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

nehirose:

orevet:

picture this though 

Captain Phasma gets hauled in by the Resistance at some point 

and because she’s the highest-ranking officer they’ve ever caught, Leia comes in to question Phasma personally, with Luke in tow 

they enter the interrogation room, and behind the blaster-proof viewport, standing at parade rest, is this 6 ½ foot brick shit-house of a woman in stormtrooper under-armor 

Leia just sort of… freezes, and then she’s grabbing her brother’s arm and dragging him back out into the hallway 

the door’s barely shut behind them before she’s doubled over in laughter, helplessly, the kind of laughter that comes from having to keep yourself together for years before something finally breaks  

and Luke is this close to calling for a medic when Leia manages to gasp out, 

“Don’t you think she’s a little tall for a stormtrooper?”

I LAUGHED SO HARD I GOT A CRAMP

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

dark-siren asked: I hope you don't mind me asking, and please feel free to ignore if you do, but someone mentioned to me that you had a Phasma redemption theory, and I'll be honest, I'm *all over* that shit, and I'd love to hear it if you'd ever want to talk about it?

vrabia:

oh man DO I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT

ok look, before we go into anything substantial the reason i have a phasma redemption theory in the first place is i really want to care about someone from the bad guys’ side and so far you couldn’t pay me to give less of a collective flying fuck about kylo, hux and supreme leader snood. phasma on the other hand has the excellent potential of the under-explored and also there’s the whole gwendoline christie in shiny chrome full-body armor thing that speaks directly to my id, by which i mean she has express permission to bench-press me at her convenience

anyway

now that we’ve established that, i bring you: my phasma redemption theory

pahsma went from lawful evil to chaotic neutral in the time it took to say ‘holy shit did a desperately under-staffed, underfunded military offshoot of the republic blow up starkiller base with nothing but a dozen shabby x-wings and four people on the ground??’ drifting among the debris in her damaged escape pod, phasma has a crisis of faith. for the first time ever she experiences bitter disillusionment because she had sincerely, unquestioningly believed in the first order: that it was visionary and righteous, but most of all that it was infallible. phasma was the perfect product of stormtrooper conditioning that had drilled those things into her from an early age. but now it’s all gone. starkiller base, the first order’s greatest achievement, along with most of its command and troops. all blown to pieces in a matter of seconds.

phasma thinks of fn-2187.

she realizes with a dull sort of surprise that she’s not angry with him. not at all. she’s just– curious? why did he walk away from the order? phasma had never really stopped to consider his motives, only to label him as a failure and momentary disappointment, and move on. but something must have driven fn-2187 to the point where he caused the destruction of everything he was conditioned to believe in.

(if phasma knew anything about the force maybe she’d understand this sooner, but she’s about as force-sensitive as half a brick, so)

her escape pod is picked up by pirates/scavengers just as life support is beginning to fail. they very briefly consider turning phasma over to the republic, but then she breaks someone’s legs probably, and then they consider flying her to wherever she wants, no charge, please don’t hurt us we’re just small-time crooks okay? phasma has no idea where she’s supposed to go now. she knows in her heart that she can’t go back to whatever’s left of the first order because Doubt and the uncomfortable beginnings of questioning the ideology she’d submitted to and also a tiny voice that’s telling her hey hey you could do anything and go anywhere, that’s kind of neat, right? it’s a very small voice though, and phasma decides that since her life is meaningless now she’ll just go along with whatever happens. 

this is how she ends up in some seedy system in the outer rim where she becomes illegal pit-fighting champion, or something similar. at some point obviously she runs into finn, rey and poe and gets roped into working together sort of grudgingly for the Adventure of the Week.

(and finn knows. the second he lays eyes on her he knows that the first order’s failure broke her and she’s been trying to put herself back together all this time, only it came out different and strange. he gets it. gets it so much it’s pissing her off)

when they part ways they aren’t friends, exactly, but there’s a feeling that when they meet again it won’t be on hostile terms. phasma nods at each of them, nods at fn-2187 and says ‘finn’ before she turns and leaves.

this is where it starts. she has a long way to go.

kaijuslayer:

I’m very glad that movies like Pacific Rim and Fury Road and The Force Awakens are as colorful as they are, because I am really, really tired of desaturated movies.

GOD ME TOO.

My buddy, my guy.  Come close and listen to me.

You can have an apocalyptic, gritty, brutal movie with color.  Really.  You can.  I promise.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

Anonymous asked: Leia Organa for the headcanon meme thing?

notbecauseofvictories:

Leia can fall asleep any place relatively quiet that isn’t actually moving under her. 

She did not—contrary to Han and Luke’s teasing—pick that up during the Rebellion; she learned how to hunker down and drop away from the world when she was Alderaan’s special diplomatic envoy to the Imperial Senate. Long nights spent poring over complicated trade agreements or debating the exact credits necessary for the revitalization of the Hosnian Sector (read: extermination of non-humans.) She learned to steal what sleep she could because they would be back there come morning with the same dry texts, the same dull men; the same compromises made while she carefully didn’t think about her father; somewhere in the galaxy quietly fostering rebellion. 

(Something she doesn’t talk about all that often: not all her memories of the Empire are war and blood and running and terror. There was paperwork too; and state dinners and heated discussions about subsidies. Imperial generals carried holos of their children just like everyone else. And she had hated it—she was never built for diplomacy; that was her mother’s skill and the Queen was always apologizing for her, this wayward daughter who wore her disdain and dislike on her sleeve and didn’t know what “compromise” meant—or even her father’s art, no one could look the flower but be the rebellious serpent under it quite like Bail—but Leia remembers all the same. 

The Empire was terrible; the Empire was an enemy to be broken and destroyed so the Republic could bloom again. But it was not all terror.)