Jyn Erso is the daughter of Galen and Lyra Erso. Her parents were madly in love, but unfortunately her mother died, drowning in a river, something her father never forgave himself for. Galen didn’t give up on life just because he loved his daughter too much to let her alone in a world so cruel and uncaring, but as Jyn turned eighteen he got involved in a car accident and died, finally reunited with his beloved Lyra. Now alone, with no one else in the world, Jyn has no more reasons to stay in the city, where everything reminds her of her father and of the life they once had. She leaves the clattering sounds of traffic and people behind, together with the noise, the light and the chaos that permeated that city made of skyscrapers and metal, and pain. Jyn starts a new life, a new adventure, crossing the country by hitch-hiking, until she finally stumbles upon a small town in the countryside. It’s quiet there, there are no cars honking in the streets, no people running god knows where, nothing of the sort; it’s calm and tranquil and she feels at peace with herself for the first time in a long, long time. She decides she will stay. Here she meets new people, new friends, in a way she couldn’t believe it was possible. There’s the young man that lives next to her, who always brings her pastries and sweets, his name’s Bodhi, and Jyn thinks that’s how it probably feels to have a brother. There is the grumpy owner of the pub, a salty man called Baze, who always yells to customers and yet everytime she comes in he’s there to check if she has eat or if she has had enough sleep. There’s his husband, Chirrut, always so kind, with a smile on his face and a word of comfort ready for everyone, mostly for her; both of them always willing to give her anything she needs, whenever she needs it. And then there’s Cassian. He owns a flower shop and she often sees him driving his small truck filled with freshly bought flowers. She kinda likes him. And she feels so flattered and happy when he first asks her out, stumbling onto his own words, with his adorable spanish accent. His cheeks get red and he smiles kindly, Jyn can’t stop smiling back.
It’s been six months since she first arrived and she feels like she needs some closure, that’s when Baze and Chirrut decide to accompany her to the cemetery in her old city, to visit her parents. It’s a long trip, during which Jyn finally realizes what she has been building during all those months: a new life with a new family. She comes back and with the money her father left her, she decides to buy a new house; it’s big and warm and it’s located near a small river, it smells of nature and freedom. She loves it. Chirrut and Baze and Bodhi are there for her first night alone in the new house, they bring beer and they tell her stories about the stars, about their past, about their love. She feels like she’ll never be alone again. The next morning Cassian arrives on his truck, it’s filled with flowers and as he smiles he explains how he has been spending the entire previous night choosing the best plants and flowers to decorate her new house and the garden. Jyn laughs, and she’s so pretty and adorable that Cassian can’t stop himself from kissing her. She smiles even more. It doesn’t take long for Jyn to ask Cassian to stay: one day, one week, forever. They get a dog and name him KeyToo; they get a couple of rings and Bodhi cries - Baze does too, but no one ever discovered that. There are a few things Jyn has lost during the young years of her life, a mother, a father, partially also her youth, but there are so many she has found in the progress. A young man who’s like a brother to her, a married couple who keep treating her like she’s their own child, a husband with an adorable accent and a smile full of love. She has find a new family, she has find happiness.
Whenever diversity comes up in film, there are two sides of extremes, both of which see the others point of view as not just wrong, but also either harmful or pointless.
One side refuses to discuss the problems of diversity in Hollywood, claiming that as long as it’s a good film, why should that matter? Think of the people who defend Marvel for casting Tilda Swinton in Doctor Strange.
The other side thinks that diversity is so important, that the quality of the film itself is secondary, and therefore anyone who criticizes it is sexist, racist, homophobic etc. Think of the people who accuse anyone who criticizes the new Ghostbusers movie for having really bad trailers as sexist pigs.
And speaking as movie fan, I am sick to death of both. When the discussion of the quality of the film overshadows diversity in said film, it’s also overshadowing the problems of diversity in real life. Likewise, when diversity in film becomes more important than the film itself, people start to care more about what they want from a film, instead of what the film actually offers. These are both valid and important discussions we need to have. But not if having one has a huge impact on the other. Because when that happens, both discussions begin to lose focus and just turn into rambling. And it’s really tiresome, guys.
It is now impossible to talk about the Doctor Strange movie without the conversation diverting into ‘how could Marvel cast her as an Asian character?‘ And it’s complicated because: yeah, the white washing sucks. But good god, that teaser gets me so freaking hyped. The teaser alone is such an experience, the movie will probably blow my mind, even if it does turn out to be bad.
On the flip side, people are more excited for Aquaman being played by a Hawaiian actor (I’ve heard he might be part Native American as well) than they are the Aquaman movie itself. Granted, that may be because all we have to go on is a short clip from BvS, but still. And, yes, discussions of diversity are very important, but not when it gets in the way of discussing film in general.
Because here’s the thing: it is possible to a movie to be good, and have bad diversity by today’s standards (Star Wars OT, Lord of the Rings, Jaws etc.) Likewise, it is possible for a movie to be bad and have good diversity. I have yet to see one, admittedly, but they might be out there. Somewhere.
To the people who refuse to discuss diversity in film: either grow up or fuck off.
To the people who care so much about diversity, they accuse critics of being sexist, racist or homophobic: there is a difference between criticism and blind hatred. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what that is, but there is always a difference.
Maz Kanata humanized is a little old Native lady with a perm who always goes to powwows and makes the best frybread and scolds people who appropriate native cultures. she’s a boarding school survivor who refused to let those bigots break her. in her youth, she faked her death and terrorized the teachers and missionaries who hurt her, claiming to be a ghost, demanding they give charity to the impoverished reservations and villages, earning herself the nickname “Robin Hood with braids.”
people can try keeping us out of Star Wars canon, but I’ll be damned if they try to keep us out of Star Wars fanon.
Thanks to Oscar Isaac’s recent surge in popularity due to his role as Poe Dameron, you may have heard that he played Joseph in The Nativity Story in 2006. What you may not realize is that Keisha Castle-Hughes, who played Mary in the same movie, also appeared in a Star Wars movie, albeit briefly - she played Queen Apailana in Revenge of the Sith.
it’s the first thing I wrote in ages, and the time I’m posting a fic here so please be nice.
Actually it’s a one-shot, posing as a potential chapter in imaginarykat’s wonderful sith!obi-wan fic wicked thing. I hope the author doesn’t mind! (@imaginaryanon or associates, please contact me any time if you want me to take it down!)
So here goes… (be nice)
Please tag and reference if reblogging. thank you!
Anakin finds himself in the Temple’s archives,
ears still ringing from the Council’s exasperation after his most recent
Letting two Sith Lords escape, returning to the
Temple with empty hands. It’s more than he can take right now. He doesn’t need
Mace Windu’s voice in his head, berating him, beating him down, calling him out
on being a worthless example of a Jedi. He doesn’t need Master Yoda’s
disappointed silence, even less the curious stare that seems to pierce right
into his very soul.
The sight of Kenobi, no, Darth Lumis, vanishing into the ship right after Dooku, without
even a glance back at Anakin. Kenobi running from the battle, no hesitation at
all. He will never forget it. Mere hours after asking Anakin to run away with
him, Kenobi has made his choice very clear. He is a Sith Lord after all. Why does
it, why does Anakin need so many incidents to drive this realization, this fact, home?
Anakin lets out a stifled groan, leans onto a
wall and buries his face in the palms of his hands. He doesn’t really feel the
wounds from the battle anymore, the red imprints from the shackles, the burns
inflicted by lightsabers. Anakin lifts his gaze again, realizing at once that
he is alone in the archives, a few busy drones and one or two droids the only
thing keeping him company. It is late at night, and even the scholars need
their sleep. An unwarranted smile tugs at Anakin’s mouth. He has spent so much
time looking for the comfort of loneliness in the Jedi temple only to find it
here, in the most unlikely of places. A place actually, that he usually never
visits, that he actively avoids most of the time.
Anakin pushes himself off the wall and wanders
idly through the countless rows of shelves, letting his mind soak up the peace
and quiet surrounding him, letting the cool air sooth both his body and this
thoughts. He walks for what seems quite a long time, his eyes darting to and
fro, half reading the inscriptions on holocrons, and, much much older, written
on sheets of paper and parchment scrolls. At the end of the line, he turns a corner
and walks back slowly, parchment turning to paper turning to datapads and
holocrons, forward in time again.
I have been an idiot not to come here sooner,
Anakin ponders. Well yeah, an idiot all the way, but still. The silence is
comforting and Anakin doesn’t want to go there
just yet. He turns at the front row to walk around the corner as something
catches his eye. Practically yanks his mind right into the present, more like.
It’s a holocron, gingerly resting in its spot on the shelf, the inscription on
it screaming into his face.
Directive: Capture of Sith Lord Count Dooku. Status: failed.
And below, Operative:
JediMaster Obi-Wan Kenobi, deceased.
Almost entranced, Anakin reaches out and takes
the holocron device into his hand. It feels cool against the palm of his hand.
Anakin looks around, he is still quite alone, the droids at work somewhere in
the back. Anakin takes a measured breath, opening the device using the Force.
It contains little more than a hologram recording and some other written data. Consciously
refusing to think any farther than his next step, Anakin carries the holocron
to one of the projectors and carefully lets it float into place. The hologram
comes alive with a start, spreading its projection wide into the room. Anakin
finds himself smack in the middle of the Council Chamber again, of all places,
just the place he escaped from earlier.
He starts as he hears a voice behind him and
quickly steps aside as he stares at the figure sitting there, his left knee
where Anakin’s right hand has brushed the air seconds before.
“And how do you intend to break through the
Count’s defenses?” Mace Windu inquires.
Anakin follows Windu’s gaze, his breath
catching in his throat as he sees him.
Tall but slender in his simple Jedi tunic, he
stands upright, a stature of modest pride. He looks the prototype of the ideal
Jedi, Anakin notes, his features composed but stern. His eyes, not the familiar
golden hum, but a greyish blue, innocent and cold.
“Our informants have told us enough to get to
his lair” Kenobi, Obi-Wan, replies, “I
am sure I can overpower him if I get the chance to catch him off guard.”
“Very sure of himself, Master Kenobi is”, Yoda
chimes in from his seat, exchanging a look with Mace Windu as the young Jedi
does not reply.
Anakin looks on as murmurs fill the room,
members of the Council leaning into each other to discuss the matter. Obi-Wan
stands very still, his arms folded in front of him, waiting for everyone to
finish their debates. The blue in eyes turning to shades of grey as the sun outside the windows tilts behind the city’s buildings in the distance. It’s strange to see him there, composed and focused,
not a hint of his sly humor showing in his face, no waves of heat ebbing and
flowing off him; a Jedi general – and nothing more. And yet there he is,
Kenobi. Somewhere in there, potentially right below the surface.
“You will not have the advantage of surprise, Obi-Wan”,
a familiar voice states matter-of-factly. Anakins guts churn as he glances over
to find his master Qui-Gon Jinn there, standing in second row as a non-member of the
Council. “Dooku is more than aware that an attack is coming, and soon.” Concern
is audible in his words, softening the edge in his warning. Obi-Wan doesn’t
react, still facing the members of the Council.
“It is all under way” he ventures, “and I sense
that the Council’s decision is already made.”
Qui-Gon opens his mouth again, but falls
silent. He can sense it, too, and even Anakin can see the resolve in the
Council members’ faces.
“Go there, you will”, Yoda confirms, “and find
Count Dooku. Bring him here, you must, unscathed. Counting upon you, the
Council is. The Force be with you.”
“The Force be with you”, the Council choruses,
before getting to their feet.
Anakin looks back at Kenobi, now turning on his
heels as the hologram slowly starts to deteriorate. He quickly closes the
distance between them, determined he wouldn’t lose the connection till the
hologram blows out. As Obi-Wan Kenobi walks to the door, a hand on his shoulder
stops him in his tracks. It’s Qui-Gon, leaning close to him, entreaty in the
lines on his face.
“Be careful, Obi-Wan. For the Darkness is closing
in on us.”
Anakin watches, as Obi-Wan looks up at his old
master for the first time. His stern face softens a bit as he acknowledges
Qui-Gon’s concern; it’s the first hint of familiarity Anakin sees in his features,
the slightest sign of emotion and recognition.
“Thank you, Master Jinn, I will.” And with
that, he is gone.
The pain on Qui-Gon’s face as Kenobi refuses to
address him by his first name is the last thing Anakin sees clearly before the
hologram dissolves, leaving him freezing, wrapped in darkness again.
Even though Ahsoka is black coded, she should not be counted as an example of woc representation in Star Wars because she is a canon nonhuman species with an inhuman skin color and we deserve representation of human woc in Star Wars, not nonhuman alien characters that are coded as being nonwhite because as of right now our main female characters are white girls and aliens.