So most of Tumblr seem to have a hate boner for this one. Mostly for it just because a straight romance joke episode like …..i don’t get it. the episode was funny and had cute shit in it but it seem like it was all for a joke mainly it can see that if for example the romance had some problematic aspects to it i see why but it being just because the romance is straight it bad, like wtf that some dumb reason to not like a thing.
Pulse you know just ship what you like anyway and just not give a damn.
@pomodoriyum happy late birthday friend!!! Sorry this is late- but I hope you enjoy this silly little obimaul.
Obi-Wan paused on the threshold between his fresher and the rest of his dorm in the Temple, surprised (though he shouldn’t have been) to find Maul sitting on his bed.
Maul continued to refuse to tell Obi-Wan how he managed to sneak into his room like this. Obi-Wan had checked the vents and the floorboards; updated all the security and access codes on his door- yet somehow Maul continued to let himself in when Obi-Wan wasn’t looking. And if Obi-Wan was being honest, he didn’t really mind.
Maul sat on the bed, curiously pawing through Obi-Wan’s discarded luggage from the mission he had just returned from.
“Hello to you too,” Obi-Wan said sarcastically, abandoning the towel and pulling on a clean sleep tunic from a drawer nearby. Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about changing in front of Maul any more. Besides, Maul seemed completely indifferent to his human standards of modesty.
“What are these?” Maul said holding up a handful of brightly colored packets. Obi-Wan smiled, used to Maul skipping all preamble. His directness was oddly comforting.
“I realized I had run out of rations for the journey home, so when the transport I hitched a ride from stopped for refueling, I grabbed whatever I could afford from the closest kiosk.” Obi-Wan laughed lightly as Maul continued to inspect the garish designs on the outside of the snacks.
Maul cautiously opened one packet, which alleged to contain fried vegetable pieces. However on closer inspection, it seemed to be a bag full of multi-color flimsiplast coated in salt.
Neither Maul nor Obi-Wan had ever really indulged in these sorts of foodstuff, the kind that came in unnatural bright colors, often times made sickly sweet or thick with oils, the likes of which children on Coruscant could be seen eating in parks or as they waited for air taxis.
While neither Maul nor Obi-Wan was above, and were in fact very used to, eating food that came out of packets, those were mostly tasteless powdery rations bars or protein cubes. Nothing like what Maul now suspiciously held in his hand.
Maul cautiously tasted a chip from the package, his nose wrinkling in a look of disgust that made Obi-Wan laugh. Sitting down next to Maul, Obi-Wan fished for a different package.
“Here,” he tossed it gently, “try this one instead.”
Maul opened the small packet, and immediately Obi-Wan could smell the pungent aroma of cured meat mixed with chemicals.
Maul selected a strip of the meatstuff inside, it had the texture of armourweave- and seemed just as tough- even Maul’s sharp teeth couldn’t bite through it. But instead of spitting out the near inedible meat, Maul continued to grind his teeth against the strip. Intent to break off some scrap of the tough material.
Obi-Wan watched and smiled. Maul didn’t know much about his culture or his species, and neither did Obi-Wan, but he couldn’t help thinking that Maul seemed oddly satisfied using his predatory teeth to tear apart the strips of dried meat.
Obi-Wan helped himself of so-called veggie flakes. They reminded him of being a padawan, when he and his classmates would save and pool their stipends, eagerly awaiting an unsupervised moment in the spaceport to purchase contraband snacks between missions. In retrospect, Obi-Wan had to image their masters were not as unaware as they seemed to be. Only pretending to be oblivious when their padawans returned with robe pockets that crinkled and crunched with every step.
On impulse, Obi-Wan switched on the holoprojector. Most dorms in the Temple came with holonet access, though there was little to be had in the way of entertainment.
Maul shot him a quizzical look, and Obi-Wan himself wasn’t so sure what he meant to put on. He supposed they could watch the news- that was something normal people did.
Maul still seemed confused, but didn’t press Obi-Wan for an answer. Eventually relaxing into the quiet evening of lying in bed together and picking through the kiosk snacks while the ambient noise of the news played softly on the projector.
They didn’t talk much, but as the evening wore on the luggage and the empty packets got moved onto the floor and they brought their bodies closer together.
“Maul,” Obi-Wan said humorously when they were in arms distance of each other, “I can still smell that blasted meat jerky- my whole bed smells like Fellucian onions.”
“Can’t smell it,” Maul said lightly, rolling closer to Obi-Wan- but Obi-Wan rolled away with a laugh.
“None of that until you take a shower- and I’m changing these sheets.” Obi-Wan was out of the bed now, searching for bedding to replace the sheets that had become a mess of crumbs.
Maul made a grumbling noise, but also stood and moved to the fresher when Obi-Wan started pulling at the sheets on the bed.
Obi-Wan busied himself with the bed, listening to the soft sounds of Maul in the fresher. When he heard the sink turn on, Obi-wan shouted, “Don’t you dare use my toothbrush, Maul.”
But the only response was the sound of the fresher water being turned up louder to block him out.
“Force help him,” Obi-Wan swore under his breath, abandoning the sheets and dashing into the fresher to save his toothbrush.
A few months after college graduation, I moved to a tiny studio apartment in Manayunk, a neighborhood in northwest Philadelphia. My apartment was on top of a bar tending school and was large enough for a bed and a coffee table, nothing more. To give you perspective, the kitchen stove was about four feet away from where I slept. I found a picture of my empty apartment below and the photo was taken in the “kitchen”. It was here where I remember first listening to jazz….on purpose.
My short-lived love affair with jazz started one night after I watched Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. I always have romanticized the 1920s but the movie triggered a night’s worth of appreciation. I poured myself a glass a wine, sat on the stool near my window, lit a cigarette, and listened to the sounds of Louie Armstrong while watching the night life below me. That evening was so pleasurable that I made it a weekly habit that lasted about six months…
I later moved in with one of my best friends (shout out to Erika) to a new neighborhood in Philly. Living with a roommate has a lot more pluses than negatives but you do have less time (and freedom) to enjoy nights alone. It was here where I stopped listening to jazz.
Flash forward to the present, where I am being seduced by jazz for a second time, and again it was triggered by a movie. Although the film is set in modern times rather than the Jazz Age, La La Land’s one protagonist is a passionate jazz musician (played by Ryan Gosling) who’s dream is to open his own jazz club. This resurfaced memories of my time in Manayunk and the nights where I suppressed the habit of watching TV, playing video games, or being on my phone but rather indulged in a slight buzz and jazz music.
The reasons I find jazz so alluring is because:
Jazz was the soundtrack to the Roaring Twenties, a decade that was progressive and rebellious. Women’s suffrage was at its peak at the turn of the decade and women wanted a new standard for themselves. Women danced, smoked, drank, and talked freely about sex. African American culture had a big impact on the 20s and females like Bessie Smith took over the radio. The youth took to night clubs and speakeasies to enjoy different styles of jazz. People were using automobiles and telephones at large scale and motion pictures grew in popularity and accessibility. Those in their teens and twenties rebelled against the cultural norms of the older generations and progressive cities like London, Paris, and New York experienced a new “cultural edge”. In France, the Roaring Twenties are known as the Crazy Years which speaks to the chaotic nature of this decade.
Jazz is ever-changing. Ryan Gosling’s character touches on this during a scene in La La Land –> jazz has a improvisational component to it which allows the artist to change up a song every time he/she plays it. This means that if you are listening to a live jazz band/artist, you may never hear that unique version of the song they are playing ever again. The same artist can play the same song over and over but the piece, to those that really listen, is always new. Jazz also, on a larger scale, has evolved over time, as most genres do. I encourage you to check out reddit user johno456′s answer to the thread below (also earning him reddit gold) to better understand the changes in jazz throughout the last few decades: https://www.reddit.com/r/Jazz/comments/4mjc13/a_challenge_for_you_jazzheads_name_ten_tracks/
Jazz gives me the feels. Jazz makes me feel optimistic, sexy, and inspired. I feel mature, yet youthful. I find the whole experience of listening to jazz very pleasurable.
If you want to dabble, here are some of my recos:
Dream a Little Dream of Me - Ella Fitzgerald
Let’s Get Lost - Chet Baker
Heebie Jeebies - Chick Webb & His Orchestra
The Girl From Ipanema - Amy Winehouse (+ the original version from Gets/Gilberto)