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foli-vora · 6 months

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the sun will shine again

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: just a little self indulgent something I wrote for comfort when I needed it, but maybe it can be a little reassuring hug for someone here as well? If you're struggling, please reach out to your local helplines, friends, family, doctors, teachers, coworkers - you're worthy of your existence on this planet, and you're not alone ❤️

Word count: 2k

Warnings: heavy themes. Depression, thoughts of suicide and intent, mentions of a weapon (gun), Joel struggles with feelings but he gets the message across, Ellie is Ellie with a little needed comic relief, hurt & much needed comfort

You don't want it anymore. Any of it. You just want peace. You want to be able to wake without the lingering presence of something heavy weighing down on your heart, your soul. You want to be able to smile, and feel it curl on your lips knowing it's nothing but true, and it's not there hiding the ugly thoughts and feelings stirring in your mind. You just want to be happy.

Is that even possible? Does happiness even exist anymore? The world had been torn apart long ago - there is very little to smile for now. Maybe it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe this is all there is.

No.

No, this isn't all of it.

You're sure you feel happiness, even if it doesn't manage to make it across your features most of the time. You feel the tender warmth of it in your chest, the blissful ease of the never ending pressure threatening to crush you under its weight.

It happens now, despite the horrific events that seem to follow your footsteps. Ellie's a sweet thing. She hides it behind her stubbornness and sarcasm, but you spy a slight comfort building within her as time rolls on—a peace.

Joel mirrors it, and he fights it - God does he fight it. Of course you know why he keeps her at arms length, why he desperately fights to keep that void present, but lately, it's wavered. He smiles, laughs even. It's beautiful to witness. He deserves it all and so much more.

You on the other hand? The shadows have seemingly only grown outside of the QZ despite being free, creeping along and filling every vacant space in your mind. It's so damn heavy. Something's there, a presence that seems to know exactly when to strike with its poisonous words, and it's not long until a part of you starts to believe them.

You don't belong here. You don't deserve them. You don't deserve this. You should've died long ago. Why are you still here? They would be better off without you.

It's those thoughts that have you here now, staring numbly at the sun beginning to shine over the horizon with a weight in your hands. There's a harsh chill in the air that bites at your skin through your thick, tattered long sleeve, but you don't care. You won't be here when the snow eventually hits.

You had left your jacket draped over a sleeping Ellie, her cheeks and nose tinged pink from the low temperature. It wouldn't go to waste - she'll get a lot of use out of it. Your pack you'd left in its spot beside Joel's - he'll take whatever they need before they move off. You have nothing else of worth.

They'll be better off. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. Everyone will be better off.

Your gaze drops to your hands where they cradle the handgun, the steel barrel now warm from your touch. You only have one bullet - you left the rest behind. You wouldn't need them, anyway. Joel'll get a use out of them. They'll both be safe.

Safer without you. Better without you.

So why can’t you do it? Why can’t you just get it over with? Why are you hesitating?

The last few months roll through your mind. Blurs of memories, of you and Joel, of you and Ellie, each one rolling through your mind and bringing that sweetly craved warmth back to your chest. You know why you’re hesitating.

It’s a battle between love and darkness, and you hate that the darkness is winning. You’re weak.

They deserve more than you.

“Watching the sunrise?"

The unexpected but familiar gravel has you jumping about a mile high out of your skin. Your head whips to where Joel is approaching quietly from behind, and you discreetly tuck the gun into the waistband of your jeans as you nod, forcing a strained curl of your lips.

"It's a nice view," he continues quietly, voice still roughened from the few hours of sleep he managed to get. "I wasn't expectin' you to be gone so long."

He had been resting when you left the little campsite, eyes closed and merely grunting in reply when you mentioned needing a bit of privacy. How long had it been since you left? How long had you been dragging your feet in carrying this shit out?

"I got distracted," you explain weakly, shifting slightly over on the unforgiving boulder you sit on so he can rest on it beside you, "sorry."

He notices your clear lack of jacket.

"You cold?"

"No," you lie.

He's watching you, studying you. You can feel it. You keep your eye on the horizon, taking in the pastel mix of blues and oranges stretching across the sky as the sun starts to rise further above the landscape in an effort to escape his scrutiny.

"You needin' these?"

Glancing towards him, you watch as he sticks his hand down the front pocket of his jeans before holding it out to you, noting the bullets rolling around his palm. Your bullets. There's something hanging in his gaze as it remains heavily fixed on you. Maybe a slight edge of suspicion? Challenge?

You don't manage to hold it long enough to find out.

"Uh, not that I know of. I think I'm good."

He makes a low noise of thought, "Alright. Well, why don't you let me check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Joel—"

"Come on."

The cold's long seeped into your bones now. You weren't meant to take this long. Another thing you can't do right. Moving takes a small bit of effort, your fingers now numb as they struggle to keep a firm grip on the weapon and pass it over.

Joel swiftly pops open the cylinder once he has the gun in hand, taking a long, quiet moment to examine the one single bullet residing in there. His thumb briefly brushes over the top surface of it, before readying the other bullets in between the grasp of his fingers.

"Not gettin' far with only one," he comments dryly, nimbly filling the cylinder and then flicking it shut with a noticeable click.

He doesn't give it back to you.

Instead, he reaches behind his back and tucks the gun down the waistband of his jeans beside his own, before fixing his jacket above them. He sighs, a deep heave of breath that blows out from his lips with a wispy cloud that carries away with the breeze as he seems to lose himself in thought.

You say nothing. There's nothing for you to say.

"Don't you ever," he starts thickly, voice cutting suddenly through the quiet, "think about doin' that again, you hear me?"

"Do what?"

You feign ignorance.

Whether it's because you don't want to acknowledge your earlier thoughts, or Joel to know about any of it, you don't know. It's silly—he would've found you eventually anyway. Maybe you're just a coward and don't want to face the reality of what he would think of you.

"Don't play with me—not about this.”

An apology sits on your tongue, but it doesn't make it past your lips. You should've known better than to play him as the fool. Joel's anything but stupid. He probably saw through you the instant he laid eyes on you sitting in the cold morning light without a jacket.

“I don’t say it, and maybe I should start, but I can’t lose you,” he rasps, deep brown eyes falling away from your face to follow the soft swirls of the clouds, “I can’t. And I know that’s selfish of me to say, I know it’s not what I should say when you’re feelin’ like this, but—Jesus. Ellie wants you here, needs you here. I need you here, and I know you’re carryin’ a lot in that head of yours but—I just... I’m here for you, alright?”

“Joel—”

“Quiet.”

Your mouth snaps shut immediately.

“I know it’s a lot, and I know it hurts—believe me honey, I know it fuckin’ hurts, and you’re tired and the other side just seems so damn good… but it’s not. It’s not. You… you can’t do that. God, you just can’t.”

The wind chills the hot tears that spill down your cheeks until they feel like ice. He looks at you then, as if sensing the heart ache making wet paths along your skin.

You’re weak.

His hands are hot as they cradle your face carefully, roughened calloused palms covering your cheeks and soothing away the agony filled droplets with a quick brush of his thumbs.

You can’t help but turn into the touch, your own hands coming to wind around his wrists in an effort to keep him close. He’s so warm. You let out the lungful of oxygen you’d been holding onto in your worry, watching the fog of it hang between your faces before fading away.

“I don’t know what to do, Joel,” you admit in a choked whisper, eyes dropping from something close to shame, “My head… I-I don’t know how to fix this—”

His hands press tighter against your cheeks as he angles and holds your face until your eyes are flicking up to meet his. Sincerity fills them, mixing with the ever present concern he hides behind those high almost impenetrable walls. It’s hard to focus on anything but him.

“It’s gonna take time, and it’s gonna be damn hard, but I want you to put it on me, understand? Put it all on me. I’ll carry what you’re strugglin’ with, alright? Hell, I’ll carry you. For as long as I need to. For the rest of my—fuck. Just—just let me help you. Please.”

He wants to do that? For you?

“What if it’s too much?”

“Then we’ll handle it together, like we’ve handled shit hundreds of times before.”

A few more moments of searching his eyes and you’re breathing a quiet okay. The heaviness still rests unforgivingly on your mind, but maybe you won’t struggle so much if someone was there to help you carry the load. Maybe, with time, it would get lighter.

That’s what you could fight for—the days where it won’t hold you down, and threaten to break you completely. The days where, maybe, it won’t be there anymore. Is that even a possibility? It doesn’t matter, you think you’re willing to find out.

His own eyes flicker between yours when your voice reaches his ears, before he gives a slight, barley there nod. His throat bobs with a swallow and then he’s resting his forehead against yours in apparent relief, lashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to be.”

“I fucking knew you guys were a thing.”

Ellie’s voice suddenly picks up from the tree line, her heavy feet trudging through the dense forest floor with the crunch of leaves and the snap of branches. Joel’s hands drop as he pulls away with a slight frown, levelling it on the girl making her way over, but it doesn’t seem to deter her in the slightest.

Despite missing the physical reassurance from Joel, you welcome the change Ellie unknowingly brings to the heavy atmosphere. You even manage a small smile, and it doesn’t feel strange as it stretches along your lips. There it is again—that lovely warmth from within you.

This is it. This is what you want, what you have. It’s just buried most of the time, but—but it’s definitely there. You weren’t imagining it. It’s there.

You’ll fight for it. You’ll fight for her, for Joel. You’ll fight for your peace.

“You didn’t need to hide it for so long—I’m not fucking stupid. I appreciate the jacket, by the way, but I don’t need you turning into an ice block on me,” she says, dumping your warm jacket over your shoulders before moving to your side and looking out towards the sunrise. “Holy shit, look at that view.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction

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andy-aka-lilcsca · 7 months

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Kinger and Queenie headcanons before Queenie abstracted pretty please 😁

Kinger and Queenie HC's

Ooh this is gonna be a cool one to cover!

Its only been Jax with you simps lately (this is a positive joke)

Anyway, here, I tried my best!

Remember, these are out of MY head, and aren't proven to be canon.

-They would read to each other, like how your mother or father used to read you a bedtime story at night, it was very calming, soothing even, and sometimes the other members would listen as well!

-Kinger would always keep Queenie in his 'castle' (pillow fort) always wanting her by his side, it made him feel, full, and she was the only thing pushing him to stay un-abstracted through their time.

-When Kinger joined the circus, he was at the ripe age of 27, the first one of the new bunch, while Queenie joined in at the age of 25

-They cuddled everywhere, it wouldn't matter who was around or watching, Kinger wasn't ashamed of his beautiful Queen. And she knew it too, they were the cutest couple you could've laid your eyes on.

-Be live it or not, Kinger was an artsy (sorta) person, he would (attempt) to paint paintings of Queenie and no matter what they looked like she was always impressed in her King..

-He would definitely sing to her, and on some occasions she would sing to him as well!

-You'd hear them through the hallways, it was a true melody, they sounded perfect, especially when they sang together.

-They'll gently flirt with each other and call each other pet names, again, anywhere in front of anywho, Kinger would often be heard saying the same one, calling her his majesty, while she would call him kingie, and every time it would make him a bit flustered, every single time.

-Kinger would build excessively large, unique 'pillow castles' just for Queenie's delight, he loved seeing her happy, gosh, her being happy was enough to make him the happiest thing on the planet.

Remember people, I'll do about any request I get! So please, do request, it makes me happy, and able to produce something you'll enjoy! Remember, requesting is just sending your request through the ask box!

#Kinger #Queenie #the amazing digital circus #digital circus #tadc #the digital circus #tadc queener #kinger tadc #tadc kinger #kinger x queener #HCs #HeadCannons #LILCSCA #please do request stuff!

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 4 months

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Made it to chapter 16 today which means Feyre and I have both had our first impressions of Rhysand's Inner Circle and ohhhhhhh boy

Its hard to pinpoint why exactly, but theres something so discomforting about watching them interact. I think the main thing is that for all their "casual-ness", theres still clearly a rigid hierarchy between them and they all seem to 'know their place' so to speak, its not at all like Lucien and Tamlin's relationship in the first book which genuinely felt like a friendship that was unburdened by their status or positions. Like, theres this one moment where Mor and Amren are like kinda bickering with each other i guess, and Feyre remarks that Mor is probably super powerful if she dares talk back against Amren (in an incredibly minor matter Im pretty sure but I already forgor ngl) and because this is the book where Feyre's perspective starts being Objectively Correct all the time, I guess that's true, I guess the only reason someone would dare voice their opinion on something to this friend group is if they were physically more powerful because otherwise you just level a fucking mountain during an argument

Anyway, Im gonna switch topics for a short moment but I promise this diversion is relavant to the point above. So, sometimes when I go into the anti-tags on here looking for criticisms or complaints of the books, I instead find anti-ship posts that are mainly just about trash-talking some ship, mostly ones relating to that whole Elucien/Elriel/Gwynriel shipwar, which I already have thoughts on but I'll save those for later. In any case, one day I stumbled upon this pretty long anti-elriel post about how the gifts Elain gives Azriel on winter solstice arent actually cute and it describes how she gave him like, herbs that help with headaches "because his friends are always giving him headaches" apparently. And then that post went on a whole rant about how insensitive that was of her and that she doesnt actually understand Azriel's dynamic with his close friends, but honestly, judging from this chapter Elain was absolutely spot on

And I usually wouldn't say this because yknow, its only one chapter and we're probably gonna get the nuances of their relationship later, but this is a book written by Sarah J Maas, her characters and their relationships are rarely particularly deep and, more importantly, her writing is incredibly unsubtle. If Azriel was in any way fond of his friends shenaningans I wouldve noticed it, because Feyre wouldve noticed it like 15 times during that whole dinner. But she didnt.

Its especially bad for Cassian and Azriel because it feels like Cassian thinks they have this great rapport but Azriel just genuinely kinda dislikes him. Not to mention that whole fucking mess with Azriel and Mor and Cassian and Mor having sex so she wouldnt get married off or whatever, good god how is every conversation between them not insanely awkward

Even beyond that, idk man, theyre all just so insufferable. I dont understand how Amren, ancient eldritch being trapped in a fae body that she is, can stand to be around them, I wouldve left them 5 centuries ago if I was her. I guess the explanation is that she finds the government position interesting but its like, youre SECOND to the most boring and annoying man on the planet only kinda ruling over a court that you dont even actually care about from everything Ive heard. Again, if I was in Amren's position I would not be hanging out in an APARTMENT in a boring ass city at the behest of a quartett of stupid bozos, I wouldve weaseled my way into being the personal advisor of Beron or some shit so I could watch the Vanserra Family Drama unfold live

There was one good thing about this discomforting dinner though, and that was how inexplicably gay Cassian was for Rhysand. He was really out there, looking at him with such love, calling him pretty twice in like two minutes being all "I knew I wanted a piece of him the moment I first saw him, the high lord's pretty son" like okay. I know what you are

#istg the most entertainment Ive gotten out of these books so far are the crumbs of homoeroticism #anti acomaf #anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti inner circle #flames and darkness liveblog

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effloradox · 8 months

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I loved your Jasper fic so much!! Could you write something else for him?

Of course! I’m really glad you liked it :)

"I like how good your hand looks in mine." If your heart could still beat, you know it would have stuttered at the words Jasper mutters into your hair. You might not have caught them without the aid of your enhanced hearing, but his words ring in your ear in a way that consumes your every waking thought. His accent always seems that little bit thicker when the two of you are alone, like he knows how much you appreciate his southern drawl and makes a point to let you hear it as much as possible. It’s a pleasant contrast to all the voices you grew up hearing back when you were human. You must have told him countless times over the last few years and you imagine you’ll continue to do so for a few more at least.

"You're such a sap." You lift your entwined hands up from your lap so you can press a soft kiss to Jasper's hand. You can practically feel him smiling into your hair as you pepper light kisses down his hand until you reach his wrist. The man behind you tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

"Only for you darlin'." You can't help but beam at his words, knowing how sincere he's being. When you was still human, the idea of having a soulmate felt like something that was reserved for the movies; a rare series of happenstances that few people on the planet got to experience. When you got your second chance as a vampire and found out you had a soulmate, it had all seemed too good to be true. It's been three years since Carlisle brought you into his family, three years since you met Jasper, and now you can't think of your life being any other way. You could spend an eternity with him and it wouldn't be long enough. You can't wait to try anyway.

"Better keep it that way." He might be the empath, but you can practically feel the love radiating from him. Even without being able to see his face, you can picture the serene smile resting there. It could rival the sun for how much it warms your very being. You might be perpetually cold but something about being in Jasper’s presence warms you to your very core. You feel him press his chin gently against the crown of your head and you feel his response more than you hear it.

“Always.” He kisses you head once again, taking a deep breath as he does so. You’re more than content to let your eyes flutter closed, happy to just have some alone time with your mate. You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear Carlisle from somewhere in the house, asking everyone to come downstairs for a family discussion. You can’t help but laugh at the frustrated groan Jasper lets out at the interruption, his arm snaking away from your waist so you can stand up. Once you’re on your feet, you extend a hand to him to help him to his feet.

“C’mon lover boy.”

#my writing #drabbles #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #requested #twilight x reader

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edgeofn1ght · 25 days

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all you conceal, let out: ch. 1

After the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, in his grief, takes off on a mission half-cocked to find a lost holocron on Jedha. The next thing he knows, he's waking up injured on a planet he's never seen before, surrounded by calm and an unsettling quiet. Then, after passing out again, he wakes up in a strange home, patched, clean, and safe. And his savior is someone he loved who he didn't think he'd ever see again. Will he be able to get back to his own universe, and does he even want to?

i finally managed to fill another square on my @obikin-events bingo card well after the event was over 🫡 (i tried my best to finish it before it ended, but oh well)

alternate universe travel • obikin • 5.1k words • read on ao3 instead

Anakin knew his mission wouldn't be easy. He was warned against going, specifically going alone, but he insisted on taking it anyway. He needed to be away from the Temple, from everything that reminded him –

“You still need time to mourn!” His own padawan had cried out in the hangar as he strode away from her, his responsibilities, and any bit of sanity he was still holding onto.

Death is a natural part of life, he thought bitterly as he jogged up the Twilight's ramp, followed quickly by Artoo. I guess you forgot that lesson.

If he had bothered to turn back, he would have seen Ahsoka's deeply troubled countenance, but he wasn't concerned about that. He had a mission to carry out – one that had been important to Obi-Wan. And he would see it through.

But as Anakin slowly lifted his head out of the dirt, he was no longer so sure he could see it through. He didn't even know where he was anymore. His head throbbed as he became aware of the blood rushing through his ears, drowning out all other noise. Not that there was much to hear anyway – no blaster fire, no clankers yelling in their tinny, robotic voices, no shouting clone troopers, no explosions… nothing.

As he became more aware of his being, his whole body ached, hurting so much he wouldn't have been surprised if every single bone in his body was broken. If Obi-Wan were here and could read his thoughts, he would have undoubtedly told him he was being dramatic.

‘Get up, my young padawan, you’re not so old yet.’ He heard his master’s voice so clearly, just as if he was standing right next to him, looking down at his old padawan with a wry grin and his hands on his hips. He frowned – wishing Obi-Wan was here wouldn’t make him appear, no matter how much Anakin wanted it. He turned his head left then right, searching for his ship, for Artoo… for anyone or anything, but he was completely alone.

Anakin gingerly pushed himself up and made it halfway before his arms gave out and he dropped back into the muck with a disgusting squelch . And that, too, was different. Last he could recall, he had been on Jedha, surrounded by orange dust and sand as far as the eye could see, even inside the old temple ruins. But as he looked around now, there was nothing but vibrant multicolored trees, green grass, and a brilliant blue sky.

So where the hell was here?

Anakin really had no chance to think about his location or predicament because, unsurprisingly, he had passed out again. He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was still on the mystery planet and dusk was settling on the land. It was just as quiet as before, but now the silence was punctuated by the sound of night coming to life.

He always found the night strangely unsettling when wasn't at home. Coruscant’s night never deviated from its day – the ecumenopolis was a constant hum of traffic and pulse of billions of lifeforms. And Tatooine’s night had been… well, when it wasn’t eerily silent, it was a howling sandstorm or some other form of danger such as raiders, Hutt cartels, or baying creatures that could eat you whole.

He’d forgotten the true sound of silence, the feeling of it. The way it crept into your bones, enveloped your senses, and made you feel uneasy and cold. Not long after the war began, they all became quickly accustomed to being constantly surrounded by dozens, sometimes hundreds of other beings all the time, whether on board a star destroyer or in battle. Then add to that, life on Coruscant, in the Temple, and pair it with his own constant loud thoughts, feelings, and anxieties, and he really couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced a true quiet like this. Had he ever?

Anakin summoned enough energy to roll over with a grunt. His face was covered in muck and dirt, he could feel it in the pull of his skin when he winced. His cloak was wet, but he still used the voluminous sleeves to wipe it away. All his clothes were wet as it turned out – not exactly soaked , but damp enough to be uncomfortable and annoying. He became more aware of every pain in his body – temples throbbing, joints aching, and most inconvenient of all, the sharp stab of pain in his side. It was most likely a fractured or bruised rib… he hoped anyway.

As he continued to lie supine in the grass, he took stock of the rest of his body, curling and straightening his fingers then rolling his arms across the dirt to test the movement. Next he tried wiggling his toes inside his boots then flexed his calves, and finally pulled up his legs to bend his knees. Nothing seemed broken. He finally pushed himself up until he was in a sitting position, swaying a bit as his vision swam.

Forgetting about all his physical aches, his gloved hand moved to his belt, searching for his communicator, but it was nowhere to be found. Then it flew to his left hip where his lightsaber usually sat, a comforting weight always at his side, but it wasn’t there either.

"Shiiiiit," Anakin whispered. He looked at the ground around him, blinking, his eyes straining to see anything at all in the grass in the low light. It could be anywhere. He would find it – he would – but he couldn’t focus right this second. He scrambled to stand but it was too much, too soon and he fell back into the dirt.

He groaned long and loud into the rapidly darkening night.

But then, he heard the most beautiful sound to his buzzing ears – the sound of help. Help was on its way in a beaten-up X-34 landspeeder, which sounded like the combustor of the axial compressor needed to be replaced. He’d never been so happy in his life to hear the low rumble of an engine that needed some serious maintenance, or more happy that he had not completely forgotten everything he knew.

A wave of dizziness and nausea came over him, but he leaned forward and stretched out his arm as the speeder rumbled closer. “Help?” He could barely muster the single-syllable word. Not that he could be heard over the noise of the engine anyway, but he had to try.

Then, unfortunately, he blacked out once again.

Anakin slowly came-to, aware of warmth, comfort, and a voice, calm and gentle, like home . He suddenly remembered being lifted, a hand on his cheek, his forehead, the cool night air then –

Nothing more.

For the third time in less than half a day, Anakin awoke from slumber. Except this one had been much more fitful than the others. He still ached, but at least he was no longer lying face down in mud in wet clothes. Instead, now he was lying on a sofa under a blanket, his head cradled in a soft pillow, and he was clean and comfortable. The thought was concerning, but he'd get to that later.

Golden sunlight filtered in through the room’s shades. It was certainly no longer night, and it seemed rather bright, but he had no idea what time it could possibly be. He squeezed his eyes tightly and tried to remember… He could recall nothing at all of how he got here – on the planet or in this room. He had been on Jedha with Artoo and a couple of troopers from 501st (who showed up at Ahsoka's insistence), combing through an old excavation site. It was the last-known location of an unknown holocron, apparently buried amongst the ruins, and looking for it had felt like searching for a single star in a nebula.

When the Jedi first learned of its existence (or ‘ potential existence’ rather, as Obi-Wan had insisted), neither he nor Obi-Wan had truly believed in the presence of such a holocron on the planet. Something like that would surely have been recovered long ago! Obi-Wan’s incredulity echoed in Anakin's head. But t hey were instructed to at least look, as it would have been rather foolish to allow something like that to languish untouched with the potential of falling into anyone’s hands. And if the rumor was true and they did find such a thing, they could study it. Incredulity aside, Obi-Wan wasn't very good at completely hiding his interest (or at least not to Anakin), and he had remarked several times on how he'd love to study it and learn all its secrets. Anakin had adored the way the older man’s eyes lit up just talking about it. He wouldn't have dreamed of ever telling his old master that.

Then he would never get a chance to. Obi-Wan became one with the Force, leaving Anakin behind forever, and he was forced to go on, to live the rest of his life without his best friend and master. It had been three months, and the wound was as raw and as fresh as the day Obi-Wan was taken from him. He couldn't find peace no matter what he did or who he talked to. They weren't Obi-Wan.

Master Kenobi’s loss was felt keenly by all the Jedi, but Anakin was sure he didn’t mean as much to them as he did to him. His master was gone and Anakin would never have peace again.

So Anakin had gone to Jedha on a half-cocked mission to find the holocron, because Obi-Wan had wanted to find it, and Obi-Wan wanted to study it, and that was a last wish Anakin could honor even though every fiber of his being cried out for the loss of the man he loved.

Perhaps the holocron held secrets to eternal life. Perhaps there was a way to see or speak to him again. Feeling delirious with the prospect, Anakin had run headlong into the temple ruins built inside a cave mouth of a large plateau, feeling as if he was getting close. The pull of the Force was strong, like a nexus of power. He remembered a thrumming and buzzing in his head then nothing at all after that.

And now he was in some house he didn't know, on a planet he didn't recognize.

He carefully stretched out with his senses and found that all was calm. He reached further looking for someone, anything , but didn’t get much beyond the general course of life on the planet. Then suddenly, on the edge of his consciousness, a single life form appeared, close… It was inside the house with him. Anakin should be on high alert, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be. Perhaps he would come back to the why later. Wherever he was, he felt safe and not in any danger. The life form felt calm, relaxed, and slightly amused. Then suddenly he heard a low humming, but not like the humming of the Force, but a living being softly humming a tune. It wasn’t in the room with him but it was close. Then it stopped.

"Ah, you're awake."

Anakin whipped his head in the direction of the voice. THAT VOICE. A voice he knew better than anyone else's. A voice he had heard most every day since he was nine years old, a voice he'd grown to love more than anyone else's. He twisted around to get a better look, hissing when his side and back protested, clearly still in no shape to move so quickly.

“Take it easy!” The voice warned.

He watched in disbelief as the source of the voice set a tray down on the small table in front of the sofa. As he took in the man before him, his chest constricted and tightened and his breathing shallowed. He stood on the precipice of a panic attack with no way to ward it off. Because here was Obi-Wan Kenobi in the flesh, standing in front of him, whole and alive .

He was older than Anakin knew him to be at the time of his death – by five years or so, maybe more. His hair was longer, not quite as long as it was right before the start of the war, but long enough so the ends curled around his ears and sat on the collar of his shirt. There were more strands of grey threaded throughout his hair and at his temples, more lines etched into his face, particularly around the eyes. His skin had taken on more of a golden hue than Anakin had ever seen – like he spent most of his time outside – which also meant more, darker freckles dotting his forehead, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose.

He was wearing a light colored work shirt with the buttons undone to mid-breastbone and the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His trousers were the color of rust and he wore tall, brown boots. The clothes hugged his strong figure as if they were tailor-made specifically for him. Anakin couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Obi-Wan in anything but his loose, cream-colored tunics, robes or under blacks and armor.

He looked like a man untouched by war, healthy and content. Anakin had forgotten that once Obi-Wan did look like that, but it was long ago. He stared, slack-jawed, as he thought of Obi-Wan’s pale face and lifeless, clear blue eyes as he held him in death. This was Obi-Wan as he could have been – should have been. Anakin's heart clenched in his chest.

"I brought you some breakfast," the man finally added, still hesitant and wary of what Anakin would do next.

Feeling panicked at the strange normality of it all, Anakin attempted to fully sit up so he could defend himself if needed, but he was still in quite a bit of pain. He grabbed his side and winced as the aching muscles in his core contracted. Then his fingers came in contact with a large bandage stuck to his left side.

"Careful now!" Obi-Wan rushed over to grab Anakin's arm and steady him. The touch was like a brand in his skin. He ripped his arm away and stood quickly, hitting his shin on the small table as he stumbled away from the strange Obi-Wan. He blindly reached again for where a lightsaber should be at his hip, only to find it still wasn't there.

Instead, Anakin brandished the knife he'd grabbed off the tray in his haste to distance himself from the imposter. "What kind of trick is this? Who are you?"

Not-Obi-Wan put his hands up in a half-hearted surrender. "I'm not really thrilled about being threatened in my own home. Even if it is with a dull butter knife. I can assure you, I am unarmed."

"Obi-Wan… what… what are you doing here?"

Confusion colored the man's features, but it was there and gone just as quickly. "It's just Ben,” he said, slowly putting his hands down.

Anakin's eye brows pinched as he frowned, “Ben? I– nevermind!” He thrust the knife out in warning and Ben's hands flew back up. "Where am I? How are you here??"

"Well this is MY house, and you're a guest in it, though I have half a mind to throw you out now for threatening me."

This ‘Ben’ was so much like his Obi-Wan, it took his breath away. The way he talked, even if the accent was slightly less of the clipped Coruscanti, and more of a slight brogue, then right down to the casualness with which he handled Anakin's threat… But behind the light-hearted jest, there was a definite wariness, a bit of fear for this complete stranger in his home. Because Ben clearly didn't know him. Anakin meant nothing to him. This wasn't his Obi-Wan.

Anakin blinked as he tried to remember anything before he woke up, trying to make sense of this situation. Maybe he was actually lying in a cot in a tent in the middle of a dusty desert on Jedha. Or perhaps on a moderately comfy bed in the Halls of Healing back inside the Jedi Temple. Or maybe he was floating inside a bacta tank – injured, knocked out, and healing. Yes, that was it. He was asleep and this was a dream, and in his great grief, he'd conjured up this older Obi-Wan. An Obi-Wan who was not only alive, but content, happy, and healthy. Of course he would – that's what Anakin wanted for his friend and the man he loved. He had created a life that Obi-Wan didn't get to live.

Tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed them shut tightly and willed himself to wake up.

"You seem to be very hurt," the voice spoke again, and Anakin opened his eyes. "Why don't you eat something then go lie down?"

"Maybe I am hurt, but this isn't real, you're not real," he said resolutely. "I am hurt, yes. But I'm at home, in the Temple." Maybe if he said it forcefully enough and without any doubt he would make it so.

Not-Obi-Wan stepped towards him and Anakin stepped back.

"I have no intention of hurting you, I think you need to lie down before you hurt yourself," Ben stepped towards him again, one hand extended, palm up as if he was trying to settle a wild nexu.

“You know that I could hurt YOU,” Anakin said, his voice wavering. The knife in his hand trembled.

“You won’t though.”

Their eyes fixed on each other as Ben stepped closer. Anakin didn't know whether he wanted to fight or flee, but he felt immobilized so he did neither.

Before he knew what was happening, Ben lunged forward and wrapped his right hand around Anakin’s wrist, gripping it tightly, forcing him to drop the knife, then another arm came around Anakin’s neck and squeezed.

“Sleep,” was the last word Anakin heard before he did just that.

Anakin dreamt of Obi-Wan.

But not the Obi-Wan he had known since he was nine years old. It was an Obi-Wan he'd known for maybe nine minutes.

In his dream, this Obi-Wan looked exactly like his Obi-Wan, he dressed differently but otherwise moved and talked like him. His gestures, jokes, and smiles were the same, even down to the lingering sadness behind his eyes that Anakin had always noticed when Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t looking. But in his dream, he was still on this other planet, and not Coruscant, and Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi, but a farmer.

Anakin was inside a small house which sat in the middle of several acres of land covered in trees and lush fields. Directly behind the home was a large garden where the older Obi-Wan currently stood amongst many kinds of plants, small and large. He was naked to the waist, and the sinking sun's rays reflected off his sweat-shiny skin, making it glisten. Ben was a bit thicker than Anakin remembered ever seeing Obi-Wan, but he was still strong and lithe. The muscles in his back and arms flexed as he dug into the earth and bent down to plant new seeds. Obi-Wan finally stood and turned, wiping sweat from his brow with a bit of cloth he pulled from his back pocket.

“Anakin,” he said with the loveliest smile Anakin had ever seen.

This Obi-Wan loved him. Anakin knew it somehow.

Anakin’s eyes flew open, he was sweating and his breathing labored. He sat up quickly, blankets pooling at his waist, and looked around. Daylight was fading, but it was enough to illuminate the room and he could see it was homey and cozy. He was now in a small bedroom he didn’t recognize in a very comfy bed. Far more comfortable than anything he'd grown used to in battlefield tents and aboard Venator destroyers. He looked to his right, wondering if he’d find Ben there, since this was surely his room, but when he found it empty, he exhaled, strangely relieved.

The bed was a modest size, easily large enough for two, but not so big that two people would never meet in the night. A dresser sat pushed up against the wall opposite with a small mirror resting on top. From where he sat, Anakin could see there were some trinkets and other items there as well, but he couldn’t make out what they were. A large chair sat by the window with a blanket haphazardly thrown over and a discarded datapad in the seat. On the small bedside table next to his side of the bed, there was a lamp, and surprisingly, his communicator and his lightsaber.

Anakin pushed away the covers and swung his legs over the side. He picked up his lightsaber to feel the familiar and comforting heft. Ben had undoubtedly found it, but it was a bit surprising that he had actually returned it to him. Maybe he didn't know what it was, didn't know what Anakin could do with it. Well, at least he'd be spared the 'your lightsaber is your life' lecture, though Anakin would have given up his lightsaber forever just to hear it again.

He was still wearing only a pair of sleep pants and he was glad to find that the glove over his mechno-arm was still in place. He wiggled his toes then slid off the bed and stepped onto soft, cool carpet and stretched away some of the stiffness. It felt like he had been asleep for days. At the window, he pulled back the curtain slightly to peer outside. The sun was setting in the distance behind the foothills, painting the sky in soft pinks, oranges, and purples. The landscape was bathed in a soft yellow, but none of that beauty compared to the man standing in the middle of the large vegetable garden.

Just like in his dream.

His heart rate picked up again.

Was he even awake now? Or was all of this a dream?

Suddenly small flashes of what he thought were recent memories returned to him – a pair of strong arms wrapping around his back and under his knees, the feel of a warm, wet cloth being dragged across his face gently, humming in another room, then Anakin threatening to stab this beautiful man with a butter knife. He flushed, hoping against hope that that was also only from his dream.

He dropped the curtain and made his way through the house and out onto the back porch. Ben was practically glowing in the evening sun. It only took a second for him to look up and smile.

“Hello there.” Ben thrust his shovel into the dirt, then rested his elbow on the handle. Anakin’s mouth suddenly became very dry. “Oh, I’ve hidden all the butter knives,” he added with a slight twist to his mouth. Anakin's face fell – so that one was true. “However, that thing I put on the bedside table seems like it could do much more damage than a knife.” Ben huffed as he pulled a cloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face.

“That 'thing'??” Anakin scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. His still-bare chest, he was reminded. Maybe from that distance Ben couldn’t tell that he was blushing. “That thing, Ben, is my lightsaber. MY LIFE. You are… were always so fond of reminding me.” Ben chuckled but said nothing else. It felt so odd for him to say nothing at all about it.

They stood and stared at each other for a few moments. Anakin allowed the stillness and quiet of the evening to envelope him once more. Was this really his current reality? Or was it possible that his mind had actually created some world so tangible, so intricate and detailed? An Obi-Wan who was both Obi-Wan and not simultaneously, and who had no clue who Anakin was.

Ben pulled his shovel from the ground and walked towards the house. He stopped below the porch and stared up at Anakin. “You must be hungry, would you like latemeal?”

As if right on cue, his stomach growled. “Yes, okay.”

“Let me get cleaned up and I will get it for you,” Ben said with a nod and passed by Anakin without a second look.

Anakin sat at the small table in the kitchen and watched as Ben deftly moved around the space preparing the meal. It was strange how everything seemed so familiar, from the way he stood and held himself, to the way he drank from his own mug, even down to how quiet and focused he was on the task. It was strange to know and love the man so well, but to not know him at all. Because this still wasn't his Obi-Wan. No matter what his dream told him. No matter what he wanted to believe and be real. But he was so like him, it made his heart ache. He knew a mind consumed with grief could create fantastical things, believe the unbelievable, especially if it brought back loved ones. He'd also heard stories of beings traveling through time and space, but that’s all they were supposed to be, stories – ‘wistie stories' his mom told him before bed or outlandish yarns spun by his fellow padawans as they shirked their duties.

But if that was true, and he'd been flung into another time and universe… Where was Anakin Skywalker here? And why wasn't he with Obi-Wan Kenobi?

He snapped out of his reverie when Ben set some food down in front of him then took his own place in the chair across the table. It was intimate, but Anakin couldn’t think about it too much because he was starving and the food smelled amazing. It was a needed distraction.

Between sips from his mug of tea, Ben finally spoke up. "I didn't see a ship. Or a speeder, for that matter."

"Uh well, I didn't have one," Anakin said as he pushed the food around on his plate. "At least not here." He shoved a large chunk of fried tuber in his mouth.

Ben narrowed his eyes, "I'm not exactly close to the nearest town, are you saying you walked?"

“No,” Anakin said around a mouthful of food. "I just ended up out there.”

Ben frowned, "How do you mean ‘ended up’?”

"Just that. I was on Jedha then I woke up in a mud puddle… I think."

Ben took another sip of his tea. "You've still not given me your name. What do I call you?"

Anakin felt like sulking, "You really don't know it." It wasn’t a question.

"Well, I… you seem to talk a lot in your sleep, and I thought maybe you'd mention it, but strangely, I only heard my own name over and over.” He looked down then cleared his throat. “But I can't really understand how you know my given name.” He stroked his beard.

Anakin felt as confused as Ben – or actually Obi-Wan. But he did know he didn’t like the way that sounded. He couldn’t remember any part of his dreams except for whatever vision that he had of Ben in the field before he saw him out there. He was now afraid of anything he might have said.

He toyed briefly with giving a fake name, but then decided against it at the last minute. This was Obi-Wan… some Obi-Wan, and with him he was always Anakin. “It’s Anakin.”

"Anakin," Ben repeated softly.

He ducked his head and continued eating, hoping that the older man would find something else to stare at for a little while. But he could feel his eyes still on him.

After a prolonged silence, Anakin spoke up again. "I'm not from here, wherever here is." Ben stared at him but kept silent so Anakin would continue. "I'm from Coruscant. Well, that's where I live anyway… In the Jedi Temple."

Ben’s eyebrows raised briefly then he looked down into his mug. “You’re a ways from Coruscant.”

Well now they were getting somewhere, and at least Coruscant existed in this universe. "And where is here?"

"Stewjon," Ben said as he sat back in his chair.

Of course. Of course! It was so obvious now – he’d been sent to Obi-Wan’s birth planet for some reason. Maybe it would be a starting point for figuring out the how and why.

"And what of the war?"

"What war?"

“What war?” Anakin huffed, "THE war, Ben, the war against the Separatists!?"

Ben shook his head in response. "I'm afraid I don't know it. I try to keep up with news from the Core Worlds as much as possible, but I've never heard of a war or the Separatists. Though, from the name alone, I can possibly figure out their platform.”

Anakin leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table. "When I say I'm not from here, I mean, not from HERE – this universe." It was out there – now it was up to Ben to decide what to do with it. Ben's brow dipped slightly, but he remained silent. "I am a Jedi, a general in the Grand Army of the Republic, I was your…" He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Did he even know the Jedi? He certainly wasn't his master here. "I was on a mission on Jedha, then… then, I woke up here."

Ben sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't believe him. Anakin could tell even though he said nothing.

He huffed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to get back, I need to get back. I don't belong here." Even if he could be at Obi-Wan’s side again, where he did belong.

Ben stroked his beard in thought. "Anakin, what you're saying… it's impossible. You can't hop to another universe. You can't travel through time or to another reality."

Anakin stood quickly, nearly upsetting the chair. "But I did it! And I’m here talking to you! An Obi-Wan who… who doesn't know or care anything about me!"

"Anakin, come now, that's not–" Ben started but Anakin wasn’t staying to listen.

He left the kitchen quickly and headed back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself down into the bed, wanting to scream into the pillow.

If he couldn’t even remember how he got here in the first place, how in the hell could he find a way back? And Ben clearly wasn’t going to help him. Anakin had no holocron here or a way to get back to Jedha to check. He couldn’t even get back to Coruscant, to the Temple. Maybe others like Mace and Yoda or Plo Koon existed here, even if he didn’t. Maybe they would know and could help him.

Anakin closed his eyes to keep the tears from slipping free, but they fell anyway, wetting the soft pillow underneath his head.

#obikin #obikin bingo #my writing #never a jedi au #alternate universe #universe travel #obi wan x anakin #fanfic #if you saw me reposting it #you probably didn't cos it wasn't showing up anywhere 😭

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ornii · 1 year

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Following that sort of crossover with Batman… what if a kind family from Smallville (Kansas) sent their son to Nevermore so he wouldn't have to worry about using his growing powers without fear of being rejected or having his true origins discovered?

I do Like The DC X Wednesday Crossover ideas of Teenage Heroes living at Nevermore.

The God Among Men

The Ride from Kansas to Nevermore was a toll. The dead silence, the unnerving wait of what’s to come. It all was a bit, too much for (Y/n). The boy say in the backseat with his bags, oddly quiet now. But it can all be directed towards the incident that happened at his last school, which lead to a few first degree burns and a hole in the roof. That is when the truth came out of his origin, a child born not from earth but from another planet. Soon his powers began to manifest from it all, turning him into a monster as some would say. The only place that could possibly assist him was Nevermore academy, the academic boarding school for “Freaks.”

“(Y/n), such a.. unique name.” Principal Weems, the head of the school at Nevermore and was more than such, tall, beautiful, elegant. Jonathan and Martha Kent, the parents of said (Y/n) sit across from her with their child in the middle, a bit awkwardly smiling.

“It’s a Name We gave him, something strong and passionate.” Martha says as Jonathan nods.

“Our (Y/n) is, different from the normal students and, we’re scared they’ll Bully him for it. Nevermore seems the place for different people.” Jonathan explains to Weems who nods.

“We’ll Just from looking at you, you don’t have any physical abnormalities I can decipher.” Weems says and stands up. “Can I ask a assessment of your, abnormalities?” She asks, and (Y/n) awkwardly shrugs.

“Sure.. i can fly, punch pretty hard, and nothing really hurts me, and.. I can..” (Y/n) says, but trails off, getting more somber.

“He can, I guess shoot lasers from his eyes.” Jonathan explains for his son. “They can be.. dangerous…” he says. Weems notices the slight awkwardness and smiles.

“Then you will fit on amazingly here, come we’ll show you to your dorm in Hamlet Hall.” Weems said, and the small group walked though Nevermore.

“You arrival was actually a bit short notice, we already had a student come last week, Miss Addams, perhaps you two will get along as new students.” Weems continues to strut leading them to the dormitory. After unpacking and giving his mother and father a Solemn Goodbye, he watches the car drive down the hall and the boy stands there, and reluctantly prepares for his first day. Sitting within his dorm room he places a picture of himself and his parents on his baseball tournament win, after hitting one of the most famous home run swings, but little did he know it was the trigger for his super strength, I guess that day was tainted. His attention was suddenly cut off by the dorm door opening and he looks up to see his dorm mate. Ajax.

“Oh you’re here already? Cool.” He says with an oddly slow enthusiasm. He walks over to fist bump (Y/n) who, a bit confused agrees.

“You must be Ajax, nice to meet you.” He said as the guy nods.

“Yeah I was busy with Enid, we Uh, that’s not important I guess, nice to meet you but for your own safety we probably shouldn’t look at each other.” He said, which raises the brow of (y/n).

“Why?”

“I’m a, Gorgon.. we don’t look at each other, wind up a stone statue.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that with me.” (Y/n) responds trying to jest.

“So, what powers do you have? Most in Nevermore got some freaky stuff about em.”

(Y/n) looks a bit worried but slowly builds up the courage to tell him. “I’m.. an alien.” (Y/n) said, and Ajax just stares at him for what seems to be forever.

“Like, E.T?”

“…No?”

“Aww.. anyway it’s, been cool. I’ll show you around tomorrow if that’s cool.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool.” (Y/n) responds and smiles, trying to make the best out of this situation. “Nice, I gotta head back out for some club stuff, be seeing you roomie.” Ajax says before heading back out, (Y/n) sits there and ponders more about his situation. Being sent to a new school, finding out you have powers beyond even what most monsters have, it’s a lot to take in. It’s best to sleep on it, hoping tomorrow brings better insight.

The next morning, Ajax was giving (Y/n) the causal Nevermore Tour. They enter the large social area, and (Y/n) sees the various groups, teams, and cliques.

“See, you got vampires, Werwolves, Ghosts, Sirens, and a few small ones like gorgons.” Ajax explains, (Y/n) notices a blonde haired girl who giggles and waves at Ajax.

“Who’s that?” He asks.

“Enid, She’s a Werewolf.” Ajax explains, but also has this sheepishly happy smile when he looks at her, (Y/n)’s eyes slowly scan the girl next to Enid, who stood out like a very sore and bleeding thumb. All black, dark hair, piercing eyes.

“And the girl next to her?”

“Oh that’s Uh.. Wednesday Addams. Total terror, best to stray from her.” Ajax says, and (Y/n) nods.

“Uh, Yeah.. i guess. She’s a bit scary..” you admit.

“That’s funny coming from a guy who says he can shoot lasers out of his eyes.” Ajax says smirking, unfortunately for him, Classes began and (Y/n) checked his schedule, and his first class was Mrs Thornhills Chemistry. Making his way there he chose not to mingle with anyone, keeping to himself mostly. Entering the class he notices the almost full seats, and Mrs Thornhill at the head of the class.

“Ah. Mr Kent, The Next Transfer, our class is slightly packed so, you’ll be seated next to.. Ah the other Transfer, Miss Addams.” Thornhill says, much to the shock and slight anxiety of (Y/n) he cautiously walks to the seat and sits down, feeling the intense tension in the air at this seat, he turns and tries to introduce himself to the jet black raven sitting next to him.

“Uh Hey, im (Y/n) Kent, Even though She already said that…” he says, realizing how dumb he just sounded. She turns her head slightly in his direction.

“Wednesday Addams.” She responds calmly and with meticulous detail. And she just turns her head back, completely different ignoring him now, he sighs and also looks forward a bit sad. His attempt to make a friend was a total failure.

Night Falls on Nevermore and as usual (Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Ajax was gone for some “Club Activities”. (Y/n) waited until he was Sure Ajax was gone, he then walked to the window and opened it, the warm air sky filled his nostrils. He takes a running start and leaps out the window head first, suddenly his body halted in the air and he chuckles, and begins to fly, soaring though the air and around Nevermore, letting the dreary landscape be his ariel teacher, the wind blowing in his hair, the pressure against his skin all felt so, surreal. His travels along the sky were halted by music playing so perfectly, it was a melodramatic version of paint it black, and the chords, the strings were so enthralling that he had to see who was playing that, his attention turns to the large window clock tower like room and he slowly descended to the origin of the sound. And he was met to Wednesday Addams, playing. He couldn’t resist listening, and just watching her as she’s lost in the music. She finishes and lower her string, her eyes slowly look up to (Y/n), levitating before her, the two lock eyes finally and they stare at each other, (Y/n) in Amazement of her music skills, and her clandestine beauty, and Wednesday in Amazement of his abilities to fly, and his almost shocking appearance. The two stare for what seems to be forever, perhaps not wanting to spoil the moment, or..

Having ulterior motives.

#netflix #male reader #wednesday addams x male reader #reader insert #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wedensday x you #enid sinclair #enid sinclair x male reader #enid x you #enid x reader #dc #suoerhero

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thecoffeelorian · 2 months

Text

And now, for something slightly different...

Hello again, everyone...

...Okay, gang...before we get started here, there's something I think I need to confess here first.

I don't know how in the world I'm supposed to feel about this show any more.

I mean...in the beginning, I thought their arc was clear as a bell: start removing every single darned inhibitor chip they could find, start the evac efforts to an Outer Rim planet, and then start rebuilding new lives, the end.

Instead, it's turned into what looks like a never-ending negative feedback loop: don't lift a finger to rescue a certain person; get told to give a darn about said person by the child character; finally act on the child's orders...but then as a creepy consequence for giving a darn at all, the title squad/'family'(?) starts watching its members not rethink one side of an ideological/psychological divide and leave them; not give up completely on rescuing Troopers/join the Margaritaville Society and leave them; not remember that there are human weight-bearing birds on a certain mountain planet and leave them; finally agree to be caught by the Empire in order to locate Mount Tantiss and leave them...and oh yes, let's add a 'Will They Kill A Brother/Won't They Kill A Brother' game to the mix, if things weren't totally weird enough...I mean, all right, already.

If this show WASN'T about having all six title characters come back together as a true family on an asylum planet, what IS happening here?

How in the world am I expected to respond to repetitive, exhausting moments of disaster and family splintering when for three whole years, I was endlessly told that there was NO disaster, that this was the PERFECT family, that they would NEVER end up shedding members one by one, etc...and...everything that the big-name fans and fandom influencers said WOULDN'T happen IS, in fact, happening right this very minute.

In other words, the squad and family keeps on disintegrating a little bit more with each new season, and I'm left thinking the same thing a few of you must have thought at least once.

Why am I here?

Is it because I'm studying this series as a whole like a certain Chiss studies art, and searching for all of its strengths and weaknesses in order to better improve my own writing? Is it for the sake of wishing to learn how to draw better, and practicing the craft in the safety of something familiar? Or, am I instead becoming some manner of corporate counter-revolutionary, and taking up fanworks as my mode of protest against stories that revolve more around too-short moments of cuteness and horror, sometimes solely for shock value alone...?

I'm afraid I can't answer questions like these just yet, no, not even to myself. I can only read and write and pretty much grieve everything that these episodes/seasons were supposed to be...yet for Force knows what reason, keep getting relegated to the same few plot points over and over again while expecting different results. I can only hope that there's some eventual breakthrough to make it all worth it in the end, if only to rid myself of the thought that this could be the very first bit of Nihilist media in the fandom.

Anyway...*deep breath* Now that I've given you my two cents on this issue...let's get right to my picks of the week, which, thanks to the return of a very interesting sister, I'm unofficially titling this as:

THE DATHOMIR EDITION

The Bad Batch Fan Art

Captain Howzer by @thespianwtch.

She Is Mommy by @anko-art.

Star Wars Rebels Fan Art

Alexsandr Kallus by @ghosty-blues1.

The Bad Batch Fan Fiction

You know, brother by whiteaxolotl

Fight Like Brothers Do by AgentMaryMargaretSkitz

deprogramming by vicious_creature

Whatever Is Necessary by ChopSyndulla

Domiciles by Polyphonic_Garden

Star Wars Sapphic Week, Day 5--Sparring by @violetjedisylveon

Serpent's Kiss by mediumsweet

Not A Soldier by TigerTheSpahget

Star Wars Sequels Fanfiction

What We Do In The Resistance by AgentMaryMargaretSkitz

And now, I'd like to put in a small advertisement, if only to bring more attention to an up-and-coming artist: @ve-ti-ver has started up their own Patreon page, available at this link . So, if you'd like to support them, please feel free to visit their page.

Finally, yes, you probably all know the drill by now...but just in case you need a reminder, here we go: Please give this post a like and a reblog, so that we can pass this post around the Internet and back!

This Week's No Pressure Tags Go Out To: @sharpasanaro @bananasugarwarrior @lazyprofessorpursesalad @callsign-denmark @melymigo @yeehawgeek @littlefeatherr @anko-art @guppyfreedom @giraffedragon-universe @clonebrainrot @gun-roswell @omglisalithium @falconfeather23435 @uuurgh @simply92-me @skellymom @metalatl @dathomirdumpsterfire @kuraiummei @thedynamicworm @ur-pal-ari @advisorsnips @groguandthebadbatch @lee-lee-la @themightychipmunk42 @random-chaotic-bitch @wastingstarsss @flyiingsly @ilovemedia @talesfrommedinastation @swarovski-yoda and anyone else who might be interested in catching more fanart and fanfictions.

Thank you, good afternoon, good luck, and...

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rawmeknockout · 11 days

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can I please have the lost light’s resident old married couple cdrw taking a hot young bot under their wing as a third? even better if said bot is a complete and total brat that’s still woefully unprepared for whatever those two cook up in the berth

You didn't know them that well, have only heard of them in passing or seen them chatting with their friends at the bar. There are whispers among the crew, large as it is, about their lives. Perhaps not all of it is true, but it made you feel sorry for them. You probably shouldn't have judged based off rumors, but they made you feel... Normal. Like you're grateful you are not as messed up as them. Althought, perhaps that's because you're not nearly as old as them. It may be terribly judgmental, as you are sometimes wont to be, but you didn't know them. It had been fine to feel that way in private.

It was fine until you were trapped with the small one on some abandoned mining planet.

The mission had been to search for the person or persons who sent out a distress signal, but from the start it was a bust. The planet had been left for centuries, once bustling with an entire enslaved population of aliens who worked and died mining for precious jewels. Even with the countless atrocities the war brought, Cybertronians certainly didn't have a monopoly on committing crimes against nature.

It was only terrible luck and unfortunate timing that led the ground to caving in under you two, a result of the failing infrastructure, as one of the expansive tunnels caved in beneath your feet. Perhaps Primus took mercy on you by letting you survive the drop down several stories of crumbling rock. It certainly didn't feel like mercy when you came to with nothing but oppressive dark and one terribly banged up companion. You knew it was impossible to send a message underground, but you attempted to anyway. It, unsurprisingly, failed not a half-second after.

There was only one path even marginally open in the caved in tunnel, so after getting your bearings and checking on your companion (one leg crushed, the other snapped clean off, would make it hard for him to go anywhere alone), you picked up and set off the only way you could. Although not without a bit of whining and complaining on your part. He wasn't much to carry, despite being one of the larger minibots, and his playful banter, although uneasy, had filled the quiet with something to keep your mind off the dreariness of your circumstances. You tried not to waste energy checking your chronometer, but you must have been walking for days. You stopped when you were tired, feet aching and scuffed beyond mere polishing, and simply kept going when you knew you had to. It was impossible to tell if you even made any progress. It was only a day before your companion, chipper as he could be, suggested you leave him behind and try to use your energy to save yourself.

Despite the logic, you wouldn't hear of it. You weren't just going to leave another mech, older and already unable to walk, to waste away in the dark, buried under hundreds of feet of dirt and rock. You almost had to force him to take even a single nip off your energy rations, of mediocre quality and already half-eaten before you had been caved in. He tried to use every rationale he could: he was a memory stick, he had recently saved a copy of his most important historical archives, he was unable to get anywhere without you and would simply increase your energon usage than if you traveled alone. Self-sacrificing as he tried to be, Rewind at least didn't physically fight back when you would pick him up and continue walking. If you simply let him die, left him behind to save yourself, you would lose a part of yourself that you had fought for so long to keep alive. You didn't fight a stupid war so you could forsake your beliefs in a fucking tunnel on a shitty planet. His banter, your playful teasing, kept you from losing your processor to despair.

Your joints ached terribly by the time you found it, Rewind becoming less and less responsive. Perhaps Primus had been looking out for you after all. The light was blinding, much too bright after spending cycles in pitch black, but you climbed for it anyway. Energon leaked from your pedes and fingertips as you clawed your way out of what ended up being a sliver of a cave entrance. Nothing but an overlooked hole in the ground and rock. If you'd had the energy you would have laughed, letting Rewind slide off your backplates onto the ground as you flipped over and let the twin stars beat their rays into your chassis. You reached for Rewind's servo beside you, try to coax his digits into squeezing yours back, but get nothing in return. If he was close to gone, you were not far behind. Your HUD alerted you that your message, finally, got sent off.

You only caught the distant sound of engines as you slipped into what may be stasis-lock.

The Well of All Sparks is, annoyingly, quite loud and clinical. The sound of a spark monitor is clear in your audials, and you wish he wouldn't fiddle with metal instruments so loudly. His voice sounds like Ratchet's, although low in volume it's still gruff and not-so-soothing to the recently awakened. Your optics reboot after a long moment of trying to decide if you want to wake up back on the Lost Light.

Your processor is fuzzy and not moving as quickly as you would like it to, but you are, thankfully, still alive. Ratchet's demeanor has never looked so gentle, certainly not at you directly, as he leans over you for a thorough investigation. He fusses at you about your memories, most notably about who you are, and checks for what you have to assume is any extensive processor damage or pain. You don't know how long you lay there, looking up at fluorescent lights under Ratchet's gentle interrogation, but you don't notice Rewind or Chromedome beside your bed until several moments later.

"You almost went into permanent stasis-lock," Rewind informs you, relief clear in his voice, "Thankfully Magnus got your message as soon as we were out."

Chromedome doesn't say much other than letting you know Rewind has been unrelentingly insistent on staying by your bedside, not letting anyone forget how heroic or brave you were. It makes you clam up, faceplates heating, as he outs Rewind for telling anyone and everyone about how you risked your life for him. The pair that you had heard so many rumors about, who had seemed like mere caricatures of a tragic love story, have become so much more... Real. Their reactions and feelings rational. Like any other Cybertronian.

With just a few days of being forced into each others company, you have firmly and unwittingly enmeshed yourself into Rewind's inner circle. You make a point to tell him you don't need him to 'repay' you or something, but Rewind insists on inviting you for drinks and carrying on conversations. He comes to see you while you're working, introduces you to his friends, tells everyone about his 'life debt' to you. When you loudly, boldly declare your opinions like they are mere facts of life, your new friend agrees eagerly or laughs at your overzealous behavior. If Rewind is grateful, you don't know how to describe Chromedome. He's quieter than his companion, you knew that before actually talking to him, but his attachment to you is no less apparent. Despite his aversion to most people, you find yourself as a rare exception. They always seem to find you in a crowd. Despite your bravado and self-aggrandizing, it feels nice to actually be seen by others, to be wanted and looked for. It was nice that, in spite of your ability to be rather loud and opinionated, mechs still wanted to be around you. It starts a very conflicting conundrum of whether you should indulge this feeling or try to keep it down.

Perhaps it was more obvious to those around you what was happening. It certainly seemed that way to those like Brainstorm and Tailgate, who were under the impression you were 'not like them'. When you even insinuated you were merely in the same category as all of their friends, Brainstorm would give you a puzzled look, investigative even. Something was clear to everyone but you.

It finally dawns on you one night, laying on their shared berth as Rewind replays the battle against Galvatron for the fiftieth time, that perhaps this is what they meant. Chromedome's thigh is pressed into the side of your chassis, a weighty presence warm against your armor, as Rewind tucks himself against your other side, his helm resting on your pauldron as he holds the holovid for you to see. You don't voice your thoughts, far too prideful to make a fool of yourself by stating something that others surely were caught up on, but the realization does send heat up your neck cables to the tips of your audials. Your EM field pushes experimentally against Chromedome's, a brushing of gentle electric energy that mingles in the back of your intake. He doesn't hesitate to push back readily, focus still entirely on his own datapad.

It's a realization that, in hindsight, only goes to your head. You strut around the ship with an ego boosted through the roof, a fact others make not so playful comments about. But you remain unfazed by their ribbing. You let your knee brush and press against Rewind's when you sit at your designated table in Swerve's, lean in to rest against Chromedome's side when there's a ship-wide meeting, make yourself comfortable by leaving your things here and there strewn across their habsuite. It's not long before you find yourself being annoyingly, obnoxiously clingy, arms wrapped around one or both of your partners in any public situation, a fact which leads Whirl to, several times, make gagging noises as if he has a mouth with which to gag. Your partners, ever loving and ever indulgent, don't push you off or attempt any 'face-saving'. Rewind seems all the happier to have you draped across him like another layer of armor.

All of your teasing and physical touch is a mistake you merely rack up in interest, Chromedome's EM field pleased and well-charged but never allowed to disperse. No relief found from your fleeting servos or coiling arms. It is a slow torturous build to an intimate joining in their berth, one you have unwittingly drawn out for months.

It is with Chromedome's derma that you reach his tipping point, his blast mask thrown aside in favor of kissing you passionately and a tad too enthusiastically. Despite all your touching and loving, Chromedome is not liberal with his mouth and prefers to keep his face covered when possible. You throw your arms around his neck, letting him push you back onto the berth with his larger frame. Your well aware of Rewind at your side, eager to record your intimate moments in graphic detail, a thought that sends charge zipping through your frame. His servos find the curve of your frame from shoulder to chest, pet along seams leading to your spark chamber, trail down where they converge at your pelvic armor. He's not so kind as to even lay a digit on it, though, opting to grab your thighs and hoist them around his hips.

For such a cold and aloof mech, gloomy in even the best situations, his kiss, his touch, is unbearably hot. His chassis only growing warmer where you meet, your legs tighten around his back to pull him closer to your codpiece where you need him desperately. He's also an infuriating person who doesn't relent to your wishes so easily, pulling away to smile impishly.

"What do you want, huh?" Rewind lets out a stifled laugh beside you at Chromedome's prodding. Clearly you're surrounded by villains.

"Come on, you know what I want!" You try to reel him back in with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a coiling cyberconda. He's undeterred by your grappling and whining.

"Patience, young Padawan," You wrinkle your nasal ridge at Rewind invoking one of Swerve's nerdy movies, "Good things come to those who wait."

You scoff, ready to give him a piece of your mind for not banging your bolts loose already, before Chromedome interrupts you.

"By the time we're done, you're going to wish you hadn't been so insistent," That... Gives you pause. You know they're pretty amorous, passionate in their interpersonal relationships, but they're still just a couple of old geezers, right? You almost laugh at the notion they could have anything in store that would surprise you. If they frag too hard they might die of spark failure.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The amusement must be far too clear in your voice, because Chromedome leers at you in a way that makes you feel wholly unprepared. Perhaps it's not too late to salvage some sort of mercy from them.

"Have you ever tried edging?"

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harrowharks-iliac-crest · 1 month

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Ianthe, Coronabeth and the Blood of Eden

Characters

<< Previous: Harrow | Masterpost

I gotta be perfectly honest here, I'm not overly fond of Ianthe. I can see why people love her. I appreciate her as a character construct. I don't like her though. Her attachment to Coronabeth is her one (1) redeeming quality, in my eyes.

And Coronabeth is now with the Blood of Eden.

Again I find myself really wanting to be a fly on the wall in that crucial little time at Canaan House between Cytherea's death, Blood of Eden arriving and taking all survivors sans Lyctors, and the Emperor arriving to collect Ianthe and Harrow.

Ianthe and Coronabeth have been plotting with each other their whole damn lives. There's no way they didn't have some kind of agreement with each other before splitting up. Something perhaps communicated in code, so neither Harrow nor BoE would have known what they were talking about. Perhaps they both decided then and there to join Blood of Eden, and that Ianthe would be a spy for Corona. Perhaps they've both been with them, or at least sympathetic, since before Canaan House. No idea if/how they would have kept up communication while Ianthe was at the Mithraeum, but maybe she was meeting Corona in secret while out killing planets? We know that after a while the old Lyctors didn't supervise their charges all the time when out killing planets, and there were lots of planets to kill.

Alternatively, could Ianthe have somehow managed to form some kind of BrainRiver Necromantic connection? That would be deep spirit magic almost akin to Lyctorhood - perhaps she did take a tiny bit of Corona without killing her, and then took Naberius instead - maybe she wanted to take Corona, but realised this would have killed her beloved sister, and killed Naberius instead? Maybe she figured out the secret to perfect Lyctorhood, and it is only taking a minuscule amount of your Cav - letting her take a minuscule amount of you - and as such, you can communicate with each other even when apart?

Would be a banger if so. Mad props to Ianthe if this is true. Might even be her 2nd redeeming feature.

Actually, no, it's still just the love for Coronabeth. If Ianthe had cared about Corona a little bit less, she could have taken and killed her. But she wouldn't.

So anyway I'm deeply sure that Corona and Ianthe are either already communicating, or both working very hard to get back together again.

Are they with the Blood of Eden, though?

Coronabeth, at this point, seems to have been taken in by them, according to Judith's journal; she could be a double agent type, or just doing whatever will keep her alive with the best chances of seeing Ianthe again. She also gets to keep Judith and Camilla alive. Coronabeth actually cares about people other than Ianthe, or at least it seems that way.

The epilogue suggests that either the three of them escaped from BoE alongside this random girl, or found her after escaping. Either that - or they're in BoE's network and maybe even under their protection while the three of them are off on a little side quest involving this girl. Either way, they're a united front of sorts, working towards the same goal (looking after this random kid, and finding out what her significane is, probably).

One who looks after her, one who teaches her, one who goes to work for her.

Camilla is revealed as the one to look after her. Teacher must be Judith, and Coronabeth got herself some kind of job to sustain them. Is it enough? One income for four adults? What kinda economy is this please? I guess she's a princess so she's probably demanding damn good pay, but still.

(Wait, is there money? I don't remember ever seeing any references to it - which would have caught my attention...)

Just checked -

(The nice thing about having the pdfs is that I can ctrl+f this stuff)

"Pay" is only really used metaphorically,

"Money" is Gideon hoping to be given some, Harrow imagining some in the Cohort being paid for someone's rank, and the idiom "[giving x] a run for its money" a couple times. No direct references to money as far as I can tell - there doesn't seem to be any needed in the Ninth, Canaan House, or the Mithraeum. The concept of money seems to be around. Maybe it's something only non-necromancers have to worry about?

"Loan" is mentioned only once, as something Harrow could have gotten to keep her house alive, so money in some form is around, or debt at least, but there's very little idea of what form it takes.

Sorry, let's get back on track. We were talking about the Tridentarii and Blood of Eden. And actually, I think I've said about what I can on them. I wanna move on!

>> Next: Camilla and Palamedes

#tlt theories #no nona the ninth spoilers please #tlt liveblog #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #ianthe tridentarius #coronabeth tridentarius #blood of eden

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cherepizza · 7 months

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That's not something I'd typically post but it was nearly impossible to hold back. Found old rough sketches in one of my sketchbooks and decided to further develop the idea. And.. to make less rough sketches. This thing happens after homestuck ends and players enter their new universe so it's not related to the plot that much or anything.

So, before departing into the future players left some information about their former planet societies. Their biographies became foundations of many religions on earth C, some of which were more popular than other. Throughout hundreds of years pre-earth C history has been rewritten many times, and some of the players completely lost not only their appearances, but even names. So when gods return, they find themselves in a society quite different from what they've left, with some morals and values altered, as people from the new universe never had all that cultural basis extinct societies had and basically had to start everything from scratch. Players still try to communicate with people and make world a better place, using their powers. Some religious people are disdained to see that gods are actually guys in fancy pyjamas, others suppose they're impostors. Politicians make attempts to communicate with players and persuade them to leave, being afraid of what they can do.

One of the less popular cults was a cult formed around the idea of "a true troll ruler with blood of a forgotten caste". When trolls and humans rediscovered ectobiology (in their world ectobiology was restricted and then banned for a long time to push forward natural reproduction and avoid unethical experiments, and I highly doubt they ever used fuchsia blood genetic material), cult followers weren't excited by the idea of waiting another millennium for a heiress to be born and just made her themselves.

Obviously, the heiress isn't really going to rule anything and is only a tool, but many followers don't know/don't realize this and sincerely believe she's destined to become a leader. Also, if it was possible to make a fuchsia blood grub once, why wouldn't it be possible to start over if the first one doesn't comply? There're no reliable sources for the heiress to know her physical abilities and she never learned to swim. Feeling alone both inside and outside her community, anxiously waiting for what the cult has for her, leave the heiress no other option and she runs away to find gods herself, as they are the last ones in the entire world, who've seen a living member of her caste.

–––

She grinded down her horns herself after stealing a horn file so it would be harder to identify her

I also doubt trolls would still wear signs at this point (except players' ones) but here's a sign for her anyway

Here're some sprites too. In her "royal" outfit she's just.. feferi.. but she also wears a swimsuit thingie or whatever condense wore, so the skirt is more of an accessory here. On the last one her cape is long instead of skirt. I doubt though she'd be wearing any of this. After everything that has happened to her she's reluctant to take any leading position for now..

#homestuck #homestuck au #fantroll

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spicesweet · 2 months

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I found that for several days I'll be able to eat clean and balanced meals but then on the weekend if I go out to eat with family or friends, I can't seem to make myself choose the healthiest option and if I do get something I like then the rest of the day I seem to forget about my commitment to eating healthy and losing weight and i feel like I'm back where I started each week. I've had some problems with emotional eating and I think eating out especially is a comfort thing for me and seems to trigger that part of my brain that I can control most of the week. Maybe I should just stop eating out for a awhile until I can control myself better. Thank you for reading, this is frustrating for me because I didn't realize before why weekends specifically seem to trigger my issues with food.

thank you for sharing and trusting me with this message! 🤍

I'm not sure if you want to hear my thoughts on this but I'll say them anyway and you can just ignore them if you want to.

I think what you're going through is extremely normal and not bad in any way, shape or form. this is not a sign of failure and you'll never go back to where you started! there's no going back, even if you decided to completely give up on all your current routine and efforts; you've already made changes, which means the old you is gone forever. I love that post that is like the happy and the sad guys in the bus and both of them say "there's no old self to go back to" because it's soooo true! unfortunately, even if you decide to self-destruct, it'll be an entirely new thing. you can never erase this progress, this mentality that you have formed, you'll never erase the changes you've made.

the important thing I think you need to learn/focus on is that progress is not a straight line of perpetual, endless, unstoppable growth. there's no such thing in any organism, entity or concept on this planet and, as far as I know, in any other planet. you'll always have off days, bad moments, and yes, even complete and utter failures, in anything you struggle towards, in anything you want to achieve, any project, any desire. you'll never be a perfect abstract flawless washed up organism. you're life, you're earth, you're a piece of chaos herself.

BUT! that's not to say that what you're describing to me is a failure. not picking the healthiest option on a menu when you're out to have fun doesn't mean you're doing something wrong, getting off track, losing progress, back to square one, none of that. food is not meant to be simply fuel, simply a means to an end, and if your healthy diet becomes a chore and a form of punishment, the stress of it alone will hinder your project. eating clean, healthy food is not something that you should do for a couple of months until you achieve a certain number on a scale or a certain shape in the mirror! it's a lifestyle change that should continue with you forever, because that's one of the main ways you can care for and protect yourself.

but that's not all there is to food and to eating and to living and caring for yourself! there's food for the heart too, food for the soul, food that makes us feel warm and that makes us have fun even if it's not the healthiest, most nutritious possible thing on the menu. there is absolutely nothing, NOTHING wrong with going out on the weekend and eating whatever you want, especially if you've been keeping a healthy diet the majority of the time! fun-over-health or flavor-over-nutrition meals are not gonna do anything bad to your body and soul unless you let it.

if you decide that eating a pizza over a salad is morally wrong, then it will damage and harm you, because it'll frustrate you, shame you, stress you out. and you don't deserve any of that. actually, even if you weren't keeping a healthy diet, you still wouldn't deserve to actively hurt your mental health over it. it's not worth it and it's completely arbitrary. you can decide whether these meals will make you feel bad, and you really, really should be kinder to yourself. there's a time and place for everything. you're allowed to have fun, to be spontaneous, to do whatever the hell you want.

besides, what's the point of keeping a clean lifestyle if you're not allowed to use your body as you wish? what's the point of having all this health if you can't enjoy it? what's the point of restricting and struggling and working hard if you won't give yourself credit and merit and allow yourself to exist without pressure?

if you're reading this and you want my true opinion, there's nothing for you to change or worry about. you can have fun with food and still keep a healthy lifestyle. you can't stress over every single second of your day, over every single bite you take, over every single item on the menu. you're working so hard on this body of yours, but don't forget that you also need to let your soul be. have fun and enjoy it! life's too short and too gloomy already to worry about dinner with friends and family on the weekends. please take these words to heart, I absolutely mean each and every one of them 🤍

#loveletters

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jewreallythinkthat · 5 months

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I think I've worked out part of my issue with a lot of the antisemitism from the performative allyship for Palestinians and that is the disingenuous patronising way these people will talk about October 7th.

This isn't about those who deny it, it's about the people who say "of course I condemn October 7th..." And then try and change the subject because that way they can fully avoid actually acknowledging the level of trauma that was caused to Israelis, and the worldwide Jewish community, that day. It allows them to say to themselves "I am a good person" because they have acknowledged that this happened and now they can say whatever they want, no matter how bigoted, or simply untrue, safe in the knowledge that they can point to this one line and shut down any discussion about the actual details of the atrocities which are still coming to light.

To borrow a phrase so many people like to use to justify the butchering of innocent civilians in Israel, what is happening in Gaza "did not happen in a vacuum". That is not to say that what's happening is acceptable, but it is unbelievably important to preface any discussion about the situation as a whole with the fact that there was a actual caesefire in place on October 6th which was broken by Hamas in the most vile, horrific ways that wouldn't even make it into a horror film because it is unfathomably awful.

To acknowledge the events of October 7th, you MUST talk about the grizzly details of what happened, you must be willing to engage with people who are still coming to grips with losing family, and friends and never feeling safe again because all they have seen since is unbridled glee at the thought of their death. Frankly, I'd never want anyone to be able to empathise with how I have felt as that would mean that have actually experienced the fear that someone will actually kill you because you see people hunting you down in broad daylight because I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

To flippantly say "of course that was awful, but anyway now I want to talk exclusively about the other side..." When someone Is trying to discuss October 7th itself is just trying to shut up Jews, Israelis, and anyone else who is trying to actually have a productive conversation.

What is happening in Gaza at the moment is a catastrophe and an horrific loss of life; an event which will leave lasting scars of trauma for generations. This doesn't mean it was unprovoked. And saying it wasn't unprovoked is also not saying that it is deserved. This is the fallacy of the argument. Multiple thing can be, and are true. If you only want to consider one, without the others, you are deliberately changing the situation and spreading misinformation.

The whole situation, and in fact the entire history of the middle east is one of the most complicated around the planet. But you cannot pick and choose where to count from just to make your argument work. If you think the only way to engage with people with different opinions to to infantilise, patrinise, and belittle, then you are not doing anything to help anyone. You are cementing yourself as a narrowminded fool with no ability to think for yourself.

If you genuinly think someone else's human rights should be taken away because of something they have done, they why shouldn't yours? It's a slippery slope.

If your opinions are not actually productive and you only get your news from one source, you are genuinely part of the problem. This is not meant to be a call out, it's a plea to actually do genuine research and read what people who disagree with you say with an open mind. You do not have to agree with them, but you have a duty to at least understand other people's point of view if you think you're important enough to be involved in the discussion - especially if it doesn't affect you personally in any way, shape or form.

#jumblr #antisemitism #i/p #shower thoughts tbh #the number of people who habe claimed they are acused of antisemitism to shut them up #and then immediately used this line to shut down any jews talking is insane

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meshlasolus · 2 years

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House Of Memories (13/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: bad dreams, angst, confessions?? kinda idk

Summary: You travel with Anakin and Padme to the planet of Tatooine, hoping to find Anakin's mother before something bad happens. You begin to feel more anxiety about Obi-Wan's position, wanting to leave your station to help him.

A/n: i hate this chapter, it's kind of a filler to move along the plot, anyways literally don't even read it, disregard it completely.

Words: 2k

Anakin had mediated that morning, feeling a horrible feeling about his mother, outside of the world of his dreams. It was a reality, she was going through something awful, and he needed to get to her. Anakin had insisted to Padme that she should stay on Naboo, with you as her security until he could return, but she protested, her true feelings showing through when she told him she would come with him.

That's how you came to be here, after a long flight, sitting in the home of the Lars family farm. Owen, Anakin's step sibling as it would come to be, was a very good and gentle man, you quite liked being in his and his girlfriend's presence. They led a much simpler life than you, not one you quite envied, but one you could see yourself one day settling into upon leaving the Order. You swore you never would, but seeing the galaxy in full, you began to wonder if maybe it could be a possibility, to explore, and to settle, eventually.

Cliegg, the man who had married Anakin's mother, was sitting at the head of the table, telling Anakin what had happened to the very person he had come so far for. The natives, the sand people in the desert, making homes out of the dun sea among other places on Tatooine, had capture her, held her hostage in their camps. Anakin seemed outraged, but he was of course too sensitive to take it out on the poor family who had actually been around her when it happened.

"Where are you going?" Owen asked, his head tilting up in a curious manner. You knew exactly where he was going.

"To find my mother."

"No, Ani," Padme tried to stop him, knowing it was dangerous, and that he was treading out to meet an unknown enemy. You knew he would be fine; you just hope that he didn't massacre an entire race because they kidnapped his mother. Perhaps you should go with him?

"Your mother is dead, son. Accept it," Cliegg tried his best to keep the young Skywalker from going out alone, and you didn't have the guts to tell him he shouldn't, but you were slightly concerned for him should he not find what he's looking for.

"I can feel her pain, and I will find her. I know she's alive."

With his last word, you knew you had to let him go. You understood what it was to feel the pain of someone you love and be expected to shut it out for the cause of the mission. You were trying your absolute best to hold out on hope that Obi-Wan was alright, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was hunting him.

"Thank you for letting us into your home, you've been very gracious," you thanked them, seeing that Anakin and Padme had abruptly left the room, no other words being said.

"Of course, anyone who was connected to Shmi is welcome with us."

You stood up, nodding to the three that were left around the table before making your exit also, offering as warm smile as you left, heading out to one of the ledges that overlooked the sandy dunes. Anakin was mounting a speeder-bike, ready to ride away at a moment's notice. Of course, he wouldn't leave without an encouraging embrace from Padme, whom you suspected got over her intense argument with him over their relationship.

You crossed your legs, placing your hands over your knees. You closed your eyes and inhaled deep breaths, the way Obi-Wan had taught you to meditate. He'd taught you so well, and it was the very reason you were able to reach out to him right now, trying to find out if he was alright. You searched the far corners of the galaxy, other signatures coming in and out of your range, but none of them being familiar enough for you to hold onto. You finally reached the space that you'd found his presence lurking in last time, but it wasn't there. It wasn't even close. You kept searching, brows furrowing as the vast expanse kept blowing past around your mind. It was like his signature no longer existed on an ethereal plane. You knew it wasn't gone, because part of it was still calling out to you, from where, you had no idea, but it had to be alive and strong for him to project it that far away. Perhaps the danger was past, and now that he felt safe, he tried to find your signature again. You were trying your best, but every attempt seemed to only be getting you further away from success.

You huffed, trying to focus, and let the force guide you, rather than you use the force to guide yourself.

You felt a flicker of light, and a feeling of warmth, but it wasn't physical, it was purely in your mental state. surrounding you, making you glow from the inside. You thought that maybe you'd found him, and were about to hold tight to his signature, branching your own out to perhaps get a feeling back from him, something, anything to indicate that he was alright. You extended your presence to him like a hand pulling someone away from trouble, but as soon as you made contact with the signature, it spit you back out like the days before.

You opened your eyes, feeling you heart rate climb and your hands begin to shake. He really was in trouble. You hoped Anakin would not take too long, because you wanted nothing more than to leave this planet and go find wherever Obi-Wan was.

"Pardon me, Jedi?" you heard a soft voice beside you, and you jolted at the sudden interruption of your mind. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

It was that sweet girlfriend of Owen, her name was Beru, you think. She smiled timidly in your presence; her hands folded like she was carefully contemplating something to say.

"It's alright," you shook your head a little, hoping she didn't get the idea that you were a rude Jedi. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I hate to bother you, but we seem to be having trouble with our heater... Owen's father said that perhaps you wouldn't mind using your abilities to help us get it working."

"Of course, I'll see what I can do."

When she led you inside, she pointed to the stove burner, which had completely been turned to the highest level it could be, without a single flame protruding.

You walked up, and upon closer inspection, the connecter to the gas lighter was broken horribly. You weren't very good at fixing things like Anakin was, your mechanic abilities were rather underdeveloped, as Obi-Wan so kindly put it. Truth be told, he didn't want you to focus on the more technical things, for he believed a consular of your class would excel to assignments far greater than mending a broken stove burner... but, here you were, wishing you'd taken Anakin up on his offer to learn at least a few simple things.

"I'm not sure I could fix it for you," you told them, a little embarrassed at being a Jedi learner, standing in the kitchen of another family and looking like a complete idiot. "What is it you need heated?"

"Just this kettle," Owen showed you, holding up the large metal caldron that was hanging over the heater before it had broken.

"That's not too bad," you said, taking it from his hands and hanging it back on the hook above the stove. You closed your eyes again, hoping you hadn't exhausted your force abilities by trying to find Obi-Wan.

"What are you going to do?" Beru asked, very excitedly coming over to witness. She had never met a Jedi before today, and by now she'd had the pleasure of bringing two into their home.

"Something I had to learn to do when Anakin took all the hot water from the 'fresher," you joked, raising your hand and closing your eyes. That was technically the exact reason why you'd learned you could do this but figured it best to remain as a joke. You inhaled, focus, and exhaled, heating the inner contents of the kettle without having used any help from the heater.

They all looked on in amazement, thankful for the help they had received. You lowered your hand and shook your head a few times to snap out of it. You were definitely pushing your limits with how many needless uses of the force you were making yourself endure.

You politely excused yourself, going to the room they'd assigned for you and Padme. She was still awake, but lying down in one of the small cots, looking as sleepy as you supposed you were.

"You seem to be popular among our hosts," she said, looking up and resting her head on her elbow.

You really didn't want to talk, because you knew you would probably make no sense in your dreary state, so you just smiled, rolling your eyes playfully at her in response and then laid down in the cot across from her.

"You've been thinking about him today, haven't you?" She asked, picking up on your subtle clues but deciphering them slightly wrong. It was technically the reason you were so tired; the strength was drained from you by your overuse of the force, and what you were using it to find.

"Yes," you turned to face her, though your eyes were falling fast with every minute passed. "I think he need's my help, I don't want anything to happen to him."

"I understand. You feel greatly for him, it must cause you pain to feel what he feels," she paused, laying back down and looking at the ceiling, which was purely drab compared to what she was used to. It was simple though, and humble. "How does it work?"

"How does what work?" You kept on, knowing that the moment you fell asleep it would probably be into a nightmare about Obi-Wan.

"Your bond to him, how you can feel him when he's not even there?" She was so curious, and she held a childlike innocence in the way she asked you these things.

"I'm not really sure. It's been there since I met him, so I've never been without it. I haven't really asked him about it, either. It always just seemed so natural, I guess it never crossed my mind that there was a reason for it."

It seemed to fascinate her, how you had used this ability all your life, but didn't know much of it, and didn't realize how much of a gift it is.

"I just know it's always been a comfort to me; he's always been a comfort to me," you fell deep into the feelings you held for him, the love, and the admiration. They embraced you, and helped you feel a little at ease, though it was hard to keep that sense of calm when the next moment you were raking your mind of why these thoughts were so important. "That's why I feel that something is badly wrong. I can't lose him, Padme."

"He's your Anakin," she summed it up, finally admitting to herself, and out loud to you about her strong feelings for your fellow padawan, while addressing your love for your Jedi Master.

"He's everything."

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dieauster-und-diegarnele · 8 months

Text

In defence of Pakku

The fandom seems to have a lot of hate towards him. Like, every time I look up something about the White Lotus, there are things like "Why is he even accepted? What is he doing there? He is not worthy" and that upsets to no end.

Of course, there are people who understands Pakku right, - for example, this great analisys of his attitude really inspired this post. He is not a mysoginist. Yes, I will defend this point of view. He never ever says anything bad about women, and he refuses to teach Katara because of his tribe's traditions, not because she's "not good enough" or "women in general are not good enough, and this exception only supports the rule".

He loved Kanna and I wholeheartedly believe this. I saw arguments like "he didn't care! He just made her a necklace with a waterbending symbol, he was not even a tiniest bit creative about it". So hear me out. He carved her the necklace. In the series we have Yugoda's phrase about Pakku making a necklace for Kanna ("The waterbending master"). Why should she focus on the fact that he carved it if it's a common thing to do, expected from every groom? So at first I assumed that the necklace could be bought ready, or ordered to some carving master, or inherited - or made by the groom himself, although the last option is not happening all that often.

So, Pakku did not have to make the necklace himself, but he did. Doesn't it prove that he cared?

Of course, in the same episode Yue is showing her necklace, and earlier in the episode Sokka tried to give her a present that he carved himself, so maybe it all foreshadows that Yue's necklace is carved by Hahn and so every groom has to carve if he wants to propose... Well, the lore says so (does "customary" means "obligatory"? I guess it does, they do value traditions in the North), but it quite contradicts mentions about Pakku carving necklaces - if everyone does it, why it's such a big deal to focus on, thrice?

But anyway, even if carving itself is nothing unusual, we have the design. It's the symbol of waterbending. Pakku's family is a waterbending family, a dynasty of waterbenders. That's what he is, what he's good at. And his bride was going to be a part of his family. So the gift he made for her is symbolic. He did not just choose the design because he had no fantasy - no, he chose this one on purpose, he wanted it to have a meaning. Because, again, the woman he loved meant a lot to him.

And I hope no one will argue that this thing is just so beautiful. So much for a woman he supposedly did not actually love and instead despiced for, well, being a woman.

He never married. Kanna left sixty yers ago ("The waterbending master"), and still we don't see Pakku having any spouse, or children, or grandchildren, nor we ever hear anything like that. He stayed true to her.

Also, the idea of Hakoda being Pakku's son makes no sense - he is obviously younger than 60.

Kanna kept the betrothal gift. She travelled to the other side of the planet, alone - I suppose some money would really help her, but she never sold the necklace, although, as I said, it is really beautiful, not to mention - exotic; she could have get a good prise for that. If she hated Pakku, wouldn't it be logical to get rid of the thing he gave her to make her his, to take away her freedom and make the rest of her life miserable? So maybe she did not hate him? Just thinking.

Kanna made this necklace a family heirloom. She gave it to her daughter-in-law (mentioned in "The waterbending master"), and was okay with Kya wearing it so often that Katara strongly links this thing to the memories of her mother. She was okay with Katara constantly wearing it (not that she could ask her granddaughter to leave behind a memory of Kya, but we never see or hear about Kanna being upset or uneasy with the fact that Katara wears the necklace). Again, she is weirdly okay with a reminder of the man she supposedly despices oh so much.

When Pakku came to the South Pole and proposed to her again (and he made another necklace, again, by himself, wow, he really doesn't give a shit about this woman, really), Kanna accepted his proposal ("Sozin's Comet, Part 2: The Old Masters"). First thing I love about this fact: he still loves her. She is sixty years older than he remebers, she is not a healthy young woman who can do a lot of chores, she is not that beautiful anymore, she cannot bear his children, and I guess they both are not that interested in having sex at all, - and still he wants to be with her. Could it be that he liked her for her personality? Cause that's the only explanation I can think of.

Second thing I love about that: she said yes. So, the first time she refused, but now she changed her mind, why? Well, maybe because he changed himself. He agreed to teach Katara, and he did it well - we would notice if he had treated her differently, gave her less practice, worse explanations, less praise than to the boy students, but he never did anything like that, quite the opposite, he respects her very much ("The Siege of the North, Part 1", "The Siege of the North, Part 2", "The Avatar State"). And Katara developed warm feelings towards him too. She runs to hug him as a new grandfather and tells that he and Kanna must be very happy together ("Sozin's Comet, Part 2: The Old Masters"). So I trust Kanna's and Katara's judgement.

I guess Katara was right when she explained why Kanna left the North Pole ("The waterbending master") - she hated the custom, not the groom personally. Maybe, just maybe, she even had some respect towards him - she kept his necklace, after all. Maybe she was not sure about his feelings and thought he marries her just because of tradition/his parents' will/whatever else? Or did not know him that well to love back because she generally paid less attention to him than he did to her? I don't know. But she is a strong woman, able to act bravely to defend herself from the things she conciders unfair. If she hated Pakku with all her heart, she would tell him to fuck off. If she just did not feel the same way as he did she would have suggested them to remain friends. But she decided to marry him, and she's a woman who knows what she wants and what she doesn't want, so I don't know what to add here. She clearly wanted to marry him this time.

Another thing I love is Pakku's change. He must be about Kanna's age, which is said to be 80; she left 60 years ago, so she was about 20 when Pakku proposed and he was told to be "young" at the moment ("The waterbending master"). It is hard to develop the new point of view and accept new ideas and values this late in life - but he was able to do that. And to add the icing on the cake: he did not change completely, transforming into a lovable guy all of a sudden - no, he is still pretty sarcastic and even bitter, so his main traits that make him him are intact. Such a great example of character growth!

I just love this pairing so much, their story is awesome. Two strong personalities, complicated feelings, not always mutual, someone had to work hard to deserve the love he wanted, and many years later after spending most of their lives separately they found their happiness in each other.

#pakku #kanna #avatar the last airbender #atla unpopular opinion

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