#stardies

[whitesabers-blog]

 “ MASTER? ”    when  she  was  a  youngling,  not  long  ago  at  all,  she’d  seek  out  master  plo  when  something  was  bothering  her,  when  she  was  upset  or  hurting.    the  older  she  grew,  the  less  his  advice  soothed  her,  until  she  STOPPED  ALTOGETHER.    “ do  you  have  time?    i...  wanted  to  talk  to  you. ”          @stardies liked!

[tractatis]

“i love you so much, but you test me every day.” - stardies but i'm not logged in shh

MEME   ||   @stardies 

in truth, it’s perhaps a little hypocritical for obi-wan to lecture anakin about his recklessness as often as he does. obi-wan is not above admitting so much to himself, even if he knows all too well that he would never hear the end of it if he were to say it out loud. 

this time around, it’s yet another plan gone awry and yet another escape necessitated --- obi-wan grimaces at anakin, and then grimaces again for the way it pulls at the wounds their not-so-gracious host has left him. he feels, if he is to be honest with himself, as though he’s been pulled through hyperspace without a ship; obi-wan can only imagine just how he looks.  

( at least now, he and anakin have more or less worked out a system for such problems --- although he’s been made clearly aware of just how worrisome it is that they need to have a system at all. it’s not the first thing master windu has disapproved of; obi-wan suspects it will not be the last. truthfully, he doesn’t mind. )  

anakin’s exasperation sparks something warm and fond in him, and obi-wan waves a dismissive hand at the wreckage they’ve left behind them in their escape. anakin has proven himself more than capable over the years, and the time when obi-wan worried about anakin accompanying him on missions seems to be barely a memory. indeed, it seems now the tables have turned and anakin is the one worrying; there is something a little amusing to that. in something like a mockery of cheer, obi-wan says, “really, anakin, i think this was a perfectly successful rescue.” 

never mind that a rescue is far from what they came here for in the first place. it never is.

[tciloring-blog]

@stardies

       “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about making armor, but your cloak and gloves... I can repair by sunset, my Lord. Is that what you came here for...?”

[ofpacifism-blog]

stardies replied to your post: has anyone ever had a shot get fucked up. my...

i have a friend who had a needle stuck in his arm from the doctor once. if it doesn’t start getting better within like a day or two then it’s cause for concern but otherwise you’ll probably be ok

my husband says it’s ok ( he used to be an emt ) but i’ve never had one get fucked up before and i can hardly lift my arm.

[stvrkilled-blog]

@stardies Starkiller drops to one knee; the joint stings in insistent protest, still sore after a bad landing during PROXY's last ambush. He pushes the pain aside because he MUST in the presence of his Master, because to HURT is to be WEAK is to be UNWORTHY— Starkiller forces his mind to be clear and does not raise his eyes. "What is your bidding, my Master?"

[mossmurmur-blog]

my mind: remember how the prequels had baby greedo in them and him and anakin aka future darth vader got into a fist fight me: yeah  my mind: yeah me: why my mind: yeah

[ofpacifism-blog]

stardies replied to your post: do you know what is frustrating. they do not have...

i get why thats frustrating BUT it leaves you room for creative freedom

and for that i am immensely grateful for bUT could i not just get a sliver. just a teensy bit.

[damnsella-blog]

black bird.

black bird. || no longer accepting!

           to most, gunshots are a rarity, a sound often confused with fireworks or a car backfiring, but to ella hall, the sound is unmistakeable.  the bark of gunfire is all too familiar, and she’s already running when it starts, making a mad dash for her car.  shooting at her is just a fancy way of saying she’s in deep shit, and her first instinct is always to cut and run.  not like she could reason with a bullet.

           while the sound is familiar, the feeling is not – she stumbles as a bullet rips through her back, white hot pain spreading through her abdomen, and falls flat on her face.

                                   ❛ – – – shit! ❜

           but now they’re gaining on her, and she’s got to keep moving, even though every breath hurts like a bitch –

           one hand over the exit wound, she manages to pull herself to her feet and bolt the last few feet to her vehicle, scrambling over the passenger’s seat to get to the wheel.  in seconds, she’s driving away, ducking under more bullets as they shatter their way through her back window.  the car squeals onto the road and tears down the empty street, leaving the footmen in the dust.

          now, she thinks, pressing a blood-slicked hand into her stomach, she has bigger fish to fry.