#rocknets

[ccinagalaxyfaraway]

If you're taking prompts, how about plo/Wolffe first impressions? Either when they first met or the first moment they really started to pay attention to each other :D

Maybe their first meeting wasn’t quite how you imagine it … 

The sands of the arena are settling in the brief ceasefire. Plo grips his lightsaber tightly, focusing on the battle droids. They are more capable than anyone had expected; someone has been planning for this for a very long time. It’s hard to believe that Dooku could have fallen to this extent, that he could orchestrate the killing of nearly 200 of his former family. This is not the time to think of it. That can come later, or never; later, if they both live, will be a time to make sure Mace is handling this as well as he can. Plo does not envy his position, or the choice he has to make. To condemn twenty to die now, or to provide leverage against the Republic and potentially doom ten thousand?

He reaches for Mace through the Force, as do their fellow Councilors. We are with you, he whispers. 

The sentence comes. He shifts to cover Bultar, who even now holds to her conviction never to kill. She is far too young. He cannot outlive her. 

The hum of aircraft rapidly descends, and he reaches up with his senses. A familiar presence. Rescue. The shooting begins again, and he herds his few comrades backwards to safety. One by one, they are pulled aboard the hovering gunships by white-armored men under the cover of blaster fire. 

There are so many dead. The gaping hole left in the Force where their presences used to be will linger for a very long time. 

He reaches a gunship and turns, thumbing the switch on his saber. One of the soldiers reaches down and wraps a hand around Plo’s forearm and pulls. His grip is firm and his posture stiff; as soon as Plo is aboard, he waves to the pilot to be ready to take off. 

Plo dips his head to the man. “Thank you,” he says, pushing the amplification on his mask as far as it will go to be heard above the engines. 

“You’re welcome, sir,” the soldier answers, but even as Plo turns to check on his fellow survivors, he can hear the echo of his thoughts as they made contact: they don’t know what they’re doing. They have no business pretending at war.

[sixth-light]

You were there for the Cassandra Clare wank??? I've only heard the legends :D

I wasn’t there as in ‘directly involved in it’, but yes, I was in HP fandom when it went down - in fact, her work was the very first fanfiction of any sort I ever read (though I’d well moved on from it by 2006). It’s why I will never forgive and never forget, because I felt so betrayed that all the funny lines I remembered had been wholesale plagiarised from other media. 

[youhavereachedtheendofpie]

An Arundel Tomb

Side by side, their faces blurred,   The earl and countess lie in stone,   Their proper habits vaguely shown   As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,   And that faint hint of the absurd—   The little dogs under their feet. Such plainness of the pre-baroque     Hardly involves the eye, until It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still   Clasped empty in the other; and   One sees, with a sharp tender shock,   His hand withdrawn, holding her hand. They would not think to lie so long.   Such faithfulness in effigy Was just a detail friends would see: A sculptor’s sweet commissioned grace   Thrown off in helping to prolong   The Latin names around the base. They would not guess how early in Their supine stationary voyage The air would change to soundless damage,   Turn the old tenantry away; How soon succeeding eyes begin To look, not read. Rigidly they Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths   Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light Each summer thronged the glass. A bright   Litter of birdcalls strewed the same Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths   The endless altered people came, Washing at their identity.   Now, helpless in the hollow of   An unarmorial age, a trough Of smoke in slow suspended skeins   Above their scrap of history,   Only an attitude remains: Time has transfigured them into   Untruth. The stone fidelity They hardly meant has come to be   Their final blazon, and to prove   Our almost-instinct almost true:   What will survive of us is love.

by Philip Larkin

[smileandasong]

rocknets replied to your post “if you’re ever wondering what my default emotion is, it’s a lot of...”

a trash can person and a truly terrible filmmaker, michael bay really is an overachiever huh ����

imagine having no redeemable qualities whatsoever and still getting to be a multi-millionaire director because people actually like and consume the shit you’re trying to pass off as ‘cinema’

[aces-to-apples]

oooh ☕ for the writer ask meme!

Writer Ask Meme

☕ - here have one each, “Pretension Is Key”:

“Are you an angel?”

Anakin was, of course, the first to break the silence.

Maul was too busy monitoring Shmi’s emotional state through their bond—giving all the appearance of an exhausted warrior taking a catnap—to keep the young queen entertained. He cracked an eye at the words to examine Amidala: mouth stained purple from the fruit Maul had given her earlier, hair frizzing in the dry, desert heat, wearing over-sized clothes and a blaster almost too big for her hands. He snorted before closing it again.

“What?” Amidala said, a confused smile evident in her voice.

“An angel,” he said again, before elaborating. “Ben, our brother, told me about them after he came back from an adventure once. They're the most beautiful beings in the universe; they live on the moons of Iego.”

Maul had to give it to the kid, he may be a Skywalker but he was picking up that Kenobi charisma quickly. He could sense the young queen being charmed by the brat’s open admiration and listened with half an ear as he told her about himself and their family.

“You're a slave?” she exclaimed a few minutes later, drawing Maul’s attention once again, even as he felt Shmi’s impeccable shields brush off an attempted Force-suggestion.

“I’m a person and my name is Anakin,” the boy answered mulishly. “But… yeah, technically. Gardulla the Hutt lost Mom and I betting on the pod-races and the only reason Uncle Watto doesn't free us is because it's an added layer of protection for when Maul and Ben are both gone. Nobody wants to shell out the money to pay for hurting somebody else's slave—even one who kicks their shebs in a race.”

Checking one last time to be sure Shmi didn't need his help dealing with the feckless Jedi, Maul finally turned all his attention to the room and its occupants. “Speaking of our idiot brother, where is Ben?”

“That murder cult tried to recruit Auntie Kat,” Anakin answered, with the same casual tone one might use to discuss the weather. On Naboo. “Aunt Sati commed just after your last holocall and asked him to help her deal with them. Pretty sure she's also gonna try to seduce him again, but—” he shrugged “—what do I know?”

“Huh, third time’s the charm, I suppose,” Maul murmured and silently wished Satine luck, ignoring the scandalized yet amused noise the queen made at the exchange. Then, “You know, I've just had an idea…”

and “peace is a lie”:

The sting of it feels reminiscent of reaching out a hand to touch something fragile or expensive and having it slapped away.

“You know, for someone who got on his knees and begged me to help him,” Lieutenant Jesse drawls, “you’re not doing a very good job of holding up your end of the bargain. Don’t touch what isn’t yours, Maul. Think you can handle the temptation just a bit longer?” His voice twists with irony and Maul can’t parse whether or not he understands that temptation truly is the most appropriate word.

Less than an hour ago, the lieutenant had held a lit blade against his throat for the crime of entering his mind without permission; it seems a fair assumption that the bond is swaying his judgment in Maul’s favor, that he does nothing more than smack Maul away from following the bond to its foundational hook.

“I meant no offense,” he says humbly, a smirk curling around his mouth. “I was merely… curious.”

After a moment, a carefully crafted image is sent along down the bond and deposited into the forefront of his mind. It is of himself, dead on the ground with a still-smoking blaster bolt in the back of his head, accompanied by a feeling of intense exasperation.

Maul throws his head back and laughs.

“Keep pushing,” Jesse says lightly. “Ni ijaatakaani gar, see what happens.”

Still chuckling, Maul finishes the last sequence and turns to face the good lieutenant. He sweeps into a mocking bow and says, “Your chariot awaits, Ver’alor,” with his smirk firmly in place.

Jesse somehow manages to roll his eyes with his entire body. “This is why you don’t have any friends,” he informs Maul in a very serious tone as he tosses one of the DC-17s back to him. “It’s because you’re an os’ika.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s why I ‘don’t have any friends.’”

“I can hear those air-quotes even without looking at you. C’mon, you’ve got the lightsaber, you take point.”

and no that’s not even pandering because honestly i love writing maul’s for basically anything, even when he’s wildly au.

[audible-smiles]

rocknets replied to your post: [[MOR] @glamstructed​ was like MO XUANYU and I...

ok I’ve only been in the untamed fandom for 3.5 seconds but I’m SO excited for this

as long as you guys understand that i have no writing discipline whatsoever and the longest thing i’ve ever published was 5k so i will need CEASELESS positive attention to get through actually finishing something!!!

[whitewashedhanzo]

your blog is the funniest thing in this godforsaken fandom

no its not but thank u!!

[memedocumentation]

Have you guys seen the translated Russian cat meme?

Yup! We now have this meme documented!