#That really is what makes a star wars ship for me isn't it

[steviewashere]

I want to write something sort of meta, hear me out on it. Sorry, if this hits too close to home. The idea came to me and I needed to get it out of my system. And...would you look at that, another half-written fic.

Steve ends up getting really into Star Wars after Dustin shows him to it. Like, so much that he gets himself involved with conventions, cosplay, collecting anything and everything he can. He's involved in a fandom space. Learns the world of fan fiction. And let's say that maybe, during his time figuring out where he wants to go with life, he picks up writing fanfic as a hobby.

It encourages him to get an English degree. Encourages him to lean more into that hobby, but then expanding upon it to write original short stories and small novels that go published. But he holds strong to Star Wars and fandom and finding his spot cemented in it. He's been a fan for...nearly forty years at this point (set in 2024, ugh I know).

And maybe he dabbles in online spaces here and there. He ignores the insufferable adults in the Star Wars fandom (the "um, actually..." guys, btw). Indulges the effort of typing out his handwritten fan fiction, ones he used to bring and pass around at conventions, ones he'd let Eddie read with a shy look in his eyes. And he posts them online, has a Tumblr account, maybe does a few short things on Twitter, definitely is on AO3 (albeit newer, having never attempted online fan work before).

But then...then he gets his first little bit of hate. Vicious, gross comments on his work. Sometimes in private messages. Even publicly, once, on Twitter. It irks him. He holds strong, he does. But then it gets worse and worse and somehow, worse. Younger people claiming he's too old, others claiming that he can't write for certain characters because they're out of his age range, that he can't ship certain people, he can't say that a character would do this or that, that Star Wars is media for a younger audience (despite being somebody who saw it "back in the day"). But that he...That he's not supposed to be there.

And that last little comment sticks with him for a long time. It makes his effort and his attention and his love for writing fanworks falter. He stops. Thinks about the characters he loves, of Leia and Han or even Luke and Han or Lando and Han (listen he loves writing Han). But then he wonders if it's even worth it, to indulge this interest anymore. Yeah, maybe he's older than the source material. Sure, maybe he was introduced to it a little later than most, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it. Yet, his attention towards Star Wars completely falls away.

He stops watching it. His DVDs going dusty and unused. Starts putting away all his action figures, because what if he posts a photo one day and somebody sees them and claims that that's not for him and—

Then, he goes completely offline from fandom. Even if he still gets the emails from users who actually enjoy his stuff, ignoring them completely. Focuses on using the internet for work. For his novels, for the little stories he actually gets paid to write. But his work just isn't the same. The passion, despite being an original story and original source material, is completely dwindled.

His hobby has been stripped from him. His interest has been knocked straight out of his hands. And he just...moves on.

Even if it hurts to go down into the basement of he and Eddie's home, eyes catching on the see-through bins of original action figures, Lego sets, comic books. Even if it makes something strangle in his chest when he opens up the browser on his phone and it immediately opens to a new ship he'd been getting into: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker—because he finally picked up The Mandalorian, because he was finally talked into watching it when he had the free time.

And then it all bursts over when Eddie finally approaches him about it, when they're enjoying a night-in, sitting around lazily on their sofa.

"There's a convention coming into town," he comments, "supposedly, Hayden Christensen is going to be there. We should go, try and meet him."

Steve just grunts in response.

"Oh-kay...or we could just stay home and watch the movie?" Eddie suggests. "Been a while since I've seen Darth on screen, telling Luke about"—

"I don't want to," Steve cuts in quietly, "isn't really my thing anymore."

Silence then follows. For a beat. Then two. A third.

"Not your thing?" Eddie asks him incredulously. "Not too long ago you were raving all about that new show that's coming out! That you saw they were doing lightsaber whips and you were excited to see how they worked! What do you mean it's 'not your thing'?"

Steve shrugs. "Grew out of it or whatever. Got more important things to focus on now." He sniffs, trying to keep himself held together, grumpy and firm in his decision.

Eddie's stare drills into the side of his face. Scalding, just like that lava was in Revenge of The Sith. "Baby," he speaks softly, "did something happen? You haven't even...you don't read your beautiful little stories to me anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even seen your lightsabers around here. What's goin' on?"

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A ratty plain white t-shirt that he wears now when he's lounging around the house. It used to be one with the Millennium Falcon on it, but that's tucked down far in his dresser. Not for him anymore.

"Steve," Eddie presses, "did something happen?"

His stare stays down at his lap, still fiddling with his shirt. Fingers flexing unfamiliarly in the strings, unlike the loose ones on his Star Wars shirts. "I just"—Steve heaves a deep sigh—"it's time I grow up. It's...not for me anymore. Too old for it now, I guess."

"You guess or you know? Because nobody's too old for anything. Unless, y'know, you're like eighty-nine and in terrible health and trying to hike Everest, then..."

Despite everything, Steve finds himself chuckling. A giddy little sound here and gone in a breath. He shrugs again, albeit smaller this time. Crumbling within himself. Quietly, honestly, he admits, "People were being mean to me about it online. About my writing. That I'm doing it wrong, that I—that I'm too old for it. That I don't belong because of my age." He finally brings himself to look at Eddie, blearily because his eyes are aching and wet. "I got to thinking and I...maybe I've just been too caught up in my own bliss to realize that those people are right. They're right and I shouldn't be into kids stuff anymore."

Eddie makes a soft, sad cooing noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, baby," he breathes. "Baby, those people don't know a single damn thing about your love. But...but I do. I know that you've seen every single Star Wars movie more times than I've probably eaten in my entire life. And what about all those Halloween costumes over the years? I didn't dress up like Leia for nothing, Mr. Solo."

Steve scoffs wetly. Goes to protest, but—

"And...and that handshake! The one with Dustin? You guys have had that for nearly forty fucking years! So, why bother indulging any of these...these hardasses on the internet? Did they sit next to you on the sofa as you fucking curled yourself like a shrimp and wrote every little intricate detail of a kiss between Luke and Han? Have they read your work while you blushed all shy, while you tucked your hair behind your ear and asked for the most earnest of feedback, to make sure you spelt things correctly or put a comma in the right place? These people, did they get to see you blossom and grow like a fucking bushel of roses over your hobby?

"Because I know I did. And even though you were nervous about your words on the paper, you still came to me. You still wrote and wrote and wrote until I had to bully you into breaks, just so you wouldn't ruin your poor wrists. If they had even an ounce of the passion that you do, they could write their own stories. They can make their own endings and make the characters the way they imagine them.

"They choose, instead, to—what—make fun of you because you have a space to express yourself? Because you found passion and turned it into something so beautiful, even I—a dungeon master, someone supposed to be amazing at storytelling—can't put into words? You found a way to do that, Steve. And you do that with kindness. You do it for free, mind you. If their only passion sits within sending you vitriol over people who aren't even remotely close to real, then they're the ones who don't belong.

"If I've learned anything, fandom is a space to share and bounce off each other's words. It's community and it's belonging and it's sharing what you love because you just love it. Fandom isn't bullying. Bullying is just bullying, Steve.

"And everything you've ever done in your life, in regards to fandom and outside of it, is so much better than hate. You may be a nerd or...or a little bit overzealous or whatever, but at least you aren't hateful. I think being hateful, that's worse—don't you think?"

Steve can only stare in response, fast tears down his cheeks, hands shaking in his shirt. Mind reeling. Because, yes, Eddie's right. And he maybe should've talked about it initially, but the hurt festered and festered and tangled and grew until he was nothing but an unhealed scab. And Eddie, he's the antiseptic to his uncovered cuts—the ones deep on his heart, where all his love is—even for things considered mundane, like movies, like TV shows.

"Steve," Eddie carefully murmurs, wrapping Steve's hands with his own, "you don't have to do something right to love it. You don't have to be a certain way to be happy. If Star Wars made you happy, then why give it up?"

He sniffles and chokes back on a sob. Because, again—damnit—Eddie's right. "I miss it," he admits quietly, "all I've done is miss it."

Eddie gives him a small smile. Something achingly soft that reaches deep within Steve. "Then open your arms and welcome it back, baby," he whispers, "even if you can't be online anymore, do it for yourself."

"I...I want to try it again, I'm just...scared. What if people hate it all over again? What if they're just nasty to me and shut me down and push me to the side and"—

"But what if they love it? What if your readers have missed you just as much?"

"You think?" he meekly asks.

Eddie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "I know, actually. Your emails keep coming in on the computer's desktop because I keep forgetting to log you out. And, baby, you would not believe how many people have been eager for updates, for your return." His thumbs work into the backs of Steve's hands, warm and sure. "And, if it helps, maybe I can moderate your comments before you look at 'em? I'll read them to myself and if they're mean, I'll delete them."

Steve blows out a breathy little chuckle. "You'll just get mad at them," he gently teases. "But that doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I should try again. Not yet, though. I'm not ready."

"That's okay," Eddie assures, "take things slow. Maybe we start with watching the movies again? Getting your lightsabers back on display?"

"Can we go to the convention, too?"

"We can do whatever you want, Stevie."

For the first time in a long while, Steve finds himself smiling. "I love you," he whispers.

"I know."

[thalfbloodloser]

i wish we had alloaro representation in media. a charming character who fucks - both literally AND aesthetically. one that makes other characters go "wow! they're so cool and good in bed, but ultimately un-datable, because as soon as they sense any romantic intention on you, they flee" (kinda like lucifer morningstar from "lucifer". he's aroallo in my heart)

a character who's funny and has a horrifyingly 80's sense of fashion (they have a curly combed-out mullet and mismatched earrings. you'll find them at pride wearing a corn costume because it "matches the aroallo flag" and they're "being subtle") or one who's the embodiment of a 60's greaser (their motorcycle helmet is themed after the aro flag and the back of their leather jacket says "LOVELESS / LOVE LOSES") or one who's a girly fanfiction writer that has more ships than a star wars movie (their fics are muntifandom-ly famous and most their stuff is covered in yaoi/yuri patches and stickers. everyone thinks they're a hopeless romantic because of it, but that's exactly why they're so big on the fiction ≠ reality discourse) or...

anyone else, really. just ultimately a HUMAN who's casually aromantic. one who doesn't make it a parade but isn't subtle about it, either. will they hold other character's hands? maybe. kiss their cheek? perhaps. hang out with them, on picnics and walks along the river? can't see why not! but platonically. or maybe have them be genuinely romance-repulsed & not so eager to participate in anything socially perceived as romantic. that would also be amazing.

let them express themselves sexually! let them fuck. give them a..."fuckbuddy", if you must. or a best friend who's sexually involved with them - classic romcom material, i know - but without it being "complicated"; because there's no romance involved to complicate it.

give them funny scenes. another character tries to kiss their lips or ask them on a date? they laugh nervously, the scene cuts and we get a hilarious shot of them escaping through the bathroom window. or audibly saying "ew" and then regretting it. another character is struggling to write a romcom/romance book without it being corny? we get a scene where our character casually describes the most romantical (and, to them, unappealing) plot ever - because, much like aces acing the smut department, they're far from misunderstanding what is or isn't heartstopping for alloromantics - only to have the other character stare at them like "?????????? HELLO????". give us a scene of them being confused as to why their hookup is yelling at them for acting "so casual" and responding with a quotable shitty line ("just because we had sex last night i can't call you "bro"? / "what? expected me to marry you or something? get off my bed, it's 9AM" / "would you rather have me mad? sad? what's happening here. give me a hint")

but give them complicated scenes too. scenes portraying the loneliness that comes with being aromantic but not asexual, the lack of community. them talking about how hard it is to maintain sexual relationships just sexual. the painful "breakups" because one of their friends declared their undying love for them but they cannot possibly match that energy, even if they wanted to. have them weep because somehow that keeps happening. the unfairness in being accused of heartlessness and selfishness by other queers. the shame on being told they're fetishistic and the reason why queer men/women/people are seen as sex-crazed or impure.

...anyways, i'm rambling- do y'all have any aroallo ocs? or ideas for alloaro characters? maybe aroallo headcanons? i'd love to know what you think! :)

(don't tag as #ace / #asexual / #asexuality)

[kudouusagi]

Translation of part of the story from the bravern bd novel

I've only translated the part at the end about bravern. I might go back and translate the other parts later but right now I'm in Japan on a study abroad I don't have much time.

Spoilers for most of Bravern!

Translation:

In the beginning he said, "let there be light(Isami)"

I was him and he was me. In the end, we became one and the same.

It's because Isami was there that this was able to happen. It's because Isami was there that the world was able to be saved. This is something I wrote in the instant while my life was flashing before my eyes when the death drive of wrath, Ira, hit me with a surprise attack and I began to lose consciousness.

I'm already not sure whether it was me or him that wrote it. However, our feelings towards Isami were one and the same.

That's why I(Bravern)...... I(Smith)...... wrote this for Isami.

I'll make you explode with bravery

Written by: Bravern, who has gone to the stars

When I first met you, you were crying, weren't you?

But because you're a strong person, even though you were confused, you still responded to my request.

When you shouted the name of the special attack...... it was because of your shout that I was able to fight.

And then when you asked "what's your name?" I answered.

I said, "My name is Bravern".......

The next time we met, you were scared.

Of course you were. I made you suspicious, was pestering you, and on top of that I was telling you to fight.

I don't think you could have ridden me even if you wanted to.

The way you kept me in suspense at that time was really charming.

But even still, you rode me once again.

And it's because of that I became sure.

I said, "Oh, Isami. You're my true soulmate"

After that, you stayed inside me all the time.

I thought I was so lucky.

But you were just brooding, weren't you.

You were shocked when you heard me say soulmate, weren't you? At that time I didn't try to understand your feelings at all.

But, but, you know, Isami,

I'm sure you will understand someday. How wonderful fighting together with our burning souls is.

Isami, seeing you get angry and showing your emotions so openly is beautiful, but there's no need to be angry.

Lulu will become a friend who fights with us.

Right now she might only be looking at him, but she'll see your appeal before long Isami.

Just as I was drawn to you, she'll be drawn to you as well. Though, it's understandable that you don't know that now.

So rage, rage. Show your emotions. There's no reason to keep your emotions all to yourself.

You've tried so hard, Isami. You've really freed your mind.

He, and everyone, are really pulling out your emotions.

I only played a small part in making that happen.

When you dove into the sea I was really surprised, but that sea breeze after you came to an understanding with everyone really felt good didn't it?

The large ship we were on board was heading toward the land of the rising sun at battle velocity.

Saving you was honestly really difficult.

There is a poem written by Shiki Masaoka as a gift to his friend headed into the navy.

"Even in war, don't shy away from anything. On your voyage, when the wind blows, blow, when the waves rise, rise."

――――Do your best, Isami

Isami, at that time I was really moved.

I was going into battle with you and him to save the land of the rising sun ―― there's nothing better than this.

The calls from your friends―― your fellow countrymen, were able to reach them.

Due to our brave actions, the uprising was a success.

The sunrise we watched with everyone at that time was beautiful.

And isn't it so―― so great, Isami?

Your comrades, who had the same feelings as you, were still alive.

You'll definitely be able to free the world. And just as you have been wishing, we won't let anyone else die.

Hoping for things is easy. Actually making them happen is difficult.

And you made it happen. It probably would have been impossible on your own. It was something you were able to do with him and your comrades at your back. You're amazing, Isami.

Also, thank you for caring about our new friend superbia.

Starting now, we're traveling thousands of miles to free the world.

Before that, you have to say a very painful farewell, but...... I'm sure you'll be able to overcome it.

Finally, the time had come.

At that time, just as you were fighting with your full strength, I was fighting at mine.

I couldn't make plans for it or prevent it.

If I had done that, I could probably have saved a life. But you know, Isami, I just couldn't do that.

If I did, I might not have been able to meet you. And we wouldn't have had the chance to save the world.

I hope you'll be able to understand that.

That he(smith) had to leave your side, while expressing such strong emotions at that time.

Isami——.

Isami——.

No matter how many times I shouted your name, it wouldn't reach you.

Honestly, at this time I was struck by a sense of unease.

The world beyond this point is a world I don't know. We have to go into it together. So please―― Isami. Hear my voice.

And then, you responded with bravery.

An explosion of bravery―― that's right, an explosion of bravery.

Just as he said at that time, his explosion of bravery was the one and only way to create a path forward for you and me.

Let's go, Isami. His bravery, his explosive feelings, will always be with us.

That's what brave explosion bang bravern is.

Isami, at that time, you were already a hero.

But there was something you didn't do quite right. Something that even I didn't realize. And then Lulu corrected you.

Perhaps his dying words resonated with her too.

That's right, you have to come back alive too.

Let's go, Isami. To the final battle.

Alongside sperbia and lulu――

Isami.

Since you're a strong person, I'm sure you'll be able to do well without me.

You're not just strong, you're also brave.

Sperbia and lulu will be with you. I'm sure you'll be able to save the world.

I'm sad I won't be able to go along with you, but please don't get depressed and move forward somehow.

Isami――Isami――...... I love you, Isami.

When I woke up, Isami―― you were glowing gold.

I thought I'd never see you again. But I was able to see you again.

Bravery fusion————

That was what you got on the other side of your explosion of bravery.

You became me. And I became you. And he (smith) also......

And the lulu (I can't believe she was a soldier from the future!), also fused with superbia and became our sword.

This is yours and his——our true form, bang brave big bang.

This is where my job comes to an end, but if you or him, or everyone else needs me, I'm sure I'll be able to come back. Surely. Surely——。

Let your bravery burn. That, that is what—— the explosion of bravery is——......

New York times square, EST 10:40 PM

In the city that had been rebuilt after the death drives had been defeated, screams of people and the sound of guns are once again ringing through the city.

At that moment, a light lit up the night sky.

And then he appeared.

There was a giant robot with emerald eyes and a red and white mechanical body with gold horns on top——

it was Bravern who had saved the world along with the ATF——.

To be continued in part two

Google doc

[maeaniseyas]

The Star Wars fandom has never gone this hard or been this invested in any Asian or Black character, ESPECIALLY a Black woman. The Star Wars fandom has never been going this hard for an interracial relationship involving no white people. So for me yeah, it is pretty telling that now is the time some people are deciding to declare everyone lacks media literacy because allegedly we can't tell or admit a man is a bad person because people are sooo blindsided by his looks.

It's the same exact way people adore Anakin/Vader, Maul, Kylo, Revan, Shin, etc. But now that a South East Asian man is playing the Sith y'all suddenly have to "suffer" seeing him a lot and people enjoying his character? When I called out the person who made the og post, they said "I didn't mention Qimir and wasn't only talking about him" like k bro....I know you think everyone but yourself is an idiot or something but just know I'm not and that I know there's no coincidence you literally TAGGED that post as "the acolyte". The claim it was only tagged as "The Acolyte" because it's the "most recent example" is total BS. You purposefully tagged The Acolyte, Acolyte Spoilers, Qimir, Osha Aniseya, ALL OF IT because you weren't talking about the fandom with ships and dark side characters as a whole, you were specifically talking about The Acolyte, Qimir and Osha.

And yeah, it definitely does feel racially coded. Everyone knows this show, the creator and the actors have been enduring a MASSIVE racist, misogynist, and homophobic hate campaign against this show for literally over a year before it even aired, and you have people making posts about how UNBEARABLE it is that they're going to have to see the fandom be obsessed with a sith played by a handsome Filipino and be excited over Oshamir, an interracial ship involving no white people but a Black woman and an Asian man, as if Star Wars fans have a good track record of treating characters of color well. It IS adding to the overall negativity of the show and convincing others not to watch it for your petty little reasons when this is without a doubt the best show Star Wars has released yet on Dinsey+ and by far the most diverse. Have any criticisms you want about The Acolyte, it's totally fair, but this "criticism" I'm referring to was just an attack on people enjoying the show, claiming stupid shit like a "lack of media literacy" over something everyone already knows like the fact Qimir isn't a good guy. Here's something that might shock y'all: we know, AND WE DON'T CARE.

Anyway I hope Oshamir, Qimir, and Osha continue to pop up on these peoples timelines and continue to make things unbearable for them. Because if enemies to lovers is all good when it involves someone like Shin and Sabine, but not when it involves Qimir and Osha, then you're a hypocrite and not to be dramatic your life deserves to be unbearable if that's really what does it.

[antianakin]

You’ve talked a little about ships before but mainly in the context of how that is connected with the/a specific Jedi. And also a bit about ships you don’t like

But in Star Wars as a whole what’s your favourite ship, which one do you think is the best, and which one do you think is the most compelling?

(I know that the answer to all three could be the same but for me personally there’s often little overlap in these things so ymmv)

Also which ship do you think has the most potential?

I'll assume that canon and fanon are both options here.

"My Favorite" is the easiest to answer, so I'll start there. I've made an entire fic rec list for it and made no secret of the fact that I really like Codywan. Star Wars wasn't a fandom I really did any shipping in when I first was introduced to it as a kid. It wasn't until I decided to get back into Star Wars a little as an adult that I was even introduced to the IDEA of Codywan as a ship, but once I discovered it, it had me absolutely hooked. I will admit that I have a hard time with reading Codywan fics these days and interacting with other Codywan shippers because I often end up feeling like my interpretation of the characters is very different than the norm and what I want from the relationship - the thing that makes it compelling to me - isn't the same as most other people who enjoy the ship. But it was my first Star Wars ship and I still really enjoy the version of Codywan that exists in my head, so it will continue to claim the title of favorite.

For "Most Compelling" and "The Best" I'm actually going to exclusively define those as being IN CANON because anything in fanon can be compelling depending on how well someone writes it. I could obviously put Codywan down for both of these categories, but it would specifically be MY version of Codywan, the version that only really exists in my own head, and not necessarily the more popular version of them in the fandom.

I'm going to give "The Best" and "Most Compelling" to Jyn and Cassian from Rogue One. I will readily admit that, as someone who identifies as aroace, the fact that Jyn and Cassian never do or say anything explicitly romantic to each other is a major part of the reason I like them. I also personally believe it's the reason they're so compelling. Without being able to use any of the usual narrative shortcuts that romance tends to provide, Jyn and Cassian's dynamic relies on actually showing the two of them connecting with each other on a deeper level. I love how so much of their relationship with each other exists only in their eyes, in the way that they look at each other (whether the other person is looking back or not). I love the way their relationship comes through in-between the lines rather than stated out loud. I love the subtlety that exists for Jyn and Cassian in a way it doesn't for pretty much any other more "canon" ship.

I have also said before (though I'm not entirely certain I did it on this blog or not) that I really like angst, usually in the form of hurt/comfort but a good tragedy sometimes just hits the spot. Jyn and Cassian living in a "maybe," existing in a perpetual "what could have been," is so fucking sweet to me. That shit hurts JUST RIGHT. I love the idea that these two people meant everything to each other but only in the last few days before they died and they never even got to explore what exactly that could be. Their love is shown in how they impacted each other, the ways their relationship changed each other, because that's all they ever had time for. I fucking love that shit. The ambiguity of Jyn and Cassian's relationship is what makes it the most compelling to me and I think that the fact that they never get together forced the writers to show us they loved each other in far more interesting and nuanced ways than usually exist for couples that more explicitly get together on screen.

And finally, my choice for "Most Potential" is FinnRey. I really liked Finn and Rey's dynamic in TFA, I liked the way they both learned to rely on each other when they'd never had anyone to rely on before, the way they were able to escape their respective prisons and take their first steps into a larger world together. I liked the theme of coming back for each other no matter what, of reaching out for each other so they couldn't be separated, and the idea of shared fate where they would become the hero of the story TOGETHER. Obviously we all know how that dynamic got sidelined and ignored after TFA, but both characters are still alive and definitely have more story to tell, so the potential remains. Whether that potential ever actually goes anywhere, even if it's just in things like novels and comics, is still super up in the air. But I think these two could have an incredible dynamic if anyone was willing to give them the time of day.

[orangecarton]

Nordic Bunny x Reader WP (W.I.P.)

(Sorry in advance ;-;)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

TW: Swearing

Honestly this isn't your best moment. You kinda got scammed out of 20 bucks for what you thought was a cheap cosplay of an alien soldier and when you put on said costume you got screamed at to "get back to the ship" and got kidnapped by some purple fish looking creatures. Next thing you know you're in outer space in, what you can only assume is, some sorta Ren Faire for space dorks. It looked pretty cool, but people kept trying to put you to work and getting you to larp with them, talking about some "Ruler of the Galaxy" and "Nightmare to Humanity". It was all really charming but right about now is when you were starting to get the munchies, so naturally you went on the prowl for some poor vending machine and/or food cabinet.

Without any helpful signs around to guide you through this maze of Star Wars ride at Disneyworld and Metallica's love child, you got lost. After walking for a while you start to hear shouting. A sign of life, and perhaps snacks (or at the very least water. Because GOD DAMN was it getting hot). Walking closer the shouts got louder and you could make out some words.

"ANOTHER FAILURE! WHO THE HELL THOUGHT CRABS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA?!"

"Um, you did... sir."

"SHUT UP, DUM DUM! Are you calling me STUPID?!"

You reached the door and it automatically slid open, just in time for you to see one of your fellow cosplayers get zapped and turned into feathers by an extremely tall guitar monster. In this life or death situation you know it is important for you do react with dignity and poise, as to survive and stay alive. So you respond in kind,

"HOLY SH*T, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! OH MY GOD?!"

Your panicked state causing you to just freeze in place, stuttering and mumbling utter nonsense.

"Excuse me? YOU DARE INSULT AND MOCK ME?? YOUR FEARSOME RULER??!?"

The guitar man struts closer, is it wearing platforms??? He (???) Raises his hand, the one that shot the guy before you (rest in piece). You stumble back and scream,

"AHHHH DONT SHOOT ME PLEASE!! I HAVE BANANAS IN THE FREEZER I STILL NEED TO BAKE INTO BANANA BREAD. They've been in there for months, BUT I PROMISE I'M GOING TO GET TO IT I SWEAR!!"

He falters, and in this moment you take in his appearance. He had a dark robotic and skeletal build, donning some sick ass platform boots, a leather cap, a red tie, and huge shoulder pads. His face was that of an electric guitar, rocking red eyes and scarlet lipstick, and... wait is he just in his underwear?

"What the- You're a human?!"

He lowers his hand and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... I'm a human. What about it?"

"How did you get up here?! Into my IMMENSELY IMPENETRABLE EVIL HEADQUARTERS?!"

"... I walked."

"...Oh."

You both kinda sat in awkward silence for a bit. The issue from before had presented itself once again when your stomach let out a noise that even Godzilla would be jealous of.

"You uh... got any snacks man?" You asked, the fear from before subsiding and your fallen brother in arms forgotten (R.I.P Nathan). Guitar man™ looks at you quizically, then turns around and whispers to himself (you could still hear though because he isn't a very quiet person).

"If I befriend this human... I'll be able to infiltrate the Earth AND TAKE IT OVER THUS BECOMING THE GRAND IMPERIAL EMPORER AND MOST EXTREME BEARER OF AWESOMENESS WHO HAS LOTS OF FRIENDS AND NEVER HAS TO HANG OUT ALONE!! MUAHAHAHA!!!"

"Sooooo... is that a no?"

He turns back around and smiles wickedly,

"Come now human! I will grant you snacks and in return you will become my friend, hang out with me, tell me all of humanities weaknesses and how to defeat Shred Force!"

"Yeah ok." You shrug.

He grabs your arm and just about drags you with him as he strides down the hallway. You stumble but manage to keep pace.

"Hey what's your name anyway?"

"You, my fair accomplice, can call me Nordic Bunny. RULER OF THE GALAXY AND NIGHTMARE TO HUMANITY"

"Cool cool."

What the hell have you gotten yourself into (Seinfeld credits play)

(Sorry for the bad grammar, here's a little doodle for compensation)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[nightmareworks]

hi i have been Cooking lancer fic

Once again, we meet Union Auxiliary Pilot, (28th Voidcombat Division, Mercenary Wing Bravo,) ["Kingfishers",] Callsign- VI The Lovers. We meet Miss Allison Wax (she/her) [Her Body, a borrowed face]

And her Loverboy (he/him) [Stone Butch Death Machine]

(both art gotten from @skycrimedraws who NAILS IT EVERY TIME BABY)

"Hey boss man," The words fell out of her lips, halfway through (the next words were a question) when her CO interrupts with "I told you not to call me that." She stops. (She doesn't flinch, its not flinching.) [She kind of just needs to run through some maybes.] For just that moment, there's no one in the body in front of the CO. And then she starts again, words coming back out. "Alright, alright. CO, what's the job you got lined up for me and my Loverboy?" The CO gestured to the spare chair with a file, and Allison picked her way across the floor. (She walked on the tips of her toes, even in the sneakers.) [She walked with a gait to big for her body, like her legs were blades.] {She's En Pointe} She pulled out the chair and sat, crossing a leg across her lap and looking at the CO through her bangs. "The next mission shouldn't be for a while yet, Miss Wax." The CO's voice was always even, collected. That's why they were the CO. That's why they wore Union Grays and Allison wore what she always did. (Just put clothes on Her body) [What kind of clothes did She wear before Allison?] A thought dismissed with the disappointment of nearlight engines. "Really now, CO? How long are you gonna keep me up? More time in medbay?" The CO shakes their head, opening files, going through them. The work seems endless, running a Merc Lance. (But what's Alllison gotta worry about work?) [Gets to wound up, being in a ship conapt too long without her Loverboy.]

"So is it more time with the headmeds?" The CO looks up from the papers and gives that kind of pained smile as Allison snatches a file off the table to read. (One of the ones with the Mission Seal on it.) [Can't read Unionite Legalese for shit.] "No, Miss Wax, you're scheduled for wind-down, but you don't need to go see one of the after-action therapists- unless you feel the need of course." So she started paging through the mission file, going over the after action reports compiled from her Loverboy (From his eye, from his soul.) [The stars are beautiful at 2,000 kmph.] "So there's really no jobs, CO? Not even basic patrols? I get bored when I'm stuck down too long." The CO holds out their hand, and she returns the file. (She likes to feel like she earns her keep.) [That's just polite, for all the things Union offers.] "Miss Wax," the CO begins "I understand that talented pilots get odd without flight." That's the thing about Grays- they're willing to work with you more than they aren't. (Its not that Allison thought they were pushovers.) [Just the most reasonable kind of people, mostly.] I can organize testflights for you, if you see that there isn't more work for the technicians." There's what she wants to hear (But not quite).

"Work's good for me, CO. You wouldn't let a butterfly starve in a jar, would you?" The CO folds the file closed. (Her file.) [The one that says "Obvious signs of long-term Chronos exposure."] Doctors let you read files out this way. Its nice to know they care, at least. CO gives their answer. "Miss Wax, war's a failure and you're a contingency. Glory only comes with time. Take your mech out, call it a patrol if that helps, but my job is to make sure the mercenaries stay healthy and stay flying." There's more, Allison knows there's more, and she stops a moment. For that split second, she's not in Her body. Allison is watching Her sit there, in the chair, in Allison's clothes, across from the CO. (The look on their face is kind of worried.) [People still caught in their meat don't like being reminded of it's hold on them.] Allison picks a maybe, a series of words that seem right, and then the moment is over, and she's back in Her body. "So where are we headed, CO? You can at least let me prepare for the future."

"We're headed to Dawnline, Miss Wax. There'll be work aplenty for you in the Long Rim and beyond."

======

The cavalry technician looked up at the frame he was gonna work on. It was a custom job, one of the Lancers that the Aux had brought onboard when coming out of the Range. Long haul ships for Union do that sometimes, guard presence in exchange for amnesty and escape. Good people get trapped places. He just wasn't sure whoever flew this thing was the best kinda people. "Beautiful damn monster you are." The mechtech murmured under his breath, looking through a sheaf of printouts. Specs for the machine in front of him, an IPS-N Frame the pilot apparently fit together herself. He didn't, really trust the speed listed under its maximum output. That kind of speed would make someone grayout (The speed at which the blood of a human body begins to pool in the limbs, causing the pilot to lose consciousness). Redout even. [The point of g-force at which the brain is starved of blood, and dies.]

He looked up again at the machine and saw it was staring back at him, great singular eye tracking along its axis, to cast its baleful red upon him. He noted it, and looked back to his notes. Looking for if this thing had a casket it in, a C/C programmed to play tricks. The normal shit pilots pull on their technicians. He came up around the great black thing in its bay, and stared it in the eye from the gantry. It stared back, body making the clittering hiss of a mech at rest. (Mechanized Cavalry frames that are in regular usage are rarely quite things.) Coolant pumped through the entire frame, keeping the coldcore under wraps until it really needed to go. Fusion engines, power-reroutes designed along the Albatross style… where the verniers and thrusters aren't shaped for an RPV. (Remote Pilot Vehicles aren't uncommonly retrofitted for pilot use, he notes under his breath) [Under that red eye.] He eyes them again, as the giant thing keeps staring. There isn't any record of a computer smart enough to do anything of worth on this machine.

It was strictly Turning-Compliant, according to the CO's paperwork. That left the damages to repair. Bits of slagged armor along the leg-blades and shoulder plating. Nothing a few hours work with the rigs wouldn't fix. The mechtech flicked a few switches and brought the frame up to the light, to the arms that pulled and printed in smooth motions as his fingers danced across the keys. It was slower going than he thought. And the mech was making a noise. It was keening, a clatter-chatter at once both rumbling low and piercingly high. Something was wrong with the feedback from the mech-harness, reporting simple and blunt legionspace attacks. Best the cavalry technician could manage was to remove the offending plates before the assembly limbs gave up and stalled. That's when a hand touched his shoulder, and a voice rang in his ear. "My Loverboy doesn't know you, mechtech, but I do. Gimmie a minute to settle him down and you can get back to work."

The girl walks past him then, almost teeter-tottering as she glides across the floor on the tips of her shoes. She moves her legs wrong, picking her way as much as stepping. The cavalry tech looks at the mech's legs and puts together the kind of pilot he's dealing with. The kind that have gone in a direction past human, hunting for something else. (He'd never really known someone in full body prosthesis) [Was rare, in his neck of the galaxy.] She moves like her mech even as she steps off the gantry and onto its chest, placing hands against the grinning skull. Ever since she came in, the eye's been locked onto her alone. He worries and wonders what kind of monster he's got to work on now.

===

He screams for her, against the void, he tears away from the cling-gravity of the UNS-CV Paris (Like the commune, she offers) [Like lights, the therapist offers back.] But the past doesn't matter when the future is laid out in the bleeding world of 2000 kmph. She was safe from everything, safe from Gravity itself as she lay coiled in her Loverboy's guts, aching through Chronos haze and picking his flight path for him as a beautiful dance. She wanted him to run through his paces, and he was eager to please. To show her what he could do. How he was built for her. Like a butterfly flitting across a windless sky, like a shark dancing through a school of fish- Loverboy puts on a show for his girl.

She's spinning him a dance, putting the engine to its test. Her Loverboy screams for his girl as he dances, frame keening against the speed and void. (Allison watches Her legs twist against the seat.) [That's how she knew the engine was art] {State-of-the-art affection} She doesn't like to think about home. Not home anymore, and not worth thinking about. More Gravity shorn free from her under the speed. So what's it worth if its pulled away so easily? Home wasn't ever home, no matter how much anyone told Allison it was. What's where you're born compared to where you'll be? (What's the flesh you were born in but another place to be trapped in?) Allison feels her brain reel as Loverboy spins in a piroutte ascending. It doesn't spin in place, but it recognizes the forces working upon it as her Loverboy pulls into a rise. (The snap from horizontal to vertical would snap necks.) [But when you don't have Gravity, moving is easier.]

Verniers howl with force as Allison considers Her. (And the changes Allison had made to Her.) [Would She mind? Would She understand?] There are protective tendons, built from the same kind of whipcord steel that run through Loverboy. There are stabilization systems built into her braincase, that absorb and disperse the shock of sudden shifts of g-force. There's a dozen, a hundred little aftermarket touches to Her body that Allison has made. (But is it really that bad, when the body is aftermarket?) [When the body wasn't built for you.] Allison still watches Her, curled as Allison left Her. (Back curved gentle. Arms on knees, resting eyes against forearm.) [The clunky implants hooking Her to Loverboy peek their tubes from beneath Her shirt] She was still perfect. Still beautiful. Everything Allison had wanted to be back then. There She was, with Allison's brain in Her body, Allison's Loverboy hooked through feeds to Her back.

Allison reached in the stopped little flaring moments between directing Loverboy through his dance. They were all the same moment. Allison reached out, and cradled Her face, and said Her name. Something Allison couldn't ever know. (How was she supposed find Her? Long way from Ketherese.) [From everything from that life.] Everything but her Loverboy. He counts the micromovements of her eyes. His own whirrs and focuses, keening as the scopes hone in on a target and his body twists with his girl's desire. He counts the times she stops existing as a presence registered at the controls. He rolls over and considers in his clicking thoughts the ways he loves her. His adoration burns in him as retros flare and he lands blades first, touching against an asteroid with the grace of a butterfly upon a blossom. His thoughts turn and his computers chitter and churn. His whitewash tanks purge into rawmat resivors and a new batch is rapidly encoded, new chains of acids and code written by mute-drive, a silent organ buried deep in his frame, coiled round and through his girl.

The Hyperkinesis Module develops a novel admixture of nanites and adrenaline and feeds through the connection to Allison, filling her endocrine system with a soothing electricity synchronized to readouts and full reports of engine efficiencies, micrometeor grazes, and heat venting. (His body hisses for her, waste gas for heat disperial in null atmosphere environments) [He bares his heart to her, reactor dropping as he stretches against the asteroid.] Allison leans forward, the Chronos uptake stretching from her back and into the cockpit's back wall. (Little tubes running up to her spine and kidneys) [One of the other aftermarket touches to Her body.] Allison's face reaches through the holoscreen outputs of Loverboy's eye. She kisses the armored outer hull of her cockpit. (She stands to her toes.) And her Loverboy gently touches off the asteroid, into the void, gently floating in the empty place beyond Gravity.

Allison lowers her oxygen uptake, and rides the Chronos her Loverboy made for her. (She dreams like an editor.) [Looking at scenes and picking them.] A wash along the nervous system, stuttering climbing up her spinal column and into the brainstem. She dreams of Ketherese, and what was left behind. Consider the Gravity that's been shed. (In the embrace of her Loverboy.) [Memories are the only thing you can't shed.] Her grandfather's dirt is far from everything she'll ever see again. No one will see the frontiers she sees. (Allison will see things even She'll never see.) [Or maybe they'll see the same stars some day.] {Face-to-borrowed-face.}

No one she had ever known would see what she sees, know what she knows. (She'd shed them, like her old body.) [Like Gravity.]

[helaelaemond]

To Be Strangers

gif by @barbieaemond

Pairing: Tom Bennett x female reader

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: You're standing on the dock overlooking the ships in the small hours, and a certain new recruit notices you - he can't help it. He charms you - or at least that's what you want him to think - and together you for a memory to keep him warm when the tides take him. Cunnilingus, penetration.

Content warning(s): smoking, public sex

Rating: E

Ao3: here

The stars pop out overhead as the clouds clear above the harbour, and you take in a deep breath. Your coat flaps in the sea breeze, and you pull it tighter around you. It's peaceful here, even with war looming on the horizon. There's a slender figure just ahead of you, and you see the spark of a match. God, you need a fag.

Your heels click on the pavement as you slowly walk towards the stranger. He looks up, and in the light of the yellow streetlamp, you notice his sharp jaw, his sparkling eyes. There's a small grin on his face, and you try not to return it.

"Got a spare?" you ask.

The young man - a boy, really - nods and holds out the packet for you to take one. "No filter in them."

You take one and hold it between your lips. "I don't mind." In your pocket is a little pack of matches, and you strike one to light the cigarette. You take the first draw, and a wave of relief washes over you.

"Bit late for a nice girl like you to be out, in't it? What brings you down to the docks?"

"I like watching the ships." You shrug. You can feel his eyes roaming over you without shame. "And the sailors."

"Why's that then?" He turns slightly to face you and he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, bringing himself closer.

A small breeze rolls in from the sea and you close your eyes, enjoying the coolness of it. You take another drag. "They never stay for long."

That makes him chuckle. "So let me guess; you never found Mister Right?"

"Or maybe I never wanted him. Maybe I only ever wanted Mister Right Now."

His grin is cocky. "I see. You're that sort of girl, then?"

"And what sort of girl is that?"

He takes a long drag on his own fag and lets the smoke pour through his nostrils, his parted lips. "The kind who sees the value in short-lived fun."

You bite your lip and laugh, your gaze never wavering from his. "Maybe. What if I am?"

"Then I think you and me might get on alright." He takes a step closer and leans against the railing next to you, so close that you can feel the warmth rolling off his body. "What's your name, miss?"

"Whatever you want it to be, sailor."

He chuckles and tilts his head to the side. "Want to know my name?"

"I already know your name."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You're Mister Right Now."

His grin widens. "What if I've already got a girl?"

"Have you?"

"Might have."

"Oh, well in that case-" and you turn as if to walk away.

He catches your hand without missing a beat and pulls you back to him. "Hey, where d'you think you're going?"

There are butterflies in your stomach as he towers over you, his young face handsome, sharp shadows thrown across it by the light overhead. "To find someone else."

"You're not going anywhere. I'm the best you'll find."

Instinctively, you rest your hand on his chest, almost like a barrier between you. It doesn't feel like a barrier. "Most cocky, maybe."

"I can't make any promises on that front, but I've never had a complaint."

You bite the inside of your cheeks to try to hide your grin, but it doesn't work. "But have you had anyone come back for more?"

"Once or twice, yeah. I'll have you back for more."

"You've only just met me! You've got an awful lot of confidence."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel naked, as if he's ravishing you right here on the dock. Half of you wants to push him away and into the water. The other half... well, the other half isn't rational and isn't to be listened to. It's the half that wants to pull him close and strip him as bare as he's making you feel.

He leans closer until you can smell the coffee and cigarettes on his breath. "Yeah, and it's all for you."

"You're full of it, sailor boy."

He looks you up and down again, sizing up his prize, before leaning so close his lips graze your ear. "Do you want me to show you how full of it I am?"

"You're not impressing me," you lie, but the whisper against your skin has covered you in goosebumps, sent electricity down your spine. You don't even notice how it's made you bite your lip.

"No? Then why have you stopped breathing?"His long fingers grasp your chin, and he turns your face to look at him. He's so close that your vision of blurry. It makes your eyelids heavy. "C'mon. Why do I have to beg?"

Your hands find their way to his slim waist, and the curl in the fabric of his tunic. "Because there's nothing prettier than a man on his knees."

Mister Right Now looks up the dock one way, and then the other. Still wearing a broad grin, he sinks to his knees in front of you, right there on the concrete. The fag drops from his fingers, and he looks up at you. "Like this?"

You wind your hand into his short, soft hair and drag your nails across his scalp. He closes his eyes in bliss, and it's his turn now to bite his lip. You hear him sigh, and watch as his chest rises and falls with it. Every nerve in you is aflame. "Just like this."

Sure hands find their way up the backs of your calves. He is stroking your skin, and his touch glides up, up beneath your skirt, up your stockings, and before you have time to think, one hand winds to grasp your backside. The other presses firmly between your thighs, and you let out a sigh of your own. "Is this what you want?" he asks.

You open your eyes and see him staring up at you. He's cocky, arrogant - and practically begging. You nod, teeth digging into your lip.

"Right here? Where anyone could see?"

"You'll all be gone by morning. Why should I care?"

He laughs, and leans closer. He presses his face against your skirt, just over your stomach, and you feel him bite. The hand in his hair pushes him away slightly but he surges forward. He grabs the hem of your skirt and lifts it up. You thank God that you're not wearing a tight pencil skirt, and that the soft wool is loose and swinging. He ducks his head under it.

When he disappears from your sight, you can only feel. He tugs at your underwear and without even thinking of resisting, you step wider for him, you let him drag it down, and you relish his mouth upon your thighs. Above you, rain begins to drop slowly and lightly from the sky. The stars have disappeared behind inky clouds. The streetlight had blocked them out before, anyway.

You feel his fingers first. The young sailor glides two up the inside of your thigh, and he runs it slowly along your folds, not yet dipping in. It's obscene, what you're doing, but you're quickly forgetting to care. Anyone could see you, anyone could see the young man under your skirt, but it doesn't matter. He seems to know what he's doing.

"What's your name?" you ask with an unsteady voice when his fingers slip against your cunt.

"Tom." His voice is muffled under your skirt. He presses his lips against the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your hip. "Tom Bennett."

"Alright, Tom Bennett." You grin, and your head drops back. Thank God for the railing behind you - it's the only thing you can cling onto without worrying about falling into the harbour. "Keep going."

You feel him more than you hear him chuckle. His fingers press against your entrance and you bring up a hand to press against your breast, but he doesn't sink them inside. You whine softly in protest, but he drags them up to spread your folds wide, and then he does something that brings you to your toes.

The firmness of his nose touches your cunt first. He runs it along the sensitive skin there, and he breathes through it to both cool and warm you. It must be glistening wet, you think in the back of your mind, for even just talking to Tom Bennett has had you hot and ready. His tongue follows the line his nose makes, and then he presses it against your clit.

"Fuck." You breathe the word lowly, and without realising, you grasp his head through your skirt. "Just there."

As his lips seal around your bundle of nerves, he chuckles again, and the vibrations make the stars reappear in your eyes. He sucks gently at first, but then it gets firmer, harder, and you have to lean more heavily against the railing. He knows what he's doing. God, does he know.

At last his fingers press inside you, and it feels so good, so right. The digits twist and curl in time with his tongue higher up - when his fingers stroke, his tongue stills. When his tongue strokes, his fingers still. But it's so smooth, so practised, that it feels like one long and fluid motion. He dines on you like it's his last meal.

"Tom!" You sigh his name as the tension in your stomach builds. "Yes, don't stop." It's difficult to keep quiet.

In the moments that you climb the precipice, the young sailor stops, and he stands up suddenly. In his eyes is a wildness that you can't escape. He stares into you with an impossible fire, and it's only when you hear the clink of his opening belt that you realise why he stopped.

"You taste like the sea."

You can't help but grab him close. "Show me."

And then he kisses you. One hand fumbles with his trousers, and the other grasps the back of your neck, and he kisses you. It's rough, and he parts your lips without a second thought, and then his tongue is sliding against yours as if he is tasting for the first time. He's right - you do taste like the sea. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you whine quietly. He grabs your hips and lifts you to sit on the railing, before his hands return to his trousers. They're barely pushed to his knees by the time his grasp is on your hips.

He looks you in the eye again, and his cocky grin is back. All teeth and determination. "You want this?"

You pull at the hair on the back of his head and return his grin. "Yeah. Fuck me, Tom Bennett."

"You don't have to say my whole name every time."

You reach one hand between you and it finds his cock, heavy and leaking. You squeeze gently, and in your grasp you can feel his heartbeat racing. Maybe he felt yours, too, when he pressed his mouth against your cunt. The noise he makes is deep and whining and it rumbles in his chest, and you wish for a fleeting moment that you were looking at his naked body, admiring him in the light of day. But no, this is good, too. On a rainy dock in the middle of the night, where anyone can find you. There's a thrill in that. He wants you so bad.

With your hand guiding him, he slides easily into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, already halfway to bliss, and hang onto the railing for dear life. The sounds of your fucking are obscene - wet and slapping noises echo along the dock and across the water, and you bury your face into his neck to muffle your sounds of delight.

"Shit!" He laughs quietly, his voice punctuated by moans with every breath. "Do you know how good you feel?"

"No!" you laugh in reply. The peals of delight devolve into moans again. "I've never fucked myself."

"You're missing out, then. Hey!" He slaps the hand away that reaches between you, and looks at you in mock indignation. "I'm taking care of you, aren't I?"

Your mouth hangs open in delight when he presses his fingers back against you. They trace just above where his cock slides in and out of you, and then they set a firm and fast rhythm against your clit. It feels better than anything you've had before, you've never had someone take care like this before, it's so good, it's so-

"Oh, Tom!"

"Fuck! Yeah, like that?"

You nod, and he kisses you deeply again. It's all heavy breaths and strained expressions now, but when your lips part, your foreheads stay pressed together. Sweaty, damp from the drizzle, it doesn't matter. It pushes you higher and higher.

"Tom, yes, yes-! I-!"

"Good girl, keep going, I-! Oh, fuck!"

What little sense remains to you reminds you to stay quiet. When he rips the orgasm from you, only the smallest squeak escapes you, but your eyes roll back into your head as heaven explodes through you. Your thighs, still locked around his narrow hips, tremble and shake.

"I'm gonna-!" He looks at you with wide eyes.

"Inside, Tom!"

His face scrunches up as he follows you over the edge, and his hips stutter while he comes. He buries himself as deep as he can, leaning forward on his toes, knees slightly bent, and you meet him with a few final grinds to release all the pressure. He pants, and rests his forehead against your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

Eventually, your legs are too tired to hold him close, and you let them unwind from him. The ground rushes up to meet them, and then you finally land back on Earth. Bliss does not leave you, though.

It seems not to leave him, either, and even when he pulls out, does his trousers and belt back up, he looks satisfied. His grin won't fade. Even when he kisses you again, he is grinning.

"That was alright, weren't it?"

You can't help but laugh quietly. You pull up your underwear and sort out your skirt, and when you look at him, you're pleased to see that he's still looking at you like a prize to be won. "Yeah. Yeah, that was alright, Tom Bennett."

"I already said you don't have to-"

"But how else will I remember, if not by repeating it?"

He steps closer to you again, and he's towering over you again, and he's close enough to kiss again. "You want to repeat that?"

"Maybe. Come back from war alive, and maybe I'll be waiting here for you."

"Nah, not here."

You raise your eyebrow. "Oh?"

He's grinning. "Next time, I wanna fuck you in a proper bed. And next time, I'll be moaning your name."

"You don't want to be strangers next time?" It's a tease, nothing more. All night has been a tease.

"No. Next time, I want you to be mine."

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Sweet Release

✨SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE✨

Hey @h3apm3ch4n151m. Enjoy. ❤️

Warning(s): kiss, suffocation, the effects of the vacuum of space on the human body

So this is it.

Here you are.

Your ship, completely destroyed.

You, the only survivour of the destruction.

And now you wait for death. You float endlessly through space, your oxygen slowly running out.

There are many ways you could die here in deep space. You could be pulled into the gravity of a planet... or, god forbid, a star or black hole...

However, what seems most likely right now is suffocation. It will be slow and painful, but hey, so will every other death you could possibly have in this god-forsaken endless void...

...

Suddenly, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

It almost looks like... an eel, of some kind... or maybe a person... or maybe both...?

"Aaaahhh~ What a surprise this is~" A strange, almost ethereal voice calls out, presumably from that strange creature... "How strange, I don't see your kind thiiiiis deep very often~"

You freak out and reach to your waist for a weapon, but... unfortunately for you, all of the weapons were on the ship, and you didn't have any time to grab any... so, you just have to deal with whatever this thing chooses to do with you...

"A human, hm~? I wonder why you were so deep in my territory~" The creature giggles, and begins to wrap its body around you. "Mining operation to find stuff that doesn't exist on your planet~? Or maybe you were preparing for war, I've heard your kind really likes war~"

"Let go of me-!" You demand, wriggling in this creature's grasp.

"Please, we both know you're on the verge of death, so I have no reason to kill you~!" He pats you on the head. "So, you have absolutely noooo reason to worry about me doing anything to ya~"

"...so then, what do you want from me...?"

"I just want to talk to you, that's all! I don't get to talk to people like you very often, seeing as your kind live so far away from this area..." He sighs. "...not just your kind, practically no intelligent life lives out here, so I'm always so bored and hungry... aha, but now I have you to talk to~! My name's Floyd, by the way~! Tell me, why are you here? You didn't answer me earlier!!"

Well, he sure is persistent...

"If you really must know, my crew and I were searching for another habitable planet..."

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHA-!" He bursts out in laughter, squeezing you a bit tighter with his long, slightly glowing tail. "Aaahh~ That's hilarious~ You're gonna die, and it will have been for nothing~"

"Huh-?"

"There aren't any habitable planets out here, none whatsoever~! Isn't that funny?? You were going in the complete wrong direction if you wanted somewhere to live~!" He finally stops laughing at you. "Say, Shrimpy, how many people were in that 'crew' of yours?"

"Shrimp-? N-never mind... whatever... anyways, there were..." You pause, thinking about everyone. All the people you knew on that ship, your friends, enemies, acquaintances... all of them, gone... "Including me... there were... 106 people on our ship..."

He begins to laugh again... a cruel, unending, boisterous laugh.

"S-sorry, sorry~ I hardly ever get to talk with people like you, and just... aaaah, it always surprises me how hilarious you are~ You're all so funny, and so pathetic, too~"

"Great, I get to be made fun of and laughed at in the last moments of my life..." You sigh. You're starting to feel the effects of your oxygen running out...

"Aw, sorry Shrimpy~ Tell ya what, I could make sure you have a nice time as you go out~" Floyd insists, moving so that you can see his face clearly.

"I highly doubt that you could give me a nice death..."

"We could kiss~" He licks his lips. "I could make sure it's really nice for ya! But... ehe, you have that stupid helmet in the way. Just take it off~"

"But... I-I'd die... horribly..."

"So? You're gonna die horribly anyways! Why not do this?? At least this'll be quick~"

Well, he does have a point...

This will probably be faster than suffocation...

"...alright then. Why not... I mean, not much else I can do..." You sigh, and bring you hands up to your head... are you really about to do this?

"Here, let me help ya~"

He places his hands on your helmet just as you do.

And then, the two of you pull it off of you.

You immediately feel the effects of the vacuum.

You feel like you're boiling alive, but it's freezing at the same time... your eyes feel like they're going to explode- no- it's your entire head...

Floyd presses his lips firmly onto yours.

You can practically feel the air being sucked right out of your lungs... soon, the deoxygenated blood will reach your brain... and then, you'll fall unconscious... and finally die...

Just twelve more seconds.

...

The kiss is amazing.

Strangely enough, it almost helps you forget about how much pain you're in.

And slowly, slowly, slowly...

You drift off into your eternal sleep.

...

...

...

...

"Shrimpy, wake upppp... I'm bored..."

You wake up on the floor of your boyfriend's dorm room.

"Agh, my head... what happened...?" You ask, rubbing the back of your head in pain.

"We fell asleep together watching a movie about space." Floyd tells you. "You must've fallen off the bed at some point, heh~"

"Oh... oh, I... I see..."

You stare up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about that experience...

It was all... a dream.

...

Strange.

[kcrabb88]

Not to vent on main, but I do want to talk about this because I think it speaks to a bigger issue in fandom recently. So, there's been a small but noticeable trend recently of people coming onto Quinlan/Obi-Wan content that I make and either saying "I liked this except for the QuinObi and/or Quinlan himself" or commenting on something as to why it was QuinObi and not another more popular ship. This happened recently in a comment I got on a fic and also on a piece of QuinObi art that I paid for, among other things. First, that's a shitty thing to do. You don't come into comments and complain that it's not what you like. Second, I gotta say, I have not experienced having people who like super popular ships coming to me, whose ship is a rowboat, and complaining that my content, or content I paid to have created, isn't their ship in any fandom I've ever been in. You're right! It's my ship. I love them and will continue to write about them. If a few people have written QuinObi because of me (and they have! Which is so nice!) I'm still not rocking the fandom boat. I am not making a dent in the behemoth ships that are out there. I ran a QuinObi week which was so wonderful and I will do it again, but it's not going to suddenly steal writers away from other popular ships (also, multi-shipping exists!) I'm not a threat. Not that we should think of things that way, but it does start to come across like that when stuff like this happens, like I'm getting in the way of an agenda.

I've been in fandoms where I shipped a big ship and got complained to by someone shipping idk, I hesitate to call it a rival ship, but that's the only word I can think of. Still not nice, but coming to me about my SMALL SHIP is much more unexpected and much more unkind as far as fandom power dynamics go.

People have gotten truly aggressive about both fanon and popular ships. No one, whatever the fandom, is obligated to ship the popular ship you like. Not everyone is going to fit the mold of popular fandom trends, and they don't have to. They should be able to create what they like without being bothered about it. People seem to believe now that if you ship a pairing that you also hold an Approved slate of beliefs about every other character in fandom. That you follow what I've been calling a Fandom Map. Well, some people like to mix it up. Fandom isn't a hive mind and diversity of characters and pairings should be encouraged. I think it's ironic that I have to be extremely nervous to make a post critiquing a popular fandom trope but people can come to me and be rude about my way less popular shipping preferences. I’m not a fandom vending machine. If you don’t like one thing but enjoyed others tell me what you did like and leave the rest out. Or don’t read it. Crits like this aren’t even dislikes about story elements (and even those are more for Goodreads than Ao3) they’re crits about my personal taste.

(As to Star Wars fandom in particular, I continue to think it's really off that people are so weird about Quinlan generally, and dumb him down, among other crimes. You have to start to wonder why and when you wonder, the results of that wondering aren't great).

tl ; dr don't be a jerk. We're all here because we enjoy something.

[shapelytimber]

Just saw your Star Wars sapphic AU, and,,,,, PLEASE tell me they're all actual sapphics/lesbians and not manlikers 😭 Just one sapphic AU without bihets and switch hitters in it PLEAAASEEE I can't handle any more of their cis man worship in this fandom

Ok so this message is disgusting ngl, but I will *try* (and fail) to take your message in good faith, and assume the weirder parts of it are born from ignorance and not a wish to other and harm members of the queer *community*, especially bi and trans people.... Right ?

No, not everyone in my sw au is a lesbian, or cis, that's why it's called a sapphic au and not a lesbian au. I started listing specific orientations in my recap, even if I usually like keaping it ambiguous.

But your message kinda rubbed me the wrong way :) so just for you anon, let me share the most bi aspects of my au !

- Padmé had multiple relationships before Anakin, Palo and Rush Clovis, both men.

- I ship Vader and Boba Fett, and in my au Vader uses he/him (contrary to Anakin who uses she/her, link to a previous ask were I explain it further) and Boba she/her, making it *technically* a het adjacent ship, and Boba bisexual.

- Obi wan and Lando are bisexual because obviously.

- I really like the idea of Luke being asexual bi romantic, and I like both the Luke/Biggs Darklighter and Luke/Zevulon Veers ships, both men (rip the Han/Luke shippers kdidkdk I respect it, but I prefer Hanleia-)

- And while I'm at it, Luke Lando and Han are all different flavors of non binary, so not women. (As a lesbian I do find non binary people attractive, and know non binary lesbians. But seeing how this ask is formulated, I just felt the need to reinstate that <3)

To sum it up, in my sapphic au I concider Obi wan, Padmé, Boba Fett, Lando, Leia and Luke bisexuals :)

Frankly, from a lesbian to another, in your message you sound like a huge loser who doesn't have male friends and experiences the queer community only through tumblr. Go outside bro, "manlikers" are awesome.

PS : English isn't my first language, so I had to google what "switch hitters" meant. I don't know if it's a slur, but what definition I could find said it implies a bi person is indecisive about their sexuality. And that sounds biphobic to me ngl- I could be wrong, but seing the dog shit message it's attached to....

[westdesert]

i don't have many complaints about the acolyte finale but there's one thing that's been bugging me over all else.

this. fucking. outfit.

we first see it when osha is walking out to the ship to find mae, when the audience isn't entirely certain on what her goal is when she finds mae or even where she stands with qimir.

this outfit signals to the audience that osha's path is uncertain and that she has come to a crossroads. it's a basic star wars trope that obviously acts as a callback to the morally ambiguous black getup that luke wore at the beginning of rotj.

but luke's sarlacc pit outfit looked GOOD. luke was easily the baddest bitch at the sarlacc pit.

osha's emo outfit, on the other hand?

genuinely. why.

how tf do you cast amandla stenberg- maybe THE most stunning actor you could've got- and put their character in THIS? the star wars equivalent of a potato sack?

i mean, she's drowning in all this nasty ass laptop sleeve fabric. the sleeve-hood-thing deal is just disastrous, made even worse by actual 80s shoulder pads.

even during the emotional climax of the episode, when osha force-chokes sol, this doesn't read as morally-ambiguous-turned-dark-side. it has no visual resemblance to any darksiders we've seen before, nor does it suggest any influence from the jedi in reference to her past. it's just. nothing.

i even wanted to view it as a way to contrast the sisters' positions in the story at this point, but i cannot find any significance aside from the very basic dark-light color contrast. i wondered maybe if osha's clothing is meant to be more angular while mae's is softer, but this godforsaken outfit is somehow both too stiff and too shapeless to mean much.

even in the final moments of osha's journey, her silhouette looks awkward due to the straight sleeves, the knee-length overcoat, and the FUCKING SHOULDER PADS.

osha is literally covered head-to-toe by a duffel bag for this entire episode. if qimir gets to slut it up in a sleeveless flowy outfit, osha's turn to the dark side can give her something a little more flattering too. form-fitting clothing like we had last episode, for example, could contrast the baggy clothes that both qimir and mae wear. or maybe a thinner fabric could be used to make her less stiff, which i think is important because this episode is literally centered around change and fluidity.

my final nitpick, on a slightly different note, is that i feel like it would've gone a long way to do something new with osha's hair in the finale. i haven't hated the little bob (?) situation going on but i think if she had walked out to the ship with a new set of clothing AND her hair tied up out of her face, it would've been a more drastic shift. plus, having her hair back could suggest she's expecting some sort of action to take place when she sees mae. it would've given us a more distinct visual between the sisters when they reunite if we could, like, see osha's tattoo-less forehead or something.

like, with her hair styled a little differently, osha could maybe be distanced from the version of herself we saw in episode 1, because the clothing isn't really enough to set her apart in this moment.

anyways. rant over. praying for a season 2

[moodymisty]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔤 𝔒𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴:

✦ Hello! I'm Misty. I'm an constantly exhausted Software Engineering student and luster of men in varying types of armor, with a love for writing and drawing in my spare time. I have a deep love for video games, so many things here will be in that area.

Writing gets posted around once or twice a week, but it might be more or less depending. I also tend to post things that aren't in my main wheelhouse to Ao3, so feel free to go give that a look if you're interested in some more niche content.

❗️Requests are closed!❗️

✦ 𝕸𝖞 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𝕬 𝖋𝖊𝖜 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘… ✦ Please be respectful here: My goal is to keep my blog a positive place, so be polite and avoid sending in unironic character/media/fic hate, 'ship discourse'', or any other fandom wank. I don't care about any of it. ✦ Any and all material will be tagged accordingly, please exercise discretion with content you don't want to see. If something isn't tagged and you believe it should be, please comment on the post. ✦ I cannot do/am not inspired by every request, sometimes I will take awhile, and sometimes I may not do something exactly how you want. Please remember I am a human writing for fun between work and college. ✦ BE 18+. Even if all my stuff isn't NSFW, I don't feel comfortable having underage users here, I ask you to respect that. If I catch you following, interacting with my works or trying to chat me up, you will get blocked. ✦ All in all, just behave. This is a nice little library, so I ask you to be on good behavior and not make a mess of the place. ✦ Current fandoms that are circulating around here are Darksiders, Warhammer 30/40K, and Elden Ring. Will there be random things? Yes, but this is what I'm into most at the moment. ✦ Common tags: [Misty's book club] For asks about various headcanons, scenarios, or just chitter chatter about characters. [mywriting] Is self explanatory. [For the Library] Writing that isn't mine that I really enjoyed. I also tend to tag any long conversations and musing between all of us with a specific tag so people can go back and read the HCs. For instance our musings about Lorgar and his beloved vs Kor Phaeron is [The Lorgar Aurelian Family Drama Plotline]. Getting Bullied by Cato Sicarius timeline and The Emperor ‘Droit du siegneur’ plotline are other examples.

✦A note regarding my Star Wars writing

[marsbarsfrommars]

alone with you (the only heaven I'll be sent to)

star wars: the high republic | rated t | complete | 2,344 words | avar kriss/elzar mann | fluff, a little hurt/comfort

summary

She nods and simply says the only thing she has to, “I understand.” 

“I knew you would,” he responds with a certainty that makes Avar's heart seize. 

or, in a quiet moment post-chapter 53, avar finds out about elzar almost dying on grizal

read

under the cut or on ao3 for better formatting

notes

first of all, this is dedicated to the person who headcannoned that elzar has burn scars on his hands from crashing his vector on grizal. I've tried, but I can't find their post, so if anyone knows whose post I'm talking about, please comment so I can tag them here.

edit: it's the lovely @ledalausnows and you should definitely check out her posts bc she's super cool!!

also, a huge shout out to the thr fans on tumblr: if it wasn't for you I probably wouldn't have finished this. thank you for all your support and I hope you enjoy this <3

this is the first time in at least six years that I've actually finished one of my wips, so while I'm a little proud of this, the quality might be questionable. my perfectionism made me proof read this so many times I could probably recite it from memory so I hope this is readable and I fixed all major mistakes. anyways, I hope you enjoy this

also, english isn't my first language, so please just ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes

content warning for mentions of scars, injuries, near-death experiences and past major character death. none of this is in any way graphic but I wanted to mention it anyways

The overhead lights in Avar’s quarters are turned down to a dim glow, and it's quiet apart from the gentle hum of the ship's engines. The night cycle must have started a while ago, but neither of them had noticed; both of them were too wrapped up in each other. Now, though, they're resting. Elzar on his back in her bunk, one arm gently wrapped around her with his hand lazily caressing her waist, and Avar on her stomach, half resting on his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft under her wandering hands. 

It's nice like this—peaceful. For a moment, Avar allows herself to forget about their upcoming task, about the possible danger the future holds, and just exist in this moment with Elzar. She feels more at peace than she has in months, possibly years. She slowly runs her hand down Elzar’s arm and intertwines her fingers with his, her thumb softly brushing over the back of his hand. The motion is familiar; they've held hands more times than she can count in those weeks since she escaped the Occlusion Zone, but there's something that makes her pause. It only takes her a moment to realise that tonight is the first time since that fateful night in the garden on Starlight Beacon that they've held hands without the barrier of Elzar’s gloves between them. Elzar wearing gloves is in itself nothing out of the ordinary for a Jedi; most of them routinely wear them as part of their robes, which explains why she hasn't noticed it before. Now that she really thinks about it though, it does strike her as odd that she can't remember seeing him without gloves even once since their reunion. 

She slowly brushes her thumb over the back of Elzar’s hand again. The skin feels rougher in some spots. Avar knows the feeling of scars, enough of them are covering her own body, but she can't recall Elzar ever suffering an injury to his hands that would cause scarring this significant. She raises their intertwined hands to his chest, and sure enough, a thin web of healed fine-line and burn scars covers the back of his hand and wrist. An uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. What happened to Elzar to leave his hands scarred like this, and why wouldn't he tell me? 

Elzar, sensing the subtle change in her demeanour, chooses precisely this moment to open his eyes and look up at her. And for a moment, as silly as it may sound, she feels overwhelmed by the sheer force of her feelings for him. She had missed him for years, and sometimes, even though it's been months since their reunion, she still can't believe she doesn't have to anymore. Avar is certain he already knows what she wants to ask about, but he doesn't say anything, waiting for her to take the first step, so she does. 

“These aren't recent.” It's a remark, not a question. She knows Elzar will tell her everything without her having to ask. There are no secrets between them; nothing is left unspoken. Not anymore. The thought makes a familiar warmth bloom in her chest. 

“No.” Elzar’s voice is soft, reserved for the quiet of quarters and whispered secrets after dark. “I got them on Grizal when my Vector crashed. The healers at the Temple did their best and apparently Bacta also helped a lot, but they couldn't prevent the scars.”

Avar furrows her brow. “I didn't know you were injured on Grizal.” She feels Elzar's body tense ever so slightly underneath her, anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but him and her—and Stellan, of course—have always shared an unusually deep connection, and now they're as attuned to each other as they haven't been in years, perhaps ever. 

“It was at the end of the battle. We thought we were winning, but we didn't know there were Nameless on Grizal. I don't remember this part at all, and most of what came after is pretty blurry in my head, but Stellan later told me that he saw my Vector go straight down. I don't understand why, but I must have passed out when the Nameless appeared. My Vector caught fire when it crashed, and the cockpit bubble shattered. I wasn't wearing gloves that day, that's why the damage to my skin there was so severe. Ty pulled me out, saved my life. I don't remember anything after, but I know Stellan was with me.” 

Avar takes a moment to process all of this. When she finally speaks, her tone isn't accusatory, there may be a tinge of hurt to it though. “Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Stellan?” she asks. Before Elzar can answer, a terrible thought takes shape in her mind. “It's not that you thought I wouldn't care, is it?” 

No matter what happened, she had never and would never stop caring about Elzar and Stellan. She knows without a doubt that it's the same for them, but she and Elzar hadn't spoken for a year at that point, and her relationship with Stellan had already been strained, so what if they had started to doubt her? Avar lowers her head. She's not sure she can look him in the eyes when he answers, the possibility of what she'll see there—of what he'll see in her—too overwhelming. 

Elzar draws his hand away from her waist to gently cup her face and tilt her head up until her eyes meet his again. His gaze is earnest and there's an urgency in it—he needs her to believe what he says next. She already knows she will before he can utter a single word because she trusts him implicitly, and she knows that trust is mutual. 

“No, I never thought that, I promise.” He pauses for a second and takes a deep breath, “And I know that Stellan didn't either.” 

Avar lets out a shuddering breath and tries to quell her bubbling emotions, which threaten to spill over at his words. Even so, her voice sounds a little shaky when she asks, “Are you sure?” 

Elzar nods sincerely. “I am. Stellan wanted to comm you, but I told him not to. We argued about it, and he relented in the end.” 

The sheer relief she feels at his reassurance is dampened by one burning question, but she doesn't have to ask for him to tell her. 

“I wanted you to know, I really did, but you were halfway across the galaxy fighting the Drengir and I didn't want you to be distracted.” He briefly averts his eyes, as if he's unsure about his next sentence, before he says, “I thought if you found out, you'd want to come see me, but we both know you couldn't have, and I didn't want to make it harder on you.” 

Part of her wants to argue, wants to protest that she would have come if only she had known. But Elzar is right; she couldn't have. Still, she wishes someone had told her. But of course he wouldn't want that, she should have known. Elzar tends to view himself as selfish, but she has always known him to put the wellbeing of others, particularly hers and Stellans, above his own. 

“And later?” she prompts gently. It's certainly not a conversation either of them had expected to have tonight, and she never wants to push him, but they've spent so much time keeping things to themselves in fear of crossing a line that hardly existed in the first place, and what good did it do them? 

“As bizarre as it sounds, almost dying wasn't the worst experience I had that week.” Now it's his voice that sounds shaky. The experience has clearly affected him more than he's currently letting on, understandably so, and Avar sends a burst of warmth through the Force. 

“When I was fully healed, everything was still so chaotic after Valo and Grizal, and there was so much going on that it just didn't seem that important.” Avar hates that he thinks that way but doesn't interrupt him; there will be time for reassurance later. “I got used to the scars fairly quickly, and even though they should be a constant reminder, I hardly think about it now. And I don't wish to. I've made my peace with everything that happened and everything I did then, I truly did, but I still don't like to remember it.” 

Avar understands, of course she does. Enough bad things have happened to her in these last few years that she's made peace with, as is the Jedi way, but still doesn't like to think of. They're the same in that way. She nods and simply says the only thing she has to, “I understand.” 

“I knew you would,” he responds with a certainty that makes Avar's heart seize. 

There's a pause in their conversation then, both of them processing and coming to terms with what was and what hasn't yet been said. Avar is the one to break it when she says, “Please never do that again.” 

Elzar quirks an eyebrow, the tension caused by their conversation slowly melting away. It seems he has decided that the heavy part of their conversation is over, which Avar truly doesn't mind. “Which part? Almost dying or not telling you about it?” 

“Oh, do shut up,” Avar says, but there's no heat to it, just affectionate warmth. 

Elzar laughs softly and pulls her down for a gentle kiss. Far too soon, Avar pulls away again and cups his face with her free hand, her thumb gently stroking his cheek. This time it's her who needs him to believe her next words. Her voice is soft yet insistent when she says, “I care about you, El. I don't want you to get hurt. And if you do, I want to be by your side if it's in any way possible. And even if I can't be, I want to at least know, please.” 

Elzar nods, every trace of playfulness gone from his face and replaced by sincerity. “I know, and I promise you, the next time anything of the sort happens to me, I will tell you.” 

Avar nods as well. “Good.” 

A slow smile spreads across his face at that and the tenderness in his eyes is almost overwhelming. Avar thinks if she had a mirror, she'd surely see it reflected in her own eyes. 

Elzar turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist, and she feels the familiar warmth spread in her chest once again, chasing away the last remnants of distress. 

She leans down to press her lips to his once again, their connection in the Force glowing with love and understanding, making her feel almost giddy. 

The kiss turns heated when Avar slides the hand still cupping Elzar’s check back into his hair, her fingers tangling in the soft strands, pressing her lips to his with more urgency. Elzar responds in kind by wrapping his arm around her waist once again and pulling her as close as their current position allows. She feels butterflies in her stomach at that, like when she was seventeen and kissed him for the first time. It amazes her that time and distance haven't dulled the effect he's always had on her in the slightest, but then again, how could they? He's Elzar, after all, her Elzar. 

They don't belong to each other, of course not; there's no possessiveness to their love. But they belong with each other; side by side always. They both know it and the Force rings true with it. 

They break apart, eyes closed and foreheads still pressed together. The kiss has left both of them breathless, as kisses like this often do. Once they've recovered enough to open their eyes and ever so slightly pull away from each other, and Avar really gets to look at him again, she is hit with the realisation of just how beautiful Elzar is like this. She doesn't think there has ever been a moment where she hasn't thought of him as beautiful, but seeing him like this is something else entirely. The dim glow of the overhead lights is reflected in his dark eyes, his hair disheveled from where she ran her hands through it earlier, a soft smile gracing his lips. A sight that's reserved just for her. 

Avar's musings are interrupted when Elzar starts to speak again, his voice still sounding a little breathless. “Avar, I…,” he begins but then trails off, unable to finish his sentence. It doesn't bother Avar. She knows. 

She pulls their still-intertwined hands up to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles, then the back of his hand, then his wrist. She feels his sharp intake of breath more than hears it, and when she meets his eyes, he's gazing at her with a look in his dark eyes Avar can't quite place. Later, she will come to recognise it as pure, unfiltered devotion. 

“Stars, Avar,” he murmurs. 

Elzar seems to know exactly what she's thinking—or maybe he just shares the sentiment—because he kisses her again, his hand slipping under her shirt to gently caress the bare skin of her waist. It's an exquisite kiss, and for the moment Avar allows herself to get lost in it, in this, until the only thoughts in her head are how lovely it is to feel so at peace, and Elzar. Always, always Elzar. 

“What is it?” she asks. For a split-second, she's scared she's overstepped, but Elzar just shakes his head and leans up to brush his lips against hers in a tender kiss that ends far too quickly for her liking. If it were up to her, he'd never stop kissing her, she thinks, only slightly bothered by the fact that she sounds like a character in one of those stereotypical Jedi romance novels Kantam and her used to read to each other for fun in their Padawan days. 

[nightphoebe]

Sometimes you're getting ready for bed and the urge to write purple prose Warhammer 40k fanfiction slaps you in the face so hard you stay awake until 1:30 writing.

And by writing, I mean researching because in all my years of 40k experience, it never occurred to me that Games Workshop just do not give a fuck about the details of space travel. Like, there's a galactic map but its very broad strokes and it seems like, in every edition, important landmarks just move around.

Beyond that, there are very beautiful drawings of fuck off massive star ships that have no interior schematics at all. Where do people go in these things? What parts are for what?

The answer is it literally does not matter because they are only there to give background for how you got to Fuckedupplanetland IV where you will be engaging in land combat with enemy flavor of the week.

I don't blame them for this necessarily. Armies on ground maps are what they're selling. This isn't X-Wing. But like, I've played Fantasy Flight's Rogue Trader and it never occurred to me that for all that game takes place in space, there's very little... space travel to it.

There have been a lot of hand waving reasons for the inconsistencies in universe. Warp travel is so fucked up and weird that the people mapping the galaxy can only really guess where they and major landmarks are. But the fact that I could only find one example of space coordinates and they used fucking compass directions is boggling. Yeah, you've got segmentums and sectors but those are vast, vast sections of the galaxy. Ostensibly, there are subsectors, but those are never represented on a single map. How do the people in this universe ever get where they're trying to go in their monstrous city ships that are as full of fog of war as any battlefield because no one knows where anything is in them?

I don't know. I'm probably frustrated because I spent four hours scouring books, Lexicanum, Reddit, and any other sundry sources I could find only for the answer to end up being "I dunno, make shit up." I could have done that at the beginning of this ride. I'm a fanfic writer. Making up characters and scenarios and dialogue is what I do. But I find the 'make shit up' approach kills my emersion faster than anything else when it comes to things that should be technical knowledge in a universe.

Four hours, all for a single paragraph where an Astropath sends a distress call with fucking coordinates in it and I still had to fudge it.

I love being a writer.

[antianakin]

Okay, so Aau's song is unequivocally my favorite Visions episode of all time, so I love that it's last and I get to end this rewatch on it.

We start off SO STRONG with Aau feeling the call to destiny when she hears the kyber singing to her and she sings back and then immediately Kratu's ship appears in the sky, almost as if she's responding to Aau herself because the Jedi follow the will of the Force and it's leading Kratu to Aau (and Aau to Kratu). And Aau feels it again multiple times after Kratu shows up at her house. Aau is primarily feeling a call to the kyber itself rather than Kratu, but the connection is there with Kratu, as well, and Kratu can feel it herself. I love how strong that connection is and how it isn't just a connection to the Force or the kyber, but a connection between Aau and a Jedi, or between Aau and the path of the Jedi.

I also really love how we can see that Aau doesn't just feel the call to the path of a Jedi, but that she already displays some Jedi traits that would make this a good path for her. She shows curiosity when Kratu is at the house and compassion when she carefully removes the louse from the beast she's grooming and then lets it go on the ground. Aau doesn't seem to see the louse as beneath her and doesn't treat Kratu as someone she needs to be reverent towards, either. All life is equal. She's also brave by going to the mine and following what appears to be a somewhat dangerous path into the mountains, but pragmatic about it by grabbing a helmet before she leaves (even though she seems to be stealing borrowing it from the miners in the town).

And this is honestly just one of the PRETTIEST shorts in the entire series, the colors are so saturated and the scene with Aau in the cave with the crystals is absolutely beautiful. For me, Korba is up there with Naboo and Scarif and Alderaan in the prettiest planets in the GFFA.

Kratu is WONDERFUL, with the way Mirialan characters seem to be getting used and abused in more mainstream Star Wars these days, it's really nice to have a new Mirialan character who is just... kind and beautiful and happy and wise. Nothing bad happens to her, she gets to rescue two people and help one little girl discover her destiny. She's calm no matter what's happening around her, but she's not afraid to jump into action when needed. And she's the first purple Mirialan that I know of and she's GORGEOUS and I adore her!

Aau barely speaks in the story, I think she might have two lines in the entire short, both INCREDIBLY small ("It's alright" and "I do"), but her voice is so so important. Her voice is POWERFUL, no matter how much she speaks, because what's important is how she chooses to use it. The two lines she does have are when she chooses to follow the path of a Jedi laid out before her, and that path seems to bring her so much peace and joy.