Believing the fact that the Jedi were well-meaning but flawed people and THAT led to their own destruction is not a more nuanced stance nor is it what the Pequels are even about. That whole entire perspective is a disguised form of still trying to placate the Jedi's own fall on themselves.
This so called perspective attempts to look more "neutral" and completely ignores the fact that no matter how much you try to say it, the Jedi's destruction is directly attributed to Palpatine. Without any major Sith intrusion, despite all the political issues we see cumilating, the Jedi/Republic enjoyed THOUSANDS of years of relative peace.
The fact that it took decades of political maneuvering that aimed to make Jedi look bad, creating a sham war, mind controled soldiers made to BETRAY them, and required for the public perception to really go against them speaks volume of the ardous work it took to undo a lot of their good work. It certainly makes it harder to paint the ideea that their own decisions is what costed them because they had to first be in a "damned if they do/don't situations" more times then not.
The Jedi Order is made up of flawed individuals...like anything else. However, a group being made up of a flawed people does not make them accessories to their own genocide perpetrated by a Sith Lord. That just sounds ridiculous.
1K notes
·
View notes
B, R, V (Fanfic Ask Game)
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
No, not that I recall.
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
Have answered this one before twice, so another writer I'll read anything from (even though she has recently let me down 🥲): Kiersten White. Her Now I Darken trilogy is one of the best, most original YA fantasy stories I've ever read.
V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?
I can't even write the sequels and pequels of my own fics, let alone someone else's. 🥲 But if I had that kind of energy in me, I would write the prequel to @defineareasofuncertainty's Quiet Light, where Caroline first meets Elijah. 😌 Lalala ✨
Thank you for your asks, nonnie!
7 notes
·
View notes
Could I possibly request #37 from the song prompt list with Obi Wan? Maybe a little smutty? I love love love your writing!!
ALRIGHT GET READYYYYYYY
Pairings: Obi-wan Kenobi x reader (no y/n)
Warnings: a little smutty as requested. SO IF YOU'RE UNDER 18 PLEASE DONT READ. also this came out awfully angsty I'm so sorry anon I don't know if you wanted a fluffy ending. this is SAD.
Prompt: 37. "Baby just came back around, said she needs time to explore, said I can’t love her no more" - Baby came home by The Neighborhood
Word count: 919.
A/N: ALRIGHT FIRST REQUEST IM SO EXCITED!!!!!! i hope you like this!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS my soul is hurting. aLSO, you're very kind and for some reason I read that I love love love your writing with mr darcy's voice when he says "and I love- I love- I love you" and I'm oBSESSED. so thank yOU FOR THAT TOO ANON you just made my entire life thank you
It was the last time, you think. But then again it always was the last time.
He had just come home, maybe for a day or for a week, you never knew. He just came and went as he pleased, sometimes he wouldn't show for weeks and others —if you were lucky enough— he would stay for a few days.
Sometimes he was planetside and he wouldn't even reach you through the comms, you knew because you'd see his men running around the Temple sometimes, those orange shades that almost turned into yellow nodding your way when you passed by in sign of respect, even if they didn't know you.
Respectful men, those were them, but some say they get some traits from the Generals that leads them. You have yet to find if that theory is true, for the General of the 212nd has brought you nothing but pain.
This was the last time, you had promised yourself when you saw him behind the door, his light brown hair, with red undertones, still wet from the shower he had taken just before.
You'd promise yourself, as his lips explored your neck, biting here, nibbing there, sucking marks that were going to follow you the next couple of days, reminding you of this exact moment.
He whispered a few words, praising, claiming he missed you, if only that were true, you thought. Hot breath hitting your face as he went for another kiss, hard and needy, as if he'd die if he doesn't taste you, if he doesn't touch you, and his hands roaming your body, intoxicating, their touch leaving a gentle sear everywhere they've been, a flame that burns your body and it goes straight to your heart, makes it ache as it smothers there, filling you with smoke and dizziness.
"Obi-wan," the name leaves your lips at some point, between moans and whines and hard thrusts, like a prayer and also like something more, maybe a plead, a plead for him to stop leaving, for him to stay.
He doesn't listen, he never does. He keeps going.
His lips continue their hunt for every sweet spot on your body, even though he knows them well, tongue leaving wet trails in your throat and down your hardened nipples, wrapping them in his mouth, playing with them the same way he plays with your heartstrings.
Skilled, merciless, a teasing action that sucks all the breath from your chest and suffocates you. Leaves you panting, wanting for more.
Everything is messy, not thought well in the slightest. Just an action that is fired by another. It's just doing, not thinking of consequences nor the aftermath.
He had just came home, you know, but it's that what hurts the most. The fact that it's not your home the one he had came, it's not his to take nor to stay, just like it's not yours to come to his uninvited.
There's a grip on your waist that grounds you, along with the look of pure bliss on his face, eyebrows furrowing together, his blue eyes covered by his lids, sweet eyelashes kissing his skin.
And he fucks you, hard and deep, slow, like he wants to treasure the feeling of you, maybe for nights away when he feels so lonely, to treasure the smell of sex and sweat and keep it stashed in the back of his mind when he misses the touch of someone that isn't him.
Slow, like he doesn't want it to end.
But it does, eventually, as it all has to.
And he's getting his clothes back as you're left there, wrapped in a blanket that suddenly feels too dirty, and his come between your legs.
"We can't keep doing this anymore," you say, and you hate the way your voice breaks at the end. Your heart beats so fast you're scared he might hear it.
His blue eyes pierce trough yours, but he doesn't say anything.
"I can't love you," you admit, "not anymore, not like this."
And it breaks your heart, because you know that whatever feelings he has for you, he'd never show. That's not the Jedi way, you're well aware, you'll never be, he wouldn't let you, he wouldn't betray what he believes in the most.
"Do you love me?" You find yourself asking, the words leaving before you could even process them, and he looks crushed, like you just punched him in the stomach and you wish to know what he is thinking.
But he doesn't let you in, he never does.
His silence and the glassy look in his eyes are enough to answer you.
"You can't love me anymore," you state, and you wonder where did you get the strength for the words to leave your throat, "not like this. This isn't—" you drown a sob with a cough, "this isn't love, Obi."
And he knows that, he just hoped you wouldn't find out too soon, he just hoped you'd love him despite that.
He nods, and even if he's feeling a hurricane of emotions, he doesn't show.
"I'll let you be, then," he mumbles, stealing one last look, one he tries to commit to memory, with your disheveled hair and your burning cheeks.
Obi-wan stops, for just a second, in case you change your mind, he hopes you change your mind.
You don't, so he leaves, with your heart in his hands and every feeling he brought left with him, leaving you empty and alone, like he always does.
113 notes
·
View notes