Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

stormtroopers, food and getting sick in the first order

swearydroid:

courtesy of conversations with @dimir-charmer​

• tell me about troopers and food! I have All The Feelings: regimented meal times, told what and when and where to eat, have to finish in a certain amount of time or they don’t eat; not eating is grounds for reconditioning; you eat what is in front of you, everything controlled and bland and perfectly nutritionally balanced 
  
• Ok yeah, tell me about troopers absolutely forgetting to eat because no-one is directing them to, tell me about troopers who are weird and cranky when they don’t have EXACTLY the recommended level of calories or nutritional intake, who don’t know why they’re mad and irritable.
  
• Or troopers who like, just eat whatever out of a can and assume it’s all fine. Can of preserved fruit, can of bean paste, can of condensed milk. Just the assumption that rations are interchangeable
• TROOPERS WHO ARE SO SURPRISED WHEN THEY EAT SOMETHING OUT OF DATE AND THEIR BODy IS JUST LIKE…naaa fuck right off
• troopers dealing with the aftermath of coming off all those strange pills the order had them on: you know that they were so full of medication they rattled; uppers, downers, things to delay puberty, things to sort out muscle growth
• God, the concept of food poisoning and allergies must be totally foreign
• Even things like the common cold get blasted right the hell out of you with every antiviral they can get their hands on because otherwise massive communal barracks would be a nightmare
• So really the only experience with illness they have is ‘you get better right away or you DIE’. The ‘get lots of rest and fluids’ approach to the common cold must scare the crap outta them
• Oh God the baby troopers would think they were going to be decommissioned. The older ones might understand the new way of things but imagine little ones hiding the fact they were ill. Scared because they can’t stop sneezing.
•  Hiding their friends from resistance medical because sickly children in the order are culled
• There’s like, a bad batch of rations, and half the resistance spends a night puking, and all the troopers thinking is ‘oh god, this must be one of the plagues I’d heard about’
• And reviving care from non-medical professionals must also be so ????? This isn’t your job why are you doing it? Because everyone in a unit has very set jobs, and it doesn’t mean that everyone else doesn’t care, but you wouldn’t trust a sharpshooter to do an engineers job because they 'were concerned about the wall’ so why would you trust Not A Medical Professional to bring you tea and soup? 
• But yes! Bad rations, mass food poisoning and  the troopers are  like WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON and the Resistance fighters are like…dudes, its okay, just some bad food and the troopers are convinced they’ve been poisoned because that is what the first order does with rebellious squads, sometimes; they wipe them out with tainted food, make it look like an accident
• the first order thinks they are being subtle but they aren’t and the troopers know and they are so VERY SCARED when people start vomiting because is this a trap IS THIS ALL A TRAP. 
• Especially because there’s the 'we thought that you were different and you BETRAYED US’ panic, 
• but they get better. they get better: that’s the magical thing the troopers find about freedom; they are allowed to get sick and heal. (the resistance fighters are just….struck dumb. you poor poor babies and they are guilty for weeks and poe personally does lessons on What To Do When You Get the Sniffle to reassure these scared scared killing machines.
  

(Source: peradii, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

stormtroopers, body language and space poker

swearydroid:

stormtrooper headcanons (part 1 of ???) courtesy of conversations with @dimir-charmer​

• Ok, so talk to me about stormtroopers who think that seeing other people’s faces is super intimate and don’t want anyone to see their faces because it feels to special and risky
  
• talk to me about troopers who are deeply ashamed of their inability to read facial expressions or make ‘normal’ ones
  
• so here’s the thing: stormtroopers with their helmets on since they were babies aren’t going to have the faintest sodding clue how to read facial expressions. they know, instinctively, that one is happy and one is sad but nuances are often lost on them. thus: body language. every trooper is spot-on brilliant at assessing the smallest flicker in body language because they have to be, because it is the primary means of unspoken communication
• and the faces! the faces finn makes! they are open and exuberant and here is a boy who never had to hide his expressions and does not know how to
• everything a trooper thinks is on their face (yes, even phasma.)
• Also lets talk about poker(or the space equivalent thereof) games b/ween former troopers and resistance members, because they’d both be able to read each other?? So easily??
• Like, the troopers would pull literal faces at their hands, and the outsider would be like ‘oh easy money’ and bluff and the trooper would laugh bc ??? She fluttered her fingers?? Who does she take them for??
• Anyway it’s terrible and complicated and lots of money changes hands back and forth and back and forth while they learn to control tells they never had to worry about before
• hahahaha but OH WAIT it gets even more complicated because troopers have all sorts of Very Strict Rules about what belongs to them and what doesn’t – think about it, most things in the Order are communal and having personal property is a major thing and also absolutely sacred (you do not ever, ever steal from other troopers, you just DO NOT) so they take gambling Very Seriously. There are basically two layers: the sort that occurs within units, wherein random things like sanitation hours are bet (you know – time, favours, things that aren’t physical things) and the other sort, the sort that occurs /between/ units, where troopers gamble for Actual Things (cigarettes, sweet rations, etc, etc). Gambling for Actual Things within a unit is grounds for absolute disaster because troopers are very protective of their Things. Gambling for Actual Things is something you do not do with someone you want to stay friends with…….this causes issues for the Resistance pilots who do not have the same complicated idea of A) These Things are mine and Do Not Touch Them, b) unit is everything, unit is FAMILY, c) trading favours in lieu of actual currency (e.g. ‘I bet you three hours of gun cleaning’ – fineeee, I bet ten credits – THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS)
  
• so yes: much cultural misunderstanding
  
  next up: troopers and food
  

(Source: peradii, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

rainbow-squirrels-7 asked: Write about Rey please! A and b if you want...

peradii:

• When Rey is ten, another scavenger tries to steal her haul. It isn’t much: a twist of some old engine, a carbonator; but it’s enough to feed her for the rest of the day, maybe the next, and pickings have been slim lately. The clutch of metal bits (barely enough to swell the lining of her bag) represents the first meal she’ll have had in two days (she is so hungry). And this man – this boy, she’ll think when she looks back; he can’t have been more than fifteen – grabs it from her. There’s no civilisation on Jakku, no sense of protect the small and weak – there’s no mercy for a girl alone. And the boy just takes it, snatches it from her grasping hands, holds it aloft, grinning wide and wild and mocking. “Finders keep –” he starts to say, quoting the oldest (and only) law of the desert. The rest of the words snag on his loose teeth and split-open lips: Rey smacks him in the jaw with her staff and every bit of strength she has. He stumbles, makes for the blaster at his side, and she panics: she hits him in the legs to bring him down, hits him in the skull until his hand falls slack and he is very, very still. Rey snatches her haul up and runs and does not look back. (She’ll think of him sprawled in the sand, skull open and red and wet, when she prowls through the frozen forest towards Kylo Ren. She’s older. She knows better. She’ll hesitate. She will not deliver that final blow.)
  
• Jessika Pava snatches a chip from her plate in the canteen. It’s all in good humour; Rey is hanging out with the pilots in one of the rare moments she isn’t training with Luke, enjoying the noise and hubbub – oh there are so many people. It gives her a headache, light and sharp behind her eyes, but it is a good pain, a clean pain; a growing pain. Anyway. Pava snatches the chip – a misguided attempt at flirting, maybe? – and Rey reacts without thinking and stabs her in the back of the hand with a fork. There’s silence for a moment, an aching and desperate silence, and Rey can only hear the roar of blood in her ears. She stares down. Pava’s hand has slackened; the chip is on the table. The tines of the fork haven’t sunk in that far, but there is red pooling on Pava’s skin and Rey feels a great rush of nausea. Her stomach cramps, hard, and she leaps to her feet, gabbling apologies. Pava holds up her hands, says, “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it really is,” and Poe scrapes a good chunk of his dinner onto Rey’s plate and says, “We won’t ever let you go hungry,” and it’s all too much: Rey bursts into tears. (No one tries to steal her food again. Later, she leaves a basket full of apples and potatoes on Pava’s bed. It is an apology. It is a very well guided attempt at flirting.)
• “What’s wrong with this water?” she gasps, holding her cupped hands out to Luke. “It’s awful!”
  
  Luke bursts out laughing. “It’s full of salt, Rey. You can’t drink it.”
  
  “All that water,” she says, scornful, “and not a drop to drink – are you sure that the Force is benevolent?”
  
  “Hey, when I first saw an ocean I did the exact same thing. Only difference was that Han pretended that that was what water was meant to taste like. Pretended to drink it and then got offended when I didn’t. I didn’t want to seem like the odd one out so I drank a whole mug of it and vomited everywhere – he wasn’t laughing so hard when he was trying to air the smell of vomit out of the Falcon.”
  
  Rey bursts out laughing, wading back towards shore. “Tell me more about him,” she says.  

swearydroid:

Okay, so we all know that Poe went around the Resistance base telling everyone about the Handsome Stormtrooper that saved his life – but what about BB-8? Imagine BB-8 coming back to base and promptly telling everyone about the good brave human who saved his Poe. This is Finn he is so lovely, he is the best of all humans, look at him, be nice to him – he’s a little bit slow – doesn’t understand droid at all but he’s a quick learner. 

And imagine ALL THE DROIDS falling into line, looking after Finn, and Finn is just so nice to them because he remembers what it’s like to be treated like you’re nothing, like you don’t have a personality. And they just adopt him: Finn the best human, they designate him, and R2-D2 – battle-hardened war vet that he is –  teaches him binary but teaches him the bastardised sweary binary that all the older droids speak and BB-8 is innocent and oblivious and C3-PO is scandalised because Finn is going round saying things like fuck me this is hot in this little whistle-beep. 

And whenever Finn sits down he’s surrounded by happy young droids who absolutely adore him, and he is just so nice and all the droids go out of their way to do things for him. 

And yes. Give me sweet lovely Finn with his droid ducklings. 

(Source: peradii, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

buckynats:

buckynats:

so if BB-8′s “a BB unit”, does that mean there’s a BB-1 through 7?

Does this mean there were scary stories on the flight deck pre- or post-mission with Poe and Black Squadron? Imagine Poe with a light-stick beneath his chin and a glint in his eye, kneeling to speak in a spooky voice to BB-8. 

“Hey, BB-8. Why is BB-6 afraid of BB-7?” 

An inquisitive whirr. 

“’Cause BB-7 ate 9!” 

“!!!!” BB-8 rolls back and forth in panic while Poe falls over laughing.

“It’s okay, buddy. I didn’t mean it literally! It’s just a joke!” (A joke??) “Yeah, a joke!” BB-8 gently zaps Poe in retribution and rolls away, the droid-equivalent of a walking off in a huff. 

“Ow, hey! Come on, BB-8, it was supposed to be funny!” 

BB-8 doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, so Poe goes on a mission around base asking any and everyone if they’ve seen any droids, and joins the squadron table at dinner looking exhausted but triumphant. BB-8 is with them. 

“Hey, BB-8, look!” He holds up a round, shrieking droid with a grin. “It’s BB-7!”

BB-8 beeps in alarm and hides behind the table leg while Poe gently explains that BB-7 is not really scary at all, see?

BB cautiously rolls out to investigate for itself. Cue gentle droid booping.

They become bosom buddies and roll everywhere together, collect the whole gang and then BB rolls up to Poe pre-flight sometime a week later, like ten minutes before take off. “BB-8, buddy where were you? we gotta go!” “!!” “what is it?” BB-8 is insistent.“!” “You wanna show me something? ok buddy but make it quick, it’s almost time to leave.”

BB-8 whistles and BB-6 rolls over in a panic, whirring. BB-8 whirrs at it and it whirrs back and all three of them turn towards BB-7 rolling determinedly along. BB-6 Ducks behind BB-8 as BB-7 rolls to a stop a few feet before reaching them. A smaller beep draws Poe’s attention to his feet where BB-9 sits, rocking back and forth in contentment. 

All three droids beep back the joke in binary.

Poe cries laughing and doesn’t stop until the General herself contacts him on comms to ask what him the hold up is.

Okay but consider: the droids.

The fact that they clearly, CLEARLY rehearsed this little show before showing off to Poe on the tarmac just before the flight

BB-8 is a very strict producer ok

lots of beeeeeeep!!! and whirrrr bleeep!!!s when the others got it wrong

“no it has to be THIS WAY” “this is how Poe told it!” “do it OVER.”

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

lullabyknell:

The Empire told stories about Leia Organa.

They started off simple: calling her a simple-minded fool. Leia Organa was a silly little princess throwing a tantrum over her planet being punished for its treachery. Pretty but petty, and ever so vain, Leia Organa was just a spoiled little twit spitting rage for not being given the power she wanted and having a fit over being caught at a crime.

Those stories didn’t work very well.

The repeated success of such a tiny and ragtag group of rebels proved that there were clever and cunning folk behind the Rebellion. For a silly twit, Leia Organa slipped out of too many traps, stole too much information and too many supplies, shot down too many Imperial forces, and succeeded in her command again and again.

It didn’t reflect well against the Empire that a spoiled princess kept foiling them over and over again, even if sometimes by the thinnest of hairs.

And everyone who’d ever met Leia Organa could never believe them, and Leia Organa had met many people as she negotiated and coerced more and more allies for the Rebellion, and many people before when she pretended to exist under the Empire’s rule. I met Leia Organa once, traders and governors and senators many others across the galaxy would say, and she’s nothing like they say she is.

Leia Organa is pretty and a princess, but her eyes are sharp and her words are sharper still, and she is made of kindness and cleverness and grief and rage. She has little patience for anyone who believes the Empire’s stories about her. Anyone who can look into her eyes and think her shallow must be blind to miss the death and hopes and dreams of an entire planet; there is nothing simple about any of the last children of Alderaan and everyone knows it - as deep down as the scream that echoed through the galaxy.

The Empire switches tactics - took them long enough - and calls the simple-minded fool and silly little princess a masterful illusion. She’s a lie, they say, and a liar. Leia Organa is a beautiful temptress, a demoness feeding on the chaos of war, a front for the Rebel cause, hungry for power and revenge and the deaths of all she can lure to her weak, pointless, useless cause. This princess who should have died is only a campaign strategy hiding under a pretty woman’s face.

Some stories say that Leia Organa is dead. She died with Alderaan; her silly support of the rebels killed her. What exists now is a sick, twisted figurehead invention of the Rebellion to gain support - a lying lie. A ghost, a demon, an undead enchantress and seductress who weaves pretty and terrible falsehoods and deceptions.

Leia Organa hears these rumors and instead of scoffing like she did at those that proclaimed her a brainless twit, she laughs. Then she scoffs. And then she goes back to work. The Empire can say what it wants, that won’t make it true that the Rebellion isn’t gaining ground. (It hurts when people believe the stories, but Leia’s scale for pain is fairly skewed now, against the hole where her heart used to be.)

A similar reaction goes through most of the Rebellion, those who don’t scoff with disgust burst into laughter and laugh until they cry. Oh yeah, Red Squadron agrees, wiping actual tears off their cheeks, that’s the princess, alright, seducing men left and right. Yep, there she is now, standing on a box and yelling like a howleroo in General Solo’s face again as he yells back. Hair frizzy from working all night and wearing Skywalker’s ugly yellow jacket again, that’s the true picture of temptation and enchantment.

Luke laughs so hard that he falls to the floor and can’t get up for fifteen minutes. (Anyone who so must as suggests it might be true in front of him quickly learns the true meaning of fear, but otherwise) Luke nearly dies because he keeping cracking up and almost hits his head on stuff, and Wedge has had to repeatedly drag him off to Medical to check if there’s something wrong with him.

(The tests keep coming up negative but Wedge doesn’t understand how anyone can find their own intragalatic Imperial reputation as a dangerous religious lunatic absolutely hilarious. There’s something in the sand on Tatooine, you mark Wedge’s words.)

Han Solo can’t believe what he’s hearing when he hears the rumors, and doesn’t even laugh. He teases Princess Leia about it, of course, but everybody quickly learns not to joke about it in his presence because suddenly the smuggler’s all you wanna repeat that, buddy? And nobody wants to have their arms torn off by a Wookie.

The Empire can tell all the stories it wants, it still loses in the end.

About twenty years later, the First Order tells stories about Leia Organa, and it’s the same old story all over again. (A son of Skywalker has fallen, the Jedi have fallen with stragglers scattered across the stars, someone building another giant super-weapon, and the Organas are fighting back against an Empire.) Demonize and dehumanize.

The only difference is that they acknowledge the existence of the Force again, saying she uses it to twist minds and hearts and souls, and they don’t call her beautiful anymore.

Leia Organa pretends to be a kindly old woman, but she’s really a cunning old crone. She’s a bitter old hag who can’t let go of rebellion, who wants to tear the galaxy apart because she wants everything but her wrinkled hands can’t handle it all. A small and sickly, but deadly and devious and dangerous and ugly witch.

And that’s not even getting started on what they say about Luke

Leia Organa just laughs, then scoffs. (There’s a pain in her chest, but it’s not important.) And then she gets back to work. She remembers when she used to be beautiful, you know.

(“Used to be,” Han says with loyal disdain, then insists, “Still.”)

These little men can talk all they want to prove what big boys they are, but she’s gone from a pretty-petty princess to a villainous temptress and fabrication to an old and terrible witch, and she’s still kicking.

Those stories didn’t work very well. 

(At least, she thinks they didn’t. She hopes so. It hurts when people believe the stories, but Leia’s scale for pain is fairly skewed now, against the hole where her heart used to be. Oh, to think that she could find them both, in the dark and distant places they’ve gone to, and bring them home.)

They’ll prove them wrong again.

JUST FUCK ME UP.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

Anonymous asked: have you done poe for the headcanon meme yet?

notbecauseofvictories:

                      …two truths and a lie.

one. If you cut Poe Dameron open (and they have, a few times, because shrapnel is a kung-fucker, and he’s gotten sort of attached to not having alusteel in his bloodstream) you’d find the Republic there, scored into the underside of his ribs. Mama used to say that nursed them together, Poe and his little sister, Revuelta, born screaming in the cockpit of her x-wing.

but I’m your favorite! Poe had always giggled, finishing the story for her, and mama always had said, never doubt it, ishoco, because that was simpler than, it was easier to bring you into the world. there was less blood.

(every child’s origins are the stuff of mythology, at least in the way you tell it—Ben Organa came too early, in the midst a magnetic storm that almost tore the Falcon to pieces; Rey breathed her first during starfall, on a planet whose name no one could quite remember. The boy who would one day be called Finn, meaning fair, slept in the circle of his mother’s arms that first night, because she never wanted to let him leave her skin.

Poe Dameron was born screaming into the cockpit of his mother’s x-wing, cradling alzamiento between his heart and his breastbone.)

two. Everyone gets it wrong, they say it must have been when and talk about control sticks and x-wings, punching through to the blue-white of hyperspace. Maybe for everyone else, it was. But to him, flying didn’t even register as something else, different than breathing, or internal organs, something that could be articulated in the subjunctive. Sitting in a cockpit is like tasting the inside of his mouth, there’s nothing there but more of him, more himness.

He couldn’t have fallen in love with a thing indistinguishable from the shape of his skin.

No, the first time Poe fell in love, it was with a hastily holo-copied piece of flimsi, handed out among T-14 class. Through the transparisteel was a bright, clear afternoon, so he caught only fragments of what his teacher was saying, perished with Alderaan, and best known poet of the civil war—

It’s chance that his eyes land on the single line of hand-scrawled poetry:when the multitudes run rioting against you and against everything unjust and inhuman, I will be in their midst with the torch in my hand

(Under his breastbone, Revuelta stirs. Poe falls in love—not with poetry but with the image, himself, all skinny adolescent elbows, standing against the unjust and holding the torch.)

After his mother’s funeral, he goes on a nerve burner of a bender, and wakes up three days later at the foot of the Force-tree. (It hasn’t flowered since the attack on the new Jedi temple, but Poe fights the strange urge to apologize.) His side aches sharply, and he cringes, stumbling inside to the refresher. 

He lifts his shirt to see ‘with the torch in my hand’, tattooed along the slant of his ribs.

three. He hasn’t slept more than four standard units for a week when the General finds him under his x-wing. BB-8 (that traitor) doesn’t warn him, and so suddenly she’s there, passing him the sonic wrench he had been vainly reaching for.

She’s shorter than he is, Poe realizes with a start. Standing in the command center, surrounded by people who need orders and answers, she’s always seemed to eat up space, towering above them—here she’s just a woman. He can see the places where the eumelanin regeneration has left her scalp blotchy.

general, he says.

you know my brother blew up the Death Star, the General replies idly, and it takes Poe a minute to remember that Luke Skywalker, Star-killer, is actually the same man as General Organa’s brother. (Poe mostly remembers the latter skipping stones across a pond with the Force, talking to a tree in Poe’s yard as though he expected it to answer back.)

he asked to be moved to planetside combat, after that, she adds after a moment.

Poe blinks. I didn’t know that, ma’am.

Luke said he had heard them, crying out, all the voices of the Death Star as they perished. he couldn’t do it again, he said—he said ’at least with a blaster, you can only kill one at a time.’

Poe stares. His fingers are numb around the sonic wrench.

war is ugly, lieutenant, the General says. There’s something carved-out about how she says it, like she’s had this conversation too many times before. anyone who tells you different is lying, or trying to recruit you. but you did good work on Eraski; it was necessary and you did it well, you did it cleanly. I wish that weren’t such a cold comfort.

I—is it worth it? he asks the General. He wants to ask Princess Leia Organa, whose planet was swallowed up by black and fire, everything she loved with it, but it’s not his place. Only mama had ever called her leia, with the artificial lung to prove she had earned the right.

(the kriffing bey legacy, Poe’s father had snarled, when Poe told him he was defecting to the Resistance. always happy to bleed for leia organa.)

For a long moment, the General is silent. When she reaches up and touches Poe’s face, he flinches—but she just traces his cheek with her fingertips before dropping her hand. go to bed, dameron, she says, very quietly. your mother would have killed me if she knew I’ve turned you into such a lich.

yes, ma’am, Poe says.

She’s very tall, walking away.

lovepsychothefirst asked: Imagine an Adaption of The Princess Bride with the Star Wars cast. OT or PT, what would the roles be and how would adapt it?

fialleril:

Okay, well obviously Anakin is the slave boy / man in black / Dread Sith Lord Vader. (But not the real Lord Vader. Anakin took the title from the man who supposedly killed him, but who in fact took him on as an apprentice; his name was really Dooku. He himself had inherited the title from the previous Lord Vader, who was not the real Lord Vader either. His name was Sifo-Dyas. The real Lord Vader had been retired thirty years and living like a king on Nar Shaddaa. It was the name, Dooku explained, that was important for inspiring the necessary fear. No one would surrender to the Dread Sith Lord Ani.)

Padmé is the simple peasant girl Palpatine picked to be Queen of Naboo. Originally, he planned to have her murdered on her coronation and the Trade Federation blamed for it, thus sparking the war that would bring him to power. But when that fails, he has to regroup and finally decides it’s going to be so much more moving when he has her killed not as an innocent victim but as a martyr.

Nute Gunray has been secretly hired by Palpatine to murder Padmé and start a war (a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition). He in turn has hired two mercenaries to help him with the task: the former Jedi padawan turned drunken soldier of fortune Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the prospector and prize fighter Dexter Jettster.*

Obi-Wan saw his Jedi master murdered by a mysterious tattooed Sith Lord when he was still a padawan. Now, Obi-Wan loved his master, and so naturally he challenged his murderer to a duel. He failed, but the Sith let him live, and now he has dedicated his life to revenge…and left the Jedi Order to seek it. He’s been searching for the tattooed Sith ever since.

Dex is honestly in this gig for the money, but he’s forever annoying Nute with his horrible dad jokes and puns, and in spite of himself he’s basically adopted Obi-Wan. The guy clearly needs someone to look after him.

Maul is the tattooed Sith Obi-Wan is searching for. He’s been working as Palpatine’s lieutenant all this time. His assistant Ventress keeps his Pit of Despair running smoothly.

Barriss is the Jedi healer who used to work for the Republic, until the Republic’s stinking Chancellor fired her (and all the other Jedi), and thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject.

Ahsoka is not a witch, she’s her wife, but after what Barriss just said, she’s not even sure she wants to be that anymore.

Yoda is a very impressive clergyman indeed. Because of reasons.

*

A few choice scenes:

Anakin learning fencing and the Force and anything else people will teach him while playing aide to Dooku’s Dread Sith Lord Vader.

“Good night, Anakin. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

*

Obi-Wan helping Anakin scale a cliff so that they can have a proper duel. “I see you’re a Sith Lord,” he says. “You don’t by any chance have tattoos on your face?”

“Do you always begin conversations this way?”

Obi-Wan tells his story, after which Anakin graciously removes his mask to show that his face is tattoo-free. And then they fight. It’s all very cordial.

*

“Why are you wearing a mask?” Dex asks. “Were you burned by lava or something?”

“Oh no, it’s just they’re terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.”

*

Anakin and Nute Gunray have a battle of wits.

“But Sarlaac venom is from Tatooine, and Tatooine, as everyone knows, is entirely peopled with criminals, who are used to not being trusted as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.”

*

Padmé and Anakin escape to Tatooine (it’s definitely Tatooine), where they attempt to hide out from Palpatine.

“What are the three dangers of Tatooine? One, the lightning sand. No problem. Two, the sarlaac pits. There’s a growling sound that precedes those, so we can avoid them easily…”

“Anakin, what about the WROUSes?”

“Womp rats of unusual size? I don’t think they exist.”

A fight with several womp rats immediately follows.

*

Padmé makes a bargain with Palpatine to save Anakin’s life. At this point she hasn’t realized quite how awful Palpatine is, but even so, she’s already planning how she’s going to get out of this.

Unfortunately, Palpatine wastes no time at all, and Anakin is turned over to Maul to be tortured. There’s dismemberment involved. When Obi-Wan and Dex find him, he’s a mangled, limbless husk, and very definitely dead.

*

Or…maybe only mostly dead.

Obi-Wan tries several stories to convince Barriss to help. She finds each of these stories increasingly ludicrous.

“He’s the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force!”

Barriss just stares at him. “Boy are you a rotten liar,” she says.

“I need him to help avenge my master, murdered these twenty years!”

Barriss is even less impressed by this, but she takes a look, and unfortunately for her, Ahsoka won’t give her any peace until she’s brought Anakin back. It takes a lot of doing. Not so much miracle pills as the miracle of modern cybernetics, but hey, it amounts to the same thing in the end.

Besides, Obi-Wan’s promised that if Barriss saves Anakin, Palpatine suffers humiliations galore, and that is definitely a noble cause.

*

Meanwhile Padmé has a crisis of conscience and goes barging into Palpatine’s office one night.

“It comes to this: I love democracy. I always have. If you tell me I must be your puppet Queen, please believe I will be leading a revolution by morning.”

*

Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Dex break into the Naboo palace by means of a cunning plan involving a hover sled, Ventress’ lightsabers, and a fog machine they found in Maul’s torture pit. (Look, Maul is absolutely the dramatic type who owns a fog machine. Don’t blame me. That’s just science.)

Rescuing Padmé proves to be the most difficult part of the whole plan, mainly because Padmé has already rescued herself, and finding her is a bit difficult. And then Obi-Wan catches sight of Maul the tattooed Sith, and he’s off on his quest for vengeance.

Meanwhile Anakin still can’t walk that well on his new legs and ends up having to bluff his way through a fight with Palpatine.** Or at least, to keep Palpatine occupied just long enough for Padmé to take him down with a stun blast.

(Anakin really wanted to kill him, but Padmé insists Palpatine has to stand trial. Anakin isn’t convinced; at least, not until she points out that Palpatine living a long life alone in prison with his failures would make a much more satisfying revenge.)

*

“Hello. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. You killed my master. Prepare to die.”

*

And of course, for maximum irony, this story ends with Obi-Wan becoming the new Dread Sith Lord Vader.

——————————-

* Okay, okay. I realize Dex as Fezzik is a stretch. But everyone else fits so perfectly and there’s really no one in the PT era who fits for Fezzik. I considered Chewie, but he doesn’t have a connection with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan apparently has no friends outside of Anakin and Dex. :( So.

** So I wanted to make a joke about “to the pain,” only I realized that what happens to Anakin in canon basically is “to the pain,” which…kinda destroys the humor tbh.

Anonymous asked: Headcanon for how Captain Phasma got out of the trash compactor in time to survive the planet blowing up? Please?

historymiss:

Basically, I imagine those same two stormtroopers who walked by the interrogation room when Kylo was destroying everything to go and patrol down on the maintenance level- things are kicking off, it’s quiet down there, they can just wait until this whole Resistance thing blows over. And then they’re walking past this panel and it’s punched out from the inside by Captain Phasma, covered in space garbage and clutching a dianoga’s dripping eyestalk in her fist.

“The trash compactor requires maintenance.” Phasma says coolly, to the trooper who hasn’t soiled himself. “Alert the janitorial detail.”