#i know that all mothers in star wars end in tragedy

[celesterayel]

midnight secrets | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x nyx!reader

request: can you write about luke and a daughter of nyx? <33

IN WHICH — he knows only one true thing: you put all the stars to shame.

"now I just wanna stay here and fall into midnight. Want nobody else now, only you, feel right" - a.

w.c. 1.9k

warning(s) : soft ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note can you tell when I was younger I had fallen in love with the night and the idea of it? cuz I did. very much so, I'd say. also water, always loved the concept of it--the fragility and softness of it, like a balm against my skin.

long, long ago you learned of the sea of stars and their stories, from which rose their beginning and end. the stars were beings of heat and fire; they were beautifully mortal and alive.

they danced upon the domain of zeus; showering the sky with lights when night fell and befitting the world with their glow.

but as the sands of time bade the next and the corners of the sky dulled, the toll of living and breathing became too much. and so in the vast space of nothingness among the empty silence, the stars took on the duty of protecting a human and god: following where they might go, to every lifetime and universe as if they could erase the tragedy of the divine that swam through their blood.

and when each stars’ child died and their soul followed its ache to finally rest, the star would fall out of the sky in a blazing trail of destruction and divinity to taste freedom one last time and meet them in the next life.

there had been something raw and gruesomely alive about the stars when you learned of the story and so everyday, you’d trapeze the mortal line between night and sleep to watch them in absolution. you yearned to find an answer as to why? why would such immortal and imposing celestial beings like the stars willingly ruin themselves for us humans, for us beings that hungered for war and found pain like a symphony?

you learned your answer when you met luke castellan, your own tragic star who would follow you when the blood of the gods stopped flowing through your veins and your existence came to its calamitous end.

you had spent most of your life curiously confused as if there was something missing that made you feel broken; a piece of the puzzle that made drizzles seem like hurricanes and everything seem like an unsolvable mystery, constantly itching at your skin as if you just needed to pull back the layers and scratch.

and then, one day it stopped.

the buzzling in your head faded and you seem to finally just be.

luke castellan was the rain before the storm, the pain before the raw scream; every fatal, holy thing that meant absolution and destruction in the same manner. a price you were willing to pay if it meant loving him.

and you did–love him that is. every part of you ached with love for your golden boy who had weathered storms like they were his prison and had wanted like it was a fatal wound that might never heal.

you first met the golden castellan boy nearly a year after coming to camp where you were claimed to be a child of the night and stars, the goddess nyx; an absolution of divinity that you would be every dark, enchanting thing he would know. you were the only thing that would allow the hurt in him to finally cease its dance and just allow him to simply be.

while the blood of the gods flowed through your veins, the peace only night could bring was your cover. it was every paceless sleep spent at the docks praying to your mother for one more star to keep its dance, it was heaven and heartbreak in the same measure.

when both man and monster fell to slumber, it was the knowing that eventually everyone would cease their dance sooner or later.

people would watch you like you were a painting come to life as the moon basked you in waves of starlight and the forest came to life in your presence. when the night grew tired of its waiting and the stars lost their way, it was you coaxing them back to life to the restlessness all beings underwent.

you were a creature of presence and peaceful destruction, misfortune and desire–every loud, unsaintly thing the brown-eyed, dimpled boy had thought.

and he was your exact opposite: bold, bright and charming like the sun. it was as if hermes had threaded gold through his veins and ichor had poured forth to create whatever celestial thing luke was. a type of burn only the sun could bring when you went off to your death.

the night had settled upon the camp long ago and so nothing but the loudness of silence and pensive dreams continued its echo. except for the child of the night and her sun who seem to find balance between the bumbling and the glow of the soft moon.

luke grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers, clutching you tightly as if you’d disappear with the breeze and never return.

he guided you to the docks where the river reflected back the divinity of the night sky and lapped gentle waves against the shore. you sat side by side, silently basking in the quiet.

breaking the silence, he asked, “what’s wrong?”

what was wrong? you didn’t quiet know. there was just a sort of cloak of discomfort that had settled over you that you couldn’t seem to shake off.

“do you ever wonder what’ll happen next?”

you settled his hand in your lap and grabbed it like it was a lifeline, tethering your aching body back to the living when all you wanted was to fade. he only rubbed the back of your knuckle, soothing the skin and the bone-deep itch all at once.

you turn to gaze at him, and suddenly you were jealous of the moon and how it shined so beautifully on him like it was made for him to bask under.

he turns to look at you, “before no. now…every moment, i begin to think what makes us so different from humans that we suffer tragedy while they can live how they please and without the cruelty of the gods. I think about what will happen when i finally pass on from this life to wherever my soul may go.”

you don’t think you could handle leaving this world after him. it was a type of pain that would kill you inside out, you decided. you knew it.

there is vulnerability in him that speaks out, “and then i dream that none of that matters because someday you and i make it out of here. out of this place and away from gods and monsters.”

you only grab his other hand and the one you currently have trapped and place a kiss upon each of the palms, embedding all the affection you have for him in that moment. it is something so humanely lived that the world stops moving and the gods see a love for the ages.

he plucks you up from his side and merely places you in his lap, wrapping you tightly in arms like there is no war spreading and reaching it’s claws from the horizon toward the two of you.

you simply close your eyes, soaking in the boy who's holding you like you are a divine being.

“open your eyes and show me the stars, pretty girl.”

all he can think is the moon and stars, which you've fallen in love with so many times has nothing against you. and suddenly your staring the biggest star in the face, wondering if in another life you were the moon and he was the sun king.

but when he kisses you, you realize no. he is simply the star that will follow you when your bodies turn to ash, being picked up by the breeze. and there is only the secret that luke castellan would allow himself a thousand years of destruction if it meant following you where ever you go.

you two are simply a star and his love.

#luke castellan #some poetic shit here #im doing mind games with yall #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo series #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson show #annabeth chase #luke x reader #luke pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #percy jackson x reader #percabeth #sun and moon myth #greek mythology #percy jackson series

[elasticitymudflap]

you think your boy Simon is gonna come back for season 2 or is he all arced out?

LISTEN *GRIPS U* SORRY IM ALL CAPS IM JUST BEING VERY NORMAL RN

SEASON 1 WAS BASICALLY ABOUT GETTING HIM TO THE POINT WHERE HE WAS SIMPLY NO LONGER LOOKING FOR AN EXCUSE TO THROW HIS LIFE AWAY, AND RECOGNIZING/NOT ROMANTICIZING THE CONCEPT OF SACRIFICE IN HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH BETTY BECAUSE OF HOW DISPROPORTIONALLY SHE SACRIFICED HERSELF FOR HIM IN WAYS HE WASN'T COGNIZANT OF.

IMHO:

SEASON 1 BARELY TOUCHED UPON ADDRESSING OR WORKING THROUGH HIS ICE KING TRAUMA. THIS IS MY FIRST MAIN THING I NEED THEM TO TOUCH UPON.

IT CONCERNS ME THAT SIMON DIDN'T EVEN COMPLETELY CONNECT THE DOTS IN THAT ALL THE CRAP WORLDS THEY WENT TO WERE HINGING ON WHO HE IS AND THE IMPACT HIS LOVE AND SACRIFICE (OR THE LACK THEREOF) HAD ON THE WORLD (DID SORT OF FOR A MOMENT IN THE STAR BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH IMO)

HE'S OBVIOUSLY STILL PROCESSING HIS YEARS TAKING CARE OF MARCY IN THE APOCALYPSE???? THERE WAS NO FOLLOW-UP WITH HER PHONECALL EVEN IN THE FINAL MONTAGE???? WHAT HAPPENED IN OOO WHEN HE DISAPPEARED??? THESE TWO NEED TO FUCKING TALK FOR REAL

WHAT DOES SIMON'S LIFE LOOK LIKE WHEN HE'S NO LONGER AN EXHIBIT?? HOW THE HELL DID HE BECOME/CONSENT TO BECOMING AN EXHIBIT IN THE FIRST PLACE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK?? HOW DID HIS LIFE CHANGE SO DRASTICALLY (OR DID IT NOT) FROM OBSIDIAN??

THE MORAL OF "MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE GONE ON THAT TRIP TO AUSTRALIA INSTEAD / WHO KNOWS WHAT LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE" IS SO BAD FOR HIM TO END CONCLUSIVELY ON AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE SEEN BECAUSE THE WORLD STILL FUCKING ENDED??? MAYBE HE FOUND THE CROWN, MAYBE HE DIDN'T, BUT EITHER WAY FROM WHAT WE SAW IN THE ALT WORLDS IT WAS ALL GOING TO END IN TRAGEDY AND MAYBE THIS IS THE ONLY WORLD WHERE WE GET A BITTERSWEET END INSTEAD OF A HELL WORLD THANKS TO THEIR DESICIONS??? IDK!!!!!! I'D LIKE TO EXPLORE THAT CONCEPT I THINK

THE UNIVERSE IS OUT OF HIS NOODLE, BUT DOES SIMON'S HEAD-PORTAL STILL WORK?? CAN HE CONNECT TO FIONNA WORLD IF HE'S IN HIGHLY CHARGED MAGICAL ENVIRONMENTS??? ACTUALLY, WHAT THE HELL ARE THE LONG TERM EFFECTS OF A HUMAN HAVING A UNIVERSE IN HIS DANG HEAD

HE'S CONNECTING WITH ASTRID NOW AND SEEMS TO BE ON MUCH BETTER TERMS, IS SHE GOING TO INSPIRE HIM TO START WRITING FIONNA AND CAKE STORIES AGAIN TO COPE IN A HEALTHY WAY WITH HIS PAST THIS TIME??

SIMON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH ICE THING???

SIMON'S HUMAN PAST IN GENERAL: WHY IS THIS DUDE THE WAY HE IS??? WHY DID HE BELIEVE THE THINGS HE DID, STUDY THEM, MAKE THEM THE THINGS HE HINGED HIS LIFE AND CAREER ON???

ON THAT NOTE: FLASHBACKS. MOTHER FUCKING FLASHBACKS. MORE OF HIS ADVENTURES WITH BETTY. WE ACTUALLY SEE SO LITTLE OF WHAT THEY WERE LIKE TOGETHER WHEN ACTUALLY HAPPY, HUMAN, AND IN A RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER, IN THEIR ELEMENT, AND NOT STRICKEN WITH LIFE-OR-DEATH DESICION MAKING EXCEPT FOR HIS DUMB ASS GETTING BRAINED BY A CHERRY JAR

HIS YEARNING TO FIND BETTY AND APOLOGIZE TO HER WAS "TECHNICALLY" HANDLED IN THE SHOW, BUT YOU CAN NOT TELL ME THIS DUDE DOESN'T HAVE LASTING ISSUES AND TRAUMA AROUND THAT. ABOUT THE FIRST TIME HE PUT ON THE CROWN AND BETTY DISAPPEARING FOREVER. ABOUT THE GUILT AND FEAR ABOUT HER BEING DEAD DURING THE WAR. ABOUT LIVING NINE FUCKING HUMAN LIFETIMES IN A HAZE WHERE ALL HE KNEW WAS HE HURT THE PERSON HE LOVED MOST AND HE JUST NEEDED TO FIND HER. IT BECAME AN INTEGRAL PART OF ICE KING'S CHARACTER, HIS MOST DEFINING TRAIT STRIPPED TO THE STUDS. HE HELD ONTO THAT LAST PIECE OF SIMON PETRIKOV SOME HOW UNTIL SO MUCH TIME HAD PASSED HIS ONLY HOPE TO EVER FIND HER AGAIN WAS TO USE TIME TRAVEL. I'D LIKE SOME MORE OF THAT, IF YOU PLEASE.

HOW IS HE ACTUALLY COPING POST-SEASON 1? WHAT ARE HIS THOUGHTS ON ALL THE WORLDS THEY VISITED, THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HIM, THE IMPLICATIONS, HIS INTERPRETATIONS? HE MAY BE IN THERAPY BUT HE'S STILL DRINKING.

ANYWAY

[sinligh]

A siren, a female being made of liquid stars and all the unnecessary wars. A beauty that is overpowered by rejection an overdose of a vitamin…

Well, I’m begged for redemption only i lure to self destruction.

I sing about broken promises that lasts a lifetime and fears that grow as you do... grow viscously, and as big as the void an emotionally absent parent can leave behind in you.

I’m one year closer to my mid twenties It took me a life time to realize It’s not love that I’ve been starved from

It’s the comfort of feeling seen, without dressing myself up with all the glamorous words that I weighed myself down with since i was a child

forced to communicate; only to please. Now I sing, and it’s out of tune but I seduce and I ruin.

I was loved growing up, i felt so even when no one ever gave me a definition to what love really means.

Maybe they didn’t even know it was missing.

I felt indestructible so I kept stripping my love from misconceptions; only to be left with suffering

Now I know better. It’s either leaving or being left and both in a way are synonyms of love.

the residual of that love is almost nonexistent among the memories that resemble a never ending internal bleeding.

That being said, tragedies stands out more and i use them like bookmarks to my memories.

So i love; and i leave.

I cut into myself with my own teeth dissecting the pieces with my tongue knowing very well how much it will hurt me to taste something that i don’t recognize…

I spend most of my hours dwelling on all the parts of me that make me a duplication of my mother

hypocritically i pack them in the carry on bag that’s always open on my bedroom floor

So ready to leave; just like my father. he emptied more of me in his bags every weekend for business trips

Carving unintentional hollows and leaving them for my mother to fill.

I thought he was the one sacrificing himself, until I noticed that alot of my missing pieces are still under his bed.

Mama doesn’t like it when I point out where my father went wrong she loves him too much, and i .. i reflect that love; by leaving

I know they did their best molding me into a human that knows how to survive, but that’s all I know now.

I don’t understand affection, nor how to accept it in my body.

Not even when I crave it; i suspect it’s because I’m too full of myself and if I feel this way… why would I expect anyone to carve themselves out to fit me in ?

Anyway, I don’t know how to ask women for acceptance and men can’t stand me cause I don’t flatter them

Love sounds like a curse to me.

What if I loved for all the wrong reasons?

my body understands the mechanisms to create another life from love, but i don’t.

I fear that the taste of motherhood will resemble that of a defense mechanism.

•••

•Quotes: Alexander Pushkin/George Eliot/ Leo Tolstoy/ Chris Cleave/Clarice Lispector/ Anne Carson/ Kiki Nicole/ Richard Siken/ Lidia Yuknavitch/ Sylvia Plath/ Franz Kafka

•Original context: Sinligh

•Art reference:

1. A young beauty reclining on a bed By Enjolras Delphin. 2. Details of John William Godward's: Eurypyle (1921) 3. Details of John William Godward's: Eurypyle(1921) 4. Painting by Roberto Ferri (details). 5. The Table (1971-80) Antonio Lopez Garcia. 6. Painting by Alex Venezia. 7. Narzissin by Josef Fischnaller. 8. Painting by Valeria Duca. 9. Painting by Ricky Mujica.

#sinligh poem #on childhood #on female rage #quotes #alexander pushkin #george eliot #leo tolstoy #chris cleave #clarice lispector #anne carson #Kiki Nicole #richard siken #lidia yuknavitch #sylvia plath #franz kafka #web weaving #word weaving #blotched words #compilation #art compilation #art parallels #literature #poetry #parallels #girlhood #motherhood #feminsm #feminine rage #feminist #fuck the patriarchy

[stickthisbig]

I have no idea what this is but I decided to write down my grand theory of Star Wars and how authorship affects the ways in which stories are good and bad? Come for media critique, stay for the analogy at the very end about how Star Wars is like college, also there's gifs

The original trilogy is a series of derivative works. That's not a pejorative, but a description of their content and structure; they are constructions that use existing pieces to tell a new story. They are samurai movies, they are meditations on Joseph Campbell. They are the work of a film nerd trying to create a story that is Everything. There's nothing novel about the storytelling of the original trilogy; it was just particularly well executed, because they were made with love by a craftsman, surrounded by a team who kept him from giving in to the worst of his narrative excesses (most notably but not limited to Marcia Lucas).

There's a lot of No Reason in the original trilogy. Why's Darth Vader so strong in the Force? No reason. It doesn't have time to delicately explain everything, so it relies on the audience's understanding of the shape of the story to fill in the gaps. It's the time in the story for someone to fall in love, so a romance plotline it shall be. The author is trying to do something, and he successfully does it.

The prequel trilogy represents an older creator for whom derivative works were not enough, who had been creatively stifled by the very thing he created. (I strongly recommend Patrick H Willems's series about Frances Ford Coppola if you want a really interesting take on George Lucas and the tragedy of his career.) Extremely importantly, they represent a creator with almost unlimited cash and no one to tell him to tone it down.

Everything that is bad about the prequel trilogy is because they were made with a vision by a creator who was trying to do something. George Lucas has six hours and fifty-eight minutes of material prepared about diplomacy, representative democracy, and how all unchecked power is always all bad and by god we are all gonna sit here until he finishes it. The writing is so clunky because it is not there to build character or relationships; it is there to convey information. The sequences with the Gungans are such a mess because they're the injection of (very inadvisable) comic relief into a story that is not supposed to have any relief at all.

One of the worst sins of the prequel trilogy is the rejection of No Reason. It continually poses questions that do not need answers and then takes pains to answer them. Why's Darth Vader so strong in the Force? His mother conceived him as a virgin birth because of the Force, by way of midichlorians, which as we all know are the powerhouse of the cell. It is such a deeply unsatisfying answer, but George Lucas seems incredibly sincere about the fact that this is important. He is trying to position his derivative work within a new fandom context that conceives of his work as wholly original, and the wild thing is, I think George Lucas always thought all of this and just wasn't allowed to put it in. Improbably, the problem is not that he hasn't thought enough about his own lore, as a common charge goes; he appears to have thought about it way too much.

I have to confess to not being a prequel trilogy fan, but probably the single biggest thing to come out of it is Obi-Wan. Ewan McGregor almost instantly became the canonical version of the character. It's because the same thing that made it bad also made it good. It's a story that is trying to do something, and that is opening wide an almost Stendhal-syndrome-esque array of locations and people and stories. Fuck yes I want to hear everything about the person Alec Guinness used to be when he was young and badass, tell me everything about the weird desert guy. Of course I wanna go to Space Italy and see what the galaxy was like before it got dicked up. Sinister rise to power of Darth Vader's master? Check. Seeing the evil enemy built as a series of actions is the shit prequels are made for.

When the prequel trilogy is boring, it's because the pacing is fucking awful, especially in Revenge of the Sith. The dizzying array of new stuff is never boring, and you can all fight me on Kamino being one of the best planets in the whole series. When it's good to be in George Lucas's mind palace, it's extremely good. For better or worse, he did it. He gave his almost seven hour lecture, he said what he had to say, and he left.

And then we move forwards in time, into an era of Star Wars as a strategy rather than a story.

(I didn't see Solo, so it's not gonna be in here. Neither are any of the TV shows or the EU, because I have other shit to do with my life.)

The Force Awakens was not the first Star Wars film that was made by someone else; the authorship of The Empire Strikes Back is complicated- George Lucas kind of managed to ghostwrite his own movie?- but he definitely didn't direct it. Empire was very much still a Lucas production in which he was intimately involved.

The Force Awakens has a point, but it ultimately doesn't do anything.

It resets everything back to the start: an evil empire represented by British people in suits come to power; three heroes arise; a mentor who's incredibly important apparently despite only knowing the heroes for five minutes is murdered by a cloaked Force user; something is blown up. It is meant to stoke the fires of nostalgia, and it provides nothing substantive in terms of plot. In fact, it represents a retrograde movement. It is a very fun watch and a movie with absolutely nothing to say, at least nothing that wasn't written into the series thirty years beforehand.

It's not a surprise that, since it's just meant to get people hype and then serve them what they already know, the best thing it provided were its new characters. I was so stoked to see a Black person in a Star Wars movie; we got three new main characters and not a white man among them?? But let's fuckin' table that shit, because we all know what's coming.

[I was gonna put in a Kylo Ren gif but he looked like such a dipshit in all of them, you're welcome]

Actually I lied, I forgot that what came next was Rogue One. The purpose of the film is to make a war movie about Star Wars and like many/most war films, what the movie is trying to do is meditate on the duality created by the futility of war and the value of sacrifice, it fills in a blank in canon but is really a tone piece meant to make you have feelings and reflect, I watched it once and it was so touching and horrible that I've never been able to watch it again, 10/10 no notes

And then we have The Last Jedi, which is weird.

The Last Jedi represents a step back to a craftsman at the helm, and the exact same shit happened again.

It shouldn't have, because it happened again in a completely different way! The Last Jedi is a singular vision with one creative direction, and that is the cause of everything that is bad and everything that is good about it, but Rian Johnson wanted to do something radically different than George Lucas. He's not interested in giving you his Star Wars lecture; he's interested in breaking Star Wars open, thrusting it bodily in a new direction. The Last Jedi represents at least as much movement as The Empire Strikes Back.

So it's not like a shock that the movie was wildly divisive, and lists of the best and worst things are the same items shuffled around. I honestly think Admiral Holdo's death is the finest moment in the entire trilogy, in terms of visuals and in terms of emotional impact. I fuckin' love that Luke was sitting on PTSD Island sulking, because it's some Luke shit to do. "Let the past die. Kill it if you have to" got me HYPE to see where this would go. I wanted to go on that ride. I've loved Star Wars since I was a tiny child, and I wanted to go on a journey into something that was entirely fresh.

Other people hated all of these things, and honestly in this case, I don't agree but I can't say they're wrong. Wanting Rose to be deleted from the series simply for using oxygen is racist. Wanting Snoke to have had more impact on the story is a difference of opinion. Either you were interested in this ride or you weren't, and you're not a bad person for not wanting that out of your Star Wars.

But on the other hand, it's not a very good movie.

The problems that make it not very good are the result of having one guy at the wheel. It's clumsily made. It feels like it ends three times before it actually does. The Canto Bight sequences are the work of someone who doesn't want them to be in there, and somebody who could play ball would have finessed the story to make them organic. Some of the CGI work represents a lapse in professional judgment. The Force dyad stuff does not make any sense at all, because it plays like somebody who couldn't really explain a thing they were doing but refuses to stop doing it.

It's so good when it's good. I just wish it had had another screenwriter who could have fixed what was bad.

I didn't care for Rise of Skywalker.

By the time it came out, I was experiencing a kind of numbness surrounding Star Wars; not literally, because I got my tattoos finished up just before it came out. I didn't have any idea what was about to happen. There were a lot of rumors circulating about the extent to which things had gotten rewritten, but it was pretty clear that whatever it was going to be was fully an Abrams/Disney thing.

And indeed, this time, they did make a movie that tried to do something. Extremely unfortunately, what the movie was trying to do was reinforce the status quo. It did this on every level- Holdo's sacrifice was made meaningless, the minuscule amount of queer content was palatably deletable, a woman of color's lines were given to a white man who was buddies with the director, the story reverted from "everyone's a Star Wars" to "there are only four people in the galaxy who matter", Poe's awesome storyline from the comics was thrust aside for a frankly kind of racist replacement, every bit of story development from TLJ was cast aside. There are no consequences for anything, because all that matters is moving to the end of the story; I cannot believe that absolute motherfucker made me watch Chewbacca die with my own eyeballs just to wave it away literally two minutes later in the clumsiest way imaginable. In the prequel trilogy, in Rogue One, in TLJ, everything everyone does matters so much. The minutest actions have huge consequences. In Rise of Skywalker, nothing matters even a little bit. Everybody just waits around for the main characters to get finished dicking around.

I cannot believe that it's a thing I would possibly think ever, but the only thing that got any work put into it was Kylo and Rey's relationship. Trust: I didn't enjoy watching it. There's a piece of Wishful Drinking where Carrie Fisher and Billie Lourd are trying to figure out if Billie is related to the guy she's dating, due to a bunch of Hollywood marriages. Even after the shitstupid reveal of Rey's parentage, it still really, really feels like the same vibe. But by the time they kissed, I was like, "Yeah, I mean I hate it but I see where it happened."

Star Wars is like the end of a semester in college. The prequel trilogy is the period where you're studying, trying to cram so much stuff into your brain that you're never gonna remember. The original trilogy is exams, exhilarating and rocky but ultimately liberating.

The sequel trilogy is the party you go to afterwards. At 10 PM you're at The Force Awakens, singing along at the top of your lungs to a song that's catchy and doesn't have to be good. At midnight you're at Rogue One, where you break down sobbing in the bathroom. The Last Jedi is 2 AM, weird and full of promise, as if anything could happen.

The Rise of Skywalker is 11 AM the next day, when you've already broken down the details at brunch and are now lying in bed unable to nap, with the horrible certainty that this is all there is, you will never be more than yourself, just a regular person who carries no special importance.

I didn't like it in real life; I sure didn't want it from Star Wars.

#star wars #nothing but star wars

[anxiety-banana]

star wars things that make me smaddy (sad/mad/happy):

(subtle ahsoka spoilers ahead)

-thinking about lil baby ahsoka falling asleep in plo's arms when she was just a tiny bean

-ezra knowing his parents before they died (unlike half of the chosen one tragedies out there)

-kanan not being around to raise jacen, but he still got to raise ezra and sabine

-ahsoka and sabine's complicated relationship and the fact that they keep coming back to each other because they know. they know they love each other and they know they work best together and they know that in the end they'll always return

-anakin's tiny little hands taking apart and putting back together every appliance obi-wan has

-force ghost anakin watching ahsoka live her life

-force ghost anakin being a proud dad to ahsoka when she takes sabine on as an apprentice and talking to mando and every little thing she does the same as she did when she was a teenager

-seeing little live action ahsoka mannerisms and phrases that just hit you as absolutely perfect ahsoka

-obi-wan getting to find comfort in someone like him; satine seeing this too-smart jedi and going "he's mine"

-watching hera interact with her son

-sabine's little loth cat

-sabine living in ezra's tower

-an ACTUAL TEENAGER PLAYING TEENAGE AHSOKA i'm proud of the casting director

-live action clone wars ahsoka and her baby face

-live action cw ahsoka's voice

-the bulky design of star wars mechanics because that's how it was imagined in the 70's that never changed even though modern technology has progressed

-a room full of force sensitive younglings making their toys float and the creche master having to stop them from "accidentally" throwing them at others

-jacen and chopper's obvious attachment like that droid took one look at the tiny child of mother and decided he had to become the best babysitter in the galaxy

-star wars as a franchise surviving and thriving and growing into such an enormous fanbase with people in production who actually love the characters and love what they're doing

-seventy year olds who watched a new hope when it came out being able to connect with their grandchildren over luke skywalker

-the brotherly affection between all the clones

-the thought of ahsoka learning some jawaese and anakin learning some togruti and them both learning mando'a and UGH they just love each other and they want to be apart of each others' cultures

-ahsoka always sparring with rex and winning for the first time and just absolutely losing her crap

-rex is just so proud

-ahsoka and cody bonding because they're the same rank and they don't feel like they have to perform for each other

-cody stepping back and letting rex become her ori'vod but he was prepared for her. he loves her and she doesn't know it. he always loved her, even if it was first just the thought of her.

-when they get to know each other ahsoka realizes cody is more reserved, but is just as crazy as her own legion and she just feels so at home with him

-ahsoka expresses her anger to anakin, because he understands, but then he reminds her that anger comes from a place of pain and hurt and sadness and she just absolutely loses it because she's so tired

i feel better now thank you for listening have a good day <3

#star wars #clone wars #star wars imagines #star wars headcanons #headcanons #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #kanan jarrus #ezra bridger #sabine wren #ahsoka spoilers #rex #cody #501st legion #star wars rebels

[just-prime]

8 : Oh so boring

The horrifying MCU-ification of the Star Wars universe is in horrific display as 8 episodes lead nowhere but setup.

Before I get to everything else, I do want to say, Ray Stevenson's passing is a true tragedy, and I appreciate the love and care he clearly put into his character. He was the only compelling one, and I shudder to think of how Disney will probably heartlessly recast.

Now, on to the episode

Well, all the leaks that said it was zombies were right, to the surprise of no one. This is the MCU now, we need something more than just a fuck ton of stormtroopers to blow through, we need an undead CGI army.

First off : The Jedi, The Witch, and The Warlord...FUCK OFF FILONI. YOU ARE NOT CUTE.

The show opens with the attempt to lull Legends fans back into a Sion reference for no reason. Also, Thrawn's super baggy pants seem unnecessary, especially since the design in Rebels always has him in perfectly tailored clothes. Nothing during his decade abroad that would have cause the pants to change that drastically, so it just feels like an unnecessary change that is not an attractive look :(

Morgan's power ups make no sense, and as soon as she got them she was going to die. Her eyes had me making a half dozen Supernatural jokes for obvious reasons. The whole "Blade of Talzin" thing is also very dumb given the fact that I assume Mother Talzin would have used every weapon in her arsenal to stop Grievous, and I would think a lightsaber proof sword is on that list.

The entire "Ezra makes himself a new lightsaber" scene filled me rage for a few reasons.

A) Ezra literally just turned down Sabine's offer of the lightsaber for the martial arts force powers which we never see him use again.

B) Huyang knowing about Caleb and Kanan being the same person feels kinda weird to me to be perfectly honest.

C) Ezra's new lightsaber is boring. Full stop. This is the kid who built a gun into his first one, it makes no sense that he'd make one that looks this mediocre.

D) All of Sabine's family dying horrible deaths on Mandalore has always struck me as a cop out. It's just lazy writing to isolate Sabine.

The Stakes

Spoiler alert : THERE ARE NONE

We knew this was going to end in a cliffhanger for a while now, which means none of the main cast was going to die. Morgan has always been a means to an end for Thrawn, not that her loyalty was ever explain...But none of our heroes were gonna bite it (regardless of how I hoped for Huyang to explode) so there were no stakes. Thrawn had to escape, despite the fact that he is weirdly shaken, so he does. Ezra had to get home, so he does. Sabine and Ahsoka are now trapped on some stupid Mortis world??? Okay, pause, I'm getting ahead of myself here...because before that...

Sabine has the Force now

My deepest condolences to anyone who is finding this out from me, but Sabine is offically confirmed and shown to be Force sensitive. Yes it is dumb. Yes it makes no sense. Yes this is something we all saw being foreshadowed from day one, unfortunately. Especially with the playing down of her Mandalorian-ness (she's constantly losing her helmet, her gun accuracy has utterly gone, she barely uses her gauntlets, etc etc) it was obvious that Filoni wanted to do with her, what he was too cowardly to do with Grogu.

Other miscellaneous shit

It turns out that Ahsoka's shuttle is Jedi era...which makes no fucking sense.

The nightsisters being totally on board with the Empire feels like their ability to tell what's going on in the main universe might be a bit sketchy do to the fact that they missed that the guy in charge of the Empire is the one who ordered Dathomir razzed.

100% of the problems that the gang run into would have been solved if Sabine had a fucking jetpack

They pull the "Thrawn knew Anakin" card out of nowhere in the dumbest possible way, which really just goes to show how much FIloni hates the new canon Thrawn books.

Chopper recognizes Ezra (which was rather cute) before Hera does, because he decides to show up on a New Republic cruiser in full Thrawn stormtrooper garb. Also we don't even get a hug between Hera and Ezra.

Shin (because she exists, remember?) who is also stranded now, goes and appears to be taking over the bandit camp we saw earlier. Have no idea where they are taking that...but honestly, good for Shin doing something for her, this seems like a selfcare move.

Now, the ending...Fucking Mortis

So, the final shot we get of Baylan, he is standing on a giant statue of The Father (there is a statue of The Son, and a destroyed statue of The Daughter) pointing out towards something on the horizon.

Back at the hermit crab people camp, Ahsoka and Sabine (and fucking Anakin's ghost, because that's right people, instead of hanging out with his son, Anakin has been just hovering over Ahsoka this whole time apparently) here this chirping, and it's a fucking creepy hyper realistic CGI Morai.

So yeah, that's clearly how all of the trapped characters are going to get off this planet...the World between Worlds. Now, this brings up a fuck ton more questions...Chief of all being how did Ezra not use this to escape years ago???

And I get that Mortis is not everybody's favorite Clone Wars arc. Which is fair. I don't hate it, but I never loved it, and Filoni dragging in the dumbest piece of Force lore that he created is infuriating. ESPECIALLY with this being so obviously aimed at those who've not watched Clone Wars or Rebels. I'm curious to see how much he immediately recons about it, given that it's been his go-to move since before even Mando s3...

I fear they're going to do something like "Bayan is The Father, Ahsoka is The Daughter, and Shin and Sabine have to fight over being The Son" or some stupid bullshit like that.

I'm glad this is the last Filoni property we're getting for a while, since I'm pretty sure he's not involved with Skeleton Crew at all writing-wise.

I am just so happy it's over!

In the meantime, if you are as annoyed at Filoni as I am, spite him by reading the new canon Thrawn books!!! They are really fantastic and give Thrawn a lot of facinating depth, along with having an incredible cast of side characters.

For those of you who are new or just finding me because of my Ahsoka rants, please stick around!!! I'm sure I will be having other annoyed Ahsoka thoughts in the weeks to come as I think back about the full series and about just everything that it's fucked up. Feel free to pop into my ask box if you're curious about my other Star Wars related opinions, I'm more than happy to answer, though know that for the majority of the recent shows, I do not look fondly.

But if you are looking for some vindication on not enjoying recent Star Wars things, then this is the blog for you!!!

#dave filoni critical #ahsoka critical #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #rambles #thrawn #nightsisters #ezra bridger #sabine wren #star wars #where the fuck is everbody? #anti filoni

[trickstarbrave]

hi im on my bullshit making up random aus again

this is steren! not his main story either. i might write up his main story in bits and pieces at some point. but this is an au bc i wanna see him happy with his parents.

so he's getting dropped in @mulberrycafe's vivi's world. sorry kid, azura will grant your wish but not how you're thinking

obligatory picture of steren and some background info from this post. and bonus baby picture.

this is just part 1. part 2 will be the gang dealing with an unconscious dunmer who fsr has a moon and star ring of his own and nerevar's sword. which will be uh. concerning.

(also i didnt proofread this :'D)

--

Falling to his knees, Steren coughed up a bit of blood, willing the last of his magicka into a healing spell to keep his organs stable. 

It hadn’t been an easy battle, both physically or emotionally. 

Dagoth Ur, after all, had at one point been his father. 

Fate was cruel like that. His first lifetime he spent his whole, although very short, life chasing after his father and his legacy. He felt alienated in House Indoril, and when rumors stirred he might be of an unsavory bloodline no one dared name, things became more complicated for him. When he was a young adult--when he should be just spreading his wings and leaving to the world--he had found documents that were to be burned from the sinful Sixth House. 

Documents that clearly defined that he was born from Voryn Dagoth. Born from a supposed fling he refused to name and died shortly after childbirth that the Lord of House Dagoth refused to let rot and instead welcomed as a legitimate son with open arms. It seemed to go along with his memories too--hazy, faint things from when he was such a young child. Memories of a golden skinned mer with long black hair that would hold him close, laughing with mirth and pride, calling him ‘little star’. 

Steren then went to Vivec for answers. They were all on the first council when the war broke out. It was impossible the living god didn’t know his father was Voryn Dagoth. He demanded answers--why was his father killed? Who was his mother? Was she really dead? Did she miss him? Did he have any other relatives--aunts and uncles in other houses who knew who he was? Why had his whole house been destroyed and they shoved him into Indoril in secret? 

But Vivec had refused to answer. 

When Steren was young, the warrior-poet was oddly close to him. He still lived in Mournhold, having not yet built his temple in the Ascadian Isles, and welcomed Steren almost like a mentor. Encouraged his magic and swordsmanship, and assured him there was a place for him in the world. But when Steren knew the truth, the god’s eyes had gotten cold and hard.

“What good would come if I told you everything?” Was Vivec’s answer. “House Dagoth fell because they were traitors. Voryn Dagoth had betrayed our people and fought against us in the war that destroyed parts of Vvardenfell. Even Red Mountain spewed fire in anger.” His words only fanned the flames of resentment more and more for the young dunmer in front of him. “If there were relatives who could take you, I would have gladly let them. And no matter how much I tell you of your birth, of that accursed house, it will not undo that tragedy. It will not bring your parents back.” 

It was the truth, in a way. A painful truth Steren had refused to accept. He grew up isolated and lonely, wanting nothing more than to belong. Wanting nothing more than to know his history. Something to call his own. A relic from his parents. A memory to cling to. Proof that, at some point, in some way, he was loved like he always craved. 

And Steren chased answers until he died tragically, killed in a landslide as he tried and failed to get into an old House Dagoth outpost to look for hints of the stronghold’s location. He had barely gotten married and had a son himself, who no doubt had to grow up without him. 

And in Steren’s second life that tragedy never really ended. 

He was orphaned in Cyrodiil, not even knowing who his parents were, kicked out once he was the age of majority for a mer. And with little life skills, he had resorted to taking whatever work he could. He hadn’t intended to get mixed up in anything illegal--that would be stupid. But the imperial guards didn’t much care about his ignorance when they rounded up everyone involved in the smuggling operation. Steren pled his innocence: he thought it was just unloading cargo off a ship. How was he supposed to know it was smuggled goods? But the law didn’t care much about it at the time. He was to serve his sentence of five years since he had no money to pay a fine. 

Only to, after one year, be shipped off to Morrowind, unknowing what events would unfold. 

Another cough, and a bit more blood spilled onto the volcanic rock. He felt so warm here. The lava below was making him sweat like when he had corpus fever, but he didn’t have the strength to stand up and leave. 

“Steren,” Nerevar’s voice spoke to him, kneeling beside him and trying in vain to wipe his brow. It wasn’t entirely unappreciated; while Nerevar couldn’t really touch him, the spectral presence gave a faint, cool sensation on his sweaty skin. “It’ll be alright--” Nerevar was always quick to reassure and help him. “Do you have a potion or two?”

At the very least, in this lifetime he found the answers he sought--his other parent had been none other that Nerevar. Steren had been born of a fling--a quiet, drunken affair neither of the two had expected anything else from. Nerevar had told him as such, but that they both loved Steren very dearly regardless. That Nerevar had loved Voryn, even if he couldn’t say so openly. The hortator had run off after discovering the pregnancy, ignorant to what the dwemer were getting up to, to have Steren in secret under the excuse of going on a pilgrimage to Azura, and handed Steren off to Voryn to raise. 

And after his death Nerevar couldn’t bear leaving his child alone. Reincarnation and prophecy be damned; his son was alone in the world. Nerevar had wanted Voryn to raise him so he was always looked after and loved by at least one of his fathers, and now with Voryn dead Nerevar would take up that role. Yet, he was powerless to speak to Steren--to answer his questions and protect him like he always wanted. And with that regret he continued to watch over Steren’s child. Then Steren’s child’s child. All the way until Steren was reborn to a dying mother fleeing persecution in the Illiac Bay. 

Steren had a feeling his dad was going to have to see him die all over again, once again helpless to stop it. The Moon-and-Star ring let him speak with and see Nerevar, but there was only so much a ghost could do.

“I used the last of them…” Steren admitted. He had just enough to barely survive the fight, gulping them down while he dodged attack after attack. 

“Recall amulet?” Nerevar replied, and Steren tried to get the energy to dig through his pack. If he could pull out an amulet or scroll he could use that to get into town--limp his way to a healer or general goods seller for a few potions to stabilize himself.

But then there was a spectral blue light that didn’t match the golden glow of Nerevar, and a woman’s voice spoke to him. 

“Well done.”  She was smiling affectionately, but Steren kind of wanted to curse her out. “With this, Morrowind has been saved. And Nerevar’s soul might rest.”

“Azura--” Nerevar scowled in response. 

“It has been over three millennia, hortator.” Azura’s smooth reply came. “Are you not tired of this tragedy?”

“My son still needs me--”

“Your power wanes even now, and you know this.”  Azura’s reply came. “A soul should not be as active as yours is, haunting the living. You do not rest in the home of your ancestors. You do not rest even in Moonshadow.” Steren’s eyes widened. “Through force of will you have continued on, but I know internally you weep for the sharmat’s death.” Nerevar looked away now, still scowling. “Your soul cannot survive much longer without a rest. You will cease to be.” 

Steren didn’t want to say goodbye either. Tears were running down his face at the news, but he nodded his head. 

“Go.” Steren forced a smile. 

“Steren--”

“I don’t want to be responsible for the death of both of my fathers.” He had admitted. “If you leave now, it won’t be goodbye forever, right?” 

The look Nerevar gave him was indescribably painful. 

“I’ll see you again one day, right?” Nerevar wrapped his arms around him, trying in vain to hold him tight. “And I’ll give you a real hug then, Dad.” He wanted to hold Nerevar back in return, but he had long since learned he couldn’t. Only in his dreams could he. But the cool embrace was oddly soothing. 

“Of course.” Nerevar shook with sobs himself. “I’ll be waiting for you, little star. With open arms.” 

With that, the golden light faded, as Nerevar pressed his hand to his cheek, smiling at him the best he could through his own ghostly tears. 

And then it was just Steren and Azura in the chamber now. 

“You have done well, righting the wrongs of the past.” Azura smiled again. “You are truly a precious child to undertake this monumental task. And to you I am eternally grateful.” She should be, honestly. Nerevar couldn’t be reborn to do it, so here he was answering for the sins of his fathers, correcting their wrongs and setting everything back on course. He got the divine disease, went through hell and back, and had to kill one of his fathers with his own hands and blasphemous tools. 

“I can grant you whatever wish you desire.” Azura’s presence was even warmer as she came close, though given the heat of the heart chamber he wished it wasn’t; he missed the cool, spectral touch of his father already. Yet, despite the pain clouding his senses, he tried to think. A daedric prince offering a favor was a big deal. Many would wish for pleasures beyond their wildest dreams, or fame and future. His whole family line had been cursed with rotten luck, and he could finally make something of himself…

Yet, none of that had any appeal. To be honest, before being shipped off to Morrowind he had no idea what to do with his life. Given he hadn’t even reached his 100th year and was still barely an adult by dunmer standards, he thought he would have some time to figure it out. And now that he saw his past life and finally learned all he wanted to and more…

Well. He didn’t know what he wanted from life. How was he supposed to go on alone, even with wealth and fame? All he would be thinking about is, in the afterlife his fathers might be waiting for him. 

“...I just want my parents back.” Steren admitted after a few moments of silence.

“You know I cannot bring back the dead.” Azura frowned. 

“I know.” Steren replied. “Instead I’d rather… Just be with them.” It was unspoken what he was asking for, but he thought he implied it well enough:

He was asking for Azura to finally let him rest too. To put him out of his misery. He had done his part, and the kindest thing she could do for him is to finally let him rest peacefully in the presence of his parents. He already made peace with his death on the long trek up Red Mountain, though he never told Nerevar that fact. 

After a moment of silence, Azura closed her eyes. “I see.” She approached even closer. “I can reunite you with them then, if that is what you wish.”

“It is.” Steren was certain. Even if she didn’t take his life here, he didn’t expect to live much longer with the injuries he sustained anyways. 

“Are you truly prepared to leave this all behind?” She asked again. “There will be no going back.”

“Positive…” Nerevar would lecture him, cursing him to the deadlands and back, but Steren was so very, very tired. He would take the lecture, comfortably in his father’s arms once again, before finally having a nice, long rest. 

“Then that shall be my gift to you.” 

White was the next thing he could see. All encompassing, painful white, as he quickly went from feeling far too hot to feeling frigid. 

And then he was falling. And falling fast. Seren scrambled, activating his slowfall ring, his heart accelerating and lungs still burning. Still, the enchantment could only cushion his fall and try as he might to flail around in the air, to get to dry land he could see, he ended up falling into the water. 

“Fuck!” Steren swore. The cold felt like knives digging into his skin, and before he knew it he felt like he was gasping for air, suffocating despite his head being above water, as he continued to flail towards the beach. He climbed himself out of the frigid waves eventually, shivering, now soaking wet. 

Azura had promised him he’d get to see his parents, but he never expected Moonshadow or the ancestral realm to be… Cold and snowy. There wasn’t a whole lot of snow in Mournhold after all. Yet here he was, now soaking wet and freezing, snow on the hills he could see. 

If he was dead, did it matter if he was cold? That was a question he had. It sure felt like a pressing issue though, so he continued to swear and curse, trying to think. How should he keep warm? He wasn’t used to the cold growing up somewhere subtropical and then being shipped to Vvardenfell where the volcano kept the climate oddly warm compared to the neighboring country of Skyrim. 

So he pressed on. Maybe Nerevar wanted to retreat to a colder area of Moonshadow. All Steren needed to do was find a place to warm up and find him. 

That was easier said than done though. 

He had underestimated the problems with wet clothing. His robe froze, forcing him to discard it, along with a chunk of his armor still stuck to it. He pulled out a cloak, trying to keep warm, but the wind seemed to seep through the fabric to the wet silk under it and still left him shivering. He wandered and wandered, his hands going numb and his head aching like he had a terrible migraine. 

And then he started feeling oddly feverish, like he did back in the heart chamber. His clothes felt like they were wet from sweat, trapping the heat against him until it was burning. He would have stripped down more, except he was afraid if he did he would stop moving. He had to keep moving forward. One step after the other. His dad was here, and he didn’t want to stop.

Faintly, he heard people talking. His ears perked up as he blinked. His vision seemed blurry and blown out, stinging from the harsh glare of sunlight on pure white. Yet, over a small hill, he could make out two familiar faces:

A golden skinned chimer in House Indoril armor, white hair, and blue eyes. A dunmer with long, black hair and red eyes, a third eye on his forehead. He knew their voices too--he couldn’t possibly be mistaken. There were other people there but Steren didn’t pay them much mind; his fathers being here, together, was much more important.

“Dad!” Steren called out, his voice hoarse, before coughing again. Sucking in the air to yell felt like needles were pricking his already injured lungs inside and out, but he was so close--! Just a bit further. He willed his numb legs to push him forward through the heavy snow. 

Nerevar gave him a confused look, before Steren wrapped his arms around him. 

“Woah--” Nerevar stumbled slightly as Steren threw all of his weight onto Nerevar. “Oh gods, he’s freezing!” 

“His hair is frozen--” Voryn said, confused and equally concerned for the strange dunmer who seemed delirious from the cold. Yet, Steren could barely even understand the words coming out of their mouths. All he could do was cling to Nerevar, relishing in the fact his dad felt solid and warm under his touch rather than ephemeral and cold. 

“Here,” Nerevar unclasped his cloak, wrapping it around his shoulders. “C’mere, let’s get you someplace to warm up, alright?”

#steren #nerevarine #nerevoryn #nerevar #voryn dagoth #my writing #yknow how it is #can you use ephemeral like that. idk

[sinisterexaggerator]

Headcanon...?

Spoilers for a fic I will write eventually?

Do not read if you do not like made-up, author-indulgent backstories for characters who exist in the GFFA. This one is almost hard to post because it's kind of personal. Like, a story so plot driven that I am nervous people will hate my interpretation and my ships. Oh well, I guess, it's happening.

A discussion in the Duros hoes chat, and then between me and @allsystemsblue, got me thinking about what is Cad Bane's real name? It sure as hell ain't Cad Bane. A lot of the fandom seems to agree on that. "Cad" and "bane" are both words in the dictionary that can be defined.

Cad: a man who behaves dishonorably, especially toward a woman. / scoundrel / rogue / rascal.

Bane: a cause of great distress or annoyance. / scourge / ruin / death.

We shall come back to this.

I have a scene mapped out for Stars Above in which I want Cad to run into his sister. I have a plan for his backstory that does not include this particular fanfic, but another, a series I am working on that will be entitled "Annuals of an Outlaw," and is essentially a collection of works I have outlined that will contain my version of Cad Bane's "story" from his beginnings on Duro in the Descent Ghetto, to after the Clone Wars and beyond.

Yes, it will have smut. And angst. Lots and lots of angst. Many character will appear, including Jango, Hondo, Aurra, Bossk, Embo, Zam, Dengar, Todo 360, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and even Boba at some point. Oh, and let us not forget Shriv Suurgav. :)

Yes, Shriv.

You cannot stop me. Don't even try. This is my magnum opus, and by God it will make sense narratively. Just you wait. Or don't. I don't care. I am still going to write this thing if it's the last thing I ever do.

First of all, I enjoy playing around with Star Wars name generators. That is how I came up with the name of my OC, Zulara. I started sifting through them, piecing last names together with other first names, and voilà, a new name appeared to me that caught my attention.

Originally, I was looking for Durese words that maybe meant something in relation to his occupation or personality, but none of them called out. It appears others had that same idea in the past, so it makes sense to go with something new.

Anyway, my name for Cad Bane is Lumoon Troks.

Here are the outpouring of thoughts I had on the matter before I could stop myself. I came up with this over the last hour or two, and I am digging it so far. Who knows, maybe I will change my mind. It's helping me to fill in a lot of gaps, anyway, that I had in the plot, and I am happy about that.

So, I am giving Bane siblings. Two much older sisters, two brothers who are 1-2 years apart, and a younger sister who is four or five at the time Lumoon finally leaves home.

His siblings call him Lu, or Moon for short. When they want to be annoying, they call him Moody Moon, or "Lemon" because of his sour outlook ( lemons are "canon" in SW, I checked).

To sum things up briefly, Bane's mother was a kindhearted woman and his father was a gruff workaholic. They both were employed in the factories and rarely had time to spend with their family, but had too many mouths to feed.

Cad gets into trouble quite often. He runs wild in the streets from a young age. Maybe he hooks up with the wrong crowd. Nothing too menacing; some petty theft, vandalism, etc, etc.

His father's angry about it. He refuses to take on work in the factories with him. He wants more for himself. He's not about that grind day in, day out life. Things get so toxic between them that he leaves to make his own way, stops coming home, worries his mother sick, and his little sister to boot.

So much so, his little sister ( talking maybe preschool / kindergartener age ) decides she has to "bring Moon home" and takes it upon herself to find him. She loves her big brother and sorely misses him.

This does not end well. At all. The worst possible scenario unfolds. The first of many tragedies in Cad Bane's life. It deeply affects him. He tries to go to his mother; she isn't the same Duros any longer. She coldshoulders him, ignores him, and she suffers from a broken heart.

Cad blames himself. "She went out to find you and never came home." This time, he really does leave and never returns. I am sure there is a final fight between him and his father that maybe seals the deal. He takes up random jobs, anything that pays, from sex work, to being hired muscle, to thieving, to murder, you name it, as long as the pay is good and it keeps his mind off his own problems.

He learns skills along the way, and he also learns from his mistakes. Things start being a little too easy. He's tired of being bossed around. He wants to be his own boss. So, that's exactly what he becomes.

He decides to try his hand at bounty hunting. He begins to make a name for himself, except, he hasn't. He needs a new one, something intimidating, striking, and rememberable. Plus, he doesn't want his birthname floating around; that makes him vulnerable, as well as the rest of his surviving kin.

Bane's mother, in the early days of his youth, used to scold him for misbehaving. She called him the equivalent of a cad in Durese, and it translated that way from basic, something along the lines of "Lumoon! Quit being such a cad, you naughty boy!"

It means something to him. He feels it embodies what he has become. It is also a tribute to his mother as well as a punishment; something he has to live with and that he brought upon himself.

The next thing you know, one of his many enemies makes a snarky comment, saying to him, "you are the bane of my existence," or simply, "you are a bane!" From there, his new name takes shape in his mind. He thinks if you put two and two together, it sounds kind of nice. It sticks. He starts to introduce himself like that, when before he had only referred to himself as Cad.

Another misfortune befalls him, which I mentioned I wanted him to run into his sister. This would happen off-world somewhere, years later, and during the reign of the Galactic Empire. She would say something to the likes of: "Mom died. She never gave up on you. She waited for you to come home, everyday. I didn't have the heart to tell her I had seen your wanted posters."

It tears him apart for awhile. His second great tragedy. Never getting to reconcile with the Duros who raised him and whom he loved. He harbors this for the rest of his life.

Of course, running in the streets, he learns not to trust people. He's jaded. He gets fucked over a time or two, badly, and by people he thinks he can trust. He develops a shell; a way of looking at the world that allows him to keep his guard up for his own protection.

In that same vein, I believe Bane can love and that he can love hard given the right circumstances. One of the many reasons he's kept from saying it, is because every person he has ever cared about has either turned on him or dies. The galaxy is a harsh mistress. He's afraid of a repeat scenario; he doesn't let himself get close. He tells himself he's better off alone, doesn't need anybody; he prefers to run without a pack.

That is, until he meets Jango.

And, that, my friends, is a whole other story, but I want to add that Cad Bane has bad dreams. Nightmares, even. Visions. Terrible things happen, old memories replay, he is haunted by his past. The sister he couldn't save; the mother he thought had stopped loving him; the father he was never good enough to please.

Hondo compares himself to a sun, and Bane is the moon. This would fuck with him psychologically, and cause him to react unexpectantly should the nickname stick - one that is reminiscent of his childhood. It is Hondo Ohnaka in my story that saves Bane from himself after Fett meets his untimely end.

Jango, Hondo, and Shriv may call him moody from time-to-time, or grumpy, but that also does not sit well, either, considering his past.

Once Jango dies, and once he fails at training Boba, Cad is even more a wreck than before. In my story, he also does not get to reconcile with his old partner and mentor after their falling out. He drinks himself stupid in the presence of Boba to the point the boy gets fed-up and they have their duel.

Bane, in my mind, can't accept Boba as Fett's son; he is a clone; he could never accept the clone contract from the get go - it put a rift in their relationship. This adds more fuel to the "look out for yourself" fire that is his quote in the Book of Boba Fett.

Sorry this got so long-winded, but, I had to get that out as it came to me. Now, to actually write the story all these ideas are for!

#Star Wars #Cad Bane #Hondo Ohnaka #Shriv Suurgav #fictional backstories #headcanon #self-indulgent af

[merrysithmas]

seeing Mon Mothma slay as a senator makes me sad for the life Padme could have had if she didnt get involved in the most toxic and deluded relationship with a dude who married her because he was projecting grief about his mother's death (lol anakin we love you, but no).

and she married him of course because she was desperate for some freedom in her life which had been utterly political since age 14 - she never got to grow or experience life as a child. she never really got anything but making war decisions as a literal child. of course she was a multifacted tragic character and fascinating - i mean she stood for so much good & law & order but then totally ignored/stayed silent on the murder of an entire Tusken village to get what she wanted emotionally. that's some really cool writing, honestly.

but as per the tragedy genre they were terrible together and truly didn't seem to know one another at all. they were one another's psycho-emotional crutch - not one another's spouse, and of course it ended as it did. not saying they didn't care for one another, they did ("There's still good in him", "Is she safe? Is she alright?") but they were obviously unstable and their dynamic wasn't built on genuine understanding or even true romantic love, imo. it was based on their own unsatisfied inner needs and projecting it on one another. a really interesting story dynamic that makes for compelling viewing.

Padme's political legacy as the Queen of Naboo/Naboo Senator/founder of the Rebellion is THE most important part of her character, and hopefully if she is alluded to at all by Bail or Mon this is mentioned. the fact that she began to mistrust the Senate/her marriage etc is such an important part of her character. i would love love love this!

super sad stuff! thanks star wars lol

#andor #padme amidala #actually what i really want is a Young Queen show about padme and her handmaidens #he family in naboo #the separation from the gungans #clovis! and her other LI that she mentioned to anakin in the lake country of naboo #was his name Palo? #i forget! #im not anti anidala i actually like their dynamic as it functions in a Tragedy and i think it makes for a cool story but they werent matched #they werent right for each other at all imo and TCW did a good job at showing that i think #i like their scenes and their weird little thing haha and how it condemns them #prime Unhappily Ever After viewing #and ofc if you genuinely ship them by all means im not hating i support u

[whirlwindimagines]

I apologize but I thinking about my Star Wars men again. There might have been a point to this? But I just needed to get my feels out lol

It always hits me so hard how much of a tragedy Star Wars is especially the Skywalker legacy how love was its downfall but also its savior. How bright-eyed and excited Anakin was to be chosen to train as a Jedi only to be manipulated by the adults around him. People like to say that if Qui-gon Jin didn't die, and trained Anakin he wouldn't have turned to the dark side and I think thats false. Qui-gon had his own struggles with the dark side, and the only reason he vouched for Anakin was because of the chosen one prophecy I'm not saying Qui-gon is a bad guy but his actions weren't pure either. 

Obi-wan was not what Anakin needed, but he didn't know how to be. Obi-wan is a good Jedi, thats what he knows how to be he's strong and confident in the force and his abilities. But he could not be Anakins father, he was so young when Anakin became his padawan, barely a Knight himself and cast into this role because he promised his Master. The Jedi way made Anakin vulnerable and left an easy opening for Palpatine to come in and take advantage of him. He knew what Anakin wanted, and played his part well to get what he wanted. 

Anakin loved too much, and it was his eventual downfall to the dark side. Blinded by his love (lol) it also brings back to the point of Anakin never truly being free he was freed from slavery sure, but then right to the Jedi order which had shackles of its own, and then as Vader, Anakin has never been free. 

Then along comes Luke and oh Luke so good and pure. I hate and love in Star Wars media when they say how much Luke is like his father and completely forget about Padmé who was strong, kind and believed in her values and believed in Anakin. Padmé who was good. Who Luke is so much like, while he has his father's strengths he also has his mother's and I feel like that is something that isn't addressed enough. 

“I am a Jedi like my Father before me”

This. This line fucks me up, Luke chooses to believe in Anakin his father. He chooses Love, he believes in his friends to play their part and he believes in his own convictions. When he says this he throws his weapon away, because like a  true Jedi it's not the weapon that makes them a Jedi, it's their convections. Luke brings Anakin back to the light and truly frees him, and Vader dies as Anakin. Love saves Anakin, and in turn, it saves Luke from the emperor. Like I'm crying in the club. 

AND ANOTHER THING. It breaks my heart how loved Anakin is the people in his life love him so much! Luke belived in him! Padmé loved him till the end even after everything! Ahsoka mourned him and would avenge him. Obi-wan completely broken after everything, but still loved him because that was his brother after all. And its not shown in modern Star Wars, but Leia forgives Anakin not completely but she understands, in legends she names her youngest child after him, to bring light back to his name. 

#Luke my beloved #star wars #star wars headcanons #star wars rant #clone wars #luke skywalker #HOW TO GET ME TO CRY 101 STAR WARS #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #padme

[danman007]

Rebel Moon Review Round Up

Here are some insightful reviews for Zack Snyder's Rebel Moon Part One: A Child of Fire

For my fellow Snyder Fans I recommend these reviews because they are good critiques that engage with the work. I also recommend them to those that didn't like the film. Not to change your mind but to offer pieces of genuine criticism.

A SPACE OPERA GONE OPERATIC by Joshua Polanski

Excerpt:

Rebel Moon was originally conceived of as a Star Wars film but, freed from the burdens of canon and Disney’s top-down production management, the end result feels less like a derivation and more like a successor. I wouldn’t dare suggest it will have the same sort of cultural influence as Star Wars — that’s a fundamentally irreplicable phenomenon in the streaming age. Yet, when compared to the recent garbage from Disney (Marvel and Star Wars both), Snyder proves the most capable and artful custodian of the extravagant, quasi-religious space-opera. His longstanding technical mastery that evolved into mainstream formal iconoclasm with the extreme shallow focus with the 15mm Canon dream lens of Army of the Dead and the 4:3 aspect ratio for Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) is taken to new extremes with the creative freedom provided by Netflix. Snyder’s inviolable picture bids for a better Hollywood. If we’re lucky, it might even be a taste of what’s to come.

Rebel Moon Part One: A Child of Fire Review by Kilo Orange

Excerpt:

The village reminded me of the famous painting by Jean-François Millet, which shows two peasants saying a prayer over the soil. It would fit, for that painting is about the "Angelus", a prayer about the Virgin Mary being told she would conceive and bear the Messiah, and here we have the virginal Kora with her seeds, the fruit of her womb, after lifting out a barren rock. Of course, with Snyder's knowledge of art and artistic subversion, he'd know about that painting, and that Salvador Dali (another subversive Catholic) suggested it wasn't an Angelus prayer, but that the two peasants were actually praying over a dead child. And when the painting was X-rayed, they did indeed find a child's coffin had been painted over. Millet had turned grief into a prayer. 

That's what Zack Snyder does in Rebel Moon. 

A dead child. Snyder's grief has not abated over his daughter's suicide in 2017 and now it's loudly joined by the curse that will affect all survivors of a loved one’s suicide - guilt. This film is infused with guilt. All the heroes who we collect as the film goes on feel guilty about some tragedy in their past.

Rebels of the World Unite (and Take Over) by John Demetry

Excerpt:

Following an assassination of the Mother World’s King and his family that severed the galaxy’s royal bloodline, Kora hides on Veldt. That’s where the film opens. Snyder visualizes Kora’s idyll and the Mother World’s encroachment into it with sexual symbolism. A phallic spacecraft penetrates a yonic fold in space-time accompanied by Tom Holkenborg’s monolithic score (a sound-visual consummation worthy of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey). In Snyder’s eroticized odyssey, Kora fondles and smells the dirt while plowing a field. The night before planting the soil, the farming community pleases the gods with sexual couplings that ensure a strong sprout. Following that night’s pairing off, Sam girlishly teases Kora for her nocturnal pleasure noises—at the precise moment that the Mother World ship infiltrates the sky above Veldt. Seeds spill from Kora’s pouch—recalling Sean Connery’s phallic gun rising from the grain in John Boorman’s Zardoz. As expressed by Snyder’s highly sophisticated film language, Kora’s sexual dilemma—her vulnerability—sows danger that reaps action. 

Rebel Moon Part One: A Child of Fire Review by Phil Halz

Excerpt:

Rebel Moon, like Man Of Steel and BVS, is a powerful reckoning with the bleak, cruel elements which are always implicit in their respective genres, whether the hateful fanboy nerds want to acknowledge them or not. And the subversion of Star Wars with a Seven Samurai premise illustrates the ways in which Star Wars falls short of the humanistic greatness in Kurosawa's masterworks. To say nothing of the Disney entries, which suppress and deny the sadness at the core of The Empire Strikes Back. 

An Action Film with the Touch of a Poet by Armond White

Excerpt:

Kids who love sci-fi and video-game fantasy are easily impressed as part of the fun, but the genre has rarely produced filmmakers who are aesthetically distinguished. Snyder has that gift (his imagery unites ideas from Terrence Malick’s A Hidden Life with Walter Hill’s Geronimo: An American Legend — the lyrical, the hostile, plus the historical. And he achieves visual-kinetic excitement that George Lucas, Peter Jackson, and the Wachowskis should envy. With the exception of Chad Stahelski’s dazzling John Wick 4, nothing on screen this year has been so visually striking as Rebel Moon. The essence of movement and spectacle sets them apart — and the expressiveness of Kora’s flashbacks, conveying her emotional need and androgynous mystery (creating promise for Part II), surpasses the juvenile tomboy gestures of Daisy Ridley’s Rey in the Star Wars saga.

#Zack Snyder #Rebel Moon #A Child of Fire #Netflix #Sofia Boutella

[americanwerewolfontheinternet]

{Microfic May} 2. Resplendent

🍊Resplendent🍊

His parents are whispering conspiratorially at the far end of the dining table. Draco crosses the room, settling in at the empty chair to his father's right, and, ignoring the heaping trays of eggs and sausages, serves himself half a grapefruit, sticky and pink, while they mutter. They both greet him quickly, his mother smiling her adoration, his father gripping his arm jovially, and then they carry on, whispering in anxious, eager nonsense that only the two of them really understand. They are in the throes of concocting a great scheme, Draco knows, and will clue him in at some point; they always do these days, when it takes all hands on deck to get things done for the Malfoys and the Manor and the Money.

The war had driven his parents mad. Both of them, his Azkaban parolee of a father and his Black-born mother. What else is he supposed to think when things have changed so much? When they all sit at the same end of the ancient mahogany table for meals and his mother hugs him often and his father grips his shoulder and tells Draco how very proud he is?

Draco has always trusted his parents implicitly. Has always known they have always done what they thought was best. But now it's evident how much they rely on him to be steadfast and surefooted. They've long included him and conspired with him, but it wasn't until they sat him down on his 18th birthday and told him that they loved him, that he would bring the Malfoys into the future, that he realized he couldn't trust their judgment; the tricky parts of the schemes would just have to go to him from that moment on, Draco decided.

"What do you think, Draco?"

He blinks, turns his attention to his mother. "Sorry?"

His father unveils the front page of the Prophet like it's the Nimbus 2001 (pending creation - Blaise'd gotten a summer internship in Nimbus's development department and had shared covert sketches of its design and Salazar, Draco itches for it). 

Harry Potter- Harry bloody Potter- beams back at him, arm pitched over some poor sucker that looks about ready to be sick, and the headline howls, Potter’s Lost the Plot! and a sub-header, pressuring readers to turn to page eight for the extra editorial, The Tragedy of Child Stars: Skeeter Shares Heartbreak Over Potter’s Mental-Break.

Draco studies the cover briefly, returning to his fruit when he's satisfied he has no real insight. The war is over; what does Draco care about Harry bloody Potter?

"Draco," his father presses.

"What is Potter doing?" his mother insists.

Draco's eyebrows shoot up, creasing his forehead in a furrow. "How should I know?"

And Draco means it, but he doesn't; that had been his primary purpose in the war after all.

"Draco," Dolohov demands, "What's Potter doing in Piccadilly?"

Or, "Draco," Bellatrix whines, "What's Potter want with my sword?"

Or, most disturbingly, "Draco,” muses the Dark Lord, “Do you suppose he'd come for you?" He most certainly would not. Potter? They hardly know each other!

"He saved your life," his mother offers, as if that equates Draco has some sort of value. Potter would have saved anyone.

"You studied together for six years," his father argues, as if they'd shared houses and dorms, when they had barely even shared classes. Potter hated all the things Draco loved.

"I don't have any clue how Harry Potter's barmy brain works," sighs Draco, broken record that he is.

A silence settles in as his parents consider this. They take Draco’s opinions seriously now, after all. 

His father hums, places a hand on his wrist. "But you could find out."

Draco, in spite of himself, stiffens. He could find out. He does plan on returning to school, after all. It maybe wouldn't even be hard, if he says he's sorry (he doesn't think it matters if he is or not) and pretends to be a better person than he is (this also probably doesn't matter). Potter Gryffindors eat that sort of self-improvement thing up, don't they?

He looks at his mum, smiling at him, then at his father's hand, warm on his arm. He deflates, exhales through his nose. "I suppose I could," he says, and takes a bitter bite of his grapefruit.

🍊🍊

(all mistakes mine)

(632ish words)

(<< 1. Create.)

@microficmay

#microficmay2024 #prompt: resplendent

[that-fanperson-meg]

Who is TK? I wanna know the lore so far if thats ok? sorry

Don’t be sorry, I love talking about my little guy :]

the lore is extremely long so be warned lol:

TLDR: Sad Moth Boy is traumatized, gains the powers of god, gets adopted by the most powerful warrior in the galaxy and the king of a planet, and becomes an older brother to a lot of other Kirby OCs

TK’s (or Twilight Knight if you wanna be formal) original name was Lycia Racheia however from an early age they knew that his name wasn’t right for them and so he started going by Lycio and had dreams of becoming a Star Warrior like their idol Galacta Knight. However Lycio’s mother, Estelle, grew resentful of her ‘daughter’s’ dreams which led to her being both physically and emotionally abusive to Lycio.

Though fortunately out of the blue one day, Lycio’s father, Raymond, came back home for the first time in 15 years and Lycio decided that this was the perfect time to tell his father that they wanted to be called Lycio and wanted to be a knight, and surprisingly he was cool with this and ended up calling up his buddy who just so happened to be cool with teaching Lycio how to wield a sword and stuff and then Raymond left.

Time passed and Lycio’s mentor, Nicova Volans, basically became a better father than Raymond ever was, but oh no, Nightmare had awoken and was starting the war against the GSA back up again and so there was a huge demand for Star Warriors.

Lycio really wants to join and Nicova’s on board with this, but Estelle isn’t and when Lycio tries to tell her that they’re gonna be leaving to fight in the war she flips out and attacks him and gives them a scar. So Lycio gets the hell out of there but not before stealing what is essentially a magical makeup brush that can make illusions. They proceed to run to Nicova’s house where they use the makeup brush and makes him look more like how they want to look like (this is when he gets the purple and yellow eye lol) and before leaving for the Star Warriors Nicova gives Lycio a mask, sword, cape, and gloves as a parting gift.

A lot of things happen when Lycio joins the Star Warriors, but mainly; he’s finally given the name TK, they meet his best friend and roommate Dusk Knight (@/aesthetically-meme) and most importantly they meet Meta Knight who TK thinks is super cool and someone he can look up to.

However one day during a battle, Dusk shields TK from an attack from Dark Matter and gets pretty injured. Feeling overwhelmed with guilt and not knowing how Dusk’ll react, TK switches to another Star Ship along with a couple more Star Warriors (most notably Meta Knight)

Everything’s actually going ok for awhile, but then suddenly Nightmare attacks the Galactic Council (basically the space government) and all nearby Star Ships are sent to go help, though unfortunately, TK’s dad is on the Galactic Council and is apart of the list of victims.

So now they have that trauma to work through!

After that tragedy, the GSA decides to kick it into overdrive and now everyone’s looking for the star powers so they can wish on a Nova Star to know the location of the Star Rod so they can finally defeat Nightmare.

The Star Powers are gathered and the Star Warriors learn that the Star Rod is on a small planet called Planet Popstar which Meta Knight just so happens to be childhood friends with the king of Popstar.

Once again everything is actually going ok, but when TK and the rest of the battalion of Star Warriors he’s with arrive in Dreamland they’re visited in his dreams by none other than the grim reapers (Morpho Knight & Papillon/Papi from the light novel lol) where they’re told that the Star Warriors aren’t gonna live the next battle unless TK gives up his afterlife and is condemned to one of silence without any chance for reincarnation.

TK agrees without a second thought.

The next day, the Star Warriors arrive at the fountain of dreams and just as they remove the Star Rod from the fountain, Nightmare appears.

Everyone starts freaking out but they gotta fight, when suddenly, TK hears two voices in their head; Morpho and Papillon. They both give him a part of their power and TK essentially becomes a puppet for them and use TK to defeat Nightmare (this has the unintentional effect of turning TK from mostly heart matter to almost completely Soul Matter btw-)

So Nightmare’s finally dead thanks to TK, Meta Knight, and the rest of the GSA!

It doesn’t get better though.

Because right after this the GSA decides that Void-Astrals aren’t cool anymore and are actually dangerous and must be turned into the GSA before they can be possessed by the lingering NME monsters and forced to hurt people.

However Meta Knight’s having none of this and starts bringing all Void-Astrals in his forces back to their home planets, all except for TK who literally can’t go back to his home A) because of Estelle and B) they’re afraid that Nicova will hate him for what happened to their father.

So he comes to Planet Popstar!

Over time, TK becomes friends with the Meta-Knights and joins them!

TK also becomes close friends with Sailor Dee who pretty much asks Meta Knight if he’s gonna adopt TK because she sees him as an older sibling.

Meta Knight considers this and is on the fence about it, though after spending more time with them he decides that TK does need a parental figure and asks them if he wants to be adopted.

TK agrees. A lot more things happen but mainly; TK now has 10 siblings (Selene @/moon-mage, Fylass @/george228732, Dolly @/ilikesillythingswooo, Pleiades @/loaflovesdoodling, Dusk & Skipper Knight @/aesthetically-meme, Kirby, Sailor Dee, Bandana Waddle Dee, and Iris @/seaslug-enjoyer who all have lore that I definitely recommend you go look at!!!!) and joins the most chaotic family tree ever-

This is it if you’re wondering lol:

I have a bunch more writing, art, and lore explanations for all of my other OCs that I couldn’t go over here but if you’re interested i ask that you go check those out on the tags, #Twilight Knight Oc,#Nicova Volans, and #Estelle Racheia :]

Thanks for listening to my ramblings if you made it through this!

#thanks for the ask! #twilight knight oc #kirby oc #kirby original character #Nicova Volans #Estelle Racheia

[shrinkthisviolet]

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now? Of Obi-Wan?

Well I ofc first saw him in Episode 1, because my dad insisted that we watch the movies in numerical order. So...my first impression of him was that he was kinda charming and sassy 😂 which...I guess I'm not totally wrong there, because he definitely didn't lose his sass (*cue the "Hello There" scene from ROTS and also every scene in TCW where he teases Ventress and Dooku, among others*). I knew he'd be important later in the story, though I didn't know exactly how yet (I didn't know much about Star Wars, just the very basics). Still, I was on board.

Now, I find him an interesting character because of his nuance and inherent tragedy. He takes on this apprentice that was never meant to be his, after Trials that were nothing like he expected*, and it's challenging. Of course it is. His apprentice is a former slave, and Obi-Wan is at a loss, because they don't exactly have much experience with training former slaves. They have records, and he probably reads those cover to cover, but that's still just words on a page, and Anakin is so unique anyway. A beacon in the Force, so strongly loving his mother who's still left on Tatooine as a slave...Anakin is so used to getting attached because he has so little, while Obi-Wan is used to detaching and doing what's required of him. It's why they have a contentious relationship at times—loving, there's no doubt, but also contentious.

Ahsoka helps. I haven't finished Clone Wars, so I don't know the full details of everything, but from what I can tell, she's a great addition to the trio and they're at their strongest when they're all together ("we'll be fine as long as we stay together" oh Obi-Wan, how right you were). But then Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order after a messy trial, the details of which I ofc don't know yet (haven't gotten that far in TCW!).

Then the manipulations Palpatine has exercised for 13 years pay off when Anakin is 22-23—due to fear for his wife and fear to confide in any of the Jedi, he tries to save her life and instead falls to the Dark Side, betraying Obi-Wan and all the Jedi when he slaughters them (some of them escape into hiding, but not many). It must hit Obi-Wan especially hard, given that Anakin in essentially the closest thing to a child he's had up to this point, whom he'd come to see as a brother after Anakin's Knighting. It's a pain so deep...and we know from ROTS that Obi-Wan is horrified by the idea of killing him...and in the end, he can't do it. Arguably, he condemns Anakin/Vader to a worse fate...and Vader is born out of that pain, while Padmé dies giving birth to her twins (triplets, in my AU, but ofc twins in canon).

And then Obi-Wan loses hope, for 10 years, until a little Organa/Skywalker girl makes him smile—two, in my AU, and raising Lucy is yet another challenge for him because of how much like Anakin she is, and how he's really, really trying to raise her better, trying to be more open and communicative with her and not restrict her too much, but also wanting to keep her powers under wraps so that they won't be found. He doesn't want Vader to find her...especially not with Luke being so close. He can't bear to lose either of them, especially this girl he calls daughter. There's a reason the Lucy Kenobi angle is what finally got Lucy to stick as an OC—it adds so much depth to Obi-Wan to have to raise a child on Tatooine.

And then when he's training them, particuarly Luke, he says to be prepared to kill Vader if it comes down to that. His worldview is such that he sees no other option. You can almost imagine he's talking to himself, on Mustafar, telling himself to kill Vader before he can become more of a threat than he already has. Perhaps it's a regret he carries. Luke, of course, finds another way—he always does. I imagine Obi-Wan and Yoda are both proud of him for it. In that way, I think Obi-Wan is able to finally find peace.

I just really appreciate his nuance as a character, the "infinite sadness" he carries within him. He makes mistakes, but that's a human thing, and even his flaws make him compelling. No person is perfect...no character is either. But they don't need to be! He's the mentor character, twice over, and though he doesn't succeed the first time, he succeeds the second time. There's something so poignant in that, I think.

*I do believe he was ready for the Trials, no matter what some people say - he wouldn't have been allowed to take them otherwise. But to do them without Qui-Gon, and for the ceremony to happen so quickly that he can request to take on Anakin within a day or two...they were definitely rushed and probably disappointing to him tbh.

character ask game!

#character ask game #obi wan kenobi #star wars #he's just very layered and i love it

[adakechi]

kinda interested in valor, any more info?

Anon, this is a marriage proposal I hope you know that. If anyone ever asks about my Star Wars OC we are getting married and I am on the floor in tears.

You opened this can of worms:

Major spoilers for Jedi: Survivor, obviously!

CW: Implied major character death, drug & alcohol abuse.

Vaalor Kestis was born in 5 BBY, to Cal Kestis and the Nightsister Merrin on Tanalorr. Originally, it was thought that humans and zabrak were incapable of crossbreeding*, or at the least extremely unlikely.

(*I know in Legends that zabrak/human hybrids exist, but I'm a silly little Canon writer.)

When Merrin had discovered that she was pregnant, there was a lot of conflict over whether or not it was a good idea to carry the child to term. The obvious fact that they were currently fighting a war, also paired with the unknown of having hybrid child were the major points of contention between the crew of the Mantis. They had been rebuilding Tanalorr as a safe haven for refugees for several years now, and while they were stable enough, Cal and Merrin didn't know if it was a good time for them or their future child.

Kata Akuna, who had become a somewhat surrgogate child/sibling to the couple had been helping out with the Path at just 7, reminded them lightly of her own childhood and circumstances, that if they wanted a child, hardships would come no matter what time they had them. Eventually, Merrin and Cal decided to keep their child.

Vaalor, named after the galactic basic word valor, meaning courage, and the Dathomiran word v'aayr,* meaning soft steps, was raised in the refuge community of Tanalorr, mostly spending her time with Kata and the other children. She was close to her parents, although they were frequently busy. When she was older, they began bringing her aboard the Mantis to see the galaxy. Even though the universe was still ravaged by war, she found great pleasure in exploring and learning new things about the planets around her.

(*this is just me making up Dathomiran words.)

Due to her lineage, Vaalor was incredibly force sensitive, along with inheriting her father's force psychometry. Because of the amplified concentration of midichlorians in her blood, it made encounters with these echoes incredibly intense and overwhelming, causing her frequent distress.

Both her mother and father showed interest in teaching her both Nightsister magicks and Jedi force training, but even with her strength in the force, Vaalor never took particularly well to either paths, to her parents mild concern.

When Vaalor was 5, the news broke that the Empirical superweapon, the Death Star, had been destroyed by the Rebel Alliance. The refugees of Tanalorr celebrated, and Vaalor spent the night in jovial festivity with her friends and family.

As the war progressed, she began to see less and less of her family, and put less time into her training. She followed her father's interest in tinkering and scavenging, often making makeshift droids and models. Although she knew her parents admired her intelligence, she sensed that they wanted her to utilize her abilities in the force more, but didn't wish to push her.

At 7, a tragedy strikes, causing Kata, now 18, to leave the crew of the Mantis and the Path, seemingly cutting off all communication. Kata's leaving, paired with the devastating loss in their family, Vaalor begins to question her own purpose in the war.

4 ABY, the Death Star II is destroyed, marking the beginning of the end of the Empire. For years, Vaalor sinks into a depression, unsure of what to do with her life. At 17, she decides to leaves her mother and the rest of the crew, opting to figure out her place in the universe, in a similar fashion to her father before her.

For about a decade, she finds odd jobs in spaceship engineering and mechanical planning. Eventually, she finds a more permanent job in a Corellian scrapyard and trading depot, still estranged from her mother, only keeping in touch rarely through Greez, so she knows that she's still alive. In this time, Vaalor becomes more dependent on alcohol and the occasional narcotic to both distract her from her own thoughts and the intense visions of the past she encounters.

Ashamed of abandoning her family and her fractured connection to the force, Vaalor spends her time working and keeping herself occupied, battling with thoughts to visit her mother, or find her surrogate-sister.

Her weapon of choice is a modified handheld type H railgun, with the standard battery replaced with one of her father's kyber crystals. The other is still in his other lightsaber, which her mother is in possession of. The minimal training from her parents allows her to conjure magick fireballs and force push and pull objects, but this is a great strain on her, and she prefers to fight without the use of the force.

Her closest friend is Gev Haruche, a human cargo pilot she meets on a supply run to Nevarro. She also meets an assasian by the name of Neon Noctura, a mysterious near-human who is hired to capture Vaalor by an unknown benefactor.

If you read all of this, I am kissing you right on the mouth.

#asks #anon #jedi survivor spoilers #Vaalor Kestis #star wars oc #merrical #OC #im so sorry about this #in short #vaal is a drug addicted failure who sucks at using the force and feels like she abandoned her family

[justreadertings]

Happy first day of Rowaelin Month! I’m so excited to participate this year, you have no. idea. Let me just say, this, more than anything I’ve ever posted, is my biggest love letter to writing and to you guys. The 40s time era is extremely personal to me, and when I write it, I hope you know my whole heart is in it. I hope you enjoy some of the only pure fluff you’re ever gonna get from me. As always, much, much love- Magee

Based on Julie London’s I’m Glad There Is You

TW: Mentions of nightmares, brief mention of war

Carolina, 1948

Aelin’s fingers shook slightly as she lowered the arm of the record player onto the record. She had flicked on a lamp, and lit a candle in their living room. Her neighbor, Elide, had lent her a pan to cook dinner with, and the warmth of the oven seeped through her shaking frame. 

She had to breathe in and out, hand on her stomach, to remind herself that everything was just so. Aelin stood in the middle of the living room, watching the front door, the walls of her and her husband’s quaint home close together. Her heart ached at the memory of the day she and Rowan had put up the floral wallpaper. 

Kingsflame, he had whispered in her ear, for you, Fireheart. She had turned around in his strong arms, bringing his mouth to her’s. She had thanked him thoroughly, their happiness tinging the few pieces of furniture they’d had. 

Rowan had wasted no time, had promised to marry her at eighteen and got on one knee four days after her own eighteenth birthday. They’d bought this house with stars in their eyes, with the little inheritance money she’d been given by her parents after their too quick death. Her small town had been so kind to her those months she spent living with her cousin, offering her a job at the school, forgoing some of the classes she’d promised to take to get there herself. 

So tragic, they had whispered. Rowan never liked it when they spoke about her, but she didn’t mind too much. She knew it was all from a good place. Especially when Rowan had been drafted, only a year into their marriage. 

She’s only nineteen, all on her own. Let’s hope they have children soon, to keep her company. Such a bright girl, so sad. Let’s pray he comes home.

Even now, so many years later, she couldn’t remember those days when she would hear nothing, would tune into the radio to hear what was happening in Europe. Aelin had asked him, where will you be going? And he said: everywhere.

She died a little, that day he left. She had clutched the picture of their quiet ceremony and sobbed, her in her mother’s simple, pearly white dress, Rowan in the suit he’d taken her to prom in. Aelin hadn’t wanted to go to church in the weeks after, knowing every time she sat in the pews, she’d look up to see the place where they’d kissed and promised each other to whatever end. 

It was their saying, after all the tragedy and death they’d seen in their short lives, that they would stick together, through whatever end. He had said it to her after her parents died. She had said it to him when his aunt had gone to prison. He whispered it to her when they’d sat in the hospital, her good friend Nehemia losing the battle with a long time illness. She’d written it in every letter she sent, hoping that her eternal love for him would be able to cross seas. 

Now, she waited again, hoping he would be home soon. Lorcan, Elide’s husband, had come home a week ago. A week. And yet her Rowan was still gone. He’d been called seven weeks ago to rebuild in Europe again, moving around and helping people. This was the second time in his three years back from the front lines that he’d been called.

It seemed time was never on their side, because not two weeks into this trip, she had fallen terribly ill. He had gone ballistic in his letters, promising that if anything happened to her without her there, the war would look like a game compared to what he’d do. She’s only written him back, chastising him, telling him that the joke was not funny. He was too protective for his own good. Even before he’d been called for duty.

Men had always been very forthcoming in their advances towards her. She knew she should be more modest, but the leering since childhood had let her know early on that she was beautiful. Her golden ringlets, pretty curves, and what Rowan called her glow- it didn’t exactly lead her to an anonymous lifestyle. Rowan had actually fought a man once, for grabbing her on their way to the theaters. And when he came home… her husband not only had his fair share of her temper, but he also had the strength to be lethal. Her moon eyed Rowan had come back a warrior. And a warrior she’d sure he’d be once he found out the news.

Right. Her news. Anxiety flared in her stomach, and she pressed her pretty pearl ring to her belly. Her red skirt brushed her calves, and her ribbed shirt tucked into it, pressing even more. She’d swept her hair up, and applied a red lip, reminiscent of their first anniversary. By that point, they’d already known he was leaving, so they’d spent the next few weeks celebrating. Much of it was spent in bed, but they’d also gone by the docks for morning picnics and midnight dances. 

Rowan and Aelin were nothing if not sentimental. The docks were their home away from Orynth Ave. 

She puttered around the house fluffing pillows, and then her own hair. Aelin knew she looked a bit tired, but that was something he would just have to get used to. Gods, she was ready for him to be home. Visions of him bursting through the door to plant a million kisses onto her lips invaded her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was nausea, a hot flash, or just her mind, but her body flooded with heat. 

The record stopped, and she flipped it. She’d been standing, waiting, longer than she thought. A song came on, and Aelin could not resist putting a hand on her heart and swaying to the tune. The words made her ache for him.

In this world of ordinary people

Extraordinary people

I'm glad there is you

She pressed her lips into a tight smile, the song making its way into her body, settling her anxieties just a bit. 

In this world of overrated pleasures

And underrated treasures

I’m glad there is you

She was so lost in the song, she hardly heard the lock click on the front door. Hardly heard anything until a bag thumped on their wood floors. 

Aelin turned in an instant, and seeing him there, relief rushed through her. Tears sprang to her eyes. It’d been too damn long since that tired smile, since those green eyes of his were with her. 

“Hi, baby,” he whispered. Fondness filled his eyes. 

She launched herself at her husband, and he recoiled from the contact before wrapping his strong arms around her. Aelin was enveloped with his pine and snow scent, and she pressed her face close to his chest. 

Her anxieties drained away, and the world was right again. It was just her and Rowan, exactly as they were the night they had met, only sixteen. They had spent the night at a school function, a large boat rented for the dance. But they had only had eyes for each other, her in a tiny velvet blue thing that still hung in her closet today. They had spent the night dancing around each other, making each other laugh even as they disgreed about nearly everything. 

“Let me get you something sweet,” she had said to him, a smile on her brightly colored lips. 

“I don’t do sweet things,” he had replied. She had found that outrageous, then. But she found it to be a lie hours later, when they had stepped off the boat he had asked her to dance to the sound of the far off music and waves, down on the docks. The boats and stars and night sky had watched them hold each other and promise, right then and there, to never let go. 

Since then, she had been smitten with his perfect broodiness. Their hug had turned into swaying, and just like that, they were sixteen again.

I live to love I love to live

With you beside me

Aelin’s face scratched against the stark material of his green uniform, but she paid it no mind as his hands held her waist, as his breath coaxed her ear.

“Did you miss me, Fireheart?” 

She held his neck closer, clinging to him. “More than you know.” He smiled against her cheek. They stayed like that for a long time, the song winding around them, peace encompassing her once more.

Even if she knew he had just been sent as aid, to help rebuild, nightmares had plagued her for weeks. Neither of them slept well unless they were tangled around each other. She knew he could use a home cooked meal, a night of her holding him. The first time he had come home, he’d been silent for days, stoic and intense. He had only confided in her once, those early weeks, after he had pushed off her advances. Rowan had told her that he had done things he wasn’t proud of, that he couldn’t say it all, and he did not feel worthy of holding her.

She told him if she wanted a perfect man, she would not have married a man who only drank black coffee. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen from him. They had spent a long, long while healing. Loneliness had crept up on her in his absence, and he had to coax her into spilling her own truths in his return. Her cousin had moved after her wedding. For those months Rowan was gone, Aelin did not confide in anyone but her diary. 

When they were learning how to be them again, they would swap journals at night, sit in bed and read until one or both of their words were too sad, and they needed to hold each other again to feel alright again.  She and Rowan took turns having nightmares, and she flinch-proofed their home from any sudden loud noises. 

It was the same thing she’d done this week, waiting for his return. And now, everything soft, she was ready to tell him the other type of preparation they’d have in store soon. 

Aelin picked her head up from his chest, bringing his face down to hers for a soft, slow kiss. Fire burned down her body, an adoration for him so strong she could barely stand it. 

He pressed their foreheads together, breathing her in. Her chest beat loud enough in her ears, she was sure he could tell. Sure enough, his forehead creased, and he studied her face before leaning down to press a kiss to her savage, wild heart.

“Why are you so nervous, Fireheart?”

She studied his face, the harsh lines of it, only seeing her moon-eyed sixteen year old first love. Only love. And it brought her enough comfort to calm her nervous heart.

This role so new I'll muddle through

With you to guide me

“Rowan,” she whispered. But her nerves got the better of her, and she instead told him, “I made dinner.”

His expression changed, and he laughed, rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms. It was fall, and she was sure he was going to fuss over her warmth. “Is that why you’re so nervous? Dinner.”

She huffed a laugh onto his chest. But he took her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, and kissed her. They lingered, as if they were so inherently connected that pulling away would be more troublesome than staying together. 

But his love gave her courage. He knew her too well.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered onto his lips. 

His eyes widened, and he took a step back, looking at her fully. Her heart beat up again, so loud, even through the peaceful silence of their home. He just… looked at her.

“Rowan?”

He blinked and blinked those green eyes she spent weeks imagining on a newborn.

“Rowan?”

Finally, he released a breath, his statue breaking. She saw tears in his eyes. “Are you serious?” Aelin pressed a hand to her mouth, to overcome to speak. She only nodded. His voice broke, “Aelin.” 

Rowan kissed her, kissed her hard and left her breathless before kneeling down to press his wet face to her stomach. “Baby, baby, baby,” he worshiped. 

Tears came to her own eyes, as her fingers ran though his cropped hair. She still couldn’t bring herself to speak. It was all working out like it was meant to, all the pain and separation they’d been a part of leading to this.

In this world where many many play at love

But hardly any stay in love

I’m glad there is you

Rowan rose to his feet, hugging her to him. “I love you, Aelin.”

She closed her arms around him, so grateful that the two- that the three- of them were all home, safe. That this is where they would stay. 

“I love you, Rowan. To whatever end.”

He pressed a heavy kiss to her lips, her cheeks straining from her smile. They swayed again, caught up in each other and the music and the prospect of their family.

“To whatever end, Fireheart.”

More than ever

I’m glad there is you 

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