senator and wife


rebelcaptain appreciation week ✩ day four  alternate universe

After her parents are killed in a separatist prison, a six months-old Jyn Erso is rescued by Orson Krennic. He takes the infant girl back to Coruscant, looking for a suitable home for her. Senator Bail Organa and his wife eagerly bring her home, making her Jyn Erso-Organa, Princess of Alderaan.

When she is two years-old, Jyn gains a sister. Her name is Leia.

Jyn is an adventurous young girl, always tumbling through the snow, running around in the forests and trekking through the mountains of Alderaan. But, as a princess, she isn’t always able to do whatever her heart desires. A royal title comes with a lot of royal responsibilities.

When she finds out her father has secretly been a member of the rebel alliance, she wants nothing more than to join him in his fight against the empire. Listening in on one of his holo conferences with the alliance council, she catches wind of an imperial defector, a pilot, on Jedha. In the dead of the night, she slips away with a scarf tightly wrapped around her head.

Upon discovering his daughter has taken one of his ships and disappeared, Bail Organa sends one of the best alliance intelligence officers to try and locate her. Captain Cassian Andor.

Idiot, Whore, Liar

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x Reader

Request: None.

Summary: Scandal!AU: You work through your own issues while trying to fix someone else’s.

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, political assholes.

A/N: I love this show, so I thought it would be fun!

Tagged: @pearltheartist

Word Count: 3071

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All That You Are

request: hello! could you do an ani x reader x obi, reader is a jedi knight like them and is very passionate about stuff she likes (space, creatures, etc.) and she gets excited very easily and she always puts others before herself, blushes really easily and looooooves kids, especially helping those in need? and ani and obi are both in love with her but she’s really oblivious to it and they just find her adorable? i’d like to see a reader insert with my personality, so fluffy end with lots of love pls❤️❤️

a/n: Hi everyone! Before you read this one, I just want to make the small disclaimer that I’ve never written a polyamorous relationship before, nor have I ever really had contact with one in my life. So if it’s a little clunky, unrealistic, etc. I do apologize, I’ve done my best! I hope I can do this request, as well as the reader’s personality, justice! This one’s pretty long (around 5k words) and actually pretty sad, but it has a happy ending so I hope you’ll be happy with it!! Enjoy! - Eliza

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Trust Me: Part 5

Originally posted by solorenskywalker

Not my gif

Poe Dameron x Reader (eventually), Female Reader, Original Characters

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6

A/N: Hey, so be warned the final part is going to take a little longer than usual.  I have my birthday coming up, my sister coming to visit and a lot of other stuff happening this week.  Hopefully you’ll like this and I’ll get the last part to you ASAP.

Work Count: 4.1 K

        Poe never thought rich people could put him so on edge.

       He would have felt much better with a blaster by his side. Frankly, he’d have felt a lot better in his X-Wing surrounded by Tie-Fighters.

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anonymous asked:

Obiwan/Bail secret affair ft Jealous!Anakin (unrequited obikin) catching them?

He hadn’t really been thinking.

Bail had been smiling at him that mischievous smile that could convince Obi-Wan to walk around naked if he really used it on Obi-Wan and the gentle hands had lead him around the table and into Bail’s lap instead, his knees falling on either side of the others thighs as they snogged like hormonal teenagers, the taste of sweet alcohol on their lips.

Bail’s hands in his hair, tussling the copper strands so Obi-Wan would need to fix it before he headed back to the temple, his tongue gently requesting entrance before they tangled and the kiss became ever slightly heated.

His own hands clenched into the fabric of Bail’s shirt and coat, shivering faintly in pleasure and mewling against the others mouth though he’d deny it if called to admit to the noise.

Just as he was about to pull back to quietly request they leave for Bail’s apartment, someone all to familiar called out his name in a shocked tone.


With a sharp yelp, Obi-Wan pulled back, almost falling out of Bail’s lap and onto the floor. Only Bail swiftly grabbing him by the hip helped steady him as the Jedi’s head whipped to the side to stare in surprise at Anakin Skywalker standing in the bar that he and Bail had picked for their date, gaping at them in shock.

“Anakin! I-I can explain.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat, his flush becoming darker, crawling along his neck, ears and cheek as he looked between the blond and the dark haired man’s lap he was sitting in.

Anakin shook himself and pressed his lips together, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I think its rather obvious what you’re doing. Senator Organa, is your wife aware of this?”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan hissed, scandalized.

“Knight Skywalker.” Bail offered pleasantly. “Yes she is. Breha and me have an arrangement since we’re both polygamous. Communication is the key to healthy relationships after all.”

Obi-Wan sighed, shifting out of Bail’s lap reluctantly. It was clear that his night of enjoyment was over and he regretted that deeply as it was rare he and Bail got time to enjoy each others company alone these days. “I’ll see you another time Bail?” He smiled at him.

The Senator captured Obi-Wan’s hand and brushed a soft kiss to the back of his hand. “Of course Obi-Wan, comm me.”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan smiled and leaned in, giving the other a chaste kiss under Anakin’s seething eye.

Then the Jedi turned to the other, sighing. “Alright, lets go.”

Anakin turned on his heel and marched forward, Obi-Wan following not far behind while fixing his hair carefully.

Not a word was exchanged until they were outside.

“You seem angry Anakin.” The older man offered as lightly as he could.

“You were the one who always preached about the dangers of attachment Obi-Wan.” The blond shot him a small glare and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yet I find you practically grinding against Organa in bar, sitting in his lap like a-a-”

“If you value me in any way, you will not finish that sentence.” Obi-Wan frowned in disapproval at him. “And I warned you against attachment, not love. Separating duty from personal. I will act as a Jedi before I act as Bail’s lover.” He huffed.

“Love?!” Anakin stopped, staring at him.

“Yes, is it so strange that I could love someone Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed even as he waved for a cab.

Blue eyes stared at him, practically not blinking as the cab came to a stop so the two Jedi could get in. “Jedi temple please.” Obi-Wan offered the droid then settled back as it got them in the air.

“…Love. Him?”

There was a strange quality to Anakin’s voice and Obi-Wan looked at him, blinking a bit, a puzzled frown appearing on his face. “Yes.”


Now he sounded wounded and Obi-Wan shifted a bit, peering at the blond. “Bail courted me. He’s dated me. He understands that I am a Jedi first and I will do my service and job fir-”

Anakin had pressed closer, pressing Obi-Wan against the cab door as he kissed the other desperately, teeth clacking almost painfully before Obi-Wan pushed the other away sharply. “Anakin!”

The two stared at each other.

“Why not me then Obi-Wan?”

The older Jedi swallowed heavily. ‘Oh what mess have I gotten myself into this time…’

BvS rewatch

Olsen isn’t dead, it’s just a CIA agent using his name; one of the men at the base of operations called him “Talon”, meaning that Olsen was a false name. All those people crying that they killed Jimmy Olsen don’t have to worry now.

When Lex is tapping his fingers and saying that the red capes are coming, he says “one if by land, two if by air”

There’s a part of the beginning of the Waynes’ tomb scene where the sound of the Wolrd Engine can be heard

The bat monster coming out of Martha Wayne’s tomb seems to imply that she is what influenced Bruce to be Batman, not his father

The KGBeast was standing behind the senator and his wife at lex’s party

Lex saying that he and Bruce should partner up on something is nice foreshadowing

There’s the sound of Superman’s sonic boom right after he pulls on his tie to go save the little girl

Seeing all the real life people during the interviews and tv segments makes me realize that this world, with all its fictional cities, is more grounded than the mcu and its fake news commentators. Weird, the mcu has Manhattan and other real cities, but the dceu has the real life people

Diana puts down the drink she was offered at the museum by the curator

In fact, every time a dream sequence is about to start, the sound of the World Engine is used to signify that

There was a batarang thrown during the knightmare scene

The cowl is separate from the cape, which was a problem in the animated show and other live action movies

Could the possible lack of oxygen have lead to Clark seeing his dad at the top of the mountain? Maybe.

A full day passed between the bombing and the big fight. The night of the bombing was when Bruce stole the kryptonite and made it a weapon. The next evening/night is when they fight.

Lex tells Clark where he’ll be for him to bring “the head of the Bat”, he even calls it “his [Clark’s] ship

The baseline theme from WW’s theme plays without hitting those iconic WW theme notes when we see the meta videos

The humidity in the air from the rain kept the kryptonite gas from dispersing as quickly as it would

Bruce elbowed Clark in the throat on the roof. Rude, Bruce

There’s a moment where the movie focuses on Clark breathing the kryptonite free air once Bruce jumps him to a lower level; there’s another small moment like that immediately after Clark throws Bruce through a wall; foreshadowing and using the visual medium fully. Anyone that says this movie tells and doesn’t show can stay quiet

Clark got his invulnerability back but not all his strength, as evident by his struggle to throw Bruce across the room

Oh. Bruce’s mask gets damaged because Clark punches it before the gas takes him out a second time

When Bruce fired at those cars outside where Ma Kent was being held, he only took out one truck; that truck took out the rest

When Lex said Clark’s sin is existing, he meant the fact that Clark exists on earth. I always took this line to be about Doomsday for some reason

They took out the "what have you done” line from the TC out during the Doomsday reveal

When the military came for Lex, there’s some chit chat you can hear coming from where lex was. Something was taking to him

There’s a “Kennedy Dead” newspaper shot as the camera pans over the interior of the Daily Planet. Meta.

The General with Major Ferris took the flag they folded for Superman

And that’s it! It’s still a great movie and re-watching it in its entirety has got my mind going for more posts about it.

if Padme Amidala, Queen then Senator of Naboo, wife of Anakin Skywalker, mother to Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, mentor to Ahsoka Tano, friend of Obi Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa, best shot in the galaxy, and most fashionable woman in the Star Wars universe, is not mentioned in Episode VIII I will flip a table. 

Former American President Bill Cllinton kisses his wife, Senator-Elect Hillary Clinton, while their daughter Chelsea Clinton looks on during Hillary Clinton’s 53rd birthday party at the Roseland Club, New York, New York, October 25, 2000.

Crossfire - 5

Chapter 4
Yoongi x Reader
Gang AU
Chapter 5 // Words: 3876

You had been subjected to go to many dinner parties in your lifetime. Always dragged in a evening gown that was too long or too tight or too glittery, and heels that were too tall and clunky for your liking, just so your rich and powerful parents could show you off to their equally rich and powerful friends and associates. You were used to it by the time you reached high school, and sometimes you even liked the attention that the adults gave you when your parents spoke of your achievements. The drama, however, could be a bit too much at times. You remembered one particular night, when you were at some ambassador’s mansion for a celebration, and a senator and his wife got utterly wasted and had a huge argument that ended up in dishes being smashed, doors being slammed and divorce lawyers being called before the limo even arrived. Everyone else had sat there in silent discomfort, watching them scream at each other from across the table as the food on the expensive china grew cold. It was almost like a scene from one of those cliche holiday movies that gave you second-hand embarrassment no matter how many times you watched it. That was probably the most awkward meal of your life.

However, sitting with the seven men who had kidnapped you was sneaking up to first place as the minutes ticked by, and the longer you sat there the more physically sick you felt.

For starters, you were almost appalled by the insane amount of food they consumed. The way Jungkook slurped down noodles made it seem like he hadn’t had a meal in days and he was afraid that someone would take his bowl away from him. Jin finished his within a few minutes of sitting down, and he got up to get even more, but he ended up just bringing the pot to the table to save everyone from taking extra trips. Yet, upon looking around the table at each of them, they were all in good shape. They sort of reminded you of a pack of wolves, or overgrown teenage boys with inhuman metabolisms.

Secondly, when they spoke of work, they were very ambiguous to the point of frustration. You assumed that it was because of your presence, but they never mentioned any names or activities directly - always in terms such as “our messenger” and “the other guys” and “the exchange”. You tried to follow the conversation at first, but you got lost quickly and gave up on trying to decode their words, resorting to pushing your ramen around in the bowl with your chopsticks. You took a tiny bite every once in a while, mostly to keep Hoseok from calling you out again, but you were afraid that your stomach would reject it if you attempted consuming even half of your serving. Your head was spinning, you felt abnormally cold, and all you wanted was to get up and bolt. But you wouldn’t take your chances with all of them right there.

“Is there any left?” Jungkook asked, peering into the pot in the center of the table.

“No,” Jin responded. “Haven’t you had enough?”

Jungkook frowned at him. “I’m still hungry, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You pushed your mostly-full bowl in front of him without hesitation, and he glanced at you in surprise.

“Noona, don’t you want to eat it?”

You shook your head to signify that you didn’t care, and you used getting rid of your food as an excuse to get up from the table. You did so a bit too abruptly, and you had to steady yourself on your chair to keep from stumbling, your vision showing little black spots. Once you were sure that you weren’t going to fall, you walked around the table and back into the kitchen, ignoring the seven pairs of eyes watching you. You looked around for a moment before you went and opened the refrigerator, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when you found bottles of water stocked at the bottom. You opened one up and tipped your head back and ended up drinking half its contents before you stopped to take a breath. You considered going ahead and finishing all of it when you heard footsteps enter the kitchen, and you turned around quickly to face whoever it was.

You were somewhat relieved to see that it was Jin placing his empty bowl in the sink and not one of the ones you were unfamiliar with. Once he had rinsed out and placed the bowl into the dishwasher, he turned to you, resting one elbow against the marble countertop and cocking his head to the side.

“You didn’t eat much,” he observed. “Did you not like it? I can make you something else, if you want.”

You looked at him for a long moment before you shook your head. “Not hungry,” you said in a quiet monotone.

“I find that hard to believe, it’s been quite some time since you’ve had anything to eat,” he pushed himself off the counter and moved towards you. His long legs made it easy for him to cross the room in a few large strides, and you didn’t have enough time to back away before he had his hand pressed against your forehead. It felt cold against your skin, and you clutched your water bottle tightly. His thick brows drew together over his soft, concerned eyes.

“You’re warm. How do you feel?” he questioned.

“My stomach hurts and I feel dizzy,” you admitted. Despite your uneasiness, Jin had an aura that made you feel like you should trust him. He had always had that effect on you.

His frown deepened. “You’re probably getting sick. You should take some medicine and get rest.”

You nodded, and moved when he beckoned you to follow him down the hallway. He lead you to a small bathroom, and he crouched down to go into the cabinet under the sink. From there he pulled out a large tupperware container filled with first aid supplies. He dug around until he found a small bottle of ibuprofen, and he poured out red two pills and handed them to you. You picked them up from his open palm carefully and put them in your mouth, pouring some water in after them to swallow. He waited until you capped the bottle again before he packed up the container and placed it back in the cabinet, ushering you out of the bathroom.

“Come on, you need to go lay down,” he said as he lead you back up the stairs. “I don’t want this to get worse.”

You watched his back as he walked, a quizzical look on your face. He acted like such a concerned mother hen, and it confused the hell out of you. Was he always like this?

He opened up the door to the room you had woken up in, and you went in after him. You immediately trudged over to the bed and laid down on it. You felt an ache throughout your body, straight down to your bones, and exhaustion washed over you.

“Go to sleep, you’ll get better faster. I’ll come check on you in a little while,” he made sure you were comfortable before he turned to leave. “Oh, and there’s a bathroom right next door if you need it.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you pulled the blanket tight around yourself.

He leaned in the doorway and smiled at you. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You managed an awkward half smile as he closed the door and left you alone. Immediately you felt better on your own, and you heaved a sigh. You sank back into the pillows as you let out all the air in your lungs as well as the stress that had overcome you. You glanced at the window and noticed that the bright light from earlier had diminished and was replaced with the dim glow that the sky held right as the sun sank below the horizon. You decided that it would be best for you to sleep, to get rid of whatever had possessed you physically as well as the events of the day. You shut your eyes and escaped off to a mountain resort you had visited when you were younger, a place you went to often when you felt like you needed to get away from the world. You loved the way the snow sparkled in the sunlight in the morning, the trees towering over your head, the taste of sweet mocha lattes and how flames danced behind the glass panes of the fireplace.

It didn’t take long for you to become lost in your own head, darkness edging at the corner of your eyelids. You let sleep overcome you like a wave without putting up any fight, and you slipped peacefully into unconsciousness.

You felt worse when you woke up from a fitful, dreamless sleep in the pitch black room. Pain encompassed your entire body, there was a hollowness in your stomach, and your mouth was devoid of any moisture, and it made your throat burn. You rolled to your side and let your arm dangle over the bed in search of the water bottle you had set down earlier. Your fingers made contact with it but, when you lifted it up, you found that it was empty. You groaned and vaguely remembered waking up at some point when Jin had been checking your temperature, and he had urged you to finish the water, saying something about needing proper amounts of fluids. You still felt tired despite all the sleep you were getting recently, yet you needed to go get water or you thought you might cry.

You struggled to push yourself up into a sitting position, and even that simple motion sent your head reeling. You took a few breaths to try and get your bearings before you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up slowly. The room was cold outside of your protective cocoon, so you grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around yourself. You took tentative steps in the direction where you thought the door was, and you had to feel along the wall until you found the handle. Thankfully, the hallway was not as dark due to a light downstairs giving off a glow so that you could see the stairs. You walked towards them slowly, your feet barely lifting off of the wood floor and the blanket dragging behind you. Just as you reached the first step and grabbed onto the railing in preparation to descend, you heard a door behind you swing open. You turned to see who it was, but you couldn’t make out a face in the dark hall.

“What are you doing?” a hushed voice asked.

Instantly, you knew it was Yoongi. You squinted your eyes a little and made out the shape of his face and body.

“What are you doing?” he asked again when you didn’t respond. “Are you even awake?”

“I need water,” you mumbled. Your words slurred together from drowsiness, and your voice was slightly raspy.

He eyed you for a moment, looking you up and down. In that moment you realized how pitiful you must have looked: eyes half open, hair most likely a rat’s nest and a blanket bunched around your shoulders. Your clothes, which you hadn’t changed, were in a jumbled mess around you.

He sighed and stepped outside the doorway of his room. “Go back to bed, I’ll get it for you.”

“I can get it,” you protested.

“You’ll probably fall down the stairs trying,” he said. He walked closer and you could read his set expression. “Just go back to your room.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you as you trudged reluctantly past him, back down the hallway into your room. You walked a bit too fast and your shins hit the bed and you fell onto it roughly. You laid there for a second, your heart settling from the shock, and you almost felt like crying. Being unexplainably sick and being up in the middle of the night was messing with your emotional state. You stopped yourself from having a pointless breakdown and managed to pull yourself up more and propped the pillows on the headboard so that you could sit and wait for Yoongi to return with water. You strained your ears to try and hear anything downstairs, but it was too far away and he was too quiet. You wished you had a clock or a lamp in the room, because it was unnerving just sitting there in the darkness with no sense of how time was passing.

You didn’t know how long it was when you heard the door creak a little, signifying that Yoongi had entered. You heard his feet shuffle around on the carpet for a second as he moved about, and suddenly there was a click that sparked a small flame from a lighter in his hand. He bent down to light the wicks of a large candle he had set on the floor, and it gave just enough light so that you could see him. His blond hair was in an organized mess on his forehead and he wore a loose t-shirt and sweats. His eyes didn’t look tired even though it must have been very early morning.

“This room is all kinds of depressing,” he commented as he sat on the edge of your bed and uncapped the water bottle he had gotten for you. “There’s no furniture at all.”

“What time is it?” you questioned, still blinking sleep from your eyes.

“I don’t know, 3 or something,” he shrugged.

He handed you the water and you took it graciously. You had to stop yourself from just chugging the entire thing in one go, but you were happy that it rid you of your severe cotton mouth. When you had had enough he took it from you and capped it before he pulled out a thin, plastic stick-like object from his pocket.

“Open your mouth,” he directed, reaching towards you.

You came to realize that it was a thermometer, and you parted your lips so that he could slip the metal end of it under your tongue. You closed your mouth around it and sat there, observing  him carefully. He looked back at you with a heavy, unwavering gaze. The way his eyes curved reminded you of a cat’s, and it seemed like he was calculating something in his head. It made you anxious, the way he looked at you, but you couldn’t seem to break eye contact. Out of the blue, he shook his head and stood up.

“Keep that thing in your mouth and wait for me,” he said before he left the room once more.

You frowned and watched him leave. It wasn’t as bad since there was a source of light in the room, but the shadows that the candle’s flames cast on the walls were disconcerting. You shivered involuntarily and pulled the blanket closer to your chin, and you were almost mad that it was so thin and didn’t provide more warmth. You felt awful and cranky, and you grew even more upset when you felt tears prick at your eyes once more. You didn’t need to start crying, you told yourself. You wiped at the corners of your eyes quickly when you saw Yoongi’s figure appear in the doorway again.

He was carrying more items in his arms, but he set them down on the foot of the bed before he walked over to you. He took the thermometer from your mouth and pressed a small button to read your temperature, at which he sucked air sharply through his teeth and put it back in his pocket.

“How did you get sick so fast?” he wondered.

You shrugged at him, since you were just as confused.

“Maybe it’s from stress. I read somewhere that if you undergo psychological stress, you can get fevers,” he told you. He sat closer to you, his expression open yet unreadable. “You look kind of awful, to tell you the truth.”

You frowned and felt your cheeks heat up - if they weren’t already hot enough - in embarrassment. “Wow, I appreciate it.”

“I’m just being honest with you,” he defended. “You’ve only been awake for like, two hours the whole day.”

He reached over to his side and pulled up a hair brush. When he leaned closer to you, you scrunched up your face leaned against the pillows, away from him.

“What are you doing?” you glared at him.

“Usually you feel better when you brush your hair, and it feels especially good when someone else does it for you,” he smirked a little. “Plus, you need it, so you should let me.”

You narrowed your eyes at his rude comment, but you did agree with him. You didn’t need a mirror to feel that you looked like you had slept in the gutter. You slowly sat up and turned so that your back was to him, and he began running the brush through your hair once you were settled. There were obviously knots in it, but he was surprisingly gentle, running the brush through slowly and making sure he didn’t pull too hard. After he brushed out a section, he ran his fingers through it a few times, and you had to admit that it did feel really nice. You shut your eyes and tilted your head back to let him work. You started to think about how, out of the two real interactions you’ve had with Yoongi, they’ve both turned out pretty intimate. You cringed inwardly at the memory of the other night, since it dawned on you that it had most likely just been another ploy to get close to you. Was him offering to brush your hair also another tactic to gain your trust? You began to fidget with your hands in your lap as you considered the thought.

You broke the silence with a question that had been bothering you since you woke up from your drug-induced coma. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“You’re sick and you look kind of miserable,” he stated bluntly.

You shot a glare over your shoulder. “No shit. But I meant other than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you and the others act is, well…” you bit your lip in your search for the right word. “Weird. Kidnappers aren’t supposed to be nice, as far as I know.”

“Well, we’re not your everyday kidnappers, are we?” he chuckled as he tucked a few strands behind your ear.

“Then what are you?” you asked. You shifted around so that you were facing him again.

He looked at you for a moment, rolling the brush around in his hands absentmindedly. He let out a breath before he spoke. “Well, for lack of a better word, I suppose you could call us a gang.”

His words piqued your curiosity. “What kind of gang?”

He smiled ruefully and started to get up from the bed. “I think you should get more rest, Y/N. Jin hyung wouldn’t like it if he knew I was keeping you up all night.”


“I brought you a better blanket, it should keep you warmer that that one,” he interjected, signifying that the conversation was over.

You sighed deeply, knowing that your many questions wouldn’t be answered any time soon. It frustrated you to no end that you were stuck there in the dark - literally and figuratively. Your eyes bore into Yoongi as you watched him unfold the large black comforter, silently cursing him for teasing you with the prospect of information before shutting you out abruptly. If you had known he was an asshole, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him. Drunk you was a bad judge of character.

However, drunk you did not have very bad taste in appearances. Even in the dim lighting of the room you could appreciate his profile: his platinum blond hair, small nose, curved lips, sharp jawline and prominent adam’s apple. You were reminded of how he had attracted you in the first place when you saw his big silver hoop earrings. You had quite an affinity for bad boys, for all their rugged edges, deep voices and secret soft sides. And when you had seen Yoongi lounging at the bar wearing his leather jacket and bored expression with a glass of whiskey gripped in a large hand adorned with silver and black rings, he practically screamed I’m no good, but you should fuck me anyways.

           You shook your head slightly at your silly thoughts, but you couldn’t help from admiring him despite the situation. Your eyes raked down his form, over his gray shirt and black sweats that hung just low enough on his hips that you could see the band of is Calvin Klein’s. And when he raised his arms over his head to fluff out the blanket, his shirt lifted up a fraction to give you a view of a peculiar butterfly tattoo on his left hip. It was entirely black with oversized wings, and you could see the numbers 287 inked underneath it. You didn’t quite remember it from when you were in his apartment. But, then again, you hadn’t really taken the time to gaze upon each other once the front door was shut. Without thinking you leaned forward to try and see the details better.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You jumped and looked up at his furrowed brows. “N-nothing.”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he pointed out. “You’re really bad at it.”

You bit your lip, averting his eyes. Once again, he was right and saw right through you. You spoke quieter than before. “I was looking at your tattoo. I didn’t remember it.”

He nodded slowly, his hand subconsciously moving to the spot. “Oh.”

You felt the room fall into a heavy silence and pursed your lips tightly. You shouldn’t have acted so impulsively. The guy in front of you had kidnapped you, for Christ’s sake, you shouldn’t be gawking at him like he was on the cover of a Sports Illustrated magazine. You desired an immediate end to the uncomfortable encounter, so you grabbed the end of the comforter and pulled it over you as you moved to lay down.

“Thanks for checking on me and everything,” you said as you adjusted yourself. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, but not without giving you a weird look. He seemed unsure of your sudden attitude change, and it showed in the way he lingered by your bedside. He shook his head once more and moved to blow out the candles, and the room was once again washed in darkness. “Goodnight.”

You turned onto your side so your back was facing him and shut your eyes, willing your cheeks to stop burning from shame. You really needed to get a grip on things if you wanted to survive the week. And by survive, you meant find a way to get the hell out of there.

Chapter 6

Who Will Save the Republic?

You have seen them on high, scurrying with great urgency between columns of marble, the clicks of Armani-heeled favor seekers never far behind. You have heard them in the past few days, saying they are “troubled” or “disappointed” about the latest assault on democracy from the White House.

They know enough history to get this: Donald Trump is the first president in history whose campaign has come under federal investigation for collusion with a hostile foreign power. And now the person heading that investigation, the F.B.I. director, has been fired.

We’re looking for a few good men and women in Congress to understand the gravity of this debasement. We don’t need more parsing about the bad “optics” or “timing” of Trump firing the man who could have ended his presidency. We need a Republican in power to call it what it is: a bungled attempt to obstruct justice.

And the tragic part is that Trump is likely to succeed, at least in the short term. The person he chooses for F.B.I. director will never assemble a prosecutable case of treason that leads to the doorstep of this White House.

The courts can do only so much. They can block orders that violate the Constitution. But they can’t be real-time truth seekers in a moment of real urgency. As for Ivanka Trump, the supposed sane person in an insane White House, she has only so many whispers into Daddy’s ear that will be listened to.

Thus, it falls to a half-dozen or so Republicans to heed the words of a man whose statue they pass every day in the Capitol. “Even if you’re on the right track,” said Will Rogers, Oklahoma’s gift to American gab, “you’ll get run over if you just sit there.”

As it is, they’re getting run over. Things that never happened before now happen with such regularity that the numbing and the dumbing down can make a rational human inert. Trump is a tutorial in Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s observation about “defining deviancy downward.” Here is a man who doesn’t share basic democratic values, who uttered nearly 500 lies or misleading statements in his first three months in office, and it has all become mere background — the screen saver of this presidency.

The civilized world was recently appalled at Trump’s outreach to tyrants from North Korea, the Philippines and Turkey. This week, we find out that the family of the president’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, offered Chinese business owners a path to United States citizenship if they invested in a Kushner property. And a White House visit of Russian political operatives was closed to the American press. We needed Tass, which is to Vladimir Putin what Fox News is to Trump, to provide official documentation for that meeting.

The Trump White House makes gangsters look more civilized, and organized. With Trump, as with most outsize characters in fiction or real life, character drives action. He’s a lifelong charlatan, a con man, a habitué of bankruptcy courts. He thinks this will blow over — everything always does. He’s off to Europe soon, the rogue man out. And that photo with Pope Francis will surely make people forget the chaos back home.

But the truth will out. The journalism of the past few days — those labeled Enemies of the People by Trump now doing the people’s work, as envisioned by the founders — has been extraordinary.

It’s obvious that Trump fired James Comey because he was getting closer to the truth of what happened with Russian manipulation of the American election. His advisers say an enraged Trump screamed at the television when this story would not go away. “Russia, Russia, Russia,” Kellyanne Conway said, sounding like a “Brady Bunch” brat complaining about “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.”

Trump’s assertion that Comey told him three times he wasn’t under investigation has yet to be backed up and looks like another bogus Trump claim, if not a violation of Justice Department protocol.

So, we turn to a handful of people in Trump’s own party to do something courageous — to do the job they were sworn to do. Trump was at 38 percent approval in Gallup’s tracking poll on Thursday and 36 percent in a Quinnipiac survey — both historic lows at this stage in a modern presidency. These numbers may stiffen the spines of some Republicans in Congress.

The Irish Undertaker, Paul Ryan, is a lost cause — and increasingly looks like a bystander to the multiple-car wreck happening before him. The Senate leader, Mitch McConnell — whose wife, don’t forget, is in Trump’s cabinet — is also sitting this one out.

Call out the names: Senators John McCain and Jeff Flake, Richard Burr and Bob Corker, Ben Sasse and Lisa Murkowski. They have committees and investigators at their disposal. Their party impeached Bill Clinton for lying about sex. The least they can do is demand some accountability of a man whose entire presidency is a lie.



snippet: padme, luke--time travel

The woman—the stranger, this Padme person—is still gripping his lightsaber as though it’s her salvation. After Ben’s death and their hasty escape, Luke hasn’t given her much thought, other than she was locked up with the Princess, and she seemed to know Ben. Now that Ben is gone, though, Luke turns to the woman and studies her.

She pretty, in the same way Princess Leia is pretty, but there’s something oddly familiar about the woman who stands there holding his father’s lightsaber. Her eyes are dark, but beautifully sad, and the way she looks at him—it’s like she’s looking at him, and looking through him at the same time.

“Skywalker.” She breaks the silence, and holds the lightsaber close to her chest. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Skywalker.”

“Yeah,” he says, eying her suspiciously. “Luke Skywalker. Why?”

She shakes slightly, and he thinks she might be crying and trying to hide it. “And Obi-Wan Kenobi trained you to be a Jedi?”

Luke frowns.  “I knew him as Ben, but yeah, Obi-Wan trained me. Briefly.”

Before he died, he didn’t say. It didn’t need repeating.

She bites her lips, and hands Luke his lightsaber back with shaking hands. “This lightsaber—it was Anakin’s.”

Hearing the name of his father stops him. “You knew my father?” he jumps from his seat on the Falcon with glee. “Please, can you tell me about him? I don’t know hardly anything about him. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru—“

The stranger snaps “Owen and Beru raised you?”

He jumps back. “You know my aunt and uncle?”

“You’re Anakin’s son. A Skywalker. Why weren’t you given to your mother’s family?” she interrogates with the scrutiny of trained politician. “Or why didn’t Obi-Wan raise you, if m—if your mother’s family wasn’t there. I—Anakin barely knew Owen. He met him once—“

“I don’t know my mom!” Luke defends himself, flabbergasted. “She died giving birth to me! I don’t even know her name—“

“Padme Naberrie Amidala Skywalker,” Padme snaps, rage seeping through her. “A queen, and later, a senator from Naboo. A Jedi’s wife, a defender of democracy. And I cannot believe my son doesn’t know who I am.

what ? a padmé amidala blog ? listen, i know what you’re thinking: that bitch hasn’t been relevant since may 19th, 2005, when the entire galaxy all collectively suffered critical amnesia and all forgot she existed all at once, like a million voices were all screaming her praises, and then suddenly silenced. i know you’re thinking there’s no place in tumblr rp for this extra Aesthetic Ho™ who owns more articles of clothing than any well adjusted human being has a right to own and has very questionable taste in sugar babies, but ! consider: i have murdered george walton lucas jr. with my own two hands. i strangled that little bitch on mustafar until he lost the will to live and then spirited padmé amidala naberrie skywalker away to the love and safety of my own two arms. i fed her like a baby bird and nurtured her like my own child, and from this, the true queen and senator and wife and mother was born. i made her. she’s mine. i birthed her from my own womb and raised her with my own two hands. suck my ass. god.
anyway like / reblog this if you’d be interested in roleplaying with an independent and selective padmé amidala. 

anonymous asked:

Dimension jumping Obi-Wan (dj!Obi?) with Padme. :)

She was staring but that wasn’t unusual, anyone from the past couldn’t quite stop looking at him with a mix of awe and sadness.

She has known him, this universe Obi-Wan, if only briefly and he quietly let her take in his features as he stirred a small dash of sugar into the caf she had given him. “It was very kind of Anakin to invite me along.” He finally offered, taking a small sip and giving Padme a small smile when she flushed.

He was pretty sure that Anakin had told her about him and she in turn had demanded to meet him to see the truth herself. “Yes, knight Skywalker was very gracious to bring you along, its a pity he was called away on account of the war. And Master Jinn was quite happy to know you were spending some time away from the temple.”

Ah, perhaps there was more to reason then just Padme wanting to meet him.

Qui-Gon and the mind healers were finding it rather important that he spent some time among non-Jedi’s since his physic burnout, since the sensation of a trained Force user could be a battering against his at the moment unstable shields.

His own fault he guessed.

“…You were married in my universe.” He settled on, watching her. “You don’t have to keep it formal on my account.”

Any other would have lost their composure but Padme only blinked large brown eyes at him slowly before nodding slowly. “You…to be honest we talked about it, marriage, after Geonosis but we…well. Anakin was barely twenty. I believe his master talked him out of it at the time and with how everything went down, I can’t help but be grateful.”

“And now?” Obi-Wan tilted his head.

“We are considering it. But we are together, you’re right about that.” She smiled a bit. “And you don’t seem to care.”

Obi-Wan ran his fingertip along the rim of the cup, staring into the liquid. “I came to realize, after everything that happened in my universe, that stagnation became my orders doom. Love doesn’t have to mean attachment, doesn’t have to be bad as long as one can remember that one is Jedi first and anything else second when it comes to duty.” He looked back to her. “Like one is a Senator first and a wife second perhaps?”

She flushed then smiled. “You…know me rather well.”

“We were friends in my universe. I considered you rather dear to me even without Anakin marrying you.” Obi-Wan chuckled warmly.

“Friends…it sounds so…” Padme smiled. “You…he…the Obi-Wan I meet before…he was such a dashing figure in my life, coming in when my planet was under attack, rescuing me, trying to help my people. When he died…” Her smile faded. “I don’t think I’ve seen devastation like that in a Jedi’s eyes before as when Master Jinn carried his body up from the power plant. I see it more now. Geonosis took to many Jedi’s.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “There is no death, there is the Force.” He breathed out and set his cup down. “Its a slim comfort. But hopefully we can keep casualties to a minimum with people like you in the Senate, you and Bail.” He smiled.

Padme had a shallow flush in her cheeks, smiling in careful pleasure. “I hope that we can be friends too.”

“I’m sure we can.” The two smiled at each other.

“…You are aware that there are two clone troopers watching the apartment right?”

“Mmmhmm, Trapper and Helix I believe. I apparently picked up a clone protection squad even when on Coruscant.”

“…Oh no, that is adorable. They adore you.”

Story Time

Note: You’re a Senator and the wife of Kylo Ren. When Kylo is too busy to join you on one of your missions, he sends his Knights to watch over you because you are pregnant. During the mission, you find yourself telling the Knights how you met your husband.

Requested By: Anonymous 

Originally posted by trashwilldo

“I wish you were coming with me,” you groaned as you changed into your official attire.

“I do too, Y/N,” Kylo frowned. If he weren’t so busy himself he would have certainly accompanied you to the meeting. “But all the Knights are going with you. They’ll keep you safe.”

“I know. But I want you to keep me safe,” you pouted as you handed him your necklace.

He gestured for you to turn. You moved so your back was facing him and tilted your neck downwards. 

“Oh, cold!” You shuddered slightly as Kylo’s fingers danced over your skin.

“Sorry love,” he let out a small laugh. When he finished putting the necklace on you his hand lingered. He moved one around to cup your chin and gently ushered you turn back and face him. You gave him a sad smile as your gazes met.

Kylo sighed, reaching down to kiss your forehead, “You’ll be back in four days… both of you.” Kylo added as his hands moved down to cradle your stomach.

You put your own hand on top of his and gently stroked it with your thumb, “Four days is a long time for a pregnant Senator without her husband.”

Kylo quickly placed a kiss to your stomach before looking back at you, “I know it is, Y/N. If it gets to be too much for you, say the word and my men will escort you right back home.”

You nodded, but knew that you wouldn’t do that. Your might be pregnant, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way of your work as a Senator.

“I’ll have the Knights meet us in the Hangar in 5 minutes,” Kylo said as he threw your overnight bag over his shoulder.


“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you— unless you want an upset stomach.”

You smiled gratefully at the Knight who had just whispered in your ear, “Thank you.”

You scraped the food to one side of your plate before looking around. It was the first day of your diplomatic mission and the host planet was holding a banquet in honour of your arrival. You and the Knights had all been seated at one round table, and ballroom was scattered with tens more, each filled with important dignitaries you would no doubt be acquainted with during the meetings.

“So… How long have you all been Knights?” You asked when the conversation at the table had lulled. They looked to one another before one responded.

“The same as your husband—ma’am,” he added. Some of the other Knights nodded their head in agreement while the rest each gave you their own response.

“And how about you, Senator Y/N?”

“How long have I been a Knight?” You laughed.

“No, no,” the Knight also laughed, “How long have you been a Senator?”

You mulled it over before replying, “Almost three years now.”

“Is that how you met Kylo Ren?” One Knight asked, “As a Senator, I mean?”

You smiled and nodded as you recalled the day you met your future husband. “My first task as Senator was to go to the First Order and meet with the Commander.”

“Were you scared?”

“Terrified. When I was first told about it, I nearly resigned on the spot,” you admitted, earning a laugh from the Knights, “But I wouldn’t be here now if I had done that. I just wish our first encounter wasn’t so embarrassing,” you said.

The table was quiet and you soon realised the Knights wanted you to continue.

“Um, well… When I arrived, I mistook Kylo for a low-ranking officer.”

“An officer?” The Knight sounded amused.

“He was the first to greet me on the base, and I never imagined that the Commander himself would do something like that. At least not for a Senator he had never met before. So anyway, I just assumed he was some sort of assistant.”

“The helmet and robes didn’t give it away?”

“I was young and nervous, I don’t really know what I was thinking,” you confessed, “So as he led me around the Base, he started asking all these questions. At first I thought he was just making conversation until we reached the Commander, but then he started to talk about confidential matters between my planet and the First Order.”

“That’s when you realised who he was?”

“Not exactly,” you continued, “I started getting worried that a random officer knew so much about highly secretive matters… So I punched him.”

That revelation caused the Knights to burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join them.

“You punched him? Wasn’t he wearing his helmet?”

“Well, it turns out that I lose my common sense when I’m panicking and it didn’t occur to me that punching a metal helmet would actually hurt. I saw that my little outburst had caused me to cut my hand, and you all know how I am with blood.”

The Knights nodded and you carried on, “Well, one look at my bloodied hand and I fainted.”

The Knights continued their laughter and you grinned, “I woke up five hours later in the infirmary with Kylo was sitting by the bed, his hand holding the one I tried to punch him with.”

“When did you find out who he was?”

“When the nurses told me,” you lowered your head as you remembered how embarrassed you had felt.

“So how exactly did you go from trying to punch him to being married and pregnant with his child?”

“Well…” you laughed, “The doctors wanted to monitor me overnight and Kylo refused to let me out of his sight.”

“Because he was angry with you?”

“The opposite actually, he was worried I would faint again,” you smiled fondly at the memory, “I couldn’t stop apologising but he laughed it off.”

“You made Kylo Ren laugh? After you tried to punch him?”

“I couldn’t believe it either.  But we spent the entire night talking, getting to know one another… Kylo once told me that by the next morning he had already fallen in love,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you admitted that.

“What about your diplomatic meeting?”

“Kylo said it would be unfair to make me discuss politics right after I had fainted, so he said we would save it for next time.”

“Next time?” A Knight raised his eyebrow suggestively.

“Yes… Well, it turned out that ‘next time’ became weekly meetings with him. We would always discuss enough so that he would have to invite me back again the week after. And well, you know, all that time we started spending together led to… this,” you said, holding up your left hand to show your wedding ring, “and this,” you rested your hand back on your stomach.

“And here I was just thinking that you had met at a gathering like this,” A Knight said, gesturing to the room you were in.

“That certainly would have been easier,” you said before you all laughed.


“Promise me you’ll behave yourself,” you said as you crouched down to be eye-level with your three year old son.  

“I promise,” he beamed.

“Thank you again for watching him,” you smiled at them. You and Kylo had to go on a short diplomatic mission, but you thought it was too unsafe for your son. The Knights had gladly offered to look after him.

“We’ll see you in two days, okay Ollie?” Kylo said as he came up from behind you.

“Okay Daddy,” Ollie said as he gave you and his father a quick hug before he ran into the arms of one of the Knights.

Once you had said your goodbyes, the Knights gathered around your son and led him inside their communal quarters.

“What do you want to do first Oliver?” A Knight asked as he picked him up.

“Story time!” He said excitedly.

The Knight laughed, sitting himself and your son down on a seat.

“What kind of story do you want, buddy?”

“A happy one,” he smiled up at the Knight.

“Tell him how his parents met, that’s a happy story,” Another Knight chuckled as he sat beside them; ready to hear what had quickly become his favourite tale.

The Knight nodded, “Well, it started when your mother tried to punch your father…”