#idk I don't know anything about star wars

[blindwildnoise]

quick portrait comm

[several-ravens]

i'm rewatching episode 3 of the acolyte and i'm noticing a lot of weird things about the fire at the coven

conspiracy theory under the cut

since episode 1 this show is about appearances and deception

first with osha being arrested for mae's crimes and the twins being mistaken for one another, then with the stranger posing as innocent and awkward qimir before being revealed as mae's master, and more generally with the power of the jedi and the council being built on lies and them not being as good as they seem

and from the beginning, the show has been telling us that mae is the one that started the fire that burned the coven and killed everyone, but also that the four jedi feel extreme guilt (up to the point of comitting suicide for master torbin) for what happened that night

so as i said, i'm rewatching episode 3 and everything is going well up until osha packs her bag to leave with the jedi and mae confronts her in their room. here's what happens:

mae steals osha's notebook

she runs out of the room and locks the door behind her

she sees the drawing of the lightsaber and the logo of the jedi order

she's angry, and she picks up the lamp from the wall and sets the notebook on fire

then we get a shot of osha running to the window to call her mother, and we hear the sound of the lamp breaking

osha turns around, the fire starts to spread

then we get a shot of the empty corridor with no trace of mae

for now this still seems somewhat logical since mae told osha that she wanted to kill her (and has displayed some signs of cruelty before) but bear with me

osha escapes the room though the vent thing and starts looking for mae

we hear them calling out each other's name until they both stand on the opposite ends of the metal walkway and mae says "jump over to me"

that's what makes me think mae didn't mean what she said when she told her sister that she was going to kill her

but who do we see running around the coven? master sol.

what is he doing here? great question.

did he have the time to go through the forest, climb the mountain and find his way into the building since the fire started? absolutely not.

mae "dies"

sol saves osha

they run next to a bunch of witches who are very much dead but are not burned, have not been crushed by rubble and do not seem asphyxiated by smoke of any kind (since osha and sol are breathing perfectly fine)

SO since we have one jedi running around being suspicious, why not have four?

i think mae set fire to the notebook, but one of the jedi smashed the lamp and set fire to the building while the others killed the witches, probably in order to "save" both twins

but mae "died", and they realised they fucked up big time and set their story straight and pin the fire on the dead kid (who can never corroborate their story since, you know, she's dead)

which would explain the guilt they all seem to feel about that night, and why all the witches seemed to have died on the spot, and qimir's little speech about "galactic dominance in the name of peace which is a lie" from episode 2

one last thing: we don't have a clean shot on torbin's face but he appears in the background when they are back at the ship and even though he's blurry, you can clearly see he has a new wound on his face wich will leave the scar he has in episode 2

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[bison-appreciation-club]

Spat tea out EVERYWHERE with laughter reading this sentence

well i don't know much about religion in star wars so. presumably they did not have space jesus

[itstimeforstarwars]

I Love garfield the loth-cat but the main question is what is the equivalent of lasagna in Star Wars?

You know, this led me on a wookie-walk that ultimately did not result in any conclusions, but until I have come up with a better answer, I'm going with puff cakes. Not that puff cakes are in any way lasagna-like, but they are served in the Jedi cafeterias.

[lieutenantselnia]

Huh okay😭😂

QUIZ: which star wars villain are you?

oh my god 💀

[obaewankenobis]

born to die ; finnick odair

pairing: finnick odair/reader (afab but i don't think i use pronouns? also no use of y/n)

word count: 6.8k

part 2: find here!

summary: having just finished your victory tour, you, the winner from district 4, are forced to confront the reality of winning the games. luckily, you know someone who's done this before — finnick odair.

warnings: mentions of violence, death, nightmares, blood, sex trafficking, i mean... it is the hunger games so read at your own risk! mutual pining, slowish burn, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it ), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, idk it's not that bad. minors dni!

a/n: sorry to everyone who followed me for my star wars content... anyways here is my first finnick fic cause my friend made me watch the hunger games a month ago so here i am. i was super interested in the cashmere/glimmer theory so i kinda used it here. i have a prequel and a part 2 planned so lmk if you want that <3

There were things nobody ever told you about winning the games, things you wished you would’ve known before you tried so hard. Before you’d clawed your way up a cliff of desperate survival and emerged on top. Before you’d killed people — other children — to be able to stand here now. Your father, a former Victor himself, hadn’t told you about this side of things before he died. With a pang, you realized how badly you wanted him beside you, and how impossible that was. How you were now confined in shoes so tall you thought you might wobble over, in a dress so thin you were beginning to shiver, and a hairstyle that pulled uncomfortably at your roots. It all tied in for a look that was clearly meant to have all eyes on you. It was your victory party, you tried to reason as you slipped into the dress and noticed just how much of you would be on display. They wanted all eyes to be on you. It was okay.

You just wanted to feel beautiful again, to not be plagued with the feeling of revulsion when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The outfit wasn’t the problem, it was perhaps the most stunning thing you’d ever worn: a loose dress with billowing sleeves that fell off your shoulders and opened around the stomach, the silky material melting from transparency to a solid, pale purple around the parts that clung to your breasts and hips. The opalescent color, meant to mimic the expensive pearls commonly found in District 4, shimmered in the moonlight, threatening to turn even the solid parts translucent and expose every part of you to the Capitol.

Not that they’d mind, you thought, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth that threatened to rise to the surface, breaking through a perfectly painted smile and tugging your blush lips into a frown. You couldn’t help but feel that was the point, with all the oogling that no one was trying to hide. And that feeling… that is what kept you from feeling anything but beautiful. You felt used, and exposed, but not beautiful. 

A hand on your arm startled you out of your bitter thoughts, your skin immediately crawling with disgust as your gaze traveled to the face connected to the hand still placed possessively on you. While not particularly ugly, the man in front of you was pushing fifty, and the lewdness dripping from his gaze as he leered at you, an eighteen year old girl… 

“There you are,” his lips curled into an unpleasant smile; he was close enough you could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, almost overpowered by the sheer amount of cologne that clung to him. “I must say, my sponsorship has paid off… handsomely. I mean, look at you! Such a stunning addition to the Capitol, I just cannot wait for you to become—”

“Excuse me,” a new voice — a familiar voice — cut through. “I think your wife is looking for you, Quillon.”

Of course he knew this man, he seemed to know everyone. And of course the man — Quillon — listened, his eyes widening as he immediately removed his hand from you, leaving an unpleasant dampness from his sweaty palms. He backed away until he had disappeared into the crowd and it was just you and him.

Him. Finnick Odair, Capitol Darling, youngest Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, the most insufferable and obnoxious boy you’d ever had the displeasure of encountering. You were sure he’d never liked you from the beginning; you’d tried to introduce yourself to him at fourteen when you accompanied your father to the Capitol to train the new tributes, only to be brushed off without a second glance.

That dislike had only seemed to grow when you had been Reaped the year your father had been killed (the rumors of the siblings and children of Victors being chosen so often finally making sense to you), and Finnick Odair, master of the Games, expert of the field, had all but ignored you.

“You!” All of the rage you’d pent up about his mentoring skills — or lackthereof — were coming out in full force, though even you were surprised by the venom in your words. With a jab of a finger in his chest, you finally began to let it all out. He seemed to have sensed that you would come at him swinging, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to a quieter corner of the party, beneath a small pergola weighted with vines that crept up the sides and wove inbetween the planks on top.

“Look, I know you must be upset — ” No. You wouldn’t let him talk, not before you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. You took a step closer, until your nose was brushing against his, and tried to keep your voice as level as you could.

“Nice of you to finally fucking show up, Odair. Didn’t think you’d see me again, huh? Not after you all but fucking abandoned me during training week. I mean, I know we never really got along, but seriously? Is that why you left me with Mags and I never saw you past the first day? You hoped you’d train Kier—” the breath caught in your throat as you finally uttered the name of your fellow District tribute for the first time since… well, that wasn’t important. “—and then I would be out of your hair, is that it?”

Finnick, however, took this as an opportunity to spit his own words out, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard as he looked down at you. “I was trying to help you.” He was so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, almost making you want to close your eyes.

“Help me?” A laugh escaped your lips, one that could’ve almost been seen as genuine because of the honest disbelief that coated it. “You think I’d be better off dead?”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t even look you in the eyes, choosing instead to fixate on a tiny rose growing from within the depths of the ivy layers. That was basically a confirmation of what you’d just said, but for some reason he couldn’t even admit it to your face.

 You weren’t sure why, but hot, angry tears were beginning to form in your eyes; you tried frantically to force them down. He couldn’t know how much he’d hurt you with his indifference. “You were supposed to be there for me, you were supposed to teach me how to survive, and you fucking left me to die!”

Had you done something? You replayed all of your interactions with him, coming up short with a conversation that would make him hate you so much he wanted you to die. Sure, you’d been a bit annoying when you’d trailed behind your father, and maybe you had been a little relentless to pursue his attention when he moved next door to you in Victor’s Village, but this? The way he couldn’t even answer you? The way he was just standing there, his gaze in some far off place? It made you angrier. How dare he be so indifferent, how dare he act as if he was doing you a favor?

There was a moment of hesitation before Finnick sighed. “It’s not like that. I was trying to protect you. Look— has Snow talked to you yet?”

This left you truly at a loss for words. “Snow?” You words were less harsh and more curious. “Why would Snow want to talk to me? You know what — don’t try to spin it on him, this is about us! About you—” You stabbed at his chest again, and this time he let you. “—about you abandoning me in that arena, when it was your job to fight for me! To keep me alive!”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand right now,” he began again, hesitantly reaching out to grasp the hand that had struck against his chest, and that was the final straw snapping; you were done.

With a scowl and a tug of your hand, you yanked it free of his grasp and whirled around, the flow of the dress whipping around from the sudden gust of wind. “Whatever, Odair. I’m done. If you can’t even admit what you did was wrong, then… then just leave me the fuck alone from now on.” You didn’t bother to look back, missing the way his jaw hung open and his entire face crumbled. If only you had any idea.

You found out soon enough.

“You’re quite popular now, if you didn’t know that already. Although you’re quite perceptive, I can’t imagine you don’t.” Though he sealed the compliment with a smile, it did little to soothe the unease stirring within your belly.

“Yes, Sir. I’ve noticed. Is that a bad thing?” You hated how weak you sounded, your voice faltering slightly at the end of your sentences, hanging uncomfortably in the air and weighed down with uncertainty.

“I knew you were a smart one,” he finally tucked the envelope in his hands into his pocket, his undivided attention now on you. “You see, with how desirable you are… there are certain expectations that come with that. We wouldn’t want the Capitol to be unsatisfied, now would we?”

When did attention turn into desire? When were there suddenly expectations, and why was it suddenly your responsibility to keep people satisfied? 

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” A hollow, empty statement, but a genuine one.

“Well,” it seemed Snow was particularly delighted by your response, as if it allowed him to explain something that pleased him greatly. “Victors have their place in Panem, just as all the Districts do. What would Panem be without Eleven’s grain, or Five’s power?”

Realizing it was not a rhetorical question, that he really wanted you to answer, you stumbled through a response. “Well, I— I suppose it would topple the whole structure. We… we can’t survive without eachother.”

“You’d be correct. The same thing applies to the Capitol. Without everyone doing what’s required of them, the Games fail to run smoothly. With no… incentives, shall we say, people… sponsors… become uninterested. There are things you, as a Victor and a mentor, need to do to ensure that interest remains. Do you understand me now, my dear?”

You did, oh how you did. And that was the worst part.

That was how you got here on the rooftop of the Victor’s apartment complex, wrapping a thin robe around the once pretty, now torn chemise that did little to hide your body. You barely survived the first night, there was no way you could spend the rest of your life doing this. No amount of hot showers and scrubbing your skin raw until it bled could free you from feeling so dirty. Tears glistened on your cheeks, highlighting your face in the pale dawn light and exposing your true emotions to anyone who could see you. Luckily — or perhaps unluckily — you were all alone in the Capitol, your family safe and sound because of what you’d agreed to, but so far away.

With slow movements, you hoisted yourself onto the ledge of the roof, telling yourself you wanted to get a better glimpse of the city skyline as the sun crept higher into the sky, not wanting to admit the real reason why, even to yourself. The wind whipped all around you, tearing the robe from your body and splaying your hair in different directions, but you felt as close as you could to freedom. If you just— took another step, or stumbled forward and fell, maybe you would truly be free in the entire sense of the word.

“There’s a forcefield. They wouldn’t let you get away that easily,” the all too familiar voice of Finnick Odair startled you out of your thoughts.

“Did you know?” You had to ask, but couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head and look back at his features, because you would surely crumble if you saw the look on his face.

To his credit, Finnick didn’t bother to sugarcoat it. “Yeah, of course I knew. That’s why…”

“That’s why you wouldn’t train me. You wanted me to die, so I wouldn’t end up like this—” you whirled around sharply to stare straight into his eyes for confirmation as you guessed what you were going to say next. “—like you. Because he makes you do this too, doesn’t he?”

Finnick was never an easy person to read, always hiding behind dimples that indented in his cheeks when he flashed one of his dizzying smirks. But now? You felt like you were staring at a statue, his gaze unable to leave yours but also unable to say anything in return.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, allowing the cold caress of the breeze to take hold of you. If only you could fall back, if only… 

“I tried to protect you,” his voice cracked, finally pushing something past his lips and drawing you away from the dangerous thoughts fighting in your mind. “Don’t you see it now? It would’ve been better if you’d died in the arena, you wouldn’t have to do this,” he spat out the word like it was hot tea burning his tongue, but you noticed the crack of defeat in his voice. The way his shoulders slumped, the way his sea green eyes were fixed on his shoes. “And I… I wouldn’t have to see you like this.”

You did see it now; there was a fate worse than death. “I should’ve listened to you, Finnick.” His first name felt foreign on your tongue, as if you were speaking an intimate language only known to the both of you. “I— I’m sorry. I had no idea, I…”

He let your apology hang heavy in the air, flicking his eyes over your shoulder to the waking Captiol, evident by the honks of car horns and the chatter of thousands turning into a dull buzz.

You couldn’t stand silence, it reminded you too much of what followed your father’s execution, what followed when your name was called from the Reaping Bowl. So with a huff, you jumped down from the ledge and hoped he wouldn’t notice your disgruntled appearance.

Not that you cared what he thought of you. But one look from him and you were a goner; your lips began to quiver and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Finnick, I… I don’t know how to do this,” a choked sob escaped you, and then it was all over and you were crying, shaking violently as you tried and failed to regain your composure. That seemed to snap him out of the haze he’d been in, his eyes flickering over and fixating on your figure, deep frown lines etching themselves on his face in a worried expression. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he didn’t hesitate to surge forward as you began to sway, the lack of sleep from the night before becoming evident in the dark circles beneath your bleary eyes, cracks in your skin holding onto tears that had long since been shed. He placed a careful hand near the small of your back, hovering over your skin before you fell back into it, like he was uncertain if you would be okay with touch. It reminded you of two nights ago, where he’d been so close to you but still kept his distance, not wanting to invade your space. His reluctance to touch you without your explicit permission made sense now, it all did.

“I just— I don’t—” Your body convulsed with gutteral sobs that sliced his heart in two, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you into his chest, allowing fresh tears to stain in the wool of his white sweater. “I don’t…” you tried again, wanting to continue despite the hiccups, “I just don’t… don’t… know what to do.”

You could feel his lips moving against your hair from where they rested on top of your head as he answered. “You don’t have to do anything. Not right now, at least.”

Time passing was the last thing on your mind as you remained in his embrace, soaking up everything about him, relishing in the comfort his closeness brought to you. How when your mind began to wander, the rhythmic pattern of his heartbeat brought you back so you could listen with your ear against his chest. How when your body expelled the last of its shudders and gasps from your breakdown, you could feel his arms flexing, squeezing you a little tighter. How when you pulled back from his embrace, he traced the red indent on your cheek, left from one of the buttons on his sweater.

“When was the last time you slept, sweetheart?” Finnick asked in a tone so gentle it brought fresh tears to your eyes; perhaps it was the sleep deprivation this time.

“I— I can’t go to sleep,” you began to panic again, digging your fingernails into his clothed arms. “I just close my eyes and I keep reliving it over and over again, I can’t do it again, I can’t—”

“I get it,” he stopped your rambling with a simple sentence, and you finally felt like you didn’t have to explain, he just understood. “Just… come with me, okay? You can trust me.”

Wordlessly you nodded, allowing him to guide you gently through the long corridors of the various penthouses until you arrived to one that had been occupied by none other than yourself. No, I can’t sleep, you wanted to shout at him, but remained silent. Trust him.

You allowed him to go through the motions of a bedtime routine, paying no attention to the fact that it was probably breakfast time. Pulling back one side of the blanket, he patted the uncovered space, motioning you to come lay down beside where he sat. 

“Finnick, I can’t…” I can’t sleep.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just trust me, okay? Come and lay down, you don’t even have to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you threw the robe off of you and on to a chair, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the nightgown underneath did little to hide your body, reaching just past the tops of your thighs and exposing most of your legs. But Finnick didn’t even seem to notice, watching just your face as you settled into bed beside him, laying stiffly on your back until he motioned for you to roll over on your side, facing away from him.

“What are you—” you were shushed yet again and tried to comply, feeling a bit odd facing away from him when he was supposed to be distracting you.

You suppressed a shiver as his finger came into contact with your back, the thin silk of the nightgown doing little as a barrier and feeling more of a second skin. He began to trace a pattern— wait, were those letters?

“Finnick, what are you doing?” You forced back the beginnings of a smile, the first time you’d genuinely wanted to in what seemed like forever.

“Just relax, okay? Sometimes it’s okay to just… let yourself be distracted,” his voice trailed off, differing from the confidence you were used to, replaced by something much more vulnerable. “What am I drawing now?”

“I…” you frowned in concentration, trying to piece together the light strokes of his finger just barely gliding over you. “The sea, no! Waves?”

“Woah, that was fast. Didn’t know I was such an amazing artist, but it doesn’t surprise me—” The teasing tone had returned to his voice, no doubt an effort to continue to distract her

“Can you just continue drawing?” You rolled your eyes knowing he couldn’t see, but there was a slight humor to your voice that let him know it was working, that he was distracting you. His fingers continued their roaming, dancing so delicately and so dangerously close to your bare shoulder.

Finnick traced a moon, a star, and even a fish before he switched over to words, indenting each letter in your back with featherlight strokes of his fingers.

At first it was people, places. Your name. His name. District 4. District 1. Then it transitioned to phrases, which proved to be much more difficult. ‘You should sleep’—

“—Hey! I thought this was supposed to just be a distraction,” your words were finished with a heavy yawn that caused a chuckle to vibrate within his chest, and a feeling of warmth spread through you like wildfire. You couldn’t help it, in a moment you had flipped over onto your other side, wanting to see him. You could hear him, small chuckles passing from his lips and the slight rustle of the sheets beneath his body; you could smell him, a comforting, clean scent that instantly relaxed you, but nothing compared to actually being able to see him in all his glory.

You studied the high of his cheekbones, the straight edge of his nose, the golden glow of his skin that matched his bronzy hair dishevled from its place against your headboard. You studied the way his hair curled around his ears, the way you could faintly see the indents in his cheeks from where his dimples would appear if he were to smile, how the white of his two front teeth would poke out from his lips if he flashed you a smirk. They were full and pink, and, with a pang of jealousy that rocked your entire body, you wondered how many Capitol women had been blessed with feeling his lips on theirs — then swallowed that thought down with a shudder of disgust. He hadn’t wanted them, any of them, it was all a facade made up from by the Capitol, and you needed to realize that.

And while hearing him, and smelling him, and even seeing him was great, all you wanted to do was touch him. Not like that; no, you just wanted his arms around you again like they had been on the rooftop, shielding you from the cruelty of the world and finally allowing your body to feel safe enough to sleep. You wanted to reach out and trace the sharpness of his jawline, trail your fingers down to explore the planes of his chest, draw letters and shapes and meaningless patterns over his shirt like he’d just done to you. He watched you through sea green eyes that were glassy with sleep or emotion, which one you couldn’t say. His breaths came out short and shallow, hitting your face as you stared right back. You wondered if he could feel your breath fanning his face, or the warmth radiating from your body as you could from his.

He was close, so, so close, like that night you’d first seen him in the Captiol. You were wanting, just about begging for him to say something, something that would snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

It wasn’t fair that he could be so close, mere inches away on the bed, but be so unreachable.

But, as Snow had so graciously reminded you, fairness was a luxury you were not blessed with. So with great effort you tucked one arm under your pillow, using the other to pull the covers over you. Much to your relief, Finnick made no attempt to leave, saving you the embarassment of asking him to stay.

“Finnick?” You asked after several moments in a hushed whisper, not wanting to wake him. You felt guilty enough to have kept him up until mid morning.

“Mmmm?” Was the response, thick with sleep.

“Thanks for staying with me.” You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

Blood. Red and warm and sticky.

Heat. Blistering your skin and parching your throat.

A knife. Glinting in the sun, slicing straight through skin and muscle and bone.

A scream. Bloodcurdling and drawn out and all too familiar.

A scream escaped your lips, mimicking the one in your dream to an uncanny degree until you realized it was your scream. The sheets were tangled around your limbs, suffocating you and rendering you paralyzed as you fought with them, sweat drenching your forehead and leaving your hairline damp as you struggled for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a moment or two before your disorientation faded and you realized you weren’t back in the arena. Two hands were on your shoulders, strong and grounding, and you realized someone had been calling your name.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, it’s just— it’s just me,” Finnick’s voice was soothing to your ears, a calming melody against the screams and sounds of sliced flesh that were assaulting your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, chest heaving as you sucked in as much air as possible, needing desperately to occupy your mind with something else, anything else. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up—”

“It’s okay,” he cut you off; his hands moved up from your shoulders to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and you realized you’d been crying. “I get it, you don’t… you don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

His arms wrapped around your body until you had been tucked into his side, your head resting in the crook where his neck met his shoulder, and allowed steadying inhales and exhales to relax you as he resumed tracing patterns on your back. You cried, for everything you’d lost in those games, mourning the person you were before, and he just stayed there, cradling you against him, wanting nothing more than to take your pain on as his own.

“I— I— I just— I can’t—” you hiccuped, fresh tears spilling from your eyes as memories from your Games kept crashing down, how your District partner had protected you and you’d killed him—

“Please, what do you need?” Finnick squeezed his hands a bit tighter around you, trying desperately to bring you back to today. “Just tell me, and I can get it for you— liquor, morphling, anything, just—”

“Finnick,” you croaked out, hating how your voice sounded so weak, so broken. “Can you just…” your eyes flickered down to his lips, and despite every cell in your body screaming at you not to ask: “Kiss me.”

His eyes widened like it was the last thing he expected you to say, “I— okay— are you sure?”

You answered his question by surging forward and capturing his lips with your own, telling yourself it wasn’t his lips that you craved, but that you just needed something to get you through the night. He reciprocated immediately, matching your desperation with his own, like the two of you were trading blows as he pulled you fully under him, settling himself between your legs. You felt the hardness in his pants and couldn’t help but roll your hips up to meet it, pressing your own desire up against his. That — the feeling of his cock straining through the material of his sweatpants — made everything a little too real, and you suddenly found yourself needing to justify your actions. Why you felt this way was a mystery, perhaps you were protecting yourself, scared he wouldn’t feel the same if you were honest, but you truly had no idea, it just slipped out.

“I just… can’t think about it anymore,” you panted out. He didn’t have to know that you’d been pining after him since you were sixteen, didn’t need to know you hid your wanting behind sharp jabs and petty slights. “I don’t want you to think— this doesn’t have to mean anything, okay?”

Maybe you were imagining it, but Finnick’s eyes flickered with something you’d never seen before, clenching his jaw for a moment. “Okay.” He didn’t sound okay. “This means… whatever you want it to mean,” his voice was husky with a mix of something that sounded a little like… well you weren’t really sure, and you soon forgot to ask him as he stole your lips in another kiss.

You swore you would never get used to the feeling of Finnick’s lips on your own, even if you kissed him every day for a thousand lifetimes. Because each time his lips met yours, the world as you knew it was set ablaze with the same fuel that set your whole body on fire. You could never get enough of him, the way his lips were so soft and gentle, the way his breath mingled with and matched your own until it was like you were breathing as one. The way his tongue slid into your mouth but didn’t invade it while his hands roamed your body, squeezing the flesh around your hips, your sides, not being able to keep them contained to one place.

They finally settled on the sides of your thighs, squeezing around the area where your nightgown stopped, fading into a lacy trim and then disappearing completely. With tentative hands, he gripped the bottom of your nightgown and slowly began to hike it up your body. You helped him slide it up your legs, your stomach, your head, until it was completely discarded and you were left in nothing but underwear, having not worn a bra to sleep and leaving your chest completely exposed. Before you even had the chance to cover yourself, he was pressed up against you and his lips were on your neck, nipping at the sensitive spots under your ear and near the base of your throat, soothing the sting of his teeth with the swirl of his tongue.

This continued for a bit without any talking or shifting around, until you decided you weren’t content with being the only one practically naked, and reached for the hem of his shirt. He got the hint pretty quickly, leaning back and sitting on the backs of his thighs before tugging the shirt over his head. His biceps flexed in the process as he revealed a body sculpted and shaped into what you could only describe as perfect, not a single flaw to be seen.

 Sitting above you, your legs spread around him and almost completely bare before  him, this was the first time he was truly able to take in all of you, his green eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had been blown out. His cheeks were so flushed they nearly matched the red of his lips, swollen from the constant attack of your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” Finnick whispered, so quietly you thought you imagined it. He didn’t leave much time for the compliment to settle in before he was back on you again.

His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and licking a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down past the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and not leaving an inch of skin untouched. You let out a little whine at the loss of contact when he suddenly pulled away, stopping his kisses just by your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see him searching them for any trace of unwillingness, finding none. 

You nodded, desperate to have his mouth on you, and involuntarily shivered as a finger hooked around your panties and rolled them down your legs. You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as he was met with how eager you were for him, evident by the growing wetness between your thighs, and instinctively pressed your legs together to shield yourself from his prying gaze, despite being completely bare before him.

“You don’t have to hide, it’s just me,” he said as gently as possible, gripping your thighs and slowly spreading them apart, “Are you really sure about all of this? I don’t want you to think that’s why I stayed.”

God he was so good, you realized with an ache that rocked your body, shooting straight to your heart as you stared at him, met with only sincerity that made you want to cry again, because you could never truly have all of him.

He was doing this as a favor, as a distraction, not because he had any real feelings. But you were so desperate for him you’d take what you could get, which was why you nodded fervently and said, “Please, Finnick, I’m sure, I need you, just… touch me.” And as soon as the last words slipped past your lips, his mouth was on you, and you knew in that moment you were utterly fucked.

Finnick, on the other hand, knew he there was no coming back the moment he came into contact with your clit and tasted you with his tongue. He wanted you, all of you, and chanelled that into the expert motions of his tongue as he dove it deeper in you, continuing at an agonizing pace until you were trembling, practically begging for release. Your fingers raked through his hair, tugging him closer to you, his groans vibrating against your folds whenever you pulled a little hard.

And then, he stopped altogether, and you let out a frustrated groan at the loss of contact, but he was quick to make his way up your body again, peppering kisses along the way before swallowing your whine with another kiss, your mouth opening to let his tongue inside and tasting yourself on him. He broke away for a moment, just in time for you to cry out his name.

“Finn—” you barely had time to whimper again before he suddenly sunk a finger in and kissed you at the same time. His mouth never left yours as he continued, his tongue sliding along the seam of your lips as you parted them with a gasp. And he swallowed that with the kiss, too, like he was hungry for every part of you that he could get. 

Desire ignited every part of his body, reflected in the way he began to pump his finger in and out before adding another, wanting you to be ready enough for his cock that he so desperately wanted to sink into you.

 But Finnick had waited so long for this moment, he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. No, he needed to relish in every moan elicited from your lips, every clench of you around his fingers. He needed to memorize every dip and valley of your body, kiss every square inch, memorize the taste and feel of you, in case he never got the chance to again.

He broke away his lips from yours and reattached them to your neck as his thumb began to trace a pattern against your clit. His pace quickened as your moans grew louder and more frequent. Your walls squeezed his fingers tighter, until you were practically undone, as he reveled in the sting in his roots and on his back as as you pulled his hair even tighter and your fingernails dug little crescent moons into his otherwise perfect skin.

“I’m gonna—” You were cut off as he sent you over the edge with the slight curl of his finger, pure bliss blinding every other sense until all you could think of was Finnick. It took you a moment to come down from your high, realizing it did little to satiate you because you still wanted him, all of him.

You reached for his bare torso, feeling each of his abs flex individually as you trailed your hands down his stomach. You stopped just above the waistband of his pants, not only wanting to feel him, but wanting to hear him say he wanted it just as badly as you did; but it seemed he was thinking the same thing and beat you to it, shucking off his sweats and boxers until he was also bare before you.

“Tell me you want me,” his chest heaved with each word, demanding you say just what you wanted to hear from him, tearing your attention away from everything else. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Want you so bad,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, I need you inside me. Right now, just… please.” If you could get drunk off of the word please leaving your mouth you’d be wasted by now, almost wanting to laugh with how often you’d said the word.

“Whatever you want,” the way he said that made your spine tingle, the purr in his voice causing you to border on ferality.

This caused you to laugh and hook your arms around his neck, pulling him closer with the intention of kissing the smirk right off his mouth until you felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, making this feel a little to real once again.

“You sure?” He halted your movements, both hands resting on either side of your head as he remained hovering above you, repeating his question from earlier.

The vigor in your nod caused him to throw his head back with laughter, though not before you asked for confirmation of his own.

Mimicking your move from earlier he answered with a kiss, this one so sweet and quick it was more of a peck. Before he had time to overthink, he was inside you in a swift motion, a moan tearing from your throat as he paused, waiting for you to adjust to the sheer size of him. Your fingernails dug into his arms as he held still, waiting for you to give him the go ahead before he started moving.

“Just— move, please—” that was all it took before his hips snapped against yours and he was inside you fully, biting back a groan to match yours as you clenched around him.

After a while of slow strokes, you were starting to grow inpatient with how gentle he was being. Not because you didn’t like it, but because then you had the chance to slow down and remember it was actually Finnick, and not some nameless man you wouldn’t remember in the morning. He seemed to pick up on your growing disinterest quickly enough, and began quickening his pace until you were crying out. His thrusts soon became wild and erratic, signaling he was just as close to finishing as you were.

“It’s okay,” he crooned, his lips brushing your ear as his hand reached down to circle your clit once again. “Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You weren’t sure whether it was his command, or the pet name, way his lips felt against your ear, or even his thumb pressing against your clit, but you came hard and fast, your body spasming and clenching around his cock until he followed soon after. He collapsed on top of you, his chest shining with sweat as he continued to press kisses on you shoulder, up your neck, behind your ear. The weight of Finnick pinning you to the mattress was oddly comforting, grounding you and effectively keeping you from wandering back to thoughts of your Games. The distraction had worked, you realized as he eventually rolled off of you and up into a sitting position.

You wondered tiredly where he was going, but he had left and returned before you could even ask where. A damp towel in one hand, he cleaned you up with gentle movements, slowing when you gasped from sensitivity and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead while whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear. The whole interaction was so domestic you actually felt nauseous as you remembered this was just a one time thing, and you’d never experience any of this again. This was just a favor done by someone who wasn’t even really your friend — a familiar stranger who knew more about you than most.

Finnick oh so desperately wanted to know what you were thinking. He would ask, but the look in your eyes kept his mouth shut as he fell on the mattress beside you. He itched to pull you close to him, to be able to fall asleep with the security of you in his arms, but couldn’t bring himself to make any first moves. Had he not slept here before you two had just fucked, he’d be questioning whether or not he should remain or go back to his room.

If only he knew you were craving his touch just as much as he was craving yours. So the two of you fell asleep shoulder to shoulder, with so many words left unspoken.

And when you woke up the next morning, you tried not to let your heart sink completely into your chest as you reached over and felt nothing. He was gone.

[lovewireds]

been meaning to post my designs for these little guys forever. insane splatoon rambling under cut to explain design choices and lore related things ... read my autism boy

btw this is a repost from our art side blog this was written and drawn like months ago <- minorly rewrote some things tho

thx splatoon users drfreeman & drcoolatta for fueling my splatvrai autism brainrot ... i hate u /J

GORDON

idk how to explain this but Theoretical Physicist is inkling coded . maybe its cuz splatoon species social hierarchy

Native ink color is Orange, but he has Dark Brown tentacle roots.

Uses custom weapons to attach in place of his prosthetic; It works best with Splatlings but can be adjusted to attach other weapons.

If the thing above didn't make it obvious, he's a Splatling main. He switches out depending on his mood though.

sighhhhh technically an Agent... stares at the ceiling...Main character...

His arm loss is like pretty much the same as in-canon but it's with the octarian army shrugs. don't ask me why he doesn't just regenerate it cuz hes a squid thats for me to know and you to find out. (get partially sanitized loser)

Born & Raised in Inkopolis pre-splashtags; He wasn't informed of the switch to Splashtags being expected when participating in most activities around Inkadia.

TOMMY

I forgot why i made him an inkling why did i do that. I think it was bc i didnt wanna make them all octolings but i was wrong srry we all make mistakes /hj I ALREADY REDREW HIM ONCE IM NTO DOING IT AGAINNN

Native ink color is orange-brown.

His hat has an eye guard for sensory reasons; He covers up as much of his skin as possible because he doesn't like the feeling of foreign ink on him.

He isn't a specific weapon main, he just uses any long-range weapon to minimize the possibility of getting ink on himself. If he has enough guarding, he prefers to use N-ZAP '89.

Makes his own gear for sensory reasons as well :) It's legal when ur dad's the G-Man.

Exclusively plays in Turf Wars, Anarchy Battles, etc with friends. He hates playing with people he doesn't know.

Born in Splatsville !! He feels like a Splatsville resident. His occupation is resident I cannot imagine him doing Anything

His dad is that creepy curtain in one of flounder heights windows /j

BENR(E)Y

Octoling bc I wanted him to be sanitized :) Other than the visual part of being sanitized, I thought him being clinically dead fits /hj also lore reasons below

Pre-sanitization, his native ink color was blue.

Great Turf War veteran; He didn't do anything in the war itself, he was just enlisted lol. He was primarily security for the Octarian Domes in the years after the war. Yes, that also means he is over 100 years old.

"Raised" (debatably) in Octo Canyon.

E-liter main (4-star Base + 5-star Scope) and avid squidbagger. He also uses any heavyweight weapons (dynamo, tenta, etc)

Absolutely hates working at Grizzco, he only does Turf Wars and Anarchy Battles. He only works at Grizzco during Big Runs. The type of guy that does X battles.

Professional Anarchy / Ranked / X Battler btw. That's literally 90% of what he does.

Got on Gordon's azz over him not having a Splashtag; i wonder what that parallels.

BUBBY

Genuinely don't have a lot to say about his design. He gives off Splatoon 2 Octoling vibes (showoff /hj) also i wanted to make his hair wispy like it should be.

Native ink color is a light blue-gray gradient.

The drawing doesn't give it credit but I swear those are glasses not goggles .. they're opaque-colored slanted oval glasses !! ^_^ u can interpret them as spiked or just eyelashes, both are right.

oh also the text under bubby says "Is Best" in some splatoon font we downloaded awhile ago . i think it was ripped from splatnet

Blaster main. I don't know how to explain this one but it feels right.

helps with the practical Map props (ie ink rails) and with some weapon gear manufacturing ^_^ tech guy

COOMER

Was going to make him an Octoling for the convenience of making his hair curly but i didn't want to make all of them octolings + i think his personality generally fits Inklings more.

Native ink color is an off white gradient.

Slosher main cuz he likes moving his arms. this makes sense to me. Also is a fan of Splatlings and other Shooters.

i felt ill trying to design coomer without making his eyes two lines with eyelids

War Veteran...Stole some octarian tech and got fucked up super limbs. Cyber Inkling stealing from octos !! [inkadia crowd goes wild] /j

anyways outside of the war™ he's a data researcher. just generally. he does shit with splatfests and eggstra work.

If you splashed him with ink he would stand unmoving. He would not shake it off.

DARNOLD

Ok i'll be honest the Octoling choice is primarily bc Octolings have the afro style & inklings have no textured hair styles (i didnt have the energy to design smth that could work) . His personality fits octoling too though :3

Native ink color is red-orange.

The fucked up guy that makes those drink effects people never use ( i use them ... )

He doesn't participate in Turf Wars or Anarchy Battles, but he works some gigs at Grizzco for extra cash every once in awhile !

the type of guy that goes after flyfish cuz no one else will . god bles !!!

not a lot to say about his design & his place in inkadia , it kinda speak for itself . he just wants to get by and make his drinks in peace . #autism ... he is pretty much exactly the same as his canon self

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Honestly it's INSANELY funny that a post is going around rn about the Life of Faith dolls cause I remember when they were being sold. My conservative Christian mom even said "Hmm. That might be a bit culty for us. Also the Elsie Dinsmore books are racist trash," bought me a pretty journal from the local Christian bookstore, and that was that. Me and my friend Annie did a deep-dive on them a few months back just in our own DMs so for those curious about how bad this gets, here's some fun facts:

The company was started by Christian Homeschoolers™ (not "homeschoolers who are christian." Christian Homeschoolers and all the stereotypes that entails) in the mid-90s but went bankrupt in 2010. They based them around the old Elsie Dinsmore books, starring a girl who was so pious she would rather die than not pray to God or smth like that. The dolls hands can be clasped in prayer and they all came with mini Bibles

The dolls were Elsie Dinsmore, the daughter of a fucking plantation owner; Millie Keith, her cousin whose doll was a clear ripoff of Kirsten Larson; Violet Travilla, Elsie's daughter; Laylie Colbert, a fucking slave doll (but it's ok because the white girls converted her to Christianity); and Kathleen McKenzie, a Great Depression bitch.

This is a screencap from the defunct official site. Note how only Laylie looks like she could be from pre-90s LMAO.

Elsie Dinsmore books were originally published between 1867-1905. They are generally considered so bad that even hardcore Evangelicals consider them boring at best. The doll line EDITED the books to be less racist actually. Yes, the doll line that calls the slaves "Plantation-Dwellers" actually edited racist shit out of the books. I recall a bit where Elsie told a slave girl that she would be white in Heaven. They also cut out a bit where her Dad beats her with a riding crop.

Yes, she does marry her Dad's Friend. They did not cut this part out.

DINSMORE, YOU BRUTE

Millie's books were somehow both more and less racist. Millie and her family were abolitionists who helped runaway slaves but also one of her brothers marries a Mexican girl after the two of them were, and I quote, "captured by Indians and presumed dead."

IIRC, Elsie and Violet happen to be in Europe when the Civil War happens and they just kinda stay there to avoid the consequences of their actions. When they come back they are threatened by the KKK but I don't remember why. I DO remember that they spent Elsie's money on rebuilding plantations, because clearly THAT is where our priorities have to lie

The Violet and Laylie books are fanfiction. I don't think Kathleen's have anything to do with Elsie at all.

Oh, did I say books? Laylie only got one book, one nightgown, and some accessories for her collection. Kathleen, who was released a year later, got a shitton of stuff. Like, a mountain of stuff. I wonder what the difference between them is

I'm pretty sure Laylie's book does involve her escaping slavery but I never read it so idk. I do know that it plays heavily into Millie as her White Savior™ teaching her about God and how to read or whatever. I think Millie also teaches her about abolition which is fucking wild. Imagine a white girl explaining abolition to a slave

It's like they took everything American Girl did right when making Addy and said "we need to do the opposite of all of this"

Kathleen is both a ripoff of American Girl's Kit Kittredge and Girls of Many Lands's Kathleen (yep, same name and appearance).

The reason this line exists is the original Christian Homeschoolers considered American Girl to be pro-lesbian and pro-abortion. No American Girl didnt have any references to homosexuality or abortion at the time. Their first canon queer characters were in 2021 (Kira's gay aunts). As @jabberwockypie put it, everyone flipped out because AG partnered with Girls Inc "to fund after-school science programs and stuff" and god forbid, amirite?

And, yes, the red eye defect persists. It is SO funny

Here's an archived site about the collection, and another post about it by @dollysattictreasures. Anyway if anyone was given a Laylie doll as a child by your overly-religious parents, go give her a hug for me. And a gun

[echos-gal]

ok i'm rapidly losing hope that Tech is still alive, and this sucks because it was basically the top thing i desperately wanted from this season. i wanted to see him survive. so here's my exhaustive and embarrassingly long list of reasons why he SHOULD still be alive, and if he isn't, why it was a missed opportunity. obviously no hate to the writers or anything, i love them dearly for creating this show!!!

(if you're a "Tech should stay dead for the stakes/so someone in SW stays dead for once/i hate delusional Tech stans" person, kindly keep scrolling, this ain't for you)

SEASON 2:

right from the start, Romar connects with Tech and calls himself "a survivor." HELLO???

in this same arc, Tech breaks his leg in a fall which he survives. he continues to walk on it, fighting off troopers to save Echo & Omega, showcasing his persistence and grit.

one of Phee's first lines is "better late than dead," and we know she shares a connection with Tech. she flirts with him later in this scene. it would be a shame not to reuse this line, i'm just saying....

Cid still owes Tech for racing for her in Faster. we see Cid looking miserable as she betrays the batch in Plan 99, so her playing a part in his rescue/comeback would be a nice way to show her growth. (i'm afraid there isn't enough time for this, though- as much as i thought a Cid redemption was on the horizon!)

Phee and Tech's departure is awkward, and although we have some context from season 3 (they talked more than we realized), the scene would do best if reconciled in person imo. it felt like it was setting up for something, and feels weird to leave hanging.

"don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers" could not have just been a throw away line. it set up for him to do exactly that. how fitting would it be if pirates or smugglers actually did manage to pick him up before the empire made it to the railcar crash site?

Hemlock's retrieval of the goggles shows that he sent a team to look through the wreckage. he thought there was a chance Tech survived, and may have him.

i won't go into the logistics, but big falls ARE survivable. in star wars especially. we have no idea what was below the layer of clouds/mist Tech fell through.

SEASON 3:

this is mostly CX-2 centric. their armor is very similar: the jaw/mouth shape, the hexagons over the ears, the rectangles on the chest, and the pouches/pockets.

"domicile." that is all.

CX-2 uses technology more than the other operatives we've seen, and he gets past the encryption on Phee's ship with ease.

"who are you?" was enunciated in the exact same way Tech says it to Trace and Rafa, which i definitely think was intentional.

CX-2 stops to use his rifle scope in the exact same spot where Tech and Phee stood to let down the ladders in the sea surge on Pabu.

he survives a waterfall plunge on Teth, which appears to have fooled Rex's group into thinking he'd died. the writers could have killed him off there and sent a new operative, but they chose to stick with CX-2 pursuing them to Pabu.

it's worth noting that while this CX is designated as "2," Tech's CT number is CT-9902. he is associated with the number even on a visual level: he's a dual-wielder, he wears goggles, he salutes with two fingers.

FROM A STORY PERSPECTIVE:

firstly, i am sorry and i LOVE the writers, but if you want people to accept a character's death, you've got to show his family and friends' grief. we saw no reaction from Crosshair or Phee, no tears from Hunter or Echo. it feels like fans were sadder about Tech's death than the characters in the story.

Tech seems to have been mentioned more in the second half of season 3 than the first half, which works if they want to bring him back in the finale.

the finale is called "The Cavalry Has Arrived." i really don't think you can have the cavalry (aka the bad batch) arrive without every member present. i also don't think it would feel right to play their theme without Tech there. idk, that feels incomplete!

we saw no body, and Hunter received Tech's goggles not from a trusted ally or friend, but from Hemlock. this calls into question the legitimacy of his claim that the goggles were "all he could salvage."

Tech alive and being held on Tantiss would provide a nice parallel to Echo in the first mission where we meet the batch, in TCW. and [ep 14 SPOILERS] we see that Echo is currently looking more like his TCW self, with his earpiece removed.

feels kinda sour that a character who a lot of people related to as neurodivergent representation would die just a few episodes after having a deep conversation with his sister about it.

likewise (and as a white woman i can't speak for WOC), from what i have seen, Black women are rarely the main love interest of a series! Phee is the ONLY love interest in this whole show, and it would suck to just cut off that romance before it could really become something. a lot of people wanted to see TechPhee become canon.

CX-2 is the one who destroys the marauder. it works well storywise for its pilot to have been the one to do that- the person who worked so hard modifying it, flying it, and teaching his sister to fly it. i'll be lowkey pissed if it turns out some random dude blew it up.

it's also CX-2 who invades and sets fire to Pabu. this is emotionally gripping on its own, but if he is Tech, it's even more so.

we have no idea what the operatives go through. Crosshair isn't telling, but it clearly put him in a really bad place. if Tech underwent this conditioning in his post-fall injured state, there's a chance he could come back from it. Emerie is probably the key to this, if they take the CX-2 route.

this show is all about a family trying to stay together as the Empire desperately tries to rip them apart. seeing the whole family together again - even if not everyone survives - in the finale is the satisfaction that the show ideally would go for. the last time they were all together was the season 1 finale. that was about 2 years ago in the show's timeline.

leaving Crosshair and Tech's final interactions be where they parted on the Kamino platform also feels off. Tech was the one who really vocalized the need to rescue Crosshair in season 2's finale. Crosshair, in the meantime, has changed significantly as a person. Tech's comment about Crosshair being "severe and unyielding," and unable to change this facet of his nature, is incorrect. leaving Tech dead would mean that he never gets to see this change in Crosshair, which makes me feel like a deflated balloon.

FROM MY SELFISH PERSPECTIVE!!!

give me Tech with cool scars and slightly disheveled longer hair. this is such a good opportunity for the creators to give him a sweet new look!

we never got to see Tech without his goggles on, despite Phee constantly referring to his eyes. he definitely doesn't have them right now (they're in the Archium), so we could get Mister Big Brown Eyes if he's alive. it's another missed opportunity if not, imo!

the goggles being placed in the Archium was a beautiful scene that makes me tear up whenever i think about it. it's symbolic, it's bittersweet, and it's exactly where the goggles belong. but was it closure for me? not really.

Tech is a character who became a LOT of people's favorite in season 2, including my own. why kill off a fan-favorite with an entire season to go?

yes, i desperately want a Rex and Echo series. yes, i want the batch to cameo in it, and yes... that includes Tech. making up for lost season 3 Tech content 😎

the finale will feature the zillo beast, and Tech loves the zillo beast. FREE HER! REUNITE THEM! he would love to witness her rampage.

FROM A "SURPRISE!!!!!" PERSPECTIVE

it seems like most people think Tech is either CX-2 or dead. it would be a great finale twist if we DID get CX-2's identity, it's NOT Tech, the audience loses hope, and then he shows up. i think this is actually plausible given the other assassin schematics Hemlock was looking at in Point of No Return. Tech might be in Hemlock's grasp, but not an active operative. having an enhanced clone to toy with is something Hemlock would want to keep under wraps. we see him step out of the assassin chamber at the start of that episode - if Tech is anywhere on Tantiss, i think it's here.

i think the writers have expected us to have all lost hope by now, so his finale reappearance would ideally come as a shock. the finale is almost guaranteed to be a very long episode, so we really might have quite a bit of time to explore his return, if it happens.

secret 16th episode: i know, i'm putting my clown makeup on as i type this. but the previous 2 seasons each had 16 episodes, with a two-parter finale. season 3 is just 15, with a single episode finale. TBB formally ends may 1st, so what if we get a may 4th surprise episode detailing how Tech survived? (that or an epilogue leading into a new series, which i think is more likely actually!)

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Jack champion x fem reader and he plays spiderman and reader is mj?

I'm going to make this into some headcanons

hope you enjoy <3

Being Ethan's mj headcanons

did not proofread |m.list

update : I just now realized that after posting this what you were asking I will 10000% rewrite this as its supposed to be!! I'm so sorry I hope this is okay for the time being! idk why it took so long for my brain to realize what you were actually asking for :(((((

Happy New Year babes!!!! I hope you all had a great new year's and were safe! I'm so excited for this new year and to grow my account. I am going back to school next week, so the requests are going to come out slowly, but I am writing them. I will try to post once or twice a week but I no promises <;3 I love you all so much and thank you so much for your support it really means so much to me.

You didn't know who Ethan was before your junior year in high school. both of you got paired up for a science project and ended up hitting it off and became close friends.

Chad would try to get Ethan to ask you out, he would be sad for weeks after you both finished the project, unable to see each other after classes had changed.

After a fight with some jock, you saw him hanging outside trying to clean up the cuts on his face, you would end up helping him and get to talking.

"Listen Ethan I actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out sometime." he would just stare at you in disbelieve, he'd be smiling so much the cut on his cheekbone started to bleed again.

From there on it was official you were in a relationship with him, he would always meet you up after school take the long way home just so he could be with you longer.

After a few months there was a change in how he was acting, you also noticed something different about him but couldn't put your hand on it.

This weekend it was longer due to some holiday and you, and Ethan had planned to spend the entire weekend together watching Star Wars and building Legos, but Ethan's mind had been so wrapped up in his new actives that he forgot.

Crawling through his window he heard his aunt talking, but he also heard another voice, and it was yours. His heart beating faster, just hearing your voice has that effect on him.

But thinking about your voice distracted him from realizing you were walking to his room, once he saw the door handle move panic set in.

Quickly he fell from the ceiling and grabbed a blanket but tripped himself in the process. "Ethan? when did you get home?" and before you both knew it you were holding the blanket while he shot up holding a hand to your month to stop you from yelling.

"Please, don't say anything! My aunt doesn't know yet you can't tell anyone!" his voice was harsh yet soft and scared. He was scared with how you were going to act.

"You're fucking spiderman! Holy shit! Holy Shit" you dropped the blanket and jumped into his arms. he stood there for a second confused, he eventually gave in wrapping his arms around you. feeling the warmth of your body against his. He felt safe with you.

"You have to tell me everything! and oh my god I have so many questions! but also you idiot!" you slapped him aside the head laughing but also giggling at the fact that your boyfriend is spiderman.

From there on you would help him fix his suit if he ever needed it or cover for him if a lie came back to haunt him.

Some nights he'd come to your window sharing all the details about some sandwich robbery he stopped.

There would be times where it's hard to be with Ethan, you sometimes thought he loved being spiderman than being with you. His actions spoke more than words could at times.

Bailing on date nights, sometimes right in the middle of your date. You love him and love seeing how much joy he gets out of helping others, but it also takes a toll on your relationship.

After an argument about how you felt he bailed out on you not wanting to say something he'd regret.

Things just got harder from there, you both agreed that you'd be better off apart, but you both lied to yourself.

Ethan thought it was better only to keep you safe from the criminals, and you thought it was all stupid. Knowing spiderman is who he is but he's also Ethan Landry the love of your life.

Soon things would take a turn for the worst as one of his enemies found out your importance to spiderman. Kidnapping you and using you as a pawn to trap him.

Ethan's heart would break seeing you in so much pain, even after trying to leave you to keep you save it did nothing. there you sat in front of him after he fought the villain. He didn't know what to do.

Both of you scrapped and bloodily up all you want to do is be in his arms. And just like before he stood shocked for a moment feeling your body against his.

It felt so right, wrapping his arms around your body he held you tight, tighter than he ever has. "I'm so sorry y/n please I'm so sorry i love you" he tucked his head into your neck, the faint smell of your perfume filled his nose.

"Don't ever leave me ever again! I'm being serious" you hugged him as tight as he did to you. "And I love you too."

[brandwhorestarscream]

Do you have Headcanons about the omega decepticon high command?

Hmmmmm

Starscream is the KING of nest building. Out of all the Matriarchs, he's the one that puts the most effort into his nest. Just a giant Vosian bowl-shaped bed, overflowing with pillows and blankets and various soft things he's collected. If anything disrupts the delicate harmony he's created prepare for him to go ballistic. He's extremely possessive of his trine and, to a lesser extent, his seekers as a whole. They're all incredibly stupid idiots, but they're his idiots, and if they do smthn dumb he expects to hear about it so he can straighten them out himself. No one else is allowed to discipline the seekers, they're his. Star's special omega smell is that lovely after-rain smell combined with a twist of ozone. Don't ask me about the other two cuz idk yet lmao. Megatron definitely smells like gunpowder but I feel like that's every Megatron, yk?

Omega Soundwave is still the spymaster that knows everything about everyone, and not just because he's constantly linked up the warship systems. He has the most sensitive hearing and sense of smell of any recorded mecha, ever: even away from the ship, he knows exactly where you are and what mood you're in before you even see him. He can hear other's sparkpulses and their thoughts, and he can read any situation with ease. He catches heats and ruts before they happen, always knows when the sparklings are getting hungry, and he's the only one of high command that is any kind of tactile with Megatron. It's rare and does not happen where anyone can see, but every so often he'll nuzzle up under Megatron's chin, against the underside of his throat. They'll just stay like that for a bit, the Head Matriarch's arms ghosting over his bare and undefended front while he purrs. Moments of weakness and trust are rare in their circumstances, but very important 😌

As for Megatron... I think the reason he started the war was still the same, a shit load of class inequality and systemic abuse, and is determined come hell or highwater that everyone in the universe is going to fear him. Let them see a so-called tender, delicate lifegiver tearing the universe asunder, let them see that something as unimportant as presentation does not have any bearing on a person's capabilities. They want to call him evil and wicked and broken, a failure of an omega? Excellent. He relishes in it.

[k-s-morgan]

TGSTLTH related

Ok so I decided to do it here cuz I don't know will AO3 allow me to write essay hahahahah 😂😂😂

I don't even know how to start this. I've been reading fics for 13 years straight, like I don't remember the period of my life where I didn't read them cuz I always have some ship active and I'm crazy BL fan. Only a small number of them can make me crazy to the point I don't wanna sleep, eat, skipping my obligations, killing the pain and your sebaciel did everything. I haven't felt like this reading fic..,maybe ever? This is totally another level of me being fascinated by some writer.

I adore sebaciel, I'm in fandom since 2016 but the biggest problem I had with their fics is that - either people go too much OOC with them orr they rush up the things between them, going quickly with sex and feelings. It bothered me so much so I was crawling for good SC fics as crazy!!

After some break with SC, I came back to ao3 and saw your long fic. I started reading it but I dropped it after 3 chapters, I got bored cuz I thought you are gonna just re-type manga and do classic thing which another people do. Quickly, I got disappointed with another one and idk how but I decided to give your fic one more chance and dear lord......that was one of the best thing I have ever read. Maybe even the best.

Like, how smart are you? What's your IQ? Your manage to explain me some things about Kuro plot which I haven't udnerstand by myself. And the way you write Sebaciel relationship. That's everything I have ever wanted. Everything. They have normal conversation and that's it, that's all I need cuz there is everything. I feel electric every time when they talk, fight, do things together, goood the little touches svbjhsdjvbvbvbvbvbsdjvhbdf. I was tense whole fic. I read it for like 10 days, abandon everything until I finished it and now I feel sad ahahhaahha. But you are really something special, cuz I always used to say that manga itself is the best fiction cuz Yana knows the best how to create good Sebaciel energy. You, next to Yana, did the best job. You kept them as they are, never broke the character, and that's what I am most grateful. Slow burn, with drama and angst, love and attention, all misunderstanding, you put all necessary spices for 5 star meal. My fav part is when Ciel told Sebastian to add slamming doors to his most dramatic moments of his life ahahahahahahhaha 😂😂 I laughed like crazy, they are so precious♥ And I really wanted kiss to happen when Ciel lied Sebastian about another demon, that was sooo svbjhsvjhjhvbdf. But okay, you know the best, I trust you fully with this♥

The fact that they are ready to kill each other before they have normal conversation about their feeling is my fetish. I am in love with toxic things. Ciel ready to throw all game just to prove Sebastian that his value is not only his soul, right after he told himself for 1000 times he needs to stay on distance..... I LOVE ITTTT!!! I also need to say that you find PERFECT balance for good plot and romance. Your games and their cases...I just don't know, deep bow for you queen🔥💯After all, you didn't retype drama ahahaha but you manage to keep it canon without changing anything but still adding your spices so it's not ordinary Kuro plot we see every day....

I just have one question. From time to time, I was like a Bard ahahhaha, so sick of their games and my head hurting me, but on a good way. I am clear about Ciel but what about Sebastian and his disgust for Ciel's nicer, soft, emotional side? I know Ciel doesn't have it a lot, but would Sebastian still be grossed out about it as he was at the beginning of a contract or not? Keeping in mind that he is more and more obsessed with a boy?

So, that's all. I don't know how to use Patreon/PayPal, but for you I'll try cuz I only have credit card and that's all I know ahhahaha, I like to keep money in my hands😂 I'm sad about the situation in your country and all under - war countries. It's not bringing any good for anyone, specially for civilians. I hope you are okay and I wish you alll the best, the good karma must hit you really quickly cuz you made one person really, really happy here♥

Looking forward how will you finish this story, have a nice day❤

PS - this is the longest comment for fic I have ever left ahhaha, it's crazy how you got me sooo hyped up bjcvsdghvbds.

Hi! Ooh, thank you so much for your amazing, wonderful essay! I can't tell you how happy it made me! I think the electricity was already started being cut off when I got it, so I could see I have some really lengthy ask, but it wouldn't load. It was the torture of the most delicious kind :D

Like you, I've been reading fics for ages now, and the moments where I find some fantastic story that won't let me sleep or work or even blink are always the happiest and the brightest spots I remember. So it's extremely flattering to know that my story has become something similar to other people.

I love writing about smart characters, but most of them are definitely smarter than me! The benefit is that since I'm writing, I can think and plan everything in advance. In real life, I only wish I were as quick-witted and inventive. Alas, the best ideas and arguments come to me when they are no longer needed.

I love slow burns, and I love characters who abhor the idea of expressing their feelings, so Ciel and Sebastian have the most perfect dynamic in my eyes. I feel like I could spend the eternity just enjoying their Gothic world with their games, arguments, plots, and so on. Them antagonizing each other only to instantly team up against the common enemy is my most favorite thing in the world.

As for your question, right now, Sebastian would be thrilled if Ciel were to show a softer and more vulnerable side - at least in relation to him. Well, a part of him would feel the automatic need to mock him for it anyway, some habits don't die easily, but Sebastian's feelings have evolved a lot, plus Ciel is cold more often than he is not. So Sebastian treasures every word of praise, every hint of appreciation and need because they are so rare - he's come to crave them, and he has memorized all known cases of them by heart.

And no worries about supporting me! I really appreciate you taking your time to leave such a fantastic review, it made my day!

[lothalx]

My hot takes + General stuff to remember before following

Pls dni if you're a master x Padawan shipper im not a "anti" or whatever im a adult with a job but it makes me very very uncomfortable. Icky. Anyways

I'm very critical about star wars. I am not one of those "every star wars is good star wars" kinda gals. Some of this shit fucking sucks from a narrative and representational standpoint and im not gonna boot lick d*ve f*li*i ESPECIALLY. man may have created some of my favorite media ever but hes also my mortal enemy

That being said I am NOT a fucking conservative or "anti woke" pussy. You will never find me complaining about diversity in star wars if anything we need 10x more than we have. Make everyone have two moms. Make luke Skywalker have two moms. Make Anakin Skywalker a lesbian

Speaking of Anakin Skywalker. Hate the bitch. And not in a /pos way lol. Very very critical of him, understand him as a villain but genuinely cannot stand people who try and defend his every move. Plus hes just. Uninteresting to me lol. Could not care less.

I'm overall very jedi positive. Love the jedi love the culture and religion. No they didn't steal babies and no they didn't deserve to die bc they were mean to Anakin. Any flaw the jedi had were on the individuals that were part of the order and not the order itself, we see this time and time again in cannon.

Rebels>>>tcw

I hc characters as different sexualities and genders then they have in cannon. These are my little Barbie dolls and I decide how I play with them. If things like transmasc butch lesbian sabine Wren angers you then GET . OUT

I don't like kallus. I don't care for kallus. I definitely don't like kallzeb. Zeb deserves better.

Uhhh i don't like sabezra. At all. I won't go into my reasoning but just know if you post a lot of content of it you will probably be blocked for my own comfort

Uhhh idk that's it

Also you can find my art under #my art!

[andorskenobi]

The Good I'll Do | J. Seresin

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake had always been viewed as the guy who just screws around, no feelings attached. Really he just wanted someone to remind him he's worth more than just one night, and then he met you.

Warnings: angst(?), use of nicknames, no use of y/n, allusion to smut, pls lmk if I missed anything else !!

A/N: I just think that this song is very Hangman coded idk its in my hangman playlist so yeah, also I am very new to this so please feel free to leave any requests/recommendations that you may have anything Top Gun, Star Wars, or GoT.

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This was the fifth 'date' you and Jake had gone on and he was just waiting for you to decide you were done with him. But you just wouldn't let him go. He had always thought that people only ever wanted him for the sex, but it was different with you. The two of you had only ever had sex twice which was almost refreshing for him.

Now the two of you sat in your driveway, his callused hand in your soft ones. Neither of you wanted to get out just yet and it was evident in the air around you.

You were the first to break the comfortable silence that had built between the two of you, "Do you wanna come in?"

Jake turned to face you, taking in your eyes and the way they incapsulated the light from the streetlamps, "Yeah."

His response came out airier than he meant it to, and he knew you took notice of that. The two of you got out of his truck and he watched as you unlocked the door, going inside sideways as you always did when you were tipsy.

When you both got inside Jake closed the door, locking it behind you, before following you to your bedroom where you had made yourself comfortable.

"Nope, get up, you are not going to sleep with your shoes still on." Jake sat on the edge of your bed, pulling your feet into his lap.

"I don't care, I wanna sleep," you mumble into the pillow. Jake just rolled his eyes and continued to take your shoes off.

"C'mon honey, lets get you out of those jeans. You'll thank me in the morning." You begrudgingly rolled over and let Jake remove the jeans.

Jake watches as you crawl underneath the covers before putting the sweatpants that he left at your house for nights when he slept over on. When he got in bed you immediately snuggled into his side, slotting your legs between his and putting your head in the crook of his neck. Jake never wanted to let moments like these with you go. These moments made him believe that he was worth more, worth more than just an evening.

The next morning Jake woke up to find your side of the bed cold and empty and the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. Jake smiled to himself before removing the covers from his body and made his way to the kitchen. It took everything in him not to laugh when he saw you dancing in front of the stove as you cooked.

Jake walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You turned your head to look up at him, a smile on your face.

"Good morning Bagman." Jake rolled his eyes as you placed a kiss to his jaw.

"Ha ha, real cute honey. What are you making?"

"Oh, well it was supposed to be pancakes but they turned out to be more like scrambled eggs, but made with pancake batter." You frowned before turning back to the stove, "I'm sorry, it turns out I am not actually as good of a cook as I thought."

"Yeah, go ahead and hand me the spatula sweets." You handed it to him, moving out of the way so he could salvage your attempt at breakfast.

You watched as Jake cooked a smile on your face knowing that you were the only person getting to see this side of him, and frankly you would be happy if you could see this side of him for the rest of your life.

"I can feel your eyes burning into the back of my head." You laughed, shaking your head.

"I am just thinking."

"About?" Jake turned his head to look at you and then turned his attention back to the stove.

"You, us. Life? I don't know." This got Jake's full attention.

"What about us?"

"What are we? Like what is it that we're doing here?" Jake nodded before smiling, which annoyed you.

"We," Jake gestured between the two of you, stepping closer as he did, "are whatever you want us to be. You want a label, fine. Nothing, it'll suck but if that's what you want then I'll understand."

"What about what you want?"

"I just want you," Jake brushed the hair stray hair that had fallen from your braid behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek.

You pull him closer connecting your lips for a quick kiss, "Then I am yours."

Jake smiles before pulling you in for another kiss, this one more rushed than the other. His hands began roaming your body, pushing the straps of the sundress you wore off your shoulders.

"Jake," you sighed into the kiss, "your pancakes are burning."

Jake pulled away from the kiss just long enough to turn the eye off and move the pan to a cold eye, and then turned his attention back to you.

"Jump." Jake commanded his hands under you to support your weight as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Jake carried you to your bedroom, never once breaking the kiss.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

yea.... 😭😭😭

now my logical followup is rewatching rogue one for the first time since seeing it (multiple times) in theaters i believe? Will i cry a lot, which i am always prone to do w/media & things but all the more so lately, it seems

[cacodaemonia]

Just wanna say I am LOVING all your tags about the Jedi and how they're being portrayed nowadays. I am rolling around in the salty comments and the Jedi love like a happy pig in a mud wallow. :)

Hahaha, I'm glad you're enjoying the Jedi love and the salt 😂

The anti-Jedi sentiment from Filoni et al. is such a bizarre leap from anything Lucas wove into the fabric of the GFFA and the Force that I truly can't understand where it originally came from. Maybe just from "Vader/Anakin is cool so I want him to be the good guy"? idk

I guess we can only hope that someday, Star Wars will get back to its core themes instead of the constant refrain of "We should make stories that are fair and balanced. And you know, maybe the space!fascists have some good points. Don't they deserve a seat at the table, too?"

Excuse me while I roll my eyes so hard I can see my frontal lobe. 🙄

At least we still have the older movies and fanfic!

Also, I'd love to hear any rants you might have, too ;D