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not Wrecker over here being the cutest fkn human in the galaxy
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You can change labels as often as you want or feel you need to. Labels aren't written in stone, you can do whatever feels right for you.
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tea when the weather's fine
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I cannot believe it. Anakin killing Sand People. And not just the ones who tortured his mother but the entire village. Men, women, children. As if every one of them were a monster. Anakin’s eyes glow with hatred. With pain. With grief twisted into destruction. I am suddenly and terrifyingly unsure who is the monster. Part of me wants to wrap my arms around him, to comfort this wounded creature my husband has become. But part of me flinched when he threw the scrap metal at the wall, and rested a protective hand over my belly. My senses are on high alert... Somewhere deep down I knew he had the capacity to do something like this, but I believed he never would. That he had enough self-restraint to temper his temper. I could blame this war for turning him into a soldier, for unlocking something ugly within him. But that would mean ignoring the pain at the heart of him, suppressed and waiting to inflict itself on others.
This fic follows Padmé as she navigates love and politics, both teetering precariously on a knife's edge. Democracy crumbles amid violence and Anakin's fire threatens to engulf them both. But Padmé is stronger than anyone expected.
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Beru offers me refreshments, but I cannot stomach them, knowing where Anakin is going. She tilts her head perceptively. “Need something to do? I’ve got a whole bunch of cabbage to pickle if you want to help. Working with your hands is a good way to take your mind off things.” “Yes, thank you. I would love to help,” I tell her. We strip and chop cabbage, mash spices into a paste and submerge the vegetable in a myriad of flavours. “Not many tasty vegetables around here,” Beru remarks. “We’ve got to add our own flavour. Plus, it keeps better this way, for months when crops are sparse.” “Did you always want to be a farmer?” I ask. She shakes her head. “No. I used to think I’d be a pilot. Born and raised on Tatooine, the stars are the most enchanting thing and I always wondered what it would be like to fly among them.” Her cheeks flush red. “But then I met Owen. He loves this place, and I can’t imagine my life without him. Moisture farming is much better suited to raising a family than hurtling through hyperspace for a living. I would rather put down roots.” A vision comes to me of a small sandy-haired boy knee-deep in sand, staring up at the night sky in awe, and I place an unconscious hand on my stomach.
This fic follows Padmé as she navigates love and politics, both teetering precariously on a knife's edge. Democracy crumbles amid violence and Anakin's fire threatens to engulf them both. But Padmé is stronger than anyone expected.
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i keep seeing misinformation about this, so: queerplatonic relationships do not have a set definition. the name comes from the idea that it's "queering" the platonic relationship, tailoring it to the individual relationships' own desires. it isn't necessarily romance lite, but it also isn't necessarily whatever definition you want to impose on it. the point of queering the platonic relationship is to break away from strict allonormative views on friendship, romance, and sex, not to make a new categorical box to fit in.
the answer to "what is a qpr?" is "whatever you want it to be." sometimes that is romance lite. sometimes it's a deeply committed friendship. sometimes it's friends who have a sexual relationship. sometimes it's based on an entirely different mode of attraction. sometimes it's fluid and impossible to put into words. it's whatever you want it to be. it's queer.
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The world stops. Tears spring to my eyes and I stifle a gasp. Mistrusting my legs, I plant myself on a nearby bench. There is deep joy. There is twisting grief. There is fear for Anakin. Fear for myself. And also, a vision of two children playing in a field on Naboo. Twins. I have wanted this for so long, but I chose this career knowing there would be no time for a family. I buried that hope still deeper the moment I stared into Anakin’s eyes and saw my future there. There has never been any space for this in my life and yet it has made its own space. Two miracle babies. Two embryos that could cost their parents’ careers. Still, I cannot stop myself from smiling.
This fic follows Padmé as she navigates love and politics, both teetering precariously on a knife's edge. Democracy crumbles amid violence and Anakin's fire threatens to engulf them both. But Padmé is stronger than anyone expected.
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I'm manifesting an explicitly aroace Artemis and Hunters in Percy Jackson season 3 - who's with me?
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He can disney princess bond with animals. He's an orphan. He jokes about someone being dead less than 5 minutes after they die. He crawls around in vents. He lived with turtle people for a decade. He will fuck you up with or without a weapon. He is the goofiest man alive. He once made someone walk off a cliff.
Ezra Bridger, stay iconic.
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I usually put myself in my films, ‘cause like… As a groundbreaking director and also an iconic actor, I mean, you do the math. Why wouldn’t you put those two things together?
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You need to draw and make art or else all the images will stay in your head and you'll get sick
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occasionally there will be a queer person whose way of living their queerness is in conflict with our expectations and definitions for their label
at those times, we remember that queerness is not about the labels, or the definitions, or the rules of expected behaviour, but about living authentically to the crooked strangeness of our human conditions
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Leave me and my weird names in peace
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new hot take, but maybe Omega can't use the force after all. Maybe she's just a bridge, gentically speaking, between the force and the living
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glóin and baby gimli
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