#tldr: i LOVE star wars

[legobiwan]

TotJ Rewatch: Ramblings (1 of 3)

After a long abstention from consuming anything Star Wars-related, I plopped down on my couch yesterday and decided it was time to dip my toes back into this arena, mostly for the purposes of writing.

And what better way to delve back into this universe than by starting with the Dooku episodes of Tales of the Jedi?

Boi, oh boi, had I forgotten how much I love this character.

And so without a thesis or much a point whatsoever, I'd like to ramble about a few dozen thoughts I had while yelling incoherently through this rewatch.

Episode 2, "Justice"

One of the overarching themes of Dooku's episodes is this unsettling notion of darkness. Even at the start of this episode, gone are the usual triumphant Star Wars themes are so familiar with - the militant and boisterous brass, the rising strings and woodwinds. Instead, this episode opens with somewhat dissonant string passages interspersed with with a subtle, almost glistening electronic tones that meld in and out of the sustained string notes.

There is no optimism whatsoever as Dooku and Qui-gon set down on what looks to be the charred husk of village.

The remainder of these episodes rarely lighten in tone. And I don't think the thrust here is that Dooku is the only Jedi to have encountered these unfortunate situations - suffering and devastation due to corrupt politicians in a Republic the Jedi is supposedly tasked with protecting. What I do think is that this is all meant to be seen through the lens of Dooku's increasing disillusion. That these scenes are bleak because that's what Dooku is focusing on, more and more, to the point where...well, we know what happens.

But anyway, to get back to the episode.

You have give props to the animation team here. The continuity with Qui-gon's older self having a tendency to show cleavage apparently stems from his youth, where it was even more exacerbated. (Aren't you cold, Qui-gon?) The best part of this is the contrast with Dooku and he (of course) very well put-together outfit.

Maybe teen!Qui-gon just went through too many growth spurts and the Jedi tailor threw up their hands in frustration. I do find it infinitely amusing that Dooku - Mr. Propriety himself - had two students (Rael and Qui-gon) who might as well have been wearing burlap sacks half the time. Never let it be said that Dooku didn't allow his charges to express themselves, even though I'm certain it vexed the hell out him.

What's fascinating about this episode is the absolute economy of dialogue. There's not much of it, letting the visuals of the ravaged village and Dooku's own tight-lipped anger carry much of the weight of the narrative. It's almost as if we're at a point with Dooku where he knows he's angry, he knows his base instincts are trending in a bad direction, but he's still trying so, so hard to be a Jedi and toe the line, to believe in the Order he brought up in, which I think is partially why Dooku is so reserved in this particular episode, minus the part where he tries to Force-choke a guy.

I love that Qui-gon is doing the majority of the talking here. There's no disapproval written on Dooku's face, no motion made for him to hold his tongue or know his place. It truly shows the level of trust Dooku has in his student (and the level of trust in himself as a teacher) and also the level of respect he has for Qui-gon (despite his sartorial missteps). I've said it before and I'll say it again. Dooku is a teacher, through and through. He trains Qui-gon and is devastated at his death. He trains Ventress and is unwillingly forced to abandon her. He trains Savage as if he were a dark Padawan. He's constantly making remarks to Obi-wan as to how he could improve. The man can't help himself. But Qui-gon was special to him, as we'll see in another few episodes.

One of the most fascinating layers of Dooku's character is his political idealism. I'll point it out in more detailed fashion when I recap the next episode, but young Dooku and Padmé Amidala have so much in common. And it's wild for Dooku, as someone who (both canonically and in the EU) was born into a noble family, was aware of his heritage, and by all accounts, maintained a level of haughty distance from most people exacerbated by a taste for the finer things in life.

And yet...and yet. This is a man who is unbelievably angry at the actions of a corrupt Senate. That a village could be treated and forgotten this way. Padmé is little different, as we see in TPM and throughout TCW. (You have to wonder what a political powerhouse those could have been if they had stood on the same side of the aisle at the same time).

When we think of Dooku, we think of a relentless man who would go to any length to see the Jedi destroyed. And later, he goes on to commit some true atrocities. But like many roads paved to hell, it begins with good intentions, even if they may be self-serving.

Is it noblesse oblige? Maybe there's a hint of that. Does Dooku really care about the little person? In a way, but I don't think that's his major motivating factor.

Dooku grew up with the Jedi. He loves the Jedi, or at least loved the Jedi. He was talented and became one of their best. And then he started to see the cracks in the foundation and began to question everything about the Jedi, everything about himself. So much of this, in my mind, stems from a sense of betrayal by an organization and ideal which he held so dear to his heart (not to mention his main teacher was the head of the whole shebang).

What do you do when the thing you identify with the most - the thing that is you identity - your passion, in a way, your first love - curdles into something unrecognizable? If Dooku loved the Jedi any less, he would have left. (And that touches on a whole other cultural aspect of the Jedi Order and a type of institutional pressure that I won't get into here). Well, in Dooku's case, you start by trying to reform it from the inside. By bucking authority and replacing cracked edifice with your own hewn stone. Until you can't anymore, until the weight is too much to bear and your grievances begin to spill and metastasize into something else altogether.

The funny thing is, I feel like the start of this confrontation would have gone the same with almost any other Jedi. I can't see, say, Mace Windu (and I choose him as he gets underserved flak for being rule-abiding to the point of inhumanity) just up and saying, "Oh yeah, dude, you're totally right. Let's fuck over these peasants."

But where it gets interesting is when Dooku allows it to become a firefight. There's a long series of shots showing the fear of the villagers, the way Qui-gon looks around and is uncertain as to whether or not this is the right path.

Yes, Dooku, you do.

But. You're also willing (if not thrilled) for these people to become momentary collateral damage in an idealogical battle, as we see during the firefight exchange.

And the thing is...there's no easy answer here. It's not Republic vs. the Confederacy. It's not good versus evil. It's a lot more complicated than that, and Dooku isn't wrong in allowing the confrontation to happen. The Senator is corrupt. The Senator is willing to burn the village to the ground. The Jedi do (or should) serve the people of the Republic, first and foremost.

You can see why Dooku Force-choked the guy, in a way. He's still at a point where this collateral damage goes against everything he believes in, where he sees that the only option of restoring justice is through darkness, and he's willing to go there. For justice. For peace. (For himself).

The real hero here is Qui-gon, who is quick enough to realize number one, that his Master is going over the edge again (and given Qui-gon's response, I have zero reason to believe this was the first incident), and number two, that the Senator's son would be far more effective in persuading his father to abandon his terrible, awful plan of obliteration (although would his father have listened had Dooku not choked out of him first?)

As we know, Dooku is an aloof man. Touch is probably not one of his most-used emotional languages. I realize that in raising a child, even if they are ten to twelve years old when they come into your care, you probably have to have some comfort or at least tolerance of physical touch. But the fact that Qui-gon has no fear of Dooku and his possible reaction, that he instinctually takes him by the shoulder. I feel that with Dooku, so little can say so much, and to me, this is obvious proof of the solidity and trust in that relationship.

Part of the issue here is - Dooku's gambit works. Now, yes, he is absolutely correct in the exchange below that Qui-gon truly saved the day, but as I noted, it's not guaranteed the Senator would have listened to his son prior to having the life choked out of him. And what does Dooku received in response? Positive reinforcement. The village is being rebuilt. The Senator (for now) is reconsidering his actions. Brute force, in a way, worked, even if Dooku at the time was not fully in control of his own actions. And there's this weird negative/positive feedback loop where Dooku is rewarded for his actions, even if he knows his methods were less than savory, even his guilt eats at him, leading to the discussion below.

It's so interesting that Dooku is teetering on the edge during these years, but is always somehow brought back. It's really when he stops having a Padawan - that's one of the tipping points, where he has no counter-balance, has no one else to invest himself in, to learn from and, in some ways, live for. You almost have to wonder if some of Dooku's issues could have been solved by forcing another student on him after Qui-gon was knighted.

Next post on the docket: "Choices"

[foggysirens]

one thing i love so much about andor is how each week they manage to weave in these subtle underlying themes within the episodes that are just so impactful to all the characters (and the audience) in different ways.

like shows do this often, have their characters in different situations but explore the same overall theme- but with andor each storyline is so rich and have these stakes that are so impossibly high that the emotional gut-punch of each one just drives home how well written and executed this show is and the heavy theme of sacrifice in this last episode just hit me hard.

like in the prison break scenes it is so thick with it, we see the prisoners coming together, ready to die fighting than stay there- and many of them do. but they are prepared to do it. one way out. its the grim yet hopeful moment of rebellion. and we get to see some of the best scenes in all of star wars as we watch these men revolt, as we listen to kinos powerful speech, how cassian pushes him and we get these lines: "you need to help each other. you see someone who is confused, someone who is lost? you get them moving and you keep them moving." which just hit me in the gut because the entire speech is just an emotional hit after emotional hit, but this line. this line is indicative of everything we've seen of the show so far. these calls for action, call for rebellion. to stand beside one another and fight. climb. and then we reach this heartbreaking end where we see them at the end, the light at the end of the tunnel- and kino cant swim. one way out- just not for him. and were stuck with that feeling of sacrifice again- that he must have known, but pushed and helped them escape anyways. the one man for the many. and when we see cassian and melshi running off, free, we know they'll remember that too.

and then with mon, her presence in this episode was much smaller than it has been, but the theme of sacrifice was still there for her- just vastly different. because the sacrifice that we see in her scene is not the heroic kind. it's mon being asked if she would be willing to sacrifice her daughter, marry her off, to further her cause. and again, its so poignant and filled you with this sick feeling because it's not mons sacrifice, it's her daughters, but its in mons hands anyways. and no matter how vehemently we see her reject the idea, just like davo says, we can see her genuinely considering it- knowing she's out of options- but at what cost?

and lastly with luthen and lonni, their entire conversation, right at the end, is openly about sacrifice. and we get this amazing dialogue between them where luthen reminds us that the rebellion is built on sacrifice, how it's personal and at the cost of others. it slams everything that we've just seen back in our faces. forcing us to go back and look at it with new eyes. it's the perfect mixture of the other two storylines in the episode. the prison and kino, and mon and her daughter. its fifty for the sake of one, and one spy at the sake of his family. the sacrifice is everything.

andor spends this whole episode showing us there is always a cost, always a sacrifice- something that again is such a true theme for star wars in general. the sacrifices in this show mean everything. the true cost of the rebellion. what has to be done isn't always kind, isn't always pretty. there is no thanks. there is no seeing the sunrise. there is not a one way out.

[scattered-winter]

every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Stuck on the first few eps of Farscape after finishing up Fantasy High s2 and maybe its the whole most recently consumed bias but I'm really struck by how much it feels like a dnd game??? Bunch of weird lil renegades slapped together and put in weird situations, honestly it would make a really interesting starting point for a game

Anyway John Crichton is a bard/wizard; he does a lot of persuasion as performance and that scene of him collapsing to the floor to write slingshot equations is THE most wizard shit- perhaps Artificer would be more accurate to him but it's not a class I'm familiar with.

[corellianhounds]

Amidala the Resilient

Media: Revenge of the Sith

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,942

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, pregnancy, Force-choking, blood and injuries, traumatic labor and delivery, death in childbirth, no happy ending.

Art Credit: Iain McCaig, The Art of Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Summary: In a universe where Anakin gradually descended into the Dark side of his own volition from the beginning— where his ambition and love were genuine and admirable, but the temptation of power too much— his turn is something much more destructive and purposeful. Amidala’s plan for retaliation is just as much so.

Padmé Amidala can feel tension twinging in her back and thighs. The pit in her stomach has coalesced into a tight knot as she steels herself for what she must do, bringing a mattock and salt to the ground where pruning shears should have been used long ago.

Anakin had been too far gone for a long time, and the fault lay in her and everyone in his life willingly turning a blind eye too often to his myriad of faults. In the past two hours she has seen actions the result of which came from an upbringing where his temper, jealousy, and ambition were allowed to slide because those who thought him destined for some great cosmic good were willing to overlook occasional— and often objectively justified— acts of wrath and ruthlessness. He had always been so good at justifying his reasons and putting his actions in a more favorable light, showing enough willingness for correction over the years people thought he was receptive to guidance and change.

What she’d come to realize with dawning horror was that the seeds of destruction had been sown long ago, and though the vines had borne occasional good fruit, they had always grown with selfish intent, inevitably choking out everything around them in an effort to keep his own desires hidden behind the barrier of thorns.

In the next hour, she will come face to face with the monster of a man he’s become.

The Jedi master doesn’t know. Kenobi knows she has some plan but wrongfully assumes it is to appeal to whatever mistaken shred of humanity might remain in Anakin. Obi-Wan— even now, even after what they saw— cares for him as a brother and would sooner cut off his own hand than see Anakin completely lost to the Dark. Padmé however has finally seen clarity of purpose.

For Anakin to be stopped, he must be killed.

The ship arrives on Mustafar. Padmé wrenches herself away from the viewport as Obi-Wan lands and she gingerly lowers herself to the cargo hold, donning a cloak. Obi-Wan hurriedly finishes the landing cycle, calling her name as she gathers her strength, but she’s hardly listening to him at this point and she knows she must conceal herself from him so he has no chance of stopping her.

A hand on her shoulder makes her flinch, and the Jedi lets go almost in surprise. “Padmé, you don’t have to do this. I will talk to him.”

“No,” she says, keeping her left hand secured across her waist beneath the voluminous sleeve as she cleared a path to the lowering gangway. “He’s made it very clear he’s past the point of reasoning with the Jedi. I will speak with him, and if I cannot convince him to come with us calmly, or I cannot ascertain his next move, I expect you to do what’s necessary to end this treasonous rebellion. That is an order.”

It was all false diplomacy, of course, for his sake. Padmé had no intention of believing Anakin was anywhere close to the realm of negotiation. They were far past that.

But she needed assurance that she could get close enough to Anakin to act decisively. She couldn’t have Kenobi interfering, not at this juncture.

Oppressive heat surrounded her as she swept down the ramp to the barren ground. Magma roiled and churned, flames flickering at the edge of the peninsula as Padmé approached the figure so cloaked in darkness an aura of blackened energy almost seemed to emanate from his form. The grip of the hidden dagger dug into her hand, grounding her as she approached.

Padmé’s eyes burned with a ferocity to match her husband’s. It was time for this to end.

When Obi-Wan had seen her determination in the hold of the ship he had never for a moment anticipated what it would lead to.

Padmé steadily approached Anakin, cloak and hood protecting her from the blaze. He could see her speaking forcefully with him, her face hidden from view but Anakin’s darkening by the moment in response. His right hand, devoid of glove, clenched the hilt of an already ignited saber, the bloodshine blade standing in stark contrast to his own cloak. Its presence alone was alarming, but Obi-Wan had been subject to so many tragedies that night already, he merely assumed Anakin had readied it in the expectation of facing his master.

What Obi-Wan hadn’t known was what Padmé concealed until she tried to close the distance between them, her own blade in hand. What followed happened in the span of a heartbeat.

Anakin’s saber blocked it on instinct, easily halting the approach of Padmé’s dagger, his eyes widening in surprise. In the following moment his left hand raised and with it, so did Padmé.

Obi-Wan’s astonishment lasted only a fraction of a second as he yelled “NO!” Padmé’s feet left the ground as an invisible force clutched her neck in a crushing, intangible grip, and in the breadth of time Padmé scrabbled at her throat, Obi-Wan acted.

Anakin stumbled back from the force of the bolt hitting his shoulder, releasing his hold on Padmé. Padmé crumpled to the ground in a heap, and Anakin’s sights zeroed in on Kenobi, standing at the mouth of the ship with both blaster and lightsaber in hand. Snarling, Anakin stalked towards his old master and brought his lightsaber down, red clashing against blue.

Padmé Amidala, heartbroken and dying, drags herself bleeding to the communication console.

Kenobi can hear her movement in the bay and yells her name, telling her not to move, that he’ll come to help her as soon as the ship breaches the atmosphere, and she stalwartly ignores him, cradling the underside of her belly with one hand and using the other to support herself on the railing around the sparse artillery deck. Her broken ankle protests at every movement, sending lightning arcing up the leg where she puts her unsteady weight. The cramps in her abdomen spread like bone-coral, sharp and hot and agonizing in her pelvis, sides, back— Every tendon and muscle in her body screams at their owner to relent, to succumb to the creeping darkness pressing around her vision, but she cannot allow herself peace until she finishes what she started.

Padmé staggers at the ship’s turbulent acceleration, her forearm slamming out against the bulkhead as the lights flicker, and she curses the unsteady pilot she thought was her friend. Perhaps if she’d been accompanied by someone more decisive, someone whose fatal flaw wasn’t a love too great for a brother that no longer existed, Anakin would have been dealt with and she’d have the wherewithal to fight against the added pain of a labor she was sure would tear her in two.

Sweat pours from her brow and forces her already shaking, slippery hands to scrabble for purchase on the blasted polished finery of a spoiled noble’s ship. Her muscles spasm and she gasps in abject terror as she feels something inside her snap; the membrane within her had ruptured.

Gravity pulls on her bones as her muscles betray her, and she collapses against the bench. Fingernails scrape vinyl and she chokes out a guttural, rending cry of pain in the effort it takes to haul herself upward into the seat.

Obi-Wan is yelling again. Traitorous coward.

Padmé punches in the covert frequency on the transmitter. Her other hand rests on her stomach, her infants moving restlessly under her touch. She forces the hot flashes of pain back, shoving down every instinctive response to curl in on herself.

“Sabé—,” she says into the comm, gritting her teeth and tasting blood once more; the contractions were stronger and with a strangled grunt she yanks the comm closer, ignoring the frantic waves of worry rolling off of the useless Jedi in the pilot’s seat.

“Sabé, if you find the man who was my husband,” she chokes, the creeping black at the edges of her vision beginning to overtake her.

“Kill him.”

Obi-Wan sat listlessly on a bench in the hold, what bloodied clothing he still wore sticking to him like a second skin. His hand rested on the makeshift bassinet, a gun locker repurposed into a cradle.

He could only imagine what directive she’d felt necessary enough to strain herself to get across the sublight waves; he could only imagine because the message was encrypted and the recipient unknown, and her mind had been shielded from his probing. He didn’t know whether to blame his failed use of the Force on the heartbroken, distracted nature of his psyche being pulled in a thousand directions as he’d manually flown from Mustafar’s orbital pull in order to make the jump to lightspeed, or to blame some unknown energy stalwartly blocking him from Padmé’s mind. Reaching out to her had felt like hitting a steel wall.

The tumult of their departure had preoccupied him until he was sure he’d escaped whatever enemy fighters Anakin’s new master had sent after them, the maneuvering less of a dogfight and more of a half-cocked evasive prayer for the hull to remain intact long enough for them to break atmo. Klaxons blared and the astronav’s interface barked orders, warning him of too many systems he already knew were damaged enough that if they took even one more hit to the hull they would be obliterated; shields were failing, exterior panelling being shorn off, the pursuing fighters gaining on them— Until by some stroke of luck he’d found a slip in space to pull through and immediately jump to lightspeed.

Lightspeed jumps themselves were already hazardous to expecting parents’ health. He was terrified of the condition she had been in when he’d finally gotten her onboard, and the fact he could sense her moving with purpose somewhere below decks while he tried to shake the fighters had sent his heart rate skyrocketing.

Piloting had never been his forte. As soon as they’d hit hyperspace he’d slammed a hand against the autopilot controls and bolted from the dash, scrambling down to the hold below.

He swore under his breath, calling her name and skidding to a halt beside her. Her face twisted in agony, her hands clutching the underside of her abdomen. Obi-Wan knelt beside her, hesitant to move her and instead ran a quick check over her vitals, astonished at what he found.

Broken bones in her leg, fractured ribs, internal bleeding, damaged trachea— how had she even moved?! By all rights she should be dead and yet something had propped her up long enough for her to drag herself to the terminal and send a message.

And now she was in labor.

“Kenobi—” she spat derisively, grabbing his tunic. “Get— up—”

“Padmé, hold still, let me—”

He was cut off as a violent shudder wracked her body, her limbs curling in on herself with a gurgling cry. Panicked desperation lanced through him as he reached out and grasped tendrils of the Force, gingerly cradling her neck and attempting to delicately, swiftly mend ligaments he couldn’t see. If he was even a millimeter incorrect, she would die.

A misaligned vertebrae shifted back into place, and Padmé screamed.

Obi-Wan bit back a sob, carefully tracing his fingers on either side of the back of her neck with as much force as he dared in an attempt to still her and provide what pain relief he could as his own energy was leached from him. Padmé gasped, her eyes flying open, her expression stricken as she looked up at the ceiling. Her iron grip loosened as the tension dissipated, if only in one area. She gulped air as if coming up from the bottom of a lake, and Obi-Wan settled as he felt his strength wane. A concrete task was better than guesswork at unknown variables.

The reprieve didn’t last long; Padmé grunted in pain, convulsing as a contraction rippled through her torso again. Further assessment revealed her leggings and the floor beneath her to be drenched, and Obi-Wan’s panic flared again.

“I have to get you up—”

“If you move me I will kill you,” she spat harshly. She trembled despite the ferocity of her glare, her hand still twisted in his robe. “There is no time— Here and now, Kenobi. Make do.”

“Padmé—”

“Look around you,” she seethed. “There’s no level surface in this blasted ship big enough to work. There are no other choices. There is no one else to help. Sleeves up. Now.”

Kenobi’s brow remained twisted as he stripped off his outer tunic, knowing it was laden with silicate and volcanic dust. Padmé propped herself up on her elbows as he raced to scour his hands and forearms, coming back to remove her boots so he could work her outer garments free. Whether the blood seeping between her teeth was due to the injuries she’d sustained or because she was gritting them hard enough one had cracked, he didn’t know.

Padmé gasped again as the fracture in her shin shifted— He wanted to settle her, to fix this, but the contractions were coming more quickly and closer together. They were running out of time.

He finally seated himself before her, kneeling and shaking in just his undershirt and trousers, feeling acutely unprepared for what was to come. Battlefield triage and casualty care were the extent of his healing knowledge, and though he was adept at relieving or numbing acute nociceptive responses, it was usually with soldiers whose minds were open for him to assess areas of injury. A commander with a blaster burn would be focused on the point where his plastoid hadn’t covered. A civilian’s attention after suffering a fall would be turned to the joints and bones that took the brunt of the effects of gravity.

Labor and delivery were far too different from his experience in the medical field.

And Padmé was still blocking him out.

Her knuckles gripped bone-white to a ridge of floor plating, one knee bent and her foot planted flat. The other lay weakly to the side, and Obi-Wan grit his teeth as he raised it up to rest over his thigh despite the lancing pain he felt radiating from her, tucking a blanket beneath her and readying his hands for whatever instruction he prayed she could give. With him gathering his wits and her gathering her strength, they set to work.

The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted longer than ten minutes, and it was the longest and most arduous process of their lives. Between her strangled cries, his intuition, and the muscle spasms that told him everything about this was wrong, Kenobi’s concern grew with the pool of blood beneath her, and she forced him to focus on the children, refusing to allow him any modicum of time spent healing her injuries between her screams. Untended bone cracked further as she thrashed, her screams echoing back in the cargo hold.

By the time Kenobi had swaddled the two squalling— living!— infants in what sterile dressing he could find from the field kit, Padmé had gone a sickly pale. Her skin was waxy under the recessed halogen lighting, her hair sticking to her forehead. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and different muscle groups continued twitching of their own accord as if sparked by electricity. Obi-Wan was torn between ensuring the infants had been properly cared for, and wanting to drag Padmé to the captain’s berth to fully assess her wounds and heal her: Padmé kept stubbornly shoving him away, tears tracking unnoticed down her face as she continued to choke out instructions for the care and keeping of her children.

He’d finally been forced to stop when that iron grip returned in full force— Padmé grabbed his arm and yanked him down to where she had propped herself up against the wall. Kenobi lurched forward, her ashen face now level with his. She forced her voice to obey despite the strain in her throat, rasping the words she needed to say.

“Keep them away from him.” The venom in her tone was undeniable. “You keep them safe, Kenobi, get— get them as far away as you can—”

Kenobi grunted, refusing to let her continue her orders. He pressed a palm to her chest, willing those wisps of energy to sustain her just a few moments longer as he tried to haul her up into his lap, coax her arm around him so he could lift her— If he could just get her somewhere comfortable, somewhere clean, if he could focus—

Padmé shrieked in pain, clawing at his chest and arms, and the sum of their separate fights came crashing down on him as the Force dissipated from his mind’s grasp. His knees gave out, his strength sapped from the energy he had poured into her, and they lay heavily back against the terminal yet again. The children cried distantly behind them.

“Padmé, please…” Obi-Wan pleaded, tears streaking down his face, but she shook her head yet again.

“Keep them safe,” she coughed, begging for the first time. “Get them away f-from—”

“He’s gone, Padmé, Anakin is gone—”

She shook her head fiercely, squeezing her eyes shut. “No. He’s there. I can feel him.”

“Listen to me— Anakin is dead, I saw him—”

“You’re wrong,” Padmé said. Her breath rattled. Tears dripped from her chin. “If— If you won’t k-kill him then t-take care o-of them. Wh-Whatever it takes.”

Her chest hitched as she gasped around the liquid filling her lungs. Her bloody hand trembled against his neck. She hiccuped, her eyes went glassy, and her hand fell away.

And in the stillness of hyperspace, Padmé Amidala Naberrie passed from one life to the next.

It had been an hour since then. Only an hour since Obi-Wan had had to keep himself from buckling under the weight of his grief, an hour since he’d sobbed on the floor of a ship as one of his oldest and dearest friends died in his arms. The former queen of Naboo, dying in the bloody cargo hold of a stolen ship, her own life stolen from her by the one person the two of them had trusted beyond measure while her infant children cried out for comfort he felt wholly incapable of providing. Obi-Wan wept alongside them, digging his fingers into the cold, unfeeling floor, wanting to scream as the agony of heartbreak threatened to overwhelm him.

So many dead, or lost. There was no solace even in the Force.

But as Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself doing so often in his life, he shoved his feelings down into the furthest recesses of his broken heart, let go of another loved one returned to the Force, and turned himself back to the task at hand.

The infants were asleep now. He’d shakily scrubbed at his face and arms with cold water and spared only enough time under the sanisteam to ensure he was clean enough to handle them before finding a spare undershirt for himself. He fed them, cleaned them up, and held both of them together against his chest as they squirmed, dissatisfied at their situation before accepting their present accommodations and falling asleep. By the ship’s chrono he had roughly two standard hours before the ship was due to drop out of hyperspace.

He sat unseeing in the captain’s berth with the ad hoc bassinet nearby. Padmé was still in the hold; he couldn’t be two places at once, and he couldn’t stay down there with the children.

Something bothered him about the infants in his arms, though. Once the girl had passed from Padmé’s body, it almost seemed like the barrier keeping him from sensing Padmé’s thoughts had broken. He was too drained and scattered to dwell on it as his last moments with her had been focused on her well-being, but despite his utter exhaustion he had a suspicion that had already begun to crystallize under the sheer openness of the twins’ young presences within hyperspace.

It troubled him.

Whatever message she’d sent was evidently received by the people she’d needed it to. Bail Organa met him at the hastily assembled but covert rendezvous, his ensuing shock and horror upon entering the ship’s docking ramp turning to commanding resolve as he followed the trail of destruction to Kenobi’s station. Organa had to shake him from his stupor before Obi-Wan could tell him of Mustafar, of the newly appointed Sith and Padmé’s scheme, and of Padmé’s last words. The senator’s brow furrowed. He knelt next to the Jedi, looking over the sleeping children.

“What of Anakin?”

Obi-Wan shook his head tiredly. “I cannot sense him. I don’t believe Anakin is alive.”

“… Who else did she contact?” Bail asked.

Tears dripped onto Obi-Wan’s shirt. “I don’t know.”

Bail sighed, bringing one hand up to rest on his shoulder. “I am truly sorry, Obi-Wan. For everything.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t respond.

Bail’s team, handpicked and vetted by the senator himself, worked below decks as the men weighed their options. The aftermath of the despotic coup was rippling out and changing by the minute; the Jedi had been slaughtered and scattered, the clones had broken all communication, and the Senate had reached a fever pitch of chaos. Anything that needed to be done had to be done now.

The feeling of loss that bordered on consuming him was one he’d rarely felt in his lifetime as acutely as he did now. The comfort he found in the Force was absent. He’d felt like a ship unmoored when his master was killed. Now it was as though he’d been dropped into the middle of a hurricane.

Bail’s hands were clasped loosely together against his forehead, elbows resting on his knees as he bowed his head in thought. Kenobi could have been a corpse for how still and gaunt he was.

“Obi-Wan…” Bail began. “Are you certain Skywalker is dead?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “I cannot sense him at all.”

Bail was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “… But you, of all people, couldn’t sense what must have been growing within him. Is it at all possible the body of Anakin remains, but the reason you cannot find him is because the man we knew is entirely lost to the Dark?”

A chilling fissure of clarity cut through Obi-Wan’s senses. His reaction told Bail everything he needed to know.

Even if it was only a suspicion, they could not afford to waste time figuring out the emperor’s next move. Anything that could be used to motivate Vader had to be hidden from public knowledge. They couldn’t leave a trace of his past behind.

Bail mulled over his thoughts, then stood, gesturing for Kenobi as his resolve hardened to steel. “Come. We have work to do. We will mourn when we are done.”

Sabé trembled with the effort it took to control her breathing. She stowed her bag behind the seat of the starship and brought the engine to life, moving with purpose as tears streamed unbidden down her face.

The ship rose, coordinates locked in place to meet the others of her gathering retinue. These weren’t the orders of former nobility, of a governing senator— This was the last request of a dying friend, someone whose very existence was woven into her bones. Padmé Amidala’s death would not be in vain.

Sabé looked out beyond the stars, her breathing finding stasis despite the ocean of grief beneath it.

“My hands are yours, Padmé,” she said to herself. “For as long duty compels them.”

She wasn’t going to kill Anakin. Not until he felt every bit of the pain and suffering he deserved.

Notes:

The line “clarity of purpose” comes from Saw Gerrera in the Andor TV show

I wrote Sabé’s line before seeing that one similar was used in one of the books. Good to know I was on the right track with a character I know very little about lol

[dickytwister]

deep fried ben affleck smoking meme. please and thak you

TEEHEE wip that means sm to me,,,,, it's abt my boy carter post-dnd game when he becomes emperor from the pov of his bodyguard,,,, but carter is just. an littol guy,, and being an emperor away from all his friends is soooo hard for him,,,,, snippet under the cut be upon ye,,,

Daerhen is plucked from his position as General of the King’s armies a day before the new emperor’s coronation. It comes as a surprise; he’s been nothing but loyal to the empire, from the very moment he left his mother and sisters on Eter to become a soldier, when his hand first held a pistol, when he first took a life in the name of his lord. To be taken from his position in the army, one he’s worked tirelessly for many years to deserve, and be demoted to bodyguard, would have had any lesser man protesting vehemently.  But Daerhen is no lesser man, and he keeps his discontent well hidden under the thick cotton of his new uniform.  The coronation is grandiose, as one would expect. The King has been ruling for decades and has been desperately trying to reach his heir for half as long. This, the great hall crowded with nobility and what few people of lower standing managed to pay their way into the citadel, decorated from the marble floors to the painted ceilings, tables lined with appetizers and delicacies more delectable than the next, has been a very long time coming, and everyone is celebrating to their hearts’ content. King J'son stands next to the throne, one hand draped over the back, and looks at the crowd with a satisfied glint in his tired eyes. From where he’s leaning against a pillar, fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of a flute, Daerhen observes the new emperor. The young man is sitting on the throne with his back straight, his arms carefully placed on either side of his body, chin held high in a way that makes the ceremonial crown shine under the colourful lights of the plankton and the flickering ones of the candles that have been lit merely for aesthetic purposes. He is dressed in the finest silk, with hues of purple cascading along the seams of his outfit. Yet, for all that he wears the crown and the hues of purple and sits upon the same throne his grandfather sat upon before him, Carter Quill looks nothing like the ruler he’s meant to be.  If he didn’t abhor him for being the reason behind his demotion, Daerhen would pity him; while the band starts on another song and people gather round to dance, the emperor sits still under the weight that’s now resting heavy on his shoulders. 

[cherryredcheol]

"bug"

tldr: all the ways vernon uses your nickname

a/n: not proofread. also, stoner!vernon is alive and well in this.

deadpans: in the middle of the night

“bug.” he startles you. he can somehow sense your eyes on him even with closed lids. you thought he was asleep and he should be considering the time and his schedule in the morning. 

“why aren’t you asleep?” you almost tell him you were just thinking the same thing about him but instead you just giggle when he cracks one eye open to peer up at you leaning over him. you hadn’t meant to wake him up but you were so hungry and he always made ramen the best for you. 

“you’re lucky i love you, bug” and you thought about how true that statement was as you followed him from the bedroom into the kitchen, perching yourself on the counter as he got the hot water going to make your snack for you. 

cheers: from across the practice room

“Bug!” after a long day of practice, and a longer night ahead, he shouted when he saw you enter the room with food. the oily smell of fried chicken wafted through the air and if his shouting didn’t catch everyone’s attention, that did.

he bounds across the room to you in five strides, carefully setting the plastic bags you were carrying down on the ground before squishing you into a bone-crushing hug. 

“you’re the best” he whispers into your ear, his breath setting your sensitive skin on fire. you blush, telling him it was no problem, the chicken shop was practically on the way. he pulls back, smiling at you so big your cheeks hurt just looking at him. you reach a hand up to his cheek, returning his smile with one of your own. he nuzzles into your hand wrapping his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand in place. 

“Yah! you turn to see Suengkwan, “Stop being gross in front of the food!” 

giggles: when he puffs the smoke from his lungs

“bug” he chuckles when you look at him with blown-out pupils and a soft smile. you were sitting across from him on the floor of your living room as a movie played softly in the background. star wars, you think. It was nice to spend this time together after a long week of schedules and shifts.

“do you want any more of this?” he asked you, lazy smile on his face as he held the blunt out to you. there was about half left and you hate the roach so you take it from his hand, huffing a few more drags. you were pleasantly high and so was he. you hold the blunt out for him to take, and he leans in wrapping his lips around the end, and breathes in deep, looking into your eyes the entire time. 

he exhales and you’re on him in an instant, joint forgotten in the ashtray on your coffee table. you climb into his lap not wanting to be away from him any longer. he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you in place. “can’t resist me can you, bug?”

coughs: with your back turned

“bug” he sounds so pathetic. you turn around, careful of the tray in your hands holding a half-empty bowl of soup he was too sick to finish. you raise a brow at him, wondering what else he could possibly need. you had gotten him everything he asked for these last couple of days while he’s been home sick from his schedule. 

“when you come back, can we cuddle?” and you melt. the way his eyes are half closed and he’s barely able to lift his head off the pillow. you nod, hurrying quickly to the kitchen to clean the dishes. 

walking back into the bedroom, you can see he fell asleep in your short absence. you shake your head, supposing you should give him the cuddles he asked for earlier. climbing in next to him, already feeling warm from the heat radiating from his feverish body. he snuggles in closer, humming to himself, “much better, bug.”

chokes out: over the phone

“bug-” the broken word stops your heart. He’s clearly crying, or had been recently since his voice is still thick. he’d been in japan for over a week working on promotions with his members. the distance was tough, but nothing you hadn't dealt with before. 

‘i miss you so much” he finally lets out after much prodding on your end. he was never very forthcoming about his emotions, especially negative ones. it took a long time to get him to open up to you so you knew you had to tread lightly or he might clam up again. 

you stayed up that night, talking to him on the phone, calming him down so he could get some sleep for his big schedule tomorrow. sniffles gone and tears dried, you finally float the idea of going to bed by him and you can hear the pout in his voice when he asks, “stay on the phone a bit longer with me, bug?”

[zenkindoflove]

Fandom Shipping Terminology 101: ACOTAR edition

Hi! So I decided to put a little resource together for the ACOTAR fandom. Since many people join the SJM/ACOTAR fandom and have never been in fandom before, they encounter a lot of fandom terminology that they are not quite sure what it means or have seen others use it incorrectly so they get a false impression of the meaning of the word. So I put this together, including examples from the fandom, so that people can use it as a reference to learn more about what these terms mean and when they're appropriate to use. This list is focused on words related to shipping.

Tldr definitions (note: these are definitions that I wrote based on my own experiences/research on fanlore. These are always up for interpretation and meaning and nuance change over time and depend on fandom context)

Canon ship - a relationship where the characters have romantic interactions in canon

Fanon ship - a relationship where in canon the characters are platonic but the fandom has accepted as a ship with romantic undertones, canonical potential, or has become so popular within a fandom it's has surpassed the need/desire for canon

Crackship - a pairing of two characters where the idea of them together is strange or funny depending on the circumstances. Often in these ships, the characters have little or even no interactions in canon

Rare pair - agnostic to fanon or canon status. A rare pair simply means the fandom does not make a lot of fan content for it.

End-game - This is a canon ship that is together by the end of a series.

Slash ship - Fanon ships that feature queer relationships. M/M usually takes on the term slash and F/F has the term femslash.

OTP - Stands for One True Pair. This is a ship that a shipper considers to be the most important one that they love in a fandom.

NOTP - anti-OTP, or a ship that a shipper detests/is squicked out by

Multishipping - the act of shipping a character with multiple other characters.

For more context and thorough examples read more under the cut 

First, what the heck is a ship?

The origins of shipping and becoming obsessed with fictional relationships predate our modern understanding of fandom. Modern fandom roots can be traced as early as Star Trek: The Original Series. But the terminology of calling a couple you like a ship or the act of obsessing over fictional (and sometimes non fictional) couples "shipping" has its origins in the X-Files fandom. While ACOTAR is a romance, many fandoms do not have romance as a central element of its plot, and yet, shippers find a way. That's exactly what happened for the fans of Mulder/Scully. Those who wanted them to be in a romantic relationship were called "relationshippers" which then got shortened to "shippers". The verb "to ship" would appear later from this origin.

The way to think about "what is a ship" though is really based on do people think up romantic scenarios with these two characters? If yes, then you have a ship. And in ACOTAR, oh baby, are there MANY, MANY SHIPS.

Canon vs. Fanon ships

Where does a canon ship end and a fanon one begin? Now that, my friends, is not as clear cut as you might think.

I think this discussion is very important for the ACOTAR fandom because of the state of the ship war currently. Often, there is back and forth about which ship is canon or fanon (and *eye twitch* people throwing around crackship as a derogatory term to de-legitimize a ship which makes me wanna punch shit).

I'm gonna burst everyone's bubbles and say, I personally think Elriel, Elucien, and Gwynriel are all CANON ships.

Why? Well, that's the part that is up for interpretations my friends. What is deemed canonical romantic interactions? That is where a lot of lines can become blurry and if you have ever shipped a fanon ship before - you KNOW what I mean by that. Is it a charged glance? A caress of a hand that lingered too long? Is it a shared kiss? Or do the characters have to explicitly declare "I'm yours and you're mine"?

I've shipped a lot of kinds of ships. Canon. Fanon. Canon that had its end-game blown up. You name it, I've shipped it. And to me, a canon ship is anytime the writer of the canon is putting characters in a romantic situation, regardless if they end up together or not by the end of the series. If they wanted you to feel butterflies and think "could they?", and you felt butterflies, well my friends, you're responding to canon romance. And we've seen evidence of all three ships having those moments.

But, what does that mean for fanon ships? I have shipped a fanon couple where I got butterflies from their canonical scenes together. I've read into their moments and thought "wow, that was romantically charged". I think this is where the lines of canon and fanon are blurred. Because what this comes down to is, did the author intend this? Or am I seeing more into an interaction because I like it? Most fanon ships do hinge a lot of their interest in said ship because of what happens in canon. But, often times, the authors of said content are not necessarily wanting you to take away from their writing that these two characters are interested in each other romantically. You just can't help it. You see it. You see the potential, and you want it to go there so you see more of it the more you look.

Sometimes fanon ships are very clear that the canon is not even hinting at these two characters together romantically. And that is perfectly fine. To me, a fanon ship is a ship that has become so ingrained in the fandom community that the fandom thinks of these two together romantically. That it doesn't really matter anymore what the canon says or doesn't. The fandom has created this relationship and it lives and breathes within what the fandom builds for it. Azris is a perfect example of a fanon ship in ACOTAR. The canon interactions between Azriel and Eris are sparse and platonic in nature, yet the fandom itself has created a whole fanon around them with a large enough community that as soon as you enter the ACOTAR fandom, you immediately know this ship exists.

Rare pairs and Crackships

These two terms are often used interchangeably as if they are synonyms. Now, a rare pair can be a crackship but not all rare ships are crackships and vice versa.

Generally, a rare pair is devoid of canon or fanon connotations. A rare pair is a ship that receives little attention from fans and has few associated fanworks. So, a rare pair could be a fanon couple that few people think about romantically. For example, Emerie and Gwyn have a lot of interactions in canon. I would not think shipping them together to be a crackship because I mean, they're friends, they like each other, they read smut together. There are a lot of scenarios one could imagine them falling in love. But they have a whopping 12 fanfics under their tag in AO3. Therefore, they are a rare pair but not necessarily a crackship.

A rare pair can also be a canon ship. For example, Thesan and his unnamed lover are canon. However, when you look up their relationship tag on AO3, there are 23 works and most do not appear to be focused on them.

I also have seen people use rare pair for very popular ships (like Azris) when they mean fanon. Again, rare pair is really an indication of "how much fan content can you find for this" not necessarily are they canon.

Crackships really were birthed from the intention of putting two characters together "4 da lulz" to bring back early 2000s internet lingo. Crack shipping is usually a pairing that the idea of them together is a little absurd but also fun. Beron/Tamlin is a quintessential crackship example, especially why it came to be (but we will avoid getting into all the origins of that). There is no real reason to think Beron or Tamlin would ever have a romantic interaction and thinking about it makes you laugh. Crackships can sometimes turn into fanon ships. This is another example where the lines do get blurry. But really, crackshipping is about intention and the use of absurdism within fan creation.

I also want to say, often what I see in the Elucien v. Elriel and Elriel v. Gwynriel ships wars is the use of crackship in a derogatory way, and thinking that if one of these ships does not become end-game, therefore, it proves the other was a crackship. Simply put - no. That's not how it works.

End-game

Related to the above point, I think often where the ACOTAR ship wars really derail themselves, is conflating fanon/canon/endgame with each other. I don't see people often using the term end-game, when really, it would help so much with the judgmental and strange ship policing that this fandom loves to do. Specifically, this fandom has a hard time talking about the value within shipping fanon, or shipping the blurriness between fanon and canon for any characters that do not have end-game potential. ACOTAR is not a complete series. Therefore, in a strict definition, no couples are end-game. However, given the genre, there are several couples who are clearly going to be end-game. And really, what I think the ship war community needs in their discourse, is to start using the term end-game when they want to discuss the outcome of Elucien, Elriel, or Gwynriel having a canonical Happily Ever After. The reason being is that you can use end-game, and not insult another ship. End-game is simply a fact. There is no hierarchy involved in what ship is best or not. Because ships can be beloved whether they're canon or fanon or canon who did not end up together. And they all can have very valid reasons why people ship them despite not achieving end-game.

I also urge the ACOTAR fandom to realize that end-game is not the end of YOUR experience of your ship. Your ship lives on despite what the canon may or may not give you. Even if you ship a canon ship that does not achieve end-game, you can create those fanon end-games for yourself. Many popular ships end up being popular because of the effect of that ship not achieving end-game. And while I am using the prime-ship war as examples within this post, I've seen other microshipwars popping up within the fandom as well. So, I'm not trying to pick on this specific set of conflicts, it's just the one I see most prominently.

OTP vs NOTP

I think the ACOTAR fandom could also really benefit from adopting this terminology.

The point of declaring OTPs and NOTPs is a way for you to signal to others in your fandom, "This is how much I care about this ship. Whether I love it it or hate it. Tread carefully". These terms are not meant to say one ship is better than the other from a moral standpoint. Instead, it's to indicate to others that you have a strong preference. You're going to love your OTPs regardless of what arguments others throw at you to convince you to not love them. You will probably be very annoyed by your NOTPs regardless of what others try to do to convince you that they're actually cute/sexy/hot/perfect for each other. And what the ACOTAR fandom could benefit from, from readopting OTP/NOTP language, is having a common understanding where different shipping communities boundaries are and how they can better utilize those boundaries to prevent constant fighting. Now, ship wars are inevitable because of how people see their OTPs and NOTPs, but general rule of thumb is - don't engage with your NOTP's content for your own mental sanity.

Multishipping

Multishipping can be used in many ways. Some people use it to say, hey I'm in this fandom, and I ship a lot of couples. But the origins of multishipping as a term, comes from ship war discourse in other fandoms. Multishippers generally are people who ship one character with multiple other characters. For example, if you ship Elain/Lucien, Elain/Azriel, Elain/Gwyn, Elain/Tamlin, etc etc etc, you are a multishipper. I generally would not consider someone a multishipper if all of their ships do not cross streams. It just sort of means that you ship a lot of couples. Which tends to be normal for romance series with a lot of couples. Maybe not a single of those couples is your true OTP, and that's what you mean by saying you're a multishipper. And that's okay. I think though that multishipping generally in other fan spaces is a marker of you telling others that you don't draw harsh lines with who you see characters with. I often see multishippers not declaring NOTPs. It's kind of a state of how you go about shipping often. I, for one, identify as an OTP shipper. I've never really multishipped. But I also have a very strict standard of what I call my "ships". Anyways, this is to say, this term has a lot of uses. And sometimes it can be confusing which of these uses a person means when they say it.

Slash shipping 

I've seen over the years that slash as a terminology has fallen out of favor. In the past, slash shipping was the pinnacle of shipping in fandoms. The term slash comes from the first modern fanon ship, Kirk/Spock, where the / between their names, which we now all know and use to indicate a romantic pairing (note: & is used to indicate a platonic interaction between characters), exists because the Kirk/Spock shipping community really were the originators of shipping communities creating fan content and sharing it in with each other in a massive way. In general slash (and femslash) is an important modifier of shipping because it explicitly tells you that this is a queer ship which often were not mainstream and considered canon until more recently. With the rise of canonical queer ships, I think the subversiveness of shipping queer couples has lost it's edge, therefore slash is not needed as much anymore to directly state the nature of your ship.

I wanted to keep this in the post though, because I think it's incredibly important history for ALL ACOTAR fans to understand. Shipping queer couples, and especially shipping FANON queer couples, has always been the backbone of fandom. Kirk/Spock walked so Destiel could fly. These are all queer ships that have strong fanon roots (and that fanon has had impacts on their canon) and have shaped fandom and your concept of shipping and romance tropes in inextricable ways. You don't have / without Kirk/Spock. You don't have Omegaverse, without gay shipping within the Supernatural fandom. And I wanted to make this point because this fandom has a strong het (heterosexual) ship bias. Which is okay. It's a romance series with a lot of heterosexual canon couples. But, I think because of that, many people are not entering this fandom with an understanding that people shipping queer fanon couples have been the ones who were the originators of many fandom terms that we have come to know and use today.

Conclusion:

I hope you all found this informative and that you can take away something from this post that can help you have better interactions and ability to communicate with others in this fandom. Again, I want to stress, that this is heavily influenced by my own 25 years of experience being in fandoms. And I haven't seen it all. Others will have different interpretations of these terms and experiences using these terms. So, feel free to add on anything that you think would be helpful to those in the ACOTAR community to better understand how to "ship and let ship". I do think that ship war are inevitable and not necessarily a bad thing. But using the right terms can help you engage in a more respectful way within ship war discourse.

[aurae-rori]

do you want my ratio brainworm of the day. trick question you’re getting it. so i find it really fun to analyze the story vs. gameplay paths of characters but ratio is so interesting because we really Only have his gameplay path to go on. you could assume in universe he’s an erudition pathstrider, but given his feelings on nous, does he have the faith to do that? or it could be the hunt, but that’s just assuming that his gameplay and story path line up. we know he Has to be a pathstrider of some kind but we have no idea which one, and whether he holds any faith in aeons whatsoever. (elation ratio fans, here’s your crumbs.)

personally i do really love the hunt on him because of what it says about him thematically. every character who’s hunt in gameplay is pursuing something with single-minded focus, but their motivations seem to usually be rooted in what they love and want to protect, rather than what they hate and want to destroy, which seems antithetical to the whole war between lan and yaoshi, but it also seems to really fit with how lan is characterized OUTSIDE of the context of yaoshi- i.e. “be not afraid, o child of the world,” and so on, from tales about the stars. of COURSE this is ratio’s path! he cares so much about PEOPLE, of course he pursues betterment and a higher quality of life for them all— ratio loves humanity so much it burns him!! he loves and loves like the lux arrow itself, descending to purge ignorance, those wicked abominations. he encourages people to stand on their own feet, follow the trail that arrow leaves behind. i think if ratio ever had the chance to speak to lan, they’d find imperfect mirrors in each other, and that’s beautiful to me.

tldr: hunt ratio says a lot of strikingly beautiful and poignant things about the sort of person ratio is, and it’s very dear to me!

-aria nightshade ☆

i literally have been meaning to answer this ask for a MONTH and i think that this is an excellent ratio analysis guys look theyre so fucking right for this.

love and protection - caring for humanity, literally, i think it's a rather excellent portrayal of his character, even if indirectly and everything you said is absolutely right. AAGH i am normal i am normal and if i had more energy i would word vomit about how much he cares but i have already done that before haha but this is wonderful and i love this brainworm :)

[clonebrainrot]

You know what I love and hate? Well I love that they’re doing it. Even though I hate to see it.

I love that it’s very obvious that Omega has major survivor’s guilt more so than maybe anyone we have seen in Star Wars. And yet she still puts all her energy into helping crosshair.

Like she continuously blame herself for leaving the clones on Tantiss, having Nemec, Fireball, Samson and Greer die and every little thing in between, but she is just like “Crosshair my bestie you need some therapy” no Omega you need therapy. I know you love helping Crosshair but sweetie please for the love of god help yourself. The potential angst and fallout is killing me. (I love angst)

Also I am feeling it in my bones that Omega’s gonna straight up dip cause she feels like she’s putting to many people at risk and costing to many lives. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved to be happy. Ironically the only times she’s happy is when she’s distracted with being Crosshair’s therapist.

TLDR: Omega has a major Survivors guilt and just blames herself for everything (this has been building up since season 2)

[shadowkittycat97]

I had a realization today while at work. (And don't ask me why I thought of this at work, I don't know why my brain works the way it does) I think the reason I love MegOp is because they are extremely ineffable husbands coded. Ok, hear me out.

-Both have known each other since the dawn of time (not literally in MegOp's case but it's been like 8 million years I think it counts)

-Both are so obviously in love with each other so much it almost physically hurts, but can't be together because of the whole opposite sides of the war thing

-Themes of misunderstanding and perceived betrayal from both sides of both couples

-You're deep down inside, a good person

-And you're just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing (especially back when Optimus was just a feral data clerk)

-And speaking of, both aziraphale and orion/OP are feral literature nerds

-Both Crowley and Megatron are outwardly hostile but actually quite sensitive and righteously protective of those they deem in their care (Earth and humans by extension for Crowley and pretty much anybody that was fucked over by the caste system on cybertron for Megs)

Plus the whole obsession with the stars thing, but anyway this got way longer than I initially intended, so I'm just gonna end it there

Tldr; both MegOp and ineffable husbands are incredibly similar and I'm pretty sure that's why I got majorly attached so quickly

[husbandohunter]

hello!! this is my first time requesting something ever so if i did something wrong im so sorry 😭

but i’d really like to request something with xiao where reader really wants to go to the festival with him but obviously he can’t/doesn’t want to so he rejects them :’) and reader ends up not going and just watches the fireworks alone from afar untilllll xiao comes and sits next to them and it’s just the two of them enjoying each other’s company 🙊🙊 and maybe like an angst to fluff/comfort typa moment

idk idk AHH if u aren’t comfy writing that it’s all good! this scenario just been stuck in my head for a while.

The Lights Bring me to my Qixin [Xiao x Reader]

Synopsis: He was hard to love, you were easy to love

Genre: angst/comfort, gender neutral reader, You fell first but Xiao fell harder and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!

(A/n): tldr; Xiao needs to love himself 😤 also I'm so sorry it took this long anon. And you didn't do anything wrong! Thank you for sucha cute prompt :)

===============================

Xiao materializes himself on a bridge, a gust of wind fading beneath his feet. He doesn't move for a certain time, standing still as if he had no presence and just stares quietly. Only the moon was present tonight. No stars. A lone glow emitted right above where he remained and briefly he imagined, there was something melancholic about it. How the scenery made the lights in Liyue Harbor more apparent.

You would have loved to see this.

The adeptus recoils immediately and shakes away from those impending thoughts. No, he musn't dwell too much. He already made his decision. When you asked him to spend the lantern rite together, a voice inside his head acted before he even realized.

"No."

That was what he told you. It came out far more blunt than intended, followed by the poor choice of teleporting away. The pain on your face was something Xiao didn't want to think about. Because to him, you were like the city he gazed upon. Best admired from a distance. What affected the adeptus at the cost of what he wanted didn't matter.

His heart tightens. It's better this way.

"Why hello there! Care to join me for a drink this fine evening?"

Xiao spun around and saw Venti crouched on the handle while holding out a ceramic cup. Was he there the whole time or had his senses been dulled? It was hard to tell coming from an Archon.

Normally, he would refuse just as he would with anybody. But a part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted something that would help him take off his mind from those bothering emotions.

The two anemo users share a glass of rice wine pudding under the sky. Venti downs his fourth drink and Xiao glances at the watery reflection held by the glossy rim.

"If I recall, festivals are meant to be celebrated with wine and laughter. Maybe more of the former but it can't be complete without the other!" The bard cheers, his voice echoing around them, "Is the taste not to your liking?"

Xiao frowns, "No."

"No? Hmmm," Venti hums and taps his chin, "That's a shame. You were the second person who told me that."

As if he waited for Xiao to ask him who exactly, Venti proceeded to answer anyways, "As a travelling bard, I like to spread tales of heroic stories far and wide. Just so happened I landed a spot at the Teahouse yesterday. This good fellow sat in a corner, not even reacting to a single word I spoke, hmph!"

The teahouse? Wasn't that the place you always told him about? Repeating exaggerated stories about the mighty Yakshas who fought beside Rex Lapis during the Archon war?

"Ridiculous. Adepti cannot transform to anything but what they're already given. Mortal imagination are incomprehensible these days."

"Though you gotta admit, Bosacious with a serpent guardian sounds pretty cool...hold on, are you...laughing?"

"...Ridiculous."

"Did they say anything in particular?"

"Let me think, aha!" The bard snaps his fingers and looks upwards, "They said my interpretation of the story brought back good memories. That it reminded them of someone, which, they didn't tell me the name. But poor thing looked as if they were about to cry."

"...I see," he downs the drink in one gulp.

"Not even curious about who this mysterious person may be?" Venti insisted.

The adeptus huffs quietly and turns his head, "I have no recollection of such events. I must have mistakened them for someone else."

That's right. Whether you were happy or sad doesn't affect him in any way. Xiao knew where he stood. Karmic debt was a heavy burden to bear, it could be contagious and destructive if he wasn't too careful. Although you didn't like whenever he mentioned this, he truly believed that soon the curse will consume him completely. The yaksha's sole duty exists primarily for Liyue and to serve Rex Lapis whenever needed. Everything else becomes insignificant.

It's better this way. Xiao tells himself again. Mortal desires have no substance to him and neither does his own. I really don't care.

Settling down the glass, the adeptus walks toward the opposite direction, his back facing Venti away from the Harbor they watched.

"Leaving just when the celebration started? Someone's in a hurry," Venti chirped.

Xiao looks with downcasted eyes, stopping right at the edge. The trees rustle and a soft breeze picks up, brushing against his skin. It was colder now.

"Sorry," he breathes out, "Tonight, I just want to rest."

•••

You headed home through your usual route, sword in hand, except now there were no monsters to be dealt with.

How strange. Surely the landlord didn't suddenly commission members from the adventurer's guild, at least not regularly. It had been reoccuring for the past couple of days. Hilichurl masks sprawl across the field and whoever left this mess surely wasn't the type to play gently. Judging by how it looks, they were probably an aggressive fighter. A very powerful and aggressive fighter.

"Totally not complaining, though..." you mumbled, still perplex. It would be nice to know who did all this.

...

Xiao pierces the eye of a ruin guard and grunts as he retrieved his spear forcefully.

Just how many lives does he need to keep taking until he can finally rest? The question occasionally pops into his mind. Though seeing that he was fighting another day is proof enough. These hands were meant for war and destruction. Whatever comes near him, whatever he touches, would wither like a Qixin affected by poison.

When Rex Lapis appointed him, the adeptus said to be treated at his disposal. Xiao was a tool for battle. An extension of his blade and a mind equivalent to the vigor of any weapon. If he was ordered to throw his life away by facing the gods of Celestia, then there would be no hesitation.

But really, Xiao was more of a shield than a blade. He took every blow without complaining and did so for many years. Even if his achievements resulted in no glory, Xiao would remain in the shadows, exactly where he belongs. Just as you would one day come to hate him for hurting you that day, despise him for his silence, and see him as untrustworthy, Xiao would never leave his post. Because...that was his duty. The guardian yaksha.

Yes he'd rather had you hate him. Yes, he distanced himself without explanation and left things unsaid in more instances than one. Yes, it was better this way.

What am I even doing?

Regardless, in this year's lantern rite, he wanted you to enjoy the festival as you did the last. It was the least he could do. Xiao thought by eliminating the monsters that crowded your path would somehow alleviate the trouble he had caused. So he tosses blow after blow, harder than the last, trying to eradicate that pain and these unecessary emotions.

And right before the final strike, he stops. Within the adeptus a Qixin flower sprouted alone amongst the depths of his withered heart. Something that had already been planted during last year's lantern rite. Xiao made his decision. But he hesitated, unable to gather the strength and remove the thorn that bothered him incessantly.

"Adeptus Xiao."

The yaksha's breath races. Your voice. Thankfully he didn't sense any danger and concluded you made your way home safely. Did you eat yet? What were you doing out this late? Xiao waits and listens, once more, watching from a distance.

"Nevermind. I just missed saying your name, that's all."

The hard line of his mouth opens halfway as he tried not to make a single sound. He camaflouges himself among the trees, your back in his view while you hugged your knees close. Xiao leans against the bark, a shadow casting over his features.

He really shouldn't be here. An adeptus has no right to traverse into the realm he does not belong in. Xiao knows better than anyone exactly how the events will turn out between god and humanity. Like dark and light, made to balance the other, but too close would result in one's destruction, and the thought of that terrifies him to the core.

"I wonder if I said something wrong back then," you softly said, "He always did how much of a nag I could be. What if he...was fed up with everything I did...?"

Xiao caught his breath on hold, almost saying something he shouldn't. That's not true! Those words are clawing on his throat. You have no idea how hard it was for him to reject you over and over again. He pushed you away because he was afraid he would hurt you in more ways than one. Do you realize these feelings have been torturing him? Seeing you hurt, on the verge of tears, why can't you just understand that all he wanted was for you to be happy?

"I'm sorry. I had no idea that my actions affected you so much."

Yes. Yes they have, and he was forever grateful for it.

"Are you...happier though? If you're out there."

Silence passes through between the mortal and yaksha, accompanied by the chilly touch of a sky's breathly sigh. Bright rays thinned across the plains built upon Wuwang hills as the sun sets and around your small form. A golden reflection mirrored in the adpetus' eyes. 

He could never.

You hear a thump and the sound of leaves falling down as Xiao unmounted himself from the branches. Seeing him was like a dream, you hardly believed it was real. The man wore an unreadable expression, often carrying the hard edge in every part of his features. However perhaps it was the sunset which hindered your perception. There was something different this time, something you haven't seen before and you were oblivious to.

"You called?"

Even until now the shock hasn't left you completely and you struggled on what to do next, "I did, but," still seated where you were previously, you dared not to blink, "Why are you here?"

Xiao casted his gaze to the side as if unable to look at you any longer, "I should be asking you that question. Didn't you want to see the lantern rite?"

What a silly statement. Of course you wanted to watch the lanterns, and most of all, with him by your side.

You stood up and dusted the grass of your sides, "It's not the same without you, Xiao."

"They're just lights," he dismisses.

"Yeah, now that you mention it, there really are just a bunch of floating lanterns," you shrugged your shoulders, "But not for me. When my siblings passed away, I thought nothing would ever be the same again. We used to make lanterns every year. I didn't have the courage to do them on my own because I just thought there was no point."

For the first time in a while, Xiao stays instead of leaving, "Is that so?"

The adeptus has observed the changes Liyue had gone through. If there is one thing in this world which can carve the core of every human, it was loss. He has known many who were victims to it or were the cause of each grief. An emotion that can warp a man, to something more darker, more distant.

"I was right. Things won't be the same," you parroted, yet grinning from ear to ear, "When we watched the festival with you last year, I realized just because you've lost something good doesn't necissarily mean you won't find it again."

"Don't ever change," his gaze on you was softer now.

"I didn't but you did," stomping up to him, you puffed out your cheeks with an angry look, "What has gotten into you? If I did something to upsetting, don't just get up and leave me hanging! Here I thought I made you so angry which caused you to he in a bad mood around everyone else."

"I-- I apologize..." Xiao nears himself to you, little by little, he examines your countenance, "It wasn't my intention."

"I was worried, you know?"

Although you were showing signs of relief, you continued to bring forth your hands and wipe away the tears building up at the corner of your eyes. What an emotional creature. His Qixin. While you slowly recovered, Xiao waits patiently, with every passing moment filling his withered heart. And then things became clear to him.

It was impossible for the adeptus to severe his bond with this human.

"You can be such a fool sometimes," you meekly stated, sniffling from the cold, "The worry you cause others. Always putting up a mask when you obviously don't want to."

"I know."

"And going off on your own without considering how they feel."

"I know."

He wasn't going to argue against your words and admittedly, well deserved. You let out a breath and the two of you stayed there in comfortable nothingness. No exchanges but the gap mended itself somehow. Xiao hadn't moved all that much even when you were in arm's reach. This man was always so careful and you knew he wouldn't hurt anyone out of his own selflessness.

You took a hold of both his hands and brought them to your face.

"What are you doing?" Xiao retorts, desperately, "You can't touch me."

The nudge indicates that he wanted to pull away, but when you squeezed them a little tighter, his tugs have grown weaker.

"You're saying they do nothing but kill and destroy," whispering, you closed your eyes and reveled in his warmth, "They're rough from years of use but so soft. I can't help think about those horrible things you said about yourself, weren't true at all."

Xiao feels as if he was being washed away in a current he couldn't control. It brings him from his own sense, watching you fondly speak of him with words he didn't think was very fitting. Not a single drop of urge from the adeptus wanted to remove your touch. Like water to the Qixin growing in his heart, a healing balm to his tattered soul, he revels in it.

"Stay with me," you whispered.

How could he refuse?

In the sky, a thousand lanterns lit up among the stars. Xiao wonders to himself, if it would be selfish for an adeptus to dwell in human feelings. The battles he fought over a milennia was enough to make him solidify his identity as a warrior. Yet the new emotions he have come across, Xiao doesn't know when he will ever have the courage to give it a name.

Time. He has plenty.

Whatever the future may bring, Xiao will accept it as long as he can see you flourish into the beautiful Qixin he'd come to cherish.

[grassbreads]

I’d love to know about Yulma and how important it is to representation in shounen manga

This has been sitting in my askbox for a couple months (because I am incapable of punctuality), but anon sent this to me back when I was talking about Yulma over on my vnc blog. For those unaware, Yulma refers to Yu Kanda and Alma Karma from the manga D.Gray-man.

So the thing is, to be honest, I don't know if you can say Yulma is/was important for representation. They don't tend to get brought up as an example of representation (except by diehard d.gray-man fans like me, lol) in shonen, and their whole thing is complicated enough that I feel like the queerness of it all flies over a lot of people's heads.

However! They're very important to me personally, and I do think it's kind of remarkable their story came out in like 2010. Because even though their queerness gets overlooked a lot, it's like. really there no matter how you interpret it.

The short version of their very complicated story is that Kanda and Alma are a couple who were resurrected into new bodies. Alma was a woman when they were originally together in their past lives, but is physically male in the present. Kanda is still very much in love with them by the end of their story, which, depending on the reading, makes Kanda very bi and/or Alma very trans.

This sound like something you want details on? If so, let's talk about how D.Gray-man's fan favorite edgy badass toughguy character briefly became the star of his very own heart-wrenching tragic queer romance.

Here's a brief crash course in Yu Kanda and Dgm for the uninitiated:

D.Gray-man is a manga about a group of exorcists (in the loosest and most anime sense of the term) in the 1890s fighting a holy war against mechanical demons powered by the souls of the dead. There are two things you need to understand about this plot for me to explain Yulma:

The Black Order, the secret branch of the church that exorcists work for, has a long history of committing horrific human experiments to further the war effort.

Due to complications of world building, only a tiny number of people can become exorcists, and tracking down new ones is extremely difficult.

Yu Kanda is one of the exorcists, and though not the actual main character (that's the lad in my icon), he's a very important secondary character. Arguably he's the most important secobdary character, since he's the main guy's biggest foil and the first character to play deuteragonist in a major story arc. He's also a huge fan favorite. The character popularity polls that Jump used to do always had him and the mc going back and forth over who won #1 most popular.

Kanda was also a classic edgy toughguy character. His first two scenes are him almost murdering the main guy because he thinks he's an intruder, then complaining about people grieving for their friend too loudly. He never smiles. He argues with the righteous mc about wasting time/energy protecting civilians. He threatens (and delivers) violence on anyone that annoys him. He looks like this:

TLDR; Kanda was an adored-by-fans mean badass archetype in a 2000s shonen manga. Not generally the guy you peg for starring in a piece of queer romantic storytelling.

And for the entirety of the original anime adaptation's 103 episode run, for the first 188ish chapters of the manga, you do not learn a single thing about his early life. You learn he joined the Black Order very young, and you meet the mentor that took him in at that point, but although there are little hints, a couple cryptic mentions of him searching for a certain person, his early origins remain a complete black box.

Then came the Alma Karma arc.

This is the point where I start getting into spoilers.

To make a very long story short, the Alma Karma arc reveals that Kanda is one of the Black Order's human experiments. The Order ran a secret project 9ish years before the start of the series in which they essentially tried to re-use dying exorcists (since finding new ones is so hard). They took the bodies of dying or recently deceased exorcists and harvested their brains, implanting those brains into new magically grown child bodies.

Key to this project—the second exorcist project—is that these newly grown second exorcists were not supposed to remember anything from their previous lives. Kanda, however, recovered a few hazy memories from his past self. Most importantly, he can recall an unclear image of the woman that his past self was in love with. This memory gradually becomes Kanda's reason to live. He wants desperately to find and meet that person.

Now, aside from Kanda, there was one other successfully revived second exorcist. This was a boy named Alma Karma.

Over the course of their brief shared childhood, Kanda and Alma become extremely close. However, due to a series of horrible events that I'll spare you the details of, Alma is eventually driven to murder-suicide. He wants himself and Kanda to die together to spite the Order, and Kanda almost lets him do it.

The one thing that keeps Kanda from letting Alma kill him, the thing that drives him instead to kill Alma, his most beloved and only friend, is that he can't bear to die without finding that woman again.

Have you figured out the twist yet?

9 years later, in the present, Kanda discovers that he didn't actually quite kill Alma. The Order kept Alma secretly half-alive in order to do more dubious experiments. And, more importantly, when they meet again, Kanda discovers the truth. The woman that he's been searching for his whole life, the woman he's in love with, the woman he tried to kill Alma in order to find, was also killed and made into a second exorcist. And her brain was placed into the body of Alma Karma.

After quite a lot more violence and tragedy, Kanda and Alma end their story arc by running away together on their deathbeds. Alma dies, for real this time, in Kanda's arms, and his last words are to tell Kanda he loves him. These words are presented as something Kanda hears from both the boy and woman versions of Alma's soul.

So! At the end of a very long and complicated story, one thing holds true: Kanda and Alma are in love. As passed down from their past selves, they are specifically in romantic love. They were a couple. And to speak as a fan, the sheer absolute devotion to how Kanda's love for Alma is presented is seriously intense and moving.

Now, given the absolute hell that is Alma's life, gender identity is frankly the last thing they have time to worry about, so it's hard to say how the whole "literally a woman's brain in a male body" thing might have settled for them if given time to think about it. But that is inherently a pretty trans narrative. And given the whole Alma gender situation, there's simply no reading of their whole situation where neither of them is queer.

If you take present day Alma as a guy, which is more or less how he's presented in canon (though again, who knows how he would've felt about that male body in different circumstances), then congratulations! You've got mlm in your shonen manga. They were straight in a different life, but now one of them's a dude, and they are still deeply in love with each other. They've even got not one but two "let's forget it all and run away together" scenes, just as every mlm couple seems to have.

On the other hand, if you go with the angle that Alma's still a woman based on her mind/soul, even in her new body, then Kanda may not be canonically queer, but Alma is inarguably trans. Again, literally a woman's brain in a male body. It may not be how most people end up trans, but that doesn't change the facts of her situation.

You see what I mean about how they're undeniably queer, but also kind of easy to miss? There's so much other insane shit going on in their story that Alma's whole gender situation can get passed over. Plus, you can look online to this day and find people arguing that Kanda's not "technically" explicitly in love with the present day male version of Alma, since he doesn't 100% unambiguously say as much. I love reading comprehension.

Also! As a possible extra reason for why people don't talk about them much, the official English translation of the manga translated Alma's final "I love you" very differently. There's always a lot of nuance and argument when it comes to translating "大好き" into English, but given the full context of their relationship and the scene it's in, Viz's handling really sets off the censorship bells in my head.

Here's the different versions (Japanese then fan then official), if you want to compare:

Nothing more classically queer than censorship by way of questionable translation 🙃.

At the end of the day, Kanda and Alma are in kind of a strange middle ground. They're each in love with the other one, but the whole second exorcist brain transfer situation makes it complicated enough that people argue their feelings aren't explicitly romantic (and thus not gay) in the present. Alma is literally a woman's brain implanted in a male body, but we don't have time to dwell on the gender complications of all that because of the hell that is the rest of their life. They're canon but not canon—queer people whose stories don't have space for them to be queer.

However, given that all this messy, tragic ambiguity was published in a fairly popular shonen manga back in 2010, it still feels kind of remarkable to me. Alma is somewhat an antagonist (it's complicated), and he dies at the end of his arc, but once again, Kanda was/is the fan favorite! And when he re-enters the main story after Alma's death, he's more important than he's ever been, and his history with Alma continues to be a huge part of his character.

Katsura Hoshino took the much-beloved edgy toughguy character from her long-running shonen series and, after keeping his origins secret for such a long time, confirmed that his whole life has revolved around love this entire time. Almost every facet of his character can be traced back to his love for his lost best friend or his yearning for his past life's missing partner. And then she reveals that the best friend and the partner are one and the same.

You can go back and forth about the degree to which they work as representation, but in any case, I think their story is something people ought to know about. It's romantic and it's heart-wrenching and it's fucking wild, especially given the context in which it was published (a Shonen Jump spinoff in 2010). I never see anyone besides the few remaining hardcore dgm fans talk about them, and I think that's a shame.

So anyway, that's tale of one of the most insanity-inducing romances I've ever seen put to paper. I love queer people.

Here's some choice pages if you want to cry with me (the last two are a sequence):

[hotchocolatefanfics]

Kingdom of The Planet of The Apes Movie Thoughts:

⚠️ Warning! Spoilers ahead! ⚠️

I loved this movie!! ❤️

Ok, so one of the reasons why I love it is because it actually took the time to explore this new ape world which we didn’t really get in Dawn or War.

It also explored different ape colonies and cultures too! Given the locations in contrast to the end of War, I don’t think Noa or Proximus’ colonies are related to Caesar’s original colony but that just expands the world beyond those apes (much like Bad Ape did but even more so!).

I especially loved the eagle raising culture in Noa’s colony! That was just so much fun to watch-and Soona and Dar actually had SPEAKING roles!!! 🤩❤️

Proximus is an awesome villain too! Like I think he’s now one of my favorites-next to Koba and Red! 🦍 But what makes Proxy different is he’s halfway between a king (by that I mean it’s possible he is of royal blood but not necessarily related to Caesar-maybe there’s other legendary ape hero’s in this ape world??) and a cult leader (I mean, good gawd! He literally twisted Caesar’s laws in a way that Caesar would absolutely hate!). But Proxy is also aware of and embraces his limitations-meaning, he may not care for any any humans or other apes but he knows he can use them to get what he wants and he’s willing to let them live as long as he has control over them.

This might be an unpopular opinion too but I was glad that Mae (and the old guy who read to Proxy, forgot his name) were the only humans to directly interact with the apes. I don’t hate human characters but just having these two gave the ape characters a chance to truly shine and for us to see the humans from the apes perspective (and yeah the fact that they can talk despite most being able to-plus that ending-makes me think this will be relevant to any possible sequels).

Also!! I was NOT expecting that beginning!! I was hit with all the sadness of losing Caesar but also in awe of how Maurice, Rocket and the others mourned for him! It really connected War to Kingdom and set the tone for the whole movie.

Ok! Now for the best part in my opinion-the references to the original first Planet of The Ape movie!! Here’s the ones that I noticed!

- The tall grass chase scene

- Humans talking even though they couldn’t anymore

- The baby doll that said ‘mama’

- The beach setting

- Humans drinking water before being chased by the apes

- The soundtrack! Seriously, either they remastered the original one to make a whole new version or it’s different music meant to sound a lot like the original

- And I don’t know if I’d call it a reference but the human base in the ending with the hazmat suit human reminded me of the mutants from Beneath the Planet of The Apes.

- Also the telescope looking up at the stars reminded me of Taylor and his crew being astronauts in the original movie.

- And Caesar being referred to as the first ‘lawgiver’ by Raka

- Humans being called Nova (which is also a callback to Nova from War-which I absolutely love!)

TLDR, I am in love with Kingdom of the Planet of The Apes!! ❤️🦍🦧

[purple-obsidian]

Your fic and your Ak Jason man, aaaaaauuughhh it's getting the brainrot even harder

I wanted to know your take on your ak Jason with a reader that treats him with the most gentle touch, the sweetest words (probably a reader with a savior complex). Cause I got the picture of Jason being defensive as hell as he feels like some kind of 'healing project' for reader or a charity case

thank you, my dearest anon <3 I am so happy that you enjoy!

i think you’re right, jay would get defensive and possibly angry at reader if he felt like he was being treated like a charity case. he’s very much in a state of mind where he’s trying to restore his dignity [after joker stripped him of it, to put it lightly.] I don’t think jason is the type to care too much about what others think, but he does, at this point, demand respect from his men and reader, even if he doesn’t give respect back. so being coddled or infantalized has the potential of pissing him off.

but in the same breath, i think jason would secretly enjoy being doted on in such a way. in my own au/storyline, i imagine him and reader were dating before he died, but they were like 16 or 17, super young and still in the honeymoon stage. they never really fought a whole lot, every real memory jason has of reader is a good one, filled with the excitement of being desired by someone for the first time and reciprocating love. having reader be extra gentle and accommodating to him and his needs would reinforce that idealized image of her in his head, and make him feel even safer with her.

the reoccurring theme here is the back and forth, the mood swings, the instability of his mental state and ego.

a lot of his reaction would depend on the context. in front of his goons or other criminals, he would be embarrassed and pissed at reader if they were to be all sweet and gentle with him. [in ‘say it back’, I briefly referenced a time where reader told jason she loved him in front of his militia and he just laughed at her, same energy here.]

if they were alone, i think he would tolerate it or even play along until reader said something to set him off. in ‘let go’, we see him stay calm and level-headed while reader is patching him up, but as soon as she challenges him and his way of thinking, he’s triggered and has an extremely emotional response.

i didn’t want portray reader in that ‘savior complex’ way, though. thats one of the struggles for me with doing reader inserts instead of oc’s. for complex storylines like this, it’s hard to not imbue reader with some personality or assume what they would do. but i wanted to show that reader is also very much at war within herself, knowing jason’s treatment of her is wrong but being so in love with him and worried for his well-being that she can’t bring herself to abandon him, even if it would be well within her right to do so.

remember, jason was robin. the best of the best. a shining star among the ever-growing darkness that is gotham. he used to be her hero, everyone’s hero, and she still sees him in that light, and hopes he will find himself, hopes that her love and support will be enough to fill the dark void in his heart. not because she sees herself as his savior, but because she knows jason won’t let anyone else get close to him or help him, and she just wants him to be happy. which is why i am trying to write her as extremely tolerant but still confident enough to challenge him or correct him on things. she wants to remind him who he is, and encourage him to be better. she’s also, of course, somewhat scared of him now too, which brings up a whole other topic. i have another ask in my inbox talking about that so i’ll save it for later.

tldr; having reader be extra gentle and sweet with him would probably confuse his emotions even more, adding to his ups and downs, resulting in more yelling but also open him up to some more moments of vulnerability. deep down he craves such gentleness, but he struggles with allowing himself to accept it because of his deep-seeded insecurities that were exacerbated by jokers torture and manipulation.

thanks for the ask!

xoxo sid

[star-wars-radar]

Hey there! The quick and easy TLDR? I reblog fanworks every day and I love when people submit stuff I haven't seen. Under the cut is an FAQ (including instructions on how to submit fanworks or let me know if I reblogged stolen art). Please read before you send something! Here's links to the askbox and submit.

How does this work?

I track the tags for animations, coloring books, comics, commissions, cosplayers, dioramas, edits, icons, fanart, fanfic, fanmixes, fanvids, filk, gifs, merch, moodboards, podcasts, podfics, poetry, sculptures, and zines. When something new shows up in those tags, I add it to the queue!

Some fanworks aren't put in my tracked tags, or are posted to other sites, like AO3 or Instagram. You can submit links to them, and I'll add them to the queue with the rest. (Just a note: don't try to put them in the askbox! Links and media can only be submitted.)

If you know of an art form that's not mentioned here, I'd love to see it! Send me a link to its tag and I'll keep an eye out for new stuff.

Do you reblog XYZ?

Probably! If it's a fanwork, and it's related to Star Wars, I'll reblog it. Crossovers, fusions, AUs, translations, and non-English works are welcome. I reblog works that contain triggering content or are rated R/Mature/Explicit, and this is a proship blog, including master/padawan and clone/clone. Everything is tagged so it can be filtered out if you don't like it.

That means you're going to reblog some character/ship/trope/creator I don't like!

I don't give a shit.

But it's gross/immoral/hurts my feelings!

I still don't give a shit.

What's your tagging system?

Non-fanwork posts are tagged #admin talk and answered asks are tagged #ask. All fanworks are tagged with their type, as listed in the first question's answer. "#nsfw (violence)" and "#nsfw (sex)" are used for mature content. I tag triggers and am happy to expand my taglist, just send me an ask. Current trigger tags: abuse, death, flashing, sexual assault, and smoking.

Works are tagged with the creator's username. I tag the names of all the characters and relationships, and if a work is character-critical or part of a series. Relationships are tagged with character names in alphabetical order, using "&" for platonic and "/" for romantic. AUs are tagged with their type, and crossovers and fusions are tagged with their other fandom(s).

I also tag 'creature' for works with animals, 'droid' for works with droids, and 'ship' for works with spacecraft and vehicles. 'The Bad Batch', 'Jedi', and 'Rebel Alliance' are tagged for group-themed works. Original characters are tagged with their type: Chiss, clone, droid, Jedi, Mandalorian, Sith, Twi'lek, Wookiee, etc.

If a tag is missing or wrong, please let me know! I don't read or listen to everything I reblog, as I simply don't have the time or spoons. All written and audio works are tagged based on the OP's tags. Let me know the chapter (for written) or timestamp (for audio), and what should be tagged. Submit that with a link to my reblog.

How do I submit something?

First, please check the blog for everything tagged with that creator's name. It might already be here! If not, the rest of this answer will walk you through the submission process. Submit as much as you want!

There's a link at the top of this post to submit. You can also check beneath the blog's banner on mobile or desktop. To the right of the Ask link is a meatball menu (three dots in a row). Click or tap that, then 'Submit'. However you get to the submit page, you'll see this:

1 is the drop-down for post type. 2 is where tumblr will prompt you to put your name and email if you're not logged in. Do not put your real name. "N/A" or "nothing" will work for both fields. 3 is where you put a link to what you want to submit. You'll have to check the box by 4 (and do a captcha if you're not logged in) before hitting the Submit button.

Don't worry about providing the information that I tag with! I take the link and do all the formatting and tagging myself.

You might not see a work posted in the same day or week that you submitted it, due to the length of the queue. If you want to make sure that something gets shared, you can DM me or send an ask, to check if it's in the queue. Please don't resubmit unless I ask you to.

How do I tell you that you reblogged stolen/reposted/uncredited works?

Submit a link to what I reblogged with a link to the original artist's post. If you don't see the work removed in three days, feel free to follow up by sending a DM or ask. Please don't resubmit unless I ask you to.

I still have more questions/want to tell you something/I like the nuance poll option.

No problem! My askbox is open to whatever you want to share, and anon is enabled. I aim to check the blog at least daily so I can reply to things fairly quickly. Please only DM me if you're checking whether I saw your submitted post!

This is a cool blog!

Thanks, I think so too :) It's my hope that having a 'one stop shop' for fanworks will help creators reach a wider audience. The best way to support them - and me! - is to reblog the stuff you like. Especially with some enthusiastic tags!