#You have honored me with your love

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"

[hollytree33]

“Not much farther now.”

Wanted to try my hand at a mock screenshot study of Shivana! This is of the night before she reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes, before a much longer journey begins (she did not dress for the weather)

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[sforzesco]

DO NOT BE AFRAID

this is combining Ovid's Heroides and the Excidium Troie because I can't stop thinking of Hermes telling him not to be afraid. what the fuck!! Ares is wearing the crown that Paris gave him.

I have. thoughts. about Paris. he's almost got this Troilos parallel in my mind, that the event that defines him in detail exists in a lost narrative that we don't have (the Cypria), but everyone else knew. the event that defines Troilos is his death (murdered, butchered by Achilles, the violence of which haunts everything after. Achilles, child killer, you can't escape that!), and the event that defines Paris is the Judgement. what's a lost text but a kind of grave!!

idk I don't think that Paris before the Judgement would recognize himself after bc when you become god touched, it rearranges your guts. you become transformed in the worst way possible! how could you recognize yourself! but I also think that all the Parises after the Judgement would recognize each other because that event is so locked into the trauma of war and the scar it leaves on the land, it's like a scar on the narrative too. it exists like this forever, over and over again, so you exist like that forever too. Troy collects grief and despairs.

Troy as trauma: Reflections on intergenerational transmission and the locus of trauma, Andromache Karanika

and Paris is like. a miserable little god/corpse-puppet or something, like a match for the gods to throw onto gasoline.

The Excidium Troie + Ovid's Heroides:

Excidium Troie, trans. Muhammad Syarif Fadhlurrahman

Ovid, Heroides 16 (trans. Harold Isbell)

a collection of things regarding Paris that made me go 😬 but under a cut bc this is getting. very long.

The Divine Twins in Early Greek Poetry, Corolla Torontonensis

Iliad 24 and the Judgement of Paris, C.J. Mackie

Elegy and Epic and the Recognition of Paris: Ovid "Heroides" 16, Elizabeth Forbis Mazurek

Ennian Influence in "Heroides" 16 and 17, Howard Jacobson

Paris/Alexandros in the "Iliad", I. J. F. de Jong

[sunnylolli]

hi sorry but I CANNOT get the image of older England yelling at his younger self out of my mind. Please can you tell me if there's an au connected to this/we get to see any more of their interactions?

HELLO!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON!!!! < :,)

This is a long one, but I'll try and keep it sensible in length!

The concept of Arthur and his younger self, started out initially being a subplot to my fanfiction Can I Stay For A Year Or Two? It was initially meant to be a subcurrent to Alfred's struggles, where we get an intimate insight into Arthur's own challenges and how his shortcomings in regards to being there for his sons, stems from a very long list of unhealthy coping mechanisms.

The thing is though, I am not good at structuring things, and I quickly realized that it was too much for me to juggle, so I ended up dropping it.

I do have art for it, though, that I've redrawn because I've had it collecting dust for 2 years now I think..Haha... Anyway

I have thought about making it into an au in and of itself, and maybe make it in relation to another drabble of mine, which is just Arthur sitting in a therapy-room talking to a therapist-

But the premise is Arthur, in an attempt to start curbing most of his problems and anger issues, digs into his childhood and slowly but surely, ties past traumas to several bad habits he has in current day.

However, stubborn and impatient as he is, the "healing journey" isn't going fast enough for him, and he tinkers in his basement with spell-work and potions, in an attempt to "expand" his mind a little,.It doesn't entirely go as planned, however, and he ends up with a semi-real version of himself as a child, appearing in his dreams and whenever he zones out for too long.

In his dreams, his "mindscape" of sorts is a rocky beach, with fog thick enough to obscure the rest of the surroundings. It's chilly, clammy and perpetually overcast and his "journey" most of the time is walking down the beach in hopes of eventually finding something that isn't water, rocks and seaweed.

His little self is non-too-annoying about making sure he knows they have to hurry and can't stop. They have to keep moving, always.

I've packed a bunch of symbolism and metaphors in it as well!:

In the mindscape, big Arthur has an effect on the weather, where little Arthur has a strong effect on the sea.

Little Arthur having an effect on the sea, represents the underlying emotions that big Arthur refuses to feel, or does not know how to handle. "A sea of emotions", essentially. Vast and deep and terrifying.

He's the very foundation of the troubles big Arthur is dealing with in modern day, meaning that if he's upset, that has a significant effect on what big Arthur is feeling. And since the sea ALSO has a very big effect on the weather, little Arthur will cause emotions within big Arthur, but big Arthur, no matter how stormy, will never be able to fully weather the depths in the same way.

Big Arthur having an effect on the weather, represents his rationale and his coping. It's prone to change very quickly, it's volatile and quick to go by. It's overthinking and overcomplicating things, to the point of it being a storm, a thought spiral (Watersprouts, hurricanes, tornados etc.) of sorts whenever he's upset.

When little Arthur's upset, big Arthur in the waking world, will be detached, stoic and unemotional. He'll be strictly logical, and will have trouble with any and all kinds of emotions aimed at him or asked of him. (Big Arthur's coping mechanisms stepping in to smother little Arthur)

Meanwhile, when big Arthur's upset, he's prone to outbursts, mood swings and an over-emotional approach to most things. He'll be quick to act without thinking and will say or do things that are thoughtless, brash and sometimes crossing the line. (Big Arthur's coping mechanisms are shut off, and Little Arthur shines through)

Tl;Dr

Arthur spellbinds himself to having a little version of himself in his head and does a literal "inner-child" healing journey, by literally talking and interacting with him!

[st4rking]

tfw you, as a mind reader, have to team up with a man who thinks too much

Slight spoilers in tags

[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.”

[daddyhoothoot]

“Stolas is a bad parent”

“Stolas isn’t good to Via”

LITERALLY WHERE?!

Have you all forgotten this scene exists??? He stayed in an abusive marriage for almost two decades (that’s almost 20 years btw because apparently all you Stolas antis are idiots) FOR HER!

“He didn’t listen to her at Loo Loo Land!”

They literally talked and he acknowledged his mistakes and she forgave him! They’re literally both smiling and hugging at the end!

“He ignored her in Seeing Stars!”

HE WAS ON THE PHONE WITH STELLA WHO WAS YELLING ABUSE AT HIM THE ENTIRE TIME HE WAS TRYING TO MOVE HER SHIT OUT OF THE PALACE.

Instead of Octavia communicating about what day it was, she stormed off which is FINE because she’s a teenager but if she had only been like, hey dad today is the day we were supposed to go look at the stars. He would have dropped everything without question. You really think he would choose a day bonding with his daughter over Stella? Absolutely not.

He scoured a foreign city all day looking for her. Once he found out why she ran, he apologized profusely and she instantly forgave him.

And that’s it! That’s all we’ve gotten so far of their relationship so please explain how Stolas is a bad father within the context of the show.

To expect Stolas to never fuck up in anyway is crazy. He has so much of his own trauma and never had a father figure to look up to, Paimon was a piece of shit. He’s clearly trying his best and maybe his best isn’t always good enough but calling him a bad father is honestly outrageous. Calling anyone perfect is outrageous. Everyone fucks up but what proves their character is how they learn and grow from the mistakes they make and clearly Stolas is doing both of those things.

If you don’t like Stolas, whatever, that’s your prerogative (I don’t understand but it’s your life) but you can’t deny that Stolas is a good father because he is always trying to improve and grow and only good people do that.

I rest my case.

[acupofqueercoffee]

i would all too happily sell my soul to the devil to see eve in an entirely, unadulteratedly, very queer and very sapphic film 😭😭😭

[miss-jaye]

even after all this time, chifuyu still gets all weak in the knees when you kiss him.

imagine this: you're on your way to the pet store where you and chifuyu work. as chifuyu parks the car, he turns to you with a smile and says, "stay here, i'll open your door."

just as he's about to step out, you grab his arm, making him turn back to you. you smile, gently grasp his chin, and pull him closer. your lips meet his in a soft, lingering kiss.

chifuyu melts, his eyes slowly fluttering closed until you pull away with a smile. he gazes at you with a lovestruck expression.

"baby, you can't do that," he says, breathless. you tilt your head in confusion, "what do you mean?"

"i just kissed you," you say, blinking, then sigh in realization.

he shakes his head, "no, no. my wife kissed me. there's a difference."

"how is that different?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he pouts, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "you're amazing, perfect, everything i've ever wanted. and you're my wife!" you deadpan, "i've been your wife for three years."

he grins, "the best three years of my life. but now, we have a problem."

you stare at him before saying, "chifuyu matsuno, kazutora is waiting for us inside the store right now."

chifuyu is still staring at you, looking like he's about to pounce. "he can wait," he insists.

you sigh, shaking your head. "you are insatiable, my dear husband." he's already climbing to the back seat, fumbling with his belt.

"i am but a simple man, with a perfect wife," he grins, helping you to the back seat. he settles you on his lap before pulling you close for another kiss.

"i'm so very much in love with you," he whispers.

[smallestapplin]

Aaa hi, I love how you write Prowl. If it's okay, can u request something cute with him and a human s/o?👉👈

I love Prowl so much, thank you OTL

-

-

-

It's comical, really.

A giant robot man absolutely smitten by such a small human, you fit in the center of his servo, you climb him like he's a tree just get him to pick you up and place you on his desk.

Prowl is a very protective partner, he's already lost so many people he was close to, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Even if that means you sleep in his habsuite with him.

But what most intrigues you are his doorwings.

You've watched how bots like Starscream practically speak with his wings, how they flutter when he's happy, or fan out when he's angry, or tuck in close when he's scared.

Even bots with smaller doorwings like Bumblebee, it's a bit clunkier but much the same, you can read him just by looking at them.

But you can't with Prowl.

His stuck close to him, but never move not even a twitch unless he's transforming from his alt mode, it's the only time you've seen them move.

You can't read him.

You can't tell what his emotions are from them or what he's thinking. You tried asking Bee about them, only for him to get bashful and clam up.

You tried asking Skyfire, only for him to respond much the same, covering his face plate and refusing to look at you for a week.

Something about them was important and asking about them was somehow taboo.

"You're staring again."

You blink, snapping yourself from your thoughts. You look up, meeting his blue optics, his resting expression being all the greets you.

"What, is it illegal to stare at my handsome partner?" You smile, chuckling at how his cheeks dust with blue.

The energon flowing through him shows so prettily on his face, you can't help but stare. He narrows his optics at you, giving you a suspicious glance before going back to his reports.

"No, I suppose it's not something I could arrest you for, but a fine maybe."

You let out a fake gasp, which earns you a playful smirk from him. It always makes you melt that you are the only one that gets to see such a side of him, not many do.

Yet his wings still don't move.

You want to know what would it take for his wings to mirror his emotions, but it seems you're just going to have to test it out yourself.

"A fine? Oh officer how could you be so cruel." You whine for dramatic effect. Your heart skipping a beat when he chuckles.

"Hm, suppose I'll have to up the charge with that attitude. Say...three kisses sound fair?"

Prowl can feel his body twitching, longing to show his courtship to you in the way he instinctively knew how, but he's trained so long to keep his wings from moving.

But you make it so hard.

You make him want to be more show boating, to show everyone and the universe that you're his, that he's the lucky bot you deemed worthy to be your beloved.

You bashful giggle sends his spark into overdrive, you're just too precious for him, you make him a mess even though he doesn't want to admit it.

"Just three?"

The playful tone in your voice makes him snort.

"What, you want more? Just how needy are you?"

"Oh, so sorry that I like kissing my super hot boyfriend."

"Tch, you humans and your weird words."

"Shut up and lift me up, I want those kisses."

He rolls his optics before letting you hop up in his servo, lifting you up in front of his face plate. You see him hesitate for a moment, looking away from you for a split second before meeting your eyes once more.

Even still he's nervous, he can't believe someone so cute and sweet actually wants to be his partner and actually wants his affection.

He doesn't know what you see in him, but by Primus he won't disappoint you.

In the middle of his thoughts you take a few steps forward to be closer, and kiss his dermas. For once you've taken the stern bot by surprise, his optics widen a fraction, but then you hear it.

You hear a metal 'clunk!'

You pull away and manage to see behind him, his doorwings are up high and shaking. Prowl is quick to notice and forces them back down, fighting his own instincts to keep them close to his body.

"Did your-"

"No, no they didn't, you didn't see anything."

"Oh my god you moved them! They wiggled! Can you do that again, that was so cute!"

He's surprised at just how excited you are, he never thought his wings would mean that much to you, you're a human after all you don't understand the silent language wings hold.

Prowl looks to the door of his office, making sure it's still closed and that no bot is walking nearby, he will be damned if anyone else sees him like this.

With a groan and sigh he loosens his wires and lets his doorwings do what they want. You can't help but stare in awe and how they twitch and flutter.

"Thank you, I know it must be hard to let loose like this. I'm honored you're letting me see you like this."

You don't know how many centuries it took him to control his wings, just so enemies couldn't read his next moves or his emotions and get an upper hand.

You don't know how he felt like he lost apart of himself and his culture before the war.

You don't know how much your words meant to him.

"Hush up and kiss me again, would you?"

He grumbles, ignoring your chuckling at how angry pout even if it's not that angry.

"Whatever my sweet bot wants."

[gunsatthaphan]

🍩🥹

[detective-shirogane124]

If there was one thing I wanted from this entire sequence, it was for Monoma's laugh to be the most aggravating thing ever. Thank you for your service, Kohei Amasaki (Good luck to Austin Tindle when it gets dubbed, but if he can do Ken Kaneki, Monoma should be easy lol)

[ratislatis]

I'll find you. Wait for me.

hee hee hoo hoo AUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH PAIN PAIN SUFFERING PAIN IN ALL DIRECTIONS!!!! TO HELL WITH IT (LITERALLY)!!!!!!!!!

[sun-marie]

You're everything.

💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙