you tell him 

Arriving back on base was hard knowing what you were walking into; you grabbed Poe’s hand as you both followed after Finn. “We need to talk to Leia,” Finn said, walking the familiar path to where she and Rose usually were. You could feel Poe tense up and make a small noise, “What” Finn asked, turning around looking at Poe. Poe opened his mouth to speak when you heard Rose yell in the distance “There you guys are it’s Leia something happened” She says as she gets closer “Maz is pretty sure what she’s done, but she wants to talk to Poe first” Rose said leading you back to command central. You felt Poe squeeze your hand like it was trying to make sure you were real. “Poe, you should know Leia made you the acting general,” Rose said as Poe pulled you along with him to where he knows Maz is, “Alright um when I get back we’ll talk more,” he said trying to keep his emotions in check. 

You soon found yourself outside the room you knew Maz and Leia were in, Poe took a deep breath “I can wait out here if you want I don’t want to invade on this” you tell him hanging back a little. “Please don’t,” he whispered, holding your hand tighter “Okay,” you reply softly; you let him lead you in the room. Maz was standing there waiting, Leia laying on the bed covered in a sheet you felt tears threaten to spill over, and Poe’s grip on your hand got a little tighter. “I know what you felt Poe and I think you know why she did it” Maz spoke, Poe nodded “She still believes in him, and I know it’s hard for any of us to understand why but this is her wish” Maz continued, Poe sat down next to Leia pulling you with him. He let go of your hand and held his hands in front of his face. “I don’t know how to do any of this,” he spoke. “How am I supposed just to take over the whole resistance and know how to handle it all?” he continued. “None of us knew what we were doing,” a new voice said, looking over you saw Lando come into the room “Luke Han Leia none of us knew what we were doing, but we knew people believed and that if we had them, then we could do it.” he continued, Poe looked over at him. Lando gave him a soft smile “She believed in you to take over it’s time to believe in yourself.” Lando said before disappearing again. Poe sat there silent with tears running down his face “whatever you decide to do, I’ll be right beside you flyboy,” you said before grabbing his hair again and squeezing it.  

permanent taglist:  @poesflygirl​ 

[grasping-earth]

Strongly agree on it being foisted on us abruptly and not even describing what we were doing.

The title 'Commander' wasn't exactly describing what we were doing for them last little while either, but it represented where the character came from and how they ended up the singular person they are, so the weight of history behind it made it feel good.

Honestly, with the benefit of the new expansion teasers, I think they would have been much better to keep 'Commander' through SotO - on the assumption that the wizards and the Astral Ward know our legend the same as everyone else - and bestow a new title with the formation of this upcoming Tyrian Alliance. I can absolutely see Jennah or one of the Imperators saying ok, I'm down for the Commander becoming an agent of this alliance as a sort of ambassador slash problems solver, but we're not calling them that. They're not in charge, they don't command any of my forces, they're a representative not a commander here.

And in that context 'Wayfinder' could be a good choice! Bestowed for a reason, by characters we have history with. Partly out of hope for a more peaceful future, partly out of fear of a rival's influence.

you know whats funny is that I MAY have been more open to the wayfinder title if it wasn't thrown upon us so immediately and so irreverently. redefining the commander without permission or regard. you're one of us now whether you like it or not. get used to it.

[i-mybrunettelady]

teehee, a littol sneakpeak into my first real soto fic

On one such day of calm, Peitha retires earlier than she usually does and goes to a little corner of the camp. There, she watches the fogs of Nayos dim the blues and the reds around her. A part of her wonders if the sight of Heitor’s mangled body would have been any different if it was hugged by this tender fog. The Wayfinder - nay, the Commander - is a fearsome enemy. She roared and tore through her cousin’s flesh, unrelenting. Her fingers moved in practiced motions to carve out weapons and chains of light, and not once did she stop to take a breath for more than a moment before she was back into the fray, with the same deadly strength.  Yet, Alysannyra felt no joy when she walked away from Heitor’s corpse. She was emotionless, but Peitha knows that she wasn’t indifferent. I don’t take pleasure in death, she said later. I’m sorry for having to kill your cousin.  Peitha told her she wasn’t in mourning. Yet, her thoughts turn to Heitor often, and she begins to wonder if she was being truthful. 

[blueares]

Ruination Rewrite: Shadow Isles

Shadow Isles Part I

The light of the Wayfinder fades and is almost instantly replaced by an oppressive gloom. Though you have witnessed many Harrowings by this point, they all pale in comparison to the sight before you: The Shadow Isles, birthplace of the Ruination.

“I hate this place already.”

“I don’t suppose we could try and recruit more Sentinels first?”

Lucian: “Keep your nerves about you, Rook. The undead here are worse than anything you’ve seen so far, and they can smell fear a mile away.”

Diana: “A land trapped in endless night, yet obscured from the Moon’s pale glow… One can scarcely imagine what manner of horrors might lurk here.”

Graves: “Pardon the interruption, but there are a heck of a lot of graves here… And I ain’t talkin’ about myself.”

Sure enough, a cursory glance of your surroundings reveals that the Wayfinder has brought you to a massive graveyard, with rows upon rows of headstones stretching out all around you. Upon closer inspection, you realize that a number of the graves even appear to be recent.

“Who dug all of these?”

“Whose graves are these?”

??? response 1: “That would be me.”

??? response 2: “Mostly travelers, like yourselves.”

The Sentinels wheel around to point their weapons at the source of the voice, only to find an old, hunched man with a shovel staring back at you, unfazed.

Vayne: “Hmph. So this the kind of ‘horror’ lurking on the Shadow Isles? Should be easy enough to handle.”

Shen: “Wait! This man… His soul is touched by the Mist, but he has not been turned by not. Not wholly.”

Yorick: “That’s right. I’m just a humble gravedigger. My name is Yorick Mori, last gravedigger of the Blessed Isles.”

Riven: “The Blessed Isles? Where’s that?”

Yorick: “Before this place became the Shadow Isles that you all know, it was a place of learning and prosperity: the Blessed Isles. When that mad king came, he unleashed the Ruination, corrupting every living thing in this place with undeath… Almost every living thing.”

Suddenly, a wicked figure appears behind Yorick, speaking out in a voice that somehow calms and terrifies you at the same time.

???: “Join us, Yorick. Cast aside those measly droplets and be one with us.”

Jayce: “Look out!”

Yorick: “Don’t fret. The Maiden has whispered in my ear for a long time, but these ‘measly droplets,’ the Waters of Life, keep me sane.”

You stare at the Maiden uneasily, though the more you do, the more strangely familiar she seems.

Lucian: “Look, this is all fascinating, but we don’t have time to stand around and talk! We’re here for that Ruined Creep, to bring him down once and for all! If you know where he is, old man, you’d better speak up.”

Yorick: “You want to challenge him with these measly numbers? I can see you carry Relicstone, but that alone will hardly be enough.”

Akshan: “Do not count us out yet, old man! Akshan is here, and that makes up for at least a few missing soldiers.”

Yorick examines your group briefly, as though sizing you up. He strokes his beard in thought, then turns his gaze to a large tower in the distance.

Yorick: “…It is a fool’s errand, but perhaps this is the only chance I’ll get.”

Olaf: “What’s he on about now?”

Lucian: “Enough. If you’re not gonna help us, old man, then-”

Yorick: “You’re not the only one who wishes to bring an end to the king. Since the Ruination began, I’ve been amassing corpses here, using what little influence I have to keep them from rising in his name. You say you want to storm the king’s throne, but to do that…”

Yorick raises his spade and slams it into the ground. All around you, the graves burst open and grotesque creatures break free from the dirt.

Yorick: “You will need an army of your own!”

At Yorick’s command, the living corpses all seemed to stand at attention, awaiting his orders. You guess that they number somewhere in the hundreds, but you can’t be sure.

“So we’re going to fight the army of the undead… With our own army of the undead?”

“Lucian, what do the rules say about this? Can corpse monsters be Sentinels? What about old men with creepy ghost ladies on their backs?”

Lucian: “…Frankly, at this point, all that matters is findin’ that bastard and gettin’ Senna back. Oh, and Gwen, of course.”

Yorick: “Then the time is at hand! On your command, warriors of the light, we march!”

Lucian: “Alright then. Sentinels! Corpses! Let’s move!”

Shadow Isles Part II

With the Sentinels and Yorick’s ghouls at your side, you storm the gates of Helia, only to be greeted by Viego’s twisted forces. The ruins of the city quickly become a battlefield filled with screams of the undead.

Lucian: “Sentinels, stick together! Remember your training!”

Though clearly not as experienced as Senna, Lucian still does his best to take command of the situation while fending off the undead that get too close.

Lucian: “Olaf, Jayce, you two clear us a path! Graves, you and I will cover them! Akshan, Vayne, Rengar, you three scout ahead! The rest of you, stick with Rookie and try to keep him safe!”

The Sentinels spring into action at Lucian’s command, clearing their own respective paths through the battlefield. You linger behind with Riven, Shen and Diana serving as your protectors, cutting down the undead who dare to get too close.

Riven: “Don’t worry, Rookie, we’ve got you covered!”

In that moment, an inhuman roar cries out from somewhere above you. You look up to the sound of wings beating and your heart sinks at the sight of a familiar wyvern.

“That’s Shyvana!”

“How did she escape the dragonguard!?”

Shyvana soars across the battlefield and lets loose a stream of harrowed flame, scorching the entire battlefield with reckless abandon. As the flames draws near, Shen focused and conjures his spirit blade to form a protective barrier around you and the other Sentinels. Shyvana’s fire passes over you harmlessly, though you can still feel the raw hear even through the barrier.

Shen: “Is everyone unharmed?”

“I’m good, thanks!”

“If Shyvana is here, then…”

As if on cue, another figure descends from the sky, crashing down onto the battlefield like a meteor. Your heart sinks further as Diana speaks the name that’s on your mind.

Diana: “Pantheon… So Atreus has lost control once again. I… Look out!”

Diana shoves you behind her and wraps herself in a barrier of light just as a massive swirlseed slams into her. Dream dust scatters around Diana and you feel yourself stumble from breathing it in.

Riven: “Rookie! Stay awake, alright?”

You struggle to remain conscious as Lillia’s dream dust starts to take hold, but just as your eyelids are about to close, Riven delivers a sharp slap across your face. In an instant, you feel yourself snap to alertness.

“I’m awake!”

“Ow! Thanks, but ow!”

Riven: “Glad to see that worked.”

Your relief is short-lived as your eyes catch sight of another massive figure orbiting the battlefield: The Dead Pool, held aloft by clouds of Black Mist. At the ship’s helm stands Gangplank, though you recognize three other figures beside him.

“That’s Draven!”

“That’s Tryndamere!”

“That’s Viktor!”

Draven and Tryndamere both leap from the ship’s prow, dropping to the battlefield without care. Viktor, meanwhile, seems to direct a number of drones powered by Black Mist to follow suit. You soon realize that Yorick’s girls are diminishing in number, while your Sentinel allies are steadily pushed back.

Lucian: “Damn it! Everyone regroup! We have to-”

Whatever Lucian was about to say was cut off by the sound of explosions. The Dead Pool’s cannons let loose a relentless volley upon the battlefield, scattering the Sentinels in all directions. One shot lands especially close to you, slamming you into a nearby building.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring as you try to regain your footing. You feel a large hand suddenly wrapping around your neck and hoisting you up. You recognize the face of the man holding you, but his eyes now glow with an unearthly light.

Fetu: “Hmph. I can’t imagine why the Wayfinder would have chosen the likes of you.”

“Fetu?”

“You’re the Sentinel from Buhru…”

Fetu: “So you remember me? Then you remember that you left me to die. Me and my comrades. We held out for as long as we could, but we were no match for the Black Mist. No one is.”

Suddenly, something sharp pierces your stomach. You look down to see one of Fetu’s blades lodged deep in your gut. Pain fills your body as you cough up blood.

Fetu: “And you, you will share our fate, young Sentinel.”

You fall to the ground as your life begins to fade. Tendrils of Black Mist creep around your body, sweeping over you until they engulf you completely. Your vision fades and darkness consumes you as you take your final breath…

Shadow Isles Part III

You linger silently in the darkness. You feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing. Your thoughts and memories are scattered. Who are you? What are you? These are the answers your mind seeks, but is unable to grasp.

???: “…me?”

???: “Can you hear me?”

You hear a voice calling out to you. It feels familiar, yet you cannot discern why.

???: “Can you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Why are you?”

A glimmer of light emerges from the darkness, growing brighter in your line of sight. The light takes on the vague likeness of person, but you can’t discern the details.

???: “I’ve been with you all along. I am your guide, but I am also the cause of your anguish.”

The figure moves closer. You can vaguely discern that the voice belongs to a woman, but her face remains obscured. You think you feel fingers running against your cheek.

???: “This all began with my untimely death, which set my husband on this twisted path. He was a good man, once, but the Black Mist brings out the worst in one’s soul. Pain. Regret. Anger. That’s all my husband is now. I want to bring him back, as well as all those corrupted by his influence.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Does that mean you’re…?”

???: “I’m not who I once was. I am only a fragment of her, hidden away with Relic you carry. It was I who chose you, because I sensed you had a good heart. The Wayfinder was a tool crafted to help bring the world together in its time of need, and I offered what little power I had to that end. Now, I offer that power to you, young Sentinel. Though it means revealing myself to my wayward love, I am prepared to take that risk. I… Am prepared to place my faith in you.”

Suddenly, the darkness around you starts to fade. Your thoughts become less scattered. Feeling returns to your limbs.

???: “Our time is nearing an end. I can offer you my strength, but victory will depend on your own. You are not a warrior like your allies. Yours is the power to touch the hearts of those around you and draw out the best in them. Go, young Sentinel, and become a beacon in this dark time…”

The figure fades away and her voice falls silent. Slowly but surely, you climb to your feet, your memories slowly returning.

Akshan: “Ah, good! You are awake!”

“What happened?”

“Where is everyone?”

Akshan response 1: “Well, you were slain, but I have restored you to life! Do you still doubt the Absolver’s power?”

Akshan response 2: “While you were dying, everyone else has been fighting their hardest. Alas, I fear may we require a hasty retreat, which is why-”

Just then, Akshan’s gaze moves to the Wayfinder at your side. You look down to see that a segment in the base of the Relic has opened up. Hallowed Mist pours from the Wayfinder, and you recall your unusual encounter with the figure in your dream.

“Akshan! I know what we have to do!”

“Akshan! I need you to carry me!”

Akshan: “Oh? I am not quite certain what is happening, but I like the look that is in your eye! Very-well, hold on tightly to me, and try not to fall!”

Akshan grapples you up to the roof of a nearby building and sets you down. From this vantage point, you can see most of the battlefield around you. As you gather your bearings however, Shyvana sudden swoops down and lands before you, nearly shattering the roof.

Shyvana: “Burn all in dragonfire!”

As she prepares to engulf you in flame, you raise the Wayfinder and focus. Tendrils of Hallowed Mist pour forth and wrap around the half-dragon, stopping Shyvana in her tracks.

“Is that what your friends would want?”

“This isn’t you, Shyvana!”

Shyava: “Silence! I… I am…”

“You’re not a monster! You’re a soldier! Jerik said you’re the best he’s ever seen! Is this how a member of the Dragonguard should act!?”

“You’re not a monster! You’re the friend and protector of Demacia’s king! Didn’t you swear to defend him!?”

Shyvana: “Grrr…. RRRRAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

Primal fire engulfs Shyvana and her dragon form vanishes. Before you stands a woman with purple scales and crimson armor. Her hands and eyes burn with flames imbued with Hallowed Mist.

Shyvana: “I will never forget my oath! This Ruined King thinks he can tame a dragon? I’ll show him what happens to the enemies of Demacia!”

Shyvana transforms again, kneeling her head down to you.

Shyvana: “Climb on my back, and hold tight!”

Akshan: “Aha! Wonderfully done, Rookie!”

You do as Shyvana tells you and climb onto her back. The half-dragon carries you into the air and over the battlefield as you cling for dear life. As you ascend, your eyes scan the battlefield to pick out those who have fallen under Viego’s influence.

Shadow Isles Part IV

*From here, the player may choose which Ruined champ to go for in which order.

>Pick Tryndamere

Shyvana descends toward the Barbarian King, surrounding him in a ring of Hallowed Dragonfire. Tryndamere looks up at you and cries out in fury, but you respond by angling your Wayfinder at him. Hallowed Mist shoots forth, striking Tryndamere in the chest.

“Tryndamere, calm down! Is this how a king should behave?”

“Are you a man or an animal!? Get ahold of yourself, Tryndamere!”

Tryndamere: “Rrrgh… Grah!”

“You’re supposed to be the king of the Avarosa! Why are you bowing down to a guy like Viego!?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a might warrior! How can you let a guy like Viego tell you what to do!?”

Tryndamere: “I… I… I’LL NEVER YIELD!!!!!”

The Black Mist scatters from Tryndamere as he lets out a cry of defiance. In its place, Hallow Mist wraps around his form, imbuing his blade with cleansing power.

Tryndamere: “I fear no man or monster! COME AT ME!”

Tryndamere charges back into the fray, cutting through flames and undead alike. Though rage still consumes him, you notice that his movements are more focused now, his rage directed toward his adversaries in the Black Mist.

Shyvana carries you back into the air to seek your next target.

>Pick Draven

You spot Draven standing atop the remnants of an old monument, looking rather bored with the battle around him. Only as you approach does he look up, his attention drawn by the sound of beating wings.

Draven: “Oh, here we go! This this should be good!”

Draven winds up to hurl one of his axes, but you beat him to the draw. Tendrils of Hallowed Mist shoot from your Wayfinder and cling to Draven’s body.

Draven: “Hey, what gives!?”

“Draven, I’ve always wanted to meet you, but not like this. What a let-down.”

“I never imagined the Glorious Executioner would turn into a bit-player for some undead king.”

Draven: “What’d you say?”

“Come on, you’re supposed to be the star of the show! Why are you playing second-fiddle to Viego?”

“Draven what would your fans think if they saw you like this? Are you really gonna let them down by borrowing Viego’s power?”

Draven: “Hey! Draven IS the life of the party! Just you watch, kid!”

The Black Mist around Draven vanishes as the Hallowed Mist takes its place. He turns and chucks both axes, bouncing them off a pair of flying wraiths. Then, with practiced ease, he catches both axes and laughs.

Draven: “Ha! How’d you like that? Don’t get too excited, though! I’m just warming up!”

You and Shyvana watch as Draven leaps into the fray, but neither of you stick around to watch the show. Instead, you quickly ascend and begin seeking your next target.

>Pick Lillia

You spot a lot figure hiding amidst the ruins and direct Shyvana to descend on them. Lillia cries out in surprise as the half-dragon crashes down behind her.

Lillia: “Eep!”

She turns around to try and attack with her branch, but tendrils of Hallowed Mist engulf her before she has the chance.

“Come on, Lillia, you’re too cute to be one of Viego’s flunkies! Be brave! Fight back!”

“Lillia, aren’t you supposed to be a guardian of dreams? How can you be siding with Viego?”

Lillia: “W-What? But… Viego’s dreams are… So beautiful…”

“Viego doesn’t dream, Lillia! Not anymore! The man you’re seeing died a long time ago!”

“Viego’s dreams may be pretty, but his reality is a nightmare! He’ll ruin dreams for everyone, forever!”

Lillia: “T-That’s awful! I… Eep!”

Lillia lets out a startled gasp as the scatters from her form, then calms down as Hallowed Mist takes its place.

Lillia: “Oh, what’s this? I… I see an even lovelier dream. Not of the past, but of the future: a bright future, where nobody has to be afraid anymore. I… I understand. I’ll help spread this dream! Maybe Mother Tree will like it, too!”

Lillia takes a deep breath and scampers off into the fray, doing her best to sooth the dreams of the wraiths. You and Shyvana ascend once more to search for those still under Viego’s control.

>Pick Pantheon

As you and Shyvana scan the crowd, a flaming spear soars through the air, grazing Shyvana’s scales. The halfdragon cries out and makes an uneasy land. You do the same as you lose your grip and fall to the ground. Just as you start regain your footing, though, you see a figure marching toward you, shield raised. You try to use the Wayfinder, but the Hallowed Mist glances off Pantheon’s shield.

The war god lunges at you, but you narrowly dodge to the side to avoid being impaled by the spear that’s magically returned to his hand. Before Pantheon can try again, however, Shyvana lunges, engaging the war god with tooth and claw. As they struggle, you see your chance, and try again. This time, the Hallowed Mist takes hold.

“Atreus! I know you’re in there! You have to fight it!”

“Some god you are, Pantheon! I like your human half way better!”

Pantheon: “…Ngh! S-Silence…”

Pantheon struggles to break free, but Shyvana aids in restraining him.

“You’re not a god or a slave! You’re a warrior!”

“Your time is over, war god! No one’s gonna pray to you now, especially not like this.”

Atreus: “My name… IS SOLDIER!”

Two voices cry out at once: Atreus in triumph, Pantheon in despair. The Black Mist is replaced by Celestial power once again.

Atreus: “By my spear, they will know war!”

Atreus moves in the blink of an air, raising his spear to shield you from the axe of undead minotaur. In the same motion, he impales the beast, felling them in an instant.

Atreus: “Go! Rally our comrades! This battle is not yet lost!”

You and Shyvana both nod in acknowledgement before taking to the skies again, searching for those who remain under Viego’s influence.

>Pick Viktor

You spot Viktor amidst a crowd of possessed drones, which seem to swarm around him like a protective barrier. The drones become hostile as they notice you, but Shyvana effortlessly scatters them with her fire. You spot Viktor kneeling in the flames, staring up at you through his metal mask.

Viktor: “Why? Why you deny progress? Why do you deny salvation?”

In response, you raised the Wayfinder and let Hallowed Mist wash over the Machine Herald, binding him in place.

“Viego’s not trying to save humanity, Viktor! He’s trying to destroy it!”

“You call this progress? Turning people into a bunch of mindless wraiths hungry for souls!?”

Viktor: “Ngh… Illogical… Your argument is…”

“Viego’s a man driven by emotion, not logic! Open your eyes, Viktor!”

“Viego doesn’t care about humanity! He just wants to make everyone suffer!”

Viktor: “I see… It seems my own judgement was flawed. I must correct this error. I must adapt…”

The Black Mist pours out of Viktor’s mechanical body, replaced instead by the gentle thrum of Hallowed Mist.

Viktor: “And improve!”

Viktor turns and destroys the remaining drones with his laser.

Viktor: “Core upgrade complete. Now operating at maximum efficiency. Yes… Embrace progress!”

You and Shyvana leave Viktor to his own devices, soaring back into the skies to search for more of Viego’s thralls.

>Pick Gangplank

You advance toward the Dead Pool, holding on tight as Shyvana narrowly evades the ships cannons. Once close enough, she lets out a stream of flame that engulfs the entire ship, sending it crashing toward the ground. You scan the wreckages and see a lone figure limping out: Gangplank.

Gangplank: “It’ll take more than that to sink me, boy!”

Gangplank fires a few shots with his gun, but the bullets glance harmlessly off of Shyvana’s scales. You return fire with tendrils of Hallowed Mist, holding pirate lord in place.

“I’m not trying to sink you, Captain! I’m trying to save you!”

“You’re already drowning, Gangplank! I’m here to pull you back up!”

Gangplank: “What nonsense! I’ve finally got the power to take back my city! I don’t need any help from the likes of you!”

“Viego won’t give you your city back, Gangplank! If he wins, there won’t be anything left of Bilgewater!”

“You really trust Viego that much? You’ve gotta know there’s only room for one king in the world he’s trying to make!”

Gangplank: “…I see now. So, that slimy wharfrat thinks he can double-cross me, does he? It’s about time he realized…”

Gangplank grabs hold of the Black Mist around him, discarding it like an old coat that’s outlived its usefulness. In its place, the Hallowed Mist seems to restore the Gangplanks torn and tattered clothes to something resembling their former glory.

Gangplank: “Dead men tell MY tale!”

He turns and fires a bullet into a crowd of wraiths emerging from the remnants of his ship.

Gangplank: “Go and rejoin your crew, boy! I’ll discipline mine, then find that Ruined King!”

You and Shyvana take to the skies again, once again searching for allies amidst the Black Mist.

Once you’ve freed everyone you can from Viego’s control, you scan the battlefield for your fellow Sentinels. It’s not long before you spot flashes of light in the darkness, and direct Shyvana to set you down at their source.

As you descend, you see your allies have all huddled together near the base of the tower, making one last desperate attempt to push through. Shyvana lets loose a stream of flame that scorches the wraiths around them, before touching down and allowing you to dismount.

Lucian: “Rookie!? That you?”

“Hey, boss.”

“Happy to see me?”

Vayne: “What happened to the dragon? And to the Wayfinder? That looks like… Hallowed Mist.”

Behind you, Shyvana reverts to her humanoid form and addresses the Sentinels.

“He’s freed me from Viego’s control, as well as the others under that monster’s sway. Go and do what you have to, Sentinels. I’ll hold these creatures back!”

Shyvana wraps herself in flame again as she charges back into the fray, burning away any undead that try to get her.

Lucian: “I’m still not sure what you did, Rook, but I guess now ain’t the time to question it.”

Yorick: “You’ve awakened the final piece of her soul… Then the time truly has come to put an end to this madness.”

You and the other Sentinels gather before the gates of Viego’s stronghold, steeling your nerves for one last push.

Lucian: “This is it, Sentinels! Let’s show this Ruined Creep what we’re made of!”  

Shadow Isles Part V

With Yorick serving as your guide, you storm the ancient, dilapidated building that now serves as Viego’s castle. The gravedigger leads you through ancient hallways teeming with the Ruined King’s undead warriors, adorned in faded, rustic armor. Though more fearsome than the lowly wraiths you’re accustomed to, they fall quickly before the Sentinels’ onslaught of light, set to rest after centuries of servitude.

Finally, you push through one last door to emerge in what seems to be a makeshift throne room, the walls and ceiling broken away to reveal the lightless sky overhead. Across the room, a lone figure stands with his back toward you, the tip of his massive blade touching the ground.

Graves: “So that’s the Ruined King? Thought he’d be bigger.”

Jayce and Olaf: “Don’t let his size fool you!”

Viego: “Sentinels. How good of you to come. How kind of you to bring the final fetter.”

Viego turns to face you, and you get the sense that his power has somehow grown even more since your last encounter. A chill runs down your spine as you examine the room, seeing all the fetters from around Runeterra gathered neatly in a corner. They seem devoid now of life and light, nothing more than ordinary objects. Among them, to your horror, is a familiar-looking doll…

Lucian: “Enough stalling, creep! Where’s Senna?”

Viego: “Lucian… All who oppose me are hypocrites, and you may be the greatest of all. We share much in common, do we not?”

Lucian: “I’m nothin’ like you!”

Viego: “No? I know of your deeds, Purifier. You once scoured the world in pursuit of your lost love, just as I do. You place her safety above all else, even your own duties. If it meant saving her, you would damn this world without a hint of remorse.”

Riven: “What is he talking about?”

“Lucian, don’t listen to him!”

“Don’t let him get inside your head!”

Lucian: “You’re right, Rook! If this bastard won’t talk, we’ll just have to make him! Sentinels, open fire!”

On Lucian’s orders, the Sentinels charge Viego, the light of their relics illuminating the throne room. With a single swing of his blade, Viego unleashes a torrent of Black Mist that renders your attacks moot and forces you all back.

Viego: “This is the best resistance you can muster? Did you truly think yourselves a match for me, merely because you got past my armies?”

You clamber to your feet, only to find that Viego has vanished. You look around, only to find a hand wrapped firmly around your neck. Before you can even register what’s happening, the Wayfinder is snatched from your grasp and you find yourself on the floor once more. Viego reappears on his throne, examining the Wayfinder with amusement and contempt.

Viego: “To think that they would hide you away from me in such a trifling toy, my queen… But at last, the final fetter is truly in my grasp.

“Viego, stop! Isolde doesn’t want this!”

“Even if you bring her back, she’ll never love what you’ve become!”

Viego: “Silence! You know nothing, child! NOTHING! This cruel, twisted world took from me the only thing that ever mattered, the only thing that gave my life meaning! Never again! I will absorb every last piece of her soul. She will reside within me forever more, and we never be apart! No one will ever take her from me again!”

Diana: “You are mad! That… That is not love!”

Viego stands and tightens his grasp on the Wayfinder. You watch in horror as the light of Isolde’s soul fades, absorbed into the ceaseless darkness of Viego’s absent heart.

Viego: “It matters not what you think! I can feel her within me, granting me strength… She loves me, as I love her. Witness, Sentinels, the strength of our bond!”

You watch as the Black Mist pouring from Viego’s chest grows even more potent, wrapping around his body. A jet-black armor forms from the corruption, and a cape of pure darkness billows in the still air.

Viego: “You see? She and I are nearly one. Only one more piece remains, and then…”

Just then, a portal opens to the right of the throne. Vex emerges with her shadow in tow.

Vex: “It’s done. Oh, these guys are here?”

Viego: “Pay them no mind, Vex. They are no longer of any consequence.”

Vex: “Trust me, I’ve been trying my hardest to ignore them from the start. Anyway, that Sentinel chick’s nice and secure, just like you wanted.”

Lucian: “Senna…”

Viego: “Excellent. Then this is where we part, Sentinels. Do not fret. I will leave you with one final parting gift.”

With a snap of his fingers, Viego calls forth several wraiths from the sky above, which descend onto the throneroom in a screaming cloud. Viego and Vex quickly gather up the now lifeless fetters, preparing to make their escape through the portal.

Vayne: “Damn it! We have to go after him!”

Lucian: “I’ll go! The rest of you, cover me!”

With Relic light enhancing his movements, Lucian darts and dashes between the storm of souls, leaving the rest of you behind to deal with the wraiths as he makes for the portal. Amid the chaos, your eyes fall upon the now-lifeless Wayfinder, only to hear a familiar voice speak out to you from behind.

Yorick: “The king thinks that he’s won, but he’s overlooked something crucial.”

“What’s that?”

“What do you mean?”

Yorick: “Your piece of the queen was hidden from him, but there is another that he’s overlooked all this time. Take my cloak, child, and hurry.”

Yorick removes the shroud of darkness clinging to him and hands it to you. As you grasp it, you can hear countless voices whispering in your head as one: the voice of the Maiden.

Maiden: “Join us. Surrender to us. Be as one.”

Just then, Yorick opens his vile and sprinkles a single drop of water onto you. You feel the voices in your head growing fainter, but not completely silent.

Yorick: “Do not heed her, but keep her close. She’ll serve you well when the time comes. Now go.”

Yorick returns to the fray, summoning what few ghouls remain under his command to aid in the fight. You look to the portal and steel yourself before sprinting through the chaos, snatching up the Wayfinder as you make for the closing portal.

Riven: “Rookie! Where are you going!? Rookie!?”

You offer no response as you dive into the shadows once more, letting darkness engulf you once again.