I Work At A Grocery Store And I've Written A Substantial Amount Of Fic On Scraps Of Receipt Paper In

psa to anyone who follows me: if i randomly drop out of a conversation/vanish from tumblr without warning, it's just social anxiety and i will be back

we are not a people of sand

rating: g (word count 420)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36747517

Tuskens have no written language. Instead, their ancestors’ memories are passed from the old to the young, their history recounted each night under the indifferent gaze of the stars. In this way is a culture forsaken by the rest of the galaxy kept alive. There are generations in the heft of the Elder’s gaderffii and the tip of the Elder’s tongue.

“Feel how cold it is at night,” the Elder might say. “Tatooine has always been a planet of paradoxes: sea to desert, desert to ice.” On a longer night, when the Dune Sea is tilted away from all three of Tatooine’s suns, the Elder begins, “Let me tell you the tale of Rgur’okrt, he who tamed the krayt dragon with his mind.”

That is one story that is told in every tribe, though the name is as variable as the wind. Rgur’okrt and the dragon fought thirty days beneath the sand, and the whole tribe thought he was dead. But on the thirtieth day he found that he could sense the dragon’s thoughts, so he reached out and caused it to fall into a deep sleep, such that it would not wake to terrorize his people for the passing of two generations.

Then he burst from the sand, the granules spraying like droplets of water. The tribe rejoiced because he was alive. And from his robe fell out a fruit, and it broke, and spilled out milk. And Tuskens have drunk from black melons ever since.

The young do not always want to listen to these tales. “What does it matter?” they ask. “Why should we care about the history of a primitive people, of a hunted, dying race? Look around you. We choke on sand when the rest of the galaxy walks in the sky.”

So the Elder reminds them, “That is because we are not a people of sand. We are a people of water, of briny, irrepressible waves. Do you think mechanical wings are the only way to fly? Our ancestors crossed oceans on the backs of whales.”

Then the Elder tells the end of the story. All of the Tuskens’ stories end the same way.

As Rgur’okrt burst from the sand, so will the fish and the whales and the crabs. Water will fall from the sky, and water will swell from the sand. “The oceans will rise again one day,” the Elder says, and makes the children repeat the words, one after another. “The oceans will rise again one day, and we with them.”

you will try.

Some personal favs Star Wars art from 2021🥳

Sorry for inactive, work has been crazy busy lately. Hopefully I can manage to squeeze in some time to draw in 2022!

Twi | ins

Some splendiferous tags by @unlovedanimals on my other goofysilly post:

They make a great point that I wanted to piggyback off of in a less goofysilly way than the original.

Obi-Wan is not a rule-follower (as established by the recklessness and sheer amount of cunt served), but he is a principled man. His principles are likely a large contributor to why he is not a rule-follower. The whole Melida/Daan thing in Legends wouldn't have happened if Obi-Wan valued rules (and even respect) over what he believed was right. Actually, most events in his life seem to be him getting pulled into some bullshit because he's trying to abide by his principles and do the right thing. The man couldn't mind his own business if he wanted to. The Situations haunt him.

That strong internal moral compass lead him well up until the Clone Wars, when the amount of factors to consider became too great, so he had to slim his attention down to his immediate concerns in keeping people alive. Principles can only get you so far, especially when a creepy guy in a cloak is actively trying to ruin your life and the lives of everyone around you. Obi-Wan's persuasiveness, strategizing, and arrogance were great assets for a general, but ultimately he was too principled and too kind for war.

Some Jedi (Anakin and other fallen Jedi, especially) blame the Order for this, that, and the other because of its adherence to rules and the Code, but notably Obi-Wan doesn't. He reflects, he sees the faults and the missteps (i.e. how they set Anakin up to fail), but he doesn't blame because he never really followed the rules. He followed his own principles, so if he were to blame anyone it would be himself.

What people mistake for following the rules is actually him trying to provide structure for Anakin. Children and people in general do well when there are parameters in place for them to follow if they don't have experience or knowledge to fall back on. The structure is clumsy because Obi-Wan was so young when he became Anakin's master, but he did his best to establish expectations. He wasn't perfect, but how could he be? Perfection isn't human and would make for a very boring story.

The tragedy in Obi-Wan's character is how he's always trying to do what he feels is right even in a world that presents wrong after wrong, and every time he gets knocked down he stands back up, even in the face of his own mistakes.

And he's also a little bitch.

weary, injured, superpower-less men with graying hair and a dry sense of humor who use their wits against enemies much stronger than them. who risk their lives to protect others but don't always consider themselves heroes, sometimes justifiably. who somehow end up as the mentor slash father figure for a talented and idealistic kid who either has superpowers or is into archery

we all bounce from media hyperfixation to media hyperfixation but we retain our Types of character who we consistently become obsessed with

The Disasters of Sofia, Clarice Lispector // The Old Revolution, Leonard Cohen // Hans Vandekerchkhove// Kyoto, Phoebe Bridgers // Fireworks, Mitski // Insha'Allah, Danusha Laméris // Giovanni's Room, James Baldwin // True Blue, Boygenius // Report From the Besieged City, Zbigniew Herbert // Cool About It, Boygenius // Scenes from Star Wars

hello, today i’m here to talk about the effect that obi-wan has on people, like there is something about him that everyone in star wars universe just loves, whenever it’s in a good or bad way.

you go back to prequels and the clone wars and obi-wan is just everyone’s favorite. the animals, the kids, he walks into a village and people just trust him that he will do his best for them. ironically, even the villains are just soft for obi-wan (dooku, ventress) to the point they are just obsessed with him (maul, grievous, vader, reva)

i mean, you can write this to the way obi-wan looks and the way he walks and talks, he is master jedi but that doesn’t apply for the kenobi series and yet -  haja walks to the inquisitor, when he knows reva can just easily kill him, and stalls for time. tala throws her cover away without a second thought for him. leia, the 10yo that knows him for like a day, says “bring him back” and walks alone into the dark tunel.

at this point obi-wan looks like an unwashed rat. he is grumpy dad, his hands are shaky with the lightsaber and he is just…sad. but people that know him for five minutes, still do crazy sh*t for him. well, it’s because obi-wan is the light. he is the light in leia’s analogy about being afraid of the dark. he feels safe and trustworthy in very unsafe and distrustful world. people fall for that.

notice that the only person in the galaxy that never cared for obi-wan, that ignored him and dismissed him as unimportant, was sidious. the exact opposite of everything that obi-wan represents.

these stripes mean something

rating: g (word count 762)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40832574

When the Mandalorian shows up in front of Cara's glossy new officer's desk, asking her to help him spring one Migs Mayfeld, traitor to democracy and accessory to murder, the first thing she thinks is: this man is not the same person who fought by my side on Sorgan. There’s something wrong with the rigid way he moves, with the tightness in his voice when he speaks.

“These stripes mean something,” she says, indicating the badge on her chest.

It’s a no, but not a hard one. More of a please don’t ask me that. She doesn’t want to choose between Mando and her last chance of going straight. (She doesn’t know if she has the strength to choose going straight.)

“They have the kid.”

Cara’s eyes narrow. Oh no, they don’t.

The whole way to Morak, Cara watches the Mandalorian out of the corner of her eye.

There used to be a tenderness to him, an awkward softness that poked out between the cracks of his armor. She saw it first on Sorgan, in the way he watched his son play with the children in the krill ponds. Heard it in the thank you's he clumsily handed the young widow like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

It's gone now.

There’s an aura of deadliness concentrated around him that wasn’t there before. It’s like he’s a blaster aimed to kill and he’s only waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger. His voice is a gaping void. Sure, Mando has always been quiet, but now… it’s like he’s catatonic. Like he only exists when he needs to for the mission.

Cara has never feared him. Not even on that fateful day on Sorgan when she looked up from her spotchka, saw a real live Mandalorian hunter, and thought for the first time in her life, I might be meeting my match. She tends to be more practical than terrified in those kinds of situations, but—

Not gonna lie, the rigid figure sitting across from her makes her a little uneasy. It’s a good thing they’re on the same side.

The old Mando called a truce and offered her soup. She’s not so sure this one would do the same.

Cara can’t believe he agreed to replace his beskar with stormtrooper armor. She can’t believe he suggested replacing his beskar with stormtrooper armor.

It’s kind of dumb, but all she can think is where did your face go? She knows, rationally, that the black T-visor and beskar zygomatic curves aren’t his real face, that helmets are removable and there’s got to be a head somewhere in there. But still. Where is his face.

“I’d say it looks good on you, but I’d be lying,” she says.

The Mandalorian looks at her.

Cara’s always been able to read the crease of a brow and the twitching of lips through a helmet’s tilt. She knows this man as well as she knows her own blaster. Knows the way he fights and the way he stands still, knows what he’s saying when he doesn’t say anything at all. They’ve had entire conversations without speaking a single word. But now—

Now, for the the first time since the day they met, she locks eyes with the Mandalorian and has no idea what’s going on inside his head.

(It’s the lack of doubt. It’s the way he faces her, head-on, like a challenge.)

It shouldn’t feel so jarring. It’s not like he’s done anything yet that Cara wouldn’t do if their places were swapped; the kid is everything to him, so there’s no justification for the strange, premonitory loneliness she feels welling up in her bones. It’s just a helmet.

(It has never been just a helmet.)

Cara will go to the other end of the galaxy and farther if her Mandalorian needs her to. It’s a silent promise she made a long time ago, sometime after a bag of credits and a second chance plunked onto the dirt by her feet. She owes everything she is now to this man, who met an outlaw and saw a former Rebel shocktrooper, who without saying a single word reminded her what it was to have a heart and a code and a people to protect. She’ll hold herself to her vow as long as she’s able, but something tells her the Mandalorian is headed somewhere she can’t follow.

These stripes on my chest mean something, she thinks. That beskar meant something. You were the one who taught me that.

I wonder if you remember.

so funny to me that in 7 seasons of clone wars it is literally never brought up that obi-wan is anakin's commanding officer