"To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on." Word nerd. INFJ. Pan/bi/whatever, demisexual, and non-binary (they/them or you/yours pronouns preferred, but I'm ok with pretty much anything).
Hi hello could we please make sure that no one watches this and that it flops. Moffat can't get back on his bullshit in 2020 let's all leave him back in the 10s thank you very much.
It’s been how many years since I’ve written a fic?
Well, if you don’t mind spoilers for Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, here’s a small, mostly unedited Reylo drabble I just wrote to vent my feels.
Love y’all.
As Rey's lifeless body lay sprawled in his lap, her eyes blankly staring at the ceiling of the stone cavern, Ben remembered what she had done for him. Not only had she saved his life, but she had proved something—something he had already known to be true: that through the Force, anything was possible.
In the end, that was perhaps the one thing that united them. He had embraced that power, where she had been terrified of it. But that terror came from the same place: a place of power, a knowledge of the Force, and an understanding of what that power could do.
He had wanted it, so badly. To make an impact. To make the galaxy the way it should be. Orderly, and predictable. And yet she had feared it.
Why? Why fear power? Why fear the limitlessness ability to shape the galaxy... perhaps the entire universe?
He took a deep breath, gingerly placing his right hand on her abdomen, splaying his fingers over her motionless ribs.
She was quiet. So, so quiet.
Absolutely silent, and utterly still.
His breath was the only sound in the immense cavern, and it reverberated in his mind, even louder than the occasional strike of thunder, or the war raging overhead. He wanted to scream. To drown out everything. But no good could come of that. This wasn't an officer he could intimidate, only the dispassionate spectre of death.
“Rey,” he pleaded silently, between deep, measured breaths. “We need you. I need you. Please.”
Though this was something he had never done before—never even dreamed of doing before, Rey had been an excellent, if unwitting, teacher. He'd been half dead, but even then, every move she made, he had watched with all the attention his failing body could muster.
Ben forced himself with every breath, to fight the panic rising in his throat. The desire to scream, to rage at a universe that would do such a thing to the woman he loved. More than almost anything, he wanted to tear Palpatine apart. Not only limb by limb, but inch by fucking inch, until absolutely nothing remained of the monster. But Palpatine was already gone. Rey had seen to that.
And there was one thing he wanted more. One, singular thing.
Rey had believed in him, when no one else had. He had sensed it. Even when his parents had seemingly given up on his redemption, Rey had trusted that maybe he was not the monster she had pronounced him to be. And maybe... just maybe, this was his chance to prove it.
With every inhale, he willed himself to become what Rey had believed in. On every exhale, he pushed Kylo Ren further from his mind. If being in command of the Final Order was the only thing standing between them, then to hell with it.
He willed himself to become ever more calm, steadying his nerves, and focusing all his energy on the tenuous strands tethering him to his own life. She could have them. She deserved them. If he really was a monster, then there was no point in living. But if he could save her... if he could do just this one, impossible thing...
Ben's heart skipped a beat. Then two. He felt it, but stubborn as he was, nothing could stop him now. Not the fires of Mustafar, nor the frigid tundra of Hoth could stop him.
And finally, he felt her stir under his hand. Not a shudder, but a breath. And another.
And another.
Ben's eyes fluttered open, as his heart skipped yet another beat. He had no idea if he was dying, or if just taken in by the life returning to her eyes. And in the end, it didn't matter. Rey was alive, and in his arms. If he had been standing, his legs would have given out beneath him, Force be damned.
“Ben,” she whispered, her lips dry and cracked.
And, for the first time in years, the name felt right.
Ben Solo, son of Han and Leia. Both of them were gone now, but they lived on in him. He was their legacy now.
Rey placed a hand on his cheek, as if somehow she had understood his transformation. How could she? How could she possibly understand?
But she must have—as, dreamlike, she leaned forward, and kissed him firmly—intentionally, with all the warmth and softness he had imagined, and more.
His arms tightened around her, tears welling in his eyes. Crying was unbecoming of a Sith Lord, but he was a sith no longer. The warm, salty tears rolled down his cheeks, and, for once, he welcomed them. Tears borne, not out of fear, or anger, but ecstasy. Rey was alive, and nothing else mattered.
He opened his eyes, looking into hers, and smiled.
A brilliant 2008 campaign by World Wildlife Fund (WWF) has been resurfacing thanks to a recent reddit post going viral. The campaign, called WWF Japan – Population by pixel, was created by the agency Hakuhodo C&D / Tokyo.
do you know what I really hate? early morning culture. the misconception that getting up early is inherently better than sleeping in. that people who stay in bed longer than 8 am are lazy and have an unhealthy life rhythm and that apparently they “miss the best part of the day”. that causes so much unnecessary shame and guilt, especially in young people whose inner clock doesn’t work that way - scientifically proven, teenagers can’t reach their mind’s full potential before 10 am. And more generally speaking: why should we care if someone gets up at 10 or 11 am and goes to bed far after midnight? I would get so much more shit done if I wouldn’t feel so guilty for staying up late and sleeping in.
One of my dad’s favorite studies to quote is one about the productivity of early risers and night owls. The study found that the only difference between the two groups was that “one is a lot more smug about it.”
Also, as someone whose sleep cycles are impacted by depression/anxiety, I only get about 7 hours of restful sleep for 9 hours in bed. Meaning that if I want to get 8 hours of sleep, I have to be in bed at about 9:30 pm, which would negatively impact my social life, and is also just plain ridiculous.
Tucker Carlson on his show: Antifa and their enemies...
Me: "Their enemies" are called fascists. Antifa is literally short for anti-fascist, my dude. And the fact that you're trying to make THEM sound bad for hating on fascism says a lot.
DEAR TEENAGERS AND YOUNG ADULTS BECOMING SEXUALLY ACTIVE FOR THE FIRST TIME:
1. DEMAND condom use
2. Hold your partners accountable for what happens in the bedroom. None of this “baby I can’t control myself around you” or “I just wanted you so bad” bullshit.
3. Coercion is real and it’s very scary and hard to identify in the moment. Establish a dialogue with your partner. Be clear on what you both want. Be clear on what you don’t want. Your boundaries should ALWAYS be respected.
4. Sex can be really emotionally and physically over-stimulating the first few times; don’t be afraid or ashamed to ask your partner to slow down, take a break, or even stop.
5. Focus less on pleasing your partner and more on exploring your partner. Everyone’s body is different and there are no “tricks” to better sex. Chances are, if you psych yourself out worrying over how well you’re “performing” then nobody’s going to have a good time.
6. Ask questions, offer suggestions. Despite what porn has probably taught you, talking during sex isn’t weird or taboo. Your partner isn’t a mind reader. They don’t know what feels good to you. [Pro-tip, a looot of people without clitorises aren’t fully aware of just HOW sensitive a clitoris is. They can be a little rough with them. Tell them to chill!!!!]
7. Your sex life is YOUR business. Don’t ever feel ashamed of how many or how few sexual partners/experiences you’re having. Do what you want, touch the people who want to touch you back, forget the rest.
8. DON’T FAKE YOUR ORGASMS!! Don’t fake your orgasms!! DON’TFAKEYOURORGAMS!! If your partner isn’t getting you there, let them know! Tell them how!!
9. There is more to sex than orgasms. Sex is a really cool way to establish intimacy and trust, to have a fun time, to relieve stress, to explore a person’s body and bring them pleasure. Don’t get me wrong, orgasms are really cool and good, but your sex life is going to be a lot better if it doesn’t revolve around them.
10. LEARN ABOUT YOUR BODY!! This goes for everyone, but ESPECIALLY if you are a person in possession of a vulva, you have been discouraged and even actively kept from vital knowledge about your anatomy! Do some google searches, buy a human sexuality textbook, masturbate.
11. Virginity is a useless concept. It’s completely okay if your virginity is something important to you and I’m not trying to belittle that idea. Just, for the record, in the grand scheme of things it’s not a big deal. Literally nothing about you changes just because you bumped uglies with someone else.
This has been a public service announcement from your friendly internet poet.
Talking about sex when not being sexy is the best first step to having sex. Don’t talk about it to turn on your partner, just discuss it casual. Talk about your thoughts and feelings, what you think you want, what scares you, what interests you, etc. Like anything you can think of. It makes the act easier and can help you establish boundaries before the act starts. Try doing it on a phone or over text so you know sex won’t start. Sometimes the distance helps you be honest.
every star trek series since the 1960s: Earth in the first half of the 21st century was chaotic, plagued by social and economic inequality, the disastrous effects of pollution, and a devastating nuclear war
Why is every piece of media now about “surprise! bet you didn’t see that coming” instead of themes, character arcs, internal logic, and consistency in writing?
It’s okay if your audience (especially hardcore fans) predicts your story. It means that they picked up the clues you put in, understood the themes you were trying to convey, empathised with the characters…
How is that a bad thing?
Instead each piece of media feels like it’s written by a marketing team that is looking at the latest statistics for TRP ratings and box-office collections.
Ironically, when media does this, it almost always causes itself to be either utter nonsense, or entirely predictable.
If you can look at a story and say, “What’s the craziest thing I think the author could get away with?” there’s about a 50% chance you just spoiled the ending for yourself.
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