@lightsparked sent 🗣️ for an incorrect quote !! ( always accepting! )

seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Netherlands

seen from Switzerland
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Sri Lanka
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from France

seen from Canada
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from Colombia
@lightsparked sent 🗣️ for an incorrect quote !! ( always accepting! )
I want @savedsorrow & @lightsparked to write some beautiful space gays together so I can watch and call them rey’s moms.
‘ admiral. ‘ despite exegol, or perhaps because of it, she still didn’t feel part of the resistance. there was little left to do now, just taking care of the last remnants of the first order. but leia was gone. master skywalker was gone. ben-- ‘ admiral, please give me something to do. ‘ jedi general. that was the title she was given. the only one of her kind in the resistance, in what would become the new republic. alone. apart from from the others. ‘ an assignment, a task. please. ‘
@lightsparked
🎉 😘
𝑻𝑬𝑵 / 𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑬 / 𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻... they can still put on an impromptu show, larma remarks to the admiral at her side, with a faint smirk resting in her features. for the turn of the year, even with their depleted resources, the resistance will light fires and share personal rations and find the HOPE in a situation so lacking in it. a remarkable joy rests in the heavy air as voices sing a countdown with a rare happy ending; they’re the lucky ones, the ones with another year to plan and fight and think. a whole year. so she can be forgiven - SURELY - if she abandons her thoughts as the countdown ends, just for a moment, and leans in close the gap resting between them.
without allowing a level head to control her, she finds that she kisses amilyn like they’re running out of time, as though the countdown is to an ending rather than a beginning, isn’t symbolic of an ABUNDANCE of it. and perhaps it’s true. she must take this moment for what it is; she knows that when it ends, when the novelty of the celebration is lost, they’ll return to what they were before, and she’ll be nothing but the admiral’s ever loyal second in command. but larma needs this moment - this confession, of sorts - to remind her that after all this time ( all the defeat, the HORROR, the hopelessness they’ve shared ) she still fights for something, after all. ❝ ── happy new year, admiral. ❞
@lightsparked | NEW YEAR SMOOCHES (ACCEPTING)
@lightsparked: “You’re from Warlentta, aren’t you?” Amilyn said, glancing to her new bunk mate with a knowing smile. It was the accent, a basic spoken with neat, clipped consonants, not unlike Coruscant’s. “When is your birthday? I haven’t had the chance to study Warlentta’s signs, but you’d be surprised the similarities from planet to planet.”
𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑰𝑫𝑵'𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑨𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑬. it was childish of her, she thought, and certainly not the sentiments of a rebel, but larma had been terrified by the idea of isolation since her arrival at the base, scared that any pause for thought would leave her exposed to the RUIN which she suspected accompanied grief. larma needed the rebellion far more than the rebellion needed her. but there was a belief in her mind, an idea held since childhood of what the alliance was, that was not in any way being matched by the strange-haired girl sat across from her. KRIFF. if the stars had ANY power at all, larma thought it a very cruel trick of them to give her this girl as a bunk mate at a time like this.
❝ I DON’T THINK THE STARS CAN TELL US ANYTHING. why would we be here trying to fight, if there’s some strange force that knows whether or not we win? ❞
❝ ── sorry. we’re just… not really brought up with all that. ❞ she had tried and failed to briefly return the stranger’s little smile ( though she had at least nodded in response to her observation ) before it occurred to her that her response had been even a little harsh. fantastic job, larma d’acy. with a gentle sigh, she allowed a beat to pass before shuffling slightly along the floor, coming to a stop and crossing her legs just a slight distance away from her bunk mate. ❝ …it’s the first day of month seven, 7963. by the galactic standard calendar. AND I’M LARMA. most people tend to ask that first. ❞
💘 ;))
@lightsparked | RELATIONSHIP WISHLIST
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃: ❝ i know you think you have to get through this by yourself, but you have people here to help you. ❝ : @lightsparked
𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑. Too many things are going through her head, one thought chasing the other in a race of importance and solution. There’s no right way to answer but the ever so strong truth rings strongly with her. There is trust; faith she’s more than willing to put into Amilyn Holdo.
Despite all the time that had passed, sometimes it was just easier to trust only herself. It was a steep learning curve that only instinct could accelerate. ❝ --- I don’t to put anyone else in danger. ❝ Another truth spoken.
meme for ppl who hate happiness | @lightsparked: “I’m here- I’m here, now”
SHE IS CERTAIN SHE IS A SHADOW, the edge of a memory fleeing from a haunted thought, and for a distinct moment larma stares blankly at the figure, trying to disconnect the treasured image from what she has convinced herself must be the truth. this is not the first time, after all. she has imagined her here before; imagined, because it is kinder, because it would be selfish to wish that they were here together, however much the isolation might be up there with the worst of all this. no. almost. but she has never known what the order are capable of before now; there has been worse, and there is worse to come, and distraction is no better than ignorance. she knows where her focus must lie.
but she cannot shake her from her thoughts, her vision - thinks she’s gone mad and wonders if it’s not better, until trembling hands reach out and clasp around solid shoulders, hear comfort in a familiar tone. amilyn. she briefly imagines her hands lingering at her jaw, against her collarbone, the SIMPLICITY of it all voicing what must be said between them, but her touch will not be so kind as to allow them those gentle moments of reunion. she collapses into her, and her grip is violent, fingertips biting through the fine fabric which barely protects the skin of amilyn’s upper arms from the commander’s desperate hold. she cannot let her go. cannot risk separating from her, can’t go back now that she holds salvation in her crushing embrace.
she chokes on a sob as it tries to unravel their separation, fights against the truth she will refuse to let her hear simply because she couldn’t bear it. perhaps it’s too late. the order have had her too long, and it’s a poison resting in pulsing veins. amilyn thinks she’s braver than she is; larma cannot imagine that she could watch her like this, reduced to her bones and a memory for the sake of a few coordinates, and ever see her like she did before. but she didn’t tell them. she wants to scream it. I DIDN’T TELL THEM ANYTHING, MY DARLING! I KEPT THEM SAFE, I KEPT YOU SAFE! PLEASE REMEMBER THAT, WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME. no such thought is voiced; she can’t pass anything through her aching cries, worries that she’s incapable until she manages to force a weak request into the acrid air. one day, she’ll tell the truth. that it was the thought of her that kept her alive, how amilyn holdo saved her twice, how they’d taken every other form of resistance from her but never thought of love. but not today. today she’ll hold her grasp.
❝ ── t-take me home. ❞ and don’t let her go. though she doesn’t need to ask.