I have a notion that Chewieâs not surprised that often, but hereâs a time when maybe he was.
Four days ago, Chewbacca finished fixing the damper for the
rear center spin control using a bit of electrical tape and an eating utensil
snipped in half and pounded flat. He reattached the panel and knocked twice on
it for good luck.
When the Falcon was still flying straight the next day, he did
it again as he passed the spot, just in case that was why.
Each day since, when heâs passed the panel on the way to and
from his bunk, heâs quickly and quietly knocked twice.
Three days ago, Chewbacca reattached the navigational
antenna on the top hull. They were out of 6-centimeter screws so he stuck in
some shorter ones, glued the whole thing down with epoxy that maybe wasnât
quite rated for vacuum, and added a whole lot of hope. The spot was right above
the corridor to the cockpit, and when he passed under it he shot a stern look
at the ceiling: You better hold together up there.
When the nav computer was still working the next day, he
kept looking up each time he entered or left the cockpit, because better safe
than sorry.
Two days ago, he repaired a weld on the cooking unit so it
would make heat again instead of just sparks. The connectors had been fixed so
many times the ends wouldnât reach anymore, so he stuck an extra bit of wire in
there, welded it to both pieces, and hoped for the best. He laid a hand on the
cooktop in a quick, quiet blessing.
When Han didnât die in an explosion the first time he tried
to heat up a meal-pack, Chewie thought: better do that again, for luck.
Chewbacca has a lot of little rituals like that. Small
things, probably silly, but it seems like when he remembers to do them his
repairs hold together, even if he fixed the thing with spit and fur because
they couldnât afford to do it right. Or because they forgot to stock up on
six-sided washers, or because Han threw that one specialized wrench at the
bounty hunter they were running from, and they left both wrench and bounty
hunter in the dust.
He doesnât do these things if he knows Hanâs around. Han
would tease him. Even though Chewbacca is fully (and secretly) aware that Han
whispers sweet nothings to the ship when he thinks his first mate canât hear.
But then, after a quick stop on Syvon to pick up food and
drop off a certain piece of unofficial cargo, suddenly Chewieâs down with the
Syvonian Flu, and although humans usually only sneeze a bit, it hits Wookiees
hard. Heâs stuck in the medbunk for five solid days, dizzy if he tries to stand
up, hallucinating little furry creatures that appear to be dancing on the
ceiling while singing raunchy songs.
Han brings him broth and flatbread.
When Chewie finally staggers to his feet, the lights are
dimmed in the medbay and the shipâs engines are humming quiet and smooth.
Nothingâs pinging. Nothingâs knocking. No alarms are blaring.
Chewie hasnât knocked on a panel or reminded the nav antenna
to stay on the ship in five whole days. He never took his rituals all that
seriously, but still. Donât tell Han, but Chewieâs amazed the ship hasnât
fallen apart.
He makes his way down the corridor toward his own bunk,
still unsteady on his feet. As he rounds the corner, he sees Han heading that
way too, just passing the panel over the spin control damper. Han lifts a hand,
and⌠knocks twice.
Chewieâs short, surprised laugh isnât that loud but the ship
is so quiet. Han turns, sees him, smiles.
âHeld the ship together for you,â he says, âbut Iâm not sure
I got them all. Sheâll be glad youâre back to do it right.â
So, a week or so ago I made a post about wanting to learn about Finnâs parentage. Naturally, as with seemingly most posts about Finn that get more than a hundred notes a couple of comments were posted that derailed my post from its original intent.
Sure, some were worse than others, but even the ones that might have been posted with no ill intent still held a similar message: Finn doesnât need to learn about his parents.
Letâs just ignore the fact that this fandom has been borderline obsessed with Reyâs parentage for over a year now and at no point have I seen anyone say that she doesnât need to know who her parents are because âShe found family in Finnâ or whatever because that bit of hypocrisy is a discussion for another post.
No, what this post is going to be about has more to do with why I want Finn to learn about his parents after I got yet another person pleading the case for why Finn doesnât need parents on that post. Because it actually goes just a bit deeper for me then just wanting Finn to have blood relatives of his own.
You seeâŚIâm black. African American specifically, and like many people who are a part of the African diaspora I donât know exactly where my ancestors originally hailed from. I donât know what their culture was like, what religions they practiced, the languages they spoke etc. And being disconnected from that part of my heritage has always kinda left me with a hurt feeling in my chest.
Now let me be clear for a moment and say that black people arenât a monolith so this thing that Iâm describing is not something every black person has experienced or can relate to. Iâm just talking about my experiences. But anyway back to my point. Finn getting a chance to meet his parent(s) is more than just him getting reconnected with his blood relatives.Â
Because if/when Finn meets his parents is the moment he gets to learn about what planet heâs from. What his planetâs culture is like, what language they speak, how they view or practice the Force and a number of other things and experiences that Finn will get a chance to reconnect to.
Finn reconnecting with his planet and his culture after getting ripped away from it when he was young and forced to assimilate into an oppressive and abusive regime would be pretty incredible to see and thatâs why Finn meeting his parents is so important to me.
Iâm sure your comments on how Finn doesnât need parents and that Rey and Poe are his family now have good intentions, but they really arenât needed.
Oh wow. I adore Finn and Iâm so happy weâll be getting more of his story this winter, and yet this never occurred to me.
Very important point.
I love the âFinn is actually a long lost princeâ headcanons tbh
{{Okay, so residual haunting was a canonical thing in the old Star Wars EU, right? What with the echo of Anakinâs massacre of that Ghorfa tribe still remaining on Tatooine in Tatooine Ghost. Makes me think, what if thereâs a similar residual haunting in the ruins of the Jedi temple on Coruscant, repeatedly replaying the massacre that had happened inside during the events of Order 66?}}
A cold touch, like two fingers, across the nape of your neck. An echo of scream at the far end of a dim hallway. A flash of lights like a blaster shot, no discernible cause for it.Â
In general, though, the cold almost-cramping in your gut was only normal around the Emperor. The way his eyes bored into you, like fire on your skin wherever he happened to be looking, cold sweat all over â it stood to reason that the halls would also feel airless, choked with smoke and the scent of burnt metal. Just your fears whispering in your ear. Thatâs what all the residents of the Imperial Palace told themselves.Â
And of course, there were those like Tarkin or Isard who were only too happy to ignore it, and softly deride anyone who shuddered at an imagined sensation.Â
But for Mara Jade, it was impossible to ignore. Some nights, Mara couldnât sleep at all, hearing the sounds of blasterfire and screaming, and something that sounded oddly like the Emperorâs lightsaber â but many of them at once.Â
On other nights, the Imperial Palace was deathly still, and that frightened Mara more than the screaming she could almost ignore. It made her restless, and no matter how she tried, she could not sleep.Â
Mara Jade slipped from her bed, not making a sound, sliding the blaster from under her pillow. If nothing else, a walk out in the free air might clear her mind.Â
There was a boy at the end of the landing pad â just sitting there, feet casually hanging over the side. Mara Jade grinned in appreciation: that was something she always wanted to do herself. It didnât make sense to live in fear of heights in a city over six hundred levels high. It did, however, make sense to get to know them, much like walking around in the utter stillness in the dark was supposed to help her fear it less. Though, so far, she wouldnât have said it was working. Now that sheâd seen the boy out doing the same, however, Mara did feel a bit lighter.Â
Still, she didnât necessarily want company, nor immediately trust this being.Â
âWhat are you doing out here?â she asked as she warily stepped closer, fingers closed over her small blaster.Â
The truly disarming thing about that boy was that wide grin he cast over his shoulder. âI donât know,â he said brightly.Â
Mara tensed immediately, sensing â no, not a lie. Under that grin, the boy was rather troubled that he did not know. She wasnât sure whether her surprise showed on her face, but something must have, the way that grin melted away. That was disappointing. Sheâd been trying so hard to school her expressions so as not to give anything away.Â
But the boy had turned back to the cityâs lights, and he sighed. âIt seemed so important, you know, to get to the end of the landing pad. Like there was someone at the end of it to help me.âÂ
Mara weighed her options â to take out her blaster, or to keep it out of sight, even if within reach. She decided on the latter. Perhaps there wouldnât be much harm in coming a little closer, bit by bit. She watched him as she approached, but he didnât move a muscle, so she didnât stop until she was just out of armâs reach. âHelp you do what?âÂ
The boy shrugged. âLeave this place, I think.â
Mara didnât quite manage to choke back a scoff. âWhy would you want to leave home?â
But the look she got for it was equally troubled, and even more lost. âI donât know,â the boy admitted. âHonestly I canât think of a single reason.â
âBetrayal.âÂ
The word dropped from her mouth, and Mara started, certain she must look just as surprised as the boy, whose head had snapped around to her. It felt oddly right, and she didnât understand where it had come from. Mara shivered, hugging herself in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. She wasnât supposed to show anything, she wasnât supposed to allow anyone to read her reactions âÂ
âHey, itâs okay,â the boy soothed, his smile genuine for the first time. âItâs okay. That happens sometimes. The Force speaks to some people that way, itâs like prescience.âÂ
âI donât â Iâm not ââ Mara stuttered helplessly. She wasnât Force Sensitive, sheâ wasnât prescient, she was just â she could hear the Emperor in her head, and that was all that there was special about her.Â
âDoesnât have to be prescience,â he shrugged again, and sighed. âAnyway, I know youâre right. I just donât remember anything about it. Not really.â He hung his head, looking pensive.Â
Then, âI think there was someone at the end of the platform, someone who wanted to help.â
Mara Jade shook her head, wondering at this trusting being. In the middle of the Imperial Palace, no less! Didnât he know how everyone here fought for the Emperorâs notice, and âalliesâ were ready to turn at a momentâs notice just to get a step ahead? Sheâd seen it often enough.Â
âNo one ever helps,â she said, with a firm nod.Â
For some reason, the boy let out a harsh, bitter laugh, then hung his head, hands clutching white-knuckled at the edge of the landing pad. âThatâs true, I guess. If the people you always thought were there to protect you and watch your back suddenly turned against you, I donât think there would be enough people left to help.âÂ
That sent a chill down her spine â worse, already, than the wind at this height of the city. People you always thought were there to protect you and watch your back. She thought of the Emperor, of her exhaustive training that would prepare her to one day serve as his Hand, and how she only ever felt warm in his presence. No, she would not ever betray him.Â
âMara Jade,â a soft voice called to her. She looked up sharply at the boy, but he only smiled. âGo back to sleep, little one.âÂ
Her feet had moved without any conscious thought of her own, and she only really noticed that sheâd left the landing platform when she was mere steps away from her room again. But the quiet no longer seemed quite so oppressive, and sleep dragged at her, inexorable. She all but collapsed back into her bed, eyes already closed, and yet the small blaster still made its way under her pillow in a loose clasp.Â
â in memory of the one young Padawan who almost broke through the ranks of Torrent Company, fighting to get to Bail Organa. also, holy shit â did not fucking expect to hit the creep vibe at the end thereÂ
If you were stranded on a desert island with one castmate, who would it be? I think maybe Jiang Wen. Heâs taken to teaching me Mandarin. I kind of go up to him between scenes and between takes and just – âHow do you say this? How do you say that?â
So apparently the Star Wars version of space jazz is called âjizzâ and thereâs a musical instrument called a âjizz-boxâ and Threepio auditioned to perform on this instrument at a cantina named (I shit you not) âThe Wookieâs Codpiece.â
Thank you, Wookieepedia forâŚenlightening my day with this information.Â
Ahem. Honestly, Star Wars.
My series of reactions here: 1. This cannot be real 2. Of course this is realÂ
My reaction:
1. I am not in the least bit surprised this is real.
Marvel is releasing this box set that has 30 years worth of Star Wars books/comic books. Cool idea and love some of the artwork like the one shown above. Hereâs a link if you want to read more about it.