The Muse Came To Me. Who Was I To Say No?
The muse came to me. Who was I to say no?
Dooku at the Opera: A Lineage Tale (A Comedy in 3 Acts)
Featuring: Yan Dooku, Rael Averross, Qui-gon Jinn, and Obi-wan Kenobi
—————————————-
“Here, take this.”
A dented, silver flask was thrust into Qui-gon’s inner pocket, the weight of the object throwing his deep brown dress robe off-kilter.
“Rael!” Qui-gon hissed, trying to fish the object from his voluminous, velvet-trimmed outwear. By the Force, he hated wearing this thing. “I’m not - “ The fabric tangled, wrapping around Qui-gon’s arm - once, twice - somehow pinning his limb immobile against his side.
Rael Averross tossed his head back and laughed for a good minute, leaving a scowling Qui-gon half-bound, trapped in the finest Jedi robes the Temple had to offer. Chuckling, he stepped forward to help Qui-gon unfurl from his self-made prison. “Just trust me, kid. You’re gonna need it.”
“I’m not sneaking Rodian liquor into the Coruscant Opera with Master Dooku at my side. He’ll flay me alive if catches me!” Qui-gon shuddered, testing out his freed arm.
“I’m not asking you to drink it,” Rael cocked his head with a small sigh. “That stuff would strip the paint off the side of a Grellan nightclub.”
“Oh, that’s a relief,” Qui-gon snapped, rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to know how Rael had such intimate knowledge of the infamous Grellan nightclubs.
“All I’m saying, kid,” Rael’s voice softened as he wrapped an arm around Qui-gon’s bony shoulders, leading him to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of his and Dooku’s shared quarters. “Is that Master Dooku has probably forgotten about about this particular escape tactic.” Rael put a finger to his chin, glancing to the ceiling in thought. “It was twelve years ago.”
Qui-gon frowned, his own confused expression staring back at him in the polished glass. The boy - man - seemed a stranger, wrapped in a long, velvet-trimmed robe, his tunics a darker shade of his customary beige, pressed, absent the usual dark soil spots and off-green streaks that so infuriated his Master. He looked…well, respectable.
He was fifteen now, had been Master Dooku’s Padawan for just over three years. He had also had the dubious honor of keeping Rael Averross’s occasional company for almost as long.
“Rael, it’s the opera, not the Citadel. Why do I need an escape tactic?” Qui-gon gestured with the flask in his hand, liquid sloshing against its container. “And if I’m not to drink this, then what in Nine Corellian Hells am I supposed to do with it?”
“I don’t know, kid, you’re a Jedi. You’ll figure it out,” Rael shrugged, pushing wavy black hair from his face. He cocked a crooked smile in Qui-gon’s direction, ruffling his short, spiky hair.
“Make your exit after the first intermission, but not too close to the start of the second act. Did that one too many times and Dooku’s cottoned on to it.” Rael began to push Qui-gon towards the door, ignoring the boy’s stammered protests. “Now get outta here before he gets suspicious.”
Qui-gon gaped from the other side of the threshold. “Rael!”
But the door only closed with a final whoosh, leaving a very confused Qui-gon Jinn in an empty Temple corridor, battered container of Rodian gin in hand.
What in the galaxy was that all about? It was the opera. Not just opera, but a Serennian opera. Truth be told, Qui-gon wasn’t much one for the more prestigious arts, not like his Master was, at least. But he had learned to keep those opinions secret after spending two weeks dusting and reorganizing Master Dooku’s extensive holoart book collection, a consequence of expressing his opinion at an exhibition of Tuerrilian landscapes that all the paintings “looked like the same smashball field with the goalposts removed.”
But this would be different, this wouldn’t be a bunch of boring green lawns perched atop various boring curved, silver architectures. This was a story about Serenno. Yes, with large-bodied, multiple-lipped Trellian singers in strange, pointed hats and all, but it was a way to get to know his Master better, learn something new about him, about his planet.
Behind Qui-gon, the door to Dooku’s quarters opened halfway. “Oh, and kid?” Rael called down the hall. “Say hi to Brigindia the Breadthful and Hagvor the Hu - “ Rael clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks flushing. “Anyway, tell ’em Rael Averross sends his regards if you happen to leave by the stage door exit,” he finished, sly smile spreading across his face.
—-
Knock knock knock.
Rael looked up from his holobook, tapping the bookmark button as he glanced at his chrono.
Not bad, kid, he thought, giving his arms a long stretch before leaving the comfort of Dooku’s plush arm chair. He stopped in the pantry before answering the door, pouring two cups of cold, Nemishian tea.
“So you got out,” Rael said as greeting. “Record time, too.”
Qui-gon pushed past the older Jedi, a flurry of wrinkled fabric and frustration, the faint odor of burnt Ceylla wood drifting from his robes. He made a series of aborted half-circles, like a jittery, indecisive Lothcat before Rael took pity on him and led him to the sofa, pushing a glass of the Nemishian tea into his hand.
The young Jedi sat, unmoving, for a good minute, eyes wide as he seemed to replay every last event of the past three hours in excruciating detail. Rael took his own glass, downing half of it in one go, giving a satisfied smack of his lips. Dooku always did have better provisions than the Jedi commissary, a way of enticing wayward Padawans out of mealtime trouble and sometimes extracting an extra hour’s work out of them.
“It was terrible, Rael,” Qui-gon finally spoke, eyes still wide, voice somewhat haunted.
Rael laughed, slapping his thigh as he sat back in Dooku’s armchair, extending his legs long, his ankles crossed. “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad,” Rael teased. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Five of them, actually,” Qui-gon murmured, taking a sip of his tea. The drink seemed to restore some of the color to his pallid face. “Each with a thirty-minute aria.”
“Ah, The Fall of the House of Carellic.” Rael grinned. “A classic.”
Qui-gon’s eyes widened, as he nearly dropped his glass. “You mean he’s seen this one before?”
“It cycles in every seven years or so,” Rael answered. “I imagine at this point Master Dooku has it memorized.”
“But then why,” Qui-gon’s voice rose, “did he give me a three-hour running commentary of everything wrong with its portrayal of Serennian culture if he knows it so well?”
“That, my young friend,” Rael drawled, eyes tightening with barely restrained laughter. “Is all part of the experience. Now,” he leaned forward, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “How’d you escape?”
The corner of Qui-gon’s mouth quirked upwards. “Spilled your paint stripper on the mezzanine-level bar. Was a real shame everyone knows the Senator from Gorrusk likes to smoke indoors, although I think both his outfit and pride will recover from the mishap.“
“And being the dutiful Padawan you are,” Rael continued, grinning, “of course you volunteered to accompany the poor Senator to the on-site healer, ensuring your Master would not have his night interrupted.” Rael tutted. “It’s just a damned shame there was so much paperwork to fill out.”
Qui-gon raised his glass in Rael’s direction. “Takes forever, really.”
Rael nodded, raising his own glass in salute. “Not too shabby, kid.”
The two Jedi sat in contented silence for a few moments, the adrenaline rush of Qui-gon’s frantic escape finally waning, the younger man’s head slowly tilting downwards, his eyes closing. A minute later, Rael heard a soft snore emanate from the pile of tunics sprawled on the couch.
Chuckling, Rael stood, collecting both glasses, pulling Qui-gon’s long legs fully onto the couch, boots and all, covering him with a soft blanket plucked from a nearby closet. Dooku could snipe at Rael later for letting his Padawan desecrate his furniture in such a manner. He wouldn’t be back for at least another five hours anyway.
Qui-gon was going to be one of the good ones, Rael thought. Still needed to loosen up a little bit - Dooku had him scared to rights most of the time, but he’d learn soon enough that his old Master was just as much bark as bite - at least, most of the time.
Fifteen years and Dooku has never gotten anyone to sit through the entirety of one of those Force-forsaken circuses. Rael had never been sure why he insisted on the charade every year - Dooku had to know full well his Padawans were sneaking off. Hell, even the other Jedi Masters always seemed to find a polite excuse to avoid Dooku’s yearly invitations to the opera, Master Windu going as far as claiming he needed to “shave his head and was busy that night and all the other nights the act was in town.”
Force help all of us the day he finds some kid willing to sit through that schlop. They’d probably end up being more terrifying than Dooku himself.
—-
“Master,” Obi-wan Kenobi gave a series of gentle raps on the door to Qui-gon’s room.
Qui-gon peered his eyes open, squinting at the bright morning sun shining through the small gap in his curtains. Morning already?
“Obi-wan, come in,” Qui-gon groaned, voice still full of sleep. “How was the opera?” he asked, suddenly remembering where his Padawan had been last night, shuttled away in a familiar velvet-trimmed robe by his old Master.
Qui-gon felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped his Padawan would come to him after making his escape, would share in his escapades with Qui-gon over a glass of Nemishian tea, that they would laugh like two younglings as he and Rael had every year until Qui-gon’s Knighting.
But like most other parts of their partnership, this, too, Obi-wan seemed to approach with cool, measured detachment.
Obi-wan brightened at the question, however, pulling out a crisp holoprogram from his robes. “It was delightful, Master! Master Dooku and I had a splendid time. He even treated me to a Drynarian spiced wine during the second intermission.”
Qui-gon gaped at his student, certain he had heard him incorrectly. His eyes flitted to the cover of the holoprogram - The Fall of the House of Carellic - emblazoned in regal Aurebesh and Serennian script.
“You - you stayed?”
Obi-wan furrowed his brow. “Of course, Master. Granted, the opera as a whole was a bit bloated, the singers past their prime - Brigindia the Breadthful’s range didn’t quite match up to her alias and Hagvor the Hu - “ Obi-wan hissed, his cheeks flushing red. “Well, Master Dooku said that wasn’t really his name, that it was a ‘improper moniker bestowed upon a great artist for base reasons.’ I didn’t ask after it, but he was alright, as tenors go.”
“But Padawan, the letter-opener I gave you - “ Qui-gon stammered. Not that he had expected Obi-wan to stab anybody with it in an attempt to escape the opera, far from it. But he had thought - Qui-gon let out a breath - hell, he didn’t know - maybe rip a curtain or sabotage some official’s clothing?
“Oh yes, that was quite useful Master, thank you,” Obi-wan beamed. “The packaging on those meiloorun pastries can rather difficult.”
Qui-gon nodded dumbly at his Padawan.
“Oh, before I forget, Master, this is for you, from Master Dooku.” Obi-wan held out a flimsi, folded in half, Qui-gon’s name printed in familiar, elegant script. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower and a short nap before the day begins.”
“Yes, yes, of course, Padawan,” Qui-gon said, distracted, not bothering to close the door as Obi-wan hopped out of the room.
With no small degree of trepidation, Qui-gon opened the note.
“Qui-gon -
I would like to thank you for allowing me to borrow your charge for the evening. It is rare to encounter a young mind with such intellect, curiosity, and, shall I say, an inherent sense of taste and propriety. I find myself wanting to repeat the experience, if Obi-wan (and you) should be open to it.
As for your letter-opener, I am disappointed that you would arm your student with such an unimaginative weapon. I would say that next year you should confer with Rael in the matter, but I do believe that will not be necessary, given Obi-wan’s sincere enthusiasm throughout the evening. Senator Rembran of Gorrusk sends his regards to you, as he does every year. Ever since the incident at the bar, he has been convinced of the Jedi’s importance in the Republic, so I must thank you for the unintended repercussion of your clumsy sabotage those years ago.
Brigindia and Hagvor also send their regards to Rael. I do hope you didn’t share the mortifying origins of Hagvor’s colorful moniker with your student. He has yet to encounter Rael Averross in person, and I would prefer he and Obi-wan to meet without any prurient preconceptions, as Rael is a good, if infuriating man. How he remains my former pupil is still one of the great mysteries of the galaxy.
Finally, I would like to extend an invitation for you to join me (and Obi-wan, again, if it is to be allowed) for next year’s production of The Sentinel’s Progress, which has not been staged in over a millenia. I am told it is a most inaccurate depiction of our ancient Serennian culture and I would be glad to share my thoughts with you and your Padawan. Of course, if you feel the need to come armed with a letter-opener, you need but slip the blade through Madame Tursky’s silver gown-train. Rumor has it she is most protective of her honor and can be seen hovering near the mezzanine-level bar like a drunken hawkbat at most intermissions.
Until then, Padawan. And may the Force be with you.
—Best Regards,
Yan Dooku”
More Posts from Anitzeineko and Others
This is quite a subjective opinion; but I am endlessly fascinated by how the romanticization (or sentimentalization) of Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship is such a big, important part of Kuroshitsuji—partly due to Sebastian’s own nature as a demon, but also due to Ciel’s character himself.
Sebastian is evil, and he is meant to lure people into damnation. He is the embodiment of a poisonous yet appealing temptation. He speaks sweet, gentle words. He is undeniably physically attractive, and generally, people find him charming. I can go on forever, but you get the gist; all of him is designed to slowly attract and lull people into complacency with him—into not seeing the predatory nature that lurks beneath that gorgeous skin.
This powerful creature, who can kill people with his bare hands, prefers to use sweet promises over threats—finding physical torture less effective than honey; so confident in his ability to understand human desires and tempt any person into the route he designs for them. He presents people with two choices; one of which seems infinitely more attractive than the other—but would certainly lead them to damnation. And it delights him very much when they inevitably chooses the sweeter option. It seems to be essential to the demonic contract that the contractor gets to choose (even if the choice was most likely—almost always—highly uninformed).
Now; if the contractor was an unassuming human who was tempted or fooled by the demon, or if the contractor was someone who’d kill and sacrifice another person on purpose, maybe we would say, “Well, he did that to himself.” Or even, “He deserved that.” But not only did Ciel manage to summon Sebastian by happenstance; he—arguably—did not have much choices other than to agree to the contract; it was either the contract or death at the hands of the cultists.
His consent was highly dubious (not that Sebastian ever cares); he was in a state of emotional distress—unfit to be making choices that would define the rest of his life—not to mention his youth, his vulnerability, and the glaring power imbalance with the predatory adults and demon surrounding him. From that moment on, his soul is forfeit; no matter how many times Ciel states that he is firm on his revenge and that he is doing this for himself—you can always argue that he is only saying this because the choice is either this or death.
Still, instead of highlighting the dubious nature of this agreement, the author shows that despite his young age, he is perceptive enough to read through Sebastian’s lies and see Sebastian’s true nature for what it is, and still “chooses” to have the contract. The author repeatedly, over and over, shows Ciel “choosing” this road for himself, Ciel saying that he has no need for the past and will not look back—and the whole time that Ciel charges unwaveringly into the darkness, Sebastian looks at him and smiles meaningfully.
Since we have no idea what “souls” present in Kuroshitsuji; the concept of what Ciel is actually paying with in order to get his revenge is exceedingly vague—it’s difficult to feel loss over something with an unknown value. This is exacerbated by Ciel’s easy acceptance of his own fate, and the practical logic on how it’s simply fair to pay a servant for his services.
Sebastian, for his part; always revels and delights in how Ciel chooses him. He basks in it, and gloats about it; the dubious nature of Ciel’s agreement forgotten, or frankly does not even seem to compute in Sebastian’s mind. What’s important is that Ciel made a choice; and that choice was Sebastian. We know that Sebastian will eventually kill Ciel, but we may contend that Sebastian is good for him. Sebastian saved Ciel and Ciel consented to having Sebastian. Sebastian gave Ciel the autonomy and independence and protection he desperately needed. And this does not come out of nowhere; as the author too, seems to deliberately romanticize/sentimentalize their relationship—the readers are simply picking up on the context cues.
They are certainly predator and prey; but people may love their appeal as a pair of lovers, like Bonnie and Clyde; or as found family along with the rest of the servants; they are partners-in-crime; soulmates; always understanding each other with just a glance, simply meant to be together, there is no Ciel without Sebastian and vice versa, etc.; it’s all a terribly romantic and sentimental view of their relationship.
The portrayal of Sebastian as a loyal and caring protector (although he is always hiding his hunger and fangs) and Ciel as a brave and pitiable victim resolutely seeking justice (although he arguably never had much choices) are done on purpose to allow their relationship to be romanticized/sentimentalized by the readers who want to root for them. If Sebastian was not portrayed attractively enough; if he wasn’t a handsome, gentle caretaker, who is devotedly loyal to Ciel and protects him from kidnappers and assassins and whatnots (see how he treats Ciel so much better compared to Ciel’s fellow humans?), this romanticization of him will not be possible. Likewise, if Ciel was portrayed as an innocent run-off-the-mill ten year old—instead of a smart one, a perceptive one, one who is “mature for his age”; if Ciel was a regular noble instead of the Queen’s watchdog; one who is meant to be the Earl of Phantomhive despite being born as an underdog (which makes the readers want to root for him and believe him to be capable of besting a demon on the negotiation table)—we will not be reading the contract scene and thinking, “Can he outsmart the demon?” Or even, “Well, certainly this ten year old understands what he is doing.” We would have instead understood the contract to be an exploitation of the child’s vulnerability and circumstances. Instead, Ciel is portrayed as wanting the contract; willing to sacrifice his soul to get his revenge; a fully-consenting party in a mutually beneficial agreement. When Sebastian offers his hand, Ciel consensually places his own hand in Sebastian’s.
What is truly “good” for Ciel becomes a moral dilemma that the readers cannot solve, and Sebastian’s true “feelings” (or whether he has any at all) is never explained. The readers are left to guess and come up with our own theories that will remain unanswered—we insist that Ciel needs and wants Sebastian, that Sebastian cares for Ciel beyond seeing him as food; and the whole thing is so morally dubious, but we are given a lot of incentives to see them in a positive, sentimental light. Every once in a while something may happen that seems to reinforce our beliefs in their relationship, but never fully confirm how they feel towards each other. The occasional “warning bells” reminding us of Sebastian’s nature as a demon are—more often than not—ignored, as the future when the contract ends still seems so far away, and regardless; Ciel is far too dependent on Sebastian to even think of living without him.
Genda: Tsuki! Hey. Have you seen the thing?
Lina: Depends on what "thing" you're talking about, Koujirou.
Genda (searching the whole house): Oh, you know. The thing. I might have misplaced it. And you're going to kill me, because it's very important to you.
Yukine walking up from the basement: Why are ya runnin'? And heya, Koujirou, Lina.
Genda: Oh! There it is.
Lina: ...
Lina: You lost Songbird? In our house. Really?
Inspired by this:
Question: Who wants a stupid AU idea?
Answer: Presumably you, since you're on my blog and that's about the only thing I write.
This AU contains references to sexual activity and not-quite-cannibalism, as well as attempted child murder (Obi-Wan's canon early padawanship)
So you know all those "Stewjoni are valued as sex slaves because they're dual sex and possibly mild empaths" AUs?
I want "Stewjoni are carnivorous species who are very attractive human-seeming individuals, but specifically as a hunting mechanism to draw in and trick prey, like mimic spiders."
(Someone on discord said 'like succubi?' and no. Nope. Succubi fuck to death. They gain energy from the act of sex. Stewjoni just fucking eat people.)
(Well, not anymore. It's impolite.)
(They have animal alternatives now.)
Obi-Wan is a very, very attractive man and all those things about his genitalia and sexual proficiency are true! But try to enslave a Stewjoni at your own peril, they're more disarming then a Zeltron and, unlike the Zeltron, their first instinct will be to eat you.
Does he eat people? Well, not usually! There are some close calls on Bandomeer and Melida/Daan, but he's not old enough to really be at full sexy yet, and "cute enough that nobody will hurt me because I'm baby" doesn't work on Xanatos (because darksider) or the Melida/Daan adults (because they're already killing so many kids).
He comes very, very close on Rattatak.
I want to say he rips someone's throat out with his teeth while undercover as Hardeen and Dooku is just very ?????????? about it. He thought this was undercover Kenobi but now he's not so sure because Kenobi would never be so uncivilized, right?
(It does put a different spin on him threatening to eat that shark dude.)
Anakin: You don't know what it's like to struggle with the Dark, Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan: Every time I have sex my hindbrain is whispering to me that I should eat my partner. It's not the same thing, but I can relate on it a bit.
Obi-Wan: My natural prey is humans. Anakin: ...what. [some time later] Ahsoka: I'm a carnivore! Obi-Wan: Ah, you're in good company. Ahsoka: ...? Anakin: He eats people. Obi-Wan: I MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT.
Obi-Wan: I am naturally inclined to eat people but I have never in my life done so on account of having been taught the innate value of life, and particularly that of a sapient beings, since toddlerhood. Anakin: I remember you ripping a man's face open with your teeth and eating the flesh you tore off as a power play when I was fifteen. Obi-Wan: I WAS IN HANDCUFFS AND HE WAS TRYING TO KILL YOU.
(Anakin 100% did not know that Obi-Wan wasn't human when Obi-Wan bit the dude's face off.)
Gelpenss: Obi-Wan very much wants to eat humanoids and unfortunately they ping his brain BEFORE the alternatives. He has NO innate dissuasion at the thought of eating human.
Atagotiak: Like, Anakin had realized Obi-Wan is more carnivorous than the baseline human, but... this is new. Anakin: Why didn't you tell me before? Obi-Wan: You were tiny! And Anxious! I didn't want you to think I might eat you!
I have no idea if Obi-Wan managed to distract Maul with the sexy. I assume he tried but did not succeed, just because that would be too much power, but it would be very funny if he did. Probably failed, though, and Qui-Gon's still dead. 😔
Qui-Gon insisted on Obi-Wan doing lots of meditation on the innate value of life throughout the entire padawancy.
The Jedi in Yoda’s vision of a world at peace say so much about who he is.
I plan on extensively yelling about Yoda’s visions in the immortality arc in the future, but for now please consider this.
Okay, getting this quick remark out of the way: it’s Katooni (the little Tholothian girl) who guides Yoda there. Children are a symbol of innocence, and what’s interesting is that Yoda takes her hand without hesitation after seeing all of the Jedi dead (and specifically Mace, Petro and Ahsoka). Throughout this scene here Yoda is the one asking questions and Katooni is the one answering - she speaks slowly and patiently, almost as if she’s talking to a youngling. –> The embodiment of wisdom manifested to Yoda (in a vision meant to tempt him through his dearest wishes) is a child. Talk about humility.
Now please pay attention to the Jedi in the background.
Here, the three Jedi right in the center of the set are Mace, Ahsoka and Petro - the exact three Jedi Yoda just saw dead and cried over (boy, s6 is so much fun, isn’t it?). So a significant part of Yoda’s deepest dreams is seeing other Jedi safe. He knows how to let go - that’s what this whole scene is about - but he still very much yearns for his fellow Jedi’s safety and happiness.
Onto the even sadder part: have you noticed what’s going on here? Younglings are playing around, and the older Jedi are all talking. Quinlan with Saesee Tiin, Tera Sinube with Gungi, Anakin with Aayla Secura, and Mace with Ahsoka. And not just talking, look at the gif above! Mace is openly laughing at whatever Ahsoka said.
And Ahsoka looks at him like this. (Again, this is right after Yoda’s vision of her dying, desperately asking how the Council could expel her.)
One of Yoda’s greatest hopes is seeing Ahsoka happy with her fellow Jedi, at ease with the embodiment of authority that is Mace.
Yoda loves Mace - he’s the first person he reaches for in the vision of the devastated Temple - and he loves Ahsoka, and part of his greatest temptation? Is to see the rift between the lost child of the Order and its Head healed.
Same thing with Quinlan - the known loose cannon - and Saesee - another Council member. And Tera Sinube is an elder Jedi, talking to a youngling. And Aayla is “just” a Knight, almost a random one, and Anakin is chatting with her.
This follows a pattern: the rogue and the conventional, the very old and the very young, the common and the extraordinary - each pair shows opposites enjoying each other’s company, differences embraced.
(Anakin talking to Aayla instead of sticking to Obi-Wan’s side like he does in the real world is especially interesting - he’s part of the community here, not ostracizing himself like he tends to do. Again, for this to be part of Yoda’s great temptation says so much about how caring he is. He wants Anakin to belong, more than anything.)
And finally, we get this:
(I couldn’t make this part into a gif because of technical reasons, so enjoy the beautiful family picture.)
Once again we find that central theme of healing and wholeness. This part is what convinces Yoda to briefly let go of his (well-founded) doubts and to embrace the vision. It’s his biggest, greatest, deepest desire. The one that could have made him abandon reality itself to stay in this idyllic dream. It’s his unbroken lineage, happy, in the light.
Yoda just wanted them all to be a family. Obi-Wan clearly adores Dooku in this scene (check it out, his awestruck look is amazing), their body language is incredibly warm and open, and they are completely at ease with each other and delighted to be sharing stories. It just screams domestic life.
And that’s it, that’s all Yoda ever wanted. For the young and the old to be content together, a community bathed in light, the gardens filled with the sound of windchimes and the laughter of children. He just wanted to have his family alive and safe and smiling.
. . .
Dammit, I love this frog grandpa so much *sobs*
This is cute. And soft
GenKaze headcanons??
<3 I never knew I needed this ship until now <3
Genda x Kazemaru
> okay bruh, bruh. the best thing about this pairing is that both of them can’t fucking believe that they’re dating the other. They live in this constant state of ‘oh my god you’re so beautiful and amazing and hot and asdfjksl how is it that someone like you likes me’
> Both of them might be weak for one another, but Genda is most definitely the weakest for Kazemaru. Sometimes he just catches himself staring at Kazemaru during practice and he’s like ‘oh uhhhh shit’ and blushes like mad
> Teikoku’s goalie had already noticed Kazemaru during the very first game they played against Raimon. Not because he was oh so impressed by his abilities but he was literally like ‘damn he cute’
> He felt blessed af when he found out Kazemaru was their reinforcement member from the soccer committee but also became really self conscious out of nowhere
> Kazemaru had also secretly admired Genda for a while because he thought he was freaking badass and he had always had a weak spot for goalies
> PDA isn’t really their thing but they don’t mind because they’d much rather be intimate in private. Both of them aren’t a fan of showing such a side of themselves to friends and others
Clone trooper helmets inspired by the 332nd Ahsoka themed helmets. In order they are:
Aayla Secura, Barriss Offee, Jaro Tapal, Kit Fisto, Luminara Unduli, Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Tiplar, Tiplee and Yoda
I’m in the middle of watching Citadel Rescue (03x20) and can we just give a hand to the clone who got to ride Obi-Wan Kenobi. Henceforth he shall be known as Rhyder, since he wasn’t given a name. I’m pretty sure Rhyder survived, and I like to think that this moment gave him bragging rights for the rest of his life.
LIKE
GUYS
Imagine him bragging about it...to poor Commander Cody!!!
SPOILERS: I’m screaming and crying from every updated chapter.
idea: scene with two characters eagerly stripping each other clearly about to bone, but they keep getting interrupted by finding carefully concealed weapons in each other’s clothing, so they keep just unholstering, revealing and unstrapping increasingly ludicrous amounts of hidden guns and knives as the clothes come off, and it’s lowkey killing the mood a little
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