#screaming crying throwing up I love them so much

[sparklystarrrr]

I Was Enchanted to Meet You...

Synopsis: Reader has to go home, leaving all she loves and held dear to her heart behind not knowing if she will ever see this twisted world again.

Contains: Malleus x Fem! Reader, angsty, established relationship between reader and Malleus, lots of crying

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊✙❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

In Ramshackle (y/n) had been sat in her rickety room apart from Grim who's been getting entertained by the ghosts in the living room. Crowley had urgently called her as quickly as he could and she begrudgingly picked up the phone. "Dear Prefect! There is some large news I'd like to share with you!" His voice seemed a bit too cheery, but then again, he was oh so gracious... this was probably him pulling another stunt of making her his servant and cleaning up his messes"And what would this 'big news' be Crowley?" she sighed.

"We have successfully made a way for you to go back home!"

Her breath hitched. Her stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. Did she hear that right? She was going home? She was leaving for good? Was this for good? A million thoughts raced through her mind and Crowley's voice was tuned out. Her attention was put back on Crowley once she heard his loud laugh through the phone,"Get to packing, Prefect! You will be leaving as soon as possible today! Oh, how exciting this must be for you! Hahaha!"

She took deep breaths to ground herself and tried to sound as excited as she could while holding back tears from her (e/c) eyes. ".. Okay Crowley, t-thank you..!" Her voice cracked. How could she thank anyone for an outcome this detrimental. "Hah! Of course dear Prefect, for I am gracious!" With that, the call had ended.

(y/n) grunted and threw her phone across her room, a loud bang followed as it landed on the floor. She laid back on her bed with her fingers raked through her hair. Tears fell from her eyes like waterfalls that had been building up water for much too long. No matter how much she tried to ground herself the tears just completely spilled out.

Grim suddenly opened the door. "Henchman! Why are you throwing things-" He suddenly went quiet at the sight of (y/n) weeping harder than ever before. She looked like a complete mess. "Henchman what's goin' on..?" Clearly the small cat didn't properly know how to comfort someone but it was endearing that he tried. His paw rested on her forehead as he sat down next to her.

"Grim... I-I can't leave this place.... I c-can't go home!" She yelled through broken sobs. Grim's big blue eyes widened in shock"You're... going home?" His usual loud and scratchy voice was small and quiet now. (Y/n) grunted and shot up from her bed and angrily packed a bag of the very minimal amount of things she had from this place. Her hair was a frizzy mess and her packing job was even worse. She threw things around, breaking things like having a cracked phone screen and a few broken picture frames of her and her friends and... Oh Malleus...

She stared at the broken glass of the picture frame that held a picture of her and Malleus on their first date. It had been at a nice restaurant in Briar Valley and he got special reserved VIP seats for both her and him. It was where the two of them had shared their first kiss, where he had given her those black roses than he'd enchanted with the ability to never wilt, "Like our love for each other", he said while giving them to her.

Her sobs worsened. She was screaming, crying, begging for this world just to keep her there. Large tears dripped onto the pictures she held in her hands. Grim screamed at her while on the verge of tears himself, "Take me with you Henchman!" while shaking her shoulder, but his voice had been muted out of her own little world in her head as she feverishly kept packing until the bag had become heavy and over stuffed.

She hopped to her feet, leaving the bag behind. She ran out the door of her bedroom, down the stairs and nearly tripping while she was barely able to see through her never ending stream of tears. She rubbed her eyes and wiped her drippy nose with her sleeve while she kept running out the door. Even the ghosts of Ramshackle screamed after her asking where she was going.

Where was she going? Daisomnia of course. But it seems the House Warden of said dorm had beat her to it; already standing on the stone path in her dorm with a frazzled expression on his normally calm and collected face. His eyes widened at the sight of his lover sprinting towards him, completely disheveled. "MALLEUS!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. Her chest heaved as she got closer to him with tears still slipping out of her puffy red eyes.

He stepped forwards to her running form and caught her panicking self in his strong arms and held her head against his chest while she wept."Malleus! I-I don't want to leave! I want to stay! I h-have to!" His large hand combed through her hair while he held back tears himself "I know, Child of Man. I had dreamed for months for how I would live this life alongside you. But it is true that human lives are much shorter than that of the faes. Perhaps... this is what we... I... must experience now. Had I known earlier that the Headmaster had been created a way for you to return home I would've done something sooner. I would have found a way for you to stay, Beloved. Though now, the current situation is inevitable. I detest the thought of you leaving."

His words made her cry, staining his blazer with her tears. "W-why... can't you just do something now..?" Her voice cracked and broke like shattering glass with the weight of her heavy heart. "Because as of right now I am not even sure of how you got here let alone how you are going to go back. I would've studied any way for you to stay but like I stated before, I'm unsure of how to get you back. However, I will... must find a way to get you back." It seemed as if there was a glint in his eye. Perhaps it was from the tears welling in his eyes, or maybe it was the new idea he had gained. Never the less, he guided her inside the Ramshackle dorm to gather her belongings.

⊰᯽⊱

The two including Grim had ended up in the mirror room. There stood Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Vargas and Sam all beside the mirror. Surrounding them had been every single student part of the Night Raven College. The more she looked around at the sea of her peers with somber faces, some even crying or holding back tears had felt like a final shot to her fragile heart. Malleus's shoulder shook while his tears fell slowly down his face.

She turned and held his face that had been tear stained. Their foreheads pressed as they connected with each other for the last time. "It was enchanting to meet you Malleus... I'll come back, wait for me..." A soft kiss was placed on his shaking lips. It was unheard of to see the Prince of Briar Valley so vulnerable to a mere human, but this human was not just anyone. It was her. The young woman who had been his first friend and his first lover. She was the young woman who he had decided early on would take the throne as his queen. Yet now, all he could do was weep seeing someone so dear to him leave right before his tearful eyes.

"I was enchanted to meet you, (y/n)."His large hands held her's that sat still, warmly pressing onto his slim pale face. It was like home. He made a final kiss on her soft and delicate palm.

She took a step back. Her hands left his face though his hands never left hers. She stepped back once again. Her shaky hands shook while she hiccuped with thick tears rolling down her cheeks. His instincts took over, pulling her hand close to him and enveloping her in a warm embrace. It was a bittersweet moment. She didn't want to leave him, or her friends, or this world.

She looked up at him with the same eyes that loved and adored him. The same exact (e/c) eyes that he would recognize her from in a heart beat. How could he forget those eyes, now welling with heavy tears that her eyes were not strong enough to hold. He was strong enough to hold them, but now he had been enfeebled. Unable to hold her tears nor his. "... (y/n)... I believe it is time for you to... leave." He whispered the last part of his words under his breath as if it would pain him to say it at full volume. His voice had slightly cracked while looking down at her with sorrow.

(Y/n) sighed shakily and peered up at him with a final smile. Her smile had felt strained. Her lips were chapped from the salty tears touching her lips and her throat ached from the sheer amount of screaming that left her mouth. Crowley held out a hand directing her toward the mirror. "I'll come back..."Her hands finally slipped from his and she stepped up to the mirror, staring at the void in front of her. She breathed deeply whilst staring at her reflection. A familiar green hand that brought her here had reached out once more.

Before her hand could grab the one in the mirror, she turned back to Malleus with a reassuring smile and a nod," Farewell for now, Malleus." She grabbed the hand and before she knew it, a void had pulled her into the dark mirror. Malleus stood idly while a commotion of wailing and loud talking from the students ensued. He stared at the mirror."... I know you'll come back... (Y/n)..." His back turned to the mirror and anyone else behind him and made his way to Ramshackle for the last time, never to return there again.

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊✙❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

Yes I listened to Enchanted by Taylor Swift while writing this... can you tell music inspires me to write?

(there will be MANY more Taylor Swift inspired fics from me...)

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #5

A/N: Hey, hey... that's not an earthquake!! It's me... Em. I was feeling a little sad because this series gets so much love despite being on hiatus. I love everyone for being so sweet and letting me take my sweet little time! This chapter... is rather short because I feel like a longer chapter would be rambling, and I want the next one to be GUT-WRENCHING. Let me know what you think!- Love, Em

Link to the: Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star Link to the: Yee olde masterlist

Previous Chapter: Tape #4 > Next Chapter: Coming Soon...

WARNING: Hospital, PTSD from sexual assault, Reader tries to punch a nurse, gauze mittens to the rescue, fear of drug addiction, mention of fatherly abandonment and bullying, guilt, a hospital bed, Spencer reid being... pookie i fear.

Pairing: Season7!Spencer Reid x VKTRSFem!Reader

Tape Contents: Waking up to a bunch of hands on you in the hospital doesn't go over well with you. Spencer delivers on a promise he made to a little girl, and then some.

Word Count: 2,649

March 7, 20XX

You can hear the beeping of the EKG machine before your mother’s voice—a soft, droning sound that maintains a steady tempo. You can count it, remembering something Adeline told you once about the best tempo for CPR– 120 beats per minute, stayin’ alive.  But this sound does not match that of the Bee Gees. The thought makes you smile; your lips twitch before your eyes open. 

Your mother has her hand gripping your limp one, calling your name as she watches you stir awake. When your eyes open, they don’t go straight to her or the EKG machine; they stare blankly at the ceiling. You stay like that for a moment, your fingers twitching against your mother’s palm. 

Your body feels like it’s moving through frames of air, your head rolling down to look at your mother with a rolling dizziness. Giving her a lazy smile, she throws her arms around your upper torso. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her sobs make you feel guilty at first, your hazy brain not catching up all the way. Everything seems to be broken up in tragic mosaic tiles. 

Heather, pink, pain, blood, brown eyes. 

Your mother’s touch leaves you feeling heavy. When she pulls back from her emotional embrace, she places her hands firmly on your shoulders. You gasp sharply at the sensation, shaking your head quickly, your mouth filling with cotton. You watch her eyebrows knit together in fearful confusion, and one of her hands comes up to stroke the side of your cheek, hoping to soothe your fear. 

The feeling leaves a trail of rageful fire against your cheek, and you can’t stop yourself as you smack her hand away, eyes wild and crazed, as you let out a strangled sound. “No!” Your yell alerts the nurses to rush in as fast as possible. 

Your mother’s hands fly away from you at your yell, stammering softly, “I hugged her, I didn't-–” But the rest of her sentence drowns out as one of the nurse’s hands touches your left forearm, it's a graze of a touch. Her fingers are soft and steady, and it makes you feel sick as you pull your forearm away from her at the speed of light. 

“Don’t touch me!” You cry out, your cheeks flushing, and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You can feel the blood rushing in them— hear it as clear as day—the EKG pounds away: Beep, Beep, Beep, Beeps in unsteady notes. 

One of the nurses moves the IV stand out of her way, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the hospital bed, her tender green eyes looking down at you with pity. “Hey, it’s okay.” Her hand is reaching over the bed to fix one of your blankets, taking care to avoid any contact with your body. “You’re safe.” 

But her hand is too close, and you can feel the warmth of an invisible palm on your inner thigh— unwanted and vile. Your fists ball up, panting hard, as you swing at the nurse. Your fist misses her by an inch, and your lips part to scream at her, but you can feel someone’s hands actually on you now. One nurse is grabbing your shoulders, trying to pull you away from her colleague and push you back down on the hospital bed. 

The action makes you downright vicious, your mother screaming for you to calm down as you thrash against the hands on your shoulders. Overlapping voices swarm, but all you can hear is the pounding in your ears and your heaving pants. Another nurse rushes into the room, needle in hand, and stands at the ready as the other three nurses manage to hold your thrashing body down. 

The nurse with the needle is quick to administer what you can only assume is an opioid. It works fast like one, a warm comfort and then a welcoming darkness. 

When you wake up, you can see that your outburst from earlier has gotten you some special treatment. Your hands are padded and wrapped in a gauze-made mitten. You sigh as you flex your fingers weekly against the gauze, feeling the soft, scratchy material against your knuckles as you look around the room. Your mother is outside, head down as she talks with someone on the phone. You can barely hear her hushed voice, but you catch the sound of “She’s never been violent” before you decide it’s best if you don’t hear the rest of her conversation. 

Guilt creeps into your stomach because it’s true. You weren’t violent. You made cookies when people were sad and talked with your friends about how you thought every fight could be avoided with a good sit-down. The idea of peaceful talk seems naive now; no good talk could stop the seething rage from boiling in your blood.  

Were you still kind? Were you ever kind or just painfully sheltered? When did your sweetness leave you? Would it be a temporary leave or one in perpetuity? 

Did all of your goodness bleed out of your lip or the ‘x’ on your chest? Or was it seeping out of the broken bones of your ankle? You feel like crying at the onslaught of questions—questions of goodness, sweetness, blood, death, and rage. Two stood out above the rest: when will this be over? Is this just the beginning?

The thought of the rest of what made you… you, being stripped away until you were bare, made you start to cry. A soft sob left you as you numbly stare at flowers in vases and cards of well-wishes on the hospital’s windowsill. Your mother must have heard your sobs because she was standing by the side of your bed with heartbreak in her eyes.

You turned your head toward her, your mitted hands reaching toward her—toward comfort. But when you lift your hands, she flinches. You can see the shock on her face as her shoulders slowly relax. Her fingers nervously reach out for you, and she tentatively wraps her arms around you. She held you like you were precious china, like she was scared of scratching the surface of your skin. 

Your tears slow to a stop as you feel her arms around your upper torso, a numb feeling consuming your yearning heart. Some comfort this is. The voice in your head leaves you with a bitter taste on your tongue, and saliva comes to the surface of your tongue as you try to swallow away the feeling. She smiles as she pulls away, her hands smoothing your hair carefully. “I’ll go get you something to eat?” she offers with a grin. 

You nod, a stray tear falling down your cheek. Before she leaves, she cleans your face of tears with a Kleenex, and then she helps you find something on the menu, and she’s gone. 

The beeping from the EKG no longer brings you comfort, but the room's silence would be deafening without it, so for that, you’re grateful. You eye your ankles under the blankets, one clearly in a cast. You sigh, imagining how long that will take to heal. 

Wanting to see something happier, your eyes flit over to the window sill again. You see assortments of flowers scattered on the windowsill, and you hate that the sight doesn’t bring the joy that flowers usually do. Your eyes stray, staring down a red rose. You sniffle softly, forcing yourself to look away. 

Looking down at your hands, you wonder how to get out of these gauze mittens. You lick your lips carefully, your tongue tracing the edges of a tiny bandage on your lip. You bring one of your hands up to your lips, your teeth ready to try and tear the gauze off your hands. Just before you can attempt your —ultimately foolish— plan, a gentle knock on the doorframe spooks you. 

Turning your head, you see… Spencer Reid? You blink at him, then again, making sure you aren’t hallucinating. Why is he here? 

“JJ, um, is on the fifth floor.” You give him a look, eyebrows knitting together before you realize you must’ve said that question out loud. 

You don’t know what to say to answer, simply staring at him with a shocked expression. You weren’t complaining, of course. He had saved you from… that place. But that didn’t warrant a check-in… did it? You weren’t sure how things like this worked. Honestly, you would have been thrilled never finding out how things like this work, but that option is lost on you now. 

Spencer rocks back and forth on the soles of his feet, eyes shifting through the room slowly before he perks up and reaches for the messenger bag on his hip. Sitting up straighter, you try to peek at its contents before he pulls out a tattered orange stuffed cat— Bee. Seeing the stuffed cat, your hands instinctively reach for it, and your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment as Spencer’s eyes take in your wrapped-up hands. 

Spencer offers you a warm smile, walking toward you to place the plush cat beside you on the bed. Looking down at your hands, he whispers, “Did you hurt your hands?” 

You feel the urge to stuff them under the blankets and tell him it’s nothing, but lying feels pointless. “Ah, no. I,” you lick your lips, a pit forming in your stomach, “I tried to punch a nurse.” Your voice drops into a whisper, avoiding his gaze and looking solely at Bee. 

Spencer’s eyebrows raise, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at your hands. He tries to stop his lips from forming a smile, but he can't help it. He had walked in on you trying to chew through gauze. “I would not recommend chewing through that.” 

“Well,” You scoff, your gaze lifting to meet his with an exasperated scoff. “I don’t have a lot of options.” 

Spencer sucks some air through his teeth, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. We can always ask for help.” 

You blink, eyes leaving his face to look down at your hands. “You think?” You can’t imagine one of the nurses from earlier giving you the okay. But maybe if they reassess your condition, they’ll agree to it. You’re sure all the fight left in your body left the second they administered that sedative, right? 

The thought makes your throat tight, and you can feel your fingers twitching nervously under the gauze. Why did the fight leave you after they administered the sedative? Shouldn’t you’ve come back stronger? Your eyes shift back and forth across the room, your nerves getting the best of you as you ponder the question. Though a soft voice, sweet and sinister, and not yours, answers for you, ‘They gave you what you wanted.’

Spencer can see the tension building in your shoulders, your eyes nervously searching the room, and his chest tightening with emotion. He knows that anxious feeling. He can see it in your eyes. That desperate, silent plea for an answer to a question you haven’t spoken. For once, he finds himself without words, not knowing what to say. 

And while he sometimes struggles to read the room correctly… he can read the lingering question on your mind. It's a question he’s had since the Dilaudid. The same one that came into his mind after his father abandoned him, after being strung up on a flag pole by his classmates, haunting him all his life— What’s wrong with me?

He can hear your heavy breathing as he decides to speak, but there’s that rushing sound again. You listen to the muffled sound of his voice near you as you try to snap yourself out of your self-made spiral. Eventually, some words got through: “Should I get the nurse?” 

Your head spins at how fast your lips say, “No!” The sound of your shaky voice makes him freeze in his tracks. Your sight wavers momentarily, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them slowly to look at his concerned face. You sigh as they focus on him, and all you can see is his warm, honey-colored gaze. His eyes betrayed concern amongst their softness, compassion mixing with a soft look of apprehension. “No,” You repeat, softer, hating the idea of scaring him further. “Can you just...” There’s a pause, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait?”

Spencer slowly nods, stuffing his hands awkwardly into his pockets as quiet beeping fills the room. He wants to ask how you’re feeling, but he has a feeling he already knows. He’s experienced that look in your eyes, the dim light begging to grow brighter, how your bottom lip quivered before you told him not to get the nurse. He knows offering a comforting touch is the wrong move, and he’s not keen on that idea anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice hits him like a train. Its ragged tone oozes self-hate. Upon hearing it, he pushes out a breath, his awkwardness fading into sympathy.  

“I wasn’t upset about anything.” He replies in a calm tone, “I’m the one who showed up here with no warning.” His eyes flick over to Bee by your side. “I was just following the orders of a little girl.” 

You glance over at Bee again before nodding. “Very dutiful of you.” 

“It’s what I’m known for.” 

“Not the gun and badge?” 

Spencer sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, “My skills with guns are lacking, and as for the badge, it only gets me so far.” He watches as a slow grin breaks out on your face, and your eyes drift over to his for a moment. He feels positively elated. Spencer decides that now is a good time for you to be free of those mittens on your hands. 

The nurses quickly reassess your condition as you throw soft and squeaking apologies their way. They quickly brush it under the table, repeating reassuring comments as they snip away at the gauze wrapped around your hands. 

You’re stretching out your fingers when Spencer’s fingers tentatively wrap around the strap of his bag. “Well, I suppose I should be going.” 

Your eyes widen at that, and you try to hide the quiet feeling of disappointment with a soft smile. “Oh.” 

Spencer can see how your eyes cast down at your hands and how your posture slumps. His fingers slip into his bag before he has time to think about it, rummaging around for a business card. He fidgets with the card for a moment, his long fingers tracing the edge of the cardstock. He hasn’t given anyone his card in a while, fearing it would backfire on him. 

But as he looks at your downcast expression, his heart aches, and he’s striding forward with his hand outstretched toward you. “If you ever need to talk.” Your eyebrows rise, and your fingers slowly take the card with a nervous expression.

“Thank you,” You mutter, studying the card in your fingers a moment longer. 

Spencer nods, stammering a little before he huffs out a quiet, “Of course.” Then he points toward the hallway, backing away from the bed. “I’ll see you.” he doesn’t know why he feels so tense, but he does. Your softening gaze made his heart beat a little faster than usual. You raise a hand, waving goodbye. “See you.” Once he’s gone, you find yourself gazing down at the card in your hands. Your thumb traces his name on the card, smiling at the sight. You know you’ll probably never call, but the offer is sweet. It reminds you that not everyone is afraid of you, and the thought makes you feel a little lighter as you place the card on the hospital bed tray. Likely to be lost among get-well-soons and flowers as you close your eyes with a lighter heart, waiting for your mother again.

TAG LIST: @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson @dollykisses4reid @otterluver05 @reader-bookling123 @love4lando 

[gffa]

People shouldn't be too hard on Mon!

I absolutely love and is grateful of Freed's understanding and appreciation of the Jedi, apparent in the book, apparent in the interview he'd given for the book:

"For me, the excitement of the time period here, is that I tend to think of 'Star Wars' as a setting with plenty of room for grey area stories and moral ambiguity, but there are very clear lines of good and evil as well. There's no version of 'Star Wars' in which you look at the Emperor and go, 'Well, maybe he had some good ideas.' No, the Emperor is evil. And the Jedi and Luke at their best are good. Everything else exists somewhere in there. This is a period where the remains true but no one really knows that the Emperor is evil.

"As far as the public is concerned, this guy just won the worst war in living memory. The Clone Wars were this horrendous affair and Palpatine has put an end to it. Yes, he's declared himself Emperor but he's not the embodiment of all evil. There's not even a Death Star out there. On the absolute good side, the Jedi have sort of been tarnished in recent years. War scrapes away at the shining morality of any organization."

I think Freed really understands what Lucas meant when he said "The Jedi have been corrupted by this war."

...but I still don't hold it against Mon cause she's going through hell and she spoilerspoilerspoilerspoiler in the later half of the book. I think she's fascinating, wonderful, equally valid character with equally valid viewpoints as Bail within context of their own worlds and experiences in this novel.

The editor of the book said it best:

Bail – knows the truth about Palpatine, the Empire, and the fall of the Jedi. Caught between his commitment to truth and justice at any cost, and the duty he has to the daughter he’s been entrusted to protect.

Mon Mothma – a master politician, who believes – like so many – that opposing Palpatine is part of the regular game of politics. She doesn’t yet realize, Palpatine stood up from the game board years ago, and she’s playing against shadows.

Mon and Bail are allies, but not really friends (at this time). Padme was their link, and now, she’s gone. Where does that leave them?

For Mon and Bail especially, the secrets Bail holds that he cannot reveal leaves a gulf between them. And what does it mean when they find themselves at odds with each other, over truths they cannot speak?

prev anon) I'm talking about their different mindsets and experiences and viewpoints born from those and I'm not excusing Mon's... *spoilers* anyway I hope you enjoy the rest of the book! It's so nice seeing an author like Freed, who usually writes non-force side of sw, handling the jedi with such warmth, understanding and awareness

This was such a reassuring message to get, thank you! I've been avoiding spoilers for the book as best I can, but I'm only a quarter of the way through it and I was wondering how the various themes were going to go, but Freed's interview quotes and your comments have made me glad that I'm picking up what this book is putting down, because that's exactly how I've been reading it. (And why I'm hoping to encourage more people to read it--though, I will give a warning that this book can be uncomfortably prescient about current events in a way that I wouldn't say Alexander Freed Is A Witch, but that can be very hard to read about if you're not in the headspace to deal with a lot of reflections of the dumpster fire we're currently in.) As for Mon, I hope nobody comes down on her for this, because as much as I scream, cry, throw up, etc., over Bail's scenes, in general I lean a bit more towards Mon's way of doing things, because I think her approach is her answer to the question, "But what can actually be truly achieved?" That she is looking at an incredibly shitty situation with only shitty options and asking herself what can she actually get done, what does she have a snowball's chance in hell of success with? And she knows clearing the Jedi's name at this point in time is not on the table, not when there are a million other things that might actually do tangible good for the galaxy. And I don't disagree with that! I love the Jedi more than anyone, but clearing their name isn't more important that, say, trying to stop the Wookiees from being classified as a non-sentient species! Clearing their name isn't important enough to blow all your political capital and having nothing to show for it when there are people who you can help, with a chance that will actually succeed! Bail's idealism isn't stupid, he's incredible and the galaxy needs a shining light like him, it's necessary for the bigger hope for the future, we can't make it through the dark times without bright, shining hope. So even when they don't always think positively of each other, I never get the sense that Bail and Mon don't understand that the other is doing what they think is best. They just disagree on what that is. And it makes sense! Bail knew and was friends with the Jedi! He knows the truth about Palpatine and how important all that Force shit is to what's going on here! Mon is operating with the idea that this is a political battle--and she's not entirely wrong, she's necessary to the recovery of the galaxy, too, just as Luke is necessary to save the day, so too is Leia, and I sort of see that reflected in Bail and Mon's approaches--one is focusing on the mystical and one is focusing on the political and I think both are important here. So, I have nothing but hearts for Mon Mothma and what she's trying to do for the galaxy.

And I don't see them as antagonists here, I see them as two people who look at each other with the understanding that there is deep love and compassion for people in the other, that they want this other person on their side not just for political alliances but because they care, and maybe they want to scream in frustration that the other person can't see what they see, but I don't feel for a second that this is going to end with them anything other than them as friends. Their scene in Rogue One implies she knows about Bail knowing a living Jedi, if not directly knowing about Obi-Wan Kenobi, which isn't something he would tell just anyone. I'm hoping for the same with Saw, there's going to be conflict about their approaches, and I love that that's clearly a theme/why these three characters were chosen as the pillars of this book, that each of them are shown to have their reasons why and that each of them serve a purpose. I scream/cry/throw up more about the Jedi because that's the most fun for me, but I am enthralled with Mon's chapters just as much, the political tightrope she's on, and I would encourage people to read for those aspects just as much as I would encourage them for crying about the Jedi. ANYWAY, EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS BOOK FOR YOURSELF, I'm having fun with the snippets I'm posting, but the book is so much more than those things! It's one of the best SW for rounding out the characters and filling in the transitions between the movies and TV shows, but in a way that keeps the tension and emotional gut-punches despite that we know where it's going. ALSO, MON MOTHMA AND BAIL ORGANA ARE THE BEST, I'M WILLING TO FIGHT THE INTERNET OVER THIS

[cryptic-corvids-blog]

“you’re easy to love, and anyone who couldn’t figure that out was a real bozo”

no one talk to me im going to be crying over this for the next million years

[johnsspacesuittight]

my god I'm literally almost in tears watching video of mcr from last night, like what the fuck do you mean we have mcr playing all of the black parade in 2024?????

[youling-the-ghost]

Alexa and Janusz are 100% joining the flock of traumatised sfth longform children that I've been collecting. Such sweet childhood friends who deserved none of what happened.

[blmpff]

Blueming (2022) 1x6

[blossoms-phan]

do u think they knew

it was gonna be forever

[wynntermelon]

Baobei!

[coulsons-left-arm]

Hey, you guys remember in 3.02 where the team opens up the portal to Maveth, but the vibrations from the machine made Daisy's nose bleed, and her body wasn't able to handle it, so she passes out and Coulson catches her and lays her down? And when she comes to Coulson is calling her Skye and she corrects him?

Look closely.

It's hard to tell since these episodes are so friggin DARK, but when Coulson catches her, he's wearing his jacket.

When Daisy wakes up, he's only got his button up on, no jacket.

Because his jacket is uNDER DAISY'S HEAD. 🙂

[liam-summers]

BtVs 3.07 | AtS 1.03

Bonus🎶

[celuere]

Cw: freaky lesbians

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE WHAT I AM FEELING RN LOOK AT MY FAVORITE LESBIANS I ALENAKEKOOOOOOOOOOPOOOOO I AM SO SICK SO SICK SO SICK SO SIIIIIIICK THEIR MATCHING WEDDING RINGS I‘M ABOUT TO VIOLENTLY THROW UP LETI DID SUCH AN AMAZING JOB ON THEM EUGHEUHJEUHZ @seijousai

[illustratingari]

And to the ends of the galaxy they went 😭💔

[d1sapp01ntm3nt]

first piece of public Outsiders fanart and of course it’s furry yaoi.

yes this was the mystery ship I made a post abt.

(Traditional ver below)

(Silly captions in alt text)

[crismakesstuff]

pushing my deblan propaganda on here again

[myrealitynow]

watched Black Sails for the first time and I can't stop thinking about them