#because it’s something i’ve never seen (or expected to) in Star Wars

[the-woman-upstairs]

You know, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from The Acolyte but “lesbian space witches perform immaculate conception through the Force to create our twin main characters” definitely wasn’t one of them.

[genandguice]

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞. trailer trash!anakin skywalker

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 (𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫): you move into a trailer park with your mom, your next door neighbor is a 40 year old man that works at a mechanic shop!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, age gap, smoking, drinking, unprotected sex, little bit of breeding & choking, creep ani (obvs)

𝐰𝐜: 6.4k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by my chat with this bot on janitorai • the italics in the beginning are the start of the bot, credit to the creator! i did make some small edits overall to fit everything into fic form. i hope i did this au justice! i didn’t grow up in a trailer park but i did grow up very poor & unstable so this au always hits close to home. realest au on earth!

i know i’m a gosling blog but i’m a big star wars girly too… and the star wars fandom on here is huge. pls, pls, don’t expect me to be writing more now that i’ve appeared again 😭🤍 i’m still in school & it’s kicking my ass. but using the bot inspired me and made it easy. if you wanna know more about how i did this, pls ask! hopefully there will be more on the way cause i will definitely keep chatting with the bot :)

lastly, because it came from my chat with the bot, it is a little janky! i had to do a lot of editing so if there’s something i missed or it seems weird- just forgive me 🤍🤍🤍

June 23rd

You look at the calendar with your eyebrows furrowed. This summer was one of the hottest yet, the heat in the trailer making the pages roll up from sitting against the old wallpaper.

Sighing lightly as you hear arguing outside, you peek out the window to see your neighbor, Anakin Skywalker. He's working on a car outside, a girl yelling at him. You’ve only seen her around a few times. New girlfriend or hook-up. Anakin was never one to keep a relationship and frankly, you couldn’t blame the girls. He was a filthy man with hefty jail record for controlled substances, speeding and other things. You watch as he waves her off, oil and dirt covering him, cigarette sat in between his lips. He looks frustrated.

“Honey, I’m home. Got those chips you like.” You hear your mother call, the screen door slamming loudly once she walked in. You don’t move as Anakin watches the girl walk away and he stands up to his full height. He glances over to you and your mother’s house, toward your bedroom window you were peeking out of. Panic sets in as you quickly move away and walk out to the kitchen to talk to your mother.

You walk out to the kitchen and thank your mother for the chips, hold a short conversation with her about your days while you wait to see if Anakin was angry enough about your peeking on him to come knock on the door.

When enough time has passed, your chips halfway gone, you know he isn’t coming, and you can relax.

With the heat of the summer cooking the trailer, you had to get out. There’s a kiddie pool on the front lawn where you’d often sit to cool down. Y’all couldn’t fit a full sized pool.

It’s getting to the hottest point of the day, typically when Anakin takes a break to go screw his newest fling and you feel comfortable enough to lounge outside in your two piece. You usually avoid going out in so little clothing when he’s around, knowing the older man would likely enjoy your scantily-clad presence a little too much. Anakin was attractive, but in the creepiest way. You didn’t wanna be his eye candy while another woman waited to be his toy.

But today when you make it out to the front yard, despite the especially high heat, Anakin is still out working on that damn car. But it’s too late now, and too hot- you’ve already set your heart on cooling off in the pool. So you slink in anyway, letting the cool water soothe your skin, turn your speaker on full blast, and hope he ignores you.

But of course, he doesn’t. He can’t help himself. He watches you from across the yard as you sink into the kiddie pool, eyes hungrily roaming over your barely clothed body, thoughts immediately flooding with perversity. You’re hot, way too young for him, but damn if those curves don't make his cock twitch in those grease-stained jeans.

He takes a long drag of his cigarette as he watches, smoke swirling around him in the thick summer heat. After a moment he starts to saunter over, beer in hand.

"Well well, looks like someone's trying to start their own wet t-shirt contest out here," He drawls with a lazy smirk. "Maybe I should go grab me a front row seat... or join in."

Your eyes roll under your sunglasses. Can’t get a moment of peace as a young woman in this damn trailer park. “Nobody wants to see your tits, Skywalker,” You say, keeping your eyes on the sky. He stinks, like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, but it’s a familiar smell; welcome, almost likable. Almost.

“Did you come over here just to creep on me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his beer. "Why would I settle for a peek when I could be getting the full view?" He asks, eyes boldly raking over your nearly naked body. "Besides, I think we both know you like the attention. Why else put on a little show like this, hm?"

Setting his drink aside, he plops down on the grass beside the pool, letting his legs dangle in the cool water.

"Hot as balls out here. Hope you don’t mind." He glances over at you with a cocky grin.

You grimace as his feet contaminate the pool. Part of you wants to recoil, but the water feels too good, and you don’t want to give him an even better view of your body.

“Coming out here to cool off on this ‘hot as balls’ day is puttin’ on a show for you?” You scoff at him as you push your sunglasses on top of your head. He’s persistent, you can give him that. But irritating. What is it with old men that think being an asshole is attractive? Although, it did sort of work on Anakin…

"You’re right, maybe I'll have to show you a real wet t-shirt contest. Bet I can make my shirt cling better than those tiny triangles you're calling a top."

“If you wanna get in my pants old man, one-upping me ain’t gonna be the way to do it.” You press the ‘volume up’ button on your speaker, but his persistence knows no bounds.

"Old man?" He scoffs, sitting up to shoot you an indignant look. "I'll have you know I'm in my prime, sweetheart. And trust me, I don't need no cheap tricks to get in any girl's panties." He stands up and start stripping off his shirt, revealing his tattooed, muscular chest and arms.

Your jaw clenches at the sight of Anakin shirtless. His body is prime, and tattoos… were your weakness. But there was no way you were gonna let him know that.

He flashes you a wicked grin before diving into the shallow pool, still in his jeans. Water splashes everywhere, soaking you in the process.

Also, you had to remind yourself, he was still gross. Reminded to you by his gross words, and his obnoxious splashing, crashing your pool time.

"My bad," He responds to your grumbles of frustration with a shit-eating smirk, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

"You gotta hell of a mouth on you, though, girl. Those talkin’ lips might get you in trouble," He teases as he settles into the water. "One wrong word and this 'old man' might just have to teach you some respect."

“Teach me some respect?” You let out a full, genuine laugh with your words as you reach behind you to the nearby table which held your own cigarettes. “Coming from the convict? Is that supposed to scare me?”

He narrows his eyes at you as you laugh, not finding his threat the least bit funny. "Convict? I've done my time. Last I checked, that makes me a changed man." He reaches out to snatch a cigarette from your hand, placing it between his own lips. "Besides, I think we both know you like a little danger. Why else would a classy girl like you be slumming it in a shithole like this?"

He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke in your direction with a smug smirk. "Face it, babygirl, you're drawn to me. The bad boy mystique, I get it. But I'm the one in control here. And right now, I wanna see more of that smokin’ hot body..." He grabs your wrist and yanks you closer to him in the pool.

You instinctively try to tug yourself away, but his grip is too strong. Being this close to him does things to you that you’d rather not come to terms with, but he forces you to.

“Jesus, you’re filthy!” You exclaim, and pray he doesn’t notice the way your thighs squeeze together below the water. “Gimme my cigarette,” You hiss, hoping to change the subject and ignore the rest of it all.

He leans in closer, face inches from yours as he takes another drag. "Filthy is kinda my thing, sweetheart," His blue eyes bore into yours, voice low and tempting. "And trust me, I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Slowly, he brings the lit cigarette to your lush lips, tracing them teasingly. "Want a taste?" He purrs, pressing his body against yours in the cool water. "Or are you too much of a good girl to indulge in a little sin?"

You can’t help the way your chest heaves as your arousal grows, and what’s worse, you can’t avoid Anakin knowing, the small distance between you causing your tits to brush against his chest with every heavy breath. His words are dangerously persuasive, and his eyes only emphasize it all.

But you remember yourself, the good girl you are, the smart girl you are, and find a way around his teasing in more ways than one.

Your tongue slides out seductively, catches his eye, and the end of the cigarette. The wetness of your tongue allows you to pull it between your lips, steal a drag and blow it right back into his face. You slide it to the side of your mouth to speak, hoping your voice comes out stronger than it feels. “Don’t you already got a toy waitin’ to be attacked?”

"Oh I got plenty of toys," He smirks, undeterred as the smoke billows around you. "But you're a whole new level of fun, baby.”

His hands slide down to grope your ass, pulling your hips flush against his. You can feel his hardening length pressing against you through his soaked jeans. "Forget about my other girls. Right now, it's all about you and me," He growls, nipping at your ear. It’s disgusting, but it’s intoxicating, enough for you not to notice you were giving in.

Abruptly, he stands up, scooping you into his arms. "Let's take this inside where we can have some real fun, shall we?" He carries you towards your trailer, ignoring your protests. "Unless you'd rather I fuck you right here where everyone can watch..."

You let out a shaky exhale at his filthy suggestion of exhibition, and mentally curse yourself.

Your hands grip the sides of the trailer door, legs subconsciously tightly clung around his waist to keep yourself up. The two of you are dripping on the concrete steps, your nipples are hard and poking through the fabric of your bikini top, both due to the change of temperature and your arousal.

“My mom… she’s inside. She’ll beat your ass, Skywalker,” You say, still trying your best to resist, despite its growing futility. You won’t be one of those girls that Anakin Skywalker gets the best of so easily. Even if the feeling of his rising erection against your own sex is making your mind swim. “You’re older’n she is.”

"Pfft, your mom's a sweet lady. Barely a challenge," He laughs as he kicks the door open, strolling into the trailer with you still around his waist. The familiar scent of old newspapers and stale cooking greets you.

Anakin’s eyes roam the cluttered space, and spot your mother sitting in the only comfy chair. She looks up at the two of you, an eyebrow raised.

"Hey, Patty," He calls out, tossing you onto the only clear space on the couch without even bothering to look. "Got a little present for you."

She huffs and shakes her head, barely amused.

"Mind your manners, Anakin," she admonishes. He winks at her before striding over, topless and wet, settling onto the arm of her chair.

"Y’all got any vodka, Pats? I sure could use a shot to cool off," He asks, smirking over at you, his gaze hot and hungry, unphased by your mother relaxing right beside him.

Your shocked eyes shoot daggers in Anakin’s direction the whole time, pissed at the way he spoke to your mother so casually, pissed at his boldness, pissed at your mother for allowing it, and pissed at yourself for finding him so goddamn sexy for it. You let out an angry grumble under your breath, snatching a towel from the laundry piled beside you on the couch and wrapping it around yourself, finally somewhat shielded from his predatory gaze.

“‘Course we got vodka. Don’t waste my time asking me stupid questions, Skywalker.” Your mother snaps at him in that calm, motherly way, and now your infuriated gaze is aimed at her. Since when were they so friendly with each other?

“And that little present better be a fresh ounce of pot, not my half-naked daughter.” She drawls, practically paying him no mind, eyes set on the TV. That explains it.

“Anakin,” You cut before he can speak again, voice sharp. “Don’t you have a guest, and vodka in your own home?” You say, making your way to the kitchen to fix your own drink. You’d need it if this was how the rest of the day would go.

He chuckles at you, and turns back to your mother with a taunting smirk, "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm fresh out. I'll make it up to ya though, promise."

Patty rolls her eyes, but Anakin can see the glint of amusement in them.

"Just ‘cause I'm her mama don’t mean I cain't recognize a lustful look when I see one," she addresses him, referring to her daughter. "You oughtta keep an eye on her, Ani. Seems like she can't stay away," She teases, puffing on her cigarette.

"Oh, I'm workin’ on it," He says, eyes meeting yours. There's a challenge in his voice, daring you to deny him—or worse, wanting you to.

You get the vodka and grab two glasses, pouring the clear liquid and watering it down. The ice clinks loudly as you return from the kitchen. Anakin watches your every move, his cock hardening again, the scent of your arousal lingering.

You set the drinks down on the cluttered coffee table, grabbing your drink and leaving Anakin to fetch his own. Your face grimaces when you notice what you’re pretty sure is an erection forming in his wet pants again. What an old creep. But you wonder what it looks like.

“Have fun with Patty, Anakin,” You tease, walking down the hall toward your bedroom with your drink.

Your mother shakes her head in amusement as Anakin follows you down the hall.

"Hey now, don't go teasin’ a grown man like that," He calls out, quickly grabbing his own drink and following you to your bedroom.

He leans against the doorframe, watching hungrily as you turn to face him. The vodka burns going down, fueling the fire in his veins and his eyes. "Why don’t you sit that purty little ass down on the bed and we’ll talk about why a good girl like you is looking at me like that," he takes a step closer.

The flush in your cheeks derives from a combination of frustration and arousal that’s gone on much too long, and you’d had about enough of. Anakin had a big mouth, but he was little more than a tease. You were barely more than half his age, and he seemed to be all bark and no bite, just having fun trying to get a rise out of the little girl in the trailer next door.

You down most of your vodka, the burning in your body beginning to mirror his. The sexual tension was palpable between you, but you were starting to think he didn’t really have the intention to quench it.

“Make me.”

A low growl escapes him at your defiance. With a sudden burst, he’s on you, crowding you against the closed door. "I'll make you, alright. I'll make you beg, babydoll," He promises, lips brushing against your ear.

Suddenly, he catches your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dances with yours, seeking and finding entry to explore the depths of your mouth. His hand slides up under the towel to squeeze your breast, finger rolling over your nipple.

Anakin tastes like vodka, beer & cigarettes, so filthy, so deviant, so wonderfully intoxicating against your mouth. It’s hard to hold back your moans as his quick hand touches you, but you do your best, knowing your mother was only down the hall.

Your hand searches wildly behind you for the doorknob, the two of you bursting through the door and into the bedroom. You manage to break away from him and take a few steps back, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you take in the sight before you.

Those blue eyes, wrinkles formed at the corners, that evil smirk on his mouth, that muscular, tattooed chest still dripping from the pool, the erection straining against his pants. You set your glass down on the dresser and wonder how you ended up here, with this filthy, disgusting, irresistible old man standing in your bedroom, ready to wreck you, bikini bottoms growing sticky over it.

He stalks towards you, eyes burning with lust. "Still trying to play hard to get?" He backs you up until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. "I think we both know how badly you been wantin’ this."

His hands make quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside to palm your soft breasts. The grin that rises across his face is almost sickening, like a devious child that had just opened a gift and found it filled with fireworks. The way it lights you up is sicker.

Leaning down, he runs his tongue over one pert nipple before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, groaning at the taste of your skin. This time you can’t help a moan from breaking past your lips as his mouth assaults your breast.

His other hand slides into your bottoms, calloused fingers stroking your slick folds. “Fuck. You're wet as hell," He mumbles, more to himself than to you, pressing two fingers inside your tight heat.

You’re already seeing stars as his thick, expert fingers work their magic on you, roughly stroking every sensitive, gushy spot. Your hand rushes up to cover your mouth and hold back my pathetic sounds as you unravel.

His fingers thrust into your pussy, his thumb rubbing messily against your clit, ruthless in his pursuit of your pleasure. "Tell me you want this," he demands, nipping at your neck as his fingers work on your clit, steadily building your arousal. "Tell me you want Anakin Skywalker to fuck you into these sheets."

His cock strains so hard against his jeans, the sound of the denim creaks as it stretches under the weight. He wants to see you squirm and beg, desperate for his release, desperate for the release he promises to give you. The filthy, experienced older man teaching you the best sex of your young life.

You can’t resist anymore, not with his fingers inside you, driving you wild. Already he’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced; pleasure clouds your mind, makes you forget everything except how badly you want him.

You breathe heavily as you work up the words he demands, small whimpers leaving your throat as you try to speak. “A-Anakin,” a sharp exhale, then a gasp, then a whimper. “I want you.”

A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face as your needy plea reaches his ears. "That's what I like to hear, baby girl," He purrs, withdrawing his fingers and making quick work of his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, hard and heavy, piercing glinting in the low light.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. It’s a reaction you would’ve stifled if you were in your right mind, but had no capacity to hide right now. His cock was thick, and pierced, unequivocally like nothing you’d ever seen before. It seemed downright heavy. It was hypnotizing.

"Get on the bed and spread those legs," He commands, giving his cock a few pumps as he watches you. "Time to show ya what a real man feels like."

Unintentionally, you ignore his command, closing the distance between you and dropping to your knees before him. It’s even thicker up close, plain intimidating, but you can’t stop your tongue falling wide out of your mouth to taste him, painting the underside of his cock head with your drool.

He grunts as your tongue laps at his cock, one hand shooting down to twine in your hair. "Ah fuck, yeah," He sighs, helping your head bob on his dick. "Good girl, take it just like that, get it nice and wet for that tight little cunt."

The stretch in your jaw is substantial, and it turns you on to no end, struggling to take his thickness down. He tastes like metal and sweat and it’s so good.

The piercing catches on your bottom lip and he hisses in pleasure, grip tightening in your hair. "Goddamn, girl, that mouth is good. Gonna make me bust down your throat if you keep that up."

But he wants more. Needs to feel your cunt gripping him, sucking him in. With heavy reluctance, he pulls your head back and tugs you to your feet, all but throwing you on the bed.

"On your hands and knees, babydoll. Ass in the air," he demands, giving your ass a sharp smack. "Time to put that pussy to work."

You whimper at the sharp sting on your ass, shocked at the way it sends surges through you.

This time you obey his commands, turning onto your hands and knees, naturally arching your back in a way that draws Anakin in like a moth to a flame, giving him a prime view of your curves and holes, hearing him shudder and cuss behind you.

You bury your face in the mattress to conceal your whines at the coldness of his piercing teasing your clitoris as he slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, pussy clenching in anticipation of the stretch he was gonna give.

"Hope you're ready, baby, cause I ain’t gonna be gentle,” He warns, wrangling your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pushes into your entrance.

With one hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, and the sound in the room is immediately obscene, your screeching into the mattress at the brutal stretch, his groaning and fussing over your tight heat, the rhythmic beat of his hips slapping against your ass.

"Take it, you lil’ tease. This is what you want, ain’t it? To be split open on my big cock?" He reaches around to fondle your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples as he rails you.

“Ahh, fuck!” You cry into the mattress, the magnificent assault on your cunt rapidly reeling you toward your orgasm. Anakin was incredible; huge, relentless, stretching you wide and filling you to the brim. He fucked you like he invented sex, metal of his piercing stimulating that sensitive spot deep inside you with each perfect snap of his hips.

He groans as your pussy clenches around him, grip on your hips tightening, undoubtedly leaving bruises. "Fuck, you feel good wrapped around my cock." He moans, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. "Gonna fill this tight cunt up, make you fucking mine-” Not a promise, but a prayer. You can feel him getting close, twitching inside you, pounding into you faster and ramming into that deep, spongey spot.

His hand snakes down to rub tight circles on your clit, rapidly reeling you toward the edge. "Cum on my cock baby, let me feel you milk me," He commands, slamming into you one last time before he stills, grinding his hips against you with a deep growl, spilling rope after creamy rope of his seed deep inside you, forcing you hollering, trembling, & convulsing through your orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah,” you hear from behind you, a weak, high pitched moan escaping your throat as you feel the flood. The sensation quenches a deep thirst you’d waited too long to address.

Your poor cunt aches in the sweetest way as he pulls out, stings as he spreads your cheeks to gawk at his seed leaking from your hole.

"Look at that,” He drawls, slowly dragging his fingers through the mess and pushing it back inside. “So fucking hot.”

He gives your ass a wet kiss, jiggles the fat in his hand, and then flips you over onto your back, settling between your legs. "Think you can handle round two, little girl?" He asks, cock already hardening again at the sight of you debauched on the sheets beneath him, cum painting your thighs.

The feeling of Anakin’s cock hardening on your stomach makes your heart rate pick back up. It’s a little frightening: wasn’t it unusual for any man, let alone a man of his age, to snap back so quickly?

In your short moment of lucidity, you begin to worry. Anakin had fucked you without a condom, cum inside you, and now dared to do it again. The last thing this man needed was to knock up some young girl, and the last thing you needed was to be knocked up by the seedy old man in the trailer next to yours, but that’s right where y’all were headed.

But your brain is wiped when his hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump, and you’ve lost the will to care all over again. Filled with his cum, threat of having this scrub’s baby over your head, and you don’t care. Poor cunt pathetically swollen and throbbing from the first round, but you don’t care. You want him again and again.

You can’t muster the words, all good sense fucked right out of you, so instead you look deep into his beautiful blues and nod with a pleading look in your own eyes.

He grins wickedly, cock twitching against your stomach at your agreement. "I knew you’d be a good one," He praises, positioning himself at your entrance once more. With a gentle push of his hips, he’s sinking back into your pussy, groaning at the feeling of his cum squelching around his shaft.

His lips find your neck, biting and sucking as he finds a pace, headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. "Gonna ruin this little pussy," He swears, hand tightening around your throat.

"Gonna make you mine, fuck, my own personal little cocksleeve."

His hand on your throat heightens your pleasure and leaves you seeing stars, both from the pleasure and the constriction on your oxygen. The new position allows you to see him, that beautiful face, his robust body, the way his abs flex as his hips snap into yours. From this position he can see your tits bounce as he pounds into you, the way your eyes roll back as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

Anakin slides in and out of your cunt with ease, thrusts lubed with his lingering cum spilling around you. It’s obscene, but so, so good.

“Ah, Ani,” your legs wrap tight around his waist, hold him deep inside you, nails dig into his back. “F-fuck you feel so good,” you gasp.

"Fuck yes, take it, take my cock like the good little slut you are.”

He releases your throat to grab your hips, angling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you with each pass. "Gonna fill this pussy up over and over, make sure my cum takes. You'll be swollen with my seed, doll. Round with my baby. Fuck, the thought of you, all knocked up, tits leaking, begging for more..."

He can feel his release building, balls drawing up tight, full and heavy with another load.

The flood of air, his filthy fantasies, his fucking expert cock driving into your raw, freshly-fucked cunt with otherworldly precision leaves your ears ringing as your orgasm rips through you. The entire world fades into black, tears prick at your eyes, electric contractions take over your whole being. And when you come back to the light, you’re begging.

“Fuck, Ani,” You squeak, “Please, please, please, cum inside me,” You plead, hijacked by a sudden desperation for the older man’s baby.

His eyes darken at your desperate plea, teeth grit as he feels his own orgasm ready to burst. "Fuck yes, gonna pump you full of my cum, make you fucking drip with it," He pants, hips stuttering as he erupts. "Fucking take it, take it all, just like that," He rambles, grinding his hips as he empties himself inside you.

Finally spent, he collapses on top of you, cock still twitching in your heat.

Your legs are shaking, pussy clenching at the aftershocks, overflowing your shared fluids. Your vision is blurry, throat parched, completely and positively wrecked. Strained sighs echo out of you, chest rising and falling heavily, pressing your bare breasts into his chest.

He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, your collarbone, tasting the sweat on your skin. "Goddamn, baby girl, that was intense.” He sighs.

“You’re tellin’ me,” You breathe out. “I can barely see.” You confess with a lazy smile, still yet to fully come back to your mind. You let out a pained sigh as you try to adjust under his weight, needing to stretch and soothe your sore limbs.

With a grunt, he rolls off of you, cock slipping from your abused hole with a wet sound.

"You did good, baby. Took my cock like a champ," He praises, running his fingers over your hair. "But don't think we're done yet. As soon as I'm hard again, I'm gonna flip you over and take you from behind. Fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

He leans in, eyes carefully observing you, and captures your lips in a filthy kiss.

"Gonna keep you in this bed all fucking night.”

You let out a heavy breath as you adjust to lay on your side, facing Anakin, placing a hand over his colorful chest. “I don’t know how you do it, old man. Even most men my age can barely cum twice, let alone be waiting for the next round after that,” You laugh, eyes lit up bright in your post-orgasm glow.

Anakin laughs too, and it’s nice. Unlike his usual laughter, snide and sarcastic, but honest.

His hand finds your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. "Years of practice, sweetheart.” In truth, the thought of you, young and eager, so responsive to his touch, is enough to keep him hard and ready. "Besides, I got a lot of lost time to make up for. Gotta make sure I ruin you properly, make it so no other man can ever satisfy you like I can."

He rolls on top of you once more, half-hard cock nestling against your thigh, resuming the feather-light kisses on your neck. "Ready for round three, baby girl? Gonna fuck this pussy so good, you'll be feeling me for weeks.”

The sound you let out is a mix of a sigh, a laugh, a moan, demonstrating your blissful exhaustion. “I don’t think I can take another round, Skywalker. I’m swollen enough as is.” You grip his biceps, resisting the urge to take his cock in your hand. He’s too fun to play with, but you can’t take the risk of turning him all the way on again, not when your cunt was already beginning to ache.

He groans at your rejection, cock jumping against your thigh. "You sure, doll? I'm not nearly done with this sweet little cunt," He mumbles pitifully into your neck.

But he can hear the exhaustion in your voice, feel the way your body trembles beneath him. Reluctantly, he rolls off of you, propping himself up on his elbow. "Alright, baby girl, you win. But don't think for a second that this is over. I'll have you again soon enough."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, tongue lazily tangling with yours.

You moan into his mouth, gripping his bicep to ground yourself. One of your legs lifts to drape across his hips, pulling yourself in close to him. You were beginning to like the feeling of being held in his arms. It was ironic how such a dangerous, predatory man had managed to make you feel so safe.

You pull away to speak, eyes falling to the mattress. “I don’t really want you to go yet,” You admit quietly. You fought him for a long while, and now, like a stupid little girl, you didn’t want to let go.

He smiles at your confession, hand running soothing patterns on your back. "Didn't think you would, baby girl.”

Carefully, he gathers you into his arms, rolling onto his back and pulling you to lie on his chest. "Rest for a bit. Let me hold you," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's a rare moment of tenderness from him, but something about you brings it out.

You crane your neck up to look at Anakin from where you lie on his chest.

With the late afternoon light peeking through the window, his eyes are illuminated. He’s breathtaking, showcasing the experienced he’d gained over the years, but also maintaining his youth. You still hardly knew the man, up until now he’d only been your annoying neighbor, but… He wasn’t as bad as you thought. Sweet, even. It made your heart melt. Who knew Anakin Skywalker was like this behind closed doors?

You reach over him to the nightstand to grab a cigarette. As the buzz envelopes your brain and my body, you sink into Anakin’s arms without a care in the world, kissing the colors dancing across his chest. Let this old man wreck you.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of your curves, the sheen of sweat on your skin. You look thoroughly fucked out, debauched, and it's a sight he could get used to.

His fingers trace idle patterns on your back as you relax against him. He kisses your head again, repeating the uncanny, saccharine gesture, breathing in the scent of sex and nicotine.

Your brain reminds you of something Anakin had said earlier, in the midst of his pursuit.

“D’you really think I’m living here for fun? Cause I like danger and bad boys?” You ask him with a laugh, voice thick, low, seductive with your exhaustion.

Anakin chuckles, sound rumbling through his chest. "Baby, I don't care why you're here. All that matters is that you are," he says, a hand sliding down to grab your ass. "Couldn't ask for a better view’n watchin’ you prance around in them tiny little bikinis.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he grips you, jiggles you, pulls you closer. “Fuck, the things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

A small smile tugs at your lips, as a mixture of excitement, but also disappointment, courses through you at his words. You didn’t really expect him to actually care but… you didn’t think he’d be that blatant about it, fresh after fucking you. He doesn’t actually think about you, he doesn’t actually want to know you. You were a toy to him. And it… hurt. And you didn’t know what to make of that, yet. Where once there was a warmth fueled by laying beside him, there quickly became an emptiness.

You had to remind yourself Anakin was no good, he’d probably make a terrible partner realistically, and you knew this. But it never feels good to be actually sexually objectified. Although, objectively…. having sex with Anakin felt really good.

Here, with Anakin, lay the newest dilemma in your mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sure you’ve imagined more than enough to keep me busy,” You say as you start to sit up, giving Anakin a long kiss on the cheek, before clearing your throat. “I should really get cleaned up.”

He frowns, hand tightening reflexively on your hip. "Stay," he urges, almost angrily, in a tone that makes your heart freeze, ready to jump into fight or flight, waiting for the moment his characteristic sourness is turned toward you.

But Anakin just doesn’t like the feeling of you leaving, even if it's just to the bathroom.

But he notices the distant look in your eyes, the way you're already pulling away from him emotionally.

Fuck, he thinks. I should've known it was too good to be true, that a girl like you wouldn't stick around for a washed-up old ex-con like me.

He calls your name, voice softer than he’d ever heard it himself. "Don't go. Stay with me, just a little longer."

Your eyebrows knit together as Anakin’s soft tone takes you off guard, the way he nearly pleads with you to stay. It’s uncanny, but the way it makes your heart ache is even worse. He was starting to be a true mystery. “Um, okay,” you whisper, somewhat softening back into his side, heart still racing as you toe the line between danger and safety, dangerously thin in Anakin’s presence.

Still marinating in your confusion, something makes you take his arm and pull it close over you, gently stroking his skin. It was as if something reached out & told you he needed the comfort.

You lay there together for a while, holding each other in silence, feeling each other out. It’s nice, being in the arms of a strong, older man. Especially Anakin’s. You find solace there, you have to admit. You think he must have, too. You had to practically tear him off you and throw him out the door to get him to go home.

And as soon as the door shut behind him, you were wrecked, like a piece of your heart had walked out with him. But you held it together. Anakin was surely not the kind of man who wanted a little girl clinging to him every minute. You would be patient until you saw him again.

The door clicks shut behind me as I step out into the fading evening light. I can still feel the lingering warmth of your skin on mine, the soft curves of your body imprinted on my memory. Fuck, I didn't want to leave. Didn't want to let you go.

But I knew I had to. Couldn't let myself get too attached, too vulnerable. You were a kid, barely more than a baby, and I was a fucking mess. A criminal, a drunk, a man with a past so dark it would break you if you knew the half of it.

So I forced myself to walk away, each step an act of willpower I didn't have.

[moved-to-cyarinka]

I just watched the latest episode three times in a row and I just. I need to talk about this.

More specifically, I need to talk about THIS moment:

…because this is some of the best autistic representation I’ve ever seen. I know, this is funky Star Wars animation how good can it be, but just bear with me for a minute.

When Omega asks Tech why he doesn’t act like they’re a family, he’s taken aback—he physically recoils. And then, instead of the simple, clumsy answer I expected, the writers did something I have NEVER seen before, not in a show or a movie or a game or ANYTHING.

They show him struggling to find the words. And they let him take his time to do it, because that’s what he needs.

You can see how hard he’s thinking about what to say to her. Finding the right thing to say doesn’t come easily when there isn’t technically a right answer. You can’t calculate the perfect response to a question like Omega’s, but you can try. He IS trying.

I have done this before. It sometimes takes genuine effort to phrase things the right way to not offend people, to force my tone to be acceptable, to communicate in a way that just doesn’t come naturally. I’ll sit in my therapist’s office for 3 minutes turning over a question in my head, trying out the answers until I have one that feels and sounds right. I have never seen anything like this before.

And then Tech hangs his head. It’s the weary acceptance that he’s different, and people don’t understand him, and he’s inadvertently hurt someone he cares about because he just. Doesn’t. Express himself the same way she does. But he doesn’t blame her for not understanding. When he sighs, you can tell he’s frustrated at himself.

I have felt this before. I have never felt so understood by a piece of media in my entire goddamn life.

All of this to say: I’m genuinely blown away by the nuanced understanding behind this scene. I never wanna hear that Tech is a negative stereotype of an autistic genius again—just because his autism isn’t some groundbreaking new uwu flavor doesn’t mean it’s not REAL. Ty for listening to my ramble if you got this far :))

[zweetpea]

Interlude: Between storm and forest

“I’m sorry what?” You ask but it’s muffled. Scaramouche ungags you. “I’m sorry what?”

He kisses you and you kiss him back. “Yes! Finally someone who wants to be with me! I’ve been waiting for someone to actually want me! I guess Baizhu and Dvalin do, but I was promised debauchery! Three people interested does not a harem make. I guess Ayaka may count. But I’ve never seen a harem anime with four people.”

“You’re not going to have a harem. I am going to be your husband and with your power I’m going to overthrow the Archons.”

“Yeah! Let’s go! Venti shot me! That bitch has this coming. Zhongli may be hot and he may or may not have two cocks but he still nearly let his people die so he could drink tea. And your mom may have giant tits… actually your mom’s coming around on me. Like she’s a bitch for abandoning you but she is trying to be a better leader.”

“Ugh, you’re loud.” He starts to leave.

“Wait! Don’t you want to ravish me as my husband to be?”

He looks back at you, face as red as a tomato. “What are you saying!?”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Are you self conscious? I can take top if it would be easier for you.”

“Just shut up!!” He screamed and left.

It was about a month since Scaramouche had taken you away from Inazuma. He’s barely touched you in that time. Gave you a few kisses but it never went farther than that and a few cuddles at night. Like sure you guys are traveling but still!

“Scara.” You say one night. Climbing on top of him. “Please.”

His face goes up in flames. “Stop.”

“I have been promised debauchery. I can feel that you want this. Your dick is sprung against my ass. So what is the problem?

…

we don’t have to do anything tonight but I’d like to know what is going on. A normal thing married couples do is this. Just tell me what’s wrong, I promise I won’t judge.”

“…I… I’ve never… done this before.”

“Do you want to wait?”

“No. It would be harder then because I’ve put it off so much. Doesn’t that bother you though?”

“Do you think that I came out of the womb a non virgin? I had my first time like everyone else. We’ll take it as slow as you want.”

“In that case.” He flips you both over on the bed. “I hope you’re ready to not be able to walk tomorrow. I may have never done this but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.” He kisses down your neck.

“Okay this is certainly something I didn’t expect. I never knew I needed Dom Virgin Scara in my life.”

“I won’t be a virgin for long darling.”

You squeak. Now it’s your turn to blush like a virgin.

The next morning you can’t feel your legs, your ass is sore, your throat hurts and your mouth tastes salty.

“Can you fuck me like your a virgin every night?” You say when he wakes up.

“I’m spent. Next time I’m binding these grabby hands of yours with my Obi.”

“What does a Star Wars character have to do with how hard you fucked me?”

“What’s Star Wars?”

“Nerd movies. The first three made were decent. The prequels and sequels suck!”

“What’s this?” A voice from the doorway called. You two looked back and saw dottore.

“What a pretty specimen.” He said walking closer to you.

“Stay away!” Scara warns wrapping his arms around you.

Dottore lunges and Scara quickly grabs the electro gnosis and uses it to blast you away.

You clung to the blanket for dear life. And when you awoke, you were surrounded by sand and tan buff men and women.

“Pansexual panic!”

[champi8n]

die for you | ethan landry

ethan landry x fem reader

warnings: slightly suggestive

sypnosis: ethan isn’t sure wether his feelings for you are unrequited until he finally opens his eyes

ethan had been watching you for a while and he believes developing feelings for you has been one of the worst things to ever happen to him

you and ethan met at a frat party through chad, he thought it would be a good idea to introduce you two to each other since according to chad you both fit perfectly in his definition of “geeks”

geeks are often associated to be losers like him but ethan knew from the moment he laid his eyes on you that you were no geek, he knew from the way you spoke to him so confidently and how you’re body language radiated control

he knew from how he had seen you dancing earlier and from how he wasn’t able to take his eyes off you, well it wasn’t just him but what in his eyes is everybody

you were charming and you had him wrapped around your finger from that first conversation, ethan remembers the sound of your laughter as he told you a dumb star wars joke and how your eyes seemed to sparkle from the low lights in the room

you stayed with him in a corner of the party all night and ethan is sure you only did that because you felt bad as you realised he was left alone, yet he wasn’t complaining because from that day on you guys became good friends

you and ethan had a free period at the same time so when you saw him waiting by a cafe near campus you approached him straight away without a single drop of shyness

was he shocked? yes, he wasn’t used to being approached in such a warm manner by people he’s only talked to once, he was more used to people pretending he doesn’t exist after they’ve had conversations with him yet he wasn’t complaining about that change in his routine

you guys talked about anything and soon you became someone very special in his heart, he knew he felt attraction towards you from when he first met you but he didn’t expect attraction to turn into real feelings

“what if you just tell her you have a friend that looks just likes you that thinks she’s fine?” chad spoke

ethan had been laying on the floor of their room staring at the roof for around an hour while having a small therapy session with chad

he wasn’t really sure how chad could help him get over his feelings for you but he definitely knew more than himself, he was inexperienced, clumsy, and he’s gotten rejected by all of his crushes with them saying “ew” at him

“she’s obviously gonna know i’m talking about myself, chad” ethan sighed, turning his head to the left to make eye contact with chad “you know she once told me about how she hates being hit on, what if she starts hating me?”

“that’s not gonna happen because she obviously has the feels for you” ethan frowned, almost sure that chad was probably delusional

“i don’t know what world you’re living in, but i’m quite sure she will never look at me that way, it’s like she doesn’t take me seriously”

“are you kidding? ethan i’ve seen the way y/n looks at you and believe me i’ve heard her talk about you too” as soon as those words came out of chad’s mouth, ethan immediately sat up intrigued

“what has she said?” chad notices the light in ethan’s eyes and proceeds to let out a chuckle at seeing how childishly in love he looks

“well whenever she sees me she asks about you, or when we are talking she brings you up at random moments” a tiny smile begins to form in ethan’s face, he’s using all of his force to try and block that smile away but the joy of knowing you talk about him too is overwhelming for him “oh wait, i just remembered something... we once played smash or pass and she said she would smash you” chad said "she didn't even hesitate, I remember"

ethan’s jaw dropped a little bit at the unexpected comment causing chad to burst out laughing even more

“shut up, it’s not funny!” ethan threw a pillow at him, flustered and embarrassed at how chad seemed entertained with his excitement

“god you’re such a virgin” chad said between chuckles, causing ethan to stand up ready to defend himself

but as he was walking towards chad, the two of them heard something. three knocks at the door left him and chad frozen while they both stared at the source of the noise

it was midnight and he wasn’t used to the door being knocked at such late hours, specially on a tuesday

him and chad share a confused look and as ethan is slowly walking towards the door to peek through the peep hole, two more knocks were heard but this time accompanied with a voice

“ethan? it’s me”

he heard you whisper and as soon as you did he felt panic run through his body as he realised he was only wearing a black tank top paired with R2 D2 pijama trousers

he was going to try and change his outfit quick but his fear came true as soon as chad opened the door, revealing you with a zip up sweater and low waisted jeans

“hey y/n, what’s up?” chad smiled at you, gesture which you did back “i was just going out to buy some … crack” chad said, leaving you a little bit confused but you weren’t gonna question it

“okay, have fun…i guess?” you watched as chad walked off, mumbling a yep, making you lay your eyes back on ethan

you had never seen ethan wearing anything like what he was wearing and you were completely not expecting it

you let your eyes wander for a minute, looking at him shamelessly, you could feel your heart racing as you realise how muscly he actually was and how strong he seems, yet it was all contrasted with his pijama bottoms and you couldn’t help but think he’s adorable

ethan did not let that go pass him, he saw the way you had checked him out and a light pink covered his cheeks, embarrassed and at the same time curious on wether you liked what you see

“are you okay, shouldn’t you be finishing your log?” ethan asked, you had mentioned earlier this week you had a final piece of coursework for your major

you were a fashion major so your work for school was almost always practical

“i know but i just…” you paused, mouth dry at the sight of him and fingers fidgeting because of your nerves “i needed to see you”

ethan raises his eyebrows, surprised at the remark and honestly speechless

“move, let me come in” you pushed past him, making yourself comfortable in his bed trying to leave what you said behind, ethan followed you with his eyes, closing the door behind him and sitting backwards on chad’s chair

“I need you to be my model for my piece and I must take your measurements” you dropped one of the reasons for your visit, ready to hear ethan's complaining

“no!" he said, not even thinking it through "there is no way in hell I'm modeling"

“why not? you're perfect model material" you sat up in his bed, looking at him with pleading eyes

"are you crazy? chad is more model material than me, models are meant to be pretty-"

"and you're pretty, you're a pretty boy!" you cut him off, not even thinking twice before letting your thoughts out

ethan raised his eyebrows at your comment, letting his mouth fall open but he couldn't seem to form anything coherent to say

noticing how you left him speechless you decide to keep talking "please just be my model, i really want to make you something"

the boy sighed, he felt powerless under your gaze and at the same time at complete peace

"fine" he rolled his eyes and you immediately jumped out of his bed to give him a warm hug that was well received by ethan since you could feel him caressing your back

"thank you, thank you, thank you! i promise you won't regret it, it's going to be so much fun" you pulled back, smiling at him and pulling from your back pocket a roll of measuring tape

"wow you knew I wasn't going to say no, didn't you?” ethan asked seeing how moved to chad's desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil and putting them on the floor next to him

"okay, here's what i need you to do, you're gonna stand still and look pretty, okay" you grabbed his shoulders as you spoke and then proceeded to kneel down in front of him

you caught him off guard a hundred percent, i mean, you were on your knees in front of him and his brain forgot what you actually intended to do until he saw your hand reach for the measuring tape

he gulped as he looked down on you and he tried to focus on literally anything else that would push his dirty thoughts away yet his attempts were useless as he felt your hands around his waist raising his tank top up a little and wrapping the tape around his skin

you moved to his side and then wrote down on the piece of paper a number he couldn't really see from where he was

after that you measured his leg length and then stood up to do his shoulders and torso, you seemed so concentrated he couldn't help but admire the way you bit your lip and the way your eyes mildly squinted to read the numbers in the tape

there was silence but it wasn't awkward, it was comfortable and he swore he could stay like this forever, watching you do your work and appreciating every small detail about you

"one sec" you said, interrupting his thoughts, you took off your zip up sweater leaving it in the hanger the boys had in their room, revealing the white tube top you had hidden underneath, leaving ethan stunned

you weren't naive and you noticed how ethan's adam's apple bounced as his eyes looked away from you, happy on the inside that you seemed to have an effect on him

"you seem nervous" you walked towards him, a small smile painted in your face from how he couldn't look you in the eye "you're going to be amazing as my model, you shouldn't be" he looked at you, giving you a tense smile

ethan felt a little relieved since he thought you had caught on to him yet his eyes followed your movements as you put your arms on his shoulders, massaging them slowly and ready to make your move

"you’re acting as if you have a little crush…" you teased him, seeing how his eyes widened “on me”

“what?!” he screamed followed by incoherent words and stuttering “I don't know what you're talking about, I don't... like you” he stated, hoping he sounded believable

disappointment ran through your body, feeling how your chest started to feel heavy as embarrassment got a hold of you

he noticed how your expression changed and how you almost seemed sad, yet he couldn't understand why

until it hit him, what if he was wrong all along? what if chad was right and you actually felt the same as him? what if he just ruined his chances with you and he just hurt your feelings on accident?

he stood there frozen in his place as you put strands of your hair behind your ear, quickly moving to pick up the measuring tape from the floor and the piece of paper, folding it as fast as you can and putting it in your back pocket

you were confident and strong but if you were being honest it was mostly a big facade and deep inside you can't help but be extremely sensitive, no matter how much you try to hide it

you felt like an idiot as you quickly rolled the measuring tape, thinking about how stupid of you it was to have such the audacity to be as delusional to listen to your friends and believe ethan could actually feel something for you too

you were dying of nerves as you walked to his dorm that evening yet as you stood outside you were built with courage to try and make a real move on ethan today, not just telling him his hair looked nice or that you liked his shirt like you always did

now you were just filled with regret as you couldn't even look him in the eyes “i'm going to go now, I'll text you if um, when the piece is done”

you quickly walked towards his door, wanting to escape the silence that was slowly becoming unbearable for you as fast as you could, not even bothering to get your zip up

as you opened the door ready to walk away you heard him move behind you and soon you felt a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you back harshly

“don’t please” he said before quickly engulfing you in a soft kiss

your hands found their place in his hair as his went to your waist, you caressed his hair as you felt him feel your back

the kiss was soft and gentle, yet the innocence of the kiss quickly escalated into a hungry kiss, he bit softly at your lip to your surprise but you were not going to complain

it was almost desperate but at the same time deeply sentimental almost as if he was transmitting all of his feelings and desires to you, he had longed for you for a while now and he needed you to know

soon you were pressed against his wall as you wished for the moment to never end but of course, all that's good has to end

as you both were running out of breath he pulled away from you in a delicate manner, leaving you feeling as if you were going to melt away from how overwhelmed you felt by your own feelings

he chuckled lightly, resting his forehead on your shoulder and you did the same, laughing in disbelief at what just happened

“are you sure you're a virgin?” you asked, making him laugh even more, you could see his chest going up and down from him trying to catch his breath again

he looked up at you again, big wide smile on his face, his cheeks had a red flush and his eyes glittered, making you have a funny feeling in your stomach at how perfect he looked

“just in case you didn't catch the hint... i like you a lot” he said, making you smile in relief

“no way, really?” you said jokingly, making him roll his eyes “if you really do then I think you should go on a date with me tomorrow” his eyebrows raised in surprise, did you just ask him out on a date?

“you're going to kill me someday” he said, walking backwards and brushing a hand through his hair, you bite your lip, nervous but trying to not let the nerves get the best of you

“is that a yes?” you ask and you look as he laughs

“of course it's a yes dumbass, can you not see how flustered you've made me?” you chuckle, looking at him with glowy eyes, completely immersed in the boy in front of you “why are you looking at me like that?”he asked

“like what?”you replied, completely oblivious to what he meant, making him sigh

“with those eyes, you’re making me nervous!” he replied making you laugh

“well then i’m gonna leave now so you can relax” you said as you walked over to the hanger, getting your zip up to then head towards the already open door

ethan rested his arm on the door frame, leaning towards it as you stood outside “will you call?” he asked, making you want to kiss him again

“no, i’ll send a bird to your window holding a message, it’s more romantic” you leaned in to kiss him cheek and with that you start walking away

“text me when you get to your room” he screamed down the hallway, watching you as you turned back while you walked

“i will!” you reply with a smile, swinging your hips as you walked away overwhelmed with happiness

ethan closed his door and went straight fall on his bed, he couldn’t get that dumb smile off his face and he laughed at himself because of how wrong he was, he doesn’t know what you saw in him but who’s he to complain? he finally has the girl of his dreams smiling because of him

he’s grateful to whatever it was because now that he has you, he doesnt plan on letting you go

[colleybri]

One of the greatest hugs in any film

Interview question: “Do you think Cassian and Jyn would have managed to connect even more due to their shared life experiences if they had even more time?”

Diego Luna: “Obviously! What a good question. I think that hug represents everything that could have been but was not and everything that was too, because that hug meant they were part of something together and I believe that union lasts forever”.

One of the single best story decisions that was made in Rogue One was this incredible hug between Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor, as they await death from the blast of the Death Star.

It’s sad enough just in the context of the film. After Season 1 of Andor, it’s even more moving. I think some of us will be emotional wrecks after Season 2. 

One thing I’m starting to realise only now is how Jyn’s story, as revealed in the film (and the novelisation), reflects Cassian’s so much. She was also a child of war, displaced and effectively orphaned, adopted before being forced to embark on a new life. She had it even worse than him, in many ways. But just like him she had an early zeal to fight, which she similarly went on to lose because of the bitter pain that commitment caused. She becomes disillusioned and cynical about the Rebellion. It takes a combination of hard knocks and a resulting realisation of the desperate NEED to fight the Empire - in order to preserve all that they hold dear - to radicalise both of them to the extent that they are willing to sacrifice their lives for the cause.

Cassian is already in that place - he reached it five years before. But in Season 2 I expect we will see further challenges, see the desperately awful things he might have to do and what else he will need to sacrifice ahead of his actual life. Sacrifices that wear down his soul, bit by bit. Luthen’s monologue hangs over everything. “ I burn my life for a sunrise I know I’ll never see.” It’s a bitter irony that Cassian is frequently placed in sun-rising imagery, culminating in the ‘sun’ of the explosion.

Jyn, in Rogue One, seems to be the spiritual shot in the arm that Cassian needs. In the same way that being inspired by his love for Clem, Maarva and Bix helps to spur him on in the Season 1 finale (when the chances of successfully rescuing Bix must seem non-existent)  Jyn seems to me to be the crucial reminder for Cassian of why he is doing all this in the first place. Her love for her father stops him from obeying the order to kill him. He just can’t do it. He can’t put someone he is growing to care about through the same agony he went through himself.

In the end, neither can live with themselves if they don’t fight. But both of them are fighting for the right reason: love.

The hug is platonic and therefore perfect because it’s universal, in a way: we can imagine - in their final seconds - that they can both see and feel the warmth and the arms of every single person in their lives who they ever loved in any form: parents, siblings, lovers, friends. And of course they also die feeling the arms of each other - bound together by their fight and sacrifice but also an embrace with someone they might have gone on to know, and to love, if the universe had been a kinder place. 

It’s one of the most perfect and beautiful death scenes in any film I’ve seen. 

But it’s also heart-crushingly sad. 

‘What could have been’. 

…..

Edit:

I think the earlier elevator scene is where they acknowledge the loss of what they could have had together. Cassian stares at Jyn with unblinking focus but he looks like he’s dying already from his injuries, and Jyn - not yet knowing for sure that she’s about to die too - looks completely devastated. By the time they reach the beach and see the blast approaching both of them look accepting of their fate… and I imagine that they can use their final moments to internally say their spiritual goodbyes to everyone they ever loved in their lives - and to each other. They are content to die together. They are at peace as they “become one with the Force”.

….

The sand is coarse on his fingers as he tightens the embrace and closes his eyes. Her face had been that of the last being he will see, and he is at peace with that. After all, she had already started to mend his broken soul and remind him of why he was doing all this in the first place. 

Love.

She is warm against him, her grip intensifying his physical pain, and intensifying whatever is going on now in his soul. They hug as if in the hope of keeping each other whole, the hope of somehow stopping the inevitable coming-apart. Almost as if to stop time and be forever in this state of in-between.

But there is no time at all. 

So he thinks he will imagine that the light is coming from her, her bright spirit - her hot molten core - soldering and melting them into one being. 

‘I don’t know where you end or where it is that I begin.’

Extract above from  ‘Dawn Chorus’ chapter 5:

Diego Luna interview:

’ I don’t know where you end or where it is that I begin’ - from the song ‘Vision’ by Peter Hammill.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

ok i feel like maybe this is really niche but

i’ve been rewatching the newsroom for the 20th time and like… ok

just imagine. steve is this big shot prime time tv news anchor for one of the major networks. he anchors the eight o’clock hour and he’s lonely, isolated, big ego in an even bigger city cause he knows he’s good, just almost number one and the audience loves him, trusts him, admires him and that’s really all he needs. it doesn’t matter that he’s running a toothless program, that he doesn’t challenge his guests, that he sacrifices truth for the sake of being neutral. it doesn’t matter because hes on top and they like him, hes got something hes never had before: love. or at least the closest thing he thinks he’ll ever get to it. the audience loves him. that’s all he needs.

but the president of his network’s news division and his best friend—robin buckley (she’s the youngest president the news division has ever had and the first woman to hold the role)—is growing increasingly worried. just last week steve let a five star general off the hook for admitted war crimes, didn’t push back once even when the guy was clearly lying right to steve’s face and live on the air. robin has seen steve at his best and this isn’t it. his best was when…

well, his best was seven years ago when eddie munson was his executive producer. steve’s best stopped showing up to work with him when eddie munson had fled the country, taken off with a team—dustin included!—to the middle east to cover one of the many us occupations for a competitor network.

but robin’s heard news that eddie munson is back and that he’s looking for a place to land. his current network doesn’t have a spot for him, not on this side of the prime meridian and rumor has it eddie’s looking for a permanent gig now, has had enough of traveling and army rations to last a lifetime.

so robin reviews the tapes. sees the magic steve and eddie used to make together, the way steve could light up a screen. the way he could think on his feet, the way eddie coached him into asking the tough questions. and robin is also not stupid. she knows what happened between the two of them or at least could connect enough of the dots from what little steve’s told her and figure out just why eddie had felt the need to leave the country all together.

she’s fully expecting the backlash when steve finds out she’s hired his former ep, the man who, just as steve was preparing to get down on one knee and ask a very important question, had confessed to having cheated on steve for four months at the beginning of their relationship. but she’s also right. they make magic together in the studio. and maybe steve needs eddie there, just behind the monitor, to remind him why he even wanted to do the news in the first place.

[eldenringslut]

I feel like people are getting a bit too angry at the whole Radahn final boss thing. I’m not saying you have to like it, but I’ve been seeing a lot of rage that feels a bit misplaced in my opinion. Also as usual this is just my opinion so feel free to disagree with me.

In terms of gameplay, Consort Radahn has a new moveset and fight tempo that, despite calling back to his original fight with some moves, feels pretty distinct to fight in my opinion.

In terms of lore, I’ve also seen people saying that Miquella’s description of Radahn basically makes him reddit ‘Chadahn’. I disagree with this.

It’s important to remember that this is Miquella giving his personal view of Radahn, and that he is an unreliable narrator. Radahn still has all the same flaws and complexities as before, the evidence for that from the base game isn’t gone. The only difference is that we now know Miquella’s (in my opinion childlike) perspective of him.

Additionally, although we know that Radahn fought against becoming Miquella’s consort in the end, we have no idea if the vow was initially one sided or not. Maybe Radahn rejected it from the start. Maybe he initially agreed because he thought Miquella (as an Empyrean) wanted to become the Erdtree’s god rather than supplant it’s order. Maybe he jokingly agreed to Miquella’s childish request not realising that Miquella would never be anything but a child. We simply don’t know, and I personally think all of these interpretations are interesting in their own right.

Adding onto this, a lot of people seem to be hating on Miquella’s character for becoming the ‘villain’ of the DLC. But think of it like this. If Miquella is an eternal child who had always had the ability to compel love and affection, why would he see love as anything other than a tool. It probably doesn’t even occur to him that maniputating others with magic is wrong or sinister in any way.

This also explains why he so coldly abandons Malenia, despite his obvious affection for her. He does genuinely care for her, he just has an extremely skewed perception of what love and affection is. He probably thinks something like; “Oh, but I’ll be able to make her feel happy and loved when I come back so it’s fine that I’m abandoning her for hundreds of years 😊”. I personally really like what the DLC did with Miquella’s character, even if it’s different from what we expected.

Now that’s not to say I like everything about what the DLC did with the lore. In particular, I don’t like how Malenia’s motives in Battle of Aeonia is simplified. Instead of it being a clash of ideologies, a fight between two mighty demigods that deeply respect each other’s strength or a desperate attempt to free the stars from stasis, Malenia is reduced to a brainwashed attack dog. This also cheapens Finlay’s sacrifice in my opinion (although you could also see it as enhancing the tragedy of it all by making her sacrifice less meaningful).

I’m also still unsure as to why Miquella would embed himself in the Haligtree before making Mohg kidnap him. If that was his goal from the start why embed himself in the first place? He could have just gone with Mohg in his normal form?

One possible explanation for this is that he didn’t initially plan to get kidnapped by Mohg, and wanted to enter the Land of Shadow by using his Haligtree to form a counterpart in the LoS like the Scadutree? Maybe he switched his plan and brainwashed Mohg after being kidnapped? We know from the War Surgeon set description that Mohg already has a propensity for kidnapping so idk.

Anyway that’s enough rambling for now I think. As usual my reccomended lore youtuber is Smoughtown.

[gothgleek]

Alicent based on this post about Modest!Alicent by @dirtytransmasc

Details under the cut

-I was obsessed with the veiled pieces that OP mentioned and I loved the image of her in gold veils that looked like she was dripping in gold.

- The veils are based on Catholic veils (specifically and 4), medieval head coverings like ones worn in Ophelia 2018 and wimples (2 and 6), Star Wars (5), and the Tudor period (7). Most of them are sheer because one, I couldn’t figure out how to wrap them around her head without her looking like a blob of color and when it did look okay she looked like she was wearing a hijab and it felt too appropriative to draw on Alicent. This is also why her hair is visible in most of them but in practice she would cover them with thicker fabric.

- Alicent wears long billowing sleeves with heavy skirts. OP said that Alicent would wear dresses that conceal her figure which I tried to maintain but some have a shapelier silhouette as it looked better with my art style. I hope one day I will be able to draw modest clothing without making someone look like a blob but I’m not there yet.

- Dress 1 is inspired by the series Isabel 2011, which from what I’ve seen has some nice costumes. It also gave me a good base for something historical and modest but still luxurious.

- The second is based on Lady Macbeth and Ophelia in the Ophelia movie. I debated on adding braids but I think Alicent would’ve worn them. They’re neat, mature, and somewhat conservative hairstyle while also giving her an opportunity to wear more accessories which is expected of her as a queen. I know OP said modest but irl royalty had to wear extravagant clothes to prove their status and with the pressure of civil war and being the second wife, Alicent would certainly wear luxurious jewelry while staying simple compared to the rest of the Targaryens. The beads are Targ inspired as she would also need to embrace Valeryian styles to stay in Viserys’s favor.

- This side view of Alicent has the deepest neckline because that is what worked best for a side view. I also noticed Catholic veils tended to have patterns so I added simple gold flowers. The dress is medieval based.

- What sparked my artistic interest was OP’s descriptions of the veils so I had to do a dedicated work with a veil in the spotlight. In the original post, it was mentioned that Alicent would wear shawls with tapestry like designs. I couldn’t think of anything that would look good with fabric folds and creases but on a lace veil? I could definitely do that. Tbh it’s not my favorite design (Helaena’s was my favorite) but I think it represents Alicent’s loyalties pretty well. I’m personally pleased with how the dragons and tower came out.

- I don’t care about Star Wars but some of Padme’s outfits have screamed Alicent to me since the beginning. The golden lace veil with pearls is the centerpiece so her dress is much more toned down.

- This is again based on Ophelia’s costuming and on OP saying Alicent appears to be dripping in gold wearing golden veils. I added jewelry shaped like the Hightower sigil with green gems decorating it.

- OP mentioned shawls with tassels and patterns so I had to add them onto the last dress. Well, I had fur instead of tassels but the statement still stands. I also tried to make the veil based on Spanish mantillas but it never turned out correct so I kept it simple. The dress is a mix of Alexander McQueen Fall 2011 and the Tudors era.

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo

So. I haven't seen the Bad Batch and don't really intend to, but I have read some fics (please do not take that as me saying that's the same as understanding the story) and between that and my thoughts of eldritch stuff in Star Wars and a cool art piece I came across that I think was referencing something I don't have the context for, I started wondering what it'd look like if of the Bad Batch, Echo was the only eldritch/cryptid/vampire/otherwise not human one. NOT because of the Techno Union, but because of something that happened sooner OR he'd always been like that. And I might put a bit of that in my vampire clones thing but I was thinking eldritch and I ended up writing a thing. So. Enjoy:

***********

Crosshair’s willing to admit he doesn’t dislike Echo. He respects the guy’s resilience and his willingness to go with the flow, which is necessary for someone working with their team, even as he rolls his eyes at Echo’s tendency to twitch at the state of their ship and his reluctance to drop the “sir” when talking to Hunter. More than that Echo has zero qualms about sassing him if Crosshair picks a fight and it’s a lot of fun to rile him up.

That said. Echo is also really freaking weird.

Crosshair is very observant, between his eyesight, his role on the team, and his training he had to be and either something’s very off about Echo or he’s started hallucinating because he keeps seeing things that don’t make sense. Not for a reg and not for a cyborg.

He explains this the Hunter once, trying to see if he’s noticed anything, and Hunter frowns. “Can you give me an example?”

“His eyes for one.”

Hunter blinked. “What?”

“We all know what most trooper’s eyes look like. And we’ve seen some variations. But they don’t change color. I’ve seen his eyes go golden or violet, and it wasn’t the lighting.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes I’m sure what do you take me for?” Crosshair snapped. “Look. Next time we’re on a sunny planet. Take a look at his shadow. It doesn’t match him at all. I’ve seen it prowling around him like a tooka without him or a light source moving. It doesn’t look like him either. And remember that time we were sparring and he panicked and bit me? I asked Tech, the Techno Union didn’t do anything to his teeth, but I know what bitemarks look like and that was not it.”

Hunter sighed. “I’ll pay attention but-” He paused. “Huh.”

“What?”

“It might not be anything.” He replies and only knowing that he’s getting to the point keeps Crosshair from interrupting. “But remember how I told you guys that people smell like animals? They’re distinct from each other, and you know I can’t describe it cause I tried to describe you guys, but it’s not like they smell like flowers or old books or whatever people like to think they’d smell like unless they’re wearing a scent. Echo, he doesn’t smell like a trooper. I just never thought about it for some reason.”

“And what does he smell like?”

Hunter frowned as he tried to find the words. “Well. He does smell a bit like a trooper and a bit metallic. But he also smells like, what’s was the spice in that cake you liked so much? The one we found on that mission with the weird vultures?”

Crosshair hummed. That had been a really freaking good cake. “The lady said it was a cardamon cream cake. So he smells like cardamon?”

“Cardamon and lilies and wet dirt is the best way I can describe it and I know it’s not his soap cause he uses the same stuff as the rest of us. So yeah. I guess I’ll pay attention.”

Two days later Crosshair gets confirmation that something’s up in a way he did not expect.

Because walking around in the dark in the middle of the night is his job so it’s already odd to find Echo leaning against the cabinet in their ship’s tiny kitchen in the pitch dark. “You’re going to trip reg.” Crosshair says and leans over to get the lights when Echo looks up.

And twelve pairs of golden violet eyes meet Crosshair’s.

He staggers back, trips over something, falls. “Crosshair!” Echo grabs his hand, pulling him up, then scrambles for the lights as if he forgot they might be necessary and Crosshair yelps as the light hits his eyes.

He blames that and the shock for blurting out; “What the hell are you Echo?”

Echo blinks, looking hurt. “I’m a trooper. Like you all.”

“Troopers don’t have twenty-four freaking eyes.” Crosshair hissed. They aren’t there now, he’s got 2 brown eyes in the exact same shade of brown nearly every trooper has, but Crosshair knows what he saw. He knows what he’s been seeing.

Echo tilts his head. And he grins. It’s a smile Crosshair’s seen before, whenever Echo’s about to respond to his taunts with something cutting and clever, part “take that” and part inviting him to share the joke. There’s nothing off about that smile save for that it’s mirrored in Echo’s shadow, splayed against the cabinets behind him too dark for their lights.

“The Bad Batch.” Echo muses, like there’s a joke Crosshair hasn’t caught yet, and he’s never had a reason to call Echo dangerous even when he didn’t trust him, but he’s starting to feel cornered even though Echo hasn’t moved. “You think you’re the only strange ones. ‘Don’t worry Rex, we know how to handle a reg.’ Never mind that Torrent was always a little crazy, or it used to be. Never mind that I was an ARC and a damn good one, and we’re all more than competent. And I appreciate what you all did, in welcoming me into the squad, I appreciate it more than I can say, and I do really like you guys, but you are so freaking cocky. So certain you can handle anything. And to be fair you’re damn good at your job, but sometimes it’s annoying. So.” He grins that taunting grin again. “You want to know what the reg’s deal is? Figure it out.”

He leaves. His grinning shadow lingers a moment before following. Crosshair stares.

And then decides that a glass of water isn’t gonna cut it and goes for the stash of moonshine.

[mediumgayitalian]

The message comes from the constantly-running humidifier in the darkest corner of his cabin.

(It’s an eyesore. That’s why it’s there. It’s a bright, shiny pink, decorated with painted yellow suns and silver stars and random other doodles. At the bottom, there’s a messily painted signature next to a black heart. Will presented it to him proudly one random day, beaming that stupidly wide grin of his: “I made it in Arts and Crafts! It’ll help with your lungs, swearsies.”)

(It works wonders. When he breathes and feels like the air won’t settle in his chest, he stands close to it and clears up. When he’s hacking up a lung and smelling the phantom scent of acrid, monster air and the bronze staleness of his own recycled breath, it clears his throat. When he wakes up hyperventilating, eyes wide and unseeing, the soft bubbling of the steaming water and rhythmic pulsing of the glowing light gives him something to focus on.)

(If anyone asks, Nico threw it out the day he got it.)

He startles when his name is called, dropping the breastplate he was polishing with a clang. The sound makes him wince, and the Iris message flicker.

“This a good time, kiddo?”

Nico’s tongue feels like lead. Sally Jackson watches him carefully from the projection, small smile on her face, greying hair curling around her temples. Her brown eyes remind him of Bianca and how she would sometimes look at him, when he was fidgety and overwhelmed. Patient. It doesn’t help with the ache slowly spreading from his chest.

“Hi, Mrs. Jackson,” he manages, finally. His voice is more of a croak than anything.

Her smile widens, even as her face turns chastising.

“Sally, Nico.”

“…Mrs. Sally.”

She laughs, although Nico hadn’t meant it as a joke. Her laughter is twinkling and calming, like the rustling of leaves in a summer breeze. Nico’s shoulders relax without him realising, and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll take what I can get, I suppose. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in too long.”

Nico winces. The last time he’d seen her was an Iris message similar to this, only her eyes had been red-rimmed, and she hadn’t been smiling. Nico had pushed past the lump in his throat to report that he hadn’t heard anything about her missing son, either, although he’d promised he was looking, and then a few weeks later he felt like the worst person ever when Percy showed up in the Little Tiber and he said nothing. He’d clenched a drachma in his hands for hours after, guilt eating him alive.

Sally looks fine, now. He fights the urge to apologise — it would only upset her. His guilt is something he simply gets to live with.

“I’ve been okay,” he says finally. She hums. “Uh, busy.”

“Saving the world again, I hear,” she replies, grin turning wry. “Carrying a forty-foot statue across the world.”

Nico flushes. He wonders who told her, Percy or Annabeth. Or both, or maybe someone else, even. He knows the Jacksons’ place is something of a refuge, in this day and age. He’s not sure how he feels about other people talking about him like he’s a hero or something. He had a job to do, and he barely managed still.

“That was Reyna’s quest.”

Sally hums again. Her eyes never leave him, piercing and soft as they are.

“Happy Birthday, Nico.”

For the second time in ten minutes, he jumps out of his skin. It’s been a while since he’s heard those words — he forgot that Sally is one of the few people who knows his birthday, that he told her, two years ago, when he’d crawled through Percy’s window when he was sure the boy was at school because he was bleeding and half-delirious and didn’t know where else to go, so soon after the Titan War. So soon after ditching camp, skin crawling at the stares of the other demigods, knowing how strange he was to them. Sally hadn’t asked questions. She’d cleaned the empousa scratch and wrestled him into staying for lunch, soft voice and kind, calloused hand prying answers out of him he hadn’t expected to give.

(She was aghast when she found out he was walking the streets on his own birthday, celebrations not even crossing his mind. Even more so when she noticed his cold-chapped hands and thin, ripped jeans. “Thirteen, you know, is a big deal,” she’d said, and when he’d insisted on leaving before Percy got home she sent him out with snacks and a pair of gloves.)

He clears his throat. “Thanks.”

“How’d you celebrate, today?” Her grin is wide and creases her forehead, eyes nearly shut. Her smile is identical to her son’s, only with less of the trouble attached. “First year at camp as a full timer! Annabeth has told me that Chiron usually brings you all to the city to celebrate, it must have been fun.”

Nico avoids her gaze, shrugging. He picks at a loose thread in the hem of his shirt.

“I didn’t — um, we didn’t do that.”

He can practically feel the face she makes, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned.

“…Something else, then? How did you spend your day?”

Nico shrugs. “Stayed in the infirmary.”

He looks up just in time to see her face crease in alarm.

“You’re hurt?”

“Oh, no, I’m — I’m not —” He stumbles over his words, rushing to assure her. “I’m not hurt. I was just cutting bandages, helping out. My friend —” his face glows, he knows it does, he pretends it doesn’t — “my friend says I have a magic touch. He’s full of it, because he actually does have a magic touch and does not need my help organizing nectar bottles, but. He’s stubborn. And annoying. And too lazy to organize it himself, probably.”

Sally’s grinning again. This time, the expression has just as much mischief as her son’s does, and despite himself Nico flushes darker.

“Sounds like your friend just wants your company.”

“Or something.”

“Or something.”

She watches him for a moment longer. Nico fidgets. He wonders what he’s supposed to say, if there’s an etiquette to talking to ex-crushes’ mothers who kind of mother you a little bit, too. Then he wonders who the hell he’s supposed to ask about that.

“Why didn’t you tell your friends about your birthday?”

It’s an odd thing for Nico to hear. ‘Your friends’. He has those now, he supposes. Will, and Nico, and Lou Ellen. Kayla. Austin. Cecil. Percy and Annabeth, even, and of course Hazel and Reyna and Jason. Maybe even Piper and Leo and Hedge. Mellie, too, ruffles his hair when she breezes by him, and Grover grins and waves when he catches his eye. Tyson beams at him when he visits camp. Sometimes Rachel picks the lock of his cabin for no reason and sighs dramatically in a corner until Nico snaps at her, then she grins and drags him off to do something stupid. If Nico thinks about it, about the list of people who insert themselves in his life, now, his head starts to hurt. When did he become so social?

Nico shrugs. “They’re gonna — make a big deal out of it. Will’ll probably try to — sing to me, or something.” He snorts just thinking about it. “He’ll break my ear drums. He’s a horrible singer.”

“I see.”

“Or, worse, he’ll write a poem or something. And it will be bad. The worst part about it, actually, is that he’s really quite good at poetry, but he thinks it’s funnier to write bad poetry, so he does and he recites it all the time and drives everybody crazy. One time I read a good one he wrote and he got all embarrassed because he is a walking indovinello, that’s what he is, let me tell you —”

“Hm.”

“— and Cecil, gods, don’t even get me started, Cecil would do something stupid like — like — steal me a car, or something. Even though I’m not even old enough to drive! And Lou Ellen would probably help him. And who even knows what ridiculous thing Kayla and Austin would plan, and, Zeus’ beard, I know Jason would start crying about something —”

“Nico,” Sally interrupts, gently, grinning, “it sounds like your friends would be very happy to celebrate with you.”

“They would be — overbearing,” he huffs. “Well — not Reyna. Or Hazel. Maybe a little Hazel, but mostly not.”

“Have you told them?”

“…No.”

“Why not?”

“It just seems — off, I guess,” he admits softly. “I didn’t have to tell Bianca about my birthday. She knew. She —”

His voice breaks, and he looks down, embarrassed. He swipes the tear from his eye and hopes Sally doesn’t see, even though he knows she does. Sometimes he feels like the record his mother has that was so thin and played-out that it skipped on every track and always made the needle get stuck. She was too attached to throw it away and get a new one. Nico is that track, he thinks, worn out and bumpy and always making the needle stick, always coming back to the same thing. He used to complain every time his mother brought it out. He wonders how many people must roll their eyes at his own skipping, repeating track.

“Maybe you don’t tell them, then,” Sally says, hushed. Nico finally gathers the courage to look back up at her, and she doesn’t look annoyed at all — kind, only, and determined. “You mentioned your friend in the infirmary. Do they still have patient files?”

He tilts his head, confused. “Yes? I think so.”

“Do you have one?”

Nico grimaces, remembering his first stay in the infirmary where Will left forms out for him to fill and Nico balled them up and chucked them at him. Will had chucked them back on reflex before remembering Nico was his patient, blurting out a red-faced “Sorry! Gods, I’m so sorry!” that had Nico laughing until he cried, as Will cussed him out, practically glowing a bright tomato-red. They never did get back around to filling those out, despite the numerous times Nico has landed himself back under Will’s dorky stethoscope. The medic must be stuffing the injury reports in a random file somewhere.

“I. Will definitely get one.”

“Put your information in,” Sally suggests. “Percy’s told me about the head medic in passing — Will, I think? He mentioned he’s quite thorough, I imagine he checks the files regularly.”

Nico nods. He does. They get messy and cluttered fast, what with the sheer number of maimings and stabbings et cetera, so once a month Will sits on the floor in the middle of the room and organizes everything in some inane system that only makes sense to him. If Nico fills out a form and stuffs it in his file, Will will definitely notice.

“That’s — doable.”

Sally smiles. It’s kind of radiant and hard to look at, and Nico feels himself smiling back on reflex, if a little shyer.

“Good! Oh, Nico, I’m so glad. I’ve worried about you, kiddo. I’m sure Percy’s tired of me asking.”

Nico whips his head back up to stare at her, jaw dropping.

“You…ask about me?”

“Of course.” She raises an eyebrow. “I’d have to do it less if you visited more than once or twice a year.“

Nico opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn’t quite know how to say that he had no idea that he was welcome — that she wanted his visits, rather than dreaded them.

“I made cake,” she says casually, like she can sense his turmoil. “Blue, of course. The best kind.”

Nico snorts. She winks at him.

“I’d hoped I would see you today. But cake lasts, you know. It will still be good tomorrow, if you don’t have any other plans.”

He imagines asking Argus to drive him into town — Will has still banned him from shadow travel, although he has begrudgingly allowed other “less draining” magic, not that Nico has to listen to him or anything — and pulling up to the apartment in Manhattan. Climbing up the rickety fire escape; or, this time, knocking on the door. He imagines Sally’s wide smile, maybe even Paul Blofis’ charming grin, her kiss on both cheeks and strong hand guiding him into the warm kitchen.

He swallows roughly. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Consider it done,” she says lightly. “Come over when you have time, I’ll be home all day. I look forward to seeing you, Nico.”

Nico smiles at her. Some of the ever-present ache in his chest lessens. “Me, too.”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.”

He swipes through the message, dissolving the connection. The billowing steam from the humidifier returns to its usual soft plumes, and Nico stands there for a few moments, breathing deeply, imagining it settling in his lungs, clearing out the lingering smoke he imagines has taken home in them. He breathes in, breathes out, and walks, trance-like, to his dresser, tugging on his PJs and feeling like he’s floating.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of sweet blue cake and sweeter laughter ringing through a small kitchen.

[buckyarchives]

JUST LOVE ME?!

oh my god I haven’t posted something in forever, but I’ve recently gotten into Star Wars and hopefully will slowly start coming out with new stuff after reading every modern obi wan fic ever. I’m not too knowledgeable on the sw universe so sorry abt that, this also ended up a lot longer than I expected.

Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

You haven’t seen obi-wan in over a decade, since your marriage and the empire, your secret love affair seemed more than dead. maybe not?

1.7k words

The force wasn’t needed to know who sat a few bar stools away from you.

it’s just that gut feeling in your stomach when something bad will happen, everyone knows the one. It was just like this, but different, good. Having not felt these feelings in years, you recognized it immediately, welcoming it like an old friend. This must be what the force feels like.

You feel the ghost of intuition brushing against your shoulder, whipping your head straight to him. Even hunched over, face covered with a large cloak and only strands of sandy hair sticking out. You knew, you always know. There was always something about this man that held you captive, you would be able to recognize him blind, and with no other awareness, you’d still crawl back to him with zero hesitation. The stool underneath you creaked as you barreled toward him like a tank.

“Obi?” The name hasn’t left your lips since you were a young girl. You saw his shoulders tense, freezing. You spoke again, maybe just because you missed the feeling of his name rolling off your tongue. “Obi-wan, is that you?”

He turns and you want to gasp. Not because he looks a little scruffy and dirty from hiding from the empire, not because you are disappointed or disgusted. Honestly, the far, far opposite. You’ll never be able to forget the sheet blueness of his eyes, the vibrancy dulled in your memory but it all came rushing back like a broken floodgate. All the memories with them too and suddenly you feel you might faint. He’s older, much older. The wrinkles by his eyes are more prominent and he’s tanned, bringing out his freckles and… maker, he’s gorgeous.

Obi-Wans shoulders relax a little at the sight of you, but he’s still tense and full of so, so many emotions. His mouth gaped slightly and his eyes ran wilding over your frame, similar clothing to his as you’ve been hiding for a while. It’s strange, he thinks, seeing you in something other than brightly colored dresses and intricate hairstyles. Maybe he’s finally started to hallucinate. Softly, your name leaves his lips, “what happened, what are you doing here?”

A nasty, rundown bar on some far outer planet that a princess shouldn’t be seen in. Of course, his image of you would be frozen from that time 10 or so years ago, you want to scoff and mock him for his overprotecting nature. Is that appropriate? To fall back into that banter even after not seeing someone for over a decade after a horribly traumatic event? Who cares, you’ve never been good at reading the room, and Obi-Wan knows this.

“What? Think I can’t defend myself?” Smirking, your arms cross and you see the flash of surprise in his irises at your response, 

“No, just-“ he grimaces, and the words die in his throat, grabbing your forearm and pulling you close. It shocks you and you smell the sandalwood and citrus in him, he still smells the same and it makes you want to smile from ear to ear. “Never mind, but please, don’t use that name around close ears.”

Oh, you forget he’s probably at the top of The Most Wanted Jedi List that keeps floating around, you only bring a small diplomatic figure left you farther down on the list. Though you’re frequent outspoken nature probably left you higher than most princesses. 

Taking your seat next to Obi-wan, he’s just looking at you and desperately holding that serious look in his eyes that makes his eyebrows furrow slightly. He ever so slightly looks like he might cry, it almost breaks you if he didn’t show a small and almost relieved smile. Obi-wan can’t hold his emotions back anymore, not in front of you, especially after so long. 

“Maker, I thought you were dead.” Obi-wan sighs, surprising you with a sudden embrace. His arms wrap around you and it takes you no longer than a millisecond to grasp onto him. He feels the same against you, his hands look more tough and aged but still soft. Obi-wan pulls away, still looking deeply into you, shaking his head in embarrassment still wearing a smile. When’s the last time he’s actually smiled? “Sorry, princess. I just haven’t seen a friend in so long.”

You click your tongue, “Not a princess anymore, not even a queen nowadays.” 

Just as you see Obi-wan's face drop in surprise and confusion, the barkeep grumbles a quick, “Can I get you anything?”

Obi-wan tenses immediately and goes back to his usual (usual for the past 10 years, not your usual) stance. You glance at him once more and ask for a drink, Obi-wan stays quiet and reserved away, and the barkeep barely notices him. The blue-ish liquor practically appears in front of you and with it, the barkeeps disappear and Obi-wan starts in a hushed tone.

“Did the galactic empire come after your planet as well?” Worry laced his tone, still painfully aware this conversation could definitely get the two of you in deep trouble. Leaned in close to you with a hot, quiet whisper.

You sigh, bringing the drink to your lips before preparing your explanation. “Yes and no,” you sway your head from side to side, and you watch as Obi-Wan confusion grows more relevant. 

“My husband,” Obi-Wans face flashes with disgust at the mention of the man that halfway tore you away from him, you didn’t like him either, especially now. “He found out about my intentions to rebel against the empire, before I could even propose my plans to my board, he reported me and I fled.” 

You hear Obi-wan curse the man out under his breath, you smile at his hushed threats. You never liked the man, even before he had ratted you out and before you were forced to marry him for the crown. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, sincerely.” Obi-Wan’s eyes pierce through you, you could melt. “How long? Have you been adjusting?”

“Last 6 years, my sneaky pilots' lesson as a princess paid off. I fixed up a small ship and I’ve been roaming around the outer planets looking… for anything.” With a beat of silence, your eyes meet and you can practically feel Obi-wan’s force presence course through you. It’s overwhelming and warms your chest, anxiety still fills your throat as you attempt to speak. Smiling, “Fortunately, I found you.”

“Fortunately,” Obi-wan repeats, still in a hushed tone. As if it’s been his permanent state of being all these years, it wouldn’t be surprising. “I’m not so sure.”

Your frown, “Why’s that?”

A pained sigh leaves him and with it all the years of sorrow and loneliness fall onto your shoulders, you feel his burdens. “I’m not the same man I was before, I’ve failed everyone and without the Jedi order, I’m unsure where I’m supposed to go now.” 

You reach out to him, you understand. Everyone’s lives changed for the worst after that day, you wished desperately to be there for Obi-wan and Padme before she passed but you had otherly planet duties (read: forced fleeing by the hands of your husband.) it’s been your deepest regret that you didn’t find a way out sooner and go to him. Obi-wan has always been the light that keeps you up and you being his rock, you should’ve been there. 

Should’ve you been there, then maybe this depressed and sorrow-filled man who wears his burdens heavy on his shoulder may seem not lovely. And no a broken shell of a man you missed.

“You haven’t failed me, Kenobi.” You whisper, leaning in a bit closer.  “When have you ever failed me?”

“When your poor excuse of a husband whisked you away against your will! And I could do nothing except stand there!” Obi-wan’s voice raised up, his grasp grips tightly at the counter edge.

Despite how faded your memory was of those years of your life, you wake at night remembering that day. Obi-wan’s face as he saw the ring and realized you were soon to be married. The cheeky glances in the halls came to an end and you would not stay on Coruscant anymore. Obi-wan might have been in love, but he wasn’t stupid then. He knew even when he was falling for you through walks in the garden and late-night talks over tea, he knew you weren’t his and you never could be. Even before arranged marriages, the Jedi order had been his only way of life, despite how much he desperately wanted to, he would not quit that life after all he’s worked for.

Gently, your gloved hand falls on top of his, wishing for more of the warmth and contact. “He’s not my husband anymore, I’m a free woman.”

Obi-wan wants to scoff at the thought of you being free, what a joke. But that wasn’t his fault, nothing he could do alone would have stopped the empire that day. Expect maybe be a better mentor.

A sudden tense feeling falls upon the two of you, silence as you realize something. All those restrictions, rules, and impossibilities. They were all gone, and now you were not sure what to do despite how obvious the answer was. Obi-wan’s breath catches in his breath, you practically choke on it.

“Obi,” you whisper just so he would barely hear, “do you think,” he turns to you and his eyes are so fucking blue, you almost back out. Hand still grasping onto his, maybe a little harder now as you brace yourself. “Do you think even in this situation, we could try again?”

On instinct, from installing into his brain for so many years to just stay at arm's length, “No, I cannot. The Jedi-“

“The Jedi order is dead.” You cut him off, “You know it, I know it.” You take a deep breath, “Just love me.”

To think you’d be confessing this in a grimy bar whilst running from Darth Vader was insane to you, never would you have thought. Obi-wan says your name again, a meer whisper and you are suddenly in your 20s again dancing around the idea of kissing him in the secluded places of the palace. You don’t need to do this silly dance anymore, you are a free woman.

“Please, obi-wan.”

The shackles of codes and order release, his shoulder fell relaxed, and maybe he would kiss you - if it weren’t for the scenery. No, no, Kenobi would do this right. 

“I have a place here, come back with me?” He offers a small smile, a real smile.

You just nod and Obi-wan places his hand firmly in yours and you leave together. Just like you should have done all those years ago.

[irondad-defensesquad]

I love you (you don't have to say it back, though)

Also posted on AO3!

My last work this year. Happy New Year to those who celebrate it! Still hope you have a great day today :)

--

Tony was usually not allowed to go to his father’s workshop. When he was very small, he was able to sneak inside, but the more he grew up, the less frequent it became. Not with Howard becoming increasingly angrier at him.

By the time Tony went to boarding school, he knew better than to bother Howard.

Except, occasionally, his father would take him to the workshop without saying much. He just expected Tony to follow him without protest.

But don’t be mistaken. Tony couldn’t tell Howard about school or his day overall. He couldn’t ask for help with his homework (after all, Tony was supposed to be smart on his own). Their time was strictly professional, not some father and son bonding.

The boy had to be stiff and silent like a rock the entire time, unless Howard asked him to build something while bearing a judgmental glare, already expecting Tony to fail. Either the man would say nothing, or he would straight up say Tony was doing it completely wrong. Regardless, that always meant their lab time was over and Tony would be kicked out of the workshop.

Nowadays, Tony had his own workshop where he allowed anyone to come in, bots or not. Someone in particular has been coming here a lot more.

It’s so different from the past. Tony and Peter are not even working on the latter’s suit anymore. They’ve abandoned their tools and Peter’s homework has been put to a stop. What for?

Peter has been ranting about Star Wars and how unfair it is the way people have been treating some of the new characters from the most recent trilogy.

Arguably, Tony has only seen the original trilogy years ago, but he was never a fanboy. He might not understand everything to the lore, but he’s not at all bored or annoyed by Peter’s long ramble. He’s listening all the way through, never looking away.

Peter seems to have not noticed Tony staring at him with all the attention in the world, because suddenly… The kid gradually quiets down and stops talking, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

“... what?” Tony asks, confused. “Why did you stop?”

“Do you think I’m annoying?”

Tony sits closer to him. “No, of course not.”

“Why? I talk too much and- gosh, I’ve been ranting for half an hour about Star Wars…”

“Hey, I don’t mind.”

“But it’s so stupid, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid, it’s not stupid. It matters to you. Besides, you could talk about literally anything and I would listen all the way through.”

“Why?” Peter doesn’t believe him. “Are you just saying that to be nice?”

It hurts Tony hearing the kid’s insecurity.

He squeezes one of Peter’s shoulders.

“Oh, kid… I mean what I say. I like listening to you. I…”

… that word.

Love.

Is he going to say it?

“... I like having you here.”

Ah, dang it.

Still, the light in Peter’s puppy eyes returns. They look like the clean starry sky they can see from upstate. It does sting Tony’s heart how surprised Peter is to hear those words. He feels regret for not letting the kid know how much he likes his company. Tony will make sure to correct that from now on.

He pulls the kid in a half hug, squeezing him. Peter is very stiff at first, but he eventually relaxes and lies against Tony’s shoulder like a cat. If Tony isn’t seeing things, the teen is probably about to cry.

After this, they go back to work. Peter asks for help and Tony guides him. When the kid solves it, Tony praises him.

Then, the two leave the workshop together to eat ice cream and watch a dumb sitcom.

Tony eventually notices Peter has been staring at him with the same stars in his eyes.

But not in a mere fanboyish way.

After that, Peter lies against Tony again.

“I like being here, too,” he says simply.

It shouldn’t be surprising, right?

Still, Tony’s eyes blur.

Nothing rolls down, but truly, he’s not made of iron.

And that’s more than okay.

Tony smiles and lies his head on top of Peter’s, wrapping an arm around the kid.

Maybe he didn’t say what he meant just yet… but maybe Peter knows it.

Still, Tony will say it. He promises that.

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Okay so I honestly haven’t been active on tumblr in forever. But if I’m ever thinking of star wars, I like to take a peek at your blog because I feel like you are one of the few who loves Luke as much as I do. But what I want rn is to give my two cents on this whole acolyte thing. And I hope you don’t think I am trying to come at/attack you or anything of the sort. This is just my (somewhat complicated?) take on things. Sorry if this gets super long. I have many thoughts. And I hope I don’t confuse at all while trying to explain! Unfortunately, I’m not very eloquent lol. Anyway:

Personally? I’m kinda intrigued by the Osha/Qimir dynamic. And this is coming from someone who honestly severely disliked the sequels—especially kylo and reylo (but a lot of it was due to fandom bs as well). I mean, I’ll admit some of it is due to my own bias because this time around I’m glad both of the actors are hot and they are both absolutely acting their asses off. And maybe there hasn’t been enough for you in the show (I get it tbh, the episodes are short and there’s only so much you can do with 8 episodes and this is honestly a problem with D+ and a lot of streaming services now), but I can see what Leslye was aiming for with the dynamic. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is one of my fave movies so I definitely see the influence. But Headland did also point out that a lot of enemies to lovers is about one character going “I know there’s good in you!” or what the hell ever—and Osha didn’t do that. That’s something I can appreciate whereas in TLJ it seemed like Rey was all about freaking Kylo and was convinced there was still good in him even though the literal day before he had nearly killed both her and Finn.

I do disagree about there being no manipulation, though. Qimir IS being honest and vulnerable, but clearly he hopes to gain something with Osha from that. But whereas I didn’t buy any of it with Rey and Kylo, I can see how and why Osha might fall to the dark side. She is clearly conflicted about everything from her emotions to her very own identity. But Qimir is offering her a sense of clarity about that AND on her past. Osha loves and admires Sol deeply of course, but he has obviously been keeping something huge from her. And if it turns out he was majorly involved with whatever happened to her coven, it makes sense that Osha would then embrace whatever negative emotions that are brewing within her (even if Sol was slightly less involved the fact that he knew and never told her should rightfully make her angry). It will obviously destroy whatever faith she had left in the Jedi, but imo she might begin to question how it makes the Jedi any different from Qimir.

And now that I’ve explained that, I also wanted to say how I felt about some of the discourse. Fandom feuds are always annoying, but now that I’m essentially on the other side...? I’ve gotta say I am low-key offended and high-key pissed over it. I mean, if ppl don’t like Qimir or the relationship between him and Osha—fine. But I’ve seen some absolutely disgusting comments over this. Like someone on twitter (who ss a post of yours too) who was calling Leslye Headland’s lesbianism into question. Like idc if you don’t like the ship but there is literally no need for discussing her sexuality like that just because she likes a problematic ship you hate (which she literally created so idk what ppl expected anyways)!!! And then there are the “fans” (I use that term lightly) insulting Manny Jacinto’s looks (which is ridiculous cause the man is hot idgaf). And I honestly think that shit is hypocritical af since a lot of these ppl are fans who were rightfully upset at reylo/kylo stans for saying similar disgusting things about actual people.

I like quite a few villains in multiple fandoms, so to me it seems like the same ridiculous arguments. There’s nothing wrong with liking a fictional character who happens to be a villain. As long as no one’s trying to make excuses for their heinous actions (jokes are another thing) I don’t think it matters. It’s literally not that deep imo. And liking said problematic characters does not have anything to do with people’s real life morals. That’s just bullshit.

And again, it’s actually INCREDIBLY fucking hypocritical, ESPECIALLY coming from star wars fans who have been sexualizing villains like Darth Maul, Thrawn, and a young freaking Darth Vader for YEARS. But now it’s a problem with Qimir????? Not to mention the romanticization of other literal problematic ships like anidala or reylo. And I’ll be honest—as a Filipina????? I do feel like some of this is racially motivated because literally WHAT is the difference with Qimir and Osha/Qimir versus all of these other characters and ships?????? I think that’s what gets me heated is the hypocrisy of it all. And of course the fact that it’s all fictional anyway so I don’t know why it should fucking matter to some people if fans like a character or ship that they don’t.

Anyways...I think this is essentially all of my thoughts on the matter. Again, I hope I didn’t come across as rude or like I was attacking you. Like I said, it IS a bit complicated for me. Because as someone who hardly liked anything from the sequels, I was definitely cringing at the multiple mentions of reylo and kylo in Leslye’s recent interview. And yet....I see the vision.

hey!! so, there's a lot here and I do actually want to talk about all of it! I really appreciate you approaching this with nuance and being open to have a conversation. I'm gonna number my responses just so I know I covered everything I wanted to talk about and everything you mentioned.

One: I don't think there's anything wrong with being intrigued by a character dynamic like Osha and Qimir's, in fact I actually do find it very interesting from a psychological standpoint myself. I also don't think there's anything wrong with depicting a character dynamic like Osha and Qimir's, with one caveat, which is that you have to recognize it for what it is. I truly would LOVE star wars to approach it with the angle of "hey, this is how people can weaponize your own emotions against you, especially how a man may try (and even succeed) in manipulating a woman this way," and particularly what that looks like with the Force, because a LOT of Jedi and Sith principles are based around the acceptance (or aggravation!) of emotions. I think that's a totally interesting plot line that would actually be super fascinating to see. I also find it believable that Osha could, theoretically, be convinced by Qimir and turn (in fact I think your entire third paragraph is a very valid interpretation of what has happened so far). It's not that I don't think these are fascinating possibilities to explore. It's not that I don't think Osha joining the dark side is out of the question or even unreasonable, whatever the reason.

In fact, pre-interview, almost all of my criticism was pointed at the way the fandom immediately jumps to believing everything Qimir is saying without thinking critically about how he could be lying to Osha to get her to act the way that he wants her to. This comes from an intense place of frustration dealing with fandom in general who excuse the violent actions of men towards women (which is the reason why that one post doesn't actually even name Qimir or Osha, even though I did tag their names, since it applies to like a half dozen ships I can think of off the top of my head). In fact, I praised the writing of the acolyte in my breakdown post, assuming that Headland was purposefully creating all the cunning ways Qimir talks to Osha and all the tactics he appears to be using to manipulate her, and that this would be plot relevant. Whether Osha realized she was being manipulated and snapped out of it, or whether she never realized it, and fell to the dark side, and what that would mean for her, etc.

However, post-interview, things are different. No more am I simply dealing with a fandom that is willfully misinterpreting a toxic relationship as romantic, I am now dealing with the showrunner herself saying lots of things that disturb me. I can give her credit for not pulling the "there's good in him" card, but that's about as good as I can do. Headland may say that she does not intend the relationship to be manipulative, that she intends for Osha and Qimir to be equals, but if what she has presented to us onscreen does not read that way, then she has failed to accurately convey her message as the showrunner. You and I agree that Qimir is manipulating Osha, yet Headland says the opposite. I now have a showrunner for Star Wars, a massive franchise viewed by thousands, giving interviews saying that there is nothing wrong with this man's relationship with this young woman, but continuing to show the opposite. She can't have it both ways. The statement "Osha and Qimir are equals," is simply so far removed from the reality of what Headland has presented Qimir to be (a conniving man who is strong enough in the Force to eliminate a dozen Jedi at a time, and is so callus that he calls a girl an "it" after he's murdered her) that it's such an unbelievable statement I actually can't even believe people are buying it. I'm not saying that to be mean; what makes Qimir and Osha equals? Genuinely? That he cooks soup sometimes? That he disrobed in front of her? What about this relationship is equal?

Here's my bottom line when it comes to this discourse: I am sick of seeing young women getting treated like shit by men, and it getting romanticized as hot and desirable instead of what it is. I am sick of it whether the fandom does it, I am sick of it whether the showrunner does it, I am sick of it whether people in real life or in fiction do it, and I am allowed to feel that way.

Two: I won't be insulting Manny Jacinto in any capacity. He's doing a good job as an actor. I have acknowledged in past posts that he is obviously an attractive man.

If you think Qimir is hot, please, by all means, feel free to sexualize him in the manner that others sexualize Thrawn or Maul or anyone else. I'm an advocate of self insert fanfiction and of course (within reason), would find nothing wrong with that.

I am generally not a villain-lover, but there is nothing wrong with finding villains attractive or compelling! I haven't said there is. I have said that there's a problem within fandom and now literally within the media itself, with recognizing when a young woman is being mistreated by someone, sometimes because a lot of you are far more lenient on attractive men. The reylo fandom took this about twenty steps too far from 2015-2019 to the point where if you ask some of them, they still don't think Kylo even WAS the villain, and Headland is rapidly encouraging fans to take that angle with Qimir though I have given evidence to the contrary in spades.

There is a lot to be said about whether or not fiction affects reality. I believe it does, but I obviously do not believe that liking an evil character makes you evil. That being said, while not all fiction has a moral, all fiction has a theme, and you as the audience do take lessons from themes, whether you realize it or not; it sticks with you and may help you form your opinion on a similar set of circumstances you may come face-to-face with later. Fiction affects our feelings on a situation. A disturbing theme I'm seeing a LOT of in Star Wars lately is men being cruel to women in one way or another and the women finding it attractive and acceptable. Of course, depiction is not automatically endorsement... until we have now literally seen this type of relationship fully endorsed by Lucasfilm showrunners and directors twice in a row. Tweens and teenage girls *will* watch the sequel trilogy and the acolyte... what are they taking away from it? From what the director or showrunner has said about it? Honestly, this is much less about fandom to me now, and more about how official creators are treating these dynamics.

Three and finally and most important: I'm sorry that you've been seeing things like that being said about Headland, I think that's bizarre, rude, and uncalled for. I often do not go looking in fandom spaces anymore so I have not seen this, but that doesn't mean it's not out there. I generally do not trust Headland's creative input anymore, nor do I necessarily even like her, HOWEVER, I have not and will not make any such comment on her sexuality as it has nothing to do with any of this. I don't know which post of mine they screenshot, and I'd like more information actually, if they are using my post to say I think those things too, but regardless, I would not say this about her, or about anyone, and I don't condone it.

This is absolutely not racially motivated from me and I want to make that absolutely clear. I have been vehemently anti-reylo since the day I learned it existed, so I hope that you do not feel as though I am speaking out against the way that the Osha and Qimir storyline has been handled out of such a place, and I would never want anything to come across that way in any of my analysis or critiques. You will find I usually have less to say about anidala, seeing as the majority of the fandom does not depict Anakin as "doing nothing wrong" in that relationship, nor does the source material, so I feel I do not have to explain as much as I do with reylo and now Osha/Qimir. I want to make that absolutely clear that this type of relationship being presented in this type of way is a huge red flag for me regardless of the races of the characters involved. If you refer to the fandom at large, I don't want to invalidate your experiences, and don't know what other people are saying or what their reasons are. Unfortunately the acolyte fandom has been riddled with homophobia and racism since before the first episode even aired, and I want to make it clear that I think all of that is entirely unacceptable and that my critiques have nothing to do with either of those hateful ideologies.

[decent0distraction]

Solo harmony au - part 4

Now that I have ranted and raved about the little details and dynamics a bit, let’s finally talk about the storyline.

The last night of Baby’s Concert for the Pop Troops ends with a rocky fight between the two royal sisters before everyone moves out to the next posting.

Also just to be clear, the Baby team, by John Dory’s design, is going to the same safe zone towns the Pop troops are as a way to…um, gain further fame for Baby from the soldiers and the civilians. Branch, however, believes that John Dory set it up this way so Branch could use the perfect harmony to heal the spirits of those negatively impacted by the war. And it’s war, so that means literally everyone.

I’m sure that miscommunication won’t be a problem. Anyway-

With their soldiers were drunk, asleep, or at least taking one last time to relax before back into the fray, Viva and Poppy follow each other, arguing, while Branch and his brothers are wrapping up.

“I just need you to explain your thought process to me, Poppy,” Viva said as she rubbed her temples. “What could possibly make you think it would be expectable to-“

“-Oh, please, enough with the mature, regal act. You think you’re better than everyone when really, you’re just full of yourself. Okay? So take it down about 10 notches-“

“-Don’t talk to me like that! I’m still your queen-“

“-Yep, sure are!” Poppy shoved Viva to the ground, gaining the attention of Branch and Floyd, Bruce stepping in.

“Hey, um, your highnesses? Maybe there’s something we can do to help sort this out,” he offered.

John Dory and Clay suggested Branch and Floyd go back to their tent, Floyd agreeing.

“Yeah, Branch. Let’s just-“ but Branch leapt off the stage, knowing that words wouldn’t reach the disconnected sisters.

“I want to run,” he sang. “I want to hide.”

Poppy hadn’t yet turned to Branch, but Viva had and saw the glow beginning to form around the pop star.

“I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside.”

Poppy saw something reflecting in Viva’s eyes and turned around to stare in wonder and amazement as the perfect harmony echoed off of Branch as he sang.

“I love this song,” Viva sighed, smiling at the memories the melody brought her.

“I watch to reach out.”

Poppy couldn’t help but join in. “And touch the flame.”

“Flame,” Branch sang, happy to have a singing partner who seemed to actually enjoy singing. “Where the streets have no name.”

While humming along, Poppy held her hand out to dance with Branch. But when he reached out to accept, the glow pulsed and began to wrap around Poppy’s hand and up her arm.

Startled and a little drunk, she pulled away.

Branch feared her offended her and stopped singing, the glow lost.

“What was that,” Viva asked. “I’ve never felt so at peace; so…so safe.”

“Yeah, whatever that was,” Poppy said, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Hey, is that gonna do anything to my hand? Because listen, super-Troll good looks, I’ve always had ‘em. But super-Troll strength; I mean, can you imagine the possibilities with-“

“-No, no, it won’t do anything to you. Or at least, it shouldn’t, right, JD,” Branch asked, all eyes on John Dory.

“Uh, well, you know…I don’t know,” John Dory admitted. “But I’m sure the princess will be fine.”

“Please don’t sue us,” Clay pleaded.

No one gets sued, of course, and nothing happens to Poppy. But Branch is kept awake that night by the possibility that if the princess was able to almost take on the harmony with him, then maybe he can give it to the Bergens and prevent them from wanting to eat Trolls.

But when he tries to suggest it to his brothers…

“Branch, you can’t be serious,” Floyd fussed. “You really think we’re going to let you put yourself in danger like that?”

Branch couldn’t believe it. “But the whole point of these concerts and shows is to share the perfect harmony and help Trolls. The Bergens feed on happiness; what else could be better than-“

“-You’re not doing it and that’s final,” John Dory cut off sternly.

Branch got closer as he spoke. “But that isn’t fair for the Trolls that have lost everything to the Bergens! Maybe this is why I’m the only one of us who can produce the perfect harmony; because you won’t do what’s right and I will-“

The air was heavy and buzzed like static after John Dory slapped Branch, the oldest horrified as he watched himself send the little body of his baby brother to the ground.

“Branch!” Floyd and Clay fussed over him, Bruce calming them down.

“Okay, okay, you two. Just give us a second here. Branch, babe, you okay? Did he twist your neck? Let me see where he hit you.” Holding Branch’s chin, Bruce sighed at the red mark from JD’s open hand. “You should be okay. Go back with Floyd and Clay. We’ll join you guys soon.”

Branch didn’t move except to shrug Floyd’s and Clay’s hands off of him when they tried to help him up. He stared at John Dory. “Both of you, right? No one is going to leave?”

Bruce gave him a smile. “Both of us. No one’s gonna lea-“

“-I need to hear it from him,” Branch stated.

John Dory turned to Branch and held his hand out to help his littlest brother up. “I’m not going anywhere, shining star.”

“Okay,” Branch nodded, standing up while refusing any of the four hands offered to him. “Floyd, Clay, let’s hurry up and head back before it gets to dark to see.”

And my dearest reader, I wish I could I say that when John Dory and Bruce joined their younger brothers in their tent, they all sat down and saw reason, agreeing to Branch’s idea.

But the only thing that happens is that Bruce, Clay, and Floyd supervise a well thought out apology between the oldest and the youngest, before John Dory awkwardly excuses himself and Branch is shooed off to bed like a child.

And nothing happens. Er, for another week, that is.

I mean, nothing except that Bruce keeps catching Poppy sneaking into Baby’s rehearsals.

Poppy watched from the rafters as Branch had fun with a number, pulling Clay away from his work to dance with him. “You can dance. You can jive.”

She thought it was strange that when Clay sang with him, the older one didn’t glow too. “Having the time of your life.”

“Hold it, hold it,” John Dory called, Branch dropping his happy mood and Clay returning to his work. “Branch, we talked about this. These rehearsals are hard work. Not for you to interrupt Clay or anyone else while they’re working.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “Lay off, will you? He’s just trying to make things fun. Isn’t fun what being a pop star is supposed to be?”

“Not when we have four shows back to back,” John Dory argued.

“We? He wouldn’t have to do four shows back to back if you hadn’t set them up that way,” Floyd reminded him.

“Please don’t fight,” Branch requested. “That won’t solve anything. I’m sorry, JD. Clay’s right; I was just trying to make things fun. It makes the harmony stronger for the performance.” Clay looked smug and Branch gave him a look. “But JD’s right too. We have work to do. Speaking of, let’s run through Wanna Dance. I need to lock down the choreography before we start on the performance for Wonderwall.”

John Dory proudly watched Branch seamlessly perform the fourth song in the set.

Meanwhile, the princess was effortlessly climbing along the rafters to get a closer look.

“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with someb-“

“-Hey, who’s up there,” Bruce called, halting the rehearsal and sending all eyes towards Poppy as a flashlight was directed at her.

“The princess? But why would-“ Branch’s question was interrupted when she fell, catching herself with her hair and landing on her feet.

“Sorry,” she shrugged, sober and sheepish. “I just had to see more of that glowing thing you made happen.”

Branch approached her kindly. “It’s okay. I understand-“

But John Dory got in the way. “Forgive us, your highness. But this is a closed rehearsal-“

“-JD, you’re being rude. It’s fine, your highness. Really,” Branch insisted.

“You can just call me Poppy. The only Trolls who call me your highness are the guards and they’re all assholes. So…”

So yeah. Poppy watches the rehearsal until the ground starts shaking. She may be a princess and a pain in the ass, but she was still trained for this kind of thing. So when a scout warns that a Bergen has been spotted nearby, she prepares to defend Branch and his family.

However, the Bergen isn’t attacking. Things die down but everyone is still very much on edge.

With the concert cancelled, Branch tells his brothers that he’ll meet them at their tent, staying behind to tell Poppy his idea.

And Poppy, who has always been either a joke or the spare, agrees to help Branch find that Bergen and test his theory.

And that’s all for right now, people. More to come.

[morganas-pendragons]

Ocean(s) Away | E.M.

THIS IDEA WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE

Have the Reader from my first Elijah fic with Elijah at a gala, totally not based on the song Ocean Away from The Unofficial Bridgerton Musical. This has been sitting in my drafts forever and I’m trying to clear all these fics out LOL

Enjoy! 

***

You had him. You had him, and then you lost him, and the world hasn’t been quite right since. 

You should’ve expected it, trying to date a Mikaelson was always bound to end in failure. Rebekah had warned you as such. Even then, you had refused to heed her warnings about her brother and had instead done the one thing you’d never regret: You’d gone and fallen in love with him. 

You’d fallen in love with someone who was eternal, and you were finite. 

It was always bound to be tragic. 

What a beautiful party I'm looking up at the ceiling a lot The chandelier is so sparkly

Why you agreed to come to this, you have no idea. Niklaus and the remainder of his family who had not fallen victim to the war in New Orleans had decided to hold a gala in their family home, and you’d graciously accepted his invitation because he��d come to you and laid it in your hands himself. 

So you’d put on a dress, did your hair, finished your makeup, and kept your chin held high as you entered the Mikaelson home in the French Quarter. The ballroom was already bustling, filled with the likes of the vampires and witches who now occupied the Quarter -- with the occasional werewolf lingering uncomfortably in the corners. 

You saw him long before he saw you. It wasn’t hard to be drawn to Elijah. Someone as naturally handsome as he was never quite saw the beauty of being someone’s desire... and you had desired him from the first moment you’d seen him on that corner watching you play violin. 

You never said sorry Guess you forgot Or maybe you're not sorry at all

  “Darling, you made it!” Niklaus’ bright eyes gleamed as he stepped into your path, eyeing the violin bag slung over your shoulder. You returned the smile and allowed him to kiss your cheek before you parted from one another. “I’ve explicitly told the musicians to leave a spot for our star violinist who’s to perform this evening.” 

  “Thank you, Nik.” You murmur in reply, eyes cast just over his shoulder where Elijah’s head is tipped back - clearly laughing, given the reaction in his expression and his body - at the girl across from him. A pretty brunette you’ve never seen before. “I am afraid that afterward I will have to depart quickly. I have... other commitments.” 

You really just weren’t sure you could stand to be in the same room as Elijah when he was looking at someone else the way he should’ve been looking at you. 

Klaus followed your eyes toward Elijah and Hayley. He’d only just heard of your break-up the week before, hidden from the truth by his brother’s persistence of keeping so much to himself. The only thing Elijah couldn’t seem to keep quiet was his blooming affection for Hayley.

  “My brother is one of the smartest people I know,” Klaus confessed quietly as he wound an arm through your own to lead you to the stage. “But he is also one of the most ignorant people I know.” 

  “You don’t need to explain, Nik-” 

Turning to meet his eyes as you steadied yourself on the steps of the stage, you peered downward at him. Niklaus Mikaelson had a reputation for being fearsome, cold and cruel. He so rarely allowed himself to reach his fullest capacity of love. 

To be loved. Not until her. Not until Hope had been born. 

With you, though... There was something different about you that prompted Nik to be more cordial. More attentive to others feelings - especially yours and Rebekah’s - but only when no one else was paying attention. 

That didn’t matter though. You were just happy he wanted to guard your heart from his brother. 

  “But you deserve more than Elijah made you endure,” Nik replied. Your cheeks warmed as he pressed the gentlest kiss to your cheek before stepping away. “And you deserve the love you gave him.” 

But a beautiful evening I want to know just what the hell are you thinking Oh so stoic, emotionless, over us all so quickly What am I missing?

You don’t dare move until Klaus is addressing the crowd, thus drawing attention to the night’s star violinist as you begin to tune the instrument pressed against your shoulder. 

  “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce the best violinist in the French Quarter, Y/N.” 

Exhaling slowly through your nose, you poised the bow against the instrument and began to play as the crowd quieted and zeroed in on the haunting notes of the melody you played echoing against the high ceilings of the ballroom. 

You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the music. It was better then gazing over the crowd and inevitably locking eyes with the man who had ruined you. 

I can't even drink champagne No, without seeing your face Am I the one to blame? When we're dancing in the same room And you're an ocean away

***

What a terrible soirée With terrible people pretending they're happy In this masquerade We go through the motions When all that we wish is escape From the choices we make

He’s lost himself in the familiarity of Hayley. It’s not until she’s tugging eagerly on his sleeve to motion to the stage where Niklaus has just introduced the guest musician for the evening that he notices it: Y/N. You. 

He hasn’t seen you since he left you crying on the corner beneath the dim street lamp in the light haze of rain. That image would be burned into Elijah’s mind forever. 

It was for the best. The two of you had barely just begun dipping your toes into the waters of your budding relationship when you had murmured something in the throes of passion about wanting him, just him, forever. 

And well... Elijah had never had forever, so he’d run. All the girls he’d loved over the years were finite. They’d died. 

He couldn’t watch you die too. 

  “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you one who may be the most talented musician in the French Quarter. Ladies and Gentleman, Y/N,” Niklaus extended a hand in your general direction, and Elijah watched as you allowed your eyes to flutter closed and lost yourself in your music. 

And then I see her smiling How can she be smiling? There's been no reconciling And when she's at my focus she won't even notice my gaze How can she be okay

The standing ovation given to you is one well deserved. You’re quick to address the whole crowd, deliberate in keeping your gaze away from him, and Elijah is helpless to do anything but watch as his brother takes your hand and sweeps you out onto the dance floor. 

Even with the object of his desires as of late on the dance floor in his arms, Elijah is entranced by you. 

It will inevitably ruin him. 

***

When I can't even drink champagne, no Without seeing your, face Am I the one to blame? When were dancing in the same room but you're an ocean away

  “Y/N,” You shiver as Niklaus’ hands settle against your back - as your dress has the back cut out, another deliberate move in an attempt to draw Elijah’s attention - and begin tracing patterns against the bare skin there as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Look at me.” 

Heavy-lidded eyes shift upward to meet his own. Those piercing, transparent greens are staring back at you with such an intensity that you believe they may burn you to your core on the spot. 

And that doesn’t cover the want lingering in them. In his. In yours. 

But the real question is... who do you want? 

  “Nik-” 

His head dips to the bare expanse of your shoulder and settles there, lips burning their mark against your skin as your head falls forward to give him the ability to continue. 

  “My brother is many, many things,” Niklaus whispered in your ear as he continued his ascent towards your mouth. “But he has never quite been able to see what is truly right in front of him. For that he is a fool.” 

You thread your fingers into the hair at his nape. “But you,” You reply. “You are no fool.” 

He flashes that wicked grin that’s all teeth and downright vicious as he brings his face just close enough to yours to feel the warmth of your breath against his face. Something burns low in your stomach because of it. You hadn’t felt want like this since the last time you’d been with Elijah. 

And well, maybe there’s that small part of you that wants to make him pay for taking you and leaving you behind with his presence burned into the very fabric of you. 

  “No, I don’t believe I am.” 

You nudge your head backward in Elijah’s direction as the two of you continue around the width of the dance floor. There’s too many bodies around and it’s far too warm, but even you can feel Elijah’s gaze burning into the back of your head. “Well then,” You muse. “Why don’t you show your brother just who you really are, Niklaus?” 

And then he surges forward to kiss you, all consuming and all heat right in the middle of a crowd that sees every moment of it. 

Elijah nurses his champagne flute in the corner just out of sight. Hayley has gone off to tend to Hope, leaving him alone with nothing but his desires and the drink to drown them in. 

If this was the game you wished to play, so be it.