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in retrospect its so fucking funny that Korra did pro-bending while also being avatar. Its like if the pope was in mma matches and also fought crime on the side
U know when avatar does that thing where it flashes back to a childhood memory of a character and then focuses on their face and fades back in on them at the same angle but older and changed....... gets me every time
the doctor, who just got his heart broken by leaving rose in the parallel world and whose crying was interrupted by a stranger in a wedding dress appearing in his ship: who are you?? what are you doing here???
donna, who just got teleported into the tardis:
callum “i was kidnapped and tortured for a week and now i think its past overdue i take some dick” highway apparently
the lightning thief is near and dear to my heart
Son of Sith (AU where Grand Inquisitor Ahsoka trains Luke in preparation to become his father’s apprentice) Fanfic
Luke huffed as all air was forced out of his lungs; a graceful but rough heel kick aiming a perfect jab right into his mid torso. Augmented by the Force, it sent him flying until he ended up tumbling across the sleek auburn stone floors of the training hall. He skidded to a clumsy halt; bare forearms rubbed raw and sore from the neatly polished finish. He gasped for breath; instinctively reaching for the red saber that ought to be strapped to his belt while he pulled himself up to his knees.Â
Only to find it wasn’t there; and no amount of blind fumbling would reveal the weapon he was so desperately searching for. Had he dropped it? Before he had a chance to relocate the missing saber; another sharp kick to the side of his waist had him rolling over onto his back, wincing and grunting in pain.
“You disappoint me, Skyguy. Me and your father,” said his adversary; her mocking tone sharp as glass.
“Don’t call me that,” Luke scoffed in a choked voice, narrowing his blue eyes at the taunt - he’d never been fond of that particular nickname.
He blinked; head spinning as he attempted to see straight. Vision blurred by sweat and exhaustion; clumps of matted sandy blonde hair falling into his field of view. He had known he’d be training intensely to perfect his powers with the Dark Side; he’d just never known that his teacher would be so ruthless. When Father had found him, he’d assumed he would be the one to train him. He’d been sorely wrong.
Instead, the Master that now stood over him was a female Togruta. Her muscular arms folded over her chest; her stern face clearly displeased and disappointed by the easy defeat. Her red dual blades turned off and clipped to her sides. Her magnificent montrals sticking out like a twin pair of horns making a crude crown atop her head; the lekku twitching faintly where they rested over her tense shoulders.Â
Her sickly yellow ember eyes glowing in the dim light of the vast cavern of the space surrounding them. Half of the rooms of Father’s castle lay underground; carved into the natural cave system of Mustafar’s constantly reshaped lavascape. It didn’t help that the heat - and stench - of molten rock was constantly perforating the atmosphere.
“Know your place,” she reprimanded; in the same sharp tone as previously - but with a venomous bite to it.
Luke flinched.
“I’m sorry. I can do better,” he finally gulped when he caught his breath enough to find his voice; struggling to sit up straight as he wiped a thin trail of blood off the corner of his lips.
His entire abdomen was pulsing with a sore, mellow pain. He pressed one palm against the spot he’d been hit initially; rubbing in slow circles to soothe. Watched as Master rolled her eyes dramatically. She’d always found his sensitivity to physical injury pathetic.
“You better deliver on that promise, Skyguy. You keep whining about how you wish to train with your father. If you can’t even best me, how do you expect to stand a chance against his prowess?” she said - it stung to hear it, but her words were true.
“I’ll train harder. I can do it,” Luke pressed; tone slightly high pitched with disappointment and defeat.
Rare was the time Father had any time for him. Of course, being the Emperor’s right hand would see to making him a busy man. But still. Luke lowered his gaze in shame; watching out of the corner of his eye as Master called on the Force and his saber came flying through the air like a pet to its owner. He should have been the one to pull that move. It was an intentional deprecation.
“You need to focus. No amount of hard training can keep your head on straight if you don’t learn to focus properly.”
“I will, just give me some time.”
“You’ve had all the time in the world, and you’re still stuck in the same spot. You need to start drawing upon your emotions, you keep holding back. It serves you no good, except for getting you killed faster.”
Master carelessly tossed Luke’s saber in the air a couple of times, as a cruel taunt. She appeared to be contemplating, before stopping to give him a predatory smirk.
“You are aware your father is supposed to regard your progress, aren’t you?” she said; and Luke watched as she turned her head towards the hydraulic doorway. “As a matter of fact, he disclosed to me that today would be the ideal opportunity.”
Luke felt his heart sink; he’d been too distracted by the combat to even notice the familiar icy presence creeping nearer. Yet now, as the automatic doors whooshed open; he shuddered. Skin prickling; the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end.Â
Master was strong with the Dark Side; but it was nothing compared to Father. As he strode through the doorway; bending slightly to accommodate his height while entering, the sinister icy tendrils of the Dark were already discernible from his aura. Like invisible tentacles, prodding and cutting through their surroundings like freezing, razor sharp needles. Piercing anything that stood in their way. Luke fought back the urge to wrap his bare arms around himself; to shield himself from the frigid cold.
Still, Father walked right up to them. Back straight and confident, helmeted head held high with pride. Shoulders broad, cape black as tar trailing behind his large form. The skullesque face plate harsh and emotionless as always; the tinted lenses reminiscent of a bug’s eyes. Void, null of expression. Luke staggered as he pulled himself up onto his feet; grimacing at the sharp burn in his side and his ribs.
“Father,” he said; bowing his head out equal amounts of awe and courtesy.
Master stepped aside; silently mirroring the small bow of acknowledgement. She stood still as a statue; a coy, amused sneer playing at the corner of her lips. Sharpened white teeth peering out.
“My son. I was assured that you were to be making progress in your training. Still, I find you bereft of your weapon and pitifully defeated.”
Luke winced; shoulders coming up as he took in Father’s disapproval. It always hurt; always made him feel like a failure. He could feel it through their bond; the anger and displeasure seeping from Father’s overpowering Force signature. Stabbing into his psyche, as if intent on drawing as much humiliation out of his son as possible.Â
It was working.
“Forgive me, father. I’ve disappointed you,” Luke mumbled in a sheepish voice; folding his hands over his hips, legs wobbling just a tad beneath his weight.
“Indeed. You wish to be my apprentice, but you have a long way yet to go. The Grand Inquisitor is correct in her judgment. If you cannot best her skills, you have not yet honed the power necessary to excel as my pupil. You need to continue your current training, and master it before you can request for me to take time out of my schedule on your behalf.”
Father was right.Â
Still, Luke scowled. He’d thought he was doing well in predicting Master’s movements, up until the last moment. He was getting faster, and he was getting better at blocking her assault. He was getting better at reading her body language, her saber technique. But he was sloppy, and easily disoriented.
“I sense that you are displeased with my verdict. Do you wish to speak up and voice your opinion?”
Father’s booming baritone voice - amplified through the vocoder - seemed to bounce off the walls like a sinister echo; like a thousand demonic whispers. Master quirked an eyebrow at him, her curious gaze shifting between father and son a couple of times. Luke regretted thinking it, but he couldn’t back down now. Father expected him to speak up, or else he would not have addressed it.
“I… I am getting better. Master tells me I need to focus, but I am faster, and I have learnt to better foresee her actions. I have evolved, and I’m sure I can live up to your expectations.” He paused. “I am not a failure.”
“You are not. But you are not yet a success, either. Son, you need to know your place and you will not receive my praise until you have mastered your training.”
“But I can be a success! Just let me–”
“Patience,” Father cut him off mid sentence, tone demanding; almost threatening. “Know your place. However, I find there is value in your persistence. That is to be encouraged.”
Luke bit back a retort; and if Father could sense it, he didn’t pry or scold. Instead, he turned his masked head slightly towards Master; pointing one finger at her. Confusion coloured the boy’s expression; and he regarded with inquisitiveness the wry look in Master’s golden eyes.
“Grand Inquisitor.”
“Yes, Lord Vader.”Â
“I shall be most pleased to see you resume your schedule. I will be watching intently.”
Father stepped back, striding swiftly over to the corner of the training hall. His breathing apparatus an ominous reminder of his presence, even while mostly out of sight in the heavy shadows.Â
It was only then that Luke realized Father intended to watch him fight. He felt a flush colour his cheeks; the fear and insecurity of failing in front of him mortifying. Still, as Master tossed him his saber and he caught it mid air; he tried to brace himself. Placed his feet wide apart, for a steady stance. Watched Master switch on her blades; twirling them a couple of times as an intimidation tactic.
Then, she charged.
Luke parried and blocked the first crimson saber, before spinning out of the way for the second. He crouched; the smell of singed blonde hair as one blade cut through the air mere inches above his head pricking his nostrils. The sound of Father’s respirator loud in his ears; stifling every other noise. He couldn’t hear the squeak of their boots sliding against the floors. Couldn’t hear the steady hum and crackle of their weapons. Couldn’t hear his own heavy breathing, or the hurried hammering of his own pulse as his heart pounded frantically against his rib-cage.
In the split of a second, Master was on him again. She was always light on her feet. Lithe, agile, quick and cunning. Luke knew Father had trained her to be clever, to take advantage of her adversaries’ weaknesses - and their strengths. He had seen her battle and defeat Force wielders three times her size; out of sheer strategy and power of will. Narrowing his eyes; Luke ducked to the side to avoid another swing; blocking the second saber aimed his way by drawing upon the Force to shove Master back.
She responded by making a graceful twirl; landing on her toes before flying back at him. Bouncing; as if she weighed nothing, defying gravity. He blocked her; stumbling a couple of steps backwards but holding his ground.
Suddenly, the anger was welled up inside. Red hot, burning like a crackling flame - blazing like a firestorm. He knew Master wished to humiliate him before Father, wished to prove both Father and herself right. It fueled his rage; and he channeled it the way he was supposed to. Let it flow through his limbs; into his core. Surging through his veins with each heartbeat. He felt brighter; clear headed. Sharp minded. His sight amplified; focused. As Master came back around, spinning through the air; he blocked both her sabers with his.Â
This time, Luke didn’t faulter.Â
Master aimed her heel at his already sore side, digging it in; but he hardly felt it. It was as if his body wasn’t his own, but a vessel. As if he was standing outside himself. Instead; his only reaction was a frustrated grunt and a staggering step backwards before he grabbed her ankle tight with his free hand. His mechanical hand - the one Father had sliced off without remorse, to teach him the value of loss and preservation. Using the Force as his aid, Luke used his hold on her to toss her back. A shock wave shooting through him; the power of the Force overwhelming and exciting as it rolled off of him.
She hit the floor on her side, shoulder first; but quickly turned the tumble into a graceful somersault, landing on her feet. Yet, the white markings of her brows were raised in surprise; she seemed almost stunned by sudden display of dexterity. It was the first time Luke had managed to stay standing; and to strike back.Â
Still, as the high of the moment wore off; Luke flinched at the mulling ache in his side returning full throttle. He expected Master to attack once more, now that he’d let his guard down and was vulnerable again; expected her to knock him off his feet and officially defeat him in front of Father.
Instead, she stood down. Turning her sabers off, and clipping them to her belt again. She stood up straight; glancing in Father’s direction and giving him a curt nod. Her golden eyes gleaming.
“Impressive.”
Father’s voice was too loud where it spoke up from the shadows. Luke raised his head; wiped his sweaty forehead with his shirt as Father took a couple of long steps towards them. Now he had his arms folded. The reflection of the far off glow of lava streams outside the palace walls illuminating his mask in an eerie, insidious fashion. It almost appeared to be grinning; a grim, chilling trickery of the light.
“Perhaps, there is still hope for you, my son. You must learn to draw more frequently upon the Dark Side, if you wish to face me as an adversary and tutor. This is but your first step, but it holds formidable promise.”
Father paused, as if he was contemplating something. He tilted his domed head barely notably to the side; and Luke felt the weight of the older man’s gaze upon him. Heavy, like a burden, or a sodden weight. Almost too hard to bear. The needles of the Dark Side piercing through his flesh; his very bones.
“However, I believe there are things that your master cannot adequately teach you. Perhaps, it is time I teach you to tap further into your anger. Meditation shall be your guide. The potential is there, now you need hone your natural talent into perfection. I shall take it upon myself to instruct your further advance.”
Luke’s eyes widened; and he had to fight back the urge to gape, hope blossoming within his chest. This was the closest thing to a true compliment his Father had offered, his eyes darting off to Master’s face and her expression hinted at thinly veiled proud. Pride in the face of her own accomplishments no doubt; but it reaffirmed Luke’s assumptions.
Luke knew Master only ever wished to please Father, much the same as he himself did. He knew they had long been master and apprentice, even before they both found strength with the Dark Side. Had peered into the records when on his own; had studied their profiles from the days of the Jedi Order - something he would never reveal to them.Â
Still, they shared a strong bond, not commonly found in Sith and their pupils. Luke envied the favour Master had with Father, wished to one day overthrow her and take her place by his side. Even though another part of him wanted to feel guilt for merely thinking the thought. But it was expected, Father had explained long ago. It was the custom; there were to be but two Sith. Which was why the Emperor must not know of his training; or their scheme. Still, for now, Luke was humbled to be schooled by Father’s most esteemed Inquisitor. It was enough.
“Thank you, Father,” he finally managed to stutter out, turning his own saber off so as not to awkwardly stand there with his weapon still in hand.
“Indeed. Now, I wish for the both of you to join me, for I have received valuable information regarding the Rebellion. Grand Admiral Thrawn is already in the midst of engaging their hopeless ground forces, and I would like to send you both to his aid - and mine. But we shall discuss this further in his company.”
Luke swallowed hard; a nervousness settling like a lump at the base of his throat. It would be his first actual task off world. His first mission, alongside Master of course, but Father had never before requested he fight alongside the troops.
“Come.”
“As you wish, milord,” said Master; head held low in submission as she followed behind while Father had already begun to make his way towards the single exit-way; only beckoning them with one gloved finger.
Luke nodded silently; scurrying rather unceremoniously behind them to catch up once his feet decided to cooperate. Still, as he walked at a quick pace through the corridors of pristine black durasteel and auburn rock formations; he felt proud. He must have been making progress, for Father to think him skilled enough to join the ground forces on the battlefield. It was the break he’d been waiting for, for the last year and a half.
—————-
I wanna thank @thebixo​ for inspiring me to write this fic, and come up with the AU! I’ll include her wonderful piece she drew for me as a companion to this below!Â
Also, I hope you enjoy my take on dark!Ahsoka as the Grand Inquisitor, training a 16 year old Luke to become Vader’s new Sith apprentice and overthrow the Emperor.Â
Let me know if you want more of this AU, and I might write some!
the nine times fitzsimmons made it back to each other + the one time they didn’t
The year of the Games is fifty. That would make it the second Quarter Quell.
And the name of the victor is Haymitch Abernathy.
My rot is as hungry as me. & when God asks me about love, I always respond with cruelty.
i know there's a ton of Good Character Development reasons for percy to keep the curse of achilles but consider, the bullshit reasons
the hephaestus cabin used to make automatons for archery classes to fire at to get practice with moving targets, but it became a game for the apollo cabin and the ares cabin to see who could destroy the most automatons, and the hephaestus cabin went on strike. lee fletcher, head counselor at the time and also the resident archery instructor, went to chiron and started begging for a solution. chiron wants to be the person who says, "fix it yourself," but it's his job to train heroes, which is how chiron ends up digging out his old horse armor and spraypaints a red bullseye over the hindquarter piece and runs around getting fired at by teenagers and tweens. do you know how many times a pisses off kid "accidentally" missed the armor? and then percy takes on the curse of achilles, and now percy and chiron take shifts getting fired at by teenagers and tweens because percy doesn't know how to say no. they give percy chest/back armor spraypainted with a bullseye, as is tradition. this sometimes devolves into percy going, "hey will? can you shoot me in the eye with an arrow. i'm invulnerable but like, how invulnerable," and then will does it and percy falls over like I WASN'T PREPARED FOR IT TO NOT HURT I WASN'T PREPARED FOR HOW WEIRD THAT WAS GOING TO FEEL, WILL CAN YOU DO THAT AGAIN
he's banned from capture the flag because having percy on your team is emphatically unfair. percy doesn't like being banned from capture the flag, so he makes his own job for capture the flag, which is that he sneaks in and fucks with the teams while they play. absolutely no fighting, just pure "i wonder how necessary the stream is to the team's battle strategy. what if it moved" or "would suck, if the hephaestus cabin's war machines stopped working." he can't win but he can make it really hard for everyone else to. the camp counselor meeting over this particular issue is a shitshow, and it ends when katie gardiner throws a can of cheese whiz at annabeth for implying that the demeter kids couldn't beat her cabin at anything, up to and including dance dance revolution. chiron wakes up the next day to an official petition nailed to the big house door, demanding rights to dance dance revolution. this post is not about DDR, but for the sake of being right, i am telling you that nico would win DDR in an absolute landslide. my reasoning: the lotus casino had to have gotten DDR at some point, and nico, under full sway of the spell, did not realize there was anything weird about this game. he's had a fuckton of practice. he's basically unbeatable.
percy would lose round one of DDR, but again, this post is not about DDR. maybe it should be, considering i have weirdly intense opinions about demigod dance dance revolution. DDDR.
clarisse goes, "your face can't break most swords, can it," and percy's like, "what the fuck do you mean, my face can't break most swords? it's the curse of achilles. the point is that my face can break most swords. maybe even all swords," and that's how clarisse pisses off the hephaestus cabin permanently by breaking seven swords on percy's face before jake mason interrupts, screaming, "WHO DO YOU THINK MAKES THE SWORDS, LA RUE?" and once again the hephaestus kids go on strike. to smooth things over with jake, percy chills at the forges for a while doing menial tasks because he can't be burned while doing them. it becomes a game for campers to ask percy to hold boiling hot metal. they're teenagers, superpowers are cool. percy's just relieved he can't set himself on fire anymore, because getting burned alive in a volcano sucked.
percy can eat his mom's cookies directly out of the oven and it can't hurt him, and no mere mortal knows the joy of burning hot cookies. they taste better when they would scald anyone else's mouth.
thalia practicing lightning summoning with percy, or rather on percy, and guess what, that shit tickles? it tickles, but in your internal organs, it tickles. it's the weirdest fucking feeling. thalia's like WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING and percy's like I JUST NEED A SECOND...... I JUST NEED A SECOND
i think it should be a thing that when someone pisses off their biggest rival at camp and gets chased around with a weapon, they hide behind percy. not just because he has the curse of achilles, he also happens to be kind of a cool dude. he makes good conversation, while standing between you and a six foot spear being wielded by the person you dumped a can of paint on.
everyone kind of forgets to tell the new campers and one new kid who is a little bit of a pissant tries to attack percy while his back is turned, after a swordfighting class where percy tells him he can't just be a dick. the sword breaks on percy's shoulder. percy pretends not to notice, because percy can have a little fun, as a treat. the new kid lives in Fear
percy sleeps through the boring camp counselor meetings because Curse Of Achilles Naps, so chiron learns that if he frames an idea in the most boring fashion possible and then asks a half-asleep percy if he agrees, percy will just say yes automatically. he'll have at least one instant vote of support, even if the rest of the counselors are dicks about it.
i think annabeth would spend a lot of time practicing dance dance revolution, as someone who is naturally competitive and hates being beaten. i just had to get that out there.
no one:
me and my wannabe storyboard artist ass:
i finished sea of monsters and also wanted to practice storyboarding, so here you go.
Pancakes or Waffles?
Bonus: soft pretzels :)
Gert, gets mad at literally anyone who isn’t him.
Chase:
I haven’t shared anything for #CHBreimagined in a while but here’s my version of the Camp Half Blood map! I’ve tried to redesign it with more of a sense of scale and I’ve added a few more geographical and topographical features too. I still plan on doing another drawing of the cabin layout and a more zoomed out one including more of the woods, so stay tuned!
You can follow more of my progress, planning and WIPs on my twitter.
Donations welcome on my Kofi  ♥
Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 3, Episode 7 (2015) | Avengers: Endgame (2019)
If Jet didn’t die in Lake Laogai imagine how fucking pissed he would be to find out that the new fire lord is Lee from the Jasmine Dragon. It would prove all of his convictions correct but he can’t bitch about it because what are they gonna do? Arrest the fire lord? For firebending?