Jan. 7th, 2017

jeb124: (Default)
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fandommedley:

i bet newt scamander is the reason why hogwarts has a giant squid in the middle of their lake
jeb124: (Default)
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braigwen-the-scholar:

mx-delta-juliette:

moghedien:

moghedien:

ok so Leia was heading to Obi-wan before the Battle of Scarif, and before she ever knew she or anyone would have the plans. It wasn’t just a last resort, “vader’s bout to get us we gotta go somewhere” decision. the fact that she was going to Obi-wan is probably the reason she was with the rebels and not on Alderaan.

so think in the context that a) Bail was knowingly sending his daughter, who has the genes of one of the most powerful force users ever, to go get a Jedi, b) Bail knew that he was sending the biological child of Anakin to Anakin’s former master and friend, c) Obi-wan definitely would knows who Leia is, d) Bail knows that Obi-wan is keeping an eye on Luke.

I’m not saying Bail Organa knowingly sent his force sensitive daughter to the only fully trained Jedi he knew how to get in touch with and also her force sensitive brother, but Bail Organa knowingly sent his force sensitive daughter to the only fully trained Jedi he knew how to get in touch with and also her force sensitive brother. Because he and Mon Mothma decided things had gotten to this point.

Someone in the tags said “Bail didn’t send the plans to Obi-wan. Bail sent Leia.”

YES. The Death Star plans were a last minute bonus. Bail’s actual plans for dealing with the Empire and the Death Star was LEIA

Could you imagine being Bail and making that decision, though?

There he is, sitting on basically the last hope of the galaxy. Or rather, she’s sitting on him, because she’s two-and-a-half years old and her adopted father’s shoulders are the very best place in the world. They’re listening from Alderaan as Palpatine announces that the senate will be stripped of even more power, that the never-ending series of emergencies across the galaxy will continue.

Time feels broken, somehow. The planet rotates, the sun rises and sets, but the galaxy is frozen in a slow slide into oblivion.

Not yet, is all he can think. He’s working with the young Senator from Chandrila, spinning the wheels, trying to buy more time. Years and years more time.

~

There he is, introducing his family to a man with a black uniform and absolute control of the sector. Leia is six, and looks up at him suddenly serious, a far cry from her normal mischievous self.

“And my daughter, Leia,” he says, while his thoughts race between please don’t question her adoption and please get off my planet and the Jedi were insane to start training so young, she isn’t ready.

Bail has trouble sleeping. He’s waiting for a signal from Obi-Wan, that the time has come for him to give up his daughter. It doesn’t appear.

~

There he is, watching as his dark-eyed daughter hurls a datapad across the room in a sudden fit of rage. He’s tried to teach her peace and calm, she’s learned the watchful patience and silent stalk of a hunter.

She’s nine. He hasn’t beaten her at Dejarik in a year.

He takes her for walks, out into the parts of Alderaan where the downtrodden live and the refugees gather. He shows her what suffering is, what the Empire means. He tries to avoid thinking about her father. He tries to give her the education he thinks Jedi needed more of.

~

There he is, lying to Tarkin’s face as they walk through the halls of the palace. Leia, thirteen, is following them. Bail knows it. Tarkin does not.

See who he really is, Bail is wishing, even as he says words that toe the line of compliance with Tarkin’s demands.

The Rebellion is starting to rise. He keeps telling Mon Mothma he needs more time, that they’re moving too fast. He doesn’t tell her why.

~

There he is, welcoming his daughter back from Coruscant. She’s a rising star, already accumulating power as a junior legislator. She’s fifteen - one more year before she can run for Senate, and he knows she’s already planning it.

She has staff now, and her pretty smiles and polite manners almost perfectly hide the casuality with which she issues orders.

He’s not sure if she reminds him more of her mother or father.

Obi-Wan remains silent. Bail’s agents tell him that Tatooine is quiet, a backwater, no Imperial activity. He doesn’t find it reassuring. He waits.

~

There he is, talking to Mon Mothma. She’s laughing, charmed by his daughter, the Senator, the rebel. It’s a rare moment of levity - the Senate’s days are numbered, even as the token body it has become. The Empire’s stranglehold on the galaxy is unquestionable now.

And his daughter is nineteen. Her father had been a Jedi by now, roaming the galaxy and falling, falling towards the darkness.

The galaxy is full of darkness now, and Bail makes up his mind. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe it’s too early. He’s not Jedi, he doesn’t know, but it feels right.

“Go to Tatooine,” he tells his daughter. “Find Obi-Wan Kenobi. He can save us all.”

He thinks, but does not say, you can save us all.

@.. @weary-hearted-queen
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shadowmaat:

kyraneko:

bearymcbearface:

I like this! It’d make an awful lot of sense, especially the Bail Antilles of Alderaan part. Nice :)

I kind of want an AU where Bail actually becomes Supreme Chancelor instead of Palpatine and Palpatine ends up stuck starting the Clone Wars entirely from the other end.

To be honest when Rey said “You’re Han Solo” and he said “I used to be” I 100% thought it was because he changed his name to Organa when he married Leia.
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roachpatrol:

ghostymcspooky:

soloontherocks:

notanotherreyloblog:

thebaconsandwichofregret:

azumariko:

he was on TATOOINE you fucking loser

Obi-Wan can find an invisible planet hidden by a devious Sith Lord, Anakin can’t find his ex-best friend on his own home planet while the guy is still using his own damn name.

I know we give Obi-wan a lot of shit for leaving Luke with his real surname but Anakin really is that stupid

the perfect hiding place: the sandiest fucking planet that anakin would never set foot on again

I’d like to remind everyone again that it’s literally canon that Vader can’t step foot on Tatooine because the desert gets into his creaky old man robot joints and makes his suit break down

aka the sand is coarse, rough, irritating, and gets everywhere

i  d o n t  l i k e  s a n d

okay but what if everyone was like ‘vader, kenobi’s on tattooine. he’s obviously on tattooine. he’s been there for years. he’s just right fucking there, we all know it.’ and vader is just desperately shaking down jedi like they’re magic eight-balls and he wants a better fortune. like ‘no i don’t like that try again’. 

kenobi’s just sitting there in his pile of sand like a smug fucking bastard. he doesn’t need to hide jack shit. he went to the tattooine board of tourism and got them to print up flyers that say ‘COME TO TATTOOINE, WE HAVE SAND’ and luke is probably going to be safe until his midlife fucking crisis at this rate.

palpatine finds vader aimlessly checking behind pieces of furniture in some shitty space motel on kamino

‘he’s on tattooine,’ palpatine says. 

‘nuh uh,’ vader says, and peers under a couch.
jeb124: (Default)
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wagnetic:

fatally-procrastinating:

Adverbs aren’t evil; said isn’t dead
Please stop hitting the wall with your head
Active is grand but not always the best
Sometimes it’s passive that passes the test
Some write with style, others write plain
Let’s all agree that writing’s a pain
The ‘rules’ can be broken, twisted, or bent
All that matters is that you are content
Make your own story and write your own way
This has been a writer’s PSA

The only writing rules I will accept.
jeb124: (Default)
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nymfadoratonks:

Lee Jordan’s commentary appreciation post
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infinite-magical-recipes:

shredsandpatches:

junkybowels:

plaidadder:

argonauticae:

argonauticae:

im putting together a couple of scottish folk mixes bc that’s what i do and im honestly curious if anyone in my country has ever been unequivocally happy about anything ever

scottish trad music genres:

Everyone I Love Is Dead

The English Have Stolen All My Sheep

You Want To Be My Boyfriend? First You Must Answer These Riddles Three

The Protestants Have Stolen All My Sheep

I Love You A Lot But You’ve Left Me And It’s Raining [fiddle solo]

The Sea Is Treacherous, Just Like The English

One Time Bonnie Prince Charlie Punched Me In The Face And It Was Awesome

The Fairies Have Stolen All My Sheep

We have of course the traditional Irish music genres to go with them:

* Everyone I Love Is An Allegorical Representation of Ireland

* The English Stole My Farm And Put Sheep On It

* You Were My Boyfriend But Now You Won’t Even Come To The Window To Look Upon Me And Our Dead Infant Child (In The Rain)

* Whack Fol Too La Roo Umptytiddly Good They’ve Stopped Listening Now Let’s Talk About Revolution

* Something In Irish, I Think It’s About Fairies, Or Maybe A Cow

oooo can I add to this? don’t forget Appalachian folk balladry, the American cousin of Scottish and Irish traditional music and just as uplifting as its Anglo-Saxon highland forbears!!!

genres include:

I Left Everyone I Love Back Home In The Holler To Be With This Guy Who Doesn’t Wear Shoes Or Have Teeth But He Plays A Mean Jug

The English Told Us Not To Move West Yet, We Ignored Them, My Entire Family Was Killed

You Were My Boyfriend But You Tied A Sack Of Rocks To My Petticoats And Threw Me In The Creek (And My Baby Too)

Mama Loves All 14 Of Us A Lot But She’s Weary Of Our Shit And Now She’s Dyin’ (Gather Round)

The McCleans Stole A Firewood Log From Our Pile So We Won’t Rest Until The Last Of Their Male Kin Is Laid In The Cold Ground

We Knew The River Would Rise But We Still Didn’t Fix The Levee 

The River Rose, The Levee Broke, Everyone Died, It Was Just As We Reckoned (dulcimer twang-a-lang) 

When The Rebels Come A-Marchin’ I’m A Southern Man And I Feed Their Horses My Best, When The Yankees Come A-Marchin’ I’m A Northern Man And I Feed Their Horses What The Rebels Left

The Tennessee Valley Authority Killed All My Sheep Somehow

Don’t forget that old standby “The Mine Collapsed and Everyone Died”!

I think someone needs to put in a word for the English folk tradition though:

I Met a Girl and We Went Hunting (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)

I Met a Girl and We Caught Some Birds (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)

I Met a Girl and We Found Her Lost Pet (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)

I Met a Girl By Staying At Her Parents’ House and She Made My Bed (It Was an Especially Thinly-Veiled Metaphor for Sex)

I Am a Girl and I Regret Engaging In Metaphors for Sex Because Now I’m Pregnant

I Met a Girl and Bribed Her Into Sex But She Stole My Horse and Ran Away With It

I Met a Girl At an Inn and We Had Non-Metaphorical Sex But She Stole My Stuff The Next Morning and Now I Have Syphilis

Your Fiance Died Either at Trafalgar or Waterloo, Let’s Get Married, I’m Glad You Said No Because I’m Really Him In Disguise

Lord Nelson Sure Was Awesome

The Press-Gang Dragged Off All the Important Men in My Life (And Now They Are Dead)

Farm Laborers Are The Salt of the Earth And Are Never Grindingly Poor

Begging Is a Completely Viable Career Option With Flexible Hours and Unlimited Access to Alcohol

behold mongolian folk music genres

I Went Out Riding and Noticed Mongolia

We Fought a Bunch of Guys (On Horseback)

Witness My Many Ungulates

(While On a Horse) I Met a Hot Girl Who Reminded Me of a Plant

On Three, Say What That Terrain Feature Looks Like to You (One, Two, Three, A Horse)

Witness My Many Ancestors’ Many Ungulates

I Also Enjoy Heavy Metal, Especially If It’s Made of Horseshoes

Oooorrrrweeeeuuurrrreeeeuuuuwwwwwrrrrrrrr (Is Tuvan for “Horse”)

You Might Not Know This About Me, But I Own a Horse

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