#thank you jen

[calico-daydream]

[eowynstwin]

Here's a pic of my pupper in her new holiday-ish vest! And her new moose toy.

Ooooooh my god her little face and the plaid and I’m genuinely tearing up please give her so many hugs and kisses

[glitter-oracle]

🌻 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your mentions, anonymous or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog 🌻

1. i'm a cat person but i'm willing to pet any animal that allows it. i would pet an alligator if i could

2. i got into astrology because of an ex 😭 he was supertitious because he had bad experiences with aquariuses and I learned all about it just so I could tell him it was bullshit (turns out it wasn't)

3. i'd love to learn brazilian portuguese. the only thing i can say is "tudo bem?" and because i made it a habit

[tinypaperwindmill]

I could've had a normal bout of hyper fixation on bg3 but then over half the cast goes on to decide they will each stream their own playthroughs of the game

[marisashinx]

How long have they've been sleeping?

[animatedjen]

Merry Christmas, Jedi Survivor! 🎄

[helen-norvilles-female-rage]

Helen Norville truly is the female character of all time.

She’s strong, but not in a way a caricature “strong female character” is strong (being physically powerful, aggressive, capable of violence, etc). She’s not just a male character but sexy.

She’s thoughtful, sure in her convictions, decicated to helping the vulnerable, empathetic. She has a strong sense of justice. She’s loving. She protects people she loves. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it. She keeps standing up for herself and others even though she’s constantly being met with people putting her down in the worst ways. She has an open mind despite all the culture around her telling her not to. She endured many years of abuse and persevered. She’s extremely competent and knows it. She’s unapologetic. And she has amazing hair.

She’s also extremely vulnerable, easily swayed by personal attacks, unstable, prone to sinking to lows, gets overwhelmed by her emotions and is generally a bit of a mess. She flees when she’s scared. She’s deeply insecure when it comes to close relationships. She is affected by serious mental health issues. She has trauma and shame around it.

She’s Dale’s superior. She’s his mentor. She’s older than him. She doesn’t want marriage or children. What a beautiful “fuck you” to rigid patriarchal gender roles.

If this doesn’t read “complex female character who has real depth and isn’t made for male gaze but is fully human and her own person” idk what does. Thank you for reading my essay

[jen-with-a-pen]

A good example !

I wanted to take a second to highlight this user in the midst of the "discourse" in spam liking and not reblogging.

When I saw this in my notifs just now, I about cried.

THIS IS WHAT ITS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE.

BE THIS PERSON. THIS IS HOW YOU SHOULD BE DOING IT.

We are not fucking kidding when we say reblogging takes literally two seconds. This user is still liking and sharing!! You don't even have to add tags!! When you spam like we expect spam reblogging for our works!!

This is the bar. The bar is 6ft under yet lots of y'all are literally still going under it and it's fucking insane.

Anyways to you @sjsmith56 I pat you on the head and offer you a cookie. It's snickerdoodle. Hope that's okay.

If y'all don't mind, I'm tagging just a few mutuals in order to highlight this along with my other post.

@navybrat817 @targaryenvampireslayer @fushic0re @bucksangel @eulalielatibule @cocoamoonmalfoy

[ladiesngerms]

lila doodles

[imaginarycyberpunk2023]

OC: Vinnie Gallo // brilliant work by @ugh-my-back

[wineonmytshirt]

Jen's 3K Celebration Gift for @ivyindreamland - 💝 so it goes... Edit

Join My Celebration!

[thelastspeecher]

[sidekick-hero]

Before Wayne had Eddie, he had Herbie.

They were fairly similar; both were standoffish at first, peeking into the room to see if Wayne was there before scurrying away to hide somewhere, being found later sleeping curled up in a little ball.

The difference was that Herbie was a cat.

Herbie had taught Wayne many things, but most of all, patience. When he had first found him outside the trailer, hiding behind the trash cans, Herbie had hissed at him whenever Wayne had dared to come near him.

Wayne had tried everything. Like luring him out with food and milk and even making those ridiculous cooing noises that older women used to make with their cats. But to no avail.

Putting some leftovers on a plate and leaving it just outside the door every night had done the trick. On the third day, Herbie had sniffed at it but scurried away. The fifth day, he licked it.

He ate the leftovers on the sixth day.

Two months later, he was waiting on the porch for Wayne, meowing and demanding his food. Herbie had been his cat ever since.

When Eddie had come to live with him, it had started in a similar way. Eddie didn't exactly hiss at him, but it was close.

But Wayne had learned his lesson and had given Eddie space. He offered food, clean clothes, a warm and comfortable bed. He offered Eddie a home, but let Eddie choose what to do with the offer.

Wayne thought that was something Eddie had not been allowed to do in a long time, maybe ever.

Life went on in the Munson household and they adjusted to each other. Much like Herbie had done years before, Eddie slowly begun to trust Wayne. They got along pretty well most days. He wished he could say the same for Eddie and Herbie.

On his first day, Eddie had tried to pet the cute fluffy cat on his uncle's windowsill. It hadn't gone well and they had avoided each other ever since.

That's why the sight of little Eddie standing in the living room having a staring contest with Herbie stops Wayne dead in his tracks.

He's not sure this will end well, but patience has been his cure for most things Eddie and Herbie, so he watches silently. He did not know what he was expecting, but nothing was happening.

"'Whatcha doin' there, kid?" He asks in a gruff voice, arms crossed and bushy eyebrows raised.

Eddie's eyes never leave Herbie's as he says, "He started it."

This makes Wayne chuckle and he decides that Eddie, like himself, might need a lesson in patience. Herbie was a good teacher. He walks past them and mumbles, "I'll leave you to it then."

It is not the last staring contest he will witness.

A few months later, Eddie starts middle school and Wayne is worried. Kids can be cruel, and cruelty is something Eddie has had enough of to last him a lifetime.

He withdraws again, gets quieter and turns into himself, much like he did when he first started living in the trailer. Wayne doesn't know what to do. He wants to tell Eddie that it will get better, that sometimes these things take time, but Eddie avoids him and hides in his room.

Herbie is the one who finally gets through to him.

Wayne comes home late from his shift at the plant, grimy and exhausted. Still, the first thing he does is go over to Eddie's room and check on the kid.

What he finds overwhelms him with the sheer amount of love and relief he feels. Eddie is fast asleep on his bed, his blanket up to his hips, his arms wrapped around a tabby ball of fur that's purring like the engine of a well-loved car.

There's a smile on Eddie's face and Wayne thinks everything's going to be okay.

[narzissenkreuz-ordo]

HCQ era xingyue where gossip columns and articles start covering the sudden relationship between yingxing & dan feng because it's So Scandalous that THE high elder of the vidyadhara who was known for being emotionally distant and composed becomes so fucking unhinged over some outworlder.

the general public know how utterly unprofessional & scandalous the whole thing is but absolutely eat that shit up. they're ravenous want to know every single detail about their relationship because its such Juicy gossip and people get genuinely invested in the relationship, but there's all kinds of like. tabloids with headlines like:

"LEGENDARY OUTWORLER CRAFTSMAN SEDUCES THE HIGH ELDER OF THE VIDYADHARA?!"

"BREAKING NEW THEORIES ON THE SEDUCTION OF IMBIBITOR LUNAE: DID THIS GENIUS CRAFTSMAN USE HIS OWN INVENTIONS TO HYPNOTIZE THE HIGH ELDER?"

"CONVERSATION SECRETLY RECORDED: VIDYADHARA PREPECTORS BELIEVE THE HIGH ELDER WAS POISONED?"

"FIVE NEW FACTS ABOUT THE SMOKING HOT GENIUS WHO STOLE IMBIBITOR LUNAE'S HEART"

"HIGH ELDER IMBIBITOR LUNAE ACCUSED OF PUBLIC INTOXICATION & SCANDALOUS PDA? FIND OUT MORE WITH THESE EXCLUSIVE NEW SHOTS OF THE INCIDENT!"

[animatedjen]

17 BBY - Zorşa Edan, City of Zelvahn, Inner Rim

“Do I know you?”

The man froze. Tayala often ran into friends while out on errands– Abla joked that she was on a first-name basis with half the town. But this man, towering over the market in a maroon coat and threadbare hat, was both familiar and foreign. She shouldered her groceries and joined him at the stall, trying to place his dark hair and furrowed brow.

The man shook his head. “I’m really sorry. You’re thinking of someone else,” he said, dismissing her with a wave.

She was thinking of someone else. Embarrassment flushed across Tayala’s face. She mumbled an apology and stepped back into the midday crowd as the stranger moved on, rounding Qurna’s place at the end of the street. Tayala adjusted her headscarf and collected the wayward topato that had fallen from her bag. It’d be a good story for the clinic tomorrow, Doctor Akuna finally meeting someone she didn’t know.

She let herself glance once more at the man. He had stepped off the road to avoid a passing speeder, and paused only to roll out his shoulder, reaching a hand to where the Separatist had stabbed–

Tayala did know him. The Jedi.

“Boone.”

His gaze snapped up, and in a breath the man disappeared. Tayala darted forward, skirting the customers and idling hovercraft scattered around the city inn. Someone yelled, and she knew she’d get an earful from RN-8T after this; the droid prided itself on keeping the establishment free from “riff-raff” and “excitement.”

The streets narrowed here, ancient stone walls covered with generations of dirt and memory. New Imperial signage had been drilled into their crumbling foundations: updated trade regulations, identichip requirements, directions to the nearby recruitment office. Tayala passed a group of vagrant Neimodians and cut through a side street, then paused at the next intersection. How far could he have gone?

Something cold pressed against her back. “I don’t want to do this,” the Jedi said softly. “But you’re making it very difficult.”

A blaster. Tayala’s heartbeat thundered over the hum of the charged weapon. “There was an insurgent group based here during the war,” she whispered. “You were sent by the council to flush them out.”

Boone (she was sure of it now) adjusted the blaster slightly, his eyes scanning the nearby alley. “I was one of the local informants,” Tayala continued, “feeding them false leads. I gave you a cheffa cake the night you left.”

“With dewberries,” Boone murmured. He stepped forward, moving both of them further into the alleyway. “Did you also bake cakes for the Imperial patrol heading this way?”

“Their garrison is behind the old city,” Tayala said, panic rising in her throat. She twisted in his grasp but couldn’t see any patrols. “They’ve been clearing out the area over the last few days. Preparing for something.”

Her sandal caught the edge of a drainage grate, and dust drifted into the empty tunnel below them. The system hadn’t been used in years– either the Empire hadn’t noticed or hadn’t bothered to close it off yet. Tayala dropped her bag and carefully raised both hands, then turned to face the Jedi. 

“But I know a way out. Somewhere safe.” She gestured down at their feet.

Boone stared at her for a long moment. Then he swore, holstered his blaster, and ripped the grate from the ground.

—

“They’re saying the old city is ‘structurally unsafe’ and have restricted all non-Imperial use. Qurna is giving them hell about it, for good reason. Most of his customers only stay at that inn because of its backdoor access.” 

“Everyone needs a way to disappear these days.”

The rooftop of the Akuna home boasted a small patio designed for water tank maintenance. Any hope of a view was obscured by the surrounding buildings, but hazy daylight filtered through the open space above. Tayala found room for two cups of tea amidst the half-built equipment and weaponry scattered across the table. “You’ve been busy,” she noted.

“Haven’t had time to do much repair work lately,” Boone replied. He had stripped to an undershirt, his coat piled into a makeshift bed in the corner, and chimney soot had settled across his bare shoulders. A vibroblade scar cut across the base of his neck.

“...and salvaged material is never as reliable as stolen. But I can’t risk anything with a locator on it,” Boone was saying. Tayala pulled her eyes away and dropped into the other chair.

“That’s not how you normally operate, I assume,” she said.

“It wasn’t,” he sighed. “But it is now.”

The local spaceport shuttle rumbled overhead and temporarily blocked the light. When it returned, the Jedi was staring at her, his dark eyes stained by sleepless nights.

“Do you believe what they say about us?”

Tayala hummed softly. The reports had been scattered at first, disparate accounts of the traitorous Jedi Order. An attempted assassination. The end of the war. Zorşa Edan had known peace for the first time in years, and neither Republic nor Empire could change that relief.

“I heard that Jedi can sense a person’s emotions,” she said. “Know your every thought, even before you think it.”

“Not every.” Boone sipped his tea.

Tayala smirked. “Then you tell me.”

Boone rubbed his thumb against the rim of the cup. From above, the evening call of Zelvahn echoed faintly from the city center. 

“Everyone has a presence in the Force,” he finally said. “Like an invisible tapestry. All the different threads, connecting all living things. Those who wield the Force can recognize patterns in the tapestry, sense individual people and their intentions. Some patterns are filled with light, others with darkness.”

The components on the table rumbled, as if summoned by an unspoken command. Tayala watched them rise into the air, swirling around in a pattern beyond her understanding, until the familiar shape of a blaster appeared. It lowered itself into her shaking hands.

“So you tell me,” Boone said. “Is this worth the risk?”

Tayala swallowed. She hadn’t held a blaster since the war, and had hoped she never would again. The Jedi set his cup on the emptied table, leaned back in the chair, and waited.

Another shuttle passed overhead. In the moment of shadow, Tayala saw a crack of light pouring from the doorway behind her.

The blaster was in hand and aimed at the door by the time the sky returned. There Abla stood, slack jawed, with a roll of bread tucked under one arm. Tayala choked out a sob and dropped the weapon, rushing to her sister’s side.

—

“The ship leaves in an hour.”

“I know.”

Boone had spent most of the last two weeks on that windowless patio. Imperial presence in Zorşa Edan was only growing, now that a training facility had been built over the old city. One night he’d risked a dinner with the Akuna family, a small affair with pulled curtains and quiet voices. Still, he admitted to her later, it was the best meal he’d had in years.

Tayala wrapped the last of the provisions (dried meiloorun, and a small piece of cheffa cake) in a thick cloth and added it to the knapsack. The Jedi’s former clothes had been replaced, and she’d trimmed his overgrown beard the night before. Still, it didn’t feel like enough.

“Is this everything?” she asked, heaving the bag onto the table. Boone whistled at the show of strength, and Tayala laughed, flexing. He smiled and took her hand.

“Can you practice for me, once more?”

She scrunched her face, eyes bright, then relaxed and let her thoughts settle into a sort of stillness. It didn’t come naturally– there was no tapestry or patterns she could discern. But she softened her breaths anyway, letting her eyes close and emotions fade into some unknown space, like waves on a distant shore.

“Good,” Boone whispered. “That’s really good.” He slid his thumb over her knuckles, and she matched her breathing to his movement. “I can still sense you, but your presence is much quieter. I- I hope this helps keep you safe.”

Tayala met his gaze. The Jedi was staring at her with those same deep eyes, framed by dark hair and a constellation of freckles. “Boone,” she said. “You can’t stay.”

“Sure I can,” he murmured, leaning closer. “I won’t be Boone. I’ll be someone else.”

“Who else would you be, Jedi?” she whispered.

And Tayala Akuna didn’t need the Force to understand his answer.

–

“Tayala met someone,” her sister would later say. “While visiting our cousins on Birrin. Some tall, handsome man. I think he’s a teacher.”

Then, much later, Abla would receive a hologram of a tiny, round-faced baby. Kata’s portrait was given a place of honor on the mantle, framed by other keepsakes of the Akuna family, where it remains to this day.

[musubi-sama]

What can I say, other than I am inspired by my friends and their stunning writing.

Calamus et Gladius, inspired by @pseudowho