#this has been a dumb post by kark

[saltsprite]

ohoho you posted an ask meme

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it? 🌪️

Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.

I should have fucking known LOL <3

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet.

[oleander fools, Red Dead Redemption 2] Charles Smith (having loved and lost one Arthur Morgan) encounters Arthur's past love, Mary Linton, at Arthur's grave. Lonely, they fall into bed in a hotel in the nearest town. The next morning she asks for his hand in a marriage of convenience that turns sweeter.

I'm actually gonna do another one here, because I think these are both galaxy-brain ideas

[tentative title: seedlings, Jedi Survivor, gen fic] Boba Fett, for once in his 23-year-old life, has let a Jedi walk free. On top of that, today's bounty (Caij Vanda, a rival bounty hunter that'd been helping said karking Jedi) won't shut the hell up. Needing a drink before heading into the black, Boba takes Caij's advice to visit Pyloon's Saloon... only to find the same Jedi, again. To get away from him Boba heads to the rooftop gardens-- and there, finds a child who reminds him eerily of himself.

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

[untitled WIP, RDR2 Charthur] God, Arthur's stupid.

(yes i do think im funny, yes i will post another snippet because i like to post snippets)

[untitled WIP, Jedi Survivor, Cal/Bode] “Bode?”  Looking up, Bode finds Cal sitting on the cliff’s ledge above him, feet dangling over the edge. BD-1 chirrups something at him from Bode’s shoulder; Cal flashes a smile that doesn’t smell right to Bode. “Greez said I’d find you brooding out here.”  “Oh. Is that how he phrased it.” And— well, he had, but in much the same way as Cal had just smiled at him: The same way a damaged shield generator will cough and sputter before doing its damn job. Bode plants his hands on his hips. “What are you up to, then?”  Cal sniffs, before a crooked, sheepish grin appears. “Brooding.”

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

[oleander fools, RDR2] “What’re you lookin’ at?” Charles asks.  Arthur slaps on his dumbest grin, the besotted one he hides until they can be alone. “You, my flower.”  Laughing around a groan, Charles decides to play this one out. If Arthur’s going to open his big dumb mouth to say big dumb things, Charles can at least get some kind of entertainment out of it. “What kind?”  “Oleander.” Arthur’s answer is immediate, confident. Like he’s thought about it. A lot.  Crinkling his nose, Charles frowns. “Small and pink?”  Again, Arthur smiles— but it’s softer, sweeter. Missing his hat, some of his hair falls into his eyes as he dips to take Charles’s hand. He presses his thumbs into the pads and cushions of Charles’s calloused palm. “I handle you wrong, you’ll kill me real quick.” Arthur drops a warm kiss to palm center, then glances up at Charles looking almost shy and oozing boyish charm. “And that’s kinda the entire appeal.”

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

[meet me halfway, Boba Fett/Cobb Vanth] Put your softness in my hands, Cobb had said before, those words so carefully chosen, his aim as true and unwavering as his desire. Nothing comes to mind, now. Nothing but the wretchedly tender truth that chokes him from the inside, clumping in his throat like he swallowed sand. There’s too much to say. He should say it. He needs to say it. There’s no fucking point in saying it now because he waited too long, it might kill him to say it, but he will try. He can try.  “If this all goes tits-up,” Cobb starts, wetting his lips — but Boba stops him, gently bumping a knuckle under his chin.  “Have you so little faith in me?” Boba scoffs, attempting lightheartedness despite the worry and grief already carved into the canyon bedrock of his face. He can't say it.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

[faith, freedom (RDR2, Charthur)] As he settles against Arthur’s chest Charles grunts in protest, but Arthur feels him smile. Combs fingers through Charles’s hair, made soft with some oil he’s begun using that smells of vanilla, its gentle perfume warmed and sharpened to a point with tobacco and camp smoke. Arthur breathes deep.

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

[faith, freedom (RDR2, Charthur)] “Beautiful.”  Charles snorts, ducking his head. “Now who’s sayin’ shit he don’t mean?”  “Aw, Charles,” Arthur tuts. He lets go in favor of running the flat of his nail up the fractal scar along Charles’s cheek. “Ought to know by now, I don’t suffer liars in my bed.”

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

[oleander fools] John Marston: ah, the Morgan widows Charles: …one widow J: Aw but you and Arthur were— y’know. So that’d be you and Mary together, I mean. C: no, no, a widow is a woman, widower is the man— J: yeah but it’s a man who died, so you’re his widow too C: DOUBT [x]

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

idk what pairing, but i know there's a good Hades (game) AU in me somewhere, i KNOW IT. I feel like I can make it work best in SW, using planet names for each region (like... Naboo for Elysium, obvs Mustafar for Asphodel). If it's DinCobb, then Cobb is fighting through the underworld ruled by Boba Fett with Djarin in the Thanatos role. If it's Cal/Bode, then it's Cal fighting through, with Bode maybe posing as a helpful NPC... at first. >:3

🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags.

Red Dead Redemption 2, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Camping, First Time, Recreational Drug Use, And There Was Only One Tent

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday Monday

I managed a little under 1K tonight so I'm going to take that W.

This scene is pretty spoiler free so I'm going to post it. Mij and Jango continue to have an interesting dynamic in that I feel like Mij is so frank and no-bullshit that he doesn't mince words with Jango and he appreciates it which in turn makes him prone to opening up to him more than other people he's closer to. Because....teenagers. Well that, and sometimes you just want an adult to talk to you like you're not a child.

Jaster and Plo continue to be the worst-kept secret in the True Mandalorians to boot.

Standard warnings apply, super rough draft, I haven't even looked at what I'm posting so it might be utter shit.

But I DID discover a new synthwave mix on Spotify to listen to while writing so that's exciting. I also did not realize that Tangerine Dream who wrote the ORIGINAL Legend soundtrack is considered synthwave or one of the precursors and that just explains so much about why I love this genre so much. I owned that shit on tape. Loved By the Sun is still one of my favorite songs ever. Also Tron: Legacy soundtrack falls into it too that's hands down my favorite movie soundtrack ever. The fact Daft Punk only wrote two movie soundtracks before they broke up is one of my greatest musical sad points. Actually, I was wrong I thought they did another movie beyond Tron: Legacy but I guess they only wrote that one. Even worse. :( I like Daft Punk but I'm not a HUGE Daft Punk or EDM fan in general. I appreciate it and enjoy a lot of it. My twenties were very much into bands like Infected Mushroom and a lot of random ass European house and trance bands but I kinda floated out of the scene after that. But Tron: Legacy soundtrack was on a whole other level. Synthwave definitely scratches that born and raised on 80's movies electronic soundtrack itch very nicely that I have.

I'm gonna put the laptop away and try and convince my brain to stfu so I can try and sleep now.

By the time Mij made it back to base, some semblance of order had been restored. Myles was passed out on the couch with his head laying in Jango’s lap. The boy’s eyes were red-rimmed and he still looked upset but he’d composed himself somewhat Mij was a little worried that his hand hadn't strayed from the blaster sitting next to him on the couch.

“Where’s Jaster?” Mij asked, making an effort to try and keep the bark from his question despite his own uncertain temper. He had no karking clue what was going on and it was starting to piss him off.

“Downstairs talking to the other delegates, I think he’s trying to put a hunting party together for Montross.”

“Fine, that’ll keep him busy. How are you, verd’ika? What about Myles? What the hell happened to him?”

Jango’s mouth condensed to a grim, bloodless slash and Mij knew he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of him. So he busied himself with pulling out a scanner and started to monitor the unconscious Kiffar’s vitals.

They were all strong and steady thankfully. He found no overt sign of injury which only puzzled him further.

“I take if your father wanted you to stay here and make sure Myles was okay?”

“Yeah, it’s dumb. Montross isn’t going to come here.”

“He won’t but if he were to contact Death Watch and warn them we’re down three people they might decide to get ballsy and press their luck. I’m sure the thought has crossed your father’s mind.”

“I’m not a useless kid.” Jango spat that last word like it was something filthy or unclear.

“Jango, he’s not treating you like a child. He’s trusted you to guard your friend and superior officer’s back.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mij. I screwed up and Montross got away because of it.”

“That I can’t speak of since I kinda came in halfway through. Let’s say you’re right and you did screw up. What can you learn from that mistake and how you can you avoid repeating it?” Mij asked gently and stowed his scanning unit away.

“ If you want my opinion? I think you’re so desperate to prove yourself that you’re potentially taking risks you don’t need to. Maybe that’s just inexperience, maybe just dumb teenage impetuousness.”

“I was just so angry. He tried to have me killed. I knew he didn’t like me but I didn’t know he hated me that much.” There was a strange note of wounded vulnerability in the teenage boy’s voice and Mij was reminded once again just how young Jango was in a lot of ways.

Having grown up outside the Mandalorian culture, even he struggled at times with understanding letting a teenager like Jango being exposed to the dangers of an active campaign but there was also the politics and other dangers beyond avoiding getting your head blown off by an enemy blaster bolt.

It was one thing to have an enemy try and kill you, another to have a supposed ally apparently hire a Death Watch assassin to try and kill you supposedly because you were in the way of whatever stupid political machinations you had.

“I don’t know kid. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore.”

Stars, he wasn’t a man who was prone to violence but in that moment, if Montross had been in the room he would have shot the son of a bantha-karker in the gut and let him bleed out in gruesome agony.

Mij could only imagine what was going through Jaster’s head right now but judging by the kill order he’d just put out, it wasn’t anything good.

“Come on, I think between the two of us, we can move him into his room. He’ll probably be more comfortable there. I can set up an IV drip easier there too.” He didn’t mention he didn’t particularly want them to stay here, exposed and with nothing to prevent a opportunistic Death Watch member from trying to snipe them from the still broken window.

Mij could have carried Myles all on his own but he wanted to give Jango something to focus on. The boy seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. He grabbed the blaster that had been sitting next to him on the couch and shoved it into the waistband of his lounge pants and carefully lifted Myles’s head from his lap so he could climb to his feet.

“Do you think we should call Plo Koon?” Mij asked as he wrapped his arms underneath the younger Mandalorian’s shoulders while Jango picked up his feet.

A surprised look flashed across the boy’s face before he managed to lock down his expression into something more natural. “I don’t think Jaster would want that. I don’t think he told him we were hunting for Death Watch.”

“It’s not about what he wants, it’s about what he needs. I think having his Jedi around might help keep calmer heads prevailing right now.”

Jango grimaced at Mij calling Plo Jaster’s Jedi as they carried the unconscious Myles down the hallway towards the man’s room. He didn’t want to admit it but even the weight of carrying the other Mandalorian’s feet was making his stomach muscles twinge unpleasantly. He had the sneaking suspicion he had some new bruising courtesy of Montross’s rough treatment.

“So…you know then?”

“Wait? Was it supposed to be a secret? If so? That’s like the worst kept secret ever.”

The pained look on Jango’s face would have been laughable in any other circumstances.

[laurabwrites]

🤡, ✨️, 💖, 👀, 🤩, 💔

From this set

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

I usually only get the giggles out of my own writing, but I’m counting that! The latest giggles:

Cody is not processing well through numb exhaustion. “Sir, you're going to have to walk me through whatever political osik–”

“For kark sake,” Fox snaps, “he's treating us as an independent polity, demonstrating the Jedi Order’s belief we're an independent polity. Meaning not Republic property. So when we are contacted by the Republic they're working off the base assumption we're sentient and independent. It's basic anchoring psychology and political maneuvering.”

“Basic to you maybe,” Wolffe grumbles as everyone else stares at Fox. “The rest of us are running on fumes.”

“Or spite,” Alpha-17 adds.

“Oh no,” Fox snarls at Cody; Cody is sure he is sporting a manic look. “No, no, no, no, you do not get to stick me with this!”

“Everyone in favor of Fox as Head of State,” Cody calls, “hands up now.”

Every hand other than Fox’s (and Kenobi’s) shoots up.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Oh gosh... I do some pretty good dialogue, in my opinion.

💖 What made you start writing?

Well, you see, I’ve been reading so long, and then playing Role Playing Games enough, and then read enough fanfiction I didn’t like the writing of that I though ‘I can do that. Possibly better.’ So... I started trying. And haven’t stopped yet.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I am planning out a collection of interconnected short stories in a modern setting with magic that only works if people are touching that I’m excited about! I have the first story written (and am reasonably proud of it) and a second draft of the second story but that one it going to take many more drafts because it’s not quite gelling as it’s own, complete story yet.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Right now, my favorite character is the protagonist to my transhumanist, post-apocalypse road trip story: Izzy. They’re just so damn tired of the absolute shit that has been their past six years and their ticket off planet are just so damn dumb about survival. I enjoy writing their snark.

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

Ah... no. Maybe one or two should have but I had the thing where I stared at and reread my own writing enough that it sort of all... blurred. and/or went numb to the emotional impact.

[lord-explodokill-blog]

I ALSO GOTTA SHARE THIS ONE

Art? Quality.

Song? Quality.

Overall? quality

[sushiburritonoms]

WIP Wednesday

Since my daily torture session Zoom meeting got cancelled I'm sneaking on here to post s snippet from one of my WIP. This damn fic has sat on my computer for months, so I'm putting this bit out into the world to make the rest of it write itself.

It's the sequel to Last to Know, First to Judge, tentatively titled "You Break It, You Buy It" (because I suck at titles). So it's a comedy fic, from Han's POV (don't look at me like that!)

The small village that was attacked by the Imperial remnants was mostly a pile of rubble when they arrived. There were piles of wood and metal scattered across the dirt, along with rings of ashes and barely hidden red stains. It was a familiar sight to them all, even if it had been a while since Han and Leia had witnessed such devastation first hand.

“All this destruction and the Core is completely unaware,” Leia muttered as she nudged the burnt remains of a child’s toy with her boot.  “The Senate is too busy debating synthcookers instead of this.”

“It’s the Mid Rim,” Din said softly. “I thought he’d be safe this close to the Core.”

“Yeah that was dumb. Luke can find trouble anywhere.” Han peered into the remains of a burnt house, looking for signs of life. When he looked back, Leia was frowning at him with her ‘you know better’ glare.

‘What?’ Han mouthed at her.

“He’s really upset!” Leia hissed at her husband.

Really?! Han looked back at the Mandalorian. For those like him who were unable to cheat with the damn Force, there was no way of picking up on anything from the Mando.  Plus Han was still pissed at Din, even if it was a bit irrational.  Luke was supposed to be settling down and putting this drama behind him. He should be raising little Force toadlets, not getting kidnapped or hurt AGAIN.  The kid was 30 years old now, why was he still finding new ways to hurt himself?!

Leia smacked Han with her open palm as if she overheard his uncharitable thoughts. “Ow!”

“Stay here, and be. Nice.”  She stalked off, towards a circle of burn marks scorched across what was once the middle of the town.  Chewie followed, keeping a respectful distance but openly carrying his bowcaster and snarling at any bystanders brave enough to make eye contact. Han watched as Leia knelt into the ashes and put her hand over the worst of the burn marks. Her behavior was strange enough to force Din to approach him, with Grogu perched in a carrier around his waist.

“What is she doing?” Din muttered to Han.

He shrugged. “Force stuff.” Han had stopped asking for clarification a long time ago.

There was a pause. “So, Leia is a Jedi,” Din said slowly.

Han rolled his eyes. “Nope.” His lips popped on the ‘p’ sound.

The Mando just wouldn’t shut up. “But she has a lightsaber.”

“Yup.”

“She can use the Force.”

“Yes.” Han found himself wondering where this was going, despite himself.

“She has a tendency to be cryptic, and often refuses to answer a direct question.”

Han snorted. “Oh yeah.”

“She’s a Jedi then,” Din said triumphantly.

“How many Jedi have you met where you can make that decision?” Han asked. “Also, don’t let her hear that.”

They both paused as Leia spun around in a slow circle with her eyes closed and her hands out in front of her, like she was directing traffic in the middle of a busy street. Han assumed there was a whole lot of something going on in his sweetheart’s head, but she probably looked crazy to the surviving townsfolk watching them from nearby.

“I don’t understand.”

Yeah neither did Han. “Look, Leia is more a weekend Jedi ok? She doesn’t want full custody of her Father’s Chosen One banthashit.”  Kriff Anakin Skywalker and the podracer he flew in on.

Djarin shook his head. “How is that fair?”

Han blinked. “What?”

“Why is Luke rebuilding the Jedi Order all by himself when she has the same abilities?” The Mando flung out at arm to point at Leia while the baby at his waist cooed in confusion.

“I don’t see Luke trying to build an entire government from scratch, be a mom, and lead one of the biggest refugee populations in the galaxy!” Han shot back.

“No, he’s just trying to defeat the Imperial remnants single handly and rebuild an entire culture lost to genocide,” Din countered.

Ha, Han had the winning answer to this morbid conversation.  “Leia’s planet was destroyed!”

“Well, Luke’s entire family was killed!” Din turned to face Han.

Han couldn’t believe this guy. “--So was Leia’s, you know. BECAUSE HER ENTIRE PLANET BLEW UP!”

Din paused as his brain caught up to him. “Oh. Right. Kark.”

Han didn’t need to see his face to tell he was embarrassed.  Kark was right. Although, now that they were comparing notes... “His father did cut off his hand. That’s pretty kriffed up.”

“Vader tortured Leia,” Din offered back.

“And me,” Han grumbled.

“She is married to a di'kut.”

He had no idea what that meant but his default was to take offense. “HEY, I wouldn’t talk, Mr. No Face--”

“ By the Goddess!” Leia shouted at them.  “This is not a victim competition! Will you two idiots stop comparing which twin is more miserable and come over here!”

[obiwanobi]

In the Sith Senator au, I imagine that sheev introduces them either at a dinner party or maybe at a gala? anakin is in his robes as always and obiwan is super dressed up because he's a respectable senator thank you very much and he calls anakin darling and sweet thing and stuff like that and within an hour he has anakin wrapped around his finger

Okay, so WHY NOT BOTH? The last long post about this AU was painful, so have some “hate at first sight” and “0.2 sec for Obi-Wan to fix it and learn that banter and endearments can turn Anakin into a very charming mess” 

The first time they met, Obi-Wan has just been elected Senator after working in politics on Stewjon for years, making enough important friends and empty promises to be re-elected even without showing his face on Stewjon until the next decade. It’s his first month back on Coruscant, close to Sidious after years on his own. He needs to show him that his presence here, so close to his Master, is right, and can only benefit their plans. Even when everything isn’t… great.

The committee of small planets of the mid rim is pestering him to join their sad little club of useless dustballs, he has dozens of demands of various needy mayors, dignitaries and even ministers from Stewjon to reply to, the Senate security staff are a bunch of lazy bastards who still haven’t given him his pass and badge to enter and exit the building whenever he wants to and keep pretending not to recognize him even though they force him to go through a full security check every morning, and he can’t find a decent assistant to hire. 

You could say that Senator Kenobi is a bit on edge. 

He really, really doesn’t need to be late to his first real, private meeting with Sidious, especially because his only excuse is ‘I forgot how busy traffic was on Coruscant in the morning, don’t blame me I’m used to the countryside and seeing more sheep than ships on my way to work”. That would probably not go too well.  

Looking at his chrono every twenty seconds, he doesn’t pay enough attention to where he’s going and doesn’t notice the man turning at a corner on his side, running fast enough to come crashing against him without having the chance to do anything about it.

One second, a sharp cry, a flurry of dark robes and a cup of tea flying, and they’re both on the ground.  

Obi-Wan isn’t pleased. You could say he’s even a bit exasperated, lying on his back, a stranger’s elbow digging in his stomach. And then he turns his head to see who’s stupid enough to run in the Senate’s corridors on a Monday morning and almost curses out loud when he recognises Jedi robes and a stupid Padawan’s braid. 

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s used to suppressing his Force-presence so no one can feel him and he’s not going to make a scene to attract more attention. He’s going to inhale and exhale slowly, accept the deepest of apologies from the stupid Jedi with a benevolent smile, repress his need to do something harsh, and be on his way.  

But then the Padawan groans, rubs his head and asks reproachfully why Obi-Wan didn’t watch where he was going. 

It’s eight am, half of his (expensive and only sold on Stewjon) tea on the floor, and Obi-Wan already wants to strangle a Jedi.

So, there is a shouting match.

Words like “pathetic life form” and “karking useless politician” are thrown, and it takes almost half a minute for Obi-Wan to realise that he’s arguing with a dumb teenager and that they’re still on the floor, half on top of each other. He, very politely, asks the Padawan to get the kriff up, doesn’t take the time to even look at the remains of his cup of tea after salvaging his wet datapad from the puddle on the ground, and leaves with one last silent death glare. 

“You’re not even going to clean that?” the Padawan yells in his back, sounding revolted. 

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. What are droids for these days? 

*

“You’re late,” Palpatine says flatly the instant the door of his office closes behind Obi-Wan. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“Yes, Master.”  

“Call me Chancellor for now. I want you to meet someone and he should be here soon. He could become important, maybe even crucial for our plans.”

“Oh? Another Senator or representative to charm?” 

“Even better,” Palpatine smiles. And that’s what gets Obi-Wan interested. He knows this is the reason he’s here and the reason Sidious wants him in the Senate. Obi-Wan is a smooth talker, a nice face and a warm smile all in one. Someone who, with enough time and efforts, could make anyone believes in anything.

Palpatine always said that he was made for politics. 

“He could be a decisive piece in this game. It will take a lot of careful manipulation and dedication to bring him to our side and I don’t have this kind of time to waste, so you’ll do. With enough care and patience, I think he could be the most loyal and useful… support, we could have.” 

“Who is he? What do you want me to say and how far am I allowed to go?”

A knock at the door interrupts them. “For now,” Palpatine says in a low voice, sitting behind his desk, joining his hands together above it, the picture of old and trusted wisdom, “I just need you to make him like you.” 

That’s not going to be a problem, Obi-Wan thinks, as the doors open. He straightens up, gets ready to put on his most radiant smile and displays an inviting openness and friendliness that few can resist. 

The Padawan enters. 

This is going to be a problem. 

*

“Ah! My favourite Jedi!” Sidious exclaims loud enough to be heard over the music and raising his cocktail above their heads. Anakin Skywalker smiles as he sees him, and dutifully comes closer. The Chancellor makes a point of clapping his hand twice on his shoulder once Skywalker is in front of him, and leaves it there as he introduces him to his new chief of staff. If anyone is wondering what a Padawan is doing at a Senate party that should only include political staffers and a few dignitaries, no one breaths a word of it. 

It gives Obi-Wan time to gauge, assess and appraise Skywalker, his reactions, body language, and anything he can learn from a simple conversation between Sidious and him. It would be his turn to do it soon. Relieve me from the burden of having to stroke the boy’s ego regularly so I can take care of more pressing issues, his master had snarled disdainfully. Right now, he’s playing the part of the dotting and proud fatherly figure to perfection, Obi-Wan has to give him that. 

Attention, approval and respect, Sidious had told me. That’s all you need to be in Skywalker’s good graces. The boy will soak every bit of kindness you can spare, as long as he considers you someone worth his own devotion.

It didn’t stop Obi-Wan from learning absolutely everything he could about him, from his lightsaber technique to his favourite food because Obi-Wan is and will always be a very thorough man who doesn’t rely on luck or unprecise sciences like basic psychology. Especially from his Master, who probably never encountered an emotion or feeling he couldn’t twist to fuel his ambition. 

Admittedly, Obi-Wan doesn’t share his Master enthusiasm for charming the brat and make him fall. He’s all for turning him against the Jedi, sure, that he can get behind and happily endorse, but having to deal with a moody teenager on a regular basis for the foreseeable future? It would be painful for everyone. Especially for Obi-Wan’s nerves.

 Anakin Skywalker, reckless, volatile and troublesome former slave and actual Padawan, wasn’t the type of Sith candidate Obi-Wan would have chosen. Not at all. Too many variables, too many chances to go wrong, a wild card that he would never risk. 

But Sidious is adamant. Doesn’t care for any of his arguments. He wants Skywalker, and Obi-Wan has started to realise why when he learnt all about the prophecy. Stealing the Jedi Chosen One and turning him against them in a last-second betrayal was the kind of symbolic irony Sidious loved and would gloat about for years to come. And when Sidious decides that he needs something, there is no going back. 

But this time, Obi-Wan has to do all the hard work himself. He calculates that getting close to Skywalker, especially after their more than tense official introduction, is going to take months, maybe even (and Obi-Wan shudders at the thought) a year. Trapped at playing nice with an overgrown child who hates being told no and likes to think he’s above the rules. For no direct and personal benefit but the approval of his own Master.

Obi-Wan really, really hates it.

But that’s not going to stop him from completing his mission perfectly, as he has always done. 

“I’m glad to see you, Chancellor,” Skywalker says softly, his quiet tone already at odd with what Obi-Wan expected. He grew taller than the last he saw him, and Obi-Wan hates it. His braid is a bit longer and his robes are a shade darker than a few months ago. Something passes in his eyes when the Padawan notices Obi-Wan’s presence next to the Chancellor and his head snaps up defiantly. “Senator Kenobi,” he grits out like the words pain him. 

Obi-Wan needs to change this right now before Sidious deems him inapt for this mission.

He hates this a bit more. 

The opportunity is given quicker than he thought when Sidious excuses himself and leaves their little group to mingle with other demanding sycophants. Obi-Wan gets stuck with Skywalker, Sidious’ chief of state who’s apparently only here for the free drinks, and Keneg, the senator of… Corulag? Barl’leth? One of those rich Core planets that hate anyone who isn’t them but need to be kept around for their credits, who always seems to suck years of his life every time Obi-Wan is forced to speak to him. It takes thirty seconds for all of them to grow bored of Keneg incessant complaints about how the lower levels of his planet are “ruining its reputation” and that the problem resides in their too lenient immigration policy, especially concerning poor and uneducated races.

Skywalker’s face is a journey. At least twelve different emotions play through his eyes, the twists of his mouth and raised eyebrows like a theatre actor in a dramatic scene at each careless word coming out of the Senator’s mouth, and Obi-Wan wonders if anyone has ever told him that Jedi are supposed to be masters of their own emotions first and foremost. Especially around politicians. 

But it doesn’t matter right now, because that’s the opening he was waiting for. 

“Excuse me Senator Keneg,” He cuts him off politely before another endless tirade. “I’m afraid I have to go, I see the Senator of Botor and I’ve been trying to talk to him for months. Surely you understand. Padawan Skywalker, may I ask for your assistance? We could use some Jedi wisdom in our debate, if you don’t mind.” 

Skywalker looks torn between being relieved to be offered an out from an awful conversation, but also have no desire to spend more time with Obi-Wan. 

“Sure,” he ends up mumbling, apparently judging that he was the lesser of two evils. 

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan doesn’t pay any attention to the betrayed look Sidious’ chief of state sends him after being left alone with Keneg.

“So,” Skywalker says, resigned, following Obi-Wan who’s making a beeline for the bar. “Where is he?”

“Who?” 

“The senator of Botor? And what’s your deal with him?” 

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” Obi-Wan replies, trying to ignore the casual tone Skywalker shouldn’t take with a Senator, even one he dislikes. 

“What? Then why did you ask me to come with you?”

“Aren’t you relieved that I saved you from dreadful hours of xenophobic discussions about how poor people should be banned from showing their face in public because it doesn’t please Senator Keneg?”

“You didn’t save me,” Skywalker grimaces, but still seats beside him. “Is it… Is it always like that? I mean, I know Core worlds politicians can be a little…”

Obi-Wan weighs his options, and decides that Skywalker would probably appreciate truth more than carefully chosen words and subtle hypocrisy. Pretending to be the last nice man in politics is out of the question with the way they met, so Obi-Wan opts for sincerity.

To a degree. 

“Snobbish? Disconnected from reality? Shameless bastards with no souls?” Obi-Wan says while signalling the bartender for Trandoshan ale and a cocktail.

“Well, yes.” 

“Welcome to politics.” 

Skywalker opens his mouth like he’s going to protest. He puts his hands in his sleeves, probably hoping to pass for a wise Jedi Master, but his pouty lips and frowned eyebrows make him look like a sulking youngling. “You’re part of it, you know. You can talk about it like you’re not one of them, but I remember you insulting me and leaving without caring about your tea and cup all over the floor.”

What a brat.

“My tea- My dear, do I have to remind you that you barreled into me at full stupid and made me spill my tea everywhere? Some Senators would have made a diplomatic incident out of it,” he huffs, a bit more irritable than he wanted to. 

 “You said I was a brainless child!” 

“Because you ar—” Their drinks arrive at that moment, and it gives Obi-Wan precious seconds to compose himself.

This isn’t how he’s supposed to play it. He didn’t expect Skywalker to be this whiny and petulant, despite Sidious’ warning, and was planning on letting him think he was the one in control of the situation. He’s supposed to be a Jedi for Force sake, not someone who can’t control their tongue and get into pointless fights with politicians! 

No, no. Grin and bear it. Obi-Wan should recall the last remnant of Jedi philosophy still in him. 

“Padawan Skywalker, I’m sorry if my words offended you,” Obi-Wan says with the voice he normally uses for debates where he wants to appear as the most sincere and reasonable party. He holds a glass of ale to Skywalker, as a peace offering. “I admit I wasn’t in the most pleasant of disposition at that time, and I may have been harsher than I realised. I hope you can forgive me.” 

This seems to mollify Skywalker a bit. He doesn’t look like he’s going to forget it, but does take the offered glass. “At least the Chancellor is different,” he sighs and Obi-Wan represses the urge to burst into laughter. 

Oh, Skywalker is truly the most naïve boy around. Perhaps twisting his mind will turn out to be fun. 

“Wait,” Obi-Wan exclaims suddenly as the Padawan holds the glass to his lips, “are you even old enough to drink?” 

“Oh come on, I’m 19! I can handle a beer and I’m a Jedi, don’t forget,” he brags, like being Force-sensitive changes anything about his (probably low) alcohol tolerance. To be fair, a regular politician wouldn’t know anything about what the Force could and couldn’t do. Skywalker’s probably relying on lack of awareness about the magic and mysterious abilities of the Jedi to get away with it. It’s almost endearing. 

 “I don’t know, Padawan, you did look like an adorable sulking youngling just a minute ago.”

“Ador- I’m not adorable!” He yelps as his cheeks turn into an interesting shade of pink. 

“But you don’t deny the youngling comment,” Obi-Wan teases good-naturedly between two sips of his cocktail. He can’t help it: It is way more intriguing to follow the colours on his face spreading to his neck than being on the receiving end of his frowns and accusing words.

Unduly flustered for such an innocent comment, Skywalker stutters a few syllables, huffs, and narrows his eyes at his glass, Obi-Wan’s playful smile, and his glass again. He downs the whole thing with his head thrown back before Obi-Wan can say anything, surprised by the sudden motion and too busy watching his throat moving until the empty glass is back on the table with a resounding clank. Still wiping his mouth, he calls the bartender and asks for another. Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the ‘don’t you dare stop me’ glare. 

This isn’t how he imagined befriending him, but Skywalker is still seating next to him and getting into a rant about how he’s a capable man, thank you very much, and yesterday his Master even said so, well, not in these words, but he’s not a youngling, and absolutely not adorable, he’s a warrior, a protector, but he doesn’t suppose a politician can understand, and if Obi-Wan wants to know, his sabre technique is exceptional, really, it is! 

His whole speech is supported by hands flying around to illustrate his words and mouthfuls of ale, because he is a man and not a kid, remember that, Senator Kenobi. It doesn’t prevent him from flushing a bit deeper and spluttering even more when Obi-Wan, listening attentively with a smile on his face, throws an indulgent of course you are, darling.

Skywalker turns his face away from him, desperate to hide his embarrassment, and orders another ale. 

Adorable. 

 Obi-Wan can work with that.   

*

Hours later, once Skywalker is happily sloshed and dangerously leaning toward crashing against his shoulder, Obi-Wan calls him a hover cab.  

“Thanks, Senator Kenobi!” Skywalker exclaims as he climbs into the cab, like Obi-Wan is now his favourite person to be around. His cheerful and warm demeanour has stopped being surprising after his second ale. “You’re not as awful as I thought!” 

Obi-Wan can’t help it, he laughs, truly laughs at that. It’s probably the most sincere compliment he’s gotten since he arrived at the Senate. “I’m glad you consider me a slightly better man than Senator Keneg,” he says, leaning forward toward Skywalker, hands on the cab. 

Skywaker grins and raises an eyebrow at him. “And more handsome too!” 

For once, it’s Obi-Wan who must look baffled. Despite his careful planning, all his diverse estimations and assessments about the different ways he could charm Skywalker, he didn’t consider actually seducing him. That’s… a whole new point of view. 

Interrupting his thoughts, Skywalker yawns and starts hugging his robe around himself, smiling contently like he’s in the best place in the galaxy, barely trying to blink away sleep from his eyes. Adorable.  

On an impulse, Obi-Wan leans closer to him and tugs on his braid. The reaction is worth it: Skywalker makes a small surprised noise, eyes suddenly wide, and the slight flush on his cheeks worsen in an instant.

Obi-Wan almost considers touching his face, just to see how warm his skin is. And maybe even brushing his parted lips with his thumb, just to see how warm it can still get. 

But Obi-Wan feels merciful.

For tonight. 

“Sleep well, Padawan,” he purrs, winding the thin braid around his finger one last time. Skywalker looks like he’s going to melt.  

Obi-Wan can work with that too. 

*

Two months later, Sidious tells him that he’s going to be the victim of an assassination attempt right before the Military Act vote. It would be acceptable for the Chancellor to be concerned about the protection and security of all Senators, of course, so he will push for Jedi protection and is certain to convince the Council to send one particular Padawan as a bodyguard. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t hate the idea. 

[hairringtonsteve]

trust me.

(poe dameron x reader) 

summary: poe dameron is a cocky little shit that needs to keep his promises better. but he does make up for it pretty well.

request: lidi requested something fluffy and i’m tired so here we go

word count: 1, 774

a/n: this is for the babes that are @letmeletmetrashyourlove​ and also @stevesdacre​ bc it’s star wars and tlj spoiler free. it’s also for @dacrethehalls​ but she’s only seen the phantom menace so she doesn’t count. i wasn’t gonna post any star wars stuff for a little while, but lidi requested and here i am. this is pre and into tfa, so no spoilers! 

There were a lot of things that were frustrating about being in the Resistance. The backlog on the credits that they owe you was a big one. The fact that you hadn’t had a hot cup of caf was another one. The biggest one, however, was the pit in your stomach anytime that Poe would go on a mission.

Specifically, a mission without you.

You’d thought that you would grow out of that, that the longer you were in the fight, the better it’d get. But it didn’t. You’d be perfectly fine for weeks on end, going out on missions and feeling perfectly at ease. But the second General Organa would keep you at the base while Poe went off on a mission, your stomach would start to tie in knots. The ache would grow and grow until you were snapping at anyone and everyone. Even when Han would occasionally stop by, you’d still scowl at the old man like he’d shit in your breakfast.

It wasn’t like you thought that Poe couldn’t handle himself - he was the best damn pilot in the Resistance. The man could fly circles around TIE fighters in his sleep. He’d survived more crashes than you had fingers on your hand. He was unkillable, really.

But that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Jakku?” You asked, frowning a little as General Organa straightened her back. You resisted the urge to raise your chin to her. She’d taken a liking to you for some reason, but pushing your luck was risking a little too much.

“Yes, Poe will be heading to Jakku for the retrieval of some important information.” Your jaw ticked as she spoke. Poe rested his hand next to yours on the console, inconspicuous enough that no one would notice his brief brush against your hand. It didn’t help.

“Does he need someone to go along with him?” You asked, making sure that your voice was as even as could be.

“BB-8 will be going along with him. I’m sure that the little droid will be more than enough,” the former princess said. Her voice was firm. Her tone was final. You kept your back straight, ever the good soldier, as she spoke. You kept your lips pressed shut as she finished up the briefing, and they stayed that way as you walked into the hall.

“You planning on talking anytime soon, or am I going to have to pry that information out of you?” His voice sounded behind you. You stopped in your tracks, turning around to look at him. His brown eyes held your gaze steady, and easy. “It’s Jakku, Y/N. It’s not like we’re heading to Coruscant, blasters blazing to shoot up the place. It’ll be quick, in and out, no issues.”

“It’s Jakku. When has anything good ever happened there?”

“You worry too much,” he said, a small grin forming. He reached out with his hand and caught yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. “You need to relax.” He tugged you a little closer, turning your hand over in his. His other hand came up and began to massage your palm, his fingers plying against your skin.

“Poe, someone’s going to see.” Your voice was soft, softer than you’d thought it would be. He looked down at you, that grin turning into the beginnings of a smirk.

“So let ‘em see. I don’t care. What are they going to do, send me to Jakku?” His fingers worked against your skin in a way that made you almost forget where the two of you were. Damn him.

“Would you kriffing - Poe. C’mon,” you mumbled. He just tugged you closer to him, your chest bumping up against his. “You know what happens if Leia finds out. We stop getting put on any missions together. We don’t see each other ‘til after the war.”

“You think I’d be demoted if I brought up the fact that she and Han got to galavant across the entire kriffing galaxy back in the day?”

“I think she’d shoot you if you used the words galavant and Han in the same sentence.” Poe laughed, his fingers stilling their motions.

“We’re going to be fine, I promise.” He pressed his lips against your forehead, still refusing to care if anyone saw them. To their credit, any Resistance soldiers that were around were turning a blind eye. Poe Dameron was practically the poster boy of this whole thing. The man worked day and night to try and keep the evil advances of the First Order at bay. If he wanted to step out of line a little, no one would oppose him.

“You promise?” He lifted his lips from your forehead, dropping head onto yours. Your noses almost brushed each other’s as he looked down at you, his expression softening into one of nothing but adoration.

“I promise.”

“I don’t believe that violence is the right -”

“Can it, you bucket of bolts,” you spat, striding down the hall of the base. That piece of kriffing bantha shit. You were going to murder him. Absolutely, fucking murder him. Threepio was shuffling behind you, walking as fast as his legs could take him. He was mumbling something about how you were just like Han, all bluster and no forethought. But you didn’t care.

Because you were going to murder him.

“POE KRIFFING DAMERON.” Your words echoed throughout the hangar. You didn’t have to sidestep anyone - every single ship tech was practically diving out of the way as you made your way out into D’Qar’s sunlight.

It wasn’t hard to spot him. He was staring at you with that deer in the spotlights look of his.

“Sweetheart, look-” He was holding his hands out in front of him. You weren’t having any of it. You grabbed the closest spanner and pointed it at him.

“No, you look, sweetheart. I thought you were dead!” There was a little bit of dried blood on his face and your chest squeezed tight.

“If it helps, I kinda thought I was dead too.”

“You promised that it’d be fine! But was it? No. You get ambushed and then get kriffing kidnapped by that whiny ass Vader wannabe, and you have the audacity to call me sweetheart? Are you kidding me right now?” Your chest was heaving as you yelled. You were taking a step every couple of words, punctuating them with a jab of the durasteel tool.

“You think I wanted to get kidnapped by him? You genuinely think that I planned on getting kidnapped and crashing a TIE fighter?” He was yelling now, too. He took a step forward, eyebrows furrowed as he moved right into your space.

“You crashed a TIE fighter?” You stared at him, mouthing hanging open like a dead burra fish.

“Yeah.” He paused. His face relaxed a little, and that nerf herder had the nerve to smirk. “It was kind of cool.”

You slapped him. Not the hardest that you’d ever done it, but your palm had landed clean on his cheek, resulting in a loud sound. His eyes widened, and his hand immediately came up to grab your wrist.

“It’ll be quick, in and out, no issues,” you spat, scowling. You’d thought, when you had found out the news, that you’d cry. But instead, you’d been pissed. Nothing but pure rage. “Maker fucking wept, Poe! Whatever happened to no issues, huh? In and out? You karking, dumb, bleeding…” Your voice trailed off as his thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist.

You could remember the first time he’d done that. It had been your first mission for the both of you, and the transpo that was supposed to get you out had taken a hit. There was nothing that either one of you could do except to wait it out. His hand had found yours as the alarms had clanged, and his thumb brushed soothing circles into your skin, making your fear seep out of you.

The same was happening then, only with your anger. Your shoulder slumped and you let out a halted sigh. You dropped your head onto his chest and his arms instantly found their way around your waist.

“I’m right here, Y/N. I’m okay,” he murmured into your hair. He was pressing kisses against it, soft and sweet. You pulled away from him after a moment, fixing him with a hard look before reaching up and pressing your lips against his. It wasn’t pretty. It was rough, your teeth clacking against each other. But there was something reassuring in it, something that said that you were both there and alive. That the day would come when things might not turn out as great, but that day was long off.

The only thing that separated you two was a clearing of someone’s throat. You pulled away from each other, your stomach dropping as you realized just who was standing behind you.

“Are the two of you done attacking one another like animals?” General Organa asked. Your face flushed.

“Yes, ma’am, we are,” Poe answered, rather easy. It made you bristle at how well he managed to hold himself. But then you looked over at him, and that feeling faded. His hair was a mess that just screamed that someone had ran their fingers through it. His pupils were dark and he kept glancing over to you, his lips twitching up into little smirks.

“Good. Then the two of you need to get yourselves cleaned up. Han just commed in, and said that he’s got someone we should meet.” She paused, sighing softly. “You two stay out of trouble until he gets here, do you understand?” Both of you nodded your heads. Poe’s hand was nudging against yours as the General walked away.

“You want to head back to my quarters, maybe get cleaned up there?” He suggested, that smirk planted firmly on his face.

“Han’s going to be here sooner rather than later. We don’t have time, Poe.” The man in question just shook his head.

“We’ve got all the time in the galaxy, Y/N. Trust me on this.”

You grinned, your stomach dipping as his hand found yours. Your fingers slotted together as though they were made for each other, the final puzzle piece slipping into place. Things weren’t going to get easy anytime soon. They weren’t going to magically solve all of the problems of the galaxy. The Resistance had its fair share of problems that needed fixed, but in that moment, you weren’t concerned about any of them. Things would work out, you just knew it.

“Lead the way then, Dameron.”

taglist: @alwaysmebeforeyou @istanuriss @smittyjaws @myblackwings5 @morgandakotaq @rivedale @laterg8r @buckybass @airforcecollins @superanonymousreader

[oselatra]

Taking on trainers

As our legislators return to work this week, they will take up House Bill 1040, preventing athletic trainers from practicing in nonclinical settings and severely restricting what they can do to provide assistance to students.

Taking on trainers

As our legislators return to work this week, they will take up House Bill 1040, preventing athletic trainers from practicing in nonclinical settings and severely restricting what they can do to provide assistance to students.

As someone who has worked in college athletics for the better part of the last 15 years, I have seen up close the fine work that our certified athletic trainers do to keep our student athletes healthy.

However, State Rep. Joe Farrer (R-Austin) apparently does not see the value in the services provided by my colleagues in the athletic training profession. Perhaps, as a physical therapist, he stands to have a personal financial gain due to these restrictions, as the treatment of certain spine injuries and post-surgery rehabilitation — treatments that ATCs are licensed to conduct — would be reserved for off-site physical therapists under this legislation.

In a Dec. 20 story on KARK-TV, Channel 4, Farrer was quoted as saying "some local physical therapists and I have had some issues with some of the athletic trainers in our area. We need to clear up some of these issues."

Perhaps Farrer would like to clear up his conflict of interest in introducing this insidious legislation — if conflicts of interest even bother us anymore. But that is unlikely, as he was apparently "too busy" to discuss this legislation with KFSM-TV, Channel 5, in Fort Smith earlier this week.

Certified athletic trainers not only help students heal from injuries, they help prevent injuries, and in some cases, they save lives. Would the same interventions by athletic trainers that saved the life of a college student athlete in Arkansas be illegal because of Farrer's issues?

Just a few short days ago, the Mississippi State University basketball team's bus was just 200 yards away from a car that flipped in a single-car accident. Riders on the bus pulled the driver from her car, and she was then evaluated by the team's athletic trainer. Would that evaluation be illegal in Arkansas because of Farrer's issues?

The needs of our students are greater than any issues causing Farrer any personal consternation, and frankly, his complete lack of sound judgment in introducing this terrible bill gives me full confidence to say that I trust the talented and competent certified athletic trainers in the state of Arkansas far more than a politician with an axe to grind.

This bill currently sits with the Public Health, Welfare and Labor Committee in the House. I implore the members of that committee not to let Farrer's issues take precedence over the wellbeing of Arkansas students. Kill this atrocious legislation immediately.

Paul T. Smith

Russellville

The fallacy of deterrence

Last week's article "The 91st Arkansas General Assembly: It's going to be a beast" was, overall, an excellent summary of significant legislation we may expect this year. However, I wish to correct one statement from the article regarding guns on college campuses.

In reviewing circumstances related to the mass shooting at Umpqua Community College in Oregon (2015), the article incorrectly stated that UCC banned guns in violation of Oregon state law. In fact, individuals (including students) with concealed handgun permits were allowed to carry their weapons on the UCC campus and in classrooms. This fact was reported by Politifact in November 2015 when a Florida state senator declared UCC was a gun-free zone).

UCC was anything but a gun-free zone. It was known at the time of the shooting that many students had concealed handgun licenses and were carrying concealed handguns on campus. At least one of those students spoke to news media immediately following the shooting.

We are told that permitting concealed handguns on college campuses will deter mass shooters. UCC proves the fallacy of the "deterrence" argument. Knowing there were armed civilians on the UCC campus, the shooter attacked anyway. Perhaps he was hoping for a firefight that would create additional casualties? We may never know, or we may learn more when the final report of the shooting is released later this year.

Stephen Boss

Arkansans Against Guns On Campus

Fayetteville

From the web

In response to "The 91st Arkansas General Assembly: It's going to be a beast":

2017 will be the first year where we really find out exactly how heartless some of our elected legislators can actually be. We had better buckle up, because we're in for a long, bumpy ride here in Darkansas!

RYD

Thank you to the Arkansas Times for organizing this important information. Thank you Rep. Greg Leding for providing the public with a plan of action. There are still a few legislators with common sense and decent morals. I know their names. I really believe we need to hire an exorcist for the Arkansas State Legislature. They are being socially harmful, irresponsible, unreasonable, irrational, counterproductive, discriminatory, overreaching and they are hurting the state economically by driving away business and tourists. Why do they hate the people of Arkansas? Because we get in the way of the Arkansas Legislature's true God: power and greed. The political machines have offered them a lot of easy money to go down in the history books as unpatriotic traitors to their state and their country.

ShineonLibby

In response to Ernest Dumas' Jan. 12 column, "Glass houses":

The USA has meddled in the attempts of people in numerous other countries to govern themselves. That other countries and governments, and corporations spanning all the above, might use psy-ops to influence our governance should be understood. However, we should hold our leaders accountable for making false, perhaps dishonest, perhaps misinformed (lying or just dumb) statements to us, and we should try to educate an electorate capable of recognizing and responding to such challenges. These are likely to be the nature of future invasions of our borders. The redcoats are coming, via the internet and similar mechanisms, not so much by the boats and planes of yesteryear. I felt much better having a president who demonstrated the capacity to comprehend, understand and work in the nuanced gray areas of modern challenges than I feel looking forward to having a simpleminded bully thumping his chest and not really thinking about anything in particular.

deadseasquirrel

In response to Gene Lyons' Jan. 12 column, "Hillbillies":

I mostly agree with Gene; however, he failed to point out that, in the introduction to the book, J.D. Vance stated that he was a conservative in his political views and was not pretending to present an academic and unbiased viewpoint of his subjects. This book was too personal for that. This explains his tendency to assign some blame to the "hillbillies" for their own predicament. However, that does not diminish his explanation of the failure of government, or why the people are the way they are.

plainjim

Because I put my name on what I write, I have avoided many discussions on race in Arkansas. Perhaps I need to find a pen name, because my experience has been that anyone who contends there isn't hateful and two-faced racism from border to border in this state has lived a sheltered life. Regarding the book, I don't understand the empathy for the racist views. Call it as you see it, if you're gonna write about it.

Rick Fahr

I've seen Mr. Vance interviewed once about his alleged "memoir."

It took even the likes of me about three minutes to determine that he is a complete and utter fraud; he's had about as "hardscrabble" a life as Ivanka Trump and, since she's at least nominally in business, she probably works a lot harder.

Of course, you may want to buy this big pile of crap for investment purposes; I hear that a copy of Clifford Irving's bio of Howard Hughes commands a high price on eBay these days.

Joe Quimby

My problem with the haters is that they have pretty much destroyed the concept of "common good," and are against anything that would improve the common good because it would help people they don't approve of. Doesn't matter why they don't approve, they're just against helping those "others" even if it would also help them. And "others" is most easily defined by race. Because it's so easy.

Vance at least acknowledges that he doesn't understand why more people don't escape the same way he has, which, in my mind, makes him a whole lot less smart than what he thinks he is.

Vanessa

On the issue of hate: Many ignored voters felt "hated" by the press and Clintonites — constantly referred to as "uneducated" — as if formal schooling is the only definition of "educated" — and constantly lumped together as racists, xenophobia-ites, etc., and totally ignored by the Democrats. Vladimir Putin didn't stop Clinton from going to Wisconsin. The self-righteousness of the press was truly ridiculous and still is. Liberal used to mean caring for all the people — whatever happened to that concept? Hubris.

Investigator of both sides

Taking on trainers

[lord-explodokill-blog]

So I have this new coworker

Shes pretty cool so far ive worked like 3 nights with her

Takes one glance at my bakugou phone wallpaper

"... u like anime?" Eyebrow raise and slightly smug look.

Me: "/oh yeah/"

She: just nods to herself "i think we're gonna be great friends"

So thats how i made a new friend

[lord-explodokill-blog]

I AM IN SUCH A GOOD MOOD TODAY. MAN, THIS IS A GET THINGS DONE NIGHT, IF I DONT END UP LOST IN MY TUMBLR DASH AFTER I GET HOME. I'M GONNA DRAWWWW AND WRITE??? AND YEAAAH!!

[lord-explodokill-blog]

chapter 164... excellent.

[lord-explodokill-blog]

@questionablecontrol

I found a thing, maybe relevant to recent ask you got?

[lord-explodokill-blog]

here's a flower to show my appreciation to you for being such a wonderful person 🌹i hope you're enjoying your day! send this to 10 other bloggers to add some positivity to their inbox 💞 // hhhhhhhhhhh i love u lots

I drew this 4 u because you are gr8 and this message made me have the warm and fuzzies >w

@altruisticshouto

[lord-explodokill-blog]

... I'm starting to get a collection...

Tired cat son

Grumpy cat uncle

Angery explodo-son

Red spiky son

...

What next?

Punchy bone-break son?

Smashy muscle dad?

floaty puff daughter?!

NASTY GRAPE ORPHAN?

[lord-explodokill-blog]

Tfw author post that gud ficc upd8

[lord-explodokill-blog]

me @ youtube’s choice of autoplay: HOW THE heavenly fuck diD YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED TO LISTEN TO