#anakin being stupid

[hore4women]

Obi-Wan: When aren’t you making another stupid decision?

Anakin: I’m not stupid, I’m dumb. There is a complete difference, Master.

Obi-Wan:

Ahsoka:

Padmé:

Rex:

Cody:

Windu:

Yoda:

The entire Jedi order:

His unborn children:

Count Dooku:

Qui-Gon Jinn:

Palpatine: Why did I even spend THIS much time to try and turn him again?

[jewishcissiekj]

Anakin Skywalker - Darth Vader in Star Wars: Darth Vader (2017) #25

[thewriterowl]

The Force: And I give my granddaughter all the wisdom and strength in the galaxy. With a heart of fire ready to forge true justice in the stars. A core of warmth and nobility and integrity who can become a goddess should she wish.

The Force: And for my grandson, who has a heart of forgiveness and such gentle kindness, will have the soul of a garden with the hands of a warrior who will show by kind example and not by brute strength and will change worlds with endless sunlight.

Everyone Else: And what do you give your son?

The Force, after the sixth genocide, 800th "read" Force message, burnt to a crisp and still screeching about Obi-Wan done by said son: Apparently the fucking audacity.

[galactic-rhea]

[ID: Screenshot of a chat that says "just leave my queen alone, she's already suffered enough. She wanted a life with her malewife murder monk pilot mechanic racer and you should respect her for that!]

It's Padmé defending's hours for me

I have been seeing more negative (with very weird connotations, tbh) posts about Padmé on my dash lately, and while I'm a firm believer of the "scroll past it" rule, it really irks me a lot because MOST of these takes sound a bit mysoginistic to me and also (to me) shows a lack of trying to understand her as a character, not in a "you don't get her" way, but in a "you don't even try to understand the character and her context in the damn story just because you wanna sound holy than thou" way.

I'm all for accepting takes about Padmé's flaws or having a slightly more privileged/closed view (and that makes sense, she's aristocracy) but these people are SO WEIRD whenever they wanna talk about her 🤨

I'll forever mad that George eliminated SO MANY scenes with Padmé in the movies, but I feel like even if we had those scenes, people's complaints would be exactly the same.

But also i think half of the time people fail at understanding Padmé is because they're also failing to understand Anakin's as a character, idk

[mybrainislostinagalaxyfarfaraway]

My Star wars Thoughts Today:

•I'm sure this has probably already been done somewhere, but the scene on Revenge of The Sith where Palpatine is laughing in the Senate hover (bumper) cars hall, dubbed over with Mandarc's voice from Dexter's Labratory.

You're welcome.

•Commander Fox trying to explain his problem/s to his brothers with only screaming and emphatic hand gestures.

(They panic hug him when he starts crying after they both just give him thumbs up.)

•Star Wars The Clone Wars movie set Au where the actor playing Anakin can't stop bursting out laughing after every single one of his 'Dark and brooding scenes', making the other's join in with him.

The actors playing the clones are a huge family of Kiwi's and are a mix of husbands, fathers, brothers, cousins, nephews etc and they're always caught goofing off or breaking the fourth wall during filming and are the absolute life blood of the set always making each other and everyone burst out laughing, or into tears during really emotional scenes.

The Togruta actress playing Ahsoka impressing everyone with her screeching, Pteradactal impressions.

The actors playing Anakin and Padme giggling whenever they have a cutesy love scene together. The actors playing the clones make it harder by making kissing noises and stupid faces in the background.

•One of the clone Commanders pops his helmet on one of his little baby vod's heads and all the entire battalion hears is 30 parsecs of a raspberry playing over their shared speaker out of nowhere.

Bonus if it's somehow an open comm channel so anyone in the vicinity of the clones can hear it too.

Imagine several clones sitting in an important meeting and both them and the Jedi suddenly hear that noise crackle over the clone's comms.

1. "And General Greivous' ship the - *Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt~*"

They all stop and stare.

Now Obi-Wan Kenobi can never get that noise out of his head whenever he thinks of or has to face General Greivous -Hence why he never really takes him seriously.

2. A clone is cleaning his weapon and all his brothers around him hear is-

"*Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt~*"

He stops cleaning and stares at his Vod who all stare right back at him, a mixture of disgust and amusement on their faces as they all begin walking out of their shared barracks.

"Keep it to y'self Vod."

"Dis-GUSTING."

"Uh, no, wait! I didn't-!"

"Yeah, yeah, Surrrre~ STANK Vod."

"My name is Tanker-"

"*Distant* Not anymore it's not!"

*Tanker let's out a miserable noise*

3. Another clone trooper named Charmer is trying to 'Charm' his way into the pants of a Senator's intern when that sound goes off over his helmet comm.

"How about you and me go out?"

"A little dinner, a little dancing, a little-*Pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt~*"

He's left standing there, embarrassed as she runs away, a hand over her mouth and nose to contain her hysterical laughter.

And The Clone Commander is having an absolutely great time sitting back and watching his little Vod cause some chaos.

(They never figure out who it was either.)

[perfectharmonyloveschaos]

Something I am grasping onto to explain the 'Masters and Apprentice' trailer without Sabine being retconned to be force-sensitive for no reason is the title.

Masters and Apprentices.

Not Padawans.

Being an Apprentice doesn't mean Ahsoka is teaching her the force. Instead, it may mean that Ahsoka is picking up where Kanan left off and, in a way, finishing Sabine's "training" because he couldn't and Sabine needs it to find Ezra. She isn't a Jedi, but she is learning the Jedi way.

[americankimchi]

im an obi wan stan and what that means is that i'm physically incapable of hating anakin skywalker. i can't love obi wan and hate anakin like that's a completely alien concept. you can't love the character whose main sticking point is "anakin's no.1 fan and best friend who will spend the majority of his life taking care of him and his children" and then HATE ANAKIN like it's impossible. they're a package deal your honor

[ragnarlothcat]

I know the obikin hair colour conversation has been done to death and I’ve never cared how people describe and/or draw these men as long as their handsomeness is captured. That being said, I’ve now had enough confusing conversations that I’m starting to think that we’re not all just assigning fun colours based on our moods and preferences but rather that I am in fact colourblind.

[fangeek-girl]

Finished the TCW rewatch, which means tonight is the night.

I am rewatching RotS.

Pray for my soul.

[oreolesbian]

does… does dave filoni know that the whole “anyone can be force sensitive if they put their mind to it” bullshit fundamentally shatters the entire core of star wars world-building around force users? like - does he understand that?

[loveoaths]

More “Din and Grogu accidentally time travel back to the prequels and fuck everything up beyond belief” freewrite below. Force-negative!Din meets Anakin and Obi-wan.

“Anakin, that’s enough.” The shorter bearded man, who Din has uncreatively dubbed The Beard, shoots the younger man, whose blazing glare and smarting blow to Din’s chin earlier earn him the title The Burn, a warning glance before turning back. “Where you are, stranger, is precisely the problem. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Tell me where here is and I’ll be on my way,” Din clips. The satchel rustles quietly against his hip — no doubt the child turning over in his sleep — yet both men’s heads snap toward it like a gun shot.

“Master,” The Burn’s scowl unwinds into a frown. “You can feel that too, can’t you?”

“I can, Anakin, as easily as I cannot feel our new friend in the Force, here.” The Beard’s voice is soft and easy, but Din can read the sharp musculature lines bunching beneath those flowing robes, preparing to strike.

These are no average monks. 

Just his luck, really.

The Beard pauses, eyes narrowing faintly. Din clocks the hand at his side lifting into another peculiar waving gesture. “Tell me, my hard-headed friend. What do you have in there?”

“Hands at your sides,” Din orders. Over their shoulders, the cave ceiling drops and narrows about ten yards away — that must be the exit. One exit, two obstacles. Din has come out ahead against far worse odds, but the confidence in both monk’s military posture and his own gut intuition tell him there is more to these two than meets the eye. Much more.

It’s times like these that almost make him miss his life before the child’s arrival. It was a simple life. Empty, lonely, and thankless, maybe, but simple. 

The Beard makes a show of slowly stepping forward, pale palms face-up as a flag of surrender. Din mirrors him in reverse, keeping the wall to his back and the two men at a distance.

On his periphery, the Burn steps forward as well, eyes trained on the satchel. “You’re not asking the right question, Master,” he intones, “It’s not a what, it’s a who.”

Something in Din bristles. He shifts, angling the child’s satchel behind his back and out of sight. The click of an unlocked safety pin cracks the air like a warning shot. There won’t be another.

“Nothing you need to worry about. I have no quarrel with you,” Din says measuredly, index finger gently pressed against the trigger. He’s a quick shot. Whether or not the monks are quicker, only time would tell. And time is rarely on my side, these days. “But if you start one with me, I will finish it.”

“Very reassuring. Shall you tell me where to find your tailor while we’re at it? Since we’re sharing secrets and all,” The Beard muses. “Or, since I hear Mandalorians like keeping their beskar close to their chest-plates, perhaps we can start with what’s in the bag.”

“And why we can’t sense you,” the Burn adds. Whatever that means.

The Burn raises his hand and mimics the Beard’s hand gesture, this time fixing Din with a soul-piercing gaze as his easy voice drops into something smooth and low, a river cutting quietly through black stone. “You will tell us who you are and what you’re transporting.”

Hot static creeps across Din’s skin, a sudden skittering up the base of his neck and across his cheeks, not unlike the hot flush of alcohol, or the spider-crawl of a sweat rash. Perhaps he hadn’t cleaned his helmet as thoroughly as he thought. He ignores its fading heat and stares back at them. The message is clear. He has nothing to say to them.

The Burn appears to falter momentarily, sharing a sharp look with the Beard, who steps in once more. “That is to say, it is in everyone’s best interest if you cooperate. We, too, would like to avoid a fight with a Mandalorian.” The Beard smiles ruefully and plucks at his robes. “After all, I’ve only just bought these after my last pair were damaged in a completely avoidable crash landing. If this set winds up full of blaster holes, I’m afraid you’ll be left with the bill. Why don’t you holster those cold companions of yours and tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll tell you where you are?”

It’s a bad deal, one that leaves him reliant on them acting in good faith. It would be easier to shoot them now, and take the key-cube needed to activate the elevator off their bodies—

As if sensing his thoughts, the Burn pulls the key-cube from his inner robes and spins it on his finger. At his touch, a warm blue glow throbs in its core, briefly smoothing his dagger-sharp features into something surprisingly effeminate. “You won’t be able to use this without us, anyway. Cooperate and we all leave the Archive. Resist, and I’m sure the Archivist will find somewhere nice to display your fancy armor.”

Din weighs his options.

He might be able to take them both, but in such small quarters with the child at his side, there is no way he and the kid escape unharmed. A bruise, a broken bone, a bloodied lip — those meant nothing to him, as they were the calling cards of his entire life to date. But the idea of the child bleeding and broken, hurting and afraid because of him? That he cannot live with.

Din stares them down for a long moment before his damaged vocoder crackles to life. “I will say this once. Harm him,” He gestures to the satchel, “And the things I will do to you will make a Sarlacc attack look like a love bite.”

“Look at that, Master,” the Burn drawls flatly, “The tin can has a sense of humor after all.”

“Ignore my young protege,” the Beard says, rolling his eyes. “He fancies himself a comedian these days, though his timing needs much work. Now, why are you here?”

Din holsters his blasters, keeping his hands on the pommels as he appraises them. “I am on a mission. I am looking for the Jedi. I have a… delivery.”

“A delivery, you say? Well, why didn’t you say! Look no further,” the Beard man returns, a disarmingly mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Both men push back the lips of their robes, revealing thin tubes tucked into their belts. 

They look at him expectantly.

Behind his helmet, Din blinks.

“…Are those supposed to mean something to me?” He says dumbly, after an uncomfortably long pause.

The two men share a surprised glance. The Burn raises an eyebrow, every inch of him screaming You’re an idiot.

“You’re looking for Jedi, but you don’t know what a lightsaber looks like?”

“Uh,” Din supplies, helpfully, like an idiot.

“What Anakin here means to say is,” the Beard cuts in, “You’ve found us.” He flicks his wrist, and the weapons —the lightsabers— float elegantly into their hands. With two deft flicks, the sabers alight, painting the cave in electric blue.

“I am Obi-wan. I do hope my order of Lothalian figs weren’t harmed in your earlier scuffle with my companion here,” the Beard smirks. “I would hate to bill you for those, too.”

“No figs,” Din grips the leather strap of the satchel and slowly pulls the bag forward against his stomach, every muscle in his body screaming no, stop, don’t do this, not yet, don’t let go. His tongue pools heavy in his mouth behind the locked bars of his jaw. Stiff fingers undo a button, two, three, each coming apart more slowly than the last, like he wants nothing more than to prolong the inevitable arrival to the one place he’s come so far to reach.

The last button pulls free. Din reaches into the satchel, and pulls out something warm and soft and oh so delicate -- his heart. 

Din holds the sleeping child to his chest. The child squirms and whimpers in his sleep. Din softly brushes the pad of his thumb between the child’s eyes, an attempt at comforting them both.

“This is the child. He is a Jedi.” 

What comes next sticks in his throat like needles and burs, but he swallows and pushes the words out anyway, ignoring their metallic taste on his tongue. 

“He was mine… to care for. Now... now, he is yours.”

[kaijusplotch]

....what if the force, up on seeing Anakin about to go to tatooine and commit the first mass slaughter decided No.

My child needs a time out.

And promptly changes Anakin into a Nabooian squirrel.

Because bad chosen ones listening to the dark side get turned into a small harmless animals.

Or maybe a Tooka I don't know.

[katierosefun]

can’t tell if i genuinely want to write a slice-of-life modern tcw au or if it’s just nostalgia talking . . . 

[batrachised]

i absolutely love the mace windu renaissance going on, where there's the recognition of this man as being kind and a hero rather than mr. jerk no fun pants, but at the same time I personally prefer when people don't soften his edges. Mace is stern! He is grim! He's no nonsense! And you know what? He's all that, and he's still one of the heroes. None of that means he's a bad person. It just means he's an interesting contrast to the charming heroes like Obi-Wan that we typically see.

[canismajorly]

say what you will about "kinning" and related behaviors, the impact it can have on one's life is real and profound

[guinevereslancelot]

i don't even care how bad a show is, if it has my special little guy in it i'm watching it