#but i’m also very much a ‘i hate sand it’s coarse and rough and it gets everywhere’ type of person

[padawanlost]

just saw a text post about how leia killing a slave master when anakin was a slave himself is cool but i find it interesting how ppl can find rational things to point out for stuff like that but when its anakin disliking a sandy planet like its ridiculous thing for him to say? but made so much sense cause you know... he's been enslaved there with his mom as a kid. idk i guess im still bitter of hayden/anakins treatment of his character

I get it but I believe the key here is to understand this weird moment we are a living right now (suddenly the prequels are cool and *everyone* had always loved them) by separating the old negative crap we were used to, from the genuine takes coming from the new found love the prequels are getting.

What I’m trying to say is the people who are excited by the prequels, who are discovering the value of the movies for the first time or just rediscovering it after so long, are not necessarily the same people who trashed the movies and made fun of Anakin’s “sand issues” or Hayden’s performance. So, to me at least, there’re two different issues here:

1 – for the longest time PT fans and Anakin fans had to deal with unfair amount of criticism, hate, mockery and even attacks. These behaviors came from part of the fandom and the media because for the longest time hating on the prequels made you cool and a “real star wars fan”.

2 – we have a bunch of new fans (literal new fans but also old fans who didn’t like or didn’t want to be seen liking the prequels) who are now vocal about the PT-Era, who want to talk about it, to engage, to discuss and, you know, just share their appreciation for the movies.

I try not to mix the two, especially in this particular case. From my own experience with this fandom, the people who trashed Anakin for not liking sand didn’t understand his character enough to get the impact slavery had on the Skywalker family.

I’ve talked about the “sand issue” here before:

But, to sum it up, the meaning behind the “I hate sand” is pretty obvious once you look beyond “Anakin is whiny/The prequels suck/George Lucas ruined my life”.

“When I was in Level Three, we used to come here for school retreat,” she said. She pointed out across the way, to another island. “See that island? We used to swim there every day. I love the water.” “I do, too. I guess it comes from growing up on a desert planet.” He was staring at her again, his eyes soaking in her beauty. He could tell that Padmé sensed his stare, but she pointedly continued to look out over the water. “We used to lie on the sand and let the sun dry us … and try to guess the names of the birds singing.” “I don’t like the sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating. And it gets everywhere.” Padmé turned to look back at him “Not here,” Anakin went on. “It’s like that on Tatooine—everything’s like that on Tatooine. But here, everything’s soft, and smooth.” As he finished, hardly even aware of the motion, he reached out and stroked Padmé’s arm. [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

It’s about childhood trauma, privilege and systemic injustice and inequality. The sand physically represents everything Anakin loathes about his home planet, specially when compared to Padmé’s own childhood and home planet:

“This is Anakin. Anakin, this is Ryoo and Pooja!” The blush on the pair as they shyly said hello brought a burst of laughter from Padmé and a smile to Anakin’s face, though he was equally ill at ease as the two children. The girls’ shyness lasted only as long as it took for them to notice the little droid rolling behind Anakin, trying to catch up. “Artoo!” they shouted in unison. Breaking away from Padmé, they rushed to the droid, leaping upon him, hugging him cheek to dome. And R2-D2 seemed equally thrilled, beeping and whistling as happily as Anakin had ever heard. Anakin couldn’t help but be touched by the scene, a view of innocence that he had never known. Well, not never, he had to admit. There were times when Shmi had found some way to produce such moments of joy amid the drudgery that was life as a slave on Tatooine. In their own way, in that dusty, dirty, hot, and smelly place, Anakin and his mother had carved out a few instants of innocent beauty. Here, though, such moments seemed so much more the norm than the memorable exception. [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

[Ahsoka] was hyperalert again, all her instincts firing. One of these millennia she’d make a pretty good Jedi, probably. Provided he could smooth the rough edges off her. “Yes, Master,” she said. “You can trust me.” He frowned down at her. Was I ever this young? Was this how I used to look to Obi-Wan? He doubted it. Slaves lost their innocence while they were still in the cradle. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

Of course, because it became a meme used to “expose” George Lucas inability to write, direct or even understand what Star Wars is all about (eyeroll), that’s what most casual viewer think about when someone says “I hate sand”. But, on a more hopeful note, I do believe we’re doing good work claiming it back, by talking about it and even making memes about it in a way that’s not offensive to the characters, actors or fans. There are healthy, fun ways to laugh at Star wars  without diminishing the experiences and feelings of others.

Anakin represents so much different things to so many different fans it’s impossible to put everything in one single answer, but I hope you know I do understand exactly how you feel. I’m also very protective of Anakin, flaws and all. And it does annoy me to see people dismiss him and Hayden’s work in ways that can be very…cruel. But, Prequel/Anakin’s fans are awesome and now we’ve reclaimed the prequels proper place in history as peak star wars, we are unstoppable!! So let them come!

They just can’t accept how incredible Anakin’s story is, and that’s their loss.  

“Anakin had always hated sand. It was one of the many things about his Padawan that Obi-Wan understood better now that Anakin was dead. That was the horror of losing someone: Understanding came too late.” [Obi-wan Kenobi in Jude Watson’s The Last One Standing]

#ask #anon #sw meta #anakin skywalker #meta: anakin #mine #txt

[starship-squidlet]

we now return to our regularly scheduled mental breakdown, except apparently this one gets to happen at the beach.

#aka jack was having a bad time and decided to book an air bnb for the rest of the week #it was only $35 a night so that’s not going to destroy my finances #plus i can mentally frame it as prep for the 50s summer stuff #except i’m going to oc md not oc nj #I HAVEN’T BEEN TO THE BEACH SINCE I GRADUATED COLLEGE I’M SO EXCITED #i mean it’s literally just going to be me doing exactly what i do at home except in someone else’s bedroom instead of mine #and only .5 miles from a beach instead of... over 160 #fun fact: i never really liked the beach that much until i went to college a mile from the MA coast #and even then not really until my senior year when i had a car and went to the beach all the time #ironically the reason i spent so much time at the beach senior year was because i was having a mental breakdown #because my roommates kicked me out and spread rumors about me around campus and a bunch of other stuff #i did not have a good time #so i went to the beach as often as i could #maybe that means that now my brain just goes ‘mental breakdown? time to beach!’ #but i’m also very much a ‘i hate sand it’s coarse and rough and it gets everywhere’ type of person #channeling my inner anakin skywalker #anyways hopefully this helps the extremely damaging mental state i’ve been in lately #the only thing is that i won’t be able to continue binge-watching the classic hawaii 5-o because that’s on prime which isn’t on my ipad #but i guess that just means i’ll have to spend all my time outside #except that it’s supposed to rain one day so that day i might go to the mall #even tho i can’t spend more money #but still #maryland malls are the best #i love maryland malls #idk what makes them so cool they just are #i love tumblr tags i couldn’t ramble like this anywhere else #but this week seems like a good time to start writing either midsummer night’s dream #or get a big headstart on 50s summer stuff #so we’ll see #i probably also won’t really be online much (but i say that and probably the first thing i do when i get there will be check tumblr)

[tainted-wine]

hey bae you alive? I have a question and you're the best ornithologist I know

Do you think hawks like taking dust baths? Like after steamy seggs on a hot day he'll straight up and ask you if you wanna roll in dirt ._.

The Aftergroom (NSFW)

(Because he would totally grab a coffee after dicking you into the next dimension.)

Sex

So...Keigo’s quirk has an evolutionary flaw.

See, birds have the preening gland over their ass, which they use to spread oils all over their body and moisturize their feathers to keep them from getting too dry and brittle.

Keigo also has preen glands...except they're everywhere. I'm saying his sweat glands also function as his preen glands.

That means whenever he overexerts himself, he can get very oily and sticky. Very.

Poor guy actually held off sex with you for a pretty long time because of this. This is gonna gross you out, watching him slowly turn into an extra shiny grease bird as he bangs you.

He warns you beforehand after gathering enough courage to give it a try. "Look...Uh, just know that when I get into it, things are gonna get...slick. Slicker than your pussy."

You don’t even remember the warning while you’re moaning in the middle of pound town. Your fingers dig into the blades of his shoulders, clinging onto him as those magnificent hips rock you into the mattress. Or at least, you’re trying to cling to him, but his skin is getting so damp that it’s difficult to grip.

Okay yeah, his embrace is starting to get really clammy. And his sweaty hair feels like the down of a wet chicken.

Sure, it surprises you, but it’s not that weird. Certainly not weird enough to distract you from the incoming orgasm.

He is beyond relieved when you’re covered in his extra oily sweat and you don’t even look that fazed. You just shrug and smile. What’s a couple of extra fluids during sex? 

Of course Keigo loves cuddling and admiring your satisfied face after a steamy session, but he really hates feeling like this and doesn’t wanna make you any stickier than you already are. Time to clean up.

You ask to join him. “Alright,” he says. “But you know by now that I have special steps when I bathe, right?”

Bathing

The two of you don’t head for the shower, but the dusting room that you were always curious about. You’ve heard him take his baths in there; lots of flapping and particles flying around and hitting the walls. Your imagination has gone to the most adorable places as you listen to your lover roll around in dust.

You don’t know what you were expecting it to look like, but it wasn’t this. Wallpaper of a desert landscape, fake plants, a sun-shaped heat lamp in the center of the ceiling, and a floor coated in soft premium ‘sand’. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it was a habitat for an actual hawk.

Naked bird man is hella happy when you offer to help him preen. It’s a much slower process when done by hand, but the intimacy of being groomed by his very own partner more than makes up for that.

 After all his feathers are straightened, he digs a little bowl into the sand and gets settled into it and my god it’s so cute look at him he’s wiggling his way in!

A couple minutes are spent sprawled out in the fake sun, then Keigo starts to roll and beat his wings.

It’s CUTE, and you join in. This type of sand is basically a beauty product made for people with fur or feathers, so it isn’t as coarse, rough or irritating. But it does still get everywhere.

You may not be hairy, but the stuff still helps immensely in getting rid of the excess oils.

Things get a little playful and you're soon wrestling with Keigo, rolling each other around in a fit of laughter. His hair and wings have never felt so soft and fluffy. It honestly feels pretty nice whenever a wing accidentally smacks you.

He sticks around to let the sand fully do its job, but it's time for you to head to the shower and get this shit out of your eyes, hair, ass, and vaj.

#asks #smut #a little #hawks #love and accept your gross sticky birdman

[obi-wkenobi]

Whumptober 2021

Day 5: Comfort (alternative prompt)

Read below or on A03.

“I need to leave for work now,” Bail said, picking up his datapad from the table and smiling at Obi-Wan. “Once I’m back we’ll have some more time to talk about how you could help the Rebellion. You’ve been away from any action for a long time,” he teased gently.

Obi-Wan huffed and nodded, resisting the urge to remind Bail that he would only be on Alderaan for a short while. Luke still needed him on Tatooine, after all.

In the silence of Bail’s home he decided to use the computer to check the HoloNet. 

Ten years ago he never would have had to do such a thing, as a Jedi he was always kept up to date on the latest Galactic news and hadn’t realised just how much he took it for granted until he was forced to live on Tatooine. His homestead in the Dune Sea didn’t offer him close-by access to prominent Senators or the Republic’s capital, instead he barely even saw one individual in a standard week and so the latest news was the furthest thing from his mind.

At first it had been difficult, but as he glanced through the news he found that he didn’t care for any of it. This knowledge wouldn’t affect his life whatsoever, he had adapted himself to a myopic worldview whereby his only considerations were how much water he had, what he should eat next, how he would get that piece of food and if Luke was safe. Why should his focus be on anything else? He was still a Jedi and so he knew that he should still somewhat care for the state of the Galaxy, but he could also acknowledge that he was a bit bitter. The Galaxy had not helped the Jedi and so why should he care? Perhaps if he had the ability to do something about it then he would. He huffed to himself, such thoughts were pointless. 

Soon afterward he went to explore the house, where he quickly found a patio door that led to an expansive garden blooming with exotic flowers. In the distance a winding gravel path could be seen leading to a large, bountiful lake. He stood there in awe, amazed by all the colours, flourishing in an infinity of shades. The lake mesmerized him the most, it’s complete stillness, yet also its constant motion. The ripples that could be seen from a harsh breeze and the small splashes made when wildlife came up for air. They showed that it was a living thing, not just an inanimate object. 

There weren’t such colours or displays of life on Tatooine, all he had to see there was an endless expanse of sand, capable of movement but always the same; coarse, rough, and beige, with no indication that it relied on its surroundings to survive. 

Obi-Wan stood there for a long time, staring at the lake in contemplation. A consequence of Tatooine was that time had become unimportant to him, why shouldn’t he spend a minute or an hour on one task? Other than the darkening of the sky there was no need for him to monitor time. What was the point when there wasn’t even the changing of a season to keep him company? He was unable to say what year he had broken a finger whilst climbing a canyon wall, or what month a sandstorm had blown down the enclosure that contained his Bantha. If asked he could comment on which had come first, but not the exact date that they happened or the amount of time that had passed in between. 

The tedious desert had taught him the one thing that he had always needed to learn, how to live in the present moment. Although, he suspected Qui-Gon had not had such drastic teaching methods in mind when training him all those years ago. 

Therefore, he wasn’t too surprised when Leia turned up at his side sometime later. She stood there with him as he continued observing the boundless swaying of the trees and ripples of the lake, so like his time spent watching the ebb and flow of the Dunes outside his home. He wasn’t disturbed, nor did he mind when she slipped her hand inside his own, patiently waiting for him to start a conversation. 

Eventually though, it appeared that she was unable to contain herself and so she asked, “Do you like the water? I think I prefer space, that way I can fly wherever I want.”

Obi-Wan pulled a face instinctively. “I much prefer the water, flying isn’t something that I really enjoy.” He wondered if he had been exiled to an ocean world if he would have come to hate water, just as he had come to hate sand. 

“You don’t like flying?” she said, aghast. “But you must have flown to loads of planets.”

“I have,” he conceded. 

Still curious, she inquired, “Did you just have people flying you to places then? Like your Padawan?”

He stiffened immediately, his hand tensing within Leia’s. 

“You don’t like talking about him do you?”

Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“Father told me that he died, is that why? You must miss him, especially after you spent years and years together.”

He battled with his grief before deciding on the truth. “It’s hard to talk about someone who you miss.”

She gazed up at him, innocent and oblivious. “Maybe one day when the Jedi Order is restored you can have another Padawan?”

His eyes closed in anguish. One day the Jedi Order may be restored, but it wouldn’t be in his lifetime. And even if it was, he wouldn’t take on another Padawan lest he failed them as well. 

A tug on his hand drew his attention down and he stared at Anakin’s child, whose earnest eyes only made him think of the young slave boy he had met on Tatooine. 

An unpleasant wave of helplessness crashed over him then. He was the one unifying thread intertwining the fate of the Galaxy together, he was bound to these children—and Anakin, and it was his destiny to bring them together and to ensure that their purposes be fulfilled. It had never been his decision to do so though, that had been taken from him when Qui-Gon had made him promise to train a troubled, young boy. And so he may have been the key to everything, but his life had never been his own and he must bear the brunt of it—of the responsibility and the guilt, for they had always been his alone. 

Leia frowned at him in concern, her underlying Force sensitivity undeniably able to sense his distress. “Ben?”

The soft name roused him from his despair and he scolded himself for being unable to find balance, for letting his fear still hold him hostage even after all this time. Surely he could find some cause for joy here? Leia was safe and happy and that more than anything should have stirred his optimism. But even that didn’t comfort him, who knew what might happen to Leia should he fail in the end.

“Are you okay? Why are you so sad?”

He smiled at her gently, though he was sure it wasn’t convincing. “I’m okay.”

Her lip wobbled threateningly, so he fell down on one knee and grabbed both of her hands in his. “I promise I’m okay,” he reassured.

Irritation appeared on her face even as her eyes pulled down in worry. “You’re lying,” Leia mumbled. “You’re so sad, I can feel it, you’ve been sad since you got here.”

What could he say to that? Obi-Wan knew his shields were strong and so he could only assume that she had a certain talent for detecting people’s emotions, but how does one explain to a child the extent of his grief? The sadness of his Force signature was always present now and he very much doubted that would ever change.

It wasn’t that Obi-Wan hadn’t accepted his loss, he had. He had accepted the destruction of the Jedi and had accepted that it was his pupil that had helped with the genocide of his fellow, but he was a forever changed man because of it and as a result, his presence had changed too.

As with before he decided to be honest, or at least as honest as he could be. “I am sad, but that doesn’t mean that I’m also not happy. Seeing you and your father has made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

In a display of perception that no normal child would have, she narrowed her eyes at him and observed him with quiet interest, “Really?”

“Yes,” he said truthfully. 

Having decided that he wasn’t lying, Leia gave him a nod of acceptance and then launched herself at him and drew him into an enveloping hug. It took his breath away. He had not been touched with such kind intent in nearly a decade and the knowledge that it was Padmé’s and Anakin’s daughter doing so made him want to cry from both happiness and remorse. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, further sitting on the floor and pulling Leia onto his lap, smiling when she rested her head on his shoulder.

#whumptober2021 #no.5 #comfort #altprompt #star wars #fic #obi wan kenobi #leia organa #this was a fun one! #i always enjoy writing more introspective pieces #my writing

[otterskin]

Loki and Letters - Runes and Symbols in the Loki Trailer (Pt.1)

I know I’m late, but life, amiright? Dad’s home from hospital now. Anyway, before Tumblr eats this post again, let’s get started with the official Loki trailer ‘new stuff noticed’ breakdown:

First off, you may remember my spiel about Kaunaz/Kenaz, the Loki Rune, from last time (which makes a few new appearances here). If you need a quick recap, that’s this one -

Also transformation, burns, ulcers, and the search for truth. All of which feels very relevant to Loki, no?

Well, looks like > has a friend this time - one that’s plastered all over the TVA.

And ENHANCE!

Say bonjour to Dagaz.

Thanks, RuneSecrets.com - maybe not my best source, but they do have such nice pictures.

Dagaz is the ‘Day Rune’ - it means Enlightenment, The Ideal, Paradox, Transformation - and Time. It is renewal, the promise of dawn after destruction. It is the transformation on one thing into its opposite, of female and male becoming one. It is Order. It is the ancestor to our letter ‘D’, which you can see if you hold up a mirror to a very spiky letter ‘D’.

It seems an appropriate rune for the TVA, with its emphasis on order, managing paradoxes, and of course, Time. It is also an interesting contrast and complement to Kaunaz/Kenaz. It also means transformation, but it comes from a place of balance and cycle, rather than Loki’s hunger and potentially dangerous fire. But like Kenaz means light, it means dawn, fitting with what we previously discussed about the apocalypse and Loki’s role in that.

But Otterskin, I hear you say, that’s not a rune - it’s just an hourglass.

Yes. Yes it is. Also that. Which we see everywhere, from logos to drawings in the TVA.

Even the V and A of their logo create an hourglass if you stacked them on top of each other. Obviously I think the hourglass is meant to be taken literally, as another form of a clock, which we also see plenty of (stay tuned for another post on their cute little mascot).

But unlike clocks, hourglasses must be reversed and inversed to keep time, essentially rewinding it over and over again. They are symmetrical, twin triangular chambers through which sand, representing time, falls.

How fun that the first footage we ever saw of this show should start with Loki falling into sand, then.

Sand. We hate it. It’s coarse, it’s rough, it gets everywhere. It shifts and is totally unreliable as a foundation on which to build anything. Nothing grows in a desert. It can be formed into structures like sand castles or concrete with a little work, but on its own? Sand isn’t something you want a lot of. It’s a symbol of death, as well as a keeper of time. We turn to dust when we die, and many afterlives are likened to deserts.

We see a lot of blighted, desert like locations in both trailers. A purple-lit quarry of stone. A concrete, deserted department store. Urban streets illuminated in red and orange. And so, so much fire. Very apocalyptic stuff. (Please see previous meanderings for what all that is about).

Obviously that is connected to Kaunaz, Loki’s Torch. Speaking of which - here are some new sightings of it in the wild.

We see two Kaunazes facing each other inside a diamond (which also creates two <> shapes) behind the running figure. Could be a coincidence, but we do also see...

...three kaunazes facing each other behind this fight scene in presumably the same location (neon lights).

My guess is that these symbols being in prominence indicates that some alternate Loki is in power in this world, or at least some destructive aspect of Kaunaz is. These are very fiery looking.

There is also a possibility that it is Jera, which is made out of two Kaunaz shapes.

Which also means time, specifically the passing of it - the orbit of the sun, the cycle of seasons, and it was believed this rune could be used to either slow or speed up time in spells.

I do seem a little caught up on these letters, don’t I? It’s a bit esoteric and very unlikely to play into the main plot, but as someone who comes at this series from a deep childhood love for Norse Myths, there’s a good reason for that. Runes are a huge part of the stories, even though, ironically, the versions we have today weren’t ever written in them. There’s also another reason - several times, we’ve been shown that letters are important to Loki. This is the Marvel Studios Title Card for it:

Hundreds of type faces of different letters from Loki’s name. And of course, the logo for the show itself, shifting and changing:

The word “rune” can mean ‘letter’ and ‘secret/mystery’. It’s believed that the use of runes allows one to actually influence and shape the forces they represent, as I mentioned with Jera. They are a form of magic.

Which is why Odin, God of Magic, sought them. One of the most important stories in Norse Myth is Odin’s quest to learn wisdom and the runes. This was when he famously hung himself on Yggdrasil and pierced himself with his own spear. There he hung for nine days and nine nights, in great anguish, staring down into the well of knowledge at the base of the tree. He learned nine spells in that time - and then perished on the ninth night, Walpurgis Night. With his death, it was said that the sun and all light died. Spirits crossed over into the land of the living and caused chaos, while magic everywhere strengthened beyond that which had ever been seen before.

It was said that only the dead could learn the secrets of the runes and the magic they could wield. The runes accepted Odin’s sacrifice and revealed themselves to him. Odin learned them all, and the powers that they both symbolized and embodied and controlled. At midnight on the day after, Odin used their power to return himself to life. He awoke with a terrible scream, driving back the spirits to their proper place and bringing back the sun.

Odin described this act as ‘sacrificing myself to myself’ - as if making an offering of Odin to Odin. The ultimate sacrifice.

So why this long-winded story about Odin, when the show is about Loki? Well, obviously, the MCU has had a history of taking traits from one and giving it to the other. Loki is Thor’s brother, not Odin’s blood brother. Loki left Asgard to wander the universe (however briefly), but we have not heard of Odin the great wanderer. Of course in mythology, they were also often conflated. Both are Gods of Magic, Gods of Stories (Odin of Poetry and Song, Loki of Lies). Both were considered to be ‘feminine men’ and outsiders to Asgard. Both were descended from Giants. Both were thought to be untrustworthy, both used trickery to solve their problems, both used disguises and many names as they sought meaning and entertainment across the realms. The MCU has thought to connect this as something Odin imprinted on Loki, intentionally or no, through a role as his father, rather than something they shared that brought them together as close friends.

The history of conflating Odin and Loki is already there. While I don’t think we’ll see Loki stab himself with a spear in a search for knowledge, I do think we might see some obscure nods to it, much like how Ragnarok had some deep cuts hidden amidst the fun.

The phrase ‘sacrificing myself to myself’ seems particularly relevant, especially as multiple Lokis seem to be in the cards. Hiddleston has recently said the show will be about his ‘many selves’, and I think that will be literal and figurative. Somehow, in some way, Loki will have to kill Loki to save Loki. A sacrifice of Loki to Loki. A gaining of knowledge and truth, such as Kenaz seeks. Not to mention an overcoming of death, which Loki is well experienced in. There’s also the matter of Odin ‘bringing back the dawn’ with his resurrection, which Dagaz also promises - as does Loki in the famous loose thread from Avengers: Infinity War, when he says ‘The sun will shine on us again.’

We have shots that have Kenazes facing each other, in conflict. We even have what I think is the first multiverse Loki we’ll run into, or perhaps a mere case of mistaken identity, in this trailer:

This lad on the left seems suspiciously similar in appearance, no?

We also have this - a shot of a library.

Books are known for having letters in them, occasionally. Not always the better ones, mind, but still.

(This place may be Jotunheim, but of the shots we see this is the only one I’d say looks ‘giant-sized’, especially with that lectern in the back and the massive fire. Other shots have human-sized steps and narrow corridors, so I’m not necessarily convinced, despite the similar colour correction and architecture. I would like it to be, of course.)

That’s not even mentioning the TVA’s obsession with paperwork and recording every word Loki ever said. Which this is presumably just the table of contents for.

I think this show will be a quest for knowledge, for ‘letters’, and the power knowledge grants. Loki is dropped into a world he knows little about, and the knowledge he’s given by the TVA will likely be suspect. A quest for Truth is what began his journey in Thor 1, and I think his hunger for it has not really abated.

If you are also somehow not sated with all this guff, here’s some more, potentially:

This Blade Runner 2049 -like scene has what looks to be an evolution of Chinese or Japanese text, but there is also some resemblance to Norse Runes. My guess is that this is a future where language has evolved, or maybe this is Asgardian script. 

There’s a chance this ‘X’ is actually

Which also means partnership, and the dissolution of barriers between people through giving of yourself. We also see ‘X’ shapes prominently with Roxxcart in both trailers, with the Xes given heads to make them resemble people holding hands, as if in partnership.

Seeing as this trailer has Loki partnering with Owen Wilson and sitting side by side with the hooded woman, it is possible this could be a reference to ‘Loki learning to make friends’, and the gift of friendship. The Sacrifice thing also connects to what we mentioned earlier.

If y’all can spot any other runes or rune-like things, let me know. As for the many symbols (mostly the eyes - so many eyes), I’ll save that for a Part 2.

#loki #loki trailer #loki TV #meta #analysis #runes

[hansoulo]

ain’t it a gentle sound (the rolling in the graves) - pt. 5

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo/f!Reader

Warnings: grief, heavy angst, mentions of Hard Emotions and Past Events. it’s not super specific and it’s in the context of healing/working through those things but ik reading that can be hard so pls take care!! also talks about hospitals? no gore or anything but :P reader and horacio have a mini therapy sesh and then make out for a bit >:)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: it’s taken almost a month but here u go 💀

masterlist  playlist  moodboard  gif by @el-cheung​

You’d been given time off from your shifts at the hospital, courtesy of the whole “kidnapped and experienced blunt trauma to the head” thing, but you were due back soon and knew you couldn’t keep dragging your feet. As much as you wanted to dig your heels in the sand, to bury your head in it until everything was muffled and coarse and static, you couldn’t. Not forever. You had a job and responsibilities and friends and a fucking life to get back to but everything still felt splintered and raw, pieces that were just starting to come together breaking apart again and leaving you, sitting on the cold tile of your bathroom floor heaving gulps of air like a drowning man and feeling just as desperate.

Everything had been too much, too slow and too fast at the same time and you just needed… space. To think. To try and not feel so fucking guilty and rotted from the inside. It had been eating at you, gnawing aimlessly for so long you hardly even noticed it before pushing it back down but now, now it was tearing you apart limb from limb with slow-snapping teeth, screaming everything and everyone you’d been trying to forget since this whole shitshow started. You used to be normal.

You used to make grocery lists and get called pet names and go to dinner parties. You used to gossip with the other military wives, sip wine with a warm hand on your knee and a chest against your back. You used to have so many things. Then… then you didn’t. And you were just starting to be okay with that because you could at least pretend you had him. For a moment, you did. You had him and he had you for a brief, sparking moment that felt like fire and tasted like blood but was the best thing you’d ever known.

Now you didn’t have anything. And it was your own damn fault.

You could hear Dr. Reyes’ voice in your head now, chiding you with a shake of her graying head. It’s not your fault, she’d say to you as you sat on the crinkly fake leather of her office couch, wringing a tissue in your hands until it chafed your palms. She’d called a few times since you’d come back - back, not home, because it wasn’t really home - concerned as to why you hadn’t been making it to your weekly sessions. Her voice was warm, familiar and grounding and a little pitying but you didn’t really mind. It was kind of in a therapist’s job description to pity. Maybe that wasn’t the right word but you appreciated the concern all the same, assuring her that no, you were alright and just not feeling very well. The last part wasn’t even a lie, because the ache knotting something awful in your head had yet to subside.

Horacio had taken you to the hospital after he got you out of the safe house, sitting in the waiting room and dwarfing the little plastic folding chair. He was still wearing his tactical vest, the gun holster digging into your hip as you leaned on him. You could barely string two sentences together with the bright fluorescent lights glaring in your eyes, so you’d screwed them shut and pressed your forehead into his chest, listening as he explained what happened to the receptionist.

You remembered her asking if you were married, feeling the shake of his head as his chin dipped slightly against your hair. Are you in a relationship? Another shake, Horacio’s arms sliding down to help prop you up on your feet. You didn’t really expect him to answer differently. It still stung a little bit, though. 

An hour later and you’d walked out with a mild concussion diagnosis and a prescription for some painkillers, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple as Horacio led you back to the Jeep. You tried not to think about the bullet holes in the passenger side door and how tightly his hands gripped the steering wheel.

He probably doesn’t have great memories of hospitals, you’d mused with your head lolling against the window, gaze bleary and unfocused as it swept over dusty backroads. With his wife and all. You hummed as the thoughts churned through your head, making your expression in the glass frown a little deeper. Maybe that’s why he always came back to his apartment so roughed up. Probably doesn’t like going if he can help it. I wouldn’t either, if I had to watch my wife die. I’d hate it.

⫸ -------- ⫷

Horacio sank deeper into the couch cushions, a hand cradling Isabella’s head as she lay across his chest. She was sleeping soundly for the first time in days and he let out a sigh, careful not to jostle her as he reached over to the phone on the table. He’d forgotten how difficult it could be, without you there.

He wanted to call. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to do something. The plastic cord of the telephone tangled slightly when he held the receiver, thumbnail dragging over the buttons and catching on the shallow grooves of waxy plastic. It warmed under his hand, grown restless and waiting. He set it down again.

Your voicemail left two days prior still fogged his head like the static message of a radio, the signal too soft and too out of reach but still carrying over enough to whisper and root itself in every waking moment. It’s just- it’s just too much right now, Horacio. Maybe we can work it out. Maybe not. I- I don’t know. Take care, alright? I lo-

You’d ended the message then, the dial tone ringing mocking and sour in his ears.

⫸ -------- ⫷

It was Friday night. You were due back on Monday, but it was far enough away that you could pretend not to care. Things were a bit better now. You were eating and showering and doing laundry. Responsible-type things. You could finally sleep through the night, even if you were plagued by nightmares. Sleep was sleep, right?

He wasn’t sleeping much, though. Not tonight, at least. Undercut by the sound of Isabella’s fussy cries, you could hear him pacing. You laughed a bit, not because it was funny but because it was familiar.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you slowly padded over to the door, not caring that you hadn’t brushed your hair or were wearing old pajamas. He’d seen worse, anyways. You wordlessly took the baby from his arms. His eyes seemed sunken in, a bit darker and a bit more hollow. You didn’t say anything, though. Neither of you did. You just stood in the hallway, a quiet agreement to not look each other in the face blanketing the air in a way that made your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth.

She settled quickly against you, hiccuping breaths slowing underneath your touch. The air was hot, humid and sticky with the Colombian summer in a way that made your head soupy. You could hear cars in the distance, sirens and horns and all the violent things that had led him to you and you to him. You pressed a kiss to the top of Isabella’s head, smiling at the way she smelled like the color pink - the innocent softness that you’d grown to love like it was your own. You missed it.

Horacio’s eyes were downcast, broad shoulders taking up most of your field of vision in a way that had your throat closing up. You reached out to place her back in his arms, clearly your throat awkwardly when your hands brushed. He mumbled a thanks and you shook your head, stepping back towards your apartment. Your hand rested on the doorframe, tangible evidence of your hesitancy as you stood with your back still to him.

You turned, the ghost of your profile just catching the way he glanced up when you opened your mouth to speak. “I-” you began and then let the word drift off, hanging heavy and uncertain. A whispered goodbye finally escaped your lips as you turned the knob, the metal searing cold against your skin.

⫸ -------- ⫷

Still Friday night. Or Saturday morning. Hard to tell, in the witching hours when everything was dampened and tilted sideways. You felt tilted sideways. Off-balance. You didn’t even remember leaving your apartment.

Your steps faltered, the few yards from your door to his stretched out until it lay miles away, a distant exit on a road you’d been down before but couldn’t for the life of you remember when or why or how to get back on. Wrenching your eyes shut, you let your forehead fall against the plaster of the wall beside you, the stucco cool and pebbling hard beneath your skin. The air was tight in your chest, shallow breaths doing nothing to ease the choking feeling in your throat. It was like hands were wrapped around you, pushing down on everything until you felt ready to burst.

Legs moving of their own accord, you found yourself standing outside his apartment entrance, the painted wood staring back at you, impersonal. What were you even doing?

The door opened just as you were about to turn away, hinges creaking slightly and making you wince. He called your name, voice soft and slightly confused. It was late. Were you okay? Was everything alright? He didn’t get to finish the last question before you fell into him, arms thrown around his neck and gripping the fabric of his shirt so tight your knuckles paled. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

You buried your face in his neck and his breath fanned out over your hairline, tickling your cheek when he looked down. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry but I- I just-”  He quieted you, whispering comfort into the shell of your ear until your hiccups slowed and the tears dried sticky on your cheeks. You could feel his hand on your back, the other braced against the doorway. Sniffling, you pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Horacio shifted to thread a hand through your hair, his touch gentle - almost hesitant. The front of his shirt was damp with your crying and you frowned at it slightly, moving your hands to his chest. He shook his head with a small smile, his own hands moving to rest atop yours and you were suddenly reminded of how big he was. It should’ve terrified you, standing there and being comforted by a man like that, a man capable of things you didn’t want to speak aloud, but it didn’t. It never had.

“Don’t worry about it,” Horacio  said. Oh. Right. The shirt. Hands reached up to cradle your face, rough fingertips smoothing over the curve of your jaw. You let your eyes fall closed, stepping closer until his feet widened. His thumb caught the downward drag of a tear, wiping it away across your cheekbones. “I’m sorry, too.”

⫸ -------- ⫷

He’d led you back into his apartment, your steps quiet and your voices hushed as you sat down by his kitchen table. Your eyes were still puffy and everything was fogged up, burning a little and blurry the way fighting sleep made you feel. It was dark outside. Your only witness was the moon.

You traced the rim of your glass of water as you spoke, a single finger circling until your nail caught its edge.

“We should talk,” he said as he drew up a chair. His voice was quiet, rounded out on the edges and tired. You laughed a bit as you took a sip.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Yeah we should.”

So you talked.

“Are you alright?” Horacio asked after a few minutes where you both sort of said things but didn’t really say much at all. You nodded, resting your cheek on a propped hand, the grainy wood digging into your elbow.

“Yeah,” you looked back at him, smiling. You were trying to be, at least. “I think- I think I was just scared, y’know?”

He frowned slightly. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

You shook your head. You already knew that. “No, no, it’s not that.” you began, your eyes downcast and swimming murky in the water glass. “I was scared of myself. Of things all going to shit again. I didn’t want you to-” you blinked back tears, reaching to wipe them away with the heel of your palm. “I didn’t want what happened to him to happen to you. I don’t think I could, I- fuck,” you whispered, cradling your head in your hands. You closed your eyes. “Sometimes I can’t help feeling like it’s my fault. And I know it’s not, I know that it’s just- ”

“It’s easier to blame yourself,” Horacio whispered, his hands coming to your wrists. “Believe me, I know.”

Yeah, he would, wouldn’t he?

He brushed the hair back from your face and you remembered when he kissed you, thinking of spun sugar and amber and other sweet things that could still burn your tongue.

You entertained the idea of facades for a moment, the notion that you could somehow still manage to build something out of brick and mortar and silence and keep him out. He’d already seen you with all your walls crumbling down, though, so that wouldn’t accomplish much. A self-deluded exercise in futility, pretending like you didn’t need him and he didn’t need you. You were fighting a losing battle with yourself, a civil war of body and mind and heart that left you sick and dog-tired, just searching for someone to heal with.

It seems you’d found what you were looking for.

You moved your hands, threading your fingers into his. Ghosting your lips against the inside of his wrist, your words were hoarse and came out before you could stop to think. “Can I kiss you?”

A large palm came to your cheek, coaxing your face closer. Horacio’s chair scraped the tile as he moved but you barely noticed the sound, your eyes closing as his forehead fell against yours. You felt his smile instead of seeing it. His voice wrapped around you, all-encompassing and rushing in your ears like the roar of a heavy ocean wave. “If you want to.”

The first kiss had been nice. Hell, it’d been a lot more than nice but this… this was different. Somehow better. Slower. Quiet and soft but still kindling a smoke in your belly, gentle blue gas flames licking at every inch of your skin until you felt dizzy with heat and with touch. His hands had fallen to your waist, shifting your weight with no argument until you sat draped on his lap. He was strong underneath you, solid and warm and safe.

You recalled the feeling of stubble beneath your hands that first time in the hallway, so you moved to press a kiss to his jaw, over all the contours and shadows you never had the time nor the courage to map out before. You wanted to memorize him, everything from the way his fingers felt on your hip to the feeling of his mouth against the hollow of your throat. You didn’t want to run anymore.

“Stay here,” Horacio breathed as you shifted in his arms, reaching to card your hands through cropped hair at the nape of his neck. You nodded, still hiccuping leftover tears into his mouth as they bled into moans.

“Okay,” you whispered.

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt​​ @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch

ain’t it a gentle sound: @paniclana @huliabitch @jayoknrjk28 @raabiac @sparrows-books @popculturepriestess  @pascalplease @ididntmeantobutiaccidentally @lockedoutofmyotherblog @multifandom-fiasco @wherethefuckiskathmandu​

my tags have been all weird lately so if it doesn’t work/notify you im so sorry 😭😭 

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo/reader #horacio carrillo fanfiction #maurice compte fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #also the sand line at the beginning reminded me of anakin lol #it'S COaRsE aNd RouGH anD GetS eVeryWheRe

[breakfastteatime]

Mini Mac Fic Part 2!

Ta da! A continuation of this Jack’s got a sick Mac on his hands, and he’s gonna get him home and safely tucked up.

It was a quiet drive from Phoenix back to Mac’s place. Jack really had to bite his tongue to keep from asking Mac why he didn't just take a sick day. For a guy who was so smart, he could be incredibly stupid about his personal wellbeing. 

Besides, Mac was asleep in the passenger seat, making it hard for him to answer anything. And Jack didn't want to disturb him until they got to his place. For him to be sleeping so much and so heavily during the day meant he really had to be sick. Mac slept light unless he’d gone beyond all his limits. And here he was, sleeping hard, his breathing a little ragged at the edges. He’d slumped against the door, head pressed to the glass like he wanted to cool off.

“Dammit, kid,” Jack muttered. “Can’t you make this easy just one time?” 

Matty was right; Mac would be in trouble when he was well enough. He needed to learn to manage himself better. Or at all, really. Because one day, his cavalier attitude towards himself would really bite him in the ass. Just because they weren't on a mission and were out of rotation for a few weeks unless something major came in, didn't mean he could ignore his health. 

“This would all be a lot easier if you were awake to hear me tell it to you straight,” Jack said. 

Mac didn’t even stir. 

Bozer always said Mac wasn’t one to take sick days ‘unless he’s vomiting, and even then, it’s fifty-fifty.’ Bozer then promised to share the story of how Mac had proceeded to projectile vomit in a high school chemistry class because he ignored a stomach-ache until it was too late. 

There was resilience and then there was Mac. Jack hadn’t bothered asking him why he was so weird about taking time off. He knew why. Mac admitting to weakness, to vulnerability? It didn’t happen.  

It was time for Mac to unlearn some of his bad habits. 

By the time they got back to Mac's place, he was looking more flushed than before. Jack could hear a distinct crackle in his breathing, too. Probably still a cold, but maybe one nastier than average. 

Killing the engine, Jack reached over, gently shaking Mac awake. “Home sweet home, bud. Let’s get you inside.” 

"Mmmm," Mac mumbled, hoarse voice thick with congestion. “I’m up.” 

His eyes hadn't actually opened.  

"Uh-huh," Jack said, smiling fondly. "Wanna try that again?" 

Mac's answer was clearly no because he was already asleep again. And snoring. 

"I will carry your ass if I have to," Jack said, reaching over to check for fever. Yup, he had one. A nasty one. “Mac!” 

Mac grunted. 

"Fine. Stay right there." 

Jack had a plan. He knew where Mac (okay, Bozer) kept the thermometer… Assuming Mac hadn’t repurposed it for anything. If Mac's temperature was anywhere close to 103F, they were going straight to the nearest ER, no passing go, no collecting $200. Jack wasn't letting Mac's ridiculous stubbornness melt his brain. 

Thirty seconds later, Jack placed the digital thermometer in Mac's ear. He flinched, hand reaching up to slap at Jack's hand. "Stop," Mac said, voice coarse. "It's a cold or sinusitis or something. I’ll sleep it off.” He cleared his throat, unsuccessfully. When he spoke again, he still sounded like he’d gargled with sand. “You don't need to worry so much." 

"No, you need to take this more seriously." Jack said. "You don't need it getting any worse." 

"S'nothing," Mac mumbled, blinking hard, trying to wake himself up.  

The thermometer beeped its reading before Jack could argue back. 102.5F. Not quite 103F. Mac got a stay of professional medical attention. 

Jack tucked the thermometer into a pocket. "Bed. Water. Tylenol. In that order." 

“Fine.” Mac pulled himself out of the car. He slumped against the car, sweat coating his face as he panted for breath and went several shades too pale.  

Jack grabbed him before his legs gave out again, guiding him down to the ground. "Dizzy?" 

"Yeah," Mac said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Not good.” 

“You gonna barf?” Jack asked, wondering how he could put safe distance between himself and whatever might come out of Mac. 

Mac let out a shaky breath. “Dunno.” He peeked through his bangs. "Sorry, Jack." 

Jack managed a smile. "Yeah, kid, I know you are. But we have talked about this. You gotta look after yourself. A sick day now and then ain't the end of the world." 

Mac mumbled something in response, but it was too soft and garbled for Jack to make sense of. He also hadn’t regained any color aside from the patches of bright red on his cheeks. 

“Deep breaths,” Jack said. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get to a doctor. “You need me to carry you?” 

“No!” Mac cried out. “Just gimmie a minute.” 

“World spinning?” Jack asked. 

“S’just a cold,” Mac said. “I’m not aching or anything.” 

“Whatever it is, we need you inside, so let’s do this slowly. I’m gonna get you to your feet and we’re gonna walk inside.” 

Mac held out a hand. Jack pulled him upright, holding both elbows until Mac was steady. Mac pulled away, his glassy eyes squinting against the sunlight. So, Jack could add a headache to Mac’s symptoms. He hovered close to Mac's side as they went inside. Mac made a beeline for the couch. 

"Not bed?" Jack asked. 

"Not that sick," Mac said. He sat down. Then he slumped onto his side, awkwardly kicking off his shoes. He groaned in relief. "Thanks for bringing me home. I'll get some rest now.” He shivered, closing his eyes. “Tell Matty I'm sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow."  

Jack threw out his hands and turned in a circle. “Give me strength,” Jack hissed through his teeth. He couldn’t shout. Mac was sick. Calm. Jack needed to be calm. Very calm. Did Mac seriously think he was going to be left alone? Jack took a deep breath. He held it in for three then slowly released it. Feeling slightly less explosive (because when would Mac learn he wasn’t alone?), Jack headed to the kitchen, grabbed an icepack from the freezer, wrapping in a dishtowel. Next, he poured out a tall glass of water. Then he rummaged through Mac and Bozer's medicine collection, pulling out the Tylenol. Taking everything over to Mac, Jack nudged him awake and made sure he took a dose. Mac did what he was poked to, flopped back, accepted the icepack for his head, and fell asleep in seconds. 

Jack fetched a thin green blanket and placed it over Mac. He glanced at his phone. Matty wanted to know when they were settled. Jack typed fast. One genius dosed and tucked up. He sent a photo too. 

Cute, Matty texted back. Keep an eye on him. 

“You know I got him.” Jack made a quick run to his car to grab his bag and his headphones. Going back into the house, Jack tuned into some classic hair metal, and settled himself into the recliner opposite Mac. He was still Mac’s Overwatch. Way too many dangerous people knew where Mac lived.  

Another conversation Jack needed to have with him. But maybe not right now… 

…Not when Matty had jammed a ton of paperwork into his bag. So you don't spend too much time worrying, she'd told him as he'd shepherded Mac to the car. 

She knew Jack too well. 

The hours ticked by. Jack worked hard, going over a number of training protocols for Phoenix’s tac teams. He looked up every so often, making sure Mac slept peacefully. Sure, his right pant leg rode up to his knee, one of his socks was half off, the blanket only covered one half of him, the icepack had melted, and he had his belly hanging out, but Mac was fast asleep and didn’t appear to be having any nightmares. 

Mac awoke late in the afternoon. He blinked hard, staring at the blanket. “Shit!” He tossed the blanket away, breathing hard.  

Jack looked up from the latest proposal. He saw Mac staring into the distance, not really seeing what was in front of him. "The blanket do something to offend you?" 

"Weird dream," Mac said. He somehow sounded raspier than before. Maybe they needed to add laryngitis to his diagnoses. He sounded more congested too, a distinct crackle in his chest. Mac pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Hate sleeping during the day." 

Jack eyed him critically. "How weird?" 

"Couldn't touch anything green," Mac said. "Green was deadly. Except everywhere I went had green carpet so it was the weirdest game of The Floor is Lava." 

Jack took a second to process. "Why green?"  

"Arsenic," Mac said, pushing sweaty hair out his face. "They used to have a green dye that contained arsenic." He coughed, reaching for the glass of water Jack had topped up halfway through Mac’s nap. "And I had to keep stopping everyone putting on green t-shirts." 

"Only you could have a sciencey nightmare," Jack said. He scooped up the green blanket. “Pretty sure this is free of arsenic.” 

Finishing the water with a grimace, Mac slumped against the couch. "Guess it was on my mind." 

"Arsenic? Do I need to worry? Are you looking to kill someone in a really historically accurate way?" 

Mac smiled. "It's not just a murder weapon. There's probably some in your car battery. There could even be cyanide in the car’s upholstery or – " 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, how 'bout you stop talking about deadly poisons, you’re making me itchy. Actually, just stop talking. You ain't gonna have much of a voice left soon." 

"And that'd be a real bummer," Mac croaked. He winced. “Ow.” 

“Feeling rough?” Jack asked. 

“Yeah,” Mac said. He groaned. “Fine. I’m sick, okay? I admit it.”  

“See, this is why you don’t come to the office when you’re sick,” Jack said. “That way, you get better quicker.” 

“I get it,” Mac said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in today.” 

“So, no going to work tomorrow?” 

Mac sighed. And then coughed. And then winced. “No work tomorrow.” 

Jack punched the air. “I won!” 

Mac cocked an eyebrow. “On the other hand…” 

“Oh no, don’t you dare,” Jack said, jabbing a finger at him. “You’re staying there. I will sit on you if necessary. Matty will probably order me if I tell her you’re thinking of going into the office tomorrow.” 

“I’m joking,” Mac said. He moved himself upright, planting his hands against the cushions. “Okay.” He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing and rubbing his forehead. “Wow, this headache sucks.” 

Jack got up too. “Hey now, stay right there. I can get you anything you need.” 

Mac blinked at him. “Including a trip to the bathroom?” 

“No, nope, you take care of that,” Jack said, hands held up. “I’ll get you something to drink. Something to eat, too. And some more meds.” He backed away, heading into the kitchen. “Think you’ve got any soup tucked away somewhere? Man, who am I kidding. Of course you do. Bozer is always two steps ahead with comfort food.” 

“Hey, Jack?” Mac called after him. 

Jack opened the fridge, looking for juice. “Yeah?”  

“Thanks,” Mac said. “For… y’know… everything.” 

Jack smiled to himself. “Anytime, Mac.”

(You can find my longer fics over here on AO3)

#mini mac fic #mini fic #macgyver 2016 #macgyver fanfiction #sleepy mac is adorable #papa bear jack forever #found family #sick fic #mac whump #love this show! #love a sleepy Mac

[danyka-fendyr]

May You Be With Me

So I saw the The Rise of Skywalker yesterday and uh...This is shoddy craftsmanship but I had FEELINGS. Feel free to hate it but I needed to fix it. And yes the title IS a play off of “May the Force be with you” SUE ME

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

Wordcount: 1368

Warnings: SPOILERS. SO MANY SPOILERS. (hence why everything is below the read more tag)

Rey liked sand. It was coarse and rough, just like her. Soothing. It got everywhere, a steady, omnipresent force in the universe. A physical manifestation of the Force that called to her, that had lead her down this path and taken her here.

To a world without Ben Skywalker.

To a world that had never seen his face, never felt his gentle kiss or been blessed with his soft smiles. There was jut sand. Sand, and the Force.

She called out to him sometimes. To that ghost that she knew existed, floating through the ether. He never came.

Some nights she screamed.

“You should be tied to me! Why won’t you come! Didn’t we have a bond?”

But Palpatine had taken that away too. In the end a Palpatine had been responsible for every loss, one way or another. So Rey had shed that name like a snake sheds it’s skin, and she had come here. To Tatooine.

It had been a few months since she had arrived. It felt like a thousand years, a millenia, since she had found Luke Skywalker’s old home and been asked her name. She had given her a new one. The only name that ever felt right on her.

Ben had confessed to her once, long before he died, that he had always felt closer to his mother. It had been in that convoluted way he always confessed things to her, masked in violence and barbed with pain, meant to hurt her as much as it was a desperate attempt to heal him. She had always been good at reading between the lines of Ben’s story though, and she had pieced together enough to see his real meaning, to hit home in her retort.

“Is that why you always hated Luke so much? Because he took you from your mother and then made her name mean pain to you? Would you have taken it, if you could have? Would your father have?”

She hadn’t had to ask any of those questions though. She knew the answer. If he could have, Ben would have embraced all the complicated connotations of the Skywalker name. So would Han, if things hadn’t gone so sideways long before Rey knew what the word Jedi meant.

It might as well have been a thousand years ago. The universe has a long memory, but its people do not.

Rey breathed deep, focusing her energy, reaching out to the Force. She could feel it not supporting her weight, exactly, but taking it away, lifting her off the ground as she sat, eyes closed.

“Be with me,” she whispered.

A quiet plea. A broken request in the hollowed deserts of Tatooine. A shadow of the light she used to be.

When Ben had gone, he had left his shadows. A mark on her soul, on her life, her connection to the Force, everything. He was the dark to her light, and without him she felt that she did not burn bright enough to light the darkest corners of her soul.

“Be with me.”

There was no response though. There had been no response, not for as long as she had been here. Not since he had chosen her.

Rey was long past temper tantrums. At first she used to scream and rage and throw things, used to have fits that would put Kylo Ren to shame. She had lost her energy for that though. Lost the will to rage over the fact that he was gone. It wouldn’t bring him back. He wouldn’t be with her.

She felt her connection with the Force snap just before she felt herself connect to the ground in her fall. It used to be she had so much control over the Force, using it becoming the most natural thing in the world to her. Ever since Palpatine had broken her Force bond with Ben though, it felt as though something vital between her and the Force had also been severed. Before there was an undercurrent of something living, a laugh, a caress, a gentle whisper that carried through every moment. Now it was empty.

She saw the tears land on the floor before she felt them fall down her face, before she realized she was crying. The sobs choked their way out of her, squeezing her heart.

“Please,” she said, voice breaking, barely able to get the words out. “Please Ben, be with me.”

“I am. I am with you. I would have been with you sooner if you hadn’t chosen such a sandy backwater to live on.”

Rey bolted upright, turning ready, expectant to see his glowing ghost. What she found was different though.

There he stood before her, flesh and blood. He had a bit of a wry smile on his face, but it didn’t match the sadness in his dark eyes, the longing and the joy mingling in the most bittersweet way.

“Ben? H-how?”

“It’s a complicated story. I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. All I know is that I did die. At least, I think I did. I was met by a sort of…ghost council. The spirits of my own ancestors and Jedi of the past. I was offered a choice.”

“A choice?”

“Yes. For the crimes I had committed they could not just bring me back to life. That much I understood easily. What I did not know was that there was another way. A sacrifice I could make. They could not bring me back with the powers of a Jedi, rightfully mine as they were. The Force demands a balance, and with only one Jedi left…they could not return another to the world. It would be too dangerous. Instead, Anakin Skywalker, my grandfather, offered me something. His life force. At least, what was left of it. It would not be enough to maintain my connection to the force, but it would be enough to bring me back to life. And so I woke up on the empty world of Exegol, a Sith planet that most certainly did not want me.

After that it was a struggle to find you. I knew you wouldn’t be on Exegol anymore, but I also wasn’t sure where you would have gone other than Jakku. I checked there, by the way. All I found was a very angry junkyard owner.” He smiled a little bit, some of that humor shining through. “So I kept looking. I could have contacted the Resistance, but I had a feeling that would end in my death. Again. I was eager to avoid that, so instead I settled for a search. And that’s how I ended up here.”

Silence stretched between the two, a taut cord.

“That’s why you never came,” she said. “That’s why your force ghost never found me. All those times I asked. It’s because…it’s because you were alive.”

“Alive and looking for you. Searching the universe.”

She reached out a hand but froze. Something in her was afraid to touch him, afraid her hand would slip right through and she would find a new world of pain in her hallucinations. Hesitantly, Ben reached for her as well, his bare hand reaching towards her fingers in something that almost looked like a handshake. In the slightest of touches, their fingertips just brushed against each other.

Then his hand swallowed hers whole and they were kissing and he was real. Rey found her hands swallowed up by his dark hair, trying to caress every inch of his face. He was alive, and he was hers, a warm hand enveloping her own and the other on her waist.

He was the first to pull away when he realized that Rey didn’t care if she suffocated. He smiled at her, that roguish grin she had missed so much, something he had inherited from his father.

“I’m glad you decided to take my hand this time.”

“I always wanted to.”

“I know. But seriously, Tatooine? There’s a lot more to the world than desert. I think you would like Naboo. Then again, you have terrible taste in planets, apparently.” He laughed.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

So he did, kissing her under the dual setting suns of Tatooine.

#reylo #kylo ren #rey #rey x kylo ren #rey palpatine #rey skywalker #rey x ben solo #ben solo #star wars #sw #the rise of skywalker #tros #tros spoilers #the rise of skywalker spoilers #star wars spoilers #sw spoilers

[madmen]

all of them pls jodie comer janelle monae phoebe waller bridge, have fun

do you have a crush on anyone? yeee on my grilled friend! bitches be havin girled friends.

what’s your favorite candy? i am cadbury dairy milk bar’s bitch! i also really like kitkats especially the mini ones those are so good.

favorite love song? aaaaa it changes with the weather i like so many but can’t take my eyes off of you is always a classic both it and let’s get married (mitski cover) make me feel Warm and the past few months i cannot stop listening to mr mika tiny love. yes this question asked for one but this is me restraining myself i promise. OH it might be being alive from company actually.

what was your first kiss like? technically my first kiss lasted for .0001 of a second in a public high school hallway and it was by accident so i choose to disregard that one because the one after that was very nice imagine. you are on a BEACH it is MIDNIGHT she tastes like some type of wine and you are not sober and do not know what you’re doing so you’re taking MENTAL NOTES and trying to imitate what it feels like she’s doing but you want to live in this moment forever.

what was your last kiss like? it was sweet! well, more like salty because we were crying but it’s because we are simply full of love!

sexual/romantic orientation? i’m a (fleabag godmother voice) LESBIAN

do you prefer poems or love letters? love letters hands DOWN

favorite fanfic trope? i like it when they’re both friends and in love and afraid to say anything for fear of ruining their relationship. there is a name for this but i hate it so i will not say it it’s two words, first one with an m and second one with a p. Don’t know what it is about that second word but. hate it.

have you ever been in love? yes, highly recommend

favorite milkshake flavor? I don’t like milkshakes I think they’re ice cream soup which is disgusting but my favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip if that counts

dinner dates or brunch dates? I prefer the idea of brunch dates but I wake up hungry so in practice probably dinner dates but like. to diners so I can have breakfast food.

favorite flowers? Pink carnations! Honorable mentions to bleeding hearts and roses that are light orange or light blue or light pink.  

favorite perfume/cologne? no clue

favorite candle scent? if it’s sold during fall i probably love it anything pumpkin-y or slightly-but-not-too-much cinnamon-y

what’s your ideal first date? we go on a funky lil adventure! we see some fancy house and get food together and then see something else maybe a beeg church i like the way they make me feel small and they make me feel Whole when i’m there with someone i care about. maybe go for a walk in my head this is some city we’ve never been to and we just walk and talk and hold hands and point out pretty architecture.

favorite love story? in real life i am still losing it every time i think about how ronan farrow proposed to jonathan lovett via his BOOK. in fiction i am unfortunately stuck at 11 still losing it over both the doctor and rose as well as mary and matthew crawley.

what’s the most attractive thing a person could wear? idk i think suits are hot but i also melt when my girlfriend wears her oversized hoodie she just looks so cute and cozy! i feel like most things are attractive when you’re into a person. also lingerie.

chocolate, vanilla, or red velvet? vanilla!

snow, rain, or sun? rain but not too hard just a nice light mist

sweetest romantic memory? she wrote me LOVE LETTERS!!!!

favorite dating sim (and favorite character)? I have played all of one dating sim, which makes it my favorite by default. Unfortunately, it is UmaPri/My Horse Prince. I did not finish it I got impatient and my apartment watched a playthrough on youtube you don’t even get to fuck horse boy I don’t think you even kiss but it’s still so funny horse boy is obviously the best character.

fictional crushes? leia organa, cheryl blossom or betty cooper (whichever one is more likely to commit a crime on that episode), joan holloway, betty draper, villanelle, all the big little lies milfs, among others.

what’s your dream wedding like? it takes place at the johns hopkins library if i can’t have that then like. some fancy house or library or museum somewhere thats super neat. i don’t know what i wear but i look very nice. all my friends are there and it’s Very Fancy. elegant and refined thats the general Vibe.

what makes you blush? i have no clue i think sometimes when i drink my face flushes so we’ll go with that

do you believe in love at first sight? only in romeo and juliet. i think theres like. a spark at first sight maybe but also not needed for love ya know?

do you believe in soulmates? i don’t know i feel like theres like. maybe a list of people who are your soulmate? like it couldve been this one yea but it also couldve been someone else had circumstances been different like the world is soooooooooooooo big and sometimes theres right place wrong timing i think? i don’t know. 

denim jackets, leather jackets, or bomber jackets? on me? all of the above. on hot gals? leather jackets.

what’s your sign? taurus sun, leo moon and rising

are you single? nope i have a grilled friend! i love her!

do you prefer to charm, or be charmed? both!

guitar or piano? normally i’d say piano but rianne used to play guitar so mixed thots here also it’s so fun to try and teach her piano and hear her lil laugh when i fix her fingers on the keys. answer foggy try again later

favorite romcom (or any romantic movie)? when harry met sally!!!!!! 

do you fall in love easily? i don’t think so but i’ve only done it once so i could be mistaken

valentine’s decorations: yay or nay? i think they’re cute!

would you prefer to propose or be proposed to? what’s your dream proposal? I wanna propose which throws a real Wrench in Rianne’s concurrent desire to propose. Gotta keep the proposal a surprise, soz gang.

cloud gazing or star gazing? Star gazing!

do you like to dance? I cannot dance to save my life but god if I don’t fantasize about it every second of the livelong day

what’s your OTP? please do not make me admit to being into harry potter on main, and worse yet being into dr*rry and w*lfstar it is rightfully embarrassing.

kittens or puppies? I am afraid of almost all living things which includes kittens and puppies but I prefer pictures of puppies

coffee, hot chocolate, or tea? Cofy!

favorite soda? i hate fizz > : ( why does everyone like it when it feels like theres ants crawling on your tongue?

do you prefer gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically over the sofa? is there someone to give me atten shun? if so, i’m lying dramatically on the sofa. if i’m on my own it’s window time babey

favorite ABBA song? this one also changes over the years right now i’m gonna say voulez-vous

fuck/marry/kill? (anons name 3 people of your choice) this is so MEAN okay so phoebe waller-bridge’s dad was named in the panama papers i know she has the most exorbitant amount of wealth and i trust her to treat me right. that leaves jodie and janelle cannot stress enough how much i haaaaate having to kill any of them okay at the oscars we saw what janelle’s tongue can do so unfortunately we will be sacrificing jodie comer : / jodie i’m sorry i love you.

favorite pajamas? I don’t own pajamas because I’m a weirdo who either sleeps in their clothes or an oversized long sleeve t shirt and leggings

favorite liquor? vodka for mixing, sourz for shots

do you think about love a lot? yeeeeeeeeeeee

a walk in the park or a walk on the beach? i don’t like sand. it’s rough and it’s coarse and it gets everywhere. Honestly I think I’d rather just walk indoors i am anti fresh air got that sweet sweet hay fever

hand kisses or nose kisses? nose kisses!

what’s your dreamhouse? i wanna live in the city in an apartment and due to the fact that i am american it is unfortunately so big in my head no apartment has ever been this beeg and if it did exist i could not afford it but. it’s so pretty i have fancy kitchen cabinets and my living room is filled with bookshelf upon bookshelf of used books and it has room for my piano and i have a beeeeeg sleigh bed and black cherry furniture and a dishwasher and a laundry room. i come home and am filled with calm.

#roman forum #personal

[loopy777]

“You’re so beautiful when you hate the world” is Zuko’s version of the infamous “I hate sand” quote.

On the contrary, Zuko demonstrates much more Game with that quote than poor Anakin ever managed. Let me, an adult on the internet with less romantic experience than most preteens, break it down in a wise and knowing way.

When Anakin trots out his line, Padme has just been talking about a good memory associated with sand. Now, granted, this is probably insensitive of her considering that the boy she’s trying to seduce grew up in slavery on a desert planet, but Anakin recovers very poorly. He immediately seizes on an element of her happy memory to disparage, and goes so far as to bring up Hate, the very opposite of love and affection. He continues the negative line of thought with, “It’s coarse and rough and irritating.” All things that no one wants to be associated with. He finishes it up with, “And it gets everywhere.” And with those words, he now has the girl he’s trying to smooch thinking about butt cracks. Because, come on, it’s annoying to have sand in your shoes or eyes or whatever, but when you say ‘everywhere’ like that, every single human being is immediately going to think about butt cracks. And that’s not really first date material, you know? He tries to recover with, “Not like here. Here everything is soft and smooth,” but the damage is done, and this is a very halfhearted effort at positivity. Soft and smooth? I mean, I wouldn’t say no to such a compliment, but it’s not really what I’ve ever had my heart set on, you know? I moisturize, but noticing isn’t exactly the way to win my love.

Now, Zuko? He immediately leads with, “You’re so beautiful…” And that, people, is how you bring your A-Game. Girlfriend talking about her least favorite color? She’s beautiful. Girlfriend complaining that the shrimp she had for lunch may have been bad? She’s beautiful. Girlfriend covered in the blood of her enemies and asking how you wound up with someone’s sword in your spleen? She’s beautiful. That is never something bad to hear, even if it’s not necessarily the highest priority at the moment, and it’s even more of a compliment in a casual setting than it is when someone is all dolled up. Because yes, when we’re made up and dressed to the nines, we want to hear that we look good, but there’s something especially comforting in knowing that your lover always thinks you’re beautiful. So Zuko might be a bit clumsy and blunt here, but he’s definitely got the right idea.

And then he finishes the statement with, “…when you hate the world.” Yes, to our ears, this is the dumbest sentiment imaginable, but it’s also Mai’s default state. She hates the world. Not a burning, empowering kind of hate; I think it’s more of a simmering, background sourness. But she does feel and express that hate, and Zuko is showing that he’s fine with it. Not just fine, but attracted to it! And from what we’ve seen, the usual response to Mai hating the world is either telling her she’s wrong, ignoring her, or insulting her. Zuko is just like, “Yup, you do hate the world, and I’m kind of hot for it.” That’s the most accepting, positive thing Mai has probably ever heard.

So, yeah, it’s the kind of thing only a dumb teenage boy might say, but there’s some real wisdom behind it.

Anakin, though? He stumbled into the dumbest possible thing to say and then desperately tried to steer it somewhere benign. If Padme hadn’t been trying to actively seduce him (for whatever reason), things would have crashed and burned right there.

So, in conclusion, Zuko > Anakin. He also didn’t ever murder everyone he knows, so bonus!

#Anonymous #zumai

[the-one-line-wonder]

Drowning in Love

Even though Geralt would argue that his bard should be used to his rather coarse demeanor after all these years of traveling together, he also would be quick to admit that he hadn’t been all that kind to Jaskier that day. Between the frustration of not being able to find work for over a week and the nagging sting of wounds not yet fully healed from the last contract, Geralt was on edge, and even the slightest sound was grating on his nerves. Even though he was usually prone to nonstop chatter and songs on a regular day, Geralt knew Jaskier was feeling similar to what he was, and that talking and strumming his lute was how he handled those emotions. So, Geralt had tried to hold his tongue for as long as he could, but on the third rendition of ‘Toss a Coin’ that day, he had lost it.

Normally, Jaskier wouldn’t even bat an eye at Geralt’s insults and sneers, but being on a short fuse himself, he had of course been upset by the other man’s harshness. In a shocking moment of emotional maturity, Jaskier opted to travel several feet ahead of him and Roach until the two of them could have a conversation without ripping each other's heads off.

This, as it turns out, was a bad idea.

Geralt heard the Drowners far before he saw them, his hand reflexively smacking Roach’s rear to get her away from danger as his own feet blurred into a sprint. His shout of Jaskier’s name had only just begun to leave his lips when he heard the bard scream his name in terror far too many feet ahead of him. The dirt of the road crunched more harshly under Geralt’s boots as he willed himself faster, his footfall sounding none the softer as he tore across the grass beside the road and into the shallow puddles that speckled the riverside.

He could smell the bard's blood in the air, soaking his now tattered clothes as the foul creatures dug their claws into his flesh, the coppery scent churning his stomach in ways he would never admit to out loud. His fingertips had just barely grazed Jaskier’s frilly doublet as he was dragged towards the murky water before his boot caught on a gaping hole in the back of a discarded skull, sending him toppling to the ground. He just barely managed to avoid landing on Jaskier’s fallen lute before he scrambled to his feet, the crunch of bones a morbid accompaniment to the bard’s continuous screams for help, a sound Geralt knew would be replaying in his mind for weeks after if he didn’t get to his bard now.

The rough waves and the pressure pushing against his eardrums as he swam deep into the river only amplified his panic, lowering his ability to pinpoint exactly where Jaskier was in the blood clouded water. He willed himself calm for just a moment, trying to find his bearings before he lost which way was up.

A piece of intricate lace, now tinged a sickening red, floated up into his field of vision, followed by far too many bubbles for Geralt’s liking. He dove deeper, his silver sword only coming free from its sheath so easily from years of muscle memory. Claws dug into his leg from somewhere below, a muffled, inhuman screech bubbling passed his ears along with more blood a sword swing later.

He pushed himself deeper, swinging at another Drowner just as it’s claws came into view. Reaching down, his fingers gripped around the collar of Jaskier’s shirt, the limp way it pulled against his upward drag setting his stomach into knots all over again. He slipped an arm around Jaskier’s waist as soon as he drifted high enough before kicking to the surface, trying to ignore how heavy Jaskier got with each passing second.

His sword met the beach first, it clattering in the sand mere moments before Geralt practically threw Jaskier beside it. He dragged his limp companion a few feet away from the water before dropping heavily to his knees, his teeth pulling off a glove on the way down. His fingers shook as he felt around for a pulse, a reaction that had very little to do with the wind starting to whip around them. He had managed to find one, albeit faint, but-

“Fuck.” When not even his enhanced hearing could identify the slightest breath from the Bard’s lungs, the curse tore from his lips with the same ferocity of his blade just a few moments ago. He tilted Jaskier’s head back and began to rhythmically push upon his diaphragm, trying his damndest to ignore the way Jaskier’s body jolted in response.

Geralt then took a deep breath before sealing his lips to Jaskier’s, pushing a few lungfuls of air into his own. He hated how cold and unresponsive his lips were, it being such a stark contrast to when he had kissed them earlier that morning after waking with the bard curled into his chest on their bedroll.

“Dammit, Jaskier breathe!” Geralt started to feel sick the more minutes passed where his bard didn’t draw breath, tears actually threatening to push past his eyes, though from sadness or the strain of it all he could not say. He was beginning to think all this was a futile effort, that he was too late and that if he had just apologized earlier this wouldn’t have happened-

His internal fury was cut short by a shallow gurgle, a few muted coughs not too far behind. Jaskier jolted up with wide eyes, then quickly rolled onto his side as he coughed up the water that had settled in his lungs. Geralt’s breaths were just as harsh as the bard’s as he helped him sit up in his battle for air, though Geralt’s continued to be frantic far after Jaskier’s had settled as he attempted to calm himself.

As if almost on cue, Roach meandered her way towards them, letting out a huff as if she were judging them. Geralt was up on his feet in seconds, a harsh grumble of “stay there” being his parting words as he set about looking for cloth to bind Jaskier’s wounds. Of course his bard didn’t listen, Geralt could hear the cry of pain as Jaskier reached for what he assumed was his lute.

Geralt was back on him in an instant, dumping a jar of healing salve and his other glove into the sand as he unrolled the cloth and cut it to size. He cleaned the wounds in silence while Jaskier busied himself with checking over his lute, mumbling about scratched paint and how sand was such a pain to get out of all the nooks and crannies. When the last wound was cleaned and covered, Geralt finally let himself relax. He took the lute from Jaskier’s fiddling hands and set it to the side, ignoring the bard’s words of protest as he buried his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. A moment later Jaskier sighed and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, pulling him close as his cheek found a home on top of Geralt's head.

“I’m okay, Love. I’ve stopped bleeding and everything!” He hadn’t, but that was beside the point. Geralt let out an indifferent hum in response, wrapping his arms gently around Jaskier’s smaller frame. He very carefully pulled him into his lap, lifting his head from Jaskier’s shoulder to rest their foreheads together.

“Never do that again.” I can’t protect you if you go too far.

“You do realize you pretty much just told me to stay close to you, right?” Jaskier smiled, knowing the unspoken words of his Witcher.

“Hm.”

“Okay, I was just making sure you knew. Sometimes you say things and don’t mean them. Kind of like earlier with the ‘get away from me’ business.”

“What makes you think I didn’t mean it.” It was more of a statement than a question, to which Jaskier just laughed.

“Oh, no reason, Dear.” Jaskier said with a soft kiss to his lips. “Just a little hunch, is all.”

#geraskier #my writing #tw blood #tw drowning #almost but still #i take fic requests!

[luke-shywalker]

I just finished reading Phasma. Spoilers under the cut.

Rating it purely on how much I enjoyed it, I’d give it a 7 out of 10.

If you’re reading this book, most likely you’re reading it because you want to learn about Phasma. You’ll probably be disappointed. The book is pretty much 30% Phasma, 70% Dawson’s characters. You have to endure a clunky frame narrative as Captain Cardinal, Phasma’s rival, interrogates Vi Moradi, a female Poe Dameron Resistance spy about Phasma. Cardinal will end up being the one character you relate to most, as he continually gets annoyed at Vi for not telling him anything about Phasma and instead focusing on Dawson’s OCs.

Within Vi’s story, the plot is fairly predictable. Pretty early on you figure out who’s going to die in a half-baked attempt to rouse your emotions, but it’s pretty hard to feel empathy when the characters are just archetypes instead of complex personalities. There’s Carr, the funny guy, Gosta, the innocent girl, and Torben, the strong dude and love interest. (Oh yeah, and Siv, who’s the main character of Vi’s story. She has no defining traits except she’s pure and motherly I guess. I didn’t even realize she existed until a quarter into the book, and she’s the narrator in Vi’s story.)

The most interesting characters in the book are Brendol and Armitage Hux. Dawson apparently can’t resist setting her novel on a sand planet without referring to the “coarse rough and irritating” line, so you get treated to Brendol delivering a modified version of the Anakin sand bit. Slow clap.

Also, you learn that Brendol died by exploding. Brendol Hux literally exploded. He got bitten by a beetle that causes you to retain water until you explode. But more interesting than that, Armitage and Phasma colluded in his death (you can predict this pretty early on as well).

Other notable bits include Armitage dressed in a bathrobe, Armitage talking to a child and saying “We’re going to go become good soldiers for the First Order! I was once very little like you, but I took a ride on a ship like this one and now look how big I am!”, Armitage wanting both to impress and destroy his father, Armitage being snubbed over his father treating Cardinal as a son but not him, Armitage being referred to as “Brendol’s hated son,” Armitage calling his father “an old bastard” and saying he’s glad he’s dead... Yeah, in a book titled Phasma the most interesting character is Armitage Hux.

So what do we actually learn about Phasma? We learn she came from a tribal society. We learn she had a brother, whom she maimed on purpose. We learn she killed her family members whenever she needed to rise to the top. We learn she killed Armitage’s dad. We learn she kills a frickton of people. We learn that, yes, she actually does look like Gwendoline Christie under that helmet. We learn that her armor is made of metal from Palpatine’s yacht or whatever, but we already knew that.

Look, if all you want from this book is the tasty, fresh new canon information, just go to Wookieepedia so you don’t have to sit through this narrative to get it.

Take a shot of apple juice every time:

Dawson uses the words “clipped” or “polished” to describe the British accent

You encounter the name of a character you don’t remember

Brendol acts like a prissy sissypants and you wonder how the heck he’s a general

One of the party dies, bonus if you predicted their death

Vi inserts herself into Siv’s narrative and says something like “of course, Siv didn’t know what an x was, but I do, so I’m telling you”

Phasma and Brendol go away to talk by themselves and you don’t get to hear what they say

To the book’s credit, it does set up Phasma as being pretty epic. She’s shown to be am incredible fighter and an pretty good strategist.

...But then how was she taken down by a Wookiee, an old guy, and one of her own men??

At least it’s now clear why she took down Starkiller’s shields so quickly. The book establishes that her loyalties are not to the First Order, but to herself. And that’s the most interesting thing I learned about Phasma from Phasma.

#shut up shywalker #star wars books

[millicentthecat]

Do you think Kylo might ever come to hate snow in the same way his grandfather hated sand?

*gasp* Oh, you asked about the thing.  A thing I have the Opinions about.  :D

Ok so the context of Anakin’s Sandhate™ is thus:

PADMÉ:  We used to come here for school retreat. We would swim to that island everyday.  I love the water.  We used to lie on the sand and let the sun dry us… and try to guess the names of the birds.

ANAKIN: I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere.  Not like here.  Here everything’s soft… and smooth…

Padme is sharing something she likes about the place she grew up.  She’s disclosing a personal childhood memory, but also offering a look into who she is.  This isn’t small talk: it’s a moment of comfort and trust and closeness.  And she specifically mentions sand!  

IMO, Anakin’s response is..abrupt, but perfectly reciprocal.  I think we expect men to spend a conversation like this asking questions, digging for a woman’s secrets like they are precious jewels.  Personally, I find that can be one-sided at best and invasive at worst.  Padme is sharing precious memories of her childhood so Anakin remembers his.  As a slave.  On tattooine.  A place where the sandstorms are deadly.

Oh yeah and here’s the line that was cut, which is supposed to follow “I love the water:”ANAKIN:  I do too. I guess it comes from growing up on a desert planet.

They’re talking about climate–the weather, basically–but it’s reaching to something much deeper.  Memories.  Nostalgia vs. trauma.  The line isn’t a non-sequitor and it isn’t out of place, conversationally.  And what happens next?  He goes from rehashing this traumatic memory to seeking comfort by touching, kissing.

I admit it felt sudden and weird and discordient the first time I saw it, because the editing is paced weirdly, and because Natalie doesn’t really broadcast a lot of interest.  Padme in the script totally does.  Every time in the AotC script she says “you’ve grown,” she broadcasts her valuation of his personal acquiescence to duty, and her equation of this quality with emotional maturity.  Honestly, I think the prequels dialogue that everyone (including me) found so inaccessible is built to be inaccessible.  Lucas called it poetry, and I truly think it’s built for poetic effect, and for exigesis.

Like, another example given.  When Anakin kills the sandpeople.  He screams “they’re animals, and I slaughtered them like animals!”  He’s upset.  Why?  Well, because (understandably?) the idea of slaughtering animals upsets him.

I know I wrote before (somewhere?  here maybe?) about how Anakin rejects the human framework. Practically his first line in episode I has him asking Padme (indirectly, in the form of an awkward pickup line) if she’s human.  He’s visibly comfortable talking to aliens and droids as equals; he visibly struggles with talking to human beings as equals.  So his freakout about the sandpeople is precipitated by literally encountering this block of empathy and crisis from killing and HATING people he sees as people (animals) and that he sees as like him.  And Padme’s response?  "To be angry is to be human.“  In the context of poetic effect?  He’s struggling because he killed animals, and she calls his anger human.  She’s literally saying, “you’re not like them, you’re like ME - so what you did is ok.”

AND then Anakin’s response is “I’m a Jedi, I know I’m better than this!”  Which I heard entirely as “Jedi are NOT human, they don’t GET angry, and if you say I’m human like you, then I really am failing at being a Jedi.”

ANYWAY THOUGH returning to sand and the ask lol.  Anakin’s “I hate sand” is a poetic contrast to Padme’s “I love water.”  Here’s the rest of the conversation that was cut, from the AotC script:

PADMÉ:  There was a very old man who lived on the island. He used to make glass out of sand - and vases and necklaces out of the glass. They were magical.

ANAKIN: (looks into her eyes) Everything here is magical.

PADMÉ: You could look into the glass and see the water. The way it ripples and moves. It looked so real… but it wasn’t.

ANAKIN: Sometimes, when you believe something to be real, it becomes real. Real enough, anyway…

PADMÉ: I used to think if you looked too deeply into glass, you would lose yourself.

ANAKIN: I think it’s true…

It’s fabulously clever.  He’s sand and she’s water, and glass is a transformation of sand into something that looks like water.  THAT’S IT, THAT’S THE SEDUCTION.  Erm sorry for shouting.  It’s just, it’s two disparate elements, coming together, losing themselves in the image of each other.  It’s very beautiful.

So, do I think Kylo could have similar opinions about snow?  Maybe.  But both of Kylo’s grandparents loved water.  Snow = water.  So I think Kylo would love snow.  And rain.  He loves water like Padme loved water, but he loves it where it’s powerful and turbulent and mutable.  Water that moves and changes and shapes the surface of the world.

#anidala #star wars #kylo ren #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #meta #prequels meta #prequels nerding #prequels defense squad

[jmlascar]

long tag for the bae

I was planning to work on my fic but then @krasnyzmeya posted this tag and said she’d like to read my answers so obviously this is what my productive brain chose to do! But it was fun haha (also bby your answers cracked me up so much, especially your mom’s quote, she’s a legend) 

1. Coke or Pepsi: oh man I drink way too much diet coke

2: Disney or Dreamworks: I love Disney songs, but i’ll have to go with Dreamworks because you don’t get more brilliant than Shrek. Also How to train your dragon makes me cry and I think the internet needs to thank them for the utter weirdness that was the Bee Movie. It gave birth to some quality memes.

3: Coffee or tea: Tea, because I like just about any type, whereas I’m very specific about my coffee. But I drink a lot of both.

4: Books or movies: Books.

5: Windows or Mac: I was raised by the biggest Mac fanboy this planet ever saw, so that’s what I’m most familiar with, haha.

6: DC or Marvel: DC for the comics, Marvel for the TV shows, both for the movies. (is this cheating?) (whatever that question is cheating) (you can’t just pick one)

7: Xbox or Playstation: Nintendo DS. Tbh I never played the other two. We did have a playstation at home but it effectively became my brother’s.

8: Dragon Age or Mass Effect: I haven’t played either, but from what I’ve heard of it Dragon Age looks really cool.

9: Night owl or early riser: It is currently 2:45am. Definitely night owl. (If only for the owl part.)

10: Cards or chess: I love chess.

11: Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla.

12: Vans or Converse: …I only wear boots? But I’ve owned my fair share of Converses in the past, so that.

13: Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: Are these Dragon Age characters? Idk. Whoever’s gayest, probably.

14: Fluff or angst: I want fluff in my life and angst in my books.

15: Beach or forest: Forest. ‘I hate sand. It’s coarse and rough and it gets everywhere.’ –> my life

16: Dogs or Cats: …this is just cruel. 

17: Clear skies or rain: Rain rain rain

18: Cooking or eating out: Cooking is pretty nice, even if i’m often too lazy to do it properly. Cooking with friends is especially fun. 

19: Spicy food or mild food: I am so weak. Spice makes me cry. My tastes are boringly mild, lol. 

20: Halloween/Samhain or Solstice/Yule/Christmas: Halloweeen, because candy, scary movies, and cool costumes!

21: Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot (and no the winter coats and AC’s are not an option): I mean… normally I prefer cold over heat, but that’s because I get to be warm and fuzzy in my blankets. But if that doesn’t warm me up, I’d probably pick hot and drink lots of iced tea? But would the ice tea feel cool or?? idk the physics of that question hurts my brain lol

22: If you could have a superpower, what would it be: Controlling time! Or super memory.

23: Animation or live action: That’s so broad, I’m not even going to begin trying to pick one, man. 

24: Paragon or renegade: I don’t know what this is. But Renegade sounds edgy. So that.

25: Baths or showers: Give me a lavender scented bubble bath and i’ll probably ask you to marry me

26: Team Cap or Team Ironman: OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN 

27: Fantasy or Sci-Fi: Sci-Fi

28: Do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they? If not do you think you will in future? I’ve got sooo many, hahaha. I have a tendency to fall in love with pretty words. Let me pick the ones I can think off the top of my head:

from A Streecar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams: “They told me to take a streetcar named Desire and then transfer to one called Cemeteries and ride six blocks and get off at — Elysian Fields!”

from the Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison: “Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another — physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought.”

from Giovanni’s Room, Hames Baldwin: “Touch, but no contact. All touch, but no contact and no light.” I asked him: “Why?” “That you must ask yourself,” he told me, “and perhaps one day this morning will not be ashes in your mouth.”

from The Lake, Alphonse de la Martine: “Mais je demande en vain quelques moments encore, Le temps m'échappe et fuit ; Je dis à cette nuit : Sois plus lente ; et l'aurore Va dissiper la nuit.”

English translation: "But I demand in vain a few moments again Time escapes and runs away from me I tell that night: Be slower; yet the dawn Will dissipate the night.“ 

from salt. by Nayyirah Waheed: ” ‘no’ might make them angry. but it will make you free. — if no one ever told you, your freedom is more important than their anger

29: Youtube or Netflix: Netflix. Their originals are the best of what tv can make, and they’ve never disappointed me so far.

30. Classic Disney, Disney Renaissance, or Modern Disney? Renaissance.

31. What would you tell your younger self? “Don’t listen to them. Keep being you. It’s going to be ok.”

32. If you could change one thing about the world around you, what would it be? I would make us all one hermaphrodite gender.

33. Make music or listen to music? @meta-duckling will tell you I’m off-tune and deprived of rhythmic sense (i’ll never forget nor forgive, nathan. never.) sooo i’ll go with listening, haha. I did play the harpsichord for a couple of years (& if you think it’s a lame outdated instrument just remember that hannibal lecter plays it, so u might wanna be careful, just saying) and used to sing kinda well but now it’s all gone

34. Slow burn or Oneshot?: Definitely slow burns. Big books and 300k word long fics with heaps of subtle character development give me life. That being said, I have a couple of one-shots I really love out there, and I think I’d enjoy writing one.

and I’ll tag @meta-duckling because i know how much you love making decisions ♡

#okay sooooo it's now 3am so there are probably typos sorryy