Darth Vader Canonically Had A Diary Which He Wrote In When He Was Sad No One Remembered His Birthday.

sometimes a family is a newly adult space wizard, the fourteen year old he’s been tasked with teaching/raising, his own older brother figure who taught/raised him, a senator/fashion-icon, a bunch of genetically engineered soldiers who all deserve happiness and better lives, a fussy protocol droid, and a sassy blue astromech, and I think that’s beautiful

when i say the holy mother of all, i'm not talking about mary , shoutout to shaak ti !!

or the black screen after an edit like omds why do i look so eager

me when im reading a fic and see my reflection on the screen

🕊️ Please Take a Moment to Read Nadin’s Story

My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.

I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.

My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.

I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.

This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.

Chuffed

Help Nadin Keep Her Life Stitched Together

My name is Nadin I’m a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza who are trying to hold on — to hope, to our families, to any piece

I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.

Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.

the reason obi wan is so oldest child is because he has the uncanny oldest child ability to turn his deepest darkest feelings into what sounds like a sarcastic joke

"Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order." NOTHING WILL EVER CONVINCE ME THAT WAS JUST STALLING WTF

everyone calls obi wan space jesus when shmi literally immaculately conception'ed anakin! he is canon space jesus!

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

help how does one go about starting to write on here i need advice

oh my lord i need to be spayed

Heart of a Traitor - Peter Pettigrew

What makes the heart of a traitor? Peter Pettigrew should know. It was, after all, the heart beating in his chest, pumping the traitorous blood that kept him alive. Lately, his heart rate has felt less human, more rat-like. He was more rat-like. Years of being Scabbers has taken an obvious toll on him. The Peter Pettigrew that called himself a marauder, studied James’ quidditch moves, gleefully cast aguamenti to wake up Sirius, and snuck down to the kitchens to feed Remus’ never-ending appetite, was scarcely there anymore. Being a Death Eater on the run would do that to you. Now he was constantly twitching, flinching at every movement and loud sound and (possibly worst of all) reduced to acting as a servant of the one and only Severus Snape. Sitting down miserably in his cellar after a long day of being belittled and listening to thinly disguised quips about his dignity and intelligence, he reminisced. Of his long-gone Hogwarts days; days of freedom and laughs and pranks and never-ending homework. Back when he was Pete, one of the marauders, the good guys. Those were easily the happiest times of his life, when things were simple and happiness seemed to be everflowing.