skysaunter - Tumblr blog

[skysaunter]

When I was a kid... when I was just a little girl... I used to dream about this old, dusty road. And this road would go on as far as the eye could see. There were all these little white flowers growing around the edges. And it was such a peaceful place. But then you realize... when life settles in around you... places like this... don't exist.

𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑)

EU, CANON & SEQUELS COMPLIANT / ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSES Highly Selective & Private Original Character Blog for Star Wars & more. Canon, EU, and Sequel Friendly. (high to low activity) ⤷ Remembered by Emrys, 30+ They / Them

[skysaunter]

          𝙰𝙳𝙼𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙳𝙻𝚈, 𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙽’𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙰𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙼𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚃.   more often than not, impatience turned his approach harsh on all fronts, and he openly loathed even the idea of ever wasting time on people too stupid to know what’s good for them.  however, after dedicating the past two years to pouring resources into hong kong to establish a foothold in china’s financial epicenter, painstakingly building a fundamental underground network, which included securing a residence in west kowloon’s financial district, just to foster trust with his contacts and the allied son on yee triads, it seemed only natural to expect the hiyashi family would see anakin skywalker as a potential business partner.

the family, polite and formal as anakin’s sources had informed him, had welcomed him into their massive, generations-old estate, invited him to eat and drink at their table, building a rather decent rapport anakin could get behind, only to end the evening by outright dismissing the concept of ever working with a foreigner.

the rejection, if anakin was honest with himself, wasn’t entirely unexpected.  a lone white outsider armed with nothing but a mid-ranking triad translator and a handful of meager gifts didn’t exactly make the most appealing case to such a powerful yakuza family.  it certainly didn’t help that his most trusted men couldn’t accompany him this time around, either.  while the son on yee warned against overt displays of strength or intimidation, especially around the yakuza, maybe if he had brought his highest-ranked men, then talks with the family wouldn’t have fallen apart at full tilt.

rex always knew when to reign in anakin’s temper, and cody had an eye for detail that both rex and anakin lacked…

all right, so business in japan hadn’t gone the way he envisioned.  millions of dollars invested in this single venture, lost to some arbitrary reason given by a shortsighted family too stuck in their old ways to recognize a good deal even if it slapped them in the face. fuckin' fine.  it was fine.

squashing the urge to scoff, anakin shifted on his feet, making room for a large family group to pass the walkway as he contemplated his next approach, if whether trying again was even worth the weeks he spent away from home, away from his—the voice, so soft and unsure, seized anakin at once, snatching his attention from the cityscape beyond the railing to the teenager standing beside him.

batcher shuffled in place, restless, both paws scratching at the ground—indications anakin easily recognized after so many years—before eventually tucking himself against his son’s side with another pitched whimper that bordered too close to a distressed whine.  the skin around tilted blue eyes tightened minutely, narrowing with mounting uncertainty until cal spoke again, questioning that which anakin had always known would come into question.

           ❝they died.❞ anakin’s expression remained vacant, his tone betraying nothing.  he had always known this day would come, yet it seemed six years hadn’t better prepared him for when the moment arrived.

displaying too much emotion risked triggering a cascade of feelings, perhaps even a full-blown panic attack.  displaying too little emotion could prompt regression, a juvenile response often paired with deep frowns and bouts of relentless glowering drilling into the back of anakin’s head. the latter happened often enough as of recently, and the last thing anakin needed now was another perceived fuck up in japan, especially when cal seemed happier than anakin had seen him in months.

❝but that isn’t what you want me to say, is it?❞ anakin presented what cal likely struggled to give voice, leaning against the railing as he peered into the distance.  the glittering cityscape outlined his profile in pale hues of blue, yellow, and white.  ❝they were strangers.  i never knew them—and i’m not sure if i would’ve wanted to.❞ what did cal expect him to say?  that they were good people?  they weren’t—at least the father wasn’t, according to dr. sinclair, his son’s therapist.  that cal would’ve been better off with his biological parents, that they could’ve given cal a better life?  they wouldn’t—couldn’t have.  not over anakin’s dead body.

          ❝i appreciate honesty, cal.❞ it didn't matter what unkind thoughts or feelings cal might harbor, so long as cal never lied to him.  ❝tell me what’s on your mind.❞

STANDING AT THE TOP OF UMEDA SKY BUILDING IN OSAKA, JAPAN, sixteen-year-old Cal Kestis was awfully quiet. He was a yapper and the class clown, most of the hockey team would say. Though it wasn't completely unlike him to be quiet around Anakin, his adoptive father. It's been like this for the past few years, Cal has come to realize as he gazed upon the glittering lights of Osaka. His hearing aid was tuned all the way down to prevent any sound to be perceived. Something he often did around Anakin fairly recently ( and by recently, it's been three years ) out of... Resentment.

Cal gently closed his eyes as he felt the high winds from the height they stood at brush past his face, over the strands of his auburn hair, waving through the fabric of his windbreaker and black Adidas sweatpants. Opening his eyes, he looked over at Anakin. Attempting to, again, read his mind. Brows knit together in thought. Anger. Frustration. Cal's father, prior to his death, acted much like Anakin was. Absent ( though this wasn't necessarily true, since Anakin at least made the effort to go watch Cal's hockey games and karate competitions prior. Cal just won't admit it ). Emotionally and physically. Cal wanted Anakin around more often. He feels as if Anakin just... doesn't give a shit. But perhaps it was time he needed to better manage his expectations.

Cal reached up and tuned his hearing device again. He could now hear the whips of the wind, the locals chatting nearby, the flutters of fabric in response. Anakin's past and present were shrouded in mystery. Cal knew full well that Anakin was directly affected by the crash. But why was he there in the first place? What business did he have there, if not just a crazy coincidence?

The boy relaxed his facial features as he lowered his hand back to his side. "Dad," Cal called. "Got a minute? I..." The teenager tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweats. "...I wanted to ask you something." He looked down at his white Yeezy Boost 350s with the black stripes sparingly decorated at its sides. And then shifted his feet in the uneasiness of the moment. He glanced at his dog, Batcher, a now seven year old Akita who idly stood by Cal's side. The service animal was always attentive to Cal's emotions, often whining when Cal was sad. And also the dog whined during Cal's moments of discomfort, much like now. Batcher looked at Anakin, and then back at Cal, before the dog let out a whimper. Batcher moved closer, the red service animal vest glinted with the light cast over head, and gently nudged his snout underneath Cal's hand. In response, the teenager ran his fingers over the fur of Batcher's head.

"What happened to my parents?" Came Cal's voice in a whisper. Eyes trained on Batcher. The uneasiness could easily send him over the thin line he danced on, the edge at which, if he submitted to his emotions, he would cry.

— FOR @skysaunter ( CLOSED. )

[skysaunter]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐏𝐈𝐍 : : 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒. verse affiliated with: @techniiciian @tapalslegacy

nowadays, anakin skywalker can be found at his new york restaurant, azure angel. here, amidst the clinking of glasses and the murmurs of the elite, anakin presents himself as a simple businessman with a passion for cars and hell-bent on spreading the taste of his late mother’s cooking. but beneath this façade lies a man known by a different moniker—VADER: the widowed mechanic turned automotive tycoon, restaurateur, UNDERWORLD KINGPIN, ARMS TRAFFICKER, CONTRABAND DEALER, EXTORTIONIST, and COLD-BLOODED MURDERER.

[skysaunter]

just a lil heads up: should've mentioned this earlier, but now that my relatives have flown in from overseas, i can now say 'm gonna be extremely spotty for a while, until next week or longer. not sure yet. that, or super active ( during the weekend ) because i'll be anxious as hell and looking for anything to distract me ¬ ¬ if it gets bad, i'll likely give out my disco and start annoying ppl lol also seeing the doc today to check on my heart condition, which is always nerve-wracking fingerguns prob gonna sit in ps and work on icons to calm my nerves + queue whatever i can when i'm back from the doc, just in case plans change. anyway, hope y'all are having a good night/day!

[skysaunter]

@misfittcd inadvertently jabbing me 'n vaderkin with every reblog

[skysaunter]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : : 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒.

verse affiliated with @techniiciian, @tapalslegacy. cw: dark themes, character death, crime.

          𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝟸𝟹 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚄𝚂 𝙲𝙸𝚁𝙲𝚄𝙼𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂.    he was knee-deep in debt, juggling two jobs—not all of which were on the right side of the law—and deeply paranoid that his beloved wife and mother of his unborn children had done the unthinkable.  padmé had betrayed him.

at least, that’s what senator sheev palpatine told him one night over drinks at his estate.  palpatine claimed she had taken matters into her own hands after stumbling upon a trove of evidence linking anakin to multiple illicit activities operating under the law’s radar.  his wife had gone behind his back while he toiled away, struggling to make ends meet and keep the lights on.  padmé didn’t understand the painstaking hurdles anakin jumped for the sake of their future, their future family, but it was fine.  palpatine’s kindness had given him a chance to speak sense to his wife.

all he needed was to talk to her, and she would understand that this wasn't permanent; the jobs palpatine assigned him were merely a means to an end. corruption was synonymous with the modern landscape of politics, a necessary climb up the ladder.  moreover, on top of a promised loan with no interest, palpatine had given his word that if anything were to happen, he would leverage his influence to spare anakin from a life behind bars.

soon, they could leave, move to a new town where anakin could open up an auto shop like he’d always dreamed.

           padmé didn’t listen.  shortly after their heated argument, she went into labor.  then, she died.  doctors stated her death was a quick-onset and unforeseen mortality.  their children survived, but now they had no mother, and anakin had only himself to blame.

distraught, he threw himself into the criminal underworld, no longer wavering in his acceptance of the tasks palpatine assigned him.

months into his new position working as palpatine’s enforcer, anakin’s world shifted when he chanced upon audio recordings revealing palpatine’s indirect admission to murdering his wife.  while padmé’s interference might have cast suspicion on her husband, anakin was never her primary target.  it was palpatine.  she had devised a plan to expose his political corruption and the multitude of illicit enterprises he conducted for personal gain.

it had taken the death of his wife for anakin to finally see palpatine for the monster he truly was.  palpatine had poisoned padmé, nearly killing his children in the process, and viewed anakin as nothing more than a pawn, a scapegoat with equally unclean hands.  anakin swore he would never again be a victim.

senator sheev palpatine went missing on a mundane thursday afternoon.

two weeks after his disappearance, law enforcement discovered a male torso discarded in a ditch precisely 81 meters from the senator’s opulent estate.  dna analysis confirmed the severed body part belonged to sheev palpatine.  investigators speculated the evidence had been deliberately placed.

sheev palpatine’s body was never recovered.

having been sheev palpatine’s close friend for most of his life, then his secret attack dog for the better part of a year, it was no surprise to the public that anakin skywalker emerged as the primary beneficiary of the senator’s estate.  the apparent connection seemed self-evident enough, escaping scrutiny from all but the most skeptical observers.  following a brief public expression of sorrow and an appeal for privacy, anakin skywalker quietly vanished from the public eye.

three months later, skywalker opened up his first auto shop in new york.  within six months, five additional establishments sprang up across different locales in the state.  after securing partnerships with numerous independent car dealerships, skywalker’s enterprise, the 501st, broadened its scope to encompass luxury automobiles, catalyzing a nationwide expansion of the chain business that rapidly spread throughout the united states.

nowadays, anakin skywalker can be found at his new york restaurant, azure angel. here, amidst the clinking of glasses and the murmurs of the elite, anakin presents himself as a simple businessman with a passion for cars and hell-bent on spreading the taste of his late mother’s cooking. but beneath this façade lies a man known by a different moniker—VADER: the widowed mechanic turned automotive tycoon, restaurateur, UNDERWORLD KINGPIN, ARMS TRAFFICKER, CONTRABAND DEALER, EXTORTIONIST, and COLD-BLOODED MURDERER.

[skysaunter]

ok well. idk what i expected

[skysaunter]

          𝚅𝙸𝚁𝚃𝚄𝙾𝚄𝚂, 𝚅𝚄𝙻𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴, 𝙰𝙳𝚁𝙸𝙵𝚃 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙰 𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴 beyond the primordial compulsion to simply survive.  the boy had seen the grim face of mortality, but his exposure to the galaxy and its myriad wonders remained scant, a mere fraction of what it held for a youngling of his ilk.

❝your worth,❞ the dark lord began, his hand lifting — in an instant, the glass bottle of sparkling juice from the nearby ice bucket shot across the room and met his palm with a sharp slap — ❝is not solely defined by your strength in the force.  what you bring to the table is potential,❞ vader continued, unwavering, ❝and i am committed to nurturing it.❞

touched by the force, this youngling harbored not only latent promise but a potent gift, a natural power that had undoubtedly posed greater challenges to admiral jeratai than he had ever anticipated.

psychometry, or tai vordrax as vader recalled it from his days as a padawan learner, was a mental technique enabling one to discern impressions and traces of information imprinted on an object, providing insights into its history and the individuals who had interacted with it.  it was a formidable force ability, difficult to wield proficiently, let alone master — and the very reason why this stray jedi youngling stood apart. he was different.  unique. to manifest a force-given gift at such a tender age, and to harness it so effectively…

quinlan vos had also exhibited a remarkable aptitude for psychometry, serving the jedi order admirably as an intelligence asset during the clone wars.  however, the last vader had heard of the master jedi, vos had departed from the surviving remnants of the order and begun a new chapter, even bringing a child into the world.

❝you’ll find that i can be quite reasonable when given the chance.❞ unlike what archaic beliefs the jedi held regarding ages appropriate for training, vader did not deem the boy past his prime.  he could be trained.  he could be more.

with a deft flick of the wrist, he uncorked the bottle, allowing the bubbly, light blue liquid to cascade into two crystal flutes; one he kept for himself, and the other he extended to the boy.

    ❝join me, and i will mold you into a force to be reckoned with.❞

Finally, Cal's gaze lifted towards the other, his words having struck a chord within him.

Protector. Nothing to Fear.

For the past five years, he's been running from the Empire, from detection, from the recognition that perhaps, he was more than just a Braccan Scrapper. More than just a lean yet incredibly thin young man who looked like he b a r e l y had much to eat ( which was true ) . One that possessed the ability to manipulate the Force. One who was trained, as a child, to kill. His eyes then follow the towels as they are brought in. A sheepish look crosses his features as more were delivered. He knew full well the reason. The auburn haired young man, had there been better circumstances, would have showered more often. But life as a scrapper, and then as a Rebel, did not have such luxuries. Ashamed, he reached for a towel, basking in the warmth between his fingers. Reminded of all the nights he spent on Bracca, shivering due to the frost that nipped his nose. Powerless to do much about it, the only option being to pray that he would fall asleep despite the drop in temperature. Cal cleaned his hands, gently pushing the cloth over his palm, his fingers, and the opposite side. In between the gaps, too. "I don't understand," he finally says. His voice was quiet. Had there been more commotion in the room, he probably would not have been heard. "What value do I bring to the table? I'm..." His eyes fall back onto the towel as its warmth slowly diminished.

"...My connection to the Force is weak."

[skysaunter]

someone groped hayden at indiana comic con and i just. i just waNNA..,,.., we need to protect this man.

[skysaunter]

too uncreative for a caption

[skysaunter]

          ❝𝙱𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰 𝙹𝙴𝙳𝙸 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂𝙽’𝚃 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽 𝙸 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙾𝙵𝙵 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙴,❞ skywalker corrected, the words spilling out a touch too hastily.  violet wasn’t entirely wrong, yet she wasn’t entirely right, either.  it was all a matter of perspective.

❝i’ve got friends, people i trust with my life, just like anyone else.  it’s not like i’m some kind of hermit.❞  that fetched a dry chuckle at least, because he did have friends.  obi-wan stood as his closest companion, a bond forged through countless trials.  ahsoka, too, held a place of deep significance.  and then there was rex, not just a subordinate, but a confidant, a trusted ally beyond the confines of military ranks and formalities.  torrent company, the entire 501st legion, were more than just a unit; they were family to anakin.

❝i know how it looks on the surface, but the whole master-padawan dynamic—it’s more about guidance and learning, not the kind of attachment you’re thinking of.  we’re encouraged to form bonds, to care for each other, not just within our own ranks, but with everything.❞

masters and experienced jedi knights adhered to a training regimen that aimed to avoid forming emotional attachments that might undermine their dedication to the jedi code.  the rationale lay in the belief that, through disciplined mentorship, padawans could develop the same wisdom and resilience necessary to navigate the challenges of emotions and desires, including personal relationships.  anakin grasped this concept at its core, having assumed the role of a mentor shortly after attaining knighthood.  nevertheless, this understanding didn’t prevent him from forming attachments to people like obi-wan and ahsoka, as well as practically everyone else he cared about.

❝it’s… a fine line.  we’re taught to care, to love, but not to let it cloud our judgment.❞  the knight paused for a moment, a hint of frustration evident in the way he shifted in his seat.  ❝it’s a bit of a paradox, i know.  we have to maintain a delicate balance, one that requires discipline and control,❞ he concluded succinctly, as though he hadn’t spent years grappling with this doctrine, questioning it at every turn.  maybe obi-wan hammering these conflicting concepts into his mind had finally paid off, or maybe he had grown more cynical about these notions than he had realized —

why was he trying so hard to justify himself and the jedi?  violet clearly didn’t understand, and it was very likely she wouldn't.  anakin grimaced, curbing the sudden impulse to run a hand down his face before his gaze settled on the holocron placed before him.  it was an attachment made tangible, a gift from violet herself.  taking it would be a transgression, a breach of his already brittle adherence to the jedi code…  although he could keep it in his quarters.  after all, ahsoka had left the order; their once-shared quarters in the temple now stood vacant.  all that remained were the potted plants she had tended—technically anakin’s, but nurtured daily by her care.

           ❝i’ve seen there’s more to life than the jedi, and i’ll admit it has its appeal.  it’s gotten me to reconsider leaving more than once,❞ anakin confessed, taking the holocron into his gloved hand and running a thumb over the smooth surface.

at the age of twelve, he had come close to leaving after palpatine had revealed to him a darker side of the galaxy. memories of that evening persisted to this day, a vivid tapestry of crime and corruption, experienced firsthand and devoid of his mother’s protective embrace.  in the past, he had appreciated the chancellor for opening his eyes to the realities beyond the temple walls.  however, as time passed, anakin grew increasingly troubled by palpatine’s past behavior.  leading a child into the murky depths of coruscant’s underworld seemed more than inappropriate—and manipulative—a realization that still weighed heavily on his conscience.

           ❝but then the war happened, and… i don’t know.  i guess i just can’t bring myself to leave.  not when there’s still so much at stake.❞

She had a second holocron. One where she put the image on for him to keep. That's if he wanted it. She wasn't one for rules about the Jedi or their code. Honestly, V thought the whole attachment rule was a dumb one. Then again, she had her adoptive father guiding her and acting as her mentor. Trever did the best he could. He was no saint. She knew that much. He did thrust her into the world of being a mercenary. Beyond his better judgment, she surpassed him in a lot of ways. She had become a seasoned killer. If that was wrong, she didn't know what was.

Violet knew. She had felt the Force shift when she passed. Felt the pain and passing as she slept one night and woke up in a sweat when she joined the Force. Skywalker had known and when Lars confirmed it, she cried in private. It was then she learned of Anakin. Lars had described him as one bent on emotion. Could have fooled her honestly. Anakin seemed more level-headed than her.

"No one should have to live a life alone." Certainity ran through her. The mercenary knew the Jedi passed on their knowledge from master to padawan. Ironic considering she figured that masters grew attached to their padawans and vice versa. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the whole no attachments thing seems contradictory considering the master and padawan relationship is based on just that. So how can attachments be that dangerous if the whole teaching of the Jedi rests on that sort of relationship."

She didn't want to upset him. He was a Jedi first. That was his objective it seemed. She wasn't as lucky. Her life had been hard. One where she didn't know if she would eat one day to the next. She trained in fighting combats, Force training, and learning how to shoot a blaster by the time she was thirteen.

Attachments were the only reason she survived this long. Making friends and meeting people who were loyal were all she knew. It made the difference between life and death. There was no in-between. She had no mother to guide her. Just the bounty hunters and others she encountered. Violet remembered the first hyperdrive she fixed. The first droid she repaired that now stood at her side and was waiting for her in her ship. Attachments were her whole way of life. To push that aside, it would have driven her crazy.

"I hate to tell you, but there is a life outside of the Jedi teachings. Attachments are the only reason I stand here today. It makes the whole difference between your next hit, meal, or next breathe. Then again, my life seems vastly different from yours."

Reaching in her jacket again, she pulled the holocron away from him with the Force and placed the one where she copied the image on. "You can have this one. The original is all I have of my parents. I didn't know my father. He died on a hit before he could return back to Tatooine to free me. Trever, his best mate was the one to raise me."

[skysaunter]

nvm now im going feral for different reasons

sm hayden content on all my timelines. i love him. babygirl (42 yrs old) looks so good. he deserves everything. 20 yrs's got nothin' on him. he deserves only good things. im goign fERA L

[skysaunter]

@desiccation moved & cont. from [ x ]

– Rarely did someone or something manage to land a blow on a Dax soldier, but as remarkable as he was, even Teshin could not avoid everything. It was stray gunfire in the midst of battle where already too many variables were in play, where a bullet rips into him. Initially he hadn’t even noticed there was blood staining the clothing of his arm, fabric shredded and a gash peeking through it. Luckily it was only a flesh wound and went through completely.  – It isn’t until Luke mentions it and the sudden awareness brings the nausea of lost blood. He cannot recall the last time he had felt such a sense of unbalanced standing. Maybe it had been centuries ago, when the Tenno rose up against the Orokin, where he had no control and his orders were to protect until death.  – “We cannot remain here.”

           𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴.  and extremely hostile, luke noted in the privacy of his mind before sparing a backward glance at his companion.  he took in the vibrant bloom of red spreading fast over shredded fabric, then brought up his lightsaber, wincing as a stray bullet caught and molten shell fragments burst near his face.  jaw clenched, he drew on the force with explicit intent in mind, gathering its power within himself even as the heat of his lightsaber crept dangerously close to his forearm.  with a swift, decisive swivel, luke pushed, unleashing a surge of strength that radiated from his core and flowed through every limb like a torrential wave.

the ambushers—grineer was what teshin had called them—flew backward, their startled exclamations fading over a distance, whereas a few unlucky soldiers collided with the painted hull of the gunship they had arrived in, the sickening crunch of their bodies prompting a stony grimace from the young jedi.

amidst the settling silence of the dead, luke stood tall.

❝i think that's the last of them.❞ for now. with a subtle flick of his wrist, he extinguished the radiant beam, the distinctive snap-hiss like a final exhalation, then he pivoted, hastening towards the older man.

❝master—master teshin!  are you all right?❞

[skysaunter]

              𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙷𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙷𝙸𝙼 𝙰 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚃 that neither the hardships of his childhood nor the rigorous training of the jedi order could have ever provided.   yet, even after five years of child-rearing, he still yearned for the patience and subtlety that had eluded him during his days as a jedi knight.  enduring fools remained an unthinkable feat to accomplish even on the best of days, and impatience unfailingly stoked the embers of his temper… however, vader now possessed a clarity that had previously evaded him.  boundaries, sacred to each individual, delineated a line that, once crossed, sowed deep-seated mistrust, perhaps irreparably.  

           trust was the foundation of assurance, the bedrock of loyalty.

❝to eat,❞ vader said simply, gesturing to the colorful spread before them.  bowls brimming with assorted berries and platters adorned with freshly sliced fruit decorated the table, accompanied by an assortment of vibrant bottles nestled in buckets of swirling mist.  from an early age, his children had developed a healthy fondness for the flavors of fruit.  on tatooine, where even water was a precious commodity, fruit was a luxury beyond reach for a slave with no rights to call their own.  therefore, vader ensured a constant supply of their favorite fruits, determined that his children would enjoy all the pleasures slavery had denied him.

vader pulled off his gloves with a sigh, baring his right arm with a casualness he’d lacked in his youth, then reached for a handful of piebald cloudberries, the soft whir of his gleaming mechno-hand cutting through the silence.  the comfort of others held little sway over him now; this was his reality.  less machine than human, yet bearing the weight of both.  it was imperative the boy grasped this truth now, embraced it as he would soon embrace his destiny, rather than questioning it later            a flicker of trepidation, a trembling echo of uncertainty, tugged at his mind.

pausing in mid-reach, burnished amber eyes slid towards the boy seated nearby.  a moment hung between them, suspended in time, before vader filled a small appetizer plate and placed it before the youth, a benediction akin to what he would have done for his own children.

❝i sense your fear,❞ the dark lord declared without preamble, reaching for another plate.  ❝your apprehension is noted, but misguided.  know this: i am your protector. as long as you are by my side, you have nothing to fear.❞

a group of servers then entered the dining room, followed by female attendants who placed plates of steaming rolled towels for hand-wiping.  once more, vader motioned for his guest to help themselves, and a female server brought forth another plate of towels, recognizing the likely need for more than one.  the boy was filthy.

❝let me make this clear: this meal is no trap.  consider this a chance to rise above your current circumstances.❞

It's certainly been some time since he's sat down and had a proper meal. Resources were scarce in the Rebellion, even the water in the showers are cold and the pressure is weak. Seeing the luxuries of the Empire along with its cleanliness is so jarring to him. And this isn't a surprise, considering he first worked in the Braccan Scrap Guild where the work conditions were sketchy at best and overall unsanitary, with high demands of up-to-date tetanus shots. The Rebels did not fare any better.

Green eyes shifted around nervously. Though Vader had extended the invitation to him, he hesitated, as if acting upon the assumption that he could easily break something of high value, something he had no credits to repay for compensation. The young man gulped, dragged one foot over the other, and eventually sat next to Vader with stiffened posture and fists clenched in his lap. Cal didn't even eye the food and instead stared straight at the table top in front of his chest.

"...And what are you asking of me, uh... Sir?"

It took everything in his being to drag his eyes over to meet Lord Vader's golden eyes.

[skysaunter]

sm hayden content on all my timelines. i love him. babygirl (42 yrs old) looks so good. he deserves everything. 20 yrs's got nothin' on him. he deserves only good things. im goign fERA L

[skysaunter]

               𝚅𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝚁𝙴𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙵𝚄𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.  instead, he pressed forward, ignoring admiral jeratai’s obnoxious sniveling as they dwindled with each long stride.  he didn’t bother to glance back; he sensed the young prisoner following close behind, guided by the silent escort of purge troopers and surrounding cadre.  having survived for this long, the boy likely understood the consequences of defiance.  he would wait by contrast, biding time and seeking the opportune moment to flee.  he would fight should the need arise, as he had in the past—lightsaber or not—and he would flee.  or die, if necessary.  it would not be necessary.  not if vader controlled his fate.

the boy’s force signature was a small, withering flame in a sea of black shadows, its feeble glow clinging to existence.  what would it take to snuff it out?  what more could this youth endure that he hadn’t already?  again vader thought of the antiquated, insufficient methods of the old sith; reliance solely on force and fear was no longer sustainable… this was a new era, one guided by 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑵 𝑶𝑵𝑬, where power extended beyond mere tradition.

the emperor’s dining room stood as a secluded refuge reserved for more intimate gatherings—meals with his darling children, close allies, and trusted companions.  here was a sanctuary, free from the constraints of diplomacy or political machinations—a realm unfit for darth vader’s presence.  yet tonight opposed convention once more, marking the second of many deviations to come.

❝your credits mean nothing to me,❞ vader declared at length, settling into his customary place at the head of the table with deliberate insouciance.  his cadre dispersed, assuming strategic positions around the room, as he crossed a leg over his knee. ❝what i want far exceeds any monetary value.❞

the boy remained rooted in place, evidently too apprehensive to dare make a move.  

               ❝come now,❞ the dark lord chided, his tone almost pleasant, ❝share a meal with me.❞ despite the temptation to command the purge troopers to retrieve him, vader exercised restraint, allowing the moment to linger.   the boy would come to his own decision.

The screams snapped him back to reality. His color from his already fair complexion drained behind the constellation of light brown marks. Cal's green eyes darted around the room, rather nervously after the realization sunk in: he hurt someone with the Force.

Of course, it's not like he hasn't done that before. He had to take down droids during the Clone Wars (B-1s were more laughable than intimidating. What a joke that was). He had to use the Force against the Clone Troopers that attacked him on the evening of the Purge. But he's never hurt anyone out of anger. Never out of frustration, never has he acted out of rage in its raw form.

His eyes snapped back onto the man with beige blonde hair. Cal knew full well who he is, and what he was capable of. How could he not? After all, he's made appearances many times on the Holonet. As he knew he would be a fool to refuse, he stood up from the chair and quietly followed the other. "I— I don't have any credits on me," the young man began, gaze directed only towards the floor in front of him, right behind the heels of Vader. Fingers nervously fidgeting with the pockets of his pants.

"...I could just watch you eat," he whispered, more to himself than to the Chosen One. As a Braccan Scrapper, he was no stranger to the scarcity of food, especially when he was doing child labor. Due to the poor compensation, some nights he'd just have to tough it out and sleep with an empty stomach.

[skysaunter]

               𝙰𝚂 𝙰𝙳𝙼𝙸𝚁𝙰𝙻 𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙰𝙸’𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ,  his visible confusion mirroring the abrupt halt in his movements, vader merely extended his hand with a casual gesture.  several nearby troopers tensed on the instant, recognizing the significance of the motion, while the purge troopers positioned behind the boy exchanged cautious glances with the members of the imperial cadre, their silent communication betraying a shared apprehension.  despite the tension, none dared to intervene.

disquiet shimmered within the force, followed by a spike of visceral fear — the youth’s fist collided with the chair and admiral jeratai collapsed to the ground with a sharp gasp, the snap of bone echoing throughout the sanctum.

despite the ensuing cacophony of screams ricocheting within the chambers, vader remained unperturbed. the intrigue held in his regard was unmistakable, for he had seen the shadow that fled across the boy’s pale, bloodied face… full lips curled into a toothless smile.   good.   a jedi with no bite was of no use to him, and those devoid of resilience never failed to set his teeth on edge.

                ❝jedi,❞ vader addressed the boy, observing his immediate reaction to the title.  with a deliberate turn, he pivoted on his heel, his cloak flowing like a dark river across the polished floor.  ❝come.  join me for dinner.❞

The inhibitor cuffs snapped off with a satisfying click. Feeling the bloodflow rush back as it was restored, Cal felt the all-too familiar sensation of pins and needles. The young Jedi grit his teeth and shook one of his wrists, followed by the other. The inhibitor cuffs were tightened to the max, therefore squeezing his skin, marking it with a red band all around his wrists, and the blood vessels underneath. Annoyance consumed him. The redhead sat there, nursing one wrist as he rolled it with the other hand wrapped around it. There were so many things he would have done. But not to the extent most in the Empire would have expected. Not force choke, no. More like... Force stasis. And that is exactly what the young man did. He flicked his wrist up and channeled the force, freezing Admiral Jeratai in place out of irritation. With a snarl, he slammed the raised wrist back onto the arm of the interrogation chair.