Thire: ...Thorn...What Are You Doing Waving Your Blaster Carbine Around Outside Of Fox's Office? Thorn:

Wake up besties the dinluke faves collaborated !!!!

To which @swedenis-h​ had this super sweet comic idea and I wanted to do it justice :D 

Comic sketches (courtesy of the lovely @swedenis-h​) 

Oneshot (courtesy of me lol) 

Dusk on Tatooine had always been filled with heady purple and the last licks of sweat the day tried to cling to, the day like an overenthusiastic mastiff trying to be led away.

Two dots of red on the horizon, a flickering fire- Tatooine shed its warmth like washing slobber from skin. The day’s heat lingered, and lingered… and vapourised without warning.

A flicker of silver, a spark of gold.

The smell of hot circuitry, huddling closer to the fire. Luke tried to stay still as Din removed the wiring tool from the open wiring panel of his robot hand.

“It’s beautiful work.” Din complimented gently, lowly, his gloved fingertips tracing the palm lines of Luke’s prosthetic hand. Almost as if he was tracing the lines of a map, learning the routes by heart. Luke imagined it would feel really nice, if there hadn’t been a dull edge of metallicism to every sensation from that hand.

“It doesn’t…” Luke fights a frustrated noise, feelings stuck in his throat like backed up Tatooine traffic. His throat tightened.

A breath.

“It’s not.” Luke admits finally, gaze shifting to meet Din’s. A warriors fire sparking in his eyes for the tiniest moment as he resigned himself to unravelling this particular insecurity for Din the way he had cracked the circuitry of his robotic hand wide open.

Young, immature. The harbingers that were supposed to breed wisdom and maturity… may have only just hurt the people he loved.

How could it not have? With Han’s sight affected for the rest of his life and Leia having nightmares about watching the empire take Han away…

Forces, he’d been so stupid. Too wrapped up in the thrill of getting to finally use Force for good to realize the time had been wrong.

Would the situation had resolved itself without his intervention? Had Luke lost his hand for nothing?

“This is going to sound weird…” Luke trailed with a reluctant smile, struggling with the words- embarrassment reigning them in until they crowded in his mouth. Hesitancy to lay bare; a fog he couldn’t shake. “But…”

He grimaced.

“It’s not your hand?” Din asked, ripping the words right out of his mouth. Luke blinked back at him, surprised.

Luke gulped thickly, but the tight knot of emotion wouldn’t unravel.

“Yeah.” Luke murmured reflexively, casting his gaze down- back to his hands. They were both held aloft in front of him, palms up. In theory there wasn’t much visible difference between them, but…

“Mine had calluses,” Luke began, his voice cracking at the admission as his eyes darted to where the calluses used to be. “from my work at the farm.”

An image of his hand before the injury conjured itself in his vision, like an overlay, as he studied the robotic one. Sticky blackness climbed his insides, his skin crawled.

A ghost he was haunted by day and night.

Din paused in his ministrations, and the silence yawned and waned in the space between them.

Luke was drawn back in.

“It had scars from working on ships,” Luke explained, his left, real, hand reaching out to point to the vulnerable stretch of skin around his wrist and the skin on the other side of his hand. It was pale in a way that was uncharacteristic of Luke’s tanned skin tone. The skin looked less durable than the rest of him on the robot hand, a constant chink in his armour.

A breath. Luke could see the ghost clear as day, like a sort of glitchy holo projection.

“It also matched my left hand.” Luke’s voice was small as he stared at the robot hand, the gaping hole where the circuitry he had been showing Din spilled out. The visible circuitry when he fixed it made it both more and less easy to see the hand as his, paradoxically.

Luke had almost lost more than his hand.

The price of his hand was nothing compared to the company of his friends. His loved ones.

He knew that.

He knew that.

But why was there such a bitterness there? A guilt and shame- the robot hand meant more than just a second chance at mobility; it meant an unspoken forgiveness from his loved ones.

And Forces, that was hard to digest.

Leia, Han and Chewie had almost died that day. It would have been his fault that their stars had blinked out, and Luke would probably never forgive himself for it.

He’d just dove in unthinkingly, all of his mind on the need to save them that he hadn’t thought it through-

The robot hand was just one big scar he’d never be rid of. One big forgiveness he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Why was blind, reckless, heroism worth any forgiveness?

Luke would always be haunted by his old hand- the one that had just always been a part of him- it followed him when tinkering and sparring, the loss a thing of endlessness.

A gloved hand grabbed out for the wrist of Luke’s real hand, cutting Luke’s absent movement short. He’d been unknowingly tracing the places his right hand used to have character and definition. Startled, Luke’s thoughts fell away.

“I-I… I sound insane.” Luke back-pedalled, feeling self-conscious and awash with a hot and sticky shame at the vulnerable oddity about it. Fuck, he’d opened up too much there-

A tug.

“These are my real hands,” Din’s warm voice followed, and Luke looked up at him with a moment of flustered confusion.

Din looked down at his own gloved hands, studying them anew. “The ones you see now.”

“I know their weight. Their durability.” Din flexed his hands like he was about to pick up a rifle.

“The ones underneath the gloves, I haven’t seen as mine for a long time now.” Din admitted softly, looking at his hands now like they were foreign to him. “They were soft, and reaching for something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Oh.

And then-

Oh.

Din had lost his parents, but he was talking about the new relationship with his hands that his gloves gave him after the loss of his home. The gloves being used both to bring about vulnerability for others while protecting the vulnerability of Din’s open and wanting palms from his youth.

The side of himself that never had the opportunity to mature slowly. The side that grew up too fast but there would always be a sliver of, crying out for home.

Luke blinked, looking back up at Din.

“They were hidden away with a pain I never want to feel again.” Din’s voice wavered, and Luke unconsciously reached out, cradling one between his cupped palms, resting it on his knee.

“Yes, these hands have seen my mistakes, but they’ve seen my successes, too.” Din reached out with his other hand, trailing it along the territory of the faux skin of Luke’s robot hand with a reverence that made Luke’s face hot with something. Something between tears, appreciation and gratefulness.

Perhaps all three.

“The hands I know now were a gift.” Din concluded, looking Luke right in the eye. Luke could puzzle out his message now.

“A second chance.” Luke finished for Din, and he nodded affirmatively.

Not a mark of forgiveness. A possibility to start again.

“They may not have the scars to prove it, but they are mine. Just as much as the hands under the gloves.” Din softened, gloved fingertips lingering around the fleshy part of Luke’s robot wrist, near the open wire access panel.

Luke felt himself flush, flattered by the way Din so deftly applied such a simple yet all-encompassing type of logic to find a solution.

There was earnestness to it, fresh and raw. A hopefulness.

“Hm.” Luke hummed back, letting Din’s truth wash over him and settle, clinking, next to the old one.

Perhaps Luke had been thinking about the robot hand all wrong.

He took in Din with their hands still intertwined in the space between their knees, a pang of warmth filling him.

Look not to the past, but to the future.

Luke smiled. How Jedi of him.

Din’s helmet looked back down at their joined hands, and then back up at Luke.

All of a sudden, Luke was very aware they were still holding hands.

Luke blinked, blushing a deep red, letting go at the same time Din did and pulling his hands in to his chest like they had been burned.

“Thanks for the hand-” “Yeah! Uh-”

Hey, folks! Sorry it's been so long, but I've got a question for the masses!

I'm in search of a nice long kidfic about Wayne Munson raising Eddie. If there's anything on AO3, or here on Tumblr, please let me know! I'm craving parental!Wayne Munson content right now! Thanks!

Happy Star Wars Day, everyone! May the Force be with all of you! Also, I had a thought that I wanted to share with all of you.

So here's the thing. I always see fics where the Party tends to just... Force Steve to take care of himself. Obviously that isn't a bad thing. He needs to take care of himself. This is mostly me just projecting on Steve, but I imagine that the more people try to force or pressure him to do things, like wearing his glasses, or expressing his emotions to other people, the less he wants to do those things. I know from experience that being pressured to do something can just suck all of the appeal out of it. Like, you know logically that doing this thing probably won't be the worst, it'll probably be at least a little beneficial, but you don't want to give in to pressure from other people. Kind of a pride/stubbornness combo, I guess.

So Steve knows this about himself, right? So what I need is someone to write a fic where Steve is like, "guys I appreciate that you're worried about me, but I still need my independence, and I need you to respect my boundaries, please." And Eddie, being the amazing boyfriend that he is, does just that. It takes the rest of the party a minute to catch on, though.

For god's sake, let Steve have some boundaries please!

Ok. I'm done with this ramble. I probably sound like a crazy person, but oh well.

Watch "Izuku “Deku” Midoriya: Unhinged" on YouTube

You know what I need? I need someone to do this, but with Stranger Things characters, with a particular focus on Steve, Eddie, and Dustin. I would pay 69 cents for that.

Thank you @thebeatlesqueenisbythepolice and everyone who got me to 10 reblogs!

So I started writing something, but i don't trust myself to finish it, so i'll just ramble about it and hope people think it's decent!

My current hyperfixation is stranger things, and here's my thought: there is no way the upside down would have given the gang a whole year of peace when the gate was still open. In this au I've got floating around in my brain, I imagine that maybe it was a couple months before the tunnels started spreading, before the demodogs started spawning. I also imagine that my fave character, the main one in this au, ended things with Nancy early on, because he could see that she wasn't happy with him and he wanted to avoid an emotional trainwreck.

Because Steve wasn't spending as much time with Nancy, when he noticed that things with the upside down weren't over, he was able to take it on himself without her figuring it out. Cause Steve figures that the wheelers, the byers, heck, everyone involved from last time shouldn't have to deal with any more of this shit.

So what he did was, he started going to the old junkyard, baiting out the demodogs, and killing as many as he could with his nail bat and burning the corpses when he was done for the night.

As this was going on, he started looking out for Will, treating him normally and being there for him, because will deserves to have Steve as an extra older brother. It's not necessary to this au, but I will die on that hill.

Anyway, Steve's been doing this since around January of '84, so he's become pretty good at it. Then, that Halloween, instead of going to Tina's party, he was out there, killing monsters, but he got cut. Obviously, billy hargrove's rough-housing in basketball the next day didn't do him any favors. He ends up having to take a minute to go into the locker rooms to stitch himself up really quickly, because of course he's figured out how to do that by now. Then, billy walks in on him doing that, and promptly freaks out. Steve swears him to secrecy, because in his mind, it's fine, it's normal. He finished up basketball practice, and put the encounter out of his mind.

Later, Steve was back out there, and he had just killed the first demodog, when he heard this aborted, human-sounding, shriek. He goes to investigate, and who does he see, but billy Hargrove and eddie munson in the bus doing a deal.

Steve tried to give them an out, but of course the demodogs were swarming, so he had to deal with that threat and keep these guys safe, because Steve didn't think they should have to deal with this. They don't take the out. In fact, eddie and billy help Steve out through the events of s2.

Also, in terms of the thing with Lucas, I imagine that since Billy'd been fine with the black kids on the basketball team, Steve was able to pry out of him that he's trying to protect Lucas and max from ne*l.

Anyhow, that's the premise of this au that I've got. Like I said, I have started writing for it, but I don't trust myself to finish it or update it regularly. If anyone is interested in adopting this concept and writing their own take on it, feel free to dm me. Heck, you don't even have to do that, but I'd appreciate a dm, just so that I could read it!

revenge of the sith is still so fucking funny, because, like, the separatists invade coruscant, and kidnap the head of state. that’s a war-winning action. at that point, they just motherfucking won the war, unless a miracle happens. and then you have half the jedi council and a bunch of other jedi just chilling in the jedi temple, on their fucking doomsday, feet propped up and relaxing, and the council still chooses to call anakin and obi-wan from the other ass-end of the galaxy in the “outer rim sieges” to come fix this shit, like yoda wasn’t right motherfucking there. yoda was sitting on the fucking couch! and they STILL called obi-wan and anakin from the OTHER END OF THE GALAXY. in no ways was anakin spiritually prepared to be a jedi master, but motherfucker i kind of get why he was pissed. i kind of understand that. if i got called into work to save the day and i walked in and the rest of the staff was just sitting, and i still saved the day, and then they denied me a promotion, i’d have fucking quit. he’s not spiritually ready by any means and in fact he’s deeply turbofucked, but i understand where he was coming from. i understand, man.

Alright, I just have to say this, because I think Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, and (though I know this may be an unpopular opinion) Billy Hargrove deserve the world.

Canonical Stranger Things character death?

Cancelled.

Duffer brothers?

Disinherited.

Billy, Eddie, Benny, Bob, Barb, Alexie, Chrissy, Fred?

Alive forever in our hearts.

Reblogs and comments give me life, so please do one and/or both if you agree!

That moment when you're just chilling with Stranger Things fanfiction and you get a notification that another porn bot followed you on Tumblr... Ugh.