a short pre-TFA Kylux ficlet, rated M. injuries are described.
The pain was acceptable. There was a sharpness to it which Kylo started to grow fond of. The Force told him he wasn’t dying. Darkness oozed out with his blood (so much blood) and he was at peace. Or maybe he was just delirious with agony. That was a possibility.
He saw Hux entering the tent as he was lying there on the ground. He was probably imagining him; Hux would have no business on this forsaken little moon with its thick, red air, yawning shadows and recently slaughtered population.
“Ah,” Hux said, provided he was there. “You’ve fractured your femur.”
“I did not,” Ren replied, and his voice sounded weird to his own ears. His helmet was tossed to the pile of his soaked cloak, dirtied and burnt in battle.
“I can literally see your bone peeking out from your wound,” Hux noted. He didn’t sound angry. His expression was blank, permanent sneer gone, and his mind was the same soft susurration as always. Kylo couldn’t read him without pulling, pushing, hurting.
“I didn’t fracture it, someone else fractured it for me,” Kylo corrected.
Hi! Your work is amazing! Btw Happy late birthday! So.... I love Twin Suns, and I'd like to know what ends up happenning on Nabbo. Does the Council follows Ben's warnings? Or they don't?
Quick steps sounded through the halls as a blond practically ran
through them, beaming in glee, a long braid trailing behind his ears
announcing his status as padawan of the Jedi order as he closed in on
Right outside it he slowed his pace and straightened his clothes
quickly before strolling in with his smile still on his face as he
looked around for another padawan.
“Padawan Skywalker, I see you’re back.” He quickly turned and
bowed to the Master of the Archives. “Master Nu.”
The woman raised her eyebrow at him then snorted. “If you are
looking for Ben, he’s putting away the borrowed datapads right now.
He should be in the historical section, reading.”
Anakin straightened at that and blinked. “I thought you said he
They both shared a small smile.
His brother was easy to distract even when he was working, always
wanting to read about history, culture and language. Anakin was sure
Ben knew more languages then any other Jedi in the order by now.
He headed for the historical section, grinning more and more when he
started to feel Ben’s Force signature. It felt relaxed and halfway
healthy, that was good, a better day then usually then.
And there he was.
Anakin stopped a few moments to take his twin in.
Ben was leaning against the ladder the Archivists used to climb up
and down, reading through a datapad with the trolley beside him,
several datapads still on it. His clothes were immaculate and his
braid was in his mouth, being chewed on as Ben read with great
interest in his green eyes. His white and silver mechanical hand held
the pad as he scrolled through it with his flesh fingers though
Anakin noted he seemed to have lost a bit of weight since last he saw
As if aware he was being watched, Ben looked up quickly only to beam
when he saw Anakin, putting the pad down and hurrying towards him.
“Anakin, you’re back.”
“Yup.” He wrapped his arms around his skinny twin and hugged him.
“You’re looking good.” He offered despite the weight lost. “You
got color in your cheeks.”
Ben stepped back and grimaced a bit before nodding. “The healers
have me on a new medicine run. Its experimental but so far it seems
to be working. It tastes horrid but if it continues to work, Healer
Che says they’ll put it in capsule form for me.”
“Any words on what they think you have?”
Ben just shrugged and looked at the time before smiling. “Its lunch
time, I think I can ask master for a bit of to go have it with you.”
“Sounds good to me Ben.”
The two started walking side by side to find Ben’s master, talking
quietly to each other about what Anakin and Ben had been up to in the
blonds absence from the temple.
It still amazed Anakin how far they had come, from Tatooine and his
mother worry about Ben even surviving to be a teen and Ben stumbling
around at home to space and Coruscant.
And Naboo…Force, he was glad his Master came back from that!
Qui-Gon had looked a little worse for wear but he, Knight Feemor and
Knight Vos had handled a Sith, an actual Sith on Naboo, taking him
Not to mention how R2D2 and Ric Oliê had managed to get the droid
ship shut down.
There had been a lot of loss of life though, but now both the Gungan
and the Naboo worked together, they were both represented in Naboo’s
pod at the Senate.
“You shouldn’t think about her so much.” Ben suddenly offered
“I like her. She’s…”
“She’s gorgeous. I know. But we…can’t go that way Anakin.”
Ben looked at him then smiled. “Our futures are not set in stone.
But I can only foresee pain if you should pursue that path.”
Anakin looked away then back at the redhead. “Are you sure?”
Ben let out a small sigh, stopping and taking Anakin’s hands in
his, squeezing gently. “You’ve always believed me before Anakin.
Would I lie about this?” He offered quietly.
“…No. I just…she’s…”
“She is someone you have not seen or spoken to in years. She’s a
Senator and has family on Naboo. If you do what I see you do in the
future…then only doom follows the both of you.” He looked down
and Anakin frowned a bit before lifting both their hands to raise
Ben’s chin to look at him. “And you? What happens to you Ben if I
“…I’m not a healthy man Anakin. And I am Jedi.” His younger
twin offered and a cold sensation went down Anakin’s spine at the
words. “I will never reveal your secrets Anakin. But it would
destroy us all in the end.”
Pulling the other teen closer, Anakin wrapped his arms around the
slight frame. “No. No that’s not happening. What do I…have to
“…Don’t marry her Anakin.” Ben whispered into his shoulder.
“Find the middle path, be able to let go of her if the need arises
but love her if it makes you happy…and for Force sake, use
protection.” Now Ben sounded annoyed and Anakin let out a small
laugh despite the chill down his back.
“I see you two are snuggling in the hall.” The two broke apart
and Ben quickly bowed for Master Windu, the Korun looking between
Anakin bowed a second later before answering. “Ben was just telling
me about something for the future I should be aware off.”
“I see…anything the Council should be aware of Padawan Ben?”
Mace focused sharp eyes on the redhead.
Ben tilted his head a bit, peering at him in return. “You should
keep an eye on Master Dooku… the future around him grows groggy.
And perhaps the Jedi should consider that their popularity with the
public is in decline…that we should be more open to the public and
have them see us in a kind light.” He smiled.
Mace and Anakin blinked at the redhead before Mace nodded slowly. “I
will…bring it for the Council.” He hesitated a bit, frowning at
Ben. “Are you well padawan Ben?”
“I have new medicines to try. They might improve my health. Or so
Master and Healer Che hopes. Che likes a challenge.” Ben laughed
quietly then looked at his brother when the blonds stomach growled.
“Forgive us master Windu, we were on the way to get lunch.”
“Then don’t let me stop you.” Mace stepped out of the way to
let them move on ahead.
“…I like how they have to refer to us by our names since they
can’t call us both padawan Skywalker when we’re together.”
Anakin sniggered softly after a few moments.
Ben just hummed and leaned against his brother side, taking in the
comfort of him close.
*The Hospital doors burst open as doctors and nurses rush two gurneys carrying very pregnant and in labor Ruby and Yang with their wives beside them.* Prep the delivery room for two!
GAAARRR! FUCK THIS HURTS MORE THEN I THOUGHT IT WOULD! *Yang Screamed in pain, gripping her wife Blake's hand.*
I know baby. I know. Just,NRR, Hang in there. *Blake comforted her wife, holding back the groans of pain as she held Yang's hand.*
It's okay Ruby. You are doing great. Just-just remember. Deep Breaths Deeeeeep breaths. God, what are the odds that BOTH of you would go into labor at he same time?
NNNNNNFFUH! Weiiiiiiiiiss. *Ruby panted, squeaking Weiss's hand as her wife wipes the sweat from her forehead.* The next baby you are the one carrying!
Okay we are almost there. Mrs. Schnee Rose. Mrs Belladonna Xiao Long. If you could wait h- *The doctor began to say before being cut off.*
I'M NOT LEAVING MY WIFE'S SIDE! They shouted with threatening glares*
THEY ARE COMING TOO! DAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH/GRAAAAAAAAAH! *The sisters yelled before they turned into screams.*
Y-yes ma'ams. *The terrified doctor muttered as they entered the delivery room.*
~Four and half hours and broken hands later~
Oh my god. He is so beautiful. *Ruby smiled as tears of joy streamed down her face as she held Her and Weiss new born son.*
*Sniffle* Yes Ruby. Yes he is. *Weiss sniffled happily as she leaned down kissing the top of her wife's head as she looked into the ting pair of silver eyes staring up at her.* You did great Ruby. I love you.
I love you too. *Ruby smiled as she kissed Weiss and their son.*
*Meanwhile, as Yang sobbed her eyes out she couldn't help but smile down at her and Blake's new born daughter.* She is *sniffle* so p-p-purfect, Haha. *Yang laughed as she looked up to her equally as happy with a bandaged hand wife.* Thank you so much Blake. *sniffle.* Thank you.
*Blake wiped her eyes before kissing her wife as her new daughter, giggling when their daughter's cat ears twitch.* I should be thanking you. You gave me so much even when I didn't deserve it. Thank you. I love you. Both of you.
I love you both too... Sorry though about your hand.
She was worth it.
Speaking of she. *Weiss spoke trying to collect herself.* What are you going to name my little niece?
Hehe, We can ask the same about you two and of nephew. *Blake laughed at her sister in-law when they both looked down at Ruby and Yang.*
*The two sisters looked at each other and both nodded as they looked at their babies.* Actually, gals. I hope you don't mind be me and Ruby already have names picked out.
You do? *Weiss raised an eyebrow.*
*Ruby and Yang nodded.* Yeah. Actually it's more like a promise we made to someone really special and important to us.
Someone who, beside our parents, inspired us to be huntresses.
Someone who taught us never to give up.
Someone who reminded us that we are never fighting alone. That our spirit is indomitable.
Someone who said the effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death.
Who said never let anyone tell you that something is impossible.
To keep moving forward.
*At the sisters words Weiss and Blake looked at eachother and nodded in agreement.* Alright then.
*Both Ruby and Yang smiled at Weiss and Blake thanking them both before looking down at their son and daughter.* Welcome to this beautiful world of fairy tales and fantasy... Monty / Oum.
*Rest in Peace Monty. Thank you for all your hard work and for making your dream into a reality that has inspired millions to follow in your foot steps and to follow their own dreams.*
For the promt thing, silverflint + 13? Pleaaase! (I love your blog btw!)
(Um, this one is kind of angsty. Sorry! I hope that’s alright. This is set after that conversation in the cabin in 4x08, when Flint doesn’t know the chest is on board yet, and Silver is barely clinging on to his last remnants of trust in Flint’s plans. It’s got a fair bit of ot3-ness about it too, which I hope is ok as well.)
“How can anyone not be afraid of love?”
The question was apropos of nothing. A thought given voice so quietly that it barely disturbed the air around them, barely existed at all. Flint stilled, unsure of how to reply.
“The things it drives you to do,” Silver continued, his voice a murmur. “It’s not…good or gentle or generous. It’s selfish and destructive. I think perhaps I was better off without it. I think everyone else was better off without me having it too.”
“Don’t say that,” Flint said, softly. His gaze flicked up to Silver’s face, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to try to catch his eye. Words like these asked to be heard without being seen. Even the light of the candles cast too bright an illumination on them. He would have snuffed them out if he wasn’t afraid that any movement might shatter the atmosphere of the moment. “We’re going to get her back. She and I and everyone will be better off because you won’t rest until she is safe. Because you love her.”
“But that’s not-” Silver said, curling his lip as he cut himself off. “It isn’t that simple. You know it isn’t. You’re speaking in platitudes and I didn’t ask for it. I never ask for that from you. Don’t be so fucking gentle with me.”
Flint sighed. Once, he would have had to fight to swallow his irritation at such a truculent response, but he was just too damn tired. And he knew Silver was tired too. Exhausted. His words were softly slurring round the edges, and it wasn’t with drink. He wasn’t sure from exactly which festering piece of unresolved anger this particular accusation took root, but Flint decided that it mattered little, and that straightforwardness was the only sensible way forward.
“What is it that you do want from me then?” he asked, and he finally persisted in seeking out Silver’s gaze until he had it.
Silver picked at the handle of his crutch, his focus jumping between Flint’s eyes and a point somewhere over his right shoulder.
“I want your honesty,” he said. He paused, swallowing heavily, and then continued, “Did Miranda ever hate you for the things you did for Thomas? Or the cruelties it lead to? Or the selfish choices you made on his behalf, or hers, or your own?”
Flint clenched his fingers. He tried to keep his face calm, keep from his eyes the anger that was so quick to seep out from sore old wounds, but it was barely worth the effort around Silver. If he was an open book to nobody else on Earth, he was to him. Silver could read an essay in the crease of his brow, the deepest of secrets in the twitch of his eye. He wondered whether he would ever find the cipher to allow him to read Silver in the same way, down to the very last word and those most nightmarish of secrets.
“Why?” Flint said, his teeth barely parting to let the word out.
“Because I want to know how singular she was. How uncommon. I want to know what sort of horrors and betrayals were excused because she had your love, and what was excused in return, if you had hers. I want to know what a good person might be willing to forgive. I know the things I would forgive, and the things I would not, but I am not a good person,” Silver said, his eyes now focused unwaveringly on Flint’s. “I’m not,” he added when Flint frowned and opened his mouth to disagree.
Flint twisted the ring on his little finger as he considered how to answer, and contemplated what it seemed that Silver was really asking.
“She forgave a lot of things because I loved her and because she loved me, and because she understood the way Thomas and I loved one another too. Of course she hated some of the things I did, and some of the things to which I subjected her, but she always understood why. I didn’t…I didn’t always love her well. But she forgave it all. She was singular and uncommonly good, but then so is Madi. I think Madi would forgive a great deal too,” he said, his eyes imploring Silver to believe him, as he believed it himself.
“I’m not talking about Madi,” Silver murmured, his gaze piercing and unsettling.
Flint blinked and frowned, but before he could speak again, Silver pushed himself to standing, the effort looking monumental. Flint was worried for a brief moment that his knee might simply buckle underneath him.
“We both ought to sleep,” Silver said, as he made his way laboriously towards the door. “Whatever happens tomorrow, it will require us both to have our wits about us.”
As the door closed behind him, Flint considered his words again. He was unnerved by them, though he didn’t fully understand them, and they echoed in his mind nonetheless. He knew the things love could drive a person to; knew the corrupted ways in which it could be expressed. ‘I want to know what a good person might be willing to forgive…I’m not talking about Madi.’ The thoughts creeping around the edges of his tired mind, too fragile to withstand much scrutiny, wondered when anyone had last called him good, and what sort of generous forgiveness might be facilitated by his loving and being loved in return. Or what forgiveness might be required. And he wondered whether, just perhaps, he might even be willing to forgive enough to be defined as singular.
Author’s Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven’t posted a fic in a while, I went back to school and getting back into the groove of things has been crazy. I start midterms in a few weeks, so I won’t be active too much, maybe popping in here and there on study breaks. Anyways, I was going through some old stories and I found one I think you guys will like. As always, feedback would be much appreciated. Enjoy! :)
Summary: Three years after The Battle of Sokovia, the Avengers are back in the small country evacuating the people. When Pietro goes to into a building to rescue someone, he sees it’s someone who he never thought he’d see again.
So now that I’m doing RWBY theories, I thought it’s about time I addressed the biggest asspull of last season: Ruby’s silver eyes and the great power they hold over grimm
At least, that was what I thought. As it turns out, all the sumptuous theory meat can be found simmering in a nondescript pot on the other end of the kitchen with some san marzano tomatoes and paprika. Okay, that expression may have gotten a bit off the rails, so let me just clarify what the hell I’m talking about.
Silver eyes are so last season. Red Eyes are where it’s at!
Let’s discuss salem for a moment. Just a moment because there Salem is a pit stop and we’re going to be going on a road trip across the entirety of fucking Massachusetts.
It’s very clear right now that, for the time being, Salem is the biggest bad on the table. She just arrived at the season finale, motives unknown, castle spooky, and dick out. All we know is she looks really goddamn creepy with her glowing red eyes, and despite being mad evil she has no problem being assaulted by grimm who sense her negative emotions.
Now some of you might suspect that Salem is safe from the grimm because she is some sort of humanoid grimm or grimm hybrid. I don’t doubt something like that is a factor, but she doesn’t seem to be the only one who is just ignored by the grimm.
Think for a moment about what we know of the world of Remnant and try to imagine the geopolitics. Grimm are everywhere, necessitating walled cities to prevent being overrun the minute the weather turns miserable or a horrible politician is elected. Smaller settlements and towns are in a precarious state and depend geographic barriers even in the best of times.
By this logic, it should immediately be obvious that only people strong individuals with generally sunny dispositions could survive more than a few days at a time in the wilderness, and yet somehow Bandit Tribes thrive.
Now, if they were living self-sufficent lives and were well-adjusted people, they might have a shot, but these are whole interrelated communities of murderers and thieves. If they aren’t miserable on their own, the towns they pillage sure will be. Yes, you heard me, they risk inviting grimm attacks to leech off others, so how the fuck have they not been killed by grimm?
Easy. The same reason as Salem
V4C4 didn’t just reveal that Raven and Qrow were from the bandit tribes, and thus imply that they likely have relatives there with the same eye color, it clued me in to this whole mess by having a waitress identify Raven as the the woman with red eyes. When your eye color is so rare that it’s a unique identifier, there’s something to be said for significance and scarcity.
Okay, I’ve gotten this deep, I should clarify what I’m proposing these red eyes do. As a feature borne by the biggest bad this side of downtown achievement city, these red eyes are a direct parallel to Ruby’s silver ones (unrelated note, but given all the wizard of oz motifs going around, we we should probably be aware that the Ruby Slippers were originally silver).
If the silver eyes are known to make one a natural enemy to the grim, then the red eyes do the opposite: they make the grimm consider you one of them and allow one to pass by them unharmed and unmolested
Looking back this explains a lot. It’s not just bandits being unafraid of fear-tracking monsters, or some evil witch using them to further her goals unharmed. It’s the little things, like how Qrow, a chronic alcoholic with very little sense of self preservation could have survived the beginning of his career as a huntsman, fighting bus-sized supernatural beasts faster and stronger than humans were meant to be.
Canada ended up taking nearly all of the kitchen knives despite Russia and England reminding him that weapons wouldn’t do them any good. “I would take America’s guns, if he had them here,” he complained, looping a bright blue ceramic knife and its cover onto his belt. When England looked like he was going to complain to him again, Canada turned around, brow furrowed in anger. “Until you can prove whatever this is doesn’t bleed, I’m taking a weapon.”
“It is not bad to be prepared,” Russia said as England sighed, handing over Ziploc bags full of salt to each of them.
“This will do more damage,” England said, eyes darting around the kitchen, looking for more things to arm themselves. “If you have silver, that’d be best to wear.”
“I don’t know about silver, but I know there’s iron around here,” Canada muttered and pulled out a cast iron pan from a lower cabinet. He fished around a cutlery drawer and pulled out a spoon and pie server. “These are silver, at least.”
“Great,” England said eyeing the items. “You can make it a great omelet,”
@valkurion-transverse I told you this was going to take me some time but I was going to write it for you. I have to admit, this was hard. You asked me for a 007 or road trip AU and I literally went like, how am I going to pull this out? But I tried and here it is! I hope it’s not so bad and you enjoy, my friend. You’re awesome.
Blake feels like
she’s burning and she’s not sure if that’s because of the rage bubbling inside
of her or because the building is literally on fire. Maybe it’s a mixture of
both, although she doesn’t have enough time to dwell on that. This place is
going down in more ways than one and she doesn’t want to die there. No, she
can’t die then and there. She can’t afford such luxury.
“Blake, this way!”
She follows the voice even when the smoke is too thick
to see a thing once she turns the corner. She doesn’t have to see when she
recognizes that voice. Sure, they met a couple of days ago, but if she makes it out of there alive, it’s all
thanks to that person. She’s going to trust her because Blake knows when to
trust someone, or at least, she wants to believe so.
Drabble: A Modern AU of how Peeta can’t keep his eyes off a girl that comes to his bakery every day.
From the bakery marble counter, he watches her. She’s beautiful, always is, but today there’s something especial about her. For starters, her hair is not in a braid as usual. Not that he doesn’t like her braid. Actually, he loves it. But today, with her dark waves falling perfectly above her shoulders and a light make up applied to her face, she seems so more mature than she actually is that it makes his heart glow with hope and possibility, even though he can’t. Even though he won’t.
Also, she’s smiling. A lot. Like he never saw before. She also giggles. And it makes his glowing heart do flip flops inside his chest. Because if there’s someone that deserves to be happy in this entire world, this someone is Katniss Everdeen.
He feels like a teenager, spying her like that as she laughs and talks with her little sister. At least, he assumes the light haired girl sitting close to her is her little sister, judging by the way they seem intimate. Although she seems like a sixteen year old girl, when Katniss always talked about her like she was five. Anyway, he can see that she likes this girl, that could or not be her sister, and it makes him happy that she’s happy because he saw her scowl too much on the past couple of years that he knows her.
We all know that Cinder became the fall maiden, but it is a coincidence that her last name is Fall. I have been overthinking this fact and think we know 2 other maidens: Winter Schnee and Summer Rose.
The lesser thought out first: Winter. The main reason why I think she could be, or eventuall be, a maiden, is because she is powerful. Winter is not only strong, but respected. She may be so strict because she knows that being a maiden is a big responsibility. She knows the repercussions if the knowledge of the maidens slips to the public.
The more thought out: Summer Rose. Summer is still a mystery. We know very little about her, but there is still evidence supporting my claim. Summer is always talked about as special, mostly because of her eyes, but I think that she is referred to as special because she was a maiden. People with silver eyes are destined to be great warriors, and who else are considered great warriors? The four maidens. This may also be why Qrow knows about the maidens. Qrow doesn’t come across as trustworthy to me, so I don’t think Ozpin and Co. would ask him for his help. Summer may have told Team STRQ, and Qrow could have went to Ozpin for confirmation on the subject. Qrow, now knowing the truth, must be trusted, whether they like it or not. Qrow drinks so much because of the pressure of keeping such a big secret.