Patton's Rbs

my rbs

[stealingpotatoes]

I am still laughing at "he touched a book and starting having a panic attack so we just left" two days after being sent that piece

loll well it's been living rent free in my head too soo... i'm using this as an excuse to draw a sequel

[stealingpotatoes]

Technically speaking Cal is the only, living, Jedi who was officially knighted. Yoda implied Luke was a Jedi, but he never knighted him. And Ahsoka and Ezra were Padawan’s who never officially finished there training.

their collective teaching credentials are basically just "haha dude trust me I know what I'm doing for sure"

[stealingpotatoes]

Do you think they take younglings on field trips. Do museums occasionally get a few dozen tiny Jedi coming and oohing and awwing over their dinosaurs.

yes absolutely!!! however sometimes the Jedi masters have some uh… ulterior motives

(commission info // kofi support!)

[stealingpotatoes]

woke: luke changes the rules so attachments are more allowed

bespoke: luke doesn't even realise its a rule bc half the Jedi he's met ignore it

(commission info // kofi support!)

[stealingpotatoes]

Do NOT let Captain Solo teach the Jedi kids

^ real quote from leia

[stealingpotatoes]

local senator discovers her children are literally descended from the force

(ko-fi requests are open!)

[stealingpotatoes]

eldritch Anakin stuff is best when nobody remembers to explain the fact he's half-Force to Ahsoka

(ko-fi requests are open!)

[thatforkedroad]

Sun-hearted

[ao3] Anakin Skywalker is not human. The people around him try not to think about it.

----

Shmi had always known her son wasn’t like her. 

At first, she had assumed that the pregnancy had simply happened without her knowledge. Or that perhaps her mind had blocked out the event — a slave knew better than anyone how the brain killed the past to protect the present, to keep you surviving. 

But the more she tried to dig up the memory-that-wasn’t-there, the more she ran through scenarios, the more she realised that nothing that made sense. If it had been… any of her theories, she would have known, there would have been evidence, Watto wouldn’t have been so angry when he found out. Eventually, she realised she had to give up logic alltogether. Anakin’s father was not something knowable to her. He (it?) had been something else. Something impossible. 

A miracle.

The theory only grew more convincing as her pregnancy progressed. She began to sense things no human should have been able to. Objects falling before they’d even been knocked. Watto’s bad mood from two rooms away. Her baby’s strong soul, loudly proclaiming it would be a survivor. 

She held her new sixth sense dear for those nine months she had it — but not as dearly as she held her baby boy, to whom the sense really belonged. Her darling miracle baby boy, who always knew too much too soon, who read intentions as easily as he read schematics, and whose quick hands and quicker mind did the impossible on Boonta Eve. 

Slaves were supposed to cling to their miracles, so few and far between as they were. But a mother was supposed to do what was best for her son, and Anakin was her boy above all else. She let him go, hoping the Jedi would understand and care for his impossibility better than she ever could. 

(And as Shmi died, she did not need Anakin’s sixth sense to feel the anger running through his miracle veins. She did not need it to know what would happen next, either. 

She knew with all the certainty her slow-beating heart had that her son’s grief would raze the galaxy to ash.)

—

Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t fit in with the other younglings and padawans.

He wanted to believe it was just because of the boy’s upbringing, that it was only because he’d grown up in a much crueler, realer world to the others. Or perhaps it was because Anakin was already a padawan or because of how annoyingly easily it was for him to call the Force. Maybe they just heard the Council had tried to reject him. There seemed to be a few hundred thousand reasons that the children of the Temple would consider him an outsider — but one stood out like a sore and mythical thumb. 

There was no Chosen One or such thing as a child born of the Force. There was certainly no chance that the other children (even the ones who tried to accept Anakin with open arms) could sense otherness in his blood. He was just like any other Jedi, if a little more reckless. 

As Anakin and the other padawans grew, they grew together. He became like well-sewn patch on an old shirt — the difference was there, yes, but only noticeable if you were really looking. It was better for everyone if Obi-Wan stopped looking for the gap, so he did. 

Anakin had never seemed to notice it, anyway. 

(And as he watched Anakin’s slaughter of the Temple, the hot drowning of dread and horror and nausea was joined by a cold, parasitic realisation. The gap between Anakin and the other Jedi had never grown smaller; Obi-Wan had only grown more blind. 

Jedi were taught from a young age that they could not hold or control the Force, that they were to let it flow freely else they would face the consequences. Obi-Wan had been a fool to think that something made of one half Force and one half heartbreak could be held any more than its parent.)

—

Anakin grinned, and Ahsoka felt every clone in the hangar’s mood lift. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile in return — and then he cracked a joke, and the worry and grief of the battle became a distant, shrouded memory.

It always went like this. They came back from the latest campaign dirtied, injured, and with a tiredness that ached into their very bones. They all wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep and mourn and not talk to anyone for several hours. But then Anakin — still riding the high of a good fight — would clap Ahsoka on the shoulder, make a stupid comment to Rex, and everything would feel fine. Better than fine even. 

Morale seemed so reliant on him that if her master was angry or sad or upset, so was the entire ship. When he was in a mood, meditation became impossible, no matter how at peace Ahsoka felt. She once considered that it was more than just moral, more than just his stupid jokes, but she had grown up in the Temple, raised on lessons of a Jedi’s few limits. A single man could not project his emotions onto an army. 

Anakin just had a friendly smile, was all. 

(And when Maul told her — warned her — of what her master would become, she did not listen. She could not listen. She thought only of his grin, and the sunny sureness in her chest that always accompanied it.

And so she fought for it again.)

—

Rex knew, theoretically, that General Skywalker was human. 

He’d seen enough medical scans from Kix (on the unusual occasion that the general submitted to care) to know that Skywalker’s biology was just like any natborn human’s. He didn’t have strange-coloured blood or an extra eye and all his (mostly-intact) organs were in the right places. The records showed that he was completely, one-hundred-percent human. 

Theoretically, this made complete sense. 

And it made sense he would seem slightly off. Rex had spent the first decade of his life surrounded entirely by his brothers and Kaminoan scientists; his idea of a ‘normal’ person was someone who looked and sounded identical to him, not a tall, barely-tanned Tatooinian with the wrong accent. Even if it hadn’t been, Rex knew Jedi were different from your average natborn. They could do all these crazy things that belonged in storybooks and myths, not the battlefield. Swaying people, moving objects (or clone captains) with their minds, seeing the future — if Rex hadn’t been trained to do so, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it. 

But if being a Jedi had been the reason, wouldn’t Rex have noticed the same thing with Commander Tano or General Kenobi? He understood that maybe Commander Tano wasn’t old enough to develop whatever it was General Skywalker had — but Kenobi was older, more trained in the Force. Surely Rex would have noticed the same thing, that same surely-not-quite-human feeling with him? 

Maybe he just spent too much time around the General. Maybe this thinking was just a part of having a good natborn friend.

He hoped it was, at least. 

(And when Rex heard of the attack on the Temple, he understood his hope was for naught. 

He and his brothers weren’t an isolated incident, he knew; Ahsoka had felt the deaths across the galaxy. He had no doubt the clones on the battlefield cut down their generals — who trusted them like they trusted their own right hand, who stood alone in front of a one-thousand strong army — with an alarming ease. 

But he heard reports of the Temple, of blue-painted clones massacring all there, and knew they couldn’t have done it alone. Only one Jedi was strong enough to take on a Temple of their own kind and win.)

—

Padmé wondered if her husband was made from the stars themselves.

It seemed like the only explanation, sometimes. How could anything mortal be so beautiful? How could anything born on solid ground hold that much love in its heart? He was impossible. He looked her in the eye and saw right through every mask she wore, saw that all she was at the core was an overworked girl from Naboo — and still beamed like she was the most perfect thing in the galaxy. He loved her for who she was, not what she could do for him nor for the stature of Amidala. That seemed rarer than stardust. 

She would see him and her breath would catch with something that had to be more than love. He stood by the window and stared into the Coruscanti night like he could hear every thought in the city-planet, his golden-brown hair catching the edges of the hundred-colour lights. She ought to walk up to him, hold him, tell him she loves him and pepper him with kisses — but all she could do was stare. In those moments, he was perfect and divine, and she could not interrupt them with her mortality. 

(And as Padmé lay dying, her life force dragged out by some dark presence, she thought of her star-husband. And she thought of the refugees she had once helped when their sun imploded. It should have been a lesson learnt; stars were beautiful in the night sky, warm in the summer, but dangerous. Able to end entire planets in their own cosmic pain. 

Some small part of her knew this when she first said I love you. But she could not listen. She saw only the star-beauty in his eyes and all the love he held in his sun-heart.)

—

Anakin Skywalker had long questioned whether he was human or not. 

But as Darth Vader looked down at his mechanical hands, heard his pressurised breathing, and ignored the pain that followed his every half-sedated movement, he found his humanity was no longer a question. 

[crab-rangoonee]

Dinluke nation how we doing

[yaoiconnoisseur]

「　STAR DADS 」

[radioactivepenguine]

credits of the post + full comic under the cut :)

Inspo from here :

and full comic here :)

[stealingpotatoes]

Do you have any dinluke hc?

i have many but here is one

(commission info // tip jar!)

[sawyer-bailey]

aw wait that’s so cute 🥹

[angel-of-the-lorde]

how it feels to enjoy multiple contradictory headcanons for a character

[motherfucker-somewhat-limited]

did laundry and showered today you knowwwww i'm hitting that clean sheets clean jammies clean me trifecta tonight

[motherfucker-somewhat-limited]

bro im bedcelled. im comfypilled. im literally cozymaxxing.

[probablysomethingtm]

​honkpilled shoomaxxer

[motherfucker-somewhat-limited]

straight up "snorkin' it". and by "it" haha, well. let's just say. mimimi

[the-haiku-bot]

straight up “snorkin’ it”.

and by “it” haha, well. let’s

just say. mimimi

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Did you know that AO3 allows fics with homicide in them? There’s a whole tag for Major Character Death and even more tags so you can find exactly what kind of character death you want to read. 

Don’t they know that murder is illegal? You just know there are a bunch of homicidal maniacs out there who love to read those stories. They write them, too, in between killing people. 

Anyone can read the stories on AO3! Kids can read them! They’re getting exposed to stabbing, poisoning, even guns! And they’re writing the heroes doing the killing, too! That’s basically telling kids it’s okay to go out and murder their families. It’s promoting violence and encouraging homicide and if we don’t do something about it soon, you’ll be murdered next!

[zoanzon]

[ao3commentoftheday]

The devil came to my house and tried to burn it down, which is why this post exists in the first place.

[leadoodles]

I can’t believe that tumblr user ao3commentoftheday is telling KIDS to go out knocking on doors asking for the devil! /s

[ao3commentoftheday]

but only *after* they piss on the poor! /s

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[sickbrokenangel]

[sickbrokenangel]

THIS IS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING RESPONSE IVE EVER GOTTEN ON ANY OF MY POSTS EVER

[worldheritagepostorganization]

World Heritage Post