#No Force More Powerful Than Us

[whitearyankindred]

Can’t Believe You Are So Evil and Racist that You Promote this Rape and White Genocide like this, You Evil Racist Vindictive White Traitorous Fake Women Will Not Go About Doing This Without Any Consequences, You Evil Ungrateful Soulless Fake Women Will All Meet Your End Soon and That Will Be A Happy Joyous Day Of Real Peace and Good Reign Finally and None of You Evil Soulless Clones Will Be Around in Existence Anymore.

The Ultimate 🐂&♠️🐰Party

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[vitrall]

I don't think Jayce and Viktor literally died. They were kind of pulled into another dimension/astral plane/whatever you call it. We see older Viktor, and while it could be another Viktor, I think it would be more meaningful if it was our Viktor, finally free from the arcane, going through the universe with Jayce, fixing timelines together. Kind of like a cosmic mission.

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp obtaining Conqueror's haki makes so much sense to me and I genuinely think he deserves it on Elbaf please please please

[shalom-iamcominghome]

As I've gotten deeper in conversion, I have increasingly imagined jewish life throughout time. And what I mean by that is...

So when I looked at the Western Wall before this (maybe a few years ago), I just saw a wall. It held no deeper meaning than that. I imagined nothing when I saw that.

But now when I look at the wall or even when I'm praying idly, I'm imagining myself in the temple when it stood there. It's bright outside - a summer day so bright, I think the temple will blind me. A soft wind surrounds me. I'm stood in the middle of a huge crowd of people, simply observing. Women pass by me in small crowds, laughing and talking. Some of these women are wrangling their small children who keep running away, laughing like it's a game. And men walk by smelling of spices. The air is light, the city around bustling with people living fulfilling, meaningful jewish life. The wall now symbolizes that jewish life, and even though it's not just about the temple when I imagine it, it means something to me.

I think that's the result of seeing myself in judaism, turning the "you" into a "we," and I feel about this what I must imagine a married couple feels.

[thepoisonroom]

'I flirted with the idea that instead of being trans that I was just a cross-dresser (a quirk, I thought, that could be quietly folded into an otherwise average life) and that my dysphoria was sexual in nature, and sexual only. And if my feelings were only sexual, then, I wondered, perhaps I wasn’t actually trans.

I had read about a book called The Man Who Would Be Queen, by a Northwestern University professor who believed that transwomen who were attracted to women were really confused fetishists, they wanted to be women to satisfy an autogynephilia. And though I first read about this book in the context of its debunkment and disparagement, I thought about the electricity of slipping on those tights, zipping up those boots, and a stream of guilt followed. Maybe this professor was right, and maybe I was only a fetishist. Not trans, just a misguided boy.

About a year later, on the Internet, I come across a transwoman who added a unique message to the crowd refuting this professor. Oh, I wish I remember who this woman was, and I wish even more that I could do better than paraphrase her, but I remember her saying something like this: “Well, of course I feel sexy putting on women’s clothing and having a woman’s body. If you feel comfortable in your body for the first time, won’t that probably mean it’ll be the first time you feel comfortable, too, with delighting in your body as a sexual thing?”'

-Casey Plett, Consciousness

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) for a not-so-insignificant portion of his life, house was terrified of being suggestible to the alpha voice as john wasn't afraid to supplement his punishments with them so house would be physically incapable of not complying.

the first time wilson used the voice on house in a fit of frustration after house's incessant needling regarding wilson's obvious lack of life fulfillment ("you're not happy, you're just married."), house was genuinely afraid. he avoided him for days. wilson, mortified by his own loss of control and desperate to apologize, did Not let this be what killed their friendship, effectively (accidentally) sabotaging his own marriage to bonnie by prioritizing his relationship with house over his relationship with her. again.

[pynkhues]

https://www.tumblr.com/nalyra-dreaming/762934616351031296/theres-something-ive-struggled-to-understand

I always wondered about what the anon asked as well. Care to share your reading?

I more or less agree with the OP's answer that it's about Louis not wanting to be connected to Madeleine, but I think the motivation is probably different?

My read is that episode is really about Louis trying to let Claudia go, and that he's acknowledging the complete dissolution of the family unit. After all, if Lestat and Louis' turning was a wedding, and Lestat turning Claudia was Lestat giving Louis a daughter, Louis knowing that Madeleine and Claudia are a love match in a lot of ways turns him into the father giving his daughter away on her wedding day. Turning Madeleine isn't about love for him, nor about having a child, it's about seeing his daughter as a grown woman ready to start her own family without him.

The acknowledgement of Claudia as an adult is not one he's ever genuinely made before - something s2 makes very clear with Claudia having to pose as his daughter again in wartorn Europe, Baby Lulu being the female diminutive of Louis, and then, even more tellingly, with Dreamstat explicitly referring to her as such - and while she's been pulling away all season and trying to force Louis into independence, it's been something he's pretty clearly very resentful of.

Madeleine though forces his hand, because Claudia finally choosing a companion splinters the last leg of their family unit for good. Madeleine is a stranger to him in the way many children's spouses are strangers to their in-laws, and Louis doesn't have Lestat to share the weight of that with anymore (and he doesn't have Lestat because of Claudia, which deepens the resentment). All he knows - which he discovers through turning her - is that she loves his daughter, and I take Louis trying to get the blood out of himself as a bitter and wounded sort of wedding gift.

He wants to give them their freedom, but at the same time the depression he experienced as an empty nester in New Orleans has already set in, he has to live with the fact that his attempt at a family has ended, and Armand's never been as satisfying to take things out on as Lestat was, to say nothing of the fact that he - as Assad put it - doesn't give a fuck about Claudia. At least Lestat gave a fuck, even if he usually gave the wrong sort of fucks, haha.

So yeah, I think it's a sort of attempt at a resentful wedding present, in a lot of ways, to try and give her this thing without being a part of it, and a real attempt to let Claudia go as his daughter.

Little does Louis know though, Claudia's the gothic heroine of this story, and she's not ever going to get out of her father's (or step-father's) house.

[abrahamvanhelsings]

"goodsir is neoliberalism bc he tried to kill those guys blah blah blah" they kidnapped him and then they made him cut up men to be consumed as an act of control and pure humiliation by threatening to kill probably the last man he still liked in that party, forcing him to be complicit in an act he is viciously against, and to be complicit in the survival of the very men who betrayed the whole expedition and who are using him like a tool. and then the guy he's trying to protect comes up to him to sob and monologue at him about cannibalism and religion and acts of survival and belief as some kind of justification for the fact that he's an absolute pussy ass bitch who'd rather lie down and take it than stand up in the face of acts and circumstances he finds abhorrent. and goodsir was supposed to not be a cunt abt that? lol

[dollarstorevampyre]

"I heard people are

shipping you guys" "To where?"

[dimeadozencows]

Krispee cream

[violentdevotion]

I watched s4 of the boys and a lot of the criticisms of the american military fall a bit flat when there's literally someone who served in the iof in the cast

[aemiron-main]

seeing all of pierre poilievre’s insane shit ramping up even more lately is going to make my head explode. if people vote him in we are so fucked. like. in alberta, we’ve already been so fucked by having a provincial conservative gov since i was in highschool. and that was with a liberal federal gov.

so conservative federal gov under poilievre *and* alberta provincial gov under danielle smith?? Horrifying like holy shit as if danielle alone hadn’t fucked over literally everything in Alberta so badly

[oozeandgoo-art]

[ciderjacks]

sorry to ramble in your inbox (feel free to ignore this ofc) but you are the only person on my dash being realistic about misogyny rn

I'm so annoyed by the posts like "men are being ignored by women and that's why they aren't supporting us". Because the feminist movement for over a decade has had a focus on supporting men, especially with mental health. And there's a whole month (this month!) that is focused around men's health (mostly physical but with some mental as well). And women are all over the internet encouraging men to do things like go to therapy. The list goes on.

and the fact that they know (or acknowledge) none of that shows how much posturing it all is.

"complete strangers made generalizations I didn't like on the internet so it's their fault I'm a misogynist" I am going to scream.

god i can’t stand how much the feminist movement centers men. I feel like honestly part of the problem is ppl don’t see women as a marginalized group even when women are clearly facing really brutal oppression, bc subconsciously they think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

And like , when they acknowledge women as oppressed, its never acknowledged as being done by men— there’s always some invisible boogeyman doing it: “the government” or “capitalism” or “society”. All these very vague gender neutral concepts.

The fact that it’s taboo to actually acknowledge women have an oppressor and that oppressor is MEN drives me insane. Among leftist groups it’s at its most hypocritical. They are so clearly able to understand oppression, and the dynamic between oppressed and oppressor…until it’s women. Then suddenly we’re equal apparently.

And that’s something men want, that’s why they push so hard for this narrative that “men’s issues are different but just as bad” (even tho that’s 100% fucking false lmao) because it means that they’re distanced from accountability, and women aren’t suffering anymore than them so really those bitches should just shut up about it.

It’s disgusting and intentional and I encourage any woman reading this to stop caring about “mens rights”. They already have rights.

It’s like, think about how offended ppl were when straight ppl requested their own month. Think about how blatantly racist it sounds when white ppl try to imply they’re oppressed for being white.

now unpack why you don’t feel that way with mennn

[rrr-is-gay]

Hello kids, today I’d like to preach to you about the deep eroticism of The Fight, because warriormale literally lives in my mind and compels me to speak.

When Ram and Bheem wrestle outside the governor’s palace, they are releasing so much sexual energy, it’s actually insane. Hell, even before the wrestling, when they’re exchanging punches, there’s this sizzling tension that they’re both too heartbroken to actually think about, but it comes out subconsciously, in how their bodies react to each other. Bheem takes each punch standing up, then fuckin smacks the shit out of Ram, knocking him to the ground, showing his dominance. Ram whips his head to the side to LEER at Bheem before deciding his next attack.

And what is his next attack? TO CLIMB UP BHEEM’S THIGH and THROW HIM TO THE GROUND so he can MOUNT HIM. Bheem does not kick out of this hold or push Ram’s body away, he ROLLS OVER, TANGLING HIS LEGS with Ram’s, keeping him close. He refuses to go on the defensive, he must stay on the attack, to overpower Ram with the strength of his thighs. This need, this primal masculine aggression, is shared by both men as they continue rolling over each other. It is such an intricate ritual!

They are so deeply, intimately familiar with each other’s bodies. Think of how Bheem yanks open Ram’s legs so he can get right between his thighs. He knows where Ram bends and folds. He’s been here before. Think of how Bheem shoves his hand over Ram’s face to hold him down, covering his lips and nose, feeling his heat and insisting upon his submission. Think of how Bheem LIFTS RAM UP dirty-dancing-style to twirl him around, embraced by his thighs, testosterone spiking like adrenaline.

There’s a raw physicality that is shared between sex and combat that’s difficult to describe to those who don’t feel it. It is so primitive, so base, it defies logic. Ram and Bheem have absolutely no reason to be turned on during this fight. They’re both utterly heartbroken, to a point where they’re basically dying inside. And yet their bodies tingle with desire; the desire to touch, smack, yank, bite, grab, hug, roll, spread, fuck. They can’t help it! That’s why they fight so close and tight, because the magnetism pulling them together is stronger than the betrayal tearing them apart.

Absolutely nobody on this earth can convince me that I’m wrong!