#A SON'S LOVE FOR HIS FATHER SAVED THE GALAXY

[mintyys-blog]

EVERY UNIVERSE — viltrumite! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: character death, death in childbirth, grief, delusion, kidnapping, obsession, forced role play, forced marriage, talks of having children, oral sex (fem receiving), sexual assault

MINORS DNI

Mark had fought wars. Conquered planets. Crushed civilizations beneath his fists.

But none of that had ever made his heart pound like this.

He knelt beside the bed, his fingers tightly interlocked with hers as she screamed through another contraction. His free hand pushed damp hair from her forehead, his chest aching at the sight of her tears, the strain in her face.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his voice barely steady. “Just a little more, okay?”

She didn’t answer, only squeezed his hand tighter. Hard enough that, if he were human, she might have broken something. But he wasn’t. And he wished more than anything that he could take her pain, bear it for her.

Another scream—then the sound of a baby’s first cry split the air.

Mark’s breath hitched.

The doctors moved quickly, cleaning the infant, wrapping him in soft cloth before carefully placing him in Mark’s arms. His son. His beautiful son.

His heart swelled, his chest so full he thought it might burst. He turned immediately, eager to share this moment with her. But then he saw her. Too still. Too pale. His smile faded. “Y/N?”

She blinked slowly, exhaustion weighing heavy on her. But then, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. “Remember,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, “I’ll love you in every universe.”

The monitors shrieked.

“Her heart rate’s dropping!”

“We’re losing her!”

“No—no, no, no—” Mark clutched her hand tighter, desperate, pleading. “Stay with me. Stay with me, please.”

Her fingers, so warm, so full of life just moments ago, slowly went limp. Mark watched helplessly as the light faded from her eyes. As her breath hitched, then stopped. A sound tore from his throat. A broken, wounded thing.

The doctors moved around him, shouting, working. But he already knew. She was gone. His love. His heart. His one weakness. Gone. The baby in his arms whimpered softly, unaware.

Mark barely breathed as he pressed his forehead to hers, his grip on her hand unrelenting, as if he could keep her here by sheer will alone. He had conquered galaxies. But he couldn’t save her. And something inside him shattered.

The nights were always the hardest. Mark sat in the dimly lit nursery, cradling his son against his chest. The baby had finally fallen asleep, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of Mark’s shirt, his breath warm and steady.

Mark exhaled, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s forehead. “You look like her,” he whispered.

It had been months. Months of waking up to an empty bed. Months of staring at the space beside him, hoping—praying—that maybe it had all been a nightmare. That she’d be there, smiling at him, telling him he was just being dramatic. But she wasn’t. She never would be. A knock at the window broke his thoughts.

Mark turned, already knowing who it was before he even saw him. Nolan. His father hovered just outside, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Mark sighed, carefully laying his son in his crib before stepping onto the balcony.

The cold night air bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. Nolan wasted no time. “You can’t keep doing this.” Mark stiffened. “Doing what?”

“Wasting away here,” his father said, gesturing toward the nursery. “I know you’re grieving. But you’re still Viltrumite. You have responsibilities.” Mark’s jaw clenched. “My responsibility is to my son.”

“Your responsibility is to your empire,” Nolan corrected. “Earth is filled with beautiful women, Mark. You could find someone new. Move on.”

Move on?

Mark’s hands curled into fists, his rage simmering beneath the surface. His father’s words shouldn’t have surprised him, but they did. “There is no moving on,” Mark said coldly.

Nolan shook his head, sighing like he was dealing with a stubborn child. “One of your duties is to repopulate the Viltrum Empire. You know that.” Mark’s stomach turned.

His father made it sound so… mechanical. Like love didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. Mark took a step forward, voice dangerously low. “Get out.” Nolan studied him for a long moment before nodding. “You can’t run from your duty forever.”

And with that, he was gone. Mark stood there for a long time, staring into the empty sky before finally going back inside.

His son stirred slightly as Mark sat beside the crib, brushing soft curls from his tiny face. Mark exhaled shakily, leaning down to press a kiss to his son’s forehead.

“I would never replace your mother,” he whispered. “She was one of a kind.” His voice broke on the last word, but he didn’t care. Because it was the truth.

The blood wouldn’t wash off. Mark stood in the ruins of another battlefield, his breathing ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. The bodies of fallen rebels littered the ground, their broken forms barely recognizable.

They had fought back. Resisted his rule. They were gone now. It was becoming easier.

The rage came quicker, burned hotter. The grief never left—it only morphed into something sharper, something ruthless. A blade he wielded without hesitation.

He used to be better than this. But she had made him better. And now she was gone.

“Sir?” A Viltrumite soldier approached cautiously, as if sensing the storm beneath his skin. “The planet is secure.”

Mark didn’t answer at first. He flexed his fingers, still slick with blood, before finally nodding. “Good.” That was it. No mercy. No remorse. Just another victory. Another hollow, meaningless victory.

⸻

He barely slept. When he did, it was worse.

The nightmares were relentless. He saw her face—smiling, laughing, whispering his name—only to watch it twist in pain, her body growing cold in his arms again and again.

Mark would wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, reaching for her—only to find the bed empty.

Always empty. His son was the only thing keeping him tethered.

The boy was growing fast, his mother’s eyes staring up at him with innocent curiosity. But Mark could see it, the way the nannies and caretakers whispered, the way the guards stiffened when he passed.

They were afraid. Of him. And maybe they should be. He wasn’t the same man anymore. He was a weapon with nothing left to lose. And without her, he was slipping. Falling. And soon, he knew, there wouldn’t be anything left to save.

Mark sat alone in his war room, staring at the holographic projections of his conquered territories. Planets bent to his will. Armies at his command. An empire expanding without resistance.

And yet, none of it mattered. It was all meaningless. His fingers tapped against the table, his mind drifting, drowning in memories he couldn’t escape—until a voice interrupted.

“Well, well. You look even worse than I expected.”

Mark’s eyes snapped up. Angstrom Levy stood before him, his usual smug expression in place. The air around him crackled with residual energy from whatever dimension he had just stepped through.

Mark’s body tensed immediately. “You have five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I rip your head off.” Angstrom merely chuckled, unbothered. “I wouldn’t be so hasty. I have something you want.”

Mark’s glare darkened. “There’s nothing you could offer me.”

Angstrom’s smile widened. “Oh, I think there is.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if I told you… you could have her back?”

Mark’s breath caught. His heart—cold and empty for so long—lurched violently in his chest.

Angstrom’s grin grew at his reaction. “There’s a universe out there where she’s alive. Whole. Untouched by tragedy. You could see her again, hold her again.”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “…What’s the catch?”

Angstrom tilted his head, feigning innocence. “That universe—it’s a problem for me. I need it gone. And you… well, you’ve never had an issue destroying things, have you?”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.” The words left him almost too fast, his desperation barely contained. Angstrom chuckled. “No second thoughts? No moral dilemma?”

Mark’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t care what happens to that universe. I don’t care about anything except her.”

Angstrom nodded approvingly. “Then we have a deal.” He reached out a hand, and without hesitation, Mark took it. A deal with the devil. A promise of salvation. And the only thing standing between him and his wife—was the destruction of an entire world.

Mark stood over his son’s crib, watching as the small child blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. For a moment, just a moment, the weight of what he was about to do pressed against his chest. He reached down, brushing soft curls from the boy’s forehead, memorizing every detail—his tiny hands, his mother’s nose, the way he reached for his father without hesitation.

Innocent. Oblivious. Mark exhaled sharply. He couldn’t waver now. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, voice firm. “And I’ll bring your mother with me.”

The child let out a small babble, reaching up. Mark allowed himself a single moment of hesitation before pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead.

Then he stepped back, handing him off to the waiting caretaker. The woman held the child close, but her eyes were nervous, wary. She should be.

Mark turned without another word, his cape billowing behind him as he left the nursery. Angstrom was waiting, a smug expression on his face. “Touching.”

Mark didn’t acknowledge the comment. He didn’t care what Angstrom thought. All that mattered was the portal crackling before him, swirling with unstable energy. A gateway to another world.

A world where she was alive. Without hesitation, without fear, Mark flew forward. And as the portal swallowed him whole, only one thought consumed him. Finding her.

The sky burned.

Buildings crumbled beneath his fists, entire cities reduced to nothing but dust and ruin. Screams echoed through the streets, but Mark barely heard them.

He moved like a force of nature—unstoppable, unrelenting. This world didn’t matter. These people didn’t matter. Only she did.

Somewhere in this universe, she was alive, breathing, unaware that he was tearing apart her world just to reach her.

Angstrom had delivered on his promise. The coordinates, the exact places where she might be. But Mark wasn’t going to waste time searching quietly.

He would burn this entire planet to the ground if it meant finding her faster.

A hero—a version of someone he might have once called an ally—flew at him, fists glowing with energy. Mark caught his arm mid-strike, crushing bone with barely any effort before throwing the man through a collapsing skyscraper.

A woman in a high-tech suit fired at him, shouting something about surrender.

Mark punched clean through her chest, barely sparing her a glance as her body hit the ground. None of it mattered. None of them mattered.

He flew through the smoke-choked air, eyes scanning the ruins below. The scent of fire and blood filled his lungs.

Then—he saw her. Or rather, a version of her. Standing in the middle of a shattered street, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Mark’s heart pounded.

He landed hard enough to crack the pavement, stepping forward, fists still bloodied, eyes wild. Her lips parted, confusion flickering across her face. “…Mark?”

A broken breath left him. It was her. It was really her. For the first time in years, his heart felt like it was beating again.

His muscles loosened, his breath shaky as he took another step forward, reaching out— But she took a step back. And the look in her eyes wasn’t love. It was fear. Mark’s fingers twitched. His mind screamed at him that it didn’t matter, that she would understand, that she would see soon enough that he was doing this for her.

A tremor ran through the ground as another explosion shook the city. Smoke curled in the air between them. Mark clenched his jaw.

No matter what she thought now—no matter how much she resisted—he had already decided. He had come too far. She wasn’t going to slip away from him again. She took another step back.

Mark’s stomach twisted. He could hear her heartbeat, the sharp, uneven rhythm of it. Not with love, not with relief— With fear. “No,” he said, almost pleading. He took a step forward, closing the space she was so desperately trying to create between them. “It’s me.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her eyes darted to the bodies, the fire, the shattered remains of her city.

He followed her gaze, and for the first time, he saw what she saw. Not a lover. Not a husband. A monster. Mark swallowed hard. “I did this for you.” She flinched.

His hands clenched into fists. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to run to him, throw her arms around him, tell him she’d been waiting. That she’d missed him as much as he missed her.

Instead, she was trembling.

“Stay away from me,” she whispered.

Mark froze.

She didn’t mean that. She couldn’t.

Not her.

Not after everything he had done—everything he sacrificed—just to see her again.

The ground trembled as another explosion rocked the city. Her gaze flickered to the destruction, then back to him. And she ran. Mark stood there for half a second, stunned, before instinct kicked in. It didn’t matter. She could run. He was faster.

Before she could take three steps, he was on her, an iron grip closing around her wrist. He barely registered her gasp of fear as he spun her toward him, crushing her against his chest.

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, his entire body trembling.

“I lost you once,” he murmured. “I’m not losing you again.”

She shoved at his chest, panic lacing her every movement. “You’re not my Mark—”

His grip tightened.

“This universe tried to take you from me,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “I won’t let it.”

She whimpered, twisting in his grasp, her struggles growing weaker against his impossible strength.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “No matter what happens,” he whispered, “you’re coming home with me.”

She was so still in his arms.

Mark barely heard the others as he landed in front of the house—Debbie’s house. Or at least, the version that existed in this universe. His mother wasn’t here, not really. None of these people mattered.

But she did.

Her unconscious body was warm against his chest, her face relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen in years. He held her just a little closer.

The other Marks were already gathered, watching him with varying expressions. Some amused, some indifferent.

“Why the hell did you bring her?” One of them, sporting a yellow and black suit, frowned. Mark didn’t even look up. “She was part of my deal.”

Mohawk! Mark scoffed, smirking. “Look at this guy—so pussy whipped he traveled across dimensions!”

A few of them chuckled, but he didn’t react. Viltrumite Mark growing annoyed with the Mohawk variant, spoke. “Where is Angstrom?”

The others shrugged, murmuring amongst themselves. Then, as if on cue, a green portal cracked open before them.

Viltrumite! Mark barely paid attention to the conversation that followed. He knew the drill—Angstrom would send them all home, back to their respective worlds, back to the wars and chaos and bloodshed that defined them.

But for once, Mark wasn’t thinking about any of that. His attention remained on the woman in his arms, his fingers absently brushing against her back. He’d spent so long fighting, so long clawing his way through blood and ash, just for this moment.

For her.

The portals to their dimensions flickered to life. The others began stepping through, disappearing one by one.

Mark adjusted his grip on her, cradling her closer as he moved toward his own portal.

And then—he was home. His warships still filled the sky. His empire still stood, unshaken. The weight of responsibility loomed overhead, but none of it felt as heavy anymore. Not now. Not with her back in his arms.

He gazed down at her peaceful face, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “Welcome home, my beloved,” he whispered.

She stirred in his arms. Mark felt it instantly—the faint movement, the shift in her breathing. His grip on her tightened instinctively. She was waking up. Good. He wanted her to see.

Mark flew straight to the palace, the grand structure carved into the remains of a conquered world. It loomed over the city, a symbol of power and absolute rule. His soldiers bowed as he passed, their gazes flickering to the unconscious woman in his arms, but none dared to question him.

Inside, the halls were cold and vast, built for a king, not a man. The walls were adorned with war banners, artifacts of his victories. He had everything—an empire, an army, a legacy that stretched across the stars.

And now, he had her.

He entered his private chambers, stepping past the balcony that overlooked the city. With careful hands, he laid her down on the large, ornate bed, adjusting her so she rested comfortably against the soft fabric.

Mark sat beside her, watching, waiting. A soft sound escaped her lips. Then, slowly, her eyelashes fluttered, and her breathing hitched. She was awake.

Her eyes met his, and for a brief second, there was nothing but confusion—until it all came rushing back. The invasion. The destruction. Him. Her body tensed, her breathing sharp and uneven. Mark reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She flinched. His expression darkened. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.

She shoved at his chest, scrambling backward. “What did you do?” Her voice trembled, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar room, realization sinking in. “Where am I?” Mark caught her wrist before she could move any further. He pulled her close, forcing her to face him.

“You’re home,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched. “No—no, this isn’t—” Mark shushed her, pressing his forehead against hers. “I know it’s overwhelming,” he whispered. “But you’ll see. This is where you belong.”

She trembled in his grasp. “You killed all those people—”

“I had to.” His voice was firm, resolute. “I did it for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but Mark only held her closer, his thumb tracing gentle circles against her wrist. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmured. He wouldn’t let her go. Not this time.

Mark sat on the throne, fingers drumming idly against the armrest, his gaze locked on her.

She sat on the edge of the massive bed, stiff and silent, her hands gripping the sheets as if they were the only thing grounding her. She hadn’t spoken since he’d told her she was home. She was still processing. That was fine. She had time.

The heavy doors creaked open. Mark didn’t look away from her as his father stepped into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. Nolan was one of the few people who could enter without permission, but even he hesitated at the sight before him.

Mark finally turned, watching as his father’s eyes landed on her. Nolan stilled. His brows furrowed. He took a slow step forward, then another, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t know how you managed to do that…” Nolan muttered, eyes flickering between Mark and the woman sitting frozen on the bed. Then, to Mark’s satisfaction, his father’s lips curled into something almost approving. “…But good job, son.”

Mark’s chest swelled at the praise. Nolan looked at her again, studying her face—the same face that belonged to a woman who had died years ago. He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“Interesting.” His gaze turned to Mark. “And she remembers you?”

“She will,” Mark said simply. She let out a shaky breath, looking between the two Viltrumites towering over her. “You—you can’t just keep me here—”

Nolan huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s feisty.” Mark smirked. “She was always like that.”

Nolan clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’ll learn. Just like the rest.” Mark nodded. He already knew that. She would understand. In time, she’d accept her place. She had to.

She shivered under his touch. Mark’s hands lingered, tracing the curves of her waist as he helped her adjust the fabric of the Viltrumite clothing. The white and gray fit her perfectly, the gold accents catching the dim light of the room. It was a queen’s attire—his queen. He slid his palms over her arms, up to her shoulders, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against the curve of her neck.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.

She tensed but didn’t pull away. He took that as progress. His fingers interlaced with hers, his grip firm yet careful. “Come,” he said, leading her toward the door. “It’s time you met your son.” She halted mid-step.

Mark turned, watching the shock ripple across her face. Her son. A sharp breath left her lips. “You’re lying.” Mark’s expression softened—just slightly. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She stared at him, searching for deception, for some cruel trick. But there was none. Slowly, cautiously, she allowed him to lead her forward.

As they walked through the towering halls of the palace, her hand still in his, she realized there was no escaping this. No waking up from whatever nightmare she had been pulled into. Because this wasn’t a nightmare to him. To Mark—this was a dream fulfilled.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The nursery was warm, quiet, bathed in soft golden light. And there—nestled in the crib—was him. Her baby boy.

She froze in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe. He was so small, so perfect. He had her nose, her eyes, tiny fingers curling in excitement as he saw her. Then—he babbled, reaching out. Her legs felt weak.

“He recognizes you,” Mark murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hand found her waist, warm and possessive, gently pushing her forward. “His mother.” Tears welled in her eyes.

She wanted to run to him, to scoop him up, to hold him close and never let go. But fear held her in place. This wasn’t her world. Wasn’t her baby. And yet—when he let out a tiny whimper, his arms still reaching—her body moved before her mind could stop it.

She stepped forward, hesitantly, and carefully lifted him into her arms. He cooed, tiny hands grabbing at her clothes, his warmth pressing against her chest.

A sob threatened to escape her lips. Mark’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as he watched the scene unfold. “See?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. “This is where you belong.”

Days passed in a blur. She barely spoke. Barely slept.

Her son—Mark’s son—never left her arms for long. Every time she tried to distance herself, the child would fuss and cry, his tiny hands gripping onto her as if he knew, deep down, that she wasn’t supposed to leave. And Mark… Mark was always there. Watching. Guiding. Touching.

His hands were never far, resting on her back when she carried their son through the halls, brushing against her waist when he led her to meals, tilting her chin up when he demanded her attention.

He never forced her, never raised his voice. But his presence was suffocating. And yet—she couldn’t bring herself to fight him. Not when he looked at her like that. Like she was his entire world.

Not when their son—her son—clung to her, trusting, innocent, unaware of the war raging in her heart.

The palace was beautiful, grand and open, yet it felt like a cage. She could roam wherever she wanted, but there were always eyes on her. Viltrumite soldiers nodded as she passed, but there was no mistaking their purpose. They were guards. Watchers.

Mark didn’t treat her like a prisoner. But she was one. And the worst part? The longer she stayed, the more the thought of leaving terrified her.

Dinner was quiet. It always was.

Mark sat across from her at the long, polished table, their son nestled in her lap, babbling happily as he played with a small golden trinket. She barely touched her food, only picking at it while Mark ate with a steady, satisfied ease.

Then, casually—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he said it. “We should have more children.” Her hands froze. More? Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as she processed his words.

She hadn’t even had one child—not really. Not in this life. This wasn’t her son, not the way Mark believed. And yet, he spoke as if she had been his wife all along, as if nothing had changed.

Like she hadn’t changed. She swallowed hard, her fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. His wife’s dress. The realization hit her like a blow. The way he dressed her, in fine silks and intricate embroidery—his wife’s clothes. The way he touched her, lingering, reverent—as if she had always been his.

The way he guided her, suggested how she should wear her hair, what jewelry suited her best—the way his wife had worn it. He was trying to replace her. No—not replace. To bring her back. Her lips parted, her throat dry. Mark watched her expectantly, his gaze warm, unwavering.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, affectionate, like they were having an ordinary conversation between husband and wife. “What do you think?” She forced herself to breathe.

Her son—not hers, not really—giggled in her lap, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening in the air. Her pulse pounded in her ears. What did she think? She thought she was drowning. She couldn’t answer.

Her throat tightened as she stared at him, at the quiet expectation in his eyes. He meant it. Every word. More children. A future. A life she had never lived, but one he had already decided belonged to her.

Her fingers trembled against the fabric of her dress. Mark’s hand reached across the table, covering hers, grounding, steady.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Is something wrong?” Everything. Everything was wrong. But she couldn’t say that.

Not when his grip was so gentle, yet so firm. Not when his thumb traced slow circles against her skin, comforting, possessive. Not when their—his—son looked up at her with bright, adoring eyes, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

She swallowed hard. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Mark chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I know it’s a lot to consider.” His gaze softened, his fingers still trailing against hers. “But we’ve lost enough time already.”

Her stomach twisted. Lost time. To him, she had always been his wife. His love. The mother of his child.

And now, he wanted more. More memories that weren’t hers. More children she had never carried. More years stolen from a life she had never lived. Her silence stretched too long. Mark’s smile faltered, just slightly. His fingers tightened, just barely.

“…Y/N?” His voice was still soft, but there was something else now. A quiet warning. She forced herself to meet his gaze. Lying to him would be dangerous. But the truth—her truth—wasn’t an option.

So she did the only thing she could. She nodded. Mark exhaled, his smile returning in full force, his grip on her hand loosening just enough to feel like reassurance.

“I knew you’d understand,” he murmured. She forced herself to smile back. And inside, she screamed.

She lay in bed, stiff as a board, her body refusing to relax even as Mark’s arms encircled her.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, his warmth pressing against her side. She kept her breathing steady, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to will herself into some form of calm.

But Mark noticed. Of course, he did.

He shifted, rolling on top of her in one fluid motion. The air in her lungs stilled.

His bare chest pressed against her, his warmth inescapable. He was only wearing his pants, his body solid and strong, caging her in beneath him.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch feather-light, almost tender.

“I was broken without you,” he murmured.

She sucked in a breath as his lips brushed against her neck, slow and lingering, his hot breath fanning over her skin.

“I’m so glad to have you back.” His voice was full of raw emotion, of something aching.She squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t right.

She wasn’t who he thought she was. But he believed it. With every touch, every kiss, every word, he believed it. And if she told him the truth— Would he even listen?

She shouldn’t feel this way. Her body shouldn’t be trembling beneath his touch, her breath shouldn’t be coming out in soft, uneven gasps. She shouldn’t want this.

Mark’s hands roamed her skin with slow, deliberate purpose, his lips dragging over her neck, her collarbone, lower. Every touch was practiced, familiar, like he had done this a thousand times before. Because he had. Just—not with her. Not really. But her body didn’t know the difference. Her body responded to him as if it did.

His fingers found the sensitive spots she didn’t even realize she had, his touch coaxing heat from her skin, his mouth whispering promises against her throat—mine, always mine, never leaving me again.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back the traitorous sounds building in her chest. She hated him. She hated him.

He was a monster. He stole her from her life, tore her from her world, forced her into a role that was never meant to be hers. He was selfish, obsessive, violent.

But his hands were gentle. His voice was soft. His lips worshiped her as if she was something precious, something irreplaceable. And the worst part? Some part of her liked it.

Guilt twisted in her stomach, hot and suffocating, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shudder that racked her body as his fingers slid lower, as his voice murmured praises against her skin, as he played her like he had done this a thousand times before. Like he knew her.

Like she had always belonged to him. Her mind screamed at her to fight, to push him away, to remind herself who he really was. But her body betrayed her. And Mark knew it.

“Please” she begged, her hands shaking as she holds onto his shoulders. He kissed her mouth silencing her weak protests, she couldn’t even fight back. He pulled up her nightgown pulling down her panties. He tossed them aside, pulling her night gown over her head, he kisses down her chest, to her stomach, and finally to rest in between her legs. He moves her legs on his shoulders as he licks up her slit, using her fingers to open her folds, inserting two and thrusting. She quickly grew wet at his actions, her body acting on instinct, as he sucked on her clit, circling around the sensitive bud. Her legs clenched on his head but he paid no mind.

Continuing to eat her out like a starving man. She threw her head back, moaning helplessly. She wasn’t a virgin, nor was inexperienced in oral sex in any means— yet all her past relationships never made her feel this good.

Her breath hitched as his fingers worked her apart, his touch agonizingly slow, purposeful. Every stroke, every brush of his lips against her skin, was meant to unravel her. And it was. Her body responded before her mind could fight it, hips shifting, breath catching, a soft, humiliating whimper slipping past her lips.

Her nails dug into the sheets, and she pulled his face closer to her warmth, she felt him smile against her. She squirmed and panted, “wait— I’m gonna” she cut herself off with a moan, and he added another finger, her walls stretched around him. She whimpered, feeling herself get close. He didn’t stop, if anything he worked harder. And soon she came, he licked her up, slupping up her juices. As he pulled away from her pussy, thin strings of cum connected his face. He just wiped it with his hand.

Mark chuckled against her throat, low and pleased. “See?” he murmured, dragging his tongue along her pulse. “Your body remembers me.” She clenched her fists, shame burning through her even as heat pooled in her core. No. No, it doesn’t. This wasn’t hers to remember.

But the way he touched her—like he knew her inside and out—made her question everything. This was how he touched her. His wife. The woman he had lost. The woman she wasn’t. Her mind screamed at her to shove him away, to fight, to remind him—remind herself—that this wasn’t real.

But her body betrayed her. Mark lifted his head, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, drinking in her trembling form. His fingers teased, coaxing more from her, more reactions she didn’t want to give, more proof that he had already won.

She felt her resolve slipping, her body giving in, her mind clouded by pleasure and something far, far worse—acceptance. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. “You were made for me,” he whispered against her mouth. And God help her—some part of her believed it.

Mark held her close, his arms wrapped around her as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go. His grip was firm but not suffocating, his warmth engulfing her, steady and unyielding.

Her breath was slow, steady against his chest, her body slack in sleep. He brushed a hand over her hair, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Good. She was adjusting.

It had been difficult at first. She had been quiet, withdrawn, hesitant—but now? Now she was soft in his arms, pliant beneath his touch. She was his again. Mark closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, satisfaction settling in his chest. Things were finally falling into place. She had fought it—he had expected her to—but she was coming back to him.

She was coming back to herself. He just had to be patient. She loved him once. She would love him again. He would make sure of it.

What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t see—was the war raging beneath the surface. Because she wasn’t asleep. Not really. She lay still, eyes shut, body curled against his, pretending, forcing herself to stay limp in his hold.

Because if she moved, she would break. She hated him. She had hated him from the moment he took her, from the moment he looked at her with that kind of love, from the moment he touched her and convinced her body to betray her.

But now—now she didn’t just hate him. She hated herself. For letting this happen. For not fighting harder.

For letting herself feel anything other than disgust when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he made her his. For that one, fleeting moment where she almost—almost—wanted it. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall.

Not here. Not where he could feel them, where he could comfort her, where he could twist her pain into something else. So she lay still. Silent. Hating him. Hating herself. And worst of all—hating the part of her that was terrified of the day she stopped hating it.

PART TWO

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

"The Light Side being good and the Dark Side being evil has no nuance!"

Why though? Neither side is inherent, they're choices. Does a difficult choice between good and evil not sound nuanced to you? Does the choice between a painful path and the complete erasure of who you are no sound fucking nuanced to you?

The Dark and Light Sides are a binary choice between good and evil, and… that's great! The morals are simple, but the nuance is not in the basic and very simple morality (murder bad), it's in the circumstances that make adhering to your morals difficult.

Is Anakin Skywalker wanting to do good but not being able to because that would mean not having what he wants not nuanced to you?

Is Asajj Ventress —an assassin, a Sith Acolyte, a bounty hunter— letting a girl go because she doesn't want her to lose her family like Ventress did, even though that would cost her a lot of money she needs to survive not nuanced to you?

Is Dooku wanting to fix the corruption of the Republic and ending up being worse because he believes he knows best not nuanced to you?

Is Darth Vader choosing right for once in his life and becoming who his son needs him to be not nuanced to you?

Is Cal, Kanan, Obi-Wan and all other Order 66 survivors remaining good and kind when everything's against them not nuanced to you?

Is Luke seeing the good still left in Space Hitler and forgiving and loving his father the Sith Apprentice despite everything he's done not nuanced to you?

Is Finn choosing mercy and defiance of the First Order despite being kidnaped, indoctrinated and brainwashed by them not nuanced to you?

Is Rey being good and choosing not to let her bloodline define her not nuanced to you?

Is Ben Solo choosing evil despite everyone around him being good not nuanced to you?

Is Han Solo, a selfish man, choosing to go into a killzone to save his friends not nuanced to you?

Is Mace Windu commiting high treason to save the Republic regardless of what happens to him not nuanced to you?

Is Ezra Bridger being selfish and thinking of himself but choosing to be selfless when he realizes how much that means not nuanced to you?

If we go to Legends:

Is Jacen Solo becoming a monster because he wants to spare his daughter from a horrible fate not nuanced to you?

Is Jaina Solo killing her brother to save the galaxy not nuanced to you?

Is Cade Skywalker seeing the Force as a tool and being dragged into evil more and more not nuanced to you?

What does nuance mean to you anyways? Do you even know what that means or are you just trying to be edgy?

[yandere-wishes]

Okay idea for your Batwoman!fam

Okay so you know how Cassandra Cain was raised in the League of Assassins to essentially be the bodyguard of Ra’s Al Ghul, what if Damian’s darling was raised in the League of Assassins as well but she was raised with a different purpose, to be the future wife of the heir, aka Damian.

Just some food for thought

⋆ ˚｡⋆Damian Wayne x Superhero! Reader ⋆˚｡⋆

જ⁀➴Notes: DARLING, YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST GALAXY BRAIN OUT THERE!!!!!!!!! THE THINGS I COULD WRITE FOR THIS. I'M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH!!!!

No cause like now, I'm thinking of Talia and Ra's selecting the best assassins out of the league and making them get married. They are told that their firstborn daughter is destined to become the bride of the Demon's hair. (Kinda like Dune's breeding program)

Talia practically raises you, an aunt/older sister/second mother/mentor whatever you'd like to call her. She raises you in the ways of the League. Trains you alongside her son. She dictates everything for you. Your clothes, personality, preferences. She molds you to be perfect. And while her tactics are dictatorial at best she does truly utterly love you. You are destined to be her daughter, to be her precious Damian's wife. You will continue her legacy. Thus she must raise you to be flawless…

In many ways, Damian likes to think that he knows you better than he knows himself. He tells himself that he's memorized every alcove and aperture of your ethereal soul. That your essence is as familiar to him as the dawn orisons. Damian al Ghul likes to think he knows his future bride-to-be.

And can you blame him? Can you really blame a boy for believing so earnestly, so passionately in a beautiful tale he's been told since birth?

He watches as you tend to the newborn goats on the farm. Run your fingers through the fawn's snowy coat. "Damian!" you call out waving to him excitedly. "Come see the new billys. We must commence in naming them at once." Your face is so serious as you look up at him. Eyes sparkling brighter than any star. He dares to wonder if you'll look at him with the same expression while you cradle your firstborn. Demanding that their father pick an adequate name immediately. Damian can't help the blush that ghosts across his cheeks.

Fairy tales are real. This is the conclusion Damian has come to. Dragons do exist, and they serve their purpose of stealing away hopeless damsels in the dead of night. Only now Damian doesn't know if he's truly fit to be the prince that comes and saves you…

Weeks prior the League's fortress had the misfortune of welcoming a guest from Gotham. 'A red-haired woman with a crazed bloody smile' as some of the members had described her. He had been training with his grandfather and was ordered to remain in the training rooms and practice while Ra's went to entertain this guest. You had been with Talia at the time and had the misfortune of meeting this monster too. Or at least that's how Damian believes the story goes.

"Master Damian" you greet. He can't help but shudder at the frosty smile you offer him. Day to day he feels your soul wander away never truly present. He reaches out, desperate to feel your warm skin grace his, to cradle your cheek as if it were the whole world. But he's only met with the silky wisp of your hair as you walk away. He doesn't like the way his heart aches, doesn't like the phantoms that occupy your mind.

Damian remembers the day you disappeared in shambles. Fragments of a nightmare that haunts him all through the night. There had been an alert in the middle of the night. Someone had broken in, taken out the guards. By the time the furor settles Damian and his mother notice what the thief had taken.

Not precious gems or priceless treasures.

Not the countless documents on every important figure in the world.

Not the tomes of endless knowledge his grandfather stores in his personal study.

No…

The thief had simply taken one thing.

You.

And in the process, Damian's heart as well.

The nightmare still haunts him. Even if only a mere few days later, the League had been attacked again. He was forced to be separated from his mother and his home. Fleeing to a foreign land to live with a father he's never known. Throughout all of this, Damian's heart still longs for you. He promises he'll find you again no matter where in the world he is.

It's been a long miserable year before Damian sees you again. His father is hosting a gala. An excuse of some sort to gather all of the Wayne enterprises under one roof. Damian cares little for the reason and cares less about the people. Too preoccupied with the inconvenience of having to be here in the first place.

"Damian, you've met my cousin Kate Kane before, right?" Bruce walks over to him, and the rest of his brothers approach too. Bruce has that look in his eyes. Something important is about to be said, Damian knows it. His adrenaline spikes, hope bubbling in his throat. Has there been a breakout in Arkham? A rogue attack somewhere? He'll take just about anything right now to get out of this dull gathering.

Kate clears her throat. Mentions that about a year ago she adopted a new daughter. She makes excuses for why it's taken her so long to formally introduce this new addition to her family. Damian only half listens. Bored once more. Until he notices an all too familiar face. And that familiar ache blooms in his chest once more.

He sees you hiding behind that wretched woman. You beam at her the way you used to do to his mother. Have you replaced the woman who raised and cherished you so easily? Have you replaced him too? You greet Damian with a court nob and avert your eyes. Desperate not to look at him, not to be reminded of your past.

Damian watches as the new hero, Batwoman's new sidekick, Corvid as she's taken to calling you. Swings across the city skyline. Intercepting one of Two-Face's hists. "She was my bethrode back during our time in the league." Bruce is sitting next to him, listening in the somber way he always does."Do you miss her?" he finally asks. "More than air, should it be robbed from my lungs." Bruce laughs, a short dark noise. His large palm pats Damian's shoulder before he marches into the darkness. It takes an endless moment for Damian to understand what that means, to understand the blessing the Dark Knight has bestowed upon his blood son.

Damian watches as you hug your new "mother". Feels the betrayal slither across his throat. He suffocates on the pain, the jealousy. Suffocates as he swears he'll take you back no matter the cost. You will be his once more, you will fulfill your destiny. As it has been written.

Damian heads home, he needs to contact his mother. Needs to tell her that you are safe. It'll calm her restless heart to know her beloved little girl has been found…

Okay I am going to have total nerd moment. Cause like what if this was kinda mixed with the original assassins?

[gffa]

I love Anakin Skywalker so much, he's a walking nightmare, he's the babygirl of all time, he's an actual whole ass genius, he's an actual whole ass idiot, he's capable of such kindness and love, he's capable of such cruelty and hate, so many people love him they would forgive him for any monstrosity he commits, so many people want to strangle him even before he's committed his first baby murder, he's the Force made flesh, he's the human personification of an asshole cat, he's so incredibly cool, he's the most cringe person you'll ever meet, he was a light among the Jedi, he was the worst Jedi of all time, he was the worst father ever, he gave up not just his life but his entire philosophy for his son to save his life without regard for himself, he loved with his whole heart, he hated with his whole heart, he could move galaxies with his thoughts, I want to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and carry him around in my pocket. Just the most character of all time.

[candyswirls]

This is actually a sort of two part ask, but if you dont do those its fine. Clonegrim reuniting with Lion and Gulliman, and then Clonegrim meeting the Sons of the Phoenix for some nice bondng time (Sons of Dorn my ass, Cawl.)

I actually have story on this in the works :3 it’s just not ready yet

BUT ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE

His hair was a mess, grime and dried viscera covered him, he wore a a tattered mess of random imperial rags and a Necron style tunic.

His eyes had dark bags under them and they looked tired. It there was a look saying “I can fight and will if I must.”

Guilliman had prepared various speeches and replies to say when he saw Fulgrim. But this version? He looked younger. Had it not been for the determination in him, he would have called it pathetic

Fulgrim tried to stand tall, balancing on the spear he had.

“Roboute Guilliman,” he spoke, trying not to let his voice falter. “I am a clone of your brother, Fulgrim. I have most of his memories… before corruption. I do not know why I was made. But I am not corrupted by chaos or the warp. I will be… better than the first. He… disgusts me. I hate him. I hate what he’s become… and I hate what he stands for. I am against him. I am still loyal to the imperium and Father. I have escaped from Necron clutches and fought tooth and nail to… get here. I am still… a Primarch. I can fight… I can be useful… I am on your side… and I am…”

The clone collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, tears pricked his eyes.

“You are exhausted,” Was the only thing Guilliman could say.

The clone looked up at him with disdain and snapped, “Of course I am! I… golden throne… I just crossed half… the galaxy! Everyone trying.. to kill me! Wouldn’t listen! I… please let it be over… Roboute… brother… please… I’m good. I swear I am. I won’t betray you. Not like him… I want to do right… I want to see father again… I just…”

There were so many things he wanted to say. To yell at him… but this wasn’t the original. This was a clone. He even looked young.

Guilliman knelt and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I do not fully trust you. I can’t. But you can rest now. You’re in my custody now.”

Fulgrim let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed forward, caught in his brother’s arms.

Their reunion was brief. Guilliman led the Lion down towards the stratagium deck.

“A clone?” He questioned. “And you trust this?”

Guilliman nodded, “We’ve been able to bond. He acts like a teenager with his age, but he’s saved my life. He is loyal. He is more like Fulgrim than the original. He will be pleased to see you.”

The door opened as they walked in.

“Are you sure?” Lion asked.

Before Guilliman could answer a voice called out, “Lion!”

Lion froze as a slightly shorter version of the third Primarch practically leapt into his arms.

He was stunned for a moment before speaking, “Fulgrim? Fulgrim!”

Excitement overwhelmed his suspicions. He hugged his brother and lifted him into the air.

“You look younger,” he laughed.

Fulgrim smiled back, “And you brother look older.”

Guilliman chuckled, “What a relief this is. I have two of my brothers back.”

All three embraced.

“I will warn you,” Calgar said. “They were most upset when they learned of who their geneseed really belonged to. Some are still in denial and insist they are sons of Dorn. Granted this was before you came back.”

Guilliman placed a hand on Fulgrim’s shoulder, “They will love you.”

The clone sighed, “I certainly hope so.”

As they exited the Thunderhawk rows of Purple, white, and Gold armor stood in neat succession. Those without helmets had pale blonde, white, or silver hair. Eyes were down shade of purple or a close blue.

Fiery imperial defiance danced in their eyes.

Fulgrim stepped forward and scanned over them.

He smiled, “You are all a sight for sore eyes. Many of you already remind me of the loyal sons of the imperium during the heresy. I am not Dorn, nor am I the original Fulgrim. But I swear unto you that I aim to rectify the originals mistakes. To be better. Now please, show me your ways and customs of your chapter. I am not here to destroy it or make you a carbon copy of the third legion. You are already better.”

Shocked expressions crossed the sons of the Phoenix’s. Yet slowly, they approached their Primarch out of curiosity and the longing for their father.

He slowly rested his hands on the shoulders of his sons as they introduced themselves.

Guilliman sighed with relief.

[faretheeoscar]

Commander Dameron & Captain Fluff

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Notes: This post contains a baby Poe Dameron story and a Baby Poe bot inspired on my writing to play with!

No warnings, all fluff *badum tss*, slight angst at the end, this story happens roughly around a year before Poe loses his mom 😥, the first order wasn't stablished at this point of the star wars story, the remanants of the empire were still around.

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Word Count: 2k~

Poe had been busying himself for the past hour before sleep time, getting ready for his next mission, his room, or, as he liked to call it, “the rebel command base.” Was mostly a cozy space with toys, books, and blankets, but today, it had transformed into a high-tech cockpit in the heart of the galaxy. Poe’s bed had become the control panel, and every pillow around him was a part of his imaginary X-wing.

At the center of it all was Poe himself, 6-year-old pilot extraordinaire, ready to take on the remnants of the Galactic Empire. Wearing his favourite pilot pyjamas, and little pilot helmet, he had by his side his faithful co-pilot, Captain Fluff—his tooka doll, that was made by none other than the person he loved the most on this galaxy, his mother, celebrating the colours of the rebellion, orange and white, and also Poe’s favourites. Together, they were ready to save the galaxy.

“Alright, Captain Fluff!” Poe, with his little proud leading voice turned his head around to give his doll a serious nod. “Systems are a go!” He tapped the edge of his bed with imaginary buttons, making a few beep and bloop sounds with his mouth. Then, gripping his “steering stick”—a makeshift cube out of carton he painted with the help of his dad—Poe prepared for liftoff.

“Engines roaring!” he muttered, making a deep, growling noise in his throat to mimic the sound of his ship’s thrusters. “Powering up!” He twisted his stick to the right, leaning his whole body to the side as if he were really taking off. “And... we’re airborne!”

Swooshing into the sky, Poe imagined the mission ahead of him. “Captain Fluff, TIE fighters up ahead!” he shouted with urgency, looking at the far corner of his room where he could almost see the enemy ships closing in on them. “The Empire is catching up, but they don’t stand a chance against us!”

Poe leaned left, pretending to dodge a volley of imaginary lasers. “Hold on tight, Captain! Shields up!” He could feel the intensity of the battle as he twisted the controllers with all his might, making “vroom vroom” sounds as he imagined himself manoeuvring through space. “We gotta go faster if we want to get outta here, send all the power to the back thrusters” he said, his voice becoming loud and energetic as he stood up and bounced on his bed.

His gaze narrowed as he spotted a particular “enemy” ship. “Look! There’s the lead TIE fighter!” He pointed at the empty spot in the room, eyes widening with excitement. “That’s the one that’s been causing all the trouble! Let’s take it down, Captain!”

With a determined and loud “pew pew!” Poe pretended to fire at the enemy ship. He cheered, bouncing excitedly on his knees as he added a few more sound effects. “Direct hit! We got ’em, Captain!” He grinned, reaching over to high-five his tooka doll little paw. “Great shot, partner! The Alliance and New Republic are counting on us, and we’re not letting them down!”

As Poe continued his daring space battle, fully immersed in his mission to take down the Empire, he didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approaching his room. His father, Kes, stood in the doorway, arms folded with an amused smile, watching his son’s serious little face as he dodged imaginary lasers and manoeuvred his X-wing around the “battlefield.” Kes stayed silent for a few moments, letting Poe play and have the thrill of his heroic mission for a little bit longer.

But eventually, Kes cleared his throat and spoke up. “Looks like the galaxy’s safest it’s been in a long time with you around, Poe.”

Poe gasped, spinning around on his bed with wide eyes, not expecting his dad to be standing there. “Dad! Did you see? We just took down the whole Empire fleet!” He beamed, holding up Captain Fluff as if to prove his achievement. “Captain Fluff and I—we’re the best team in the Alliance!”

Kes chuckled as he walked into the room, taking in the "cockpit" Poe had set up on his bed—pillows arranged like seats, a makeshift steering stick, and, of course, Captain Fluff the tooka doll stationed by Poe's side. He nodded approvingly, hands on his hips. "I see you've got things all set up here. And I’d say you and Fluff are two of the finest pilots out there. But even the best pilots need their rest if they want to be ready for their next mission." He raised an eyebrow, giving Poe a knowing look. "So, what do you say, Captain? Time to head back to base?”

Poe’s face grew serious, his smile fading as he clutched his steering stick a little tighter. “Dad, I’m the Commander, remember? Fluff is the Captain,” he corrected, puffing his chest out proudly.

Kes held up his hands in surrender, trying to hide a smile. “My apologies, Commander. Didn’t realise you’d been promoted, but like I said, it's time to rendezvous and call off the mission for today.”

He clutched his makeshift steering stick a little tighter, shaking his head. “But, Dad! What if they come back? We have to be ready!” He glanced at his tooka doll with a serious expression, then back up at his dad. “The galaxy’s counting on us!”

Kes smiled and sat down at the edge of the bed, looking at Poe with soft eyes. “And the galaxy will still be here when you wake up, I promise. The best pilots know when it’s time to refuel and rest up for the next big fight. That’s how your mom does it, you know.”

Poe’s eyes lit up at the mention of his mom, Shara. He glanced down thoughtfully, still holding his steering stick. “Really? Do you think… one day I’ll be as good a pilot as Mom?” he asked, his voice soft, the bravery in his expression wavering for a moment as he looked up at his dad.

Kes placed a reassuring hand on Poe’s shoulder. “I think you’re already showing a lot of the same bravery she has. You’ve got a good heart, Poe, and you’ll do great things, just like your mom. And who knows? One day, maybe you’ll lead the fight yourself, but then again it's time to shut the engines.”

Poe’s face brightened with pride, although he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his mission yet. He looked at Kes, brows furrowing, the Dameron stubbornness making an appearance. “But what if they need me tonight, Dad? I’m ready to go back out there!” 

Kes chuckled, reaching out to gently take Poe’s “steering stick” from his hands. “I’m sure Captain Fluff can handle the night watch while you rest,” he said, tucking the tooka doll into the small box of the “cockpit controllers” as if assigning it a special duty. “And besides, if you don’t sleep, you won’t have the energy to take down twice as many TIE fighters tomorrow.”

Poe looked at Captain Fluff, considering it for a moment. He still felt a pull to stay up, to be the hero, but he couldn’t argue with the idea of being even stronger for tomorrow’s missions. With a little sigh, he glanced back up at Kes. “Alright, I guess he can keep patrol,” he said, reluctantly, puffing air out in disappointment, as he allowed his dad to take his helmet off of his head and pull the covers up around him.

Kes smiled, and ruffled his son's sweet curls, finally letting him settle into bed. “Alright, Goodnight, Commander Dameron.”

Kes got up to leave the little command centre, but before he reached the door Poe called out to him softly, “Dad?”

“Yes, Poe?”

Poe hesitated, looking down at his hands now nervously bunching up the covers towards himself, then back up at his dad. “Do you think… do you think Mom’s gonna come back soon?”

Kes felt a familiar pang in his heart, one he tried his best to hide, he had promised himself he would never preoccupy his little 6 year old with his own fears, the fears that came with an uprising battle ahead, with the remnants of the Empire getting stronger, the whispers of a new order taking form... 

Walking back to Poe’s bedside, he knelt down, meeting his son’s gaze. “I know she’ll be back as soon as she can, buddy. She’s on an important mission, just like the ones you have here.” He reached out to cup his son’s rosy cheeks, which had warmed up as his little bottom lip trembled at the uncertainty of the whereabouts of his mother “But, hey, cheer up flyboy, I just know she misses you just as much as you miss her, know that she’s probably thinking about you too.”

Poe nodded softly, his big, searching eyes fixed on his father’s face, letting the words sink in. He’d been missing his mom so much, but he remembered the promise he’d made to her to stay strong while she was away. Taking a deep breath, Poe steadied himself, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill. He was determined to be brave—just like her.

“Do you think she’d be proud of my training?” He glanced around at the “command center” he’d set up in his room. “I wanna show her I can be just as good as her when she gets back.”

Kes’s face softened, a deep pride and love shining in his eyes. He reached out, gently taking Poe’s hands on his. “Poe, your mom would be incredibly proud of you. You know why?”

Poe tilted his head, curious. “Why?”

“Because you’re brave, just like her. And you’re training hard, doing your best, every day. That’s what it means to be a great pilot—and to be a great person, you have natural leadership skills.I think you’re making her proud right now, and you’re also making me proud, son.” Kes poked the dimples on his face making Poe giggle.

Even if Poe’s little face lit up and a warm blush came to his cheeks again thanks to his father’s praise. He still looked reluctant to settle down. He squirmed a little under the covers, glancing at his makeshift X-wing cockpit, and the controllers on his bedside table as though still itching to jump back in and fly one more mission, just to be ready when his mom would come back.

Kes leaned over to turn off the small BB-Unit shaped lamp on Poe’s nightstand. But just as he reached for it, Poe’s little hand shot out, stopping him.

“Wait!” Poe stopped him quickly. “Don’t turn it off.”

Kes raised an eyebrow, hiding the little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh? And why’s that, Flyboy? I thought we were already past that era of sleeping with the lights on.”

Poe blushed again, but he quickly thought of an inventive excuse to give his dad and sat up a bit, his voice lowering as if he were letting his dad in on a classified mission detail. “It's just in case I need it for an emergency, you know? What if there’s, like… an important mission? I might need a quick escape plan. And BB-8’s light… it’s, you know, trusty, also it guides Fluff’s flight.”

Kes let out a soft laugh, clearly charmed. He nodded with an expression of mock seriousness. “Ah, of course. I’d hate to leave the best pilots without proper emergency lighting.”

Poe grinned, glad that his dad "had bought" his story, settling back against his pillow. “Exactly. BB-8, Fluff and I have to have everything ready.”

Kes reached over, giving Poe’s small hand a reassuring squeeze. “Then I’ll leave BB-8 also on duty for the night. Just make sure you get some rest too, Commander. ”

Poe’s face softened, his eyelids beginning to droop as he nestled further under the covers. Kes tucked the blankets up to his chin, then leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, son,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams, and may the force be with you.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” Poe murmured, a sleepy smile forming on his face. He glanced once more at his makeshift cockpit, BB-8’s warm glow casting a soft circle of light over his room. “May the force be with you too.”

With one more affectionate pat on Poe’s head, Kes rose to his feet. But just as he reached the doorway, Poe called to him one last time.

“Dad?”

Kes turned back, smiling gently, this kid was never gonna go to sleep. “Yes, Poe?”

“When Mom gets back... will you tell her I’m ready to be her co-pilot?”

Kes’s smile grew, and he nodded. “I’ll tell her that, Poe. Now get some sleep, my little hero.”

Kes gave one last look at his son, as he stepped out and quietly closed the door, leaving Poe dreaming under the steady, watchful glow of BB-8 and Captain Fluff.

Poe’s eyes grew heavy, but before he drifted off, he turned around and looked one last time at Captain Fluff, whispering to his little buddy.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be ready for Mom.”

Yes, I know, slighty angsty at the end, but Poe is a mama's boy and I couldn't help myself!

HAPPY POEVEMBER!

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

@winniethewife, @silvernight-m, @midgardian-witch, @ominoose, @femmeanonymelives

[marvelstars]

Anakin´s humanity

I recently saw the first Robocop trilogy, after many years and it just got me thinking and impacted me and made me understood why Palpatine and especially Obi-Wan simply could not bring themselves to look at Vader the same way they did Anakin, just like Murphy just wasn´t the same for his wife and his friends even if they missed and loved him.

In Darth Vader´s case, he is Anakin after almost dying on Mustafar, a person who the Emperor had to keep alive long enough to get to Coruscant, acording to ROTS novel, using his own darkside energies and his sheer force of will. For Palpatine Anakin died on Mustafar and Vader is a newborn creature made by his technology and his darkside power.

Obi-Wan is disgusted by Anakin´s actions at the Jedi temple, actions that fundamentally killed Anakin´s spirit in his eyes even before Mustafar but seeing Vader for him was like seeing Palpatine´s creature(similar to Frankestein´s) a thing of the darkside brought to life by the will of it´s master who needs to be mercy killed as a favor for the person Anakin used to be.

On all this Anakin/Vader alone is left with the pieces of himself, trying to put himself back together, something I always loved in the first trilogy is the fact Vader never rejects the fact he is/was Anakin, Palpatine and Obi-Wan do it but Vader doesn´t, he always talk about Luke as HIS Son, not "Skywalker´s" and he recognized Obi-Wan as HIS old master, he didn´t even rejected the idea of him being part of the Jedi Order or refered as the last one of them by Tarkin and other high level imperials.

Vader just believes he is beyond saving, he has found counsel in his imperial duties and self appointed mission of "keep order in the galaxy" but when Luke comes into the picture his main strategy is to look towards a way of keeping Luke safe and alive from the Emperor, not abandon his imperial duties or even his place as the Emperor´s Second in command, even if he is quite aware he´s also his slave, the Emperor literally brought him back to life he "owns him" in a way no one has ever done.

Vader still loves Palpatine because Anakin loved Palpatine, Vader loves Luke because Anakin loved his children even before they were born and Vader remembers and respects Obi-Wan because he was Anakin´s master/father figure/brother. At no point does Vader disrespect Yoda even if he knows he is alive somewhere, Palpatine does in the novel version of ROTJ but Vader never does this, because he respects him as the Jedi Order´s grandmaster which Anakin belonged and hero worshipped when he was a kid.

But Vader is also aware no one will ever see him as human again, as just Anakin and even if they did he can´t let go of his past actions and deserves his suffering so when Luke recognizes his humanity and forces him to remember who he was and tries to get him somewhere safe away from the Empire and the Rebellion, just like Padme did in ROTS, Vader only answers:

"It´s too late for ME my SON"

Star Wars OT is Luke´s (and Leia) coming of age story but it´s also the story of how Vader/Anakin got his humanity back and how the love between father and Son saved a whole galaxy.

I wish current disney SW stories remembered those simple narrative parts of star wars because without them the story is just not the same.

"I like the idea that the person you thought was the villain is actually the victim, and that the story is really about the villain trying to regain his humanity".

- George Lucas

[pastrydragon]

The BG3 Beef I wanna see shitpost

While I do love the idea of Tav/Astarion/Karlach/whoever getting more unique mean dialogue with Ulder Ravengard, especially when he has the audacity to take up space in your camp like that instead of someone cooler like Barcus or that one bullied hyena, I want very specific flavor text that you'd only get in the epilogue party if you pick a specific ending even more.

I think if you romance Wyll as Gale or Gale as Wyll and then you don't go to Avernus, I think it would be totally galaxy brain to have dialogue in the epilogue that reveals Ulder Ravengard and Morena Dekarios fucking DESPISE one another. Because they absolutely would.

We never get to meet Morena in game but you can tell from what Gale and Tara say about her and Gale's... Galeness that she is at least a part time passenger on the "Fuck you my child is fine" train. Her sweet little boy? Commit evil deeds? Never! There has obviously been a mistake. I mean she indulged that "Gale Of Waterdeep" nonsense and when Gale summoned a full on Tressym after being explicitly denied a kitten as a child, she just let him keep her. No repercussions.

And then her sweet boy brings home another sweet boy who is probably EXACTLY what she pictured Gale's partner should be like.(Because Wyll is the damn blueprint for "Guy you could bring home to mom") Wyll is ridiculously sweet to Gale, he's the perfect gentleman, he's very open to the idea of giving Morena the grandchildren she's been nagging Gale about in the very near future. Pinch her, she must be dreaming!

I cannot imagine her reacting to Wyll's backstory with any amount of empathy towards Ulder, obviously that man is a cruel psychopath to throw poor Wyll out like that after "a tiny misunderstanding" and Wyll is just too good of a son not to see it. Which is partially true, Wyll is definitely still in some kind of denial stage over what his father did but that's not the point of the post.

Then there's Ulder who probably thinks Gale is... Fine. He's not someone he ever would have pictured for Wyll. Gale is a babbling oddball, he has chronic foot-in-mouth disease and has only ever met the pointy end of a sword. But he can't say anything because Gale saved him, his son, and Bulder's gate, and a small army of tieflings, and apparently a bunch of mushroom people and blah blah more reasons he can never have the moral high ground blah. He's undeniably stuck with this fucking wizard, and his nightmare of a mother.

Morena firmly believes that since the Ravengard manor is technically Wyll's now, then it's also Gale's and thus is now hers as well. When I say she would walk through the doors like she owned the place I mean it very literally. Where did Ulder's old helmet display go? "They were rusty and it was ruining the wooden shelves, besides these enchanted swords go better with the new drapes we had to get, I don't know how you didn't notice how moth eaten they were getting." Everyday he wakes up and something about his own damn home has been changed to make it look more like a wizard tower. She doesn't even live here most of the time!

And it doesn't stop there, not at all. No this women has to make sure his son doesn't live there full time either. Every holiday and birthday she has to send Gale a letter about how much she misses him and you should visit so you can take a break from all that(Very important!) work and how she already has the venison just for Wyll.

And every time he's forced to interact with this harpy she looks at him with a sweet smile on her face, honey in her voice and the burning hatred of a thousand suns in her eyes then somehow managed to insult him five times in one sentence without ever explicitly insulting him. This women is a devil from Avernus sent to punish him for his sins and she's even won over the grandkids. Obviously that women is a manipulative psychopath for using her control over Gale to manipulate his son. Which, yeah Gale not being able to say no to his mom has contributed greatly to this and if Wyll knew what healthy boundaries looked like he probably wouldn't have put up with it but he doesn't so here we are.

Let these two be the Tom and Jerry style B plot to BG4 is what I'm saying.

[iszapizza]

I'm reading a fic where Leia found out Luke's father was Vader and Luke's immediate response was to apologize to her. The way its framed you could say that he is apologizing for keeping it a secret from her, but I had initially read it as "I am sorry I am Vader's son.", "I am sorry for who my father is." And it hit so hard.

He is apologizing for something he had no control over, no knowledge of before Bespin. He is apologizing for who his fucking father is. It made me sad and angry. How the weight of Vader's identity brings him down and threatens to keep him there. How are you supposed to save the galaxy if the blood of its destroyer runs through your veins?

aaaa i love star wars so much

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Many millions of years ago - the emergence of Ego.

Over millions of years - he learns to control molecules, creating a planet around himself.

Thousands of years ago - 2014:

Ego discovers other life forms in the universe. Disappointed with what he has found, he decides that his true destiny is to turn every world into himself.

He plants his spores in the soil of thousands of planets.

Faced with the limitations of his abilities, Ego impregnates members of other species on these planets in the hopes of producing another Celestial.

After the children are born, he takes them to his planet in the hope that they carry his Celestial genes. But they all "fail" him, and he kills them without remorse.

Late 1970s - early 1980s:

Ego comes to Earth and falls in love with Meredith Quill.

He impregnates her and plants his seed on Earth.

After this, Ego returns to Earth 3 times to see Meredith. The last time, he places a tumor in her head so that he doesn't have to stop his Expansion for her.

~May 1980 - Ego shows a pregnant Meredith Quill his seed, which he planted in Missouri.

Late 1980 - Peter Quill is born.

Before 1988:

Yondu Udonta's parents sold him into slavery when he was an infant.

Yondu spends the next 20 years as a Kree battle slave.

Stakar, the leader of the Ravagers, frees him and offers him a place among them.

Yondu, now captain of one of the Ravager factions, betrays the Ravager's code by kidnapping Ego's children and delivering them to him. For this, Stakar exiles Yondu.

1988 - Peter is abducted by the Ravagers. Yondu decides to keep the boy to save him from the fate of the other children of Ego.

1988-2014 - Ego is looking for Peter.

Late 1990/1991 - Peter Quill becomes a 10-year-old spaceship pilot and takes possession of Milano.

Summer 2014:

The Battle of Xandar.

Yondu places a tracer on Milano.

Ego hears about Star-Lord.

The main events take place in late September or early October 2014, a few months after GotG 1.

Note: We can determine the month from the scenes with Ego's seed on Earth during his Expansion attempt. As you can see, it is the time of fallen leaves, while most plants are still green, which means it is most likely late September or early October.

Days or weeks before Day 1 - Nebula attempts to steal the Anulax batteries on the Sovereign and is captured.

Day 1:

Evening - Guardians fight an abilisk for the Sovereign and kill it.

After the fight, Rocket steals some batteries.

The Sovereign's leader, Ayesha, gives them the captured Nebula as payment.

Team sets off to Xandar to deliver Nebula to the Nova Corps for a bounty.

The Sovereign realize that the batteries have been stolen and pursue GotG into space until the team is saved by Ego, who destroys all of the Sovereign's remote-controlled spaceships.

Having sustained serious damage in battle, Milano makes an emergency landing on the planet Berhert.

Guardians and Nebula meet Ego and Mantis.

Night - Ego invites Peter and Co to visit his planet.

Day 2:

On the planet Contraxia, while Yondu's Ravagers are enjoying themselves, he meets Stakar. Stakar decides to deprive the local brothel owner of her clientele from all the Ravager clans for servicing Yondu's clan.

Ayesha comes to Contraxia to hire Yondu to capture and deliver GotG to her.

Morning - Peter, Gamora, and Drax follow Ego and Mantis, leaving Rocket and Groot to repair the ship and guard Nebula.

On Ego's ship, Mantis puts him to sleep. She and the Guardians talk and she demonstrates her abilities.

Rocket sets traps around the ship.

~Noon - Ego's ship arrives on his planet.

Ego tells the team his story: he is a Celestial, and the planet is him too.

Afternoon - Finally, after many unsuccessful attempts to find someone among his children who would have the same abilities as him, Ego finds them in Peter. He teaches his son to use "light" to control the molecules of the planet.

Peter is having a great time playing ball with his father.

Meanwhile, Mantis tells Drax her short story and almost reveals what is really going on, but is interrupted by Gamora.

Mantis shows Gamora and Drax their quarters.

Evening - Peter and Gamora argue about Ego and the place.

Gamora sits alone in a field when she is attacked by Nebula in a spaceship. They fight, Nebula wins but is unable to kill Gamora. They end up with a truce.

Night - After using all the traps, the Rocket is caught. Yondu only wants to take the stolen batteries to sell them, but a member of his crew named Taserface starts a mutiny. Groot frees Nebula, and she helps the mutineers capture Yondu by blowing off his arrow controller.

On the Ravagers' ship, the mutineers bully Groot and kill members of the clan loyal to Yondu (all Kraglin's friends).

Nebula stops the killing by making a deal with Taserface to hand over the captives to interested parties for a reward, and receives a new arm.

She heads off to Ego's planet to kill Gamora.

Yondu and Rocket are left together in a cell. Yondu tells his story and comes up with an escape plan.

Mutineers make a Ravager suit for Groot and then continue to bully him until they pass out drunk.

Yondu and Rocket send Groot to bring Yondu a new arrow controller - a prototype fin. After many attempts, Kraglin comes to the rescue.

Gamora and Nebula discover the bones of Ego's murdered children.

Day 3:

Early morning - Kraglin turns on Quill's music and the three kill everyone on board and blow up the ship.

Before dying, Taserface sends Yondu's coordinates to the Sovereign.

On the detached portion of the ship, Yondu, Kraglin, Rocket, and Groot head towards Ego's planet, making 700 jumps at a time.

Ego tells Peter about the possibilities of their ability and his life's purpose - the Expansion.

A frightened Mantis wakes up Drax.

Gamora and Nebula return to the quarters, where Mantis tells them what's going on.

Ego unwisely confesses to Peter that he killed his mother by placing a tumor in her head.

Peter attacks him and ends up being hooked by an energy tentacle.

Ego destroys Peter's Walkman.

Noon in Missouri, Earth/Sunrise on Ego's planet - Using Peter as a battery, Ego launches the Expansion.

Yondu and Rocket arrive in time and pause the Expansion by crashing into Ego's "human" body.

The Sovereign fleet arrives.

The Battle on Ego's Planet.

Ayesha's fleet is destroyed again.

Ego is killed in a mind-blowing explosion.

Yondu sacrifices himself to save Peter.

Most likely later that day:

Rocket reassembles Yondu's broken arrow.

And tells the other Ravager clans about what Yondu did.

Ayesha creates Adam Warlock.

~Day 4:

Yondu's funeral and cremation.

Gamora hugs Nebula. Nebula leaves GotG for her mission impossible - to find and kill Thanos.

Kraglin gives Quill a Zune digital player with 300 songs that Yondu got for Peter.

Peter gives Kraglin the arrow.

The Ravagers arrive and hold their funeral, posthumously accepting Yondu back.

Some (short) time later:

Kraglin implants the fin into his head and learns to control the arrow.

In the process, he wounds Drax.

After a long separation, the Ravagers unite again.

2017/2018:

"You are boring" "I am Groot" post-credits scene.

MCU Timelines: Phases One and Two MCU Timeline: Black Widow MCU Timeline. Captain America: Civil War MCU Timeline: Doctor Strange

[coolcatatajazzclub]

Luke Skywalkers Warmth and Light and why he's important in Star Wars

HE NEEDS MORE APPRECIATION!

I feel like these days in the Star Wars Fandom Luke Skywalker is not appreciated enough. But there is so much more that needs to be said about him, and I have a few words of my own to share.

Luke Skywalker is a breath of fresh air after all that transpired during the prequel movies/The Clone Wars, as he manages to bring a ray of light in the cold merciless dark that the empire had brought to the Galaxy after the Clone Wars ended.

We experienced Anakin losing Everything, his wife, "his kids", his life as a jedi mentor, and life as a general, his physical and mental health, and even his own name/identity. There was nothing left for him. The name of Anakin Skywalker represented a past that could never be revived, so to must Anakin remain dead.

But then Luke shows up abord the Empire ship and let's Vader know I'm not here to turn to your empire as a servant but instead as your son, the son of Anakin Skywalker. If you can't accept yourself as Anakin Skywalker my father, then your no father of mine at all. He in turn as Vader had done to him the previous movie offers Vader an ultimatum, but instead of towards darkness it's a choice that leads towards light. And Luke offers this choice with a hand outstretched, a hand willing to hold yours with compassion sympathy and unconditional love. The one thing Padme offers Vader before she dies.

This scene is very intimate as it is about Vader saving the galaxy just so he could save his son. Dying not as Vader but as a father.

Luke doesn't just reach his hand out to Vader but also to Obi Wan Kenobi himself. Though when Luke meets Obi Wan, he's not the man we see in the Prequels, instead he is a shell of what he once was, the shell now empty filled with sand, and decay.

Obi Wan is too a relic of the past. The Jedi warrior for the Republic he loved so dearly, the master of Anakin Skywalker his pride and glory, and the friend of so many Jedi now buried in dirt and ashes. Obi Wan is dead along with the past now in Ruins, fractured and broken.

But Luke addresses him not as "Old Ben" or Ben Kenobi, but by Obi Wan Kenobi. The name of the past once forgotten now brought to life by its recognition. Luke brought the light of the past back to Obi Wan by reminding him of his father's companionship (And he was a good friend), and the similarities Luke shares to Anakin only furthers this bittersweet nostalgia. Bringing back the compassion Obi wan felt towards Anakin, and a smile back to his withered face.

And finally, for the Targruta girl herself Ahsoka Tano.

Once the Jedi Padawan of the Galaxy's prized hero Anakin Skywalker, a friend and victim to so many jedi, and a Commander of the 501st. But after the war Ahsoka no longer remains instead now Fulcrum, secret informant of the Rebellion. We even see her have to change her name in Tales of the Jedi, so as to not be hunted down by the empire. She too lost it all, but she still had herself to offer to the world and all that was remaining inside her heart. Her compassion.

She cant show compassion as Ashoka but she can as Fulcrum, continuing to play her part in the Rebellion even after all the confusion and chaos that has endlessly barraged into her life.

Though the pain of realization of Anakin's turn, and the guilt of not being there for him, her unspoken words of compassion and understanding that could have pulled Anakin from the dark could now never be said. Instead all she can offer Anakin is the death of the monster that has taken his place.

And so after all of the pain Luke offers his hand to Ahsoka and with that a familiarity of Anakin, something that Ahsoka can see light in, and with Luke telling of the light he saw and brought out of his father allowing Ahsoka to let go of Darth Vader and Remember like Obi Wan had the light that Anakin had to offer.

Ahsoka looks so happy around Luke, I bet she offers Luke the same smile she gave Anakin

Luke brings warmth and comfort to my heart in a world full of cruelty. He is the light in the dark, the stars we look up at in the Dark sky, and the hope that tomorrow brings.

To say goodbye, I would like to add a quote that summarized Luke Skywalkers best.

Both scenes show Luke and Tenma pillars of light in their respective worlds, upholding a broken person, being their light and warmth. Despite being surrounded by darkness, they give them hope for a better tomorrow.

[darth-jess]

Acolyte is going to age well, I'm telling you.

It's more true to Star Wars than the Sequels, because it's about the things that Star Wars has always been known for:

FAMILY – and the forces (both light and dark) that try to pull it apart.

In the Prequels, Anakin is constantly trying to protect his family: his mother, Padmé, Obi-Wan, the Chancellor. And it's his intense love toward his family that allows him to be manipulated into darkness, which ultimately tears his family apart.

In the Original Trilogy, the Skywalker family has been torn apart by darkness. But the ties of family between Vader, Luke, and Leia are strong, and it's family that saves Vader in the end.

And in Acolyte, we see a family torn apart by the Jedi, and two sisters constantly reaching for each other across space and time, but forces of darkness and justice get in the way.

In the Sequels there's this found family vibe, which in general is great, but in the movies you never get this sense that Rey holds any important family connection with anyone.

CORRUPTION – in others, the people you love, and in the institutions you trust.

In the Prequels, we see the corruption in the Senate, the corruption in the Jedi Order, and Anakin's corruption from light into dark.

In the Original Trilogy, we see the corruption of the Empire, but we also see the seeds of corruption from the old Jedi Order, with Yoda and Obi-Wan constantly telling Luke that he must kill his own father. We see Vader's corruption, and we see Luke unravel it.

In Acolyte, we see Mae corrupted by the dark side, we see Osha corrupted by her own feelings, and we see the Jedi corrupted by their own belief that they are the saviors of the galaxy, that they did the right thing.

In the Sequels, we see Luke, a Jedi, almost killing his nephew– this is absolutely corruption within the Jedi, but this is unbelievably out of character for Luke, who forgave his father, a mass murderer. We also see Ben Solo, but we never see him being corrupted by the dark side. We just see he's pretty much already there.

REDEMPTION – for those who seek it, and those who defy it.

In the Prequels, we are shown the path that takes Anakin into darkness.

And in the Original Trilogy, we are shown a man who defies his own redemption because he believes he does not deserve it, and that it's far too late– and yet he finds redemption anyway.

In Acolyte, almost every Jedi we're introduced to seeks redemption because of the terrible thing they've done, because of the secret they keep. I wouldn't say any of them are actually redeemed, but seeking redemption is an important part of this story for the Jedi characters.

In the Sequels… Yeah Ben Solo is redeemed but redemption isn't exactly a "theme" of the movies.

LOVE – complete, unconditional love, beyond reason.

In the Prequels, Anakin and Padmé share a love like this. Anakin doesn't deny killing younglings, and Padmé (while deeply upset and disturbed) does not stop loving him for what he's done.

In the Original Trilogy, Luke has never known his father, he doesn't have memories of a man who was once kind an honorable and good. All he knows is Darth Vader. And yet, he is willing to forgive his father because he loves him.

In Acolyte, Mae and Osha have both betrayed each other, have both done unspeakable things in each other's eyes, and yet their love for each other never falters. It remains, strong and forgiving, always.

In the Sequels… Is love a main "theme" of the Sequels? Yeah, Leia and Han love their son, but they've kind of given up on him and their marriage, Kylo Ren and Rey do not know each other well enough at all to be in love, and Luke apparently gave up on that unconditional love he got from his mother which allowed him to forgive his father. IDK love isn't a huge part of the Sequels.

POLITICS – I just need to point it out, almost every Star Wars movie or TV series that's actually good includes a lot of politics that's clearly explained and makes a lot of sense.

In the Prequels, we are introduced to the politics of the Galactic Republic, as well as the politics of the Jedi Order.

In The Clone Wars, there are whole story arcs based on politics (that whole arc about deregulating the banks?).

In the Original Trilogy, we hear about the Emperor's political maneuvers and how he's disbanded the Senate. We also come to understand the the Empire rules through fear, military might, and destruction of their opposition.

In Acolyte, we see Jedi politics play out, and we hear about how there are a few senators who do not trust the Jedi and the power they have.

What politics are we given in the Sequels? First Order, bad. Rebels good. And also repeat of the Original Trilogy. Oh, the New Order rules with military might and fear, and they have a Death Star thing. Okay? We've seen all this before.

*Disclaimer: When I'm talking about the Sequels, I'm talking about the movies, not the books. I have not read the books.

[the-far-bright-center]

Anakin is the Chosen One.

At the end of the PT x OT saga, the cosmic balance is restored by Anakin, aka The Chosen One. He destroys both the Jedi and the Sith (which includes both Sidious AND the inner Sith within himself). He comes back to the Light. 'Return of the Jedi' refers not only to the culmination of Luke's hero's journey, but also to Anakin returning to his True Self. Luke helps to guide him there, and Luke's sacrifice inspires his own. But it is still ultimately Anakin’s doing. That’s the original intention for Anakin’s character:

Anakin is the Chosen One. And even when Anakin turns into Darth Vader, he is still the Chosen One. […] The prophecy is that Anakin will bring balance to the Force and destroy the Sith. He becomes Darth Vader. Darth Vader does become the hero. Darth Vader does destroy the Sith, meaning himself and the Emperor. He does it because he is redeemed by his son. So the prophecy is true. - George Lucas

Lucas made the Prequels for many reasons, and one of these was to portray Anakin/Vader as a tragic hero. The Chosen One prophecy was created specifically FOR Anakin's character, who spends half his life in the Light, and half in the Dark. It was meant to give even greater cosmic importance to his eventual redemption in RotJ. Without this element of the story, Vader's redemption is merely a private personal moment between father and son. It's transcendent, yes, but mainly on an individual spiritual level. But by making it so that Anakin's return to his True Self also functions as the fulfillment of a pivotal prophecy about the very fate of the Force itself, Anakin's story and the entire saga is transformed into something else entirely. Something cosmically transcendent, with Anakin's character portrayed as a demi-god or fallen angel who is eventually saved and redeemed by unconditional Love, and who in turn saves the galaxy. To suggest otherwise means changing the entire message of the completed PT x OT Skywalker saga. It means destroying the entire outcome of Anakin's story arc. Anakin is supposed to end the Jedi vs. Sith conflict and restore Balance to the Force, because that is what he was created by the Force to do. Since Anakin is a tragic figure doomed by the pre-established OT narrative, he has to fulfill the prophecy via the darkest timeline. A timeline of pain, loss, and immense suffering. But he still fulfills it. And does so through an act of self-sacrifice, motivated by compassion and unconditional love.

The lifelong slave finally frees himself and the galaxy from its chains.

[byfulcrums]

Something I love about Star Wars is how Luke didn't fix Anakin, he gave him the courage to save himself.

Anakin Skywalker is both a villain (and an abuser. I mean he tortured his own daughter and cut off his son's hand, come on) and a victim, that much is obvious. He is, most importantly, a slave. There has never been a single moment of his life where he wasn't/hasn't felt like he was a slave to something. Watto, the Republic, Palpatine, maybe even himself — you name it. He has never been free.

When Luke goes to the second Death Star, he is going to his father, to the suffering Palpatine is putting Anakin through (he is the main victim of Sidious's abuse and torture, something many people tend to forget). To the suffering Anakin is making himself go through, because, while it was heavily influenced by Palpatine, Anakin's choice to never leave was his own.

He Fell, and that wasn't his fault, but he chose to stay there. Many people — namely Padmé — gave him second chances. Padmé gave Anakin the chance to leave and stay together, but he didn't take it. He did all of it to save her, and it the end, he ends up believing he was the one who killed her (he 'destroys' his goal, because that's what the Dark Side does. You may begin as a noble person looking to save someone, but the Dark Side isn't good, and you will lose track of yourself along the way.)

And now here he is, inside a prison that is seen as his own suit. A prison he was put in, a prison he chose to stay in. By the time of ROTJ, he truly believes that it's over for him. That nothing can save him. That there's no hope. Anakin, the lifelong slave, is resigned to his fate. “It is too late for me, son,” he tells Luke, who willingly came to him wearing shackles.

And Luke, still believing that there is some humanity in Darth Vader's armor, doesn't deter. He doesn't let his father's words stop him. He shows that he's willing to give himself away, to die, just to save him.

Luke Skywalker, son of Padmé and Anakin and the last Jedi Master left, shows a man turned monster that he loves him unconditionally. He shows him that no, it's not too late for him, not now and not ever. And this — his selflessness, his compassion — is what finally gets through Anakin. Someone loves him, and he loves them back. And he would do anything to keep them alive, including killing his own Master and breaking his chains.

It's Luke's own sacrifice that inspires Anakin to give up his life. It's Luke's undying hope that motivates Anakin to finally break his own chains. It's Luke's trust in him that gives Anakin the courage to save himself, and in that single act, he saves the entire galaxy.

The light comes to him in the form of one Luke Skywalker, extending his hand for the last time — the light comes to him when he takes it.

The Prophecy is fulfilled when Anakin kills Palpatine and leaves the dark. The galaxy is saved when a father dies for his son.

[ornithogeek]

SPOILER Star Wars Visions :

I think one of many reason I love star wars Visions is because In addition to having boundless creativity it's one of the most Pro-jedi content since the prequels ! I love some Disney content like Rogue One and Andor but it's so refreshing to see again Jedi doing concrete stuff to save people of the Galaxy.

The Village Bride: a exiled jedi who decide to help innocent villagers from Robbers

Ninth Jedi: a good echo to the quote of Obi-Wan "your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them" with the siths look like jedi and the Jedi look like sith

TO-B1: A good father figure who want to protect his droid like a father who protect his son.

The Elder: Taking advantage of a confrontation against one of the last Sith to offer a lesson on the cycle of life and how pressing each moment that we live is is definitely one of the most Jedi moods. Best mentor-student relationship since Kanan and Ezra.

Journey to the dark head : A padawan who overcome his fear by trusting other and being compassionate. And a Jedi Council who respect a local belief.

Bandits of Golak: Awesome grandma

Aau Song: a Jedi showing to a children his potential and learn to her to trust in his powers

[howlingday]

Star wars mandalorian Au

In the reign of the galactic empire over the galaxy mandalore wasn't in their mercy, clans of the planet rebelled and some choice to side with the empire just to save their own skin, clan Arc divided into 2, one lead by jaune's mother sided with the empire to save their clan, the other lead by jaune's father to fight the empire in gorilla warfare jaune joined his father, he was given a mission by his father to destroy any ship that carries troops or supplies that head towards the planet.

"You betray the Arc name!"

"I betray no one! Everything I do, I do for the sake of our family!"

Jaune sat at the top of the stairs, listening to his mother and father engage in their back-and-forth. They fight, as parents normally did, but they'd grown longer, louder, and especially more heated. He grit his teeth as he listened to them argue whether or not to support the Empire. He didn't know why his mother supported them, other than to protect her family. Jaune's father, however, was especially adamant in refusing their help.

"I gave my word that I would fight all evil! Even if it came knocking to our door!"

"Fighting back will only lead to our children's death! Why can't you understand that?!"

Jaune felt snot dribble from his nose and tried to inhale it back in. The sound stopped the arguing, if only for a moment. Suddenly his mother was halfway up the steps, faster than he could think to run away.

"Jaune?" She looked down, her blue eyes piercing the dark. "Why are you out of bed?"

"I..." He gulped. "I heard you and father fighting."

"Oh, no, we were not fighting, honey." His mother cooed, hugging her only son. "We were... talking. Loudly."

"You were angry." Jaune whimpered.

"I was." She agreed. "But only because your father refuses to see it my way."

"Will... Will he be angry tomorrow?"

Tomorrow was Jaune's first day of field training with his father. The two would leave for the week, where Jaune's father would teach him the survival skills he needed to become a Mandalorian. A true Mandalorian. Just like his parents.

"I don't think so." She stroked Jaune's cheek, wiping away his tears as she guided him to bed. "But you need your rest. All of you will. Because what matters the most to an Arc..."

"...is family." Jaune finished as he climbed into bed.

His mother smiled. "Good night, Jaune. Know that your father and I love you. All of you."

--------------------------------------------------

Jaune did not want to spend his weekend like this. He received a message from his father, warning him of an Imperial supply ship incoming. Most of the time, he would ignore these notices, but attached to the file was a personal message from his father. In it, he explained all the horrible things the Empire had done, are doing, and will do if left unchecked. Normally, he would just pass this off as propaganda if it weren't for the last words of the message.

'Do the right thing, Jaune.'

And now he was here, on top of a hill, camped out next to a high-grade mortar with coordinates ready to be punched in. Once the numbers were in place, the mortar would fire its payload high and detonate after a certain time. Everything was calculated down to the micro-second. As he stared at the mortar, he couldn't get the words out of his head.

The right thing. What was the right thing? Was the right thing to blow up a ship carrying supplies? Supplies people relied on to survive? The cost for those supplies, though, was absolute servitude. A collar for a bowl, as his father described it.

His mother would say different, though, saying that the evil the Empire engages in is small in scale compared to the alternative of allowing the planets to engage in their own rule. If left alone, the planets would attack each other, breaking out into an all-out galactic war where countless innocents, or even more, would perish. Thus, the Empire would rule the galaxy and Jaune, his sisters, and their family would be kept out of harm's way. And all it costed was unwavering servitude.

Jaune felt like he was caught in the middle of a war, an unexpected collateral casualty that had to be forced to ally with one side over the other. Attack the supply ship, risking war with the Empire, and he sided with his father, forsaking his mother and everything she believed in. Leave the supply ship alone, maintaining allegiance with the Empire, and spit on everything his father trained him to be.

'You don't... hurt people, do you?'

Ruby's voice came into his mind. Her voice quaked when she asked him. He told her no, and only harming others for the sake of his bounty hunting training. But this... This wasn't bounty hunting training. This was sabotage, resource choking. It wasn't like he was attacking a village and taking its people for slavery. In this mission, he would be able to

'Be able to what? ...Hurt more innocent people without aura?'

He winced at Blake's words. The Empire supported those with aura, and he doubted everyone receiving their supplies had aura, but they would still get their fill. Could he really risk their lives by attacking something that was part of something as large as the Empire? Something like that was too dangerous, too chaotic. It wasn't his style. It wasn't the kind of Mandalorian he wanted to be, the kind of Mandalorian he is.

'What kind of Mandalorian are you?' He asked himself, the same as when he and Ruby met.

'The kind that hates flying.' He grinned.

'I like to think of myself as a rebel.' He smiled.

'But my honor is forever.' He grimaced.

He looked to the distance and saw the ship was coming in close. There would be no more waiting. It was now or never. Do or die. Father or Mother. Standing up, looking at the mortar, he made his choice.