i should know better than to allow myself to feel hope and yet the acolyte trailer's inclusion of so much jedi content, the training of the younglings at the beginning, all shaded in peaceful, golden light, and the group of knights and masters all igniting their sabers together, it makes my heart feel warm. i know the show will doubtless center the the dark side and use the jedi as the background context to be rebelled against, but regardless, the fact that we are going to get to see the temple closer to the height of the republic and the jedi as a flourishing culture makes me genuinely excited
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Will I steer into this hyperfixation long enough to finish a our flag means death fic
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to finish out pride with bisexualcastiels or switch to bigdentenergy before gotham knights ends fforever as a last hoorah.................................
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but let's talk about you for a minute, with the vomit in your gullet from a half bottle of vodka that we'd stolen from the optic on the back seat in your car because it wasn't safe to start it. you were far too fucked to drive were the words that you imparted. and the woolen dress that clung so tight to the contours of your body and the dead grass stuck to fibres from us rolling in the layby were passed to dog-haired blankets that protected the bench seat covers and a crucifix was hung from rearview mirror by your mother
I'm leaving my body to science, not medical but physics. drag my corpse through the airport and lay me limp on the left wing. drop me at the highest point and trace a line around the dent I leave in the ground, that'll be the initial of the one you will marry now I'm not around. I flew for seven hours. the sky didn't once turn black
you know I'd sooner go down in a ball of flames, than I would lay here and be bored to death. alls well that ends
I wake from sleep, my head and shoulder wet against the window. a frost had formed and melted. soaked me right through to my collarbone. if you were given the option of dying painlessly in peace at forty-five but with a lover at your side after a full and happy life, is that something that would interest you? would this interest you at all?
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OK, today we take Rakha to meet Wyll! (And probably the other companions.)
On the way through the grove, however, she is first interrupted by more people shouting at each other. This appears to be a common occurrence in this strange world.
"Hells, we can't just leave! They're kin!"
"I'll not gamble our lives, our futures, on people who are as good as dead!"
"Can we all just take a moment, please?"
Three of the tieflings, set a little apart from the others and arguing passionately. Absently Rakha notes the family resemblance between them. Siblings, perhaps. One arguing to leave the grove at once, one arguing to stay and help the larger group. One arguing for calm; perhaps the shouting grates his ears as much as it does Rakha's.
"What's the point in blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?" the woman snaps. "We should stay! These people aren't fighters. We can help!"
"Or yell louder," the boy says wearily. "That's fine too."
Rakha is not really part of this conversation, just listening from the outskirts. She has little investment in what happens to the tieflings, or anyone besides herself (and, perhaps, the small band of fellow infected she has gathered, who have a sense of use to her), but she listens intently as she listens to everything, continuing to put pieces together in her picture of the world around her.
Say nothing.
"Rolan's right, sis," the younger man goes on uncomfortably, risking his sister's wrath in favor of having the conversation over with. "We should leave while we still can."
The older one - Rolan? - looks smug. "Or would you deny your brother here his chance at fortune in Baldur's Gate?"
"Argh. Fine," the woman growls. "Let's sneak away like godsdamned cowards. But if something happens to these people, it's on us. I hope you know that."
Rakha watches as the three tieflings turn and walk away, still arguing, towards the gate of the grove. Her jaw works thoughtfully. She can understand Rolan's thought process; this place will see more battle before long, more blood, and his own survival is paramount.
The woman's perspective is stranger; what benefit could there be in staying here? Rakha herself plans to move on as soon as possible, as soon as they know the location of the creche - and the druids mean to throw everyone out anyway. And yet this woman wants to stay, to fight more goblins when they come, without evincing any of the bloodlust that drives Rakha's own thirst for battle.
There is something significant in it, something that Rakha is not equipped to understand.
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wip wednesday
look! it's a baby handspun sweater that i probably don't have enough yarn/fiber for and which i am about to frog for being the wrong gauge and which i am neglecting spinning during @a-tour-de-fleece for
pattern: throttle moto jacket by amy gunderson
yarn: we pull apart the dark (knit picks wota roving in indigo heather)
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