vaellis1994
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Latest Posts by vaellis1994
The Melidaan ambassador was… interesting. Fox hadn’t expected him to be much different from the Senators he and his Corries had to guard. And yet Ambassador Ben Kenobi had subverted those expectations as soon as Fox had first laid eyes on him.
For starters, he didn’t dress like a politician. Instead of the bright colors and heavy layers favored by Senators, Kenobi himself seemed to prefer lighter, muted clothing that drew less attention and allowed for better maneuverability. If Fox hadn’t known any better, he would have guessed that Kenobi was a military officer, not a politician. Strange for a planet that was so determined to stay neutral that they refused to join even the Neutral Systems Alliance.
Second- he hadn’t requested an escort to Coruscant, nor did he request any guards once he arrived, despite the Chancellor himself asking him. He seemed completely unconcerned about any possibility of an attack or assassination attempt. Was it because of his neutrality? Did he believe that having a member of the GAR as a bodyguard would make it seem like he’d joined their side? Or was he simply too arrogant to think he’d need one?
But his demeanor wasn’t arrogant. Nor did it match the way he dressed. And the way he spoke- his voice was elegant, with an accent that fit right in with the Coruscanti upper class, and yet he didn’t smile like them. His smile - when aimed at the Corries - was soft and gentle. Kind.
Not many natborns were kind. Not to the Corries.
Tradition
Something had changed.
Lena could sense it, in the kisses and the small touches, in the way Kara would watch her in the mornings as Lena slowly woke. Her girlfriend had grown more pensive, looking at Lena with curious eyes - a touch of stress on her brow.
“Are you alright?” Lena murmured one morning, as Kara brushed a stray lock of hair behind Lena’s ear.
“Yeah,” Kara said, pressing her lips briefly against Lena’s, “Just thinking.”
---
Lena tried to let it go.
There was no real worry inside her. It did bother her, an itch somewhere in her mind, that Kara was holding something back. But this wasn’t like before - there was no fear or loneliness or distrust. She knew she loved Kara; she knew Kara loved her. That was all that mattered.
But she was certainly curious.
Luckily, there was always work to do to distract herself. Running the Foundation, tweaking experiments in the Tower, being a voice in Kara’s ear when the hero went out to fight. Plenty to keep herself busy in the day, before she and Kara went home at night. She could be patient.
It only took a few weeks for Kara to say something, on the couch one evening. “I promised you I would be open with you,” Kara said.
Lena glanced up, reaching her arm across to give Kara’s hand a light squeeze. “I promised that too.”
“What if I’m not supposed to be?”
Lena frowned curiously. “Kara, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing bad,” Kara emphasized, “I just- I don’t understand Earth romance. We didn’t have that on Krypton. Parts of it are still a little alien to me.”
“Okay,” Lena mulled, trying to understand, “We can- we can talk about it? We can slow down-”
“I don’t want to slow down,” Kara said emphatically.
“What do you mean?”
Kara eyed Lena for a moment, then glanced down to her lap, shifting shyly. “If you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, shouldn’t you talk about it first?” Kara asked, “Shouldn’t they decide that together? How do you make it… a surprise?”
Oh, Lena thought, her heart fluttering lighter as she realized the source of Kara’s concern, she wants to propose.
It brought a smile to Lena. She wants to propose…
Lena leaned forward, brushing her lips to Kara’s, trying to soothe the blonde’s confusion. “We’ve talked about our lives together,” she murmured against Kara’s lips, “What we want to do, how we want to live, what it will be like to grow old. Those are the things that are important to me.”
She could feel the tension in Kara’s body dissipate, as Kara wrapped her arms around Lena, kissing her back. Lena felt herself melt into Kara’s embrace as the ardor grew, leaving thoughts of the future for some other time.
---
“Could I fly you somewhere?” Kara asked one Saturday night.
Lena looked up from the couch, where she had settled in to read a book after dinner that evening. She took in Kara’s expression, watching as the blonde fidgeted shyly. Oh, Lena thought, trying not to smile, “Sure.”
Still in her pajamas - not that she minded - Lena and Kara went out to the balcony. “I’d like to blindfold you first,” Kara said shyly, and Lena nodded. The scrap of cloth went around her eyes, and she felt as Kara’s hands directed her closer, before Kara scooped her up into her arms.
She wondered how far Kara would take her, but she didn’t ask. The cool breeze of the night was a welcome relief from the warm day, and they quickly found themselves descending.
Still blindfolded, Lena felt as Kara gently set her on the ground. Blankets?, Lena thought, now sitting somewhere outside, feeling the warm and fuzzy bedding against the palms of her hands, when did she set this up…
The blindfold lifted from her face.
Lena looked around. She was indeed in a nest of blankets, giving her cozy warmth on that cool night. Her eyes drifted to the Irish pastries and wine near her feet, two glasses sitting neatly next to one another.
She glanced up, gasping softly at what lay ahead - a lake, blanketed in night, with an array of trees and stars behind it. The reservoir, she realized, recognizing their picnic spot as one she and Kara had been to a dozen times before. A place that had grown fond to them, despite their terrifying first night there.
“When I came to Earth,” Kara said nervously, kneeling next to Lena, “Everything was new, and strange. People talked about all sorts of beliefs, different types of magic. There were so many cultural practices, so many languages. It felt like I landed on hundreds of planets at once.”
Lena placed a gentle hand on Kara’s arm.
“I didn’t understand romantic love,” Kara continued, eyes glancing up to meet Lena’s, “But I started to feel it, fragments of that spark, figuring out what it meant. And then I found you, Lena. And I realized something important - that Krypton had hidden more than one type of magic.”
Lena smiled, already feeling the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes, emotion bubbling up in her chest.
“This was the place I realized it,” Kara said, looking out to the reservoir. “I was holding you above this lake, and I realized I could never let go.”
Kara hesitated, turning back towards Lena as a hand drifted to a pocket, and Kara pulled out a small black box to present to her girlfriend. “Lena Luthor,” Kara said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Lena said, realizing her voice was thick with unshed tears, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Kara’s lips, “Yes, yes, yes,” she said over and over again, as Kara kissed her back, as the two pulled each other close.
When they finally broke apart, Lena laughed, as Kara struggled enthusiastically to get the ring box open, before finally sliding the ring on Lena’s finger.
Kara leaned forward again, brushing her lips one last time on Lena’s. “I hope I did that right,” she murmured.
“Darling, this was perfect,” Lena whispered back.
I'm not okay. Took a mental health day to do my part and make some art about it. No matter the opposition, we won't be erased. A world without trans people has never existed, and it never will! 🏳️⚧️
May this piece be a small light in the darkness for those in need of comfort and hope. Feel free to share/re-post elsewhere if this resonates with you. Just please make sure you include the alt text!
Okay, okay so I’m thinking of an au mashup in which Obi Wan gets de-aged in the middle of the clone wars, except Obi Wan is now at the age when his prophetic visions and slightly offputting nature were at they’re height.
I tend to follow the belief, in Seer!Obi wan fics, that Yoda took one look at the 8 year old Obi Wan who keeps telling him increasingly creepy little snippets of his future and the looked at Sifo-Dyas rocking back and forth in the corner doodling the same face over and over, with slight variations, muttering insanities as Dooku tries to lure him out with a trail of biscuits and tea, and just went. No. Absolutely not. Not doing this again. And the council at the time just sort of agreed to put a mental block in place to stop Obi Wan from growing up into Sifo-Dyas Junior.
This is was all fine and dandy, until Obi Wan is suddenly 7 again without this block in place and planets away from anyone capable of rebuilding it again. Force forbid they allow Skywalker a go at it.
Now there’s an unsettling redheaded child making very worrying, very creepy comments.
Anakin: awww, aren’t you a cute!!!
Baby!Obi-Wan: Your hands drip with the blood of trillions, Your arrogance veils the sins you wish not to confront, Your decrepit body shall live on long past your own death, in a cage of its own making.
Anakin: : - 0
Baby!Obi-Wan: but thank you : - )
Ahsoka and Rex are very reluctant to be near the baby after he tells them how everyone they love will die and they shall continue on, surrounded but alone all the same.
Cody and the 212th choose to endure the comments on how they will die enslaved, put down by the masters that created them, deprived of personhood and kindness because creepy baby or not, that’s they’re general right there, they can figure all the freakiness out after the they’ve comforted the child. (They are immensely worried over this, though)
It’s not like Obi wan is enjoying this either. He doesn’t want to predict all this, it won’t stop!
Dooku, on the other hand is thrilled. He kind of regrets not keeping his lover Sifo-Dyas around as his own personal fortune cookie machine / Magic 8 ball. Not cause he misses him or anything. Not at all. He just thinks the tactical advantage would be wonderful! (This is slightly ignorant of how unstable and harmful Sifo’s visions were) To have his Grandpadawan back in this impressionable, powerful state would also be wonderful!
He changes his mind after about 10 minutes with said grandpadawan.
He wants the adult one back please. The 7 year old is dissecting his soul and telling him how pointless his life decisions have been :-(
Shit really hits the fan when baby!Obi-Wan accidentally bumps into Sheev.
Obi wan returns to adult form in a galaxy that sort of resembles this
He can’t do much complaining though considering it was him that caused this.
This!
So I’m on AO3 and I see a lot of people who put “I do not own [insert fandom here]” before their story.
Like, I came on this site to read FAN fiction. This is a FAN fiction site. I’m fully aware that you don’t own the fandom or the characters. That’s why it’s called FAN FICTION.
He had a name before he was assigned to a battalion, even though everyone called him Shiny until he proved himself in battle. Though once he did earn the right, he decided to stick with the name given to him by the other cadets.
“I’m called Two Tone,” he told his Captain, who raised an eyebrow. To the silent question, he shrugged. “No one told me why.”
And that was the truth. He wasn’t inclined to whistle or sing. He got the name long before he reached the age of his voice cracking in forced puberty. Just one day in class, one of his batchmates laughed and called him Two Tone, and it stuck.
Somehow, he never figured out why he was called that until after a joint battle with General Unduli and General Kenobi, fighting to take back a planet from the Separatists, at the request of the local government. Everyone was giving him weird looks ever since he had painted his armor, and he just told himself it was probably because of the design. He always had problems getting it correct on his armor, and he didn’t want to ask someone for help, so he was stuck with his own quality.
Cleaning up after the fight was normal, trudging around the battlefield to find any fallen comrades and equipment, seeing the medic if hurt, packing things away again. Two Tone thought it was weird when he didn’t bump into anyone from the 212th, but figured it was because they might have been on the other side of the battlefield. He did his best sticking to his brothers as things began to get loaded into the LAAT/is, tired and quiet as he road the drop ship up to the Venator.
He assisted with unloading things, feeling the ship shudder faintly as it transitioned into hyperspace, though his movements came to a halt as he saw General Kenobi walking by the area. Frowning, he turned to the Clone beside him.
“Why isn’t General Kenobi with the 212th?”
The Clone frowned at him. “This is the 212th…”
Two Tone prided himself on being levelheaded, so when he started to panic so hard that General Kenobi came to an abrupt stop and looked at him, he was proud that he didn’t run away or collapse or simply imploded.
“Are you all right, dear one?” General Kenobi asked and a part of Two Tone’s mind was amused to learn that the rumors were correct about the endearing terms the man used.
“I apologize, sir,” Two Tone managed to squeak out. “But… I was assigned to General Unduli… I’m on the wrong ship.”
General Kenobi’s head tilted to the side curiously, glancing over Two Tone’s armor.
“Have you been tested for colorblindness?” the General asked curiously.
***
“Deuteranopia colorblindness,” Obi-Wan said, giving Luminara a faint smile. “The poor man was so embarrassed. Evac tested him and decided to do a ship wide test. Apparently colorblindness isn’t too uncommon among the Clones.”
The holo of the Jedi Master shook her head, a fond sigh escaping her. “When he painted his armor orange and green, I thought he was living up to his name. I am glad to hear that we hadn’t lost him in battle.”
“No, just temporarily misplaced,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle.
“Joint custody then, until you can return him to me?”
“Well keep him safe, I promise you.”
Alpha-17 and Obi-Wan being friends (derogatory) on 17's part and friends (threatening) on Obi-Wan's part is such an underrated dynamic
They could be so funny and terrifying, like Obi-Wan went through a soul shredding experience with Alpha-17 as his only company. They're friends because what else are you gonna be after you witness each other at absolute rock bottom from torture.
It's like 'dog put in cage of cheetah who's threatening to go crazy', except the dog is a grizzly bear and also threatening to go crazy.
Emotional support trooper except the trooper in question has never done any sort of supporting in his life and is actively an emotional distress trooper to a great number of the CC batch.
I want them texting everyday, I want Obi-Wan mailing handmade BFF bracelets to Alpha and Alpha sending pics back of him flipping off the camera but still wearing them, I want Alpha using Obi-Wan to keep track of and occasionally terrorize his cadets, I want 17 ending problems in the GAR (like Krell) before they begin because Obi-Wan has him shipped out on a personal transport at the first opportunity, decked out with slug-throwers Obi-Wan got him for his decant-day.
Natborn officers think this is all just an odd indulgence of General Kenobi, the Vode, however, correctly identify it as a goddamn threat and their danger assessment of Obi-Wan ticks up significantly.
When Alpha arrives on Kamino, Shaak Ti presses a shiny new comm into his hand. It has the Jedi Order symbol painted onto it alongside a smiley face sticker, and it pings immediately with a new message: Hello! I hope you're settling in well!
Alpha stares at the message, stares at the singular contact named 'OWK' and then stares Shaak Ti in the eye as he pitches the comm straight into the ocean. Shaak Ti's serene smile only grows larger as she calmly reaches into her robes and pulls out an identical comm, only this one has a frowny face sticker, and presses it into his hand. It lights up: I'm afraid we've bonded, Alpha :). Alpha shuts it off and pockets it with resignation.
Cody arrives on Alpha-17's personal recommendation.
A-17: He's the most difficult little bastard I have. You're perfect for each other. OWK: Thank you, he's very handsome :3 A-17: No. Stop.
The first thing he asks once he gets comfortable is who his general is texting so much that has him swinging his legs and twirling his hair. Cody assumes it's Anakin, given they seem joint at the hip anyway, but little does he know Obi-Wan's ability to consistently have the Weirdest Relationships Ever.
"Oh, it's Alpha-17, I understand you're familiar with each other?" Hmm. OK. Cody.exe is experiencing a processing error, please hold. He exits the room instead of answering. The next day he peeks over the General's shoulder when he's texting and sees walls of rambling messages from Obi-Wan. Alpha-17 replies every hour with a single text: Lose this number. Obi-Wan giggles. "He's so funny." he says.
When Obi-Wan meets the rest of the CC batch, Cody makes sure to stand perfectly angled so that he can record the reactions when his general cuts off their introductions with "Oh, no need, Alpha-17's told me all about you." It's always immediate FEAR.JPG followed by a slow spiral of What The Fuck.
What do you mean by that General. What does that mean Cody. What do you mean they text. No. Cody. What the fuck is happening, Cody. Alpha-17 doesn't have friends he has enemies and enemies he tolerates enough not to shoot on sight.
OWK: Wolffe reached for his vambrace? when I mentioned you A-17: That's where he keeps his spare knife. OWK: Hm that does explain the way he eyed me up, ambitious. A-17: Clearly not enough, he should have followed through. I taught them better.
Deep Pressure (Meredith/Lexie Grey)
The nature of Lexie and Meredith's relationship can be up for interpretation in this one, there's no overtly sexual or romantic things happening, but because I was imagining them as together I've tagged it as such, do with that what you will.
When Lexie has her breakdown after the shooting incident Meredith helps her be able to relax and fall asleep. Also Lexie is autistic
Read on ao3
When Meredith stepped into the room she heard soothing melancholy music pouring from the tinny speaker of Lexie's phone, Jenny Owen Youngs, the same albums Meredith had heard her listen to on repeat after she and Mark broke up. Meredith bent down towards the hospital bed to see if Lexie's eyes were open.
"Lex, hey, how you holding up?" Meredith's gentle voice added to the floaty sensation of the drugs in Lexie's system.
Lexie gave a small sad smile and looked down. She didn't need to say the words out loud, they'd both been a hell of a lot better.
"I heard you had a rough morning." Meredith took a seat on the bed next to her. Lexie nodded looking up at her sister with brown shining doe eyes. "Can I touch you?" Meredith's hand hovered near Lexie's face, waiting for another nod before smoothing it over blond locks.
Lexie put her hand on Meredith's leg, giving an appreciative squeeze. Now more than ever she was relieved to have someone who knew how to be comfortable in silence, and who understood that sometimes when things were too much Lexie couldn't even figure out how to form the words with her mouth, in this case the drugs made it even worse. Her big sister was the only one she could even bear to have around her in this state. Lexie whimpered as Meredith removed her hand and pulled away.
"Hey, don't worry I'm not going anywhere, I'm just going to look at your chart." Meredith grabbed Lexie's hand off her thigh, rubbing her thumb over the back of it as she flipped open the chart with her free hand. "Discussion with patient suggests sleep deprivation may have been a catalyzing factor or possible primary cause of the incident. Well, I could've told them that much."
Lexie raised an eyebrow.
"I can hear you puttering around at all hours, you're not as light on your feet as you think." The teasing comment brought a smile to both their lips. "Though I might not be sleeping so deeply myself these days." The moment of joy melted back into the coldness of their reality. "Want help?" Meredith crossed her arms in an x over her chest, the sign they developed for Lexie to non-verbally ask for deep pressure. Something Lexie had looked into after a somewhat surprising tip from Cristina.
Lexie nodded emphatically. Meredith's heart warmed and broke for the precious creature before her all at once.
"OK, straighten out, like a log." Meredith ordered. "Don't give me that look, just do it. I have an idea." Meredith quickly slipped into the hall to grab a fresh warm blanket, once it was draped over Lexie she started wrapping it around Lexie's legs and tucking it under her torso. Seeing her little sister sigh with relief before she even took her place spooning her, drew a chuckle from Meredith. Once she had Lexie wrapped in her arms, hugged tight against her chest, leg wrapping to rest over Lexie's hip, she found herself letting out her own tense lungful of air, demonstrating just how elevated her own parasympathetic nervous system was despite her even keel.
"Psst Meredith." Cristina's whisper roused a glaring Meredith from heavy slumber. "Hey wake up, it's time to go home, I'm driving."
"I can't just leave her!" Meredith whispered angrily.
"Mer if you don't keep it together and take care of yourself you're gonna punch your own ticket to the psych wing." Cristina slipped into a more normal volume in order to be heard over the truck engine caliber snoring now coming from Lexie. "Then who's she gonna have to take care of her? Just me."
"I'm not sure if that's a threat or a sweet show of support." Meredith raised an eyebrow mockingly.
"Yeah well if you end up in psych you'll take just as long as sleeping beauty here to get cleared for surgery, so let's go, chop chop."
"She doesn't even have her weighted blanket. What if she freaks out and can't calm down?"
"Wait here." Cristina slipped out of the room and returned a bit later with one of the lead aprons used to protect against xrays. "Heavy as balls." Cristina handed it to Meredith to drape over Lexie's legs within reach in case she wanted to pull it further up. Meredith printed a clear note:
Had to go home so I could be ready for work. Text me at any hour and I'll be there in a flash, will check in with you as soon as I get in.
Love, Mer
Then she folded like a card so it could be propped up in Lexie's field of view, before leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead.
"I hate to leave her like this." Meredith watched her thoroughly sedated sister snoring and dead to the world.
"I know." Cristina grabbed Meredith's hand to say what she couldn't with words before guiding the still groggy Meredith to the car.
every friend group should include... (insp.)
(Elliot catches Alex trying to look good for Liv)
"Thanks." Elliot ended his fourth phone call. Another dead end with no luck. Hopefully Olivia was faring better with the victim. It was the last lead they had.
He groaned at the ache in his bladder. "Gotta piss." He said to himself and walked out of the squadroom with a stretch. He stepped into the hallway and stopped in his tracks at an unexpected sight.
Fixing her lipstick in the reflection of the office's framed "INTEGRITY" poster was none other than their A.D.A. She stood alone in the hall (or so she thought), fluffing her hair to the perfect point and combing it away from her eyes.
His brow raised as she took off her glasses and stowed them in her bag, tousling her hair a little more with both hands. She looked down her black shirt and tugged a button out of its hole, widening the collar just a bit.
"Liv's not here." He sucked in a smile as Alex snapped out of her makeup session and whipped around to him.
She recomposed herself with a clear of her throat but her words took a second to come. "...A-And?"
Elliot stuck his hands in his pockets but stayed quiet.
"I was fixing my collar."
"Okay."
Alex took a breath. "Well, do you guys have any new leads for me? I'm running dry and court's in a few days."
"Liv's finishing up with the victim."
Elliot's cellphone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket.
"Look at that."
He read a message.
"Look at what?" Alex said walking to him.
"My partner worked her magic again. Victim's agreed to testify."
"Seriously? Tell her I owe her."
Elliot typed and dictated out loud as he went. "Alex says she owes you...dinner at her place--"
"What?! Elliot stop joking."
"Whoops...my thumb slipped."
Their gazes met and Alex paled. "You did not."
*bing*
"Let me see it." Alex snatched the phone from Elliot's hand. On the screen one word, 'Huh?'
Alex skimmed through the previous messages in disbelief. "Oh my God." She said and tugged at her collar to relieve the sauna starting under her shirt. She breathed and hastily typed a message. "Alex did not say that, your partner is being an asshole." She readily hit send and threw Elliot a disapproving glance.
*bing*
'Oh, that's too bad. I'm hungry.'
Her eyes widened a little at the reponse. She cursed under her breath and put a hand over her eyes. "What have you done?"
"She likes Italian." Elliot said knowingly and Alex met his gaze with a furrow in her brow. She thought for a second then typed a response.
'Rossini's?'
*bing*
'Sounds great. I'm almost back. Tell my asshole partner he'll be filing today's report.'
Alex smiled. "Olivia wants you to know you're filing today's report."
Elliot gave a "so what" shrug and started down the hall. "Keep the glasses. She likes 'em."
Alex clenched her jaw, still holding Elliot's phone in her hand.
for the sharing a bed prompts, 35 and Malvie? (or whoever you feel inspired to write!)
Absolutely! Thanks for the ask, Anon!
35. “I wanna be big spoon this time.” “But you’re tiny.”
Mal bites down on her lip as hard as she can, trying her best to stifle the giggle buried in her throat. She swats the relentless fingers digging into her side, ones with pretty, long red fingernails that only make the tickling feel even more merciless with every deliberate jab.
"Eves, stop it already!" Mal gasps, grabbing at the girl's wrists and shoving them behind her. “Cease, desist! Uncle!”
Evie pulls back long enough so Mal can roll over and face her. She’s gasping deeply, her laughter coming out in breathless wheezes, and Mal can’t stop herself from smiling a little at the sight of Evie’s brightly flushed cheeks and wide smile.
“Ok, ok, have you had your fun now?” Mal quips. Evie nods silently, still trying to catch her breath. Mal pulls at one of her hands, bringing it close to her chest and stroking it lightly with her thumb.
“You know, if I didn’t love you so much Princess, that sense of humor of yours could get you in some big trouble.”
“Oh come on, Mal,” Evie whines, leaning in to peck her lips lightly. “I was just having a little fun. Besides, your skin is so soft, it’s hard to resist a little tickle when I’m hugging you like that.”
Mal rolls her eyes at that, and Evie bursts another giggle as she buries her face into her girlfriend’s neck, her nose scrunching as purple strands brush her skin.
“Whatever. Then it’s my turn next. You know, you’ve got soft skin too, Eves.”
She nudges in a little with her nose, letting it graze Evie’s jaw and prompting more giggles. Evie pulls back then, eyeing Mal and perking a curious brow.
“So, you’re saying you want to be the big spoon, then?”
Evie smirks when Mal nods back vigorously, planting a hand just over Mal’s shoulder so she can lift herself up. She hovers over Mal and leans in close, letting their noses just barely touch.
“But, babe,” she coos, smiling wide when Mal snorts at her nasally tone. “You’re...tiny.”
“What?!” Mal’s eyes blow wide with shock, and Evie lets out a quiet chuckle as she boops Mal’s nose with her finger.
“Oh stop, you know you’re still the biggest baddie at this school,” Evie scoffs, letting her hand cup Mal’s cheek. “You’re just, the littlest...biggest baddie, too. And that’s not a bad thing!”
Mal thrusts her hips up, knocking Evie back in a fit of laughter. She’s quick to overtake the bluenette, swinging a leg over her hips to straddle her and taking her wrists in both hands.
“You’d going to pay for that, princess,” she growls lightly, and dips down to pepper kisses up and down Evie’s face and neck. The girl’s laughter comes in short bursts as she gasps for air under Mal’s assault, bucking half-heartedly as if she’s trying to throw Mal off of her. But not really.
“Fine, you win!” Evie groans, whipping her head from side to side until Mal finally relents and sits back up. She doesn’t let go of Evie’s wrists though, and just continues to stare down at her, grinning triumphantly.
“I win? So, I get to be big spoon?” she declares as she lets herself flop to Evie’s side.
“Yes,” Evie snickers, turning her body to face Mal. “You can be my littlest...biggest spoon.”
Mal groans and smacks a hand to her face, dragging it down to fix a glare at Evie’s too-proud smirk.
“Fuck, you’re lucky you’re so cute, you know that?”
Evie hums happily, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Mal’s lips.
“Hm, yes. I’m lucky you’re mine, too.”
Mal sighs and reaches out to stroke her fingers through Evie’s soft blue strands.
“You know just what to say to get yourself out of trouble, don’t you?”
“Yep.” Evie admits, making sure to pop her p. “You taught me well, big baddie.”
Mal chuckles and shoves at her shoulder, pushing forcefully to turn Evie back around. When her back is to Mal, she makes a show of slinging an arm and leg over Evie’s body, pulling her close and kissing her cheek from behind.
“That’s big spoon to you, Eves.”
Send me an ask!
The crispiest F*ck You I’ve heard from Chyler
Fanfiction that I might get around to some day
This is the early stages of the war and Cody has just been assigned to General Obi-Wan and his padawan. Its supposed to be an amazing assignment that all the other clone officers were super jealous of but as soon as Cody touched down on the newly launched Negotiator he is faced with some Issues. Mainly having to deal with his super not at all appropriate crush for his General and said General's super not at all jealous brat.
Cody is a grown adult (technically) and physical he's five or six years older than Anakin at this point. He knows he shouldn't be petty. But this brat keeps pushing his buttons. Whenever they're in the same room, Anakin hisses at him. The other day someone messed with the straps on Cody's armor and all his plating fell off during a meeting with the high council. Someone put salt in his blaster's charging port. Cody wants so badly to act childish back and pull an equally shitty prank but then he looks over at his General (who practically breathes maturity, refinement and kindness) and decides that giving that little shit-bird of a padawan a lesson might not be worth it if he makes Obi-Wan upset-or if he looses his job but he doubts that will happen.
This goes on for a whilst Cody suffers in silence. The other commanders are convinced their vod deserves a metal for how much he has to put up with. It looks like this is going to keep going on until after Anakin is knighted and given his own ship to command. But then Cody discovers a solution. It's been a really long battle, he's tired and probably a little delirious so when there's no reason why that when ship's officers are all convened for a meeting, Cody decides to tell his General that he looks really good fighting alongside the vode. It's a quiet remark, meant only for Obi-Wan to hear. Cody's General smiles gently, shooting back another equally flirty remark. And then some low ranking admiral asks Obi-Wan a question and they turn back to their original conversation.
But Anakin must have overheard, how could he not? He's always standing so close to Obi-Wan. When Cody looks over the padawan's face is as white as a sheet and quickly turning a gross looking red. He's about to ask Anakin if he's alright, maybe apologize. But then he gets an awful, awful idea.
And that's what the Negotiator would look like for the next couple of months. Anakin spends his free time playing borderline cruel pranks on his clone commander which prompts Cody to start publicly flirting with Obi-Wan. As the pranks get more aggressive so does the flirting until Cody out right slaps his generals ass in the middle of a battle. All the other clones are convinced they're about to see Anakin die of shock. When Anakin is finally promoted to the rank of jedi knight and given his own battalion everyone's convinced the rivalry will stop. Until one day right before the events of the clone wars tv takes place and Anakin gets his own padawan, he pays a visit to Obi-Wan after a battle. No one can find the General or his Commander anywhere. But at some point during the battle talks, Anakin walks in looking ill, following right behind him is Obi-Wan and Cody. They're both smirking, completely covered in love bites.
“kill them with kindness” Wrong. CURSE OF RA 𓀀 𓀁 𓀂 𓀃 𓀄 𓀅 𓀆 𓀇 𓀈 𓀉 𓀊 𓀋 𓀌 𓀍 𓀎 𓀏 𓀐 𓀑 𓀒 𓀓 𓀔 𓀕 𓀖 𓀗 𓀘 𓀙 𓀚 𓀛 𓀜 𓀝 𓀞 𓀟 𓀠 𓀡 𓀢 𓀣 𓀤 𓀥 𓀦 𓀧 𓀨 𓀩 𓀪 𓀫 𓀬 𓀭 𓀮 𓀯 𓀰 𓀱 𓀲 𓀳 𓀴 𓀵 𓀶 𓀷 𓀸 𓀹 𓀺 𓀻 𓀼 𓀽 𓀾 𓀿 𓁀 𓁁 𓁂 𓁃 𓁄 𓁅 𓁆 𓁇 𓁈 𓁉 𓁊 𓁋 𓁌 𓁍 𓁎 𓁏 𓁐 𓁑 𓀄 𓀅 𓀆
reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something
sometimes i say things on twitter and then make a little graph about it
For Trimberly, prompt list 9, prompt 9, "this isn't my safe space, you are"
Trini sat sideways in the pterodactyl zord seat with Kim stretched out across her in her lap. She wove tight arms around her girlfriend and kissed her forehead softly.
The fight had been terrible. Watching Kim's zord spin down in a fiery blaze when Trini could do nothing but push forward and keep fighting. In the back of her mind, Trini knew Kim would be okay. The zord would protect Kim and keep her safe. But the flames had been huge, red, orange...and pink.
Trini sighed and pressed her face into Kim's neck and held her tighter. She heard Kim's breath hitch and ran her fingers through Kim's hair. "Feeling better yet, Princess?"
"I don't know," Kim murmured. "It's like...I was back there. In our first fight. When we were-" She sucked her lips in.
"The fire," Trini said. She understood. She had the same flashback. The heat, the inability to move, the knowledge of your imminent death... "I've got you, baby, I've got you. You're not there anymore."
"I know," Kim murmured.
"Alpha updated the zords to be more fire-retardent. You were covered in flames, but...you weren't gonna burn."
"I know."
"Yeah, you know, but are you hearing me?" She pressed her lips to Kim's temple. "You're safe. You're safe here. Our zords love us, they protect us...they're our safe space."
Kim curled up more and leaned into Trini's arm. "No," she whispered.
"No?"
"This isn't my safe space, Trin. You are."
"Oh, Kim." Trini held Kim's face in her palm and made Kim look up at her. "You're mine, too. You have been from the moment we met." Kim looked back at Trini with damp, blinking eyes.
"I am?"
"You don't know that by now?" Trini smiled slowly. "I only feel like the real me when I'm with you. When I talk to you. When I text you. We've been Rangers, what, four and a half years now? That's four and a half years of feeling the safest I've ever felt."
"Me too," Kim whispered.
Trini's hand moved and her fingers ran the scope of Kim's jaw and to her chin, which she lifted up and leaned down to kiss her lips. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Kim said, initiating a longer kiss. They broke, mouths still parted, and sighed into one another. "I like being in here with you. It's the most peace I've ever felt."
"We can stay here as long as you need."
"Just keep holding me," Kim said softly. "And keep kissing me."
"My pleasure," Trini said, a smile on her face as she took Kim's lips with her own again.
what we have now
Cal awakens on Tanalorr, and what seems to be a perfect day begins to go wrong. Post-Jedi: Survivor with spoilers. Rated PG-13ish for established Merrical. Angst, grief, hope, love, ~2450 words.
--
The morning light of Tanalorr filters gently through cracks in the temple ceiling, sending down soft, gold-edged rays through the small private chamber where he and Merrin have set up a room. Cal mumbles, rolling over on the makeshift bed and taking half the covers with him. Merrin is warm and sleepy beside him, her skin soft against his own, and he draws her closer, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair.
“We have slept in again, Cal Kestis,” she murmurs throatily. “I blame you, of course. You kept me from my rest.”
“Someone was awfully frisky last night, I seem to recall,” Cal yawns. He hardens slightly, remembering her insistent kisses last night, how she eagerly undressed him, her hands, her mouth, her --
He lets out a long breath. They have work to do this morning with the others, and he knows he shouldn’t let himself get distracted. No matter how much he might like to be.
“Still thinking about it, are you?” Merrin asks, amused. She rolls over and props herself up on one elbow, leaning over him. He drinks in the sight of her, soft gray skin and dark tattoos, a wicked grin. He bites back a groan.
Her gaze flicks back, and she peers under the covers with a knowing smirk. “Ahh. I like the way you think.”
“Hey, come on, now. We promised we’d check in,” Cal half-protests. “The Path needs us to get this housing ready, and we need to have that meeting with --”
The familiar sound of BD’s servos whirs as the little droid hops over to them, blithely ignorant of their nudity and innuendo. Cal sighs, drawing the sheets higher over Merrin and himself.
“Cal, my dear Jedi, you said you were going to teach the droid to knock.”
“I’ve been busy!” Cal says. Merrin simply raises one eyebrow and gives him one of those looks, the sort that makes his brain short-circuit and his pulse quicken. For a moment he’s tempted to tell BD-1 to come back later, that he’d made a mistake with the time and really the meeting with Cere was for tomorrow, not today.
But something disquiets him, a frisson rippling through the Force, there and gone before he can put a name to it. His arousal vanishes, and he looks away from Merrin, unsettled.
“Cal?” She sits up, the blanket falling down around her waist, the golden light bathing her skin in a warm glow. “What is it?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Something felt… off. I’m not sure what it means.” He sighs. “Probably just guilt about how late we’re going to be. We’d better get going. Make it up to you later?” He gives her a small smile, and is gratified when she returns it twofold.
Cal sends BD-1 off to wait as they get dressed, but they meet him at the front of the temple, where he is waiting patiently for them. Cal bends to lower a hand and BD clambers up to his regular perch as they step outside into the fresh air. The glorious Tanalorr morning greets them with misty light, and brightly colored banners ripple from the temple in the breeze. Gardens stretch alongside the path, tall leaves fluttering in the wind, fruits and vegetables beginning to swell and show in colors of scarlet, violet, emerald.
The three of them travel through the gardens and back along the creekside path leading away from the temple. Merrin seems content, but Cal cannot help but look over his shoulder as they walk. There is only BD-1 there, cheerful and loyal as always, but there’s still a nagging feeling, something skittering at the back of his mind.
He tries to ignore it, his feet tracing the familiar trail alongside Anchorite Creek. They cross the new stone bridge, a beautiful melding of angular Jedha architecture with jeweled motifs unique to Tanalorr; the lilac-blossomed larien tree, the clever waterhare, the carvings of the Koboh Abyss. He always appreciates this bridge and the way his footsteps ring on the stone, but for a moment it almost feels like its solid arch tremors beneath his feet.
“Did you feel that?” Cal asks. BD lets out a beep in the negative. Merrin shakes her head.
“Feel what?”
“Nothing,” Cal says, stone solid beneath his feet, and he tries to believe himself. We’ve made a perfect world. What is there to worry about?
They meet back up with the others at the village, which is already bustling at this early hour. The sight cheers him, and his odd mood fades into the background. He takes a deep breath and smells the morning meal on the breeze, rich with spice; Pyloon’s of Tanalorr keeps Greez busy, even with several residents working with him as sous chefs. He and Merrin will have to stop in for a bowl of waterhare stew when they next get a chance.
They keep heading toward their destination, passing Narkis Anchorites working with refugees from the Hidden Path, raising another set of new residences. Cal nods to them as they pass. He recognizes some of the Anchorites from Jedha. There are new members of their order, too, only identifiable by the Tanalorr-lilac stripe they wear on their sleeves.
Not everyone wears the garb of the Anchorites; droids roll or walk along the dirt streets on their business, and plenty of people with bare faces wave as they make their way to the Archives. A few of the refugees he recognizes from his days as a Padawan, other survivors besides himself: a young woman with her dark hair in tight braids, a tall man with olive skin and piercing blue eyes. Pride unfurls in his chest, pride and a fierce protectiveness. They’ve built so much here. And there is still so much more to do.
Many of those who cannot help in the physical efforts of building work in the new Archives, cataloging their growing knowledge of the Jedi Order and its history, and it’s here they head, Cal keenly aware they’re late. That must be the reason he’s feeling off. He knows exactly which slightly disappointed look Cere will be wearing --
The smell of smoke, ash dancing in the flame-choked air, red and black --
Cal staggers, sagging against the door as it slides open. “Cal!” Merrin cries, slipping a steady arm around him. On his other side, a familiar man in robes braces against him, helping Merrin to keep him upright.
“Cal! Have you taken ill?” Master Cordova asks. Together he and Merrin lead Cal to a seat near one of the desks, where he bows over himself, breathing hard. BD-1 chitters at his shoulder.
“You don’t feel it?” Cal gasps. He holds out his hands, ash coating his fingertips. He doesn’t understand. “Look at my hands. There’s something terribly wrong --”
Merrin and Master Cordova look at his hands, but they seem worried, exchanging concerned glances. “I will get Cere,” says Merrin, and claps Cal on the shoulder, her hand squeezing him tightly against his jacket. “We will figure this out, Cal. Together.”
Cal looks down at his hands again. They’re clean once more, and his head reels. What’s happening?
“Tell me what you sense, Cal,” says Master Cordova, kneeling carefully beside him. His brown eyes, always so wise, seem troubled. Cal knows it’s because of him. He tries to center himself, reaching for the Force, but it feels muted and hazy, muffled somehow.
“I saw fire,” he manages. “Fire and ash.”
“A memory, perhaps sensed by your psychometry?”
“No, this didn’t feel like a normal memory,” Cal tries to explain. “It feels like it’s something that doesn’t belong here. Like something that isn’t real, that never happened.” He gazes around the room, drawing comfort from its soaring shelves of twinkling datapads, the silver globes lighting the hall, the sweet smell of larienwood incense. He tries to ground himself in the library, in all they’ve built here. “It couldn’t have happened.”
“It may have been a vision, then,” Cordova muses, getting to his feet and sitting down on the chair beside Cal. “The Force may be sending you a message of things to come.”
Cal shakes his head in frustration. He’s not a Padawan. “I know we can have visions from the Force, Master Cordova, but I always feel so tightly bound to the past. I’ve only had visions of the future in places where the Force is magnified and concentrated, like Ilum or Bogano…. The past has always been so much easier for me to access. This didn’t feel the same way.”
“Perhaps that’s changing,” says Cere. Cal lifts his head to greet her, and their eyes meet--
She’s so light in his arms. How could someone so powerful, so strong, be so, so still?
Cal recoils, panting. The smoke chokes him, blinds him, engulfs him. He’s lost in it, reaching for his lightsaber, finding nothing there. He cups his hands around his mouth, calling, hoping, begging. “Cere -- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have been there --”
“You okay there, scrapper?”
Cal opens his eyes. The smoke has vanished as quickly as it had come, and the temple soars over him, golden daylight streaming through its windows. Bode gives him a broad, easy grin, smile lines crinkling at the edges of his eyes. Dagan’s lightsaber hums in his palm.
“This isn’t right,” Cal whispers. “It isn’t real --”
He raises a gloved hand. Imperial black against crisp ISB white. He lets the frantic rage shriek through him, a desperate eruption of pure hate boiling forth, he wants this, needs this, a weapon, he’s nothing but a weapon --
The temple shatters around him, Tanalorr shatters around him, and he remembers everything.
***
“Cal! Cal. Come back to me, Jedi,” Merrin murmurs throatily. He realizes her arms are around him, holding him tight against her chest, his cheek nestled against the soft skin between her breasts. Her twin heartbeats pulse in his ear, a metronome grounding him here, now, safe.
For a moment, they simply stay there.
“What happened?” she asks in a soft voice.
Cal reluctantly sits up, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling. They’re in the Mantis, back in one of the narrow bunks they insist on squeezing into together. He knows they could sleep separately, but neither of them like to do it anymore if they can help it.
“I dreamed of Tanalorr. The way it should have been.” His throat constricts, and it takes him a moment to steady his voice. “It was beautiful, Merrin.” He wants to tell her everything. The new Archives, the lush gardens, the voices in the streets; Cordova… Cere….
Instead he buries his face in the crook between her neck and her shoulder, and breathes in, and breathes out.
She strokes his hair gently, fingers twining through the strands that tickle the back of his neck. She presses a kiss to his forehead. “We will make it so, Cal. I promise you.”
“Maybe. I hope so. But she’ll never see it.”
Her fingers still, then shift for her hand to cup his cheek. She slowly lifts his chin until he’s gazing at her, her dark eyes bright. “No, she will not. That is something we cannot change.” She blinks, and a flicker of her own grief passes across her face, a painful mirror to his own. “I miss her too. Cere and Cordova both, but Cere… she was part of our family.” Tears glisten, unshed but unashamed, in her eyes.
They haven’t talked of Cere this openly in weeks, busy with fighting the Empire on Koboh and taking care of Kata. But now the loss is here, sitting in the space between their breath, and the wound aches so, so much.
Anger flares within him. How can his mind have given him so much detail of Tanalorr vibrant and growing, of a world where they’d truly won, and yet so little of Cere? When he would have given anything to see her again, to speak with her -- to apologize --
But he remembers how his mind had tried to tell him he was dreaming, and his heart sinks. He had known. Even in the midst of a dream that felt realer than real, he’d known.
There is no bringing Cere back, not even in a dream.
Cal swallows, feeling sick. It’s all a mess, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel about any of it. The Jedi Order would tell him to let it go, but the Jedi Order itself is dust and ashes, and he feels the feelings anyway, Order be damned.
Grief feels different now than it did as a child. It’s no less confusing than it was then, but back then he’d been so desperate to survive, so powerless to protect himself, that he’d shoved the feelings down as far as they could go. Now the feelings and the Force are both as powerful as they’ve ever been. He feels the Force crackling throughout him, body and soul, straining to be used. He’s healed his connection… but is that such a good thing, now? There’s violence poisoning his connection, an intoxicating rage, a searing hatred, the darkness…
He shivers, and he steps away from it, for now.
“I don’t know--” His breath hitches. There’s water tracking at the edges of his eyelids, a burn in his chest. “Even through everything, even when we were apart, she was always guiding me. And without her, I don’t know if I can be enough. For Tanalorr… for the Path… for Kata….” Imperial black on ISB white. “For you.”
“You are enough for me, Cal Kestis,” she says, and he sinks back into her embrace.
“But the future --”
“Is what we can make of it,” Merrin says, her voice steely. “We will find the way together, you and I. That is how we will honor Cere and Cordova. And the Jedi, and my sisters. And if you stumble in the darkness, I will lead you by the hand; and if I do not see the path, your light will guide me.” She kisses him, her open mouth slanting over his, then pulls back. She blazes with determination, so beautiful he can hardly bear it. “Do you trust me?”
The world falls away, and Cal lets it. There is only this moment, shimmering between them. The grief and darkness will be there waiting for him when he returns, he knows that much, but for now, there is only Merrin. He takes her hand in his, and he knows that no matter what lies ahead, the two of them are bound together.
“Always,” he whispers.
She smiles, and the world feels perfect once again.
Do you think Plo Koon's mask also has a translator inside it which makes his language understandable in basic?
Because being rather reptilian/insectoid in appearance, I assume that their main method of communication is probably screeching and clicks, rumbles and vibrations.
Also because:
Plo: ... and once Wolffe, Sinker and I give the signal, we will... *mask crackles, unintelligible screeching noises*
*Plo stops talking, adjusts his mask and tries again*
Plo: *more screeching*
Shinies: *horrified whimpering*
Plo: *sad eyes at Wolffe*
Wolffe: *rolls eyes* The General is having translation issues. What he said was 'once we give to signal, you are to advance and rendezvous with us at the marked co-ordinates'. Understood?
Plo: *gentle clicking noises*
Wolffe: And... *sighs* he says he's proud of us.
Everyone else: *stunned silence*
Plo: *soft screech*
Wolffe: *glaring at him* Really, General? Do I have... Ugh, fine. And the General says he... loves us... *blushes furiously*
Plo: *delighted clicking noises*
internet censorship bill about to pass congress:
ao3 is facing a ddos attack from an overseas right-wing anonymous group because it contains "degeneracy and disgusting things like LGBT and NSFW".
they're not the only right-wing group that is attacking fanfiction sites because of queer & nsfw content. the Heritage foundation, the US right wing think tank that writes laws for republicans, wrote an article about how "big tech turns kids trans" in which they're advocating for the Kid's Online Safety Act to pass because it will give state attorney generals power to sue websites for "potentially harmful content towards minors". in this article they point out websites like wattpad, tumblr, tiktok, twitter as sites that GOP attorney generals can and will target for censorship if this bill passes. all places where fandom, that's mostly queer, hangs out.
if you think this bill has no chance of passing because of all the red flags it poses, think again. it currently has 38 cosponsors in the senate, and is being pushed by the democrats as a "protecting the children!!" type bill.
there are left-aligned orgs in congress rn lobbying for this bill to pass. july is extremely decisive, because if KOSA goes through to markup it'll be bundled with the Earn It act, Restrict, and all the other bad internet bills and passed as a package, completely censoring the internet forever.
if you want to learn more about the bill, go here. also sign the open letter against it here
it's ESSENTIAL that you call your members of congress, specifically Maria Cantwell (you can call from out of state) and tell them DO NOT PASS KOSA. this site here connects you to your members of congress and gives you a short simple script to read off of! super easy and doesn't take much out of your day! please do this now!!
AO3 under a DDoS attack, it’s like I’m back on a windows 95 with dial up internet.
The brain when AO3 goes down:
The forest around them is silent when the call is given. A sharp whistle of bird song that should be impossible for anyone with human vocal cords and the sudden whine of blaster fire as a dozen figures rise from the shadows and open fire.
None of them acknowledge the flash of red hair, darkened with dirt and muck, that dives past them. Darting through the last few trees before he leaps rolling as he lands metal already crunching beside him as his hand rises and even now after months of fighting Neild can’t compare it to anything. Not the way he moves or the way he fights, everything so very fluid and wrong besides the small figures he fights beside. All still growing into their bodies compared to the quick controlled dance the other always manages.
A body falls with a blaster bolt perfectly centered on it’s forehead and the figure is already off again. Flashing steps, the shadows themselves seeming to rise around him and Neild is reminded of the old stories of their greatest warriors. Unstoppable hunters, fearless warriors. A blaster on his back in favor for the staff he’s taken too, a bloody dance that defends as many of them as he can while decimating those who threaten the young while Neild can only watch.
Metal creaks, shatters and the doors swing open with out a touch. Nothing but the sweeping pull of a hand and the groan of twisted metal as those of them that aren’t keeping watch dart forward to pull the children from the back of the truck Obi-wan has practically torn to pieces.
Obi-wan himself stands apart, a vibroblade clutched in one hand, staff and blaster hanging across his back and the air around him still and silent. If Neild looked closely he knows what he’d see. Eyes like the void of space, maybe even an extra pair and fangs sharper than anything he’s seen in the wild of his home.
Neild doesn’t look. None of them ever do.
The young know when something is just a little off, but they also know that it means nothing when everything they’ve ever known is wrong to begin with. They’ve heard what the elders had to say about the Jedi, and they know what happened to the first. Even if Obi seemed certain she’d live through it.
Whatever he is, whatever he may become Obi-wan is one of the young now.