#this is 1.2k

[housecow]

and i haven’t even had my heavy cream for the day!

[oldjewelryfeed]

Antique French Gothic MEMENTO MORI Silver Pocket Watch-Enamel Grim Reaper Dial

[nikitapilledd]

@nikitapilled got termed 💔reblog & help me find my moots again

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

[godlessyaoi]

doodle inspired by @.wombrion go follow now now now

[frownyalfred]

me, swigging NyQuil straight from the bottle: this is good

brain: really?

me: gotta write this down, gotta write this down—

[waldau]

ruminations — jeon wonwoo | 1,289 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: alcohol.

you're about to get up from the sofa and go to the bathroom to carry out your nighttime routine when the doorbell rings. that's odd; you're not expecting anyone at the moment.

but when you open the door, you see your tall boyfriend standing in front of you, being held up by his best friend, mingyu. literally being held up in the sense that mingyu has an arm around his waist and his other hand on wonwoo's back. wonwoo looks like he's putting zero effort into standing. his eyes widen when he looks at you, but he says nothing.

right. your boyfriend had gone for a party with the rest of his bandmates, and you'd asked him if he wanted to spend the night at your place afterwards, but you didn't expect him to be here almost an hour before the party ended.

you open your mouth, a couple of questions on your tongue, but mingyu shakes his head. "don't make him cry."

you're bemused by what he's said. "why...would i do that?"

"not that you'd— he's very wound up today. he just looks like he's going to cry at any moment."

you look at wonwoo. he's looking at you very seriously, like his actions are going to depend on what you're going to say next.

"hi, baby," you say carefully. wonwoo moves out of mingyu's grasp and into yours.

you're hardly as strong as mingyu, and you admit it takes quite some effort to make sure wonwoo doesn't fall. "just how much did he have?" you ask mingyu. wonwoo's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining.

"not much at first, but then he lost a bet to hoshi, and..."

you tut. wonwoo is never really into playing drinking games. "you didn't stop him?"

"i would have, if we had been on the same team. it was funny watching him tug joshua's hair again and again."

you chuckle. "you're evil, you know that?"

mingyu's about to say something when wonwoo mumbles. "what's that?" you ask him.

"tired."

"of course you are. mingyu, thank you so much for—"

"hey, no problem. i know he'd do the same for me."

"get a girl first," wonwoo says, looking at his friend. you let out a surprised laugh while mingyu stands there with his mouth open.

"that's how you show your thanks to me?"

you push wonwoo inside, bidding mingyu goodnight before he shuts the door. "i think you need to sleep before the alcohol really hits you," you say. wonwoo hasn't let go of your hand even now.

you decide to take him into the kitchen to make him sit for a while and see if he needs some water, but he stands resolutely when you try to tug him forward.

"what is it?" you ask gently.

he blinks at you. "you look really good."

your words catch in your throat. it's not very often that wonwoo's verbal with his affection. "aw. thank you, wonwoo," you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

he shakes his head. "i mean it. did you know you look really pretty tonight?"

"now i do. thank you, baby. do you want some water?"

he shakes his head again, and doesn't budge when you try to get him into the kitchen.

"something on your mind?"

wonwoo simply takes his hand out of yours and holds your face with both his hands, tilting your head up so you face him. he looks tired, like he said, but his brown eyes are sparkling under his glasses. you can't tell if it's from the light, or—

"do you believe in reincarnation?"

"huh?"

"do you...believe in reincarnation?"

you rest your hands on wonwoo's, taking them off your face so you can talk easier, but you don't let go. "where did that come from?"

"i asked you first."

you sigh. "well...no."

wonwoo's lips part, and you realize those sparkles in his eyes are unshed tears which are now collecting along his waterline. "oh," he says in a small voice.

you're beyond confused. what the hell happened for mingyu to warn you not to make him cry? "wonwoo?" when he doesn't respond, you sink down to the ground and pull him, so he's sitting cross-legged in front of you. you're still holding onto his hands like they're a lifeline. "what made you ask me that?"

he shrugs and huffs. so you've hit some sore spot you didn't even know existed. "i'm taking off your glasses, okay?" he says nothing when you reach forward to slide them off his face and hook them to the collar of your shirt. then you push his hair back from his face.

"stop," he mumbles, but he doesn't make any effort to push you away.

"what? sorry, am i annoying you? do you want to go to bed?"

"no. this. being...cute."

"i'm just taking care of you? i haven't even done anything yet."

wonwoo sighs and takes one of your hands again, tracing it with his thumb.

you stand up, hoping he'll keep holding your hand so you can pull him to his feet. instead, he remains put in his place and that makes you fall into his lap.

"wonwoo?"

"minghao said something about...if he could become a mosquito, he'd trouble jun in every life. and i wondered if...you know."

you wait for him to gather his words, even though you think you know where this is headed.

"if you'd be with me in every life, too. but now..."

oh. "won—"

"it's okay. i'll...manage."

you can't help but giggle. he looks at you like you've offended him. "you're acting like i made my choice," you explain.

"didn't you?"

you trace the bridge of his nose. he closes his eyes. "wonwoo," you say slowly. you need to think it through, not hurt him. it's not like you've been dating very long; a year is just enough time for you to be serious about your relationship, but the fact that he's been thinking about being together in all your other lives too...

"hm."

"do you really see us together in every life?"

"you don't."

"i never said that."

"but you just said that you don't believe in—"

"i don't, but if i could always be with you...then i don't mind."

it's magical, seeing the hurt in his eyes vanish and be replaced by almost childlike wonder. "you'd...always be with me?"

"if i could trouble you forever, yes."

he laughs. he looks really good, you realize, sitting in your apartment, his hair hair all askew and his hands locked around your waist. the fact that he came back to you, to your place, and took up your offer instead of being hungover all by himself makes your heart warm.

"did i ever tell you?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"probably not?"

"i love you."

it's not often that you say this particular phrase to each other, because you're both better at actions than words, but you think this is a good time to say them.

wonwoo smiles dopily at you, and you can almost picture your future with him if you close your eyes. the thought makes you tingly inside, and even though he probably won't remember everything he's said tonight, you can't help but feel like your heart is beating loud enough for him to hear.

wonwoo pulls you closer, and you're filled with the sudden urge to press yourself as close to him as possible so this moment never passes. "i have another question."

"ask me after you change into something more comfortable than your jeans?"

"it won't take long." he tilts your chin down and you're so, so gone. "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

"...hoshi's so dead."

[tervaneula]

the heir and the ronin by katterv

Chapter 3

The Hamatos retire for the night. Their guest wakes up.

These gays, they're trying to murder me 😩 (=I'm exploding from anticipation I CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO KISS WHY DID I MAKE THIS A SLOW BURN...ish)

[b4rfbrain]

seditionaries malcom mclaren, vivienne westwood punk peanuts graphic tee (around 1977)

[starkeyvhs]

congrats on 1.2k 🩷🩷

hyacinth | dad!rafe and mom!reader wedding 👀 you know im obsessed with them

𓂃𓏲 dad!rafe and mom!reader's wedding! (from my the cameron family universe)

you wedding was a small affair and you both invited only the closest people to keep it as intimate as possible. it was done by the beach. your best friends and sisters were your bridesmaids, and they were the best bridesmaids you could've asked for. rafe couldn't help but cry when you walked down the aisle, because you looked too breathtaking. he couldn't believe you both were getting married. you said your vows to each other and then kissed, and after the kiss, rafe mumbled "I love you, mrs. cameron", against your lips. you decided to leave polaroid cameras for your guests on each table, and in the end you had the best collection of photos. you and rafe left off in a rolls royce that he drove, and he bought you back in your home. and since then, none of you have ever looked back, and made your home as loving as it could be. <3

join my 1.2k celly! <3 // thank you for the request baby!! 🥹 I hope you enjoyed this 💖

[karlyboyyy]

[oldjewelryfeed]

Victorian 18K Gilt Vermeil Silver and Enamel Memento Mori Skull & Ouroboros Snake

[spiderb6y]

PRIZED POSSESSION ‹𝟹

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ; bridget hearts x gn reader.

summary ‎⸝⸝⸝ bridget freaks out after hook breaks the bracelet you made her.

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ hurt/comfort, capt. hook being a bully (as per usual), brief mentions of a scratch.

note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this is heavily inspired by this fic,, i highly recommend reading it, it's incredible !!!

bridget smiled to herself, skipping happily through the merlin academy hallway. with a small pink tupperware in hand, she was currently on her way to visit you! she'd come up with a new cupcake recipe and wanted you to be the first to taste it. the new batch was made with you in mind, so she was over-ecstatic for you to try them.

she exited the hallway, now happily skipping through the courtyard. she'd only made it about halfway before the feeling of cold metal grazing her wrist startled her. she let out a yelp as she stumbled back, dropping her tupperware on the ground when she flinched.

“whoops!” the voice made bridget take her eyes off the scratch running across her wrist — she looked up, noticing james waving his hook around teasingly. her bracelet —the bracelet you'd gave her on your first date— was dangling off the edge of said hook.

she immediately froze and held her hand out, her palm facing upwards, “please– please give it back.”

it wasn't until james denied her request and began taunting her, that she finally noticed how worried she actually was. she felt so, absolutely sick to her stomach, and it only made her want her bracelet back even more. putting on the bracelet had become a staple of her morning routine, to the point that how her day went all depended on if she was wearing it or not. she had a really deep emotional attachment to it, and it was only occurring to her now how much she truly cared for the bracelet. it was already torture for her when she'd misplaced the bracelet once before, so the thought of losing it for good was agonizing.

tears pooled in bridget's eyes from all the negative thoughts circulating in her head — and she started getting angry. she didn't know why james decided to mess with her bracelet so suddenly, you two had always been pretty public, but someone noticing the importance of her bracelet was extremely obscure. whatever the reason, she was sure that uliana was behind this.

“give it back!–” she lunged forward, trying to get the bracelet back from james. he stepped back, trying to dodge her, but at the same time she'd managed to just barely grasp it, causing the distance to make it to stretch far more than it could handle.

bridget flinched when the beads flew everywhere — she stood eerily still, as if moving would make the moment more real. james' laugh pulled her out of her thoughts, and she immediately dropped to her knees, trying to pick up all the beads through tears. james uttered a couple more sentences before walking off, probably more taunting, bridget was too focused on finding all the beads to listen to him.

she spent a couple of minutes on the ground, combing through the grass looking for every single little bead through silent sobs. she hadn't found another one for a little while now, but the feeling she was still missing a couple plagued her deeply. though, she couldn't handle being away from you any longer, and the feeling of people staring at her as they passed by was making her feel so humiliated — she hesitantly stood up, cupping the beads she'd collected tightly in her right hand, then quickly grabbing the tupperware she'd dropped earlier with her other hand before hastily running off to your room, letting out a few sniffles as she did so.

── 𖹭 ──

you jumped at the sound of your door suddenly swinging open, but your panic immediately washed away at the sight of bridget with tears streaming down her cheeks.

you rushed over to her, “bri? what's wrong?”

“hook, he– i– m'sorry.” she opened her right hand, showing you all the scattered beads. you frowned at the sight, quickly putting the pieces together of what had probably happened.

“it's okay, we can fix it. it's alright.” you took the tupperware out of her other hand, swiftly moving to place it on your desk, “put the beads here.” you grabbed a small empty container, and she hesitantly dropped the beads into it.

she wiped her tears away, watching you place the container on your desk. you turned back around to her, your arms open wide to offer her a hug — she immediately accepted the offer, rushing into your arms and quietly sobbing into your chest. you hugged her tightly, murmuring sweet nothings about how you could easily remake the bracelet for her.

── 𖹭 ──

after a little while of comforting, bridget had recollected herself, and the two of you were now sitting at your desk, beginning to remake her bracelet.

bridget had her head rested on your shoulder, along with her arms wrapped firmly around your torso — she remained mostly silent while you rebuilt the bracelet, only occasionally perking up to tell you if a certain bead was in the wrong spot. she'd spent so many minutes of her life just staring at the bracelet, absolutely enamored that you'd taken the time to make such a lovely gift for her. so of course the pattern was engraved into her memory, it was nearly impossible for her to forget it.

you placed the last needed bead on the string, before holding it up to show bridget, “it's finished!”

her eyes lit up and she squealed, letting go of you and holding out her hand, so that you could tie the bracelet around her wrist. she smiled eagerly as she watched you adjust the bracelet accordingly, her heart swelling with joy as you tied the string ends.

when you finished tying it she stood up and happily twirled around, before hugging you tightly whilst uttering a bunch of "thank you"s over and over.

she let go of you after a moment and then spun around once again, beginning to ramble about how she thought the bracelet was ‘broken forever’ while cheerfully pacing around your room — she suddenly paused mid-sentence, her eyes drifting to the pink tupperware on your desk that was discarded earlier.

you tilted your head at the sudden silence, before tracing her line of sight back to the tupperware. you pointed at it, turning your head to face her before tilting your head again. “uhm, i... made those for you!”

she sheepishly walked over, picking up the tupperware and opening it. she frowned, noticing that the two cupcakes had fallen upside-down when she dropped the tupperware earlier. she picked up one, bashfully handing it over to you.

“they.. were prettier before... but it's a new recipe! you were.... kind of the inspiration for them.” she rocked back and forth on her heels, watching anxiously as you took a bite out of the cupcake.

she let out a sigh of relief when your eyes widened with —what she correctly assumed was— delight. “bridget, this is amazing!” she immediately blushed, joyfully beginning to ramble on about the recipe.

before she got too into the recipe, you interjected, “why don't you tell me about the recipe while we make matching bracelets?”

bridget's face lit up straight away, and she skipped back over to the desk, happily agreeing over and over. she sat back down next to you, excitedly rambling on about what colors you two should pick for the bracelets.

after deciding on colors, she turned her rambles to focus on the recipe, like you'd suggested — in all honesty, all of her baking lingo made zero sense to you, but you were just glad that she was back to her usual cheery self.

[disbnad]

୧ ‧₊˚ random users ˚₊ ‧ ୨

koogumi cinamorale sesamebar

kissland miffyslice dollified

starbok ribbonsore locitusts

[rotthepoet]

i’m still thinking about fwb/bsf!theo every day, the way you wrote his yearning drove me crazyyyyyyyy. do you think you would ever write out all the boys’ reaction when they finally get it confirmed?? walking back in at the party, clearly fucked out or (if they never come back down) when someone makes a comment on a hickey and you’re like “oh yeah theo got carried away” and they’re all like AHA GOTCHA and they’re like ?? have no idea what you’re talking about we’ve never been secretive. just like straight up gaslighting them as enzo gives blaise some galleons from their bet. theo becoming even more touchy in public and absolutely devoted to his girl. oh and their summer in italy???? good loooooooord. thinking many thoughts always

This message made me so happy. Im gonna be real, I had completely forgotten everything I wrote about them and I got to go back and read my old writing. Hand over my mouth like i dont know whats going to happen. Part 3??? Genuinely have no recollection of writing a full length fic about them. SO IM SO GLAD YOU BROUGHT IT BACK UO BECAUSE WE CAN HAVE CLOSURE!!!! WOOT WOOT (lowkey just kinda rambling in this. If we want a full, put together fic of summer in italy im so fucking down bro because mattheo is so pissy in this and I need more jealous bestie mattheo)

He was so gentle the first time he took you, his girlfriend, his lover, his. Finally his. Fuck, you were finally his. His hips rocked slowly into yours, pulling you into heaven with a blissful orgasm. But fuck it wasn’t enough. It was never enough with the two of you. Not with all the time Theodore had spent shoving away his feelings. Not with all the time wasted whike you cried over a boy who would “never love you back”

How stupid you both were for wasting precious time.

Throughly fucked out, eyes hazy and limping slightly while Theo guides you back out to the party. He fixes your dress for you, his hands lingering on your exposed skin without shame as he admired how the green lights darkened your new hickies and love bites.

His friends sat on a couch, each with a drink or joint in their hands, yelling and calling over Theo with excitement. They cant help but catcall you as well, noting your disheveled look.

“Got lucky tonight?” Lorenzo asks you tauntingly, nudging an unimpressed Mattheo, who can’t help but glare between you and Theo. His leg bounces anxiously, and Blaise sits further on the edge of the couch.

“Yeah, Theo got a bit carried away,” you hum in response, falling into Theodores lap as he sits down on a soft, green chair.

Mattheo’s gaze pierced through Theodore’s, smoldering with a look you couldn’t quite place. It seemed Theo hadnt noticed yet, with how busy he was sucking a new bruise onto your shoulder.

Draco sits up, a bit drunk, “What did I say? I knew they were fucking— fuckin’… little whores,” he laughed, “Thought you were so slick, but couldn’t keep shit secret.” He laughed.

Your gaze meets Theo’s, and you both know what needs to happen.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be making my girlfriend feel good?” Theo questioned, faux curiosity and confusion lacing his tone.

Lorenzo chokes on the smoke of his joint, eyes bulging from bis head. “The fuck? You—“ he paused, coughing up a lung, and Draco interjected with his prissy annoyance, “You said there was nothing going on between you two not even a week ago.”

You knit your brows in confusion, forcing down the smile trying to force its way onto your face. “I don’t think either of us ever said that… we’ve made it pretty obvious, y’know, that we’re together?” You debate, but you can’t bother listening to Lorenzo and Draco break out into angered rants as Mattheo stands suddenly from his seat. He shoves through the crowd, disappearing beneath the haze of vapor and smoke.

Theo’s eyes follow him, but his grip never loosens on you.

Thats a whole other problem there.

Blaise, waving off the bickering, nods his head at you. “And are you joining us at the Nott summer home this year?” He asked, and Theo grinned big, “Of course she is. Would miss my girl too much otherwise,” which only instigates another loud argument from both Malfoy and Berkshire.

His girl. Thats what you are now. Thats what you were always meant to be<3

[animazi]

vade mecum iii

dhuoda’s handbook tr. c. neel // the phantom menace // attack of the clones // revenge of the sith // return of the jedi

vade mecum, latin: ‘go with me’, a handbook. vader, latin: 'to go'.

be brave, and don't look back.

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I am talking here! Because as ever I spent way too long choosing specific screenshots to use for this - and for this one specifically, while the theme of this series overall is to do with Shmi, and using the ideas of Dhuoda's text as a mother writing to her absent son to discuss some of the general Anakin Tragedy. For some context Dhuoda was a Frankish noblewoman writing between 841-3. Her handbook is the sole (surviving) Carolingian text written by a woman iirc, and it's a teaching manual for her son, William, who was a hostage in the court of Charles the Bald. She hadn't seen him since he was 14, and he would later be executed by Charles after trying to avenge his father (who Charles executed). When I was reading it, I was getting sort of three layers of psychic damage; one from the text itself, one from the part of my brain relating it to Star Wars, and the third from the fact that any part of me instinctively jumped to SW in a somewhat tasteless manner. sigh.

ANYWAY! so this is a more ironic (and meta) take on the quote than how I'm presenting the others in this series - "From the first line of this little book, know that all of this is written for your salvation." The meta aspect is obvious - combined the PT and OT are the story of Anakin, it very literally is a story of his salvation. He is saved by Luke. Salvation History is seen as linear, but I think there's some inherent subversion of that when looking at the (Anakin) story of SW, because forward momentum is kinda denied; the decision to have Force Ghost Anakin be his ROTS-era form essentially passes judgement on Vader as a separate form; this is not so much a straightforwards story of falling and being saved, but rather is one where the falling itself is an error, and through salvation is 'erased'. Is this a perfect analysis? No, and I'm not going to claim it to be, but I do think that sort of loop that is brought in is interesting, especially when extending the layer of meta analysis out further to the fact that even as Anakin's salvation is done by Luke, the PT retroactively saves him once again by depicting his fall. You know the joke - give a villain a sympathetic backstory, and then you've already done the legwork of redeeming them for the audience. So, the 'little book' then is not only Shmi's message to Anakin, but it is also the whole story of Star Wars. Because of this, there is an element of irony there, in Anakin's fall at all - events that Shmi never knew, of course. When she says goodbye to him, both times, he does not need salvation. He has not fallen. So then, there is a rather bittersweet touch that she knew perhaps the 'purest' version of him. I don't particularly like that word, but it's being used. Shmi's actions, her decision to let go of him is grounded in multiple desires - Destiny and the reality of Life on Tatooine perhaps chief among them. Dhuoda's handbook was deeply concerned with the spiritual education of her son, the handbook is a work towards his salvation in part because it is so focused on stressing Christian principles and practise. For Shmi, in the context of this series, the handbook is the world and also herself and her actions. I will talk more about this later, please put in pin in that. All that is written is what she has done, and it is the Force, in universe Which brings me onto my interesting tangent*, and one that will certainly get me pilloried by certain aspects of SW tumblr: the Force IMO is (often) far less Buddhist than it is Christian. This is undoubtedly influenced by the PT being my area of expertise (and IRL being very interested in Medieval Catholicism), but, regardless, as any familiar with my web weaves probably can tell, the element of determinism brought in with full force by the PT is something I severely fuck with. So, the the story is also the salvation of Anakin, the restoration of him to who he once was, and this is an in-universe salvation - and I use salvation in its full religious sense there. Getting back more in-universe then, my decision to open with that interaction between Anakin and Palpatine was also very deliberate in this, due to his construction of (depending on your personal interpretation of canon etc etc) some level of Anakin's fall, hence why he is positioned with the narrative.

There is also similar a decision I made with 'know that all this is written for your' images. For Shmi's grave, and Padme's funeral I chose motivation over depiction of atrocity, again because I am in making this (ideally) in communication with the narrative function of the PT: why did Anakin become Vader? Well, because of Glucas' love for refrigeration. The 'your' image is a little different from that - I chose it both as a representation of that sort of final positive relational bridge being burnt, so to speak, and for the fact that it, as an image, represents that he has strayed so far from the path of good. He's been excommunicated from the Jedi Order, if you will.

And with that, I have One More point to make before I shut up. It's about the women, and isn't so much of an actual point as an acknowledgement and brief discussion of the way that the narrative does compress Shmi and Padme down into very secondary characters, revolving around Anakin. Which, yes, this post does implicitly also do. I'd like to bring back Dhuoda here, because I am deliberately trying to draw a parallel between the 'male' focus of SW and, well, history. As I said, Dhuoda's handbook is the only work written by a Carolingian woman that we have. It is so entirely about her son, and by implication her inability to fulfil her maternal role - everything she says in it would assumedly, in a normal situation, be passed on by her through discussion, rather than in an advice book. Women were moved around a lot more than men - the daughter leaves the father to go to the husband. What does this wife then do when her husband leaves her and takes the children - in this case for a 'greater good'? Stay behind, and wait. The roles of women within a patriarchal society are slim; they are in essence the bedrock of family (if you want me to I will elaborate on this) but they are also constantly degraded and seen as inferior. The Carolingians were not feminists, to put it lightly. Women were 'wife' or 'mother' more often than they were people. Julia Smith said on this that 'anonymity obliterates identity', and SW is an unfortunate continuator of this. Padme actively had her role outside 'wife' be cut down. Even the cut germination of the rebellion is still, in essence, a 'motherhood'. She gives birth to hope and then dies. Shmi never has the 'wife' element which does expose a little more of who Padme is to the world, she is mother to a degree that the Carolingians would probably approve of. When I was first coming up with the concept for this series, it was that giving up of her son that first sparked parallels. That Shmi is absent in image from this set is not a coincidence; the world is ordered around her removals from the world, not her presence in it.

*Yes, this is a deliberate reference to the Anakin's Thesis series on YT by Seals Are Good. I find it funny ok!!!