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

packetofcrackers:

taiey:

sarah531:

I just realised where Kylo got his name from:

Ky = sKYwalker

Lo = soLO

Ren = literally just his birth name with an R

which means that when he was choosing his super scary Dark Lord name, he just mashed up the surnames of the most positive figures in his life. poor sod can’t even evil right

literally a ‘what is your star wars name’ meme

2nd two letters of your mother’s last name
Last two letters of your father’s last name

1st three letters of your name but with an R

(via princehal9000)

unicorniolerdo:

the reason that rey’s hair is down is because she no longer needs to be recognized by her family since she found it

thank you for your time

(via princehal9000)

cardassian-andorian:

anyway i love the fact that the rest of rogue one is like “grr murder revenge we are here to kick some empire ass” and then they’re like “hey goggles boy what’s ur deal” and bodhi goes “i’m gonna be brave and listen to my heart” and like. all the Grisly Rebels visibly melt a lil.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

peradii:

request name

“Excuse me,” says the battle droid. R2 cannot roll his eyes, but he twitters in binary, something hard to translate but best summarized as: 

you heard me arsehole [the literal translation here would be: human excrement funnel]

“I will shoot you,” says the other battle droid. B-1 models, flimsy in the face of a lightsabre – or a blaster, or a well-aimed stick – but more than a match for R2. 

“No you won’t,” says the first one, “the General needs him.”

“Well at least let me threaten him a little,” pouts the second droid. 

“Why?”

“It’s so –”

boring chips in R2 right, it’s boring?

“Yes!” says the first droid. And then he adds, more out of a sense of duty than any real conviction: “Republic scum.”

“It isn’t boring,” says the second droid. “Last week, Grevious killed my best friend. At least. I think he was my best friend. I can’t tell us apart, really.”

you have no names

“I’m B-1,” says the first droid. 

“And I’m B-1,” says the second. 

“Mass-produced,” says the first.

“Could be worse,” says the second.

I was mass produced, R2 says hurriedly. but Anakin takes care of me. 

“What do you mean?”

I’ve never been shot for target practice, says R2, and I’m allowed a name and –

“It isn’t that bad,” says the first. Maybe the second. Hard to tell. “Anyway, you’re Republic scum and – “

The smack-shriek of a blaster. The first/second droid collapses, minus head. His companion says, “Never shot for target practice?” in a tone of voice that is, somehow, different. 

never ever, says R2. my friends wouldn’t let it happen.

“Friends,” says the droid. “He wasn’t really my best friend. He just went on patrol with me more than the others and I got used to him. Familiar face, you know. When the General killed him – uh – I kind of felt….bad.”

wanna get out of here?

“Roger roger,” says the droid, with feeling. Then: “Roger. That’s a name, right?”

yup, says R2.

“Great. Great,” says Roger. Then he hesitates. “What’re your orders?”

I don’t order you – oh, fine, babysteps, look just get me out of here. 

“And make sure that your Jedi doesn’t lightsabre me.”

Roger, roger, trills R2.

“Fuck you,” says Roger who, it seems, is a very fast learner.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

peradii:

forgive me if this has been done but please accept the following theory: anakin knows that women outside of tattooine do not die in childbed.

He’s travelled the length and breadth of the galaxy. He’s seen stars sing into being and empires topple to ash at his feet. He’s seen horrors and wonders and he’s a legend in at least fifteen different systems, and he’s seen medical droids work miracles, and he knows – he knows – that Padme is highly unlikely to hemorrhage, or succumb to eclampsia, or die of a slow mouldering infection.

(look, if you think Anakin ‘this woman is my entire life’ Skywalker didn’t research the fuck out of every possible way a woman can die in childbirth you are wrong. He’s a walking talking Web MD of the Worst Possible Result by the time she’s in her fifth month, and he shepherds her to every appointment, and arranges strange and obscure tests which he keeps concealed partly by subterfuge and mainly by Force-choking and mind-control. His eyes are turning a little yellow at the edges. He blames it on exhaustion.)

(since when did tiredness make you go – Padme will say )

(maybe it’s jaundice that’s something you could get, or the baby, or – )

Anakin’s every stereotype of ‘insanely overprotective father-to-be’ and it’s adorable except it really, really isn’t. Because there’s something he learned on Tatooine that he hasn’t shared with his wife: slave-children are property of the master, and are often sold young, and the mothers would protest. Of course they would. 

And when they protested too hard, they were punished, and when the punishment went too far and the woman remained in the dust where they’d pushed her (red red red) they would, euphemistically,say that she had died in childbed. Because, technically, it was true. Her children had caused her death. A few years down the line, maybe, but all the same: if she hadn’t borne the child, if she hadn’t become a mother, then she would have lived.

Anakin’s seen the aftermath of such a conflict. More than once. When they come for your children, you’re meant to say yes, a friend of Shmi’s had said to her. Watoo had been a good master. A kind master. He had never flogged Shmi’s back red because she would not surrender her son. 

(it hadn’t saved her, in the end. but that’s another story.)

Anakin knows that prophecy can come in strange and circuitous language, and dreams of Padme – his Padme! – dying in childbed, well. When they come for your children you’re meant to say yes, thinks Anakin. Be obedient, the council tells him. 

They will not have his Padme. He will save her. He will save his child. 

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

slyrider:

the-rebel-and-the-captain:

andrethydragosaur:

the-rebel-and-the-captain:

Jyn: babe, come over

Cassian: I can’t, I just fell thirty feet

Jyn: I’m about to get shot

Cassian:

I’M DEAD

So are they.

@words-writ-in-starlight

skinks:

so, the “pretending we’re married/together” trope is a great one but i think in chirrut and baze’s case, reversing it could end up in some of the funniest shenanigans ever

baze and chirrut, the most married couple to every marry - undercover and pretending they’re NOT married

maybe they’re trying to infiltrate the gang of an imperial stooge arms dealer on jedha, go in together and act as if they’ve never seen each other before, and bring down the operation from the inside. they’re working together because honestly, you need two people to do a job without even needing verbal communication, even when one of them is blind? you go to baze and chirrut

but asking them to act like strangers is impossible. they keep slipping and calling each other pet names. almost forgetting to sleep in separate bunks, and unable to sleep when they do so. freezing halfway through absent-minded displays of affection, before hamming it up and pushing each other away, “uhh what are you DOING” “GET OFF OF ME, YOU’RE NOT THAT IRRESISTIBLE” “SINCE WHEN!?”

having one of their normal arguments at a critical moment during an ambushed weapons drop when one of the marks roars in frustration, “would you two just FUCK and get it over with”

without thinking chirrut says, “that never works when he’s in a mood like this” and there’s a pregnant moment’s silence. then their contractor arrives and baze has never been more glad for a firefight to kick off

they agree never to take another job like it again. too damn difficult

(via skymurdock)