#this is why i love star wars so much by the way

[bubblewhale]

I'm just now finding out that people did not like my villain academia arc.

I truly watched bnha for the LOV (besides bkdk).

The main cast is nice and all but if i put on my critical lenses i honestly don't see the hero society as a viable option. Economically and structurally i just don't get it - it's a cult that creates celebrities/heroes who are obviously used as both propaganda and tools of war, under the guise of fighting crime. At this point, heroes serve as either military special op forces or double-agents, or even as nuke level power holders. Either way, they are totally dehumanised soldiers. On the other end, the hero cult itself triggers people becoming villains. It does so by blaming individuals for becoming villains, even when it's obvious that they are direct results of wider structural societal problems. It's shown many times how hate can manifest in families as perfectionism, abuse, obsession, suppression, phobia (Shoto, Dabi, Shigaraki, Toga), poverty and human trafficking (Hawks) and xenophobia and racial (?) discrimination with mutants (Spiner).

The only moment i was hopeful they're gonna address the structural problems was the liberation army attack on the hospital in the war arc. But what was crazy to me is that the hero society held a war prisoner in the basement of a public hospital - using a civilian shield tactic, which is considered a war crime. Spiner's character arc is also extremely sad and unhelpful. Even the school itself becomes a military stronghold.

For the question of family dynamics we get Endeavor atonement arc. But we also get a scene which implies that he sa'd his wife (as if the fact that she was sold to him wasn't enough). The one scene that wasn't believable to me at all was Rei coming to visit Endeavor in the hospital. God bless Shoto, that kid is so strong, understanding perfectly Endeavor is to blame for all that. But it shows that in case of powerful men, sa and child abuse are not treated as crimes, as they should be.

Hawks is another great example of literally being sold and used, similar to Lady Nagant - and nothing is gained from their arcs in the sense of revealing the hidden corruption. Both of them side with the "hero" side in the end, the side that made them do their dirty work for them. He even becomes a murderer because of this but still manages to keep in the public’s good graces by acting as if killing is something he had to do for the greater good, same reason he sided with Endeavor.

Toga is a brilliant representation of discrimination towards a sexual minority but then she dies to save a hero she loves. It's tragic, honestly.

Deku is the only one trying to do something and helping (Shoto, Bakugo, All Might and Shigaraki are some examples) people change their mind and views on heroism/what it means to live righteously. I haven't read the manga so i don't yet understand what Deku losing his quirk could mean but honestly this AFO-OFA tug of war is the most boring part to me.

The show still mostly puts everything down to individual level and blames the villain or makes it somehow personal responsibility of heroes to deal with it.

Thus the league of villains becomes the focal point of the show - their double bind with AFO on one end and heroes on the other.

It just bugs me that the whole show could be read as cop/military propaganda and that our protagonists are basically glorified cops. This is why vigilante Deku arc was so exciting, finally! And this is why the whole concept of the show would be very different if it was made from LOV's pov from the start.

As it is, there's lots of bright and shiny feathers but not much substance in the show. The biggest stars of the show are personal tragedies, sometimes out-shining the main plot and gloriously failing to tie into the bigger picture.

[badwolf-gallagher88]

Day 27 - Kidnapped/Captured

The rope burnt into Elrond’s flesh, searing his wrists and rubbing them red. He stumbled slightly, tripping on the tree roots that littered the forest floor. They lay concealed under rich green moss and leaf debris, lying in wait like the bodies of shipwrecked victims under dark water.

Adar, pulling the rope over his shoulder, turned to glance at the struggling prisoner. He tugged especially hard, almost forcing Elrond to lose his footing once again.

As Elrond staggered his next couple of steps, Adar jerked the rope once more. Desperately unbalanced, the elf fell to his knees, in order not to occupy a position any more humiliating than that.

Privately, Adar smiled.

“We camp here for the night. So your pathetic little mind doesn’t decide running to the pretty little she-elf is the best idea, I will be ensuring you cannot act on such impulses.”

He grasped Elrond by the shoulder, shoving him so his back was against a tree. Quickly, Adar bound the elvish commander. As he stepped back to admire his hard work, he was met with a defiant glare from the younger elf. His hair fell into his eyes, still marred with the blood and sweat of battle. One particularly deep cut slashed directly down his cheek. 

Adar knew the wound should be treated, but despite his status as prisoner, he still feared his captive’s wrath. Elrond was reticent to understand the need for alliance in a war such as this, and deeply mistrustful of Adar’s children. His hatred of the Uruks was rivalled by few - and the Uruk's love for those who did not welcome his family limited. He had already expended much of his patience with the lady Galadriel.

Still, what must be done could not be avoided.

He said nothing to Elrond, but busied himself making a fire and setting up camp. From the small bedroll he had brought from the Uruk’s main camp, he removed a skin of wine. First he took a swig, then tore a small rag of fabric from the frayed edge of his roughspun. He bathed the black fabric in wine, then turned back to his prisoner.

“Your wound must be cleaned. Even your kind must not risk infection. Many of our blades are poisoned.”

He crouched down, bringing the cloth to Elrond’s face. The captive pulled away, spitting at Adar’s feet.

Adar sighed, sitting back on his heals. When Elrond’s eyes met his, they blazed with fire and frustration. There was a sorrow in his gaze, an anger tinged with fear and inflexibility. A devastation at seeing his lands burnt to the ground and no way to end the disaster. The purposes of his people were being crushed beneath the feet of Sauron, but the foolish boy could not see beyond the scapegoat Adar provided.

This time, he reached out with both hands, securing Elrond’s face as he wiped away the blood with the wine-soaked cloth. His cheek was left a delicate pink, both from the wound and the wine’s red stain. The tart vinegar of grapes replaced the tang of blood, a mild, pleasant aroma.

“Why do you care?”

Startled, the Uruk looked upon his captive. Was it not obvious?

Imperceptibly, he shook his head, confused.

“I am your sworn enemy. I am of no real tactical advantage kept prisoner - you would have wished for Galadriel, or the High King if you needed information. I am a commander without an army. I am reckless, and foolish, and…” he paused, then resumed at a yell.

“MY PEOPLE, they are dying. Most are probably already dead. The knowledge of a thousand years, the findings of Celebrimbor, are all ashes, and y-you expect me to… what? Rest easy while other people fight my battles? Uruk, you are -“

He was cut off Adar’s hand across his mouth.

“I am a father. I protect.”

He said nothing else, but removed his hand, and Elrond did not speak for some time. Adar came to sit behind him, his back resting against the rough planes of the tree.

In the darkest hour of the night, when even the stars fade into its inky blackness, Elrond believed Adar to be sleeping.

“I had no father,” he whispered, unaware that his words were heard.

[undercoverdonderwolk]

Honestly speaking I don't think Horner or Marko are making any decisions about the second driver situation in RBR anymore. It seems to me that whoever is in charge of RB now (the Thai side) made the call about the second seat, i.e. keep Checo, and Daniel was the biggest block, so they removed him. And Checo is appealing because of his backer - the Slim family, their money, and their influence in Mexico.

I don't think people understand Thai business operations and the sheer level of corruption. As soon as the rumours started that the Thai side won the power struggle in Red Bull I started worrying. Red Bull Thai owner is fucking powerful, there's a reason why his son Vorayuth Yoovidhya faced NO consequences for killing a police officer in a motor accident.

And if the rumours are true about the Thai side wanting to keep Checo in order to work with Carlos Slim that's more than enough to get rid of Daniel and ensure Checo stays. Carlos Slim Helú and his son Carlos Slim Domit have been invested in Checo's whole driving career. Hell, Carlos Slim Domit met Checo when the latter was 7 and he was in his 30s, their fathers are friends etc. The Slim family made a promise that they would get Checo to win F1, whatever the fuck that means.

Horner and Marko can say whatever they want, talk about this and that person's performance. And none of it matters because it is obvious RB ownership is making the calls.

What I'm curious about is the shareholders meeting. I think BOTH the Slims and the Thai owner are feeling the scrutiny a bit too much. F1 is an international sport, and no matter how powerful they are in their own country, they are now dealing with, well, they are dealing with America, and Checo's continual losing has led to way too much attention on them. And they DON'T want that.

So the shareholders meeting is going to be really interesting. I'm curious how much the Austrian side is going to push the Thai said to get something they might want. Because the Austrian side still owns 49% of the company, and losing the battle earlier in the year doesn't mean they have no power. They still have power, it is a question of what they want from the Thai side to maintain the peace. And let's not forget the fact Daniel, by all signs, is still technically a Red Bull Racing contracted employee. And that means he is still technically on the board to be used in this continuing internal war.

Anyways, sorry about the long babble. But I'm so fascinated by this whole thing.

you came through with the facts like hello you did your damn research!!! i love itttt. i've been trying not to post any of the essays i get in my asks but i love this one so i will happily make an exception for a fact checking queen (gn). slay what's your star sign.

[izzabela]

dost thou do combinations? i present thee with;

soapgaz x reader

messy boy whose kept on a leash by handler kyle only letting him loose to mess with a pretty thing (you)

MDNI - perv!reader, established!soapgaz x fem!reader, threesome, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, perhaps coercion? TA!soapgaz x failing!scholarship-award!reader

there's nothing worse than the world ending- actually, there is.

losing your scholarship because of two classes. not only that, but being so close to graduation you can just feel the diploma already in your hands, these two classes were going to kill you if you couldn't lock in.

one of them is a non-pathway-related course, military conflict 1421. where you can never understand why a certain conflicts cause a war or America to come in to "save the day". after all, it's not illegal if the military does it.

the other was organic chem (need i say more?).

both of your classes had TAs though, and no one really talked to them (good enough for you, you need all the help you could get).

approaching the TA for mil-con was a lot easier for you than expected.

"Kyle Garrick," he introduced with a kind smile, chocolate eyes peeking through the slits of his eyes as he offered a handshake. "everyone calls me Gaz though."

you're not good with people, much less boys, and you're surprised that it was so easy to talk to him.

after lectures every tuesday and thursday, you two would have the office of your mil-con's professor to yourselves. it didn't make you think any different, after all your grades were slowly going up!

but sometimes he'd leave lingering touches after you got a question right. other times, he'd leave you little kisses on your fingers and in the palm of your hand.

you scored a 100 on your latest test, and he gave you a sloppy kiss on your shoulder. (he's just being nice though, you think).

then there's the TA for o-chem. a stark contrast to the calm, collected, and charming man that was Gaz.

"John Mactavish," he barks, pearly whites on full display. "e'ryone cols me Soap tho'."

despite the obnoxious laughs and boisterous voice, he was a damn good tutor. he broke down why certain chemicals looked the way they did, how to draw their structures, etc etc.

but every tutoring session, mondays and wednesdays, he pulls you in his lap. "Ta help with reinf'rcin' the learnin'," he said, pecking your neck.

and i mean, if Gaz did it, then who's to say the other TAs didn't? besides, you were really soaking everything he was teaching! (or maybe it's your cunt lapping up the dampness of his pants).

his rewards were great too: As and Bs on homework got you kisses on your cheek and face, perfect scores on quizzes earned you lap-grinding, and perfect scores on tests allowed makeout sessions.

by the time finals roll in, crash, and pass, you saved your scholarship and grades! graduating suma cum laude, you walked the stage with pride as you accepted your diploma (the boys were watching, equally as proud).

and who's to say the celebrations needed to end there? you got a text as soon as the ceremony concluded from an unknown number.

Congrats love, we're so proud of you

^Gaz btw

gave me yer number, remember?

you're not entirely sure if you did, but it's plausible since they were the key to your success. ensue the long text chain, he invited you over to their place (their? maybe it was a typo, you thought).

knocking on the door, it's slightly ajar as you hear the ambient noise of the tv mindlessly drone on in the living room. you don't want to be a bother, but Gaz hadn't come get you from the door.

besides, it was open!

as you walk in, the sight of Soap, your beloved o-chem TA was grinding on Gaz's clothed cock, fully naked, while Gas has him choked and smirking like a fucking maniac. You watch as Gaz spanks his arse til it's beet red, Soap's eyes rolling so far back he's seeing stars, watching his hips move automatically.

it should disgust you, tear your eyes away from a clearly intimate moment between lovers. except, you can't help but feel hot, bothered, and unforgivingly wet downstairs.

Soap's head moves to the side a bit and notices your little figure outside the door, squirming in place as you look equally short of breath. he turns to Gaz and motions over to the door, and Garrick....

"Here she is, our pretty graduate," he croons, and you follow his voice like it's a siren's song.

you're not sure when you got your shoes off, or when you dropped the flowers and grad cap, but all you know is that it smells like heaven in here.

and you don't want to leave.

Gaz fills you in on how he's just punishing Soap for all the naughtiness he's put you through this semester. something about his rewards systems for your on-on-one tutoring.

"He can be touched, jus' not allowed t' touch back'," he whispers into your ear, taking your wrist and guiding it to touch his exposed pecs, hard nipples, and pickled skin lined with goosebumps.

you're not sure when you got undressed, Gaz is surprisingly good at being thorough and quick, but warm hands roam your body while equally warm lips pepper you with kisses.

"ach, bonnie please," Soap begs, and something inside you begins to trail to his leaking cock. he tries to reach to your head, but Gaz's got your neck first,one arm there and the other over your belly to keep you away from whatever plans he has.

"no touching, dog," Gaz commands, and Soap whimpers (you swear you can see dog ears on his head go flat).

you meekly ask if you can, your fingers missing his cock by a centimeter, and Gaz decides, "why not? been good for us all sem."

and that's enough for you to begin stroking him, watching Soap's face warble into pleasure and frustration. yes, he's getting his fix of a handjob in, but it's not fun when he can't touch. so why not help him out with your mouth?

while Gaz is busy worshipping your body, your mouth sinks over his cock like a powerful magnet. the smell (is this what men smell like?), the taste, the sensation of your throat getting stimulated... is this what you've been missing?

asyou bob up and down, Gaz whistles, patting your ass like a good pup. spreading your cheeks, he sees your dripping cunt and feasts like a thanksgiving turkey. the noises are sinful, but the ones coming out of your mouth and onto Johnny's cock are equally as awful.

do all tutors do this after tutoring? if so, you'll be in tutoring all the time!

and when Gaz is finally done with his meal, mouth and nose covered in your lovely juices, he grabs a condom to go over his cock. you leave Johnny's cock and turn around in surprise.

"'s alright," he coos into your mouth, tip just egging your sloppy cunt. "focus now, love, i got'cha..." and when he says "got'cha," all the choirs were singing to rejoice his coming home.

you fit so well for him, his cock just burying itself nice and deep. but you're also incredibly, fucking tight.

"w-wait!" you cry out, but it falls onto deaf ears as his cock makes its mark inside of you. hitting your spot so well, symphonies left your mouth as the pounding of your cunt directed the salacious moans leaving you.

"Christ, Gaz. Think ta lass has no' don this bef'r" his accent thickening at the thought of you being unclaimed, unmarked- free for the taking.

and when you hum in reply, eyes prickling with tears, Johnny chuckles while Gaz snickers behind you. Gaz hushes you though, telling you it's okay, and that they'll take good care of you (obviously, he's got his cock in you, so who's to say they won't take care of the rest?)

as Gaz is hitting your spot so well, symphonies leaving your mouth as the pounding of your cunt directed the salacious moans leaving you.

all of this made Johnny harder. his pretty lass, getting fucked by his best mate and boyfriend, watching her tits bounce up n' down n' up n' down, and Gaz's gaze dark and hooded as he left marks, bites, and ownership over you.

Gaz then pushes your head onto Johnny's cock, finally giving him reprieve for being such a good pup and being so patient. he's able to put his hands on you, ofrcing you to go the pace he needs, while your throat can just barely keep up.

you can feel their hips snap faster, the pace in their fucking grow needier as their highs came closer to them (insane, since they thought this was heaven already). and of course, they can't leave you behind, so Gaz goes to rub your pretty pearl while Soap's caressing your cheek, saying nothing but pretty praises to get you to squeeze onto his boyfriend tighter.

you squeal on Johnny's cock, and the vibrations on his cock make him cum immediately. Gaz can see his man spent, so why not match?

"c'mon, pretty, let's see all that hard work pay 'ff hm?" he chides into your ear, but you can only muffle out hums and hmms in response for being stuffed full in that talented mouth.

you're bucking your hips though, which is great because Gaz adjusts his pace and slams into you perfectly. as he does so, Johnny manages to sneak past your shoulder, bringing Gaz's face to his as their tongues collide and lips meet.

you're not sure what got to you first, your tutors making out so desperately right next to you, or the fact that they're making out while your clit gets stimmed to infinity and beyond. either way, you've come so hard you're at the edge of the universe.

"go on love, i kno' yer achin' fer it," Soap chides, kissing your cheek and wiping your tears simultaneously as Gaz bucks into you harder and harder and harder until-

"Christ!" he cries, staying inside as he empties himself into the thin (but powerful) plastic wrap, trying to get a feel of what it would be like dumping everything of his inside of you.

"Happy grad, dove," they whisper simultaneously.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

that was a shit end and i'm so ready to be stuffed like a turkey today!

[enigmaticexplorer]

Whenever you say that your response went on too long, I know I'm in for a good time.

I felt so bad for her the next day...she knows what she's doing, but she can't help herself! It's her self-defense mechanism

It's that self-awareness and the guilt/shame that accompanies it, along with the self-preserving innate human need to protect oneself. It makes for a sticky, uncomfortable, and maddening combination!

I was surprised that Fox was already waiting for her, but he is not just going to let this go. He wants to talk about it! I can't imagine how he felt all the night before.

I like to think he immediately went to Wolffe and they had a couple of drinks, and then he sat in front of a fireplace stewing. He spent all night sitting there (Wolffe abandoned him when he got tired); but he couldn't sleep. So he went into work as soon as possible to distract himself. Knew he was going to approach her as soon as she got to work. Got the alert about the cams and set out.

And when he said he wanted her that night, to me he wasn't necessarily saying he wanted to fuck her right that moment. I thought he meant he wanted to be with her, in all senses of the word.

Yes. You were right. It transcended sex. It was a pleasure-addled moment of vulnerability for Fox: admitting he wanted her - for the long term, through thick and thin, for always.

Well thank you, Commander Obvious! She is well aware of that fact, thank you very much!! But I am glad that he let her know that he knows though.

HAHA. This made me chuckle! But, to be fair, Fox is pissed off. And he's human. He has his bad-decision moments.

He was gone. He wasn't coming back to her shop. She'd driven him away. Which is what she wanted to do. But now it sucks.

Funnily, this is all part of Fox's plan. Yes - he's hurt and stewing and pissed. But he's also not going to force himself into her space when it will only make things worst. He's giving her space to stew; but he also has a guess that the distance might make her approach him. (Which is why he's so calm and unsurprised when she finally goes to his office.)

He KNEW who she was. He knew...how? BECAUSE FOX HAD TALKED ABOUT HER THAT'S HOW! He knew as soon as he saw her who she was. God, I loved that so much!!!

YES. Exactly! Fox told Wolffe about her (how could he not?). He's known about her for months. And of course he's going to be smirking at the thought of 1) her chewing out Fox (because she looks pissed, obviously), but 2) seeing his brother (hopefully) be happy.

I was so engrossed in their conversation, his reactions to her. How he was going to convince her that no matter what she said, he still wanted to be with her.

Me when men see their partner as a multifaceted human and still love her deeply: 🥹

Why was that so hot?!!! Honestly, why was that so fucking hot?

I know that MMCs lasting super long and being hella skilled in bed are what readers typically want. But I like my men desperate enough for their partner that they can't last long. The thought of her simply touching him and him nearly coming? It's my cup of tea; and I fucking love it.

"And I fell in"...LOVE! He was going to say he fell in LOVE!!!

And the way you ended up this chapter...brilliant!! Absolutely brilliant

Fun fact: the code to her apartment is the day the first Star Wars movie came out in theaters!

I'm going to reuse the only gif as my acknowledgement of all of your comments and how happy they make me:

Let Me Love You - Part IV

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

General Summary. An opportunity to expand your grandmother’s business brings you to Coruscant and a chance-encounter with Commander Fox. Friendship is your intent. But feelings grow, and with them, renewed fears. 

Pairing. Commander Fox x female!OC

General Warnings. Self-esteem issues; intimacy issues; trust issues; explicit sexual content. 

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Word Count. 3.4K

9 Kelona, Zhellday

Early morning sunlight greeted you, playful and eager. It was the same each morning. A monotony fitting Coruscant’s metallic environment. 

The planet’s controlled climate lacked the inspiration of a heavy rainstorm as the skies blackened and sheets of rain pummeled the fields. 

It lacked the novelty of a spring snowstorm as a dense fog captured the hills in its uncanny embrace and snow blanketed the landscape for kilometers.

It lacked the natural yet unpredictable change among autumn’s maple leaves and the joy of a harvest nearing completion.

Perched on the edge of your bed, you glared out the window at the cityscape beyond. Already the walkways bustled with life. Air traffic crowded the sky. 

A planet with more than a trillion beings and you were more alone than ever.

A result of your actions, you were well aware of this fact. 

As solitude consoled you with its quiet, independence-encouraged embrace, so too did self-sabotage comfort: a self-preserving shadow that protected you from the unknowns of the future. 

Both solitude and self-sabotage were formerly lurking forces that, over many years, became your closest allies.

They looked out for you. 

They wanted what was best for you. 

They cared about you.

They were voices of reason. They maintained an organized list of your flaws, and reminded you of them often. Not to humiliate or shame you. Rather, to protect you from the inevitable hurt of abandonment. 

You couldn’t be hurt if you never opened yourself to the vulnerability of being—

Your feet lurched to a stop outside the stained-glass windows of the gallery. The panes of purples, blues, greens, and yellows glowed beneath the morning sunlight. They weren’t the attention of your focus, though. 

It was the man with a shoulder resting against the door and armored arms crossed over his chest. A man who was seven hours early.

You ground your teeth. Clenched and unclenched your hands at your sides. Smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from your pencil skirt. Unease coiled tight with foreboding as you forced yourself to move forward.

Fox lifted his head. Straightening, he removed his helmet, his expression carefully blank. 

You kept your face equally blank. “What are you doing here?” 

“We received a security alert.” The answer was unexpected. Your relief must’ve shown because Fox frowned. “The cams on this street went out an hour ago. A malfunction. I need to check the gallery.”

Understanding the wordless intent in his response, you keyed in the code. The door swished open and you stepped inside. The overhead lights flickered on in welcome. Depositing your bag atop the counter, you motioned for Fox to continue into the backroom and then logged into your computer, pulling up today’s schedule. A moment later and Fox returned. 

“I’ll need your security footage for the last twenty-four hours,” he said.

“I’ll get a copy made.” Your gaze remained planted on your computer screen. “It’ll be ready tomorrow.” 

Silence, swollen with tension, thickened throughout the gallery. 

Opening a file, you prepared notes for your first two client meetings, waiting for the door to announce Fox’s departure—

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

You stiffened. It took far too much effort to meet his stare, and once you did, you wanted to look away. His gaze was too familiar. Too intense. Too intimate.

“I’m not sure what there’s to talk about,” you said calmly. “We kissed. That was it. It was a lapse in judgement—”

“A lapse in judgement?” His low chuckle was anything but humorous.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Your arms wrapped around your stomach. “I won’t apologize for not inviting you—”

“Let’s start with you putting words in my mouth.” There was a rigid set to Fox’s shoulders: defiant, defensive. “I never said you were a hookup.”

“And I said that I don’t do them.”

Fox exhaled a sharp breath and then braced his hands against the counter. “You ran away from me. Without an explanation. Nothing. We could’ve talked, like the adults that we are, but you fucking ran.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You offered an exasperated smile. “It was just a kiss—”

“It meant nothing to you.”

“It was just—”

“A kiss.” Ire narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I got that.” Releasing the counter, Fox scrubbed his jaw, eyeing you with an unfamiliar hostility that made you tense. “When I told you that I wanted you, what did you—”

“You don’t want me.” Your voice was inflectionless, dismissive. “You don’t even know me.”

Fox considered you for a long time. Then, scoffing with disbelief, he turned on his heel and started toward the door. However, halfway there, he paused. He looked over his shoulder. 

“I pity you.” His voice was low and yet it carried in the silence: deafening. “You say that you want to be known—you’re a liar. You don’t want to be known. That means letting someone get close. Letting them see you. But you don’t let anyone in.” Steely anger hardened once-soft eyes. “You’re too fucking scared to give someone a chance.”  

Before you could react, before you could respond, Fox strode through the door and disappeared down the walkway.

The next day, Coruscant’s afternoon shone as usual: unordinary, temperate. You were filing notes from your recent meeting with a donor when the front door swished open. The unfamiliar cadence in the visitor’s stroll informed you that it wasn’t Fox. The differences in armor—white accented with red, no kama—further confirmed it. 

The Guard introduced himself as Commander Thire. You led him into the backroom where he checked the sword. He left with a perfunctory nod.

That night, huddled in a tight ball on one side of your bed, you gritted your teeth as tears puddled on your pillow. It didn’t matter that you were staring blankly out your window. They trickled down the planes of your face, as persistent as autumn’s drizzle pattering against red and gold leaves.

You were alone. 

You would always be alone.

The next day, Commander Thire visited your gallery at the same time with the same professional indifference. 

That night, you sat on your couch and watched hours of entertainment on the holo. It was mind-numbing. An endless relay of drama that kept you from thinking about him.

On the third day without Fox, you selected an elaborate recipe for dinner, purchased ingredients after work, and then spent four hours deliberating over your meal. 

Finely chopped vegetables, each measured to an exact length.

A pretentious sauce requiring varied times of simmering, boiling, and cooling.

Stew, slow-cooked and mandating both counterclockwise and clockwise stirring.

Bread dough left to rise to an exact second, and then kneaded for a set number of rolls.

Thinly sliced citruses, marinating in a simple syrup and then muddled.

Once finished, you sipped the vegetable stew, savored the spices of the sautéed salad’s sauce, munched on the toasted bread, sipped your citrus-infused, nonalcoholic drink. 

Throughout your silent dinner, you defended your actions and decision from a jury of mental critics. Not only were you protecting yourself, but you were saving Fox from eventual disappointment. He deserved better.

On the fourth day, while Commander Thire made his departure, you called after him: “How much longer of this?”

He paused. “ ‘Til Commander Fox deems the issue resolved.”

Your eyes narrowed. “It’s been four months. Do you really think the daily visits are necessary?”

“Commander Fox believes they are.” Commander Thire extended his chin in your direction. “He oversees this specific case. And he’s relentless with the things he wants.”

The fifth day without Fox’s presence, the 14th of Kelona, Zhellday, you were still mulling Commander Thire’s farewell from the previous day. For some reason, it was stuck in your mind. Snagged on an obstinate thorn. 

And he’s relentless with the things he wants.

As you strolled out of the gallery and down a darkening walkway, you rolled your eyes. Fox was relentless. Persistent in his objectives. Consistent in his doggedness. His relentlessness went beyond his career—it was obvious in your last conversation. The demand for an explanation. And the harshness in his parting words. 

I pity you.

Gods, you hated those three words. You hated the disdain on his face. You hated the way his judgement speared your chest and stripped you bare.  

Your pace quickened with your anger. 

How dare he judge you? 

How dare he pity you?

The mere arrogance was fucking unbelievable. 

For five days, you’d let his words exist without argument. Without debate. But he couldn’t have the last word, especially when his judgement was so inaccurate and uncalled for. 

A sharp turn took you in the opposite direction of your apartment.

Twenty minutes later, you strode into the former military base, now headquarters for various military and security departments. A lift ride spat you out on the Department of Security’s floor. Three Guards, dressed in armor, were chuckling about something. 

You strode toward the front desk. “Where’s Commander Fox’s office?” 

One of the men—a dyed mohawk slicing across his head—rubbed the back of his neck. “Commander Fox doesn’t have any available appointments this late in the evening.”

“That’s fine.” You leaned against the desk’s counter. “I’ll wait for him to leave.”

Before the Guard with the mohawk could argue, a Guard with a cybernetic eye strode out of an adjacent office. Unlike the others, he didn’t wear any armor. He glanced you over. “Down the hall,” he said. The beginning of a smirk curled his lips. “Last door on the right.”

With a curt nod, you made your way down the hall. At the last door, you rapped the metal. The door immediately opened.

“You had—”

Your voice faltered as you took in the two men seated across from Fox. Commander Thire and another Guard.

“Sorry.” Embarrassment flushed through your upper body, and you retreated a step. “I’ll wait—”

“They were just leaving.” Fox rose to his feet, levelling a pointed look at the two men. “We’ll continue this later.”

Commander Thire and the other Guard stood, the latter muttering under his breath, “We just got here.” Commander Thire thwacked the back of his head. 

As they made to leave, you scanned Fox’s office, taking in the stiff, gray couch pushed against an adjacent wall and a single holophoto mounted on the opposite wall. There were five men in the photo; they all wore different colored armor. You recognized Fox and Cody, and to your surprise, the Guard with the cybernetic. The two other men you weren’t familiar with. 

The swoosh of the door announced Commander Thire and the other Guard’s departure.

You faced Fox. He’d rounded his desk and was leaning against its front edge: relaxed, unflappable. It annoyed you.

“You had no right to say that you pity me,” you snapped. “You don’t know me—”

“I do.” Fox tucked his hands into his pockets. His gaze was steady on yours. “I’ve spent the last four months getting to know you. I know you better than you think.”

“Is that so?” He remained quietly composed, and you shook your head. He didn’t know the real you; the realization hollowed a wan smile on your mouth. “I’m opinionated and self-righteous.”

He merely arched a brow.

“I’m a perfectionist,” you said calmly. There was a desperation unspooling within you—a desperate need for him to see your flaws, your issues, and reject you. So you could finally move on. “To the point of being overly critical of both myself and those around me. I prefer things to be a certain way.”

Fox nodded solemnly.

“I’m self-preserving.” Your eyes narrowed at his unaffected demeanor. He needed to understand; you needed to make him see to understand. “I’m cold. Some probably consider me heartless.”

“I’m well aware of your flaws.” Fox spoke with an equanimity that made you stiffen. His eyes swept across your face. “I have them, too. I can be controlling when stressed. Dismissive of others’ feelings. Blunt and apathetic—so much so, it comes across as condescending.”

“We’re not talking about you.” He started to chuckle. “I’m not having kids.”

The statement cut through his chuckle and he sobered.

A knowing smirk sliced across your face. “I’m selfish when it comes to my physical and mental health, and I know myself. I know that I won’t make a good mother. But I do know that most men want kids—”

“Some of my brothers have kids. You know that.” Fox turned a smug smirk on you. “But I never imagined children in my future. I like being an uncle. That’s it.”

You gritted your teeth. “I don’t do blow jobs.”

Fox released a choked noise, and he brought a hand to his mouth, running his thumb along his lower lip. He looked…the bastard looked amused.

He was supposed to be disillusioned by these revelations. Suddenly uninterested, disgruntled. Not fucking amused.

“I don’t like being choked or roughly used or humiliated.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be used.”

Fox nodded thoughtfully. “All right.”

His blasé response was simultaneously shocking and irksome. You frowned. “I’m being serious.”

“I know.” He shrugged at your bemused glower. “I don’t care how you touch me. And I can be satisfied with just your hands. You learned that a few nights ago.”

“I don’t believe you—”

“I almost came in my trousers that night. All because you fucking touched me.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t question the effect you have on my body.”  

Your lips pressed in a thin line.

Fox tapped the edge of his desk. “Would you suck my cock if I didn’t fuck your mouth? If I let you…do whatever you wanted?”

“I…” You pressed a palm to your chest, massaging it. 

The thought of tasting him—running your tongue along his shaft, sucking on the tip, exploring his body with slow licks—without the fear of expectation or being used was…appealing. You wanted to listen to his moans, and feel him tremble beneath your touches, and watch him come apart. 

You wanted to be with him; you wanted to experience the physical intimacy. 

But, even if he didn’t fuck your mouth, it didn’t matter.

“I’m not good at sex.” You stared at him, weary, drained. “I’m slow, and I struggle to orgasm, even on my own, and penetration can hurt. It’s a waste of time—”

“I fucking hate when you say that.” Annoyance hardened the consonants of his words as Fox scowled at you. He exhaled a long breath and then pierced you with an exasperated stare. “A man won’t give a shit how long you take. So long as he gets to see you naked—so long as he gets to touch you—he’ll take whatever time is necessary.”

“You’re ignoring the part about penetration—”

“There are other ways to find pleasure.”

“Sure, but sex is—”

“A learning curve.” Fox mimicked your stance, arms crossing his chest. “I don’t care if it takes months. I don’t care if it takes years. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my fucking life learning. All that matters to me is being honest with one another. And being willing to learn.”

You dug your fingernails into your biceps. “I don’t have the body type that men want.”

“You’re generalizing men’s wants,” Fox said sharply. “But you don’t know what I want. You’ve never asked.” 

You clenched and unclenched your jaw. “What do you want?”

“You.” Fox straightened to his full height and stepped forward. “I’ve already told you this—”

“You don’t want me, Fox.” Your voice was quiet, as hollow as you felt. “You may want me temporarily, but it won’t last.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?” 

As he closed the distance between your bodies, you backed into the door, eyeing him. 

“You’ll be disappointed with me,” you said. “Or you’ll grow bored.”

Fox braced his hands on opposite sides of your head. Trapping you.

“I don’t think you’re taking my points about sex seriously—” 

“Sex is only one part of a relationship. And I fell in—” He swallowed. “I want to be with you because I like you. I like being around you. I’ve had four months to get to know you—flaws and all—and I’m still here.”

The intensity of his gaze was too much to bear, so you lowered your eyes to a point on his chest. This close, you could see the failed attempt to remove a scorch mark just above his heart.  

“You said you pity me,” you whispered.

“I…was angry,” he said quietly, regretfully. “At you. With myself. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.” 

A combination of sweat and something woody—cedar—enveloped you. As tangible as the arms caging you against the door. 

“I can’t promise that I’ll be the perfect man,” Fox murmured. “But I’ll hold myself accountable for my mistakes. And I’ll strive to be a good man.”

Emotion flared within your chest, tightening your lungs, constricting the back of your throat. 

This was supposed to be easy. Simple. He was supposed to dismiss you—see your issues and turn the other way. 

“You aren’t perfect.” Your eyes were trained on his chest plate, but you could feel the heat of his gaze on your face. He lowered his face a smidge. Your eyes met his. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. We’re human. We fuck up. We get angry. We disagree. It’s our nature.”

“But there are better options,” you said hoarsely. “Better women—” 

“I don’t want them.” His hands flexed against the door. “I want you.”

You shook your head. 

There were other flaws, you were certain of it, that would deter him. Make him realize he deserved the best this galaxy had to offer. 

You searched the crevasses and chasms of your mind, seeking out the organized list. But you’d already named the worst offenders. Would your preference to go to bed early qualify as a disqualifier? 

“I’m going back home.” You were trembling. “In three years. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.”

“I’d like to see the stars.”

“Don’t—” You looked away, swallowing the emotion threatening to release. It churned hot and volatile within you. “Don’t do this. Please.”

“Let me in—”

“You could hurt me.” Your back flattened against the door; your fingers scraped the metal. “You could really hurt me.”

Silence, and then: “Look at me.”

You ground your teeth. 

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lifted to his and, against your will, it happened. A single tear leaked onto your cheek, slowly drifting downwards, leaving an unmistakable trail. 

Quickly, you went to wipe it away. But just as swiftly, Fox grabbed your wrist, pressing it against the door. His eyes wandered along the tear’s trail to its conclusive end at the drop off of your chin, and then returned to yours.

“Let me love you,” he said quietly.

Undeserving.

Unlovable.

Never enough.

Another tear splashed from the corner of your eye. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know.” Fox released your wrist and flattened both hands against the door once more. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I don’t know how to.”

“Let me in, and I’ll show you.”

A part of you wanted to close your eyes, press your palms to your ears, curl inwards on yourself until it all disappeared. Fox. The last four months. That damned tiny hand pounding against your ribcage, insistent for him. You wanted to ignore it all. Pretend none of it had happened.

A greater part of you—a part tired of being alone, tired of the hollowness within you—silenced your two closest allies and their lurking whispers.

“I need space.” You felt empty, worn. “I need space to think about…everything.”

Fox surveyed you for a moment, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and then gave a short nod. “I’ll walk you back to your place.”

The first day after your conversation, Commander Thire reappeared for the daily visit. His now-familiar face was a relief. You were grateful for Fox’s consideration.

On the evening of the second day, you slipped into your sequined dress and creamy heels, treated yourself to a private dinner, and then returned to the Museum. You spent four hours perusing levels five, four, and three.

Another three days elapsed without Fox and you went to the transport center, purchasing tickets to Lefaepa for the 1st of Yelona. No matter what happened, you were resolved to return home for the Harvest Festival.

After six days, on the evening of the 20th of Kelona, you retrieved your comm and messaged Fox: 0525.

The code to your apartment building. 

Masterlist | Part III - Part V

A/N: I feel like I owe an explanation.

For an embarrassingly long time in my life, I thought blowjobs were supposed to be rough. I blame it on the media I consumed. Books and fanfic, alike, always portrayed them as a very rough activity. It became ingrained in me. Blowjobs were rough. And you simply had to take it.

I wasn't interested in rough. And I thought that because I lacked that interest, then there was something wrong with me. Eventually, just the thought of sex nauseated me. If a guy showed interest in me, I immediately cut him out because I was scared of the possibility of sex and blowjobs.

It's taken me a lot of years to process and deconstruct this belief. It's something I still struggle with; I find it hard to believe, at times, that there are men who can be content without rough blowjobs. One of the ways I'm trying to "normalize" non-rough sex for me is through writing. It's why I've avoided writing explicit blowjob scenes for my most recent stories, and why there's been an emphasis on my MMCs being gentle when it's been explored. I know that I neglect male pleasure and prioritize female pleasure in my writing; so I wanted to explain why that is.

Also, this is NOT to shame people who enjoy certain types of sex. This is simply for me to see my personal wants/boundaries normalized and represented in fic. Thank you for understanding.

[comatomato]

Tooka eyes 🥹

My “creative interpretation” of that super long pause before she said “This is the way.” when she glanced down at Grogu. He really has the tooka eyes weaponized.

Check out more of my art over on Instagram! ✨

[p4nishers]

cody was EXACTLY what crosshair needed. like someone who's SO fundamentally kind and good, someone who'll fight for people, someone who IS a good soldier, a perfect one infact and STILL questions orders. orders he's PROGRAMMED to obey. i wholeheartedly believe this was a turning point in crosshair's story.

[margindoodles2407]

YES! THIS! THANK! YOU!

So one thing that has always struck me about Star Wars, and makes it feel more unique and real, is how it does religion.

In many, many fantasy works, if religion comes up at all, it won’t really mean much of anything. Religion is basically a throwaway line. It’s basically like “oh by the way, there’s a polytheistic religion and the gods are probably definitely real, now back to completely ignoring this”. That’s if it gets mentioned at all. Having once been religious myself, this does not feel like the characters are actually religious. The religion in these works doesn’t have meaning.

Star Wars does not do that. The heroes are religious. Instead of it basically just being a throwaway line, it affects a lot. It affects their behavior and their beliefs. The Jedi live in a Temple. They see all life as sacred, so they usually try to avoid killing. They also spend time trying to save as many lives as possible (see all the times Jedi saved clones’ lives as an example). Their religion values teaching, so they often are teaching to show that they care. Their religion matters.

The religion matters for those who have been in the religion for as long as they can remember (such as Obi-Wan) and it matters for converts (such as Anakin and Luke).

Anakin converts into the Jedi religion when he is a child. He goes a lot of the normal Jedi stuff such as growing up as a Padawan, being assigned missions by the Council, and having the entire Jedi community there for him. His whole dilemma is that he wants be a Jedi and married to Padme, even though Jedi aren’t supposed to be married. If being a Jedi wasn’t meaningful to him, he’d probably have just chosen Padme without there being a fuss.

Luke converts when he’s an adult (by our standards). He doesn’t have the same normal Jedi stuff Anakin did. The Jedi community has been wiped out, he doesn’t spend/get much time with his masters, and there isn’t a Council to assign him mission. He gets assigned on missions by the Rebellion (and one time himself). But being a Jedi is meaningful to him to. He told Palps to his face “I am a Jedi” in what was an amazing moment (until the lightning).

This all makes the Jedi feel like they are actually religious. Basically, I like that Star Wars understands that religion has meaning and an impact.

[aleatoryw]

I keep seeing people in the ventress tag saying they read dark disciple and it was soooo good.... what part was good, exactly? the part where quinlan says he's going to make a stupid reckless decision and tells ventress to wait in the car and she's like "okay💗 yay💗"? the part where dooku kills her without saying a word to her because he was trying to kill quinlan, whose relationship with him was developed entirely off-page? the part where she's buried in the sexy revealing dress she hated because quinlan liked her best feminine? the part where quinlan gets treated like an idiot the whole book because "snarky grumpy woman and her himbo sunshine boyfriend" was the only trope they could apparently make work here? the part where the Jedi get a bunch of people killed and at the end are like "ah well, we've all learned a valuable lesson about the dark side!"?

[n0bluev]

@fushiglow hmm….wonder who i’d draw this for all of a sudden and why… 🤔🤔

[cluescorner]

Long Post about Savage Opress because I am Normal

Savage Opress, you are everything.

You are at your strongest when you are fighting to protect the people you love. You had to participate in a battle royale and subjected yourself to a fate worse than death in order to protect your brother. You were forced to kill the brother you fought so hard to protect, your last words to him as he begged for his life were 'You make (me) weak'.

You are Frankenstein's monster, a kinslayer. You just have to live with that. Your mistress isn't giving you a choice in the matter.

You were placed under the control of a cruel master/mistress twice in the span of like a week. You were forced to betray your master and (under your mistress's orders) you killed two jedi, making you an enemy of the two most powerful entities in the galaxy. You made these enemies against your own will. You were lightning spammed and abused to the point that you were able to break free of your mistress's control.

You are then attacked by these two random jedi you have never met. They seem intent on bringing you in. They stand besides each other and fight to protect each other. You are reminded of how you did the same for your own brother. You killed that brother.

You run to the only home you've ever known, the same home that treated you as lesser-than and transformed you into what you are now. Your home is destroyed, all of your sisters are dead. You are upset by this. They were the cause of your suffering, but they were still kin.

You are told that you have a remaining brother, one who can make you strong enough to protect yourself. You decide to travel across the galaxy to find him. You killed your last brother, you will do anything for this one.

You seem to create trouble everywhere you are now. You are now incapable of solving problems without violence, so violence is what you become. You become hatred. You had love once, but everything that you loved is dead. Except for your remaining brother. You do whatever you must to find him.

You find your brother. Your brother is delirious and half-dead, but he is your brother and you found him. You can fix this. Your brother sees you too, or at least he sometimes does. You are a reflection of him, of what he was meant to be. You are strong and powerful. Your brother is not anymore, but he will be soon.

Your mother, the same woman who took you and warped you into a monster (that is what everybody calls you now), fixes your brother. Your brother grabs your face and twists it, painfully examining your every pore. You don't begrudge him this. You have done the same to it. Your face isn't yours, but it is the only face you have.

Your brother screams for vengeance against Kenobi, he must have revenge. You must stand by your brother, he is all that is left. You embark on a quest of vengeance against a man you only briefly met.

You become everything your brother needs you to be. You are his protector, his sword, his second-in-command. You have love again and you will do anything to keep it this time.

Your brother is a terrible person. Your brother will massacre a village for the sake of getting Kenobi's attention. Your living brother is nothing like the one you killed. You aren't sure this is a good thing.

Your brother lures Kenobi to the village and you both capture him. Your mistress shows up and immediately sets about belittling you. You are the monster she and your mother created. You are not her thrall anymore, you can fight her now. You do exactly that.

Your mistress and Kenobi retreat, your brother chooses to bide his time. You will wait with him.

Your brother and you infiltrate a ship, finding a fortune of credits. You are happy with this, you have never seen this much money in your life. Your brother's only fortune is the downfall of Kenobi.

Your brother calls you apprentice, decides that is what your relationship is now. You don't see the need for dominance, you are brothers after all. Your brother disagrees and you will subject yourself to this for your brother's sake. You are a reflection of him, of all his past flaws. You are devoted to those you love and able to feel things other than vindictive glee or hatred. Your brother is not anymore, he might never be again.

You think your brother is incapable of love. You love him all the same.

You and your brother next run into Kenobi with another Jedi Master. You do not know her name nor anything about her. You kill her, goring her with your (far larger than they should be) horns and running her through with your lightsaber. Your master is not forcing your hand this time, you can finally choose to make an enemy of the Jedi. You would have been their enemy either way, but the false choice is comforting regardless.

You and your brother corner Kenobi. You think for a moment that you have gotten the upper-hand, then Kenobi cuts your arm off. Your body leaks green magic. Your mother's magic still holds power over you even after everything. You wish it didn't.

Your brother shoves Kenobi away from you and decides to retreat. You aren't sure if this is a sign of affection towards you or if this is a strategic move. Your brother speaks as if it's the latter. You see no reason to believe otherwise.

You manage to escape, but are left adrift in space. You are freezing and slowly running out of oxygen. Your home was warm and full of breatheable air. You are alone with only a brother who calls you 'apprentice' for company. Your home was filled with brothers who called you by your name or by 'brother'. You are alive. Your home and brothers are dead.

You next wake up in an unfamiliar place. You smash all the equipment around you. You are now incapable of solving problems without violence, so violence is what you have become. Your brother informs you that his plans have changed, and now you two will be working with Deathwatch. You have no idea what Deathwatch is or who your brother just made a deal with. You will follow him regardless.

You stand up and hit your head on the lamp above you. You were supposed to be shorter than you are now. Your body is wrong. You look in the mirror and you are not yourself. Your body isn't yours, but it is the only body you have.

Your brother takes over Mandalore. You watch as your brother marches Kenobi into the throne room and prepares to execute the Duchess of this planet.

Kenobi offers sympathy. Kenobi recognizes that your brother never had a choice in joining the dark side. Kenobi had gone to your village and seen what it is like for the nightbrothers. Kenobi, despite everything, is trying to be kind.

You hear your story in Kenobi's words. You never had a choice in any of this. You never stood a chance. Your body isn't yours, your mind has been warped and twisted into serving the goals of another. You only wanted to protect your brother.

Your brother kills the love of Kenobi's life. Your brother has stripped himself and you of any possible chance to take the olive branch Kenobi was extending. You ask if you should kill Kenobi now. You know that stewing in grief and guilt can be a terrible fate. Your brother decides to keep him imprisoned. Your brother is counting on the Kenobi stewing in his grief and guilt. Your brother wants to drag out his suffering for as long as possible.

Your brother is in charge for less than a rotation. Your brother panics and bows before a withered old man, calling him 'master'. Your brother lies and fawns to his master. Your brother's master does not care.

You have never met this man before. You have no reason to fight him. Your brother is terrified of him. Your brother grovels before nobody, but he bows before this man. You don't have to do this.

Your brother needs you. You draw your weapon.

You manage to get a hit in on your brother's master. You are one of very few in the galaxy who can say that. You are at your strongest when you are fighting to protect the people you love.

You are stabbed in both your hearts. Your efforts to protect your brother, your pain and suffering, your love and affection, you, Savage Opress, you don't matter. You didn't know it, but you were fighting the most powerful being in the galaxy.

You never had a choice. You never stood a chance.

You die thinking you were unworthy of your brother. Your brother never said or did anything to make you think otherwise. You die calling yourself apprentice, that is the relationship your brother wanted. Your brother holds your hand as you die, it is trembling. You aren't sure if it is from grief or hatred. You decide it must be the latter. Your brother is only capable of hatred.

You knew your brother was incapable of love. You loved him all the same.

You don't know that you might have been the only thing your brother cared about besides his vengeance. You don't know that when you are unconcious he calls you by your name, he calls you brother. You don't know that he nearly killed the Death Watch soldiers, but stopped when they threatened you. You couldn't know. Your brother never told you.

You don't know that he uses his grief as fuel for his duel with Sidious. You don't know that he switches his ire away from Kenobi and decides that his former master is a more pressing target of his hatred You don't know that he spends the rest of his days trying to find a new apprentice to fill the hole you left and that it never works. You will never know. You are dead.

You died realizing you were nothing like your brother. You never were. Your body shrinks down, you finally look like yourself again. You can't be happy about this. You can't take relief in the fact that all the magic which ruined your life has been dispelled. You can't feel anything. You are dead.

You are right. You are nothing like Darth Maul. Your brother is motivated by hatred, you are motivated by love. Your brother will die having found peace, you died having found nothing but pain and grief and yet more pain.

You are my favorite magical girl and you have suffered so much more than Jesus.

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think about the fact that bacta lost his virginity to tryst's sister. who looks enough like him that they easily pass for each other when they swap clothes. *touches ground gingerly* something psychosexual happened here. (good for rendezvous honestly it isn't her fault her brother is too emotionally dense and/or dysfunctional to get in there.) and then the next morning he found out the first person he was ever in love with probably isn't dead after all and never contacted him. it's a lot, to be a bacta in this world. single father despite having three co-parents, harried husband and grieving widower who's never once been married but is sometimes for sure divorced, teenage boy at his first real party, 'as your doctor I feel compelled to point out -- okay, that's, you're doing it anyway, sure, why not ', haunted veteran at the tender age of 17, owner of what must be the most common face across the galaxy, parentified oldest sibling despite being the youngest adult on the crew, sole qualified clipboard holder....... he's somehow doing it all at the same time and he's doing it on phindar, while making cupcakes

[scattered-winter]

every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3

[hydrasaura]

now that i think abt it, looking back, srmthfg did a lot of stuff that i liked so much, let’s say regarding the main character. I find Chiro’s case so interesting because despite the fact that he is never given any backstory whatsoever, he becomes meaningful through his actions and becomes established and distinguished through his interactions with others. I think he is such a likeable character but not in the way that he’s perfect, he has his flaws and fears that he overcomes or struggles with. He is shown multiple times being kind towards others, even towards hideous creatures or animals (i mean it would be ironic for him to hate animals given that he lives with monkeys) which at the time was like such a breath of fresh air for me. Also the way characters constantly belittle/make fun of him for hanging out with animals and he just pretty much tells all of them to f off which is great. The majority of times the villains aren’t even naturally evil but corrupted by the evil force and the main characters recognize that and try to help as much as they can. Another thing that i like abt Chiro is that he’s supposed to be ‘’the chosen one’’ but he isn’t overpowered, he has several established moves which he uses throughout the show or improves and that’s it. and he loses, A LOT. Like there’s this great accent placed on the fact that they are a team and on how they are constantly saving each other.

AND GOD let me tell you, i dislike mechs, among all animals primates and monkeys are my least favorite and yet this show has somehow managed to make me love BOTH. The way they made me care so deeply abt each freaking technicolor monkey, about this pink mary-sue-ish robot-girl, and about that plain-ass looking super robot is INSANE. The writer somehow managed to give them so much personality. When Antauri [redacted] I was literally not okay for several weeks. I related to Gibson so much and his beef with Sprx was so fun and his relationship with Otto so nice. Nova was badass and funny and i loved the big sister kind of relationship she had with Chiro. I can’t even chose a fave out of the monkeys because they complemented each other so well. Jinmay seemed sorta boring at first but the fact that she was a robot made everything so much more interesting, i absolutely loved all the times when they would pit her against the heroes. I also loved that she was established from the beginning and kept being a recurring character even becoming a member of the team but not in the way that it would break the team’s mojo. The super-robot was so plain but the way they constantly showed us it was sentient was so eerie. AND god the villains where compelling, terrifying and idk felt like a constant looming threat. Idk maybe it’s nostalgia speaking but this show had so much shit that somehow newer shows/anime constantly miss and it makes me sad when i remember how it ended and how it has been literally forgotten by everyone. Sometimes i think it’s a fever dream because nobody ever mentions it, not even when they are talking abt ‘‘forgotten shows’‘ :’)))

[loveoaths]

i think about the droid/automaton temple guardians a lot. like--

they aren't alive, but they aren't not alive, either. they have varying degrees of sentience. they remember the jedi, some of them outlive the purge, knowing the jedi are gone save for whatever knowledge they've squirreled away in their memory banks.

cator, the droid guarding the jedi temple archives with jocasta nu, had a personality. he was serious about protecting and sheltering the jedi's knowledge and their history, so dedicated that he stood up to darth vader in an attempt to keep the list of force-sensitive children safe. sure, it was in his protocol to guard the archives, but he didn't have to care, or love it, or want to do this; we see many droids across star wars who do not give a single shit about their programmed duties, while still executing them.

but cator works hard, diligently and carefully, because cator loved his work, and he loved the jedi.

T0-B1 loved his jedi master so much! and his master loved him so much that he powered T0-B1 with the kyber crystal from his lightsaber! of course jedi wants to be a jedi. of course he wants to fight and protect and preserve life, not because he was programmed for it, because he wasn't, but because he wants to honor the man who gave his life to save him -- him, a "meaningless droid"!

then there are the tomb guardians on zeffo.

thousands upon thousands of years they've stood guard over the secrets of their creators, a species so powerful and gifted with the force that they were their own undoing. do the guardians know they're guarding tombs, or do they believe their masters will return some day from the other side of the veil, and the guardians will be there, waiting, stalwart sentinels ready to welcome them home? if they do know, did they mourn? could they have walked away from their posts but instead chose to stay, to keep the zeffo graves from being desecrated, because they'd rather the world forget their masters than allow them to suffer indignity?

did the guardians love the zeffo? surely they must have, without question.

the real question is: did the zeffo who whispered metal ore from the stone and gave them shape, gave them sentience, gave them purpose, love them back? they must have, in the way we all love the work of our hands.

but perhaps the most pressing question is:

long after their circuitry should have degraded, their power cores cracked and dripped empty, their shiny metal carapaces rusted off like so much disease -- what could it be that keeps these machines moving but their love for those who no longer exist anywhere but their memory?

how could you not love and be loved by something that made you, purposefully, in its image?????????