"You watch out," said Chirrut. "I'm going to prove it. The Force is with you, Baze." This was a perfectly conventional thing for one novitiate to say to another, by way of praise or encouragement. It was typical of Chirrut that he should have made it weird. Baze might not be the most insightful person in the world, and he wasn't inclined to detect admiration where it didn't exist. But it was clear even to him that Chirrut's childhood attachment had developed into a raging crush. Baze had had crushes himself. It was natural. Chirrut was being bizarre about his, but perhaps that was only what one should expect from Chirrut. Really lovely backstory for Baze and Chirrut.
“Security?” they both say at once, in the same snarky sort of tone that would probably piss me off if I wasn’t from California, and Barton gives the Parker kid a little wink and a slap on the arm. Like the kid said something fiendishly clever and funny and Barton just found his soulmate or something. I explain to them about Scott and the job – more about Scott than about the job, ‘cause Scott and I were in jail together and so were Scott and Hawkeye, which makes us practically cousins. Barton seems to agree and offers me a slice of pizza. Luis gets a job as a security guard at Stark Tower. Hee! (Though why Domino's? Nobody in NYC would admit to eating Domino's.)
“I can hear you thinking,” Baze says. “An old man’s melancholy,” Chirrut says. “I’m allowed that sometimes.” Chirrut’s fingers are still on Baze’s face, so he feels it when Baze opens his eyes. “Tell me.” “I would wish you a happier life.” “And I would wish you eyes that work again,” Baze says. “But then you wouldn’t be you, and I wouldn’t love you, and then what would I do?” “Be less stressed, I’d wager.” “Ugh.” Baze throws an arm around Chirrut, pulling him tight for an impressive hug. Chirrut presses his face against Baze’s neck, and sighs when Baze strokes a large palm down the back of Chirrut’s head. “I know you didn’t mean that.” “I didn’t mean that,” Chirrut agrees. “We keep each other safe.” “Oh, we now?” Baze says with a laugh. “Not the Force?” Chirrut ignores the tease, for he’d rather to move his mouth up Baze’s neck, over the edges of his beard, to find his mouth. Baze kisses him back, softly at first, and then not. Baze and Chirrut in their brief time on Yavin IV. Oh heart.
I gave him everything I could. Your son. He will always be yours, Tuney, but he has grown in my house. And maybe it wasn't enough, what we tried to do, what we tried to be, but we love him, and he loves us, Tuney. I didn't steal anything from you. I gave it. I would've given you everything I had, if you had just let me. I gave him everything I had. That is what you do, when a little boy comes into your life with nothing but himself. You give him a home. AU where Dudley grows up with the Potters. *sob*
Steve often puts his fingertips on your collarbone. Your scapula. On the little white dimples where the arm was screwed into your bones. He's always noticing the differences between your serums. You don't heal as fast as Steve, but you have more endurance. He's faster than you. You're more flexible. But this: you know this hurts him. That you scar. That they gave you scars. That you gave yourself scars, fixing what they did. You don't think he'll ever stop being angry about that. He'd sooner stop breathing. Sometimes, you think, if Steve ever stopped eating, the serum might sustain him on anger alone. Lovely sequel to "through smoke, solid ground" (previously recced), in which Bucky is a few years on in his recovery, but challenges persist.
[...] Two girls ride ruthlessly Beside one another—one filthy as a story, the other filthy As a storyteller. One girl might leave a trail of crumbs Behind her. One might leave a line of poured-out gasoline. Old evening air the way warm soda tastes like a hangover, A long drive in July. I got plenty of time. You got light in your eyes. [...]
“But the federation tried to kill the negotiators and invaded, taking Queen Amidala captive. They demanded her surrender, but she refused. They threatened her with bloodshed unless she signed their treaty, but she would not. They tried every trick to make her give in, but she persisted.” “Because she was brave?” “Because she was brave.” (brave, courageous, determined, foolhardy, reckless padmé. queen of our hearts, sister of our soul. oh why did you always rush ahead of us? you who would give anything to protect us, why would you not let us do the same? foolish, wonderful, lost padmé.) on tumblr: https://lurkingcrow.tumblr.com/post/159083296419/have-some-handmaiden-feels
In anticipation of their separation they pass the rest of the night together in accordance with only their own traditions and personal oaths. They speak their prayers into kisses, setting lips to skin like scripture to page. Passion, Attachment, and Emotion - instead of obstacles they are the walls behind which they can take cover in a galaxy rumbling with threat of war. So long as they have each other they know peace and sustenance. Despite what the masters of the Whills may think, their dedication to the Force is not obstructed by their partnership, but in fact magnified between them. What better cause is there to serve a higher power than it’s promise to bind all things now in the hereafter, them to each other most of all? Really lovely look at Baze and Chirrut from Chirrut's POV, through the end of the Clone Wars.
Modern AU in which Poe accompanies Finn and Rey to Han's funeral and quietly pines for them. Lovely. (note: it's all lower case, originally posted to tumblr)
It was just—Jack’s voice. Southern accent aside, he sounded exactly like Bucky. At least, Steve thought he did. His inner rational Sam gently suggested it might be wishful thinking. Do you remember his voice well enough to be sure? It had been over seventy years, or nearly five, depending on how you counted, since Steve had properly heard Bucky’s voice. His brief interactions with the Winter Soldier didn’t count, what with all the agonized screaming and gunfire and shrieking metal. And history hadn’t preserved the sound of Bucky’s voice. Steve had checked. It had just been Captain America who spoke on all those propaganda films and newsreels, his Howling Commandos silent and relegated to montages and still pictures. He couldn’t be too resentful though, not when history had preserved the precious sight of Bucky laughing and smiling, caught in one perfect loop in the Smithsonian. So maybe Steve just didn’t remember Bucky’s voice, not perfectly. He’d been half deaf for the better part of their friendship after all. Maybe his memory didn’t hold the exact softness of Bucky’s voice, its particular pitch. Maybe all the certainty he had left was in how its soothing and smooth tones had meant home and safe when Bucky had read to him when he’d been too sick to read himself. Maybe he could only be sure of the animated rise and fall of Bucky’s chatter, the way he’d talked and talked when he got home from work, regaling Steve with the latest neighborhood gossip or the plot of whatever pulp novel he was reading. Whatever Steve did or didn’t remember, however imperfect the memory of Bucky’s voice, listening to Jack plucked at some chord in Steve’s heart, and set it to thrumming. It didn’t matter that Steve was wedged uncomfortably in a tree’s branches, it didn’t matter that Jack was just talking about equations and math terms Steve didn’t know or care about. He sounded like Bucky. Hilarious and sweet reunion story.
It takes Cassian Andor and Han Solo an embarrassingly long time to realize that they aren't each other's rivals. hee! Boys are dumb. even hotshot smugglers and brilliant rebel spies.
never thought about love when I thought about home by
“There are a lot of colors of towel here.” “Yeah, there are. White’s pretty standard though.” “But it’s boring.” “They’re towels.” Crews blinked at her. “Please just pick a color.” “You don’t have a preference?” “Besides white?” He glared a little. She sighed, and pointed at the green ones. “Green.” “Sage green,” corrected Crews. He closely inspected the sage green towels. “These aren’t Egyptian cotton though. Do you want Egyptian cotton? It’s nicer, fluffier. I like fluffy towels.” “They’re towels,” said Dani again. “We’re in Target. They’re all basically the same thing.” This earned her a disappointed look, but he grabbed a stack of the sage green towels and put them in the cart. When they got to the bedding aisle, she pointedly picked the sage green sheets, with a high thread count even, and Crews beamed at her. He disappeared into another aisle, and came back with throw pillows. “For the couch,” he said. “You didn’t have furniture for like, a year. Now you want throw pillows?” Crews nodded. Dani rolled her eyes, but left the throw pillows in the cart. Perfect trope executed perfectly. 30k words of Crews and Reese undercover married! Oh my heart!
"I should've been there," said Hermione. "I shouldn't have let that thing get me. I should've been cleverer." "Cleverer?" Ron scoffed. "Hermione, you get any cleverer and reality would collapse. The sky would fall. Your brains would be too big for you to fit through doors." Hermione twisted her hands in her lap. "But seriously," Ron said. "You were there. I mean-- you're the one who figured it out. We wouldn't have been able to do anything without you. And.." He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. "That's what friends are for, right? We were there, so you were, too. It was all our fight. You know?" AU where Hermione is the Girl Who Lived. *gross sobbing*
In Uncanny Avengers #20, the Red Skull, using Johnny as a psychic puppet, taunted Spider-Man by saying he'd kill Johnny in front of Peter, and it was the most beautiful panel in the whole entire world. Peter and Johnny in the aftermath. Oh boys.
He couldn't believe he'd made Chirrut Imwe come untouched. The thought felt like sacrilege, but a spectacularly impressive form of sacrilege. He would feel proud if he wasn't so tired. Baze and Chirrut meet when Chirrut is a sex slave working for the Hutts. And it's not even actually AU. Funny and sad and sweet.
Laugh It Up, Fuzzball : Legends/EU Download Masterpost
Ok instead of harping on you guys to PM me for the SW books you want I just went and put the whole thing up on my dropbox. Link and info below (caution, long post)…
He's prepared to tell Chirrut who sent him, but Chirrut doesn't seem interested. When Baze brings it up, Chirrut only says: "So it wasn't your idea? That's something." "Don't you want to know whose idea it was?" "If I tried to keep track of all the people who want me dead, I wouldn't have time for anything else," says Chirrut. "They'll try again." Chirrut spreads his hands, looking pious. "All is as the Force wills it. I am only a humble mendicant and fortune-teller. They will forget me when their anger has faded." He pauses, then adds, "They weren't Imperial?" "Say that again," says Baze, "and I'll cut off your tongue." Lovely story from Baze's POV.
