#during my 'observing thoughts' meditation my head was full with thoughts of this topic as well

[pineconeinatree]

witchy tips for witches with depression <3

I've been struggling with depression for some time now and I've been having a lot of issues practicing my craft since the lack of energy and motivation, so I decided to compile a list of simple routine things you can try to add to your daily life to get you back on the craft and maybe make you feel better :]

theres no instant cure to depression but there are ways to make it a little less bad, and little by little get you back on your feet !! these may not work for everyone as I am writing down things that work for me and just simple ways I use to incorporate the craft into my daily life. please please please also seek prefessional help if you're able to !! talk to friends and family, you're loved and cared for !! google depression self help tips for more tips, I know most of them may sound dumb or trivial or useless but it is so worth a shot adhering to them for some time, maybe you will notice an increase in your mood :D

1. veiling

when I go out, I wear a scarf on my head to protect my energy or keep me in a good mood, depending on the days activity. you can wear a scarf around the house or go out with it and putting one on also works for a bad hair day (read: haven't washed hair in a week) ;D

just cleanse the scarf by maybe shaking the unwanted energies out of it or with incense or with whatever you see the best and bless the scarf with your intentions for the day :D

2. cleansing

if you have a hard time taking care of your hygiene ( it's okay I promise, it can be very exhausting :/ ), try getting some baby wipes on your bedside table and when you wake up / before you go to bed, wipe your face, armpits, feet etc. with the wipe and with the intention of cleansing. it's quick and very easy and I promise that it's worth it, you'll feel a lot more fresh afterwards. you can do the same with washing in general ! if you take a shower imagine the bad thoughts and depressive energy go down the drain in a black/gray/brown stream of dark water !! you'll feel a lot more fresh and maybe a bit clear-headed even :)

3. tea magick

while getting your cup of tea / coffee, stir your days intentions into the drink or do this:

stir clockwise thrice to bring positivity, stir counterclockwise to let out negative energy in your next three sighs and then seal the spell to let the sadness repel.

I recommend black tea or white tea or chamomile tea and add some honey / sugar to sweeten the deal !!

4. shadow work

I know that one of the last things you might want to do is dwelve deep into your feelings but it really will be useful in the long run. if you feel yourself getting upset or your mood suddenly dropping, try getting to the bottom of it; what triggered the emotional reaction? take a deep breath, relax into your feelings as they are in that moment and be honest with yourself. observe them without judgment and try to find out where they came from and how to solve the conflict.

here's some prompts and questions you can try asking yourself:

how did you feel ( more accurately than just upset; were you angry, jealous, sad, lonely etc.) ?

is there something you can do right now to solve it ?

how could you handle this situation in a healthy way? eg. try to come up with healthy coping mechanisms.

how can you maybe prevent this in the future?

try the court trial thought challenging technique. if these thoughts or this situation was a court case, which side would win? imagine yourself as the defense attorney. you need to gather 100% foolproof evidence you have siding with the negative thought and then defend it against the undermining counterpart. it's kind of a pros and cons type of list but you adopt the viewpoint of an outside viewer to get a clearer and more realistic view of the situation. this thought process can help you realize that some negative thoughts aren't truthful and help you let them go. you can Google "the court trial cbt" for more on this technique :D !!

5. studying the craft

we're all individuals and we react differently to bad states of mind but what I do often is distract myself by being on my phone and I know ( I hope so, at least ) I'm not alone in this. as a witch, you're always developing and learning new things, was it about learning different kinds of ways to practice your craft or getting to know other practices or maybe reading a guide how to grow your own herbs ! point is, if you're gonna distract yourself, you could try reading ebooks or articles or even tumblr posts about things that interest you !

maybe try making a list of subjects, topics and practices that interest you and set a goal for yourself to read at least about 3 subjects on the list per day !!

6. making pinterest boards / planning

this isnt directly magick but I think it does count as practicing your craft. make mood boards for the next full moon, come up with spells, make pinterest boards about cool things that interest you or maybe start planning for the next sabbath ! just have fun with it, maybe colour coordinate your pin boards or arrange them by season !

7. go out for walks

it is so so so important to try to adhere to some routines. a big part of managing depression is taking care that you get enough sleep, eat enough and do fulfilling, nice and healthy things. go outside and try to look for rocks or crystals from the nature ? or try foraging ! or maybe go for a walk during sunset/sunrise and admire the beautiful sky and clouds ! ANY reason to peep your nose out of the house is a good reason. maybe go meditate to the nearest park ? or try yoga !!

8. interests and passions and things you loved to do

I know that it might be hard to find joy in the things that you used to like doing but you should try to do at least one thing that you used to love doing for 10 minutes every day ! incorporate a little witchcraft into it too if you want to !

draw or paint a sigil and maybe colour it

sing your favourite song with intent that matches the lyrics

try freestyling with any instrument you play and let your intuition guide you with the chords and notes that come out ! you can try also making small melodies that correspond to different intents and use them for cleasing or happiness or protection !!

bake or cook something you've always wanted to try ! look up the ingredients' correspondences and cook with desired intents !

please know that you're not alone !! my dms are always open if you want tips or just someone to talk to, too :) you don't need to do all of these but maybe try taking some inspo and adjust it to your life and surroundings and daily life and come up with ways of your own, it's your craft after all !!

#magick #spells #witchblr #witchcraft #witchy #baby witch tips #green witch #witch help #baby witch #crystals #kitchen magic #kitchen witch #depression #mental health tips #depression tips #mentally ill #mentalheathawareness #witches #witchy tips #witch community

[dinner-djarin]

Until the Sun Rises

Part 1: Chosen or not

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!reader

Notes: As much as I love Star Wars, I am not completely versed in how the Force works, so I may or may not have made some stuff up. Honestly I'm not really sure, but I tried not to make it too drastic. Also I made up a name for the readers Master (Master Setne). I hope it doesn't take anyone out of the fic. Also this fic is dedicated to @hellotherebonky. Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy ;)

Word count: 2.9k

Rating: T

Summary: Growing up as a Jedi isn't all you wished it could be. You wonder if this path is the right one for you, that is until you meet a young Anakin Skywalker.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of immediately. There might be light swearing somewhere, but honestly it's pretty PG, being about the Jedi and all. Very Angsty. It's kinda self doubty and there's some negative thoughts about the readers own abilities and stuff (pls be kind to yourself)

The Jedi life is all you’ve ever known. But if you’re being honest with yourself, you aren’t quite convinced you’re cut out for it.

Sure, you want the galaxy to be safe and at peace. Sure, you understand that you have been blessed by the Maker; given the ability to use and understand The Force in a more intimate way than most. But every day that passes in the temple makes you wonder whether this life is the one you would choose for yourself, or if it just so happens to be the life you’ve ended up with.

Being a Padawan is no easy feat. You study day in and day out. You practice and you meditate, and you learn as much as you can, as fast as you can. Your Master has been a guiding lighting through your training, taming your desires and chaotic nature. But as much as you appreciate all they have done for you; they aren't the reason you stay.

There’s only one person who keeps you trapped in the life you wish you could leave. He’s the only true friend and family you feel like you’ve ever known. Even though Master Setne has been there for you through all your highs and lows, only Anakin Skywalker feels like home.

Your first few years at the temple felt so dark and clouded, but the day you met the young boy changed everything. His aura was warm and inviting, and it blended so beautifully with yours - his light blue the perfect complement to your vibrant orange.

You were acquainted quickly, and inseparable from that moment on. Your training was slightly slower than his, but still you made the point to work hard and stay close to him. Even as younglings, any time you could be together, you were. Later in life, Anakin would taunt you for this, saying you were always chasing after him, following him like a lost Loth-cat. But you knew in your heart that he never wanted to be without you. He felt protective over you. He liked knowing you were with him should anything go wrong, as if the boy could do anything to stop impending threats. It brought him joy and comfort to see your smile as you chased him down every hall of the temple.

Later on, however, your training would take you down slightly separate roads. Obi-wan insisted that Anakin’s training be practical and hands-on, something you wished desperately for. However, you were stuck at the temple, learning theory and force abilities, glued to holo-screens full of ancient texts, your brain overwhelmed and understimulated. You longed for the day you got to experience a fight; you craved danger and secretly wished for an outrageous calamity on a far-off planet where you could sweep in and save the day.

However, the days where Anakin joined your studies kept you hopeful. The stolen glances behind monitors and quiet laughter that arose from your persistent silly faces kept a smile plastered on your face for weeks. Any moment shared with Anakin filled your days and nights with a longing bliss; a dream of what life could be like when it was just the two of you, the rest of the world falling away. Every responsibility or dread of impending doom faded to a place you could not reach and did not care to look. Only he mattered. And you hoped - dreamed - that he felt the same for you.

You wondered if maybe when he was on assignment off world, facing unknown dangers and near-death experiences, if you were on his mind. If when he came back bloodied and bruised, he wished for you to greet him first, for you to comfort him at his side in the infirmary. Obviously, you were important to him, being one of the only other people willing to put up with his boyish arrogance, but still you feared you may not have brought him the same comfort that he did for you.

As you grew older, you were lucky to find your bedchambers right next door to those of Anakin’s, and even more lucky to know that your headboards fell against the same adjacent wall. The two of you spent countless nights reaching out through the force to feel each other's presence. A tease for what you could have, had your barrier disappear. As you tuned your skills, you were able to do more than feel each other's auras. Eventually, you lay awake night after night speaking to each other in a way most could never understand. It was more than words shared amongst friends. It was a swirling mix of emotions and images and fears and dreams, blended together intimately between the wall which kept your physical forms separate.

When you were teens - almost adults - you found ways to become more reckless. Sneaking out to roam the temple halls and explore to places previously forbidden. Finding your way to rooftop balconies of your own making and watching the stars of Coruscant’s sky. Anakin would list off the plethora of different systems he had been to, whereas you were only able to name a handful that you’d visited yourself. You followed his lead, as he yearned to push every boundary in his way. He had never been one to follow commands blindly, and it leaked into the life he shared with you. Your stolen moments were often a direct product of Anakin’s juvenile disregard for the Order’s attempt to control him.

One night, you were readying yourself for sleep when you heard your door quickly slide open and shut before you could even turn to observe it.

“What the-” you start to question as you turn to face the intruder.

“Your senses must be dulling, young Padawan” he starts with a whisper. “If you cannot sense my presence after so many years together.”

“First of all, Anakin, you’re a Padawan as well, so don’t even start that. And second, as much as I wish I could ignore your cocky presence in the Force, I tend not to expect anyone's presence when I’m about to go to sleep for the night.”

“Well, if you can only feel my presence when you are expecting it, you won't be a very efficient Knight, will you, little one?”

“Anakin, I swear. I’m only a year younger than you, please stop calling me that!” Every time he talks about how young you are, your heart splinters just a little. Every day you wished he saw you in a better light, saw you for the woman you almost were, instead of the child he first met. “And I would be a better Jedi if Master Setne actually believed in me. But no. I’m stuck here while you get to go wave your saber around every star system in the galaxy. I mean come on it’s not like you're so special. Hmm Mister ‘Chosen One’”

“Erg, I wish you’d stop that.” He grunted quietly.

“What? I mean Obi-wan believes it. His master believed it too. It’s not so crazy-”

“No. I wished you’d stop. Stop thinking of me like that.” His words pierce you like ice, a harsh grip at your throat. Stop thinking of me like that. His words brought an irrational wave of confusion to your thoughts. Every fear you’d known came bubbling to the surface in a moment, fearing he knew of your affection… and subsequently didn’t return it. “And I wish you didn’t think of yourself like that. You are talented, little one. You're brilliant and cunning. I’ve sparred with you enough to know that you would be able to hold your own out there.”

He moves to sit on your bed, although you remain frozen on the spot. Anakin gazes out of your floor-to-ceiling window, “I’m not better than you. I’m not who they want me to be. I’m not Chosen.” He whispers quietly, almost low enough that you wonder if he even intended for you to hear.

Slowly, your heartbeat evens out and you think you begin to breathe again. It's not your feelings of love that he despised, but your eagerness to view him as superior to you. The feeling in your fingertips and toes returns and it is enough to get you to move towards the window as well.

You move carefully to sit cross-legged beside him, and you join him in watching the bustle of Coruscant in silence. After several minutes of gazing at speeders pass by and store signs blink repeatedly you place your hand on his thigh and gently tilt your head to rest on his shoulder.

“I know you Anakin, arguably better than most, and you are talented. You’re amazing. There’s a reason you're out there keeping peace, while the rest of us barely get to leave the temple. You may just be the best Jedi of our age one day. Chosen or not.”

“I doubt that very much.” He spoke plainly, almost compulsory. Like he knew your words were true, but he had to deny them anyway. Anakin had always been self-assured. He never tried very hard but could somehow always tackle any difficult topic during training. Something that might take you a month to master took him mere minutes.

“Modesty doesn’t look good on you.” You note, as you take in the way his brow furrows and his lips scrunch into a frown. He always looked good, the damn jerk, but poking at his ego always came easy to you.

“I won’t lie to you,” He starts as he meets your examining gaze, and you dare to raise your brow, “You’d see right through me if I even tried,” he smiles, and you stifle a giggle as you listen closely to his next confession, “I do think I could be great. I notice how easy everything comes to me, how little work I have to put in, especially compared to you. Sometimes I even think Obi-wan is running out of things to teach me. He deals more in life lessons now than saber training. And I do wish to one day be on the council, maybe even lead it-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream that far Anakin,” you cut him off, and you don't miss the worry that fills his face. Eager to ease him, you finish, “I doubt you’ll be able to outlive Master Yoda. 900 years he’s going on, if I’m correct? Good luck topping that.” And with a wink you see ease wash over him, with a huff of laughter barely escaping his nose.

“You’ve got me there, little one.” He says as he turns his stare back to the city. “Regardless, even though I know I could make it, I wonder if it’s truly the place for me.” He finishes. But in a second you whip your eyes around to meet his staring back at you.

“What are you talking about Anakin! You’re everything the council looks for. Brave, talented, brilliant, and even after all that, you care. You care about protecting the galaxy, keeping peace. You care about everyone around you. They should count themselves lucky to have you amongst their ranks. And besides…” You start to confess, but quickly lose momentum.

After a moment of quiet, Anakin presses you, “Besides what?”

“Anakin, if you don’t belong here… You have to because…”

“Little one?”

“If you don’t belong here, how can I?” You finally admit, both to him and yourself. You know it is foolish, but you’ve always thought of him as the ideal Jedi. Perfect in every way. Ready for battle, or negotiation. Wanting to save everyone with his kind heart. If he didn’t believe he fit here, how could you? How could anyone?

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re an amazing Jedi, well Jedi-in-training.” he corrects himself, “I just think sometimes I’m not made to sit and talk about issues. And I worry that when I have the freedom to be a fully-fledged Knight, I may not agree with the council. Even now I often wonder if their decisions are the best, or most efficient. They seem so detached from it all…” His eyes fall to his lap, and from only his profile you can see how worried he truly is about the matter.

“You’re right.” His eyes dart up to meet your own, that lost look beginning to melt in the presence of your agreement. “They do seem detached but isn’t that the way it's supposed to be. ‘No attachments’ and all that. If they - if we - attach ourselves to things, we cannot make educated decisions. We must trust in The Force for guidance. And since our Master’s have developed their connections fully, we must trust their decisions as they work through The Force.”

“Yes. You are right.” Anakin begins, a tone of disappointment lodged in his voice.

“But we must also trust ourselves,” you counter, “And know that our own connection to The Force might guide us differently from what the council suggests. If we can’t trust ourselves, we have no business being Jedi, in-training that is.” You finish, and you hope that Anakin has not lost hope in your words. He basically told you that he feels the same struggle that you do, but you were too ashamed to admit that. You wish to yourself that you could be like him. Brave and courageous. Daring and bold. Willing to bare himself to you so openly and knowing full-well what consequences may come. “Anakin,” your voice now only a whisper, and you make your way to hold his hand, “I hope you know that you do belong here. Even if you never make it on the council.” His eyes now full of confusion and hurt from your words, but you persist. “Even if you are the Chosen One... or not. All I know is what I’ve seen. And I have seen you become a strong, caring man. A man who does what he believes is right, no matter the consequences to himself. Even the things you neglect to tell me, I hear from the Temple gossip. I know how close to death you’ve been, for the sake of others. You’ve risked your life, even for your Master on occasion. I mean come on, Anakin. How could we not be lucky to have you here? One day you will do something incredible for the Jedi order, I know it. Even if you don’t think so, I know. I know you belong here, and I know you will be the best of us. So, if you don’t trust yourself, or your Master, or The Force... then trust me.”

The words tumbled from your tongue like an avalanche, unstoppable and devastating. The moment they left you, you wished for your Life Force to be sucked away on the spot. But Anakin just stared at you. He stared and you stared back. And if not for the noise of the upper levels of Coruscant, you might have thought you had been transported somewhere new; to a place where only you two existed. You could feel his body heat diffusing through his fingers to your frozen clutch, yet still your blood ran cold out of the fear for what might happen next.

“What will come of us when we are Knighted, little one?” He asked through an equally hushed tone. “What will I do without your constant guidance?”

“What will I do without you, Anakin? I already can’t stand being left here alone so often, watching you traverse the galaxy with Obi-wan. When you’re Knighted, which could very well be any day now, you’ll be gone for so much longer. And I’ll still be here.”

You barely manage to breathe in the presence of the suffocating silence that follows your words. But soon after, you hear Anakin's quiet unassured voice return. “I could take you with me?”

“Stop it, Anakin.” You playfully retort.

“I’m serious.” His voice becoming stronger in his conviction, “Once we are Knighted - the both of us - we can ask to be assigned together. It would be unwise for the council to deny how well we work together. You’d only have to wait until you face the trials, which I know won't be long either. You work hard enough, and Master Sente would be a fool to keep you locked up here much longer.” The dream of partnering with Anakin brings warmth back to your body, and you allow yourself a moment to indulge in the picture. You and Anakin defending each other, protecting each other. The long trips through hyperspace where you could strategize, and train together. You could spend every day and every night with each other. The dream is delectable.

But it is just that. A dream.

Not only would you need the approval of the council and need to wait until whenever your Master decided you were ready for the trials. But you also knew that new Knights were rarely assigned together. If anything, they were often stationed with their Master’s for months until it was assured they could handle any troubles on their own.

“It’s a nice idea,” you placate his wistful thinking, “I truly hope we get to see that day soon.” And with those words you decide the night must come to an end. You nudge Anakin's side and remark the hour, “Our Master’s will have us running drills for days if they catch us up so late past curfew.”

“Well then. Until the sun rises,” He says with a wink.

“And until the sun sets.” You finish as you watch your door slide shut between you and him.

~~~~~~~

Part 2

Thanks for reading!

There will be 3 parts to this story, so if you enjoyed, stay tuned!! Its gonna be tragic..

#anakin skywalker #anakin fluff #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin fic #star wars #clone wars #prequel era #young anakin #anakin angst #TCW #jedi #sith #fluff #angst

[merakimousumi]

Spirituality - the pathless path !

The story series - Part 2 of 2 

Dev Smiled. The mysterious one , the mischievous one. He cleared his voice and made himself comfortable.

He started saying “look I follow every advise which are simple and does not take much of my effort in my life .Ultimately I realised when with I fight with reality I create my struggle. What is the point of struggle , when things can work out well” 

My father and mother as you are aware were extremely religious and  rituals were daily part of life. Bowing to deity before leaving the house, taking a spoonful of curd before examinations or interview , getting blessing by touching the feet of the elders and so many. I do them all , without questioning whether I believe in them or not, I realize in my early age that it gives me time to do my own stuff and not get into lecture for next 2 hours and sometimes every week , spoiling mood , missing football , music and all those things that mattered at that time.

At this point , Ramesh smiled . Dev was the favourite in school and college. He would always agree with the teachers and would go out of the way, beyond curriculum to provide the assistance. He was favourite of my parents too. He would come home , touch my parents feet always. He would eat everything offered without uttering a word. Dev hated sweets and bitter gourd, however whenever my mother gave him sweet and bitter gourd during lunch visit he would eat them and also appreciate them. Later when asked why did he not refuse, he would always smile and say “one day I can keep my dislike aside, she  your mother made them with so much love so appreciated her efforts too “

Knowing this nature, Ramesh was sure that Dev would have integrated this in other aspects in my life, curious to see what is the context now.

Dev now was looking into the moonless night, full of stars and threw his hands over his head as if he has gone to that time he is about to speak. This gentleman who was a Hindu Monk or Sadhu( as mentioned in India ) use to come home every two to three years and stayed for few days. He would instruct my parents to follow some rituals daily, monthly and on specific occasions and it was meticulously followed too. The monk visited soon after demise of my father and that particular day when he was about to leave and he looked at my mother and told her that unless Dev does not surrender to God his life would be full of misery. My mother immediately bowed to his feet and requested to share guidance and save her son from the misery. He raised hand and said softly ask him to chant the name of Almighty daily without fail.

After the monk was gone the only discussion that happened in the next few days with mother was when should the chanting be done and what should be chanted.  Mother forced me to read the religious books aloud so that it can he heard, according to her this is chanting, it should create sound and heard. The situation became different when informed that new city is calling for duty. 

Mother would not accompany as she felt there are lot of memories of my father and she just cannot leave this surrounding where she has spent 40 years of her married life. There were many relatives around and domestic help , from taking care perspective there was no issue. She wanted Dev to follow the guidance of monk , the promises was not being accepted. Gopal use to be the caregiver of my father and with my father’s death he was jobless. He owned a small land which never yield him enough to sustain him and his wife. Gopal and his wife happily joined me since last 20 years. The responsibility to check and remind me of my chanting was given to Gopal and his wife by my mother. In the coming days daily after returning from work, these two people would never fail to remind me and they stood till something happened. Something workable needed to be done , Dev asserted!!

One day Dev just found the way to follow the instructions of the monk too. Dev called Gopal and his wife and informed them. Both looked astonished however nodded. Since then Dev calls him “ Gopal” and  in various names of Lord Krishna and in this way his promise to mother has been fulfilled. There is no separate Hari, Keshav, Madhava, Murli or anyone. Gopal is everyone. On weekends and holidays the number of calling increases, saying this Dev laughed rolling his head. Its been 20 years and is working fine. 

Ramesh did not laugh, he was amazed that his friend actually followed the instructions of the monk and fulfilled the promise of his mother so effortlessly. While there is a huge possibility that this is not be written in anywhere in scriptures, however the love and respect that was observed in last two days , there is no denial that the purpose is met. Something did bother Ramesh within and he was unable to pin it down at that moment. At least the mystery is solved !!

Soon Gopal came with another round of black tea. Dev told Gopal that he just briefed about the name. Gopal smiled and nodded his head softly mentioned “I am just following what mother asked me and making sure that you are following it too”.

Next morning as the friends bid goodbye to see each other again. Dev told him that he is eagerly looking for the article to read once it is published. Ramesh sat next to Gopal who was driving the car. Suddenly he turned and asked how does he feels when Dev calls him with different names . Gopal without even loosing sight from the road calmly expressed “ Sense the love, feel the joy by which one calls , name is just incidental. I only respond to that love and joy”. There was a silence after listening as if this frail person understands without having to read, chant , meditate. Just before getting down from the car , I again turned and asked “is Gopal your real name ?” He smiled and said “ no saheb , my name is Rahim”. 

There was a shiver that went to the spine that can be felt even today.

Sitting in the first class compartment absorbed in thoughts looking outside the window, the notes made from the interview slipping its pages on its own on the lap, Ramesh just could not gather who is Spiritual and what is spirituality. Is it the Guru who he met in the ashram who has ocean of knowledge by reading various scriptures, the enormous practice that he has done, the congeraression on he speaks, his friend Dev who found his way with absolute simplicity in the midst of an extremely busy life or was it Gopal alias Rahim who dedicated everything to the call of love and joy.

One thing that came again and again , there are many paths to the mountain, all would lead to the top. One just needs to stop circling around the base of the mountain and not tell people which road is easier or the best route to take.

Almost forgot to mention, the interview and the topic was never published because Ramesh realised that the sanity and sacredness that he has gathered during the trip was far beyond the understanding of many. This journey of spirituality is individual and can be quantifiable only through direct experience. He has moved to India within one year of that encounter and has opened sports academy for the under privileged kids where he gives shelter and food. 

#spiritualjourney #follow my blog #new to blogging #writeblogging #blog post #Write your feelings #excerpt from a story i'll never write #Alan Watts #sri nisargadatta maharaj #writeaway #followmypage #following my dreams

[warriorangel4god]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul

Summary:

What if Maul had never killed Qui-Gon Jinn in battle, but rather fled the fight to hide in shame of his failure, fearful that Darth Sidious would kill him upon discovering his incompetence in fulfilling his mission? And what if he sought out the Jedi Order as the war reaches it climax, revealing his master's secrets and the ways of the Sith?

Darth Maul is allowed to stay at the temple, to redeem himself, to find out what kind of person he is as the war comes to an end and the galaxy tries to heal.

Obi-Wan is there to help guide the way. “Careful, stare any harder and you might injure yourself.” Maul would have jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice if he hadn’t already detected the other’s Force presence earlier, having been too absorbed by his… current observations to say anything beforehand. He was much too occupied with staring at Obi-Wan Kenobi from afar, a yearning expression on his face. He would have preferred his dedicated time to watching Kenobi not be interrupted, but he supposes that’s too much to ask. The zabrak kept his eyes glued on the short ginger, drinking in his appearance one last time before turning to his unfortunate companion. “What would you know,” he scoffed, “How about you do us both a favor and mind your own business?”

Quinlan laughed boisterously in response, clapping a hand down on his shorter companion’s shoulder. Maul stiffened uncomfortably, lips curling downwards into a frown. “What, can’t handle a bit of teasing, Maul?” The grimace that graced Maul’s face only seemed to egg the other man on, humored by his reaction. Maul sneered and pushed the Jedi’s hand off his shoulder, shoving a finger into Quinlan’s chest pointedly. “Knock it off, Vos,” He growled lowly, “Or else I’ll do it for you.” Quinlan raised his hands in mock surrender, a small grin still on his face, which only seemed to enrage Maul further. “Alright, alright, relax, I catch your drift,” Quinlan laughed, unmoved by his trivial threat. Thoroughly irritated, Maul turned his back on the fallen Jedi and rested his head in his hands, leaning against the balcony railings to continue studying the object of his affections. He examined with much intent as Obi-Wan conversed passionately with his previous padawan, Anakin, making rather dramatic hand motions every now and again. Maul was enraptured by the gentle way he’d tap Anakin’s arm, as if checking that the boy was still giving him his full attention, elegance behind each of his mannerisms. The way his ginger hair shone in the sun, an auburn glow, a rebel strand of hair falling against his face. The way Obi-Wan’s mouth would twitch upward into a smile, how his eyebrows would furrow in disagreement, and how his nose would crinkle at inappropriate comments all deeply intrigued the former Sith. So engrossed again, Maul barely noticed the tense silence that had passed between him and Quinlan. He convinced himself that, perhaps, if he simply pretended that Vos no longer existed, the man would actually disappear. But of course, Quinlan had to break the peace with more prodding comments. “Maul…” He spoke quietly, now leaning against the railing beside him, “Why don’t you just go talk to him? Believe it or not, he actually likes you. I’m sure he’d be welcome to—” Maul slapped a hand over Quinlan’s mouth, arm shaking minutely, Quinlan’s unwelcome intrusion obviously hitting a nerve. “You keep your insolent mouth shut, Vos. You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” Maul hissed lowly, leaning in close, murder written all over his face. Quinlan ripped his hand from his mouth, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. He gave Maul a withering look, challenging him, “Oh yeah? And just what do I not understand, Sith?” Maul growled, his anger and rage threatening to boil over in seconds. He was seething from what would otherwise be a relatively normal conversation were he anyone else. But Maul was not anyone else. Maul laughed in his face, a sharp and irritated sound. “Like me? Nobody here likes me, Vos. My existence here is merely tolerated,” He snapped, eyes burning brightly, “I came crawling to the Jedi, defeated, pathetic, accepted only because it would be against your miserable Jedi ways to do otherwise. So don’t get it twisted. Continue to try and manipulate me and fill my head with lies and I might just kill you without a drop of remorse.”The look on Quinlan’s face made Maul’s stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a look of worry, shame, pity. Maul could hardly stand it, head practically snapping as he turned his gaze anywhere but at Quinlan, feeling sick the longer he looked at him like that. He felt his insides burn with humiliation, or perhaps even anger, loathing himself and the situation he’d placed himself in. “Maul.” No response. Quinlan sighed, voice softening, “I’m not manipulating you, I’m telling you the truth. I’m sorry you’re too fucked in the head to believe me, but I wouldn’t lie to you.” Maul shuffled a step further from him, looking for a way to escape from the current conversation. “Listen, you think I don’t know? You think I don’t get it? I’m screwed up too, Maul, trying to put back together the pieces of my life and find myself again,” He continued. Feeling a spark of anger flare as Maul continued to ignore him, Quinlan snatched him by the wrist, “Would you just listen—!” Maul punched him square in the face. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, VOS!” The Jedi grit his teeth, now glaring at Maul as if to incinerate him on the spot, a dribble of blood running down his freshly busted lip. “What’s your fucking problem, huh? I’m trying to help you, stop acting like a youngling,” He snarled loudly, shoving Maul roughly, the zabrak smacking into the wall. Maul grunted, “Help me?! You’re a joke, Vos.” Quinlan shouted in outrage at the jab, clenching his fist in preparation for a good swing. Quinlan began to circle Maul like a predator waiting to catch its prey, getting up close and personal in Maul’s face, the Force growing dark around the two. Neither made a move against the other, waiting to see who would strike first. Before their violent shouting match could evolve into an actual fight—both already wound up and easily capable of brutally maiming the other—Obi-Wan and Anakin stepped in, separating the two with quick efficiency, Anakin holding Quinlan back while Obi-Wan pulled Maul away gently, an easy hand firmly grasping his shoulder as he steered the Sith into the gardens.  Both master and former padawan had been engrossed in intense discourse beforehand, deliberating over how to handle the logistics of one of Obi-Wan’s upcoming missions. In a few days, he would be shipped off to a planet near the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan’s skills needed to negotiate with an estranged Separatist leader who had accepted the end of the war poorly and thus refused to settle the matter peacefully. Most of the other leaders had come around rather quickly after the war ceased, or otherwise fought against them uselessly, unable to put up much of a struggle with the droid factories now shut down and leaving them with a severe shortage of armed defenses. The Republic’s current target planet, Ku’Daiya, was known for its dangers. It was a breeding ground for criminals, underground slavery, drug rings and much more. Ku’Daiya was also known for its strong propaganda against the Jedi. Obi-Wan was dead-set on going alone, while Anakin had other ideas. He insisted his master allow him to come along, to keep him safe and assist in the politics, no matter how he loathed it, even though his services were going to be needed elsewhere during the time Obi-Wan would be gone to Ku’Daiya. They had heavily debated the topic for days. Unfortunately, they had been pulled from their discussion at the sound of Maul’s initial outburst, alarmed by the sudden and volatile behavior from one of their more mentally unstable members of the temple. Obi-Wan was quick to abandon the argument and rush over to settle the issue, growing weary in how these occurrences continued to increase in recent time.  This would be the fourth time in a month that Obi-Wan would have to remove Maul from a disagreement. And of course it had to be Quinlan Vos of all people, the fool. In recent time, the fallen Jedi had taken to trying to mentor Maul with little success, managing to trigger Maul or otherwise upset him without fail. It was like the blind leading the blind; Quinlan was almost as equally disturbed as Maul was. He was most definitely not helping Maul’s healing process. Obi-Wan sighed to himself, trying to shake away all thoughts of Quinlan. He needed to focus on the here and now, with Maul, not with Quinlan. He was sure that Anakin had the situation covered on that end. The redhead gave Maul’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before gracefully dropping to the ground and situating himself into a meditative position, turning to look up at Maul, the Dathomirian sporting an apprehensive expression. The Jedi raised an eyebrow at him, to which Maul only huffed in response before dropping down close beside him, their knees knocking together comfortably. The zabrak had grown considerably quiet, a tell that something was wrong. “Care to tell me what happened back there?” Obi-Wan nudged carefully. Maul plucked a blade of grass in thought, but said little more. The Sith frowned, scratching at one of his horns, a nervous tic. Obi-Wan gulped uncomfortably, feeling a bit unsure. It was always difficult to wrestle Maul’s thoughts out of him, the Sith hellbent on keeping his own feelings and emotions behind careful lock and key.  “How about we meditate on it?” He tried, offering his hand to Maul with a smile on his face. Maul looked down at his open hand with minor trepidation, as if it would strike him, before gingerly taking Obi-Wan’s hand into his own. “Is that your solution to everything, Kenobi?” Maul jested. Obi-Wan snorted light-heartedly at that, briefly reminded of Anakin’s own severe hatred of the practice. It was only a matter of time until Maul also began to notice how Obi-Wan turned to meditation for practically any and all problems he encountered in life. Even now, he couldn’t escape the teasing. “No, dearheart, it’s not,” He answered, a white lie, “But it’s what you need right now, I think. Come: Breathe with me. Release your feelings into the Force.” Obi-Wan breathed in deep through his nose and closed his eyes. While the Force was usually a comforting presence to him, ebbing and flowing around him gently, he could sense the turmoil rolling off of Maul in waves, dark and heavy. It was a choking, suffocating feeling that left him uneasy. Obi-Wan gently reached out to him through their shaky, newly-forming bond, attempting to sooth the Sith Lord. He could feel Maul’s shields rising in response.  His eyes snapped open and he turned to voice his displeasure at Maul’s withdrawal, but was cut short when he noticed Qui-Gon approaching with haste. Reluctantly, the two pulled their hands away from each other, Maul’s hands now resting in his own lap. Obi-Wan looked up at his former master with minor interest. “Master Qui-Gon, how can we help you? Care to join us for our meditation?” Obi-Wan asked. Of course, he didn’t want Qui-Gon to join them currently as it stands, considering Maul’s current behavior. He figured he should remain courteous anyway. “Not today, padawan mine,” He replied, “The Council is in need of you urgently. Maul, as well.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in confusion and turned to Maul, who was now also looking up, attention piqued at the mention of his own name. He brushed off the ‘padawan’ comment, not caring enough to correct him. Even after all these years, Qui-Gon never seemed to drop the habit of calling him by his old rank. “What for? Has something happened?” Obi-Wan stood to his feet hurriedly, his Sith companion once again hesitant before following suit. He seemed anxious. “Does this have something to do with me? I’ve upset your precious Council,” Maul said with self-assurance, a growl leaving his throat, “Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with Kenobi. Leave him out of this.” Obi-Wan put a hand on Maul’s shoulder, rushing to speak on his behalf. Maul’s testy mood was starting to grate on him. He prayed to the Force that Qui-Gon wouldn’t be put off by his passive aggressive behavior. Luckily, Qui-Gon only smiled in response. “Dear boy, it is nothing of the sort. You jump to conclusions.” “Conclusions? Well, if it isn’t something I’ve done, why else would the Council wish to see me?” Obi-Wan’s grip tightened slightly, a warning for Maul to compose himself. The Sith’s reaction was almost instantaneous. Maul shut his mouth quickly, standing stock-still, body language so passive it seemed unnatural. Strange. Obi-Wan’s own worry for Maul was becoming too much for him. Too bad there was nothing he could do about the situation until they got this council meeting over with. Afterwards, he could have a real conversation with Maul about what was going on with him. “Lead the way, Master,” Obi-Wan piped up, eager to move on. Qui-Gon seemed placated enough, regarding the two with a curious look, but didn’t utter another word and led them to the Council Chambers. Darth Maul was not looking forward to this. At all.

#darth maul #obimaul #obiwan #obi wan kenobi #obiwan kenobi #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #maul #obimaul fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #idk what i should tag #fanfic #star wars fanfic

[caelenath]

Sacred Hour (a PRSPD short)

A pre-canon, friendship-themed short. Cross-posted to AO3, FFnet, and caelenath.com.

Length: 1180 words Warnings: None Summary: Life can be strange when you have a psychic for a roommate, but Sky is adapting better than he expected.

* * *

They had a sacred hour in their room. Bridge didn't always use it for the same thing, nor was it always the same hour, and it wasn't always an hour, but none of that was the point. All Bridge needed was a guarantee of some regular interval of time where he could effectively turn off for a while in order to recharge, to center, to ground—a lot of different words had been used, but what it came down to was this: In that sacred hour, have as little around him as possible that he needed to ignore because the extent to which he could ignore anything was very little. For someone whose powers couldn't be turned off or even turned down, "turning off" meant finding a way to turn everything else off.

Which was, of course, impossible. But a safe space during a quiet time in the Academy was good enough, and the dorm room they shared was the safest space available, "safe" in this case meaning everything in it was so familiar that Bridge didn't "see" any of it anymore, and that included Sky.

Sometimes Bridge asked if he could have the room to himself, to which Sky never said no, but other times, it was fine if Sky stayed so long as he spent the time doing something quiet and not SPD-related. According to Bridge, work-related tasks produced too much mental stimulation that he could "hear", which Sky certainly hoped was the case since he put a lot of effort and care into his work, but he also wasn't convinced it wasn't actually a problem. He suspected his roommate was just trying to keep him from working too much.

On the other hand, what Bridge wanted or needed was precisely the point of sacred hour. After a bit of trial and error, Sky settled on two things he could do that didn't disturb his roommate: sleep, or read silently from his small hidden cache of sci-fi novels—yellowed, dog-eared paperbacks full of useless brain junk that he already knew by heart. Apparently the "sound" of him reading was monotonous in a helpful way, like the lapping of waves at a lake's shore or the hum of a refrigerator in the middle of the night.

Analogies like that became less weird the longer he knew Bridge, and it even reached a point where he asked, out of genuine curiosity, what the sound of him sleeping was like.

"It sounds like breathing," Bridge said, looking puzzled as though Sky had asked something strange. Sky decided to let it go, but sometime later, Bridge had a different answer.

"It sounds like peace," he said without Sky even asking anything. "You know when you're indoors and warm and dry, and there's rain outside that you know is there but can't actually hear? It sounds like that."

It shouldn't have made any sense, that description of a sound you couldn't actually hear, and yet, Sky knew exactly what he meant.

"Did you know you shield in your sleep?" Bridge went on. Unlike the analogies, the topical whiplash was one thing that didn't lessen with time.

"What?"

"It doesn't happen all the time. I'd say not even a half, or a third, of the time. But when it does happen, there's this shield"—Bridge moved his hand in a flattened arc—"around you while you're sleeping, and it seems to keep your energy in. I don't hear you when you're shielded, which is different from your forcefields when you're awake. I wonder if it keeps energy out too, like bad vibes or juju that could give you nightmares. That'd be pretty cool."

Sky had no idea what he was talking about. All he knew was that the last time he'd accidentally made a forcefield in his sleep was when he was three years old.

"But," Bridge went on, because that was what he did given the chance, "it actually kind of freaks me out when the sound of you disappears and it's totally quiet because it's like you disappear."

Sky frowned, wondering how it was possible for something that hadn't actually happened to unsettle him as if it had. "But I didn't."

"Not actually, no. But if you think about it, to me, you kind of do."

It wouldn't occur to Sky until later that these sacred hours tended to reveal more about him than about Bridge even though Bridge did most of the talking afterward. He tried observing his roommate in turn, unobtrusively he thought, but it turned out he couldn't do it without Bridge knowing. It didn't take psychic powers after all to feel someone's eyes on you, so if Bridge objected, which he didn't always, Sky had to stop.

Meditation was a common use of the sacred hour, and occasionally Bridge did it upside down, which was as odd as it was impressive.

"How is that comfortable?" Sky ventured one evening after Bridge was done. Lying in bed with a novel propped on his chest, he'd been watching his roommate stand on his hands for at least five minutes.

"It's not uncomfortable," Bridge said. "And comfort isn't really the point." He then coaxed Sky into trying it with him. Though Sky was more than strong enough to support his body weight upside down, he had trouble staying that way.

"It's not the inversion, it's the stillness," Bridge concluded. "You don't like being still."

If it had been anyone else who said it, Sky probably would have gotten combative. He was competitive by nature and he wasn't ashamed of it. But something about the sacred hour made everything feel weirdly slow, as if time had been stretched out like a piece of gum, but not evenly. The instinct to object to Bridge's words didn't kick in until a long time after he spoke them, yet by the time it kicked in, Sky didn't want to object anymore because he knew Bridge was right.

At the same time, it was also true that Sky was never more still, physically and mentally, than he was during sacred hour. Had that been the point all along too?

"You make it easier," Sky said, and in a rare reversal, it was Bridge this time who had to ask what he meant.

"You make it easier to be still. Or, to slow down, at least. I don't know if it's you or what you do or something else entirely, but this time always feels different somehow. Slower. Deeper. Have you ever wondered if maybe you can affect things around you instead of only the other way around?"

Bridge took a long time to consider that. "If I do, or if I can, affect things around me, I wouldn't know it unless someone told me, or unless someone realizes it themselves and I pick it up from them. You know." He waved a hand by his head noncommittally. "Or if it turns out I don't really affect anything at all."

He looked at Sky. "Do I? Do you think I affect things?"

"Yeah," Sky said. "You do."

* * *

Author's Note: The bit about Sky's hidden stash of novels is not an original idea of mine. Rather, it's inspired by the mysterious consensus of multiple people back in my LiveJournal days that science fiction is what Sky is really reading behind his SPD manual.

#power rangers spd #power rangers #fanfiction #short fic #sky tate #bridge carson #friendship fic #pre-canon #my fic

[thesupergamercorpus]

06/30/2019 - Dialogue with depression

 A dialogue between present me (~18 years) and a depressed version of me (~15 years). It is inspired by the current book I am reading, ‘Meditations’ by Marcus Aurelius where he writes a dialogue to himself from time to time.

Me: So you seem to be suffering I see.

Depressed me: Suffering yes, but also very empty. It seems to fluctuate between a some kind of boredom. A boredom where you don’t feel like there’s much to do, but instead of wanting to escape, you give in. And just like boredom, it makes you tired even though you are doing ‘nothing’. And the other state I seem to be in from time to time is that of agitation combined with sadness. A continuous change from anger to sadness. It is exhausting, but it feels better than that state of ‘depressive boredom’.

Me: I see, that state of ‘depressive boredom’. We are all bored from time to time and the general characteristic during those times seems to be a lose of something to do. And although that sounds perfectly accurate, in your case, however, you seem to have nothing much to do because you don’t know what to do. And why don’t you know what to do? Because you don’t have clear, realistic goals you can always fall back to. 

 And this, also, seems to explain your vulnerability to becoming both stressed and depressed; the things happening around you are mostly your temporal goals driven by mere basic instincts like wanting to be of social value. And of course most people seek to fulfill some feeling of being socially valuable, but in your case, you also seem to be focusing on things that are too much outside your control, which explains your second state, namely a fluctuation between stress and anger. Remember that the wise man is, what Seneca the Younger called, being self-content. To be happy with the way things are and yet also be happy to progress towards, what I said in the beginning, having certain goals to aim for. 

 And the second thing you seem to need to learn is that the ‘principle of opposition by Carl Jung’, namely that every hope has a fear. Combine this with the teachings of ancient philosophy and summarize it with the quote ‘Attached to many externals, we are weighed down and dragged along with them.’ - Epictetus, you get to see that one needs to hope for less things and be more content with those ‘lesser’ things.

 Thirdly, what are those ‘lesser’ things one may ask? For that, we have to refer to what the Stoics learned us, namely to focus that which is most within our control and everything else comes secondary. I, the future you, named it the ‘inside-out mentality’: to work from the inside, which is most within our control, and then work your influence to the outside, which is the least in our control.

Depressed me: I can see and understand the things you are saying and I do believe you are mostly right with the things. But according to my feelings, you seem to be using logic a lot. What I am trying to say is this, namely that if I have a fear of heights and I have to walk over a rather high bridge and therefore do not dare to cross the bridge, you in turn respond with logic saying that the probability of falling of the bridge is approximately one in a million. Yes you may be correct, but still whenever I look down, I experience the fear of heights. The logic you gave me in turn still doesn’t really allow me to cross the bridge.

Me: Yes, I see what you are saying and of course you are correct. Most of your primal fears, including those causing you stress and depression, are mostly residual in your more primitive brain parts, namely the basal ganglia / reptilian brain and the paleomammalian cortex / limbic system rather than the mammalian brain / neocortex. Therefore, giving you logic mostly alters the neocortex part.

 What you are trying to refer to, is something the psychologist William James was aware of too, that we are mostly observers of ourselves. He best described that in his quote “We are not laughing because we are happy, we are happy because we are laughing.”

 I, however, do still think that changing your neocortex more favorably also in the long-term changes the rest of your brain more favorably. One can imagine that having knowledge about how to build your muscles the best will, in the long-term, benefit your journey more than without that knowledge, even though you don’t have your muscles as much in your control as you do with your knowledge.

Depressed me: Yes, I agree with you. It reminds me of the butterfly effect. All small things will help me in the journey to freedom and happiness.

Me: Very well and remember, freedom and happiness are earned. Some have to work harder to attain them than others but they have to be earned nonetheless.

Depressed me: I am afraid about the possibility that my anxiety, depression, stress, or rather my vulnerability to enter these states, may as well mostly be chemically based. That no amount of wisdom and change of brain structure will be good enough.

Me: If so, then if no amount of medication will help, you will have to learn how to endure these states while being content. Remember, nothing is good or bad on itself, something I attached to the word relativism later on. You can suffer and still be content with living on and bearing the fruits that will outlive you. You already seem to be inspired by courageous stories of great, wise men enduring a lot of pain. Great men like Diogenes, Socrates and his death, and even partially stoicism something you will learn more about later on. 

 You will also read in the future a story about a stoic philosopher named Lucius Annaeus Seneca and you will learn how he has asthma and has endured it his whole life while being content. It is like your anxiety, coming at uncertain moments and on unpleasant timings. And, if these unpleasant states never will disappear, then you may life in the same conditions as Seneca for his asthma never disappeared either.

Depressed me: And when, even though I can endure the things, I no longer want to endure them and pass on my energy into things that are no longer me?

Me: You will soon read in multiple books including ‘Letters from a Stoic’ how, when the men of wisdom die, they do so courageously. It is your duty and obligation to lead a courageous life, one that is aimed at Nature or the highest good. Part of a courageous life is a brave death and as far as I have seen your wishes of dying, they were cowardice. A courageous death can be best described by how Seneca said in his book ‘Letters from a Stoic’ how Spartans when captured will try everything to fight against their masters, but only if they can no longer, they would do something outrageous like smashing their heads into a wall. It requires courage to die like that and the Spartans were far from cowardice.

Depressed me: But how does one attain courage when being so depressed? When one doesn’t even want to go out of his bed?

Me: You will learn in the future that these moments precisely are the times when one can be courageous. In fact, these are the only times one can be courageous. “No man can call himself courageous during times of prosperity.” Seneca said. Or how about this quote: “Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'

'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.” - George R. R. Martin

 And not only will those times leave you to test your own braveness, but also will create an afterglow, one containing the feeling of superiority and admiration. To know that not many people can achieve the same feats. This feeling of being of a higher order, however, won’t be detrimental to the others around you. In fact, it will fuel your fire to inspire others and uplift them. A big ego you have yes, but a good one nonetheless. Remember that everyone is egotistical some just in more beneficial manners than others and yours will be far from useless.

Depressed me: And what if, after knowing all this, I still fail?

Me: Then you have to keep going until your definition of failure is no longer that of failing, maybe not even success, but just an event happening. “To be self-content” is what Seneca said. Or “All that is mine I carry with me.” like Bias of Priene said. You will have no hopes of wanting to fail or be successful, the things just are how they are. That, however, doesn’t mean you don’t want to get closer to your highest good, but in whatever state you will be in, the things are good enough.

 Let’s not cluster our minds too much and get back to this topic later on. Let us end with this quote to summarize my idea:

“And therefore Crates replied to the man who asked, "What will be in it for me after I become a philosopher?" "You will be able," he said, "to open your wallet easily and with your hand scoop out and dispense lavishly instead of, as you do now, squirming and hesitating and trembling like those with paralyzed hands. Rather, if the wallet is full, that is how you will view it; and if you see that it is empty, you will not be distressed. And once you have elected to use the money, you will easily be able to do so; and if you have none, you will not yearn for it, but you will live satisfied with what you have, not desiring what you do not have nor displeased with whatever comes your way." - Crates of Thebes

#autobiography #depression #sadness #2019 #June

[dandstories]

Portia Thorngage

ACT 1.

1. STATUS QUO - THE ORDINARY WORLD.  The hero is introduced sympathetically so the audience can identify with the situation or dilemma.  The hero is shown against the background of an environment and personal history.  Something in the hero’s life is pulling in different directions and causing stress.

Portia Thorngage jumped off of her war pony. A halfling couldn’t handle a full sized horse, no matter how rugged she was. She looked out at the town where she would be arriving come nightfall. Cities gave her a nauseous feeling, but today she would have to overcome that fear, the world may have depended on it.

Portia was unlike most halflings. Her family had been lost to her at a young age. They were attacked by a brute squad, comprised mostly of half-orcs when leaving a trading depot. Even though her family had been well liked in the town, halflings have a reputation for sticky fingers, and some valuables had gone missing. The brutes had attacked during the night, and Portia had slipped away before anyone noticed. She had run into the mountains and lived off the land, lonely and afraid for years.

Eventually, she had been taken in by the Broken Fang tribe, a group of barbarians that lived in the mountains west of Barbar. They had assumed she was just a small child, but her diminished stature entertained them to no end. Nevertheless, they trained her and raised her as one of their own. She had become a skilled warrior, though none would expect such ferocity from such a little person. She stood at almost 3 feet tall, and her brown eyes twinkled when she was excited. She kept her hair in braids and wore bright colors under her leathers, as an ode to her lost family. When relaxed, her smile was a calming sight, but when threatened, she was a force to be reckoned with. She could wield a sword twice the length of her body and could fly into an uncontrollable rage when provoked.

2. THE CALL TO ADVENTURE.  Something shakes up the situation, either from external pressures or from something rising up from deep within, so the hero must face the beginnings of change.

For as long as she could remember, Portia had been avoiding cities. Today was a different matter. Her tribe had called on her to represent them at a meeting of the villages of Egalitia. The castle at Easkerton was something to behold, even for someone who hated the crowds and the stink that any city had to offer. At noon, she heard the bell of the chapel sound, and she headed into the castle to begin the meeting. As she was walking, an elf bumped into her. She caught the wrist of the elf and looked up into her eyes. “Watch it, elf. A rouge could lose a hand in the wrong pocket.”

The elf looked back in disbelief like she had never been caught before. Portia was smart enough to not carry coins on her person. She had a secret spot in her scabbard to hide her valuables. The elf flitted away before Portia noticed something weighing her pouch down. It was no longer empty. The elf hadn’t been trying to steal something, she had slipped something to Portia. As Portia settled into her spot at the conference table, she looked at what the elf had given her. It was a coin, with a compass rose embedded on it. Portia studied it as the meeting began.

A well-dressed human stood up to address the gathering. “We have no time to dilly-dally, time is of the utmost importance. I am Margaret Cromwell of Adonia. I have traveled to the West, and I am here to tell you that the rumors are true. A dark force has taken hold of most of the lands. A leader who calls himself Mnathix the Destroyer is claiming responsibility, and threatening to sweep all of Egalitia under his control. We are free people, and cannot allow such a cruel thing to take that away.”

Delegates from around the table began to murmur and then argue. No one knew what to do. The warriors wanted to call every able-bodied citizen to arms, the wood elves wanted to leave, the wizards wanted to go consult their runes. Portia sat and observed. There were a few people keeping quiet, other than her. The elf she had run into earlier twitched her fingers as if she couldn’t stand to sit still this long. She had a way of fading into the shadows whenever attention turned in her direction. She clearly didn’t want to be here. A surly elf druid sat between two very outspoken gnomes. The druid looked frail and annoyed. One of the outspoken gnomes was a famous performer named Piroulette the Magnificent. She had a way of derailing any progress, almost on purpose. The gnome on the other side of the druid had a lute and would start playing songs anytime he thought one related to the topic at hand. At one point, he started singing a song about the winds of change and which way the compass points

“North is not always the way to go,

The truth the Compass will always show,

The points they meet after dark

The golden compass leaves a mark”

The mention of the compass made her think of the coin she had been given. She returned to examining it. She realized it was not a regular gold coin, but specially made to be used at an inn here in Easkerton.

That night, after the meeting had adjourned Portia decided to go look for the inn that matched the coin. The streets were crowded near the castle but thinned out as she wandered farther. Soon she came across an inn with a compass rose sign hanging above the door.

3. ASSISTANCE - MEETING THE MENTOR.  The hero comes across a seasoned traveler of the worlds who gives him or her training, equipment, or advice that will help on the journey.  

She pushed the heavy wooden door and walked into a dim room. The fire flickered lazily in the hearth, and the candles burned low. The room she was standing in was a restaurant, with rooms for rent above. In the corner of the room, sitting around a table were the rogue, the druid, and the two gnomes from the meeting. They were all sitting quietly, whispering when Portia walked in. The rogue looked up first and smiled a grin that was very uncommon for elves. She waved Portia over like they were old friends.

Portia was hesitant but knew she could defend herself against this motley crew, so she joined them at their table. The druid, looking sullen, spoke up.

“Thank you for joining us. I knew you would find your way. I am Saria, and these are my,” she looked begrudgingly at the others “my companions. We have been waiting for you.”

The others introduced themselves. Pastoralan the Windswept, the rogue with a name as silly as her smile; Piroulette the Magnificent, the gnome Portia had recognized; Peregrine, the bard, who Portia immediately didn’t trust.

“Its lovely to meet you all,” Portia said sarcastically, “But why am I here? I don’t have time for social calls. I am representing my tribe at this meeting, and that is all.”

Piroulette grinned a grin only a gnome could manage. It was sly and convincingly charming at the same time. “We have solved the problem already. We are putting together a party to go deal with Mnathix. Most of the people at this meeting couldn’t handle the challenge, and we can’t have a hundred people headed off to attempt to stop him. That’s why we created distractions all day. The people will be fighting for weeks over what to do. You are here because we need strength. Pastoralan and I are quick and sneaky, Peregrine has vast stores of knowledge, and Saria has a special set of skills that can help to protect us.”

Portia looked at the group. It was small, the druid looked as if she would break under the weight of her own shoulders. The bard had a goofy grin and glassy stare. Pastoralan didn’t look like much of a rogue. Only Piroulette looked like she could be useful battling a foe. “Not a chance. The lot of you want to go fight the most powerful monster this world has seen in a thousand years? Do you have any idea what he is capable of? I have seen the monsters he has under his control, I’ve fought them. Mnathix is far too powerful for you to defeat.”

“That’s why we need you,” piped in Pastoralan. “Your strength and ferocity are known. You have exactly what we need to defeat him.”

Portia sighed. She had been yearning for an adventure. Her home had grown tiresome, fighting the same tribes over little bits of land, and no place to show her skill. An adventure would be a nice change, and she had been thinking of going after Mnathix anyway. She could always ditch these fools and join up with a stronger crew later. She gave a slight nod of agreement to the group and sat down. “So what is the plan?”

The newly formed adventuring party planned well into the night. They laid out their route and discussed tactics, made a list of supplies and decided to set out in the morning. The sooner they left, the better. Finally, as the fires died out, they each headed off to their rooms.

4. DEPARTURE - CROSSING THE THRESHOLD. The hero commits to leaving the ordinary world and enters a new region or “special world” with unfamiliar rules and values.

Morning came soon enough, and she met with the rest of the party on the outskirts of the city. They had decided to take the mountain route, through Portia’s tribal territory, in order to remain hidden. She warned them that monsters roamed the woods, and things had been changing ever since Mnathix had been moving in.

ACT 2.

5. TRIALS - TESTS, ALLIES, AND ENEMIES.  The hero is tested and sorts out allegiances in the Special World.

The first few nights on the road were uneventful. Peregrine played his lute and sang songs, Piroulette put on little performances, and Pastoralan asked a million questions. She was unlike any elf Portia had ever met. Portia usually liked elves. They were elegant and reserved and kept to themselves. Pastoralan smiled, laughed, and talked too much. Portia couldn’t help but laugh at the company she was keeping. Saria would wander off into the woods at night for some restful solace, the druid needed to meditate to recover from the grueling pace that Portia set.

“How did you learn to wield that sword?” Pastoralan asked as Portia sharpened the edge of her Greatsword. The Greatsword was real steel and was like a child to Portia. She treated it with the utmost care. She kept the edge razor sharp, and the leather pommel well oiled. Though it measured five feet in length, the spritely little halfling handled it with the grace of a full sized person. She didn’t particularly want to encourage the elf to keep talking, but she was incredibly proud of her ability. So Portia entertained the group with her tale of a sorcerer named Alidar that she had rescued from the clutches of a wereboar. The whole party was enthralled as she regaled the battle in graphic detail. In gratitude for saving his life, Portia was granted the ability to wield any weapon. At this point in the story, Portia rolled up her sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a brain on her forearm. Flexing her muscle, she wrapped up the story by concluding, “They say that the brain is the largest muscle, so my brain is here for me to flex!”

The party roared in laughter, and each began to regale their own triumphs. Eventually, they drifted off to sleep, taking shifts to watch for dangers. The night passed, uneventful. Saria reported some strange noises off in the distance but hadn’t felt the need to wake the others.

Traveling became more difficult after that night. They ran into a pack of Gnolls, wolf-like humanoids who were extremely territorial; Peregrine snuck into an encampment of Orcs who were working for Mnathix and slipped them all a poisonous berry called ‘Camper’s Bane’ that made them violently ill; Pastoralan and Piroulette tricked a group of travelers and ‘borrowed’ some rations when the troupe ran low.

After a week of travel, the group arrived at a small village, one of the last outposts before the Fogcap Mountains rose into the wilds. Saria suggested stopping to rest for the night. It would probably be the last warm bed and a hot meal they would have for a while. Just inside the village was an inn and restaurant called “Constance’s Alehouse”. Saria, who had so far had the dourest demeanor of anyone Portia had met, almost ran toward the door. Portia had the feeling Saria had visited this place before.

The party eventually came back together, and Saria had disturbing news to report. Constance had passed all the most recent gossip onto her. There were barbarians fleeing the mountains, claiming that they were being attacked by “bone men”. Saria didn’t know what was meant by bone men, she had never heard of monsters called that. What was more nerve-wracking was that the mountain tribes were fleeing their homes. Barbarians were known for their strength and stubbornness. They had no fear. Something out there was so terrible that the most fierce people in Egalitia were running away.

Saria also mentioned that this town was struggling with a Kobold problem. The Kobolds, small dragon-like creatures had infested the underground network and had begun stealing animals for their rituals. Constance had asked the party to deal with the issue. Everyone in the group agreed, and at dusk, they headed into sewers. The creatures were not hard to track, and soon Piroulette halted the group before they rounded a corner. She whispered that there was a group of eight Kobolds surrounding a goat and that if they moved silently, the creatures would be taken by surprise. Portia rolled her eyes as she drew her greatsword, and ran forward to attack. The rest of the party rushed after her. Pastoralan stayed in the shadows until she found her mark, and shot her crossbow, felling a Kobold in one bolt. Portia hacked one clean in half before the other Kobolds had an opportunity to react. The battle was going in the favor of the traveling companions until a scurrying noise could be heard above them. Portia looked up slowly and saw a disgusting creature, with the body of a human but the face of a giant spider. It was directly overhead of the fight and reading for an attack. Portia began to shout to the group, but at that moment, a kobold in a robe pulled out a wand. In an instant, the whole party dropped to the ground, stunned. The spider creature climbed down and began to spin each of them into its web. Portia watched as all of her companions were hung in the web, but no amount of straining produced any movement.

What seemed like hours later, a large explosion rocked the tunnel. The Kobolds and the Spider monster began jabbering anxiously and ran for the exit. Something had happened on the surface. Portia had begun to regain movement and finally tore through the webbing she was trapped in. She hurried to cut loose the others. As soon as he could speak, Peregrine told them what he had heard.

“I speak draconic, those Kobolds were talking about Mnathix. He must have used some magic against the village. The Kobolds were terrified. They may be evil, but they don’t work for Mnathix.”

6. APPROACH.  The hero and newfound allies prepare for the major challenge in the special world.

The adventurers gathered themselves up and headed for the exit. Their first battle had gone very poorly, the outlook for beating Mnathix was bleak in Portia’s mind. When they reached the center of town they noticed it was eerily quiet. There was no bustle of townsfolk, there were no travelers headed for the inn, in fact, there was no one at all. The group spread out to look for clues as to what happened. Piroulette was headed for the tannery when she heard a noise. She darted into the shadows, then did a flying leap through the open window, landing silently on her feet. She startled a Kobold that was looking the till. With one deft movement, she struck at the Kobold, ending it’s looting, and it’s life.

Piroulette rejoined the others, telling them about what she found. No one else saw any living creature, not even a bird. Saria mentioned that there was a bee colony that Constance used to make mead, and all of the bees were dead. Though Portia did most of her thinking with her muscles, right now her brain was telling her something was seriously wrong.

“We should head for the mountains, and find out who these bone-men are.” Pastoralan looked around. She wanted out of this silent village too. Everyone agreed, but as they headed back to the inn to gather their possessions, the sound started.

First, it was a slow, dragging sound, coming from behind the stables. Then it came from all around, like the town was just waking up, except the sound, they were making was not quite human. Portia drew her greatsword and motioned to the others. Piroulette leaped up onto the statue in the center of the square, Pastoralan slipped into the shadows. Peregrine and Saria looked around for a place to hide, where they could use their magic without the threat of attack.

Piroulette was the first to see the creator of the noise. It was Constance, the bubbly innkeeper, only she was gaunt and pale, her body broken, and her eyes dead. “I think we are about to meet the bone men” Piroulette shouted down. The others readied for battle.

From all around, the undead entered the village square. Some were recently dead, the explosion the night before seemed to be the cause, but others looked like they had crawled up from the grave. Whoever they had been, they were mindless creatures controlled by Mnathix now. Saria fell to the ground in tears when she saw Constance. Peregrine began to play a funeral dirge. All of the adventurers felt their spirits lift, for the song was a magical tune that gave them the courage to fight. Saria stood up and focused on the bone-men coming toward her. Piroulette fired a shot with her bow, trying to down Constance quickly, but the arrow went straight through her, inflicting no damage. Portia jumped into action. She raced forward and attacked one of the undead, swinging her blade with all of her might. Bones began to fly. The other undead saw the damage she was inflicting and closed in on her. Both of the rogues were loosing arrows to no avail. The arrow tips flew right through the bones. Pastoralan dropped her bow and ran into the melee, shortsword drawn.

Portia hacked her way out of the onslaught of bone-men. She saw Saria, bloodied but still standing casting flaming sphere onto her attacker. Peregrine had found a safe perch where he could play his magic song, and Piroulette leaping along the roofline slinging stones at any undead within range. Portia headed toward the statue to help Pastoralan with another cluster when flames erupted from the center of town. Out of the flames came a hand, reaching for Pastoralan. Portia saw what was happening, and on instinct, hurled her greatsword at the hand. She leaped forward and pulled Pastoralan to safety. The flames rose higher, and out of them stepped a wizard, hideous and fearsome. His skin was gaunt, and instead of eyes, he had glowing red orbs.

Portia glanced around at the others and saw them all frozen in fear. Being a halfling, she was immune to magically induced fear, but her own sense of terror set in when she realized her greatsword was on the far side of this beast. She still had other weapons, but the Greatsword had been an extension of her arm for as long as she could remember. She unsheathed her scythe. The masterwork weapon was unique and could become two weapons whenever she needed it. She let the rage of the barbarian consume her and charged at the monster.

7. CRISIS - THE ORDEAL.  Near the middle of the story, the hero enters a central space in the Special World and confronts death or faces his or her greatest fear.  Out of the moment of death comes a new life.

Pastoralan came to her senses at that moment and rushed to flank the monster, but before she could reach it, the creature let out a devastating laugh. “Weak little creatures,” it boomed, “You think you can defeat me? I have conquered all of West Egalitia, no one can stop the Great Mnathix!” As he was speaking, he swung his great arm down on Portia, landing a brutal blow. Her scythes flew from her hands as she fell backward onto the ground. Pastoralan reached Mnathix, but not before he attacked Portia a second time. Even with the wind knocked out of her, she had the wherewithal to roll out of the way. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily and badly wounded. She looked around to her companions.

Piroulette had disappeared, she had either fled in fear or was hiding in the shadows. Peregrine had enchanted his lute to continue playing and was charging into battle with his short sword. Saria was summoning a spell, but could not join the fray. She looked like one more hit would end her. Finally, Portia looked at Pastoralan, the silly smiling elf that talked to much. Pastoralan was bleeding heavily, struggling to move, but still trying to fight this monstrous beast. And now that Portia was knocked down, Mnathix had turned his sights toward Pastoralan. As he turned, however, Peregrine leaped in, landing a fierce blow in the side of Mnathix. The monster screamed. The sound was deafening, and Portia watched as Mnathix grabbed the little gnome by the arm, and fling him across the courtyard as if he were a fly. Portia did not dare to look where he had landed, fearing the worst.

Saria finished summoning her spell, and a bolt of lightning struck Mnathix square in the chest. Fury filled his eyes, although he looked like he was starting to feel the effects of the damage he had been dealt. His sights were still set on Pastoralan, though. Portia knew she must summon her strength and intervene, or Pastoralan would be lost. She saw that there was an opening, and she leaped up running for her greatsword. As she was scooping it up off the ground, an arrow came whizzing by, out of the shadows. It struck Mnathix in the neck, and he stumbled forward. Portia silently praised Piroulette, as she ran up to join the fray again. She saw Mnathix still focused on Pastoralan, and ready to strike a blow. Portia felt the rage well up inside of her, and she channeled all her fury into her next blow. She ran up behind Mnathix, slid between his legs, and as she stood up, she drew up her blade with all her might. She watched his face as it gasped with disbelief before the red eyes faded to nothing. Portia grabbed Pastoralan and threw her to safety as the body of Mnathix collapsed in a heap.

8. TREASURE - THE REWARD.  The hero takes possession of the treasure won by facing death.  There may be a celebration, but there is also the danger of losing the treasure again.

Piroulette emerged from the shadows and raced over to where Peregrine had landed. Portia dared not go over, she could see by the look on Piroulette’s face that Peregrine had sacrificed himself for the good of the party. Portia focused on searching Mnathix. Pastoralan helped. They found a scroll with a spell, a ring of invisibility, and a book. Portia tossed the book aside, but Saria came over and picked it up. “This may give us some insight into how he was able to conquer the people.” Saria was weak but as practical as usual.

After they had looted the body of the monster, the group looked around at the mess. Undead had returned to their original state, the monster lay still on the ground. They had won.

“Did that seem too easy?” Portia asked. They were all bloodied, and they had lost one of their party members, but Mnathix had conquered half of the continent. They had lost a battle to Kobolds the night before and had gone into this fight completely unprepared.

Piroulette nodded slowly. She looked at her friends and sighed. “But we did it. And that's what matters.” They all sat and rested, processing what had just happened.

9. RESULT. The hero must escape the ordeal - either as a champion or fleeing the situation.

Saria was staring at the statue in the middle of the square. It was mostly rubble at this point and charred from the magic fire and from her lightning bolts. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. She got the attention of the group and pointed to the statue. A fire was still burning. It grew steadily larger until it consumed the entire statue. An ethereal voice began to speak, “Mnathix the Destroyer is stronger than you know. He laughs at your ignorance and weakness. You have defeated him this time, but only a small part of who he is. He will continue to wreak havoc on your land until it all belongs to him. Fight if you dare, but you will lose.” The flames rose high above the buildings, then vanished in a burst of ash. The statue was dust on the ground. The village was silent once more.

ACT 3.

10. RETURN - THE ROAD BACK.  About three-fourths of the way through the story, the hero is driven to complete the adventure, leaving the special world to be sure the treasure is brought home.  Often a chase scene signals the urgency and danger of the mission.

The party sat in stunned silence. They had made a dent in fighting Mnathix, but they had been naive to think they had won. After a time they all got up and all walked back to Constance’s Alehouse. They raised a glass to Peregrine and came up with a plan. None of them felt the need to return to Easkerton. Fame and glory awaited them if they claimed responsibility for this battle, but they knew there was more work to be done.

11.NEW LIFE - THE RESURRECTION.  At the climax, the hero is severely tested once more on the threshold of home.  He or she is purified by the last sacrifice, another moment of death and rebirth, but on a higher and more complete level.  

Portia thought about her home in the mountains. The party was headed in that direction. They had discussed continuing on to find Mnathix, and break up his web of monsters. She agreed to go with them, but secretly was considering staying with her tribe. She had learned that she was not as strong or invulnerable as she had believed. She felt like a silly child, playing at being a hero.

The night before they arrived at Portia’s home, Pastoralan pulled her aside. “You saved my life, and almost lost yours. I owe you my life.”

“Think nothing of it,” Portia said. “It was the heat of battle.”

“That is not the truth. You could have used that opportunity to strike, but instead, you saved me.” She knelt down on one knee and drew a dagger. She sliced her hand and held it over her heart. “I swear that from this day and for all days, my life is yours, I will protect you and assist you whenever called upon.”

At that moment Portia knew she could not give up on this quest and return home. This silly elf needed her, and although she would be loathed to admit it out loud, the elf had something to teach her. The elf and the halfling returned to camp. Portia asked that they move past her village, her people would not want her to leave again. The rest of the group agreed. They would stick to the woods and stop at the next ranger station to gather information.

12. RESOLUTION - This is where all of the plot lines start to become resolved. The hero begins to recover from the journey. This is also the moment that will set up the story for future action. Often the main characters will retell the story of the journey, or the mentor will fill in any unanswered questions.

After a few days of hard walking, they came across a small village. It looked to be a way station for rangers and other travelers. Here they met a paladin whos quest was to rid the world of evil. Phoebe was her name, and she wore the most ludicrous and flashy armor Portia had ever seen. She asked to join the party to find and destroy Mnathix. Pastoralan was quite taken with Phoebe, and Portia knew they needed more good fighters if they ever had a chance at succeeding.

Before they left the village, a familiar face appeared. Alidar, the sorcerer that had helped Portia gain her weapon proficiency, wandered into camp. He had been journeying through the west and was passing information on Mnathix. Portia asked him to join their group, knowing that a balance of magic, strength, and dexterity was the only way they could make it. Alidar was happy to help and glad to hear that there were others willing to risk their lives to save the world.

13. STATUS QUO -  The hero returns home or continues the journey, bearing some element of the treasure that has the power to transform the world as the hero has been transformed.

With a full complement of skills and abilities, the party set out for the west. They had a plan, they had a mission, and they knew there would be no home to return to if they did not fulfill their quest. As they rode away from the station, Portia thought about her past. The Broken Fangs had been her tribe, but she had never thought of them as her family.  She looked around at the company she was keeping and knew she had found her family.

[mnemehoshiko]

Star Wars: The Last Jedi [BULLETPOINT TRASH EDITION]

A  SPOILERS AND OPINIONS ABOUND AND POOR FORMATTING CHOICES

(with bonus citing of external canon sources mainly the visual dictionary leaks)

Short version: I FUCKING LOVED THIS MOVIE ON SO MANY LEVELS AND IASDFSDFDASFASDSFDSFDSFSSAFDSADFSDF

Long version:

I enjoyed TFA. But it was very much a safe remake movie because JJ can literally only do remakes and monster movies. I’m also still bitter over Into Darkness BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU’RE HERE FOR SO I’M GONNA MOVE ON.

I really enjoyed Rogue One. It broke new ground etc etc but it had the freedom to do that because it wasn’t dependent on anything ultra important.

TLJ had the awkward positioning of figuring out how to move the main story forward in new and interesting ways AND not remake ESB. And I’m going to be super honest, I was 20% certain they were going to go Rey Skywalker??? Mainly because fanboys are amazingly uncreative but also because it would be a very safe way to go. Ohhhhh, of course Rey has the force. It’s because she’s of the Skywalker bloodline. ALL MAKES SENSE IN THE WORLD AGAIN.

As soon as Luke tossed that saber off the cliff, I knew that all my expectations were going to be subverted. AND IT WAS AMAZING!!!!

AND ON THE TOPIC OF LUKE, there seems to be two camps the

HELL YEAH LUKE SKYWALKER camp or the

OMG RIAN YOU RUINED STAR WARS AND LUKE ANDFS@#EWREWRWE camp, to which I’m like

so like did you watch the Original Trilogy my dudes?

No really did you watch the “OMG SHE’S PRETTY WE TOTALLY NEED TO RESCUE HER!!”

the “WELP BRB HEADING TO DAGOBAH WITH NO WARNING BECAUSE REASONS!!!!”

“NO WAIT MY FRIENDS NEED MY HELP SORRY GOTTA GO”

“BRB I JUST GOT MY WORLD VIEW TRAUMATIZED AND I NEED TO FALL IN THE ABYSS LIKE AN EXTRA (TM) BITCH”

“OH HEY I’M GONNA FIGHT MY DAD IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT I HAVE NO TRAINING WHATSOEVER BECAUSE YOLOOOOOOOOO”

like Luke Skywalker lives on impulse 

much like his father

like according to the visual dictionary, Leia was supposed to be his first student and she like said no due to like politics and family stuff

but lbr she probably looked at Luke YOLO Skywalker and was like....yeah no my dude you are a messssss

never be the first grad student

also like IF REYSKY was a thing

you’re basically saying 

YES I WANT MY HERO LUKE SKYWALKER

TO DROP A KID OF A SANDY WASTELAND THAT EVEN HE BELIEVES IS NOWHERE

which like my dude, he’s from Tatooine and if he’s saying Jakku is nowhere. then like that place is like purgatory

like I STRONGLY BELIEVE if like Rey was his kid he AT LEAST would have dropped her 

somewhere with reliable foster parents

and like water

LOTS OF WATER

OKAY I’M DONE RANTING ABOUT THIS

ANYWAY like I can totally believe with like Luke seeing the #darkness + probably Snoke’s influence in his head his immediate response was OMG WE GOTTA KILL IT and then went...oh wait this....is not a chill idea maybe we should talk shit out first/meditate etc

and like IMMEDIATE REGRET AFTERWARDS

honestly this is like textbook Male Skywalker bullshit 101

I HAVE DONE A THING!!!  i regret everything now

THIS IS A HORRIBLE SEGUE BUT I WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY AVENGING SPACE ANGEL LEIA ORGANA!!!!!

*CRIES A LOT*

RIAN JUST LOVES LEIA AND CARRIE SO MUCH

*UGLY SOBBING*

LEIA USED THE FORCE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!

EAT IT FANBOYS!!!

FUCKING IT!!!

LIKE I KNEW BUT LIKE PURE PROOF IN FUCKING CANON

LEIA! IS! FUCKING! FORCE! SENSITIVE!!!!!

also i’m 99% certain Luke didn’t teach it her that trick so like my homegirl literally DID THAT

i just love leia so fukcing much and yes okay the cgi was kind of wonky BUT I DON’T GIVE A FUCK BECAUSE MY GENEARAL/PRINCESS JUST USED THE FORCE LIKE A BOSS THAT SHE IS

Also i just love Leia so much in this

like That Shot on Crait with her eyes over the collar is like 

POETIC CINEMA

no really someone hook a girl up and give me that shot as a lock screen

Also that scene post mutiny showing up in a 3000-thread count couture bathrobe, a matching cane, and blaster? #AESTHETIC

also personal opinion but Billie Lourd in that scene wasn’t acting as much as oh god i’m in trouble face that all children go through

**MORE UGLY SOBBING*

OKAY LETS TALK ABOUT POE ONLY BECAUSE IT’S MY BLOG AND I DO WANT I WANT

*steps on step stool*

I DID NOT CARE ABOUT POE DAMERON IN TFA BECAUSE IT WAS SUPER OBVIOUS THAT HE WAS GOING TO DIE AND ONLY GOT TO LIVE BECAUSE OSCAR ASKED JJ TO LIVE AND OSCAR ISAAC IS PRETTY BUT LIKE THAT’S ALL I GOT OUT OF THE MOVIE.

*climbs off soapbox* Poe in this film GAINED SOME DEPTH, sadly it seems to be very polarizing and I think that’s in part due to the fact that it’s pulling on backstory from the EU, primarily Shattered Empire and the Poe Dameron Comics. Shattered Empire doesn’t directly include Poe but it involves his parents, Shara Bey and Kes Dameron. His mom, Shara, went on a mission with Leia and some others for some reason I can’t remember BUT ANYWAY SHE’S A BOSS. A HERO OF THE REBELLION. Poe literally grew up around heroes. One of his squad mates in Poe Dameron is another hero from the rebellion. He has a very wide-eyed view on the concept of heroism? For him it’s daring deeds and important war-changing missions, he’s very much a soldier and not at a leader. At least not yet. You get this immediately from the fight scene with First Order and the bombing run and the aftermath of it. 

Poe sees what’s in front of him which is a destroyed Star Destroyer (?), Leia sees the whole picture which is a single ship destroyed at the cost of a significant part of their fleet. Yes, there were heroes but a resistance can’t survive on dead heroes.

You see this again in his willingness to go after the high-risk plan to somehow hack the main ship to get them to stop tracking them. He’s thinking YES THIS IS THE BOLD PLAN MISSION OF MY DREAMS!!! Except it fails, and yes I completely understand that this could have been avoid with like communication but to embark on communication? You need to let go of your ego. Ego is not a BAD THING, but sometimes it can prevent us from being our best self. The best leader we can be. And Poe does learn this as you can see with Leia passing the baton of leadership to Poe on Crait. As Poe realizes that a dramatic last stand isn’t worth the loss. It’s better to run to let the rebellion live than to die in a burst of glory. Those are the hard choices a leader has to make.

OKAY MOVING ON BECAUSE I SUCK AT TRANSITIONS, LETS TALK ABOUT ONE OF MY SONS, FINN TICO

I LOVE MY SON AND HIS TRANSITION FROM BEING A MERE FIRST ORDER DEFECTOR TO A MEMBER OF THE REBELLION !!!!!!! First I loved the fact that his characterization followed naturally from TFA which TO RECAP consisted of:

 realizing that the First Order is a horrible idea; 

getting the fuck out via some convenient pilot dude who (supposedly) dies; 

meeting a girl who STRAIGHT UP ATTACKS HIM under the hearsay of a droid

realizing she’s the BEST THING SINCE TROOPER RATIONS and attempting to flirt because running away from a organization is best done in at least a pair

getting caught up in Resistance nonsense you are 1000% Not Here for because YOU KNOW THE FIRST ORDER and you know losing odds

aforementioned Girl is taken by the First Order and you’re like WELP GUESS I GOTTA TEMPORARILY JOIN this horrible idea to save girl

Tries to save girl but gets knocked out

END OF MOVIE

TLJ PICKS UP immediately after this in which his first and only thought is FIND REY AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS NONSENSE. THIS IS NOT WORTH DYING FOR Y’ALL ARE CRAZY. Which lets be real, you’re dealing with an organization.....that can destroy an entire space system that you have personal experience with. You’ve just been attacked by the First Order, the Resistance is worse off than they were BEFORE YOU WENT TO (attempt) SAVE REY. Finn’s main priority is WELP THIS IS A LOSING CAUSE GONNA GET MY FRIEND AND BOUNCE BECAUSE I DON’T WANT HER TO DIE.

Then it hit’s him like a shock. Figuratively and literally because Rose shows up.

BEFORE I TALK ABOUT ROSE I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT PAIGE ALSO KNOWN AS i was pretty sure she was gonna die but it felt natural-ish and I also know need to buy Cobalt Squadron for like TICO SISTER FEELS. But during that bombing run you immediately got the sense of

what she was doing was already extremely risky

YOU’RE IN SHIP FULL OF BOMBS

and that her last moments were of someone incredibly important to her

and like eventually TO ALL OF US AND MEEEE

I’m going to be honest and say that this plot was probably the weakest for the audience and for me. I understood what they were trying to cover but I feel some sections got cut for the final version.

BUT BACK TO CHARACTERS, FINN!!!!

had to deal with the struggle of moving past Rey as his sole guiding focus of his story?

Also people are like OMG WHY IS HE SO WIDE EYED ON CANTO BIGHT?!?! THAT’S OOC!!!

and i’m like my dudes

he’s never been outside of the pod of stormtroopers like EVER

HE’S FROM A LIFE OF MONOCHROME AND NOW INFUSED IN A LIFE OF COLOR

Finn: OMG THIS PLACE IS AWESOME Rose: this place is trash and I’m gonna fight it

Also can I give a shout out to that section where he’s explaining the plan to Poe and like Rose is like AHEM I’M HAPPY TO HAVE A FELLOW NERD BUT ALSO I CAN TALK!!!!

Poe on the otherhand is like....ah yes...cute nerds are talking....OH WE CAN BLOW SOMETHING UP FOR FREEDOM!!! YES SOUNDS GREAT!!!

Also his interactions with DJ are essentially him seeing a potential future for himself

and like trash meta moment, unlike Kylo “I Make Poor Life Choices” Ren, he makes the decision to reject that future for himself.

Like Finn’s arc in this movie I would argue is to stop being a passive observer in the narrative and to start CLAIMING his space in the narrative that is Star Wars

like FANON!Finn is very much the Resistance automatically accepting him and him become The Dude in The Resistance

this movie ACTUALLY DID THE CHARACTER WORK for him to become a leader in the Resistance

Look I really love Finn and he finally got the character development he deservessssss

MOVING ON TO MY NEWEST DAUGHTER!!!!

ROSE!!! TICO!!! BEST DAUGHTER!! GOOD DAUGHTER!!! MY SMOL ENGINEER!!

Okay, first off. I will like forever and ever be thankful to Rian for casting Kelly Marie Tran SO JOT THAT SHIT DOWN

BUT MNEME SHE ABUSED--

finish that sentence and i will unhinge my maw to consume your filthy soul

AHEM, I mean you’re entitled to your opinions

which are wrong

SERIOUSLY THO, every time someone goes “Rose straight-up shocked a black boy till he passed out!!!!!” I’m like

okay one, he’s canonically 23 years  old

like as a black woman and one with a little brother I’m very cognizant of the impact of black violence in media and the constant view of black boys as adults

but also HE’S 23

two, Rey straight up clobbered him under the hearsay of BB-8 saying that “oh that dude has my dad’s jacket” compared to Rose catching him escaping via escape pods after catching 2/3 people doing the same thing earlier that day + losing her only living family

like if this is the hill you want to die on!?!?!?!?

I JUST REALLY ROSE BECAUSE SHE’S THE ENGINEER TAKE NO SHIT DISNEY PRINCESS OF MY COLD DEAD HEART SPACE

I just she’s so quick and smart but  get put into the ANTI-SOCIAL ASSHOLE BOX???

like yes she’s very good and detailed at her job

She also wants to fight everyone

like if i wrote an academia au (but Mneme you do---) she would be like the HELLO CLASS THIS IS OUR EXAM ALSO BONUS POINTS IF YOU GO ON A FIELD TRIP WITH ME ^_^

Student: Dr. Tico, that field is a protest.

Dr. Tico: I HAVE SIGNS AND HANDCUFFS!!!!

I just really loved her arc on Canto Bight and her care for the little people and also the emphasis it’s not the wide dramatic actions that make the resistance but the people that make it thrive.

“We win by saving what we love.”

Mneme that kiss was sexless--

THE GIRL JUST KNOCKED A SHIP OUT OF THE WAY OF A CANNON, GIVE THE GIRL A BREAK

She’s be more than down to climb him like a tree later.

OKAY WHILE WE’RE STILL DEALING WITH THE RESISTANCE

I UNDERSTAND WHY ADMIRAL AMILYN HOLDO DIED AND THE SHOT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND ELEGANT AND JUST 

#POETIC CINEMA

but also *UGLY SOBBING*

so like yes I understand that this probably could have been solved via OPEN COMMUNICATION but

Poe has literally just been demoted for flyboy antics

Poe initial interaction with Admiral Holdo consists of “soooo do you understand the situation” in front of a bunch of upper level brass

like maybe if he was like HEY HOW CAN I HELP it would have been better but he literally goes

HI ADMIRAL PLEASE LET EXPLAIN YOUR JOB AFTER I JUST MANAGED TO GET A HUGE CHUNK OF THE FLEET DEMOLISHED

cue Oscar Isaac’s prettiness

so like I understand but also I DISAGREE

also when Amilyn talks to Leia when Poe is like being carted onto the transport saying “I like him!” I’m 99% certain it was implied that she was also down to bang

actually knowing what I know from Leia, Princess of Alderaan

she’s TOTALLY DOWN TO BANG

OKAY LETS FINISH UP THIS NONSENSE WITH REMAINING TWO CHARAS ALSO KNOWN AS THIS IS A BIASED REVIEW AND IF YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO YOU CAN LIKE STOP HERE AND GO

......

.....

....

*looks around* okay they’re gone?

*TAKES  OUT MIC*

FIRST THING FIRST, I HAVE BEEN REY NO ONE SINCE FOREVER AND NOW I AM VALIDATED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD~~~~

It also follows from what Maz said in TFA, “you know they aren’t coming back.” This movie is Rey coming to terms with the failure that her parents inflicted on her, abandonment, and realizing that she doesn’t need some grand legacy to save the galaxy. Being herself is enough, and that’s so so beautiful to meeeeeeeeeeeeee. *weeps*

#POETIC CINEMA

SECOND, KYLO’S ARC WAS GEARED TOWARDS MEEEEEE!!! THANK YOU FOR VALIDATING ALL THE CHARACTER SHIT I HAVE BEEN SAYING ABOUT KYLO REN SINCE TFA THAT I THOUGHT WAS FUCKING OBVIOUS!!!!!!

Them: KYLE RON WAS TOTALLY DOWN TO KILL HAN AND UNREMORSEFUL. Me: ???? did we watch the same movie??

did you like look at the lighting in that scene???

the facial expressions??

LITERALLY EVERYTHING BEFORE THAT SCENE ABOUT BEING SEDUCED BY THE LIGHT?!!?!?

Kylo himself in TLJ: i didn’t hate him

THIS CONFLICT, THIS UNBALANCEDNESS CONTINUES THROUGH OUT THE FILM!?!? Also, I’m going to be hella honest 

pre-TLJ: Renperor is such a horrible trope because Kylo Ren is a disaster human being who has no business and no interest (see Bloodline) in ruling??? LIKE YOU ARE ASSIGNING COMPETENCE TO MY SON WHERE THERE IS NONE

post-TLJ: alright, I can Work With This and I’m 99% certain he is going to be ousted because the FO is like who is this human disaster with the political savvy of a blunt post 

like any credibility was lost as soon as he decided to have force tantrum when Luke showed up

and the SHOOT THAT SHIP OUT OF THE SKY!!!! moment

like my son leads wears his trash heart on his sleeve and EVERYONE KNOWS IT

honestly the fact that he managed to lie about killing Snoke is a miracle

but this CANON!renperor 

this Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, which i am like laugh my ass of over, is not some triumphant Dark Fuck Prince??

He’s broken man who has thrown so so much into rejecting the light, becoming the monster that his uncle he feared he would become and realized that he done fucked up. 

He tells Rey, Let the past die, kill it if you have to.

LITERALLY CANNOT LET THE PAST DIE

does copy his namesakes dramatic robe dropping so like there’s that

Also pre-TLJ: meh there’s a 50/50 chance he’s a virgin but lol it will never but touched on in canon

Post-TLJ: oh god he’s a virgin i will fight you on thissss

AND NOW BECAUSE I AM THAT PERSON REY AND KYLO’S OVERLAPPING ARCS

*SCREAMS* FORCE BOND FORCE BOND FORCE BOND

oh did i mention FORCE BOND!?!?!?!?!

Okay yes Snoke helped it along but like THAT LAST SCENE WITH THE DICE AND KYLO LOOKING UP AND SEEING REY

Snoke is dead bitches

what is it

it’s the Force

it was so good to meee

Honestly that face was peak “I’m disappointed but not surprised, I left all your shit on the porch. *SLAMS DOOR IN FACE*”

Like THE INTIMACY OF THOSE FORCE BOND SCENES

and like the evolution and like ASDFDSFSDAFDS

this was so good to me y’all

so good

no really i like never rec meta but like this *kisses fingers* http://corseque.tumblr.com/post/168629533017 good shit 

THAT REGENCY TRASH PROPOSAL OF FAILURE

so good

so awful

congrats Kylo, you’ve surpassed your granddad in poor wooing skills

Like literally I can see Anakin standing next to him Force Ghost!Stylez and is just like appalled

so appalled

okay i’m done I’m going to think about star wars and start throwing all my money at the EU YET AGAIN

#tlj spoilers #reylo #finnrose #star wars #STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI #i just loved this movie a lot y'all #it was so good to me on so many levels #I AM LIVING